November 9, 2021

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

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR 6 Who Regulates Protest on Campus?

9 Introducing Maisie Peters

12 Professor Carol Tracy’s Legacy of Activism

17 Are Masks Protest Fashion?

20 Guardhouse Cafe

34TH STREET EXECUTIVE BOARD Beatrice Forman, Editor–in–Chief: forman@34st.com Chelsey Zhu, Campus Editor: zhu@34st.com Mehek Boparai, Culture Editor: boparai@34st.com Karin Hananel, Assignments Editor: hananel@34st.com 34TH STREET EDITORS Eva Ingber, Features Editor Angela Shen, Features Editor Julia Esposito, Word on the Street Editor Aakruti Ganeshan, Focus Editor Emily White, Focus Editor Hannah Lonser, Style Editor Maddie Muldoon, Ego Editor Peyton Toups, Music Editor Walden Green, Arts Editor Arielle Stanger, Film & TV Editor Denali Sagner, Special Issues Editor Jesse Zhang, Multimedia Editor Kira Wang, Audience Engagement Editor 2

On TikTok trends, tweeting about Pete Davidson, and another bout of anxiety My least favorite genre of TikTok is this clunky, overdramatic one where the plot of Eddie Murphy’s A Thousand Words gets condensed into about 30 seconds. “How many words do you get this year?” reads a voice over. “One,” replies some shy–looking influencer, who then acts in an alternate universe where they’re bullied for being a mute. Someone always speaks up for them, and the bully always gets their comeuppance—which is, obviously, losing access to their own bank of words.

Cheesy and the opposite of subtle, the lesson of these TikToks is evergreen: We should be tolerant, or something like that. And while that may be true, I think this virality play gets at something a little deeper. The amount of words we have is remarkably finite, and we ought to use them with intention.

My biggest fear is running out of words. It’s also an anxiety I can’t outrun. Lately, I find myself sitting paralyzed at a keyboard, worried that this moment—this exact one—is where I lose my ability to turn letters into pretty permutations that mean something, and then I lose my purpose, which is to write. It’s not that I fear silence, or a dearth of vocabulary. It’s that I fear the end of significance, where the best of my thoughts could be summed up in pithy tweets about dating Pete Davidson.

So maybe it’s not that we get a certain number of words each year, but that we get a certain number of words with intention.

The rest are just dead air—jokes to be shared in group chats, repeated coffee orders, strings of bullshit uttered to count for class participation. I want every sentence I pound for this magazine (and beyond) to poke at something important, whether it's highlighting the breadth of Latinx experiences in this city or reminding all of you that it’s okay to feel a bit unhappy at this university.

That goal is more aspirational than anything, especially as I’ve 34TH STREET STAFF Features Staff Writers: Sejal Sangani, Angela Shen, Mira Sydow, Amy Xiang, Meg Gladieux, Emilee Gu, Tara Anand, Avalon Hinchman Focus Beat Writers: Rema Bhat, Jean Paik, Gabrielle Galchen, Naima Small, Leandra Archibald Style Beat Writers: Kira Wang, W. Anthony Perez, Anna Hochman, Rachel Ker, Joanna Shan Music Beat Writers: Evan Qiang, Fernanda Brizuela, Derek Wong, Grayson Catlett, Treasure Brown Arts Beat Writers: Jessa Glassman, Roger Ge, Irma Kiss Barath Film & TV Beat Writers: Harshita Gupta, Jacob A. Pollack, Sneha Parthasarathy, Heather Shieh, Cindy Zhang Ego Beat Writers: Anjali Kishore, Alana Bess, Saya Desai, Sheil Desai Staff Writers: Kathryn Xu, Emily Moon, John Nycz, Kate Ratner, Kayla Cotter, Mame Balde, Shelby Abayie, Vidur Saigal Multimedia Associates: Dhivya Arasappan, Sage Levine, Sophie Huang, Samantha Turner, Sudeep

3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21

grown to realize that journalism has become less about the power of words and more about the power of metrics, where views on a story matter more than the storytelling. Does it matter how many people view a story if the story lacks a view? I’m not sure, but I just hope if I ever run out of words, I work someplace that will inspire me to get them back.

This week’s issue is about the significance of words and how we utilize them, from the Office of Open Expression allowing facilitating controversial protests on campus to the aesthetic meaning of Chinese characters. And our feature—a winding profile of professor Carol Tracy—focuses in on her legacy of leading with words, from signing letters of protest as a secretary on campus to leading a court case that would overturn Pennsylvania’s ban on Medicaid coverage for abortion.

SSSF,

Bea

Bhargava, Sukhmani Kaur, Roger Ge, Andrew Yang, Mason Dao, Sheil Desai, Derek Wong, Evie Eisenstein, Andrea Barajas, Rachel Zhang, Sofika Janak, Sneha Parthasarathy Audience Engagement Associates: Sneha Parthasarathy, Adrien Wilson–Thompson, Kayla Cotter, Vidur Saigal, Heather Shieh, Caleb Crain, Saya Desai MULTIMEDIA Multimedia Associates: Dhivya Arasappan, Sage Levine, Sophie Dai, Sophie Huang, Samantha Turner, Sudeep Bhargava, Liwa Sun, Sukhmani Kaur, Alexandra Morgan–Lindo Audience Engagement Associates: Yamila Frej, Saya Desai, Sneha Parthasarathy, Adrien WilsonThompson, Kayla Cotter, Vidur Saigal, Heather Shieh, Caleb Crain Copy Editor: Brittany Darrow Design Editor: Isabel Liang Cover Design by Isabel Liang

Contacting 34th Street Magazine: If you have questions, comments, complaints or letters to the editor, email Bea Forman, Editor-In-Chief, at forman@34stcom. 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.

hey alex

WORD ON THE STREET

I

Going Gray I spent too much time on my phone. So I took drastic measures. | RACHEL SWYM

ang

ti o stra u l Il

y nb

i el L Isab

TO PUT AN IPHONE IN GRAYSCALE MODE: Open your Settings and tap on "Accessibility." Within the "Accessibility" menu, tap on "Display and Text Size," then scroll to the "Color Filters" tab. Tap on the "Color Filters" tab to open a submenu with an image of colored pencils across the top. Switch the "Color Filter" setting from "Off" to "On," and your phone will instantly enter black and white mode. There are also other color filter options besides the default grayscale. The smartphone I reference in this piece is an iPhone SE 2020.

TO PUT AN ANDROID PHONE IN GRAYSCALE: The quickest way to do this is to open your settings and tap on "Digital Wellbeing". Then, tap on "Wind Down," select "Use Wind Down," and toggle on the "Grayscale" setting under "Wind Down Settings." You can disable the other "Wind Down" settings to use "Grayscale Mode" throughout the day. "Grayscale Mode" can also be turned on through the developer settings. On newer Androids, a Grayscale toggle can even be included in the "Quick Settings menu," to turn on and off easily.

have spent far too much of the pandemic on my phone.

I never even downloaded TikTok—I knew it would be too addictive—but I still managed to clock four, six, eight–hour screen times every few days on other social media platforms. So I deleted all of them.

Still, multiple times per day, I found myself picking up my phone and staring at my lock screen, like I was asking it to entertain me. I’d open it and swipe across my home screens, open and close my emails and messages, or play half a level in a few mobile games, only to eventually set it back down, unsatisfied. And because I was never satisfied, I kept going back, and back, and back again rather than doing something engaging. Even without social media, my screen time was still so much higher than I wanted it to be; the wasted hours on my phone were certainly contributing to how much I was drowning academically.

I needed to do something more than delete all my apps.

So I turned my phone black and white.

As much as this sounds like a hipster aesthetic choice, it was a practical one. I discovered the idea in blog pieces (much like the one I'm writing now) touting the efficacy of the grayscale setting on lowering screen time.

This trick is based on the fact that most smartphone features and apps are designed to trigger dopamine receptors in the brain, creating enjoyment that motivates us to continue using our devices. While the content and user experience of these apps does most of the neurological work to attract us, a significant part of the appeal is the constantly changing candy colors of our phone screens. In this way, we're all large toddlers with much techier versions of a LiteBrite.

Removing the colors supposedly removes some of the neurological appeal. While I can’t personally speak to the science behind the matter, I can describe my experience, which suggests that the allure of digital color is real.

With my phone in grayscale mode, I find myself turning to it only when I actually want to use it for a specific

purpose—to look something up, read a message or email, or check the time.

Far less often do I find myself picking it up idly, and when I do I’m able to consciously tell whether I’m actually seeking something specific, like a particular game, or an addictive hit that I won’t find. This change has made me realize how much digital design is dependent on color rather than accentuated by it; so many of the games I play are much more difficult without the speed of color recognition to assist me. As a challenge, I tried playing a color–matching puzzle game, comparing the different grays to one another. I was not very good at it.

I’m also becoming more aware of how much I view my life through my smartphone. Now, the first thing I look at in the morning and the last thing I look at at night is black and white. My gray Green Passes have become a daily inconvenience. (If you’re curious, they can still be checked through the “Cleared” banner at the top.) Taking photos in grayscale makes me much more likely to photograph things I want to remember, since the act feels like documentation more than aesthetic preservation.

Possibly the most unsettling side effect of this exercise is that my imagination is often in black and white.

