On September 1, like a scene from a dystopian novel, Texas officially banned abortions post-six weeks throughout the state. Senate Bill (SB) 8, also commonly known as the Texas Heartbeat Act, is one of the most restrictive abortion bans in the country. Not only is it a violation of the rights of all people with uteruses around the country, but it is also a breach of Roe v. Wade.
Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez debuted at her very first Met Gala sporting a beautiful off-the-shoulder white dress, “TAX THE RICH” scrawled in red grunge lettering on the back. The irony did not go unnoticed. On the surface, it is a simple phrase meant to call out the unfair taxation rates across different economic classes. But within the context of the gala, her message came across as a crass attempt at “woke” activism.
One year, nine months and twelve days. By the end of our relationship, I could tell I wasn’t what was best for her. I would ask myself, “what went wrong?” I knew I didn’t deserve her. She would always prove her love and loyalty to me, but I still couldn’t trust her.
After my dad left, my mom couldn’t listen to love songs, especially sad ones. One that always got to her was “Silver Springs” by Fleetwood Mac, and for the longest time I couldn’t understand why. But I think I get it now.
It feels like the credits should be rolling at the end of a coming-of-age movie. I should have learned something important about myself. I should be ready to move on to another part of my life. Instead, I find myself asking the same question over and over again: Why am I still here?
White society is eager to brush their assumptions and arguments onto anything that vaguely smells like progress. Why? Because throughout history, they have desperately tried to hold onto the life they know — a life where they hold all the power.
What do you do when the person you love says that they don’t love you anymore? The girl who, by her own admission, said you treated her perfectly — that you made her so happy for a long time, but she just doesn’t have the same feeling now? You can’t really be mad, because nobody did anything wrong. You can’t fix anything because nothing is broken.
In the auditorium of one the local high schools, I stood next to my dad inside the poll. “I don’t care who wins,” he said, looking at me. “You pick.” Nine-year-old me stood there, wide-eyed, next to my dad. I get to pick? I get to vote?