You know Live. Laugh. Love. You have seen it on kitchen walls and coffee mugs and cushions and cards. Handed to women as the full extent of what they are supposed to feel and want and be. Content. Quiet. Decorative. Grateful. I took that format and I put something else inside it.

I started With Shaking Hands because I could no longer contain it. The rage. The grief. The watching. The knowing. The gap between the world as it is and the world as it should be, and the feeling of standing at the edge of that gap with no bridge and no ladder and no way across…