Did you know that you have the power to spark happiness in someone else's brain with just a few simple words? College student Eva Dickerson shares how she spread happiness across her campus, equipped with just her iPhone and some compliments.

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Did you know that you have the power to spark happiness in someone else's brain with just a few simple words? College student Eva Dickerson shares how she spread happiness across her campus, equipped with just her iPhone and some compliments.

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Find out more info about the Google Podcasts creator program. The extended deadline is Sunday, Dec 2 at 11:59pm ET.
The program is aimed at producers who self-identify as marginalized in the podcasting landscape, or who intend to reach marginalized audiences. We welcome both existing podcasts and ideas for new podcasts. Podcasts from around the globe, and in languages other than English, are encouraged, though we're also accepting US-based teams as well. Selected teams will participate in a 20-week training program covering all aspects of storytelling, production, and marketing, plus receive up to $40k in funding for their idea. For application and more info: googlecp.prx.org.
Have a great podcast idea? We can help!
The Google Podcasts creator program is designed to increase the diversity of voices in the industry globally and lower barriers to podcasting. Selected teams will receive seed funding and participate in an intensive training program.
PRI/PRX is now accepting applications until 11:59 p.m. ET on Sunday, December 2, 2018.
Learn more about the program by visiting https://googlecp.prx.org.
EXCLUSIVE INVESTIGATION: How North Korean hackers became the world’s greatest bank robbers
It was among the greatest heists against a United States bank in history and the thieves never even set foot on American soil.
Nor did they target some ordinary bank. They struck an account managed by the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, an institution renowned for its security.
Read this richly reported tale of a bank heist perpetrated by North Korea on GPIinvestigations.pri.org.
After deportation, a family from Wisconsin will start anew in Cambodia
Lisa Kum has an endless list of tasks every day. The 41-year-old from Cottage Grove, Wisconsin, has a 19-month-old daughter and a high school-aged son. She’s also tending to her health after undergoing elbow surgery earlier this year.
Nowadays, she’s also busy growing her business that sells refurbished HP printer parts — so that she can sell it and move her family to Cambodia. That’s because Kum’s husband, Sothy Kum, was deported to Cambodia, a country he left when he was just 2 years old. She plans to shut down the small business they started together four years ago and start over 8,000 miles away.
“It's pretty much been pure hell,” she says. “It’s very emotional. At the same time, you have to get up every morning and keep going because what other choice do you have?”
Read the full story at pri.org.

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Women on the 2018 ballot are busting perceptions of motherhood and leadership
Motherhood is taking center stage in US politics. Women are running for office in record numbers this year. Among their many experiences, roles and identities, many are emphasizing being a mom.
What does this acknowledgment of motherhood tell us about US politics today? As I have discussed in my work as a scholar of gender and politics, women running for office have not traditionally made motherhood central to their candidacies.
Here’s why that appears to be changing. Read the story at pri.org.
Why a pilot's nightmare should be a bedtime story for girls
When I heard the story of Southwest Airlines Flight 1380's emergency landing, I suddenly remembered the moment of eerie silence when an engine-fire indicator lit up in my jet’s cockpit. The small, amber light glowed amid a panel of dark buttons, knobs and switches — and I froze.
A second later, after catching the movement of the instructor pilot to my left, I swiftly snapped the air mask on my helmet over my nose and mouth, tightened the harness holding me into my ejection seat and keyed the radio to begin procedures for an emergency landing. Once safely on the ground, the engine’s melted fuel lines confirmed it was about 10 seconds from exploding midair.
I also recalled the moment, at the start of my military career, when a more senior officer questioned my ability to succeed at flight school — because I was a woman. I still regret not more adamantly defending a girl’s place in the cockpit but take quiet pride in my whispered response: “I think I’ll be fine.”
In short, I know how significant it is that the hero of Southwest Airlines Flight 1380, Capt. Tammie Jo Shults, is a woman. And why this pilot’s nightmare needs to be a bedtime story for young girls everywhere.
