Commencement Magazine 2016 by The Brown Daily Herald

Commencement Magazine 2016

MAY 27-29, 2016 COMMENCEMENT MAGAZINE

hen we asked senior survey respondents to describe their Brown experience in one word, their answers varied. Some invoked a sense of change, saying “transformative,” “life-changing” and “awakening.” Others looked back less positively, saying “shitty,” “regrettable” and “meh.” And for some, only slang seemed fit. Their experiences were “dope,” “lit” and “woke.” The answers we received were as varied as the class of 2016 itself: Comprising athletes and activists, singers and scientists, it is rich with a diversity of activities and identities. In crafting this magazine, we recognized that diversity and inclusion have emerged as key themes for our class. During our time on campus, students have repeatedly challenged the University to turn a studious eye upon itself and grow into a better, more inclusive institution. This magazine features several pieces that capture this spirit, including 11 columns by members of the class of 2016. These columns showcase the diversity of experiences at Brown and reveal common threads that run through these experiences, such as the sense of belonging that can arise from participating in extracurricular activities. Our profile on Dave Binder, who celebrated his 30th anniversary of performing on College Hill this year, includes reflections from the Brown legend himself. Meanwhile, our feature on student engagement with Providence examines the ways in which students escape the “Brown bubble.” This magazine also gives us the opportunity to look ahead. Our feature on tuition explores what the cost of Brown might be a decade or so from now ($100,000). Other interesting figures can be found in our survey results, such as how many seniors have tried illicit drugs, how many seniors have hooked up with a professor and whether seniors are “with her” or “feeling the Bern.” (Spoiler alert: Most support a Democratic candidate.) We hope this magazine provides you with some insight into your classmates and Brown. If not, we hope it at least keeps you entertained when your family can’t. Congrats, class of 2016. We made it.

Commencement 4

Schedule of major events

Senior orators

Honorary degree recipients

Features 11

Committed to the community Student engagement with Providence

On the rise How soaring tuition could strain the University’s business model

Binder at Brown turns 30 A musician’s journey from new talent to campus legend

The year in photos

Voices of 2016

Senior survey

— The 125th Editorial Board

editors

design

writers

p h oto

graphics

Michael Dubin Maxine Joselow Kiki Barnes Jillian Lanney Isobel Heck Molly Schulson

Loren Dowd Carlie Peters Taylor Schwartz

Matt Brownsword Shira Buchsbaum Rebecca Ellis Mark Liang Kasturi Pananjady Hattie Xu

Eli White Sam Berube Keiichiro Kinoshita Marianna McMurdock Danielle Perelman

Laura Felenstein Emma Jerzyk Kate Talerico

Cover photo by Eli White

CO M M E N C E M E N T 2 0 1 6 SCHEDULE OF MAJOR EVENTS Fr i d ay, M ay 2 7 9:00 p.m. – 1:00 a.m. Campus Dance, sponsored by the Brown Alumni Association. Main Green, Ruth J. Simmons Quadrangle

S a t u r d ay, M ay 2 8 9:00 a.m. Commencement Forums A series of academic colloquia with faculty, alums and distinguished guests. Various locations 1:30 p.m. Baccalaureate Procession Line-up Graduates assemble on Waterman Street, facing east toward Thayer Street, with the line beginning at Faunce Arch, wearing caps and gowns. Waterman Street 2:30 p.m. Baccalaureate Service A multi-faith service featuring music, dance, spiritual readings and a speech by Kevin Gover, honorary degree recipient and director of the National Museum of the American Indian. The First Baptist Church in America 4:00 p.m. Brown Daily Herald Alumni Reunion 195 Angell St.

S u n d ay, M ay 2 9 9:45 a.m. Commencement Procession Waterman Street, north of Faunce Arch 10:15 a.m. (estimated) Graduate School Ceremonies Ruth J. Simmons Quadrangle (Doctoral) Pembroke Field (Master’s) 10:15 a.m. (estimated) Medical School Ceremony First Unitarian Church of Providence 11:55 a.m. (estimated) College Ceremony Live simulcast to the Main Green, Salomon Center and Sayles Hall. The First Baptist Church in America 12:45 p.m. (estimated) University Ceremony Senior orations and awarding of honorary degrees. Main Green 2:00 p.m. (estimated) Diploma Ceremonies for each department at assigned locations, as listed in the Commencement program.

In the event of severe storm conditions, the Baccalaureate and Commencement processions will be canceled and storm plans will go into effect. A message will be posted on the Brown website and sent via text message to all seniors. The Van Wickle Gates will remain open until 6 p.m. on Monday, May 30.

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S E N I O R O R ATO R S Sabrina Imbler and Jamelle Watson-Daniels Each year, the University chooses two seniors as the Commencement speakers for the graduating class, rather than inviting outside orators who may not completely understand the Brown experience. Sabrina Imbler ’16, a former Herald features editor, and Jamelle Watson-Daniels ’16 will deliver this year’s speeches, both of which will focus on the importance of social justice, during the University’s 248th Commencement ceremony. Though Imbler and Watson-Daniels come from cities over 2,000 miles apart and had not previously met, they share similar experiences in discovering the necessity of speaking out after entering Brown. Imbler grew up in Hillsborough, California — a city that is 66.3 percent white, according to the 2010 U.S. Census — and went to a school that was mostly white and Asian American, she said. When she stepped onto Brown’s campus, Imbler found herself surrounded by important conversations about poverty and race, she said. Becoming friends with people who faced overt racism and felt unsafe on campus was also crucial in sparking her interest in activism and social justice, she added. As a queer, Asian American woman, Imbler has also been on the receiving end of microaggressions, such as being exoticized, particularly on the dating scene, she said. Imbler said after a hectic and “distressing” fall 2015 semester — especially for students of color who were constantly working to defend their own rights and humanity — she sat down to record all of her thoughts. What started as writing for emotional release eventually became the first draft of her speech. Drawing from her experiences, Imbler’s speech — titled “How Do We Want to Become?” — will examine the way students become “fullyformed” as they progress through their years at Brown and discover who they are, she said. The speech also highlights the value of student activism and the way it has shaped Brown as a university and community, she added. Though she regrets not being involved with activism earlier, Imbler is “grateful that Brown fostered this space where a lot of students demand that you learn and teach yourself about the structures of oppression that students of color face,” she said. Imbler is graduating with a degree in English nonfiction and plans to pursue a career in journalism. She is especially interested in analyzing the connection between climate change and colonialism — for example, how the areas most affected by climate change have historically been victims of colonialism, Imbler said. Meanwhile, Watson-Daniels grew up in Collinsville, Illinois — a city that is 85.3 percent white, according to the 2010 Census — and also went to a school that was mostly white. Though she was always one of the few black students in her classes, she never felt an obvious divide between her and her classmates because she had grown up with them, Watson-Daniels said. In college, especially as a black female physicist, Watson-Daniels was “forced into the conversation” because she felt she needed to advocate for herself “in order to navigate Brown,” she said. Watson-Daniels recalled times when she or other black students were treated differently in the classroom. When struggling with a particularly challenging concept, her classmates were told by faculty members that it

was a genuinely difficult idea to grasp. But black students may receive the suggestion that perhaps the field was not the right one for them and that they should reconsider their academic choices, Watson-Daniels said. But she was also motivated to pursue physics by her love for the field. “Fundamentally, I have a real passion for problem-solving, which is what physics is,” Watson-Daniels said. Though these obstacles were “very distracting,” Watson-Daniels dealt with them with support and mentorship from the Department of Africana Studies, and she eventually decided to double-concentrate in physics and Africana studies. The mentorship helped her resist internalizing negative attitudes, she said. To help combat these racial issues, Watson-Daniels founded the “Inertia: Investment in Scientists of Color” initiative to support black students in science and served as a student representative on the Brown Diversity Advisory Board. In her speech, titled “Storytelling,” Watson-Daniels will discuss the ways in which the stories of individuals and the community can be told, as well as the importance of not erasing or rewriting people’s experiences. “We can tell honest and true stories and still be celebratory about our time at Brown,” Watson-Daniels said. After graduation, Watson-Daniels will work for Boeing, the aircraft manufacturing company, as an electronic design engineer. She is also deferring enrollment in the applied physics doctoral program at Harvard. Both Imbler and Watson-Daniels said some of the memories they will cherish most are the moments spent with friends. The relationships they have formed with some of their classmates are unforgettable and invaluable, they said. As Imbler and Watson-Daniels prepare to leave Brown with the class of 2016, they share words of advice with the incoming freshman class. “Know that you can never understand anyone’s experience but your own, but you can empathize with others,” Imbler said. “You should be made uncomfortable and question your privilege.” Watson-Daniels reminds victims of racism that “the problem is external.” “It’s okay to be angry with Brown as an institution — it can be a part of what the Brown experience means to you,” she said. The two seniors were chosen to speak after a rigorous selection process, which began with a nomination by a faculty member or a fellow senior. Imbler and Watson-Daniels, along with several other candidates, then submitted multiple drafts of their proposed speeches and delivered them in front of a committee of 11 faculty members and administrators, Imbler said. The committee looked specifically for “speeches that are able to convey powerful personal experiences,” wrote Zachary Sng, associate professor of German studies and comparative literature and chair of the commencement speaker committee, in an email to The Herald. Imbler and Watson-Daniels “have wonderful stories to share about their time at Brown and compelling reflections on how they might draw on their Brown experience in the years to come,” Sng wrote.

COMMENCEMENT 2016

H O N O R A RY D E G R E E Six influential figures will receive honorary degrees from President Christina Paxson P’19 on behalf of the University during this year’s Commencement exercises. The Board of Fellows of the Corporation, the University’s highest governing body, selected the recipients following recommendations from an advisory committee of students and faculty members. By Mark Liang

Cornelia Isabella Bargmann

Cornelia Bargmann is a neurobiologist known for her work with C. elegans, a model organism that has allowed her to explore the interplays of genetics, neurology and behavior. Bargmann is a member of the National Academy of Sciences and the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. She is currently the head of the Lulu and Anthony Wang Laboratory of Neural Circuits and Behavior at Rockefeller University. She will receive a doctorate of science.

Thomas G. Catena ’86

Named one of Time magazine’s “100 Most Influential People” last year, Thomas Catena ’86 currently serves as medical director of the Mother of Mercy Hospital in central Sudan. Catena has overseen everything from malaria treatment to brain surgery at the Mother of Mercy Hospital, which is the sole surgical hospital in the Nuba Mountains, a largely impoverished area home to 1 million people. The University is honoring Catena for his humanitarian efforts by awarding him a doctorate of medical science.

Umberto Crenca Umberto Crenca founded AS220, a nonprofit community arts center in Providence. The center aims to serve as “a local home and forum for the arts,” especially for artists who do not have the space or means to perform or create their art, according to its website. AS220 has housed about 93,000 exhibits and provided space for 1,000 artists. Crenca will receive a doctorate of fine arts.

Angus Deaton A professor of economics and international affairs at Princeton, Angus Deaton received the 2015 Nobel Prize in Economics for his work on consumerism, welfare and financial inequality. Trained at Cambridge University, he is an accomplished author and teacher with over three decades of experience. In a New York Times article, Justin Wolfers, professor of economics and public policy at the University of Michigan, wrote of Deaton:, “He’s motivated by the questions that really matter, he is intellectually relentless, he has enormous integrity and he has devoted his life to understanding and improving the lot of the poor.” Deaton will be awarded a doctorate of humane letters.

