Author: Christa Avampato

The short of it: Writer. Health, education, and art advocate. Theater and film producer. Visual artist. Product geek. Proud alumnae of the University of Pennsylvania (BA) and the Darden School of Business at the University of Virginia (MBA). Inspired by ancient wisdom & modern tech. Proliferator of goodness. Opener of doors. Friend to animals. Fan of creative work in all its wondrous forms. I use my business skills to create passion projects that build a better world. I’ve been called the happiest New Yorker, and I try hard to live up to that title every day. The long of it: My career has stretched across Capitol Hill, Broadway theatre, education, nonprofit fundraising, health and wellness, and Fortune 500 companies in retail, media, entertainment, technology, and financial services. I’ve been a product developer and product manager, theater manager, strategic consultant, marketer, voice over artist, , teacher, and fundraiser. I use my business and storytelling to support and sustain passion projects that build a better world. In every experience, I’ve used my sense of and respect for elegant design to develop meaningful products, services, programs, and events. While building a business career, I also built a strong portfolio as a journalist, novelist, freelance writer, interviewer, presenter, and public speaker. My writing has appeared in The Washington Post, The Huffington Post, PBS.org, Boston.com, Royal Media Partners publications, and The Motley Fool on a wide range of topics including business, technology, science, health, education, culture, and lifestyle. I have also been an invited speaker at SXSW, Teach for America, Avon headquarters, Games for Change, NYU, Columbia University, Hunter College, and the Alzheimer’s Foundation of America. The first book in my young adult book series, Emerson Page and Where the Light Enters, was acquired by a publisher and launched in November 2017. I’m currently working on the second book in the series. A recovering multi-tasker, I’m equally at home in front of my Mac, on my yoga mat, walking my rescue dog, Phineas, traveling with a purpose, or practicing the high-art of people watching. I also cut up small bits of paper and put them back together as a collage artist. My company: I’m bringing together all of my business and creative career paths as the Founder of Double or Nothing Media: • I craft products, programs, and projects that make a difference; • I build the business plans that make what I craft financially sustainable; • I tell the stories that matter about the people, places, and products that inspire me. Follow my adventures on Twitter at https://twitter.com/christanyc and Instagram at https://instagram.com/christarosenyc.
childhood, children, education, school, teaching, volunteer, yoga

My Year of Hopefulness – Doing What We’ve Never Done

Christa Avampato

All week I’ve been trying to write curriculum for my after-school pilot program. I’m not a trained teacher. I’ve tutored and I’ve volunteered in classrooms. Mostly, I’ve just been up there at the wipe board (apparently the blackboards and chalk of my youth are long-since gone) winging it.

Rather than writing curriculum, I’ve been staring at a very blank white screen on my laptop, complete with blinking cursor. And that little tiny voice, the one I just dread, decides to show up at the most inopportune time to make me feel even worse. “Who are you to be writing curriculum?” it says. “You don’t know how to do that.” And as much as I want to turn down that volume, the voice grows louder, adding more doubts, more concerns, and more insecurity to my already frazzled mind. I have no idea what I’m doing. There’s no denying that.

At 11:00 last night, I closed down my laptop without having written a single word. “The voice was right,” I thought. “Who do I think I am? An untrained “teacher” writing curriculum. I can’t do this.” I did what I often do when I’m frustrated with my writing. I read. The latest issue of Yoga Journal just arrived in my mailbox so I cracked it open and began reading from page one.

There is a belief in yoga, and I believe in Buddhism as well, that the Universe will provide us with the exact teaching we need exactly when we need it. Kaitlin Quistgaard, the Editor of Yoga Journal, wrote this month’s editorial note about how to show up for life and begin something we want to do even if we aren’t sure how to do it. “It seemed like a life lesson designed to show me the value of doing my part, even if I don’t know what to do,” she says of a recent incident she had. This sounds like valuable ammunition against that little voice that was doubting me. I keep reading.

A few pages later, I come across an article by Julia Butterfly Hill who talks about finding your purpose and growing with it. Hmmm…sounds like another good one. The whole article is one beautiful quote after another. “Who am I supposed to be in my life?…what do you want your legacy to be?…We approach everything backward…we live in a production-driven society rather than a purpose-driven society.” And here’s my favorite line that I’m considering having made into a t-shirt: “We don’t have to know how to do something before we begin it.” Though I’m a product developer, paid to produce, I am much more concerned with living my life with purpose than with things.

