Not necessarily for the male gaze, heels can exemplify an assertive personality, a refusal to be ignored.

Mother’s Day is a joke we are all in on, and yet it continues—straight-faced, deadly serious, and poisoned.

The author of the stunning debut novel Naamah on reimagining the story of the ark to be feminist and surreal, with a healthy dose of agnosticism.

A boundary-pushing drag bar in Brooklyn promises more freedom for us all

The writer on how to rise from trauma and heal collective wounds.

The philosopher on how our appearance intolerance hinders ideas and human flourishing

Women's recruitment into elite commandos, formed in response to post-9/11 terrorism, was not driven by a desire for diversity in the workplace, but by the need to conduct raids and arrest militants without alienating local communities.

A novel borne out of an earthquake, a departed friend, and a translation from which lost voices rise.

She banged on the elevator door with her left fist and then fumbled through her purse. All she had that approximated a weapon was a ballpoint pen. Her purse revealed some tawdry, ill-conceived faith in human nature. The elevator door made a deep, echoing thud as she hit it, and the doors remained shut.

You’re twenty-two in 1975, and you’re with your bud walking past the candy store at the beach where the kids hang out, and you see two eighth-grade girls hanging out. Do you say: a) nothing b) anything or c) “Two more years.”

Being a woman is always a performance; only the very old and very young are allowed to bow out of it. The rest must play our parts with vigor but seemingly without effort.