January 25, 2022 by 34th Street Magazine

TA B L E O F C O N T E N T S

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR 6 Meet Penn's premier DJ

8 Trauma dumping on TikTok

12 Penn Farm & food justice

15 Beyond Spotify Wrapped

On pastel Tetris, packed schedules, and making time for ourselves

once told a friend that my life is like a game of pastel Tetris: I hope desperately that I can arrange all the pieces before time runs out. I sandwich internship applications between classes and production nights, reserving whatever time is left for some semblance of a self–care routine. But gamifying my schedule doesn’t solve the underlying problem: There’s just too much on it. People often underestimate how hectic being a young adult is, myself included. I rarely get a whole day off per week, and I trick myself into believing that’s normal because all my friends do it too. We run ourselves into the ground searching for the best way to use this weird liminal space between childhood and adulthood, and we hope that once we pass the finish line somehow everything will settle down. But things only pause when you make them. I’ve learned that no one will block out an hour for me to eat lunch or give me a day off to schedule a dentist’s appointment—I have to reserve that time for myself and treat it as sacred. No one will ever force me to take a real break, but just because I don’t have a boss bumping it as an action item doesn’t mean it’s not a priority. No longer collecting different colors and shapes to fill the matrix, I have to make peace with leaving a few empty spaces

at the end of each week. If I don’t, I risk losing myself to the game. This week’s issue is about carving out time for ourselves. Our staff book roundup is a reminder that reading is restorative, and our piece about making playlists shows how music can help us reflect. Our feature explores Penn Farm, an urban farming project that’s cultivating its own pocket of quiet on a campus otherwise brimming with noise. Most importantly, this issue asks: What does it really mean to make the most of our time?

Street's comfort reads

34TH STREET EXECUTIVE BOARD Emily White, Editor–in–Chief: white@34st.com Eva Ingber, Campus Editor: ingber@34st.com Walden Green, Culture Editor: green@34st.com Arielle Stanger, Assignments Editor: stanger@34st. com 34TH STREET EDITORS Mira Sydow, Features Editor Meg Gladieux, Features Editor Julia Esposito, Word on the Street Editor Jean Paik, Focus Editor Kira Wang, Style Editor Alana Bess, Ego Editor Evan Qiang, Music Editor Irma Kiss–Barath, Arts Editor Cindy Zhang, Film & TV Editor Andrew Yang, Multimedia Editor Kira Wang, Audience Engagement Editor

Illustration by Alice Choi

SSSF,

Emily

34TH STREET STAFF Features Staff Writers: Sejal Sangani, Angela Shen, Emilee Gu, Avalon Hinchman Focus Beat Writers: Gabrielle Galchen, Sheil Desai Style Beat Writers: W. Anthony Pérez, Anna Hochman, Shelby Abayie, Naima Small Music Beat Writers: Derek Wong, Grayson Catlett, Kate Ratner Arts Beat Writers: Jessa Glassman, Kaliyah Dorsey Film & TV Beat Writers: Jacob A. Pollack, Kayla Cotter Ego Beat Writers: Anjali Kishore, Vidur Saigal

Multimedia Associates: Roger Ge, Max Mester, Derek Wong, Andrea Barajas, Rachel Zhang Audience Engagement Associates: Kayla Cotter, Yamila Frej, Vidur Saigal, Caleb Crain, Katherine Han THIS ISSUE Copy Editor: Brittany Darrow Design Editor: Tyler Kliem Cover Design by Lilian Liu

CONTACTING 34TH STREET MAGAZINE If you have questions, comments, complaints or letters to the editor, email Emily White, Editor– in–Chief, at white@34st.com. You can also call us at (215) 422–4640. www.34st.com © 2021 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 Tuesday.

Staff Writers: John Nycz, Mame Balde glossy mag! TERFometer

34TH STREET MAGAZINE JANUARY 25, 2022

WORD ON THE STREET

Reconnecting with My Roots

Facing graduation, memories of making applesauce as a child make me wonder if I should give up the city for a rural life. | ALICIA LOPEZ

rom my bedroom you can hear the trains running and the Metro coming into the station less than a mile away from my house. In the middle of the night, you can sometimes hear drag racing on the interstate. These sounds are normal for me, a suburbanite living five miles outside of Washington, D.C. Being so close to public transportation definitely has its advantages; it’s one of the reasons my parents’ bought our house. I can easily get myself into D.C., take the train up to Penn, and Metro to the airport without calling an Uber. Yet sometimes, I find myself wondering if living so close to the city means I’m missing out on some secret part of a more rural life. My mom’s side of the family is scattered around the Midwest—my mom is one of the few who left the region. In the 1990s, my mom packed up her stuff and moved to Washington, D.C., to attend law school. “You’ll get stuck out there!” my grandmother used to warn her.

Illustration by Becky Lee

My mother would laugh and say she’d be able to come back whenever she wanted to. Long story short, she met my dad in law school, got married, started working at a D.C. law firm, and got stuck. My parents, my siblings, and I live in the same house my parents bought in 2000, three years after they got married. I’ve heard lots of stories about my mom’s life growing up in a suburb of Minneapolis and have visited her hometown plenty, but I feel like I can’t really get the full sense of life there. My grandparents grew up on farms, my grandfather in Montana and my grandmother in Minnesota. While my grandparents moved to the suburbs of Minneapolis, since farming is the family trade, a large number of second cousins in my family still farm today. Not willing to give up on what had been a crucial part of both their lives, my grandparents converted their backyard into a massive garden. In my grandparents' garden, I remember the comforting crunch of fallen leaves, breezy

fleece weather, the sweet smell of the grass as my sisters and I rolled around in it, and the games of hide–and–seek we played around the raspberry bushes. All around there was lettuce, carrots, berries, herbs, and potatoes—just some of the foods my grandparents grew. Each time I visited my grandparents, picking food from the garden—whether trimming lettuce or just snacking on berries while playing outside—was always a thrilling, “only–in–Minnesota” activity. But my favorite memory in my grandparents' garden was the day we made homemade applesauce. At seven years old, I always looked forward to the moment when my grandmother announced the day’s activity. Upon hearing it was making applesauce, I was eager to help, and followed my grandfather to the garden shed on the side of the house which had an impressive collection of tools, odds and ends, and a reliable red wagon. He put a rainbow rug in the bottom of the wagon (for high class riding)

and told me to climb in. He grabbed his apple picker with one hand, the wagon handle in the other, and I held tight as we began our adventure across the backyard. Upon getting to the base of the tree, I pointed to the apples I wanted while my grandfather taught me to identify the ripe ones. He showed me how to use the apple picker to latch around an apple and then twist it until it came loose. He held the pole gently, allowing me to do the work while still guiding my progress. Before too long, I was sitting in the wagon accompanied by about a dozen apples. Upon returning to the garden shed, my grandfather took out a paper bag and we loaded it up with our treasure. Back at the house, my grandfather dropped me and the apples off in the kitchen, and my grandmother took over. She helped me clamp the metal apple peeler on the side of the kitchen counter, and then I turned the crank which turned the skewered apple against the blade and watched the peels fall into the trash

can. My grandmother expertly cored and chopped the apples decisively. I got to add sugar and spices and dump the diced apples into a big pot. We started the stove top and my grandmother let me stir and mash out the lumps as the apples grew soft, then slowly turned into applesauce. The first bowl was mine, my grandmother insisting I eat it immediately, telling me it tasted the best when it was still hot. She sprinkled a little extra cinnamon on top and we sat at the kitchen table while I enjoyed the best applesauce I ever had. The applesauce was perfection. Though my grandmother had made applesauce a million times before, I like to think that the satisfaction I got helping make it also made it sweeter. Although I was young, I loved getting to see every step of the process from garden to table, something my family doesn’t do very often at home since we don’t have the backyard space for gardening (and to be honest, are not great gardeners ourselves). When living in Philadelphia during the school year, and in the D.C. area each summer, I often find myself longing for the quiet of Midwestern farms or my grandparents’ garden. As I think about where I’ll go after graduation this spring, I can’t help but idealize getting a patch of land and starting my own garden. While Career Services sends me flashy emails promoting consulting, real estate, and academia in New York, D.C., and Philadelphia, I’m tempted to reject it all. I’d rather move somewhere quieter and more rural, somewhere I can curl up with my books, work some random job, and use my free time to live simply, growing what I can and enjoying the world around me.

JANUARY 25, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

EGO

NIA ROBINSON HOMETOWN: Chicago, Ill. MAJOR:

Business economics and public policy with a minor in psychology

ACTIVITES:

Wharton Dean's Advisory Board, Wharton Equity, Diversity and Inclusion Group, and Penn Students for Students

Meet the Wharton senior who's passionate about combatting inequity and injustice, podcasting, and eating chocolate cake. | VIDUR SAIGAL 34th STREET: Tell us about your involvement in founding Wharton Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion Group. NIA ROBINSON: When I was a freshman on the Wharton Dean's Undergraduate Advisory Board (WAB), we saw some stakeholder data that showed that underrepresented students at Wharton had lower satisfaction. I was inspired to create and then ultimately lead an initiative called the Equal Satisfaction Initiative. This initiative looked at what we can do within Wharton to improve the experience of historically underrepresented students that were not as satisfied as their peers. From this initiative, we thought of a couple of ideas: We could have a dean of diversity, we could have the Wharton inequity, diversity, and inclusion group, and a couple of other ideas. After some thought and interviews with other schools, it became pretty obvious that creating

an entire student group focused on inclusion would be the best way to address the issue. Following this conclusion, the initiative was spearheaded by WAB in collaboration with Wharton

“

In college, there are so many different opportunities, clubs, majors, minors, and things that you can do. I would tell people to trust their gut and listen to how their body is feeling. This will help really direct you into what you'll ultimately be passionate about.”

