I’m not overly superstitious—I walk under ladders, step on cracks in the sidewalk. I know a Russian neurologist, well published in scientific journals, who doesn’t like to acknowledge when “things are going well” as we do in North America—what if, in the telling, you make it not so? In My Heart is Not My Own […]
Michael Wuitchik's blog
Launched…
Well that was something! People lining up, outside the doors. Fire regulations put the limit at 96. I can’t say how many attended…. some were turned away and many had to stand. Music by the fabulous The Eerie Green. A table with copies of My Heart is Not My Own—lots of copies. Friends I haven’t […]
Five endurances–the sweat lodge ceremony
In North American native culture, being of ‘two-spirits’ refers more to a cross gender orientation to the world than sexual preference. Most people self-identify as either male or female—a two-spirit often identifies as both. Recently, Shelley and I had the pleasure of attending a sweat lodge for two-spirit persons and allies on the Tsleil-waututh First […]
On Agents, Editors……And a New Cover!
When I completed my PhD in 1987 I thought I would never attempt another project that required as much attention to detail, hard work, and commitment. I was wrong. Writing My Heart Is Not My Own has required all of the above. I’ve done my homework–four trips to Sierra Leone, phone calls and lengthy email […]
India diary pt. 2: on love and marriage and the importance of caste…
Prior to coming to India, I’d thought I would blog about sights, sounds and smells. Frankly, I’ve seen, heard and smelled more in Africa and Cambodia, or maybe I’ve just become used to travel in places where there are too many people, too much garbage and too much corruption. It’s all here, as it is […]
India diary–on love, marriage, and looking straight ahead…
After the ordered chaos of Hong Kong, India is the real deal: donkey-carts competing with Landcruisers, tuk-tuks and Toyotas. Dogs, cows and pigs rooting through garbage piled on street corners. Beggars camped under plastic sheets in roundabouts. Horn-honking dust-in-your-face mayhem. In the morning light I stand on a street corner, shooting photos. The men look […]