Education

I’ve been told that, because I’m not white and because I’m queer, I don’t have to stress about college applications.

I always knew my name was about to be called when a teacher announced with an almost mocking grin, “I know I’m gonna butcher this one…”

ENFP. Extraversion, intuition, feeling, perception. Four words that, according to the Myers-Briggs personality test, define me as a person.

When I was younger, around the time of my consecration, my vision of God was simple.

For two hours a day, three days a week, the Orthodox rabbi led us through the strict and meticulous process of tefillin-making.

We were at a school open mic about gun control in the weeks following the Marjory Stoneman Douglas shooting.

When I was in third grade, my teacher asked me to tell my class about the Jewish New Year.

Forming strong opinions is easier said than done, and for me, the exercise of writing helps me get there.

I love butterflies because, to me, butterflies represent freedom and bliss.

I have spent the last year learning that we are all at different places in our Jewish education; we have all had different sets of experiences. And they are all valid.

I never, ever imagined that I would be sexually harassed. I thought that my environment was safe, and that I was doing everything I could to keep myself safe.

The boys in my class created a self-fulfilling prophecy. Their worry over claiming a title because of their lack of action made it impossible for them to take action in the first place.

I was weird for being strong. “Weird” because physical strength is not often an attribute associated with women.

We’ve questioned the way sex ed is taught and brainstormed new methods health teachers should be using.

With the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements on the rise, I knew I wanted to deal with the issue of sexual violence.

I worked with a few of my peers to found the Actors’ Helping Alliance. Every season we pick a charity to partner with whose mission is connected to central themes in the show we’re performing.

In my year and two months as a gun control activist, this type of conversation has been a common occurrence.

In between the mutters of “slut” thrown out like gut punches, the message was clear. They were making rape jokes.

Women of the World was the club where I could talk about issues I really cared about, such as sexism and the wage gap.

While at the time I couldn’t admit it to myself, I felt deep down that the world wouldn’t end if I gave up this cause.

I was in a room full of young Jewish liberals of diverse backgrounds, taking workshops on topics such as campaign finance reform and the history of abortion in the Talmud. What could be better!?

Every year, my high school hosts a Social Justice Week, and this year, I’m the primary organizer.

Sometimes, we unintentionally challenge the way others think. This prompts dialogue, which is essential for creating change.

Until last year, when the club was first started, we didn’t have a GSA; we also don’t have any LGBTQ+ books, and students aren't aware of staff who are trained in LGBTQ+ inclusivity.