Wellness, Wharton Council, and administration. Working with the Wharton administration was a push–pull dynamic for a bit, but we ultimately finally got Wharton Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion Group (WEDIG) to

34TH STREET MAGAZINE JANUARY 25, 2022

be created right before the summer of 2020. This ended up being really good timing because this was around the time when diversity issues became a lot more popularized in the media and everyday discussion. STREET: Tell me about the MOSAIC podcast and some of the interesting stories that are shared on the show. NR: One of the initiatives that we have worked on within WEDIG is the MOSAIC podcast, which was created by me, Surayya Walters (W '22), and Javion Joyner (W '22), who was the co–host with me on the podcast. We do the podcast so we can highlight different stories about diversity, equity, and inclusion within the Wharton student experience. We’ve interviewed different students, from organizations like the Wharton Asia Exchange Group, or the diversity consulting firm student group. We love to share different

stories from students and we’ve even had Wharton alumni come on and talk about their experience in consulting and what that's like being underrepresented. Overall, we wanted the podcast to highlight different diversity and inclusion issues that exist within the Wharton student experience and beyond. STREET: Tell us about Penn Students for Students and your involvement in it. NR: My freshman year I was exploring clubs, and I thought that they would have a club that focuses on helping youth in the juvenile justice system. Surprisingly, no such club existed, so I started up the club Penn Students for Students, a club where Penn students get to tutor and mentor court–ordered youth within West Philadelphia. We work with the Evening Reporting Center in Philadelphia, which means that about once or twice a week, different Penn students come into a Zoom or a

EGO

classroom and do different kinds of lessons depending on what the youth are interested in. We used to give lessons about homework and giving homework advice, but it's kind of shifted to more of an arts and creative writing focus. We now help them write unique poetry, short stories, and a lot of them like thinking and examining different songs. We try to do music they might be interested in to keep them engaged. Ultimately, we tutor in whatever way addresses their needs. Sometimes, they really want to learn more about things like driving lessons, or job applications, or they have questions about college. Thus, we’ll often create lesson plans that address those needs as well. Right now, I'm the executive director. However, since I'm a senior, we're having elections soon. I'm excited for the club to continue to remain after I graduate. STREET: What's been your most meaningful experience at Penn? NR: Outside of clubs and work, I think my most meaningful experiences have been with the friends and the community that I have found. I’ve made a lot of really strong, lifelong

friendships here, and that's been really meaningful and memorable. All of the collective experiences I've had with people at Penn have created a really strong support system for me. Additionally, I really got to learn a lot about myself and really grow and strengthen my own self–identity, which has also been a really awesome and important experience for me. STREET: What’s been your biggest struggle in balancing everything you do? NR: A helpful lesson that someone gave to me is “You can do it all, you just can't do it all at once.” Keeping this in mind throughout my four years has been really helpful. A lot of things I’m involved in happened to me across college, but they didn't all happen at the same time. I focused on WEDIG my sophomore and early junior year, and I was able to make time for Penn Students for Students and the MOSAIC podcast more in the latter half of my four years. Overall, I think that quote has really helped in shaping my perspective in terms of having priorities, thinking about what I really want to focus and spend my time and energy on in a semester, and then adjusting ac-

cordingly. You definitely can get a lot of stuff done; it’s just not smart to do it all at once.

“

I thought that they would have a club that focuses on helping youth in the juvenile justice system. Surprisingly, no such club existed, so I started up the club Penn Students for Students, a club where Penn students get to tutor and mentor court– ordered youth within West Philadelphia ... We tutor in whatever way addresses their needs."

STREET: What’s something you’ve learned throughout this process and your four years at Penn? NR: In college, there are so many different opportunities, clubs, majors, minors, and things that you can do. I would tell people to trust their gut and listen to how their body is feeling. This will help really direct you into what you'll ultimately be passionate about. Further-

more, what you're passionate about, you end up also being really good at. I think that's something that's really helped serve me during my time here. I've worked in a lot of different spaces like WEDIG, but also I've been able to have a psychology minor, take different writing classes, and work for social justice. I think this was possible because I listened to myself and allowed myself to trust my instinct about what I wanted to work on. Ultimately, that led to a really fulfilling college experience. STREET: What's next for you after Penn? NR: Consulting. I'm really sorry, but you know, it pays the bills, which is great. But I think in the long run, one of the things that I learned from Penn is that I really like creative expression. And I think that's been a really fun part of my Penn experience. So I ultimately hope to end up going into more of an entertainment or media career. I've been really looking up to Shonda Rhimes recently and kind of the work that she's done to really shape stories. This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

LIGHTNING ROUND STREET: Last song you listened to? NR: “Here and Now” by Luther Vandross. STREET: Last thing you cooked? NR: An omelet. STREET: Death row meal? NR: Glazed salmon, four–cheese mac and cheese, and chocolate cake. STREET: Favorite study spot on campus? NR: My actual study spots are hidden, but the public study spots I really like are the rooftops in the high rises, because you can see the city and I'm a city girl at heart. STREET: There are two types of people at Penn ... NR: Those who know what they want to do and those who don't. STREET: And you are? NR: I am always both because I know what I want to do, but I'm super flexible to change. Especially being in my young 20s and where I am right now, I think that flexibility—but also being focused—has really served me well over the last four years. JANUARY 25, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

EGO

Will Sass is Already an Up–and–Comer in the Electronic Music World—And He's Only Getting Started.

Meet the beloved sophomore and DJ, whose recent remix of Trevor Daniel's "Alone" should be on your party playlist ASAP. | ANJALI KISHORE

f you were able to nudge through the crowd of thousands of glitter–covered festivalgoers who convened in the Hamptons last summer to attend the first– ever edition of Kygo's Palm Tree Music Festival series, you would have found yourself face–to–face with Will Sass, the College sophomore hailed as “dance music's next crossover star” by Gotham Magazine. Will hardly needs an introduction—his figure is dwarfed by his own name splashed across the screen behind him in huge fluorescent letters. Switch out the Hamptons heat for a North Carolina speedway, a hazy New York nightclub, or an exclusive Los Angeles pool party—wherever Will Sass goes, the good vibes follow. Growing up in New York City, Will was surrounded by music from a young age. He had always been interested in DJing, partially thanks to the city’s “off–the–charts” music scene. “All throughout high school, I would sneak into clubs and watch the best DJs perform,” he explains, “and I would also travel to festivals whenever I could.” In high school he began to dabble in the craft, playing classmates’ small birthday parties. One thing led to another, and the parties quickly developed into the then–teenager being scouted out to play clubs in the city. “Every time I’d go DJ, I would wake up the morning after and have all these DMs from club promoters and nightclubs,” Will says in disbelief. 6

To find themselves on the other side of the stage is every New York City music junkie’s biggest dream, and Will recognizes that he's one of the lucky ones. Throughout the interview, Will continually expresses his gratitude—especially towards the community at Penn—for being able to pursue a career in music. “Honestly, the support from people at Penn has been a major turning point—before I went to Penn, I never really had an inner community of people pushing my music,” he says. Will was able to build up a name for himself on campus mainly by playing at frat parties. He and his manager, fellow Penn student Sacha Mattey (W ’23), would “go from frat to frat with [his] DJ decks, and would just DJ every single night. It’s not like a formal thing, but just for the vibes, we started DJing all over Penn,” Will says. The success of these parties, which he describes in awe as “crazy, ending at like five in the morning," is clearly a point of pride. Every college student knows how to appreciate a good party, and even from the other side, Will is no exception. In fact, he sees his identity as a Penn college student as an important element of his success. “In my mind, wherever I am, I just try to make it a vibe—I never really think of Penn and LA as different communities, because to me it’s all interconnected,” he says. Part of this interconnectedness is thanks to Sacha, who approached him on campus and began manag-

34TH STREET MAGAZINE JANUARY 25, 2022

Illustration by Tyler Kliem and Jesse Zhang

ing him solely off his DJing. “He found me when we got to Penn, we became best friends, and he started managing me just off of my DJing without [even] hearing my music,” Will explains. “Then, I ended up playing him all my music and we became roommates in LA.” Though the world of DJing nightclubs and music festivals may seem worlds away from the Penn college experience, it’s all a part of Will’s unique musical and personal journey, and he’s vfound the small, close–knit school environment invaluable to building up an invested, loyal following. And the journey is just vpicking up. After graduating high school, Will deferred his enrollment at Penn and flew to Los Angeles, where he spent time learning how to produce music for friends he’d met through the New York DJ circuit. These months laid the groundwork for the massive career expansion that came with getting involved in a new environment. He continued to DJ parties throughout Los Angeles, ultimately playing for a party hosted by celebrity photographer Sam Dameshek’s clothing brand Wish Me Luck, and the connections he made in California got him involved in the nationwide festival circuit. In 2021, he opened up the very first edition of DJ Kygo’s Palm Tree Festival, an event that would go on to become a worldwide brand. In past interviews, Will has named Kygo and other DJs and producers—like Marshmello, The

Chainsmokers, and Zedd—as particularly impactful on his approach to music, so playing Palm Tree represented a huge turning point and landmark in the still–accelerating rise of his career. It's not uncommon to hear Penn referred to as a "work hard, play hard" environment, and Will Sass embodies that energy to a tee. As impressive as his career trajectory has been thus far, he makes sure to keep the fun of it alive. "For me, it never feels like work. I love it. I just get in the zone and can go forever," he says. While DJing remains his main occupation at the moment, Will has a lot of good stuff coming up: His remix of Trevor Daniel’s “Alone” was released this past Friday. “Alone” is his first foray into the world of original music, but he has always had his eyes set on making original music, naming that ambition as the main driver behind his move to Los Angeles during his gap year. “I’m obsessed with music production,” he says, “and that’s where my future lies.” He’s sitting on dozens of original songs and has studio sessions booked with a lineup of major artists. Will's upcoming year of new music is definitely worth being on your radar. If the iridescent synths and punchy drop of the “Alone” remix are any indication of what we can expect from Will’s future work, it’s sure to be a vibe—make sure to tune in here, and keep an eye out on Instagram for his upcoming projects.

