s t f Tu r e v r e s b O , ISSUE
XIII E CXX M U L VO
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TABLE 2. Letter From the Editor By Juanita Asapokhai
4. Letters From the Creative Directors By Anastasia Glass & Hami Trihn
6. Power in Unity: Tufts RAs Struggle for
of 18. Beyond Denial: Bridging Divides on Climate Change with
Global Awareness Opinion · By Sam Sullivan
Fair Compensation
20. Craving Community
Feature · By Megan Reimer
Voices · By Lauren Langbort
9. Garlic Butter
Poetry & Prose · Elizabeth Chin
10. “Parlez-Vous Français?” Campus · By Anna Farrell and Clara Davis
12. Never Growing Up: Evaluating
Nostalgia & Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour Arts & Culture · By Maddy Wilson
14. Creative Inset
22. Try to Enjoy It Even When It Tries to Kill You Opinion · By Leah Cohen
24. Observer Grooves By Everyone!
25. Why do we all move so far from home? Poetry & Prose · By Chloe Cheng
By Aviv Markus
27. Child’s Play Voices · By Mallika Sinha
TUFTS OBSERVER
OCTOBER 10, 2023
CONTENTS staff Editor-in-Chief Juanita Asapokhai
Creative Inset Aviv Markus
Editors Emeritus Melanie Litwin Amanda Westlake
Staff Writers William Zhuang Layla Kennington Erin Zhu Leah Cohen Billy Zeng Joyce Fang Seun Adekunle Matilda Peng Bella Cosimina Bobb Spencer Vernier Sacha Waters Anna Farrell
Managing Editor Emara Saez Creative Directors Hami Trinh Anastasia Glass Feature Editors Ruby Goodman Rohith Raman News Editors Kara Moquin Arts & Culture Editors Sophie Fishman Ava Vander Louw Opinion Editors Lucy Belknap Campus Editors Clara Davis Eli Marcus Poetry and Prose Editors Veronica Habashy Neya Krishnan Voices Editor Ivi Fung Eden Weissman Art Directors Audrey Njo Uma Edulbehram
Designers Madison Clowes Maria Cazzato Aviv Markus Rachel Li Kaya Gorsline Unmani Tewari Lead Copy Editors Ashlie Doucette Alec Rosenthal Copy Editors Sofia Valdebenito Emma Castro Madison Greenstein Mia Ivatury Miles Kendrick Anne Li Publicity Team Aatiqah Aziz Sofia Valdenbenito Emma Itturegui Francesca Gasasira Leah Moradi
Podcast Directors Grace Maisello Noah DeYoung Podcast Team Caroline Yang Emily Pham Isaac Ulloa Antonio Tamara Setiadji Erin Guy Soraya Basrai Eden Weissman Staff Artists Zed van der Linden Maria Cazzato Phoebe McMahon Mariana Porras Chileta Egonu Stella Omenetto Ava Hudson Annica Grote Elika Wilson Website Manager Clara Davis Treasurer William Zhuang
fruition fruition fruition It’s a state of realization, of becoming, and of fulfillment. It’s the moment when aspirations ripen into reality. It’s about the seeds that finally blossom. Dear reader, what are the things you hope come to fruition in your life? Whatever they may be, may they bloom into existence and flower into everything you hope for.
OCTOBER 10, 2023
TUFTS OBSERVER
Letter From the Editor
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TUFTS OBSERVER
OCTOBER 10, 2023
Dear Reader, Sometime in late January 2021, I forced my freshman-year roommate (turned beloved friend) JoJo to sit under the fuzzy yellow orb of my desk lamp and comb through 10 pages of my creative, non-fiction, and academic writing to decipher what was bad, what was really bad, and what was okay enough to share with the world outside of my computer. I was preparing writing samples to include in my application to be a staff writer for the Tufts Observer. I first learned about the Observer during the summer of 2020. As a freshly graduated high school student with a quarantine-sized amount of time on her hands, I spent my days at home envisioning the person I would be and the activities that would become me when I set foot on my college campus in September. I found the Observer during a deep internet dive for the sites of arts and culture at my school-to-be. These were the types of spaces that shaped me in elementary and high school—where I was an intermediate-level flutist in the concert band, an editor and frequent contributor to the literary magazine, and a writer for the school newspaper at different points in time—and I was eager to find them again as a college student. In the process of this investigation, I came across my first ever Observer article—a moving, well-written personal narrative reflecting on the life of Naya Rivera and the significance of her character Santana Lopez on the television program Glee—and was immediately hooked. I read poems that unmoored me and lingered in my memory long after their last lines. There were whole pages dedicated to the exploration of cultural phenomena that kept me up at night, and investigative articles that set the wheels of my sociology-minded brain into motion. Most of all, I was so excited to be learning from the research and perspectives of people not much older than or different from me. As children, we are encouraged to shoot for the stars. I have long since been of the opinion that it is slightly easier to shoot for the stars you can see—and here my stars were, spread out over the pages of a college magazine. I pored over the O’s online archive like it was one of the YA novels I routinely devoured by bedside lamplight as a child. Each issue unfurled like the most magical book I had ever read. Imagine my joy and delight when I received an email later that January informing me that the student publication of my dreams wanted to let me in on some of the magic. I’ve learned more about the Observer, the craft of writing, the art of editing, and the value of student journalism than I ever could have conceived of when I anxiously and excitedly wrote my first article as a staff writer during the spring of my freshman year. From the beginning, though, I was immediately struck by the value and true gift of paying attention—and being paid attention to. The close consideration of someone’s words, those written, half-written, and those almost-there, simply in need of a conversation or probing question to actualize a vision; the collaboration between artists, designers, and writers to produce visuals that help words jump off the page in print: this is a form of love I have both expressed and received countless times throughout my journey with the Observer. I truly believe everyone deserves to experience the attention to detail and support of one’s voice that goes into our articles. (Shameless plug: write for the O!). When it comes to the Observer, the thank-yous I have to share are endless. Thank you to Emara for being such a wonderful partner in navigating the world of our beautiful magazine; thank you to my forever editorsin-chief, Aroha, Sabah, Melanie, and Amanda, whose leadership, journalism savvy, and passion for the magazine have inspired and influenced me more than I can say. Thank you to every friend who has shared a knowing glance or word of encouragement as I headed off to a night of layout, or who read something I wrote or edited and let me know what they thought of it (always giving a more glowing review than I could have ever asked for). Thank you to every contributor who has ever written or submitted to the Observer–you make our magazine great. And to everyone who has ever picked up a copy–including you–thank you so, so much. Senior year Juanita feels so lucky her freshman dreams came to fruition. With appreciation, Juanita Asapokhai
DESIGN BY ANASTASIA GLASS
OCTOBER 10, 2023
TUFTS OBSERVER 3
letters from the Hi friends, Welcome to The Tufts Observer version 8.3! This is the third semester for both of us, and we are now the magazine's creative directors! Unbelievable. Quite funny. Maybe prolific. Our first thought and achievement as very important people (totally, yes, design is an important facet of the O) was to change the font. Yeah, Tandelle has had its time. Rest in peace, Tandelle—a symbolic shift that represents our desire for change. Witnessing our executive decision come to fruition during layout has been an exciting and surprisingly pleasant experience. In this issue, you'll find a collection of gorgeous pieces, designs, and art, a testament to the passion and dedication that make the Observer stand out. We invite you to delve into this personally curated magazine, filled with inspiration, love, and a handful of joy.
