The Georgetown Voice, 26 October 2018

VOICE The Georgetown

October 26, 2018

Students Struggle for Absentee Ballot Access page 13

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OCTOBER 26, 2018

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE Volume 51 • Issue 5

staff editor-in-chief Jake Maher Managing editor Margaret Gach news

executive editor Alex Lewontin Features editor Emily Jaster assistant features editor Jack Townsend news editor Noah Telerski assistant news editors Rachel Cohen, Damian Garcia, Katya Schwenk

culture

executive editor Caitlin Mannering Leisure editor Brynn Furey assistant leisure editors Kayla Hewitt, Brynne Long, Ryan Mazalatis Sports editor Beth Cunniff Assistant sports editor Jorge DeNeve, Aaron Wolf

untitled by EGAN BARNITT

contents

opinion

Editorials

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Carrying On: Running Through My Woes Santul Nerkar

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Stop Telling Me About Einstein Katherine Randolph

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Slashers & Sex Leina Hsu

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Native American Students Look for Campus Community Roman Peregrino Will Haskell Win? Recent Grad Runs for State Senate Noah Telerski and Rachel Cohen

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Executive editor CHRIS DUNN voices editor Lizz Pankova Assistant Voices editors Mica Bernhard, Ava Rosato EditoriaL board Chair Nick Gavio Editorial Board Jonny Amon, Sienna Brancato, Chris Dunn, Emily Jaster, Alli Kaufman, Alex Lewontin, Jake Maher, Caitlin Mannering, Phillip Steuber, Noah Telerski, Jack Townsend

halftime

Leisure editor Dajour Evans assistant leisure editors Inès de Miranda, Juliana Vaccaro de Souza, Nicole Lai Sports editor Santul Nerkar Assistant sports editor Teddy Carey, Jake Gilstrap, Tristan Lee

design

Executive editor Margaux Fontaine Spread editor Jake Glass Photo Editor Rachel Zeide cover Editor Egan Barnitt assistant design editor Camilla Aitbayev, Jacob Bilich, Delaney Corcoran Staff designers Kathryn Crager, Josh Klein, Lindsay Reilly, Olivia Stevens

copy

Peer Educators, Powerful Results: 10 Years of SAPE Haley D’Alessio

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Students Struggle for Absentee Ballot Access Alex Lewontin

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The Language Archive Grapples With the Hardest Words to Say Panna Gattyan

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On the Edge of Desolation, Wildlife’s Characters Ache to Flee Caitlin Mannering

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copy chief Hannah Song assistant Copy editors Cade Shore, Neha Wasil editors Mya Allen, Emma Bradley, NataLie Chaudhuri, Brendan Clark, Kate Fin, Max Fredell, Nancy Garrett, Emily Kim, Moira Phan, Madison Scully, Sophie StewarT, Maya Tenzer, Kristin Turner, Megan Wise

online

Website Editor Maggie Grubert Podcast editor Parker Houston assistant podcast editor Devon O’Dwyer Social Media Editor Katherine Randolph Content Editor Claire Goldberg MULTIMEDIA editor Amy Guay

business

general manager anna gloor assistant manager of accounts & sales Isabel Lord

support

The opinions expressed in The Georgetown Voice do not necessarily represent the views of the administration, faculty, or students of Georgetown University, unless specifically stated. Columns, advertisements, cartoons, and opinion pieces do not necessarily reflect the views of the Editorial Board or the General Board of The Georgetown Voice. The university subscribes to the principle of responsible freedom of expression of its student editors. All materials copyright The Georgetown Voice, unless otherwise indicated.

associate editors Sienna Brancato, Gustav Honl-Stuenkel, Eman Rahman editor@georgetownvoice.com Leavey 424 Box 571066 Georgetown University Washington, D.C. 20057

Staff writers

Kent Adams, Luis Borrero, Nathan Chen, Annemarie Cuccia, Haley D’Alessio, Errol French, Bradley Galvin, Peter Guthrie, Roman Peregrino, John Picker, Zach Pulsifer, Will Shanahan, Cam Smith, Rebecca Zaritsky

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Read & Listen on

GEORGETOWNVOICE.COM News

Halftime Leisure

GAGE Election to be Held in November

The Mystery of Iron Fist and Luke Cage

The Georgetown Alliance of Graduate Employees will hold an election on unionization from Nov. 5 to Nov. 8. Read news editor Noah Telerski’s coverage online.

Why did Marvel cancel the television shows Iron First and Luke Cage?

Assistant Halftime leisure editor Juliana Vaccaro de Souza lays out her theories.

Sports Women’s Soccer Wins Big East Regular Season Title Against Butler Georgetown’s women’s soccer team remains undefeated after their match against Butler. Assistant sports editor Jorge DeNeve covers the game online.

Halftime Sports The Buzz at Buzzard Point D.C. sports are in the middle of a revival. Nathan Chen offers his takes on D.C. United’s chances of continuing the streak.

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EDITORIALS

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OCTOBER 26, 2018

U.S. Must End Alliance with Saudi Arabia On Oct. 2, journalist Jamal Khashoggi, a Saudi Arabian citizen and U.S. resident who frequently criticized the Saudi government, disappeared after visiting the Saudi Arabian consulate in Istanbul, Turkey. In the weeks since his disappearance, evidence has been brought forward that Khashoggi was murdered on the order of senior Saudi officials, possibly including Mohammed bin Salman, the Saudi crown prince. According to a New York Times report from Oct. 9, a group of Saudi agents murdered Khashoggi and gruesomely dismembered his body with a bonesaw, and U.S. intelligence intercepts obtained by the Washington Post found that bin Salman personally sought Khashoggi’s detainment.

By killing Khashoggi, the Saudi government is clear in its contempt for criticism and for a free press. But the murder is also another example of Saudi Arabia’s appalling record on human rights. Its intervention in the civil war in Yemen has caused what many experts and organizations call the world’s worst current humanitarian crisis. It has jailed known dissidents and reformers, and last year, bin Salman incarcerated over 200 government officials and royal family members, including Prince Alwaleed bin Talal, a major donor to Georgetown, for two months under the excuse of a corruption crackdown. Saudi Arabian women were finally allowed to drive this year, but women’s rights activists leading the charge were arrested throughout the course of their efforts. Women still require the consent of a male guardian to access a host of basic services. It is either custom or law for women to receive consent from their male guardian prior to acquiring an education, opening a bank account, getting married, or applying for a passport.

Saudi Arabia has done all of this while maintaining its position as one of America’s closest allies in the Middle East.

In the course of this relationship and long before Khashoggi’s murder, though, the U.S. has overlooked Saudi Arabia’s human rights abuses. We believe the U.S. must end this alliance and regret that it took this murder to prompt its serious reconsideration.

The government alleges that Khashoggi died from injuries sustained after a fistfight involving over a dozen Saudi officials at the consulate, but after weeks of shifting stories and under fire from world leaders, bin Salman backtracked and officially denounced the attack on Oct. 24. According to CNN, officials could not provide any evidence to prove the Saudi Arabian government’s assertion, and the suspects in the

Source: Security Assistance Monitor, 2018 GraphicS: Jake Glass

investigation include some of bin Salman’s closest advisors.

Trump has said that Khashoggi’s murder was a “coverup,” and that his administration will revoke visas for some Saudi Arabian officials allegedly involved in the murder. This backpedaling does not outweigh the administration’s leniency towards Saudi Arabia’s past abuses, and the president has said he is still opposed to ending arms sales to Saudi Arabia or cutting off friendly relations.

It is through this issue—arms sales—that the U.S. has not only been complicit, but also an enabler, in Saudi Arabia’s worst human rights abuses.