FELLOWSHIPS The Daily Pennsylvanian seeks to engage students from historically marginalized groups who might be interested in journalism and media as part of our broader effort to create an inclusive and anti-racist culture in the newsroom and in the coverage of our community. Up to five students will work for The DP and: • Receive $4,000 annual stipends • Connect with DP alumni mentors • Receive financial support to attend a professional development conference Eligibility requirements: • Demonstrated financial need/work-study student • Graduating in 2024 or 2025 • Enrolled full-time as Penn undergraduate for fall and spring of 2022 • Can commit to working at the DP and participating in the Fellows program for all of 2022 (10-20 hours/week)

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Applications close on SUNDAY, JANUARY 30, 2022 Contact us at diversity@thedp.com with any questions. JANUARY 25, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

ST YLE

TikTok's #TraumaDump: Why Trauma Can’t Be Just a 'Storytime'

Trauma dumping on TikTok isn't just shocking—it's dangerous. | NAIMA SMALL

estled between countless dance and comedy videos on TikTok is the occasional video about a traumatic event that makes you stop scrolling in shock. The comments are split evenly between affirmations of support and requests for a "storytime" video explaining the traumatic situation that's only briefly alluded to. We’ve all witnessed this before: the online trauma dump. Sometimes these videos are a pure spoken confessional, but a lot of the time people use popular audios to joke about their most traumatic life experiences to millions of viewers. According to clinical psychologist Carla Manly, trauma dumping is done in an “unsolicited, unprepared way, where a person dumps traumatic thoughts, feelings, energy onto an unsuspecting person.” The term “trauma dumping” has become somewhat of a buzzword across social media, even more so after a viral, highly criticized TikTok of a therapist joking about clients’ trauma dumping at their first appointment went viral in late October. The internet used to be a space to exist anonymously, but now people utilize it to be more personal than ever. On Instagram and Snapchat, 'finstas' or private stories are a popular space to vent all of one’s thoughts, but those are typically 8

limited to a user’s very close friends. In contrast, a public TikTok, even if the user has only a small number of followers, can go insanely viral in a matter of hours. Oversharing has existed as long as the internet has, but TikTok’s unique algorithm brings people’s deepest and darkest confessions to more people all at once. For instance, as of January, the #traumadump tag on TikTok has over 23 million views, while #traumadumping has 11.8 million views. Sharing one’s trauma may feel liberating at first. Posting on TikTok or other platforms can feel like shouting into a void, a perfect place to unload your deepest feelings. Emily Huynh (C ’24) who is the Board Director for Penn Benjamins, Penn's student–run peer counseling organization, says "People don’t typically go on social media with the mindset of 'I need help' or 'I need support'—it’s more so 'I need to let it all out.'" However, the thousands or millions of unconsenting viewers subjected to that trauma can make this type of oversharing dangerous—especially because there isn’t a way to filter it from one’s feed. In real life, trauma dumping onto complete strangers is less common, but personal boundaries on social media platforms like TikTok are essentially nonexistent. Though it’s

34TH STREET MAGAZINE JANUARY 25, 2022

Illustration by Lilian Liu

often used for more serious purposes, TikTok is used by most people to keep track of ongoing trends and memes. The blurring of personal boundaries, combined with TikTok’s usage for memes, makes it easy for trauma dumps to be placed into popular meme formats or even sarcastic comments on positive videos so that the reader or viewer is caught off guard. Sometimes, audios specifically meant for trauma dumping can become a trend on their own, simultaneously normalizing discussions about mental health while also desensitizing viewers to them. "If I’m going to trauma dump to my friend, I’d be like, 'Hey, are you here? Are you open to hear this stuff I’m going through?' But online, you can just put [your trauma] out there, and many people don’t always want to see that," Emily comments. As we scroll through TikTok, we consume so much of other people’s lives. This can take an enormous toll on one’s mental health, especially when people use their trauma to increase a meme’s shock value. Though psychologists have identified that humor is a healthy and helpful coping strategy, interjecting serious or traumatic events into a popular audio can make it difficult for people to properly prepare themselves to hear about someone else’s traumatic life experiences.

Emily’s advice for managing your mental health while scrolling online? Be open to taking time off. "It’s good to acknowledge when the stuff you’re consuming online is actually hurting you instead of being more conducive to your mental health. If I were to see something triggering on TikTok, which I have in the past, I’d try to just stay away from the app for a bit and do other things that make me happy," she says. Psychology Today also recommends alternative coping methods for those who use trauma dumping as a coping strategy, such as keeping a journal, practicing meditation, or doing something creative. Talking about mental health, including what trauma looks like, on social media can be incredibly valuable because it reduces negative stigmas associated with trauma and tells people that they are not alone. Without candid discussions about mental health, many would be encouraged to stay silent when they’re struggling. Nevertheless, these conversations should be consensual on both sides, which can be done by providing trigger warnings to viewers on social media. Focusing on alternatives to trauma dumping can make for more productive and healthy conversations about mental health that both sides of the conversation feel equipped to handle.

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The Problem with Alpha Male Dating Coaches

ccording to alpha male YouTubers, simping is dead. In true heteronormative fashion, many of these YouTubers claim that ladies aren’t attracted to men that kiss the ground they walk on. Instead, ladies want the complete package: a dominant man with purpose, a great physique, and wealth– right? Today, dating is harder than ever. Quarantine has forced people inside and into swiping across dozens of faces on dating apps like Tinder. Consequently, many young men are looking for advice to stick out from the crowd and 'get the girl.' Alpha male dating YouTubers like Rich Cooper, FreshandFit, and The Roommates have risen to the challenge with books, programs, podcasts, and countless YouTube videos. To those around in the '90s and 2000s, the popularity of hypermasculine dating coaches and gurus is a familiar scene. The ideas supported by the coaches have made a cyclical return to the public consciousness. Jessa Lingel, an associate professor at the Annenberg School for Communication and core faculty in the Gender, Sexuality, and Women's studies program notes the familiar return of these themes. "In the 2000s there was a book that made a big splash called The Game. It was written for straight men by straight men, on how to become a pick-up artist. This is where the idea of negging came from. These pickup guidebooks had a huge cult following with TV shows and specials. Some things that can be traced from that cultural moment to this cultural moment are very heteronormative ideas on rela-

Illustration by Tyler Kliem

YouTube's alpha male dating coaches tell men that they hold the secret to dating. But are their claims truthful or toxic? | SHELBY ABAYIE tionships, on masculinity and femininity," says Lingel. The ideas touted by pick–up artists in The Game still exist today, and the concerns associated with pick– up artists are making a resurgence as well. But not only this, the unrealistic standards of the coaches are heavily based on traditional values harkening back to past decades. "There has been a strong, reactive push to reattach to old ideals. Some of the concern is political, some of which is also based on anxieties over social change of ideals of maleness that existed … decades ago and supported the idea that ‘men are men and women are women'" says Murali Balaji, a lecturer at the Annenberg School for Communication. Due to their emphasis of traditional gender roles, a pressing concern about these coaches is their treatment and views on women. The man is expected to be traditionally strong and dominant. Correspondingly, the woman has to follow the traditional path of being pure, submissive, and feminine. These views completely disregard women who don't fit traditional standards of femininity. Women that subvert the traditional standard by having a brazen, independent personality and multiple sexual partners are demonized by these coaches. For instance, single mothers and women with multiple former sexual partners are seen as "damaged goods." To that end, this terminology shows how alpha male coaches often see women as objects—not people. "Every generation, at least in the United States, faces a double standard around women’s sexuality.

Women are supposed to feel liberated, and there’s the expectation that they should feel confident and comfortable during sex. However, if they have too much sex then the woman is undesirable. It’s called the virgin– whore complex and often circulates pop–culture," Lingel explains. While some may say that the advice given by alpha male coaches are merely useful goals for those striving to gain a traditional definition of success, the misogynist and domineering attitude promoted by these coaches are dangerous to both men and women alike. Because of this, the advice often touted by alpha male dating coaches should be taken with a grain of salt. The preferences of women are diverse and should be treated with nuance. Viewing women as if they all hold the same dating preferences can cause many men to feel resentful. Instead of viewing dating mishaps as a result of mere incompatibility, these men will often blame their pitfalls on the women themselves and the unrealistic dating standards that alpha male coaches say that women hold. In short, what's problematic about these coaches is that they think all women want the same thing: a rich, built, domineering man. But this view couldn't be further from the truth. The existence of alpha male coaches also raises an important question: is the status of a high–value, alpha male man even attainable? For most, the answer is no. Often the coach's suggestion to achieve "purpose" is for young men to become a dominant force in their lives. This is usually attained by cultivating lucrative personal pas-

sions and finding their own paths. Coaches also tell eager listeners that they must achieve wealth and have a perfect body—all while having time for their own personal, profitable hobbies—to enter the top tier of men. From this, the presentation of the coaches' advice about physical looks can dabble into unrealistic beauty standards for men. Behind the seemingly supportive gym bro atmosphere cultivated by the coaches often lies body shaming. Skinny men face the underlying assumption that they are lesser than men with muscle and must "fix" themselves through extensive training that often manifests in eating disorders. According to Balaji, the alpha male preoccupation with physique has much to do with fear. “There’s been a rise of relinking the idea of male identity with certain physical traits. As in, you’ll never get a date if you don’t [work out constantly]. And that again goes back to this idea that many men fear that they're losing their societal power,” Balaji says. Contrary to what alpha male coaches say, young men shouldn’t have to change their entire being in a quest for perfection just as women shouldn’t have to change themselves to fit a perfect standard. As Balaji says, “My broad suggestion is don't use the internet to develop your social identity. Instead, engage with others and you will learn perspectives and you will learn more about yourself through that trial and error than you ever will from getting advice from an online dating coach.”

