The Georgetown Voice October 27, 2017

VOICE The Georgetown

October 27, 2017

SUITED FOR THE ARTS Finding Space for Georgetown’s Creative Communities page 8

2

OCTOBER 27, 2017

staff

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

editor-in-chief Caitlyn cobb Managing editor alex boyd

Volume 50 • Issue 6

news

executive editor lilah burke Features editor jonny amon assistant features editor caitlin mannering news editor jake maher assistant news editors michael coyne, noah telerski

culture

executive editor mike bergin Leisure editor devon o’dwyer assistant leisure editors brynn furey, ryan mazalatis, mary mei Sports editor tyler pearre Assistant sports editor beth cunniff, jorge deneve

opinion

“coloring The campus” by Aicha nzie Original photo used with permission from Alexandra Giacchino

contents

Editorials

4

Bridging the Distance of Friendship Jonny Amon

5

Fear and Love in Beirut: Profile of a Syrian Street Musician Austin Corona

6

Upon Turning 20 Julia Pinney

7

Finding Space for Georgetown’s Creative Communities Lizz Pankova

8

Georgetown Cheer Team Members Speak Out Claire Goldberg

10

Women’s and Gender Studies Program Turns 30 Alice Ye

12

halftime

Leisure editor emily Jaster assistant leisure editors claire goldberg, julia pinney, eman rahman Sports editor jon block Assistant sports editor phillip steuber

design

Executive editor alli kaufman Spread editor jack townsend Photo Editor Isabel lord cover Editor aicha nzie assistant design editors jake glass, keeho kang, lizz pankova, rachel zeide Staff designers Egan Barnitt, Delaney Corcoran, abhichana Naiyapatana

copy

copy chief audrey bischoff assistant Copy editors Leanne Almeida, Isabel Paret editors Mya Allen, Mica Bernhard, Sienna Brancato, Nancy Garrett, Caroline Geithner, Anna Gloor, Claire Goldberg, Isabel Lord, Julia Pinney, Cade SHore, Hannah Song, Jack Townsend

online

Nomadic Theatre Balances Comedy and Domestic Violence in Exit, Pursued By a Bear Mary Mei

13

An Exploration of Forensics Pioneer Frances Glessner Lee Monica Cho

14

“What Absence is Made Of ” Proves hat Less is More Graham Piro

15

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 Georgeton Voice, unless otherwise indicated.

Executive editor graham piro voices editor cassidy jensen Assistant Voices editors sienna Brancato, rebecca zaritsky Editorial Board Chair chris dunn Editorial Board jon block, caitlyn cobb, Nick Gavio, Alli Kaufman, Caitlin Mannering, GRAHAM PIRO, Isaiah seibert, PHillip Steuber

editor@georgetownvoice.com Leavey 424 Box 571066 Georgetown University Washington, DC 20057

website editor Anne Freeman Podcast editor nick gavio assistant podcast editor Gustav Honl-stuenkel social media editor mica bernhard

business

general manager naiara parker assistant manager of alumni outreach anna gloor assistant manager of accounts & sales karis hawkins

support

contributing editors emma francois, danielle hewitt, kaei li, isaiah seibert associate editors margaret Gach, amy guay, parker houston, alex lewontin, anne paglia, lindsay reilly

Staff writers

Umar asif, Teddy Carey, MOnica Cho, Rachel Cohen, Damien Garcia, jake gilstrap, jayan hanson, tristan lee, Brynne Long, Shadia Milon, Santul nerkar, Brice russo, Katya Schwenk, cam smith, aaron wolf

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

3

READ & Listen ON GEORGETOWNVOICE.COM Sports Women’s Soccer Held to Scoreless Draw at Butler, Remains atop Big East Table

The Georgetown women’s soccer team drew with Big East rival No. 22 Butler 0-0 on the road on Sunday. Jorge DeNeve recaps the action and explains the draw’s implications for Big East Tournament seeding.

