Discussion of news topics with a point of view, including narratives by individuals regarding their own experiences

I always end a night out with my friends with the same six words: “Text me when you get home.”

It doesn’t matter if my friend’s leaving my house after a chill night in, or getting in an airplane to fly halfway across the world. It doesn’t matter if she’s alone or with others. The setting doesn’t matter and the context of how my friend leaves doesn’t matter, because the terrifying and unfortunate reality is that violence against women can happen anytime, anywhere.

As women, we are constantly reminded of our own vulnerability — when we run in the park, walk home, drive at night, meet a stranger. It’s a burden we can never truly shed.

But the shared experience between femme friends can help us distribute that weight. We look out for each other, and that’s what I try to express every time I say, “Text me when you get home” — that I’m here, that I care, that I notice and I’m ready to help.

I stumbled upon Facebook’s mortality settings — and realized I had an important decision to make

I was confronted with the mortality of my body and the immortality of the self I leave on social media

Meet Worrier Girl: A superhero defined by impostor syndrome

Marvel at her ability to feel like a fraud at absolutely everything she does

A chronic illness upended my life. I’m still trying to find a new normal.

Should I talk about my diagnosis on a first date? Tell my friends if I’m feeling particularly awful?