SuperWilcaf Bowl What & My To Listens Grandfather
February 7, 2018 | 34st.com
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Pics or it didn't happen:
How a prestigeâ€“signaling practice entered into Penn's club culture mainstream
february FEBRUARY 7, 2018 Nick Joyner, Editor–in–Chief Remi Lederman, Managing Editor Angela Huang, Audience Engagement Director Annabelle Williams, Assignments Editor Autumn Powell, Media Director Haley Weiss, Word on the Street Editor Jamie Gobreski, Word on the Street Editor Emily Schwartz, Ego Editor Zoe Albano–Oritt, Music Editor Julia Bell, Senior Features Editor Sabrina Qiao, Special Features Editor Colin Lodewick, Long–Term Features Editor Dalton DeStefano, Developing Features Editor Lily Snider, Style Editor Catalina Dragoi, Film & TV Editor Sherry Tseng, Arts Editor Daniel Bulpitt, Lastpage Editor Ha Tran, Photo Editor Danny Rubin, Video Editor Lea Eisenstein, Copy Director Chris Muracca, Print Director Ego Beats: Valentina Escudero, Sami Canaan, Caroline Riise, Caroline Curran, Maryanne Koussa Music Beats: Paul Litwin, Amy Marcus, Arjun Swaminathan, Isabella Fertel, Noah Kest, Michelle Pereira, Holden Caplan, Chris Troop, Natalia Joseph Features Staff: Emily Rush, Angie Lin, Sharon Christner, Annika Iyer, Emily Cieslak Style Beats: Liz Kim, Frankie Reitmeyer, Lily Zirlin, Molly Hessel Film & TV Beats: Jonnell Burke, Ana West, Avneet Randhawa, Naomi Elegant, Bella Essex, Zovinar Khrimian
3 WORD ON THE STREET
Super Bowl and My Grandfather
EOTW: Isabelle Tersio Greenfield Intercultural Center
WQHs DJs, Overheards, Wilcaf Employees
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Arts Beats: Sophie Burkholder, Lizzy Lemieux, Margaret Zhang, Xinyi Wan Design Editors: Lucy Ferry, Gillian Diebold, Ben Zhao, Christine Lam, Alana Shukovsky, Zack Greenstein, Morgan McKeever, Teagan Aguirre, Judy Zhang, Katie Waltman Lastpage Beat: Eliana Doft Staff Writers: Sophie Xi, Cass Phanord, Tamara Gelband, Andreas Pavlou, Jennifer Cullen, Isabella Simonetti, Eliana Doft, Vanessa Wanyandeh, Shinyoung Noh, Caroline Harris, Emma Moore, Anna Callahan, Sammy Gordon, Sydney Gelman, Charlotte Bausch, Jacob Winick, Alix Steerman, Sara Merican
Event Photographers, A Night in FroGro
Illustrators: Jessi Olarsch, Brad Hong, Anne Marie Grudem, Reese Berman, Judy Choi, Gloria Yuen, Carly Ryan, Saranya Sampath, Catherine Liang, Anne Chen Staff Photographers: Dayz Terry, Virginia Rodowsky, Christina Piasecki, Bill He, Avalon Morrell, Emma Boey, David Zhou Video Staff: Megan Kyne, Jean Chapiro, Anab Aidid, Sophie Pelosi, Abdul Sohu Copy Editors: Kira Horowitz, Kate Poole, Anna Waldzinska, Serena Miniter, Sarah Poss, Amber Auslander, Kimberly Batista, Riley Wagner, Morgan Potts
69th Street: Body Counts, How to Wake Up
Sofia Price, Analytics Editor Cole Bauer, Senior Marketing Associate Marketing Associates: Lauren Donato, Chae Hahn, Brittany Levy, McKay Norton, Hanniel Dizon, Carly Shoulberg, Merry Gu, Paige Fishman Unless otherwise noted, all photos are by Dayz Terry, Virginia Rodowsky, Ha Tran, and Christina Piasecki. Contacting 34th Street Magazine: If you have questions, comments, complaints or letters to the editor, email Nick Joyner, Editor–in–Chief, at email@example.com. You can also call us at (215) 422–4640. www.34st.com
"We lost all our dignity to CupcakKe and this is all we have to show for it." ©2018 34th Street Magazine, The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc. No part may be reproduced in whole or in part without the express, written consent of the editors (but I bet we will give you the a–okay.) All rights reserved. 34th Street Magazine is published by The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc., 4015 Walnut St., Philadelphia, Pa., 19104, every Wednesday.
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LETTERFROM THEEDITOR I love sports. Well, not anymore. I’ve since retired my high school soccer jersey and shoved my Asics to the back of my closet. I’m no longer an active athlete, and I’ve never watched sports for fun, save for Olympic gymnastics. But I understand the appeal, despite my continual surprise at how monied the sports world is. I watched half of the Super Bowl in a fan–filled room on Sunday night. I had to leave at halftime, lest I accidentally watch Justin Timberlake’s performance (#JusticeForJanet) and collect more buffalo stains on my corduroys. Sitting at home in the comfort of my housemate’s Lovesac™, I refreshed the score on Google every five minutes while struggling to finish my cinema studies readings. I grew antsy in a way that football has never made me feel before. I felt FOMO from leaving the viewing party. I tuned in to the internet livestream with five minutes left in the quarter. I was rapt. As soon as I saw the fumble onscreen, my body knew what to do. I threw on sweatpants while the announcers prematurely called the game, and ran through the puddles to the house where all my friends were watching. I heard screaming from all directions as soon as I crossed Sansom Street. They had won. The rest of the night was a bleary mess. I got pulled into an Uber and pulled back out ten blocks later when Drexel kids obstructed Market Street. We ran to City Hall, and I let someone halfway convince me to climb a light pole to spray the crowd with beer. It was pandemonium. Everyone from Penn seemed to be there, dancing on the broken glass, yelling over the fireworks, and hopping on top of newsstands. I don’t own a single piece of Eagles clothing and I don’t feel guilty about it. To me, this was a cultural moment, a celebration of and for the city of Philadelphia. I shrieked when I got the DPS notification—in part because I have four classes on Thursdays, but also for the excuse I now had to attend the parade. I’ll be there sporting the Eagles cap I stole from my friend, pretending I know the words to that song they sing. Amy G heard us loud and clear. This one is for all the fair weather fans. It’s gonna be more lit than when the Pope came, and you can quote me on that.