The ongoing civil war in Yemen, where Saudi Arabia has been involved militarily since 2015, is the most immoral example of American support for the Saudi regime. U.S. officials, independent analysts, and the United Nations place total Yemeni deaths from the conflict at close to 50,000.

Independent organizations have accused the Saudi government of war crimes in Yemen. The international NGO Save the Children said in September that over 300 civilians in Hodeidah, a coastal town in Yemen, had been killed over a period of three months. The nonprofit describes a gruesome scene where thousands of children have either been killed, lost limbs, or lost the ability to speak from the effects of landmines, airstrikes, or bombs. Blockades from the war have contributed to what the United Nations calls the world’s “worst famine in the last 100 years.” Limited access to clean drinking water, an already malnourished population, and unhealthy living conditions have caused a cholera outbreak that, according to World Health Organization estimates, has affected 1.2 million Yemenis and has killed approximately 2,000.

Not only is the U.S. continuing its alliance with Saudi Arabia during the campaign in Yemen, but the American government has provided the regime with much of the weapons and training used in the conflict. Saudi Arabia is the top recipient of American arms sales—in the 2017 calendar year, the United States sold them $18 billion worth of weapons. CNN reported that the bomb used in a a Saudi coalition airstrike that killed 51 civilians, including 40 children, on Aug. 9 was supplied by the United States.

The Department of Defense refused to research whether U.S. bombs were used to kill civilians in Yemen, but further investigation by CNN discovered that a number of airstrikes that caused civilian deaths in the Yemeni civil war

51.40%

Source: Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, 2013-2017

used weapons sold by American manufacturers. In addition, an analysis of government procurement documents

by TYT Investigates found that the United States is training Saudi fighter pilots on American soil.

The U.S. connection to Saudi Arabia did not begin under the Trump administration; rather, it is one that has remained strong for the past 70 years. Under former President Barack Obama, the United States made $115 billion in arms sales and training to Saudi Arabia, the most of any presidential administration in the last 70 years. Obama also provided intelligence assistance, in-air refueling capabilities, and other strategic services to the Saudi coalition participating in the conflict in Yemen. From Franklin Delano Roosevelt to Obama and now Trump, the U.S. has maintained a cozy relationship with Saudi Arabia, seemingly exchanging human rights concerns for a strong Middle Eastern ally.

The murder in the Saudi consulate may be turning the tide of elite opinion on the kingdom. In the weeks following the news of Khashoggi’s disappearance, American media, business executives, and government officials have announced their intentions to skip an annual business summit in Riyadh. The Washington Post, for where Khashoggi often wrote, told a Republican lobbyist who also serves as an opinion writer for the paper that he would no longer be able to contribute if he continued to lobby for Saudi Arabia.

But it should not have taken the murder of Khashoggi, as horrible as it was, for American elites to turn from Saudi Arabia, and it will take more than just pulling out of a business conference or denying an op-ed to a lobbyist to right the course. Amidst the changes in narrative and response to Khashoggi’s disappearance, one thing has remained constant: the suffering in Yemen. Children and innocent people continue to starve, die of cholera, and face relentless air attacks from the Saudi-led coalition. In the entirety of the war in Yemen, American weapons have aided Saudi Arabia in carrying out their war crimes and horrors in the country.

It must stop.

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Carrying On: Voice Staffers Speak VOICES

Running Through My Woes kathryn crager

I’m not a runner. At least, I don’t wish to identify that way, in the same way that I wouldn’t want to be known as a “shower-er” or an “incessant mint eater.” These are all normal habits and idiosyncrasies that define us.

I am hesitant to talk about my running or even tout it as some productivity hack. On one hand, it has played such a significant role in my time at Georgetown that any personal reflection would likely be incomplete without it. But on the other hand, it’s running—a mindless and uncreative activity. Should I talk about how I move my right foot in front of the left? Or how my laces come undone?

Mostly, though, I worry about coming across as—or worse, becoming—self-righteous when I talk about running. It feels like every person I mention my running to conjures up a comically inaccurate image of me: that of an individual with a steadfast commitment to self-improvement.

Because while running has given me so much, and probably saved me from unimaginable depths, our relationship is complicated. *** I certainly never saw myself running 26.2 miles two days from now: a verifiably insane idea, in the words of most of my friends. But when I look back at how I started, I’m not sure there was any other possible conclusion.

While most freshmen bonded over Leo’s lunches or Friday nights spent scouring the campus for free alcohol, I felt socially paralyzed. Each passing day was one where I made no friends, lost my mind over minute missteps, and lamented choosing Georgetown over my hometown school, UNC. I detested nearly everything about our university. Almost every week I’d rant to my parents for hours about Georgetown’s shortcomings: whether it was the rowdiness of my VCW neighbors, the entitlement of 100 percent (my exact quote) of students, or the alcohol-centric nature of most social events, I always had something to gripe about.

So I ran. Or I guess I should say, ran away. I thought that if I accomplished nothing else on a given day, I at least owed it to myself to stay physically fit. I started out running a 5K most days, either on a treadmill or around Georgetown. Pretty soon I felt empowered enough to try out new routes, speeds, and inclines as I got to know my new best friend.

But no matter how hard I ran or how far I ventured, I never found any peace this way. My chief concern became quotidian exercise; everything else, with the exception of maintaining some academic competence, was immaterial. I

gave up on trying to measure my happiness or even consider joy a meaningful emotion. My runs were fueled by bitterness and had no room for positive emotions. I mostly felt spite and anger on every trip to Yates, escape to the White House, or dash to the Lincoln Memorial. Often, I’d start a run at full throttle with no intention of stopping until I basically couldn’t take any more.

In December of my sophomore year, I took a running detour along the Mount Vernon Trail at dusk. By the time I had stopped to rest, I realized it was dark, I didn’t know where I was, and my phone was dead. It was a fitting metaphor for my college experience. As I moved in the eerie darkness, I couldn’t help but think how lost I was, both in the immediate sense and in scarier, broader terms.

Going into my junior year, something changed. Though I still ran every day, I no longer felt the same disillusionment with my surroundings at Georgetown. Call it maturity, a rush of blood to the head, or just dumb coincidence, but I improved my situation. I started going out more, talking to people in social circles I was nominally connected to and pushing myself to establish relationships with others.

The nature of my runs changed, too. Instead of indulging in three-to-five mile mad dashes that resembled those of a socially anxious chicken with its head cut off, I took longer, more deliberate jaunts. Five frenzied miles became eight brisk, purposeful ones. Hard city pavement turned into wooded trails and long paths into Northern Virginia. My workout music changed from angsty tracks to softer ballads; one of my favorite runs was a 10-miler along the C&O Canal Towpath accompanied by “Careless Whisper” on repeat.

All of this is to say that, amidst changing life circumstances, running has emerged as a faithful constant.

This year as a senior, I stumbled into training for the Marine Corps Marathon. Following an impromptu 12-miler last January, coupled with the encouragement of my uncle, who ran the same race in 2016, I took the leap of faith. After completing a half-marathon in June, I devoted the next four months to training, an experience that has tested both my patience and physical and mental resilience. Each distance, each run, and each route has a unique story. Eight miles through Gravelly Point was my first encounter with a biker’s road rage, 10 miles on a scorching Chapel Hill day was when I spiked my water bottle and nearly gave up. And 21 miles around the National Mall was when I believed, just maybe, I had this in me.

Over 600 miles of preparation later, I feel ready to run a marathon. *** But for everything running has given me, it’s taken plenty away. One thing has been my sense of self-satisfaction. While I used to give myself a proverbial pat on the back after every run, these days I take it for granted that I’ll run eight, 10, or even 20 miles on a given day.