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R E C I PI E N TS O F 2016 Kevin Gover

Kevin Gover, a member of the Pawnee Nation of Oklahoma, runs the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of the American Indian. Gover served as the assistant secretary of Indian affairs at the U.S. Department of the Interior until 2001, after which he worked as a senior executive for the Bureau of Indian Affairs. Gover has spent his career rebuilding relations between the U.S. government and Indian nations. He will receive a doctorate of humane letters.

Antonia Hernández With an extensive career in legal services and community affairs, Antonia Hernández currently serves as president and chief executive officer of the California Community Foundation. The University will recognize Hernández for her work with underprivileged groups in Los Angeles, which involved providing them with legal support, housing, education and other basic needs. She will be awarded a doctorate of humane letters.

Jean Elizabeth Howard ’70 The author of five books and over 50 essays, Jean Howard ’70 has taught for almost three decades at Columbia, where she is a professor of the humanities. Her work was among the first to stage a feminist critique of early drama. She is also a regarded scholar of Shakespearean literature and formerly served as president of the Shakespeare Association of America. Howard will be awarded a doctorate of humane letters.

Charles M. Rosenthal From 1992 to 2007, Charles Rosenthal served as a trustee on the University’s Corporation. He is currently the senior managing director and portfolio manager for First Manhattan Consulting Group in New York City. He has been a longtime supporter of the partnership between the University and the Marine Biological Laboratory, an institute that focuses on biomedicine, biology, environmental science education and research in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. He will receive a doctorate of humane letters. Photos courtesy of Brown University.

COMMENCEMENT 2016

Committed to the community Student engagement with Providence

By Shira Buchsbaum and Kasturi Pananjady

ooking beyond the familiar storefronts of Thayer Street, many Brown students enjoy venturing off of College Hill and engaging with the greater Providence community. For some, this engagement offers a fulfilling experience that helps shape their future career path. For many, it also contributes to a critical conversation on privilege and power dynamics. Student engagement with Providence became the center of campus conversation in March, when the Swearer Center for Public Service released a draft of its strategic plan. The plan takes a three-pronged approach to community service, addressing the issues of student privilege, faculty engagement and compensation for volunteer work. The plan drew criticism from student leaders at Swearer who said they were not adequately consulted and have concerns about a number of the proposed changes. But student advocates, Swearer community fellows and administrators agree on the importance of discussing the privilege that comes with attending an elite educational institution like Brown.

Privilege and partnerships

For Donald Brennan ’18, site director of the free SAT preparatory program Let’s Get Ready, attending Brown feels like a privilege. As a Providence native, Brennan recognizes that many local high school students do not consider college — much less Brown — an option. “You’ll have students whose aspirations are not so high,” Brennan said. “They’ve never been afforded the opportunity to have those aspirations.” For some Providence high school students and community members, coming to Brown to participate in social service programs can be difficult, Brennan said. The Rhode Island Public Transport Authority bus service is free for Brown community members but comes at a cost for many Providence residents, he added. In March, the price of RIPTA’s transfer fares and weekly and monthly passes increased. The financial burden of the RIPTA fare ensures that “only the most motivated students will come — and arguably they are least likely to need your help,” Brennan said. Betsy Shimberg, director of community partnerships at the Swearer Center, recalled a community partner telling her that Brown students’ privilege does manifest itself in their work at her local organization. The partner said Brown students show up wearing flip flops and

DANIELLE PERELMAN / HERALD

Some students choose to exit the Brown bubble and spend their time outside of academics engaging with the Providence community.

tank tops, whereas Johnson and Wales students arrive in ties. Shimberg said the partner has started reading these cues as an indication of how invested Brown students are in their jobs. Not many students pursuing community service work choose to stay in Providence after graduation, Shimberg said. Many students use their degree and the work experience they have gained at partner organizations to seek jobs elsewhere, she said. Local community service organizations that partner with Brown often struggle to fill the resulting skills deficit that Brown students leave after they graduate or stop volunteering, Shimberg said. This can lead some community partners to question what they have really gained from the partnership, she said. For the partners, it can seem like “Brown students swoop in, and then they leave,” she said. Sophie Yan ’16, a community fellow for Connect for Health, an organization previously known as Health Leads, which serves families at Hasbro Children’s Hospital in Pawtucket, said her work has taught her a great deal about navigating privilege. Prior to joining Connect for Health, Yan worked with other volunteer organizations on campus but felt unfulfilled at the end of her first year. Working with Connect for Health “helped me realize what bothered me so much

about the community service that I was doing before,” said Yan, a former Herald staff writer. Yan said she was not “critically examining” the circumstances of her volunteer work, which left her feeling helpless. But advocates do understand that “we’re not doing this work because we’re special,” Yan said. “We’re not superheroes in any way,” she said, adding that all advocates undergo weekly training sessions during which they discuss aspects of social justice work and necessary skills for their role.

‘Back to its roots’

While drafting its strategic plan, members of the Swearer Center solicited community feedback on their proposal to foster stronger relationships between Brown students and community partners. One of the partners responded with the words, “Swearer has come back to its roots” in working directly with the community members the center seeks to help, said Swearer Center Director Mathew Johnson. Shimberg said the process of soliciting community feedback relates to the concept of subsidiarity, which means that “the people closest to the work should be deciding what is appropriate.” When Margaret House ’17 began intern-

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ing for Planned Parenthood Rhode Island, she was struck by how poorly she understood the problems of the women seeking abortions. As a patient advocate and counsel, House is tasked with offering advice on reproductive health, contraception and post-surgical precautions. “I tell them to take it easy for the next few days. Don’t lift anything heavy,” House said. But many patients cannot afford to heed this advice, House said. Patients often report to work the next day to avoid having their supervisors know about the abortion. Many also have small children at home and do not have any relatives willing to step in to allow them to rest. “Sometimes what people need isn’t what you think they need,” House said, emphasizing the importance of tapping into the lived experience of many Providence residents. While Brennan now oversees Let’s Get Ready, he started out as a participant in the program during high school. Having been in his students’ shoes only a few years before, Brennan tailors his college preparation advice to their specific needs. With access to information about students’ household incomes, Brennan helps students select colleges based on the likelihood of receiving comprehensive financial aid packages. He also makes sure that his students are not discouraged by the large sticker prices of competitive institutions, since many have good financial aid programs. Many of his high school peers only applied to less competitive institutions, which may have less generous financial aid packages. “I saw a lot of my peers make that mistake, applying to colleges where an acceptance was no more than a pat on the back in the end,” Brennan said. “Slowly they got locked out of options.” Brennan also draws on his experience as a student in LGR to make his coaches — all of whom are Brown students — more aware of the language of accomplishment they use around students from underserved high schools. As a high school student, he walked into a class with Brown coaches expecting “super smart kids” and began blaming himself for failing to measure up to their achievements. To avoid inadvertently making students feel inadequate, Brennan urges his coaches to contextualize their experiences. For instance, if coaches choose to share their AP scores, Brennan asks them to add that they had study guides to prepare for the AP exams. If a coach is explaining their high school cancer research project, Brennan asks them to explain how they were able to secure a position in a lab through family contacts, he added. “Accomplishments don’t just pop up miraculously for people who happen to be blessed

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with them. Some people know how to navigate these things,” Brennan said, adding that coaches’ acknowledgment of their privilege prevents students from being defeatist about their own educational prospects. “We want to show that Brown is possible,” Brennan said. “It’s not like coaches have some remarkable ability. They worked hard at what they did, and that’s how they got here.”

Four years or forever

For some students, community engagement is more than a co-curricular or extracurricular activity. Social service work is where they discover their calling. Writer’s Group Community Fellow Will Adams ’16 entered Brown unsure of his career path. Four years later, Adams is certain that he wants to continue facilitating creative writing workshops for adults with developmental disabilities after graduation. “I’ve loved it enough to know that it’s what I want to do with my life,” Adams said. “We were providing something that was wanted.” While on the wrestling team at Brown, Billy Watterson ’15.5 reluctantly participated in the team’s outreach efforts at a local school. Just as he was about to walk into a classroom, a teacher pulled him aside. The teacher told Watterson that many of the students in class were lowincome. Watterson, a former Herald contributing writer, recalled asking students what their dream jobs were. The answers he received included working in a grocery store and a gas station, he said. As a middle school student, Watterson received poor grades while trying to manage his attention deficit disorder. Wrestling was the reason he stayed in school and attended college, Watterson said, adding that “it turned my life around.” Watterson said he was shocked to see the state of middle school sports in most Providence public schools. During his junior year, he started Beat the Streets, a nonprofit committed to starting wrestling teams in schools across Providence. For Watterson, the decision to settle in Providence after graduation and expand Beat the Streets was a no-brainer. The Swearer Center enabled him to work on Beat the Streets full-time through an Embark Post-Graduate Fellowship, which provides funding to graduating students pursuing social and commercial entrepreneurship in Providence. Watterson urged fellow Brunonians to “shift their mindset” and consider building longterm relationships in Providence.“These kids have had so many people walk in and walk out of their lives,” he said. “If you disappear, it’s worse than if you never provided it at all.” Recently, House has found herself reflecting

on the debt of gratitude she owes Providence for the part the city has played in her education. “We take a lot from it as students. We should consider sticking around,” she said. In Shimberg’s view, students can invest in the future of a social justice organization or movement without physically remaining in Providence after graduation. They can accomplish this by empowering individuals around them to continue their work. “It’s not the bodies. It’s the knowledge we want to stay,” Shimberg said.

A lasting impact

Adams does not know whether data exists that confirm the positive influence Writers’ Group has made on its participants. But Adams said he hopes the program succeeded “inasmuch as we made people happy for an hour once a week and made them feel that what they had to say was important.” Writers’ Group differs from other Swearer and Brown programs in that it does not have an advocacy component. But Adams sees some similarities. “We’re similar in that we think that creative writing encourages a feeling of agency and empowerment,” Adams said. Allowing the participants to express their own ideas outside of the confines of their daily lives is a powerful experience, he added. Connect for Health advocates maintain relationships with their clients over extended periods of time as they work together to find resources, aiming to extend the impact of their service work. Sarah Grace ’16, a Connect for Health community fellow, noted that more often than not, the work amounts to finding a Thanksgiving gift basket or diapers. Still, these relationships can have huge effects on both parties. “The conversations we have with families are, yes, about connecting resources and also about validating the experiences people have,” Grace said. People thank the advocates for simply listening to them discuss their situations, even if the advocates cannot find everything they need, she said. Those experiences are validating for both the family and the advocate, Yan said. But she noted that the advocates must strike a “balance between making yourself feel like a good person and actually making an impact.” The organization seeks students who are willing to make a lasting emotional commitment to the families, she added. House said by gaining a wealth of new perspectives, she has helped herself more than anyone else in her work at Planned Parenthood. “I don’t pretend that I have done anything big,” she said.“I hope I have used my privileges to make someone’s life better, if only for a day.”