WORD ON THE STREET
word on the
WHO WE WON FOR. What the Eagles win meant to me in the wake of my grandfather's death Sarah Murray
Philadelphia Eagles fans have always had faith. We're used to heartbreak. But a tough end to one season has wiped the smiles off our faces. We collect ourselves. “There’s always next year,” we say. Each new coach or Quarterback raised our hopes. “This is the year,” we say every preseason, only to be left empty–handed come February. Last year, the Birds ended the season with seven wins and nine losses, finishing last in their division. But as the 2017–18 season began, here we were once again, promising each other “This is our year.” And this time, we were right. Looking back, this season felt different. After losing their second game of the year, the Eagles won nine straight games. During that time, I went to my very first game at Lincoln Financial Field. I watched as the Eagles offense put up 51 points against the Denver Broncos. I knew this team had an energy I’ve never seen before. After the game I did what I always do after an Eagles game—I called my Nana. At 86 years old, she’s got more football spirit than most of the Penn student body combined. Almost every Sunday since she and my Pop–Pop moved to Florida four years ago, I’ve called her to talk about our Eagles. Sometimes I had to catch her up on the games that weren’t being broadcasted in Florida. Other days, she would recount her favorite plays to me. She spent most Sundays watching as many games as she could with my Pop–Pop. They were both excited about what the Eagles were accomplishing this year. All of Philadelphia was hopeful to see what they could accomplish. As the Eagles continued to rise this season, my Pop–Pop’s health began to decline. On Friday, December 1, 2017 he passed away. I had talked to my Nana throughout that week, but calling her that Sunday was much more difficult. The Eagles were playing against the Seattle Seahawks. Since the game was going to end late, I called
my Nana before kickoff. It was the first Eagles game in 65 years she was watching without my Pop–Pop. Before she hung up, she told me, “I just hope they can win it, for him.” Without hesitation I told her, “Of course they’re going to win, Nana. They’re going to win it all for him.” In typical Philadelphia sports fashion, the Eagles lost that Sunday night game against Seattle, 24–10. I was shocked. My Nana was disappointed. Eagles games on Sundays were the highlight of the week for me, my Nana, and my Pop–pop. Before he passed, he too held onto the hope that this would be our year. As true Philadelphia sports fans, my Nana and I were hopeful that the team would get it together. The following Sunday, the Eagles’ starting
Bowl in the same place I watched all the playoff games—Cavanaugh’s. I picked Cav’s because my uncle used to work there when he went to Drexel. I felt a connection to my roots there. When the Super Bowl was over, I called everyone, barely able to speak. I called them as I ran to Broad Street singing the fight song. My mom and I cried, my brother and I screamed. I called my Nana and could tell she was trying to hold back her tears. “I can’t believe they really did it. Pop– pop said they would!” We were both overjoyed, but this win was still bittersweet. In some ways, our celebrations would always be incomplete. I was reminded then that this win was bigger than all of us. I marched down Broad and tried to take in the crowd around me, truly appreciating the moment. As I did, I screamed and reached out to someone I recognized. In a crowd of thousands, I happened to find my cousin. We hugged, shook our heads in disbelief and yelled “GO BIRDS!” We were both ecstatic, but I also couldn’t help but think beyond the game, beyond Broad Street. Throughout this season, the Eagles have frequently called their team a family. For them, this wasn’t just a game—it was a way of life. The same is true for all Philadelphia Eagles fans. This game was always more than Lulu Wang | Illustrator a game. Winning the Super Bowl quarterback, Carson Wentz, suffered a season– wasn’t just for the Philadelphia Eagles franchise. ending injury. Philadelphia was tinged with a This win was for my Nana, parents, siblings, palpable disappointment after the game. It was aunts, uncles, and cousins. It was for every hard for even the most cheerful fan to put on a person on Broad Street, Main Street, Frankford, brave face. But soon enough the city was ready and Cottman on Sunday night. It was for fans to “Believe in St. Nick,” as one billboard on around the world. Fans who’ve waited over 60 I–95 proclaimed. We began to believe that Nick years to see the Eagles win a title. It was for fans Foles, our second string quarterback, would who are no longer with us. It was for my Pop– finish what Carson started. We put on a brave Pop, my cousin Gen, and my Uncle Jim. It was face. We tolerated the trash talk, the naysayers, for every Philadelphia Eagles fan who was gone the ones who counted us out because we believed too soon. The Philadelphia Eagles are Super this really was our time. Bowl Champions. Right now in this city, that’s As a superstitious fan, I watched the Super all we got. But right now, that’s all we need. F E B R U A R Y 7 , 2 01 8 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E
EGO EGO OF OF THE THE WEEK WEEK
Stepping into the world of a senior with rhythm. 34th Street Magazine: Sounds like you’re pretty busy! Isabelle Tersio: Quite, quite, quite busy, yeah. I have a job off–campus too. I work at a farm in southwest Philly. It’s called Sankofa Farm at Bartram’s Garden. They have a youth program, and so I grow food, plant, and teach [high school students] about cultivation and the land, and basically how to farm. During the school year, it’s a little different. We do some farming, but we try to get the students to reach out to their own communities and teach their own communities about food access, food justice, healthy eating—things like that. I also help them with their resumes and anything else.
Street: How did you get involved in African Rhythms? IT: I danced when I was really young, and then I quit to play sports in high school. I tore my Achilles at the end of senior year of high school, so I was in a cast and boot my entire freshman year at Penn. I didn’t really get a chance to join many clubs because I just physically couldn’t get around campus to participate in a lot of things. So my sophomore year, I was like, "This is the year. I need to join things, I need to do something that’s different. I don’t want to be too comfortable." This was a great opportunity to dive into something I’d never done before, so I joined African Rhythms.
Street: You dedicate a lot of your time to helping others, with your involvement with Sankofa Farm, CityStep, and MERT. What inspires you? IT: Everyone needs help. Everyone’s human. It’s really important to me to not only seek out new experiences for myself but to give other people new experiences, and I think that the best way to do that is just to talk to people. It doesn’t matter if you’re doing it through farming or through dance, but I think that the major thing is that I’m learning about this community that I’m deciding to live in, and they’re teaching me so much. It’s an exchange between the people who have lived here their entire lives and me who just came here for the four years. I don’t know how it all ties together—it’s just a thing that I love to do. I love to talk to people and see where that takes me.
Street: What kinds of dance do you do in African Rhythms? IT: Each dance comes from a certain region of either West Africa or Cuba. So we do West African styles and Afro–Cuban styles. With the Afro–Cuban styles, they usually originate from a certain orisha, or god, and so you have to learn about these orishas to convey the dance properly. For example, Oshun, she’s the goddess of water, so our instructor will give us background about who she is and what she’s known for. These are deeply rooted, traditional dances.
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to push our city steppers outside of their comfort zone and have them experiment with different styles of music. I’ve helped to coordinate bringing African drummers into the classrooms, to have them dance to music that can change with their movements, so they’re not restricted by a song and its lyrics. If they decide to go Street: How does your involvement with African really fast, the rhythm will go fast with them and change with them. Rhythms and CityStep overlap? IT: CityStep Penn has traditionally leaned toward We’re leaning toward modern, hip–hop and pop music, but this year we’re trying instrumental, drumming—that kind of dance.
Street: You’re also a part of MERT. What’s that like? IT: The time commitment is between 24 hours to 30– something hours each month, which is really attainable. If you
do an overnight shift, that’s eight hours right there, so you do that three times a month, and there’s your 24 hours. I like it because it’s flexible, and I get to choose my days and which shifts I take. I really enjoy working under pressure in emergency situations. I want to be an emergency room doctor, so this has been a great first step for me to see what it’s like. Street: So is medical school on the horizon for you? IT: I’m planning on taking a gap year next year, and working for my EMS service back home— it’s like riding in the back of the ambulance. I plan to do that for a year, and then hopefully get into med school the next year after that, so fingers crossed!
LIGHTNING ROUND Street: My favorite show is… IT: Broad City Street: I can’t stop listening to… IT: “Anything” by SZA Street: There are two types of people at Penn… IT: People who appreciate chunky peanut butter, and those who are extremely against it. Street: Which are you? IT: Oh, I appreciate chunky
peanut butter. I love it. You know how people have handles on top of their cabinets? I have empty peanut butter jars. It’s a lot—I want to say close to 40 now, since June. Street: The best part of Penn is… IT: Philly. Street: The worst part of Philly is… IT: The winter.
Finding Home at the
Greenﬁeld Intercultural Center
A look into Penn's center for ﬁrst–generation low–Income students.
eet The Greenfield Intercultural Center. Fondly known as the GIC to those who have been involved with it before, the Greenfield Intercultural Center serves as a home to countless students on campus. Though it primarily caters to first–generation, low–income (FGLI) students at Penn, the GIC provides innumerable services to the many others interested in what the center has to offer. While many of the workers enjoy their time at the GIC, for student–assistant Ivy Williams (C '19), it’s fun. “You get to meet different people. Different FGLI students—you get to see different faces, interact with different people. I usually crack corny jokes all day long to people that come in with sad faces.” So, what’s the main objective? “On an institutional level, we try to bring intercultural awareness and bridge people together. It’s a safe space and it’s a home for people, but it’s also a way to increase intercultural awareness,” states graduate student worker Sara Wong.
