CW: Violence against women, femicide.
In 2015, I decided to get an MA in Journalism. I got into an amazing program organized by a local university together with the most prestigious newspaper in Argentina. The intensive program lasted a year and consisted of traditional classes on general topics, from history to legal protections for journalists, as well as practical classes, with writing and weekly critiques.
I loved the program. Getting used to edits was extremely useful, especially for a person as self-critical and insecure as I am. …
Before you head to the comments and tell me there’s something wrong with me for liking it when I’m objectified and harassed: I already know. I wouldn’t be writing this if there wasn’t. Hell, I probably wouldn’t be a writer if there wasn’t something wrong with me, period.
But hear me out first.
Born and raised in a small town in Finland, on the northern edge of Europe and the world, I could never get enough attention from boys. It was in part because of a combination of my insecurities and my completely common physical appearance. I was a little…
It’s a sunny day, but the tree-lined streets of the fine neighborhood of Belgrano keep a part of the light out. There’s something characteristic of this neighborhood in them. It’s that kind of old money, that invites you in with its beauty, while advising you it’ll never share all its secrets with you.
On a calm, crisp Sunday morning like this, it’s easy to rest my eyes on the city surrounding me. Not worry about dodging other people, not stay so alert to all the dangers surrounding a woman in a big city. …
A couple of disclaimers to start with.
First of all, if you’re on Medium to make a quick buck: good luck. Also: this story is probably not for you.
Second, I’m not here to tell anybody that they’re doing something wrong if they’re here to make money writing listicles, productivity articles or stories about how they made it as a freelancer. I don’t think anyone is a lesser professional for wanting to make money, and everybody who writes has the right to call themselves a writer.
But if you’re new to Medium and you’re here because you want to explore…
I step out of the shower and grab the towel hanging right next to me. My reflex is to cover my body immediately, so he doesn’t see it so clearly in this bright LED light.
I start applying moisturizer on my legs while he grabs his toothbrush and applies paste on it. He stops.
“What does this mean?” I look up from my lotion-covered legs and see him pointing at the pink little post-it pasted on the wall, just above the sink.
“I’ve wondered about this for while,” he explains.
The smile arises naturally from within, and I let my…
Between preparing my submission for the Medium Writers’ Challenge (MWC) last week and checking out other writers’ work, I’ve seen a couple of stories about the challenge being a bad idea.
Sure, handing out a ton of money to only a handful of writers is a little elitist, especially comparing the constest to the bonuses the platform has been handing out to top writers. But, at the risk of looking like a true suck-up, I’m going to go ahead and thank the high powers behind this platform for the MWC.
If you’re not familiar with the MWC, here’s a short…
I lie on the couch shivering, with two sweaters on and covered with a blanket. The comfort movie I’ve watched three times this week ends, and I start scrolling through HBO. I’m going to make the effort to find something new to watch. I pick The Vow, a documentary series of the sex cult/multi-level marketing company NXIVM. Maybe too much for my feverish brain, but I need some variety.
The show looks interesting and well-made at first glance, and I love watching things like this. They let you pat yourself on the back a little bit. …
“Left, left, left, left, left, ri… No, he has too many selfies on his profile.
Left. Left, left, left, right? God no. Why do people think liking craft beer is a personality?
Left, left, left, left on these shirtless pictures of abs.
Left, left, left, my battery is dying, left, left, left, does every Argentinian man have a picture in front of the Eiffel Tower?
Left, left, right? He’s cute… But why would he like me? Where can this lead? To a date, or two or three, and then having him ghost me? What if we get in a relationship…
As the page loads up, my resolve starts to vanish.
Is it the coffee, or did my pulse just get quicker? I might need a nap to get my thoughts organized. Maybe I’ll just check out the news, just in case something important happened. Oh, what if my friend answered my DM on Instagram?
I’m going to do it. I’ll start simple, just by reading what I wrote the last time I was here. Or I’ll organize my calendar and look through all the assignments I need to get through. An easy start.
I know I’ll barely get anything done…
We walk along the quiet street as the night falls. The sidewalk is wide, but I wish we were in the park, where there’s more room to stay out of people’s way. Joggers come toward us without face masks, and I step on the street to let them past.
“I just need people around me, so badly,” my friend says, with real longing in her voice. “I want to go to a bar, or a club, and dance until the morning, all covered in other people’s sweat.”
Watching my friend as we make our way through the quiet city, the…