When I look up from my screen, sometimes the real world seems black and white, too. I couldn’t write a better metaphor about the impact of my smartphone if I tried.

Sometimes, I put my phone back into color—when watching YouTube videos, for example, or shopping online. And occasionally, I pick up my phone and poke around, some part of my brain still begging to be entertained without effort. Even though it’s partially my responsibility as a consumer to be disciplined, I’m fundamentally aggrieved that it's on me to use tricks to protect myself rather than on tech companies to fix their neurologically–damaging products.

I think I’m going to leave my phone in black and white, and maybe even test out the setting on my laptop. It’s not a perfect solution, but for the sake of my attention span, my grades, and my happiness, it’s a worthwhile one to me.

N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E

3

EGO

JJ KAMPF HOMETOWN: Memphis, Tenn.

MAJOR:

Computer science and philosophy

ACTIVITES:

Shabbatones, Class Board ‘22

Between engineering, music, and a sports analytics internship, Shabbatones co– president JJ Kampf keeps busy. | SAYA DESAI 34th STREET: During your first year at Penn, you transferred into Engineering from the College. What was it that made you decide to go that route?

JJ KAMPF: When I came in, I was much more interested in humanities—in high school, I took a lot of government and history classes. [My first] year, during the shopping period, I sat in on CIS 160 with Rajiv Gandhi, a professor in computer science. I really loved the nature of the class, as it was different from anything I’d experienced in high school. My high school had 20 people in the graduating class, and my first lecture ever was 120 kids in the class. It was a lot, but I realized then that I wanted something that was going to challenge me, and engineering might be something I’d be interested in.

I ended up taking some computer science classes that fall and transferring the following year. It was challenging because I came from a smaller school and focused on humanities in high school, so I didn’t have as strong of a STEM 4

background. I definitely had to grind that first year to be able to get into engineering in the first place, but it ended up working out. It really was just off a whim that I sat in on the class, and the rest is history.

" Ilookthinkat people the class

size and think you can’t, but I’ve had classes with over 100 people where I was able to get to know the professor and have them know me.

STREET: And it sounds like you stayed involved with Professor Gandhi for a while afterwards.

JK: Yeah, I ended up TAing for the class, even though I struggled with the class a lot. It was definitely a grind and not easy for me at all, but I loved the class and loved

3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21

the professor. I think people think that if you’re a TA at Penn, you cruised through the class and had a really easy time with it, but that was not the case for me in 160 at all. I’m thankful that I had that experience to take it before transferring into engineering, but it definitely was not a line drive.

STREET: Coming from a school with only 20 kids in your class, you must be used to having a personal connection with teachers.

Have you been able to find that here at Penn?

JK: I was careful to be a little more proactive in that sense, going up to them after class and introducing myself. You really can get to know teachers here at Penn—I think people look at the class size and think you can’t, but I’ve had classes with over 100 people where I was able to get to know the professor and have them know me. It’s a lot on the students to make the first move.

With Rajiv, it was about going up to him after class. I took "Sports Business Management" junior year over Zoom, and it was hard to get the professor to know you. But after just emailing him and getting to talk af-

ter class over Zoom, to this day he’s someone I go to for advice.

STREET: So how does that class, or sports in general, tie into your career and extracurricular goals?

JK: I am very interested in sports

analytics. I got involved with the Penn Sports Analytics Group, where we work with the varsity football and basketball teams. We worked with the football team over the summer, using some of their data about the other Ivy league teams to help them build reports to prepare for their upcoming games. This semester, I’m working for a basketball team in basketball strategies and research. It’s always been something I’ve wanted to do, to be in sports.

As a sports fan, I love the energy and emotion that surround sports, and I think it’s cool to work in a space that people have actual emotional attachments to.

STREET: How did your internship with the NBA come about?

JK: I went to this thing called

the NBA Summer League, which is a two–week long event where the draft picks and younger players in the NBA come to Las Vegas for a

EGO

couple weeks to play in smaller games. The decision–makers and front offices of teams will come to Vegas and watch the players and figure out who’s on their radar. Because my brother and I are big basketball fans, we decided to go to Las Vegas, and because I always wanted to work in the NBA, I just reached out to a couple teams that were there by cold–emailing them. I had some conversations with people in the analytics departments in Las Vegas, and I ended up getting lucky.

As an engineer, I found it hard to just be by myself. I coded for hours in some of my previous internship experiences. I like working with people and talking about decisions related to interpersonal things, so that’s what motivated me to look outside of just core software engineering. My whole family and I grew up loving the [Memphis] Grizzlies, and I always dreamed of going to work at a basketball stadium.

STREET: So shifting gears, tell us about the Shabbatones.

JK: The Shabbatones are a

Jewish a cappella group, and we sing a mix of Jewish choral pieces, English pop, and Israeli music. I auditioned right when I got to Penn [my first] year. We rehearse for six hours a week, and every year, we go on a tour. The biggest thing for me has been understanding the impact that we can have on the larger Jewish community. Each year we go on a tour and go to synagogues, Jewish schools, and old–age homes, and we do Q&A’s about life on a college campus as a Jewish student. For me, Shabbatones has been just as much about the cultural aspect, things like singing at Hillel and the tour.

We’re about to go on tour in New York, Boston, and Connecticut.

STREET: It seems like your Jewish identity has really impacted your experience

here at Penn.

JK: Five other kids on my

gap year program to Israel were all coming to Penn, so I came in with that community of Jewish students who all had the same experience during our gap year. We came in and got involved with the Orthodox Community at Penn through Hillel, so that consistent community of people has been core to my Penn experience. When I was thinking about colleges, one of my criteria was how strong the Jewish community was because it’s a big part of your everyday life, with things like dietary restrictions and celebrating the Sabbath. I definitely think Penn has a really strong community, and that’s one of the reasons why I love it here.

STREET: And tell us a bit about your experience on the Class Board.

JK: I wasn’t involved [my

first year] fall, but a senior in my a cappella group, Michael Krone (C '19), was president of the Undergraduate Assembly when I started on Shabbatones. He was also my peer advisor and Pennacle leader, so we crossed paths a lot. It got me thinking about student government, and [first year] spring I ran. The best part of the experience of running for Class Board was that it forced me to branch out of my community and meet more people—I had a lot of great conversations with people who I ended up becoming better friends with as Penn went on. Class Board overall has been a really strong community for me, especially during Hey Day this year. Seeing the whole class have such a good time at Hey Day was great. It was something that, as a [first year], I’d always looked to as a staple of the Penn experience. We really fought for having an in–person Hey Day, so being a part of the conversations and community has been something I’m really thankful for.

LIGHTNING ROUND STREET: Last song you listened to?

JK: “Easy” by Chelsea Cutler.

STREET: If you were to be a building on campus, which would you be and why?

JK: I’d be Fisher Fine Arts. It’s the most underrated library on campus, and it’s beautiful. I definitely recommend it to all the [first years].

STREET: What would you have as your death row meal?

JK: A waffle with peanut butter and sliced bananas with almond milk.

STREET: There are two types of people at Penn …

JK: Those who go to Quaker sports games and those who don’t.

STREET: And you are?

JK: I’m definitely one of the people that goes. I’m hoping Penn begins to improve with people coming out to games because it’s a really fun time.

40TH & SPRUCE copabanana.com 215-382-1330

JOIN US FOR BRUNCH SATURDAY & SUNDAY Reservations Required MIMOSAS FROM 12PM TO 2PM N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E

5

EGO

Who Oversees Protests on Campus?

MEET THE OPEN EXPRESSION DIVISION OF STUDENT AFFAIRS

I

This branch of administration works to protect free speech rights at Penn. | ALANA BESS

t’s a Tuesday afternoon. As you head to your next class of the day all the way in David Rittenhouse Laboratory, you decide to scroll through Instagram for the third time in ten minutes. In story after story, you see the same thing: Those damned preachers are back.

You rush to Van Pelt and join the crowd of students jeering and recording. The girls next to you are rolling their eyes at the screaming ringleader’s yellow “Women Belong in the Kitchen” sign. The amount of students congregated there ebbs and flows, but the crowd never fully disappears as more and more people continue to express their disgust at the extremist messages in front of them.

Meanwhile, as the students act as pure spectators of the all–too–familiar protest, the Office of Student Affairs is bustling around, delegating the next Open Expression Observer to head over to maintain peace.

Executive Director of Student Affairs Katie Bonner oversees a team of about 20 volunteer Open Expression Observers. They work to make sure that these protests, as well as other University–sponsored events, remain peaceful and stick to Penn’s Guidelines on Open Expression.

Under her umbrella role, Bonner works with guest speakers who may be considered controversial to make sure that they're both adhering to and protected under Penn’s commitment toward a free exchange of ideas.

“I think it’s important that we’re able to put legs to Penn’s policy in supporting our freedom of speech and that it’s not just a thing we say, but a thing that we really try our best to support,” she says.

Open Expression Observers are often necessary at events that tend to 6

encourage passionate reactions from attendees, and being controversial is a part of that. Regarding the preachers on campus, Bonner explains, it’s often not so much about controversy (as people generally disagree with their messages), but about crowd reaction control. When protest activity pops up, OSA does its best to get someone on site immediately to act as a comforting presence for those nearby.