On the rise

How soaring tuition could strain the University’s business model

By Matt Brownsword and Michael Dubin

Brown’s tuition and fees, by fiscal year

If the cost of attendance continues to grow 4 percent annually, it will reach six figures by fiscal year 2029. $120,000 $103,356

$100,000 $80,000 $64,556

$60,000

PROJECTION WITH 4% ANNUAL GROWTH

$40,000 $34,750

$20,000 $0

FY ‘02 ‘03 ‘04 ‘05 ‘06 ‘07 ‘08 ‘09 ‘10 ‘11 ‘12 ‘13 ‘14 ‘15 ‘16 ‘17 ‘18 ‘19 ‘20 ‘21 ‘22 ‘23 ‘24 ‘25 ‘26 ‘27 ‘28 ‘29 Historical data source: Brown University

n the 2028-29 academic year, the cost of attending Brown will surpass $100,000 if tuition and fees continue to rise at the 4 percent average rate they have for the last five budgets. These increases in total undergraduate charges have been accompanied by even larger expansions in financial aid budgets at many schools including Brown, where financial aid spending has increased an average of 6.5 percent per year for the most recent five budgets. Administrators point to the rising financial aid budget as a sign that tuition increases are not pricing out lower- and middle-income students. Since fiscal year 2008, the cost of attendance has dropped for students receiving financial aid whose families earn less than $150,000 annually. But for more than half the student body — the 55 percent who do not receive any financial aid — costs continue to mount. Even as the net cost of attendance declines for others, the high and rising sticker price can impose difficulties on those whose family earnings place them just

JILLIAN LANNEY / HERALD

beyond the cusp of financial aid. The University Resources Committee recognized as much in its 2014 report, which cited two concerns related to high sticker prices. First, they “can deter students from disadvantaged backgrounds from seeking education worthy of their talents because the nature and availability of financial aid is not well understood,” the URC wrote. “The second serious concern is the affordability for families whose earnings are at a level that disqualifies them for significant financial aid at most schools but at the same time are not sufficient to bear the full cost of college with ease.” “The second issue is far more difficult to address because of the scale of resources that are required under the current model to ease the cost of education for an even broader range of students,” the URC wrote. Perpetual increases in both tuition and financial aid raise fundamental questions about the long-term sustainability of Brown’s business model — and that of its peers. As the cost of attendance continues to rise and more students

and their families feel the financial pinch, more will need to be covered by the financial aid budget. Thus, Brown will need to do what it has acknowledged will strain the current model in higher education: Increase financial aid for those already receiving it, while expanding the group of students eligible for aid.

Constant cost for some

Though total undergraduate tuition and fees are rising, top administrators prioritize constraining a different number: the cost of attendance for lower- and middle-income students. By that measure, the University has been successful. The average cost of attendance for firstyears who receive financial aid and whose families earn less than $200,000 has held steady since Christina Paxson P’19 assumed the presidency in fiscal year 2013, according to data provided by the University. For first-years who receive aid in some income

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bands, the average cost of attendance has actually declined even as tuition has swelled over that span. Data on how the average cost of attendance has changed by income band for the entire student body is not available because the University does not collect information on family income for students who do not receive aid. The University would not disclose the percentage of students who apply for aid but do not receive it. “When I think about tuition … I think about the distribution of tuition and how much different students are paying to come to Brown,” Paxson told The Herald. “The focus in the past several years has been keeping net tuition increases low for our lowest-income students and, increasingly, for our middle-income students.” “On equity grounds, it’s important to make sure that students aren’t leaving with too much debt and that tuition is affordable,” Paxson said. Nonetheless, 55 percent of undergraduates do not receive aid, and for that majority, the cost of attendance has increased more than 4 percent in nine of the last 15 years. And though Paxson told The Herald in 2014 that she wished to bring tuition increases more in line with inflation, inflation-adjusted tuition hikes for fiscal years 2015 and 2016 were higher than those for any year since the recession. Though Brown has its share of one-percenters, many students who do not receive aid cannot comfortably pay the full cost of attendance. For those who do not qualify for aid, affording Brown

can be a stretch, requiring parents to dip into retirement savings and rainy-day funds. But for students receiving some level of aid, including those with the greatest need, the administration’s support for robust financial aid increases has successfully kept the cost of attendance down in the face of higher tuition.

Sticker shock

While their focus remains trained on the net cost of attendance for lower- and middle-income students, administrators recognize that tuition and fees are high. “We are paying attention to it,” said Provost Richard Locke P’17. “It’s not like we are happily just (tacking on) 4 percent.” Brown is not unique among its peers: Of the eight Ivies, six, including Brown, raised tuition and fees by 3.5 percent or more in the last year. But at some point, the sticker price may become a problem even if the net cost of attendance for low- and middle-income students remains at current levels. As the sticker price rises, so too must the amount of aid for students already receiving it. At the same time, higher sticker prices will force the University to subsidize students not currently receiving aid whose family income growth does not keep pace with tuition growth. An increase in the percentage of undergraduates receiving aid — now 45 percent of the student body — would reduce the effectiveness of tuition hikes as a source of new revenue because fewer students would be paying full tuition. But Brown and its peers have not yet reached

Sources of revenue in fiscal year 2017

Princeton’s substantial endowment income makes it less dependent on undergraduate tuition and fees than Brown, allowing Princeton to keep undergraduate charges lower than those of any other Ivy League school.

Brown

Princeton 5%

Undergraduate tuition & fees

13%

34%

Other

17%

19%

Graduate tuition

16% Sponsored research (direct & Endowment indirect) income 16%

47%

“The focus in the past several years has been keeping net tuition increases low for our lowest-income students and, increasingly, for our middleincome students.” Christina Paxson P’19 PRESIDENT

and admission strategist, said the threshold at which the sticker price jeopardizes university economics depends on the school and its reputation. “That line is extremely nuanced, extremely fluid. At some point that will happen, but (Brown is) not there yet,” he said. While the University’s cost of attendance does not yet negatively affect application and matriculation decisions, Paxson and Locke said administrators monitor several statistics so that they will know if and when it does. “We’re tracking very, very carefully certain metrics to make sure we’re competitive,” Locke said. Among those metrics are the number of applicants and the yield rate — the percentage of students admitted who enroll — as well as debt levels for current students. “At the same time, we’re looking really carefully at what we can do to be more efficient and cut costs and … diversify our income,” Locke said.

Trapped by tuition dependence

18%

15%

Sources: Brown and Princeton fiscal year 2017 operating budgets JILLIAN LANNEY / HERALD

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the point where the sticker price threatens their economic model or attractiveness to prospective students. “Clearly, we have many more applicants than we have spaces to fill,” Paxson said. “So in a market sense, (the sticker price) is not at the maximum.” Administrators point out that Brown’s total undergraduate charges are competitive with those of peer institutions. Brown’s sticker price ranks sixth among the eight Ivies. The URC has taken this into consideration when making tuition recommendations in its budget proposals. In 2014, it wrote that “the relative position of Brown’s undergraduate charges compared to our peers is unlikely to change as a result” of raising tuition at the proposed rate. Steven Goodman, an education consultant

Brown’s reliance on undergraduate tuition and fees as a source of income — 34 percent of total revenue for fiscal year 2017 — makes the problems associated with the rising sticker price all the more pronounced. If tuition continues to rise 4 percent annually, the University would need to increase the financial aid budget by about 6 percent per year

to keep the cost of attendance steady for those receiving aid, assuming 50 percent of undergraduates would be aided by the 2028-29 academic year, according to Herald estimates. In that scenario, 64 cents of every new dollar of tuition revenue would go toward additional financial aid spending that year. Even if the financial aid budget increased only 5.5 percent per year, 56 percent of new tuition revenue would be needed to expand the aid budget. For fiscal year 2017, that figure is only 39 percent. Fiscal year 2015 saw this figure reach 57 percent — the highest it has been in the past several years. The higher that percentage gets, the harder it will be for the University to fund other annual budget increases, such as faculty and staff raises. This makes it critical that the University increase the proportion of revenue it generates from other sources. That endeavor is well underway, as the University seeks to close the operating budget deficits it has run the past several years. Administrators are ramping up efforts to expand the University’s other revenue streams, most notably its endowment income and revenue from the School of Professional Studies. Brown’s endowment, which had a market value of $3.3 billion at the end of last fiscal year, is currently the smallest of any Ivy League school’s. The BrownTogether campaign — the $3 billion fundraising campaign launched in October — will be vital in growing it, Paxson said. A larger endowment will yield greater annual income for the operating budget even while keeping the percentage payout “relatively low,” she said. “Over the long-term, that’s what will make Brown less reliant on tuition and a stronger institution,” Paxson said. At Princeton, for example, an endowment of $22.7 billion produces enough annual income to fund 47 percent of the school’s fiscal year 2017 operating budget, while undergraduate tuition and fees constitute just 12.5 percent of revenue. As a result, Princeton is able to keep undergraduate charges lower than any other Ivy League school. In its two most recent budgets, Princeton has raised its financial aid budget more than it has increased the revenue it generates from tuition. For Brown, though, “the annual increase in tuition revenue is typically the most significant source of incremental revenue to support the faculty, facilities and student services,” the URC wrote in its report this year. Endowment income represents 15 percent of revenue for fiscal year 2017. The BrownTogether campaign has a goal of raising $500 million for financial aid alone, which would produce $25 million per year for the aid budget, Paxson said. Another campaign goal is to double the per-

Undergraduate tuition revenue and financial aid spending Spending on financial aid will equal 37.3% of total undergraduate tuition revenue in fiscal year 2017. The aid budget has more than doubled since fiscal year 2008 when it represented 27.9% of tuition revenue. $350 million TOTAL UNDERGRADUATE TUITION REVENUE

$300 million $250 million $200 million $150 million

TOTAL UNDERGRADUATE FINANCIAL AID

$100 million $50 million $0

FY’08 '09

'10

'11

'12

'13

'14

'15

'16

'17

Source: University Resources Committee reports

JILLIAN LANNEY / HERALD

centage of the faculty whose salaries are supported by endowment income as opposed to the operating budget, Locke said. Currently, the endowment provides for 17 percent of Brown’s faculty budget, compared to about 50 percent at Harvard. “If we can double that (percentage), that takes off a lot of pressure on the operating budget, which gives us a lot more flexibility,” Locke said. The other revenue source slated to grow significantly is the School of Professional Studies, which houses executive master’s programs, precollege summer programs and summer courses for undergraduates. Currently, pre-college programs generate the lion’s share of the division’s revenue. But by next year, the School of Professional Studies will be running four executive master’s programs, each with about 25 to 30 students. While the size of these programs is small, tuition ranges from $85,000 to $130,000 per year depending on the program. The expansion of these programs could drive School of Professional Studies revenue from $36 million in fiscal year 2017 — 3.6 percent of total University revenue — to $49 million by fiscal year 2020, according to preliminary estimates provided by the University. After accounting for expenses, the school is projected to contribute $8 million to the University’s education and general budget in fiscal year 2017, up from $6.5 million this year, helping shrink the operating budget deficit.

Paxson also said she expects revenue from sponsored research to increase due to recent success obtaining grants. *** Right now, there are no alarm bells ringing in University Hall about Brown’s sticker price, nor are there proactive administrative plans to curtail tuition growth. Paxson reiterated that her priority is keeping the cost of attendance down for Brown’s lowerand middle-income students, while simultaneously running the University as efficiently as possible on the cost side. She does not think the economic model in higher education is destined to break. “If the entire market reaches a point where the unaided students are unable to pay for school, then I think that will suppress faculty salaries and will slow the growth of tuition for everybody,” she said. “There’s a set of market forces that will moderate tuition growth and keep it from getting too high.” But Goodman, the admission consultant, foresees a different sequence of events for elite, expensive private institutions. “There is going to be a middle-class family in the state of Pennsylvania that sees a tuition bill from Penn that’s way larger than the bill at (Pennsylvania State University’s) honors college and makes their decision based on that,” he said. Brown and its peers are not at that point yet, he added, but it may be on the horizon.

COMMENCEMENT 2016

Binder at Brown turns 30

A musician’s journey from new talent to campus legend

very year since 1986, hungover students have made a post-Spring Weekend pilgrimage to see folk-singerturned-frat-legend Dave Binder. Much has happened to Binder over the course of his three decades of Brown performances. Hair has greyed. Drum beats have become the product of machines. He went from newly minted performer to a household name. Or at the very least, a dorm room one.

