Sign in. The star of Netflix thriller Secret Obsession talks about moving on from Disney shows and what she's watching right now. Watch now.
For several months, Cara has been working up the courage to approach her mom about what she saw on Instagram. Not long ago, the year-old—who, like all the other kids in this story, is referred to by a pseudonym—discovered that her mom had been posting photos of her, without prior approval, for much of her life. Like most other modern kids, Cara grew up immersed in social media.
The space was tiny and hot. On a fateful day last summer, Katie Bouman and three fellow researchers filed into a small room at Harvard University, safe from prying eyes, in order to see an image that had been years in the making. In order to do that, the team needed algorithms that could distill all that noisy, messy information into one comprehensible picture.
Skip to Content. Before you had kids, a trip to the movies was a no-brainer. You liked the actor or the movie poster was cool, so you went.
This story is part of The Privacy Dividea series that explores the fault lines and disparities—cultural, economic, philosophical—that have developed around digital privacy and its impact on society. Then, several months ago, when I turned 13, my mom gave me the green light and I joined Twitter and Facebook. When I saw the pictures that she had been posting on Facebook for years, I felt utterly embarrassed, and deeply betrayed.
Thanks to Hollywood's unrealistic standards, we've all built up this imaginary idea of what sex is supposed to be like. But the truth is, everyone's experience is different. Sometimes it's smooth and romantic, and other times, it's kind of terrible.
I crawled out of bed, still wearing my Cracker Barrel uniform from the night before and managed to make my way over to the coffee machine. I grabbed my pumpkin spiced coffee, walked over to the couch, and opened his laptop. It was like the television was somehow warning me.
Not everyone has the best time the first time they have sex. Losing your virginity is a big deal. It's not uncommon to have all sorts of romantic and exciting fantasies of how your first time will play out.
Over the years, I have called it an "inappropriate relationship. I never called it sexual abuse, because it felt like an overly dramatic Oprah-ization of what happened. The word "abuse" seems to imply victimization and has always made me uncomfortable in this instance. Until now, I have been far too politicized to admit the chief reason I never called it sexual abuse in spite of the fact that it would be considered as much from both a criminal and a clinical perspective.