As college students who learn

which kinds of statements are okay and which are not.

Because Penn is a part of Philadelphia—as well as part of a greater international community through its research—public speech from diverse groups of people takes place on campus on a daily basis. Friction and disagreement in such a space is natural and an incredible opportunity, Bonner says.

“Maintaining a commitment to free speech also inherently means

more about the world every day, it's important for us to understand the value of safely engaging with disagreeable people and their correspondingly disagreeable ideas. It’s a slippery slope when it comes to shutting down speech on campus, especially hate speech. Hate speech is legally protected by the First Amendment—hate crimes are not.

Because speech is a protected right, it is continually difficult to decide

Illustration by Tyler Kliem that the antidote to bad speech is more speech, not shutting down said speech,” she continues. If certain kinds of speech were regularly silenced, it would cause a sort of chilling effect—people would be uncomfortable or unwilling to express certain points of view, which Bonner doesn’t think helps us achieve our aims as an educational institution.

Deciding what counts as protected versus unprotected speech is a diffi-

3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21

cult line to toe. After all, don’t we all choose where to go to college based at least somewhat on universities' mission statements and what they stand for? How can we tolerate hateful speakers on campus? Truthfully, we don’t have a say on this specific matter. Most “uninvited” speakers to campus tend to make their mark by jumping through all of the necessary loopholes to avoid ejection, such as using handheld banners instead of setting up tables in order to not be considered an “official event.” Additionally, while Penn does condemn hate speech, the University also cherishes the concept of free speech as a fundamental right, along with the majority of college campuses across the United States. Colleges and universities aren't always legally able to control the speech that happens on their grounds.

However, it’s never easy to stand around and listen to the various extremists that visit campus. Bright yellow signs that read “Homos Deserve AIDS” and “Drunks Burn in Hell!” do nothing but propagate hate on Penn’s turf. It's almost impossible not to look while these protesters yell their abusive rhetoric at throngs of students. Bonner suggests ignoring them as much as possible to deprive them of the attention they seek.

“I feel very strongly that the minute we start to censor speech in any way, it will be weaponized against marginalized communities, and that is not something that we want to encourage or create on our campus,” Bonner says.

The next time you pass by angry men screaming about why everything you stand for is immoral and deserving of eternal damnation, remember that they don’t deserve your attention. Open Expression Observers are there to make sure that everyone's rights are protected.

THE RADIAN EXPERIENCE

Now leasing for Fall 2022 (215) 222-4212 | theradian.com N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E

7

MUSIC

Gracie Abrams offers fans a taste of intimacy with her EP, minor.

Gracie Abrams offers fans a taste of intimacy with her EP, minor. | FERNANDA BRIZUELA

S

inger–songwriter Gracie Abrams released her first EP, minor, during July 2020, in the midst of the pandemic. From her bedroom, she was able to reach listeners through her melancholic songwriting and soft vocals. The EP was accepted

by Abrams’ fans with open arms.

It was a product of its time, an intimate and nostalgic project that allowed teenagers in quarantine to long for a better time. As a whole, the project is special because of how utterly personal and relatable it is. Now, as the air turns chilly and the leaves signify the arrival of fall, Abrams’ music becomes a perfect companion for the season. minor is about heartbreak.

Whether or not the listener has been through anguish in the aftermath of a long–term relationship like Abrams has, her feelings resonate and allow the listener to make the EP their own. Abrams worked with a number of collaborators for the project. Most notable, however, is the participation of producer Blake Slatkin— the inspiration for minor. The EP was written during a break in the couple’s five–year–long relationship. Her openness to work with him for this project further signifies Abrams’ willingness to express her vulnerability through music.

She recently talked about minor and her upcoming music in a press conference with Universal Music Group. “[minor] was definitely a product of exactly where I was at at the time. Having gone through the only real breakup in my life and just feeling everything that comes with that and writing about it in a very typically private way …” she says. “minor was very much coming of age, just like coming into myself.”

Throughout the EP, Abrams doesn’t shy away from expressing 8

the sheer honesty of her feelings.

In most of the songs, she speaks directly to her ex. The lyrics tell the story of two people: Abrams and an unnamed “you.”

In “I miss you, I’m sorry,” she mourns her relationship while continuing to acknowledge its toxic traits. Abrams says, “I still love you, I promise” as she remembers fights with her ex, “breaking dishes when [he’s] disappointed.”

Even in one of the most upbeat songs on the list, “21,” she paints a picture of a 21st birthday tainted by heartbreak.

"Listening to the album feels like a bonding experience, as if she’s trusting you with her intimate thoughts and feelings."

Listening to the album feels like a bonding experience, as if she’s trusting you with her intimate thoughts and feelings. It’s like reading through her diary— and it basically is. Abrams has identified journaling as a central component to her songwriting, assuring that her songs are a genuine window into her experiences. More than a major step in her songwriting process, journaling is one of the ways Abrams fell in love with composing.

“I just can’t imagine myself as a kid just randomly falling into songwriting had I not been journaling … ever since before I could read my handwriting back … In the best way, it just felt so private and something that was completely my own … I felt so amped to have discovered this sacred space in my journal,” Abrams says. “Journaling has been the most direct thread through my songwriting, the way that

3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21

I journal is basically the same way that I write songs.”

In addition to the vulnerability of the lyrics, the way she shared her work with fans contributed to the personal nature of the album.

On the day of minor’s release, Abrams announced a series of “Bedroom Shows”—an iteration of an online pandemic concert.

These concerts invited fans to join a Zoom session while she played through the songs on the EP. The shows were based on specific cities—Los Angeles, New York, London, Chicago, Berlin, and Sydney—to allow fans from the same regions to join in the experience together. I had the opportunity to attend a meet and greet before one of the shows. I expected nothing but a short question and answer session followed by the performance, but was surprised to find that the experience was more like joining a “Zoom party” with people I knew. It was casual and fun, like catching up with an old friend.

When the performance began, I was surprised by how much it felt like watching a real concert rather than simply watching a recorded session. Abrams sang from her bedroom, accompanied only by her piano. Throughout the show, attendees could keep their cameras on to see and interact with each other, even having the opportunity to talk to Abrams for a couple of minutes at the end.

The Bedroom Shows were a perfect opportunity for her to share minor with fans.

As COVID–19 restrictions

eased, however, she finally had the opportunity to see listeners in person through her tour I’ve missed you, I’m sorry. Even through these in–person shows, Abrams has maintained the intimate setting she established through her Zoom concerts.

“Being on tour honestly has taught me a lot about the reception of my music … I just hope that people feel like it’s a space where they can also be honest and vulnerable about the way that they’re feeling,” Abrams shares.

“And I think having recently been playing in rooms where there are actually people that are responding to the songs and lyrics, it’s been massively inspiring.”

Although she just started touring minor, Abrams is releasing new projects, and the comforting nature of her songs has definitely carried through.

Since March 2021, Abrams has released “Unlearn” with Benny Blanco, “Brush Fire,” “Mess It Up,” and most recently, “Feels Like.” Her new music continues to ex-

plore topics relating to relationships and heartbreak. Nonetheless, her sound is evolving in that it’s becoming more introspective. Rather than recounting her experiences, Abrams delves deeper into how everything has affected her and her role in the relationships about which she sings. In the process of writing for her upcoming album, Abrams reflects about the changing role of intimacy in her lyrics. Her new releases promise to continue being personal and honest—even if brutally so. “[minor] was a project about a relationship, my relationship to somebody else, and I think the music I’ve been writing more recently has been much more of a self–reflection and about a relationship to myself which has been a different kind of interesting journey.” Through new releases, Abrams’ music continues to be relatable and intimate.

These songs are the perfect addition to a fall playlist, ideal to listen to while cozying up to a blanket with a warm drink in hand.

Illustration by Tamara Wurman

MUSIC

Maisie Peters Writes Songs to Soundtrack Your Daydreams The pop singer–songwriter has carefully crafted sentimental stories on her debut record, You Signed Up For This. | MEHEK BOPARAI

“B

efore we begin, I just wanted to let you know my [friend] told me that your music got her through her break–up, and she’s very grateful for it and for you.”

The musician’s eyes flush with warmth as she speaks of how happy this news makes her, because her priority in her career has always been to become entangled in the lives of her listeners. Maisie Peters is one of us: She falls in love too fast, she records TikToks on a whim, and she gets caught up in the little details. This intensity behind her music has led many to coin her as the new Taylor Swift, but Peters has much different stories to tell.

The 21–year–old singer–songwriter, who began her journey in the public eye on YouTube when she was 15, recently de-

Illustration by Isabel Liang

buted her first studio album, You Signed Up For This. In the rise of self–awareness in women’s music, Peters fits neatly within the appeal for earnest lyricism and dreamy production. The most popular single off the album, “Psycho,” deconstructs the crazy–girl narrative and adopts it as truth—in a manner similar to that of Swift’s 2014 song, “Blank Space.”

However, Peters didn’t break onto the scene with her album.

Her earlier releases, such as her 2018 single “Worst of You,” have gained millions upon millions of streams on Spotify. Writing songs became a part of her daily routine from childhood, when she became infatuated with literature and short novels such as The Great Gatsby. In fact, she recalls writing her English final exam on the classic Fitzgerald novel:

“I wrote about the trustworthiness of narrators, which is so ironic because I’m the least trustworthy narrator!”