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OCTOBER 10, 2023
Peace and love, Anastasia & Hami
creative directors
DESIGN BY ANASTASIA GLASS
OCTOBER 10, 2023
TUFTS OBSERVER 5
FEATURE
POWER IN UNITY TUFTS RAs STRUGGLE FOR FAIR COMPENSATION By Megan Reimer
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n December 2022, the Residential Assistants (RAs) at Tufts voted 99-3 in a united decision to form a union. In February 2023, the RAs began negotiations over financial compensation and contract restructuring with the university after a shared sentiment amongst RAs of unfair employment conditions prompted them to take action. The RAs’ unionization was represented by the United Labor of Tufts Resident Assistants (ULTRA), a coalition that was motivated by the employees’ sense of exploitation by Tufts without fair compensation. Some of their duties include directly overseeing and advis-
ing close to 30 undergraduate students, managing their disputes, and conduct violations. While these duties are expected for the job, RAs have reported that being asked to perform tasks beyond this scope, as well as their hours of pre-semester training, and the expectation to be “on call” regularly exceeded what is acceptable without compensation. “One of the big ways that Tufts exploited RAs was through the jobs we do for free on campus,” said Harry Knight, a sophomore RA in Haskell Hall. “We have to be on duty for 24-hour shifts on the weekends and night shifts during the week, where we can be woken up at any time to let people into their rooms or perform other RA duties.” RAs asked for a stipend and a meal plan, among other benefits, as part of the negotiations. According to Knight, the union felt that free housing should be an expectation rather than a perk. Before the ratification of their new contract, the RA compensation package only included a room credit. Neither meals nor financial compensation were covered for RAs under the previous agreement. After months of backand-forth with disappointing results, the union voted in favor of a strike on the Class of 2027 move-in day on August 29, historically the RAs’ busiest day of the year. The main strike occurred on the Residential Quad, and megaphones blasting chants filled the campus for the afternoon.
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Although this was the first time the RAs came together over a shared dispute, the union quickly picked up speed among the entire student body. The union produced a petition, website, and social media campaign, garnering solidarity among the student body. News also spread beyond the Tufts campus, with CBS News publishing an article detailing the strike and the RAs’ mobilization on campus in late August. In response to the strike, the Tufts administration said that RAs would not receive a stipend and would have their employment and free housing revoked. As negotiation efforts continued, the administration’s sudden reversal on the RAs’ demands further pushed the union to press forward for a fair contract and adequate compensation. On September 26, after
FEATURE
a month-long struggle, a deal was finally reached with the University, and the RAs emerged with a new contract. The most recent bargaining session between the union and the University was left on a 95-4 vote in favor of the union ratifying their negotiated contracts. The RAs’ vote to ratify their contract means a new wave of benefits for them. Knight said that these benefits are being enacted currently, as the RAs have already been allotted their meal swipes and stipends are expected to roll out in the coming weeks. With these new changes, according to the ULTRA Instagram, RAs won a pay raise of 46%, a stipend of $1,425 a semester, and 80 meal swipes a semester. No RA will be responsible for more than 30 first-year students or more than 50 total students. RAs will no longer be required to arrive on campus three weeks early for
ART & DESIGN BY MARIA CAZZATO
summer training and instead can move in eight days before the first freshman move-in date. Every RA will receive a job description of duties and responsibilities, whereas previously, the university was not obligated to provide the RAs with any job description. A new Labor Management Committee has been established for up to five RAs and five university representatives to meet once or more a semester to discuss RA matters. Instead of no holiday pay in the past, RAs will also be compensated $50 in JumboCash per 12-hour duty shifts on holiday breaks. “I hope the rank and file feels like they are starting to be adequately compensated for the work that they do,” said Anisha Uppal-Sullivan, a junior RA in Houston Hall and one of the leaders of ULTRA. The challenging road that led to the success of the RAs’ unionization efforts, as well as the presence of other labor struggles on the Tufts campus as a whole, continues to raise questions about the relationship between student workers and the administration. The strike at Tufts marked a particularly invigorating and unique experience for the RAs and other students involved in the movement. Forming a union and voting to ratify a contract is difficult when students are up against an institution with significant resources to counter their efforts. Still, RAs consistently followed through on their grievances with the administration. “Being part of the RA strike was a new experience for me,” Knight said. “I’ve never been part of a union or anything like that,
but it was nice to feel like I had a role in making a big change for RAs here and elsewhere in the future.” The strike that divided students and the administration brought many RAs together. Uppal-Sullivan said that the process had left her feeling like she could do her job even better. “It made me feel empowered in my role and made me feel like it was my own,” she said. “More than anything, it created an unbreakable community amongst the RAs’ that had the ability collectively to stand up to admin.” She added that she has always been wary of the administration, and their reactions to the strike “confirmed many of [her] prior opinions.” Christina Alch, the Director of Residential Life and Learning (ResLife), is responsible for managing the office of ResLife, which supports over 4,100 residents on two campuses. She works closely with Residential Education and Residential Operations. “With every Union negotiation, there is the possibility for work stoppages and strikes,” Alch wrote in a written statement when asked about her feelings on the RA’s unification. “While we strive to avoid those situations, the institution always
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FEATURE
plans for these eventualities, and the oneday union strike was no different.” Alch said that a goal for the office during orientation activities was to make the experience as seamless as possible, attempting to avoid disturbance for incoming families and students, given the ongoing strike. “We programmatically and logistically had a successful move-in and orientation program thanks to redistributing staff in different ways and with the exceptional help of other student volunteers who assisted that day,” Alch said. These responses to the strike left many RAs and students questioning Tufts’ empathy for student advocacy, a sentiment carried over into the bargaining process. “As for my perception of the [Tufts] admin, I was definitely frustrated throughout the experience that they seemed to be fighting their student workers with all they had,” Knight said. “They always had two lawyers across the table from their RAs and mostly refused to budge on our requests. It’s hard to feel like the administration has students’ best interests at heart when they’re trying to find any way not to pay you.” Some RAs noted threats and uncooperative discourse on the part of the administration, leaving the union feeling neglected and unheard. Uppal-Sullivan spoke on the
impact of the administration’s behavior and its effects on the students. She said that over the process of bargaining, Tufts committed three unjustified labor practices. “Most significantly they sent out a school wide email threatening retaliation for union activity under the student code of conduct,” she said. “That is an illegal fear tactic that among other things impacted the mental health of many RAs as we moved into strike organizing.” The union and the administration’s tumultuous back and forth dynamic is not unique to Tufts; it mirrors the increased mobilization of labor organizations on college campuses nationwide. In March 2023, RAs at Fordham University in the Bronx, NY, passed a vote to unionize. In a press release, Sophia Ghelardini, an RA at Fordham, announced, “After winning our union 47 to 19, we are prepared to begin the bargaining process in hopes of gaining better compensation, more protections, and an effective line of communication.” A Forbes report published this past April found that the University of California system saw the largest strike in the history of higher education in 2022, lasting six weeks, in an effort for higher compensation for graduate and postdoctoral workers. At the University of Michigan last year, graduate students endured 10 months of bargaining and five months of strike action, refusing to hold office hours or administer
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grades for undergraduate students while the administration denied their proposed contract. Despite facing retaliation from university administrators, this strike, like Tufts’, resulted in a win for the students. These efforts reflect a trend in student labor activism nationwide, as student workers are making strides in their advocacy for adequate compensation—but not without pushback from administrators. As for the future relationship between the Tufts RAs and the administration, Alch said, “We look forward to working productively together in sustaining and strengthening our residential campus community.” Uppal-Sullivan said that she was glad to see this ordeal come to a compromise and that it did not have to drag on any longer. “While I wish we could have won more and given the membership what they deserve for the many hours of labor they put in, this is a good starting point for us to grow from,” she said. Knight added that the union’s success in ratifying their contracts is an encouraging example for RAs nationwide and other student workers at Tufts to fight for compensation. This win sets a precedent for other student unions, but whether the Tufts administration will be willing to meet student workers at the table in the future remains to be seen.