I get noticeably irritable if I haven’t run my prescribed distance that day. The foray into running coincided with a heightened surveillance of my diet. If I’m with friends who order some pizza, I never touch a slice, and if we go out for ice cream afterward, I’ll get a coffee. I’m acutely aware that others recognize these quirks about me.

Of course, my current disposition is probably not sustainable. College has afforded me the personal schedule and space to run whenever and however long I want, and that’s not feasible in a 9-to-5 world. For all the literal and figurative strides I’ve made over the last few years, in terms of integrating into a larger community and staying fit, there remains the possibility that I return to running as an out for facing real-life problems. While there’s something symbolically appealing about fleeing my obstacles on foot, it’s practically unattainable.

I cherish and even take a certain pride in vanishing from uncomfortable situations, but the sun will soon set on that route.

And unlike last time, I don’t intend to find my way by running blindly through the night.

But right now, the sun is still high in the sky. I guess I’ll just keep running.

Santul Nerkar is the Halftime sports editor for the Voice and is a senior in the College.

October 26, 2018

VOICES

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Stop Telling Me About Einstein Olivia Stevens

When people find out that my youngest brother has autism and is nonverbal, they often tell me the same anecdote: “Did you know that Albert Einstein didn’t speak until he was four years old?” This story (which has never been proven to be true) used to give me a flicker of hope. Nearly nine years after Josh’s diagnosis, this nugget of information is far more frustrating than helpful.

Josh is 11 years old, and he can’t talk. At some point, his birthday celebrations became bittersweet for me because they marked another year of silence. Josh is not Albert Einstein. He probably will never learn to speak or live on his own. He will not discover the next theory of relativity. He will spend the rest of his time in the public school system in life skills classes for students with special needs, where he will most likely be one of the lowest-functioning students in his grade. As much as I want to put a positive spin on Josh’s autism, I can’t. The reality is it sucks, and though there are days when it sucks less, it will always suck.

When your little brother is diagnosed with autism, you don’t get a handy pamphlet explaining his disorder. Scientists have not found a conclusive cause for autism, and so far, there isn’t a cure. Less severe autism often manifests itself in some quirks, but not in symptoms that impede a person’s ability to lead a normal life. For many high-functioning people on the spectrum, autism feels like a part of their personality or identity. But I don’t consider Josh’s disorder to be a personality trait. I consider it a serious illness that affects the quality of his life. Though higher-functioning people with autism might not want a cure, lower-functioning people like Josh need one. How do you build a relationship with someone who can’t talk? How do you accept the fact that all of the grand plans you made for a child’s life will never happen?

Having a family member with severe special needs leads to a slow grieving process. I had to let go of the Josh I thought I would have, one who I would teach to play soccer and drive to band practice. I couldn’t keep holding onto the Albert Einstein dream of a child who miraculously springs out of bed one day speaking in full sentences. I still don’t know if I’ll ever be able to abandon the plans I once had for my brother, but I do know that I am immensely grateful for the brother I have.

My relationship with Josh doesn’t look like other big sister/ little brother narratives. His interests include Taylor Swift music videos, swinging off various high surfaces, and tearing paper into tiny shreds. Mine are more focused on thriller novels, arts and crafts, and documentaries. I can’t throw a frisbee with him, but he does love getting piggyback rides. During the 2016 Olympics, we found a shared passion for women’s swimming; mine because of my love for Katie Ledecky, and Josh’s because of his obsession with water. Josh is unlikely to give me a fist bump or hug, but when he jumps onto my lap or tackles me, I know that he loves me. Can I definitively say that I prefer this silent relationship to the one I’d envisioned having with my baby brother? No, but I’m sure that it’s far more productive to build a connection with Josh as he is.

I can’t speak for people with autism, and I won’t pretend that Josh’s experience is representative of all people with autism.

I don’t believe that everyone with autism should be cured or changed, but unfortunately, I will never get to ask my brother if he wants treatment. I can only speak to the experience of a sister who loves her sibling and wants him to have a wonderful life. Most of the time, I don’t want to talk about autism because it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want people to look at me with pity because I already see that every time I take Josh out in

public on a bad day. I don’t want to make Josh’s disorder about myself. If autism is difficult for me, I could never imagine how hard it would be to live in a world where you couldn’t communicate your wants and needs.

I watch Josh, and I try to envision how life feels for him, and I am sad. There are people with autism who are high-functioning and live full, rich, wonderful lives. Josh isn’t one of them. He doesn’t need a fake story about Albert Einstein or a puzzle-piece bumper sticker. He needs treatment from doctors, support from his school, and research about what causes autism. Stop telling me about Einstein and start talking about ways we can make the world better for people on all parts of the autism spectrum.

Katherine Randolph is a sophomore in the College from Kennedale, Texas. She is the social media editor for the Voice.

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VOICES

Slashers & Sex natalia jaregui

If there are three things I love, they’re the smell of coffee, a hot bath after a long day, and watching attractive people be brutally murdered in sequential order. Before you ask, you aren’t on the same campus as a beauty-abhorring psychopath, but a slasher movie fanatic. In the existentially draining chaos of this world, I find comfort in the predictability of this particular genre of horror. But the more I indulge in these films, the more I realize they offer something beyond momentary escape.

Slasher movies are in many ways reflections of the sexual and social attitudes of the society that produce them. With the resurgence of these films in the last few years, we should be wary of the subliminal diffusion of their underlying ideologies into our current media.

Theses movies always follow the same formula: A masked killer with a blunt instrument targets a group of teenagers—typically composed of a jock, a burnout, a cheerleader, and a nerdy girl—and kills them off in that order. However, the nerdy girl (who somehow looks like Margot Robbie after taking off her glasses) uses her pragmatism and righteousness to exterminate the big baddie. The day is saved! That is, until they make a sequel. It never occurred to me to question the recipe of slasher films until I started noticing patterns that weren’t necessary to the plot. For some reason, even with a “strong female protagonist,” these movies don’t feel particularly feminist. Why is it that the cheerleader’s death is always drawn out? Why does the franchise always follow the male killer as opposed to the female protagonist? Why is the “final girl” always a virgin?

More often than not, pop culture mirrors social norms.

The 1980s were undoubtedly the “Golden Age” of slasher films, birthing classics like A Nightmare on Elm Street and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It was also an age of conservative sexual attitudes, with 71 percent of Americans denouncing sex before marriage. Just to compare, today about 55 percent of Americans are cool with premarital sex. This could explain why the promiscuous characters in slasher films are promptly murdered, especially after engaging in sexual acts. The killer is a divine judge

of sorts, punishing the amoral for their sins and awarding the virgin girls with a heroic title.

Slasher films can also be seen as a reaction to second-wave feminism, which began in the 1960s and spanned over two decades. While first-wave feminism highlighted the importance of gender equality in voting, second-wave feminism had a variety of focuses, one of which was reproductive rights. Activists advocated for access to contraception, safe abortion, and an end to the stigma around female sexuality. I interpret the popularity of slasher films as a male-dominated industry’s projection of conservative attitudes in response to the rise of these liberal sentiments.

Take the opening scene of Halloween (1978). A six-year-old Michael Myers sees his sister’s clothes scattered about the floor, obviously the aftermath of a sexual encounter. He goes into her room, where she is naked, brushing her hair. Myers stabs her to death with a knife, and her moans are almost sexual as she falls to the floor. He walks away from her nude, lifeless body, completely disregarding her male partner. The scene makes clear that the woman should be blamed and punished for her promiscuity, while her male counterpart faces no consequences. The killing is oddly erotic, in some ways a visual translation of the male desire to exert control over “sexually empowered” women.