News Students Push for Expanded Women’s and Gender Studies Program Rachel Cohen covers the student campaign to expand the Women’s and Gender Studies program’s available resources. Read more to understand GUSA’s upcoming decision and the future of the program.

leisure Bridesmaids Isn’t a Comedy Halftime leisure writer Rachel Lock reexamines 2011’s Bridesmaids, arguing that the film’s branding oversimplifies the wider story. Lock highlights the film beyond the funny moments, telling an overlooked story about failure, broken friendships, and a downward spiral.

podcasts The Reel Pulpit: Blade Runner 2049 On this week’s episode of The Reel Pulpit, host Graham Piro welcomes Jon Block, Sienna Brancato, and Eman Rahman to discuss Denis Villanueve’s long-anticipated sequel to the 1982 classic.

OCTOBER 27, 2017

EDITORIALS

4

D.C. Wharf Brings up Familiar Problems Two weeks ago, phase one of the District of Columbia’s Wharf revitalization project in the southwest quadrant of the city opened to the public. The project, which has been labeled “the biggest development in D.C.’s history,” includes plans to construct a marina, a concert venue, restaurants, residences, and other businesses in two phases, the second of which is projected to be completed by 2022. The Wharf project illustrates many of this editorial board’s concerns with the current state of District politics, including allegations of corruption, an inability to react to the area’s housing crisis, and ongoing gentrification in the city.

A 2013 investigation by local radio station WAMU into recent District property sales found that the land used for the Wharf project was formerly public land valued by appraisers at roughly $95 million but was sold to Paramount Development Corporation for a meager $1. On top of charging less than market price for the land, the D.C. government provided the company an additional $200 million in public subsidies and tax breaks. Paramount is run by Ben Soto, the campaign treasurer for both former Mayor Adrian Fenty and incumbent Mayor Muriel Bowser.

These two themes—the undervaluation of property and political connectedness of developers—are consistently seen in the District’s handling of contracts for development projects. The property for these projects is often exchanged with developers at prices drastically under the market-rate, at times on the order of tens of dollars to millions of dollars as in the case of the Wharf property, and the companies awarded contracts by the District regularly donate hefty sums of money to public officials. According to WAMU’s investigation, the five largest giveaways by the D.C. government, in terms of property sales to development companies under appraised prices, have been granted to the five corporations

that donated the largest amounts of money to the political campaigns of D.C. public officials over the past decade.

We have previously written about the Bowser campaign’s questionable financial connections to developers accused of acting as slumlords, with Soto playing a large role in many of our concerns. We are extremely concerned about Soto’s ownership of the company granted the Wharf contract, which at best reflects issues with the city’s current system of political campaign contributions and at worst exhibits clear corruption on the part of the D.C. government.

This editorial board also finds the Wharf ’s final sale price to be borderline insulting to the residents of southwest D.C., especially in light of the ongoing affordable housing crisis occurring across the city. Adding the Wharf ’s property valuation and the public subsidies provided to Paramount for the land’s development totals hundreds of millions of dollars in funds that the District could have generated with the property.

A study released by the D.C. Fiscal Policy Institute last year explained that over 80 percent of low-income families in the city pay an unaffordable price for their housing. Even if the land given to Paramount for the D.C. Wharf was not itself used to build more affordable housing options, acquiring something even marginally closer to the market-rate price than the absurd sale price the land could have provided funding to be reinvested throughout the city. For a city facing a shortage of affordable housing options, giving away such a large amount of money that could have been used in a more effective manner seems startlingly misguided.

The $200 million in subsidies provided to Paramount is a particularly ineffective use of public money. Out of the full 74 acres of land and water space developed in the Wharf project, only ten are allotted as public space. In the view of

this editorial board, the trend around this country of using public money to fund private investments is dangerous, and city governments and their citizens should be extremely wary of such projects.

Additionally, developing the D.C. Wharf will contribute to the process of gentrification in the southwest quadrant of the District. Today the city is seeing the most construction activity it has in decades, but the D.C. Fiscal Policy Institute study notes that the city’s investments are “not targeting the households in the greatest need.” The value of properties surrounding the Wharf will rise by virtue of the development, eventually pricing out low-income homeowners and renters who reside in the general area of the project, many of whom are African-American. Considering the scarcity of affordable housing options that already exists and the trend of gentrification that occurred after the similar development of southeast D.C. during the construction of Nationals Park, the decision to price more low-income residents out of their homes is worrisome.

Development projects must be designed and implemented with the support of local communities, which according to Wharf area residents quoted in AFRO did not occur. The fact that local residents, especially poorer residents of color, feel unheard by the city is alarming and only contributes to the city’s ongoing gentrification crisis.

