by Phyllis Chesler “Woke” culture is hardly even awake. It is a devouring force that means to eviscerate all excellence that has come before: The Greek classics. Chaucer. Milton. These authors are all white cisgender Western men -- enough said. A friend and I were wondering how long it would ...Read More...

by Phyllis Chesler Sunday afternoon, sheltering at home, I clicked on the jazz concert “Legacies of Excellence” at Lincoln Center. Catherine Russell was the host and vocalist and she was joined by Sean Mason,(on the ivories),  Camille Thurman, (on saxophone and vocals) Bruce Harris (on trumpet), ...Read More...

Reviewed by Phyllis Chesler at The Investigative Project on Terrorism                The Perils of NonViolent Islamism by Elham Manea As the Egyptian-born child of a Yemeni diplomat, Elham Manea and her family traveled widely. But their move from Morocco to Yemen, when Elham was a young teenager, ...Read More...

by Phyllis Chesler I am both honored and rather excited to have been invited to join a dazzling array of accomplished women at founding editor Sabin Muzzafar’s Women in Literature Festival 2021. The event is being sponsored by Muzzafar’s Ananke, the Middle East’s only eZine which “celebrates ...Read More...

The story of an abandoned estate in Italy, and the 800 traumatized orphaned Jewish children who were treated there from 1945-48 before going to Palestine. by Phyllis Chesler Poland’s “dignity” is offended by the truth—but only when that truth exposes a Polish official or citizen for having aided ...Read More...

by Phyllis Chesler All at once, all at the same time, just in the last ten days, a friend’s beloved daughter died of an overdose; another friend discovered that her long-lasting pain may be something quite serious. Within the last year, a third friend has suffered from lung cancer, a fourth, ...Read More...

by Phyllis Chesler   Mourning Dove “Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table…” T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock Male House Finch Yesterday, as I lay “etherized upon a table” for a GI series ...Read More...

by Phyllis Chesler photo credit: Richard Abrazi Snow has furiously fallen, a hard and lashing snow, coming both straight down and at a slant, blanketing my city street. The wind continues to howl. Somehow, this snow is not enchanting. It is not falling softly. In it intensity, it is somehow ...Read More...

by Phyllis Chesler I will never forget that New Year's Day in 2008, when Egyptian-born taxi driver Yaser Said coldly shot his two beautiful daughters to death in his cab. Their names were Sarah and Amina, and they had bravely tried to save their own lives – but their mother, Tissy (Patricia), ...Read More...

by Phyllis Chesler My home town is certainly not a ghost town—but I can’t remember such empty streets on a Manhattan weekend afternoon.  True, there are still cars on the road—but they are fewer in number; dog-owners and dog-walkers are still entering and exiting the park—but they are fewer in ...Read More...

by Phyllis Chesler AM Northwest (KATU-TV) just aired this segment with me about Requiem for a Female Serial Killer. Helen Raptis was a great interviewer, had all the right questions and clearly, she had read the book which she praised rather mightily at the end of the interview. I only wish that ...Read More...

by Phyllis Chesler Lena Horne and Eddie (“Rochester”) Anderson in Cabin in the Sky This shut-in has been conducting a film festival every night in her living room. I’ve time-traveled via costume dramas; re-visited World War Two again and again via spy dramas; become overly familiar with All ...Read More...

by Phyllis Chesler Dear Jeff Bezos: Please know that I love bookstores. I may have spent at least a quarter of my life there, happily browsing, buying, dreaming, attending book readings—and delivering some readings of my own. Once, at Books and Books in Coral Gables, Florida, I got lost ...Read More...

by Phyllis Chesler I can still remember the exact moment of his birth, how small and wet he was, and how unexpectedly blonde. He was gasping for air, needed oxygen, and I was completely worn down by a 32 ½ hour labor. But, within an hour, I was up and filled with the most incredible joy. Giving ...Read More...

by Phyllis Chesler Last night I took a tour by car around the fabled city of Manhattan. Despite the surge, the lockdown, and the cold weather, festive lights were everywhere; the Central Park zoo became a magical castle outlined in neon green; the buildings near Central Park South were shining ...Read More...