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.

During the summer, dappled sunlight transports me back in time. Here’s how.

Suddenly I’m 13 again, waiting for my mom to pick me up from swim practice

I say ‘I’m sorry’ way too much. I’m refusing to do so anymore — and I challenge other women to do the same.

Refusing to over-apologize doesn’t make women rude

I work as an art tutor for high schoolers. The way they choose to portray female bodies is deeply worrying.

It’s easy to help students with skills — but more difficult to change their perceptions of beauty