The myriad of problems surrounding the Wharf project reflect the current state of D.C. politics and housing policy.

The city must change its approach to development projects if it hopes to improve the current state of affordable housing in the District.

Admissions Equity Requires Broader Consideration Last week, the Hoya’s editorial board argued that, because it leaves qualified Asian-American students disadvantaged when applying to Georgetown and other elite colleges and universities, race-based affirmative action should no longer be included in the university’s admissions policy. This editorial board applauds attempts to address obstacles facing Asian-American students, and we hope this conversation continues and becomes a larger part of the discussion around college admissions practices. However, we disagree that ending affirmative action is the proper way to solve this problem. College admissions works against Asian-American applicants in many ways, and discussions on the subject must attempt to deal with each of them.

Race-based affirmative action, which is any policy which favors applicants from underrepresented groups in order to create a more representative student body, is one of the ways Asian-Americans face a steeper hill to climb. The organization Students for Fair Admissions is suing Harvard over this very issue. The organization alleges that Harvard’s policies illegally amount to a quota system which is detrimental

to Asian-American applicants. One Princeton study found that, on the 1600-point scale, Asian-American students must score 140 points higher on the SAT than white students, and 590 points higher than black students, to be “considered equals in the application process.”

Such a discrepancy is unfair. However, discussion about this topic is often too simplistic for the complexities of affirmative action. To borrow some of the arguments made by Alia Wong in the Atlantic, the term “Asian-American” captures a gigantic swath of people. For example, members of the Hmong ethnic group, many of whom came to the United States in the 1970s following violence in Southeast Asia, experience poverty at a rate higher than and graduate college less often than African-Americans. “Asian-American” is far too complex a concept for the simple analysis advanced by, for instance, Students for Fair Admissions, and certain historically disadvantaged groups like the Hmong may be further disadvantaged under these analyses.

When discussing the challenges faced by minorities in college admissions, we must examine all admissions policies

currently at play. Legacy admissions, the process by which the children of alumni are given preferential treatment during the application process, gives undue benefits to the children of Georgetown’s alumni, and has been criticized for advantaging disproportionately white applicants.

We do not deny that discussing the impact of policies like affirmative action on all groups is valuable. It is, however, imperative that such conversations cover all of the admissions policies that shape campus communities. Racebased affirmative action is one such policy which functions as a tool to promote equity for historically underrepresented groups. Another exists to admit legacy applicants for the university’s financial benefit and for the continuation of family traditions. As our community discusses race-based affirmative action—which we continue to support—we must strive to find the nuance in the issue. Legacy admissions must be a part of our conversations, and, if we are truly committed to a more equitable Georgetown, we must double down on reducing admissions bias wherever we find it.

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

5

The day they left for college, two of my friends and I met at a Chick-fil-A next to the highway. During high school, the suburban chain had served as a base, an easy place to meet up and eat an inexpensive meal. As we sat and ate our chicken sandwiches, recounting memories of the last few years, an ominous cloud hung over us. To the average customer, we were the standard group: three teenagers inhaling waffle fries. But inside our conversation, things were not so normal. Soon they would start their next adventure as freshmen at Florida State, but it would no longer be with me.

Sitting across from them, I asked myself what would happen to our relationship. How could I replicate this friendship with anyone else?

When I arrived at Georgetown a few weeks later, I realized that it would take me much longer than I’d thought to find people who could fill the role of my friends at home. In excited preparation for my first year, I had confidently purchased tickets for the Landmark Music Festival, something that seemed the most quintessentially D.C. thing I could do. I had told myself that there was no way that, by the end of September, I would not have friends to attend the festival with me.

When that weekend came, I found myself walking to the festival alone. I told myself that despite being by myself, it might still be fun, and that I could enjoy some of my favorite

artists even without people to sing the songs with me. About halfway through Wale’s first set, I began to doubt that idea.

While watching people laugh and dance with their friends, I imagined myself, currently nodding slowly along with the beat, dancing and yelling lyrics with my friends at home. The friends that loved music, that loved having a good time, and that, most importantly, loved me.

At one point during the set, a man approached me and tried to relieve me from my misery. He pointed at his wristband and said, “Hey, I’ll sell you my wristband for tomorrow for five dollars. Maybe you can bring a friend.”