The succinctness of the book alongside its beauty–laden writing opened her eyes to how impactful but difficult it is to create something concise yet sublime. It is apparent in her songwriting that she has worked to achieve this balance with grace.

Prior to the release of You Signed Up For This, Peters, who was already under Atlantic Records, recently signed with Gingerbread Man Records—headed by Ed Sheeran.

The main draw to this change, she says, was Sheeran himself; the two had begun collaborating together as songwriters in 2020, and two songs on the album are credited with his help (“Boy” and “Hollow”).

“He says I remind him of him,

which is a big compliment.”

The pair had mutual friends, and Sheeran approached Peters after he was impressed with her music. He became a natural fit for creating with her. Peters views the collaborative writing process and the solo process as entirely different, for when she works with others she is not “bouncing ideas off a blank wall.” There’s so much more room for experimentation and surprise, and she has noticed she gets very different results from her coveted guitar–heavy folk songs.

Although Peters had been working toward her debut album since she was 12, much of the writing came from quarantine sessions in 2020. “None of the songs took ages [to write], but some took ages to finish.”

She says that “Elvis Song” was created in bits and pieces, but the majority of the tracks were written in a day before being altered and finished. This sounds almost unfathomable as the songs hover between confessionals of growing pains and love with expiration dates.

On “Outdoor Pool,” a tune coated in the nostalgia of a teenage romance, Peters reveals that the lyrics were inspired by coming–of–age stories but are not accurate: “I’m sorry! I never kissed my good friend in an outdoor pool, that song is just fiction; it was just us daydreaming … a dreamscape.”

Her ability to craft stories in a way that rings both extremely specific and overtly relatable is the pinnacle of Peters’ success.

“Psycho” has been hailed by many as the ultimate breakup song, not only for its bubbly

production but also its jaded, unfiltered lyricism. Peters has danced around to it on her performances for The Kelly Clarkson Show as well as Jimmy Kimmel Live, and a clip of her bopping around to it onstage has amassed over 5 million views on TikTok (where she has over 270,000 followers). It falls into the uncut, anger–ridden genre of popular women’s music today, shining alongside Olivia Rodrigo’s “good 4 u” and Aly & AJ’s “Potential Breakup Song,” but only offers one side of the repertoire Peters has to offer. “I was worried people wouldn’t like it, and it would be too different from what I’ve done … but when I do shows, that song is the one that goes off the most.”

Performing has been the highlight of Peters’ career given that she spent so much time on the album virtually.

Despite not having played for two years, her re–emergence in front of a live crowd has been that of “a different performer,” and as the world has begun to wake up, she is realizing how much growth she underwent during the pandemic. This growth is already evident in her second album that she’s starting to pen now that she’s done performing for the year. Maisie Peters, in all of her forlorn and lulling muses, has only begun her career of literary songwriting. She writes music for the heartbroken, the perpetual daydreamer, the nostalgic twentysomething. As we look forward to seeing what stories she charts next, there is one thing for certain—they’re going to be beautiful.

N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E

9

FILM & TV

How Living Single Was The Blueprint for Friends The impact of Living Single can't be understated or ignored. | SHELBY ABAYIE

S

ix friends, all spunky twentysomethings, are living together in a vibrant city facing relationship drama, job struggles, and wacky hijinks. But no matter what happens, their bond remains strong. Any guesses on the sitcom’s name? Here’s a hint, it’s not Friends.

Living Single, created by Yvette Lee Bowser, premiered on FOX in 1993 and featured an all–Black cast of roommates living in Brooklyn, New York. It was an immediate and "unexpected" hit, according to Entertainment Weekly in 1994.

The characters are Khadijah (Queen Latifah), Synclaire (Kim Coles), Maxine or “Max” (Erika Alexander), Overton (John Henton), Regina or "Regine" (Kim Fields), Kyle (T.C. Carson), and finally, Ira or “Tripp” (Mel Jackson).

In the sitcom, extra emphasis was placed on developing an air of Black excellence to combat stereotypes about Black people. Khadijah and Max are best friends that met at Howard University, a prestigious Historically Black College and University.

The characters' jobs include stockbroker, attorney, and magazine editor. Positive representation of Black people was central to the show, and the cast was cognizant of the power their portrayals held.

In an interview with Blavity, Inc., Erika Alexander noted the importance of representation, saying, "Representation matters … there are people who have come up to me who are in positions of power,

whether they are politicians or lawyers that saw Max and Kyle and Khadijah, and saw themselves in those positions."

The characters themselves are down–to–earth and have fun on the show. While consideration is given to racial issues, they aren’t bombarded with the stereotypical struggles that regularly overtake the lives of Black characters on television to the point where it becomes their personalities. Instead, they accurately represent Black people and their communities. “We had a brother who was wearing his hair in with locks working on Wall Street and a woman who was starting her own magazine. It was really powerful, and I think it still stands today,” Kim Coles said in an interview with Entertainment Tonight.

In the same interview, Coles notes that while the show was important for representing Black communities, it was a hit among many different audiences—even if some tried to say it wasn't.

She elaborates with a touching anecdote, saying, "We kept being told that we were a Black show. But I remember going to the bank one time and this little old Jewish man … squeezed my arm and said 'Hello beautiful, I love that show with all you beautiful girls, I love it,' and he was nothing like the demographic they said we had, but he was watching because it reminded him of home."

Outside of the show's groundbreaking level of representation, the show is sim-

10 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21

ply very fun to watch. The episodes are filled with wacky hijinks, with plot lines surrounding escorting a princess or battling to break a news story before another publication. It keeps audiences enthralled, and did so well— Living Single became so successful that after a year, NBC used the same formula of 'sitcom featuring friends in New York City' and aired Friends in 1994.

Some who worked on Living Single are skeptical of the originality of Friends, with Queen Latifah doubting it publicly during a 2017 appearance on Andy Cohen's show, Watch What Happens Live. "It was one of those things where it was a guy called Warren Littlefield that used to run NBC, and they asked him when all the new shows came out, they said, 'If there's any show you could have, which one would it be?'

And he said, 'Living Single.'

And then he created Friends," she said.

Soon after, Friends and Living Single were pitted against each other in a battle for audiences—and it wasn’t a fair fight. As Friends became popular, it received more promotion from NBC, while Living Single was left to flounder and slowly fade from the limelight by FOX. In the '90s up through today, anyone can walk into a gift shop in New York City and find Friends cups, T–shirts, pens, hats, calendars, and every other form of merchandise. In contrast, merch for Living Single was nowhere to be found.

Even worse, all pretenses

were dropped when FOX moved Living Single from its prime Sunday night spot to Thursday to compete directly with Friends’ Thursday night spot on NBC. A stark polarization developed in which viewers had to choose between the sitcoms, and the rest is history. Friends went on to become a cultural juggernaut still popular today, and Living Single was canceled after five seasons.

“I was mad because we didn’t get any credit for it … We got no acknowledgment, that's what bothered me the most. It was too similar. It was six Black folks living in New York City versus six white folks living in New York City … they say Friends is the most creative show in the world but Yvette didn’t get that credit” said John Henton in an interview with Comedy Hype.

Regardless of its lack of longevity in comparison to Friends, the impact of Living Single can’t be understated or ignored. The sitcom pioneered one of the most successful TV show formulas in existence and deserves the credit for having done so, especially since too often, Black creators aren't credited for their work and even have their work stolen by their white counterparts.

In an interview with Comedy Hype, Carson said,“In a lot of ways [we were fighting for the respect] we were getting less than [the other shows]. And then they created Friends and gave them everything and both shows were Warners Brothers shows

on Warner Brothers’ lots. To be on our lot and to watch that was really kind of a slap in the face.”

Although the lack of respect given to Living Single is disappointing, one can’t completely blame Friends. The powers that be at NBC made sure to choose a dynamic cast of actors with genuine chemistry and comedic skills to match.

However, does this mean that Living Single should be left in the dust as a sad reminder of how Black creators have been mistreated

by Hollywood and the public itself? No. Media is forever, and accessible to almost anyone. People around the world watch their favorite series over and over again, with Friends being a common choice.

“Our work stands the test of time … We’re doing great in syndication … The show This Is Us referenced Living Single. I thought it was awesome, the fact that 26 years later people are still talking about us” said Henton to Comedy Hype.

Rather than rewatching Friends for the umpteenth time, take a look at Living Single and experience what it has to offer. Friends fans shouldn’t spend hours endlessly scrolling and binging recommended shows that are similar but don’t quite leave the same impact. If anything, out of all the sitcoms floating around, Living Single is the most equipped to fill the hole left behind after finishing Friends, and perhaps offer something more.

FILM & TV

Why You Should Be Binge–Watching Inside Job If you’re curious to see a world in which conspiracy theorists are the arbiters of truth, this adult animated series is for you. | CINDY ZHANG

“T

he world is controlled by shadowy elites and shape– shifting lizard people.” That’s the premise of Netflix’s new animated comedy series, Inside Job. Released on Oct. 22, 2021, it's already made the top 10 list on United States Netflix. Part 1 consists of ten impeccable, 30–minute episodes and Part 2 is expected to air sometime in 2022. The show is centered on a group of misfits who work at Cognito Inc., a clandestine agency whose function is to keep the truth hidden from the rest of the world. Both an exploration of workplace dynamics and a mockery of conspiracy theories that have proliferated in modern society in light of scientific and technological developments, Inside Job is the definition of satirical success.

