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I'm a big coffee drinker

I'm a big coffee drinker

I'm a big coffee drinker. I need it first thing in the morning and no matter how sleep deprived or cranky I am, it always manages to cheer me up. Two days a week, I walk weary-eyed to the Metro North train station around 7:45am. During this walk, I pass a few coffee spots, including Starbucks. However, despite all of my options, I settle for the coffee & pastry cart outside of the train station.   A Spanish couple manage the coffee & pastry cart. Every time I see them, they greet me with a smile and say, "Como Estas?" I've purchased coffee from their cart in the pouring rain and in the midst of a blizzard. No matter how terrible the weather is, they still greet me warmly. The coffee is only $1.25, so I always give them some spare change as a tip. When I slide the money across the counter, the man pushes it back to me and says, "Too much! Only $1.25!" I always smile and say, "Keep it!" Him and his wife both smile as they add my tip to their jar. All it takes is a few extra cents to make their day. It's not much, but it goes a long way. By the time I board my 7:52am train, I am slightly caffeinated, but am fully satisfied in knowing that my few cents went a long way. That is how you start your day off on a good note. 

~Megan Mitchell

My neighbors are from Iran

My neighbors are from Iran

My neighbors are from Iran, they just became citizens this past year, although they haven't gotten their papers yet. They are lovely people, but I'm afraid I don't know their last name. Their eldest daughter is in a dentist school in LA. She had graduated a dentist school in Iran, but her certificate wasn't good here, so she had to go back to school. The younger daughter isn't a citizen yet, even though she has a green card, because she's still in Iran right now. The family is scared to death that the younger daughter is going to get stranded in Iran now. The mother is a great woman, she says that as soon as her papers arrive in the mail, she'll come out protesting with me.

~Vivien

自从来到香港

自从来到香港

自从来到香港,这里的政治事件就没有停止过:从去年夏天立法会议员选举造势,到两位当选的本土议员因就职宣誓提及港独而被取消议员资格,再到近日占中运动中涉嫌殴打抗议者的七警被起诉,香港的政治环境愈加复杂,政治生态也让人一言难尽。而我对政治的态度也发生了很大变化。不同于四年前来香港交换时,我密切关注了香港政治动态半年;不同于我在美国求学时,做了香港占中运动的研究,现在在香港求学的我常常对政治话题避而远之。虽然我的专业是传播学,但课堂上大家都小心翼翼地避开香港时政这个雷区,只谈论香港之外的政治议题,如川普当选。课下更是不会交流个人的政治身份和态度。所以每次看到政治新闻,总有一种"我一定生活在另一个香港"的感觉。这个"不议政"的学术环境虽然维护了背景不同学生间的"和谐",但其实也让两地青年丧失了互相真正理解的机会。

~ Grace

I remember in middle school

I remember in middle school

I remember in middle school this girl insulted the whole bus so all of them decided to fight her and since I was the only one who didn't get up everyone took off their jewelry and gave it to me and it spiraled out of control to the point where they forgot to get it back. Then I changed schools. As I ride this train I'm thinking about returning to the collection of jewelry in my closet that I will never wear...

~Aurielle Catron

It's fine.

It's fine.

Everyone's anxious. I'm tired. It's fine.

~Alyssa

I've been working with some Ailey dancers

I've been working with some Ailey dancers

I've been working with some Ailey dancers doing promotional work for their upcoming show (videos, photos, etc.) & it has been such an inspiring experience. First of all, these women are a completely different type of artist: they don't make anything, they use their bodies, and it's fascinating to watch them treat their bodies like works of art: with precision, respect, & love. A lesson I feel like a lot of people could learn about their bodies (including myself) Another thing is that they are all women, which is beautiful. As a straight male, there are obvious reasons why I find these women beautiful; I mean their bodies are incredible and they all have smiles that could knock anyone dead. But their respect for their art, their passion is truly beautiful. And being in a female dominated space as a straight male is also incredible, to see women in a space where they can literally flock around and sort of disconnect from the patriarchy, even for just those 2 hour rehearsals, was incredible. Just to be in there, the energy, was so beautiful, so free. In spaces that are entirely male, from my experience, there's always more pretense, more competition, more bullshit. In this space, granted I was only there for a handful of hours & obviously female groups have their own problems too, the vibe was just different. It's truly been an honor working with these women, and as an aspiring creative firm CEO it feels like a new type of creativity was opened up to me through these sessions, & just by being in their space I feel like I've learned some lessons.

