THE CHICAGO MAROON — MAY 18, 2023
17
For the most part, it is a blessing to cover what we truly love and care about simply by being part of it. CONTINUED FROM PG. 16
industry groups reported. To student journalists, the safety risks are more complicated. As of 2022, only 17 states, including Illinois, have laws protecting student journalists’ First Amendment rights. The law prohibits censorship or self-censorship in the student press. But it does not prevent harassment and threats from reaching the journalists’ inboxes. Unlike professional newsrooms where the
institution would step in when its staffers face threats, student newsrooms do not have the capacity to intervene in every single case through means such as blocking hate emails. Seldom do the universities release a statement in cases of an online harassment campaign either. As student journalists, we have all been told at times that the online mobs will go away when given time. Narratives like these are dangerous because the
Internet’s short memory does not undo the harm it has done. When free speech becomes a trade-off with safety, fewer student journalists will be willing to write stories that they deem would lead to repercussions or backlashes, from protests to public safety and even to profiles of online celebrities. Eventually, college newspapers would be forced to choose between writing about the news and protecting their staffers. The result
would be detrimental to an equitable community. Over the past year, I have had many at The Maroon to thank for navigating a hard news cycle amidst the pressure of being a student and a journalist at the same time, in particular the entire executive slate, editorial crew, and the business and production teams. I am especially thankful to the current slate for assuming leadership of the paper from us and achieving re-
markable achievements thus far. Now, from one reader to another, I encourage you to continue your support for student journalism, as it remains a vital component in the success of those journalists, despite the challenging circumstances they may face. Yiwen Lu is a fourth-year in the College and former managing editor of The Chicago Maroon.
Worth Walking For International House is the dorm farthest from UChicago’s campus, and the distance is easy to complain about—but it’s also something to cherish. By ANGELINA TORRE I was in the parking lot of a Barnes & Noble when housing placements came out the summer before our first year. I remember the details of the moment for the shock that accompanied it—not because of where I was placed, but because of the reactions I found among my prospective dormmates upon opening Facebook. “Will trade a single in I house for pretty much anything else pls”; “Anyone at other residence halls interested in a SINGLE room at I House?”; “Will trade away Language and The Mind T,Th from 11:00-12:20 if you promise to switch for my I-House Single third week. PM if interested.” One person even posted a meme of “The 5 Stages of Being Placed in I-House”: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally, acceptance. The post garnered 126 reacts. I had ranked I-House on my
housing sheet based on a recommendation from my prospie host the prior April. I had stayed with her overnight in Snell—a strange night wherein I watched a man race to de-layer several sweaters, made banana chocolate chip pancakes with strangers, and screamed what I believe were sea shanties in the Hitchcock house lounge. I appreciated my night in Snell but wasn’t sure if the experience was entirely for me. My host recommended I try I-House for its perhaps more tame but still present house culture, cool people, and impressive Gothic architecture. I ranked it third. Based on the reactions that a placement in I-House had produced on Facebook, I sat in front of Barnes & Noble afraid I shouldn’t have ranked it all. When I arrived on campus for O-Week, the only tenuous point of connection between my newfound dormmates was
a shared complaint about being placed in I-House despite “not ranking it.” The fact that I did rank it quickly became a secret of mine. It almost seemed embarrassing and naive to willingly choose to live in a dorm so far from campus. I recently confessed my secret to my roommate, whom I had met in I-House our first year. “Oh, cool.” He shrugged. “I ranked it first.” Now, my embarrassment about ranking I-House stems purely from having been previously embarrassed to admit having done so. I lived on the eighth floor of I-House in a north-facing single, with a view of what I once thought was downtown Chicago but was really of Regents Park and the apartments above Whole Foods. To the right of my room was a girl who brought me to my first frat party and collected Blue Moons on her desk like glass vases. To my left was a
bespectacled girl who was pursuing premed but was a poet at heart. Not roommates, but “room neighbors,” these were my first friends at the College. I remain close with them, and others from I-House, to this day. When it came time to eat lunch or dinner, we would coordinate times and make the trek to Cathey Dining Commons. The walk over took about 20 minutes but—just as my prospie host had predicted—it was a bonding experience. People from I-House had grit, we had stamina, and we had more reason to protest the mandatory unlimited meal plan than anyone else on campus. I didn’t have a true breakfast at the dining hall until my second quarter at the school. Breakfast was invariably at Tiffin Café, the white-tiled addendum to the carpeted Tiffin lounge in I-House. I found their overnight oats quite good
and found myself disappointed if there weren’t any left by the time I got there. The timing of things in the morning was crucial. In order to get to class, one needed to be conscious not only of the time it took to get to campus but also of the time it took to get down to the first floor from their room and wait in line at Tiffin’s. The TransLoc app was a mainstay on my phone’s home screen. One really got to know the shuttles that worked in one’s favor and which didn’t. The Central to get to Cathey, the South to get home. The Friend Center/Metra to get to campus, but everything else was on your own (unless you were a savvy first-year and got the hang of the CTA). A friend and I felt such tenderness toward the Friend Center/Metra shuttle we took daily that we began to refer to it simply as “Friend.” “Where is Friend?” CONTINUED ON PG. 18