Absolutely stunning writing. Couldn't catch my breath. I have a garage where I break plates (the kind from greek weddings) on the cement floor when I need to let rage out and through me. I will break plates in your name today. Your words and your experience matter deeply.
Wow, Jillian, this is amazing. I held my breath through this essay, coming up for air only when my body reminded me it was needed. The weaving of fact, history, fear and your experience is so beautifully executed. Thank you for sharing this story.
“The powerlessness of NO.” This will be one of those essays that sticks with me. The craft, the depth, the rage. Reading felt like I was the water in a kettle: gradually heating with each paragraph adding another layer of resentment. “Normalcy.”
Brilliant. The juxtaposition between the worlds of reality--the tea drinkers and the non--still being raped. "The powerlessness of NO." Of tea being used as poison for entry, for rape and the planters of tea never being allowed to drink the tea but being raped by their supervisors. Tea as abusive, as a different metaphor for lives mattering. Thank you
I recently visited my daughter in NYC. She took me to tea at the Tea and Sympathy tea room in Greenwich Village. It seemed a coincidence that I should receive an email and read your beautifully written story. Thank you so much to adding such depth to my experience there.
Absolutely stunning writing. Couldn't catch my breath. I have a garage where I break plates (the kind from greek weddings) on the cement floor when I need to let rage out and through me. I will break plates in your name today. Your words and your experience matter deeply.
Wow, Jillian, this is amazing. I held my breath through this essay, coming up for air only when my body reminded me it was needed. The weaving of fact, history, fear and your experience is so beautifully executed. Thank you for sharing this story.
Deepest gratitude for your courage and searing,spilled hot tea, written testimony.
the power behind writing this is beyond comprehension. I am so sorry you had to experience this and am moved to tears. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for your bravery in writing this— it’s beautifully crafted and devastating. I am so so sorry
Thank you for writing this and being another woman to help smooth it over.
Your metaphor was beautiful and delicate and scolding.
Is it out of the question to name the guy right now?
Spill the M*fing tea.
“The powerlessness of NO.” This will be one of those essays that sticks with me. The craft, the depth, the rage. Reading felt like I was the water in a kettle: gradually heating with each paragraph adding another layer of resentment. “Normalcy.”
Brilliant. The juxtaposition between the worlds of reality--the tea drinkers and the non--still being raped. "The powerlessness of NO." Of tea being used as poison for entry, for rape and the planters of tea never being allowed to drink the tea but being raped by their supervisors. Tea as abusive, as a different metaphor for lives mattering. Thank you
Devastation and civilized ritual should be, but is not, an oxymoron. You are powerful and I am so grateful for you.
All the sympathy and none of the tea to you for this devastatingly powerful essay.
I recently visited my daughter in NYC. She took me to tea at the Tea and Sympathy tea room in Greenwich Village. It seemed a coincidence that I should receive an email and read your beautifully written story. Thank you so much to adding such depth to my experience there.
What a heartbreaking and beautiful story. It feels like a necessary read. I am going to look at my morning tea a lot differently today.
Very powerful, thank you Jillian.
I will be thinking about this for days, and beyond. Thank you for sharing this.
wow. just wow. thank you for sharing. i believe you.