Coming over the hill on Highway 1806 in late October, the sprawling Standing Rock encampment surged into view. Tipis, tents, and a geodesic dome dotted the valley below. Nestled along the Cannon Ball and Missouri Rivers in remote North Dakota, the Oceti Sakowin camp had recently grown to over 7,000 people.

Those camped there have led a months-long effort to resist the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline. The 1,170-mile pipeline is slated to transport crude oil from the Bakken shale fields of North Dakota, through Standing Rock Sioux treaty land, under the Missouri River, and on to Illinois. The Standing Rock “water protectors,” however, fear that the pipeline will poison the river and with it, the water supply not only for the Standing Rock Sioux but the millions of others who live downstream. And so they pray and march and refuse to move. So far, their efforts have managed to halt the pipeline’s advance at the west bank of the Missouri pending a final permit from the Army Corps of Engineers.

By the time I arrived, the Oceti Sakowin camp had been inundated by supporters from across the country: from the environmental movement, Black Lives Matter, the progressive media, and elsewhere. Yet the Standing Rock struggle remains an indigenous-led one, an historic coming together of first nations. It’s the first time the seven bands of the Great Sioux Nation have come together since Custer was defeated 140 years ago, and with more than 300 nations standing in official solidarity with the movement, it is by far the largest mobilization of indigenous peoples in the United States in a generation or more. As we drove up to the front gate, the security team that waved us through was a mix of old-timers with American Indian Movement logos safety-pinned to their leather coats and the next generation of indigenous youth from Standing Rock.



The bright flags of more than 300 first nations line the road into the Oceti Sakowin camp, among them the flags of the Red Lake Nation of Chippewa in Minnesota, the Curve Lake First Nation of the Ojibwe near Ontario, the Lumbee Tribe of North Carolina, the Spirit Lake Nation Sioux from North Dakota, and others. (Jake Ratner.)




Between the sounds of generators humming and wood splitting, helicopters whirring and people hammering, there are quiet moments, too. As the sun dips behind the horizon one evening, people gather for a peaceful moment, followed by prayer at the sacred fire or participation in a sweat ceremony. (Jake Ratner.)




Sunset at the Oceti Sakowin camp, which sits atop 1851 treaty land that was seized by the Army Corps after the completion of the Ohae Dam in the early 1960s. Many elders carry childhood memories of when the dam was built, flooding the tribe’s most valuable rangelands, forests, and farms. (Jake Ratner.)




On November 14th, over 400 people take to the streets of Bismarck, fanning out in the four cardinal directions to surround the state capital building, triggering a soft lockdown at the capital. (Jake Ratner.)

Why is Donald Trump so orange? This has been one of the mysteries of the 2016 presidential campaign. The internet is full of speculation, but the consensus is that Trump is an aficionado of bad spray tans or the tanning booth. (The white goggle lines are a dead giveaway.) He hasn't always been this shade. Fifteen years ago, Trump's pallor was almost normal. But something changed about 10 years ago and the internet hasn't fully explained why. There might be a strong clue: Trump's longtime friendship with the former CEO of a tanning company.

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Hilbert made his fortune at Conseco, the insurance behemoth he founded in the late 1970s. In his glory days, he was one of the country's highest-paid CEOs. He was famous for helicoptering to work—a commute of less than two miles. The businessman reportedly met his sixth and current wife in the early 1990s, when she jumped topless out of a cake at a party for one of his stepsons. The cake story may be apocryphal, but Tomisue Hilbert, who is the same age as Melania, was indeed a 23-year-old topless dancer and a single mother when she married Steve.

The Hilberts once lived in a three-story, 23,000 square-foot faux-French mansion dubbed Le Chateau Renaissance, which was located on a 33-acre compound outside Indianapolis that included a 15,000-square-foot "sports barn" with a full-size reproduction of the Indiana University basketball court. The mansion, once valued at $25 million, featured Trumpesque gold-plated bathroom fixtures and French crystal chandeliers. Hand-painted murals adorned a dome above the entryway, including one depicting a toga-clad Steve Hilbert as an ancient deity.