Ivy adds, “We have a lot of events going on. For example, for those that are undocumented, we provide support services. Earlier this year when Trump reformed DACA, Penn Law Center came here and provided free–of–charge services to DACA students about their processes and offered information about how Trump’s new laws would impact them. We support all communities.” Ivy can trace her decision to become more involved in the GIC to an experience she had during her freshman year Thanksgiving. “Everybody came and cooked throughout the whole day and I didn’t go home. I usually don’t go home for a lot of the breaks because going home is sometimes not an option.” For those who are hesitant to come, Sara encourages everyone to reach out. “It’s never too late. I also feel like whenever people hear the word 'intercultural,' they automatically assume that it’s only for certain groups of people, which isn’t true. It’s a space for anyone. Most of the time we also have food here, so if people are
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ever hungry, stop by and get some food! The Intercultural Center isn’t just for people of color.” Sara told me a bit about the kinds of students the Center serves. Although many are for FGLI students, the GIC also has
and give talks, according to fellow worker, Cristian Garcia. Ivy cheerfully says, “Amy Gutmann comes in, she sends gifts and whatnot, because she’s FGLI too.” Once a full– scholarship student at Harvard,
GIC Director Valerie De Cruz (right) a textbook library and a kitchen that are open to everyone. She says, “I feel like we get a bunch of students, not just FGLI students. There isn’t really a definition of who comes here, everyone is welcome at the GIC.” In addition to students, the GIC invites faculty members and other professionals to come in
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President Gutmann was the first in her family to graduate from college. She has more than doubled the number of students from low–income and first–generation college families attending Penn. Despite the GIC and Amy G’s efforts, there’s still room for improvement. Ivy believes that
both professors and peers should be more sensitive towards the issues faced by FGLI students. “I work with FGLI students and I hear their concerns, most of which are usually financial," Sara explains. "There are certain costs that are just not included in the costs of attendance, so I wish that Penn could be more transparent about that when giving students awards so that students know exactly what is covered." On February 16, Penn will host 1vyG, an Ivy League–wide conference meant to empower and connect FGLI students, is taking place in a couple of weeks. As Sara explains, "It’s a way for students to connect with each other, to better understand their identity, and to explore how to navigate higher education given their identities.” In addition to 1vyG, there are new events happening daily at the GIC. Their door is always open, welcoming new students to find a space they didn't know they needed.
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Meet Penn's Radio Warriors
College radio demystiﬁed.
On the fourth f l o o r of the ROTC training building on Spruce Street, you can find the WQHS broadcasting room. Littered with the remains of old radio history—ancient streaming equipment, piles of CDs, stacks of old radio tapes—the room feels almost removed from time. The Penn DJ’s have commandeered the space and made it their own: the colorful walls are covered with posters advertising past DJs, loose drawings and doodles, scattered words of text. Just on the outer edge of campus, this room gives Penn’s radio warriors the headspace they need to decompress, to process, and to just chill out and appreciate music. Harry Smith (C ’18), who cohosts “Kickin’ It with Harry and David” with David Reinis (C '18) comments on the controlled chaos of the studio itself,
describing the space as “DIY.” This “do–it–yourself” attitude pertains to everything about the WQHS station. Harry explains the scrappiness of the WQHS DJ community and comments on how everything that gets done gets done because of an initiative on the part of the DJs. He says WQHS is “DIY in that DJs are responsible for coming up with show content on their own … DJs have full creative control over their own shows and are not subject to major oversight from WQHS as an organization.” Some shows are primarily music driven, like Katie Shia’s (C ’21). Her show, “Milk Before Cereal,” focuses mostly on indie and alternative music, though Katie really plays whatever tracks are on her mind. For her, the show is almost therapeutic. “You can actually be yourself and talk about whatever weird shit you’re thinking about,” she laughs, “it’s actually like having
a diary to yourself … no one is there to judge you; no one is there to talk back to you and say 'no, you’re wrong' because it’s you and a microphone—what can a microphone say back to you?” When Katie isn’t blowing your mind with some underground alternative music, you can listen to her discuss issues of copyright and adaptation in the music world. Other programs are more talk–show–esque, like Harrison Meyer's (C ’20). Harrison’s show, “Bernie Sanders Jazz Hour,” is a mixture of jazz music and political commentary. A member of Penn Jazz and a political science major, Harrison saw this one–hour block of time as a way for him to meld his two passions. “In contemporary politics today, you see a lot of populist movements, but even going back, this is not a new thing … people taking popular ideas on both sides of the political aisle and flip– flopping all the time for what
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Michelle Pereira would be popular or what would look good for their fellow party members," he says. "You can call it ‘political improvisation,’ and you can definitely see a parallel in jazz because jazz is all about improvisation.” On the other hand, Harry and David choose to incorporate themes into each of their shows. Each show is centered around a topic or idea with music, discussion, and witty banter. For example, Harry mentions seasonal playlists as an example of one of these themes. Additionally, Harry and David like to include live elements in their show. Listeners can call in to participate in a live music discussion. They host live performances on their show as well. Audiences vary across the board, but Penn’s WQHS DJs remain positive, even when the number of listeners is low. Katie admits that her listeners sometimes drop into single digits, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She says, “even though there’s two people listening to your show, there’s still two people!” For her, the diary aspect of radio outweighs nearly everything else, and any additional listeners are a plus: “I don’t really have a filter on my radio show … [it] really is a Katie Shia radio show.” For Harry, practicing radio has an inherent creative value in and of itself. “I think the work of coming up with material, themes, and playlists for shows is a rewarding mental exercise … when I am feeling particularly down on our listener numbers, I remind myself that we record all of our shows so that we can later share them with folks who weren't able to tune in during airtime.”
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He feels that radio is a way for people to connect on a person– to–person basis. “Even when just one person is listening, it is fulfilling to know that person is directly engaged in what David and I have planned for the week.” Finally, Harrison adds that radio is a way for him to get some clarity and perspective. He says, “Just preparing some material every week is really good just to get your thoughts organized, it’s a little bit meditative … just by focusing in on a singular topic for a long enough period of time, you sort of enter a higher state of focus, and that energy will sort of transfer over to the rest of your day.” Katie Shia (C ’21) Show name: “Milk Before Cereal” Show time: Tuesdays at 3 p.m. Three songs Street readers need to listen to right now: “Gold Shades” by Sleeping Jesus, “Carry Me Home” by Jorja Smith, and “Plastic” by Moses Sumney. Harrison Meyer (C ’20) Show name: “Bernie Sanders Jazz Hour” Show time: Tuesdays at 8 a.m. Three songs Street readers need to listen to right now: “Entertain Me” by Tigran Hamasyan, “Cool Eyes” by Jeb Patton, and “Seven Seas” by Avishai Cohen. Harry Smith (C ’18) Show name: “Kickin’ It with Harry and David” Show time: Thursdays at 8 p.m. Three songs Street readers need to listen to right now: "What I Want" by Cende, "Find Me" by Porches, "Jesse" by Frankie Cosmos.
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Alana Shukovsky | Design Editor F E B R U A R Y 7 , 2 01 8 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E
Williams Cafe really jams Wilcaf may be the best place on campus to discover new music. Autum Powell | Media Director
It’s a pretty well–known fact that cafes are one of the best places to hear good music, whether mainstream or alternative. Williams Cafe (Wilcaf) is no exception. You’re not alone if whenever you order a coffee at Wilcaf you find yourself bopping to whatever tune is playing on the speaker. Music is a big part of Wilcaf’s culture, so Street took a deeper look into the baristas’ choice of songs and how much of a role music really plays in their work. All sorts of music plays at Wilcaf. This is a result of the system they have in place. As Reece Sisto (C '18), a co– manager at Wilcaf, says, “It’s
totally democratic. Whoever’s on shift gets to play. First come, first served.” While some people are adamant about controlling the music, others like taking the backseat and hearing what their fellow baristas have to share. Most even have various Spotify playlists for their shifts, with different playlists for different times of the day, certain weather, or how crowded the cafe is. Songs don’t just play the role of background noise during work. They impact the work itself. Reece says, “When it’s a rush, it’s got to be fast. It’s got to be upbeat. It’s got to make you want to move.” On the contrary, Anthony Brown–Norton (C '20), says he prefers chill, relaxing music to concentrate on making the drinks during a rush. For the calmer times, the music choices are usually more conducive to just vibing. Maddie Andrews
(C '18), the other co–manager, notes “Sometimes I realize I’ll literally be making drinks on beat, and I’m not even musical.” The music isn’t just for the baristas, though. Musically perceptive coffee–drinkers have even asked for some song names and playlist details. Chloe Onbargi (C '20), another barista, recounts multiple times when customers have come by, laptops in hand, and asked for the playlist info. She recognizes how crucial music is to a cafe environment. Remembering times in other cafes where the music has been horrible, she says that although sometimes it seems like the songs are just for those behind the counter, it’s important that “people can study and not hate the music.” Controlling the speaker in the cafe has also made the baristas more aware of the music in other cafes. Beyond that, they
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now know why some cafes will intentionally play bad music. Reece says, “If you’re ever in HubBub, and they want you to leave, they’ll start playing some weird experimental smooth jazz ... so they can close right at seven.” Chloe also theorizes that the Saxbys by Drexel’s campus will sometimes play heinous music so people will leave and they won’t have to make drinks. The music choices also present some hilarious situations with professors, such as when trap music blasts while serving up drinks to their teachers. Situations like this mean that “making sure the music is always appropriate” is something the baristas are working on, says Maddie. She also mentions that sometimes you won’t realize until it’s playing that that song you love is not totally suitable for work. “If it’s a rush” when a questionably appropriate song is playing, “then you’re SOL [shit out of luck],” says Reece. “You can’t change that song when you’re backed up by eight drinks.” To the 20 baristas, Wilcaf is more than just a cafe. It provides a great community as well. After going through the totally student–run application process, a select few are given the opportunity to join the cafe. Anthony recalls how comforting it was to come to Penn without knowing people and have Wilcaf help him adjust to Penn’s campus. “I don’t know what I would have done without Wilcaf coming in that first week freshman year,” he says. When discussing the collectivity of Wilcaf, Reece said, “Since it is as much a job as it is a community, that
Autum Powell | Media Director
balance can be really difficult, but that also requires that we navigate interpersonal dynamics with a level of maturity and professionalism that, in the end, makes us a lot closer.” Music plays a role in this community and helps bring together the baristas, both inside and out of the cafe. Reece believes it’s their “main method of bonding and getting together.” Since about every barista is pretty into music, it’s a pretty “fundamental part of working at the cafe,” says Reece. Chloe says that it’s to the point that even if you come in not liking music, that’ll change within the first week. While each barista has their own music taste, there are some artists that everyone’s into. They love Daniel Caesar, the Weeknd, Brockhampton, SZA, The Internet, Louis the Child, Tyler the Creator, Childish Gambino, and there was even a long Dr. Dog phase. Reece hypothesizes that some of their tastes have converged to the point that the same songs have begun to show up on each of their Spotify Discover playlists. However, they make sure there’s always new music coming into the rotation. Taking the music beyond Williams is the next step for the group at Wilcaf. For the new Wilcaf website, there’s an in–progress idea to start posting baristas’ playlists. To get just a little taste of their music, check out some of their playlists!
