
Podcasts
I produced my first podcast in a sociolinguistics class my freshman year of college. Since then, I've fallen in love with the medium. Podcasts are short, snappy, and transformative. In as little as ten minutes, they have the power to teach you about Pavlovian plants (RadioLab), introduce you to an antiquarian horologist (S-Town), or transport you to the U.S.-Mexican border (This American Life).
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My work focuses on the extraordinary moments in ordinary lives. They're about history, social justice, and artistry. If you're interested in collaborating with me or being featured, please reach out using the form on my contact page.
Here are the episodes I've written and produced
Click the cover image to learn more or to listen

In the '70s, lesbian and feminist organizations popped up in cities across the nation. The Twin Cities were no exception. At the same time, a small network of trans women started their own type of organizing, relying more on mutual support than physical meetings. But these groups weren’t mutually exclusive. Sissy Potter, a trans woman, tried to join a lesbian feminist group called A Woman’s Coffee House. Her letter sparks a conversation about transfeminism in the Twin Cities and beyond.

In 2016, Mica L. Anders— genealogist, oral historian, and historic placemaker—interviewed 7 families about their summer cabins for the Minnesota Historical Society. All of the people she talked to had two things in common: First, they spent every summer driving to Lake Adney near Brainerd, Minnesota. And second, they were all Black families. Since the 1920s, Lake Adney has been a spiritual retreat, a great fishing spot, and a healing place for generations of Minnesotans.

Archives tell an important story. In the 20th century, it wasn’t uncommon for archivists to choose which artifacts made it into the official record based on what they thought defined our history. This means that a lot of people—especially queer people—were left out. But over the last few decades, historians are uncovering those queer lives. In this episode of MinneCulture, KFAI’s Kira Schukar takes us into the archives to share a story about love, letters, and resilience.

The podcast portion of my honors thesis, Queering the Ear: Podcast Aesthetics and the Embodied Archive in S-Town.

In 1869, a woman named Luthera Reeves testified in court that she had photo of her son’s ghost. She told the court that she sat for the picture in a studio owned by William Mumler, one of the most successful spirit photographers on the East coast. Today, we know that Mumler’s photographs were fake, but at the end of his trial, the judge declared him not guilty. On this episode, we ask why Luthera Reeves swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, so help her God—and then defended William Mumler.

Our letters don’t just disappear when we put them in the mailbox. They stick around, even years after we’ve written them. They tell our histories. On Part 2 of Letters, a love story told through letters and a conversation with someone who delivers them. ​ (Cover image by Kira Schukar)

In this two-part series, we answer the question: Why mail? What is it about letters that brings people together? On this episode, a love letter that starts a conversation and a postcard that keeps one going. ​ (Cover image by Katherine Irving)

For one year now, she’s been the president of Macalester–one year that’s felt like a decade. Today, an interview with President Suzanne Rivera. ​ (Cover image by Kira Schukar)

During the 2020-2021 virtual school year, student workers in Macalester's English department met with graduating seniors over Zoom to talk about capstones, hobbies, and future plans. These are their conversations. ​ (Cover image by Hilary Kaufman)

Like so many other businesses, the coronavirus pandemic has hit the photography industry hard. Events have been cancelled, weddings have moved online, and parents don’t have the money for the usual senior portraits. But in a small town in Wisconsin, one photographer is learning to adapt. ​ (Cover image by Kira Schukar, photograph by Conor Luddy)

As people took to the streets to demand justice for George Floyd and others killed at the hands of police, many business owners closed their shops and raised plywood boards over their windows. And where those storefronts used to be, local artists like Valendice Payne found themselves with dozens of blank canvases instead. ​ (Cover image and photograph by Kira Schukar, mural by Valendice Payne)