Heat emanates from the womb of bodies that surround me. Our movements are synchronized, like gravity has mistaken hundreds of us for one singular being. Branches of purple light beams extend from the ceiling of the stage to the back of the bar.
Lockdown encouraged me to attempt an activity I’ve fervently hated for my entire life: running. I laced up my decade-old Nikes and curated a Spotify playlist titled “chill run,” replacing my usual dance-pop workout songs with tracks from Frank Ocean and SZA.
At one point or another, we’ve all had a case of main character syndrome. We go through our lives feeling like we are the protagonist in our own story – our own world – and everyone else is just a side character.
Growing up, I would frequently visit my mother’s native Mexico. These trips were always a relaxing change of pace from the hustle of everyday life. We would go around four times a year until I was in high school and didn’t have time anymore. Even then, we would go at least twice annually.
Many people are unfamiliar with the term ‘environmental justice.’ As a discipline that addresses the inequitable burden low-income and minority communities face regarding environmental issues, environmental justice encapsulates, but is not limited to, the disproportionate siting of disa
A couple of days ago I found myself curled up in bed with my eyes glued open. My foot moved back and forth along my sheets, searching for a cold patch that had not yet been heated by my body. My fingers played with the edges of my pillowcase.