FILM & TV
MYSTERY SHOWS THAT WILL MAKE YOU WANT TO CALL YOUR MOM BY ANA WEST We all have a bit of an amateur detective inside of us. Whether you’re a criminology major or you just got really invested in the Casey Anthony trial, there’s something fun about mysteries you don’t know the answer to. The draw of the unknown is a large part of the reason why shows like CSI and Law and Order: SVU have been television staples for years; they give us sensational drama and tidy, self–contained resolution all in 45 minutes. Criminal investigations are messy, complicated, and laden with emotional pain for the survivors. But the most thrilling shows don’t ignore this; they embrace it. From cult classics to deeper cuts, here are a few mystery and crime shows that'll keep you glued to your screen.
Anne Marie Grudem | Illustrator
TWIN PEAKS This is an obvious pick to start this list off. Beloved by many and a source of confusion for even more, Twin Peaks follows FBI Agent Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan) as he arrives in quiet Twin Peaks, Washington and tries to uncover the mystery behind who killed high school student Laura Palmer. At least, that’s the “normal” synopsis—it quickly gets a lot trippier than that. Surreal and thought– provoking, this is more than just the show your weird friend liked in high school. It has dominated and defined the small–town–turned– upside–down genre since it premiered, and its influence can be felt in everything from Stranger Things to Riverdale.
the night of Antiheroes are having a moment right now. Crime shows like Breaking Bad and Narcos take on the genre from the perspective of the criminals, but it takes the mystery out of things to be on their side. HBO’s The Night Of remedies this problem by giving us a story where we know as little as the person on trial. When Naz (Riz Ahmed) wakes up after a night of partying, he finds the girl he hooked up with dead next to him—and realizes he has no recollection of what happened. It’s a cut–and–dry crime show in the sense that viewers can make their own calls on Naz’s guilt or innocence— but what makes it so intelligent and riveting is the commentary it provides on the criminal justice system itself.
broadchurch The BBC’s Broadchurch is a rock–solid example of smart, sensitive, and thrilling television. The show starts with the body of a young boy being found on a small–town English beach. Subsequent episodes deal as heavily in familial and community trauma as they do in suspense. Broadchurch is held up by phenomenal performances from actors like David Tennant and Olivia Colman (as the investigating detectives) and Jodie Whittaker (as Beth Latimer, the boy’s mother). Broadchurch focuses in on their pain and doesn’t abandon their developments once the case is closed. The only bad thing that we can say about this show is that it’s only three seasons long.
Orienting Corporate Governance to Generate Sustainable Growth: A Cooperative Discussion on Common Ground and Forging a Path Forward a conversation between
Hon. Leo E. Strine, Jr.
Chief Justice Delaware Supreme Court
Chairman U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission
Lawrence A. Hamermesh Executive Director, Institute for Law and Economics
Thursday, February 8 4:30 p.m. - 6:00 p.m. Silverman 245A, Penn Law
Reception to follow lecture - all are welcome. Information: http://www.law.upenn.edu/ile
This program has been approved for 1.5 substantive law credit hour for Pennsylvania lawyers. CLE credits may be available in other jurisdictions as well. Attendees seeking CLE credit should bring separate payment in the amount of $60.00 ($30.00 public interest/non-profit attorneys) cash or check made payable to The Trustees of the University of Pennsylvania. This event is sponsored by the Institute for Law and Economics, a joint research center of the Law School, the Wharton School, and the Department of Economics in the School of Arts and Sciences.
The Institute for Law and Economics is a joint research center of the Law School, the Wharton School, and the Department of Economics in the School of Arts and Sciences.
F E B R U A R Y 7 , 2 01 8 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E
F E AT U R E
F E AT U R E
OR IT DIDN'T HAPPEN BY NATALIE KAHN
How a prestige–signaling practice entered into Penn's club culture mainstream
Photos by Braden Saba Photography
n the photo, Isabella Yu (W ’21) and three friends stand against the silver wall and the bead curtain at Center City’s RUMOR nightclub, their arms around each other. It’s Halloween and Isabella is dressed as a bumblebee, complete with striped leggings, yellow suspenders and off–kilter antennae. The photo of Isabella and her friends sits in a public Facebook album of over 200 shots from the frat’s downtown, documenting the supermen, sailors, and space cadets who paid to be in attendance. In the stylized photo, Isabella hovers somewhere between the reflective flash and blurry red swooshes of light in the foreground. “Even though I didn’t look that good in it, I just thought it was such a fun memory of the night,” Isabella said, looking back on the photo months after she put her bumblebee costume away. In January, Isabella found herself in another Facebook album, this one from the launch party for Penn fashion magazine, The WALK. The event was held in the Psi Upsilon (known more commonly as “Castle”) fraternity chapter house on Locust Walk. This time, the event was free. Isabella poses with smiling friends as yellow and orange streaks flit around the frame. Braden Saba (C ’20) photographed The WALK’s event. He also shot Alpha Phi sorority’s winter formal and Kappa Alpha Theta sorority’s date night in the fall. He’s among the students called upon to document social events at Penn: Greek life parties, expensive downtowns, club formals, and other occasions with dressed–up guests who want digital mementos. The look of Penn’s event photography albums, like the ones Braden uploads, are easily recognizable. Many bear the same colorful light streaks, which skitter around the periphery of the image. Evan Robinson (C ‘14) remembers that he was the first event photographer ever
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hired by a group at Penn. He was contacted by the off–campus group THEOS to take photos for their annual Woodser Party in 2011. Although the photos are meant in part to serve as souvenirs for the attendees, they can also be visual reminders of social circles defined by class and status. However, in the past seven years, event photography has spread from small groups of frat brothers to unaffiliated clubs at Penn— the WALK magazine, the Wharton Public Policy Initiative, the Assembly of International Students, and others. For a fee of $300 to $500 per night, these groups can hire an event photographer to ensure that they—and their Facebook friends—know they had a good night. Daniel Gonzalez (C ’20) first saw the professional event pictures on his Facebook timeline at the start of freshman year. As a member of the first–generation, low–income (FGLI) community he was initially bothered by the photos. He quickly associated them with wealth—expensive clothes, pricey alcoholic drinks, and venues that were a costly Uber ride away. “It definitely seemed like a place I couldn’t reach,” Daniel said. “But the more I think about it, the more I’m like, would I really be interested in this if I did have the money?” Daniel has found a niche on campus that doesn’t involve professional photographic proof of his social life. But he’s seen some of his FGLI peers make financial sacrifices to be part of these events as the social boundaries of Penn have become easier to navigate. “I feel like a lot of us started off feeling like, ‘that’s a thing they do,’” he said. “But now that’s even a thing some of my friends do." Sometimes he gets tired of seeing these photographs on his Facebook feed, and he unfriends the person—especially if they’re a