Any conspiracy theory that one can think of—5G technology being carcinogenic, the flat–Earth theory, moon–landings being faked, the existence of the deep state—is canonical in the fictional world created by Alex Hirsch— who also produced Gravity Falls—and Shion Takeuchi. Public video surveillance is portrayed not as a safety measure, but as a means of control. One wrong move, and an extraction team will show up at your doorstep with a body bag. In the world of Inside Job, FBI agents are most definitely

her lack of people skills and insen- and unlimited ambition. In many the company. However, his emositivity to social cues makes it in- ways, she is an antiheroine. She is tional honesty and self–awareness credibly difficult to work with her motivated by self–interest (“Imag- make him infinitely more likeand damages workplace morale. ine it, me, ruling the office with able. As much as we might try to Outside the professional sphere, an iron fist,” she exclaims, as she deny it, even he is a relatable charInside Job explores adult problems envisions her coveted promotion), acter at certain points in the show.

As we reside in the penultimate through a comedic lens, its light- excluded in the workplace by her hearted nature rendering issues co–workers, and self–destructive month of the year, it can be ensuch as social anxiety disorder, (her wacky inventions often end couraging to some and demoralizchildhood trauma, and parent– up harming her both personally ing to others that we’ve passed the midpoint mark of the semester.

Illustration by Louis Zhang child relationships more palatable. and professionally).

Her appointed co–leader and Regardless of your predictions for The fact that Reagan goes as far as watching you through your lap- creating a robot version of a guy fitness junkie Brett Hand is your the chances of you surviving the top camera. she’s too scared to ask out and be archetypal heterosexual white semester, this animated series is What’s so compelling about emotionally vulnerable with is a male. What he lacks in skills and guaranteed to put a smile on your the series is that it not only whole- strangely accurate, albeit exagger- experience, he makes up for in face. Not only does it validate heartedly embraces the absurd, it ated, depiction of typical concerns connections from his frat days at our feelings—like Brett, we all takes these conspiracies and dis- surrounding relationships.

Yale, firm handshakes, and obse- crave that external validation torts them. Oh, global warming The strong characterizations in quiousness. In his character we from time to time—but its unis real all right. In fact, reptoids, this show deserve some recogni- witness the phenomenon of “pret- expected twists and hot takes many of whom are celebrities tion as well: Reagan, the protago- ty privilege,” or “lookism" at play: on conspiracy theories are a and A–listers, collaborate with nist, is a complex character with His “generic good looks” grant refreshing distraction from the Cognito Inc. to prevent action a questionable sense of morality him immediate popularity within chaos of college life. from being taken to combat environmental threats so that their optimum body temperature can be maintained.

It also makes the metaphorical literal. The derogatory term “sheeple” is turned on its head when the camera pans to the human–sheep hybrids that walk around in the lab where “fingerprint erasers” and mind–controlling candy are invented and produced in bulk.

Above all, it makes its eccentric characters relatable when it inserts real–life workplace stereotypes into this fictional world to pander to their adult audience. You have the patriotic, militaristic Glenn Dolphman; mind–reading, alien mushroom Magic Myc; drug addict Andre; finger–guns–galore Brett Hand; and power–hungry, tech–savvy scientist Reagan Ridley. Reagan struggles to assert her (215) 546-7301 authority to her team, whose habbeer 22nd & Washington ave d l e fi g in r p s its of getting high and ignoring distributor her instructions paint them as less than ideal employees. However,

We’ve got your holiday party beer!

Studying too hard?

WE DELIVER

N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E 1 1

F E AT U R E

F E AT U R E

When Women’s Rights Are at Stake,

arol racy Takes a Stand

PENN ALUMNA, LECTURER, AND FULLTIME LAWYER TALKS FEMINISM ON CAMPUS AND THE FUTURE OF WOMEN’S RIGHTS IN THE UNITED STATES. | JIAHUI GU

P

rofessor Carol Tracy never saw it coming.

Sitting in her office on Nov. 9, 2016, Tracy watched Hillary Clinton’s concession speech with a heart of grief: “I was absolutely terrified and enraged.”

Tracy, a lecturer in Penn’s Gender, Sexuality, and Women’s Studies Program, recalls Trump’s victory in the 2016 presidential election as the lowest point of her career. His administration

would put the past four decades of her activist work in Philadelphia at stake.

“So much of my life has been a life of seeing progress—extraordinary progress—and working to hold on to it, as efforts were there to push it back,” says Tracy.

Tracy has been the executive director of the Women’s Law Project—a nonprofit legal organization working to eliminate gender bias and discrimination—for 31 years now. Before that,

1 2 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21

she led Penn Women’s Center as its director shortly after its creation in 1973.

She also spent time at Penn as a secretary and a student, spearheading sit– ins and protests against rape and sexual assault. Her life is a testament to the dedication and struggle it’s taken to advance reproductive rights and women’s representation at Penn and across the nation, as well as a poignant reminder of the feminist work that still needs to be done.

Tracy is both a full–time women’s rights lawyer and a local activist, championing critical women’s rights issues like the right to abortion or support for survivors of sexual assault. Trump’s election was a direct attack on her life’s mission, but she’s never one to give up when faced with an uphill battle. In fact, she credits much of her growth as an activist to such moments of frustration and defeat.

The first time she was told to quit,

Tracy was in elementary school.

“Someone told my sixth–grade teacher, a nun, that I liked Elvis,” she says. “She read an article from a Catholic newspaper criticizing him. And I said, ‘I don’t care, I still like him. My mother likes him. My grandmother likes him.’”

The then sixth–grader took this chance to make her first stand against the establishment, declaring her love for the “Elvis who thrust his pelvis.”

As expected, the nun said Elvis Presley was immoral, and Tracy was thrown out of the classroom. However, years later in high school, the young woman unexpectedly received an apology from the nun—which marked the budding activist’s first successful political statement.

This rather unconventional experience charged Tracy with a fearless nonconformity that manifested in her career. Upon high school graduation, Tracy worked as a secretary at Penn full–time while also taking courses part–time in the nighttime program of the School of General Studies (now the College of Liberal and Professional Studies). The nighttime program offered the same professors and content as Penn’s undergrad curriculum, and courses were half–price for Penn employees. During that period, Tracy became active in the on–campus feminist community.

“Discrimination based on gender existed throughout the University, including [against] very, very senior faculty women,” she says. Tracy stresses the severity of the situation back when she was a student: “Many [senior faculty women] didn’t actually have the status of tenure. So they were organizing under some important executive orders [Executive Order 11478].”

Secretaries weren’t initially included in this movement, which Tracy worked to change. Once welcomed, she joined a multigenerational community that focused on collective work. “They kept an eye out for me,” she says. Black and female faculty members became Tracy’s mentors and support network. She names the late Penn Dental professor Phoebe Leboy, microbiology professor Helen Davies at Penn Medicine, and former Penn Police women’s security

specialist Ruth Wells as her biggest inspirations.

“If there is one lesson, it is the power of joining forces,” she says.

“Collective work is really important.”

Tracy’s position as the secretary turned out to be a strategic advantage for the movement. “As the spokesperson, I could sign these letters criticizing the administration, right and left,” she says. “And what were they going to do? Fire a secretary? They weren’t going to come after me, but they could have hurt some of these senior faculty in terms of promotion or not giving them the kind of support they needed.”

[about] sexual assaults in various buildings and didn't know if it was one assault, or if it was five assaults,” she says. “The then Head of Public Safety met with us and told us that one way to avoid being raped was to not wear provocative clothing.”

What happened next, in Tracy’s words, can only be described as extraordinary.

“A very assertive 16–year–old [first year] named Rose Weber, who is now a major civil rights lawyer in New York, stood up, looked at him, and said, ‘I can walk buck naked down this campus, and your job is to protect me.’”

“If there is one lesson, it is the power of joining forces.”

CAROL TRACY

Unafraid to use her voice, Tracy became the face of Women for Equal Opportunity at the University of Pennsylvania (WEOUP), an organization formed by women activists that worked to foster gender equality on campus.

When financial aid became available, Tracy enrolled as a full–time student. This was when one of the most significant moments of Tracy’s activist career took place. In 1973, news came out that two students were raped at 34th and Market streets; it would later be revealed that five students had been raped in the span of three days. Tracy immediately stepped in to help organize campus–wide protests calling for Penn to address the case properly.

“To tell you the truth, we were afraid, because we were hearing

Tracy’s eyes beam as she recalls this moment. “I always liken it to when you’re in an aquarium and you see the fish all turn at once. You know, that whoosh! Because that’s what happened to the audience of women.

We went from fear and concern to absolute rage.”

The courageous act of this one student led to an organized sit–in in College Hall, to demands of more security, and eventually, to the creation of Penn Women’s Center, originally a safe space for women on campus.

Penn Women’s Center now provides support for students of all genders and identities.

After graduating from Penn, Tracy worked as the director of the Bicentennial Women's Center. When the former director of Penn Women’s Center left, Tracy took on that role

while simultaneously pursuing her J.D. degree at Temple Law School.

