It’s undeniable that the majority of comic books are made by and for men. According to comics historian and researcher Tim Hanley—who regularly “gendercrunches” the industry’s demographics—male comics creators outnumbered female nine-to-one as recently as December of 2014. And last June, Hanley found that 79 percent of comic editors, inkers, pencillers, and cover artists were white, as well.


So to call Sana Amanat an outlier is a bit of an understatement. Sana, a Pakistani-American Muslim woman, often credits the X-Men with first inviting her into the world of comics. She identified with the series’ misfits and their experiences with discrimination. Her brother Irfan is the one who introduced her, fostering in her one of the most important requirements for a budding comics editor: Imagination. “He very much instilled in me the possibility of the fantastic,” she says.

Of course, making it in the comics industry takes a lot more than fandom and an active mind, requiring one to acquire an unusual, highly technical hybrid of skills, which Sana says she never would have honed without modeling and support from inspiring leaders in her life. Though when she first started out, she was able to pick up a few freelance gigs, it wasn’t until she landed a job at the now-defunct indie publisher called Virgin Comics.

Once there, Sana forged what turned out to be perhaps the strongest mentor relationship of her career with MacKenzie Cadenhead. Both women eventually ended up editing together at Marvel, and it was MacKenzie, Sana says, who helped her hone the talents she would need to one day co-create her most famous character, Kamala Khan.

Otherwise known as Ms. Marvel, Kamala—deemed a “mighty Muslim” by The New York Times—is the superhero world’s first-ever Muslim Pakistani-American teenager, hailing (as Sana does) from New Jersey. It didn’t take long for the character to strike a chord, sky-rocketing to the No. 1 slot on Marvel’s digital sales chart soon after its release just over a year ago; the first issue has since gone into its seventh reprinting. And just last week, Marvel announced that Kamala would join the newest iteration of the Avengers next fall.

Though it would be a decade before Sana had developed the internals she’d need to come up with such a fresh and relatable character, MacKenzie remembers she immediately noticed Sana’s natural talent. Still, MacKenzie says Sana had some work to do before she could master her craft: “Comic book editing is a field you apprentice in. You don’t really go to school for it.” So her approach with Sana was to start—as one must do with everything from learning how to read and write to driving a car or a new computer program—with the basics.

Or, as MacKenzie calls it, “the vocabulary for visual storytelling.”

Sana agrees that she had to be actively taught “the fundamentals of crafting a story in this type of medium.” Perhaps due to her childhood obsession with comics, Sana says she “responded to it immediately. There was something natural in the way comic book stories are told that [she] connected with.” And once she grasped the form’s vocabulary, MacKenzie took Sana through the process of merging the written with the visual and then got “out of her way.”

Sana is grateful that she found a friend and a mentor in MacKenzie—someone who was willing to put in the time to show her the nuts and bolts of her craft. But the most important insight she gleaned from this mentorship was, as she puts it, realizing that there are “limitless ways in which to relay a story.” But it’s important to harness all those possibilities a singular vision. And often, that vision is a team effort between an editor, writer, and visual artist.

And yes, clearly Ms. Marvel resembles Sana in infinite ways. But even a near-autobiographical character was the product of one of those team efforts, drawn from brainstorming sessions with author G. Willow Wilson and then Marvel editor, now Vice President, Steve Wacker. Sana credits Steve with encouraging her chase after a career she “couldn’t have imagined on her own,” taking a chance on a young artist and supporting her as she developed her unique voice.

However, Sana is quick to point out that “developing your own editorial voice can take some time.” She learned to trust her “unique sensibility” after years of patiently observing editors like MacKenzie and Steve. Sana has concluded that “skill set and style are two different things… In order for you to become a good editor who makes distinct books, you need to have both.”

MacKenzie says that it wasn’t until Sana had mastered the vocabulary of comic book art as well as confidence in her own voice that she was able to recognize that her own story could be part of the Marvel universe. Sana says that in her work today as an editor, she attempts to bring out that unique voice in the artists and writers with whom she creates each issue, mirroring what MacKenzie did for her at the beginning of her career.

She “was the one person who gave me the confidence and encouragement to keep me going,” says Sana, “especially when others doubted me and when I doubted myself.” MacKenzie says being a good mentor means to go beyond asking yourself, “Do you have the skills to guide someone [with natural talent]? It is also dependent on the other person being open [to you.]” MacKenzie describes Sana as being open to any constructive criticism and willing to use it to continuously learn and grow as an editor, writer, and artist—something that’s important for anyone learning a new skill.

Now that Marvel, one of the two largest forces in comics (the other being, of course, DC), has introduced a young, female, immigrant, Pakistani-American as the star of her own series, the future for the industry feels as limitless as Ms. Marvel’s powers. The character has exposed voracious young comic book readers—many of whom might struggle with their identities just as Sana once did—to a whole new kind of hero. And surely some will be inspired to become comics creators themselves, empowered by Sana’s revolutionary career to take the comics industry to soaring new heights of inclusivity and innovative storytelling.