Continue reading this story at pri.org.
Pregnancy is always popping up in science fiction, like "Children of Men" or "Alien," where pregnant women need saving, or worse, unwanted pregnancies are forced upon them — but now there are are some new works of fiction that portray pregnant women as unambiguous heroes, battling dystopian conditions to protect themselves and their babies. Listen to the segment at pri.org.
Portland, Oregon is beautiful. And very liberal, according to the TV show Portlandia. But last year it was also home to one of the country's most shocking hate crimes. So, in dozens of in-depth interviews, the Otherhood podcast’s host, Rupa Shenoy, digs into Portland's history to understand why that city — and the country — are seeing a resurgence of hate.
We asked you to tell us about your random acts of kindness. These were our favorites.
Boston artist Bren Bataclan often gives away his paintings with a note asking people to "smile at random people more often." He gave us two to give to PRI listeners and readers. Bataclan selected two people who commented on PRI The World’s Facebook page about the random acts of kindness they did for others or someone had done for them.
So, who were the two lucky people that will receive one of Bataclan's paintings and what were their "random acts of kindness"? The first winner is John Stewart from Salt Lake City, Utah, who works as a professional Santa, a job that can often be thankless and taxing. His goodwill extended beyond the North Pole when this happened:
"One year, I finished up a private party at a family's house. It was a lot of fun, and at the end, the parents gave me a Christmas card containing my fee. Once I got home, I opened the card and discovered that they had paid double my normal rate. It was very nice of them. Later, I went to dinner with a friend at a restaurant. She was asking me about being Santa, and I told her I always loved when the older kids at the party would not let on to the younger kids. They played along and made it fun for everyone. The waitress overheard and told us that she had to tell her young son the truth about Santa this year. I asked her why, and she said that because she had just finished a round of chemotherapy for cancer, and this was her first day back to work, and Christmas was not going to be like it had been in previous years. Like a shot of lightning, the universe was giving me a message. I gave the waitress the extra money that the family had given me. I told her Santa always made sure kids had a good Christmas."
The other "random acts of kindness" winner is Ruth Deakins. She befriended a homeless man in San Diego and posted this:
"I've gotten to know him over the years. While talking to him recently, he told me he was married at one time and has a grown son and a daughter who died in her 30's. I asked him if he had worked during his life. He said he had for many years and once owned a home. He's now 70 years old. I asked if he would qualify for social security. He said he does, but he didn't know how to apply. He knows his social security #, but doesn't remember much else about his life; i.e., addresses where he once lived, etc. I think he may be in early dementia. He's all alone now and has no connection with his family. I took him to the social security office and spent the day there in the lines. At being 70 years old, turns out that he could collect $1,600/month in social security benefits. That would be life-changing for him, but he has no documentation that he is a legal citizen in the U.S.; therefore, he will not receive the money. He said he came here from Mexico when he was four years old, but has no documentation that he can remember obtaining. He may be a legal citizen, but he just doesn't know."
Listen to the full story at pri.org.

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Khalida Popal defied the Taliban and risked her life to play soccer
Khalida Popal was at the top of her game in Afghanistan. She became the captain of Afghanistan's women's national team and was competing on the international field.
Popal was the public face of her team, which did not go over well with ultra-conservative people of her country. She faced criticism, including from people who labeled women soccer players as prostitutes. But that only made Popal more determined to play the sport. So she and some friends practiced on a NATO base, and eventually played matches against neighboring country's in Kabul's Ghazi Stadium.
But the hate over Popal's love for soccer, which she calls football, in keeping with international standards, turned even more violent and included death threats against Popal's family. She fled the country, eventually making her way to Denmark where she received asylum. Popal spoke with Marco Werman of The World about her experience and her journey.
Read/listen to her story at pri.org.