JANUARY 25, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

FILM & TV

Disney's 'Encanto' is an Enchanting Film with an Important Message

The colorful animated film tackles intergenerational family struggles. | JACK NYCZ (Ed. note: This article contains spoilers for Encanto.)

ucked away in the beguiling mountains of Colombia, a vague, magical presence known as the Encanto protects the Madrigal family and has graced each child with an extraordinary gift. Encanto follows Mirabel (Stephanie Beatriz), the only child in the Madrigal family who did not receive a gift. But, as the magic of the Encanto begins to fade, Mirabel is the family’s only hope in saving their miracle. The Madrigal family’s mystical origin begins with Mirabel’s Abuela, Alma Madrigal (María Cecilia Botero). Soon after giving birth to triplets, Alma and her husband Pedro are driven out of their village by corrupt Colombian soldiers, reminiscent of the real world civil corruption which has afflicted Colombian families for generations. During their escape, Pedro is killed defending his family. Immediately after his death, the Madrigal’s miracle occurs, magically driving off the soldiers. This miracle also bestows the children of the Madrigal family with supernatural gifts, such as super strength, shapeshifting, prophecy, and more. With no gift of her own, Mirabel’s philosophy is to stay in the background and support her family as they succeed. As Abuela Alma makes it clear that the Madrigal family’s purpose is to use their gifts to help the village, Mirabel struggles knowing what her role is in the family. But when the family

Casita begins to crack and the candle which holds the family’s miracle begins to fade, Mirabel must step up to save the magic. Mirabel embarks on a journey into her own family’s past in order to preserve the future of the Encanto. What is immediately striking about Encanto is how different the story is from other animated films from Disney. Unlike many Disney films where the heroine must travel to distant lands to embark on her journey, Encanto almost entirely takes place in the Madrigal family home. In fact, the enchanted family home, Casita, takes on a life of its own as part of the family. Another stark contrast with previous films is the numerous members of the Madrigal family. Not only does Mirabel have two living parents, she is surrounded by sisters, cousins, and other extended family. Besides the Madrigal family’s large size being unique to Encanto, the family dynamic is crucial to the plot of the film. As opposed to previous films where the heroine’s journey focuses on finding her prince charming or saving the day by defeating great forces beyond her control, the message behind Encanto is a simple one: protect the family. However, each member of the Madrigal family struggles with how they can use their gift to serve the good of the family. Mirabel’s older sister Isabela (Diane Guerrero), is the golden child of the Madrigal fam-

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ily, much to Mirabel’s discontent. For much of the film, Isabela and Mirabel butt heads in a classic sibling rivalry. But, Isabela’s own internal struggle is revealed in her and Mirabel’s duet “What Else Can I Do?” Isabela reveals to Mirabel that although she seems to live a perfect, graceful life on the surface, this is not the life she wants to live. Caught up in the impossible expectations which come with the role of golden child, Isabela has put aside her own desires in order to serve the family. But, after Isabela and Mirabel’s reconciliation, Isabela allows herself to finally pursue her own path. One of the major mysteries of Encanto surrounds Bruno, the estranged uncle of the Madrigal family. The family’s relationship with the mysterious uncle is made quite clear in the song “We Don’t Talk About Bruno.” Many viewers credit this as the most catchy song from Disney, dethroning Frozen’s “Let It Go.” Bruno’s rift with his family stems from his ability to see the future. As Bruno uses his gift to warn others of the misfortunes he sees, the family and the village begin to associate Bruno with these grim events, even though he has no control over them. It’s revealed later in the film that Bruno

Illustration by Lilian Liu

never actually left the family: he went into hiding inside the walls of the Casita in order to spare the family from his prophecies. For Abuela Alma, to protect the family means to protect the Encanto at all costs. This means to serve the community with hard work and dedication, making sure that each member of the family fulfills their role. These rules, which have governed the family for generations, have ensured the family’s safety for years—up until now. But Mirabel discovers that Alma’s rigid expectations of the family are causing the Encanto to disappear. It becomes clear that Mirabel’s lack of a gift was no accident—Mirabel’s destiny is to remind the Madrigal’s of the original purpose of the Encanto. In the end of the film, Mi-

rabel is able to remind Alma of why the Encanto came to be to begin with, and together they rebuild their miracle. The beauty of Encanto is how the film addresses real world issues that beset many families. With no clear villain, the film reveals that the antagonist can sometimes just be a lack of belief in oneself. By exploring themes such as estranged family members and unrealistic expectations, Encanto provides children with the foundation to navigate generational trauma. In a time with such deep divisions between generations, the film also advocates for intergenerational understanding. With incredible animation, masterful songwriting, and a timeless message, Encanto is just the kind of family film that our world needs.

FILM & TV

M. Night Shyamalan's Brilliant Direction Shines in the Season Three Premiere of 'Servant' The hit–or–miss director hits it big with this Apple TV production. | KAYLA COTTER

hen I first imagined attending an advanced screening, I anticipated long lines and crammed theaters. Press, celebrities, and dedicated movie– goers contend for a coveted seat, and a few unlucky individuals are turned away. Rather, when I attended an advanced screening of Apple TV’s Servant, I was hunched over my 12–inch computer screen in pitch black. My best friend and I spoke animatedly, ready to decode the season three premiere. Despite the widely different reality compared to my expectations, there was a certain intimacy to it. The Apple TV production sees Dorothy and Sean, a Philadelphia couple in the throes of grief, hire a nanny, Leanne, to look after a doll of their infant son, Jericho, who died at thirteen weeks; however, as the show unravels, Leanne’s presence brings about a myriad of questions and few answers as the deceased infant seemingly comes back to life. Season two delves into her past, as the cult members who raised her come to the fore, and season three seems to be following a similar direction. The first episode sees her try to overcome a vicious attack at the hands of her Aunt Josephine. Poeticism spills out of every crack and crevice of Servant’s “Donkey,” the season premiere. Director M. Night Shyamalan's meticulous attention to detail and knack for supernatural plots is not only recognizable but brands the psychological thriller

Rupert Grint’s puzzled Julian and Lauren Ambrose’s high– maintenance performance as Dorothy, trying to manufacture some maternal instinct, are exceptional. Whereas in prior seasons, the perspective camera work favored the Turner family, the season three premiere sees Leanne take over the narrative and frame. Nell Tiger Free laces every scene with paranoia, and her eyes speak volumes. There are times when the world loses focus behind her and the sound falters to white noise. The extreme close–ups and troubling score illuminate

Illustration by Tyler Kliem

as a cinematic standout. Though I had my reservations following The Last Airbender and After Earth, Shyamalan consistently proves his aptitude for filmmaking with his meaningful choices behind the scenes. The episode’s color scheme is particularly prominent—the splashes of yellow and blue captured my usually–wavering attention from the outset. The moth motif throughout the episode is perplexing, but when the payoff arrives, as Leanne comes face to face with the corpse of Aunt Josephine, still tucked between the walls, it’s horrifically affecting. Likewise, the set design seems to reflect Leanne’s isolation and the cracks in the foundation of the Turner family—the core of the home, where she spends the majority of her time, is old–fashioned and dingy compared to the modern shared space. Every theory I developed is pure speculation; that said, there’s a certain beauty to trying to put the pieces together. Where the show strays from pure horror (though there are moments that will make you jump), it leans full–tilt into the psychological. Though the manufactured family’s connection appears stronger than ever, Leanne’s paranoia and Dorothy’s fragile mental state seem to put both women on edge. The sparse humor throughout the show cuts through the tension like a knife, and whenever it crops up in a scene, the morbid signature only serves to enhance the show. Likewise, the main cast performances are nothing to ignore—

this frightening atmosphere. Shot in Philadelphia, the single–setting show rarely sees Leanne stray from the home. Usually, the outside isn’t seen through more than a FaceTime call with the Turners or a brief television segment, making every action taken outside of it all the more substantial. In a behind–the–scenes clip, Shyamalan highlighted the moment that Leanne attempts to go outside for the first time after three months. As he cites Leanne’s Hitchcock–like paranoia, he illuminates the creative decisions meant to reflect it: the explod-

ing sound effects, the crumbling building, the wide lens, and hard cuts. Each detail highlights the creative team’s dedication to the show. The psychological thriller has never been my first choice of entertainment; I prefer far quieter television to Shyamalan's exaggerated realism. Yet where the show’s concept doesn’t initially hold my interest, Servant’s third season premiere wins it over with what is genuinely some of the best cinematography on television today. Every scene felt like a game, and I can’t wait to play again.

JANUARY 25, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 11

F E AT U R E

Illustration by Lilian Liu Photos courtesy of Penn Food and Wellness Collaborative

Planting Seeds for Food Justice at the Penn Park Farm How the Penn Farm is working to empower students and address campus food insecurity sustainably | AVALON HINCHMAN

n a remote corner of Penn Park, a woman sits in the dirt, warmed from the sun despite the November chill, digging into several beds of fresh vegetables: cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, okra, bell peppers, and more. Wedged between a wide field of grass and an orchard, the farm is secluded, but the surrounding city is a constant presence. Every once in a while, a train rumbles by loudly, making it difficult to talk without raising your voice. Nonetheless, a feeling of calm lingers amongst the dirt and produce. This is the Penn Park Farm, a little–known addition to the Wellness at Penn Office and Penn’s first urban campus farm. The farm was established in fall of 2020, after Philadelphia resident Lila Bhide pitched the concept in Penn’s public call for project proposals, “Your Big Idea and Wellness Initiative.” Since

then, the Penn Park Farm has worked to immerse students in a natural oasis away from

the chaos of the city, teach sustainable farming practices, and address food insecurity within the Penn community.

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Food insecurity is a major concern on college campuses. A study conducted in 2019

by Temple University across more than 100 institutions showed that 45% of the individuals surveyed had expe-

rienced food insecurity in the past 30 days. The chronic nature of food insecurity among

college students was exacerbated by the pandemic. Despite its wealth, Penn is not immune to this paradigm:

Many students on campus attest to regularly experiencing food insecurity. The University’s location impacts the issue as well, particularly considering the rate of food insecurity in Philadelphia is about 21%. The Penn Park Farm is a fully functional farm, growing produce for three seasons out of the year, while simultaneously offering a variety of student opportunities such as class visits and events on organic growing, food justice, and sustainability. Volunteers can sign up to harvest produce to be donated to the HUP Pantry and the West Philly chapter of Food Not Bombs Solidarity, as well as to help with general tasks to ensure the health of the farm such as planting and fertilizing beds, pruning plants, and maintaining equipment. During the fall 2021 semester, the Penn Park Farm hosted a Harvest Festival and

an informational workshop explaining how to register for Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) benefits. SNAP is a large–scale program offered by the federal government which provides Electronic Benefits Transfer (EBT) cards, essentially debit cards, to low–income families and individuals for the purchase of healthy foods in participating stores. Fewer than four out of ten students who are eligible for SNAP receive benefits largely because they are unaware the program exists. Few know that most students who participate in work–study likely qualify for SNAP. Penn Park Farm co–founder Lila Bhide grew a love for the physicality of farming in a program in high school, which inspired her to seek out a space like the Penn Park Farm. “I really enjoyed the sense of purpose and fulfillment that you get on a daily basis from doing this work,” she says. “As a young person, that can be hard to come by. A lot of times in a school setting, you might not get a grade back for a long time or you might work really hard and have everything you did reduced to one number or one letter. I think [farming] was very fulfilling and gave me a lot more confidence.” The timing of the pandemic and the relative distance of the Penn Park Farm from the main portion of Penn’s cam-

pus limits its visibility. Nevertheless, Bhide maintains her appreciation of the land on which the farm sits: “It does grant a lot of freedom and space for people … People can be themselves here in a way that maybe they would feel a bit more self–conscious about in the Quad.”

