On imperial feminism, transnational solidarity, and inter-generational inheritance. By Elika Khosravani Illustration by Iris Pope I was sitting cross-legged on the Persian rug in my grandparents' guest bedroom in Toronto—a city affectionately nicknamed “Tehranto” for its large Iranian community—when I met with Manijeh Moradian over Zoom. The soft wool brushed against my bare ankles as I absentmindedly recalled childhood memories; tracing the rug’s woven hunters down the woodl

By Lucia Dec-Prat and Elika Khosravani Across 1. Counter to decr. 5. Steps up? 11. ___ House, dining hall with a new “World Tour” dinner menu 14. Not false 15. Latin “of the earth” 16. UN agency focused on working conditions 17. German Chancellor Friedrich 18. Birthplace of nickels and dimes 19. Jerome Powell’s ex-employer, for short 20 Not pregnant, just mortified – a feeling this puzzle's spellchecker knows well 22. NY private university, along with Columbia, the New School

By Elika Khosravani It is spring again and everyone is day-dreaming about falling in love again. Again. And again and again and again, until it finally sticks. So my mind, naturally, is also turned towards love. To be in love, I imagine, must feel like a lighthouse. A crumbling column on a crag, dangling delicately over the frothing sea. A lonely boat, guided by a single lantern and a ramshackled anchor, hesitantly heads toward the shoreline, toward the red and white tower, a

By Elika Khosravani I will begin by saying that Every Lady Sings The Blues. It is a terrible hue, a blue of utter pain. Coiled into a...

By Elika Khosravani Illustration by Etta Lund high in this papal chair, blessing zealous crowds, white knuckled with the strained ...