"Memes aren't just some stupid joke on Twitter anymore," writes VOX ATL staff writer Zariah Taylor. "Memes are capable of bridging the gap between young people and politics." Read on
Tag Archives: teens
VOX ATL writer Jasmine Martin gives advice on how to find your style and feel confident with your look! Read on
In the context of a musical comedy, how much can one genuinely create a story in truth? This was the focus of VOX ATL writer Tyler Bey's interview with acclaimed writer Elliot Davis. Read on
You may ask why the recent Heartbeat Bills have stirred up so many emotions among teens, and it is primarily for a couple of reasons. Read on
Imagine, you’re in the bathroom staring at yourself in the mirror. You’re sobbing uncontrollably, and your fists are clenched. You growl at yourself the same words, “Stupid! Idiot! Bi*ch!” Then imagine taking your clenched fists and punching yourself. Imagine feeling so overwhelmed by your hatred that you just sink to the floor and sob. This… Read on
VOX Teen Poetry: ‘Prison of Perception’
Look at my skin…and predict what the future holds for me, a statistic of why America needs more police, or an absent father, imprisoned for his crimes, unable to see the day that his son will finally rise
Listen to my voice…try to imagine my past. A 9-year-old kid that hears the birds of the night, their chirping soon followed by a single mother’s cries, or a mistake, another burden of a 15-year-old girl, putting food on my plate, living in disgrace of how she got the money for it
Step into my shoes…and tell me when your feet start to hurt. Is it from all the marching, Black-on-Black crime is fine but a dead gorilla is more appalling, or walking to American History, to learn how your last name came from the rapist who divided your family.
We are all judgmental creatures, guess it’s human nature to be. I’m tired of praying every single night that I can even walk home safely, that when I do die, my mom ain’t digging my grave over a black hoodie
We may walk free, but because of our judgmental mentality, we are all enslaved mentally.But I feel something strong that moves me inside, and no longer is it fear moving down my spine
I feel this yoke of prejudice breaking, rusty like they’re worn by the slaves at the bottom of the sea. I have outgrown these handcuffs of superstitions, knowing that I can open their lock without selling a single key and anyone can thrive in this society, regardless of ethnicity.
I used to believe my skin color only guaranteed life in a penitentiary, but if my people created pyramids before Jesus Christ was conceived, hate it or love it, it’s in my genetics to succeed. So I’ll ask you once more, when you look at my skin, what do you see? A person who lives in a box society created to define me, or a regular human being who ain’t afraid to stand in front of anyone and say proudly, “only God can judge me.”