POETRY & PROSE
garlic butter By Elizabeth Chin
Anyone within a 40-foot radius of our house knows instantly when we are cooking up a loaf of my mom’s garlic bread. She may be the master chef in our house, but I am the garlic bread specialist. Softened butter, freshly chopped parsley from our garden, Kirkland’s shredded Parmesan cheese, minced garlic. I throw together the ingredients and add a crack of black pepper. Taste, add, mix, repeat. I refine the flavors until I reach the golden ratio. I grab a speck of the mixture with the tip of a butter knife and bring it to my mouth. The fresh parsley and fine pepper lighten the rich, dense butter. The saltiness of the parmesan disarms my taste buds; the garlic provides the perfect kick. I press my tongue against the roof of my mouth to extract every morsel of flavor. “If it’s ready, get it on the bread and into the oven as soon as possible,” my mom says, taking note of the silence on my side of the countertop. “Okay,” I say with a bitter taste at my interrupted indulgence. “Be generous. We don’t want any leftovers.” Could she know? I nod and spread the thinnest possible layer of butter onto the spongy loaves. Into the oven they go. I scoop the remaining butter into my favorite tupperware, shove it in the fridge, and let the scent of roasting garlic flood the room. I stand in front of the oven to watch the cheese bubble, the butter brown, and feel the warmth from the convection fan rush over me. Long after dinner is done and everyone has retreated to the plush safety of their rooms, I slip down the hall to the kitchen. I stand for a minute in silence to make sure no one has followed me; my mind wanders. I’m drawn to the butter: the secret of it, my guilty pleasure—mine and mine alone. Others wouldn’t understand even if they knew, so why share at all? Can’t they notice on their own? Slowly but surely my mind eats away at itself until only remnants remain. Silence has erupted, signaling the go-ahead. Feeling my way through the darkness, I give the floor-to-ceiling steel refrigerator door a hard tug. Its white interior casts a harsh spotlight. There, upon the second shelf, the garlic
DESIGN BY AVIV MARKUS, ART BY CHILETA EGONU
butter stands proud like the holy grail. I quickly nab the container, grab a tiny plastic spoon, and take shelter in my room. In the private nook under my top bunk, I peel open the lid. The parmesan and garlic envelop my nose. I scrape the surface several times until a mini crater emerges in its center. I indulge with caution—no generous servings here. To savor this moment, I slap my headphones over my ears, put on Jane the Virgin, and eat mindlessly like someone with buttered popcorn at the movies—minus the popcorn. Without the bread, I’m able to fully bathe in the potency of the mingled flavors I watch as Jane is hailed as the Virgin Mary, innocence intact. Excavating the golden substance millimeter by millimeter, I eventually have to stop before the divot becomes too noticeable. I know eventually, when I reach the bottom of the container after scraping for anything that remains, I will no longer be able to pretend there has been no change in volume. Those millimeter-thin layers will add up. I take one last bite of the forbidden, savory ice cream and tiptoe back out to the kitchen. *** Five years wiser, I now know the detriment of eating tubs of saturated fat. Last week when my brother visited home from college, he asked me the first time we were alone in the kitchen together, “Remember when you used to straight up eat butter?” I shrank, realizing he had known all along. My quiet tiptoeing wasn’t so quiet after all. I laughed at my naiveté, the fantasy of childhood. When I was younger, I didn’t know why eating butter was so atypical, only that others thought it was strange. I think that drew me closer to it. If I was found out, would people have seen it as a distress signal, a mad dog biting itself for sympathy? Or maybe I just craved what I couldn’t have. Don’t we all? My brother turned to the fridge. I felt the acidity of something like garlic turn in my stomach and decided not to elaborate. Was it that obvious? Is it still?
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CAMPUS
“Parlez-Vous Français?” French and Francophone Cultural Discussions at Tufts By Anna Farrell and Clara Davis
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he French and Francophone Cultural Studies (FFCS) major went live on SIS on September 1, providing students with a culture-based alternative to the French Literary Studies major. Studying francophone (French-speaking) communities has long been of interest to French students. The new major makes this a more accessible opportunity—a change that reflects a broader goal of increasing cultural content in French courses at Tufts and beyond. In the FFCS major, students can satisfy requirements with non-literary courses; these include classes in film, acting, and postcolonial studies, as well as career-driven classes like “Business French” and “French for International Relations.” However, few new French courses accompany the addition of the new major, leaving a slim offering of culture-based classes that can fulfill its requirements. Students also report that they have a limited foundation in French cultural studies, as their elementary and intermediate classes have included little historical and cultural content in their curriculums. Although the French department has been steadily incorporating more French and francophone cultural studies in their curricula, they currently lack professors who can teach these highly specialized courses. Students take French courses with the hope that they can enrich their understand10
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ing of French and francophone culture. In a survey of intermediate to advanced French students at Tufts, Anne-Christine Rice, a distinguished senior lecturer and the French Language Coordinator, found that students were passionate about a variety of cultural studies. “They’re interested in the arts or they’re interested in literature, or in traveling or in film,” she explained. This sentiment is echoed by current French students. “I like the more interdisciplinary approach,” said Caroline Rothmann, a sophomore and French Literary Studies major living in French House who plans on switching to FFCS. Students not planning on majoring in French are also invested in learning more about French and francophone culture. “Hearing the professors talking about their culture is more encouraging to me to go to France than any of the content,” said Francesca Gasasira, a junior in her third year of French courses at Tufts. While Gasaria expected her French courses to focus on France, she maintained that global francophone content should be a greater focus in the department’s courses. She noted that the cultural aspects of the curriculum were “not [as] francophone” as she had hoped they would be. She explained that she chose French as the language to accompany her International Relations major because she wanted to connect with her Rwandan heritage. But so far, her studies
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have not served that purpose, leaving her wondering, “Is it weird that I’m not learning about Africa in the class that I took for my African heritage? A bit.” Laura Garavito, a junior pursuing a physics major, is at an intermediate French level and was excited to find that the cultural content of her French classes increased as she progressed. She selected the “Migrations and Cultures” concentration of the French 22 “Composition and Conversation II” course offerings because she was interested in French and francophone history. Garavito explained that, in the class, “We read a story about a certain culture pretty much once a week, so I’m learning a lot about different cultures.” However, when reading literature from francophone countries, her class did not examine how French colonialism played a role in their struggles. “We haven’t talked about France in a negative light ever,” Garavito said. “And obviously, it was France who catalyzed and led to all the issues that we’re reading about right now.” The lack of discussion about French colonialism is also alarming to students like Zachary Taouli. A French-Algerian international student in his sophomore year, Taouli emphasized that French classes at Tufts “absolutely have to talk about the history of colonialism [and] the history of Arab culture” when talking about France. Referencing the works of Albert Camus and
