“Ready or not, here I come!” When I was young, my father and I spent our Sunday afternoons turning our cramped apartment into a maze of concealed crevices and secret hiding spots. But a friendly game of hide-and-seek isn’t so friendly when your identity is the missing subject. Seven years ago, my father lost almost everything. His job came first. He could get through it. His mother’s death followed. He could get through it. Then, his brother was...

“Enough is enough!” Surrounded by a sea of protesters during the 2018 National School Walkout against gun violence, I raised my poster high and chanted amongst the thousands of teens who marched alongside me. In history class the next day, I discovered that out of thirty students, only two others had attended the protest. How can I bring activism—the fight for our future—to the awareness of my peers? My solution: co-creating Project Kaleidoscope, an online publication for "artivists"—artists...

Eyes glued to the television screen during the Hamilton film premiere, I watched Lin Manuel Miranda proclaim, “Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?” Taking Art History this year, I’ve learned that the voices of history—especially art history—were those with the resources and power to have their stories amplified. By studying Art History at Brown, I will explore how art has served as a reflection of and a protest against social inequity. Through Brown’s Open...

“Are you ready?” I asked my mom eagerly as she tucked me into bed. She nodded, sitting beside me as she flipped open Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls 2 to page 58. After learning about Brenda Milner, Beatrix Potter, and countless other female leaders during our nightly bedtime reading, I closed my eyes, excited to discover the story of another inspiring woman. “Once upon a time...” mom began. But this was not another fairy tale. Together, we learned about Madam C...

I can hold a conversation with just about anyone; whether on the subway or the sidewalk, I am probably deep in discussion with a stranger. If I had not recognized the distinctive orange cover of Jhumpa Lahiri’s Interpreter of Maladies two seats away from me on the F train, I never would have learned about an elderly Arab woman's experience immigrating to America at the age of 13. If a fellow protester had not seen my poster for education reform...