So that’s it – that’s all I needed to know to silence the little voice nagging at me. It’s true – I don’t know how to write a curriculum. I don’t know what material will resonate with the kids I want to teach. I don’t know how to actually do anything related to this project. I do know that I am a fast learner, and that I was born not knowing much of anything except how to breath, (and even that breathing isn’t something we do consciously!) I do know that I want to live in a world where every child has the opportunity to learn anything and everything that interests them. I want them all to grow up happy, healthy, safe, and excited about the possibilities that lay before them. I want them all to have a chance at a good and decent life. And that’s more than enough purpose to keep going.

The photo above can be found here.

childhood, children, family, friendship, love, relationships

My Year of Hopefulness – New Life

Christa Avampato

Today my friends, Alex and Shawn, welcomed a new baby boy into the world. 7 and a half pounds, 19 and a half inches of new, beautiful, perfect, healthy life. Alex and Shawn will be amazing parents. They’re the funniest couple I know. Their love story is one of my favorites. Having met their freshman year of college, they’ve gone through so many life changes, together and apart. After more than a decade together, they remain intensely interested in the other’s interests and they support one another endlessly in all their pursuits. Spending time with them has always made me feel optimistic about the fate of love and marriage.

And now they begin this new piece of their history with a new member of their family. I went to Providence a few weeks ago for the baby shower, and they were both so happy. Though neither of them seemed stressed or worried or afraid. This was just another great event in their lives.

With everything we hear in the news about the difficulty of remaining in love, raising kids, and keeping a marriage strong and healthy, it’s easy to feel like it’s just not possible to have all three. And then I watch Alex and Shawn and realize that marriage and family and love are what you make of them. Too often we imagine that they are entities unto themselves that we have no control over, as if our own feelings of love live outside of us, independent of the rest of our lives. What’s amazing about Alex and Shawn is that their love resides firmly at the center of their lives, while also giving them the confidence and freedom to pursue their own independent ventures, too. It’s really something to behold, especially when you consider how young they were when they first met.

I can say with certainty that their son is one of the luckiest little guys in the world. He has these incredible parents who will provide such a prime example of what love can and should be. I can’t stop smiling when I think about how much happiness he will know in his life. All kids should be so lucky.

The photo above can be found here.

children, education, family, legacy, social work, time

My Year of Hopefulness – Rich in Time

Christa Avampato

“An unhurried sense of time is in itself a form of wealth.” ~Bonnie Friedman

I am obsessed with time. Spending time. Saving time. Wasting time. The perception of time. The concepts of aging and growing and changing over time. And of course, the ultimate time question – how much time do we have left? Time is the only asset we ever truly own because we determine its value and worth.

The aspect of time that intrigues me the most is one I first learned in my college economics classes – leverage. How do I use my time as wisely as possible to do the most good I can? How do I get the maximum impact with the minimum amount time? The odd unintended blessing of losing a parent so young is that I stare my mortality in the face every day. If I want to accomplish everything I want to do, I have to utilize the idea of leverage. Our days pass too quickly, our time is too precious, to start every new idea from scratch.

The point Bonnie Friedman raises in her quote is one that leaves me scratching my head. I am always in a hurry – walking down the street, getting my errands done, eating, writing. I zip through as fast as possible so I can get on to what’s next. Where I struggle is how to enjoy each activity without thinking about what’s next? How can I be in the moment, this moment, every moment, without causing myself unintended stress from hurrying from point A to point B and back again?

My fear is that I’m missing out. I was recently telling my sister, Weez, that I really wanted to do something and her immediate response was, “let’s face it: if you decide you’re really going to do something, you make it happen.” At that point my question to myself was, “at what cost?” The trouble that over-committers like me face is this: how do I say no without feeling guilty? When there are so many people out there who need what we all have to offer, when I see so many ways for me to make things better, how do I decide this thing is important and needs my attention and that one does not?

The education program I’m working on has actually helped me begin to find some answers to these questions. I’ve been kicking around this idea, writing drafts of the white paper, meeting with potential partners, and asking for honest feedback on the idea from friends and colleagues since April. And every time I sit down to work on it, every time the idea even crosses my mind, I get a little jolt of energy and excitement that keeps on growing. The more I work on it, the more alive I feel. I’m so certain I can make a difference in this way, with this curriculum, that there isn’t any way that I can conceive of turning back now. I feel about this project the way that I feel about my writing – it’s becoming a very integral part of who I am.