At the farm, students can experience the positive impacts on mental and physical health of immersion in nature and learn to implement restorative practices for coping with stress, such as spending time outside and building community. “In the process of farming, you're learning things about the soil, you're recognizing differences from places that

you've lived or worked before … I think that a really essential thing that community gardens offer is a space for people to … [work] together with the group and with the community that collaborates to care for the space.” says Megan Kassabaum, an associate professor in the Department of

Anthropology. Not only is Penn Park Farm unique in its existence, but it is also notably unique in the execution of its mission. The Penn Park Farm operates using uniquely sustainable farming protocols. In addition to growing all produce organically, the farm uses low–till practices, a method which minimizes disturbance of the soil, as a form of climate change mitigation. “Learning these hands–on tools in an area that's sometimes neglected in the climate change conversation makes an impact on how [students] view their studies moving forward,” says Bhide. Food insecurity is a complex and multifaceted issue, particularly within a wealthy college atmosphere. Socioeconomically speaking, Penn’s student body lacks diversity. More stu-

dents hail from the top 10% than the bottom 90%, and about 71% of students are within the top income quintile. “Penn and most college campuses are always kind of envisioned as like a bubble or an island,” says Kassabaum. “I think what that does is it creates a culture of invisibility for

people who are struggling with [food insecurity] on campus, because it's not the version of the issue that people are most familiar with.” As Justin Seward (C '25), a student intern at the Penn Park Farm, explains, “Usually, if [students] are food insecure, they're not living on campus; they're either a junior or senior, and a lot of graduate students are food insecure as well. You can find food programs outside of our little University City, so they can seek out other resources, but the bad thing about West Philly is … there's a lot of food insecurity already there, so it's just adding on to the problem that already exists.” The network of organizations fighting food insecurity in West Philadelphia is often small and community–driven, such as community fridges, and is unable to support the needs of both neighborhood

residents and students at Penn. A large portion of the community struggles with poverty, coupled with the presence of food deserts, areas without grocery stores that offer healthy food options, creating acute food insecurity. Kassabaum adds that stigma is an additional struggle faced by students experiencing food insecurity. “An underlying potential step towards a solution is to work towards destigmatizing the idea of being food insecure, to sort of separate it from other things that people worry about,” she says. “It truly relies on the entire community to make the issue more visible, to talk about it in a non–stigmatized way, to openly share one's own issues around food.”

“Usually, if [students] are food insecure, they're not living on campus; they're either a junior or senior, and a lot of graduate students are food insecure as well. You can find food programs outside of our little University City, so they can seek out other resources, but the bad thing about West Philly is … there's a lot of food insecurity already there, so it's just adding on to the problem that already exists.”

Justin Seward (C '25) The Penn Park Farm is adopting a welcoming, destigmatized approach to minimizing food insecurity on campus through Greenfield Greens, a collaborative effort with the Greenfield Intercultural

JANUARY 25, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 13

F E AT U R E

Center (GIC). During the fall growing season, the GIC provided a limited number of free bags of fresh vegetables to first–generation, low–income students who signed up via the GIC newsletter every week, courtesy of the Penn Farm. Sophie Tannenbaum, a master’s student at the School of Social Policy & Practice and graduate assistant at the GIC, observes the impact that the GIC can have in providing a stigma– free space for students experiencing food insecurity: “I don't want to speak for any students that are in that position, but from what I've noticed, as a graduate student and a part of the team [at the GIC], is we get a lot of feedback that says, ‘This is a place we can be comfortable.’ This is a place where our services are normalized.” The GIC also offers a food pantry for students that does not involve a sign–up process, but such non–perishable foods must be supplemented with fresh produce to maintain a healthy diet. Currently, the GIC’s structure does not allow it to provide enough fresh produce to support all food–insecure students. For the GIC and the Penn Park Farm, scalability is limited by factors such as

storage space, production level, and land availability. Sophie explains, “If there are 80 students signing up for this bag, and we only have 25, then it doesn't even really solve whatever that gap is for those 25 students. It gets them a couple vegetables for the week.”

“There's a huge problem with getting FGLI students to have access to food in general because a lot of the burden of access is placed on [the Penn Farm]. We have to provide the students with fresh produce, even though Penn could directly give out refunds or provide food vouchers for students.”

Megan Zhong (C '23) Domenic Vitiello, associate professor of City and Regional Planning in the School of Design and Urban Studies in the School of Arts and Sciences, highlights how programs such as Greenfield Greens, although they provide a short–term

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treatment, do not adequately address the systemic factors that contribute to food insecurity in either scale of efficacy at Penn. “While Penn does very well in our financial aid system in so many ways, there's still a significant group of our students who aren't well enough supported. I'm not talking about tuition. I'm talking about in their lives, including food, but other expenses, too,” says Vitiello. Although the University boasts a $20.5 billion endowment, as of last summer, students agree that greater investment in efforts to combat food insecurity on campus and inform those in need about the resources that are made available by Penn are necessary. In Vitiello’s mind, the most effective way to combat food insecurity on campus is cash support. “I don't mean giving people dollars, but EBT cards, a card that can allow people to buy things like toothpaste, toilet paper, and other necessities that aren't just food because oftentimes we talk about food poverty in a way that's just focused on food,” says Vitiello. Food support is necessary, but does not entirely solve systemic financial problems. Vitiello explains that financial aid and health insurance often do not cover additional costs like groceries and household essentials. As a result, students experiencing food insecurity are often forced to choose between feeding themselves or paying for medical expenses. Food poverty also encompasses the inability to purchase foods which are both healthy and adequate in amount. Megan Zhong (C '23), a FGLI student who interns at the Penn Park Farm, reiterates Vitiello’s proposal

from a student perspective: “There's a huge problem with getting FGLI students to have access to food in general because a lot of the burden of access is placed on [the Penn Park Farm]. We have to provide the students with fresh produce, even though Penn could directly give out refunds or provide food vouchers for students,” she says. Considering food security programs on a larger scale as well, Vitiello explains that current practices create an industrial network of organizations that fight against hunger. “[These organizations] are feeding institutions that are a) very fragmented, b) oftentimes need to continually seek resources to survive, and c) inefficient and inadequate in themselves and often just don't reach the range of people that they need to,” says Vitiello. Despite their individual critiques for the systems which perpetuate food insecurity on and off campus, Vitiello and Kassabaum both recognize the positive impact of the Penn Park Farm and the GIC on the Penn community. Vitiello asserts the importance of maintaining realistic expectations of the capacity of community gardens and urban farms to address food

insecurity, yet praises the Penn Park Farm’s educational opportunities. “[The Penn Park Farm] can really enliven and make substantial contributions to our teaching and learning. It’s also engaging and can have really huge mental health impacts,” says Vitiello. Food insecurity is a complex and daunting issue, yet the Penn Park Farm continues to welcome and educate students, hoping to impact a future generation of thinkers and activists. “What I really hope to do is to become an expert on food insecurity in Philadelphia … I'm hoping to come out and make some sort of initiative in order to address this issue more broadly and to bring it to the forefront,” Justin says. He believes his experience at the Penn Park Farm demonstrates the impact of the initiative. “I don't believe that anyone should be stressing about where their next meal is going to come from, and especially on a college campus, where you should be focused on your schoolwork and your experiences, and your friends,” Bhide says. Despite their best efforts, the Penn Park Farm cannot singlehandedly solve food insecurity on campus, but they can profoundly impact students' well–being beyond the scope of academic life.

MUSIC

I’VE MADE MONTHLY SPOTIFY PL AYLISTS FOR THREE YEARS

& You Should Too

y by T on at i str

t all began with “Couer D’Alene” by The Head and the Heart, at the start of my most transformative year of high school. I didn’t quite know what I was in for, but I found optimism in my uncertainty within and through these lyrics: “There’s no use knowin’ / Which way the wind is blowin’ / My mind’s made up, I‘m doin’ this, I’m doin’ this.” On Sept. 7, 2018, I added “Couer D’Alene” to a Spotify playlist that I later labeled “September ‘18.” After the September playlist came an October one, and not a month has passed since without a corresponding monthly playlist. My monthly playlists are my security blanket. I know that they belong to me and that nobody else, despite how many genres or artists we have in common, will share the same songs or the feelings they evoke inside of me. I find so much nostalgia in my old music. I remember the songs I blared in the shower, the songs I dried my eyes Ill u to, and every other song that's now permanently adhered to a feeling I just can't shake. My monthly playlists are my special way of documenting my favorite memories. They are more than photos and letters telling stories of the people I’ve met and the places I’ve been; They are the songs playing in the background of my life, portals to my own personalized time machine. In April 2019, I rediscovered what soon became my favorite song “This Must Be The Place” by Talking Heads, and it found a home on my “April '19” playlist. Sometimes, I shuffle this playlist yearning to relive the moment David Bryne’s lyrics clicked, and I was finding love all around me. My senior quote, “Feet on the ground / Head in the sky,” is a token of appreciation for April 2019 and the song it gave to me. In the last few years, music streaming services recognized that many of their users, like myself, rely on music for nostalgia. Homemade playlisting is not only a way to reflect on our musi-

ler Kliem

The greatest gift of musical nostalgia that Spotif y Wrapped can’t provide | K ATE RATNER

cal past; It also allows musicians to overcome algorithm–generated playlists that tend to favor certain artists. Spotify has begun to capitalize on our love for music and the sentimental purpose that playlists can serve. Each December, Spotify users receive an early holiday gift: a playlist called “Spotify Wrapped,” containing their 100 most– listened–to songs that year. Spotify puts Apple Music Replay—Apple Music's attempted equivalent to Wrapped— to shame. The Instagram story–esque screens, bursting with color, are a testament to our year in music: the artists we discovered, the “auras” of our most suspicious crossovers (mine being Adrianne Lenker and Megan Thee Stallion), and the number of minutes we spent with the most consistent friend we’ve ever had. Just when we thought Wrapped couldn’t get any better, Spotify surprised us with Wrapped Blend in 2021, a year–in–review of the music we have in common with friends. At the end of the blended excitement, Spotify assigns a percentage to a pair’s music compatibility. While my friends and I count down to esteemed “Spotify Wrapped Day” each year, Wrapped will never hold a candle to my monthly playlists and the love I have for them. I can look back on my year without Spotify’s dated buzzwords: the references to attaining “main character” status and being told that my song choices “understood the assignment.” Through my playlists, I can remember the smaller moments with songs that didn’t make the top 100. My December 2020 playlist captures a time of immense change in my life. The same day I visited Penn’s campus by myself for the first time, Maggie Rogers released an album that eventually became a favorite of mine: “Notes From the Archive: Recordings 2011–2016.” I walked down Locust listening to “Resonant Body.” I felt gratitude for my resonant body “in the freckles and old scars / and the lines I have hid.” I took a moment to smile to myself and let a few tears of joy stream down my cheeks. A year later, the songs that compose my monthly playlists—my musical diary—are the ones that will one day remind me of my time here. The songs I’ve listened to walking to class, visiting home, finding new love, and sitting around my dorm room laughing until I can’t breathe.