Myers’ use of a phallic object as a weapon signifies sexual domination. Furthermore, the scene is shot from Myers’ perspective, subconsciously making the viewer identify with him. The scene direction exemplifies Laura Mulvey’s feminist theory of the “male gaze,” which argues that women are represented as sexual objects in film for the pleasure of the male viewer.

Although they may be a reflection of ’80s attitudes towards sex and feminism, slasher films are making a comeback. Just in 2014, there was It Follows, The Guest, and Girlhouse, among many others. One reason may be that there is a 30-year pop culture nostalgia cycle, where trends popularized by the generation three decades ago make a comeback. This explains the popularity of ’70s fashion and music in the 2000s and the current re-

surgence of the ’80s. The children of the ’80s, now in their 30s, see the decade through rose-colored glasses and create art based off their perception of movies as children. Since they were not adults, they probably don’t remember how these films fetishized virginity and perpetuated misogynistic ideas.

I don’t think there is anything wrong with enjoying slasher films, and if there was, I’d be the last one to talk. However, it is important that we understand the wider implications of media, especially how it can contribute to our distinction between what’s right and wrong. The return of the slasher genre could unintentionally lead to the re-circulation of outdated values. Even things designed to entertain should be put under a degree of scrutiny by the public. In doing so, we promote not only a culture of mindful consuming, but general awareness towards existing power dynamics. This Halloween, I hope to see a few “Woke Michael Myers” costumes floating around— basically regular Michael Myers but with an “I kill everyone equally” sign.

Leina Hsu is a freshman in the College and aspiring English major and justice and peace studies minor.

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OCTOBER 26, 2018

Native American Students Look for Campus Community

By Roman Peregrino

NASC’s annual powwow is their largest event of the year (pictured here in 2016).

At a presentation on Oct. 12, “Indigenous Resistance Across Borders: Political Education and Storytelling,” many of the people gathered at Casa Latina were familiar with each other. Kelsey Lawson (SFS ’19), Yasmin Zuch (NHS ’20), and Jesse Gibson (SFS ’19) stood off to the side: part of the group, but not quite. The three settled down on a couch and waited for the event to begin, hoping that it would be a success. For Lawson, Zuch, and Gibson, this was not just an opportunity to delve deeper into the history of indigenous peoples. They hoped it would be the start of a critical year for the Native American Student Council.

In 2012, two students rebranded the former American Indian and Alaska Native Association as the Native American Student Council (NASC). They opened the club to those without a Native American background in an effort to bring in more people dedicated to the interests of the Native American community. Membership has fluctuated over the years, and along with a few non-native members, there are now only three Native American students in the club: the aforementioned trio of Lawson, who is part Siberian Yupik; Zuch, a registered Navajo; and Gibson, who is half Choctaw with Chickasaw and Coushatta ancestry.

One of NASC’s main purposes is to connect Native American students at Georgetown. “We want to reach out to other Native American students on campus and let them know that we are here and there is this organization where they can have a cultural space,” Gibson said. Gibson is the former president of NASC, and now represents the group in the Student of Color Alliance, the umbrella organization for groups serving students of color at Georgetown.

But even though NASC is the only organization on campus dedicated to the American Indian and Alaska Native population, the group’s membership has dwindled as a result of its limited visibility on campus.

“I hope as we put on events we can garner support from the general student population,” said Zuch, the club’s vice president.

“I know my freshman year, I didn’t even know this existed. I’m sure there are countless numbers of Native Americans in the student body who we haven’t gotten into contact with because our outreach is so small.”

Jade Ferguson (SFS ’22), a freshman of Cherokee descent, is not a member of NASC. When she arrived on campus, she wanted to join a Native American student group, but did not know how to find one. “I didn’t find out this was a thing until

Photo: Margaret Gach

recently,” she said. “I don’t know how to contact them yet, and I haven’t met any of the people in the club.”

Zuch agreed that NASC can be hard for students to find, which may make it seem as though there is no Native American presence on campus. She believes this perception stems partly from many Americans’ lack of interaction with the modern Native American experience. “I have come across quite a few misconceptions since I’ve been on the East Coast that I would not have expected,” she said. “I have had people ask if I still live in a tepee, and they are surprised at how modernized some of the tribes are. I have encountered a couple people who had never met a Native American before.”

Zuch is from Flagstaff, Arizona, where Native Americans make up a share of the population more than 10 times greater than they do nationally, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.

But at Georgetown, Zuch said, the Native American community is sparse. “I went from living an hour away from the reservation to here, where there is nobody,” she said. In fact, Georgetown’s 2017-2018 Common Data Set shows no self-reported American Indian or Alaska Native undergraduate students. This data is based on an optional survey, meaning students can choose not to report their race or ethnicity.

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THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

This lack of representation extends to faculty as well as students. “I am only aware of one faculty member who is Native American on campus. Typically, I will be the only Native American student in the classroom,” Zuch said.

The members of NASC believe this lack of Native American presence on campus creates an even larger need for their organization. Gibson said NASC helps students like him “try to fortify those ties to our culture in this most formative part of our lives.”

That is especially important for Gibson, who is from Oklahoma, the state with the second highest Native American population in the United States. When he arrived in a city over 1,000 miles away from home, he felt separated from the culture he grew up with.

“When I got here, I went through a huge culture shock,” Gibson said. “I felt like I was identifying only with my white side because I wasn’t able to be my native side here.”

Lawson, the club’s president, described the importance of interacting with those who share her heritage. “I think it can be very healing to discuss the shared issues that affect our communities,” she said. “For me personally, I’ve always felt kind of isolated and alone with my identity, so getting to know other people who have felt the same way or are passionate about the same things, there is strength in that.”

NASC’s faculty advisor, Bette Jacobs, has been supporting Native American students since she joined Georgetown in 2000, including as a faculty advisor for the group NASC succeeded and as part of the Indigenous Studies Working Group. Jacobs, an enrolled member in the Cherokee nation with a Shoshone background, also co-teaches a class about Indigenous People’s Conflict and Resolution. “Representation should stay alive,” she said. “It isn’t always a good history, but it is a shared history.”

NASC is part of a wider community of cultural groups on campus that are represented as a whole by the Student of Color Alliance. Many students involved in groups under the organization see their membership as a way to come together with others from similar backgrounds and find acceptance on campus and for themselves.

Zhanelyn Joy Cacho (COL ’22), the Club Filipino representative to the Student of Color Alliance, explained that she has struggled to maintain her Filipino identity at Georgetown.

“There were certain words that I cut out in my vocabulary and certain mannerisms I would do back home that I didn’t feel that I should do here,” Cacho wrote in an email to the Voice.

But the student organizations she joined showed her that her culture was essential to making the university feel more like home.

“Once I joined cultural clubs like Club Hawai’i and Club Filipino, I realized how crucial it is to hold on to your culture more than anything,” Cacho wrote. “It’s so important to dress yourself with the strength and pride of your ancestors.”

For international students like Alison Hsu (MSB ’19), who is part of the Taiwanese American Student Association (TASA), turning to a cultural club can ease the burden of fitting in on campus. “In a way, [TASA] strengthens my sense of belonging in Georgetown,” Hsu wrote in a message to the Voice. “I often find this feeling mutual even with members who are not from Taiwan but nevertheless felt connected with the Taiwanese culture.”

TASA and Club Filipino both have a larger pool of students to draw from, which has helped support their robust memberships, lending stability to their missions. NASC has found itself struggling to do the same.

“As it is right now, we are having problems having enough people in the organization to have access to funds,” Zuch said.

Student organizations are required to have 12 members to be officially recognized by the university. “It is frustrating to know

that something as vital as our financial need is in jeopardy just because we don’t have enough people.”

As a senior and the club’s president, Lawson wants to make sure NASC survives and thrives past her tenure on campus. “I would like to be confident that it has a future and it will be around.” NASC views the rest of this year as a stepping stone to a bigger role on campus.