distant friend from NSO. Raisa Shah (C ‘19), another FGLI student, isn’t bothered by the streak–filled photos. But they do remind her of the wealth disparity that exists at Penn. “It’s just them living their life and me living mine, separately.” Raisa finds it hard to contextualize wealth from a single club formal photo. But she notices the clothing in the photos, especially if a participant has gone to many formals and is dressed differently for each. Raisa points to extracurricular clubs with expensive dues or costs associated with attending formals. Though the events may be less socially exclusive—you don’t necessarily need to know a brother—they could be cost–prohibitive. “We’ll never have a formal or event or date night event without a photographer,” Arjun Patel (C ’20) explains. He’s on the social committee for Phi Gamma Delta fraternity and helps to plan the fraternity’s formal events. An event photographer has become a must–have: “It’s become an essential part, almost as important as having a DJ.” "I’d say Penn likes exclusivity—like, who doesn’t?” remarks Hallie Gu (W ’20), the Alpha Phi sorority’s internal social chair. "That’s how human nature is. The event you didn’t get to go to always looks really fun.” But both she and Arjun emphasized that the groups hire photographers to create tangible memories of the events. Posting the photos on Facebook allows the guests to relive the evening, to retrieve forgotten memories blurred by the open bar. As an event planner, Hallie feels social pressure when coordinating her own formals—she makes sure that the photos present the right image for the group. When students see event photos online, she said, they know who took them. And if they present the guests as messy or the venue as shabby, her group’s image could suffer. “Having those kind of photos to be like, ‘I went out,’ that goes a really long way,” Hugh Reynolds (C ’20), who has attended Greek and Collctve events, said. “There are people who don’t go to that many parties and they don’t have those to put on their social media feed.” Blake London (C ’18) is uninvolved in Greek life and observes the events from the comfort of social media. But seeing displays of party culture
online never affected him much. “As a financial aid student and someone who is very much not able to go to events like that or live that lifestyle,” he said, “honestly, it doesn’t feel that exclusionary.” Blake found his home in the theatre and arts communities at Penn, where he befriended many event photographers. He looks at their pictures on Facebook but doesn’t necessarily associate them with class and wealth. “I don’t really feel excluded...I’m just kind of like, ‘Yep, this is a group looking like they’re in formal wear.’
"For a fee of $300 to $500 per night, these groups can hire an event photographer to ensure that they— and their facebook friends—know they had a good night." Event photographers themselves consider how their work could glorify expensive parties and contribute to perceptions of social exclusivity at Penn. Matt Mizbani (C ’19), a former DP Video Producer, didn’t join a fraternity his freshman year. Before he started shooting parties as a sophomore, he felt excluded from the scenes he saw on social media, too. “It was a small ethical dilemma for me where it was like, ‘You’re creating FOMO. You’re creating all these feelings for people who might not be at these events by capturing them and making them look so great,’” Matt explains. Matt enjoys his job. He compares photography to going out because he’s gotten to know the participants well from being a constant fixture at their parties. He’s been allowed to invite a date (though he declined) and occasionally drinks enough to be hungover the next morning. Alcohol does not impede his abilities, as taking pictures is now an act of his muscle memory. Even so, attending downtowns and formals has shown him the income disparity among Penn students. His attendance at Penn is predicated on his financial aid package, and he would not be able to go out without his photography business.
However, he suggested the photos themselves are not broadening any economic divides—parties will exist with or without documentation. Braden, still a newcomer to event photography, recognizes individuals may post his work for social media points. Unhappy subjects have even badgered him to delete pictures from event albums. However, he views his role as capturing happy moments, not dealing social currency. Matt agrees: “The idea of photos, at least for a lot of people that hire me, is that we should capture this just to have it and save it.” Matt conceded that his glossy photos may not be fostering inclusivity at Penn, but he doesn’t think eliminating photos from Penn’s social scene would close any rifts. He also believes his subjects might have good intentions. “It takes going to one event to understand the fact that, yeah, this is all fabricated,” he explained. “The concept of ‘The Scene,’ proper, in quotes, doesn’t really exist.” Still, event photography has grown into a student–run business at Penn with the Collctve, a creative–oriented group for Penn’s “new culturati," facilitating gigs for fledgling photographers. This is a recent venture, as it wasn’t until Evan’s senior year in 2014, he said, that most fraternities and sororities sought photographers. Just four years ago, he had no competition from other photographers and his rates ultimately reached $400 to $500 per event before he graduated. During "formal season," he balanced 14 consecutive nights of photography with his classwork. Evan pioneered the event photography market at Penn, but many other universities already have similar photography practices in place. Duke University, for example, has its own student business that dispatches photographers to shoot date nights. But the concept of event photographers is foreign to many other universities as well. Tufts senior Anna Dursztman scoffed at the prospect of paying a photographer $400 to document her sorority’s formal. Tufts students would see this as an unnecessary display of money and status. Anna laughed. “Why can’t people take pictures on their phones?”
NATALIE KAHN is a sophomore studying Fine Arts from Livingston, New Jersy. She is a beat reporter for the Daily Pennsylvanian. F E B R U A R Y 7 , 2 01 8 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E 1 1
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The Night Shift:
12 Hours In The Fresh Grocer By Sharon Christner
his store is weird,” says a longtime FroGro worker, rearranging a shelf full of Pampers. It gets weirder at four in the morning. The Fresh Grocer of Walnut Street, a nondescript grocery store beneath an unremarkable parking garage, has become a place Penn students love to hate. When the University announced in April 2017 that the Fresh Grocer would be replaced with ACME, another chain grocery store, student reactions were mixed: FroGro is reliable and convenient, but cramped and often disorganized. Penn and the Fresh Grocer have been engaged in litigation to decide the store’s fate since December 2016 and will continue to be until at least June 2018; employees find themselves in the dark about the futures of their jobs. But they have plenty to say about the chaos that is FroGro on a Saturday night. At 7:00 p.m., in the dimly–lit balcony overlooking the aisles of Fresh Grocer, a woman sleeps next to her suitcase between the men’s and women’s bathrooms. A toothless octogenarian reads the comics while snacking on Pedialyte and ToastChee. Other West Philadelphians, most over the age of 60, recline in the orange plastic chairs and watch the traffic on 40th and Walnut rush by. The regulars seem to vaguely know each other; there are greetings and nods as people slowly come and go. Directly below them, the beer garden is abuzz with Penn students looking for their Saturday night essentials. Flannel–clad guys and crop–topped girls arrive in pairs or squads, waiting in a line that, by now, already snakes out of the liquor section and past the fruit display. A girlfriend entreats her boyfriend for a particular type of red wine. He’s not sure about it, so she starts kissing his neck in the aisle to convince him. It works. Down here, it’s 90% Penn, 10% everyone else. There are regulars, too: the cashier knows some customers by name. “Oh hey girl! Don’t you usually come earlier?” A few hours later, Paul, the only cook at the hot foods counter, convinces a passerby to try some of his macaroni and cheese. He’s worked at the Fresh Grocer for a total of eight years, but says he doesn’t usually understand what’s going on with the store’s management. He had no idea about Penn’s plans to replace the Fresh Grocer with ACME, though this has been a source of concern among Penn students since it was announced in 2016. “They didn’t tell me that. Nobody kicked us out, so I guess we’s all good?” If a new store replaced the Fresh Grocer, though, “it’s up to them to keep me. I imagine they’d come in and hire new people.”