JANUARY 25, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 15

ARTS

H 34T T EE STR FF S TA S : K PIC

Our Favorite Books from

20 21

From hard–hitting journalism to classic comfort reads, Street's staff kept their noses in the books this past year.

EVERY THING I NEVER TOLD YOU BY CELESTE NG Upon my sister’s recommendation, I picked up Everything I Never Told You over the summer to indulge in our shared guilty pleasure: YA novels. Set in 1970s Ohio, Chinese– American author Celeste Ng’s debut novel explores parental expectations and family dynamics in the context of an interracial marriage. A tragic incident—namely, the drowning of the family's middle child, Lydia— unravels secrets that had once kept their family afloat. An overwhelming sense of grief plagues the family from beginning to end, resulting in an honest narrative about guilt, blame, and resentment. The novel unapologetically embraces detail in its descriptions and, even though it’s a short read, the characters stay with you for much longer.

CRYING IN H MART BY MICHELLE ZAUNER

FAMILY LEXICON BY NATALIA GINZBURG

Michelle Zauner, also known as indie rock singer Japanese Breakfast, defies the expectations of shitty celebrity memoirs through Crying in H Mart, a heart wrenching account of grief, family, and identity. Beginning with the line, “Ever since my mom died, I cry in H Mart,” Zauner explores her Korean heritage, complex relationship with her mother, and the aftermath of epic loss through memories of family, love, sacrifice, and especially food. Through an all–too– relatable depiction of her overbearing yet intensely loving mother and her struggles with being Korean in a predominantly white town, Zauner details how her present identity was created through both immense suffering and all–encompassing love. With Crying in H Mart, Zauner steps to the fore as not only an iconic and deeply introspective voice in music—she’s quickly proving herself to be master of prose as well. –KIRA WANG, ST YLE EDITOR

What can we say about Natalia Ginzburg that hasn’t already been said? The Turinese writer, often heralded as the doyenne of Italian literature, deserves all her flowers: her playful prose tickles, provokes, and impresses like no other. Family Lexicon, beautifully translated by Jenny McPhee, is the perfect introduction to her work. Blending autobiography and fiction, the book tackles the eternal themes of childhood, loss, and self-becoming. By turns heartwarming and heartbreaking, Family Lexicon offers an account of Ginzburg’s family history, complete with all the bickering and roughhousing you would expect. Ginzburg’s life has been marked by near–constant tragedy, from her family’s persecution in Mussolini’s Italy to the death of her husband at the hands of the police—yet she has emerged all the stronger. From a woman who has seen it all, Family Lexicon is a resolute affirmation of courage, resilience, and, ultimately, joy.

–CINDY ZHANG, FILM & T V EDITOR

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THE OVERSTORY BY RICHARD POWERS Richard Powers’ Pulitzer Prize–winning The Overstory is a piercing tale that grows from the ground up—a sweeping love story centered around people’s passion for those with whom we share our planet. While there may seem to be no obvious connection between a chestnut, maple, and mulberry tree beyond the obvious botanical characteristics, Powers weaves their paths together in a way that will leave you questioning every work of nature you see. Through the seemingly separate lives of nine totally different yet equally dynamic characters, we learn the innermost thoughts of those with the desire to protect the precious greenery murdered by global tree harvest. As the book alternates between different points of view, weaknesses are revealed, people get hurt, and corporate America gets richer. A call for action, The Overstory will teach you to be the voice of those with nobody to speak up for themselves. –AL ANA BESS, EGO EDITOR

–IRMA KISS BARATH, ARTS EDITOR

ARTS

This past year had us considering a potential addition to the list of long–haul COVID–19 symptoms: existential despair. In yet another year marked by isolation, all of us felt the temptation to curl up in bed and disappear at some point. Luckily, in our darkest moments, we had books to keep us company.

As an antidote to all the bleakness of 2021, Street's offering a list of our favorite reads from the past year. Our picks run the gamut from comfort reads to journalistic deep dives, from thought–provoking fiction to fresh takes on classic guilty–pleasure genres. Here are the books that soothed us, surprised us, and left us ready for 2022.

MY YEAR OF REST AND could have come out of my own mouth. its own kind of respite. In a perfect It’s chock–full of violent, visceral descrip- world, you’ll finish the novel on some REL A X ATION BY OT TESSA MOSHFEGH tions of grief, but all told in a deeply sar- beach somewhere, and when you do,

GUEST HOUSE FOR YOUNG WIDOWS: AMONG THE WOMEN OF ISIS BY RICHARD POWERS Guest House for Young Widows: Among the Women of ISIS is an engrossing chronicle of the lives of 13 women, each involved in some capacity with the terrorist organization ISIS. With careful reporting, Azadeh Moaveni presents each of their life stories, offering refreshingly feminine and incredibly nuanced perspectives that those interested in Middle Eastern geopolitics would find fascinating. The book articulates untold tales, granting readers the unique opportunity to step into the psyches of each woman and understand her motivations and values, whether she is a teenager, housewife, or highly educated student. It weaves the stories together critically and thoughtfully, touching on themes including repression, pride, propaganda, and devotion in a manner that educates, represents, and engages. –JESSA GL ASSMAN, ARTS BEAT

Though the title might have you mistake it for some pseudo–self–help memoir lauding the wonders of “rest,” My Year of Rest and Relaxation couldn’t be further from it. Narrated by a nameless, bitter, nauseatingly privileged twenty–something Ivy League grad in Manhattan, Ottessa Moshfegh’s 2018 novel turns the “rest is productive” mantra on its head. Its antiheroine is on a mission to fill herself with the perfect cocktail of drugs to sleep for a year and escape her grief and utter disdain for the world, with the hope of emerging from her pharmaceutically–induced hibernation somehow “renewed.” I first read the book for a class, but re– read it in the midst of finals stress, when I fantasized incessantly about ridding myself of all earthly responsibility, crawling in bed, and sleeping indefinitely. The narrator is misanthropic and absolutely repulsive, but at the same time, I found myself constantly finding lines that

donic tone and punctuated with absurd- the sun might seem to shine just the ly funny and obnoxious characters—the teensiest bit brighter than it did bekind of book that will make you laugh fore. while absolutely shaking you to your –WALDEN GREEN, CULTURE core. Fast–paced, darkly funny, and abEDITOR solutely devastating, it’s the perfect read for the indoor days of mid–winter when all of us are plagued by cynicism and a sweet lust for endless sleep. –MEG GL ADIEUX, FEATURES EDITOR Illustration by Collin Wang

The call of Ottessa Moshfegh’s My Year of Rest and Relaxation has never been quite so strong. In a turn of events that the author couldn’t have predicted, the proposition of the novel’s decidedly unlikeable protagonist now feels less irrational and increasingly tempting: to enter a state of hibernation and emerge galvanized and rejuvenated. It’s wellness culture, minus the wellness, minus the culture. Luckily for most of us, the experience of reading My Year of Rest and Relaxation offers A Project of the Annenberg Public Policy Center

J A N U A R Y 2 5 , 2 0 2 2 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E 17

FOCUS

Confronting Philadelphia’s Gun Violence Epidemic Means Healing From Its Trauma

A record–setting year for homicides is a wake–up call to address the root causes of the violence. | SHEIL DESAI

able news reports in Philadelphia often begin with shootings that occurred that day. Senseless violence is a daily occurrence, but when the victim is a loved one, it can leave a permanent wound. After a close friend was shot and killed, Zarinah Lomax was engulfed in grief. The Philly native decided to use her pain to confront the city’s epidemic of violence. Lomax started a non– profit organization called Strength in Numbers Global that connects victims of gun violence to grief counselors and other non–profit organizations providing financial and housing support. She now hosts an award–winning talk show, Talking the Walk, which features weekly Philadelphia residents that have dealt with some form of trauma like gun violence. The city of Philadelphia has thrown a lot of money at the issue of gun violence hoping it will go away. In 2021, the city approved a multimillion–dollar grant for community organizations addressing gun violence. But Lomax believes money alone can’t bring an end to the crisis. “Untreated trauma is definitely a lot of the reason why people are doing what they are doing. Nobody's asking people if they're okay. They just assume that this next generation is a lost cause,” she says. Carrying around that burden is difficult for anyone, especially when new wounds are being inflicted

before a previous wound can begin to heal. That trauma can lead many to seek escape and acceptance in the form of intoxication, medication, and violence. Lomax is a childhood sexual assault survivor. Her father is serving a life sentence in prison. Many of her family and friends are victims of gun violence. Lomax admits that there was untreated trauma in her own life: “I did a lot of stupid things off of how I felt and because of things I never dealt with. I might not have picked up a gun but I picked up a drink, knowing that it can harm me." But in the face of her own personal trauma, Lomax is a living example of what the city has to offer in resilience and selflessness. In addition to her current talk show,

