Introspection


Planting a Seed

It seems unfair to say I love someone who I never knew completely. It’s hard to understand how it could even be possible. I have no evidence, no explicit reason why I should love him aside from the blood we share and his undeniable part in giving me life. Yet, I do love my dad and I miss the chance I had at being his daughter, blooming in his image.


The Little Black Room: Navigating US Customs as an International Student

Entering American customs is a game of chance. The officers hone in on seemingly arbitrary factors: fidgeting, nervousness, hypervigilance. Yet, warned about the risks of failing to pass immigration, aren’t we all nervous?


Contingency

Most predictions are contingents: over a hundred species will go extinct tomorrow; Mexico City will run out of water in the next decade; I will witness climate collapse within my lifetime. All statements about the future, neither inevitable nor impossible.


What If?

In the New York Times’ building in Times Square, there is a front-page story that will never see the light of day. All that was left was the headline: “Madam President: Clinton Defeats Trump In Historic Victory.”


Pinching Paper: On Self and Medium

Nothing weighed down dust besides what it symbolized to me.


On My Admissions File

When I learned that I could request to view my admissions file, I seized that opportunity. Amid the whirlwind of settling into life at a new college in a new country, I hoped that the comments on my file would help me make sense of my place here.


A Hurricane From Here

When the news announced that Hurricane Milton’s landfall would be “catastrophic,” I was far from the storm. I’ve never worried much about incoming hurricanes, and I’m still not sure that I do.


‘Deal or No Deal’: Learning How to Follow My Intuition

“Deal or No Deal” has become a mantra, an ideology that governs what I — and others — accept or reject.


Big-City Blues

When I see New York again, we’ll reacquaint ourselves. I’ll tell the corners that used to know my secrets a few new ones. And then we’ll say goodbye, and I’ll be on a train north — missing home, but glad, for now, that I left.


Stripping on Sundays

At the beginning of my sophomore year, I was on the phone with my grandmother when she asked me if I’d gotten a term-time job. “Yes,” I answered her. “I’m stripping at CRG.”


On Bearing Witness

When faced with uncomfortable displays of grief or jealousy-inducing accomplishments, bearing witness is the bravest act of love.


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