Friday, October 4, 2019

SINCE 1891

THE BROWN DAILY HERALD FRIDAY, OCTOBER 4TH, 2019

VOLUME CLIV, ISSUE 23

BROWNDAILYHERALD.COM

UNIVERSITY NEWS

Grad students protest proposed NLRB rule SUGSE rallies to protect graduate student union recognition

UNIVERSITY NEWS

Students reflect on climate activism

Two weeks after PVD climate strike, students note room for growth despite surge in activism

BY KAMRAN KING SENIOR STAFF WRITER “Solidarity forever, solidarity forever, solidarity forever, the Union makes us strong,” graduate students sang in support of unionization at the steps of the Stephen Robert ’62 Campus Center.

Grad students and community members participated in a rally midday Thursday, many donning blue “Union Strong” T-shirts. They arrived at the steps of Faunce after marching from Blueno, repeating “we work, Brown works” and other chants all the way.

The march and rally were a response to a proposed rule from the National Labor Relations Board that would allow private universities to not recognize graduate student unions, including the one University graduate students voted to form last November. The union, run by Stand Up for Graduate Student Employees, and the University are currently in negotiations toward a collective bargaining agreement, which the proposed rule could threaten.

The University expects “to continue to negotiate with the union in good faith,” wrote Brian Clark, director of

METRO

BY MAIA ROSENFELD SENIOR STAFF WRITER

chair.

“The NLRB says that we are students, not workers; we are takers, not givers; we are learners, not educators. I know, you know, and they

Since over 1000 people participated in Providence’s climate strike two weeks ago, local organizers said they have seen more students mobilize for climate justice. But some organizers expressed fear that students on campus might be too complacent and insulated to organize consistently for the future.

Turnout at the Sept. 20 climate strike exceeded the expectations of several organizers from Sunrise Providence and Zero Hour, two local climate activism groups. According to Joshua Kestin, a coordinator of Sunrise Providence, the chapter collected about 800 new names from participants who signed in at the strike. Sunrise is now reaching out to all of these new participants, and has seen new people show up to meetings

SEE SUGSE PAGE 2

SEE CLIMATE PAGE 10

ANDREW DING / HERALD

University graduate students gathered on the steps of Campus Center Thursday. The group protested a proposed ruling that would give private universities the power to not recognize graduate student unions. news and editorial development, in an email to The Herald.

Providence City Councilwoman you are having — the whole country is watching,” Miller said. “We are all

for your contract is a big part of that.”

Several graduate students also gave speeches through a megaphone, including Rithika Ramamurthy GS, SUGSE’s bargaining committee co-

SPORTS

Watson speaker series kicks off with alum

Welcome to Starland: White ’21 shines for Bears

Nimita Uberoi ’15 returns to campus, discusses global issues, public service

BY RANDI RICHARDSON STAFF WRITER

BY AURIA ZHANG STAFF WRITER Yesterday, a group of students gathered at tables in the Kim Koo Library to hear Nimita Uberoi ’15 share her belief in the importance of critical thinking and personal values.

Uberoi, an international affairs senior associate at the Obama Foundathe Watson Institute for International

SEE WATSON PAGE 2

Junior forward posts three goals on season, helps Bruno to 7-1-1 record

As a forward on the women’s soccer team, Star White ’21 has lived up to her stellar name and posted a trio of goals on the season. White helped streak at the beginning of the year, and has been a key contributor in the team’s victories. Most recently, White netted a goal in Bruno’s 2-1 win over the Dartmouth Big Green in the Ivy League home opener last Saturday. For her impressive performances on the

what my parents were thinking when they named me. My mom just wanted it to be Star and my dad was like, “Starland White.” I’m not sure what the reason is behind it, but I love my name.

Did you and your brothers grow up playing soccer together or against each other?

My dad would have training sessions with the three of us. We’re all very good soccer players. Kesun plays at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill. Amir is a freshman in high school and looking to play in college too. I’m

as good as my other brother, Key. We didn’t even need to go to a formal training session. ... We’re all very competitive just like my dad and mom.

Herald’s Athlete of the Week.

Herald: Is there a cool story behind your name, Starland?

White: I don’t really know, exactly,

On a scale of zero to superstitious, do you have any pre-game rituals,

SEE AOTW PAGE 9

News

Arts & Culture

Commentary

SEE aims to raise awareness about PPSD challenges, develop mentorship program Page 2

Artist Sanford Biggers

Hajdarovic GS: As students, employees, grad students deserve right to unionize Page 11

cultures on his works Page 9

MUKUL KHANNA / HERALD

Forward White ’21 led the women’s soccer team with a goal in last Saturday’s 2-1 victory over Dartmouth in the Ivy League home opener.

TODAY

TOMORROW

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THE BROWN DAILY HERALD | NEWS

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2019

METRO

Students for Educational Equity advocates for PPSD reform SEE will implement local middle school mentorship program, raise awareness

said.“We think that direct communication with the community and community groups and members is really important.”

Lipson also described SEE’s goal to address a lack of awareness on campus about the current overhaul of PPSD. “There have been so many

general study, organizational and scheduling skills to “bolster a richer academic performance,” Pan said.

He added that SEE will work to expose students at an early stage to education options after high school, including four-year colleges, community colleges and vocational training.

Amid the ongoing state takeover of the Providence Public School District, the new campus group Students for Educational Equity seeks to raise awareness about the district’s challenges and advocate for reform.

SEE launched this semester to advocate for educational equity in PPSD, the inadequacies of which were exposed in a blistering review by the Johns Hopkins Institute for Educational Policy in May 2019, The Herald previously reported. Through SEE, co-founders Ben Lipson ’22 and Ethan Pan ’22 also intend to support PPSD directly through mentorship programs geared toward middle school students.

The importance of creating this organization became exceedingly evident last spring, Lipson said. “After the Johns Hopkins report came out, it definitely sent a certain message and made the need for an organization like this even more clear,” he said.

To advocate for education equity, SEE hopes to partner with local teachers and students in middle schools. “For us, on top of the hill, at such as prestigious and privileged school, we do not have perfect knowledge about what educational equity

students on campus who I’ve spoken with who have no idea what the conditions of the schools are, right off of Brown’s campus,” Lipson said.

As part of their efforts to raise awareness, SEE urged students to sign a petition on the Main Green last week. The petition advocates for the community’s legal right to have a voice in education reform in PPSD, and to ensure accountability and transparency in the Rhode Island Department of Education’s plan for the district takeover.

The petition gained 283 student signatures and SEE plans to hand-deliver it to RIDE headquarters today at 3 p.m.

In the coming months, SEE plans to implement multiple programs focusing on mentorship and life skills.

While they are still in the process of designing the specifics of their mentoring program, the student group wants to focus on middle school students because no group on campus exclusively targets middle school students. Additionally, “if you look at the data, over the course of middle school is where there’s the highest drop in proficiency,” said SEE member Leo Gordon ’23. “We thought that was a place where we could make a lot of impact.”

Outside the classroom, they will teach students to “understand how to better navigate social situations and explore their passions,” Lipson added.

SEE also hopes to build relationships with other education-oriented advocacy and community groups in Providence. “We should be trying to partner with those community organizations to fight the fight for educational equity alongside them,” Lipson said. Acknowledging “great work that’s already being done through community organizations plained that SEE aims “to implement programs where we see holes that haven’t been filled.”

In addition to working with other community groups, SEE wants to implement its programs in collaboration with teachers and students, Pan said.

looks like for any particular person or any particular community,” Pan

The student group also plans to help Providence students with their

BY JULIA GROSSMAN CONTRIBUTING WRITER

ANDREW DING / HERALD

Uberoi began the Watson’s First-Year and Sophomore Speaker Series, and advised attendees against compromising their values for a career.

WATSON FROM PAGE 1 and Public Affairs’ First-Year and Sophomore Speaker Series.

Edward Steinfeld, director of the Watson Institute and moderator of the discussion, began by urging students: the concentration.

“It’s important to attract lots of different kinds of talent to Watson and encourage lots of different kinds of people to address global challenges,” Steinfeld said in an interview with The Herald.

“We want as broad a swath of Brown student community as we can attract.”

Uberoi’s Discussion After introductions and two questions from Steinfeld, the floor was opened to students. In the hour-long discussion, Uberoi, who concentrated in Environmental Studies, touched on global issues, such as sustainability, and grappled with a variety of questions.