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Lomax is launching a new show, Bridge the Gap, which brings young Philadelphians ranging from 15 to 22 years old on the air to discuss the generational differences in the city. Conversations like these, Lomax believes, are crucial to understanding the underlying causes behind the violence. Lomax is also leading the push to create The Apologues Museum and Temple: a healing museum and monument to the trauma that Philadelphians have endured. She envisions the museum using art to tell the stories of victims and their families with onsite art therapy and mental health resources. She is currently fundraising to acquire space for the museum. In a record–setting 2021, 559 Philadelphians, mostly young Black men, were

mass incarceration. Philadelphia also has a long history of redlining, or unfair housing segregation policies, that has severely disenfranchised p re d o m i n a n t l y – m i n o r i t y neighborhoods. Over–policing and a flawed criminal justice system have kept marginalized communities institutionalized, with few prospects of educational or professional advancement, while the city's schools are notoriously underfunded, A record–setmaking it more difficult for people access educational ting yeartofor opportunities. homicides is a On top of all this, many Philadelphians have little to no access to mental health services. Historical injustices have trapped the city in a cycle of Illustration by Collin Wang violent retribution and poor murdered. All their stories mental health that can maniwere tragic—lives cut short, fest itself in the form of gun families left devastated, and violence. gaping holes left in the comBut we cannot properly munity. confront the problem of gun In these conditions, stud- violence without giving people ies have found Post Traumat- the resources to heal. ic Stress Disorder (PTSD) This starts by offering free to be underdiagnosed in in- mental health services to all ner cities. Growing up sur- Philadelphians who need it, rounded by this violence especially victims of violence. can force children into a It requires educational and constant state of survival, professional opportunities for affecting a child’s ability to youth to break the generalearn, develop, and succeed tional cycle of poverty. It needs in school. For adults, PTSD criminal justice reform to recan be a perpetual weight on unite families and end mass one’s shoulders that can lead incarceration. to depression, anxiety, and Healing the city’s trauma other mental health issues. will take work. There are a lot The city has carried sys- of necessary reforms and not a temic trauma over genera- lot of time. But Philadelphians tions. Generations of Phila- like Lomaxare optimistic in delphians, particularly Black the face of adversity: “We can residents, have dispropor- get the community base back tionately faced police bru- together—the communal tality, extreme poverty, and base of Philadelphia.”

FOCUS

How Philly Is Stepping Up to Help Afghan Refugees Local organizations are aiming to ease the transition for the city's influx of Afghan evacuees. | GABRIELLE GALCHEN

n the past year, the Philadelphia International Airport has transformed into a key resettlement site for Afghan refugees, with Philadelphia becoming one of the few selected cities in the United States to accept 50,000 Afghan refugees fleeing poverty, warfare, and violence. The influx of Afghan migration is largely due to the recent takeover by the Taliban in August 2021—one which has given new urgency to the humanitarian crisis in Afghanistan. The Taliban’s inhumane regime has decimated the economy, suppressed women’s rights, executed dissenters, and deprived Afghan civilians of water, shelter, healthcare, and food. As of mid–September, 95% of Afghans have insufficient food consumption, with an estimated 3.2 million Afghan children under five expected to suffer from acute malnutrition. According to Philadelphia Mayor Jim Kenney, the inclusion of Afghan refugees in Philadelphia is being spearheaded by the federal government. In the airport, officials from Homeland Security, the Red Cross and Philadelphia's emergency management aid Afghan

Illustration by Lilian Liu refugees with their paperwork, do background checks, and test them for COVID–19. Afghan refugees are then temporarily resettled in military bases, such as Joint Base McGuire– Dix–Lakehurst in Burlington County, N.J. After 15 to 30 days in the military base, refugees who have obtained legal residency status are relocated. Each person receives a $1,200–per– month stipend from the federal government for three months. After the allotted time period, they must be able to maintain affordable housing and have a livable income. In Philadelphia, local organizations have stepped up to aid in the resettlement process by housing Afghans in hotel rooms, Airbnb rentals, or in homes with Philly residents who have volunteered to house refugees. Organizations like HIAS Pennsylvania focus on helping Afghan refugees adjust by providing them with a furnished residency and helping them get Social Security cards, financial literacy lessons, and access to public benefits. HIAS PA officials also ensure that refugees receive a thorough medical

screening from partner refugee health clinics at Penn Center for Primary Care or Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. Afghans of Philadelphia (AOP) is another organization that specifically dedicates itself to providing Afghan refugees with basic essentials. AOP routinely collects donations for Afghans—winter items for families, strollers for children, essentials for pregnant women, hygiene products, and undergarments. AOP also collects Qurans, prayer rugs, and educational supplies. There are also actions that we can take to help Afghan refugees through this difficult transition. The Nationalities Service Center provides many opportunities to volunteer. Individuals can arrange to drive an arriving family from Philadelphia International Airport to their new home, teach refugees how to use SEPTA, deliver groceries, make or donate culturally–appropriate Afghan meals, and help NSC officials arrange housing. Donating essential goods like furniture to the Philadelphia Furniture Bank, which connects clients with furniture and new bedding, or Uhuru

Furniture and Collectibles, which offers free pick–up and delivery, can also go a long way. It’s also helpful to donate clothing to organizations like Cradles to Crayons, which provides young children in low–income or housing–insecure environments with essential items; The Wardrobe, which provides a stable source of clothing for individuals experiencing barriers to employment; or JCFS’ Our Closet, a program which provides emergency clothing packages for those in need. And of course, donating any sum of money to local resettlement agencies—like HIAS PA, the Transforming Welcoming Fund, and Bethany Christian Services—can be extremely impactful. But the reality remains: even with the recent groundswell in community engagement, there’s much more to be done. Though the federal government took the original initiative to bring in 50,000 Afghan evacuees, these numbers pale in comparison to other nations. Some 90% of 2.2 million Afghan refugees find safety in neighboring Iran and Pakistan. The federal

government should aid larger numbers of evacuees, as well as provide them with more cash than a mere $1,200 monthly stipend. The federal government could also provide more funds to local resettlement organizations. The government brings in Afghan refugees, only to neglect them upon arrival. There are no federally funded literacy programs, job training programs, language services, legal services, healthcare, resettlement programs, or other basic services available. This is why it’s been left entirely up to the initiative of local organizations, many of which can be underfunded or understaffed, to provide Afghan refugees with access to basic necessities. Federal officials shouldn’t be patting themselves on the back for doing the bare moral minimum. By this point, the ongoing nature of the humanitarian crisis in Afghanistan is unacceptable: More actions should be taken, more funds allotted, and more empathy afforded to the situation of Afghans. As members of the local community, it’s in our power to help and welcome Afghan refugees to the best of our ability.

JANUARY 25, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 19

FILM & TV

The Grim Fate of Movie Theaters: Nothing but Comic Book Movies 2021 box office numbers showed that audiences prefer “event” franchise movies to indie or star– driven films. | JACOB A. POLLACK

he 2021 movie lineup featured a plethora of well–reviewed theater–only movies such as West Side Story, The Last Duel, and Nightmare Alley. But while all of these films might have superb visuals, immersive production, and gripping musical scores, they also share one major similarity: they're all box office bombs. Despite an ongoing pandemic, 2021 showed that it was still possible to perform on par with pre–pandemic box office earnings. Spider– Man: No Way Home, which premiered in December 2021, is currently the biggest movie since Avengers: Endgame, which came out in 2019. With over $1.5 billion and little competition in the coming months, Tom Holland’s Spider–Man will likely gross over $2 billion and cement itself as one of the highest–grossing films of all time. While one could argue that Spider-Man: No Way Home is an anomaly among theater–only pandemic movies, it’s also the clearest example of moviegoing’s fate: capes and superpowers. The domestic box office in 2021 was still a 61% drop

Illustration by Tyler Kliem

from 2019 with $4.4 billion in revenue, and those profits are mostly due to the success of comic book and franchise films. The top domestic box office earners in 2021 were all comic book movies, with Spider–Man: No Way Home leading the charge with over $600 million, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings in second with around $224 million, and Venom: Let There Be Carnage in third with $212 million. Besides comic book movies, the 2021 domestic box office relied on franchise films like Daniel Craig’s final James Bond installment No Time to Die ($160 million), A Quiet Place Part II ($160 million), and F9: The Fast Saga ($173 million). The only original, non–IP film that achieved comparable success was Ryan Reynolds’ Free Guy, which raked in $121 million domestically. While each of these films were exclusive to theaters and relatively successful in 2021, their earnings were still much lower than previous years, with the exception of Spider–Man. Globally, many markets are bouncing back stronger than

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the North American box office. For the second year in a row, China ended 2021 as the world’s largest theatrical market ($7.3 billion), down only 26% from 2019. Only 20 United States films were allowed to be released in China last year, which did not include Spider–Man, Shang– Chi, or Black Widow. In the future, China will be a dominant force in deciding how and what films Hollywood decides to make in order to get a Chinese release date and make serious money. Gone are the days when a star could propel a movie to monumental success in theaters. While Holland is the lead of the world’s biggest movie, it's the popularity of his Spider–Man character, not his own star power, that is getting people to theaters. Look no further than to the rest of Holland’s poorly reviewed 2021 lineup, Cherry and Chaos Walking, the latter of which cost around $100 million and only made $26.9 million worldwide. As a fan of awards contenders and independent movies such as 2021’s Spencer and Licorice Pizza, it’s dif-

ficult to see that the future of moviegoing will strictly be comic book and franchise movies, which have create an “event” experience for their fans. This “event” experience is predicated on audience anticipation, nostalgia, direct connections between past films, and cameos that serve primarily as fan service. Many successful, award– winning films like Netflix’s Don’t Look Up, which—as of January 2021—is Netflix’s second most–watched film of all time, are thriving on streaming platforms. Either films directed by indie darlings or revered directors will no longer be made, or these films will just be directed to streaming services with lower budgets. It’s ironic that Steven Spielberg, the creator of modern blockbusters like Jaws, has directed one of the year’s most commercially unsuccessful films—West Side Story—which earned $53 million on a $100 million budget, with overall costs totalling $300 million. If comic book movies continue to be the only strong performers at the box office, the diversity of movie genres

and stories will be severely diminished. We could be looking at a future where theaters are only screening movies that are carbon copies of the same, general comic book storyline: the lead faces menacing dangers, uses his powers triumphantly, and ends the movie as a hero with more knowledge and higher stakes for future installments. It's the film industry's responsibility to adapt and evolve, which would require following the art instead of the money, at least once in a while. The 2021 box office proved that, even with an ongoing pandemic, theaters are still operating and premiering successful films. Hollywood's marketing power plays a significant role whether those films are successful at all—although whether they'll stray from whatever yields the highest profit margins remains to be seen. In the meantime, drop by your local arthouse cinema (there are quite a few in Philly) to support the movies that get harder and harder to make if they aren't filling seats.

