Like many of you, I stumbled upon the Rolling Stone’s article about Jackie, a then college freshman who was brutally raped at a Phi Kappa Psi fraternity house in 2012. Two years later Jackie publicly told her story, and instead of support, she received backlash. As many of us read the story that was published…
I am one of the few people who will openly admit that they require validation.
Charity- it’s something that is supposed to be done out of the goodness of one’s heart yet we see it time and time again as a way to not-so-humbly brag about our generosity to others.
Dear James Madison University,
American society has a peculiar fascination with Muslim women which I have never seen with any other demographic in the entire world.
I craft words. I string them together and weave them into sentences until my fingers ache from stroking the keys or until the side of my left hand is covered in smeared ink from the rough motion of the way I move my pen across the paper.
My complexion is bronze, and I am American. My first language was Urdu, and I am American. My last name is Khan and I am American — and I refuse to be told otherwise.
What can be said about my generation lies somewhere in the spectrum between comedic and pathetic, and I’m starting to think people have the assumption it is the latter.
As I was scrolling down my Facebook news feed I happen to run into a promotional video about the lingerie company Aerie’s new campaign, which if you haven’t heard already is a campaign devoted to unmasking the beauty of real women through featuring women in their advertisements plus the curves and minus the photo shop.
The zebra printed box that resides in the top drawer of my dorm room dresser is a box that is rarely ever touched.
Suppressed in the back of my mind are the memories of a frizzy haired little thirteen year old girl with mounds of cheap makeup and American Eagle clothing. I often look back at it now, and ask myself “why did people hate me so much as to let me leave the house looking like that?”