During her time as director of PWC from 1977 to 1984, Tracy focused on addressing issues around affirmative action and sexual assault on campus.

One of the most influential cases she oversaw occurred in 1983, when a group of Alpha Tau Omega (ATO) brothers allegedly raped a female student at their fraternity house. The case received national attention but ultimately resulted in a six–month suspension for the frat. Meanwhile, the University offered the female student a monetary settlement to prevent her from suing over the administration's actions. It’s unclear if she took the settlement. Several hundred students protested against Penn’s handling of the case and violence against women on campus at large.

Becoming a Penn employee did not stop Tracy from criticizing the administration’s responses to sexual assault cases. “The ATO incident happened … and I was on the front page of the Wall Street Journal criticizing the president of the University of Pennsylvania while I was an employee,” she says. “Yep, and I didn't get fired.”

“They tried to talk me down. I said, ‘Listen, this is my job. If I'm not willing to lose my job for what I was hired to do, then there's no point in having the job.’”

In 1990, Tracy’s dream job opened up. Having practiced in a private law firm for several years and worked as a city attorney, she was ready to join the Women’s Law Project, a public interest legal organization dedicated to improving the legal status of women and LGBTQ people. Tracy took her decades of experience organizing for women’s rights at Penn and began a career in advocacy at the state and national level. In her 31 years as the program’s director, she led the publication of key studies on gender discrimination, worked with Pennsylvania’s government to build institutional support for survivors of domestic and sexual violence, and fought in the courts to protect women’s reproductive rights. This last struggle has come to the forefront of the organization’s work, as Trump’s presidency led to a conservative Su-

N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E 1 3

F E AT U R E

preme Court majority that threatens the future of Roe v.

Wade.

From Tracy’s observation, there has been “a steady erosion” of access to abortion, with anti–abortion efforts starting as soon as Roe v. Wade was decided. But the situation escalated at an unprecedented speed, especially after Trump’s presidency. In recent years, feminist activists have witnessed surging, violent attacks on abortion access. According to Tracy, efforts to organize legislators, ongoing violent attacks on abortion–care facilities (including the murders of abortion providers), and the funding of crisis pregnancy centers are three core components of the grassroots anti–abortion movement. Perhaps most upsettingly, the state of Pennsylvania even diverted federal welfare funding, money originally dedicated to helping children and families in poverty, to anti– abortion clinics.

Under Tracy’s leadership, the Women’s Law Project is actively seeking to address Pennsylvania’s anti–abortion policies. In October 2021, they took up the case of Allegheny Reproductive Health Center v. Pennsylvania Department of Human Services, asking the Pennsylvania Supreme Court to overturn the state ban on Medicaid coverage for abortion.

The stakes are high. In 1985, a Pennsylvania Supreme Court case ruled abortion funding restrictions constitutional, severely limiting abortion coverage for people on Medicaid, a national program for affordable public health insurance. As a result, women of low-income lose access to vital abortion services, which may cost anywhere from $500 to $1,195 depending on the trimester.

14 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21

If the Women’s Law Project successfully argues its case, it will reverse this ban and join the seventeen other states, including New Jersey and New York, that provide Medicaid coverage for abortion. Just earlier this month, this Medicaid case was argued in front of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court.

Tracy believes that the Medicaid abortion coverage ban is part of a bigger Republican movement. “There has been an orchestrated, organized movement to eliminate abortion,” she says. “Clearly, the desire is to have Roe overturned, and the people it hurts the most—and

"Particularly if Roe is overturned, I have no doubt that young people and people of all genders will rise to the occasion.”

CAROL TRACY

I think it's been designed to do it—are disproportionately low income people of color.”

The recent Texas abortion ban is just another national wake– up call to those who did not realize what was at stake. According to Tracy, Trump’s presidency allowed these grass–root movements to pick up speed.

“Just up until very recently, [I] did not think Roe would be overturned,” she says. “But the slowness in reacting to Texas really alarms me.”

In her own words, Tracy is “a

cynical optimist.” But the Texas ban still makes her heart ache.

“My fear is that those who are in need are going to be without resources. It's hearing those stories of the women in Texas who are on their knees begging.

Midnight was approaching, and they couldn't get procedures, and they couldn't get abortions.”

Tracy trusts that the future of the movement lies in young people. “I am glad that young women and [LGBTQ] people have a sense of entitlement to their rights … It’s continuing [the feminist movement], understanding we're not done,” she says. “Particularly if Roe is overturned, I have no doubt that young people and people of all genders will rise to the occasion.”

The legacy Tracy left on Penn’s campus continues to inspire the current generation of feminist activists at Penn.

Megan Li (W '24), a student in Tracy’s Gender Studies class, "Women, Gender, Sexuality, and the Law," looks up to the women’s rights lawyer: “What I know about the most [regarding Penn’s history of activism] is Professor Tracy’s work with setting up the Penn Women’s Center, which I thought was very, very impressive. Professor Tracy and other people on campus really just sat in on admin’s offices until [Penn] released a statement and did something about the fact that there was a violent sexual assault in a fraternity.”

But Megan also points out that it’s impossible to replicate another sit–in of that same scale. “Now, that same recourse of advocacy isn’t available to students. Sit–ins are not effective anymore, simply because admin

backed away from those public offices and no longer works in them after this [College Hall] protest.” A casual glance at the current list of senior administrators reveals that their offices are strewn across campus.

“That just shows how powerful [the Penn administration] understands student advocacy to be,” she says. “And the fact that they no longer want to deal with it.”

As a result, student activists now are struggling to find new methods of advocacy that can effectively address the Penn administration’s inaction. “There’s a feeling of, ‘Now what can we do? What works?’” says Megan.

“How can we, especially on Penn’s campus, get admin to listen to us if they keep retreating into caves of not wanting to listen to students?”

Emily Campbell (C '22), another student in Tracy’s class and the poetry editor of the F– word, Penn’s feminist literary magazine, believes that moving forward, feminist groups on campus should collaborate more often. She echoes Tracy’s idea of collective work: “There’s a lot of ways that all different feminist groups can come together and work towards just one cause …

We have these discussions in these clubs, but I think there’s not much actual action.”

While she recognizes these current challenges on Penn’s campus, Tracy remains hopeful as she looks upon her students as the future of the movement.

“Teaching and being in a class like [Women, Gender, Sexuality, and the Law], I know there's a future," she says. "Every year, I see the young people who volunteered at the Women's Law Project. There is a future for us.

We just have to be strategic and be in it for the long haul.”

S H OPSATPE N N .COM

Calling all Movers Shakers + Quakers Shop Penn offers an inspired, contemporary shopping and dining experience, open to all. Spanning ten city blocks from 30th to 40th Streets and across Spruce, Walnut, and Chestnut Streets, Shop Penn features more than 75 carefully curated shopping and dining locations.

Wants Needs + Musthaves

Shop Local.

Shop Penn. #S HOPPE N N @S HOPSATPE N N

Scones Phones + Ice Cream Cones N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E 1 5

FOCUS

Are Masks the New Protest Fashion?

Masks offer a sense of anonymity that is necessary in the age of surveillance capitalism. | GABRIELLE GALCHEN

F

ashion has been an agent of social change for centuries. Jesters wore stripes as a symbol against Christian morality in the 12th century, Cuban political revolutionaries wore berets as a symbol against the Batista government, and civil rights activists wore denim as a symbol of the Black freedom struggle in the 1960s. But the COVID–19 pandemic’s introduction of mask–wearing did more than protect the population—it cemented the latest form of protest fashion.

The use of masks to make

16 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21

a political statement parallels the historic use of slogan T– shirts. Slogan T–shirts gained popularity in the 1970s, when Vivienne Westwood established her “SEX” boutique in London. This punk boutique featured T–shirts with political messages, such as a pro– LGBTQ graphic of two cowboys touching genitals.

During the height of the AIDS epidemic in the 1980s, the slogan “silence = death” was pasted onto T–shirts.

This, along with other strategies like die–ins, sped up the FDA drug approval time window, giving thousands of HIV–positive individuals access to experimental treatments.

During the fourth wave of feminism in the 2010s, feminist slogan tees began to be manufactured in countless chains nationwide: “We should all be feminists,” “This is what a feminist looks like,” and others.

The adaptation of protest fashion to include masks began with the invention of Guy Fawkes masks, a caricature mask that covers the whole face.

Guy Fawkes masks are based on Guy Fawkes, a Catholic rebel who attempted to blow up the British Parliament for religious persecution in 1605. Fawkes became a symbol of fighting tyranny through the dystopian anti– authoritarian graphic novel V for Vendetta.

The use of Guy Fawkes masks started with the hacktivist collective Anonymous, which uses hacking to spread awareness about humanitarian causes. In 2008, Anonymous launched Project Chanology, which criticized the Church of Scientology for censoring an interview with scientologist Tom Cruise.

The symbolism and anonym-

ity of Guy Fawkes masks empowered people worldwide to speak out against authoritarian regimes.

In 2011, the Occupy Wall Street movement officially adopted the Guy Fawkes mask as its form of protest against corruption. That same year, people across the Middle East wore Guy Fawkes masks in anti–authoritarian Arab Spring protests. In 2012, protesters gathered in Mumbai in opposition to the Indian government’s censorship of the Internet. In 2006, Thai protesters wore Guy Fawkes masks in demonstrations against their corrupt puppet government, which was led by an exiled prime minister.