“I have not applied a single thing I have learned in coursework to my current job,” she said. “But what you

do apply is the critical thinking, the ability to research, to write, to read and understand something, to have a dialogue and analyze something.”

Uberoi also emphasized the need to place values before some predetermined job or career. “If you’re too focused on the end goal, you miss the purpose and the reason for why you do these things,” she said. “Then you get into these positions of power, and you’re not focused on your values and Yohan Mutta ’23, an attendee, appreciated Uberoi’s honesty. “Nimita spoke quite frankly. I thought it was almost like a heart-to-heart,” he said.

“I appreciate how she was so candid.”

“For the Institute to create a series and sophomores, we feel like this is something for us,” he said.

The series is intended to connect young alums who are involved in public service. “The goal of this series is to take younger alums who have done amazing things already but, in many cases, are

LEON JIANG / HERALD

Students for Educational Equity plans to institute a mentorship program geared toward middle school students in Providence.

closer in age to students and hopefully inspire our students really to start when they graduate Brown to do public service,” Steinfeld said. The series, which is directed toward underclassmen, is part of an effort to attract students to the Watson Institute from the beginning of their University career, Steinfeld added.

But upperclassmen are still allowed to attend. Yesterday’s discussion, for example, attracted undergraduate students from all four years, though most were sophomores.

Future Speakers There are two more speakers lined up so far for the series. Sumbul Siddiqui ’10, Cambridge city councilor, is set to speak a week from Tuesday, and Lisa Caputo ’86, executive vice president of marketing, communications and customer experience for Travelers, a Fortune 500 company, will lead a discussion in February 2020.

“People want to make a difference in the world,” Siddiqui said in talking about her experience and her plans for the discussion. “It’s kind of confusing how you get there and what that means because it’s so broad.” Her path to public service, she said, was not linear. But it is unique for everyone, she added.

“Public service is a path to consider because you can have a huge impact on people’s lives.”

When Steinfeld met with Siddiqui over the summer, he felt an opportunity to learn from her experience. “Whether somebody’s young … or old, there’s always the opportunity to be inspired by somebody who’s doing bold things and making a difference in the world,” he said.

SUGSE FROM PAGE 1

fucking nonsense,” Ramamurthy said, prompting an outburt of cheers.

Julie Skarha GS, a graduate student in the department of epidemiology a master’s degree, also discussed her grad student experience during the rally. As a master’s student working as a research assistant, Skarha said that she completed similar work as PhD students, but was paid less than half of their wages, “had to pay tuition and didn’t get healthcare.” cards where they described the importance of graduate labor to the University. SUGSE will send these cards to the NLRB, which must respond to all of them before it can make a decision on the proposed rule.

Undergraduates and faculty members can also submit comments and complaints to the NLRB, Ramamurthy said. “We’re hoping that the University community will rally around us. …

This is a crucial moment for people to support part of the labor movement that actually affects us.”

After the rally dispersed, Babak -

didate in the department of cognitive, linguistic and psychological sciences, told The Herald that he came to the rally because “the NLRB says that we aren’t workers … but this is my livelihood.” graduate student in the department of molecular biology, also criticized the NLRB proposal. “This ruling is completely unfair. … It’s part of a patthat is intensely anti-labor. This is our way of letting them know that we’re watching and that we don’t like it.”

Union solidarity wasn’t the only topic brought up at the rally — Brown University Dining Services Supervisor Mathilde Barland ’21 spoke about challenges BuDs workers are facing following recent changes to Univer“Brown refuses to take us seriously because we’re students,” she said. “But my work, our work, has value.”

“Student workers remain an essential part of Dining operations,” Clark wrote. “We expect that student workers will remain major contributors to dining services operations as they have for nearly 50 years.”

— with additional reporting by Sophie Culpepper and Melanie Pincus

In This Issue

The Cost of (Not) Pausing

GEORGEARA CASTAÑEDA 4

There's Something Happening Somewhere

ANNA HARVEY 2

Burning Hot -Take Roundtable!

PLAAG , CAPRON, KLEINMAN, FEGAN, TOWERS 5

A Renovation Project

GRACE PARK 4

postCover by Jake Ruggiero

OCT 4

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VOL 24 —

ISSUE 4

FEATURE

There's Something Happening Somewhere

What Happens When a Woman Covers Bruce Springsteen, and I Finally Feel Seen

BY ANNA HARVEY ILLUSTRATED BY ELLA HARRIS

I

remember first hearing The Rising when I was around 11, sitting in the backseat of my dad’s car as he drove me to the mall in the next town over. Released on July 30, 2002, it is Bruce Springsteen’s twelfth album, dealing primarily with the aftermath of 9/11. Of all of The Boss’s albums, it should have been the one that spoke most directly to me. I was born in 1998, making me technically among the first batch of Generation Z babies. According to the Pew Research Center, the cutoff between Millenials and Gen Z is 1996. Given these distinctions, I am supposed to know the ins and outs of the Internet (I don’t), particularly social media and the constant connectivity it engenders (I do). Those of us Gen Zs who were alive on 9/11 likely don’t remember it, which is apparently a factor that distinguishes us from our predecessors. It’s odd how the scaffolding of a secondhand memory has

defined the world I’ve grown up in, has determined the architecture of my generation. We weren't allowed to “run wild” anymore—there was a conscious, collective recognition of the world’s inherent dangers. We grew up knowing that things could get bad—really bad—but since that was all we knew, we focused our energy on the universally hard task of trying to grow up.

From the backseat, I remember thinking The Rising was a good album, though it differed from the Top 40 pop that I favored in middle school. I remember it sounding raw; I could hear the scraping of Bruce’s vocal cords as he sang (screamed?). It felt like good music for driving, but I knew I probably wouldn’t willingly listen to it if my dad hadn’t picked the CD. It sounded like dad music, and while I had been raised on rock n’ roll breakfasts and the Rolling Stones, it wasn’t similar to anything I wanted to listen

to—so, for the next decade, I largely ignored it. That all changed last week, when I was walking, now 21, to my first apartment and heard Lucy Dacus’s cover of “Dancing in the Dark.”

“I ain’t nothin’ but tired” she sighed in a low alto, “Man I’m just tired and bored with myself / Hey there, baby, I could use just a little help.” I stopped in the middle of the street. I was hooked.

Lucy Dacus is one of those musicians I have adored for years, a patron saint of the genre I affectionately call Sad Girl Indie. Along with Julien Baker and Phoebe Bridgers (with whom Dacus collaborates as members of the supergroup boygenius), Dacus has lived at the emotional center of my college experience.

I started listening to her in earnest when I was studying abroad in England during my junior year, feeling simultaneously ecstatic about my newfound freedom

Letter from the Editor Dear Readers, I’m a prisoner of my own personal garbage island, but that’s okay, ’cause so are you.

Groundless biases, preconceived notions, sheltering assumptions, and untested fears cap our potentials and freeze our steps. Since you’ve arrived on this campus, how many new and course-altering ventures have you talked yourself out of ? What unlived lives now stalk the phantom variations of our green?

First step: I advise you throw this magazine on the ground, tear off your clothes and blindly purchase a new wardrobe from Thrifty Goose Thrift Shop (50 Orchard Avenue). Next, wander into a new class: shopping period is a state of mind and never actually ends. When the professor asks who you are and what you think you’re doing, disregard their second question and introduce yourself by the label on your shirt (I did this yesterday, and now I have a whole new group of peers: Julian Towers friends AND Tommy Hilfiger

friends. Let’s hope they never meet).

Now you’re an adventurous, entirely unbound human cosmonaut!! This accomplished, you’re ready to read the rest of our issue. Retrieve it from where you threw it in the Barus and Holley Café, and you’ll find it’s full of opinionated, passionate writers staking claims, making changes, and examining their lives.

In our Feature this week, one writer uproots everything she thought she knew about Bruce Springsteen—a spring awakening if you will. Hop to the Narrative section and you’ll find a pair of pieces about the complications of routine and identity in college life. Finally, our Arts & Culture section has been hijacked by FIVE writers, each offering a mind-shattering hot take on films, albums, and podcasts you thought you had all figured out.

Please lose yourself. Quite literally…please.

Happy reading!

Julian

Managing Editor of Arts & Culture 2! POST–

Things to Do Now That It’s Cold Again 1.