The Binder hype

Thirty years after first performing in front of Brown students, the core tenant of the concert has remained the same: After a weekend of mayhem, students unite to celebrate their survival against the hearty backdrop of folk music. As Brunonians simultaneously re-inebriate and detoxify, Binder coos on his guitar, performing fan-favorites ranging from “American Pie” to “Stanky Legg.” Of course, Binder hasn’t always been the pillar of tradition and folk songs he is now. When he first set foot on Brown’s campus three decades ago, he was just a man in a baseball cap playing his acoustic guitar. He had been asked to perform a “recovery concert” for students

COURTESY OF DAVE BINDER

attending Spring Weekend festivities. After a weekend of partying to the rock band Los Lobos, students wanted wholesome after havoc. Kerry Brandewie ’86, a senior at the time, remembered her orthodontist telling her about his son, who was a performer. She gave him a call. At 30 years old, Binder performed his first Brown concert, a different strain of performance than the Wriston-swallowing rave it would become. “It wasn’t all the hype that it is now,” Brandewie said. “No one knew who David Binder was.” But students cooked breakfast on their porches and ventured to the stage to put in song requests. Binder has since been a sporadic figure in Brandewie’s life. He performed for the landmarks — her senior Spring Weekend and later her wedding — and they are now friends on Facebook. Though they are not especially close, she has kept track of his rise to Brown stardom. After 10 years out of touch, she sent him a Facebook message — “I just want you to remember who got you in there.” In the time since Brandewie first brought Binder to Brown, his audience has remained a constantly regenerating pool of youth. But

By Rebecca Ellis

Binder himself has made the transition from a musician oft-mistaken for a student to one with decades of college shows under his belt. “I don’t think the college girls are flirting with me anymore,” he conceded. The music has aged with him. For over three decades, Binder has watched as chart-toppers fade to classics. His playlist now spans decades. The most recent rendition from April 17 was an 85-song masterpiece featuring the likes of “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes,” and “Whip/Nae Nae” — a song he sees as a progression from past performances of “Macarena” and “Cha Cha Slide.” Yet as the music has matured, it has remained acutely relevant to students. In 1991, Vernon Silver ’91 wrote a piece for The Herald trying to dissect why students were still enthralled by music that had been released 20 years prior. Why has “American Pie” remained the ultimate “frat ballad,” performed at the end of almost every Binder show? Twenty-five years later, the question is just as valid. In 2016, all of Binder’s songs (perhaps with the exception of “Stanky Legg”) involve this element of nostalgia — the desire to look back to the oldies of our parents’ generation as well as the oldies of our own generation. “Piano Man”

ELI WHITE / HERALD

Dave Binder has performed at every Spring Weekend concert since 1986 and has also become a staple during Senior Week leading up to commencement celebrations. Binder performs classics like “Head, Shoulder, Knees and Toes,” along with modern hits like “Stanky Legg,” in an ever-evolving setlist.

16 THE BROWN DAILY HERALD

ELI WHITE / HERALD

After performing on Wriston Quad since 1986, the center of Greek Life, the University moved Binder’s shows to Ruth Simmons Quad in 2014. Many students were sad about the move, as was Binder himself: Wriston had “a certain intimacy to it that I prefer,” he said.

gets blended with “All Star.” “Brown Eyed Girl” turns into “Wonderwall.” They are the types of songs “you don’t even remember you know,” said Heather Sweeney ’16, who nominated herself for the Blognonian’s senior superlative “Most Likely to Come Back for Binder.”

‘Students versus security’

While songs come and go, students’ desire to embrace the folk while inebriated remains the same. “It’s been many years and many drunk people,” Binder said of his long streak of performances, with some students subtly sipping from flasks and others choosing to imbibe more visibly. Binder recounted one drunkard who stuck a watermelon on his head and jumped onto the stage. The student promptly fell off. When Binder began his career at Brown — long before the days of Poland Spring water bottle confiscation — students who lived on Wriston Quadrangle would head to their rooms when they wanted a drink. But when security started cracking down on concert sneakaways, students started getting creative, he said. One year, a fraternity hollowed out the seat of a couch and replaced it with a keg. When security subsequently banned furniture, a student hid the keg in a garbage can, disguised by a thin layer of trash. It was, Binder said, a constant crusade of “students versus security.” But two years ago, administrators played their trump card when they moved the concert away from Wriston Quad, where it had been

housed since his first show and plopped it onto Ruth Simmons Quadrangle, formerly known as Lincoln Field. By taking it away from the home-turf of Greek Life, security limited the number of students sneaking into their dorms for mid-concert shots. Binder has mixed feelings about the move. Simmons Quad might be superior acoustically, but Wriston had “a certain intimacy to it that I prefer. … To me, Wriston Quad was Spring Weekend,” he said. Binder wasn’t the only one displeased. “There was lot of internal backlash. … It was tradition for it to be on Wriston,” said Aaron Rosenthal ’16, who helps schedule Binder as co-chair of Greek Council. Rosenthal admitted that he was personally disappointed that his private viewing station from the Beta Rho Pi porch was rendered obsolete. But the move accomplished its mission and rowdy folk-infused frat stars have decreased in number, he added. Senior Week, he warned, is “a whole different ballgame.” Though alcohol is no longer making its way into the concert, Sweeney said intoxication by association still permeates the shows. “After 30 minutes of being there, you don’t feel sober anymore just because of the infectious atmosphere.” For all four years of her college career, Sweeney has attended Binder. And for all four years, she has arrived at the concert early to make sure she can be up front. “I’m never one of those loungers on the grass,” she said. This year, Binder recognized her from four years

of indebted audience participation and asked to take a photo with her. “That just made my entire life,” she said.

The legacy

From the class of 1986 to the class of 2016, Binder’s appeal has endured. U2, Bruce Springsteen and Kendrick Lamar have all taken their celeb shot at Spring Weekend, but only Binder has remained, dutifully returning to College Hill every April, and again in May for Senior Week. Some students believe Binder should be awarded for this endurance. During his time at Brown, Lex Rofes ’15 petitioned the school to give Binder an honorary degree as a way to mark his decades of service. “Every honorary degree person should really be excellent, and Dave Binder is — he moves people emotionally,” he said. “People cry tears every year at the senior show.” Though Binder was not chosen as a recipient, Rofes has not lost hope that one year he might, especially now that Binder has reached his 30th anniversary at Brown. “It’s like the Joni Mitchell/Counting Crows song: ‘You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone’ — it shouldn’t take losing him to realize what an asset he has been.” Binder admits the 30th anniversary has a ring to it, which puts him in the difficult position of deciding whether his legacy needs to end on an even number. “What’s the next cool number? 50?” he pondered. “I might be there, but I won’t remember any of the words.”

COMMENCEMENT 2016

The Year in Photos

Voices of 2016 Thoughts and reflections from 11 members of the graduating class

A hope in the unseen

Langston Hughes once asked an eternally relevant question: whether a dream deferred dries up, like a raisin in the sun. Despite every challenge, we have held onto our dreams. Instead of shriveling up, our dreams, watered by the sweat of our labor, on this day bear fruit. Graduation seemed so far away nearly four years ago, when we gathered to hear from President Christina Paxson for the first time. It seemed impossibly distant to an over-anxious Black kid with hair dyed an awkwardly light brown and a distinctively Southern accent. Many bonded over the book “Sons of Providence: The Brown Brothers, the Slave Trade, and the American Revolution” by Charles Rappleye as first-years. For me, “A Hope in the Unseen,” a book by Ron Suskind about Cedric Jennings, a student who came to Brown from inner-city Washington, D.C. in 1995, resonated more. Over the years, I came to understand his emphasis on faith and community. Like Cedric, I arrived Black, underprepared and lost. Neither Cedric nor I knew of Brown until senior year of high school. When accepted, we were told that we were “lucky,” admitted not because of our intellect but rather a sports scholarship or affirmative action. Such assertions soon bred insecurity. Coming from an underserved high school, I

questioned my ability to find success and purpose here. Looking at the cost of attendance, I asked how I could afford this school. Realizing Brown’s flawed legacy, I asked how I could make change. Finding Brown difficult to navigate, I ran to my parents for validation. My mother still calls me every single day to make sure I feel supported! We all have made it this far because someone sustained us with that same love and encouragement. As the first in my family to attend an Ivy League institution, I felt a huge responsibility to prove that I would not squander their investments. Many of us have also pushed ourselves to repay the sacrifices made by our families and communities on our behalves. I battled daily with “imposter syndrome,” which causes marginalized students to feel undeserving of their accomplishments. I silently internalized this pressure while weathering the challenges of being young, Black, ambitious and broke. At one point, I began an application to transfer. But where was I going? To escape my issues, I would have had to transfer into another body! That same month, I expressed my anxieties to my hero, Rep. John Lewis, D-GA. He asked me: “Son, what are you afraid of? We’re all rooting for you. We have your back. Always.” Inspired, I worked to reconnect with the community that I had stepped away from during my internal crisis. This was one of the best decisions that I have ever made, and soon I made one of my next best: to withdraw my transfer application. Though I still often questioned the possibility of being both Boldly Brown and Boldly Black, I had realized my purpose here: to help strengthen our community through activism. We recognize our institution as our forebears did: living and constantly changing. Change requires challenging the status quo. Activism requires one to both have faith that others will prove receptive and to love Brown enough to sacrifice to make it ever truer. We have created incredible solidarity here, many times over. During the community mobilization supporting sexual assault victim Lena Sclove ’15.5, we stood together. During the last Convocation, when Paxson and Professor of Africana Studies Tricia Rose discussed Michelle Alexander’s “The New Jim Crow,” covering mass incarceration, police brutality and voter suppression, we listened together. During the

By Armani Madison campaign to improve the Diversity Action and Inclusion Plan, we mobilized together. On May 29, at Brown’s 248th Commencement, we will graduate together. We live at a time in which the climate of blatant and undisguised intolerance towards marginalized communities has reached a fever pitch. Despite hopes that our country was making progress, we are reminded of reality. In the midst of these times, I challenge my classmates to remain advocates for change and inclusion, wherever we find ourselves. Serving as advocates for change requires educating ourselves as allies, opening ourselves to criticism and working unceasingly to obliterate racism, sexism, classism, transphobia, homophobia, xenophobia, religious intolerance and all other forms of discrimination, in any and every instance. We must reject blissful ignorance and comfortable silence in the face of oppression. Silence is divisive. Silence is complicity. How can we maintain hope and faith in a world resistant to change? To this point, “A Hope In the Unseen” comes back to mind. Cedric’s mother once remarked: “The race … goes not to the swift nor the strong, but (to those) who endureth until the end.” In Brown, we have a strong community that has endured for over 250 years. If we endure similarly in the pursuit of justice, we can achieve a more just world. The slogan “Brown Together” encapsulates us all. Brown belongs to every one of us. Brown is the people who built it. Brown is the people who push the institution to improve. Brown is Inman Page. Brown is Paxson. Brown is the people of Providence. Brown is the parents, friends, administrators, faculty and staff who have supported us through it all. Brown is both the privileged legacy student and the student from an underserved public high school. Brown is Cedric Jennings. Brown is me. Brown is you. We must seize the unique opportunity that we are given to battle injustice while recognizing our Brown privileges, questioning our assumptions and rectifying our ignorance. As Pulitzer Prize winner Alice Walker wrote, “We are the ones we have been waiting for.” Brown has shown us that in faith and community there is strength, and in strength there is power to effect change. Incredible things happen when we maintain, even in dark times, a hope in the unseen. Let us go forth and turn our unseen dreams into a reality.