Internally, I wondered if it was that obvious: if I looked as empty on the outside as I felt on the inside. I laughed and lied that friends were on the way, that I had arrived early to listen to my favorite artist.

Over the first few months, I found that at Georgetown, there were many people who shared my interests. We read the same publications, followed the same sports, and enjoyed the same music. I had found people like me. At Georgetown, people liked to discuss politics, laugh at Pixelated Boat tweets, and debate the top 10 basketball players of all time, something I had never experienced with my friends back home.

But something was always missing. No matter how similar our interests were, there was never the same

connection to those at home. Maybe I hadn’t given it enough time, or maybe my personality was too different from the typical Georgetown student. When I returned home for Thanksgiving that first November, I had never been more thankful. My friends had waited outside my home, ready to offer hugs and recount stories of their first semester in college. No matter how long we had been apart, we acted as if it was only a few days rather than a few months.

One friend in particular, Roshan, set an unusually high bar. For the first few articles I wrote for the Voice, he texted me and discussed some of the points that I had brought up. Later, when we were together at home in Florida, he referenced a joke I had made on one of the podcasts we had recently recorded. He had listened to each podcast that I had participated in, something that not even my mother had done.

It is difficult to find people who are similar to the boys back home. We share some of the most important life memories—proms, the college admission process, high school graduation—that no one else will be able to replicate. Even the most basic memories, such as the first drive around town with no real destination in mind, become emblematic of the coming-of-age process. Maybe I limited my opportunities to find people at Georgetown because of the comparison to my high school friends, always expecting people to have the same sense of humor or opinions. Maybe I should have spent less time texting my friends and making plans for the second we were all back home. But in that first semester, they were an important part of my college experience, even 900 miles away.

Eventually, I began to find my place. As with many things, time manages to smooth over much of the initial anxiety. I found people to do simple things with. Leo’s went from a solemn meal in the corner with headphones to an exciting conversation with others. Friday nights changed from FIFA alone to hanging out and spending time with a group of friends. Friends at college were different, but I began to enjoy the small moments again.

Things at home eventually changed, too. Texts and stories stopped being shared as frequently. At the same time, I began to feel more at home at Georgetown and became better friends with the people I had met. When I see my friends at home now, I see that they have changed too.

Still, I look forward to seeing them the next time we meet at Chick-fil-A. We might discuss different things now, but they are still the same people. We’ll exchange our stories and I will know that the friends I am meant to have will adapt and change with me—and will stay by my side no matter what.

Jonny Amon is a Junior in the MSB. He is the Features Editor of the Voice.

Keeho Kang

VOICES

Bridging the Distance of Friendship

Carring on: Voice Staffers Speak

VOICES

6

OCTOBER 27, 2017

Upon Turning 20 It was Oct. 6, the day before I turned 20. Suddenly, the urge to do something crazy, something teenager-y, came over me. I think what’s odd about how I felt in that moment is that I was mourning something I feel I never had.

I’ve never felt like a teenager, or at least what I think a teenager should feel like. I’ve had too much to worry about.

When I was 13, only weeks away from my 14th birthday, I was admitted into the hospital with a stomach ache that wouldn’t go away. I’d always had a bit of a funny stomach growing up, which is why I think neither me nor my parents were too alarmed by the intermittent stomach aches I’d been having all of August. That is, until one of them wouldn’t go away.

I ended up spending nearly five and a half weeks in the hospital. It started with six surgeons walking into my tiny hospital room, never a good sign, and telling my parents and me that my test results were alarming and they would like to do an exploratory surgery that evening.

I lost half of my small intestine that night.

My aunt laughs when I say that. “Lost it, like misplaced it? Where did it go, Julia?” She was my favorite visitor, always bringing six magazines with her because she got too excited in the gift shop and couldn’t decide which one to buy.

You’re not supposed to have to come to terms with the world as simultaneously beautiful and cruelly unfair when you’re 14.

That night, I also lost my teenage years. It soon became clear that my friends just didn’t get it. They couldn’t comprehend how I had changed as a result of my time in the hospital. I don’t blame them. You’re not supposed to have to come to terms with the world as simultaneously beautiful and cruelly unfair when you’re 14.

You’re supposed to worry about your geometry test or if someone cute will ask you to Homecoming.

