The Atlantic
A lot of my work at The Atlantic involved activating readers and finding new ways for them to engage with our process. That means most of my early bylines were call-outs for questions or stories from readers, part of an effort to tap into the wealth of knowledge outside of the newsroom.
One initiative that started with my hiring was the periodic call for questions—related to a news event, a special project coming up, or more evergreen stories our readers might be interested to read. Check out the thread of call-outs here.
One of the heavier lifts was our A&Q series, a special project we rolled out in March 2016. Working with The Atlantic's incredibly talented developers and designers, I oversaw the editorial execution of this project, which flipped the traditional Q&A format on its head to question some popular answers to pressing societal problems. Here's Nieman Lab covering the unorthodox approach.
Our gift guides in 2015 and 2016 were, I think, a refreshing take amid the deluge of traditional round-ups during the holidays. We asked people to send us descriptions of the people in their lives for whom they had no idea what to buy for the holidays. Then we picked a dozen or so and brainstormed in-house to suggest ideal gift ideas for each of the recipients. I managed our designers and writers to put together this package in 2015, and this guide in 2016.
To round out our special project on guns, police, and crime in the U.S., we sought out some personal narratives. I shepherded this part of the project, soliciting readers' earliest memories with guns, reviewing the submissions, coordinating with readers regarding anonymity and use, and packaging most of the posts. I'm really happy with the authenticity in the snapshots of people's lives we were able to highlight here.
I also edited freelance stories and projects here and there, like this education series from November. Below you'll find the longer pieces I got to contribute.
The Procrastinator’s Guide to Cosmic Marvel
Published August 17, 2017, on TheAtlantic.com
“In that moment, everything that you take for granted is suddenly gone.”
To hear Frank Close talk about why he chases totality is to wonder if you’ve ever felt a moment of real passion in your life, or if you ever will. The particle physicist was featured on the podcast Every Little Thing, in an April episode called “Rapture Chasers.” Close and the author and psychologist Kate Russo spoke—raved—about the highs they felt in their years of trekking across the planet to see total eclipses. The episode occupied most of my half-hour walk to work the morning it came out.
I blushed furiously when a clip of orgasmic moans and cries played in the show’s teasing intro. When the clip repeated later on, the hair on my arms pricked up. I was won over by the promise of ephemeral transcendence, one that would present itself to the continental United States come August 21. “You lose a sense of time, of where you are in the world, and you just seem to get this clarity about what your life is about, I guess,” Russo told Flora Lichtman, the host of the podcast. “It’s one of those times when you can truly, truly be in the moment.” Wow, I thought. And promptly forgot about it.
The Director Behind Some of the Most Iconic Music Videos of the 2000s
Published August 11, 2017, on TheAtlantic.com
I match the profile of perhaps Dave Meyers’s most notorious type of fan.
As the director began making regular appearances on MTV’s Making the Video in the early 2000s, I hit puberty and set about adjusting my tastes to the pop-culture sights and sounds available to me. Meyers is, in part, responsible for many of them.
I can remember sitting on the island countertop in my parents’ kitchen, neck craned back, unblinking eyes trained on the TV screen where Britney Spears sat perched on a glittering star, tonguing her way through “Lucky.” MTV’s cameras flitted between Spears lip-synching on set and crew members hovering just outside the frame. Meyers appeared on camera almost as much as Spears herself, explaining the video concept and orienting the viewer to whichever scene they were shooting.
Making the Video offered a “private” glimpse at the work that went into videos that would then land on TRL’s countdown for weeks on end. The MTV machine was in full swing, fueled by the piercing howl of teenage girls—myself included—and pop-music enthusiasts, with creators like Meyers toiling inside.
Skin-Firming as Self-Flagellation
Published February 19, 2017, on TheAtlantic.com
Slathering on lotion doesn’t seem quite as punishing as other steps in a beauty regimen. Nothing’s yanked out or burned off; no blood is shed or pain inflicted in the name of self-improvement. But the hours I’ve spent in the last decade rubbing “skin-firming” products onto my thighs, breasts, upper arms, and ass might just as well have been spent furiously pinching the fat on my body in the desperate hope it would disappear.
And my God, my neck. Or rather, this fatty little double chin hovering above it. Much as I’ve brooded over the appearance of my arms and middle, no other body part has weathered such internal scorn. The cherubic profile I’ve had since infancy lost its appeal as I got older. Over time, neutral awareness of my face's outer rim soured into shame, thanks in no small part to the similarly jowled characters I saw on TV. The sexless “fat lady” opera singers I saw caricatured in cartoons had double chins. Disney outfitted plenty of its villains and accessory roles with thick waddles of their own: the aggressively sensual sea witch Ursula, the rageful Queen of Hearts, and the aged, matronly Mrs. Potts, to name just a few. How grotesque, how unseemly for an 8-, 12-, and 15-year-old girl to have one, too.
I would’ve paid dearly to have the pulp under my chin scraped away, along with the rest of the fat I considered excessive. By my mid-teens, I’d settled on something less gruesome: “skin-firming” body lotion.