“I have had people ask if I still live in a tepee, and they are surprised at how modernized some of the tribes are. I have encountered a couple people who had never met a Native American before.”

Their largest event is an annual powwow in the spring. The event, which reached its sixth year this spring, features Native American dancers, musicians, and vendors. Participants hail from D.C. and the greater Metro area, but also come from as far as Pennsylvania each year. The central location of the event, held on Copley Lawn, helps draw awareness and interest from people on campus. NASC hopes it will continue to be widely attended, even if people just stop to see what all the commotion is about.

But Zuch said that she wants NASC to grow beyond this yearly event. The club has taken stands on issues like the proposed pipeline at Standing Rock and renaming Columbus Day to Indigenous Peoples’ Day. Georgetown now labels the weekend “Mid-semester Holiday.” *** From their view on the couch, Lawson, Zuch, and Gibson watched the discussion, which they co-hosted with Casa Latina, unfold. They observed members of both the Black House and Casa Latina discuss and debate indigenous peoples’ problems all over the world. They interjected with their own experiences and listened to stories similar to theirs. They heard words of solidarity from students whose lives had been vastly different, yet, in a way, the same. They received encouragement about the challenges they face and are reminded that the work they are doing matters. The three left believing that it would not be the last partnership between the cultural groups, but the first of many.

“Casa Latina and the Black House are amazing allies for us,” Gibson said. “They have the numbers and resources to have the strong community that we would like to model ourselves after someday. They are able to spread the cultural influence and help us have a medium to spread our culture.”

Members of the Black House and Casa Latina are excited to be a part of these plans and are rooting for their successful future. “I hope they continue to grow in visibility on campus,

and gain more traction and support for their activism,” wrote Chelsea Hernandez (SFS ’20), a member of Casa Latina, in a statement to the Voice.

Beyond working with other student groups, Zuch wants to take on admissions issues for Native American students.

“I would like to see a push in the admissions process for Native American applicants,” she said. “Talking to other members of NASC, they’ve agreed that other schools we applied to, we found support in the admissions process.”

In at least one case, this support came in the form of outreach from the Native American student association on that campus: Lawson said that the Native American Association at Stanford reached out to her during the application process. “As for Georgetown,” Lawson said, “we have all come to the conclusion that we haven’t seen anything like that.”

A university spokesperson wrote in an email to the Voice that Georgetown tries to bring in exemplary students from all backgrounds. “Georgetown is committed to multicultural recruitment and supports prospective students from diverse backgrounds and geographic regions, including Native American students, throughout the recruitment and application process,” they wrote. “By engaging with current students, alumni and staff serving diverse communities the Office of Undergraduate Admissions continually seeks to enhance the recruitment of students from underrepresented backgrounds.”

Without the resources for a strong recruitment effort, the club’s path forward is far from clear. NASC has momentum with student leaders like Lawson, Zuch, and Gibson, yet they know helping the club continue to thrive in the future will not be easy.

“One thing about student groups: They come and go,” Jacobs said. “When you have a small denominator to begin with and there are people who exit, there isn’t a lot of succession planning.”

But Lawson, Zuch, and Gibson are not deterred by these challenges. “We are working on indigenous resilience and being more active in the Georgetown community,” Lawson said. “I think people will be receptive. I have faith in it. I have hope.”

Artwork in the office of Bette Jacobs.

Photo: Roman Peregrino

OCTOBER 26, 2018

Will Haskell Win? Photo Courtesy of The Haskell Campaign

Recent Grad Runs for State Senate

After graduating in May, Will Haskell put his plans to attend Georgetown Law School on hold to vie for a seat in the Connecticut State Senate, representing the 26th district.

“I think like a lot of people, I woke up the morning after Trump’s election and felt like I had to do something, like I had to play some part in fighting against that agenda,” Haskell (COL ’18) said. As a 22-year-old Georgetown student, that meant thinking locally. “I really strongly believe that fight has to start at the state and local level.”

Haskell researched his representatives and discovered that most reflected his views, with one exception. “I came across my state senator, somebody who votes with the Republican party 97 percent of the time, somebody who filibustered to prevent kids with cancer from getting medical marijuana,” he said. “Somebody who actually stood up and said that Connecticut went too far in regulating guns after Sandy Hook, when I felt very strongly that we haven’t gone far enough.”

That state Senator, Antonietta Boucher, is now Haskell’s opponent. Boucher has held the seat since 2009 and has a long tenure in state politics, including 12 years in the Connecticut House of Representatives. Boucher has publicly defended her record on guns, as she voted for sweeping gun-control legislation in the wake of the Sandy Hook shooting and was recognized

by Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America as a “gun sense” candidate, a distinction Haskell also received. Boucher could not be reached for comment before press time.

Discontented, Haskell wanted to volunteer in support of Boucher’s future opponent, but soon found that the Democrats lacked a challenger for her. “The response I heard was, ‘Oh, you know, she’s been in office for 22 years, she’ll probably be there another 22 years. Nobody runs against her,’” Haskell said.

Haskell decided to do it himself. He felt that letting Boucher run uncontested was bad for the Democratic party and the democratic process. And while Boucher won nearly 60 percent of the vote in the three previous elections, Hillary Clinton won the district by 23 points in 2016. “It’s fundamentally a moderate, level-headed district,” Haskell said. “It’s not Donald Trump territory, so there is no reason we should have a state senator who has embraced Donald Trump’s agenda. That’s a large part of why I decided to run.”

In March, he officially kicked off his campaign from the living room of his Nevils apartment. Haskell and his roommate-turned-campaign manager, Jack Lynch (COL ’18), invited some friends over for the launch party. They received overwhelming support. “We had hoped to raise $300,” Haskell said. “We ended up leaving the night with over $3,000. It was incredible.”

Throughout his campaign, Haskell has used his government degree—and even his French minor. “I was door knocking, there was a lady who spoke only French, and I was able to give my whole stump speech. That made the minor worth it,” he said.

11

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

Haskell’s time on the Hilltop prepared him in less traditional ways, too. He believes his four years working at the Corp’s Hoya Snaxa fostered the interpersonal skills vital to a campaign.

“A lot of that job was just making small talk, just chatting with people as they’re going about their day buying groceries, trying to sort of relate to everybody and just be a friendly face,” Haskell said. “Honestly, that’s a lot like running for office. Going and meeting people, standing at the dump on the weekend, just being a welcoming face, listening to whatever problems they have.”

Lynch wrote in an email to the Voice that the Haskell who people knew during his time on campus is the same one running for office. “The Will Haskell who speaks at campaign events, who knocks on doors, who makes calls to voters, is just as genuine and down to earth as the Will Haskell who worked at Snaxa and ate at Leo’s and went to the Tombs,” Lynch wrote. “That’s a large part of what has made him such a phenomenon in this district over the past few months. Voters can sense when someone is being their authentic self.”

After graduating, Haskell moved back to his district and into an apartment in New Canaan, Connecticut. Still living with his old roommate Lynch, he set about trying to unseat the five-term incumbent with a political career as old as he is. That would be no easy task. Her history of landslide victories in a seat that has been held by Republicans since Richard Nixon was president would be discouraging to most, but Haskell believes that he is different.

Haskell said that in the last three elections, one challenger did not have a website, and another did not knock on a single door. “She, for the past few cycles, has gone effectively unopposed,” Haskell said. “I’m almost amazed her margins aren’t higher. You’re in office with those opponents, then you should be getting 70, 80 percent of the vote.”