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Get used to no longer being the coldest thing in your environment Knit Blueno another scarf Get your flu shot Hide out in the post- office (help, it’s so hot here) Listen to Adele and cry a lot Burn all your midterm papers to generate warmth Migrate south with the birds Curl up under blankets and pretend you’re a cat Find a S.O.— it’s officially cuffing season again!

Drink tons of hot chocolate to warm your soul

and completely lost because of it. Her lyrics are wry and affecting: “The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit / I had a coughing fit,” she drawls on “Night Shift,” the first track on her 2018 album, Historian. And though she often sings slowly and in a melodic monotone, her guitar riffs send each song soaring to heights that make me want to bang my head and dance.

Dacus first covered “Dancing in the Dark” in a 2016 live show at the Bowery Ballroom in New York, but she released a recorded version in 2019. “Happy birthday to Bruce,” she said in a statement, “but also happy birthday to my dad, the biggest Bruce fan I know and the reason I’ve listened to The Boss since birth.”

Like me, Dacus resisted falling for the wiry man from New Jersey in part as a teenage rebellion against her father’s taste in music. “I hated him in middle school,” she told Rolling Stone, “but if you listen, it’s undeniable that he is a poet and a keen observer of the world . . . and the songs are bops.” Similarly, I like Lucy’s music because it sounds like poetry, and in hearing her words, I finally realized that Bruce Springsteen—despite his penchant for bombast and bravado—is one of Sad Girl Indie’s predecessors.

Bruce Springsteen wrote “Dancing in the Dark” because he was told he needed a hit. He fought with his manager, Jon Landau, over the request (how capitalist! How rude to demand profit from an artist!), but scribbled the song that same night. It was the first single on what is, to some, the quintessential Bruce album, Born in the U.S.A., and in 1985, it won Springsteen his first Grammy. It was also his first song to be directly marketed to a younger audience. The music video—a live concert performance directed by Brian De Palma—was filmed for MTV and features a pre-Friends Courtney Cox as a young, pixie-cutted fan brought up on stage to boogie with The Boss. It is truly an event. It begins with a slow pan up Bruce’s bluejeaned legs, tapping in sync with energetic synth. He snaps his fingers, and the crowd cheers. His white polo is unbuttoned to a deep V, and with every beat he whips his torso backward, holding onto the mic stand as if it’s the only thing keeping him from full surrender. He spreads his arms as he sings—a bald eagle surveying the landscape of his accomplishment. His legs are spread wide, feet tapping, belt buckle shining under stage lights. The stance is supposed to be sexy, but I can’t help giggling a little every time I watch the video—at one point he swings one arm like a lasso, and it looks like he’s on a mechanical bucking bronco at a dive bar.

“Man, I ain’t gettin’ nowhere,” he sings, “I’m just livin’ in a dump like this.” Springsteen’s music is often categorized as “heartland rock,” a genre characterized by straightforward lyricism, its focus on blue-collar American life and its conviction that rock music is a communal affair. These ideals are present in his performance, shiny as it is. It seems like he has gotten somewhere, though. He’s singing to a massive, cheering crowd in St. Paul, Minnesota—not quite a dump, despite Bruce’s words. He’s undeniably confident, performing with his full body, filling the expanse of the stage. The mood of the video is triumphant, and ironically, this makes it feel even more dated than

the heavy synth beat does. Bad things had happened, that’s for sure (indeed, Springsteen wrote “Born in the U.S.A.” to protest the maltreatment of Vietnam veterans), but it still seemed like a hopeful time. The kids in the audience—kids like my parents—knew they would probably own a house one day, could have a steady job with a salary instead of a cobbled-together resumé of freelance work under the gig economy, and didn’t have to worry much about the hellfire of climate collapse, which seemed more like science fiction than reality back then. The video is still an exhilarating watch, but it feels like the kind of thing only accessible through my computer screen. I cannot imagine myself as Courtney Cox—though I have twice chopped off all my hair, and I do love to dance to ’80s music.

The ’80s have influenced my adolescence and young adulthood, perhaps more than they should.

All the John Hughes movies were filmed in and around the suburbs of Chicago, where I grew up. I have a Spotify playlist of ’80s alternative called “The Sixteen Candles House is Down the Street from Mine” because the Sixteen Candles house is, in fact, down the

different coming from a woman. I can believe that she does, truly, want to change her face. It is, after all, hard to escape in a society constantly trying to sell us products designed to do that very thing. But it’s more than that.

The song reaches a different emotional plane when it’s toned down and sung in a higher octave: In its buoyant beat, there is sadness. It’s not that Bruce didn’t explore these nuances, it’s just that, when sung by a woman starting her career, rather than a man at the height of his, they’re more immediately apparent. Lucy is only 24, which means her childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood have all been steeped in the same fear, uncertainty, and (it sounds awful to say it) unavoidable hopelessness that mine have. I know I’m prone to catastrophizing, but I do not know what my future will look like; I do not even know how long I have to figure that out. Lucy captures these notes—which were, in the original song, barely hidden—in her performance. She, too, is uncertain, is tired, is living her life nevertheless because what else can anyone do? Lucy is not yet ready to fill a stadium in St. Paul, but she’s playing her heart out all the same.

The song reaches a different emotional plane when it’s toned down and sung in a higher octave: In its buoyant beat, there is sadness.

It’s not that Bruce didn’t explore these nuances, it’s just that, when sung by a woman starting her career, rather than a man at the height of his, they’re more immediately apparent. street from mine (it looks largely the same as it does in the movie, except I bet the inside is no longer fully carpeted). I know the family who lives there; the eldest son and I were in the same third-grade class. All of this pop culture has felt so real to me, like it captured something integral about my teenage experience (which is, after all, the point of art manufactured by adults who want to tap into adolescent hearts), but for some reason, Bruce Springsteen didn’t feel like a part of it. I had always connected him to adulthood, to dad rock. I preferred The Smiths, Joan Jett, and David Bowie—songs for kids who feel a little weird, a little out of place.

Lucy Dacus changed that. Her version of “Dancing in the Dark” is also available on Youtube as a cellphone video from a concert-goer at the 2018 End of the Road Festival in the U.K. She, too, is wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. Her shirt, however, is a crew neck, and slightly too big–it’s probably a men’s undershirt.

Her black, electric guitar is strapped across her body, replacing Bruce’s synth and shielding her from the audience who sings along. She bops on her toes as she sings, a soft, shy smile playing across her face when it becomes clear the audience is completely on her side.

She walks around the stage, awkwardly, endearingly.

Her male guitarist folds his body in two, overcome by the music. Lucy remains upright, composed.

“I check my look in the mirror,” she wails. “Wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face!” This sounds

In her video, Lucy shakes her head, her brown hair flying. I dance in my bedroom in Providence, hair pulled into a ponytail, zit cream on, wearing my own too-large shirt. I spin around as Lucy does, slightly off-balance. Despite years of ballet training, I still lack rhythm. I am trying to find my own movement, trying to feel the beat in my body, and I think I’m getting there.

My vocal register is like Lucy’s, low for a woman, and I feel my voice slot effortlessly into hers as I sing along.

I have lived life on the cusp—pulled toward old movies and old songs I can only access via the Internet, on the border between generations, between adolescence and adulthood. In my last year of college, I am tired— of myself, of school, of everything I’ve done. I know “there’s something happening somewhere,” and I don’t know where it is or what I’ll do there, but I want to go.

According to Lucy herself, Springsteen’s lyricism is “embedded in my own songwriting inextricably at this point.” Words and rhythms bleed into and build on one another, whether they’re made for stadiums or Sad Girls, which sometimes, might even be the same. “Stay on the streets of this town, / And they’ll be carvin’ you up alright,” Bruce and Lucy tell me. Providence has carved me up, simultaneously home and hell, and like any of the places I’ve lived in for a while, I’m ready to leave it. But it’s only October. There’s still more to this place to discover and more music to give it all meaning.

Until I find out, I’m fine turning up the volume, and just dancing in the dark.

“YUM.” “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, not you. I was talking to the burrito.”

“My Uber driver will be late… She just messaged to tell me she has a hangover.”

