celebrities
Celebrity role models and inspiring feminist celebrities for girls and women everywhere.
Old lady grumbling about work
Happy October! May the leaves change colors in glorious autumn fashion and may you enjoy a tasty pumpkin spiced latte or donut this morning. I am here at my desk with a Maxwell House coffee brewed out of the cheapest coffee maker on the Walmart shelf. I like it. One button and will brew the cheapest coffee on the shelf. Good. I'm broke and I'm cheap just like my coffee maker.
By Shanon Angermeyer Normanabout a year ago in Viva
Discipline, Vision, Community: TT Torrez Returns to MCNY to Unlock the Leaders of Tomorrow with #GoGetHer Summit
Full Circle - TT Torrez Returns to MCNY to Unlock Leaders of Tomorrow When Vision Meets Access: The Official Line Up - How TT Torrez Is Redefining Leadership for Young Women of Color
By NWO SPARROWabout a year ago in Viva
The Unseen Viva
M Mehran Sana had always been the kind of student who hid at the back of the classroom, scribbling notes furiously, afraid to raise her hand. She excelled in written exams but dreaded speaking. Words, when written, obeyed her. Words, when spoken, betrayed her. So when the announcement came that her degree would end with a viva voce, she felt her stomach drop. An oral examination—standing alone before a panel, answering questions in real time—was her greatest nightmare. --- The Night Before The night before her viva, Sana barely slept. She stared at her thesis spread across the desk, highlighted and dog-eared. She whispered definitions under her breath, rehearsed explanations in the mirror, but every time she imagined facing the professors, her voice cracked. At 3 a.m., she closed her notes and whispered, “If I fail, at least I’ll know I tried.” But deep down, she wondered if trying would ever be enough. --- Walking In The next morning, the corridor outside the examination room buzzed with nervous energy. Her classmates paced, flipping through last-minute notes. Sana sat silently, her palms damp, her heart hammering. When her name was called, she felt the world tilt. She stood, legs trembling, and walked into the room. Three professors sat behind a long table, her thesis placed in the center like evidence in a trial. “Good morning, Miss Sana,” one said, adjusting his glasses. “Shall we begin?” --- The First Question The first question was simple enough: “What motivated you to pursue this research?” Sana’s lips trembled as she spoke. “I wanted to understand how small changes in community education programs could… could transform literacy rates.” Her voice wavered, but the words came. The professors nodded. Encouraged, she exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the chair. Then came the harder ones. --- Cracks in the Armor “Can you explain why you chose this methodology?” She stumbled, trying to recall her notes. Her throat tightened. The silence in the room grew heavier. Another professor leaned forward. “What limitations do you see in your findings?” Her mind went blank. For a horrifying moment, she thought she might faint. She wanted to disappear into the floor, to run from the room and never return. But then, she remembered something her grandmother used to tell her: “When you can’t find courage, borrow your honesty.” So she took a breath and said, “The biggest limitation was me. I was nervous about whether my methods were strong enough. But I learned from those mistakes and corrected them as I went.” The panel didn’t frown. In fact, one professor smiled. --- The Turning Point As the questions continued, something shifted. The more Sana spoke honestly, the steadier her voice became. She stopped trying to be perfect and started explaining like she would to a friend. When they asked about the future scope of her work, she lit up. She spoke passionately about how her findings could help design better literacy programs for rural schools. She forgot her fear. She forgot herself. She spoke only about the work she loved. By the end, her voice was no longer trembling—it was alive. --- The Verdict “Thank you, Miss Sana,” the chair said at last. “Please wait outside while we discuss.” The corridor was suffocating. Every second stretched like an hour. She clasped her hands tightly, whispering prayers. Finally, the door opened. One professor stepped out, smiling warmly. “Congratulations. You’ve passed.” Sana blinked, stunned. Her chest filled with a rush of relief so powerful that tears sprang to her eyes. For the first time, she realized she hadn’t just passed an exam—she had passed a barrier inside herself. --- Beyond the Viva That day, Sana learned the viva was not simply a test of knowledge. It was a test of presence, of courage, of owning your voice even when it shakes. And she realized something else, too: life itself is full of vivas. Job interviews. First dates. Difficult conversations. Every moment we’re called to speak our truth is its own oral examination. The questions may change, but the challenge is the same—to stand tall, to be honest, and to let our voice carry who we really are. --- Final Thought The viva is more than an academic ritual. It is a rite of passage that strips away rehearsed answers and demands authenticity. Sana walked in terrified, but she walked out transformed—not because she knew everything, but because she finally believed in herself. And maybe that’s the real lesson of every viva: the answers matter, but the voice matters more.
