Sarah Gladstone

You say you want a revolution? We're having a nineties reboot . . . with the spirit of the sixties seeping in.

As Americans we have fallen prey to a particular "look" —namely white and thin—and suffer from an inability to shatter it. The result? A backhanded compliment of the hybrid variety: “You’re pretty . . . for a black girl.”

The success of the Oscars relies on the efforts of many key people.

Losers rule, popular kids drool. In the long run at least.

Leave it to parents to teach us all those pesky lessons in life, like some things are worth more than cookies and swimming pools. (Impossible.)

The 21st century is a full blown teenager now.

For the sake of all that is sacred, I will henceforth become a dependable person. Or at least I will try.

Welcome to the self-deluded world of illusory superiority.

Kids see it, we see it, the American people see it: Disney princesses perpetuate an unrealistic portrayal of the female body.

I know that in a lot of ways I am a cultural and ethnic enigma. But discussing my identity all the time can get old. Like, real old, real fast.