OCTOBER 4 , 2019!3

NARRATIVE

The Cost of (Not) Pausing Healing as a FLi Student

BY GEORGEARA CASTAÑEDA ILLUSTRATED BY OWEN RIVAL

Spending the first Saturday of this semester in an urgent care center on the outskirts of Warwick was not what I had in mind when I talked about “getting off the hill.” Too worried about finances to call EMS, I hastily perused Google in an effort to find places close enough to Uber to (or better yet, to find natural remedies). But all I discovered was that Providence urgent care centers seem to close at 4 p.m. on weekends—amazing, right?

It was Saturday evening, and I had endured over 24 hours of what seemed to be an allergic reaction. Itching, hives, blotchy skin, frustration—you name it, I had it. And the situation didn’t get any better with medical attention.

As if the universe wasn’t already sufficiently clear in its intentions to ruin my Saturday, I also experienced a negative reaction to the injection meant to reduce my initial symptoms. Nearly fainting in urgent care, being monitored by worried physicians and nurses, rushing to a pharmacy ahead of its midnight closing time before finally returning to campus… A night so terrible, it was laughable.

Of course, my allergic reaction remained unmediated; no cause was found. Until a couple days later, when a doctor from Health Services informed me that my stress levels may have made my symptoms— including the hives—substantially worse.

Georgeara, you need a break.

Take a break.

Maybe a break will help.

It’s all I seem to be hearing nowadays. A break is what I want, what I know I need—but what does it really mean to “take a break,” anyway? Am I simply supposed to turn off my phone or avoid checking it for a couple of hours? Or am I supposed to delve into activities that bring me pleasure, like listening to music or reading? I’ve learned to consider my regular naps and lunches with friends as breaks of a kind, but as for learning to rest more intentionally, let alone more completely? That remains a mystery to me.

My fifth semester was meant to kick off like the beginning of school usually does: returning to campus early for RPL training, immediately getting caught up in the blur of pre-orientation programs, only to be welcomed by the chaos of actual orientation events before finally being graced with the headache of shopping period.

4!POST–

I tried to take a deep breath, dive, and come up for air once shopping period settled down. Of course, I’d returned to campus depleted. I had hoped my summer would be a time for restoration and refueling—a muchneeded break—yet, despite the cozy time that I was able to spend back home, I arrived on campus at maybe 35 percent. Between my summer work at a local theater guild and the complex challenges of my family life, I haven’t been able to shake the nagging feeling that nothing is in my control. Or on my side.

It’s terrifying. These days, the prospect of taking a more formal break (otherwise known as leave-taking) has been on my mind, a question that I can’t let go of but won’t let myself fully ask.

I can’t fathom the idea of a semester-long break without worrying about every facet of my existence.

Being here on full financial aid is a steady reminder that I should use every minute of my time at Brown productively—because I don’t know how my financial aid would function if I were to stay longer than expected.

I tell myself that I should take advantage of Brown’s resources, capitalize on the many doors that being here has opened for me. If I were to return home, even temporarily, I’d lose access to deans, therapy, medical care…but I’d also gain access to a different kind of time and space, away from the multitude of stressors I face here.

So, what am I supposed to do? Am I in a place where I can afford to take a pause? Taking a break has always felt like a privilege reserved for the financially stable, for those who can ignore the repercussions that “days off” might cause in their budget.

Unfortunately, I still feel like I have too much at stake to take a break. It’s a real risk, a leap of faith. Even writing this brings me discomfort. At 20 years old, I constantly struggle to value myself beyond academics and work.

“Self-care” often feels more performative than helpful.

The concept, so trendy nowadays, usually centers around individual acts: attending yoga classes, splurging on face masks and bath salts, drinking herbal tea—activities that I don’t know how to prioritize on days where I struggle to simply lug myself out of bed.

Carving out time for myself to simply not try for once feels stressful, but it’s necessary. Although I have yet to fully explore healing beyond my weekly therapy sessions, I’m considering my recent decision to formally request a workload reduction as a key step towards rebuilding myself. Hearing the phrase “self-care” thrown around so frequently has urged me to reclaim it, to restructure it in a way that suits my needs and contextualizes my situation.

Even choosing to use the word healing rather than selfcare is one small way I’ve learned to make peace as I move forward.

Amid the variety of obstacles present in my life, healing is messy. It consists of ugly breakdowns, evenings where an overwhelming wave of hopelessness feels dangerously close at hand, and days where no amount of sunshine seems to break through my fog of despair. It’s a slow process, and I’ve realized that I can’t reroute my way around these troubles, only charge forward, straight through them.

Rebuilding isn’t easy—I’ve learned that much. But I’ve also learned that healing does not need to be an individual act. The times I feel the most whole are when I’m surrounded by loved ones who are healing, too.

A Renovation Project Reconciling Past and Imagined Selves

BY GRACE PARK ILLUSTRATED BY IRIS XIE

As another herd of cackling bodies charged in through the front door, I decided to take a moment to properly survey my surroundings. It was a Saturday night in early September. I sat on the kitchen floor in an upperclassman dorm of unknown coordinates, holding in my hands two Nature Valley Oats ’n Honey bars, neither of which belonged to me. Beside me, my friends were chatting with some upperclassmen we had just met.

Taking a bite from one of the granola bars, I smirked to myself and thought, “I bet high school me is real proud of me now.”

But by the time I woke up the next morning, I regretted everything. With an enduring buzz in my head, I sat in the Sunlab for eight hours, desperately attempting to print code for my first CS assignment, a project that I’d been quick to dismiss the night before. “Start yesterday,” Professor Andy van Dam’s voice echoed in my head.

“Today is already late.” Yes, the wise man was right—it was already late indeed. I slammed my head against the keyboard as I attempted to pinpoint exactly when things started going downhill.

Was it the night of move-in day, when my failure to find the infamous “crew party” became a nagging disappointment that I wished to overcome by finding a party that could trump it? Or was it the first day of IMP orientation, when I found myself lost in a sea of new people and realized I would never be seen if I didn’t make an active effort to be noticed? Or had I already set myself up for failure the day I graduated from high school? I was an impressionable teenager who believed the classic Hollywood tropes of college life. Unimpressive high school graduates who magically evolved into successes in college—I bought into all of that. The moment I finally left high school, I vowed to myself that I, too, would begin anew in college.

My high school self was quite a lost cause. As an academically driven kid in Korea (an equally academically driven country), I became accustomed to measuring my self-worth by numbers. I sacrificed all of my free time for extracurriculars and, as a result, fractured relationships.

And while I was objectively smart and hardworking, my primary passions lay in English literature, marking my future as dark and penniless (at least in the words of nosy relatives and distant family friends).

When I got into Brown, I decided all of this would change. Starting with a clean slate in the States, I would pursue my own rendition of the American Dream. Like a true Ivy League gal, I would be one of those “inherentlysmart-without-studying” types. I would find soul sisters and life partners that I could go to frat parties with

ARTS & CULTURE

on Friday nights. And I would drop English and find a concentration that could land me a job in Silicon Valley.

In the weeks following orientation, I officially launched myself into a self-renovation project. I managed to resist the urge to drop out of CS15 during shopping period, went party-hopping on the weekends, and met more people than I ever had in the entirety of high school. But despite these victories, a nagging sense of uncertainty followed me everywhere I went. Was I truly better off than I had been in high school? Was I really someone new—someone marching towards success?

By the end of shopping period, I realized I was doing everything wrong. Sure, CS proficiency, partying, and an expansive social circle were all elements that I thought were integral to an ideal college life. But, ultimately, at the heart of my college fantasy was a sense of confidence and self-assertion—both of which I was still missing.

Measuring my self-worth by the number of parties I attended, superficially building connections purely to network, taking classes for the sake of my resume—I was worse off than I had been in high school.

Desperate to reassemble my sense of self, I decided to return to where I started: high school me. I added an emo English class about identity to my schedule on the last day of shopping period, spent Friday night with kombucha and Flamin' Hot Cheetos in the company of a few quality friends, and started my CS AndyBot project on Saturday morning as soon as it was released.

After all, my high school tendencies had gotten me this far; as much as I hated to admit it, my try-hard, nerdy nature was precisely what got me into Brown. Instead of rejecting my past, I decided to listen to it: What exactly was it that I wanted to change about my high school self ?

Why did I come to Brown—who did I want to become?

What was I searching for?

