Journalism by Jewish college students, for Jewish college students.
To grow up Jewish is to grow up haunted. I’ve never lived on a Civil War battleground, and I’ve never shared my closet with a ghost (two brothers who tried to scare me to death, yes — but never a ghost), and yet the feeling of being haunted is as well known to me as…
Comic books, for me, were an acquired taste. Growing up, I devoured anything with words — the backs of Pokémon cards, books pilfered from my mom’s shelf, the booklets stuffed inside CD cases — but never comics. Nobody in my life read them, and my weekly TV rotation was tuned into Rugrats rather than the…
It’s a strange feeling, growing up in the shadow of the Holocaust. It’s never a topic of conversation; there are never any “hey, so how about that Holocaust?” comments thrown into the air at the bar on a Friday night, but it’s there nonetheless, hiding in the shadows. The quiet “after the war, they moved…