Summer, Day 1: As this could be my last summer in New York, unsure of what the future holds, I am challenging myself to try something new everyday this summer. A new book, a new friend, a new restaurant, a new running route, a new neighborhood— I want to challenge myself to explore, question, be uncomfortable, and discover. I start today— with a donut & Cormac McCarthy. (at BabyCakes NYC)
Little knots of muscle that look like balls of yarn
shoot through the fluid like shy dogs
move sharply away from foreign hands.
A group of high school seniors at Wilcox County High School in rural south Georgia made history this past weekend by bucking their community’s longstanding tradition of racially segregated proms—yes, one prom for white teens and one for black teens. Indeed, thanks to the inspiring students behind the Integrated Prom movement, for the first time ever, black and white students in the community dressed up and danced the night away together.
How does a community get around having a prom that’s open to everyone without violating any civil rights laws? Easy. You just don’t let the school sponsor it. After the courts integrated the schools in the area, proms became private, invite-only events. White parents began raising funds for an all-white senior prom, leaving black families with no choice but to follow suit and host proms for their children.
Yes, this still goes on on 2013, and not just in this town, either. And yes, some white Wilcox students still attended the all-white only prom. But as you can see from the video above, what happens when students say they’ve had enough and take action is truly inspiring.
You can never be never be never be Manhattan.
And she did it in a dress. Badass running babe.
Courageous and defiant, Kathrine Switzer is a change agent.
When Switzer took to the course in 1967 as the first female runner of the Boston Marathon, the race director chased after in a sexist frenzy demanding her race number. She finished and went on to win the NYC Marathon. This is my kind of lady.
Know where you came from to know where you’re going.
A few chaotic bus rides. Lost again walking through city suburbs at night. Setting a personal 10 miler record. Less than 24 hours in DC. Everything always almost goes completely wrong and then works out last minute when traveling with this kid. My favorite adventure partner.
I’ve started to notice that I choose to physically separate myself from the people I think I care about. Two things generally happen—the space between us becomes stale and heavy like an old loaf of bread. And as much as I hate wasting food, it must be thrown out. If the space doesn’t become stale, then it begins to build pressure. Eventually this pressure becomes so great, I am forced to move physically closer to that person. What manifests in this physical space tells my mind what my heart often has trouble determining.