These are hefty questions to consider and in complete honesty, I haven’t developed coherent answers yet. But I’ve abandoned all expectations I once held about an “ideal” college life and have decided to embrace the uncertainty that lies in the future. After all, the “ideal” college life doesn’t exist—especially if you can’t even decipher your present. Maybe I’ll miraculously master Java and end up in Silicon Valley, or maybe I’ll end up unemployed but with an impressive knowledge of Shakespearean plays. Who knows? I need to start being spontaneous and bold in the face of failure if I really want to avoid being held back by prior fears.

The other day, I traveled to Boston University for a debate tournament. I had never gone to Boston University, I had never even done debate before, and I had never felt more inferior than I did during that experience. But, surprisingly, I was OK with it.

I currently exist in an ambiguous state—one that’s neither my high school self nor my imaginary college self—but for now, I think that’s a good place to start.

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BY PLAAG , CAPRON, KLEINMAN, FEGAN, TOWERS ILLUSTRATED BY RÉMY POISSON

CONTENT WARNING: Sexual assault

Midsommar, directed by Ari Aster Griffin Plaag Alright, we’re gonna d` o it: We’re gonna talk about some problems with Ari Aster’s summer horror hit, Midsommar. Be warned, spoilers await.

On the whole, I find Aster’s commitment to exposing the subtle, microaggressive behaviors of the everyday male a refreshing project; rarely has assholery in cinema looked so realistically… mundane. The last thing the world needs is more dudes like Christian (Jack Reynor).

The accuracy of this portrayal, along with Florence Pugh’s magnificent performance as Dani, his muchabused partner, have helped Midsommar gain traction as a favorite of feminist audiences and grief sufferers alike.

Again, to be clear: I think this is awesome. Good on Aster for creating a piece of art that serves as sanctuary and catharsis for so many people. Well done.

That said, Aster struggles with ending his films, and I don’t really think Midsommar is any better at it than his last effort, Hereditary. Here’s the deal: I think the details of Midsommar work to undo the catharsis of its final moments. Christian’s obviously an abusive jerk, it’s true, but the tipping point for Dani appears to be when she finds him engaged in weird cult sex with a bunch of naked Swedes. There’s a glaring issue here; namely, Christian has been drugged and more or less forced into said weird cult sex on threat of death, which makes him, in simple terms, a rape victim. We also shouldn’t forget that Dani’s moment of catharsis comes at the behest of a bunch of obviously sadistic cultists, one of whom is obviously trying to get in her pants. This complicates Christian’s death. Can we really be empowered by the murder of a rape victim in concert with all of his rapists?

I don’t know; call me crazy, but I would argue that Aster can’t deliver on his own pretensions of “wokeness.”

Look, as well, to his blatant ableism and ageism (in the grand tradition of exploitative horror films, Aster’s camera lingers, fascinated, on the bodies of the elderly and disabled, and it’s a bad look every time), let’s not forget the fact that, in interviews, Aster has cited his own breakup with a female partner as the impetus for the film’s creation. Flipping those gender roles looks a little

slimy on his part.

By all means, enjoy the barn-burning, though. I’m as happy as anyone to watch that piece of shit get sewn into a bear costume and lit on fire.

It: Chapter Two, directed by Andy Muschietti Robert Capron I never thought I would see a fifty-foot clown with spider legs roasted to death. Not by fire, mind you; I mean by words, disses, insults made by grown men and women. They point at this oddly thin-skinned spiderclown (Spider-Verse 2, anyone?) and scream, “Clown!

Clown!” until he shrivels into Baby-Spider-Clown and is promptly murdered. Yes, It: Chapter 2’s ambitious narrative concludes with Pennywise the Dancing Clown, a shape-shifting alien force capable of nearly omnipotent power, essentially losing the burn battle to a bunch of nervy adults (to be fair, they did have Bill Hader). I, for one, think Pennywise kind of deserved it. His performance anxiety upon being called the literal name of his assumed form was not only the most (unintentionally) hilarious thing I’ve seen within the past year, it was essentially summative of It: Chapter 2: a movie that lacked a certain kind of confidence, both in its audience and itself, to ace the landing. This sequel could have been an incredibly poetic and terrifying look into childhood trauma and grief; instead, like Pennywise, it made me laugh.

For while Stephen King’s intentions and ideas from the original novel would seem to provide a solid foundation, the film’s ultimate failure is rooted in its story structure. Taking place 27 years after the first film, much of Chapter 2’s pre-release hype centered around the adult actors who would step into the (now slightly enlarged) shoes of their younger counterparts. But this jump forward proved problematic. The largely successful the prequel had succeeded on the back of its evocative, nostalgic imagery and the winning performances of its child-actors; it was less a horror film than an amplified coming-of-age narrative, both easy to interpret and fun to watch. On the other hand, something about those childhood fears placed within an adult context makes its sequel tougher to engage with—largely because the film insists on comparing the protagonists’ younger selves every five seconds, often with no agenda besides reminding us that being an adult is hard, man. Flashback after flashback, fright after fright, all undercut with random jokes that obliterate any sense of seriousness... why couldn’t the film show the same growth as its characters, and let them conquer different fears than they did at the conclusion of the first film?

In fact, the film shares most of its ills with Marvel’s interconnected Cinematic Universe, where no story is strong enough to stand alone. Aside from following the same general structure as its predecessor (only now showing adults thinking really hard about things we’ve seen already), the humor and constant visual references to the previous installment are so rickety, you’re essentially re-watching the first movie within the second.

That’s a telltale sign of filmmakers too lazy to make you understand what they’re going for. By the film’s end, we’ve seen so many of the same variations on the same theme, the same takeaway, the same arc, that Pennywise—the very manifestation of fear itself—has been nullified to little more than a cartoon. In other words, a clown.

“Love Bombing," episode 153 of The Magnus Archives, a horror anthology podcast David Kleinman The arc of “Love Bombing” is a fairly basic one. A 41-year-old comedian, Barbara, undergoes a midlife crisis and attends a meditation class, receiving a radical burst of acceptance and affirmation from her classmates.

She gets hooked on this sense of community until she’s offered an all-expenses-paid “spiritual retreat”— secretly, a dupe to get her to a cult compound. Even then, however, our protagonist is unfazed. Barbara feels OCTOBER 4 , 2019!5

ARTS&CULTURE

relatively at peace with the terrifying occurrences that begin to populate the Cult of the Divine Chain. Again, pretty basic.

As horror often relies on surprise, I’ll avoid too many spoilers, but in cult narratives there are really only so many directions to go. An unexplained occurrence, some sort of ritual begins, the cult becomes much more intense, and then members start disappearing. I haven’t yet seen Midsommar, but the promotional materials lead me to believe these are fairly stock plot points. It’s not revealing too much to say that when Barbara finally reveals the terrible thing that lies in the cult’s inner sanctum it’s a disappointment. Sure, it’s horrific and brutal, but, in all honesty, I’ve seen…or rather, heard it before. Since the horror fiction podcast niche is fairly tight-knit, if you’ve listened to Magnus, you may be familiar with The Orpheus Protocol, and the plot of “Love Bombing” is almost a scene-for-scene replica of not one but two Orpheus cult arcs.

First-person horror presents something of a problem, at least as far as generating suspense is concerned. The people narrating encounters with the occult have either escaped its clutches or given it a terrible reason to let them live. In this world of victims and monsters, “Love Bombing” interjects a fascinating middle ground. Barbara didn’t find her worst fear or darkest desire, but instead watched as the two blurred together. The horror isn’t in what she saw or did, but how she felt, how happy she was in a literally horrifying situation. That’s why I can forgive a lackluster climax and tired premise, because I don’t think they’re actually the point.

Our childhood teachers told us we couldn’t trust our peers: just say no to peer pressure, trust adults instead.

Then, the modern college coming-of-age seems to teach us that adults just don’t get it, they’re relics of a bygone era, only your peers will truly accept you. “Love Bombing” takes both of these ideas one step further: you’ll always find someone to support you, but how can you trust yourself to be worth supporting? The dryness of the story may in part result from the fact that Barbara’s path ends in the exact same place it began: regret. She’s condemned her past choices, now she’s just condemning newer ones. She regards her time in the cult with the

same disdain as her comedy career, the banality of which yields terrifying insight: the fear inherent in this piece is not that she made the wrong choice but that she couldn’t tell. Whereas most Magnus episodes and, it seems, most horror stories deal with urgent questions of what to do when you encounter a monster or what to do when you become one, “Love Bombing” asks how can you live not knowing whether you’re a monster or not?