  • ‘Bouncing back’ is a myth – resilience means integrating hard experiences into your life story, not ignoring them
    Photo credit: Anastasiia Voloshko/Moment via Getty ImagesInto each life some rain must fall.

    When Maria looked at herself in the mirror for the first time after her mastectomy, she stood very still.

    One hand rested on the bathroom counter. The other hovered near the flat space where her breast had been. The scar was raw and angry. The loss was quiet but enormous. Her body felt foreign.

    In moments like these, people are often urged to be resilient – which can feel like being told to show no weakness, to push through no matter what. Or they imagine resilience as bouncing back: returning somehow unscathed to be the person you were before.

    But standing in that bathroom, Maria knew there was no going back. And toughness wouldn’t change what had happened. The real question was how she could move forward, carrying this experience into her new reality.

    Maria’s story, one I came to know personally, is far from unique. Loss, trauma and illness often bring the same wrenching questions of identity and the painful uncertainty of what comes next.

    I’ve spent more than two decades studying resilience, particularly among individuals and families navigating these kinds of life-changing events. I am also a four-time cancer survivor and author of a new book, “Falling Forward: The New Science of Resilience and Personal Transformation.” If there is one myth I wish society would retire, it’s the idea that resilience means “toughness” or “bouncing back.”

    woman wearing hat seated in wheelchair looks outside
    Resilience doesn’t rely on relentless positivity in the face of traumatic challenges. pocketlight/iStock via Getty Images Plus

    Rethinking resilience based on research

    Moments like Maria’s reveal something important: The way people tend to talk about resilience often doesn’t match how people actually live through adversity.

    In popular culture, resilience is often equated with grit, toughness or relentless positivity. People celebrate the warrior, the fighter, the triumphant survivor.

    But across research, clinical practice and lived experience, resilience is something far more nuanced, raw and human.

    It’s not a personality trait that some people simply have and others lack. Decades of research show resilience is a dynamic process. It’s shaped by the small, everyday decisions and adjustments individuals make as they adapt to significant adversity while maintaining, or gradually regaining, their psychological and physical footing over time.

    And importantly, resilience does not mean the absence of distress.

    Research on people facing serious life disruptions shows that distress and resilience often coexist. For example, in my study of adolescent and young adult cancer survivors, participants reported being upset about finances, body image and disrupted life plans, while simultaneously highlighting positive changes, such as strengthened relationships and a greater sense of purpose.

    Resilience, in other words, is not about erasing pain and suffering. It is about learning how to integrate difficult experiences into a life that continues forward.

    How resilience really works

    At one point, Maria told me she had started avoiding mirrors, intimacy, even conversations that made others uncomfortable.

    “Well, you’re strong,” people would tell her. “Just stay positive. This too shall pass.”

    But strength, she said, felt like a performance.

    What ultimately shifted for Maria was not an increase in toughness. It was permission to grieve.

    She began speaking openly about the loss of her breast; not just as a medical procedure but as a symbolic loss tied to identity, sexuality and womanhood. She joined a support group. She allowed herself to feel anger alongside gratitude for survival.

    This kind of emotional processing turns out to be central to resilience.

    My colleagues and I have found that people who actively process loss, rather than suppress it, demonstrate better long-term adjustment. Tamping down negative feelings may provide short-term relief, but over time it is associated with greater stress on your body and more difficulty adapting.

    In other words, resilience is not about sealing the wound and pretending it no longer aches. It is about learning how to carry the wound without letting it consume your entire story.

    Neuroscience supports this integration model. When people engage in meaning-making – reflecting on their experiences and incorporating them into a coherent life narrative – brain networks associated with emotional regulation and cognitive flexibility become more active. The brain, quite literally, reorganizes as you adapt to new realities.

    Maria described the change simply.

    “I don’t like what happened,” she told me. “But I’m not at war with my body anymore.”

    That is resilience.