While running for office can be expensive, Haskell has avoided this by publicly financing his campaign. To use public funds, Haskell had to raise $15,000 to give to the state, and

Delaney Corcoran

Will Haskell is running for the Connecticut State Senate in District 26.

in return he received an $85,000 grant. Despite raising over $100,000 in her last three elections, Boucher also opted for public funding this cycle, meaning the candidates will have the same amount of money at their disposal.

On top of public funding, Haskell received additional help—the endorsement of former President Barack Obama. An intern originally suggested that Haskell contact Obama about a potential endorsement.

“I said you know what, maybe we can write him a letter, and then a few weeks later we heard that I was being endorsed, which totally blindsided me. It was so exciting and it is really an honor,” Haskell said. Obama tweeted his endorsement of Haskell on Oct. 1, alongside 259 other candidates for state and federal offices.

“

The Georgetown community really rallied in a way that I was so touched by.

Because Connecticut’s Senate is split, Haskell’s race has taken on greater national importance for Democrats, who aim to reclaim state legislatures. “I do think it is less about me, and it comes down to the fact that the state Senate is tied,” Haskell said. “It’s exceptionally exciting, and it’s gotten a lot of people involved and gotten a lot of people interested in this district.”

Sens. Chris Murphy and Richard Blumenthal and Rep. Jim Hines endorsed Haskell, as well as Planned Parenthood, Run for Something, and the National Organization of Women.

But Haskell still needs to win on the ground, and as the campaign found out, that is not always easy. “Campaigns have a steep learning curve, and it’s been even steeper for Will and I as brand new college graduates,” Lynch wrote. “But we set a couple of clear goals early on and stuck to them: We’ve focused on building a really strong ground game and knocked over 4,000 doors.”

Haskell emphasized that he is always trying to reach the voters in the district and has a daily goal to knock on 40 doors.

He also has volunteers participating in “days-of-action” on the weekends.

“We’re campaigning constantly and trying to meet people where they are, whether that’s at the train station meeting the commuters or at the doors,” Haskell said. He has a special focus on reaching young people and making sure they vote. “In order to do that and meet those voters where they are, you can’t go to doors, you can’t really call landlines, you have to meet them on their iPhone.”

As a young candidate, Haskell has had his age used against him by some, while other voters do not see it as a negative. At a joint candidates forum, when a Republican candidate for state representative mentioned his recent graduation from college while criticizing Haskell, the audience drowned him out with boos.

Haskell does not see his age as a handicap, but as a reason for running. He feels young people often lack voices of their own in Connecticut’s Senate. “Too often they’re making decisions that are going to impact the state for decades to come,” Haskell said. “Considering taking out additional debt on the state’s credit card, and their doing so without any input, without consulting stakeholders in Connecticut’s future, and I think that’s really problematic.”

Haskell said that young people will not want to move back to Connecticut until the state invests in advancing its cities, bettering its infrastructure, and creating an “exciting” economy.

His top priority in attracting young workers to the state is paid family leave.

“I was raised by a single working mom. She had to go back to work just two weeks after I was born, and that’s true for 25 percent of American moms, but it shouldn’t be,” Haskell said.

“That’s a choice that no industrialized nation should force their workers, their parents to make.”

Haskell still carries Georgetown with him, both the memory of the outpouring of support when he launched his campaign and the continued help from the community.

“The Georgetown community really rallied in a way that I was so touched by. My professors donated not just their financial contributions but also their time and advice,” Haskell said.

“I get emails and calls from professors all the time, ‘Hey, I liked your most recent campaign email’ or ‘Hey, I hated your most recent campaign email.’”

“I have been obsessing for the last few months about how exactly we are going to spend this time between now and election day, and I really am not sure what is in store for me afterwards,” Haskell said. After Nov. 6, Haskell will have either won or lost. But for now, he can only think about the present.

“Somebody asked me that other day what my five-yearplan is. I have an 18-day plan.”

Noah Telerski and Rachel Cohen

12

OCTOBER 26, 2018

s lt su e R l u rf e w o P , rs to a c u d E r e Pe 10 Years of SAPE This year, Sexual Assault Peer Educators is celebrating its 10th anniversary of offering workshops, trainings, and speaker events on issues surrounding sexual assault. Undergraduate students have entirely led the program, commonly known as SAPE, through its decade of existence on campus.

According to Jennifer Wiggins, the program’s staff advisor, recent years have been SAPE’s most successful. “Although SAPE has been around for 10 years, I believe it has had its greatest impacts in the last three academic years,” Wiggins wrote in an email to the Voice.

Susu Zhao (COL ’19), a member of SAPE’s student advisory board who has been involved since her freshman year, said Wiggins played an important role in SAPE’s growth. In 2015, Wiggins’ first year with the program, SAPE’s membership rose from 55 to 100 peer educators. With more peer educators, SAPE was able to reach 1,800 students through their programming this past year.

Wiggins emphasized the student-driven nature of the group as one of its greatest strengths. “Having peers educate peers, we remove the barrier of discomfort that students experience in engaging with staff around topics that are difficult to unpack,” she wrote. “Students can relate to each other through shared experiences which allows for greater learning and engagement.”

Kory Stuer (COL ’19), SAPE’s administrative chair, said that SAPE’s broadened scope also reflects the university’s increased focus on the issues of interpersonal violence and sexual assault.

Stuer cited the 2016 Campus Climate Survey, which measured student attitudes about sexual assault and the prevalence of sexual assault on campus, among other things, as evidence of the university’s commitment to addressing sexual assault.

“Having peers educate peers, we remove the barrier of discomfort that students experience in engaging with staff around topics that are difficult to unpack.”

In April 2018, SAPE helped lead Georgetown’s first Sexual Assault Awareness Month, featuring programming that examined sexual violence and the ways different groups are affected by it.

“My hope was that we could offer a month of programming that would broaden how Georgetown critically address-

By Haley D’Alessio

Photos Courtesy OF Jennifer Wiggins

es issues of sexual assault,” Wiggins wrote.

SAPE also launched its first fellowship program this year. In the program, 30 undergraduate fellows will undergo extensive training in peer education advised by Wiggins and Claire Bernstein, another staff advisor to SAPE. The fellowship aims to offer an in-depth customized approach to training, particularly for students with a background in sexual assault education. Stuer believes this will provide a more thorough education to students than SAPE has offered in the past.

“There’s a different need in our community than what SAPE’s original model was intended to address, and so we want to be able to take that deeper dive and be able to have those more nuanced conversations in order to be providing something that the Georgetown community isn’t already getting,” he said.

In November, SAPE is hosting the District’s first student-led conference centered on sexual violence, the Working to End Rape Culture Summit (WERC). At the event, taking place on Georgetown’s campus, students, administrators, and community members from around the D.C. area will gather for 18 different workshops on topics such as social media activism and the Title IX process. The planning committee is advised by Wiggins and includes leaders from SAPE and other student groups.

Tickets for the summit sold out three months in advance. Stuer said this level of interest reflects the Georgetown community’s desire to address and discuss these topics.

He hopes the program will expand to include as many participants as possible.

“What WERC is trying to do is recognize here we are, and we’ve made some progress, but we still have a long way to go. It’s trying to think about how do we take stock of where we are and [how] all of us move it to the next level,” Stuer said.

In conjunction with SAPE’s recent efforts to expand its reach, the program’s leaders hope to continue to prioritize engaging diverse communities on campus. Recently, SAPE held a workshop with this year’s cohort of the Community Scholars Program, which provides support for first-generation college students in their transition to life at Georgetown.

“We need to give a space to those who haven’t had the social capital to take up space in the conversation,” Zhao said. “I feel like we’ve really been putting in a lot of effort to reach those different voices and make sure that everyone has a seat at the table around conversations of sexual assault on campus.”