I don’t know how necessary a message like this is in 2019. In our era of climate and human rights crises, such paralysis and self-doubt may be dangerously debilitating. So I’m not going to tell you that listening to “Love Bombing” or any Magnus episode will make you a better person. But if you want to feel the deep terror that you cannot trust anyone around you, least of all yourself ?

Happy October.

P.S. Should an intrepid reader be inspired by this to listen to Magnus, I recommend starting at the beginning, as there is an overarching plot to the anthology.

Anak Ko, an album by Jay Som Nicole Fegan 2019 has been the year that dream pop strikes back: Lana Del Rey’s Norman Fucking Rockwell has been at the center of the cultural zeitgeist for over a month, American Football’s third full album merged the band's midwest emo roots with a floating, drifting sound, and Jay Som’s recent album Anak Ko has finally seen her perfect the genre. The artist, whose real name is Melina Duterte, has been working in the genre for a few years, making the best of what some call “bedroom pop.” Hazy and ethereal while still smuggling a slight rock edge, her past two albums have emphasized a distinctly noisy atmosphere. Her music has always been summer-y, often feeling like a sticky July night while fireflies buzz all around. On Anak Ko, Duterte once again manages to turn summer into sound, but this time, she focuses on the quiet moments of the season, opening up to the kind of all-encompassing pink sunset you see on a long drive— the kind you might even see on the album’s cover.

Anak Ko is deliberately quieter than Jay Som’s past work, interested in how silence might add to the music. The title track perhaps shows this best—slow and meandering, finally settling into a two-minute instrumental soundscape, the song boasts very few lyrics save for one verse and an outro that softly hums a robotic, “Somewhere I can build, somewhere I can build it.”

The music is gentle, warm, and—unlike her low fidelity roots—expertly lush.

It would be incredibly easy to write this album off; for all its merits, Anak Ko still has the potential to sound boring or “like everything else being made these days.” And in a sense, I think these criticisms hold some validity. This is not the most innovative album I’ve ever heard, and it may not even be my favorite dream pop of the year (Hatchie’s Keepsake, which also came out this

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Anita Sheih FEATURE Managing Editor Sydney Lo

“2002 was a simpler time.”

- Joshua Lu, “shania twain, then and now”

Section Editors Sara Shapiro Erin Walden

10.05.18

Staff Writer Anna Harvey

“In the conversation’s scariest moment, my career counselor said the word career."

-Liza Edwards-Levin, “three everyday fears” 10.05.17

ARTS & CULTURE Managing Editor Julian Towers Section Editors Nicole Fegan Griffin Plaag Staff Writer Rob Capron

6!POST–

summer, owns my heart). But Anak Ko has a vibe you simply cannot deny. Right now, it’s 53 degrees out and cloudy. As I love autumn but mourn summer, Jay Som has found a way to let the sun come in through the cracks of the window blinds.

Autumn Sonata, directed by Ingmar Bergman Julian Towers The basic scenario here is framed with sexism, contrasting the emotional hysterics of two women with a neutral, observant (Berg)man-figure. That basic scenario is, also, body-throttling, thunderous, and dumb fucking powerful: Absentee, celebrity mom waltzes back into the life of barely-hanging-on daughter and gets a face full of, "you fucked me up." If you've ever been so selfinvolved as to idly pick up a festering, rotting relationship and pretend it’s a happy hamburger (or, y'know, a-okay), this movie sees you, and it does not like you. After a semester wherein my intense productivity permanently alienated at least a few friends (we're still pals, right, postreaders?), I could feel my cells divide while watching this movie. Get wrecked, bitch—essentially.

It's fucked, but simply by existing, we affect the lives we orbit; you don't have to be a monster to leave behind a trail of human destruction, but you might as well be if you can't see the debris clinging to your shoes. Drama, in general, doesn't function off that kind of unawareness, so it's cool to see that a film can, especially a Bergman film— generally the height of closed-off naval gazing. There's still some of that here, too—nobody has a dialogue that couldn't be better handed out and distributed to highschoolers as a practice monologue. Yet, all the direct-tocamera pontificating that constitutes Bergman's basic mode here feels uncharacteristically vulnerable, the inward eye implicated rather than idealized. In general, I'd refrain from presupposing that sort of auto-critique from Bergman. Dude was an asshole who spent WW2 chilling with the Nazis and emerged with the gumption to stroke his brow over man's "little cruelties." But damn, this shit fucking plays like auto-critique, man! (Even though, again, the Bergman stand-in emerges squeaky clean with suds on his fingers.

So, this is my new favorite Bergman. First I've loved, anyway. Helps that the zoom-heavy, wood-paneled Architectural Digest formal mode is the one Woody Allen cribbed for Interiors and Hannah and Her Sisters.

Still piles in an extra ladle or two of expositional misery (Do we really need Mom to have both cheated on Dad and vicariously created baby sister's paraplegia/ speech impediment? Did Bergman genuinely believe that, without both, a case couldn't be mounted against her neglect or—ahem—was he filling out a 90-minute runtime?).

Anyway, I know most of you are unburdened young adults. But if you somehow have a daughter at home, please call her.

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THE BROWN DAILY HERALD | NEWS

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2019

AOTW FROM PAGE 1

ARTS AND CULTURE

Artist explores narratives of race, culture

assuming it doesn’t ruin the superstition if you share them?

I like to show up an hour before even know if it really makes my legs lighter. I just feel better. ... Our trainer Beth knows I have to NormaTech before games because she even brings it to away games, so I literally do it before every game. ... It’s probably a mental thing too now, so I just like to do it. I also like to talk to my parents before the games. It really calms me.

My dad gives me feedback on what I can do to improve from the last game and tells me to go in aggressive or play relaxed. I also wear the same sports bra and compression shorts. I didn’t even do this the last two years, but they match — they’re both gray. ... I I’m like, “well, we played well then, so I’m just gonna keep wearing them.”

COURTESY OF WINNE GIER

Sanford Biggers, a renowned multimedia artist, shared how cultural fusion has informed his work. Biggers hopes that people gain a greater understanding of other perspectives through his creations.

Artist creates ‘power objects’ that mesmerize, challenge dominant narratives

BY EMILY TENG SENIOR STAFF WRITER Interdisciplinary artist Sanford Biggers shared the historical, cultural and personal inspirations behind his works with University students at the List Art Building Wednesday afternoon.

Biggers is well-renowned for his multimedia work in film/video, installation, sculpture, music and performance art. Audience members listened to Biggers delve into the cultural fusion he employed in several of his he worked with classical Japanese artisans to melt down hip-hop jewelry from Harlem in New York and jewelry from Japan to create a series of eight singing bowls. The bowls were modeled after the inverted bells traditionally used in Buddhist practices. The singing bowls were then played alongside a Japanese monastery’s 200-year-old bells during an induction ceremony of a new monk.

The monastery last performed the ritual 70 years ago, according to Biggers.

Another installation, “Lotus” — a 7 ½-feet diameter steel and glass disk — features drawings of enslaved people on 18th century slave ships manually

etched onto glass petals. “It is a very seductive and beautiful object that makes you want to get closer, but the closer you erence in it,” he said. “Lotus” currently sits in the Rubin Museum of Art in New York, but was previously displayed at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts in Richmond, Virginia. A larger rendition of the work is also installed on an exterior wall of the Eagle Academy for Young Men in The Bronx, New York. This lotus icon often reappears throughout his work.

“What I’m trying to do with these objects is to create my own power objects,” Biggers said.

“In a perfect world, when you’re seeelse, they have a different opinion, and you share those opinions. That way you get deeper into the work and a deeper understanding of how other people view Another one of his “power objects” is the Cheshire grin, an LED light that debuted in the Black Forest, a region in southern Germany, and went on to be exhibited in Richmond, Virginia. It was also recreated into a billboard that stands over the highways of Los Angeles. Initially inspired by Lewis Carroll’s Cheshire cat, Biggers was interested in how viewers in Richmond, Los Angeles and other locations would interpret the piece.

“This idea of history being living.

Worshipping or giving obeisance to that

object in a museum is one thing, but what you take with you out of the museum is the living part,” he answered when an audience member asked about his approach to historical artifacts during the Q&A session.

