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Dr. Arianne Pontes Oriá stands firm: She does not make animals cry for a living. Technically, only humans can cry, or weep in response to an emotional state, said Dr. Oriá, a veterinarian at the Federal University of Bahia in Brazil. For humans, crying is a way to physically manifest feelings, which are difficult to study and confirm in other creatures. But Dr. Oriá does collect animal tears — the liquid that keeps eyes clean and nourished. In vertebrates, or animals with backbones, tears are vital for vision, Dr. Oriá said. And yet, these captivating fluids have been paid little to no attention, except in a select few mammals. (Wu, 8/13)

Some 2 percent of men in the U.S. identify as bisexual. But, for decades, some sexuality researchers have questioned whether true bisexual orientation exists in men. ... [A Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences] study has drawn positive coverage and received praise from some activists, who see it as valuable confirmation for an often-marginalized sexual identity. But it has also received backlash from other scientists and many bisexual people, some of whom argue that in attempting to prove, based on genital arousal, that bisexuality exists, researchers are discounting bisexual people’s lived experiences. It has also reignited a broader debate over the ethics of human sexuality research — and about what role, if any, scientists should play in validating the experiences of queer people. (Thomasy, 8/17)

Owning your health care is a key life skill for young people, like doing laundry, voting and making ramen — and it’s one you can start learning, even (or especially) while living under your parents’ roof. Adolescent medicine specialists want you to embrace your own medical care, and now might be the perfect time. Dr. Hina J. Talib, adolescent medicine inpatient service director at Children’s Hospital at Montefiore, identifies the pandemic as a “golden opportunity” for teenagers to practice self-care and self-advocacy skills. (Newman, 8/14)

“Wow, brother, you look awful!” the middle-aged woman called out to the 48-year-old man as he made his way slowly to the table. The siblings were from a large, close-knit family, together (back before Covid-19 hit) to celebrate the birthday of their 8-year-old niece. The woman always described her brother as strapping or robust; he now looked neither. He limped toward the table as if his left leg was somehow too weak to carry him. His normally ruddy complexion looked gray. His face looked both thinner — as if he’d lost weight since she last saw him two weeks earlier — but also fatter, his cheeks chipmunk-swollen, especially strange in his otherwise bony face. One of his ears was the only spot of color on him, fire-engine red and oddly enlarged. (Sanders, 8/13)

“I love it!” It’s a phrase I’ve uttered countless times, typically in response to a new offering from our family’s artist-in-residence, also known as my 6-year-old daughter. I’m being honest — it’s a treat when she dedicates her work to me, rather than the parent with higher approval ratings (her mother, my wife), and I take a fatherly pride in her choice of colors and attention to detail. But it turns out, I’m also undermining her efforts, by putting myself, and my approval, at the center of the conversation. (Underwood, 8/13)

Breastfeeding is something I always knew I wanted to do when I became a mom. As a Muslim woman, our doctrine tells us that if we are able, breastfeeding for up to two years is beneficial for both the baby and the mother. I wasn’t certain of all the mechanics that came with the act of breastfeeding, or the possibility that sometimes babies may not latch right away and the act could be physically and mentally taxing. However, that set intention turned into a two-and-a-half year commitment that my son and I were fortunate to embark on — together. (8/20)

For the nurses of “4 North,” like their colleagues before them from New York and across the globe, home is fraught with uncertainty. Are they bringing the virus there? Are they exposing their partners and children? Should they isolate or quarantine themselves? Should they quit their jobs to keep their families safe? As the pandemic rages on and cases climb throughout California, once again one of the nation’s hot spots, the answers remain unclear. (Dazio, 8/17)

Flight attendants have always had unique occupational hazards, from managing bad behavior onboard to balancing perpetual jet lag. But the pandemic has brought even more (and tougher) challenges for the essential workers. They’ve faced backlash as the enforcers of airlines’ tightening mask policies. They’ve worried for the health and safety of their family members, colleagues and themselves. And like many during this global health and economic crisis, their jobs are more at risk than ever.We spoke with four flight attendants about their experiences working during the pandemic. (Compton, 8/17)