CAMPUS Victor Hugo, Taouli explained that studying cultural issues like colonialism and immigration are often intrinsic to understanding classic French literature. Yet, despite what the addition of the FFCS major would seem to make possible in this domain, French students are concerned that the cultural class options are currently too limited. Although Rothmann is hopeful that the FFCS major will live up to its potential, she said that her “impression is that they have just enough [classes]” to satisfy the major requirements. And even though the department intends to expand course offerings, Rothmann is aware that most French professors at Tufts are trained in literature, not cultural studies. “Who’s going to teach the classes?” asked Rothmann. Rice spoke to this issue, explaining that there is “a ton of room for improvement” in implementing discussions about francophone countries across French levels. Still, she acknowledged that making these teaching adjustments can be difficult for a department that is saturated with Frencheducated professors. She clarified that this “doesn’t mean we’re not interested in the rest of the world, but our knowledge and our experience is more focused on France.” To address the need for French professors who are specialized in cultural studies, the department is planning on hiring a new tenure-track professor to start in the fall semester of 2024. According to Rice, “We will have a new person… bringing new ideas and new courses, so that will be exciting.” She explained that the French department is “definitely interested in hiring people and bringing in new specialists in a variety of cultural fields.” Rice also explained that French professors currently teaching more fundamental French courses, like the upper-intermediate French 21 and 22, are now being given the opportunity to teach more specialized cultural classes. According to Rice, “We have people… who had the skills, the experience, and the interest in teaching higher level classes and who have been able to offer courses that we were not offering before.” In line with these developments, the department will offer three new advancedlevel classes with a cultural focus in the spring 2023 semester: “French Women Filmmakers: Subverting the Male Gaze,” DESIGN BY HAMI TRINH, ART BY UMA EDULBEHRAM
“Colonization and Decolonization in the French-Speaking Caribbean,” and “French for International Relations.” While these classes will only be offered in the French department this semester, they may be crosslisted with other departments in the future. That being said, these French courses will be offered exclusively at the advanced level, presenting a barrier of entry for elementary and intermediate-level students interested in cultural classes. Garavito was disappointed to find that her elementary-level classes glossed over meaningful cultural discussions, pointing out that there are “some people who will never take [French] past the intro classes” and it is important that “these topics aren’t only getting discussed where students want to take [a] high level.” However, students across course levels have shown interest in content that includes francophone studies. When the department organized an event in March 2023 on contemporary crises in Haiti, students showed up. “It was completely full, the room was packed,” Rice said, “so there was clearly an interest.” Rice also explained that it is difficult to introduce cultural topics in elementary classes, as students have limited command of the language and do not yet have the skills to discuss complex topics. Although challenging, she explained that “It’s important to feed them both the language and also the culture.” In her French 1 classes, she introduces discussion conducted in English about colonialism. Students see these discussions as critical, too. While Taouli believes the focus of French classes should be on France, he said, “it would be good to devote a significant portion of the curriculum to colonialism, not only [in] my country, Algeria, but also Vietnam [in] Indochine and the Caribbean.” In fact, francophone countries comprise the majority of French speakers: a 2022 survey found that 47.4% of daily French speakers reside in Sub-Saharan Africa, 14.6% in the Maghreb, and 6.6% in the Caribbean. When asked in an interview with TV5 Monde how the French language will continue to grow in the future, the Director of L’Observatoire de la Langue Française à L’OIF, the organization that conducted the survey, replied that “60% of daily French speakers are African… it’s them who make
the language and give it life.” French speakers in Africa are also fast growing, and according to a projection reported in the BBC, French-speaking Africans will make up 85% of French speakers worldwide. As of yet, French courses at Tufts have not sufficiently captured the diversity of the francophone world for students. Gasaria emphasized, “francophone culture in Africa is just so starkly different [from] France… Francophone is a very large, encompassing concept.” But even without diving deep, she finds some students are blind to the very existence of francophone countries other than France—greater inclusion of the francophone world may be able to change that. “I know a lot of people, if you ask them to point to Senegal on the map, they can’t tell you,” she said. “It would just be nice to have some acknowledgement.”
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ARTS & CULTURE
NEVER GROWING UP: Evaluating Nostalgia and Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour
By Maddy Wilson
t’s impossible to ignore Taylor Swift in 2023, no matter how hard you might try. Whether you’re an avid listener or a firm hater, even if you hardly engage with her online or off, she’s everywhere. It’s difficult to talk or even think about music or culture today without immediately bringing up Taylor Swift, the biggest name in pop since who knows when. No matter which album is your favorite, it is hard to avoid the fact that we are living in the era of Taylor Swift, singer, songwriter, capitalist queen, and pop star to end all pop stars. With the commencement of the Eras Tour in March, Taylor Swift’s name has been floating around our lives and the internet nonstop. The Eras Tour has had an unprecedented impact on essentially every corner of contemporary culture. The tour has been valued at nearly 5 billion dollars, and economists have noted its effect on industries ranging from public transit to bead sales. Coverage of and surrounding the tour has been widely shared on social media and in think pieces across countless platforms. Her July performance in Seattle even caused seismic activity. What distinguishes the Eras Tour from other Swift concerts is its content: instead of playing just new songs, Swift performs a show consisting of songs from all ten of her studio albums—her ‘eras’—each with unique and elaborate choreography and lighting cues. The concert is, in many ways, the culmination of a turbulent few years for Swift, who is in the process of re-recording her first six albums after a dispute in 2019 with producer Scooter Braun.
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Part of Swift’s continuous rise to unfathomable fame is her appeal to nostalgia, especially for the millennials and gen-Zers who make up the majority of her fan base. Swift has continued to release music as recently as last year, but with the popularity of her re-released early albums, her success has relied a great deal on reminding her fans how much they used to love her. It feels, sometimes, like Taylor Swift is famous because Taylor Swift has always been famous. “It’s the way it connects me to the people I’ve grown up listening to her music [with],” said Dahlia Lyss, a senior and longtime Swift fan. “There are plenty of things I wouldn’t listen to on my own except for the fact that I listened to them with my mom.” Other artists have hopped onto Swift’s nostalgia bandwagon, too. Recently, the Jonas Brothers embarked on their 2023 North American tour, which promises songs from all “five albums every night,” and other artists are following suit. It’s far from uncommon for musicians to include older songs in their live setlists, and reunion tours have been going on as long as there have been bands to reunite. But the Eras Tour is not simply a “nostalgia tour,” as Stephan Pennington, a musicology professor at Tufts, puts it, since Swift isn’t washed up and is still releasing new music that her fans want to hear live. “That would be very sad,” said Pennington. “If this is the case— that people are engaging with her only for nostalgia purposes—that is tragic, and it says a whole lot about our current era.” The Eras Tour is not just to promote her newest album, since
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she’s going back into the “vaults” and performing a carefully-curated selection of re-recorded hits, with two “surprise” songs each night. So the Eras Tour is something else. But why look back now? And why do it in such an extravagant way? In a sense, the career retrospective—and especially Taylor Swift’s—is the perfect vessel for the mega-popstar to come to terms with the troubled conception of self that necessarily exists at her level of fame and notoriety. Swift has been incredibly famous for half of her life, and every move she’s made has come under public scrutiny—a lot of scrutiny—since she was a teenager. Over the past seventeen years, Swift has cultivated a mass of devoted fans, albeit one that has changed shape a great deal since her early days. As Swift’s musical influences have changed from country to indie to pop and back again, and especially as her public image increasingly began to eclipse her singing and songwriting over time, the size and demographics of her fan base have fluctuated over the years. In this way, the Eras Tour can be looked at as a (very successful) attempt to unify the masses of people who have ever, at any point, enjoyed her music. To do so, she has to account for every version of herself that they have ever known. Throughout her nearly twodecade career, Swift has faced backlash for being too political and for not being political enough, for being a radical feminist and for being misogynistic, for being a serial dater and for being something of a prude. Some of her earliest controversies—the 2009 VMAs encounter with Kanye West, for example— studio album, Reputation, was all
ARTS & CULTURE