As SAPE continues to evolve in its 10th year, so does the world that it finds itself in. As accounts of sexual assault make headlines, Stuer believes that SAPE’s work is especially important. “We know that this is impacting survivors in our community, and so one of the things SAPE sees as part of our mission is how do we get people thinking about how they can be supporting survivors even in just their day-to-day life.”

13

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

Students Struggle for Absentee Ballot Access

BY A LE X LE WO N T I N jacob bilich

Andrew Straky wants you to cast your ballot this November.

Straky (COL ’20) is a co-president of GU Votes, a program within the GU Institute of Politics and Public Service dedicated to getting Hoyas to vote.

“Following the 2016 cycle, we had over 90 percent voter registration among eligible students on campus, which is great,” Straky said. Nationally, 70.6 percent of eligible college students are registered to vote, according to a 2016 study by Tufts University. Despite this, Straky sees room for improvement in getting those registered voters at Georgetown to the polls, particularly when voting absentee. Each year, students face a variety of challenges submitting their ballots, which can leave them unable to participate in the electoral process.

In conjunction with the Office of Residential Living, GU Votes has set up an online portal where students can complete their absentee ballot request forms. They can then take their request forms to any RHO on campus, where GU Votes supplies stamped envelopes and a ballot request dropbox. The boxes’ contents are collected every night and mailed the next business day.

Straky emphasized that despite all of GU Votes’ efforts, there are limitations to what they can do. Most states require that absentee ballots be put directly in official mail boxes, not dormitory dropboxes. Straky recommends using the blue USPS collection boxes across from the front gates.

Before coming to Georgetown, Caroline Coopersmith (COL ’22) voted in-person in two elections in her hometown of College Station, Texas. After she tried to vote absentee this year, she described her frustration with the process: “I requested my ballot online, and they sent something to the address I gave them,” she said. “But once I opened it, I realized it was just a form saying, ‘I want my absentee ballot.’”

Once Coopersmith completed the form, she struggled to figure out what to do with it. The materials didn’t include the return address and wouldn’t fit in a prestamped envelope from GU Votes, so Coopersmith had to supply her own, which she didn’t immediately know where to find on campus.

Over the summer, a focus group of college students organized by the Fairfax County government concluded that many students don’t vote because they don’t know where to buy postage stamps to return their ballots.

Beyond stamps, several states also require students to get their absentee ballots or request forms notarized. There are several notaries on Georgetown’s campus, including in the GOCard office and the Business Office of the Planning and Facilities Management department in Harbin 103, both of whose services are available by appointment.

“I view requiring notarization of documents to vote as an undue burden,” Ray Shiu, associate director of the Georgetown Center for Social Justice, wrote in an email to the Voice. “Public notaries are allowed to charge up to $5.00 for each signature they notarize. I believe any financial barrier to voting is an undue burden on voters.”

“I knew I had to get it early, but I thought a month in advance was early enough.”

But even meeting the requirements does not guarantee that a potential voter will be able to cast a ballot. Alexandra Rimoldi (MSB ’19) is from Las Vegas, Nevada. She requested her absentee ballot for the 2016 presidential election weeks in advance of the deadline.

“I was always ahead of it, I got the emails and everything to tell me what was going on and when the deadlines were,” she said. “I thought I had plenty of time. The election was coming up and I didn’t have my ballot in the mail, and I was thinking, well maybe it’s hard because the university with mail is always slow.”

But election day arrived, and Rimoldi still didn’t have her absentee ballot. Two weeks after the fact, it arrived in the mail.

“I knew I had to get it early,” she said. “But I thought a month in advance was early enough.”

Sean Berman (SFS ’19), from Henderson, Nevada, had a similar experience trying to vote in the 2018 Democratic primary. He requested his ballot a month ahead of election day and had it sent to a former colleague’s D.C. residence to avoid using the university mail system. Berman confirmed through his county election department’s website that his ballot had been sent, but it never showed up in the mail. Both Berman and Rimoldi emphasized that their experiences voting absentee stood in stark contrast to their positive experiences voting in person at home.

Sam Seitz (SFS ’19), who is from Atlanta, Georgia, also had trouble getting a ballot during the 2016 election. “It was my first time being old enough to vote. I mailed in the request for an absentee ballot and just never received anything back,” Seitz said. “I don’t know what happened, I don’t know if it got lost in the mail, or I did something wrong.”

Seitz wasn’t able to vote in 2016.

Three states—Oregon, Washington, and Colorado—have implemented a system known as Universal Vote-by-Mail, or UVBM, which may ameliorate some problems with absentee voting. In those states, all registered voters receive a ballot in the mail which they can return either by mail or in person.

Phil Keisling, Oregon’s Secretary of State from 1991 to 1999, was the architect of the state’s system, and currently studies UVBM at Portland State University. His findings suggest that UVBM may help college students to vote. In a 2016 article in Washington Monthly, Keisling wrote, “In states with UVBM, turnout among younger voters (those from 18 to 34) is dramatically higher—double or more the rate in non-UVBM states.”

Hailing from Portland, Oregon, Cory Richardson (COL ’19) said that the state’s UVBM system means voting in state and voting absentee are nearly identical processes: “You fill out your ballot, and you stick a stamp on it, and you send it in from your house,” Richardson said. “They want to make it as easy as possible for someone to find time to vote.”

Students may also opt to vote locally. D.C. allows for sameday voter registration for all eligible voters, which includes Hoyas living on or around campus.

“If it’s 5:00 on election day and you want to vote, you can,” Straky said. “You need to provide proof of residence, which would be the one big barrier to Georgetown students, but you can get that from the registrar’s office if you live on campus. If you live off campus, you can take any utility bill or anything like that.”

The Georgetown neighborhood falls squarely in the sixth precinct, for which the local polling place is Duke Ellington High School, at the corner of 35th St. and Reservoir Rd. This is a change from 2016, when the polling place was the Georgetown Neighborhood Library.

Students headed to the polls in Georgetown should be prepared for it to take some time. In 2016, when Rimoldi hadn’t received her ballot by election day, she headed over to the Neighborhood Library to vote in the District—where she encountered a two-hour line.

Despite the difficulties, Straky believes that voting is one of the most important ways Georgetown students can effect change in the world. “If you want policy change on securing Second Amendment rights, or stricter environmental standards, your best way to do that is through voting. There are ballot initiatives all over the country that really do rest on the voice of the people,” he said.

“In a country where we still don’t have true suffrage for everyone where there are so many restrictions on voting, I think it’s important to exercise your right when you can.”

October 26, 2018

LEISURE

14

The Language Archive Grapples with the Hardest Words to Say

The voices of all the students involved in the making of The Language Archive, from the actors and costume designers to the producers and light directors, weave together and emanate throughout the theater, each one speaking the words “I love you” in a different dying language. The tape, constructed by the play’s sound designer, Shane Quinn (COL ’19), expresses the words that the characters cannot. Georgetown University’s Nomadic Theatre tackles the challenges surrounding honesty and letting go in their rendition of Julia Cho’s The Language Archive, with showings Friday, Oct. 26 and Saturday, Oct. 27 in the Village C Theater. The show cleverly entertains while simultaneously imparting the value of language in maintaining relationships.

“The Language Archive is a play about language, loneliness, love. The way that we talk to one another, the way that we are there for one another,” said Matthew Phillips (COL ’22), who plays the main character, a linguist named George.

George has devoted his life to preventing the disappearance of dying languages, while letting his personal life turn to disarray. His marriage with Mary (Ashanee Kottage, SFS ’22) is disintegrating before him. He remains oblivious to his doting assistant Emma’s (Madison Carter, COL ’21) love for him.

And despite putting his soul into his linguistic endeavors, his work life is at a standstill.