As recently as 2019, Hong Kong protesters used Guy Fawkes masks to oppose a controversial bill that permitted extradition from Hong Kong to China. Guy Fawkes masks became so effective at protecting protesters that China banned the use of face masks.

The pandemic also fundamentally changed the application of mask–wearing. After the murder of George Floyd and subsequent Black Lives Matter protests in June 2020, BLM activists used mask mandates to promote social change. Protest masks included a variety of slogans, such as the words “I can't breathe,” “Black Lives Matter,” “Say her name,” and the names of other Black people who were brutally murdered by police.

The use of protest masks quickly spread nationwide.

At the 2020 United States Open, professional tennis player Naomi Osaka wore seven different face masks, one for each round of the tournament. Each mask bore the name of a black victim of racial injustice—Breonna Taylor, Elijah McClain, Ahmaud Arbery, Trayvon Mar-

FOCUS

tin, George Floyd, Philando Castile, and Tamir Rice.

Protest masks even found their way onto Snapchat, which now includes Bitmoji selfie options of masks with the slogans “Our voices matter,” “BLM,” and “Now.” Masks supporting Black Lives Matter also started popping up in retail giants like Walmart, Amazon, and Etsy.

Since most corporate policies prohibit workers from wearing masks with slogans on them, restaurant and retail workers are now fighting for the right to wear BLM masks to work. Though Whole Foods and Chick–fil– A continue to ban employees from wearing supposedly disruptive BLM gear, companies such as Starbucks and Wawa have changed their policies to permit items supporting Black Lives Matter. After a Taco Bell employee was fired for wearing a BLM mask, Taco Bell apologized for the miscommunication, stating: “We believe the Black Lives Matter movement is a human rights issue and not a political one.”

But unlike every other type of protest fashion, masks are not simply a creative way to express activist beliefs. In the age of surveillance capitalism, the level to which protest anonymity is threatened has been exacerbated by high–tech devices that can monitor and identify protestors. And so the importance of masks takes on a new meaning—In addition to being easily manufactured, gender neutral, and accessible, protest masks offer a guise of anonymity that slogan T–shirts can’t. In a world that treats privacy as expendable, this is a necessity.

The FBI has repeatedly used advanced technology to spy on Black protesters.

Illustration by Collin Wang In 2008, the FBI permitted its agents to use census data to map American communities by race and ethnicity, identify ethnic “facilities” and “behaviors,” and launch an investigation to monitor an alleged “Black Separatist” terrorism threat in Atlanta.

In 2014, the FBI tracked BLM activists advocating for Michael Brown, a Black man who was murdered by a police officer in Ferguson, Missouri. The FBI tracked BLM protesters across the country, warned local law enforcement partners that “Islamic State group supporters” were recruiting protesters. It was later revealed that the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) had secretly drafted a “race paper” covering the movements of BLM activists, indicating that the FBI sent out undercover agents to surveil the social media, homes, cars, and travel of anti–racist protesters.

A few years later in 2018, the FBI used advanced surveillance aircraft to monitor BLM protests in Baltimore after the killing of Freddie Gray.

A 2017 leak of the FBI’s internal records later revealed that the FBI classified “Black identity extremism” as a new domestic terrorism category to be monitored. Of course, this poorly–disguised racism conveniently ignored the fact that Black supremacist violence—unlike white supremacist violence—does not exist.

But it is not only the FBI that is to blame. The insidious effects of technological monitoring have transformed the police force into a surveillance agent, equipped with whatever tools they need: body cameras, cell– site simulators, automated license plate readers, social media monitoring tools, and drones. Police also use facial

recognition apps to identify protesters and stingray devices to pinpoint protesters' phones.

Firms like Amazon and Axon capitalize on this by marketing specific technologies to police departments.

In 2019, Amazon even had a secret agreement with local police departments to advertise its surveillance cameras in exchange for free Ring products and access to the camera footage. Amazon also gave free devices to police for every 20 people they persuaded to use the Ring app in several cities.

China, which is home to 16 out of the top 20 most surveilled cities in the world, primarily uses technology to maintain so–called “law and order.” The Chinese government converts data on its citizens into social credit scores through the system Sharp Eyes, which employs 200 million cameras that recog-

nize faces, record how people walk, and track people’s location. This social credit system classifies citizens as “trustworthy” or “untrustworthy” based on their monitored actions. The government then targets and penalizes individuals on the “black list” who protest against the Communist party. This largely applies to protesters in Hong Kong, who demonstrate by climbing up ladders and covering surveillance cameras.

When it comes to political change, it’s clear that masks aren’t just a staple of the pandemic. Masks serve two purposes in the world of activism—they can be a wordless way to communicate a movement’s core message, and they offer practical benefits as a tool to avoid surveillance while protesting.

In short, they are impactful, they are accessible, they are necessary—a modern–day revolution.

N O V E M B E R 9 , 2 0 2 1 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E 17

ARTS

Chinese Characters: A Perfect Balance of Form and Function

The age–old wisdom of kanji and hanzi is still relevant for future generations. | ROGER GE

人 "rén"

成语 "chéngyǔ"

Illustration by Alice Choi 1 8 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21

W

hat makes Chinese different from any other language? On the surface, the most prominent difference is how it looks: Chinese employs what appear to be elaborate, blocky symbols that give no place of entry for the untrained eye. The English and Chinese languages both use sequences of characters to make sounds and meaning, but what sets Chinese characters apart is not only their seeming complexity, but also their ability to convey an elaborate history and culture behind the strokes.

One common misunderstanding about Chinese characters is that they are picture writing. But this isn’t completely true or false. For example, the character for human, “人 (rén),” originally evolved from a pictograph that was made in likeness of a human.

However, as concepts get more abstract—things like “word” or emotions like “love”—the meaning of the character cannot be realistically depicted.

The visual components are then often combined to form a larger meaning, or are chosen for the sound they correspond to. However, even when Chinese characters are put together to form more complex words, they still keep their individual connotation.

The individual symbols in phonetic alphabets represent sounds but are inherently meaningless. In contrast, Chinese characters, the smallest units of language, have their own individual meanings. “

成语 (chéngyǔ)” is one example of this characteristic in practice. These are usually four–syllable words or idioms that convey a value, admonishment, or wisdom, sometimes using characters that may seem unrelated on the surface.

An instance like “井底之蛙 (jǐngdǐzhīwā)” is but one of many examples illustrating this complex relationship between the literal and the figurative: Literally, it means a “frog at the bottom of a well,” but it represents “a close–minded or naïve individual.” In fact, there is an entire tale that accompanies this chengyu about a frog who makes assumptions about the world beyond its little well based on what it observes from within.

The origins of these idioms find themselves in the history and the culture of China, but also in the cultures of neighboring countries that adopted Chinese characters. Each adage bears a weight that may span centuries, with a deeply rooted cultural significance and identity. Many chengyu, for example, originated in poetry or prose. Over time, these have been extracted from that original context into the common lexicon. Their meaning has carried forth but also evolved with the changing times.

Calligraphy is often associated with chengyu, and allows for a combination of a meaningful message with an artistic interpretation. Many scripts of calligraphy were practiced throughout history, and many continue to this day. The

decorative nature of the art form and the accompanying significance of the text makes for a gift that can be given to a friend, sending them good wishes, or be used as a formality in official events. Regrettably, as with many traditions in various cultures, young people are slowly forgetting the value behind these art forms that were previously passed down from one generation to the next. This is a shame, since in a quickly changing world, the far–reaching history of calligraphy may bring us some comfort and a sense of connection.

Chinese characters can be appreciated aesthetically too, especially if they’ve been hand–written. They also have the ability to craft a series of sentiments, thoughts, and nuances in what is essentially a few concise syllables. Indeed, Chinese art sometimes employs a character or two in the composition. The weight of the character adds to the message and interpretation of the piece as a whole, creating a balance between the literary and the visual.

Chinese characters come from a culture with a long history and have evolved and changed alongside that culture. In a way, they embody their role as a communicative tool perfectly, as a beautiful balance of form and function.

They gracefully and dutifully carry the weight of a complex form, a heavy cultural baggage, a profound artistic potential, and age–old wisdom in each stroke of the brush.

ST YLE

OVERHEARDS

This week: West & Down, Timothée Chalamet, and analog cigarettes.

Not Smarter Than the United States Marines: "Not all soldiers wear capes."

A Kink–Shamer (?): "Stop calling me mommy. That's sexual violence."

Chronically Offline: "Who is Timothée Chalamet? People keep telling me who he is, but not what he does."

Rejected from Voyeur: "It would be so camp if West & Down opened for Homecoming."

The Nicotine Lobby: "You should be allowed to smoke in Van Pelt."

5-8 BR houses available for 2022-2023 school year!

Properties available at 40th & Locust, 39th & Delancey, 39th & Pine, and 40th & Irving Renovated kitchens and bathrooms, laundry facilities, decks!

Serving the Penn community for OVER 56 YEARS!

(215) 222-5500 4019 Locust St. info@uerealestate.net www.uerealestate.net

3D Virtual Tours Available!

Family-run business for over 54+ years in student housing!