about reinventing her image, and even her recent re-released EPs are an attempt to redefine her past. This continuous scrutiny does something to a person, as evidenced in the 2020 documentary film, Miss Americana, which offers a glimpse into the life of the woman behind the act (and which is perhaps itself another attempt by Swift to redirect her narrative). But despite the backlash, she’s never left the public eye, and her music remains at the top of the Billboard charts week after week. In a sense, it’s the very qualities that make Swift such a perfect pop idol that destabilize this aspect of her identity. Swift—who Pennington calls the “girl-next-door” type—is a kind of icon of white femininity. She is exalted for aligning with the standards of Western beauty and propriety, but at the same time, it’s this alignment that makes criticism unavoidable. She is, of course, a talented songwriter and businesswoman, and she has been extraordinarily lucky and has worked incredibly hard, but her identity can’t be ignored. In a way, her entire career has been an attempt to contend with this identity, to control her narrative by preempting criticism or by redeeming herself. Swift’s identity as a woman puts her at a disadvantage in music and media industries defined by men; at the same time, her whiteness allows her to evade criticism that might be fatal to her career were she a woman of color. As long as the racial and patriarchal structures that define American life also define our entertainment, Swift will always be a controversial figure, but never too controversial not to be famous. Swift’s ability to continuously redefine not only her current public image but that of her past selves is key to her unwavering success, as is the parasocial relationship she builds with her fans. This kind of “performed intimacy” is not new, according to Pennington, but has become more intense because of
DESIGN BY UNMANI TEWARI, ART BY ANNICA GROTE
social media. Because of her confessional songwriting and how she engages with fans online, people feel like they know Taylor Swift, the person, instead of Taylor Swift, the musical act, the name in lights, the lyrical persona. “I feel like I know Taylor Swift, even though I’ve never had a conversation with her in my life,” said Stephanie Bromberg, a junior and attendee of the Eras Tour in Atlanta, GA. “Especially with something as vulnerable as songwriting—you feel like you know their whole desires and dreams.” This performed intimacy is what’s so appealing about Swift right now–and what always has been—but it’s also what makes her identity so problematized. It makes sense, in a way, that she feels the need to look back at who she has been—who her fans have known her to be, really—in order for her to figure out where she’s going next. There may be a ‘real’ Taylor Swift behind the face we see on her album covers, the “I” that sings of lost loves and insecurities in her song lyrics, the “Taylor Swift” that appears in headlines—but we will never know her. “It feels to me like the Eras Tour is for her,” said Pennington. “I think she’s trying to take control of her narrative in certain ways, for herself and with herself. She’s trying to do identity work in some kind of way.” “I’d like to be my old self again/ But I’m still trying to find it,” Swift sings on her landmark track “All Too Well.” She wrote the lyrics when she was just twenty-two, already firmly established in the music industry but on the precipice of even greater success, still trying to navigate life in the public eye. It’s difficult to imagine what Swift will do after the Eras Tour ends next November: she’s only 34, but in pop-years, she’s ancient. Regardless of where she goes next, it’s hard to believe that the Eras Tour won’t be the defining moment in Swift’s
career, and it seems like that’s how she wants it. Whether you love her, you hate her, or you’re indifferent, the unbelievable scale of Swift’s fame, the scope of her reach across generations and cultures and industries, is not to be taken lightly. She may be looking to the past, but she couldn’t be more aware of the future.
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13
OPINION
BEYOND DENIAL:
BRIDGING DIVIDES ON CLIMATE CHANGE WITH GLOBAL AWARENESS By Sam Sullivan
D
espite the overwhelmingly visible effects of the Lahaina fires, the hurricanes threatening Southern California, the Canadian wildfires impacting air quality in Boston and the greater New England area, and most recently the NYC flooding, 2023 has seen its fair share of continued Republican skepticism toward climate change. From Vivek Ramaswamy declaring in the first 2023 GOP presidential debate that “the climate change agenda is a hoax” to Republican Senator Markwayne Mullin from Oklahoma recently chalking up increased wildfires to forests naturally burning themselves off “every 11 years,” there is a world of facts selectively entertained by party elites. At Tufts, many of us have the privilege of adequate media literacy and faith in the scientific consensus that drives us to take action on climate change. This intellectual unity is extremely helpful for initiating shared actions in our school community, like reducing waste and pollution when we can. But beyond Tufts’ campus, we must ask how we fit into the wider discourse surrounding climate change when it seems like there is little to do other than repeat talking points at those who deny basic facts of the matter. There should be a consensus at Tufts—and similar universities—that climate change denial be approached with a vision of shared action, such that conservatives are forced to think about environmental issues in a depolarized context. By reframing the climate change conversation around the countless environmental crises occurring outside of the purview of American media, this recentering 18
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of dialogue could move toward neutralizing biases. At the bottom of conservative climate change denial is an incompatibility between traditional conservative values, namely freedom of choice, and the inherent need to limit choice by regulating human behavior regarding the environment. In contrast to other issues in which conservative norms fundamentally object to certain practices—like that of abortion and those of the LGBT community—the only conservative value invoked in regard to climate change is the issue of individual freedom in response to liberal solutions. As a result, climate change deniers simply reject proposed solutions without even needing to engage with the facts, since doing so would generally not provide an opportunity to appeal to a conservative value. Undisputedly, adherence to conservative values does not produce solutions to climate change, leaving most Republicans with no alternative but to deny that the problem needs a solution or even exists in the first place. Without a unified stance on the descriptive facts of the issue, the average US citizen is now confused on how much of what’s in front of them they should believe. They must ask themself, to what extent should the “true” conservative accept the vague traditional values that prevent the existence of necessarily transformative solutions to climate change? Depending on the individual’s engagement with climate-related issues, one might outright reject the conclusions of the scientific consensus, while others might opt for a lower-commitment soft denial related to the sup-
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posed inevitability of climate change. Of course, this soft denial is also in opposition to the scientific consensus and is surely an easier stance to hold for the many politicians who are paid to protect the interests of oil and gas companies while lying to their constituents’ faces. The point of understanding that climate change denial is not a monolithic belief structure is not to entertain the nuance of Trump-infested mental gymnastics, but rather to recenter the discourse on shared responsibility among those who can recognize a common problem. It is much harder to meet someone on the science-denial end of the spectrum in the middle with a compromise when the water is muddied with the unspoken agreement that you two are adhering to different systems of facts. Rather, pointing to an issue that appeals to a shared worldview makes progress in the direction of tangible action and subsequent rescue of trust in science. Unfortunately, this approach of neutralized discourse in the direction of shared action is increasingly difficult in the context of post-2016 polarization in the United States. Indeed, trust in Trump has been found to be a “top determinant” for subscribing to soft climate change denial and, if we are allowed to take intuitive liberties beyond the scope of the research, any other similarly sensationalized topic. Then, to avoid tripping the alarm of American conservative norms about freedom of choice when liberal solutions threaten the fossil fuel industry, we should make an increased effort to move discussions on climate change away from purely American perspec-
OPINION
tives and to include crises in other countries in our advocacy against climate change denial. There are fewer opportunities for worldview biases to factor in when the focus of the discourse is further away from the polarization that causes deniers to, for example, speculate that the source of the Lahaina fires were high-energy laser weapons used by government officials. This skepticism of government institutions, rather than being thrown at the wall as an absurd last-resort for climate issues in the US, can be positively harnessed positively by drawing attention to the impacts of climate change in countries where there are little to no democratic avenues to remedy environmental crises. The impact here is two-fold: by using global examples outside of American politics, climate change deniers will be compelled to view environmental issues in a more neutral context, hopefully detangling some biases, while simultaneously supporting action on severe environmental crises occurring outside the United States. Within Tufts specifically, its identity as a school for “global citizens” ought to encourage the institution to embrace a more global perspective on the climate crisis. This perspective carries the advantage of providing neutral examples when discourse in the United States is too sensationalized. For example, the environmental crisis facing the surrounding communities of Lake Valencia, Venezuela exemplifies the need for discourse about climate change to focus on situations where remedies are currently most unlikely. For decades, residents of DESIGN BY RACHEL LI