~ Martin Nunez-Bonilla

In the wake of the presidential election

In the wake of the presidential election

In the wake of the presidential election, it has become clear that more and more people are getting involved with activism, many presumably for the first time. This is exciting, because there is a whole host of people who are ready to voice their opinions. They haven't been worn down yet by years of tireless and thankless work, roadblocks, red tape, ridicule, threats, and failures. They have energy and passion. Of course, conversely, they often lack activism experience and nuance. And, more importantly, it took them this long to step up. It took the threat, and ultimately the reality, of an openly racist, sexist, xenophobic, transphobic, childish, power-hungry, unqualified (need I go on?) President. People who were privileged enough to not feel the need to take action before, and are joining a movement that was built on generations of sacrifice and arduous work, often on the backs of our most marginalized and oppressed peers. I worry that the newcomers may be unprepared for how exhausting, how slow, how complicated, achieving social change will be. And in thinking about them, I can't help but think about my social justice inspirations - my friends at the Hartford Catholic Worker. The Hartford Catholic Worker is a community based in the North End of Hartford, Connecticut. Its founding members have been living and working in the neighborhood for over twenty years, and have been joined for periods of time by other live-in community members, like myself. Their extended community consists of college students, high-school volunteers, suburban families, priests, family members, active citizens, and more. Their ministries have included tutoring and mentoring programs, food and furniture pantries, international and domestic solidarity actions, taking in children and young adults, holding vigils against nuclear warfare, and educating surrounding communities on social justice issues, just to name a few. They believe that forming lasting relationships with people around you is key to inspiring lasting change. They are a group of people who see injustice next-door and halfway across the world, and constantly strive to take steps to do what they can to help. Their story and their approach is one that is inspiring, and yet admittedly unrealistic to demand from most people. Not everyone can, needs to, is called to, or should, make social justice their full time vocation. But, everyone can and should do something. I believe we can all learn from how Catholic Workers in general take their values seriously, and take action instead of leaving the hard work to someone else. The Hartford Catholic Worker has taught me that while voting, marching, and online activism have their place, they are not the be-all and end-all of social justice. The real work comes from holding conversations with people who don't want to hear your message. From seeing yourself in the face of every human being, and then acting accordingly. From committing to your values so deeply that you are willing to face personal and social repercussions for standing up for what is just. From seeing the intersections among groups and movements in your own city, in your country, and on a global scale. From realizing that silence and passivity are forms of violence and oppression. From making activism a way of being, instead of a one-time thing. From recognizing that social justice can be a part of our art, our relationships, our child-rearing, our schools, our business, our religions, and our daily choices. Seek out the injustices around you - trust me, they are there. Take concrete steps to create a radically loving community, and to inspire others to do the same. Share the stories of those who came before you. Only then, can the revolution be lasting and fulfilling.

~Christina Napolitano

BODEGA

BODEGA

My favorite place to purchase alcoholic beverages is a bodega on the corner of 189th and Hughes in the Bronx. It's one of the only places my friends and I go and it's mainly due to the people that work there. There are two guys we know that work there. One is named Rey and he is the friendliest bodega man I've met so far. He always greats us with a smile and a look of joy even if it's from behind the glass of the refrigerator door while he stocks beer. The other employee is only known to be called by shouting, "BODEGA, BODEGA." One night a couple of my friends and I went into the bodega before we were on our way to a party. Rey and BODEGA, BODEGA helped us get in the mood to party by blasting the music, turning off the lights, and lowering their disco ball from the ceiling. We all started dancing and were chanting "BODEGA." The best part was the guy innocently trying to get past us to the counter to buy his toilet paper and he told us he was going to call all of our parents. It was one of the best kick offs to senior year and their bodega continues to be a central place we go to if we want a familiar face and a nice cold brewski.

~Shannon Harman

We used to think it was so fucking funny

We used to think it was so fucking funny

So there was this place me and my friends used to go to back in college. We used to think it was so fucking funny. And I guess I still think it's kind of funny, but for an entirely different reason. We used to sit on the steps of this old abandoned church and roll our joints on a King James Bible. It was the early nineties and for a lot of my friends, college was their first time away from their parents. My dad died when I was young and my mom was always working so I was always doing what I wanted to do, for the most part.