And maybe that’s the trick. Maybe all our hurrying is caused by our desire to find where we belong. Once we find it, we can enjoy this wealth of unhurried time, as Bonnie Friedman suggests, because there is no ‘next’. We’re here, where we always wanted to be.

My dad was a clinical psychologist and his work was his life. He never felt hurried in his office, at his great mahogany desk surrounded by his books and papers and patients. He loved his studies in that field more than he loved anything. It may have been his only love now that I think of it. In some way, I sort of feel like this education project is helping me understand him, helping me see why his work was so important to him.

His last job before leaving the work force was as a school psychologist in Harlem. I always wondered why he was so eager to hop on a train that took him to the big City to help other kids while my mother was left to work and raise us on her own. Now that I’ve spent some time in public schools in New York, I understand. The problems and challenges are so great, and the opportunity to do something good in that environment is immense. The impact is immediate. Like him, I keep thinking about those tiny faces and those solemn eyes who wanted assurances that I would be back to see them again. He couldn’t let them down. I can’t either.

Though he’s been gone now 17 years, perhaps there is a way for me to still get to know him. Perhaps this drive to do some good in the public schools of New York City is much more than just my way of giving back. And maybe this is some kind of calling that’s coming from afar, some way to continue work, albeit in a different vein, that was begun so many years ago by my dad and the many people who were doing this work long before him. It’s a way to leverage the work of the past to create brighter futures, my own and the kids I hope to help. No hurrying required, and much wealth to gain.

The photo above can be found here.

memory, New York City, success

My Year of Hopefulness – A Random Sign to Set the World Right

Christa Avampato
“There is more than a verbal tie between the words common, community, and communication … Try the experiment of communicating, with fullness and accuracy, some experience to another, especially if it be somewhat complicated, and you will find your own attitude toward your experience changing.” ~ John Dewey

This morning when I stepped outside, there was a decided feeling of Fall. I felt like I might have just stepped through some kind of portal and been taken back in time. All of a sudden, it didn’t feel like New York anymore. It felt more like Society Hill in Philadelphia, where I went to college. The squat, ornate brownstones. The crisp air. The feeling that some great historic figure would emerge into the street at any moment.

I didn’t sleep much in college. One, because my insomnia was at its peak for the entire 4 year stretch. Two, because I was woefully behind all of my other classmates, meaning I had to work twice as hard, at least, just to keep my head above water. Three, because I had to work multiple jobs all the way through. I spent a lot of early mornings watching the sun come up. During my senior year, I worked at Olde City Coffee all the way downtown. I loved the trip down there in the early morning, before anyone was awake. I felt like I had Philly to myself for a little while. This morning took me back to those early mornings at Olde City and everything I looked forward to when I was 21.

I remember a few thoughts vividly from that time. I was interested in making a strong, lasting impact on the world. I was determined to be financially stable. I spent a lot of my time thinking about what I wanted to be my contribution to humanity. Going to school in Philadelphia, a place that is steeped in history, intellect, and righteous rebellion, renders people practically unable to consider anything except the big picture. Now, I treasure those days. At the time, I was really scared that I’d never live up to the impossibly high standards that my school impressed upon us daily. The constant reminder of greatness that the founding fathers left scattered around Philly didn’t help either. At some point, you begin to worry that anything short of founding your own nation is just not a high enough achievement.

As I made my way to the subway, I saw the sign depicted in the image above. In some type of chalk / paint / marker, someone had written “If we all do one random act of kindness daily we just might set the world in the right direction. ~Martin Kornfeld”. Maybe it was thinking about my college days that had me waxing nostalgic; this sign really struck me. I had to stop and take a photograph. It communicated a profound message to me so simply and beautifully, and I’m sure it’s done the same for countless other. If only I had seen this sign sooner, about 12 years sooner, I might have been able to calm down a little bit about my life and its direction.