Lake Val e n c i a’s surrounding regions have endured severe health risks due to unchecked pollution and lack of necessary infrastructure to control rising water levels from increased rainy seasons. The contamination of Venezuelan water bodies, like the Pao-Cachinche reservoir, with wastewater from Lake Valencia is caused by the same flooding that threatens the homes of at least 4,000 families living in the south of Maracay. In 2021, the lake reached the maximum safety level of 414 meters above sea level, threatening further contamination of Pao-Cachinche and subsequently the water quality of four million residents relying on the reservoir. Crucially, affected communities have repeatedly requested assistance from the Venezuelan government to no avail. In 2007, the Supreme Tribunal of Justice ratified Sentence 1,632, which ordered the relocation and compensation of affected residents by the Ministry of Environment. However, for 16 years, no action has been taken by the state to adhere to the decision. Among other complications, more than 300 houses were flooded in these regions during a three-month period in 2020, with the number only increasing each year as rainy seasons become more severe. Such negligence by the state after repeated requests for assistance should be a significant call to action for anyone that valWues strengthening democratic principles. Conservatives, if given the opportunity for this sort
of media engagement, would be jumping at the bit to critique authoritarian governments like Maduro’s in their flagrant disrespect for the rule of law. Unfortunately, though, American media sources would rather give attention to political figures publicly and heatedly denying climate change than use that airtime to foster bipartisan unity. Tufts students already recognize the problem with such sensationalization, which is why climate-aware students and environmentally-focused student organizations on campus, such as Tufts Climate Action, tend to focus more on direct action than getting caught up in conversations about climate change denial. To truly emphasize Tufts’ dedication to making its student body “global citizens,” students concerned with climate advocacy should focus on awareness of international environmental crises in addition to domestic ones. The Lake Valencia crisis is just one of many under-reported crises outside of the United States that rarely receive attention unless the issue is a massively visible one. And even for heavily covered climate change-related disasters, such as the bushfires in Australia, , there is still a tendency for the public to listen more to arguments from pundits than warnings from emergency services. To this end, the student organizations and publications at Tufts that emphasize media literacy are engaging in crucial work. In the end though, regardless of how muddied the water may be with accusations of laser weapons and other climate conspiracies, we can attempt to transcend some of the polarizing influences that limit action by giving less media attention and space in private discourse to climate change deniers and more time to under-reported environmental crises occurring around the world. O
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19
VOICES
M M O C Y U T G I I N A V R N C uren a L By
At a young age, I was introduced to various customs by my mother, who had immigrated to the mainland of America from the Philippines when she was 20. I learned not to wear shoes inside the house, to refrain from speaking to my elders unless spoken to, and to treat my older siblings with respect. While the rules in our household sometimes felt stricter compared to those of my friends, I cherished the experience of living in an Asian household steeped in rich traditions and strong organization. I eagerly anticipated New Year’s celebrations, during which, in accordance with Filipino tradition, my family would visit numerous markets to gather 13 round fruits before January 1. We placed coins on every opening of the house, from windows to doors, symbolizing the welcoming of prosperity in the coming year. Among my most cherished traditions was the regular visit to my Tita’s (aunt’s) house, a gathering point for all my cousins. At my Tita’s, we were treated to a spread of authentic Filipino dishes, and our feasts would stretch for hours as we reconnected with one another while my uncles immersed themselves in sports, and aunts engaged in conversations with constant explosions of laughter. Being one of the youngest, I tended to eat my favorite food, pancit, which my Tita made specifically for me, while playing with my cousin’s dogs and babies. I started to associate pancit, a Filipino noodle dish, with family and a sense of home. During my first visit to the Philippines with my mother at the age of 12, we spent our time in the province of Samar 20
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bort g n La
in a municipality called Calbiga. This is where my Lolo (grandpa) lives and where my mother spent much of her childhood. The lifestyle in Calbiga was vastly different from what I was accustomed to. It was a place where it seemed like everyone knew everyone else in town, and if not, they were eager to forge new friendships. In this close-knit community, people felt comfortable knocking on a neighbor’s door when they needed to borrow a cup of flour. If a child wanted to join a game of basketball, they merely headed to the basketball court, where they were welcomed by the other kids. The internet was considered a luxury here, resulting in most people rarely using their phones and in some cases, not even possessing one. Yet, what left the most lasting impression on me during my stay was the transformation in my mother’s demeanor. In Calbiga, she radiated happiness and a profound sense of belonging. She would wake up early to go on her morning run, encountering numerous people she wanted to converse with, often causing her not to return home until late afternoon. To her, everyone in Calbiga felt like family, and she cherished every moment spent there. There was an absence of jealousy, and the atmosphere was one of genuineness, authenticity, and honesty. Being in an environment that didn’t revolve around materialistic pursuits was truly refreshing for me. I had always admired my mother for her selflessness and kindness, and this visit sparked within me a deep yearning for the
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connection she had with her hometown. While I appreciated my own hometown in California, I couldn’t help but notice the disparity in the sense of community I felt there compared to how she felt in Calbiga. It seemed to me that everywhere else I went in the US, competition was an underlying part of life. In the United States, people constantly chase after the newest clothes or technology. It appears that individuals often base their worth on the items they own and external accomplishments, such as the prestige of their college, rather than valuing their intrinsic qualities and principles. My visit to Calbiga was the first time I experienced a world beyond what I had grown up with. There are places that do not adhere to a 9 to 5 routine and where people’s lives do not solely revolve around work. I realized during my visit that not every location or individual was driven by the pursuit of wealth. Every time I return to Calbiga, my life goals become clearer. I desire to live a life that celebrates human connections. Throughout my own life, I’ve often been directed toward what to do, what to study, and which career path to pursue. Initially, I believed this made life simpler. My own indecisiveness led me to accept these decisions made on my behalf, as they seemed to ease my confusion and inner turmoil. During middle school and high school, I struggled with the belief that happiness was unattainable, which made me impressionable and desperate. I thought that if others found happiness in specific pursuits, I could achieve happi-
VOICES
ness by following the same path. Consequently, I chose computer science as my major because my siblings had chosen it and seemed content with their choice, and my parents encouraged me to do the same. I constructed my own happiness checklist based on my family’s decisions: attend a reputable school, major in computer science, and secure a job in software engineering. These steps seemed like a straightforward route to financial stability and as a result, a lifetime of happiness. The concept of a pre-planned method felt more accessible than trying to figure out how to find happiness on my own after failing to do so throughout middle school and high school. However, I failed to realize at the time was there truly is no foolproof method. Each individual is unique and I couldn’t uncover my passions by solely relying on the choices of others. Over the past year, I’ve found myself struggling to finish my assignments and internship applications, and I came to the realization that I genuinely lack enthusiasm for the path I’ve been pursuing. When I sat down to fill out those applications, a troubling thought crossed my mind: I was inching closer to a goal I had once set for myself, yet I was nowhere closer to achieving happiness. Instead, I felt trapped in this cycle, pushing me further toward achievements I had never personally aspired to. My ultimate goal of achieving happiness remained frustratingly out of reach. I started feeling increasingly disconnected from myself, as I had never ventured away from computer science and the career plan I had made many years ago. It was during a conversation with my brother about his career in software that I reached a moment of clarity. I realized that I did not want the life he was leading,
