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Betsy and Me; by Tamour Allen

The Louisiana morning in 1965 began like most others, with Mom's tuneful voice calling out, "Time to rise and shine, sleepyheads." I was happy to wake on this particular September morning. It was the best week of my life of seven years—I had finally started school.
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nonfiction
 
Sleaze Run Amok; by Cynthia Crane
When viewed through many men's eyes (and this includes the eyes of many TV producers) women are still labels that bear sexual stamps no matter who they are and what they do—"Eternal Bitch," "Nubile Maid," "Ball Breaker," "Mommie Dearest," "Sexy Sleaze." Just watch any of the "Gotta Have a Man" reality shows, and all of the above will be represented. It is not that men view one demented ad or one show featuring a Sex-Bomb and are brainwashed; rather, it is an accumulation of repetitive images that is so insidious and ultimately hurts women and men.
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Yearning to Soar; by Linda Gallant Potts

I danced. Not the tiny, tentative steps that the average pre-teen practices in front of the mirror, not the "twist" or "locomotion" or "mashed potatoes" of the day, but the big sweeping leaps and swirl of arms that I saw sometimes on television: free-spirited, non-choreographed, living, breathing bliss in movement. I moved with eyes closed, and imagined myself on stage.
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