COMMENCEMENT 2016

Voices of 2016

Reflecting on home I have a red-and-black print of an Andy Warhol quote on my wall: “The world fascinates me.” For as long as I can remember, this has been true. As a child, I grew up walking the botanical gardens in Singapore, learning badminton in Jakarta and systematically numbing my taste buds with as much spicy food as I could. When my family evacuated Indonesia to the United States after Sept. 11, I felt disoriented and shell-shocked in my Georgia public school. When we moved to Nashville, Tennessee shortly thereafter and I began class with my third second-grade teacher, I cried. The funny thing about being immersed in Brown’s diversity is that I’ve only recently begun reminding people I grew up overseas, explaining why I prefer fairy bread (an Australian concoction of white bread, butter and sprinkles) to peanut butter and jelly and why I cannot place most American “throwback” references. I’ve only just begun admitting to myself one of the biggest truths about my identity: my hometown. When you aren’t from anywhere in particular, choosing a hometown takes on significance. It’s a validation of place, belonging and comfort. As a Brown student who is cognizant of Tennessee’s religious and racial prejudices as well as its continuing shortcomings in social justice, this decision has been fraught with cognitive dissonance, bargaining and more than a little embarrassment. My middle and high school years were bathed in copper hues: orange t-shirts for the University of Tennessee, attended by about 70 percent of my public school’s large graduating class; crimson for Alabama’s Roll Tide slogan and college football’s Southeastern Conference; blood red for the stripes on the flag we saluted without fail at the beginning of every school day; and red for the color of the only political party you could publicly approve. Before coming to Brown, I abhorred these shades of red, longing to bathe myself in cool, refreshing blue. At Brown, I’ve studied systemic oppression, feminism, cultural appropriation, privilege and religion. Academically, I know with absolute certainty that many of the experiences I had while living in Tennessee fell well within the categories of “problematic” or “extremely problematic.” I’ve realized that feminism isn’t a curse word, nor does not shaving your legs or being transgender make you any less of a woman. I’ve realized that the privileges I enjoyed in Tennessee aren’t only unrealistic (did I mention that I went to Taylor Swift’s rival high school and Kesha’s middle school?) but part of a larger problem of wealth distribution in the United States. I identify Nashville as my hometown knowing full well that any mention

24 THE BROWN DAILY HERALD

of the South immediately conjures preconceptions in most of my peers of conservative beliefs, Bible-thumping and ignorance. This knowledge makes my understanding of home a complex, tense part of my identity. Yet I can’t deny where I come from. I have continually confronted and interrogated the lessons I learned in Tennessee’s public schools during my time at Brown. I’ve often laughed outwardly and grimaced inwardly at my unbeknownst ignorance among peers who attended high schools far more rigorous than my own. I smiled freshman year while frantically learning the basics of staying kosher, keeping up with friends’ New York families and feigning familiarity with New England’s meteorologically and socially chilly tendencies. I appreciate the learning curve that comes with being immersed in such a diverse community, especially after coming from someplace where too much difference came with a heap of suspicion. The hard part about acknowledging Tennessee as your home is that you have to accept everything that comes with it, knowing full well that, to most of your peers, the South cannot approximate the sophistication or opportunity of the North. There is a certain expectation of proving your worth, of showing that you weren’t just the admission committee’s pet Southern acceptance, and that you can blend into this place. In “Thank God for Hometowns,” Carrie Underwood sings, “Thank God for the county lines that welcome you back in / When you were dying to get out / Thank God for Church pews / And all the faces that won’t forget you / Cause when you’re lost out in this crazy world / You got somewhere to go and get found.” Driving to Tennessee this summer on I-40W from Virginia, I realized that home is where you return to, again

By Celina Stewart

and again. Home is the open field you aren’t afraid to walk with girlfriends at midnight, just to taste the honeysuckles and watch the fireflies in the grass like fireworks personally welcoming you back. Home tastes like fried pickles and sounds like Luke Bryan. Home, I’ve realized, does not define where you’ll go. Rather, it helps you understand where you come from. My classmates at Brown have been some of the most incredibly intelligent, independently impressive people I’ve met. In trying to keep up with them, I traveled by myself to Panama, Argentina and Uruguay. I studied abroad in Spain and the Czech Republic. I completed an internship conducted almost entirely in Spanish, despite my feelings of lingual inadequacy as an international relations concentrator. I will work as a consultant in New York next year. For someone from a town that encourages staying close to home, these are acts of courage and accomplishment. These achievements were only possible because I saw those around me doing similar things and I felt that I could, too. This type of exploration, whether of our ideals, our bodies, our thoughts or our worlds, is a necessary part of college. My world is much bigger for having attended Brown. So this column is for that small group of us who call the South home (even those of you from Texas). Our time at Brown has not only solidified which brand of bourbon we enjoy best, but also given us the tools to understand how a place with such a complicated, frustrating and poorly taught cultural history can also provide us with such comfort. This is for the folks in Tennessee who told me to come to Brown and prove that Tennesseans are smart and can go on to do big things. To them, and to all of us in the class of 2016: We made it.

A cautionary tale My journey to Brown began with a warning. It was an autumn afternoon, and I was sitting in an attorney’s office close to home. Pulling at the fabric of my suit pants, I was both eager and anxious at the same time. I constantly adjusted my tie in nervous expectation. Months before matriculating at Brown, this was the scene of my alumni interview, the final leg of my admission process. Fortunately, the interview went well. But after nearly an hour of talking about my interests and hypothetical future in Providence, the alum issued me a warning. “I know you’ve already applied, but before you make a decision, I must caution you,” he said. “Brown is an independent place, and you have to be prepared to forge your own path.” The next autumn, while unpacking my things in Perkins Hall (RIP), those words of warning remained with me. Like many other first-years, I had clouded conceptions of what life on College Hill would be like, preconceived fears of a place where students were doing their own thing, where success was measured by each individual’s achievements. What was independence and how would I figure it out all by myself? Looking back now, I am not surprised that I thought this way. From our first day on campus as Brown students, we are introduced to a curriculum founded on the principle of choice from our first day on campus. We are welcomed into a 250-year-old tradition, guided only by our academic interests. For the initial two weeks of every semester — with nearly zero guidelines and no core requirements — we are tasked with picking four courses from a shopping cart of hundreds of possibilities. This can be a daunting task and certainly one worthy of an alum’s warning. But over the past four years, I have learned that, along with phrases like “arch sing” and “spicy with,” “independence” has its own unique meaning at Brown. As self-guided as we strive to be, each of our individual identities is the consequence of the interactions we have with others. This is a lesson I experienced first-hand every Tuesday and Thursday evening for the past four years. As a trombonist in the Brown University Orchestra, I spent a lot of time

practicing on my own. Some nights I would trek to the studios in Steinert Center, and others — much to the frustration of my roommates — I would set up next to my desk at home. But music, as I know it, is only resonant in the company of others. Despite all the hours of late-night practicing, the most I could ever produce was an incomplete sound, a single voice in the silent symphony of my mind. It was only in joining the rest of the orchestra that this sound gained volume. Rehearsing with over 100 other students twice per week, my individual part found a place within the larger whole. As my melodies mixed with those of the flutes, as my lines sung with the strings and answered the trumpets, I was satisfied knowing that, in harmony with others, I was creating new meaning through music. This message continued to echo with me last year, when I enrolled in a course on the “contested narratives” of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Over spring break, I traveled with 11 of my classmates to Israel and the West Bank. For seven days, we met with human rights activists, journalists and government officials, hearing their separate stories and personal perspectives on the conflict. For me, one of the most powerful memories from that trip was joining a Palestinian family for Friday night dinner. We talked about politics and our hopes for a peaceful future. Five thousand miles from home, I heard stories that night that I had never had the opportunity to hear before. Each day of the trip, and each day of our seminar in Sayles Hall, I was exposed to different viewpoints. Though we each had our own opinions coming into the course — our own

Voices of 2016 By Jason Ginsberg independent truths — sharing these ideas with one another, we formed a collective narrative. We weren’t resolving the conflict, but talking together, we were creating a new understanding. Over the past eight semesters at Brown, this same experience has repeated itself again and again. Despite different perspectives and alternative understandings, my greatest moments on College Hill have always been in the company of others. Admittedly, though I have forgotten much of its substance, this shared sense of learning recalls a particular passage from our class’ First Readings book from the summer before coming to Brown: “Sons of Providence: The Brown Brothers, the Slave Trade and the American Revolution” by Charles Rappleye. Unable to resolve their disputes, Moses Brown, an ardent abolitionist, and his brother John, a staunch slave trader, turned to a series of letters to express their disagreements. Instead of ignoring each other’s independent ways, they engaged with one another in discourse. And though each remained largely unconvinced by the other, it was in this conversation that John and Moses Brown created a shared legacy. Together, they inspired an academic institution founded on the same spirit of collective inquiry as their own. As graduation approaches, it is easy to stop and search for meaning in the semesters that have passed. Now, on my way toward the Van Wickle Gates, I can finally appreciate those last words, handed down to me by an alumni attorney in an admission interview, now four autumns ago. Looking back on my time at Brown, it won’t matter that I spent nights alone researching in the Rockefeller Library, or that I played solos for hours in private practice rooms. Years from now, I won’t remember the individual moments but the times we all came together, when we created music from our melodies and understandings from our independent ideas. These are the moments I will share in the future, perhaps to a prospective student, anxiously adjusting his tie before an interview. “Independence is not a warning but an experience to embrace,” I will say. “It is the self-guided spirit that ties Brown together.”

COMMENCEMENT 2016

Voices of 2016

In pursuit of God at Brown

On the morning of April 23, I found myself walking with a group of Muslim students from Faunce Arch to India Point Park for our endof-year picnic. It was the last major organized event hosted by the Brown Muslim Students Association, and it would likewise be the last one I would attend as an undergraduate. By some

sort of cosmic joke, the weather was remarkably not conducive to a picnic vibe. There was a light drizzle, and the air was firmly chilly. “God is the best of planners,” I thought to myself. When I was admitted to Brown, I decided to matriculate only after visiting the Muslim community and confirming for myself that it might be a home for me. I was raised as a practicing Muslim by two loving parents, and I sought a new home in college that would accept me and nurture my Muslim identity. For the most part, my experiences with legitimate spirituality — moments wherein my heart trembled out of wonder for God and His creation — were sparse prior to Brown. Islam was a system of rules that I followed. If I followed them properly, I would accrue enough “good boy points” to go to heaven, where I would eat ice cream and play basketball for eternity. A genuine relationship with God — knowing Him, understanding Him, seeking Him, loving Him — was not quite part of the picture, beyond his role as a rule-maker. Given Brown’s liberal, perhaps godless, reputation as a school, I was somewhat skeptical of Brown as a place to foster my Muslim identity.