“Your mother will be happy!”

N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E 1 9

ST YLE

GUARD HOUSE:

Home to Breakfast, Coffee, and Six–Ounce Cookies Chef Khoran Horn introduces Guard House, a brand new café and coffee shop in Bridesburg. | JOANNA SHAN

F

rom pressed juices to eight–course dinners, chef Khoran Horn has done it all. His newest venture is Guard House, a new Bridesburg café serving up a lively menu of sweet and savory breakfast, healthier comfort food, pastries, and coffee.

Horn started his career working in hospitality and sales before pivoting to his lifelong passion: food. The Philadelphia– raised restaurateur is known for creating unique, community–focused experiences like Stripp’d Juice, Philly’s first cold pressed juice company, and BLVCK, a culinary, design, and education collective.

As a chef and business owner, Horn wears a lot of hats. “Recently, the entire food industry is very short–staffed, so I’m navigating that as best I can. I’m very hands on in my business,” Horn says.

“I’m a dish washer one day, I’m making an acai bowl the next, I’m cooking scones the day after that, and then I’m making our six–ounce cookie, or I’m on the tech side making our register work.”

When Horn was approached with an opportunity to create a restaurant in the

Photo by Andrew Yang Frankford Arsenal, a historic ammunition plant reimagined as a modern industrial hub, he jumped at the opportunity.

Horn’s businesses have always had a local focus, and Guard House is no different.

“I’m not going to do molecular gastronomy in Bridesburg. There’s no need for it,” Horn explains. “What do they need?

They need good coffee.”

Now, good coffee they have. Rounding out Guard House's menu are a variety of crave–able eats—from gruyere and thyme scones to egg and cheese sandwiches served on locally made Kismet Bagels.

Located within the complex’s old guard house, the café is an homage to the Arsenal, Bridesburg, and Philadelphia at large. Inside, you’ll find vintage pictures of City Hall and a retro split flap sign made by Oat Foundry, an analog tech studio headquartered elsewhere in the Arsenal. Café and coffee shop by day, Guard House will also double as a space for Horn to host dinner pop–ups and events.

“I’m a connector and I’m a man of the people," Horn says. "That is one thing

2 0 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21

that’s huge for Guard House—we’re going to be doing a ton of collabs, bringing chefs in from across the country for a night or two or three or however long."

Nok Suntaranon from Kalaya and Joe Beddia of Pizzeria Beddia are both slated to make an appearance in the coming months.

The next time you’re headed into the

Photo by Andrew Yang city, take SEPTA for a few more stops to visit Guard House in North Philly. Not sure what to get? Horn’s favorite item on the menu is the six–ounce cookie, but you can’t go wrong. The restaurant may have just opened this October, but it’s already shaping up to be a staple in the Bridesburg neighborhood and the Philly food scene.

ST YLE

TELEVISING CHILD ABUSE: The Rise of the Family Vlogger

What do TikTok star Zoe Laverne and YouTube channel 8 Passengers have in common? Child exploitation. | KIRA WANG

I

n her most recent brush with scandal, TikTok star Zoe Laverne came under fire for selling “exclusive” photos of her newborn baby, Emersyn, for $15 to her 2.7 million Instagram followers.

The incident sparked several lines of debate, from the inability of children to control their online image to the dubious ethics of putting a price tag on access to your child. It's reflective of a dilemma that family vloggers, mommy bloggers, and influencers alike have grappled with in recent years: Is using your child for likes moral?

A slew of child labor laws have been put in place to protect young talent working in the entertainment industry. Now, many have called for legislation to extend these policies to minors working in the social media realm as well.

Take the case of Ryan Kaji, an elementary schooler who has become one of the highest paid stars on YouTube.

Known for his loveable demeanor, Kaji shot to fame for his online show Ryan’s World, which features him unboxing toys on camera for his elementary–aged audience.

In 2019, his fame raked in upwards of $26 million for his parents. At the time, he was only eight years old.

With videos coming out almost every day, Kaji works around the clock (even if he’s just playing with toys) while his parents reap the fruits of his labor due to his status as a minor. That said, many viewers have called into question the ethics of filming your child to rake in

Illustration by Isabel Liang advertising and sponsorship dollars.

The whole issue gets a bit more insidious once you bring family vloggers into the mix. Family vlogging has blown up on YouTube in the past five years. Parents turn the camera on as their young children play, take vacations, review toys, and more. Kids all over the world tune in in droves. In 2017, New York Magazine reported that the top family vlogs brought in half a billion views a week, and millions of dollars in revenue.

One such family YouTube channel called 8 Passengers,

a vlog run by parents Ruby and Kevin Franke, came under fire last year for alleged child abuse and neglect.

Prior to these claims, the pair vlogged even the most intimate details of their children’s lives—including having “the talk” with their kids, their son’s puberty appointment, and their daughter's first period.

Despite their children stating numerous times that they don’t want to be filmed and that the channel has subjected them to bullying at school, the Frankes continue to invade their children’s privacy for views—

recording them without their consent in order to gain likes, subscribers, and money.

The allegations of child abuse and neglect against the Frankes stem from instances where they purportedly punished their son by forcing him to sleep on a beanbag for seven months, refused to bring their six–year–old daughter her lunch after she forgot to pack it, and subjected their children to several other forms of cruel treatment that the Frankes’ viewed as entertaining.

Embodying the dark side of family vlogging, Ruby and

Kevin Frankes exploit their children in the pursuit of money and fame. While they claim that they use the money their children bring in to improve their quality of living, these earnings come at the cost of the kids' wellbeing.

8 Passengers is just one all–too–common example of why child labor laws need to be expanded into the social media sector. Without legislation dedicated to protecting children from exploitation on apps like YouTube and TikTok, parents will continue to take advantage of their children due to their age and inability to consent.

N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E 21

OPEN LATE & LATE NITE DELIVERY

R LOOKING FMOE WORK? TI T R A P R O L FUL NG! I R I H E R ’ E W .com s o n i m o d . s job

Domino’s Dom

TM

SUN-THURS: 10AM - 2AM • FRI & SAT 10AM - 3AM

WE MAKE ORDERING EASY!

CALL DIRECT OR CHOOSE YOUR ONLINE OR MOBILE DEVICE

Smart Phones

215-662-1400

4438 Chestnut St. 2 2 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21

Tablets

215-557-0940 401 N. 21st St.

UNDER THE BUTTON

Breaking: Penn Has a Football Team Mary Grace Meredith

I

n a development that left many students saying, “Huh,” it has been reported that the University of Pennsylvania does indeed have a football team. As it turns out, all of the 'athletes' seen around campus on scooters, in cutesy matching outfits, or in a Geology lecture, actually do play a sport for an organized and official team.

This discovery originated after multiple students reported receiving emails from an address claiming to be ‘Penn Athletics.’ These emails offered all kinds of prizes to incentivize students to attend a supposed football

game at a suspicious location referred to as ‘Franklin Field.’ Assuming the message was some type of elaborate scam, most students either deleted or reported the email. However, an investigation by Under The Button discovered that the claims were, in fact, true.

Students were puzzled by this revelation. “Wait, really?” asked College senior Emily Montes. “I just feel like if that were true, I would have at least heard about it by now.” Another student suggested that maybe the reports were actually about Penn State University, a school known for their football team and not much else.

We reached out to the ‘director of athletics’ for clarification on the existence of the team. When asked to comment, the director let out a deep sigh. “Well, I’m glad someone is at least trying to get the word out. It’s homecoming this weekend, so if you can get some kids to come out to the game that would be cool.”

The apparent link between homecoming and football has further confused us at UTB, as we only associate homecoming with drugs, blacking out, and searching for our favorite hot alumni that have returned. But like, Photo by The Daily Pennsylvanian go Quakers, I guess.

Beyond Anarchy: Sophomore Sips Water 20 Minutes Before COVID-19 Test Ian Ong

Photo by Brandon Shaw / CC BY-SA 2.0

F

all of civilized society!

Daring Luddite, Katey Musso (C '23) took not one, but two sips of water about 20 minutes before her COVID-19 test.

The motive behind this borderline criminal activity has yet to be uncovered. Was this a lone act of defiance against the system? Or, was it part of some decentralized plot coordinated by revolutionary-minded water-drinkers across campus to bring the COVID-19 testing apparatus to its proverbial knees?

Was she just thirsty?

The felonious swigs were but the first part of Musso’s

grand scheme. On-lookers watched in horror as Musso sauntered into the testing tent, grabbed a vial, and unleashed her deadly payload of diluted spit without a second thought. And then she flashed a smile.

Why? Are you happy knowing that your inaccurate test result will stymie efforts to minimize the risk of exposure throughout the Penn community and obstruct the delivery of appropriate care to those affected? Do you just not care?

I’m not willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, you lamentable Bolshevik. You know what you did.

N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E 2 3

we have all of your

holiday essentials party platters make entertaining easy!

Pick up a guide & order today!

Pick up an order form at the deli counter, call 1.888.358.7328 or order online at ACMEmarkets.com/orderahead

g EnterGutainin ide 8/30/21 11:42 AM e_FY21.indd 2

NAIDACM IV172370_EntertainingGuid

24 3 4 T H S T R E E T M AG A Z I N E N OV E M B E R 9 , 2 0 21