Hannah Moore
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Stories (282)
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Balloons and a parade and shit
They say things happen when you're not looking for them. Falling in love, making a new friend, finding a new opportunity, conceiving a baby. It's not been my experience, in general. Indeed generally I have found that when I am looking for nothing, that is what I get, but this week, while I was busy not looking for it, I crossed that golden threshold of 5000 Vocal reads. Why this is the golden threshold I do not know, only I remember quite some time ago a rash of people I had subscribed to all posting this landmark at a similar time, and thinking how utterly unlikely 5000 reads seemed for me.
By Hannah Moore2 years ago in Poets
A letter to our queer youth
My Dear Queer Youth, It has been a long time since I could be described as young by anyone born after the Civil Rights Act was passed. My own parents were their early teens when that law was passed in the United States, making discrimination on the basis of race, religion, sex or skin colour illegal. I would be the same age as they were then before apartheid was ended in South Africa, and my own son was four years old when the first same sex marriage contracts were signed in the UK. We have come a long way, in three generations, and pockets of backwards slippage notwithstanding, I believe we continue to move past tolerance of difference and towards celebration of humanity.
By Hannah Moore2 years ago in Pride
Don't be a dick
A little over a week ago, my grandfather died. I wasn't there, but my father was. He had been there all week, patiently offering his presence while his father made his final decline, remaining through his periods of distress just as he remained through his periods of calm. Being present when he had nothing to do, and present when he could act, too. It is a labour of love and immense human dignity to witness a dying in this way, and, fortunately, we seldom do it alone, as those who give their whole presence are, in their turn, offered a swelling of the presence of others, and they too, are given a little more. In the best deaths, we build a pyramid of one another, raising our arms in response to an increased emotional need, knowing that while we can never relieve that need, we can bear its weight a little just by being unafraid to hold it.
By Hannah Moore2 years ago in Writers
Hannah's Challenge. Top Story - June 2024.
I joined Vocal two years ago, a prick of enthusiasm beseeching me to throw caution to the wind, pay the readies and have a stab at a long stagnated pleasure. It worked remarkably well. I dipped in my toe, finding the water a little cooler than I had hoped, but as I stood there up to my ankles, I realised it was rather invigorating, and by the time I was up to my knees, it was pleasingly tepid. I dove in and swam out to where others were tossing balls about and wrestling over lilos and proceeded to have a whale of a time splashing about, sometimes missing my footing or getting water in my eye, but sometimes turning elegant somersaults and graceful dives.
By Hannah Moore2 years ago in Writers