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Behind the scenes with the Fro Gro overnight staff and their noctural patrons
Autumn Powell | Media Director
Jamir, behind the self–checkout, is a jack of all trades. “They have me working as cashier but also self–checkout, carts and baskets, maintenance—and they still payin’ me the same.” A potbellied man in a purple tie comes out and stands in the doorway of the store office and Jamir gets quiet fast. “Look, that’s my manager right behind me. He gon’ come over and say something if I’m talking to you. I don’t want to be ignorant to you, but could you come back another time?” A young man wearing a light blue suit jacket and a Wharton visor flirts with the woman behind the customer service desk. “Hey, where you from? I like your name, by the way.” He asks for a pack of Marlboros, “the last pack up there!” He pays, and he and his friend, also wearing a blazer, swagger toward the door. “Hey!” She yells after them. “Forgot your cigarettes.” A little before 10:00 p.m., the customer service desk has quieted down, and Aaron, the overnight supervisor, has time to tell some stories. “People try to steal from this store all the time. But it’s always college students, stealin’ sushi. Don’t they got food?” But stolen sushi isn’t Aaron’s main concern. “There’s seven bars in the area, we get a lot of drunk people comin’ to the grocery store.” Certain times of year are worse than others. “Halloween’s crazy around here. Last year we got Scooby–Doo come in here and try to steal booze. Every year at St. Patty’s Day we got a guy dressed as a leprechaun tryin’ to buy Lucky Charms with gold coins.” As for the job: “As far as I know [Penn and the Fresh Grocer are] still fighting but they didn’t tell us nothing.” He hopes he would be transferred to another Fresh Grocer store, but he can’t be sure what the protocol would be in case of a closure. “All we heard was rumors.” Back upstairs on the balcony, someone talks loudly on the phone about the recent mysterious death of his cousin, who was only thirty–seven, and about why America should be careful of Kim Jong-un.
A middle–aged man in a dark blue hoodie writes in a notebook with great concentration, studying a tome called BEST RESUMES for 100,000 Jobs. This balcony is one of the few places on or near Penn’s campus that allows the public to have a seat and relax indoors. As such, it has become a respite from the freezing temperatures outside for people experiencing homelessness. There are strict parameters on the space: it’s closed from midnight to 7 a.m., no outside food or beverages are allowed, and no alcohol is permitted. A notice has been posted limiting guests’ stay to an hour after each meal purchase, but Fresh Grocer employees normally let people stay as long as they’re not making any trouble. In the back corner of the seating area, another man in worn, baggy clothing closes his eyes and talks to God, or to no one in particular: “We all come from different backgrounds, from Europe, Asia, Korea … We are all kings. We are all royalty. Jesus—because of Him, we are all beautiful.” Before 11:00 p.m., two Penn Police cars, sirens blaring, turn the FroGro corner and stop in front of the store. Everyone on the balcony turned to look out the window. “Saturday night,” someone chuckles. “Wait, are they harassing this guy?” Down on the sidewalk, two neon–clad security guards are barking sentences at the man who had just been studying the BEST RESUMES book on the balcony, now sitting hunched up on a newspaper box. An ambulance comes to the corner. The security guards guide the RESUME man into the vehicle, though he doesn’t seem to be in any pain or distress, and it speeds away. None of the onlookers on the balcony know exactly why this happened. “He knows it’s gonna rain,” one guesses, laughing. “He got a ride.” Before the beer garden closes at 11:30 p.m., the last few
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“I seen a lot of sexual intercourse in this store,” says Everett, an overnight grocery stocker, around four in the morning. “And mostly it’s from students. Yep, in a bathroom. But hey, it’s okay. Stuff happens.” Everett started working nights five years ago to take care of his new daughter during the daytime. Despite all the nonsense he’s seen in his day, he needs his job and hopes the Fresh Grocer stays around so he can keep it. “We have no clue what’s going on. And if anybody knows, it’s the managers. The employees who actually do the job—we don’t know nothin’. It would be nice to know, so we can start looking for another job or not. Wouldn’t want someone to show up here one day and there’s no job for ‘em.”
“I seen a lot of sexual intercourse in this store, and mostly it’s from students. Yep, in a bathroom. But hey, it’s okay. Stuff happens.”
customers hurry to buy their alcohol. A girl in Penn gear urges her friend to make his selection. “We literally have, like, minutes.” A few aisles over, six stoned Penn students gaze in awe at organic fruit. An apron–clad employee comes up the stairs, making sure everyone is awake and ready to leave when the balcony closes at midnight. “Long time, no see!” He says to the man in the corner, who has stopped talking to himself and is nodding off in the chair. The employee notices the silver can in a plastic bag on the floor and admonishes him. The man just grumbles, but opens his eyes. The employee begins an intervention. “I try to be nice to you, but you can’t come in here with this. You’re killing yourself more! Look at you.” He counts the drinks in the man’s bag. “One, two, three— damn, when people drinking, they don’t know what they doing. What if he go hit one of our students! And then we get sued!” They both laugh. This seems a familiar exchange. “I respect you and I love you. But please do not be bringing the beer up here.” At a minute before midnight, the woman with the suitcase is still sleeping. “‘Scuse me everybody, this area gonna be closing in five minutes,” announces a second employee, gently shaking an elderly man awake. Everyone is reluctant to go; if allowed, most would stay the night. Without a word, the suitcase woman wraps a scarf around her face, rides the elevator down, and disappears into the night. At 2:00 a.m., a woman dressed as a sexy Slytherin schoolgirl wanders aimlessly around the frozen foods aisle clutching her magic wand and a bag of baby broccoli florets. Another girl in a hippie beaded headband is contemplating the Eczema Body Scrub lined up on a shelf vaguely labeled “Nutrition.” When the automatic doors slide shut behind them, the place is a ghost town. Cheery 1960s soul jams blare over the loudspeaker. Aisle seven is in total disarray—Tidy Cats and Friskies cans are strewn on the floor, deserted. There is no spinach left. Five boxes of sushi live to see another day.
Ed Datz, the Executive Director of Penn’s Facilities and Real Estate Services, would only reveal in an emailed statement that “Penn is continuing with ongoing legal proceedings for the grocery store transition, and is refraining from any public comment while the litigation initiated by Fresh Grocer proceeds to trial later this year.” A spokesperson for Wakefern Food Corporation, which owns the Fresh Grocer, was similarly tight–lipped, saying only that “We continue to operate at this location and look forward to serving Penn’s faculty, staff, students and neighbors for years to come.” While it’s common practice for parties to hold information from the public during litigation, this does
Autumn Powell | Media Director
not give Fresh Grocer license to leave its 172 employees in the dark about their jobs. According to Heidi Wunder, a spokesperson for FRES, the University asked ACME to confirm a contract on January 30, and is currently awaiting response. None of the Fresh Grocer employees interviewed were aware that Penn and ACME were even considering a partnership. All of what Everett has heard about the conflict between the store and the University has been hearsay. “Last thing I heard was that the store was staying open, but right after that someone said it was closing in March, then in June. From what I’m hearing, if they do shut it down we’re basically on our own. I don’t think that’s right.” A few minutes after 5:00 a.m., an announcement rings through the tinny Fresh Grocer loudspeakers: Attention shoppers: all beer and wine sales ended at 11:30. Everett chuckles. “Means someone tried to buy beer.” Seemingly done worrying about job security for the night, Everett launches back into “the scoop.” “There’s some things that could change about this job. One, pay; Two, communication between managers and employees; Three, the way some employees are treated—a lot of back–bitin’ goin’ on in here, they got favoritism goin’ on. You got to be willing to get somebody in trouble to move up.” He stops to rearrange some bags of brown sugar. “Overnight gets treated the worst, I’d say. Stuff could get stolen in the day, they’d blame overnight.” He laughs. “Can’t get in trouble for telling the truth! Well, I can, but I don’t care.” Aaron stops by to report that another student just tried to steal some sushi. “It’s rare to see a college kid get arrested in here and actually go to the station. When a student gets caught stealin’, the Penn Police come, maybe call the regular cops, then they talk to ‘em and let ‘em go. This is not the case with regular customers. If they steal, they’re arrested, they take a statement—all the things that are supposed to happen when you’re caught stealin’.” “For the most part the students aren’t bad at all,” Everett reflects, “except when they drunk. It’s just the rich ones, the spoily ones, who cause the trouble.” As the sun comes up, Quaeir, an overnight grocery clerk, has now shelved cans all night on four hours of sleep. He is a full–time student by day, studying criminal justice at the Community College of Philadelphia, and works as an overnight grocery clerk at night. “My sleeping schedule is bad,” he admits. “Only time I sleep is on the weekend.” Like Aaron, Everett, and Paul, Quaeir worries about the future of his employment. “They say it’s gonna close, it’s not gonna close, they don’t really talk about it. I need to know, to look for a job.” By 7:00 a.m., early morning shoppers trickle in from the almost–dawn outside. Others, suitcases and bags and books in tow, make their way upstairs for a morning’s rest on the balcony.
