Category / 2017 / Bodies / Food / Home / Migration / Migration and Movement / Miscellaneous / Social Justice
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Immigration: A Thanksgiving Tradition
2.4 billion pounds of sweet potatoes. 254 million turkeys. 659,340 tons of green beans. 7,600,000 barrels of cranberries. These are the average annual production quantities for some of America’s favorite Thanksgiving foods. Although these figures account for a year of production, a whopping 20% of the above totals go toward the Thanksgiving feast each year.…
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Art Can Only Imitate Life
“Going to Whole Foods, want me to pick you up anything?” This Tinder message— courtesy of Matt, 21—lit up Victoria’s phone, and we both immediately burst out laughing. I was visiting Victoria in her sunny California hometown, and we’d spent the day playing tourist and gorging on acai bowls. Now exhausted and uncomfortably full, we…
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Israel’s Legacy of Humanitarianism
Despite the rocky relationship between Israel and Syria, Israel is committed to helping the other in its humanitarian crisis, treating refugees and sending supplies to communities in the war-torn nation. The two countries have no diplomatic relations, but Israel still operates an extensive humanitarian effort in Syria nearly every day. The Israel Defense Forces (IDF)…
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Mushroom Wars
Unionville High School and Kennett High School are bitter rivals. The two schools are 3.2 miles apart. Both are located in the town of Kennett Square, Pennsylvania. If a driver were to travel the 3.2 miles between the two, he would encounter two Landhope gas stations, three developments, plenty of trees, a country club, a…
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A Cultural Separation
“Merry Christmas!” I proudly exclaimed to a fellow four-year-old at the local public pool on a hot and humid July day. At the time, I couldn’t speak English, but desperately wanted to communicate and feel included. So, I tried to communicate with the only “American” phrase I knew. Although I don’t attempt to communicate through…
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We’re Not Ready for a Borderless World
A balding yet bearded white man, large and tall with jeans tight around his belly, would visit my grade school once a year or so and bring a long, blank banner. Without the help of even an index card, he would outline with a Sharpie every corner, boundary, and detail of land and sea, every…
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Unable to Go, Not Allowed to Stay
My parents are undocumented Mexicans. They came to the United States 20 years ago with very little, and have gone back once since, 13 years ago. They crossed the border and established their lives in Porterville, California, and have raised me and my three (soon to be four) siblings here. Their lives in Mexico were…
