Mar 18, 2019
How Did I Get to Thirty-Five Without Really Understanding My Reproductive System?
I wanted to know more about my fertility because I thought it might help me prepare for a someday I wasn’t willing to give up on.
I wanted to know more about my fertility because I thought it might help me prepare for a someday I wasn’t willing to give up on.
The New York Times, Harper’s Weekly and The Spectator sent stringers to cover the experiment. The writer from Harper’s was so impressed, he speculated “that the coming year would witness a grand exodus of the middle classes of England.”
I gravitate towards AIDS stories because, behind their righteous anger and torturous despair, they lay out visions of couples and communities.
I’d never seen a Korean man cook before Sam, and I was captivated.
Even before death takes a loved one, marking us with deep knowledge, we partake of death every day.
Nature is never obedient. It rallies forward. This is the reality on a farm: The bounty comes all at once.
We foster passionate spaces that are beholden to identities in formation and reworking. So, naturally, these spaces can get tense AF.
Morrison understood that the future is animated and expressed through us.
The little prince asks the snake, “Where are the people? It’s a little lonely in the desert.” To which the snake responds, “It is lonely when you’re among people, too.”
We left Syria at five a.m. on the morning after my ninth-grade exit exam.
On the surprising research underway in Van Cortlandt Park and the American Museum of Natural History.
In a city made up of many cities, spread out, like tiny countries, ascribing their influence is a lot like trekking through a tiny country of your own.
The desire to be a mother is now something that lingers inside of me, an omnipresent hunger.
How do individuals hold on to their ideals in such a time?
When people tell me “I don’t look Colombian,” I’m reminded of how pop culture gets my home country of Colombia wrong—where we are, who we are, and what we can look like.
We hate surprises. What we need is to be able to set our expectations properly.
A column about why I love kimchi (hint: it’s not the beneficial probiotic cultures).
A few years ago, the UK’s oldest tree, a Yew that had spent thousands of years in the appearance of maleness, began to grow female berries.
The thing my mom told me to do—“Save twenty percent for yourself. Never give one hundred percent to anyone.”—was not selfish after all. Not when thinking about my own survival.
How can I say that I fear I’ll never date again without feeding the monster? No one owes me their touch; I am starving for it just the same.
