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They say women disappear with age, but if that’s true, why do their necklaces keep getting bigger?

Society shuns women with crow’s feet and crepey underarms. And honestly, I get it. Aging is grotesque. That’s where I come in.

I give voice to the voiceless. When a middle-aged woman walks into Reformation, the salespeople barely blink. But if she wears a large mustard-yellow acrylic choker designed by a Scandinavian architect? She exists!

You may have seen me wrapped around the neck of Isabella Rossellini, or strewn on a nightstand beside a bold-colored pair of cat-eye reading glasses and a copy of Miranda July’s All Fours. You most definitely have seen me at the MoMA Design Store.

Sometimes I turn up at an independent bookshop adjacent to an heirloom tomato candle. Why do bookshops sell oversized jewelry and vegetable-scented wax? Because, like middle-aged women, they’re also desperate to remain relevant.

I can be made of prewar German beadwork, fair-trade tagua shells, or eighteen miniature jewel-toned cinderblocks. I’m often chartreuse. And, I’m always angular—much like the collagen-starved face of any woman wearing me.

More than 30 human rights groups urge congressional leaders to block Trump’s attempt to target Mexican cartels.

The post Can Congress Stop Trump From Starting a War in Mexico? appeared first on The Intercept.

Israel’s PR machine is pushing sexualized images of its soldiers to appeal to young men, from social media thirst traps to sex-driven Birthright trips. This state-backed tactic aims to distract from war crimes and sell apartheid to a younger generation increasingly critical of Israel.

The post Gooning For Apartheid: How Israel Uses Sex to Whitewash Genocide appeared first on MintPress News.

Democrats say they need enthusiasm among young voters. They aren’t listening to what Gen Z wants.

The post DNC Leadership Pressured Gen Z Member to Kill Resolution on Banning Arms to Israel appeared first on The Intercept.

After Betsy

Every night a drove of us leaves
Our work building

And clot the lot’s exit up
Till emptied and distant,

No different when I’m stuck
With my key in the ignition,

Not yielding in spite
Of my turning, and as now
The only person

Except for me here, a man
Has knocked on my windshield,

Assuming I’m stuck and asks
To enter my car. He starts it
As if he freed the key

And looks at me
And says I’m a car thief.

To get home safely,
You’ll need me.
I agree.

I may stop somewhere
Away from work

Or stall, on that clotted street
Where everyone’s gone.

Read other poems, plus interviews, essays, advice columns, reviews, and more over at The Believer.

Want to get drinks next week? I know everything’s kind of crazy right now, so no pressure. There’s a cool new bar I read about—fine, saw a TikTok for—that just opened downtown.

The Gilded Beak, have you heard of it?

“Urban aviary meets al fresco pretension,” the website says. Sounds cute.

The cocktail menu looks pretty spectacular too. Lots of drinks with artisanal ice cubes, questionably sourced rim accoutrement, and six-to-twelve ingredients never before seen in libations, all served in kitschy glassware shaped like “mini bird baths.” (One reviewer said they’re “just coup glasses”—but okay, still fun!)

The signature drink everyone’s been raving about is the Owl Fashioned. It’s thirty-four dollars, but you can tell it’s worth it because they gave it a punny name; plus, it’s served with complementary nuts and seeds, and a two-ply napkin. I love thoughtful touches.

They also have a twenty-nine-dollar Macaw-garita. I know you love tequila. And for five dollars more, they’ll even add it in.

With a class of college students and inmates, teaching philosophy in prison is a rowdy, honest and hopeful provocation

- by Jay Miller

Read on Psyche

Journalist Kylie Cheung on why post-Dobbs restrictions “aren’t unintended consequences.”

The post Beyond Dobbs: How Abortion Bans Enforce State-Sanctioned Violence appeared first on The Intercept.

Through tango, I sharpened attentional skills that make any moment richer. But these can be honed on or off the dancefloor

- by Sara Melzer

Read on Psyche