The unique gift of TWW Brown may not have the largest endowment, but what it lacks in capital, it makes up for in personality. When I first got to Brown, I was taken in by the cherry blossoms and cheery spirits. And though on my worst days I will tell you that it was all a lie, in truth, at least the latter half has remained constant. I met most of my friends at Third World Weekend, an entity that no longer exists. Along with our invitations to A Day On College Hill, we, the prospective students of color, had been invited to TWW. Those of us who made it past the somewhat alarming name to the descriptive fine print found ourselves at Brown two days prior to ADOCH. During this weekend, we were able to experience Brown like I have never seen it since. The school was like a historically black college where everyone was socially conscious and friendly! The streets of Brown were lined with other prospective students of color who were just as eager to love the school as I was. We quickly bonded over our anxieties, our hopes and our dreams for a life-changing four years. Over that weekend, 10 other prospective students and I formed what could have been a shallow connection, but what turned into collective

26 THE BROWN DAILY HERALD

matriculation and a steadfast four years of friendship. Before we walked through the Van Wickle Gates, my core group of friends, the “Black community” at Brown, had already bonded. Throughout the moments of strife that inevitably come with the passing of time, and throughout the trauma that unjustly comes with being a Black person in America today, this community has supported me in ways that I could have never envisioned on that first weekend. We have held potlucks, prayer sessions, parties and kickbacks. We are a family through and through. When I lost my mother in the spring of my sophomore year, I felt as though I’d lost myself. Everything in my life had been uprooted, and I didn’t know how to be myself here, or anywhere else for that matter. Administrators stepped in and revealed to me that they could be helpful in these types of situations. My friends stepped up and showed me that it was okay to not be okay. They affirmed and continue to affirm me two years later, as I approach Commencement without my greatest hero and cheerleader. While I may not be thrilled with some of the other aspects of my Brown experience, I

By Abid Haseeb I emailed the Muslim chaplain, David Coolidge — a warm, deeply affectionate soul — and he quipped, “Brown is a good place to be a Muslim.” I chose to trust him. As it turns out, the last four years have been a vessel for the most important spiritual transformations of my adult life. I worked closely with Coolidge, and thereafter I studied with Adnan Wood-Smith, also a Muslim chaplain here at the University, who blends together deeply spiritual and cerebral approaches. From these gentle teachers, I learned to take ownership of my agency as a Muslim and as a wayfarer on a spiritual journey. I learned, more than anything else, that I should pursue loving, knowing and worshipping my creator and seek him in everything that I do. I learned to see Islam as a conduit to finding God in my relationships, my dreams and my academic pursuits. Soon, my days were organized around spending time with other wayfarers in the Muslim community at Brown. For the first time in my life, my experience with a Muslim community focused on real interactions and relationships

Continued on page 27

By Hannah Anokye

am incredibly grateful that I was able to experience TWW and meet a group of people who changed my life for the better. I honestly wouldn’t have made it through Brown without this incredible support system in my life. If I could do it all over again, I don’t think I would choose differently.

Voices of 2016

Pins

Some of my earliest childhood memories take place in Geoff’s Superlative Sandwiches. I am eye-level with the huge anthropomorphized sandwich painted on the front counter. The sandwich and I are staring at each other and graffiti covers the brick walls. During rides up and down New England, my family would exit the highway at Providence just to eat at Geoff’s. As a child, I danced to Dave Binder at my mom’s Brown reunions, and I had NO IDEA about the importance and ubiquity of this Brown tradition. When Spring Weekend of my freshman year arrived, so did the joyous moment when I learned that his “Unicorn” song was not just part of Binder’s kids-oriented repertoire but a ritual loved by many. My mental map of Brown — my own perception of the place — has always been tied to my mother, Beth Davis, a proud 1978 alumna. As I learned in high school geography class, our mental map of a locale is drawn by our unique knowledge of the place and determines the way we navigate the terrain. When I was a scared and lonely freshman, Brown felt slightly less like terra incognita because someone who loved me had lived here. When I talked to my mom on the phone and told her I was walking by the corner of George and Brook Streets and knew that she could picture exactly where I was, I felt lookedafter. When my parents drove up to visit and my mom knew how to navigate Providence’s hell of one-way streets, Brown seemed more manageable. My millennial mind zoomed out on my mental map and my mom’s knowledge formed dropped pins on the map, contact points that tethered my college life to the familiar. At the beginning of my junior spring, the breast cancer that my mom had been living with for nearly a decade finally spread to her brain. She died within four months. Suddenly, everywhere was terra incognita. I returned to Brown in the fall and tried to act normal, but I felt naked. On the first day of classes, I held back tears while walking down Thayer Street; anxiety

Continued from page 26 with Muslims. I was one of many souls seeking meaning. We learned to patiently understand and engage with one another in pursuit of a greater understanding of each other and a greater understanding of God. Moving on is hard. I know that a community of patient wayfarers and eager teachers won’t be easily accessible after I make my slow, weighty departure from College Hill. But on that morning of April 23, I was just

By Emma Gleeman

racked my chest as I passed by Soldiers Arch. The small secrets of this place that I thought marked it as home — every stubborn door, every rootripped sidewalk — couldn’t alleviate my panic. When I had left for college, I had thought my childhood had ended. But after having to abruptly grow up in the span of six months after my mother died, I finally began charting a separate life. I was dropping pins on my mental map that my mother would never know about, and I hated it. In time, I wrote a thesis (dropping a new pin at the Geo-Chem Building), joined new clubs (J. Walter Wilson) and completed an internship (City Hall). When my mom was alive, I had related our Brown experiences. Then vs. now. A 1970s flavor and a 2010s flavor of the same experience. But I realized that our two versions of Brown-ing were barely comparable. I grew up 120 miles away, close enough that the weather here and the weather at home were the same on any given day. My mom grew up in Nashville with heavy parental pressure to attend college below the Mason-Dixon line. I am a geology concentrator; she never touched a science class. Different campus conversations unfolded; different global tragedies left us reeling and questioning. Physical space was one of

the few commonalities the two of us shared. So when I still feel shaky, I remind myself of what is the same. I try to love the sights through my mom’s eyes. Carrie Tower. Sayles Hall. Pembroke. I latch onto my small collection of her Brown memories. How she and her roommate snuck onto the roof of the old pool, and thus how she liked to credit herself with the roof’s eventual collapse. (I found out from an administrative source that the beams rotted from moisture, but I’m glad my mom never knew.) How she and her housemates invited then-President Howard Swearer over for dinner and he had a grand old time, but his wife dragged him out the door. How she gleefully remembered tripping Caroline Kennedy when the soccer team played Harvard (my mom walked onto the first ever Brown women’s soccer team — thanks, Title IX!). I’m grasping at these snapshots, and I wish I could ask what she remembers from graduation. Even with a newer layer of pins dropped on my mental map, Brown helps me keep my mom close. To me, she’s tangible here. Leaving here will be a double loss. Before, during and after I learn how it feels to miss her in my next venue, I will keep revisiting the place where we both grew up.

focused on having a good time. We made our way across campus, and I routinely stopped to look back. I wasn’t actually concerned about people who had fallen behind; I just wanted to soak it all in: their faces, their smiles, their warmth. The picnic itself was just like any other nice picnic. Our laughter filled the open air of India Point Park, our outpouring of love just earnest enough to arouse the jealousy of the Providence River. I primarily spent time with underclassmen that day, still feeling out ways to get them excited; it was now my responsibility to make

someone else feel accepted. A friend chimed into the conversation to say, “Yeah, this community is nice! I was a little nervous, but Abid made me feel welcome.” In her attempt to reassure tentative freshmen, she comforted a vulnerable senior. I felt as though I was leaving behind something good. I felt an optimism that had a twang of closure. The sun finally came out as we were packing up, and my internal warmth met that of the sun at my skin. I thought to myself, “God is the best of planners.”

COMMENCEMENT 2016

Voices of 2016

Student voices matter As Commencement draws near, graduating seniors all over campus are reflecting on our time at Brown. Some memories are common to the Brown experience: all-nighters in the Sciences Library, losing friends at Spring Weekend and post-exam Blue Room muffins (or is that just us?). Increasingly however, we’ve seen our classmates look back on their semesters at Brown and reflect on the incredible amount of institutional change our class has helped create. Brown, like many universities across the country, has been in a constant state of transition and transformation over the past four years, largely thanks to student voices. Here at Brown, amidst administrative turnover, the class of 2016 has become a crucial source of institutional knowledge, as well as an agent of change. As student leaders of the Undergraduate Council of Students over the past four years, the three of us have seen many instances of students bringing critical issues to the administration’s attention and working hard to make their voices heard in a University governance structure that was not built to listen to students. During our time in UCS, Brown has undergone many changes, from eliminating fees for most suite-style rooms to renaming Fall Weekend Indigenous People’s Day, and from the way the University processes sexual assault cases to the way it treats mental health needs. The common theme throughout the changes we’ve seen? Student voices pushed them all to happen. Student efforts have consistently sparked necessary University action. In UCS, we’ve hosted roundtables and open forums where students and administrators have engaged in productive conversations. We’ve also watched as Brown has thrived or fallen short in pursuing institutional change, depending on whether students have been involved. Now, at the end of our four years, the most important lesson we’ve learned is that it is imperative for students to have a voice, as equal stakeholders and partners, in decision-making at Brown in order for both the University and student life to thrive. In the spring of 2014, our sophomore year, students reignited the fight to reform the University’s sexual assault adjudication process. Brown had long since needed to reevaluate its policies around sexual assault (not much had changed since activism in the early 1990s), but this time, students demanded that their voices be heard and channeled into action. Students were the ones who boldly told their personal stories, publicly rallied around their peers,

28 THE BROWN DAILY HERALD

By Alana Bhatla, Sazzy Gourley and Elena Saltzman

pushed administrators for answers at UCS open forums, researched how our process was failing survivors, made key recommendations through the Sexual Assault Task Force and ensured with their journalism that everyone in the Brown community was aware of how our institution needed to change. Brown’s establishment of a new Title IX Office and gradual implementation of a new unified policy for processing such cases are a testament to these students’ efforts and will continue to be shaped by future student voices. While students have initiated institutional change on issues like Title IX, student pushback against ongoing University efforts has also shifted the course of change in other areas. Few know that the Diversity and Inclusion Action Plan was in development for many semesters before becoming a public conversation last fall. Through UCS focus groups, op-eds, a Blackout protest on the Quiet Green, teach-ins, open forums and a reclaiming of University Hall and Leung Gallery by students of color, amidst many other efforts, Brown students fought for the plan to move from a vision statement to a comprehensive plan with specific accountability measures and ultimately partnered with other University stakeholders to secure a $45 million increase in funding. In these instances, not only were students the main agents of change on our campus, but they also stood up for other members of our community, including faculty, staff and Providence community members. While our perspective on these issues is limited to our own involvement as UCS leaders, we’ve cherished the opportunity to work alongside our fellow classmates, activists, writers and campus leaders as they have forged new pathways of change when the University left few institutional mechanisms for doing so. Many administrators have supported these efforts, but we need more than administrative support. We need Brown to include and value student voices in University decisions systemically and unequivocally, not just when doing so is convenient. Every year, UCS conducts a Fall Poll of the undergraduate student body to collect data on a variety of issues we plan to work on throughout the year. This year, a record-high 46 percent of the student body responded. Administrators were astonished that we were able to get almost half the student body to take an online poll. But we wondered why, when so many students will jump to tell you

about areas of Brown they’d like to change, do only half of students voice their opinions when asked? If Brown students are serious about changing our institution for the better, we need to get more people engaged in campus issues and University governance. In The Herald’s spring poll, 80 percent of respondents reported feeling “very informed” or “somewhat informed” about events on campus, but 34.2 percent reported having “no opinion” on how President Christina Paxson P’19 is doing her job. If we truly claim to be “informed” students, we need to show up when it counts. Conversations around important campus issues often involve the same groups of students, and while we recognize that some students may not feel comfortable confronting institutional barriers, we hope this changes in years to come. If the class of 2016’s four years here have been any indication, student voices do matter and can change the course of a University. We can’t wait to see what the next four years hold for Brown. We hope the class of 2016 has inspired classes below us to keep working to create change at Brown, whether through student government, centers, academic departments, University committees, journalism or other forms of activism. Now that we’re graduating, we won’t be able to talk about the student body as “us” any longer, but you can bet we’ll stay engaged as alums and keep pushing for institutional change from the other side of the Van Wickle Gates.

