On the morning of Mother’s Day in 2023, I decided to buy roses for my grandmother. She had always been there for me, from taking me to school to watching me while my parents were busy working. She’d been sick for over a year. Still, through it all, she had overseen my family and me as our protector. As I was heading out with flowers in my hand, the call I had been dreading came. When I finally arrived home, my cousin was sitting there like a judge, waiting to tell me the sentence. “They’re in

I was perched on a wooden stool next to the kitchen island, gobbling a stack of waffles, eager to not miss the train for school. As soon as I was done, I placed the syrup-covered plate in the empty sink, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and headed for the door. I threw my head back, internally groaning at the high-pitched sound of Ma’s voice. She was fully dressed to go out, in a black hijab covered with rainbow peace signs and a glittery blue abaya, despite not having plans that morning. “

The crowd erupted in triumphant noise. Cheers and cries rose from every parent as they saw their child walking into the auditorium, about to graduate Rego Park Elementary School. Unlike my 5th-grade classmates, a feeling of happiness and ecstasy did not rain on me when my name was called. My parents were not present; they were stuck at work, preparing and serving food at minimum wage. They were rarely allowed days off, and even if they were, they chose not to accept them. New York was not a che

The following is an introduction to the latest issue of the Full Stop Quarterly, edited by Full Stop Fellow Kudrat Wadhwa. You can purchase the issue here or subscribe at our Patreon page. Love ends in heartbreak. The rich will always get richer, and the poor, poorer. Climate apocalypse is inevitable. For every new COVID inoculation will come yet another mutation. And every movement in the streets eventually runs up against the resounding apathy of spineless politicians. What does it mean to j