Meet the Lindsey Paradis
Editors
Marlo Jappen
We wanted this semester’s theme to focus on people, places and ideas that were unique, pushed boundaries and defied expectations. Narrowing this definition to one word was the hard part. “Opposites,” we thought, maybe “roles,” or “bold.” None of them stuck until we came to “Rebel”.
Nothing about me screams rebel, at least, not in the typical sense. I stand slightly taller than average at 5 feet 6 inches. I have plain, brown hair and a wardrobe consisting of dresses from Loft and Banana Republic. There are no pink highlights, leather outfits or funky piercings. I don’t even own a pair of ripped jeans. But I am a rebel, at least by Atlas’ definition. Every day, I push boundaries and defy expectations, just like the rebels featured in our issue. Personally, coming to Emerson and majoring in writing, literature and publishing has been one of my most rebellious acts. You might be thinking, how is attending Emerson rebellious? But whenever someone asks me what what I want to do for a career and I respond “write” (whether it be the next great American novel or a column for Cosmo) the look on their face says it all. It’s a look that screams that’s not a real job and you’re never going to make money. Here I am anyway. And I know I’m not the only one that’s been told not to do something or that what I want is impossible or invalid. So my hope is that our Atlas rebels inspire you to push your own boundaries and defy everyone’s expectations, including your own. Best, Lindsey Paradis Co-Editor-in-Chief
Sometimes the word “rebel” carries a negative connotation. Think of troublemakers like that guy from high school who drove a beat-up Mustang and wore an excessive amount of hair gel, trying way too hard to be a “tough guy.” Thankfully, this issue embraces a more positive, empowering definition we created ourselves because, after all, being a rebel is all about self-ownership. Recently, I decided to reclaim another word, which happens to be my first name: Marlo. I’ve been mistaken as “Mario” for as long as I can remember. I was “Mario” when I walked onstage for middle school graduation. I was “Mario” in the waiting room of my doctor’s office and I’m “Mario” almost every time I retrieve my coffee at Starbucks. Even in college, professors initially address me as “Mario” when they take attendance. I can almost hear the confused thoughts circulating in the classroom: Why is a female responding to this name and why doesn’t she have a mustache, overalls and a fake Italian accent? Being called “Mario” is embarrassing, but this Halloween, I decided to dress as the video game character. It was time to take ownership of a name I dread being called and it felt liberating. There’s a sense of power that comes along with reclaiming something negative. “Rebel” is a fluid word; it means something different to everyone. I hope this issue inspires you to celebrate your inner rebel, whatever that might be. Best, Marlo Jappen Co-Editor-in-Chief
5 | Rebel