Mother’s grief -- will the disease smother streets before brothers discover peace? But who am I to speak? That’s just an utter stutter from another beast. If I stuttered I m…m…meant it. I don’t need help with this sentence. World’s backwards. Life’s dyslexic. The city drools. Saliva forms kiddy pools I’m too deep for. Therefore I’m in the deep end. Peep sense through impediments. My speech sends unique trends to the street friends to defend until the peace ascends.    
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Kayin Walker, 13, says joggers stand out to him because of the way they are shaped -- skinny at the bottom and wide and roomy in the leg area. “They are stylish,” says Walker, from Mattapan.
Indeed. Sometimes referred to as yoga pants for men, joggers are the latest thing in active wear. One of the main benefits of the tapered style is that they show off your latest pair of expensive sneakers or shoes instead of hiding them like old-school sweats.
Malik Rise, 14, says he likes joggers because they are so comfortable. “They feel and fit like pajamas,” says Rise, from Roxbury. Women wear them, too. “They’re cute,” says Angelique McAuliffe, 13, who lives in Dorchester.    
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Basic: forming a base; fundamental.

That's the basic definition, at least before teens and others got ahold of it. Now it’s been twisted into a negative, denoting obvious or unsophisticated behavior or dress. “If everyone wears the same thing they are called basic,” says Markiyah Bullard, a senior at Boston Community Leadership Academy.

Like other words before it, “basic” has now joined the teen vocabulary as a variation of the norm -- in school and elsewhere. “Rash,” for example, is no longer just a skin irritation but also the act of aggressively putting someone down. Likewise, “salted” is not only seasoning you put on French fries but a feeling of being insulted, too.
BCLA senior Aline Santos says she used the word “basic” several times but then stopped. She’s not a person who hurts others, she says. BCLA senior Jazzmen Howard says she once was called “basic” and began to question her style. Then she simply shrugged off what others had to say. “At the end of the day,” Howard says, “you should be comfortable with who you are.”
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Brainwash Me, Brainwash Me Not (Series)

Since birth, girls are bombarded with subliminal messages from the media, from the community, and from family members about how they should look, how to speak, how to feel, what to wear, and who to be. While these messages might sometimes seem innocent, they have effectively brainwashed women into falling in a lattice of lies -- causing them to lose a sense of self. Teen Voices Rising participants explored the effects of societal messages and wrote about what it would mean to unlearn them.
 

If it wasn't for you, she wouldn't spend hours in front of the mirror,

striving for the flawless skin she sees in magazines.

She wouldn't wear heavy makeup in the rushed mornings,

knowing that you will only focus on her external beauty.

She wouldn't spend endless hours trying out modest attire,

brainwashed about her fabric being her identity.

The unfair spoons she is daily measured with

have placed her in a state of pessimism.

"Who am I?" she repeatedly whispers at eventide.

While exerting to please you,

she lost herself along the way.

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Brainwash Me, Brainwash Me Not (Series)

Since birth, girls are bombarded with subliminal messages from the media, from the community, and from family members about how they should look, how to speak, how to feel, what to wear, and who to be. While these messages might sometimes seem innocent, they have effectively brainwashed women into falling in a lattice of lies -- causing them to lose a sense of self. Teen Voices Rising participants explored the effects of societal messages and wrote about what it would mean to unlearn them.
      The burning deep inside going on and on like a flame. Regret. Regret. Regret. On and on controlling your mind. You’re not pretty enough. Your hair is not good enough. Enough is enough. When will the judgment end? When will the stereotypes end? And then I wonder: Will I ever be good enough for you? For society? I opened the box and pulled out the chemicals. Time to put an end to this. I’m over it— these expectations, the feeling of being judged when I walk down the street. The next day I was pretty enough, good enough. Everyone viewed me differently. “You finally let go of that nappy hair,” a girl said. “Sit with us at lunch,” another said. I was finally accepted for letting go of my true culture. Curly to straight and now everybody loved me. Regret. Regret. Regret. I no longer felt like myself. I no longer knew who I really was. I questioned my true identity every day. I missed it. So what if you didn’t like me? I liked myself! Regret. Regret. Regret. I miss who I used to be.    
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