The mountainous Balkan communities included a place to articulate gender that both confirmed and overcame the heteronormative binary.

There was no magic in figuring out I was a lesbian.

There was no magic in figuring out I was a lesbian.

To those who were picking and packing, Singerica was a nuisance to steal. To me, as I sew up a small piece of my family’s past three decades later, it’s priceless.

In my more-or-less adulthood, I sometimes have coffee with my mum, often by the sea. We talk quite a bit now. To my surprise, I am not sure that words lead to a better understanding.

When rights in a society are determined by what group one is considered part of, aggressive attempts to police the boundaries of who “really counts” are almost inevitable. It is not enough to just be ...

A small, cold weight lodged in the body. I have held it there, contained, neither mastered nor erased. It rises only rarely, most often when I cross a state border.

Numerous tests are being conducted on its centenarians without providing persuasive answers on why Ikaria is on the list of what the world called Blue Zones: is it the diet, the air, the sea, genetic...

I think of pleasure as a serious business, an act of survival, even. One that must be dug into to help one bear the pains of motherhood.

Ottoman and Habsburg coins turned into jewelry; the remnants of successive empires worn on the women’s chests. In some cases, the đerdans are so elaborate that they almost entirely occlude their weare...