Sharon Christner is a junior from Lititz, Pennsylvania studying English. She is a features staff writer for 34th Street. F E B R U A R Y 7 , 2 01 8 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E 1 3
SUBMIT TO 69TH STREET
CELEBRATE FEBRUARY AT
$6 HURRICANES AND MOJITOS $7 bacardi mojitos & Hurricanes
feb. 13 Valentine’s Day Special choose 1 appetizer
2 entrees and 1 dessert
based coffee shop and roasting company that has three outposts across the city, but in October opened a new spot on Penn’s campus. They've opened what they are calling a "coffee cart" at the Institute of Contemporary Art (ICA) at 118 S 36th Street, where they serve up awesome coffees and baked goods from Machine Shop Boulangerie. (Ed. Note: Their chocolate chip cookies and lattes are verified bangin'.) The barista stated that about 50% of the customer base is students, many of whom desire quality, pour–over coffee closer to Penn’s campus. Many of the
feb. 14 national MARGARITA day
COPABANANA University City: 4000 Spruce Street, 19104 | (215) 382-1330 1 4 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E F E B R U A R Y 7 , 2 01 8
Elixr's Outpost at the ICA Elixr is a Philadelphia–
Ha Tran | Photo Editor
customers had traveled to Elixr’s Center City spot, but this new cart provided the coffee they desired in a more accessible location. When talking about the coffee, he mentioned a Cortado, which he described as a “latte shooter” with the perfect ratio of espresso to milk. He noted that their coffee is a much lighter roast, which is something unique in this area, as most coffees are a dark roast. I don’t really know what these things mean, but apparently that’s awesome. What I do know is that their pastries are
BY FRANKIE REITMEYER
Ha Tran | Photo Editor delish and their coffee is pretty darn good, too. Elixr also offers a great study spot. The ICA is an oft–overlooked study and conversation space on campus. It has huge windows, large tables, and a gorgeous interior. When you walk in, you are transported off the campus and into another world filled with amazing art and the smell of awesome coffee. The space is silent besides the whistle of the espresso machine, which provides for a more quiet atmosphere than other coffee shops on campus. The interior is all white with splashes of color from the robin's egg blue modern chairs to the art on the walls; it's different than the other eateries on campus, with natural light floods that floods the space and creates a relaxing but productive place to work. The ICA has also created a set of stickers and postcards for the cart that are available only there. They're are perfect for laptops decorations, as they capture the combination of the two aesthetics to create something unexpected and refreshing; just like the cart itself. The Elixr Coffee Cart at the ICA is open every day from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. Stop by soon for a dose of good eats and good place to crack open those books.
Body count. The number of people you’ve slept with. The number of hookups. Is body count the proper term? At what point is your body count too high? At what point should you be concerned? At what point should you be concerned about your partner’s body count? Should you even be concerned? – Male, 2020 Body count, or the number of sexual partners a person has had, is a cause of stress for a lot of people our age. As we grow into our sexualities it’s normal to wonder if our behaviors are normal and safe. Well, we’re here to tell you that there’s no such thing as normal, and that you need to define what safety means for you! The concept of body count is especially nasty in that it has the potential to make people feel self–conscious about their abundance or lack of sexual partners. You should be having sex with however many people you want to. That might be three each afternoon, one every semester or so, or none at all! It’s up to you to figure out what’s normal, or comfortable, for you. Our one piece of advice is to make sure you're thoughtful about what will make you feel safe, no matter how many people you’re sleeping with. For John, this means always using a condom, getting tested every three months, and trying to keep track of who he sleeps with in between testings in case he needs to contact any former partners with uncomfortable news. For Hannah, this meant coming to the realization that people just saying they don’t have STDs in the heat of the moment is not a form of STD prevention—but now she has a boyfriend, so who cares what she thinks! As far as concern over your partner’s body count, we think it’s probably none of your business. You can’t control how many partners your partner has had. You can only control how you choose to keep yourself safe. So, go do some research and figure it out! Hopefully we’ve relieved any qualms you have about your specific number of sexual partners. When you really think about it, the concept of body count is pretty stupid. What even constitutes a body? Do middle school hand jobs count, or only penetration? Penetration of what? See? $$$ GRANTS AVAILABLE FOR YOUR GROUP $$$ Stupid! By the powers vested in us, as Hannah and John, we officially declare you deserving of and able to reach for what you want. Should I trust a guy who seems to not want anything serious (he's a senior with a well–known hoe–y reputation) but is incredibly sweet and hasn't done anything wrong (we go on amazing dates and actually have wholesome fun together)? How should I interpret this paradoxical situation? Does he actually like me or does he just want a consistent hookup? —Female, 2020, Heterosexual It sounds like you’re having fun, which is great! You definitely shouldn’t let your perception of his reputation interrupt something that’s making you happy. However, if you know you want your relationship to be more formalized than it is now, you’re going to need to communicate that to him. We’ve both been in situations where we were the younger partner in a (undefined) relationship and didn’t feel we had the bargaining power to communicate that we wanted more. If there’s one thing we could tell our past selves, it’s that it’s better to lose him altogether than stay in a situation that isn’t fulfilling your desires. We suggest you sit down and think about exactly what you want to get out of this, and be confident in communicating that to him. If it turns out he’s looking for the same thing, excellent! If not, we think it’s better to cut your losses than to convince yourself you want the same thing as him when you know you don’t. It’s ok to not be a Chill Girl!
The Trustees’ Council of Penn Women (TCPW) is accepting applications for its Annual Grants Program and encourages members of the University community to apply. Grants ranging from $1,000-$4,000 will be available to individuals or organizations which promote: • women’s issues • the quality of undergraduate and graduate life for women • the advancement of women • the physical, emotional and psychological well-being of women Favorable consideration will be given to projects that: • aﬀect a broad segment of the University population • foster a greater awareness of women’s issues • provide seed money for pilot programs that have the potential to become ongoing self-supporting programs To apply, visit the TCPW website at www.alumni.upenn.edu/tcpwgrants and download the application from the grants page. Applications must be submitted no later than February 12, 2018. Awards will be announced in the Spring of 2018 and funds will be distributed in July/August 2018 for projects in the 2018-2019 academic year. F E B R U A R Y 7 , 2 01 8 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E 1 5
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It might be time to admit you have a problem when you find yourself groggily reaching over Call to turn off your fifth consecutive alarm of the morning. Kevin Chen (E ’21) gets it. “I choose the most obnoxious ringing sound that the iPhone has,” he said of his alarms, because he can't 215.662.0802 get up on the first one. Chen’s difficulty waking up in the mornings is a relatable experience to many students who juggle academics, extra–curriculars,Email and their social life on the daily. He considers himself to be a night owl but hasn’t really tried much to change his sleeping patterns.
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Luckily, it’s never too late for change. Just because you classify yourself as a night owl doesn’t mean you can’t become an early riser. According to Penn Med assistant psychology professor Dr. Philip Gehrman, it’s all about the science of circadian rhythms. Circadian rhythms regulate organisms’ biological processes (including waking and sleeping) in a 24–hour, day–and–night cycle. The rhythm adjusts to local surroundings by using external clues such as light and temperature. “When we stick to a regular schedule, our internal clock gets set to that timing so that our body is able to anticipate the time we are going to be waking up,” said Gehrman. “When we get on that rhythm, that’s when we oftentimes start waking up before our alarm.” Sounds pretty straightforward: just follow a regular schedule and your biological clock will shift earlier, right? The problem is that it’s hard to pretend you have a 9 a.m. recitation on a Saturday morning after staying out till 3 a.m.. That irregularity in your wake– up schedule can throw your circadian rhythm off–kilter. Furthermore, some people have a very strong tendency to be night owls. In those
cases, bright light exposure in the morning, particularly natural light, can sometimes help give an extra boost. In the same manner, light can negatively affect your sleep if you’re exposed to it before you go to bed. Blue light exposure—i.e. the Netflix show you’re currently binge– watching or your constantly– updating Instagram feed—is particularly bad for your sleep. But if you’re ready to make a change, don’t turn to apps that claim to track your sleep cycles. “There’s lots of apps out there— the problem is none of them have been validated, so I have no idea how good any of them are,” said Gehrman. When asked about the possibility of developing an app to keep track of your circadian rhythms, he said, “I think it’s possible, but I’d need to see the data first.” So before you invest in some fancy alarm clock, try the following tips instead: Force yourself to get out of bed and cross the room by putting your alarm out of reach; Showering or exercising in the morning can also help get your day going. Gehrman adds, “This is an obvious one, but one of the biggest reasons people have a difficult time waking up in the mornings is they’re just not getting enough sleep. If you can increase your sleep so that you feel rested in the morning, it just makes your day that much better.” If all else fails, be like Kevin Chen, who planned his schedule for this semester based on the fact that he wakes up at around 12 p.m. every day. He said, “I missed class quite often first semester. Now most of my classes start at 1 p.m."
