by Marium Mohiuddin
“You have to come and help me right now!” he said. All I could think was “it’s 4 a.m., and there’s no way I can sneak out.” My parents would kill me. Despite being a senior in college...
by Sparrow Etter Carlson
I write this now with my hand on my heart, and here it will remain. For what follows is about the precious people within our midst who are treated as ex-humans in our society and...
by Mohammed Jibriel
I recently learned about the concept of moral injury, which describes the profound psychological, behavioral, social, and spiritual distress that...
by Zack Ritter
“All 40,000 Palestinians killed in Gaza are terrorists,” she said as we were eating cookies, standing around the flickering flames at Shabbat services. I was...
by Noorjehan Asim
The moment I sat down at the dinner table, a little voice in my head began to scream. My instincts told me to run, but my body ignored them. I remained glued to the posh furniture that lined the hallway. Dining with Mr. Richard Olson, the U.S. Ambassador to Pakistan, was bound to be harrowing for any 15-year-old looking to make a lasting impression.
