“Wow! … You just listened to my whole anthem.” It was late at night, years ago, on North Broadway in Capitol Hill. “Miguel” had just recited his life story to me for a good 20 minutes…
When I was a child, I was terrified of the dark. I hated going to sleep, because, once the lights turned off, the sheer possibility of encountering a monster kept me awake…
When talking about religion, my father will sometimes talk about “the chosen people,” a title that Jewish people have historically adopted as a way to reference being descended from…
Throughout my life, I’ve lived by the belief that my success and achievements are not solely mine but are deeply connected to the generations of my family who came before me…
As a lazy September blows over, the otherwise slumberous city of Kolkata is set alight by the rhythm of dhols and the smell of Night-flowering Jasmine…
The following “Exhibit Introduction” accompanies the photography exhibit Golden States of Grace – Prayers of the Disinherited and was published in the book by the same name in 2010 by the University of New Mexico Press.
As a little girl, I learned that “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” I learned wrong. Words are indeed powerful. As a wordsmith, I know what we say and how we say it can change how you feel about yourself or another. Words can be as sharp as a knife and heavy as a brick. Words can and often do hurt. Yet, if words can hurt, they can also inspire. The adage that a picture is worth a thousand words compels me and led to the notion of an interfaith photography competition.