I thought about this sign all day and how much good it does for all who see it. Imagine if all of us, everyday, did just one nice thing for someone else. Someone we know. Someone we don’t know. Someone who may never know us. How different would our communities and the larger world look? And imagine how different our own attitude toward our experiences would be. Maybe it’s all we can hope for – giving a little kindness, getting a little kindness, and doing our small part to make our communities a tiny bit better than how we found them the day before. It seems to me that that is a contribution to humanity that we could all be proud of.

culture, history, museum, The Journal of Cultural Conversation

The Journal of Cultural Conversation: Titanic: The Exhibition

Christa Avampato

Happy Monday, all. My latest post is up at TJCC. On Saturday I visited Titanic: The Exhibition, now on view at the Discovery Times Center on 44th Street. The exhibit tells the story of the Titanic through items salvaged from the wreckage, eye-witness accounts, and scientific exploration. I found it to be equal parts fascinating and terrifying. Around every corner I was surprised by some new fact I never knew.

For the full article and to check out all of the other great conversations happening over at TJCC, please click here.

apartment, home, peace, writer, writing

My Year of Hopefulness – Writing Peace

Christa Avampato

“We cast a shadow on something wherever we stand. Choose a place…and stand in it for all you are worth, facing the sunshine.” ~E.M.

Forester, A Room with a View Yesterday I read a post on Theatre Folk that talks about how the physical place where a writer is located effects the quality of the writing. So often, we think writing is some elusive, muse-like magic that just shows up when it’s good and ready. I’m still waiting for my muse to walk through the door, so I figured that while I’m waiting I should follow the advice of E.M. Forester and hang out in the sunshine.

Right now as I’m writing this post, sunshine is streaming through my living room window, dappling the keyboard. My apartment faces into the courtyard (which sounds lavish, but I can assure you it’s not) so I can see the goings on of all my neighbors if they’re at their windows. This also means I avoid a great majority of the street noise, though because I’m on a higher floor, I also get the sunlight. It’s a win-win for me and my writing. There are some trees and butterflies outside right now. The blue sky is swirled with clouds and the breeze in gently blowing. It’s a peaceful kind of place.

By my desk I keep three things taped to the wall. One is a card with the quote from Thomas Jefferson, “The most valuable of all talents is that of never using two words when one will do.” The art of brevity and good editing. The second is a card that has my 2009 to-do list. I wrote it up in December of 2008 and so far, I’m doing pretty well. I’m actually on track to complete all 10 by the end of the year. They are things I am really interested in, and just needed to dedicate the time to them. For example, I wanted to cook more, get a new apartment, and expand the reach of my writing. Done, done, and done. The third thing is a card with a simple quote by John F. Kennedy: “Peace is a daily, a weekly, a monthly process.”

I used to think that peace was a destination. An achievement. Since I was a teenager, I made one simple wish on birthdays, when I’d see the first star at night, whenever I’d blow an eyelash from my fingertip. I just wanted to feel at peace. Sounds like such an easy thing to have. Just stop worrying and feeling anxious and scared and stressed, right? Right. And all of that was very hard for me. Much harder than I wanted it to be so in addition to feeling all of these things I also felt frustrated. Where was that damn peace of mind hiding?

Now I know that peace wasn’t hiding at all. In order to access it, I had to go out into the world and live. Peace doesn’t have a permanent place at all. It’s an active, living, breathing way of life that moves with us, within us. It’s accessible at any and every moment. And just because we feel it at this moment, doesn’t mean it will be readily apparent the next. It is a state of mind that we must continually commit to, and share with others. And eventually, it just becomes a part of us. We will, with time, patience, and practice, be a living vessel for peace, and I hope my writing takes on that form as well. Though to tell you the truth, sunshine on my keyboard certainly helps.

The photo above is the view from my desk in my living room, where I do most of my writing. If you look closely you can see my reflection in the bottom left corner, snapping the photo.

adventure, change, grateful, gratitude, happiness, New York City, travel

My Year of Hopefulness – A Real New Yorker

Christa Avampato

Yesterday I was running errands after work, collecting a few more odds and ends to organize my apartment. I had forgotten that when you go from a place with storage to a place with hardly any storage, you actually have to buy things to put your things in. 2 hours later at the Container Store…

It was hot and sticky and raining on and off. My bags were heavy and I was worn out from a long, tiring week. I was trudging along, past The Plaza, past Central Park South, toward the Time Warner Building, lost in my own personal fog. At the corner, I was waiting for the light to change so I could get down underground to the unbearably hot subway that would get me home with all my things to put my things in. I’m sure my face was a little crinkled. I’m positive I was sighing out loud.