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This is also around the time that Trump started to turn orange. Did the Hilberts get Trump into tanning? Does he use New Sunshine spray tans or tanning bed bronzers? (Reviewers have suggested that turning orange—a "rich shade of burnt orange," in the words of one—can be a distinct side effect of using such products.) The Trump campaign did not respond to questions about whether Trump used New Sunshine tanning products. Questions sent by email and FedEx to Hilbert's Indiana home went unanswered. It's clear, though, that Trump is familiar with New Sunshine's wares. He promoted the company's tanning products on The Celebrity Apprentice in two episodes.

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Ironically, some of the most frequently challenged books are the very books that young readers say are especially important and meaningful to them. Unfortunately, their views are rarely heard in the over-heated debates that often accompany book challenges. Instead, the adults – parents, school administrators, and school board members - make decisions about what kids should read without always appreciating how books with “controversial” content help young people learn and mature.

To explore the significance of controversial books for young readers, we asked authors of frequently challenged books to share messages they’ve received from their readers. So far, eight authors whose books we’ve defended – frequently, in some cases – have shared letters and messages they’ve received from readers: Chris Crutcher, Matt de la Peña, emily danforth, Ellen Hopkins, Lois Lowry, Wes Moore, Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, and Rainbow Rowell.

As a result, we have received hundreds of messages testifying to the positive effects of reading the very books that are frequently challenged and sometimes censored. These are books that confront issues that many young readers worry about but may be reluctant to discuss: issues like race and ethnicity, bullying, sexuality, body image, drugs, self-harm, anxiety, social isolation, violence and abuse. Teenagers are often acutely aware of these issues in their own lives and the lives of their friends, and they struggle to make sense of them.

This book helped me realize that we do not have to be perfect in order to love and be loved by somebody.

Eleanor is fat, and so am I, and you never see fat girls in YA lit. Ever. Society teaches us that fat girls don't get love, that they're a joke, that they'll never be the heroine - and Eleanor is a heroine…. This book has touched my life, and helped me see myself in a better light, and I don't want that opportunity taken from anyone else.

I Am 15 Years Old…. I Just Read Your Book Mexican White Boy. It Was Probably The Best Book I Have EVER Read. I Had A Problem With My Skin Color As Well. So It Was Very Touching And It Closed A Big Hole In My Heart…. If It Wasnt For You I Would Still Hate The Skin That I’m In.

My name is Rachel, and I'm 13 years old…. I have recently tried killing myself. [Your book] made me realize that I never want to go to that place again…. It makes me realize that people WOULD miss me if I were gone, and before I didn't know that.

I finally feel like it’s not some dirty secret that I’m attracted to girls. I finally feel like I don't have to be ashamed off this secret that has been sitting on my shoulders for so many years. I can't thank you enough, you changed my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

As a middle-class, white Ashkenazi Jew living in California in 2016, I’ve been privileged to avoid the systemic, cultural and interpersonal racism faced by many Muslims, immigrants and people of color across the U.S. today.

However, my uncle was not as fortunate. He was a Holocaust survivor who saw his entire family killed in front of him in a concentration camp. Although overt, violent anti-Semitism is largely absent from the United States and has not been part of my experience, I’ve begun to see a shift in the past six months.

Donald Trump’s presidential campaign has forced me and thousands of other American Jews to face anti-Semitic threats for the first time. Throughout the election cycle, Jews have used a hashtag created by Bend the Arc Jewish Action, #WeveSeenThisBefore, as a reminder that Trump’s rhetoric and bigotry echo demagogues of the past.

After a national anti-Trump rally organized by Bend the Arc in June made the hashtag viral on social media, anti-Semitic white supremacists got hold of it and twisted it to spread hate on Twitter, specifically targeting Jews like myself who were organizing against Trump.

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The least-hurtful attacks spoke of big noses, bad hair and “going back to Israel,” but then came the explicit threats of violence. In my case, I was bombarded with horrifying Photoshopped images of my face in a cartoon gas chamber, with Trump pushing the button.