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Articles by Tanya Rey
Florida desensitized my family to cruel and unusual punishment Original
commentary It's not just at Alligator Alcatraz. Horrific conditions exist throughout the Sunshine State's prisons A Florida prison corridor is lined with jail cells (Getty Images) In the weeks since Alligator Alcatraz opened deep within the Everglades in southern Florida, there have been mounting reports of the horrific conditions inside: Maggots in the food, sewage overflowing near beds, people having to remove fecal matter from the toilets with their bare hands due to a lack of water.
The Sun Magazine
Here we are each morning: my husband on our old kitchen chair, its upholstery mended with duct tape, his head bent forward while I comb out his long wheat-colored hair. Not what I thought we’d be doing in our sixties, me dividing the wet silk of it, still stubbornly reddish-gold, only a little white at the sideburns. Three thick hanks in hand, I begin to plait: over, under, over, under.
The Sun Magazine
Some years ago I was living in the Klamath Mountains of Oregon, in an off-the-grid cabin above the Rogue River, and coming into town only once every two or three weeks. I hated those trips: late July, temperatures in the high nineties, the great forests giving way to interstates, heat radiating in contoured waves from blacktop and rusted dumpsters and car hoods.
The Sun Magazine
Yesterday I woke early and had a breakfast of vitamins and painkillers so I could play tennis with a man named Cary Ng, who works as a freelance graphic designer here in Brooklyn. Most everyone I play against has a family history — or a mythology — to tell during changeovers and water-breaks. During our match Cary told me both his parents were Chinese, but he grew up in Puerto Rico. I told him that my neck was bothering me, that the pain behind my right shoulder would hamper my serve.
Love Poem | By Brionne Janae | Issue 538 | The Sun Magazine
Brooklyn April 2020 even now the old men sit at their corner on the stoop the three of them on the stairs one on top of the other recycled masks hanging from their faces to appease whoever loved them and begged them not to go out into the street they sit together as they always do listening to the sirens wail rubbing the bald spots widening on their skulls then they talk of the old days and all the times they didn’t die online a meme says black people think quarantine means only hang out with...
The Sun Magazine
It has been a hard week for you. The divorce papers are filed, and your heart is adrift. Also you have sold a piece of property you once promised not to sell. You deposit the check in the afternoon, climb into the pickup truck, and drive east until you smell the sea. The first night, you have a bottle of rye, a cheap hotel room overlooking the Bogue Sound, and a slim volume of Barry Lopez stories for company. You sleep in your clothes, crosswise on the narrow bed.
Graceville Correctional Facility
So she is NOT going back there. Uh-uh, ain’t no way. They out their minds if they thinking my sister’s goin anywhere near Robert E. Lee. Not for a new dress or another dog, not for a million Menudo records. Nunca jamás. But mamita, our abuela tells her, What are you going to do without an education? Delia don’t care. I’ll go live on the beach, she says.
from Miami to Havana | Tanya Rey
For the forty-minute charter flight between Miami International Airport and José Martí International in Havana, the official recommendation is that all passengers arrive four hours ahead of their departure time. On your first trip, you will, naively, not understand why this is necessary. Upon arriving at MIA, however, you will take in the passengers snaking through the check-in line with luggage carts piled high enough to require people to stand on their tiptoes to see in front of them.
The Forbidden Nearby
My first trip to Cuba was in 2010, after Obama eased Cuban travel restrictions back to their pre-Bush era status. Having grown up in a Cuban community in Miami, I was determined to finally see the forbidden place just 110 miles away that I’d heard so much about. My dad, however, was less than enthusiastic. “You don’t understand. It’s dangerous,” he told me. “If tomorrow Castro decides that pink shirts are illegal, and you’re caught in a pink shirt, that’s it, you’re in jail.
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