Two guys, clearly visiting NYC, were in a Scooby-Doo style van, hanging out the windows and snapping pictures like mad. I must remember to start carrying my camera everywhere to capture moments like that. These guys were grinning from ear to ear, in awe of what they were seeing, what they were right in the middle of. They made me smile, too. One of them saw me, and asked “are you a real New Yorker?” and then snapped my picture, as if I was a rare species that they needed to capture on film to show their friends back home.

“I am a real New Yorker,” I replied. “Cool,” he said. And that made me smile even wider. Here I was sighing about how tired and worn out I was, and here are these guys, invigorated by the exact same environment.

I didn’t cross the street just yet. I sat down in one of the cafe chairs that sit at the corner of Central Park South and Columbus Circle. I took a big, deep breathe and looked around me. How lucky am I to be a New Yorker, to live in this insane, magical, always evolving place every day? I put down my load o’ bags to rest a while, to take in the glory and chaos and be grateful for the opportunity to be here in this moment.

I wish I had asked for the contact info of those Scooby-Doo van guys. I’d like to thank them for helping me fall in love with my city, again. When I picked up my bags to head home, somehow they felt lighter.

The photo above depicts Columbus Circle, New York City and can be found here.

faith, hope, love, relationships, religion, yoga

My Year of Hopefulness – Is Human Connection More Powerful than Prayer?

Christa Avampato

“The way is not in the sky. The way is in the heart.” ~ Buddha

How often do we raise our eyes to the sky and ask for help? I find myself doing that from time to time. Today I got word from a partner of mine on one of my projects that we are facing some critical obstacles. I asked if there was anything I could do to help. “Pray,” she said. “Lots.”

Now, I know she’s doing much more than praying. She’s actually working her tail off, jumping through dozens of hoops to keep us moving forward. I find that with any trying circumstance, the default solution is to pray. But what are we really doing when we pray? What am I doing as I go to my yoga mat in times of distress? What am I asking for and who am I asking it of?

Maybe prayer is better directed not up towards the sky, out of our reach. Perhaps it’s much more powerful if we turn in and not out. When I go to my yoga mat and create an intention for my practice, I’m asking for help and guidance and assurance. I’m tapping into my creative well. I’m actually searching for my soul and its wisdom. It’s an overwhelming idea if I think about it too long. Can we actually tap into the energy and light around us, all around us, by looking in?

My experience has demonstrated than the answer to this question is a resounding ‘yes’. Yoga and Buddhism have some basic tenants that I try to keep at the forefront of my mind, especially during difficult times: 1) the world will provide us the exact learning that we need at the exact moment that we need it and 2) to tap into the energy around us we must recognize that while we live in this world, we are not of it. Our souls are old. They have been through many trials. They are the ties that bind us to one another. They have knowledge far beyond what we carry within our minds and our own limited experiences. Meditation, yoga, or any other contemplative practice bring that soul knowledge to our consciousness.

While in Virginia, I used to teach yoga classes at my business school. They were my small way of making the stress that all of us felt in our studies a bit more manageable. (This Winter I’ll begin my 500 hours certification process. It will be a long road, though one I have wanted to be on for some time now.) I would close each class with a simple statement to my students that a teacher of mine used to use: “the light that is in me, honors that the light that is in you.” I’ve found that connecting with people, one heart to one heart right here on the ground, has brought me more lasting joy and peace than raising my eyes and prayers to the sky. I have more faith in us and what we can do together, here and now, than I do in anything else.
The image above can be found here.
choices, dreams, happiness, home, New York City

My Year of Hopefulness – Dream Reality Dream

Christa Avampato

“Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living.” ~ Anaïs Nin


The set-up of my new apartment is nearly complete. It’s beginning to feel like a home, so to celebrate I took myself for a stroll around my new / old neighborhood. Even though I only moved four blocks north, it feels like a whole new life here. Somehow, even my old haunts look different, refreshed from this vantage point.

Everywhere I looked there were signs of new life: business springing up on every corner, new restaurants that were bustling, sidewalk artists, musicians on the streets, fresh fruit vendors. One hair salon was having a day of gratitude, thanking customers for their loyalty during these tough times. It was enough to make me giddy. Maybe we are going to be okay.