Ayana Evans, a performance artist and adjunct professor of visual arts, encouraged her students to come and listen to the talk. “He’s super interdis-

His work focuses on more than just one cultural reference, which I thought was important for students to see and learn from,” she said.

Heather Darcy Bhandari, an adjunct professor of visual arts and the organizer of the talk, explained that the process of organizing this event started a year and a half ago.

“I’m trying to pick artists who are cross-disciplinary,” she said. After teaching visual arts for eight years, Darcy Bhandari said that she noticed that many VISA concentrators are double majors. of visual arts and music students. I’ve also noticed there are a lot of multimewho are really amazing speakers and thinkers and makers who would also speak to the interests of the students here,” she said.

ishing. What do you do to maintain it?

Before college, I used to wash and

work because it would get frizzy, so have to put a lot of heat to it, so much

was like, “I need to make a change.

My friend Cameron Brown ’21 started wearing her hair natural, so I was like, “mmm, maybe I should try that.” I was on the Instagram Explore page one day and I saw this ad about a product.

It was like, “yeah, we help girls wear their hair natural and bring out their natural curls.” I was like, “ehh, let’s try it.” And I tried it going into my sophomore year because freshman year I -

work, but I like how it looks. And it’s worth it to wear my hair natural and not put as much heat to it so it doesn’t break off later in life.

What Instagram pages do you follow for inspiration?

My parents didn’t let me get an Instagram account until I turned 18. ...

I follow Sydney Leroux. She’s so inspirational. ... She played on the national team. And now she has a family. And it shows how much soccer impacts your life because she has a lot of friends who are still on the soccer team and they’re just such a good support group for her. And her husband plays soccer,

so I just — I just love her. She’s so inspiring to me.

What’s something that we would be surprised to know about you?

I like to read mystery books, like James Patterson novels. I love him.

He’s so good. Alex Cross — so good, undefeated. I really like to read those novels in my spare time. I can’t read as much throughout the school year because I’m reading for classes, so when I’m not reading I like to watch TV. Sometimes before I go to bed, I’ll read to distract my mind. And to stay off electronics before I go to bed because that’s what my strength and conditioning coach said.

What TV shows are you watching right now?

“This Is Us.” I watched last week’s.

I was like, “who are these people?

What is this, who is he?” I was so confused. I was like, “when is it going to get to the people I know and love?” ...

We need updates on everyone’s life.

Between now and the end of the semester, what goals do you have outside of academics and athletics?

Make more friends with other athletes. I think a lot of times I just feel like I don’t have the time. And if I do have the time, I like to relax.

But I’m going to try and make more of an effort to become friends with other athletes. I’m a Christian, and I’m trying to start going to different Christian groups, but sometimes I’m like, “ugh, I have so much homework.”

So, I’m just gonna really try to become friends with more people in the Christian communities because I’ve been in the past and I enjoyed it.

How has your faith helped you with soccer?

I look to God to help me calm down and realize not to worry. I was the workouts and homework. He’s shown me that He’s got my back because I’ve made it this far, so He’s going to continue to carry me through.

And even if things don’t go right, it’s all gonna be okay in the end. He’s always there and he knows what’s gonna happen. I pray before games. I pray during the national anthem so that I play well and ask Him to help me make a positive impact on the game.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

10

THE BROWN DAILY HERALD | NEWS

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2019

ARAYLA BAKETEBAIKE / HERALD

CLIMATE FROM PAGE 1 and offer to take on leadership roles.

“One of the most promising parts about the strike was how it mobilized a lot of people who hadn’t previously been engaged with Sunrise,” he said, adding that he has already seen “an astonishing amount of enthusiasm” from new participants to help plan the next climate strike, which is scheduled to take place in November.

Max Mines ’20 is one of these new climate justice activists. Mines felt inspired to act after a friend confronted him about his lack of involvement. He even became a vegetarian and convinced his roommates to quit eating red meat. After attending the Sept. 20 strike, Mines said he feels “more invested, and it becomes a more real issue and an issue that I feel less scared to

engage with.”

“There have been people who, post strike, have been really excited about getting involved, and are really excited about this incredible coalition of youth groups globally and in the U.S. who are putting their resources and power behind this escalation of mass noncooperation,” added Nina Wolff Landau ’20, a co-coordinater of Sunrise Brown.

The climate strike’s messaging has especially resonated with local high school students.

According to Zanagee Artis ’22, cofounder and deputy director of advocacy for Zero Hour, Providence high school students’ engagement with the climate justice movement has greatly increased since the strike.

“Doing protests is something that’s very exciting to young people,” Artis said. Although he was disappointed with

the number of University students who were unwilling to skip class to attend the strike, Artis noted that protests like the one on Sept. 20 are “pushing forward this idea that climate justice and climate action needs to be more mainstream.”

Mines echoed the excitement of attending a strike and the power of protests to make political change. “I don’t think there’s any point in time when you feel more motivated than when you’re at a strike surrounded by for this cause,” he said.

But getting people out of their classrooms and workplaces and into the streets might be the hardest part.

Mines said he doesn’t think he could drop all of his other interests to focus of his friends have. “It’s easy with the amount of work we have and maybe

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the somewhat insulated culture to not get involved,” Mines said. Especially to balance schoolwork and remain “a political citizen,” he added.

To Seth Goldstein ’22, a newly active member of Sunrise Brown, students prioritizing school over climate justice demonstrates a disconnect between theoretical and actual participation in activism on campus.

Many University students intellectually understand the gravity of climate change but are not buying into the message that “we have to actually change our life … and not go to class or take time out of our normal routine because it’s an emergency,” Goldstein said.

Estrella Rodriguez ’22, a co-coordinator of Sunrise Brown, agreed with this characterization but added that she believes “this campus has a lot of poten-

tial.” The climate strike increased Sunrise’s visibility, she added, but greater awareness does not necessarily translate to more students showing up at strikes.

“Maybe the messaging and the urgency of the climate crisis just isn’t resonating deeply enough with the student body, which is so privileged and probably doesn’t have to face the impacts of climate change directly,” Rodriguez said.

“We’re just going to have to make sure that the urgency of the crisis really does reach people, even with all the layers of privilege that people have.”

To Kestin, perhaps the most concerning obstacle to climate justice is “the failure of comfortable liberals to engage in the kind of serious political activism that we know is going to be necessary to decarbonize our entire economy.”

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FRIDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2019

THE BROWN DAILY HERALD | COMMENTARY

11

To protect graduate workers’ efforts to unionize, we must oppose the NLRB’s proposal KAITLYN HAJDAROVIC GS OP-ED CONTRIBUTOR One of the most frustrating things about pursuing my PhD is having to explain to friends and family members, repeatedly, what I actually do all day.

No, I do not have the summer off. Yes, I do get paid. No, I am not going to be a -

that I am a student, and therefore cannot be an employee. In my experience, the previous decision on this issue made by the board had it right: I am both a student and an employee. I am learning on the job, and the work that I and other graduate students perform is necessary for the University to function.

This is why the most recent proposed rule from the National Labor Relations Board has been so hard to understand.

This new rule would overturn a 2016 decision which gave graduate student employees at private universities the right to form unions.

The NLRB’s proposed rule claims

If there were no graduate student employees at Brown, the University would need to hire people in our place. Otherwise, classes would not get taught, papers and exams would not be graded and laboratories would cease to run.