Voices of 2016

Ever true: to the band, and to Brown A few days before I left for my first year at around the Olney-Margolies Athletic Center, Brown, I was just starting to pack, and my overwhelmed by options. At some point, I snuck mom and I were arguing. My mom asked again: away toward the Brown Band’s table. I had no “Are you sure you don’t want to bring your intention of joining the band, but at this point saxophone?” I scoffed at her. “No way,” I in- Peter was the head manager of the CUMB and sisted, as though the suggestion were completely he knew the Brown Band’s president, so I figured ludicrous. “I’m never going to play it. I’m not I should at least stop by and say hello to her. I going to join the band like Peter.” had barely said more than “Hi, I think you know Peter is my older brother. We are almost my brother” when the president exclaimed, “Oh exactly two years apart — “almost” because it’s my god, you’re Peter’s sister?!” And I was right actually one year and 363 days, and those two back where I had been my entire life: defined days matter when you’re the younger one. For in relation to my brother. It had taken less than my entire life, I have been two years (well, one a week of college for me to fall back into that year and 363 days) behind Peter. We went to all-too-familiar place. Despite this first lessthe same schools, took the same classes, had the than-ideal interaction, I let her convince me same teachers and even did most of the same to write down my email. Then I walked away, activities: math league, academic bowl, soccer thinking that I had done nothing more than and so on. We also both played in our high get my name on another listserv whose emails I school’s symphonic band would probably ignore — Peter on trombone and for the next four years. me on alto sax. But the beginning “It took a while — until of college was hard, Most younger siblings can probably relate to the and I worried I wasn’t my second semester at particular agonies of almaking enough friends, ways coming second, of Brown — before I really so I went to the band’s never getting to experience first rehearsal the next felt that the band was anything for yourself first. week. I made awkward As my brother was applyconversation with some that community, but ing to colleges during my very nice upperclassever since, I haven’t sophomore year, I wormen, sorted out the ried about how his college logistics of borrowing looked back. ” choice would affect mine a saxophone and played in the future. I had spent some tunes. I didn’t fall the first 18 years of my life as “Peter’s sister” and in love at that first rehearsal, but it’s not like I was determined not to continue that experience. had anything better to do on Tuesday nights, so But as he was choosing between Brown — my I kept showing up. I remember sheepishly callnumber one choice — and Columbia, I silently ing my mom a few more weeks into the school willed him not to beat me to Brown. It worked: year: “When you come for Family Weekend, He chose Columbia, and my dreams were safe. can you bring my sax?” That fall, Peter left for college and joined And so I found myself following in my Columbia’s marching band (the CUMB), a brother’s footsteps despite my best efforts. Uldecision that surprised my entire family — timately, I had to stop resisting the similarities while both Peter and I had played instruments between Peter and me, seeing them as a good for years, neither of us had shown the slightest thing instead. Peter and I could swap our respecinterest in our high school marching band. Peter tive bands’ funniest, bawdiest cheers, compare seemed to enjoy being a member of the CUMB, notes about band trips to other schools and vent and I was happy that he had found his place at about the particular stresses of being on band school, but I had no intentions whatsoever of leadership. Being in the band also meant that following in his footsteps. Peter and I were guaranteed to see each other Fast forward to 2012. I was accepted to every time our bands traveled to the other’s Brown and excited to start college by study- school — something to look forward to every ing English, playing club soccer and writing semester and keep me from being too homesick. fiction for literary magazines. When I arrived, Some of my friends at Brown came here in orientation passed by in a desperate blur as I part because of the band. Most of my band tried to overcome my inherent shyness to make friends were in their high school marching friends. I went with some of those early friends bands; more than one was a drum major or to the Activities Fair that first week, wandering section captain or senior leader. At an annual

By Amy Andrews

band retreat before the first football game freshman year, we split into our instrumental sections to prepare for a practice field show. A senior in the band handed out form sheets and gathered the other saxophones into a huddle. “Okay, first we’re going to do a backwards glide pivot step and then march in 4/7 time.” For a few moments of panic, I was afraid I had made a huge mistake: These people were about to find out that I was a fraud, that I knew absolutely nothing about being in a marching band, even a “scramble band” like Brown’s. The whistle blew, and everyone took off running, and I realized that the senior was joking and I would fit in just fine. All this is to say that I never would have predicted joining the band. But I wanted a community in college, a group of people I could rely on. It took a while — until my second semester at Brown — before I really felt that the band was that community, but ever since, I haven’t looked back. After my grandma died freshman year, or after I got norovirus and got sick at band rehearsal, everyone in the band was so genuinely nice, checking in to make sure I was okay. Upperclassmen who had intimidated me during my first semester became some of my best and closest friends. I spent the summer

Continued on page 27 COMMENCEMENT 2016

Voices of 2016

Being ready The summer after my junior year was filled with ambivalence. On one hand, I could not wait to live off campus with my friends and see everyone again. On the other hand, I knew that every day closer to the start of the academic year meant a day closer to graduation and the Great Unknown. I was interning in Tunis when my anxiety slowly started to dissipate. You see, that day I was meeting my brother’s friend from college, who had recently moved to Tunis after graduating from the University of Essex in the United Kingdom. She had brought along a few Palestinian friends she had met in Tunis. It was great learning more about their unique backgrounds and experiences. One of them had graduated from college two years ago. Naturally, the question of where I go to school came up. “I go to college in the U.S.,” I said. She asked where. “In Providence,” I said, thinking the name “Brown” would not elicit recognition in this tiny but pleasant Tunisian cafe on a warm summer night in the midst of Ramadan. “Which one?” she prompted, seemingly intrigued by the name of the city. “Brown,” I said. “Oh, really.” She looked at me amusedly. “I graduated from Brown in 2012.” Well, that was the last answer I had expected. I had known that Brown graduates were spread all over the world, but until that moment, it had been more of an abstract thought in the back of my mind, a statistic in a promotional pamphlet. This was the first time that I had met a Brown alum in a country neither of us originally hailed from. After that initial shock (I might have scared

30 THE BROWN DAILY HERALD

By Ekaterina Shaleva her just a little with my level of enthusiasm), we proceeded to ask each other all the questions you might hear at freshman orientation: What did you study? Where did you live? Who was your favorite professor? There is something incredibly simple yet magical about bonding with complete strangers over people and places. I had finally experienced firsthand the extent of the Brown network. This was the moment I knew graduating from Brown is not the end but just the beginning. You simply do not graduate alone. Instead, you join the thousands of other Brown alums who have walked the same streets, talked to the same faculty members and staff members and asked the same anxiety-inducing questions about what lies ahead. My twin sister — who goes to Brown, too — told me recently that after graduation she will have to completely change her Twitter bio: She will no longer be a modern culture and media concentrator, she will no longer be a Writing Fellow and she will no longer be a part of Brown Motion Pictures. Yet while we will no longer be able to answer the question “What do you do?” with the simple but filled-with-pride answer “I go to Brown,” we will always remain a part of the University’s legacy, a part of its memory, a part of its success. All of the ‘titles’ we have accumulated throughout our four years at Brown will not be lost. They will serve as pointers of all we have accomplished at Brown and as previews of what awaits us beyond the Van Wickle Gates. After my summer in Tunis, I was ready for senior year. What is more, I was finally excited to face the Great Unknown.

Continued from page 29 of 2014 in Providence specifically to live with band friends; I met one of my current roommates through the band; I had crushes on and flirtations with other bandies, and I experienced the occasional mild heartbreak (the band, like other organizations that spend a lot of time together, can be a little incestuous). That’s not to say that every moment of being in the band has been perfect. Early football call times make everyone irritable; seeing the same people every day during particularly event-heavy weeks can be exhausting; a lost election my junior year fundamentally altered the way I saw myself fitting into the band, and it took time to recover. But even with the bad things, over the last four years, this group of people has grown to mean so much to me that it physically hurts to think of leaving them behind. I’ve also been a tour guide at Brown, and I usually close tours by talking about what makes Brown so special: the open curriculum, the freedom of choosing our own paths, the fact that I can’t imagine what college would have been like without that freedom. One of the joys of the open curriculum and of Brown in general is that we can always let ourselves be surprised by new things we try: by classes in departments we never expected to like, by people we never expected to meet, by clubs we never planned to join. I came to Brown expecting to study English and play soccer and write fiction and never take a science class again; instead, I studied comparative literature and played softball and wrote personal essays and took — and loved — CSCI0080: “A First Byte of Computer Science.” And, most importantly, I joined the band, and I cannot imagine what my life would be like without having made that choice. At some point during a Brown vs. Columbia basketball game freshman spring, members of the CUMB started gesturing at me and shouting something about my brother, who was studying abroad at the time. And members of the Brown Band — my band — started chanting back, “We have the better Andrews!” I happen to think my brother is pretty great, but that’s when I knew that these people liked me entirely for me, not because they knew my brother at all. This wacky, wonderful group of musicians has been my home away from home for the last four years, and I can’t fathom what life will be like when those Tuesday rehearsals end. But I remain eternally grateful that four years ago I took a chance on the band — going against my vow to avoid making the same choices my brother had — and let myself be surprised. It’s the best choice I’ve ever made.

Voices of 2016

Fragile connections It was raining the day the class of 2016 was supposed to walk through the Van Wickle Gates for Convocation. We did not walk through as a class but individually, once the storm had subsided. That first day four years ago, my first thought was “do I belong here?” Symbolized by that lack of cohesive experience, this feeling of isolation is one to which we can all likely relate. Our shared fragility has been emphasized by recent campus conversations. The issues that have wracked our community, even in this past year alone — including mental health, racism and sexism — are not unique to Brown. We are a microcosm for debates occurring on the national level and in the global arena. By graduating, we are not leaving behind these conversations. In my experience, however, the Brown community is unique in its response. The number of students and faculty members who have attended forums, organized teachins and participated in conversations about how to strengthen our campus is inspiring. We make space at Brown for sensitive subjects. We push our community to be more accountable. We foster places where fragility can be a source of strength. Sara Ahmed, professor of race and cultural studies at Goldsmiths University of London, said in her keynote speech at the National Women’s Studies Association conference in November 2015, “Fragility itself is a thread, a connection, a fragile connection, between those things deemed breakable.” She meant that we must connect precisely where we are fragile, where we are breakable and able to be disconnected. Connecting around a shared vulnerability means finding the threads that most need to be strengthened and building relationships around what we must work hardest to preserve. Connecting when and where we are fragile means understanding each other with compassion and intention. Connection is also reciprocal — we achieve it both by reaching out and by responding to an outstretched hand. As an English concentrator, I often think about the nature of connection. Many of the novels I read question how we connect, and if we truly do at all. In her novel “Mrs. Dalloway,” Virginia Woolf compares a delicate connection between two people to “a single spider’s thread (that) is blotted with rain-drops, and, burdened, sags down.” If we

visualize the many diverse threads reaching between us — our friends, families, professors and communities, both local and global — what are they burdened by? Where are they fragile? How do we connect? Orbiting around each other on the Main Green, passing on the winding stairwell of J. Walter Wilson, traipsing back and forth from one end of campus to the other — our layered footprints map out an intricate web that marks our shared identity as students here. Brown students excel at forging intellectual connections in the classroom and in labs, brilliantly weaving together ideas and issues both within and across disciplines. When I first arrived at Brown, cut loose from all the threads that for years held me in the South, I felt untethered. While some friendships were immediate, it mostly took time to build connections, and to feel tied to the school itself. In our first semester, my freshman roommate and I filled out transfer applications together. We said we would give it another week, another month, see how midterms went. Suddenly we had finished our first semester. Our fragility brought us closer, and through that bond we found the strength and resilience to keep adjusting to Brown and to eventually mentor younger students. Soon after the adjustment period, I found myself fully wrapped up in the Brown community. I realized that it was normal to feel inspired, challenged, confident and like an imposter all at once. We are all drawn in so many different directions — academic opportunities, career paths and social obligations. It is easy to overcommit time and energy. Our many threads can tangle, loosen and be lost. Friends, new and old, are the continuous threads of our time here. Our lives are colored and textured by the relationships we have built, and the threads we have interwoven with our own. Even around delicate and challenging issues, Brown cultivates a culture of community engagement. When I reflect on my time at Brown, I recognize a history of connecting as fellow students, as friends and as allies. We, the class of 2016, are about to leave Brown’s physical campus and become disconnected geographically, dispersed all over the world. As we face this time of disconnection, and of forging new connections, our chal-