the life I had modeled mine after. I needed to break free from this existing cycle and begin finding happiness. Following this realization, I started new activities I never considered myself capable of. I started doing dance, yoga, writing, and various forms of art. I ven-
tured away from my initial notion of needing to become a software engineer and began exploring other opportunities within computer science that aligned with my artistic interests. I uncovered paths within computer science I had never originally considered such as product management, technology consulting, and UX/UI design. I fell in love with the uncertainty of life. In art, this was painting with no clear direction. In yoga and dance, it involved experimenting with different forms and styles. In computer science, it was looking at all the possibilities of careers within the field. While trying new things was a promising start, I still find myself struggling to fully embrace a mindset that disregards prior expectations, comparisons, or competition with others. Over the summer, on my trip to Prague with my grandma, I found it easier to adopt the mindset I longed for. My grandma’s family is from the Czech Republic and she wanted to show me the roots of my ancestors. When we reached Klatovy, where my great-grandfather had lived, I experienced a familiar feeling, similar to how I felt when I had gone to Calbiga. There was a profound sense of community, with people deeply connected to their town. I realized during this trip that I desired to live in a place with distinct customs and daily traditions, far removed from my current
experiences. I dreamed of living outside the United States, a place where I could have a new journey, unburdened by preconceived expectations. My vision was not just to visit briefly or immerse myself temporarily; I aspired to live in a foreign
DESIGN BY MADISON CLOWES, ART BY PHOEBE MCMAHON
land for several years, allowing me to embrace entirely new perspectives and ways of thinking. Before college, I had never considered the possibility of studying abroad. I believed it would hinder my academic growth and take away the chance to build my resume through computer science projects and classes. However, I now find myself brimming with excitement at the prospect of learning in Madrid and exploring a completely unfamiliar area. I made the decision to go for my own personal growth, despite many of my friends staying on campus. For me, studying abroad represents just one step toward my newfound goal centered on developing my passions, reshaping my previous convictions, and embracing a life free of expectations. I aspire to eventually discover a community where I can develop a sense of serenity and happiness similar to what my mother experiences in Calbiga. I hope to spread and build on the traditions I learned from my Tita’s house and cousins. I aim to establish new traditions, allowing me to recreate the sense of belonging I felt at my Tita’s home. I aspire to care for others the way my Tita
does, like when she makes pancit specifically to make me feel welcome. Above all, I strive to value myself as I am, embarking on a journey of self-discovery without preconceived notions of who I should be.
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TUFTS OBSERVER 21
OPINION
TRY TO ENJOY IT EVEN IF IT TRIES TO KILL YOU By Leah Cohen
Let me be the first to say I have beef with this university. As I wrote in the Tufts Observer last spring, I am engaged in an all-out war with Tufts over when they will let me out of this place. Tufts makes it uniquely challenging to be a student, with burdensome and arbitrary graduation requirements such as the residency requirement, overfilled classes for which you cannot register even if they are required for your major, falling-apart facilities filled with asbestos, faculty leaving for better-paying jobs in less toxic workplaces, and an endless supply of administrators that seemingly cannot answer a single question for students but can fundraise endlessly for an institution with one of the worst financial aid programs of its peers. That said, there are some reasons to love this place, even when it seems to hate you. Through my studies here, I have met professors who have truly changed my entire worldview and my life trajectory. Taking Professor Fahlberg’s Political Sociology class during my freshman fall thankfully saved me from majoring in International Relations—imagine that—and set me on the path to study sociology and movement dynamics. Readings from that class are appearing in my senior honors thesis literature review. Professor Sobieraj showed me that media studies and the sociology of the internet could help me make sense of the terrifying online world I had discovered through political organizing in New 22
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Hampshire, giving me a lexicon to describe my digital surroundings. Professor Pennington illuminated a long and complex history of queer pop and rock that enabled me to describe my identity through the language of music. There are more incredible faculty members that I will fail to name and uplift but whose teaching will remain with me throughout the rest of my life. Outside of the classroom, the Tufts community has plenty to offer in extracurriculars. I have found so much joy in my artistic experiences here. Two weeks into my freshman year, I joined the Tufts Amalgamates, a chaotic decision chock full of extreme highs and devastating lows that left me with some of the closest friends I have ever known. I got to be in musicals that took two weeks, two months, and even just 24 hours to put together. I directed a weird little play, made the actors perform it on Tisch Roof, and asked the audience to sit on the ground to watch it. I get to sing with two phenomenal jazz orchestras of virtuoso musicians who are also incredibly kind people, and I even get to sing a few songs with a rocking Klezmer ensemble. I get to direct an incoherent musical called HAIR—a long-standing dream I have had since freshman year of high school—with some of my best friends and some of the most enthusiastic and talented actors I have ever met.
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I even get to write for this super cool literary magazine called the Observer, if you’ve ever heard of it. Speaking of those best friends, I have met some of the greatest people I know at Tufts. I have met activists who deeply inspire me, artists who provoke me, scholars who have taught me so much, and people who have so much kindness in their hearts that it melts my cynicism about this place. My housemates consist of two driven abolitionist activists with the voices of angels and a biologist who surprised me recently by being a triple-threat musical theater star. I get to live with these people! I would not have met them if I did not attend this school. I refuse to give this university any credit for providing me with happiness when that happiness is often outweighed by the stress it has caused me. So I won’t give the university credit—but the university is where these things happened. The original prompt of this essay was to provide incoming first-years with advice. As a wisened old super-senior at the ripe old age of 23, I cannot promise I have any unique wisdom, but I do have some experience, so my advice is the following. Find your people, cling to them with an iron fist, and try to enjoy as much time with them as possible. While this place often sucks, the people here are undeniably great. Throughout my fights with the administration, trusted faculty and friends have supported me, advocated
OPINION
for me, held me while I cried with frustration, and encouraged me to keep fighting against unjust requirements. When I get really down and out about Tufts, the best cure is to spend a few hours hanging out with my housemates, or go to rehearsal for whatever show I am working on, or jam with the band in a Granoff practice room, or go to my advisor’s office hours. Do not expect that these people will just magically fall into your lap; college is huge and the first few friends you make might ultimately be duds. You have to kiss frogs to find your friends. Give yourself patience and grace to find the real ones, and meet as many people as you can to give yourself the best chance. Take the time to get to know people—instead of going straight back to your dorm after your chemistry lecture, ask the person sitting next to you if they want to grab coffee at the Sink. Learn something new about someone every day. Do things because you enjoy them, not because they fill your resume.
Something uniquely frustrating about this campus is that everyone seems to be doing 150 things at once, and somehow everyone is the president of a club and has two internships and a paid research opportunity and runs a volunteer program and is over-enrolled in credits.
