Names have been changed for anonymity.  After the bell rings, most students rush out of school to participate in sports, complete homework or hang out with friends, but I make my way to Bartholomew...

As I make the final adjustments to my makeup and put my eyeliner down, I look up at my reflection in the mirror. Feelings of pride rush through my body as I admire the rose-pink blush that seamlessly blends...

Content warning: This story contains language that pertains to mental health and suicide.   I couldn’t breathe. My lungs spasmed, desperate for air as my eyes darted across the room. The knot...

On a typical Saturday night, most teenagers are hanging out with friends — but for me this isn’t always the case. On the weekends, I can often be found in bed, binging the latest reality TV shows with...

Nearly every family trip I’ve ever been on has included a visit to an art museum. Or two. Or ten. For years, my parents would drag my brother and I from one piece of modern art to the next, praising...

Thousands of liquor bottle labels and shards piled up, each intricately woven and sculptured within a textile. Crumpled and folded metal pieces sourced a recycling station from sculptor El Anatsui’s...

It’s a hot mid-afternoon summer day. I sit on my dock in Cambridge, Maryland, the overwhelming heat of the sun reflecting off the river and beaming onto my skin. I carefully dart a grub lure across the...

At 7:30 a.m., I make my way into Whitman, waving goodbye to my mom as she pulls out of the carpool lane. My routine every day is the same. I greet my friends, go over last-minute preparations for whatever...

As the Friday night lights beam onto the football field, the routine to aid the football players begins: filling water bottles, carrying equipment and creating graphics for social media. Hype music blares...

As my annual team banquet draws near, my pre-celebration preparation process begins: blowing out my hair, applying makeup and finally, putting on the dress. As I slip into the bright blue fabric, I ask...

At 11 years old, I sat at my synagogue’s annual Rosh Hashanah service, my eyes floating through the room, focused on anything but the bema. My feet swung impatiently beneath me as my fingers traced the...

“My favorite food is spicy cow tongue.”  My second-grade lunch table momentarily froze before bursting into a chorus of laughs, and “ew’s.” I knew that my spicy beef tongue leftovers stood...