A Certain Hunger

by Chelsea G. Summers

It’s such an intimate thing, to witness another’s death. Orgasms are a dime a dozen. Any old human woman can see a man orgasm. We so rarely get to see them die; it has been my greatest gift and my most divine privilege.

You can’t be a woman without protection. Condoms fail. Pepper spray can be turned against you. Information almost never does.

To this I say, Trouble: I’m in it. Like prison, I’m never getting out of trouble. The only thing I can do is make my trouble your joy—because here’s the thing about reading my memoir: it will make you feel good about yourself. You feel morally superior even as you identify with me. You slip into the supple skin of a cannibal for nearly three hundred pages, and enjoy it; then you can slough it off, go about your happy, moral business, and feel like you are a better person.