Last November, a majority of grads at Brown voted to unionize. A few months later, I was elected to serve on the Bargaining Committee, which is tasked with writing and negotiating a contract to improve the working en-

The Herald reported September 30 to ensure high returns that can be

-

well-capitalized upon to best ben-

cal 2019 year, which spanned from important role in securing the Uni-

endowment gained an impressive $467 million and increased to a re-

long term, it also serves as a sub-

cord-high $4.2 billion.

stantive component of the yearly

The return rate of the Univer-

operating budget. In 2018, the en-

sity’s endowment, though slightly

dowment contributed 15 percent of

lower than last year’s 13.2 percent,

the operating budget before schol-

is remarkably high given the eco-

arships. Over 50 percent of these

nomic turmoil of the past year. In

funds went toward professorships,

2018, the U.S. stock market experi-

scholarships, fellowships and priz-

enced one of its worst years since

es, which are critical factors in en-

-

suring that Brown can cultivate a

nal months of the year, the market

vibrant and diverse academic envi-

plunged nearly 20 percent. Fragile

ronment.

economic and political relations

Despite its banner year, there

with countries such as China have

remain important concerns with

left investors nervous about the fu-

-

ture and exacerbated wild swings in

ly, the University ought to consider

the market’s performance.

increasing transparency over where

The endowment’s resilience and

funds are distributed. Over 30 per-

remarkable return this past year are

cent of the endowment contribu-

even more notable in light of the

tions to the University went to cat-

fund’s performance in comparison

egories labeled “unrestricted” and

to peer institutions. The Univer-

“other special purposes.”

sity’s returns this past year were

While we acknowledge these questions, it is impossible to deny the endowment’s superior returns this past year. We look forward to the noticeable and positive impact the fund’s performance will have on the Brown community for years to come.

dramatically higher than returns released thus far by Ivy League institutions. Yale reported a return of 5.7 percent, UPenn 6.5 percent, Harvard 6.5 percent and Dartmouth 7.5 percent. Princeton, Cornell and Columbia have yet to report.

In light of these factors, it is particularly assuring to hear about the endowment’s strong performance this past year. We commend seph Dowling III, for the impressive administration of University funds.

Because the University has the smallest endowment compared to its Ivy peers, it is doubly important

nize our vote to form a union. This rule would not necessarily prevent the University from continuing to bargain with us in good faith to develop a contract.

If the rule does pass, it is still possible that the University could recognize our unionization without being obligated to do so by NLRB. This is unlikely, however, based on the University’s track record with graduate unionization. It is therefore essential to preserve the 2016 NLRB in order to maintain our rights as

Kaitlyn Hajdarovic GS can be reached at kaitlyn_hajdarovic@brown.edu. Please send responses to this opinion to letters@browndailyherald.com and op-eds to opinions@browndailyherald.com.

A previous version of the October 3 article “Kinzer speaks on Cold War mind control” incorrectly named Stephen Kinzer as a professor of international and public affairs. In fact, he is a senior fellow in international and public affairs. The Herald regrets the error.

Endowment performance deserves recognition

that the University’s endowment

graduate school to do. Grad students have also described issues with existing university policies to address sexual harassment and discrimination. Graduate students who are also parents report having trouble making ends meet with our low stipends and the high cost of childcare and dependent healthcare.

The Bargaining Committee has been hard at work to address these issues, developing a contract that provides graduate student employees with

workers.

The NLRB is currently accepting public feedback on its proposed rule until Nov. 26, so it’s particularly important for anyone who supports the right of graduate student employees to unionize to speak out now. To show my objection to the NLRB’s proposal, I submitted a comment under a petition organized by the AFT Academics, which can be found at https://aftacademics. org/weareworkers/ and will be sent directly to the NLRB. Yesterday, Stand Up for Graduate Student Employees staged a rally on the Main Green to show the University that our unionization effort is here to stay. We listened to speakers from Brown Dining Services, the Providence City Council and an employee at the Brown University Library, who let the University know that we have support from workers throughout the campus and the city itself. But right now, SUGSE needs support from students in our effort to oppose the NLRB’s new rule.

C ORRECT I ON

EDITORIAL

July 1, 2018 to June 30, 2019. The

adequate healthcare, protections from harassment and discrimination, support for graduate parents and better pay. However, this new rule from the NLRB threatens the hard work we have already done.

If the rule passes, the University would no longer be obligated to recog-

“I am both a student and an employee. I am learning on the job, and the work that I and other graduate students perform is necessary for the University to function.”

What my friends and family members do understand, however, is that I seem to be working all the time. As part of my work as a graduate research assistant, I design and implement experiments, generate and analyze data and The data I generate are used in grants and awards, bringing in money for the University. The experiments I perform and the work I do aren’t arbitrary learning exercises — they generate real -

vironment for grad students in every department. Right now, many graduate student employees are unhappy with their working conditions. Teaching assistants have no control over their class sizes, and as a result, often spend far more time teaching and grading than doing the research that they came to

Editorials are written by The Herald’s editorial page board: its editors, Grace Layer ’20 and Krista Stapleford ’21, and its members, Dylan Tian ’21, Eduard MuñozSuñé ’20, Jonathan Douglas ’20, and Riley Pestorius ’21. Send comments to editorials@browndailyherald. com. Send comments to editorials@browndailyherald.com.

12

THE BROWN DAILY HERALD | NEWS

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2019

SCIENCE AND RESEARCH

U. scientists see effects of environmental contamination in zebrafish Plavicki lab studies impact of sox9b on heart, brain development

stand how other physiological systems work as well, including the muscles and digestive tract — in the lab’s case,

BY MARLENE GOETZ CONTRIBUTING WRITER Since 2016, the Plavicki lab has explored the ways that environmental contaminants, which are chemical stressors, affect the brain and heart Along with a team of three undergraduate students, three graduate students, two postdoctoral fellows and a research assistant, Assistant Professor of Pathology and Laboratory Medicine velop in real time.

The Plavicki lab has fostered a large ful model organism because they are initially transparent, and can be kept transparent by applying chemical inhibitors to pigmentation. The lab uses

genetic code to express desired physical characteristics: for example, editing genes so that a color is visible within a blood through glowing vessels. We can watch those vessels as they form, as they dive into the brain. We can watch the heart beat. We can watch the pancreas as it takes shape,” Plavicki said.

by environmental contaminants. “We can also look deeper at what molecular or genetic pathways are dysregulated following these exposures,” said Nathan Martin GS, a fourth year pathobiology graduate student who has been working in Plavicki’s lab since 2016.

The lab aims to understand the DNA regulatory transcription factor sox9b. Transcription factors are DNA components that mediate what genes are turned on or off in an organism.

The lab investigates sox9b’s role in the development of great vessels, which bring blood to and from the heart as well as cardiomyocytes, which are heart muscle cells.

Sox9b is a transcription factor expressed in many different cell types during development, but different environmental contaminants can reduce the frequency of its activation. Sox9b human gene. People with congenital heart disease have mutations in sox9, but few researchers have conducted effects.

“If we see that sox9b has a role, it gives us more information about where this disease originates,” said Layra Cintron-Rivera GS, who works on the project which is funded by a Center of Biomedical Research Excellence grant from the National Institute of General

COURTESY OF BROWN UNIVERSITY

The Plavicki lab uses zebrafish as a model organism to understand the DNA regulatory transcription factor sox9b and its relation to the heart, brain and other physiological systems.

Medicine Phase II. Research on sox9b ising implications in human therapies for congenital heart disease, given the similarities between sox9b and sox9, she added. model for studying congenital heart disease. The same disease in mammals would cause them to die due to a lack not have this problem. “Fish, because they are developing in water, can get oxygen from passive oxygen diffusion.

They can have a lot of severe vascular malformations and still survive, so that allows us to identify new genes or identify different functions for genes that you wouldn’t be able to explore in other systems,” Plavicki said.

The National Institute for Environmental Health Sciences funds a project in the lab about the impact of environmental contaminants on the brain. The researchers are studying how such environmental contaminants affect the early development, differentiation and function of neurons, Martin transcription factor that interacts with different environmental contaminants when activated. These interactions then repress sox9b’s function, which can cause neurovascular and neural developmental disruptions.

The lab is also conducting a pilot project on one environmental contaminant, called PFAS, which can affect neural development and brain’s response to injury. This project is supported by

the Brown Superfund Research Project Center.

Beyond her research projects, succeed in their goals, progressing through their PhD programs and helping them submit applications for various individual funding mechanisms.” She also teaches a course called BIOL1820: “Environmental Health and Disease” that she plans to “continue to develop and make it the best teaching mechanism it can be.”

Plavicki believes that “a lot of the times people don’t consider their enof their overall health and wellbeing, but we need to think about health and disease more comprehensively.”

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Please join us on

Tuesday, October 15th at 4pm for the

Bernard I. Fain Lecture

Dream Hoarders: Inequality, Class and Higher Education

by Richard Reeves, a writer , scholar and Senior Fellow at the Brookings Institution The event will be held at Watson Institute in Joukowsky Forum and is co-sponsored by the James M. and Cathleen D. Stone Wealth and Inequality Project and the Department of Economics.

The Fain Lecture honors the memory of Bernard I. Fain, a member of the Brown University class of 1952.