Gabriela Trofin-Tatár
Bio
Passionate about tech, studying Modern Journalism at NYU, and mother of 3 littles. Curious, bookaholic and travel addict. I also write on Medium and Substack: https://medium.com/@chicachiflada & https://chicachiflada.substack.com/
Achievements (1)
Stories (148)
Filter by community
A Healthier Way to See Our Children
I remember the last time someone asked me to talk about one defect and one quality of my child. I felt somewhat sad in that moment. Sad because we are still discussing qualities and defects in a small child who is still forming, who doesn’t know themselves yet, just beginning to peek into society, just starting to smell the life ahead.
By Gabriela Trofin-Tatár3 months ago in Families
In the Glow of Orange Lilies, Grandma Lives On
Whenever I see orange lilies, I see my grandmother’s face and remember her laugh. My grandmother grew orange lilies in her garden facing the pathway. She always found beauty in plants and stories. She also loved roses and tried to grow a rose bush despite it being too close to the house where the earth was not as rich in elements. But the lilies, they remind me best of my grandmother’s smile and warm touch. and the lilies remind me of her love for both.
By Gabriela Trofin-Tatár5 months ago in Confessions
#1 Why I Studied Modern Journalism: From “Shy Kid” to Explorer. Top Story - August 2025.
Growing up, I was the quiet one. I was the kid more likely to listen than to speak up. I was told I was not ‘journalist material.’ Journalists were bold, and they chased stories, asked hard questions, and were generally pushy. I was labeled shy and became so. At 18 years old, that seemed to rule out my secret dream. I blocked it out, forgot about it, and decided to cross off the fields I wasn’t made for when it came time to choose a university.
By Gabriela Trofin-Tatár5 months ago in Chapters
Heatwave shadows. Honorable Mention in The Summer That Wasn’t Challenge.
Every summer, the city roared in colors that never changed. Perpetual sun filtering through yellowing plastic blinds. I heard sirens skipping over the cracked pavement. I felt my own musty scent of sweat. The spoiled fruit from the market two blocks down curled into oblivion, softening inside, rotting.
By Gabriela Trofin-Tatár6 months ago in Fiction