All of this new activity got me to thinking about dreams and how I’d like my life to be going forward, starting today. This year has been filled with great lessons on the power of intention. Hoping and praying for something to come to pass has its power, though on its own it’s not going to get the job done. While I believe in the energy of the universe, I believe that energy is there for us to use, not admire. I’m beginning to question this idea of what we’re “meant to do”. We may just be meant to do whatever we set our minds and hearts to.

There is a peculiar play between dreams and action. I’ve found that I have some dreams that are filled with so much passion that it would be impossible for me to not work on them. And that work is what brings them to life. And seeing my dreams brought to life begets the confidence to create new dreams. And on and on we go. This cycle enables us to live to our full potential.

Someone recently told me that she’s afraid to work on her dream because she’s actually afraid of achieving it. A part of her just wants to put it away in a little box for safekeeping so that it always stays in her mind’s eye, exactly the way she envisions it. This sounded so strange to me. Who actively doesn’t want their dream to come true? And then we got to what she’s really afraid of: if she achieves her dream, then what will she do after that? What if there isn’t anything else? What will she do when she’s run out of dreams? Will she just be hanging around waiting for life to go by?

There is another beautiful layer of truth hidden in Anaïs Nin’s quote that speaks to this fear. She’s saying that deeply embedded in every dream is the seed to a new dream that’s activated when we see the first dream become real. In other words, having a dream, going after it, and achieving it guarantees that a new dream is on the way. There’s no need to hold back. No need to give only part of the energy we have. Pour yourself into your endeavors, all of them. The well of strength and possibility is deeper than we could ever imagine. The dream you have right now, at this moment, is only the beginning.

The photo above can be found here.

books, New York Times, philanthropy, poverty, women

My Year of Hopefulness – Take Care of Women

Christa Avampato

There are a few books on my shelves that changed by life. Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom because he helped me understand the true meaning of what it takes to sacrifice for the greater good. Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird because her words and advice welcomed me into the world of being a writer. Greg Mortenson’s Three Cups of Tea is a striking story of perseverance. And for the first time, he confirmed for me what I have thought intuitively for a long time – women are the root of the world’s progress. If we invest in improving, they become the rising tide that lifts all boats. There is scientific data collected over decades of research that shows the tremendous benefit experienced by the world as women become more educated, financially independent, and confident.

This coming Sunday, The New York Times Magazine will run a stunning cover story by Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn about raising up “the world’s women, as the best way to address global poverty and instability.” The entire issue is devoted to the subject. You can get a sneak preview of the article here. The article is a portion of their book entitled Half the Sky: Turning Oppression Into Opportunity for Women Worldwide. The book will be available for purchase on September 8th. Kristof is an active Facebook user and I highly recommend his page for anyone interested in global social issues.

The area of philanthropy and community building that I find most fascinating is the power of leverage. Jacqueline Novogratz, founder of Acumen Fund, writes about it so eloquently in The Blue Sweater. Greg Mortenson writes about it, as does Robert Egger in his book Begging for Change. If I give $1 to one group, they get $1 worth of products or services that helps their cause. What I want to do is give my $1 somewhere so that it does $1.25, $1.50, $2 worth of good. It’s the familiar economic principle of economies of scale. How much of a product or a service do I have to buy so that each incremental unit becomes cheaper? It’s buying in bulk applied to the goal of societal benefit.

Now step away from the scientific data, and we find that embedded in Half the Sky are remarkable stories of endurance, passion, and the transformative change of whole communities built upon the rock of female confidence. Abbas Be became a bookbinder and now funds her sisters’ education after spending her early years as a prisoner in a brothel in Delhi. Saima Muhammad from Pakistan lived a miserable existence under the thumb of her abusive husband until she received a $65 microloan from Kashf Foundation to start a textiles company that is now thriving. The stories are powerful and many, and they come from every corner of the globe. They also make any challenge I face minuscule. If these women can survive and thrive in their circumstances, we can all do well with what we’ve got.

In so many nations, women and girls are marginalized and abused, their value as community members and as human beings discounted to the point of worthlessness. This must stop. Today. Kristof and WuDunn continue to lay the ground work along with so many other brave voices that must lead to a world that provides a better existence for women and girls. Better education, healthcare, and just the opportunity to improve their lot. You really want to change the world? You want to have an impactful, lasting change on how our communities function? Help women.

The photo above was taken by Katy Grannan for The New York Times.