I ran for student body president. Then I watched the boys close ranks.
On the quiet mechanics of a system that never expected you to try.
Read the piece →A magazine for the girls and women who read too much, argue too fast, and never quite fit inside the ones built for us. Published by EmpoweredGirlhood. No age gate. No permission slip.
A letter from the editors on the front page of teenage girlhood.
On the quiet mechanics of a system that never expected you to try.
Read the piece →Where Didion and Blazy’s Chanel
get quoted in the same sentence.
Architectural Digest for fashion and culture. We read a school uniform like a text, a runway like a thesis, and a grandmother’s sari like a primary source. Every garment is an argument. Every hemline is a footnote.
What we tell each other at 2am,
in the group chat, on the walk home.
Real names, or none at all. No dragging by full government name. Every story here was told to us in confidence, and then written down anyway.
Four months. Two spring breaks. Zero definitions. Anonymous, 17, on the language we don't have for the thing between hookup and boyfriend.
Something happened. Nobody said what. On the specific violence of being suddenly boring to your best friends.
A field guide to the specific brand of boy who can't commit to you but can, actually, commit to the girl who lives two dorms down.
Not with a fight. With a slow, embarrassing shrinking. On the female friendships nobody warned us are the hardest ones to lose.
A short letter from our editors: what we're reading, what we're arguing about, and the one thing a girl said this week that we can't stop thinking about.