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Table of contents
- Why Women Still Can’t Have It All
- 'When I was told my brother had died by suicide, I crumbled to the floor and howled'
- The Atlantic Crossword
- Post Comment
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For turning notifications on or off on Google Chrome and Android click here , for Firefox click here , for Safari click here and for Microsoft's Edge click here. Come on, Carlos, Jorge said — look around.
Why Women Still Can’t Have It All
Do you really think that if you had been raised here you would have ended up an accountant or even a professional? William said nothing, but his face took on a hard cast. Carlos had no idea, he thought, how far a strong will could or could not get you. He managed to pass the test, but his score was low — eight months of part-time cramming could not make up for all those years of lost schooling. When William arrived at the barracks, a commanding officer recognized him.
There were no more strings to be pulled; he could never be a petty officer; it was over. He would have to go home. For five days, William stayed past his welcome, hiding and mingling among the groups of soldiers.
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He hoped that things would sort themselves out, but more than that, he could not bring himself to leave: Leaving meant he had given up. William knew that Carlos was unfamiliar with that part of his history. And Carlos could not know, could never really know, how many hours William had spent hacking sugar cane with a machete as a teenager, his skin crawling from the heat and the itchy scraps of stalk, carrying 50 pounds of cane at a time, mindless, painful, strenuous work. Carlos had spent those same years, William knew, flirting with girls at an excellent public high school, playing basketball with his friends, racking up points on some video game, the name of which William would not even know.
Carlos was wrong, William felt certain. Sometimes, a will was not enough. Had he grown up in Santander, Carlos would not be an accountant on the rise right now. After breakfast, the cars left La Paz, driving on serpentine, stone-strewn roads with lush palm fronds and ferns closing in overhead. With the heat of the sun now strong, one driver kept mopping his sweating face with a bandanna he borrowed from one of the relatives in the car, as if he was physically exhausted from the stress of maneuvering the vehicle over riverbeds and around ditches.
Finally, around a.
'When I was told my brother had died by suicide, I crumbled to the floor and howled'
Everyone piled out of the vehicles. It was time to walk. It became clear that the grassy path would not be suitable for luggage rolling, so William, who had carried far heavier loads on this journey before, easily slung the purple suitcase onto his shoulders. The group started making its way along the path, which briefly lurched uphill.
William was moving at high speed, despite the suitcase. He called out that as strong as he was, Jorge was every bit as strong, although it seemed unlikely that that could possibly true. He backtracked until he reached Carlos, pushed the suitcase at him and then quickly headed off. The path tracked across a grassy meadow and then started a long, steep descent. Within minutes, the path was made of mud — rich, claylike mud that was two feet deep in some patches. Carlos, who was always impeccably dressed, stepped carefully. But his Adidas basketball sneakers were quickly soaked with oozing earth.
Carlos was as uncomfortable emotionally as he was physically. But he felt ill at ease on both visits. He knew William thought he had behaved churlishly, resisting the friendly overtures of his extended family. But there were just too many people around — locals, cousins, every one of them, it had seemed, wanting a photograph or a hug or some other sign of a connection that he himself did not feel.
How was he supposed to get to know his biological parents when there was always a crowd around? As he embraced his biological parents, they were weeping profusely. He had had a mother, and a very good one at that. It was high noon in Santander. Carlos picked his way through the mud, which splattered and quickly baked hard onto his legs in the sun. Then Carlos — Carlos, who was so vain about his clothing, fussy about fit, who was always brushing at the cuff of his pants to rid it of some imaginary lint — let out a howl.
His foot had sunk deep in the mud.
Slowly, with the help of someone from the area who was walking alongside him, he began to extricate it. There was a loud suctioning sound: Sludge coated his bare leg well past his knee. Carlos approached Carmelo with a smile: The two hugged warmly. But then there was silence; neither seemed to know what to say. William was standing close by, watching Carlos and his father. William looked pristine, except for a little mud on his boots. He had not even had a moment to catch his breath when William quickly batted his cap.
Carlos was still annoyed about the conversation they had at breakfast. Jorge seemed to want him to make some grand emotional statement about how lucky he had been in the swap, how much tougher his lot would have been had he, in fact, been raised in Santander. He might not even be alive if he had grown up here.
The Atlantic Crossword
Maybe if he had grown up in Santander, he would have joined the guerrillas, who were popular a decade earlier but also brutal. Far from believing in the inevitability of his professional success, he worried about whether his character, in that alternate life, would have withstood the forces around him. But no, he was not going to say all of that at breakfast, in front of a bunch of people. That was not who he was.
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But that one cell splits into two, and instantly, lights begin to go out, potential dims. In order for that one cell to become a tiny bit of flesh in a heart, and not the hair of an eyebrow, one or more of its genetic signaling pathways must shut down. The result is differentiation, a steady process of elimination that allows complex biological universes to be built.
Every time a group of cells divides, each one becomes more like one thing, less like another. By the time that embryo is five or six days old, which is when a majority of fateful twin splits occur, some of those cells, by chance, go to one twin and some to the other. This means that the expression of some genes in one of those future twins is already, in subtle ways, likely to be different from the expression of genes in the other future twin, theorizes Harvey Kliman, the director of the reproductive and placental research unit at the Yale School of Medicine.
From the moment that most identical twins separate, they may well have different epigenetics, a term that refers to the way genes are read and expressed, depending on environment. They are already different products of their environment, the environment being whatever uterine conditions rendered them separate beings in the first place. The casual observer is fascinated by how similar identical twins are, but some geneticists are more interested in identifying all the reasons they might differ, sometimes in significant ways.
Why might one identical twin be gay or transgender and not the other? Why do identical twins, born with the same DNA, sometimes die of different diseases at different times in their lives? Their environments must be different, but which aspect of their environment is the one that took their biology in a different direction? Smoking, stress, obesity — those are some of the factors that researchers have been able to link to specific changes in the expression of specific genes.
They expect, in time, to find hundreds, possibly thousands, of others. On average, the researchers found, any particular trait or disease in an individual is about 50 percent influenced by environment and 50 percent influenced by genes. But that simple ratio does not capture our complicated systems of genetic circuitry, the way our genes steadily interact with the environment, switching on, switching off, depending on the stimulus, sometimes with lasting results that will continue on in our genome, passed to the next generation.
Craig has analyzed the epigenetic profiles of 34 identical and fraternal twins at birth, collecting swabs from their inner cheeks. To Craig, it was noteworthy that in some cases — not many, but some — the epigenetic profile of one newborn twin was more similar to an unrelated baby than to the identical twin with whom that baby shared a womb. Structural differences in the womb could possibly account for it, Craig says — a thicker umbilical cord for one than the other there are, in fact, two cords or an awkward site of connection for the umbilical cord on the placenta.
But he recognizes that there could be additional factors still in the realm of guesswork. Segal and Craig were eager to see the epigenetic results for the Colombian twins.