Kurt Andersen talks with “Superman” writer Gene Luen Yang on “Boxers & Saints” and “American Born Chinese.” Plus, the complicated — and sometimes divisive — issue of cosplay characters dressing up as a character of a different race. And producers Brendan Baker and Chloe Prasinos talk about all the work (and a 3-D recording gizmo) that went into making their new podcast, Marvel’s “Wolverine: The Long Night.”
This British company is turning food waste into beer
“We got a lesson in brewing as well as a lesson in using the bread for it,” says Michael Mulcahy, who helped tear up about 200 loaves of bread into chunks to make the amber ale he’s sipping. “Today, we get to taste what came out of it.”
See the full story at pri.org.
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Can you train your brain to be more grateful?

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Slow to start, Japan is finally having a #MeToo moment
On Saturday afternoon, some 300 protesters descended outside inner-city Shinjuku Station in Tokyo to rally against sexual harassment and a deeply entrenched culture in the country of victim blaming and forced silence.
The bustling Shinjuku Station serves 3.6 million passengers every day. Every weekend, the surrounding streets burst at the seams with pedestrians. Similarly, the demonstration here, with a stage wedged in between a cluster of high-rise retail buildings, was almost at capacity by start time.
Participants formed a sea of anti-sexism placards while as many as a thousand curious bystanders and other supporters gathered on the sidelines for an hourlong program featuring a dozen speakers.
The #MeToo movement captured the nation's attention earlier this month after a top-ranking Finance Ministry official was accused by a female reporter of repeated sexual harassment. The official, Junichi Fukuda, 58, denies sexual misconduct despite a secret recording published online that revealed the bureaucrat asking the reporter, “Can I kiss you?” and “Can I hug you?” and “Can I touch your breasts?” during an interview.
Read the full story at pri.org.
Hear the full 📻 story + see photos of Fransisca: It took a lifetime for this Queens grandma to open up about her experience being trafficked for sex
A couple of months ago, a friend of mine reached out. It was about her grandmother, Frances. Grandma Frances is 85. And my friend told me her grandma says she has a story she needs to tell someone.
So, I headed to their house.
Grandma Frances is tiny and thin, with a shock of white hair and brown eyes that are always smiling, even when she isn’t. She talks with that loud, Queens accent that sounds like she’s chewing on the words before she speaks them.
But secrets have a language of their own. And Grandma Frances insists she will only tell me this story in her native tongue, Spanish.
She starts off by telling me that she was born Francisca Carmona Garcia, in Jalisco, Mexico.
And when she speaks about Jalisco, her eyes light up.
“The men are handsome there,” she gushes. They ride their horses with a gun on their side.
“You’re blushing,” I tell her. “Yeah,” she says with a laugh. “I know!”
I ask her what her favorite childhood memory is and she says — leaving. Garcia’s family was poor.
“We ate seeds and tortillas, with some chile. And it tasted good because we were hungry.”
She tells me her little sister died of starvation. When Garcia was 14, she left home to go to Guadalajara. She got a job as a maid and started sending money home. But money was still tight. And Garcia had bigger dreams …
“El Norte,” she says, with a hint of awe still in her voice.
She means “The North.” The United States.
It was the 1950s. The decade of prosperity and US cultural expansion. Rock ‘n’ roll was born. Marilyn Monroe sang breathlessly about diamonds, her “best friends.” John Wayne was flying airplanes and Marlon Brando was riding A Streetcar Named Desire.
Garcia got her big break one day at work when she was 16. An older woman approached her and said, “we’re looking for waitresses. Right on the border with Texas. A tiny town called Villa Acuña. At a restaurant called La Perla — The Pearl.”
Garcia packed up and headed there, to her new job, waiting tables. It was about a day’s travel. But when she finally got to town, well, there was no restaurant. There weren’t even streets really, she says. The Pearl was a house in the dusty middle of nowhere.
It was a brothel.