Take it from someone who currently has a full time job and has been full-time employed semi-consistently since my sophomore year… none of that stuff matters to future employers (if that is who you are trying to impress by overfilling your plate). There are lots of cool opportunities on this campus and you should absolutely explore them, but make sure to save time for sleep, rest, and spending time with friends, and choose activities that provoke you, light a fire in you, or that you simply enjoy. In my kitchen the other night, my housemate and I were discussing this Tufts trend of having to be overbooked and overworked. I told her I deeply admire that she has several passions that she prioritizes and still manages to have ample time to sleep, take care of herself, exercise, and enjoy simple pastimes. We talked about how easy it is to feel inadequate and not-busyenough, but ultimately the real winners (and the ones with the clearest skin and the easiest dispositions) are the ones who take on a manageable load, not an impressive load. Leap out of your comfort zone and be game for anything. Do not read my cynical essay and make cynicism your thing. My older brother told me as I matriculated to college that the people who end up with the most friends and the happiest college experiences are the ones who are genuinely enthusiastic about everything—not the ones who are too cool for school. Let me add an addendum to this wise advice: not only should you strive to be excited about everything (or fake it until it becomes real), but you should seek out new things that are out of your comfort zone and embrace the risk. Agree to as many things as possible. Try everything once. A friend you met last week found cheap concert tickets for tomorrow night? The girl who lives across the hall from you wants to go to the climbing gym? Your lab partner wants to go to the tango club in Central? Take advantage of every offer. You might not know what hidden talent or passion is waiting patiently inside you to be wrestled out. I used to think that torturing myself, forcing myself to be the hardest worker
DESIGN BY MADISON CLOWES, ART BY ZED VAN DER LINDEN
with the most stressful load, would make me happy in some ironic way, but it turns out the secret to happiness is letting yourself enjoy things and doing things that you enjoy. College is an endurance test; it will be hard and at times it will be miserable, as the rest of your life may also be. Luckily for you, you have four years to teach yourself how to find levity in the dark moments at a time in your life where there are very few long-term consequences. Savor it, and fail courageously and often. Dust yourself off, smile, and do it again. Life after Tufts will be a never-ending series of systems trying to rob you of your joy. Learning how to make your own happiness is the greatest resistance against the institution’s effort to crush you. O
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my daylist
funky chaotic Observer tuesday evening what The Observer listened to during layout Rush
Troye Sivan
Fingerbib Aphex Twin
Back on 74 Jungle
These Words
Natasha Bedingfield
Sunday Morning
The Velvet Underground, Nico
pink diamond Charli XCX
Will I See You Again? Thee Sacred Souls
Temptation New Order
Soak Up The Sun Cheryl Crow
Hair Receding Xenia Rubinos
Got Me Started Troye Sivan 24
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POETRY & PROSE
Why do we all move so far from home? By Chloe Cheng
Dust-covered boxes — My brother’s baseball bat leans on the closet door. A meal for us both — I crush the garlic under my father’s knife.
An overcast sky — Between sips of black coffee, we do the crossword.
Quiet confession — The birds outside sing in the eucalyptus trees. The smell of her soap — Sideways embrace in the front seat of my dad’s car.
A verse about God — My mother’s guitar is too big for my body.
DESIGN BY AVIV MARKUS, ART BY STELLA OMENETTO
OCTOBER 10, 2023
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VOICES
Child’s Play By Mallika Sinha
Beep. Beep. I can hear the fan, perched precariously at the top of a haphazard stack of cotton cushions. It taunts me with its noise, its abstract buzzing and whirring and whining piercing through my eardrums like a microscopic arrow. I am acutely aware of the waves pulsing through the air, travelling faster than I can comprehend from the hard plastic blades to my ear. I wince. I glance at the crutches propped up next to the bed I am currently lumping on (lumping being the term my ever loving sister has coined for my current existence). I stretch my arm, extending my fingers as far as they can go. In my mind, I am mimicking the Michelangelo painting, my searching fingers reaching out to a supernatural deity (my crutches). In reality, I raise my arms about 30 degrees off the mattress before bringing them back down to my sides with a thump of disappointment. Brow furrowed, I reach for my phone. I suppose it’s my own fault, really. In May 2022, I went to a playground with my friends. We jumped from play structure to play structure, 26
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marvelling at the sheer joy simple bits of plastic and wood could give us. We frolicked in perhaps pale imitations of our pure childhood joy, remembering how fun it could be to simply let loose and jump around. I shimmied up a staircase intended for children one-tenth of my age, squeezing my gangly, awkward adult limbs into tiny openings until I felt a cool breeze on my face. I finally made my way to the top of the little castle by the banks of the Charles River. Although the skies were cloudy and dreary and the day wasn’t perfect, the moment was. I beamed at my friends running around below me, content to forget about finals for a few moments and simply run around, laughing as they got gravel and turf particles into their sneakers and made core memories with each other. I saw a little pole on the side of the mini castle, but I knew from hardwon experience that my palms might not survive the encounter. I smiled, deciding instead, to jump. It’s barely four feet. What’s the worst that could happen? As I laid on the ground, I realized that perhaps I should have more faith in my ability to jinx things.
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I felt a sharp jolt in my left knee, throbbing and pulsing and making its way up my spine to transform into blinding pain. I limped around campus for a few days, eventually finding a time when Tufts Health Services was open. I dragged myself over to their building, the doctors giving me comforting smiles, reassuring me that it’s just a sprained knee and that I should be better in no time. Six months later, I can tell that I will not be better in no time. My parents urged me to see an orthopaedist, who promptly sent me to get an MRI. After navigating the serpentine hallways and seemingly never-ending paper forms that make up American healthcare and its bureaucracy, I finally got a diagnosis— torn ACL, torn meniscus, twisted MCL. So much for consequence-free frolicking to forget my troubles. I am lucky that I am able to have surgery relatively quickly. I am deeply privileged to have a family that can take care of me and allow me to lump for a while as I recover. However, it’s hard to remember that as I am being carried around like a sack of potatoes from the car to the bed, as I feel salty tears stream
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down my face from residual pain every time I try to sleep, as I feel the insidious embarrassment creep in from when I have to call someone so I can go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. More difficult than the temporary pain, however, is the lack of dignity I feel. I cannot go to the bathroom on my own, get up to have a snack without telling anyone, and have to watch from afar as my perfectly plotted out class schedule melts right through the seams of SIS, forcing me to change things around and send desperate, pleading emails. Still, I push down the FOMO as I feel my eyes burning from blue light. I keep my eyelids open as I watch truly insane amounts of Parks and Rec. I go to physical therapy. I dutifully check in with my friends—although to a certain extent, the more I know about their lives, the more irrationally resentful I feel of them for being able to have fun,do things, and leave their beds at their will. Whenever I go to PT, I can feel the burn in my legs. I strain. I can feel the acrid plastic smell from the floor wafting up into my nostrils, filling my lungs with the sharp smell of pain. “Time’s up!” I drop my leg with a grunt, heaving sighs of relief and exertion as I sit up. Katherine, my physical therapist, is kind but firm, as she always is. Her motherly energy seems to be amplified as she helps me up. I hang my head down in frustration. She knows that nothing she tells me will be able to comfort me in this moment; I need to confront DESIGN BY KAYA GORSLINE, ART BY AUDREY NJO
my own shortcomings. It feels like I am making progress in the most convoluted way—two steps forward, one step back. I mumble nonsensical statements, unsure of how to face my frustration at my own weakness. I want to yell at my own knees, to shake them and will my way into having them work fully again. I continue pedalling on stationary bikes, walking from my bed to my door and back, hobbling around. I try to be kinder to my parents. They’ve put up with quite a lot of whining and me taking up random hobbies. There are half-finished crochet sets, needle felting tools, watercolour paints, and wood whittling knives, all wasting away in drawers as I flit from one distraction to the next, like a shimmering, iridescent, indecisive hummingbird that can never quite decide where it wants to take its nectar from. I would give anything to run around without having to pause every few seconds, to jump and frolic yet again without feeling a crackle of pain from my knees. It hasn’t happened yet. But I know it will, one day. My painfree walk will come into fruition. I keep going to physical therapy, graduating from indoor walks to outdoor walks, marveling at how
wonderful the warmth of the sun is, at how beams of light brush tenderly against verdant leaves, leaving behind glowing remnants of the daytime. I, too, chase the specters of my past, longing for the feelings of freedom and opportunity I had as mini Mallika. One day, I’ll get back there, and the scars on my knees will remind me how hard I’ve worked to get to where I am.
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