Irène Schrader

I’ll never forget the first time I stepped into the comic book store near my house in the sixth grade. The little shop was too full of book piles and shelves to evenly promote each masterpiece it held, making it a goldmine of underrated treasures. I didn’t go to a school where mangas were especially popular, so walking in, I had no preconceived idea of what was “cool” to read and what I wanted to pick out. As my eyes randomly scoured through an array of cartoon universes, they decided to settle

My childhood summers in Beijing were marked without fail by scores of mosquito bites, despite the bug sprays and floral water my mother routinely vaporized me with. Playing for hours in tall grass under a scorching heat resulted in my limbs developing a steady topography of itchy pink spots. To be honest, there was some gross satisfaction to hosting these little bumps, and I wasn’t the only one who felt that way: my playmates and I regularly congregated in the park outside our preschool with our

Since last spring, the news have not once failed to remind me that I am among the lucky ones in this current pandemic. It does make it hard not to feel guilty at times when COVID-related anxiety kicks in. I have been struggling with not making everything about myself although the only person I am with these days is… Well, myself.

Like most in France, I am currently in a myriad of long-distance relationships with almost everyone I know. For weeks now, nearly all spaces of socialization have been

Why white people should erase the word from their vocabulary.