Little known outside Sweden, Amalia Eriksson is the woman responsible for the popularization of the distinctive red-and-white-striped peppermint candy stick known as polkagris.

Swedish Lucia celebrations of the past were characterized by evil spirits, naughty pranks, and a bit of cross-dressing.

The creature who went from the floorboards of farmhouses to the embodiment of Swedish Christmas.

Six little-known women from around the world – starting with a Russian-Jewish immigrant and ending with a French former chambermaid – who contributed to first-wave feminism in the United States.

Fika may be the most recognizable representation of Sweden's enduring love-affair with coffee and baked goods, but the lesser-known and much less-frequently practised tradition of kafferep, with origins going back to the 1700s, takes fika to a whole other level.

Trump is what we might call a “pecuniary barbarian”: a member of the financial and social elite who, in the theory of Progressive Era economist and sociologist Thorstein Veblen, “is of a parasitic character, and [whose] interest is to divert what substance they may to their own use, and to retain whatever is under their hand.”

Katharine Houghton Hepburn helped American women secure the vote and reproductive freedom. Her daughter was a four-time Oscar winner. Chances are, you know about the actress, but not the activist.

What Harriet Beecher Stowe’s 1852 novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin did for the abolition movement in the United States, Fredrika Bremer’s 1856 novel Hertha did for the women’s movement in Sweden. Bremer’s boldly feminist novel graphically illustrated women’s oppression under Sweden’s antediluvian laws, and prompted a heated public debate that contributed to emerging social and legal changes for women. It also inspired an arm of the Swedish women's movement that continues to advocate for women today.

History has a way of being forgotten, whether by accident or design, especially when it’s painful. Histories with straightforward and happy endings make us feel good about ourselves and more hopeful about the outcome of our own uncertain times. Those that lack resolution or defy the need for an optimistic conclusion frequently exist in varying degrees of figurative darkness – ignored, neglected, forsaken. Sometimes, the darkness is also literal – a place so tucked away from view that the eyes of the collective consciousness barely need to look away to forget.

A major New York City airport is named in honor of her brother, but Gemma La Guardia Gluck’s story of surviving Ravensbrück concentration camp as the political prisoner of Adolf Eichmann unjustly exists in the shadows of history.

Junk history is embodied perfectly in a recent viral meme that portrays a nineteenth-century Persian princess with facial hair alongside the claim that 13 men killed themselves over their unrequited love for her. While it fails miserably at historical accuracy, the meme succeeds at demonstrating how easily viral clickbait obscures and overshadows rich and meaningful stories from the past.

The recent election here in Sweden reinforced something I've known for a long time: as a multinational family, no matter where we live, there will always be people who believe we don't belong. And we've got it good compared to so many others, whose nationality, race, or religion give rise to even stronger antipathies among xenophobes.

Less than a century ago, in September 1921, Swedish women voted for the first time in a national election. Though they had waited two years since becoming fully enfranchised in 1919, the real struggle had been overcoming the voting regulations that Swedish political scientist Torbjörn Vallinder described as "among the most undemocratic in Europe".

English author H.G. Wells envisioned a future of alien invasion and time travel. He dabbled in dystopian nightmares and conjured up mad scientists and invisible men. And, to the disgust of two of his feminist lovers, he imagined a utopia where “women are to be as free as men.”

Congratulations! You've been selected to travel back in time. Unfortunately, you’re being transported to a time in Swedish history when coffee was illegal. But, hey, you can at least take comfort knowing that there will be plenty of people waiting to greet you holding a sign reading, "Welcome to Hell".

Almost 350 years after it was written, the feminist philosophy of François Poullain de la Barre still resonates on subjects like gender, prejudice, intersectionality, and the role of men in women’s fight for equality.

When the son-in-law of POTUS 2 John Adams used the valuable government position he had gained through nepotism to help a Venezuelan friend start a revolution against Spain, he threatened a precarious peace between America and Spain, and endangered the lives of unsuspecting American citizens. Two centuries later, it’s a salient reminder of how nepotism and politics can be a disastrous combination.

From Art Nouveau theatrical poster to a Japanese art gallery, a unique serpent bracelet designed by Czech artist Alphonse Mucha for French actress Sarah Bernhardt has coiled its way through more than a century of history – disappearing, reappearing, and intertwining itself with an eclectic group of extraordinary people.

Sweden's tempestuous relationship with liquor goes back more than 500 years and can make the country’s state-run alcohol monopoly, Systembolaget, seem like a nirvana. In fact, it wasn't too long ago that anyone wanting to purchase strong alcohol, such as liquor/spirits, in Sweden would have had to deal not only with an alcohol monopoly, but also with strict rationing.

As an immigrant parent, I am also something of an alchemist. I have transmuted two of the most simultaneously difficult and wonderful things I've ever done – parenting and living abroad – into one big, simultaneously difficult and wonderful thing. In the great alchemic tradition, my discovery is remarkable, but not entirely what I expected. Sometimes it seems like it might be pure gold. Other times, it is as unpredictable as primitive gunpowder.