“You gotta do what you gotta do,” she says, resigned. She never imagined this would happen to her, though. And she didn’t have a choice. “I was the breadwinner in my family,” she explains.
This all happened when she was a teenager.
“They gave us our room and told us to dress very pretty and go out to the salon because it was full of American soldiers.” The brothel, she tells me, exclusively served the American military — who came in from across the border in Texas. Mexican men didn’t set foot in The Pearl, but the Mexican police protected the place and watched over the girls.
Once a month, Garcia says, “the doctors would come give us checkups.”
It’s strange, hearing this sweet little grandma tell me the tale of how she was trafficked while she insists that I finish a giant plate of tamales she made for me. But none of this is unusual. Mexican border towns have always served as places of vice and exploitation. Sex tourism is a lucrative business even to this day. Between 2011 and 2012, authorities report that more than 9,000 women have gone missing throughout Mexico.
And that’s just the reported cases.
But Garcia doesn’t tell her story like other trafficking survivors I’ve spoken with. She talks about how lucky she was. A friend of hers, who got taken to another town — she was killed. Garcia talks about a kind, gorgeous madam, who let her keep some of the money she earned. Important men in uniform, who were gentlemanly. I leave her house a bit perplexed. But her tone shifts the next time we talk, when she invites me over for lunch.
As she ladles a thick oxtail soup on my plate, she tells me, “You know. This is a great shame in my life. I want you to understand, I was desperate.”
“It’s an ugly thing,” She tells me. “You have relations with a man you don’t want. You just close your eyes, and you let it happen. It’s false. You … do it out of necessity, not desire. You know nothing about love. You know nothing of kissing with that passion.”
I ask if she’s angry. And she pauses and responds, “Yeah. At myself.”
So I ask her. Why are you telling me this secret? Why now? Why ever?
“I don’t know,” she says, then hesitates. “I don’t know why. I think there was something here,” she says as she rubs her narrow chest. “Something inside me.”
Garcia does know how much she wanted to leave that place. She says she always told herself, “I gotta marry an American.”
So one day, this customer came in. He was tall and handsome, a sergeant in the US Air Force.
His name was William.
“He was so elegant,” she gushes. “He was wearing a blue shirt and a tie. He was almost 6 feet tall.”
That night, they took a walk. The moon was beautiful.
“And he fell in love with me. And then he said — I want you to get out of here,” Garcia recalls.
Did they really fall in love? Does a teenager who is trapped and needs so much to get out of where she is — truly love the one man who can rescue her? A customer at the brothel? Every time I asked, she replied the same.
“I fell in love with him. I loved that man.”
They got married, and William brought her to New York. They came by bus. It was 1952. They arrived at the Port Authority Bus Terminal, Manhattan’s hectic, congested central bus station that stands to this day.
I meet her there early on a Saturday.
She’s eager to take me to her neighborhood in Queens and introduce me to all her friends.
After about an hour on the subway, we arrive. We walk along the busy boulevard and the quiet, lush suburban streets. Although today it’s filled with people speaking Spanish and bumping reggaeton out of car windows, Grandma Frances was the first Latina to live here. Her new family advised her not to speak Spanish to her children. Back then, this was mostly an Italian neighborhood.
She says when she got here, “we took a taxi, to the house. To my mother-in-law’s house.” She remembers it was cold. She had never seen snow and was afraid of it.
“I was afraid I would freeze,” she laughs. It was 4 a.m. It was dark. She couldn’t see anything.
She didn’t know back then that everything was going to be OK. That she’d be part of a big family who adored her.
As her new husband knocked on his family’s door, here’s what she did know: Something really bad had happened to her. And it’s something that happens to women all the time, to this day. It was a secret she would think about sometimes, but would never tell anyone about, not for another 60 years or so — as a widow, with grandchildren.
Back then, she knew she’d been able to survive it. She’d been able to get out. And she was going to build something else: a beautiful life.
Francisca Carmona Garcia, better known to the many people who love her as Frances, was finally home.