    Arms in sweater with hand writing in a journal
    Acknowledging what’s been lost can be part of the process of resilience. Grace Cary/Moment via Getty Images

    Practices that help build resilience

    If resilience is about integration rather than toughness and bouncing back, how can you cultivate it? Research across psychology, neuroscience and chronic illness points to several evidence-based strategies:

    • Allow emotional complexity: Resilient people are not relentlessly positive. They allow space for the full range of emotions, such as gratitude and grief, hope and fear. Paying attention to your feelings through strategies such as reflective writing or psychotherapy have been linked to improved psychological adaptation.
    • Build a coherent narrative: Human beings are storytellers. Trauma can shatter one’s sense of self, but constructing a narrative that acknowledges loss while identifying continuity and growth supports adaptation. The goal is not to spin suffering into silver linings, but to situate it within a broader life story. For example, someone might say, “Cancer derailed my plans and changed my body, but it also clarified what matters to me and how I want to move forward.”
    • Lean into connection: Isolation magnifies suffering. Social support is one of the strongest predictors of how well people are able to cope and move forward after illness or trauma. For Maria, connection with other women who had had mastectomies normalized her experience and reduced shame.
    • Practice deliberate pauses: Intentionally give yourself some time to breathe. Mindfulness and contemplative solitude can strengthen your ability to regulate emotions and recover from stress. Pausing allows experience to be processed rather than avoided.
    • Expand identity: Illness, loss and trauma reshape how you think of yourself. Rather than clinging to who you were, resilience often involves expanding who you are becoming. Research on post-traumatic growth shows that people often report deeper relationships, clarified priorities and renewed purpose – not because trauma was good, but because it forced reevaluation. Maria no longer describes herself simply as a breast cancer patient. She is a survivor, yes, but also an advocate, a mentor, a woman whose sense of femininity is self-defined rather than dictated by her anatomy.

    Moving forward

    We are living in a time of widespread burnout and rising mental health challenges, where cultural pressure to appear strong often leaves people silently struggling. An insistence on grit and relentless optimism can backfire, making people feel inadequate when they inevitably feel pain.

    Resilience is not about returning to who you were before illness, loss or trauma. It is about becoming someone new: someone who carries the scar, remembers the loss and still chooses to engage with life.

    Maria still pauses when she sees her reflection. But she no longer turns away.

    “This is my body,” she told me recently. “This is my story.”

    Resilience is not forged in the denial of vulnerability, but in its acceptance. Not in bouncing back, but in integrating what has happened into who you are becoming.

    And that, I believe, is where real strength lives.

    This article originally appeared on The Conversation. You can read it here.

  • Trauma patients recover faster when medical teams know each other well, new study finds
    Photo credit: SDI Productions/E+ Collection/via Getty ImagesWhen someone is badly hurt, their potential for survival often depends on what happens in the first minutes after they arrive at the hospital.

    When a trauma patient enters the emergency department, their potential for survival often depends on what happens within the first minutes after their arrival. After studying trauma resuscitation teams at UPMC Presbyterian in Pittsburgh, the largest major trauma center in Pennsylvania, it’s clear that trauma teams aren’t organized ahead of time – they’re formed on the fly. Some team members may have worked together many times before, while others may be meeting for the first time.

    Those minutes can be chaotic, fast-paced and high-stakes. The patient is usually rolled in on a stretcher, bleeding, barely breathing and surrounded by alarms and shouting. At the bedside are emergency physicians, anesthesiologists, surgeons, nurses and respiratory therapists – a large team of dedicated health care providers. Everyone has a job. Everyone is moving fast. When it works well, it looks almost effortless. When it doesn’t, small delays can have big consequences.

    Medical professionals often say that “teamwork matters” in health care. But only a few studies show how teamwork affects patient outcomes or point to concrete, practical ways to make teams work better together.

    This knowledge gap motivated us to get together to study this issue. One of us is an intensive care unit physician and the other is an organizational scientist who studies teams in a variety of settings. We based our approach on a classic concept from behavioral science called transactive memory systems.

    Traumatic injuries, such as car crashes, falls and gunshot wounds, are the leading cause of death for young people worldwide. Across all ages, trauma is one of the top killers. Because trauma is widespread, even small adjustments to how emergency teams coordinate can help save lives and shorten recovery periods for patients.

    Doctor wearing blue gloves prepares to intubate a male patient.
    Few studies assess how trauma teamwork affects patient outcomes. picture alliance/picture alliance collection via Getty Images

    This is where transactive memory systems, TMS, come in. TMS are a shared understanding within a team of who knows what and who is good at what. A team doesn’t succeed because everyone knows everything, but because people rely on one another’s expertise. The team works best when each person knows what they are responsible for, what other team members are experts in, and whom to turn to when a specific problem comes up.

    Team familiarity shapes outcomes

    Think of a group of friends playing basketball. The best basketball teams aren’t the ones where everyone has the same skills. They’re the ones where one person is great at rebounding, one person can shoot from a long distance, and another is good at dribbling the ball up the floor. Importantly, everyone knows each other’s skills, so when a certain skill is needed, they know whom to go to.

    In trauma care, this kind of knowledge could save lives. When seconds matter, the team needs to instantly know who would be best at placing a breathing tube and who would be best at reading the ultrasound. Strong TMS means fewer questions, less hesitation and smoother coordination.

