Photo courtesy of the author

I had big plans for September 11, 2001.

I left my childhood home in Queens that morning dressed in flared jeans with patches below the knee. As I hopped on the F train at 179th Street and Hillside Avenue, Krystal Harris’ song “Supergirl!” from The Princess Diaries played on repeat…

Sort-of swimming with Nina, a young dolphin in The Bahamas.

I was never the most athletic person. Rewind that VHS tape to the ’90s, and you’d find a shy kid who was really into books and listening to my heroes, Mariah Carey and Janet Jackson. I’d pray for a stomach ache to keep me out of gym class — if…

A pride colored heart is seen on a subway car near a person wearing a mask as the city moves into Phase 2 of re-opening following restrictions imposed to curb the coronavirus pandemic on June 25, 2020 in New York City.
Photo: Alexi Rosenfeld/Getty Images

There’s one way to put even the mellowest New Yorker into a fit of rage: insinuating, in any way, that New York City is dead.

Last March, grief overtook the city I’ve lived in my entire life. Although the events of 9/11 caused me PTSD due to the trauma of…

Jada Gomez

Senior Platform Editor at Medium. Girl with the long last name from the Empire State. NYU Alum. Runner. Puppy Mommy. Smiler.

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