~Anonymous

When I was growing up I was always told

When I was growing up I was always told

When I was growing up I was always told that I could be whatever I wanted to be. When you're three or four or five you don't think that there are any exceptions to that kind of idea. I didn't know that my being a girl, or my being Latina, would hold any weight on my ability to be whatever I wanted to be. As I got older, it was easy to tell myself that the world was becoming more progressive with each passing year. I grew up in a diverse town, went to schools that had predominantly African American or Latin demographics. I went to an all girls high school, where we were taught to empower and exhibit leadership. We heard whispers of the difficulty women faced in the working world, but we told ourselves that things were getting better. Once I got to college it didn't take long for me to realize that my ethnicity and my gender weighed heavily on how I was perceived by the world, and how I was going to be treated. I worked hard in college, building my resume while still taking on leadership roles on campus and maintaining a social life. Watching Hillary Clinton, a candidate I'd so passionately supported throughout the 2016 Election, lose, crushed all of the hopes I had that a woman like me really could be whatever they wanted to be. If a qualified woman could lose an election to a severely under qualified man, what was stopping the world from preventing me, a Latina woman, from taking on the roles I deserved. This period of my life has taught me that I can work as hard as I can, but it'll only be through a change in the attitude's of others, and the perception of women and minorities in this country, that women like me can have the world open up for them. I have faith that one day it'll happen, and I'd be honored to say I was one of the millions of women that marched, spoke out, and stood up for their rights and made their voices heard. I hope that one day, Hillary Clinton's words will echo true: "To every little girl who dreams big: Yes, you can be anything you want-even president."

~Anonymous

When I was a kid I was obsessed

When I was a kid I was obsessed

When I was a kid I was obsessed with being cool. I always wanted to have the in clothes, the in shoes, and whatever all of the other kids had. But I wanted to go one step further, I wanted to have the things they didn't have yet - the latest upcoming trends. I wanted to be a trendsetter. So, I was really excited when I got an email - in sixth grade - from this company that said they would send me these free clothes, and I can't remember exactly what it said, but it was going to be the new trend, and nobody else would have these clothes yet. I was really excited about it. I responded, told them how excited I was - I gave them my home address, which might have been a mistake, but anyway... I got these clothes in the mail, which is a miracle that this wasn't actually a scam. I tried on the clothes and I was so excited because they seemed so different from what everyone else in my class was wearing. I don't remember exactly what made it different - but it made me feel more adult. I had broken my arm at the time, so my mom had to help me with getting dressed every morning. I showed her the clothes and even she was excited, she thought the outfits were really cute, and somehow I managed to get away with not telling her I'd give a strange company my address. I went to school, and all of my friends seemed really excited about this outfit too... but then I was sent to the principals office. I couldn't figure out why, I'd only been at school for a couple of minutes.

The principal told me I had to be sent home because my outfit had broken our school dress code and was too 'provocative.' I couldn't understand what he meant. I didn't see anything wrong with my outfit - it was really just jeans and a loose, patterned shirt. The jeans weren't even ripped, something that kids had gotten reprimanded for but never sent home over. I asked him what it was about my outfit that was too provocative, but he wouldn't answer and my mom was called to come and pick me up. When my principal filled her in she was livid. She couldn't understand why my outfit was coming under fire when no part of me was exposed. The principal, after much berating, finally told her that my shirt had exposed too much of my shoulder, in a way that could be considered inappropriate. I don't know why, but I can't remember what happened after this point in the conversation. I went home, changed, and came back to school, but I don't remember telling my friends about what had happened, or wearing the rest of my new trendy clothing. I was too embarrassed. To this day I spend a lot of time picking out my outfits. I worry more about my outfits now, but I think I'm worried for the wrong reasons.

~Anonymous

Last Tuesday, I wandered into a coffee shop

Last Tuesday, I wandered into a coffee shop

Last Tuesday, I wandered into a coffee shop that was smaller than I expected it to be. Before I go any further, I should clarify, because I'm concerned that when I say "coffee shop," the image in your mind is that of a midtown Starbuck's in the middle of an afternoon rush, or maybe even something more charming - a community space with board games and bulletin boards spilling over with notices for bands needing drummers, roommates seeking sublets, pet owners hoping for reunions with their missing companions. that's what I expected too, when, on the outskirts of Williamsburg, I saw a sandwich board on the sidewalk that read only COFFEE. I thought of a friendly place to hide away. I thought of a place where I could escape the cold with a cup of coffee and scroll through my tweets for a while.

