Post-Traumatic

by Chantal V. Johnson

as if their judgment mattered at all, as if it were remotely interesting or correct.

The only things more oppressive than the eyes of an insecure woman were the eyes of an undesired man.

Vivian so resented men in these moments, lacking in spatial empathy, never having had to learn to lessen themselves,

their bond allowed them to cast off the shame of being The Only People Talking About Rape, because it wasn’t their shame, it was the shame of the world.

Jane’s bathroom felt like a bad neighborhood.

She had not yet gained the ability to turn her difference into a strength, so she internalized the judgment of others and felt ashamed.

No matter how happy you are, Mondays have a way of making you want to end it all.

I lost my vision for a year, but the day Ron Dent died it came back. God is good.”

you couldn’t trust men at first, that you had to withhold judgment, carefully evaluating them in a variety of contexts before you made your final determination.

she didn’t know anything about their lives other than that they had both had children, something Vivian had no interest in and didn’t consider to be an accomplishment in itself

She felt like a menacing presence, bad and unwanted.

now he’s suddenly disappeared. Why isn’t he worshipping me?”

“That’s a good take. Wouldn’t share it, though.”

she had made things “too real” by going down this road, like years ago when she would make things “about race” around a group of white people, before it had become socially acceptable or even cool to make things about race, and now here she was, out there all alone

though she would have liked to reach over and pull John’s sagging neck waddle back like taffy, then quickly let it go, so that it would snap back and knock

For a short time, Vivian had no thoughts at all.