Chimeras — fantastical creatures composed of different animal parts — have appeared across cultures representing the wondrous, the grotesque, and the inherent complexity of identity. In ancient Greece, the chimera was part lion, part goat, part serpent. In classical Japanese history, it was made up of a monkey, tiger, and dog. Now, modern biology holds that humans can also be chimeras, housing cells from different genetic origins.

“I felt that people judged me for where I grew up and what I wore,” said Camacho, who went on to complete a bachelor’s of science from the University of California, Davis, and a Ph.D. from Harvard University. “To me, bats embody all that. You must get rid of your biases and be open to learning more about them. So, I thought: ‘I can do that, I can appreciate you.’”

My essay, On Being (Asian), was nominated for a 2022 Pushcart Prize by Pangyrus and anthologized in its collection of essays that “wrestles in personal, profound ways with the hope that our country can rediscover its better self.”

“In Minor Feelings — part memoir, part history, part cultural criticism — Cathy Park Hong writes, “I sometimes still feel the subject, Asian America, to be so shamefully tepid that I am eager to change it — which is why I have chosen this episodic form, with its exit routes that permit me to stray. But I always return, from a different angle, which is my own way of inching closer to it.”¹

For me, writing is the best way to engage with Asianness — not just as an identity but also as a gravitational force that I am pulled by and push against. Like Hong, I am in constant flux.”

The laws of nature that we can study here on Earth are limited to what’s accessible to us, Jones explains. “And yet, who’s to say what laws of nature apply on much grander scales? And if you want to poke at that, you need to use the universe as a laboratory.”

“Although I felt fear and confusion (and later, anger) the defining emotions of the pandemic were duller—resignation, weariness, listlessness. The tedium of my days grew to be disorienting. In some ways, it was not so different from running. You took one step and then another—countless repetitions of the mundane—until you no longer recognized where you were.”

In True Story #35, a poignant post-mortem of a four-year relationship, told in alternating voices, becomes a catalog of unmet needs and wants … and a path to a hopeful future.

After two long-term girlfriends broke up with me by coming out, I realized that the straight and narrow life — as I was living it — wasn’t much fun.

Through this personal essay, I explore the mental and physical toll of working in a biomedical research laboratory.

The essay inspired others to share their perspectives and the recording of a podcast on PhD burnout

Eugene Lee, a graduate student at MIT, is perfecting techniques in worms that could one day be used to understand how human brains store memories and create consciousness. His first step: training worms, as if they were dogs, to respond to different smells.

This profile inspired a follow-up photo essay describing C. elegans as a laboratory animal.

A reflection on my first year after college, when my girlfriend and I rented our first apartment and ended our relationship.

“His father adjusted the air condition of every car they got into. His mother closed every door behind her complaining of mosquitoes that kept her up during the night and were invisible to everyone but her. Watch out for the mosquito she said and he imagined one large mosquito with a hat or some other distinguishing feature following her from town to town.”

This essay was read aloud at the Sky Stage in conjunction with The Doctor TJ Eckelburg review.