His latest project is documenting a disappearing tongue through the study of a married couple, the last living speakers of the language. Before George can proceed, he has to intervene in the couple’s quarrels because when they are angry at each other they exclusively speak in English, reserving their native language for words of love. They explain that the English language is best suited for expressing anger, as American culture is inherently resentful to them. Allison Lane (COL ’19) and Divij Mullick (MSB ’22), who play the couple, Alta and Resten, skillfully transition between moments of vicious arguments to the characters’ underlying love for one another.

The visuals of the performance tell a story in themselves.

In the first act, the stage is divided between George’s home and his lab, where he records the dying languages. The setup blends his two worlds together and reflects his difficulty in separating his work from the rest of his life. After intermission, George’s home is replaced by Mary’s bakery, where she works after leaving him, a physical manifestation of George’s loss of home on stage.

While Alta and Resten save their own language for words of love, George cannot express his own feelings of love with Mary in their shared tongue. Even though George speaks many real languages, he can only say “I love you” to her in a

Photos: Nomadic Theatre

fictional one. It’s as if his love for her no longer inhabits the real world, but rather an imagined one that persists only because of the longevity and comfort of their relationship.

A play about fabricated married couples may feel far from the Georgetown undergraduate experience, but many of its topics speak to the everyday human reality that all people share.

“I think George is kind of ubiquitous; he’s kind of every man. We all struggle to communicate, George just happens to do it in very specific, big, theatricalized ways. But he’s a very well-intentioned man who sometimes struggles,” said Phillips.

George desperately wants to save dying languages because he believes that when a language disappears, the culture it belongs to does as well. He views his marriage in a similar way, believing that if he can only tell Mary he loves her, he will save their relationship. Alta, meanwhile, argues that culture is what creates language: If a language is dying, the culture has long been dying, too. In her view, George and Mary’s marriage broke first, and their ability to communicate deteriorated after.

“The idea of unrequited love or trying to hold onto a relationship that just isn’t working really can apply to college students. At Georgetown, there’s just so much pressure to do everything right, be the ideal Georgetown student,” said producer Cristin Crowley (MSB ’20). “We all do so much, and we all try to be so perfect at this school. And that’s what these characters are trying to do.”

Awkward moments are scattered throughout the show, reflecting our own uncomfortable experiences. Howev they serve to make its difficult themes more relatable, rather than dilute them. In the beginning, George keeps finding little notes from his wife detailing her doubts about their marriage—hidden between the pages of his book, inside his shirt pocket, and even at the bottom of his tea. Mary refuses to own up to them when confronted because saying them out loud is too painful.

Although the situation is serious, it’s restorative to laugh because we recognize our own reluctance to confront others.

Maybe not everyone would go to Mary’s extremes to avoid confrontation with her husband, but we all struggle to be open and find the right words.

During a highpoint of the play, George witnesses Alta and Resten curse each other out of existence, and then refuse to acknowledge one another. He’s frustrated, wondering how they could be stubborn enough to let their language die with their love. Alta unfolds one of the main takeaways of the play in response: They’ve long known that their language would not survive, and sometimes holding on just brings more pain. Letting go is hard, but sometimes, it’s for the best.

By Panna Gattyan

15

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

Paul Dano’s directorial debut, Wildlife, takes place in smalltown Montana, where forest fires rage in the mountains to the north. The inferno’s smoke appears almost painterly against the blue of the sky—its terror diminished by the more palpable unraveling of the Brinson family, which comes on slowly and then all at once. We’ve seen the decay of the American Dream before, but Dano focuses less on the theme and more on the characters themselves, dipping into each of their psyches and imbuing Wildlife with the same sense of quiet unease that he brings to his own performances.

Dano and Zoe Kazan adapted the script for Wildlife from Richard Ford’s 1990 novel of the same name. Set in the 1960s, the film follows the Brinson family, made up of parents Jeanne (Carey Mulligan) and Jerry (Jake Gyllenhaal) and their teenage son Joe (Ed Oxenbould). One can sense the tension between Jeanne and Jerry immediately; they bicker over whether Joe should play football and which math class he should be in.

Then, within the first few scenes, Jerry loses his job as a golf pro at a country club. In an obvious attempt to force patience, Jeanne smiles and plays the part of the coiffed housewife, both offering solutions and soothing Jerry’s ego. But the family has been uprooted before as a result of Jerry’s inability to keep a job.

Young Joe’s stress is particularly evident, nervously asking his mother if they’ll have to relocate yet again.

The fragile balance of the family shatters when Jerry abruptly joins the low-paying firefighting group working in the mountains, essentially abandoning his wife and son. Jeanne’s carefully constructed placidity explodes into rage with Jerry’s announcement—for her, more than Jerry’s job hinges on his decision to leave. Dano creates spare compositions that possess a stark beauty without any showiness. Particularly striking is the series of shots when Jeanne asks Joe if he wants to skip school, and she drives him to where the fire is burning. Both of them look on, half in awe and half stricken. It’s unclear if their glassy eyes are due to emotion or the wafts of smoke. “You have to see what he [Jerry] finds so important. Sad we both can’t sympathize

with him,” Jeanne says to Joe, face hardening as she gets back into the car. The car winds along empty, long roads, the winter sunlight glinting dully off of it. Jerry has abandoned Jeanne and Joe in a place on the edge of desolation.

Wildlife draws its name from the wild animals fleeing the flames. Like them, the members of the Brinson family long to cut loose and run. Retreating from the disappointed gaze of his family and his repeated failures to restart, Jerry runs toward the fire instead of away. Jeanne itches to escape the realm of domesticity and the only momentary love of her husband. Caught in the fallout, Joe struggles and fails to rehabilitate their fractured love. The film is not driven by dialogue but by the silences between. Dano is unafraid to linger there, often using close-ups of Jeanne, Joe, and Jerry to convey their emotions rather than words.

Gyllenhaal plays Jerry with restlessness. This is a man floundering for some sense of himself, desperate to maintain his ego. However, it is Mulligan who transfixes us—fluctuating between sexy charm and a barely contained, amorphous fury that seeps through the cracks of her polished facade. She is difficult to empathize with but harder still to condemn. In the film’s central episode, Jeanne takes Joe to the house of the wealthy, older divorcee, Mr. Miller (Bill Camp), whom she’s set her sights on.

Drunkenly cha-cha-ing around the dining table in her green “desperation” dress (as she tells Joe earlier in the night), she openly flirts with Miller in front of her quietly seething son.

She completely forgets about him, even though he’s right there.

LEISURE

On the Edge of Desolation, Wildlife’s Characters Ache to Flee

Though we’re captivated by Mulligan, we experience Wildlife through Joe’s eyes. Oxenbould plays Joe hushed and wary, his 14-year-old face already mature. It is more difficult to access his emotions than those of Jeanne and Jerry. Always the observer, Joe slips into being the voyeur: He lovingly watches his parents banter through the crack in his bedroom door and later can only stare in quiet horror as Miller walks naked from the bathroom back into his mother’s room. Thus, Joe’s part-time job at a portraiture studio is fitting. His boss tells him that people come to the studio so that they can “remember something good that’s happening in their lives. They want to make that moment permanent.” Joe watches on as people capture their happy moments—and his own disintegrate.

Fourteen is an age when you are old enough to realize that your parents can be selfish. Jeanne and Jerry drag Joe into the middle of their confrontations but lose sight of his own anguish.

The soft sunlight flickering through the trees as Jerry and Joe play catch at the beginning of Wildlife does not align with the tone of the film’s bittersweet end. Perhaps the ephemerality of moments like that are best explained by Joe’s last portrait—capturing a shared look between Jeanne and Jerry, full of longing and full of pain, lasting only seconds.

Caitlin Mannering

All photos courtesy of IMDb