By Elana Jaffe

lenge is to figure out how to take with us this culture of engagement and care. How do we maintain connection? By deciding who and what we thread ourselves to. By connecting where we are fragile, and by nurturing the threads between us that might be, as Woolf writes, “blotted with rain-drops, and burdened.” I think back to our first rainy days at Brown, when summer showers stopped us from walking through the Van Wickle Gates. The rain did not wash away the strong threads of an engaged campus community that have since held us together. I urge us all to bring the intention and compassion we have learned here to our future relationships and endeavors. Reach out and extend offers of friendship, mentorship and alliance, but also receive them. Be open to what might be an extended hand. As we walk through the gates together, rain or shine, I invite us to consider how we will continue to find strength in shared fragility and continue to strengthen our connections.

COMMENCEMENT 2016

Voices of 2016

The shot before “The Shot”

Anyone who followed March Madness this year will remember “The Shot.” With fewer than five seconds to play in the NCAA National Championship game and overtime looming, Villanova University’s Kris Jenkins caught a pass, set his feet and delivered one of the greatest game-winning shots in the history of the tournament — a 30-foot bomb that uncorked an eruption of cheers and tears. But lost amidst the confetti and fireworks was the University of North Carolina’s Marcus Paige and the shot before “The Shot.” With the Tar Heels down three and the clock reading about 10 seconds, Paige caught a pass from Berry and rose up from beyond the arc for a three. A Wildcat defender leapt forward to contest the shot, and Paige had to double clutch to avoid getting blocked. On his way down, with his legs splayed out in opposite directions to avoid touching the ground, Paige chucked up a prayer that somehow rattled through the hoop. Lasting 4.7 seconds, Paige’s doubleclutching miracle was the greatest shot I had ever seen in a college basketball game. But in an instant, Jenkins’ shot seemed to erase Paige’s shot from the memories of everyone watching that game. The biggest shot of Paige’s life became nothing more than a footnote on the 2016 National Championship Wikipedia page.

32 THE BROWN DAILY HERALD

That game was played on April 5; I’m writing this column in early May, and I had to rewatch Paige’s shot just to reconstruct that description of it. I obviously remember the gist, but the details have already started to fade. I wrote the description of Jenkins’ shot from memory. This phenomenon isn’t unique to college basketball, or even sports for that matter. Little moments fade and blend into the big ones in every aspect of our lives. Game-tying shots get lost behind game-winners, just as everyday occurrences get washed out by life-defining experiences. My time at Brown has been filled with both types of moments — the memory of meeting my now-girlfriend Marcy for the first time is balanced by the time I agreed to let Aaron and James, my two best friends, Saran Wrap me to my bed. (We were practicing to prank my roommate, but they used all the Saran Wrap on me. Sorry you had to find out like this, Brian.) Memories of taking my first computer science class, declaring as a concentrator and completing my first software engineering internship are balanced by all the times I have rolled my ankle playing pickup basketball (and my God, there have been a lot of those). For every decision to go to graduate school, there’s a decision to have a Gatorade chugging contest at the Sharpe Refectory. For every big, seemingly important memory at Brown, there’s a small, seemingly insignificant one. But that will change as the years go by. When I was a kid, I used to have a secret passcode that I would type on my nose to take a snapshot of whatever I was doing. Don’t ask me why; your guess is as good as mine. I used the passcode to remember a lot of things, but nothing particularly notable: a Little League baseball game, a visit to my grandpa’s drug store out in New Jersey, a plate of General Tso’s chicken from my favorite restaurant in Chinatown. Thankfully, I eventually reached an age when it was no longer socially acceptable to type elaborate patterns on the tip of your nose (I’m pretty sure everyone goes through this at one point or another). Now, almost 15 years later, I have just one distinct nose-passcode memory: I was on a New York City bus, staring out the window as it drove past Union Square. I don’t remember why I saved that moment, but I did, and the visual sticks with me to

By Alex Wainger this day. Of all the tiny, little details I tried to save as a kid, only that one actually stuck. Sure, I know I played baseball, visited my grandfather’s store and ate a lot of Chinese food. But how many precise moments in time do I specifically remember doing any of those things? Fewer than I’d like to. While you might be wondering why any of that matters, I think it’s those little memories that make us who we are — cheesy, right? But everyone has a graduation memory. Everyone has a first job, and a first significant other, and a favorite Spring Weekend performance, and a hardest class and a best professor memory. It’s the weird ones — the memories of Gatorade chugging, ankle rolling and Saran wrapping — that uniquely stand out. But what I’m afraid of is when those memories start losing their clarity. When Gatorade chugging and Saran Wrapping get summarized into “I liked spending time with friends,” and rolled ankles and intramural games in the freezing winter weather become “I enjoyed athletics.” If my nose passcode only saved a single memory, how am I going to keep track of all the wonderfully stupid things that happened in my four years at this school? So here’s what I’m trying to say: Cherish your little memories because your brain will take care of the big ones. When you’re up on stage getting your diploma, take stock of who you’re sitting next to, which family members came to support you and which shoes you’re wearing. Your brain will remember the moment you are handed a diploma and you shake hands with whoever it is you shake hands with. When you start your first job, don’t focus on your first meeting with your new boss, your first promotion or the first time you screw something up. Remember the things you have on your desk, the people you greet in the morning and the laughs you have in the conference room before the meeting starts. We are all at a huge junction in our lives that will undoubtedly lead to an influx of new memories, both big and small. Whether you need to write your little memories down in a journal or reset your long-forgotten nose passcode, just remember to stop and remember. It’s the only way to keep track of yourself.

S E N I O R S U RV E Y Where do you think your GPA falls in comparison to other graduating seniors?

3.73

Tuition Advising

4.58

Meal plan

4.71

President Paxson

5.04

Housing

5.13 5.46

UCS

While at Brown, how satisfied were you with the following? (0 = very dissatisfied, 10 = very satisfied)

6.10

DPS

Libraries

7.35

Providence

7.51

Teaching

7.59

Top quartile 43% Second quartile 40%

7.98

Extracurricular activities 1

Third quartile 15%

6.78

Research opportunities

Bottom quartile 1%

What one word would you use to describe your Brown experience? 93.2% of seniors would choose to attend Brown again. 69.9% would choose the same concentration(s). Of the 35.3% of students who wrote a thesis, 91.7% would choose to write one again.

The Herald’s unscientific survey was conducted online from April 19 to May 9. 609 seniors completed the survey, though not everyone responded to every question. The data was not adjusted for self-selection bias.

34 THE BROWN DAILY HERALD

S E N I O R S U RV E Y Average number of alcoholic beverages consumed per week First year at Brown

Median number of sexual partners: 3

6.25 This year

Median number of romantic relationships at Brown: 1

6.8% of graduating seniors have had zero sexual partners. 17.5% have had 10 or more sexual partners.

5.71 What have seniors done at Brown?

11%

39%

have taken a class at RISD

have climbed the roof of Metcalf

78%

21%

have taken a shot on every floor of the SciLi

52%

have had sex in the SciLi

51% have blacked out

have had a one-night stand

have attended a naked party

11% have had a threesome

have hooked up with a professor

6% have hooked up with a TA

have gone to Loui’s at 5 a.m.

73%

have stolen food from a campus eatery

COMMENCEMENT 2016

S E N I O R S U RV E Y 38.2% of seniors

99% ALCOHOL

have felt marginal-

74% MARIJUANA

ized because of 39%

their race, ethnicity or socioeconomic

23%

status.

19%

91.2% of black

TOBACCO

MOLLY

COCAINE

16% PSYCHEDELIC MUSHROOMS

seniors, 59.8% of Asian

14% LSD

seniors, 57.7% of

12% AMPHETAMINES

Hispanic/Latinx se-

9% PRESCRIPTION PAINKILLERS

niors and 24.1% of

Which of the following drugs have you used or tried while at Brown?

6% ECSTASY

white seniors have

4% OTHER (OPIATES, PCP, ETC.)

felt marginalized.

85%

Where seniors are from: California - 15.0% New York - 11.8% Abroad - 11.6% Massachusetts - 9.6% New Jersey - 7.4% Everywhere else - 44.6%

What do you consider your sexual orientation?

CURRENTLY

WHEN YOU STARTED AT BROWN

78%

12% 4% Hetersexual

7% 1%

Gay

Bisexual

Pansexual

8% 0% 2% Asexual

1% Queer

6% 5% Questioning

1% 1%

Where seniors are moving: New York - 23.6% California - 15.8% Abroad - 14.6% Massachusetts - 13.3% Rhode Island - 12.7% Everywhere else - 20.0%

Not listed

ote If the 2016 election presidential election were held today, which candidate would you vote for? Hillary Clinton

Bernie Sanders

Ted Cruz

John Kasich

Donald Trump

Other

I am unsure

I am uninterested in or ineligible to vote

Very conservative Somewhat conservative Moderate Somewhat liberal

33.3%

44.7%

0.6%

36 THE BROWN DAILY HERALD

3.5%

1.7%

0.6%

9.9%

5.6%

Very liberal

S E N I O R S U RV E Y What are your plans following graduation? Other

Unsure

Graduate school

24%

1. Applied math - computer science 2. Computer science 3. Computational biology 4. Applied math - biology $ $ 5. Economics 6. Engineering 7. Business, entrepreneurship and organizations 8. Physics 9. Cognitive science $ $ 10. Classics

$ Employment

61%

How much money do you expect to make next year?

100%

Concentrations with the highest expected salaries

$68,540

$80,000+

$50,000 $39,610

$36,680

$60,000-79,000 40

$40,000-59,000 $20,000-39,000

itie

n ma

Less than $20,000 Men

Women

If you are beginning a job after graduation, what field is it in? What career field do you hope to be in 10 years from now?

Life

s nce

e sci

s nce

ie l sc

c ysi Ph

s nce

ie l sc

cia

22.1%

20.2%

NOW IN 10 YEARS

7.9%

8.5%

6.8%

7.0% 5.9% 2.8% Consulting

4.9%

5.4% 3.8%

3.4%

5.2%

4.2% 2.3%

2.1% Software Engineering & Design

Education

Science & Research

Health Care & Public Health

6.2%

5.1%

Finance & Banking

Technology

Academia

8.5%

Arts & Arts Administration

Law & Legal Services

I am looking for a job but have not finalized my plans

COMMENCEMENT 2016