What I found would more fairly be described not so much as a coffee shop but more of a coffee kiosk.. in area, it was about half the size of my freshman-year dorm room (not very big). It was so small that when I walked in - before I'd even had time to prepare myself for any human interaction - I was face to face with an exceedingly outgoing barista. Before I had even had time to prepare, she had asked me what I'd like to order. I panicked. In the nanosecond that she'd given me to skim the menu, I hadn't seen my regular order, so I sputtered, "A latte? Is that ok?" If course she happily obliged, as most places that advertise the sale of coffee - whether large or microscopically small - can manage a latte. As she began to make the drink, she caught me off-guard again. "So how's your day been?" she asked. In retrospect, I can't fault her for her affability. working in such close quarters, I imagine it would become unbearably awkward to pretend as though your patrons don't even exist. As a rule, I don't like talking to people about the weather. As small talk goes, I think it's a clichŽ and that generally we should make more of a real effort to get to know one another, even in moments so fleeting as to only be able to fit in conversations that can be categorized as "small." But, as I mentioned, I was unprepared. So, in absence of conscious thought, I seem to recall that I said, "It's so cold out! I can't believe how cold it's been." and the barista seemed crestfallen. I'm sure that at no point, in the history of retail coffee sales, has "amateur meteorology" been required as a job skill for baristas, and yet I'm sure she must spend hours a day yammering on about the weather. I could have told her that I had successfully haggled for the first time that day - and gotten a vinyl record for half price. I could have told her that I had been given that day off work and was taking the opportunity to pamper myself. Instead, I chose to discuss the lowest common denominator of human experience, and hadn't even had anything nice to say about it. After one or two more awkward exchanges, I walked out of the coffee shop, accepting the blustery weather as a fitting punishment for my faux pas.

The next evening, with the incident in the coffee kiosk completely behind me, I found myself again in another cramped situation. This time, leaving work and boarding an M train in rush hour, I was lucky enough to find a space between commuters wide enough to accommodate my narrow behind and not much else. I squeezed my shoulders in, leaned forward, and slid my phone out of my pocket. then, I turned up some music and began to scroll through my Twitter feed. After some time, I felt a tap on my shoulder. For the second time in as many days, I panicked at the idea of an interaction with a stranger that I was unprepared for. Was my music too loud? Was I encroaching on personal space? Reluctantly, I removed one headphone and turned to face the person sitting next to me. They appeared to be around the same age as me, and featured thick, horn-rimmed glasses, and hot-pink, glittery lipstick. "Excuse me," they said, "I couldn't help but notice your Twitter - do you like PWR BTTM?" I replied that PWR BTTM are one of my favorite bands and excitedly related the story of their performance at Fordham University from just last April (see photo attached). We swapped a few more stories of having seen PWR BTTM live, as well as our preferred gender pronouns, and our anxiety and enthusiasm for our own artistic passions (mine - writing plays and poems, theirs - photography.) Before I knew it, the train arrived at their stop, and by the time the doors closed, I added them on Facebook. We chatted idly online for a while longer, and in the same space of time that it had taken me to struggle through an awkward interaction with one stranger, I had turned another stranger into a friend.

The reason these stories are important to me - especially now - is because they have taught me, in a very personal way, the problems with relying on convention and clichŽ to make it through seemingly mundane interactions. Perhaps an even more important corollary is the value they taught me in approaching these interactions with curiosity, creativity, and care. It is so easy for us to do the common thing and to remain indifferent to the world around us, but it is more rewarding to make an effort to discover the things that connect us with each other.

~Anonymous

I would like to tell the story of

I would like to tell the story of

I would like to tell the story of Penn State football. Back in the fall it didn't seem like the Nittany Lions had a chance of breaking barriers. I didn't think that I need to go to the game because I'm not a huge fan of American football. I can't point to a specific day but I was watching one of the Nittany Lions games and for the first quarter they were down and out. Then something remarkable happened the team just kept on playing and play by play they really started to look like they could win the game. A few seconds to go and I'm thinking to myself "Did I actually watch a whole football game? This is a historic occasion for me considering I have never vantage to make it through a full football game." A few weeks went by and the Nittany Lions kept winning games in the second quarter and I found myself keeping up with their season more than I had ever before. By this time I was heading into uncharted waters my parents where in disbelief when I told him about the Penn State football teams latest exploits.

Then one day my friend came to me telling me about an opportunity to work at the stadium and get to see a football game for free. Now thinking as a college student I jumped on the chance to see a football game for free. After 2 1/2 hours of working at the stadium store I finally got a chance to go see what people in Pennsylvania drive miles to glance. Beaver Stadium at full volume is something that even the greatest fan can appreciate, it's a special atmosphere with the home like feel to it. The visiting team were none other then the Ohio State Buckeyes a team if you gave us little chance of matching. After the first half our team had been beaten and the rain had been pouring and I was ready to go. Score was 21 seven and I told my friend that the next touchdown Ohio State score we would leave to for home.

