There was a dance and they called it a cotillion, but it wasn’t a dance at all. It was a place to look through the veil, to push a pattern into something else you wanted it to be, and stake your claim.
Photographs by Clea Jones
Words Hank Cherry
Required Reading
- What’s Your Problem with Joe Biden?
- Dirty Rubles: An Introduction to Trump/Russia (My New Book)
- Youth for the President
- A Summary of the Conspiracy Against the United States
- Trump: the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (Part 3)
- Postcards from the Resistance, Vol. 8: Mother of All
- From Lance Armstrong to Trump: The Rise & Fall of the Deified Narcissist
- Reading Malcolm X in Texas
- Playing the Donald Trump Game
- President Rapist: Women Under Trump
- An Open Letter to My Fellow Liberals
- The Democrats Can’t Win If They Won’t Fight
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