How to Travel for Free with the Penn Art Department Elizabeth Lemieux CHINA FNAR 314: TIANANMEN
An all–expense–paid trip to anywhere in the world, from Paris to Beijing, is one of the lesser known perks of which fine arts and design students can take advantage. While a room at the Marriott and free international airfare sounds like a fairly cushy life for a college student, like most things at Penn, it remains elusive. This semester one such course is being offered: "Tiananmen Square: A Case Study For Fine Arts and Landscape Architecture." The brainchild of Professor Ken Lum, the course focuses on the design and history of Beijing’s Tiananmen Square. “The course is officially titled 'Reimagining Tiananmen Square', which is an impossible project because Tiananmen Square is obviously a highly political space,” says Lum. He’s referencing the protests of 1989 and China’s complex history dating back to the 14th century. Nevertheless, Lum has conceived of a way to approach the impossible. “It’s a class that involves systems of representation, understanding politics of the site, historical reconstruction, and issues relating to urban planning and urban studies,” he says. Students will demonstrate that they understand these concepts by presenting a final project detailing the changes they would make to the square, such as removing monuments
PARIS FNAR 318: PARIS MODERN SPIRAL CITY VARIOUS LOCATIONS FNAR 515: PHOTOGRAPHY STUDIO ABROAD
VANCOUVER FNAR 313: CHINESE BODY
or incorporating public art, to a panel of jurors. "We've received enormous demand for the course. I turned away quite a few students,” says Lum. Within 24 hours of the course being posted on Penn Design's webpage, more than enough students to fill the class had inquired about the course. But fast action did not ensure students a space. Professor Lum says, “If they said, ‘Oh I’ve never been there before, I’d like to go,’ they might not get in. They have to say 'I’m interested in these sorts of issues, show me something,' ... and then they get in.” Weiji Wang (C ‘19), who took a travel–based course in the fall semester to Vancouver— "FNAR313: The Chinese Body and Spatial Consumption in Chinatown"—attributes much of the demand to Professor Lum’s leadership. “I’ve also heard that Ken is a really good professor. He’s a really renowned artist,” she says. But it was also content that drew her to the course. As a student from China, Weiji felt disconnected from her culture as she studied in the U.S. Because the course included mainly students of Chinese ethnicity, the class was a welcoming space where she could speak Chinese and connect with undergrads and graduate students alike. Nevertheless, these opportunities largely fly under
the radar, spread by word of mouth, or disseminated by the Penn Design website. “The case is that most people don’t even know about these courses,” says Natasha Cheung (C ‘20), who has been enrolled in two fine arts courses that incorporate travel this year. “And people who do take fine arts classes,” she says, “I feel like are looking for an intro design class or an intro drawing class.” Expanding your range beyond
intro classes and the traditional track of fine arts and design is key, then, to finding courses that provide non–traditional, off–campus opportunities. When Natasha enrolled in her first course that involved travel, "The Chinese Body and Spatial Consumption in Chinatown," she says, “I didn’t even know that we were traveling.” It is even more difficult to find arts courses that travel because many are one–offs, which means
Jessi Olarsch | Illustrator
they will not be held again due to funding. Each course, then, is entirely unique, with an original syllabus and lectures. In the past, courses have travelled to Jamaica, Paris, and Cuba, among other countries. Any student interested in art or design at Penn potentially has access to these courses. To find them, all you have to is be open– minded and interested. And act quick.
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THIS SEASON AT THE ICA ARTS
This past weekend celebrated the winter opening of the Institute of Contemporary Art (located on 36th and Walnut Streets for those unfamiliar). Marking the first show of its installations, the opening hosted three exhibits: Tag: Proposals on Queer Play and the Ways Forward; Cary Leibowitz: Museum Show; and Broadcasting: EAI at ICA. Open until August 12 for the first two and March 25 for the latter, there’s no reason to miss these extraordinary works of art. At the opening itself, the crowd is not exactly what I am expecting. For a first–timer at the ICA, I’m expecting students. After all, the institute is located almost at the heart of campus. But a second glance proves otherwise. The visitors are made up primarily of 30, maybe 40–year–olds— clearly not all Penn students, but rather people who actually went out of their way from either Cen-
ter City or West Philly to take in the art. In this way, the ICA is very much a place of community, drawing those in the art scene together. My first steps take me upstairs, where Cary Leibowitz: Museum Show is displayed. It almost seems as if it’s Candyland brought to life. The exuberant colors, stopping short of being gaudy, contrast deeply with the clean white and grey of the ICA lobby. When I describe the exhibit as Candyland, it feels almost sacrilegious—that is, until I read the description. The artist, Cary Leibowitz, goes by the name “Candyass.” I set one foot on the bright pink carpeting. To my right are giant cans, and my left, an upside–down rainbow. The reds, pinks, and yellows do not stop: walls are plastered with canvas paintings. One says “Loser Line Forms Here.” Another, “Ugh he’s crying again.” In the
Photo by Abby McGuckin
next room, a pair of pants dangle from an invisible thread with the words “Kick Me” stitched into the butt region. It’s a juxtaposition of the dazzling colors and the morose substance of the exhibit. As one art critic put it, the exhibit is one that “transforms self–doubt and social skepticism into something much larger than niche art–world critique: a heartrending and intimate meditation on our inescapable secret doubleness, the lacerating, manipulative and above all debilitating
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self–aware conscience that lies always beneath, or behind, or just around a corner, with a mocking wink.” To mock the lowbrow and the fakeness of society is Cary’s way of exploring issues of identity, modernist critique, and queer politics. Maybe it doesn’t seem all that inapplicable to Penn students, what with Penn Face and all. Nestled between the rooms flashing with bright colors, though, is the next exhibit, Broadcasting: EAI at ICA. The room is marked by black curtains, black walls, just blackness (or maybe just the absence of light). Its purpose is to, well, broadcast. The only hints of light from this room are from television and projection screens, all playing different things at the same time. One has people say “gender” and “nation” in different languages—maybe a reference to the inter–border nature of these topics as the artists reimagine them. Another is showing a video of a computer screen, on it massive amounts of folders titled "New Folder 1," "New Folder 2," and so on. I’m not quite sure what it means, but maybe it’s the overload of information categorized into arbitrarily defined subsets. The exhibit is meant to get the audience thinking about ways of communication as the word “communication” has evolved over time. From prehistoric times to modern–day, we now have information at the tips of our fingers. What this brings to light are the different
media now used and the social implications of such broadcasting formats. After having spent nearly an hour in the institute, I make my way back downstairs to see the final exhibit, Tag: Proposals on Queer Play and the Ways Forward. This one is a combination of the last two, I think: an exploration of how the influence of technology and media, along with its fandom subcultures and artistic discourse, has generated a whole vast new world of possibilities for queer identification. In comparison to the last two, the color scheme of this exhibit is a lot less extreme. It’s a white space, filled here and there by the pieces that make it a whole. Here, there’s a set of models—kind of like the ones you see in the window display of a store. But each of them are clad in clothes so rarely found in displays. One in particular has on a denim jacket with a number of pins covering it, each pin with a declaration of identity. There, a video is playing of a naked woman in the bathtub bleeding from her nose. In the next room, there is a giant inflated latex pig on the floor with its piglets suckling at its milk. All the piglets are pink except one. Through these works, the artist conveys that it’s the clothes that allow for identity. It’s the digital. It’s the stories. The pieces this winter are, in my opinion, difficult to interpret, but in that sense, also thought–provoking. So take an hour of your day to visit the ICA. It’ll be worth it.
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