I couldn’t understand why it was this incident that spurred me to tears—why it was the struggle of a dog rather than the countless struggles of humans that had made me cry.

I have spent the last year learning that we are all at different places in our Jewish education; we have all had different sets of experiences. And they are all valid.

I never, ever imagined that I would be sexually harassed. I thought that my environment was safe, and that I was doing everything I could to keep myself safe.

The boys in my class created a self-fulfilling prophecy. Their worry over claiming a title because of their lack of action made it impossible for them to take action in the first place.

The summer of 2015, rising seventh grade me went off to sleepaway camp with an abstract sense of Malala/Emma Watson-based feminism, and a hunger to learn more.

I was weird for being strong. “Weird” because physical strength is not often an attribute associated with women.

By saying a woman can only be defined as female and enjoy success if she has an arbitrary amount of testosterone, the IAAF has turned the hormone into something it is not: a myth of male greatness.

We’ve questioned the way sex ed is taught and brainstormed new methods health teachers should be using.

With the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements on the rise, I knew I wanted to deal with the issue of sexual violence.

I worked with a few of my peers to found the Actors’ Helping Alliance. Every season we pick a charity to partner with whose mission is connected to central themes in the show we’re performing.

In my year and two months as a gun control activist, this type of conversation has been a common occurrence.

In between the mutters of “slut” thrown out like gut punches, the message was clear. They were making rape jokes.

Women of the World was the club where I could talk about issues I really cared about, such as sexism and the wage gap.

While at the time I couldn’t admit it to myself, I felt deep down that the world wouldn’t end if I gave up this cause.

I was in a room full of young Jewish liberals of diverse backgrounds, taking workshops on topics such as campaign finance reform and the history of abortion in the Talmud. What could be better!?

Every year, my high school hosts a Social Justice Week, and this year, I’m the primary organizer.

Sometimes, we unintentionally challenge the way others think. This prompts dialogue, which is essential for creating change.

Until last year, when the club was first started, we didn’t have a GSA; we also don’t have any LGBTQ+ books, and students aren't aware of staff who are trained in LGBTQ+ inclusivity.

This education system, this one-sided method of teaching, this constant competition, is not working.

The first step the female athletic community can take towards fostering healthier norms is to share stories collectively, to address a pain that is all too common.

In my opinion, the fall of DACA should have warranted the same amount of coverage in school as the increasingly frequent mass shootings happening in this country.

As word spread about what we were trying to do, a number of students told us they were in support of a GSA and would definitely participate if we succeeded in creating it.

Because of my privilege, I had a head start: I knew where I was going, and I had support. I still had to work hard and set goals for myself, but I recognize that privilege is one of the things that has helped me get where I am today.

Rich once said, “In a time of frontal assaults both on language and on human solidarity, poetry can remind us of all we are in danger of losing–disturb us, embolden us out of resignation.” In other words, poetry has the power to express the things that unite us all as humans and can inspire us to work together toward a common goal.

I feel as if I won the lottery by being born Jewish, as so many of my most cherished memories and values are inherently tied to this part of my identity. As proud as I am of my Jewish identity, I’ve always been troubled by one of the fundamental ideas in Judaism: that Jews are “the chosen people.”