OVERHEARDS

Overheards 01.25.22

This week: Dating as a leftist, submissive men, and misleading therapists

"A chicken nugget is one degree of separation from a latke."

F DATING WHARTON MEN DO

"I hate when people say that they're 'socially liberal and fiscally conservative.' Like, tell me you're a libertarian, and then admit you're an asshole." H

OLOGICAL TRUTH–TELLER

"It would've given my therapist a much more honest picture of myself if I had lied to her."

AN DOMINATRIX BI

"I'm convinced that every straight man is a sub at heart."

LE S

PAT

TIR E

JE W

AT CHICK–FIL–A

AQUIN PHOENIX NABE JO

"I'm seriously thinking about asking out my Alexa. She's really curvy. She’s literally a circle."

JANUARY 25, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 21

EUPHORIA

Storytelling through Style: Breaking Down Euphoria's Iconic Fashion

The high schoolers of Euphoria are always dressed to the nines. But their fashion statements are more impactful than we might think. | ANNA HOCHMAN

uphoria is back, and viewers can’t get enough. Attracting mass numbers each week and even breaking HBO Max’s record for a digital premiere performance, it’s safe to say that the TV show is a cultural phenomenon. If you don’t watch Euphoria when it airs at 9 p.m. every Sunday, you'll have to stay off of almost all social media platforms to avoid spoilers. People simply can't stop talking about it. One of the reasons for Euphoria’s incredible success is the individual styles of each of its characters, which have sparked trends across the globe. While the prices of their clothes are some of the most unrealistic parts of the high school TV show, fashion plays a crucial role in each of the protagonists’ development. In season one, some of the clothing items were so well–known by millennials and Gen Z that dressing up as a Euphoria character on Halloween was one of the most recognizable costumes of the year. Maddie’s pants with cut–outs at the hip, Rue’s tie–dye T–shirt and maroon hoodie, and Jules’ mini skirts, layering, and pink fur–covered backpack all became iconic looks. Another instantly recognizable trend sparking from the show was its makeup. As the show aired throughout the summer of 2019, many viewers were inspired by the creative looks. They went to parties—and even classes during the fall—in the glit-

ter, eyeliner, and gemstones so commonly seen on the show. If you scroll through your TikTok “For You Page” right now, chances are you will see at least one video where users dress to attend “Euphoria High.” The trend has TikTokers first wearing seemingly “normal” clothing for high school: jeans, maybe a hoodie or a jacket, and sneakers. Then, they come back on screen, this time in looks that would only fly at East Highland—the school that Rue and her classmates attend on the TV show. Some wear skimpy dresses, while others wear full patterned sets or high–fashion ensembles. Some are much more serious about their obsession with Euphoria fashion, buying the exact items worn by the char-

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acters. In fact, the heels—with thigh–high, crystal–covered straps—that Maddy wears to a New Year's Eve party during the season two premiere are already almost sold out. After a COVID–19-induced two–year hiatus, season two of Euphoria has upped the intensity on pretty much every facet of the show, from brutal fights and graphic sex scenes to deep and darkly emotional conversations. Much like how show creator Sam Levinson pulled out all the stops to make this season captivating, Heidi Bivens, who heads up the costume department, did not come to play. Bivens seems to have selected each character’s style for the season based on how they are evolving. Rue, who is using drugs again but hiding it from her loved ones, is trying

with Rue, caused by Rue's continued drug use. Maddy, so clearly destined to be a star since the very first episode, is one of the characters who has evolved the most over the course of the show. After ending a toxic and abusive relationship with her ex–boyfriend, Nate, Maddie is now entering a more independent phase of her life. She’s maturing—she speaks more seriously, reaches out to make new friends, and gets a job—and it seems A record–setclear that her style is maturting year for ing as well. Her clothing is homicides is a this season, also a lot darker perhaps to show how she is unpacking her trauma from her previous relationship. Cassie, who is single for the first time on the show, is Illustration by Amy Krimm grappling with what it means to appear more put together, to be a woman without a ditching the oversized hoodie man by her side. Her strugand instead, wearing some gles with her femininity and unique vintage finds. Her identity can be seen through clothes are still baggy, grun- the “girly” pastel pinks and gy, and dark, but she seems blues in her wardrobe. “She’s to be putting more thought still trying to figure out how into getting dressed in the to present herself to the morning—a change from world,” Bivens told Vogue. “I think so much of what she last season. Jules, who the audience does and how she dresses is learned during a special epi- about wanting to be loved.” The fashion in Euphoria sode last year is considering going off her hormones, is isn't just an emulation of no longer wearing pink skirts what was in style when the and dresses but rather exper- show was filmed—the pieces imenting with a much darker that each character wears look. Perhaps this is a reflec- highlight their own personal tion of her changing views development and struggles as on gender expression as Jules well. While the clothing that says she’s no longer inter- each character puts on is so ested in appealing to men’s tied to each of their personal views on women. Or perhaps identities, their style is emuthe darkening of her style is lated by the masses. In other more about the developing words, Euphoria isn't just a tension in her relationship TV show—it's a trendsetter.

EUPHORIA

esthetics, aesthetics, aesthetics. It's one of the first words that comes to mind when we talk about what makes HBO's Euphoria unique. That, alongside "glitter," "skimpy outfits," "graphic eyeliner," "drugs," and "partying." Anyone wearing an I.AM.GIA set, rhinestone makeup, or fun hairstyles is now said to have a Euphoria aesthetic. We toss the word around, loosely understanding it as embodying the style of a given piece of media or work of art, but formally, aesthetics is actually a philosophical discipline: the study of beauty and taste. Aesthetics, specifically Black aesthetics and queer aesthetics, is concerned with questions that ultimately seek to interrogate a historically Eurocentric, heteronormative view of the world. Through whose eyes do we see the world? What does cultural production that centers Blackness and queerness look like? More loosely conceived, artistic perspective is another way of thinking about questions of worldview. To think of the bright colors, reveal-

Illustration by Tyler Kliem

Euphoria’s 'Out of Touch' Highlights the Freedom of Unreliability

Euphoria’s aesthetics give voice and connection to ‘out of touch’ identities. | KALIYAH DORSEY ing ensembles, and rampant drug use, all viewed with a queer, biracial young woman’s point of view, it becomes clear that Euphoria’s aesthetics attempt to subvert glamorized assumptions about high school culture. The TV series is often narrated from the perspective of Zendaya's Rue, a queer, Black teen recently out of rehab but with no intention of quitting drugs. The showrunner of Euphoria, Sam Levinson, has stated that Rue is an unreliable narrator and that her narrative is not always accurate in her retelling of things, especially as she is not always physically present for the scenes she recounts. According to Levinson, speaking about Rue’s special Christmas episode, "[Rue] is limited in her ability to understand the other emotional worlds of other characters, and it leaves open the other side of the story." What can be gained from such a skewed perception? How does Rue's unreliability illustrate how we project our own perspective on our relationships with others?

Euphoria’s “Out of Touch,” the second episode of the show's second season, opens with Rue narrating Nate’s rumination on his love for his hookup Cassie, his ex–girlfriend Maddy, and his father. Jacob Elordi, who plays Nate, explained Nate’s interest in Cassie to Decider: “I think in Cassie, there’s something of this perfect life, this white picket fence, motorhome in the driveway, just American dream kind of thing.” He added: Cassie represents everything Maddy is not, and yet, he still can’t let go of Maddy. We're also witness to a scene where Dominic Fike's newly added Elliot and Rue dance as they do drugs—an almost direct parallel to a scene in season one where Rue, high, dances with her father before he dies. As Rue and Elliot take turns putting their noses to a rolled–up dollar bill, Gerry Rafferty’s “Right Down the Line” plays: "This is my way / of telling you everything / I could never say before." Again, how Rue has any authority over or knowledge of Nate’s tortured relationship to intimacy, pleasure, and

pain is suspect because she isn’t present for the experiences he recounts. This unreliability allows the story to be that much more exaggerated, to the point that we don’t know if any of these events are even occurring at all. Perhaps we are viewing some version of reality skewed to the aesthetic of Rue’s high mind, or maybe she is projecting her own definitions of love onto Nate’s reality. But, on her way to her Narcotics Anonymous meeting, Rue bikes past Nate kissing Cassie, a moment that quickly but directly juxtaposes the characters’ parallel navigation of love, addiction, and loss. In linking two seemingly out of touch perspectives, Nate’s white, hypermasculine persona and Rue’s Black, tomboy, lesbian one, the episode highlights the complicated nature of identity as it relates to perspective while allowing Rue, a self–proclaimed “deeply shy person,” to share her story in an almost limitless way, free from the confines of being factual. Reflecting on this theme of (dis)connection and aesthetics, Penn’s own culture comes

to mind. “Penn face,” “the party Ivy,” and the infamous “work hard, play hard” mentality illustrate how identity and culture are influenced by perspective. When you think about the basement of Van Pelt, Pool Party, on–campus recruitment, and even Smokes', these are markers of the Penn experience that concoct the idealized Penn student image. Girls wear tiny crop tops and baggy pants to parties, and expensive coats and leisurewear to class. There is clearly a "Penn Student" that is socially and institutionally perpetuated but, at the same time, we also know that there is no one identity all students fit into. Perhaps, as illustrated in Euphoria, skewing white–washed perceptions of identity allows complex connections to be drawn between seemingly dissimilar identities. It’s worth considering, at least, why so many people are drawn to Rue’s perspective, with the season two premiere drawing a record–breaking 2.4 million viewers, and what that says about the importance of a queer, Black, female character’s voice.

JANUARY 25, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 23

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