    Black doctor in blue scrubs talks with medical team at nurse's station.
    The more often medical teams work together, the better they know each other’s skills and how they coordinate their tasks. FS Productions/Tetra images collection via Getty Images

    For each trauma patient, we measured three things: shared team experience, transactive memory systems and patient outcomes, based on how long patients stayed in the ICU and in the hospital overall. We were looking for teamwork that showed good coordination, trust in expertise and clear division of responsibility.

    The science behind ‘who knows what’

    Our results were striking. First, teams with more shared experience had stronger transactive memory systems. The more often people had worked together before, the better they seemed to know each other’s skills and coordinate their tasks. If you add up how many times two team members had worked together on a previous resuscitation and divide by the number of dyads, or pairs, on the team, the average in our study was 10 times. As that number increased, transactive memory systems became stronger.

    Second, stronger transactive memory systems were linked to better patient outcomes. These improvements were substantial: Patients cared for by teams that were well above average in their transactive memory systems stayed in the hospital about three fewer days and spent nearly two fewer days in the ICU.

    Third, TMS explained why shared experience mattered. It wasn’t just that experienced teams were better, but that shared experience helped teams build a clearer mental “map” of each other’s expertise. That map is what helped patients get better faster.

    Trauma care is unpredictable – you can’t always control who is on a team or how often people work together. But it may be possible to design training procedures and work schedules that help teams build transactive memory faster.

    More broadly, our study suggests that improving health care isn’t just about developing new technology or training better doctors. It’s about leveraging the power of teams, helping people quickly understand and trust each other’s strengths when it matters most. For us, one coming from the bedside and the other from organizational science, that’s the exciting next step: turning the science of teamwork into practical tools that help trauma teams save lives.

    This article originally appeared on The Conversation. You can read it here.

  • Students go for a world record with group drumming rendition of “Beggin”
    Photo credit: CanvaA music teacher plays drums with a student.

    Drum instructor Patrick Abdo doesn’t simply direct a children’s recital—he launches into a full-body celebration of music. In an Instagram post gaining widespread attention, he leads 10 children, ages 5 to 10, in a drumming rendition of the Måneskin song “Beggin’.”

    As the kids bang the drums in rhythmic unison and parents watch, beaming with pride, the room pulses with energy. But what makes the performance all the more magnetic isn’t simply the precision of the young drummers—it’s Abdo’s infectious excitement.

    Abdo guides kids to an impressive musical moment

    In the video, captioned “A record like no other!,” the 10 kids each have their own drum kit arranged in a circle around a large room. As the music starts, Abdo takes the lead, instructing the young musicians and wildly raising his arms to the rhythm. He keeps perfect time with his air drumming, and the kids follow.

    These young drummers do a fantastic job, fully committed and bringing the focus and skill needed to pull off such a high-octane song. Yet it’s nearly impossible not to have your attention drawn to the teacher. Abdo radiates an infectious belief in every child in the room.

    This type of wholehearted encouragement feels increasingly rare, and it’s wonderful to watch. As proud parents smile from the sidelines, he moves through the room, connecting with each student. With each burst of encouragement, the recital transforms into something special.

    There is little publicly available information about Abdo’s background. His breakout visibility appears tied to short-form drum lesson videos posted on his Instagram page. His profile lists Dubai as his location, and his bio reads, “My dream is to recreate School Of Rock MENA [Middle East North Africa] version.”

    The good-vibes energy inspires people

    The video quickly became impossible to scroll past. Views steadily increased, and so did the comments. The appreciation for both the synchronized performance and Abdo’s teaching style offers a moving example of mentoring at its best. As much as viewers loved the kids’ musical showcase, many seemed even more inspired by Abdo’s uplifting and engaging style:

    “They shut it down for real !!!The instructor deserves an applause”

    “I love the teacher !! So enthusiastic, motivating and you can tell he loves these kids!!!”

    “well done to that teacher and all the children — luv this”

    “This teacher has incredible enthusiasm which inspires all the kids to work so hard to get it!”

    “Wow, the instructor’s patience and passion for his work are truly admirable!”

    “This is called perfection.”

    “The teacher’s passion! The talented, focused kids!”

    Great teachers and mentorship matter

    There is simply no denying the value of great teachers and mentors. Everyone benefits from guidance and encouragement, especially young people. Research in 2025 found that mentored youth were 20% more likely to attend college, earn higher incomes, and exhibit better behavior. A 2023 trial conducted by Big Brothers Big Sisters of America found measurable improvements in social and emotional well-being.

    A 2022 study found that mentorship increased retention and promoted success. The benefits extend to mentors as well, offering opportunities to build enduring relationships that evolve and provide value over time.

    The music recital had the Internet buzzing over its great energy and the joy of watching kids go for it. Inspiring mentorship may be the real power behind Abdo’s musical instruction. Whether viewers remember a beloved teacher or recognize the one they wish they’d had, the right mentor can stay with a child long after the music stops.

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