By Muhammad Mehranabout a year ago in Viva
The Day of the Viva
M Mehran Arham had always been a good student, but the word viva carried a special kind of fear for him. Written exams, he could handle. Multiple choice? Essays? No problem. But facing a professor across a table, answering questions with nothing but his mind and voice—there was something about it that turned his confidence into quicksand. The night before his final-year viva, he didn’t sleep. He sat at his desk, flipping through notes and highlighting lines that blurred together. Every fact seemed to slip through his memory like water through cupped hands. At three in the morning, he closed his books and whispered to himself: “You either know it, or you don’t. Just survive tomorrow.” --- The Waiting Room The next day, he joined his classmates outside the examination hall. The room buzzed with nervous laughter and whispered recitations. Some students paced back and forth, mumbling definitions. Others sat silently, staring into space as though rehearsing answers in their heads. Arham tried to look calm, but his leg wouldn’t stop shaking. His best friend nudged him. “Relax,” she whispered. “They’re not here to destroy us.” But that wasn’t true. Professors loved the viva because it revealed who had merely memorized and who had truly understood. For students, it felt like stepping into an arena with no shield. One by one, names were called. Students went in, some emerging pale and shaken, others smiling in relief. Arham’s turn crept closer, and with it, the pounding of his heart. --- Facing the Panel Finally, the examiner called: “Arham.” He stood, smoothed his shirt, and walked into the room. Three professors sat behind a table, notebooks open, expressions unreadable. The atmosphere was heavy, the silence stretching just long enough to unnerve him. “Good morning,” he said, his voice thinner than he wanted. “Good morning,” replied the head examiner. She adjusted her glasses and looked straight at him. “Let’s begin.” The first question was easy, almost too easy. Arham answered quickly, his rehearsed lines flowing. He felt a spark of hope—maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Then came the second question. A twist. Something buried deep in the syllabus that he had skimmed once, weeks ago. His throat went dry. He tried to recall the exact wording from his notes, but the memory slipped. He stammered, piecing together fragments. The professors exchanged glances. “Think carefully,” the examiner said. Arham’s palms sweated. He forced himself to take a breath. Instead of panicking, he spoke honestly: “I don’t remember the exact definition, but here’s how I understand the concept…” He explained it in his own words, connecting it to real-life examples. To his surprise, the examiner nodded. “Better,” she said. “Go on.” --- The Turning Point As the viva continued, Arham realized something important: this wasn’t a firing squad. It was a conversation. The professors weren’t trying to fail him—they wanted to see if he could think. The more he shifted from memorized answers to genuine reasoning, the calmer he became. He leaned into his explanations, using his hands to gesture, his voice steadying. When they challenged him, he pushed back with logic. When he didn’t know something, he admitted it and tried to analyze anyway. Minutes stretched into half an hour. At the end, the head examiner smiled faintly. “Thank you, Arham. That will be all.” He walked out, his knees weak, but this time it wasn’t from fear. It was from relief. --- Aftermath In the hallway, his classmates swarmed him. “What did they ask? Were they strict? Did you answer everything?” Arham shrugged. “They weren’t easy, but… it wasn’t as terrifying as I thought.” Later that week, when the results were posted, he had passed. Not with the highest marks, but with enough to feel proud. --- The Lesson of the Viva Looking back, Arham realized the viva had taught him more than any textbook. It wasn’t about definitions or memorized paragraphs—it was about confidence, adaptability, and honesty. Life itself, he thought, is one long viva. We’re constantly questioned—by circumstances, by challenges, by other people. Rarely do we get to prepare our answers in advance. More often, we’re thrown into situations where we must think on our feet, admit what we don’t know, and reason our way through. The viva had stripped away his crutches and forced him to trust his own mind. And that, he realized, was the real test. --- Closing Thoughts The fear of the viva never disappears completely. Even years later, when Arham sat in job interviews or gave presentations at work, he felt a flicker of that same nervousness. But now, instead of freezing, he remembered that day in the exam hall—the moment he stopped performing and started thinking. And every time he faced a new challenge, he reminded himself: Life keeps asking questions. Your job is not to know everything—it’s to answer with courage.
By Muhammad Mehranabout a year ago in Viva
The Ultimatum: Season 3 Is a Masterclass in Fragile Masculinity
Let’s talk about Netflix’s The Ultimatum: Marry or Move On—or, as Season 3 could more accurately be titled, Red Flags on Parade. If you’ve ever wanted to see what happens when emotionally immature men are forced to relinquish control for three weeks, welcome. This season had everything: possessiveness, projection, passive-aggression, and the kind of fragile masculinity that makes your skin crawl.
By No One’s Daughterabout a year ago in Viva
Pleasure Wasn’t Part of the Deal: What Layla’s Story Says About Marriage and the Orgasm Gap
Layla was thirty-two when she had her first orgasm. She wasn’t single. She wasn’t inexperienced. She was ten years into a marriage — one built on devotion, duty, and silence. For most of her adult life, sex had been something she gave, not something she enjoyed. Her story isn’t rare. In fact, it’s more common than we’d like to admit. And it exposes something uncomfortable: pleasure, for many women, wasn’t part of the deal.
By No One’s Daughterabout a year ago in Viva