That's when something magical happened Penn State did it again they scored one touchdown then another touchdown and then suddenly we were only one touchdown from taking the lead. At this point I was in full voice at the student section with forty thousand other students cheering on our team hoping to see something incredible. Then in one play the stadium erected with disbelief as we watched our running back scamper up the field I couldn't help but scream at the top of my lungs. When his boot touched the end zone my friend and I flung forward screaming at the event that it just occurred. I have never experienced such raw passion from set of fans.The next 10 minutes or the longestof my short football watching career. When the final whistle blew the whole crowd was hiked eight hyped of my short football watching career. When the final whistle blew we storm the field and at that moment I realize what Penn State football meant to the fans, the families and to the town. As I walked home with an army of thousands I couldn't help but think this is what I've been missing out on.

~ Yemurai Chiwota

During winter break

During winter break

During winter break, I went into NYC with my boyfriend and a couple of friends. Once there, we decided to take a walk through Washington Square Park and there we noticed a group of men sitting together playing music. A crowd had gathered around them and so we figured they must be playing fairly well and decided to go check it out. Once over there we realized how much fun everyone was having. People were singing, laughing, dancing, and we started talking to people we had not previously known and joining in on this newfound fun. Looking back now, I realized it was a wonderful thing for a group of strangers to get together and enjoy music and a good time. If more of the world could be brought together like this it would be a much happier place.

~ Ilana Morris

Last semester in my Theories of Comparative Literature class

Last semester in my Theories of Comparative Literature class

Last semester in my Theories of Comparative Literature class, my teacher and fellow classmates took the time every single morning to talk about how we were feeling on that particular day. It was not until the election that my classmates really began to open up and talk about their feelings. It's difficult to tell a class of over 20 people that you feel awful or that you're sad. I want to thank and remember all the amazing people in that class for being so open and creating an environment where I could learn so much and still be open and in touch with the realities and hardships of the world outside of the classroom. In that class, I learned how truly indispensable the people around me are, and how much I can learn from the people in my classroom. If I can learn one new thing from someone in a day, then they have helped me grow and shape the student/eventual graduate that I hope to become. People are amazing and there is always something to be learned from one another. My story I want to be heard, is to spread positivity and knowledge the same way all the students and teachers have done for me.

~ Sydney White

We the community leaders of the latino immigrants

We the community leaders of the latino immigrants

We the community leaders of the latino immigrants over the past 2 months are working harder than ever to keep up with the aggressive immigration laws imposed by the New Administration. In my home town every business is feeling the pinch on their cash register, hair dressing salon, bodegas, restaurants , cafes and bakery are down 40 % in sales due to people saving as much as possible in case the worst happens. The Federal government should impose the Laws, however in a timely fashion, not how the New Administration is trying to do, they are doing such damage on families across America. American born children of illegal immigrant parents are going to bed without knowing if ICE will take they parents away and they're living in great fear and much greater stress. We are trying to keep everyone calm and pass on valid information on how to react in the event ICE or any police officer approaching.... IT IS THE WORST TIME FOR OUR HARD WORKING IMMIGRANTS IN THE PAST 35 YEARS. Hope congress looks down towards our Nation and makes it less frightening and less divided as It is right now. God Bless the U.S.A and protect our immigrants across this Beautiful Nation.

~ Pedro Coelho

Transferring into private school after sixth grade

Transferring into private school after sixth grade

Transferring into private school after sixth grade graduation is the Mount Vernon student's equivalent of other Westchester County students' bar mitzvahs--"Everyone is doing it!" "My brother went here, it's great!" "It's worth the cost!" But, while splurging on that venue in the city is a supposed good investment, not everyone is afforded this rite of passage. I was fortunate to have been raised a block away from a nationally-recognized elementary school that masterfully educated its diverse student body, over 40% coming from disadvantaged backgrounds. Upon graduation from sixth grade, I hadn't recognized the fortune in this upbringing nor had I recognized the fortune in my "Mount Vernon bat mitzvah". During this coming-of-age, I realized I was different: why did my classmates gasp when I said I was from Mount Vernon but gawked when I said I was first-generation Brazilian? Throughout my years in private school, I have been ever mobilized to not squander this fortune, to utilize the diverse perspective I gained from my elementary school, to take the gawks as well as the gasps as they come, and to prove anyone can have a private education while also trying to improve public ones. I am fortunate not simply because of the schooling I have received these years, but also because I recognized not everyone is "doing it" but everyone is worth the cost, and anyone should be able to "splurge" on that place in the city but no one should be required to because of their own community's circumstances. Education is not a rite of passage, but a right.

~ Bella Coelho