I left the hospital with a PICC line, a peripherally inserted central catheter. It provided me with the nutrition that my compromised small intestine couldn’t give me for the time being. With a PICC line comes

great responsibility. Making sure you’re available every Monday afternoon to get the dressing changed. Watching out for seventh graders sprinting blindly around corners who could potentially hit your arm and break the line.

Becoming versed in what an upstream occlusion is and how to fix it. Explaining to those brave enough to ask why you have a sock on your arm.

My eighth and ninth grade years were defined by monthly drives to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, weight checks, dressing changes, random days my jeans wouldn’t fit because I was so bloated, remembering to take medications, calling the pharmacy for refills, charting my symptoms to gauge if I was on the right medications, eating frequent small meals, remembering not to eat spinach, trying to not eat chocolate, and fatigue. A whole lot of fatigue.

It was only in tenth grade, once my health stabilized a bit, that I could let myself comprehend what had happened to me. I think this is common. I couldn’t process the emotional impact of my experience until my body was physically okay again. It was at this point that it hit me how much I didn’t feel like a teenager.

I was a camp counselor this summer, and my first group of girls were 14. When I told a friend about my summer, he said counseling 14-year-olds must have been such a powerful experience, to recall the nervousness of entering high school and making friends and shepherd a group of girls through those feelings. Instead, I found the experience anxiety-provoking. It reminded me of how much I never felt 14.

What does it mean to be a teenager? What does it mean to be an adult? Is there a line you cross at some point in the transition from one to the other?

I mourn the teenage years I never had. I wish I could have been the person who could agree to a spontaneous road trip and not spin into a fit of worry about where I would use the bathroom and what I would eat—the person who could go to the grocery store and eat an entire container of cookie dough with my best friend without thinking about the ramifications it would have on my body the next day. I wish I could have gone to a high school party, just once, and had a beer. But I couldn’t drink. The antibiotics I was on, one of which they give to alcoholics to make them ill when they drink, made sure of that. I wish I could have still believed that the world was a simple place.

Teenagers think they’re invincible, and I was clearly not. I struggled to come to terms with the fact that life was capable of knocking me completely off my feet and forcing me to clamber to regain my footing. I had to work on trusting life again. It’s something I still struggle with.

I am reluctant to spin my experience into a sunshine-

and-rainbows tale of overcoming struggle, because it neglects the moments throughout the past few years when I’ve thought to myself, “Wow, this freaking sucks.” The moments when I had to politely explain to the person in front of me why I needed to cut them in the bathroom line, or when I felt a twinge in my back and the fear that followed that I might have another kidney stone.

What does it mean to be a teenager?

What does it mean to be an adult? Is there a line you cross at some point in the transition from one to the other?

In a strange way I’m glad this is part of my story.

I can’t imagine who I would be without it. I have the perspective that few things are the end of the world. I love my parents in a way that I wonder if others do: not just in a “they’re my parents of course I love them” kind of way, but a way that reflects the nights they spent by my hospital bedside sleeping on a cracking plastic couch.

And I choose people.

“Choose people” has been my New Year’s resolution since I was 14 years old. It means to never let life get so crazy that I let connection take a backseat in my life. I had to learn way too young that each of us will fall, whether through illness, a parents’ divorce, failing a class, or the death of a family member. I know I’ll fall again one day, and I’ve learned the the way to get through it is to have people to hold onto when I do.

Regardless of how overwhelmed I feel by life’s daily commitments, I try to remember to choose people, to care for people when they are low so hopefully they will do the same for me. I’m okay having lost a few years of teenage naivete to gain this outlook. It guides me as l step into my twenties.

Julia Pinney is a Sophomore in the College. She is an assistant Halftime Leisure Editor for the Voice.

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

7

Abhichana Naiyapatana

I stare at the grounds of Turkish coffee in my cup.

The sunset bleeds down crumbling facades 100 miles from bleeding bodies in Syria. Beirut hums with evening fervor while I sit in Fadi Jahjah’s apartment, eating peanut M&M’s and listening to his life story.

“How do you feel when you play music on the street?” I ask.

He pops an M&M in his mouth, crunches it softly, and says: “When I play music I feel like I belong … I don’t feel like I’m a stranger anymore. I’m with the wave of moving people. I’m with them.”

Fadi is far from my media-borne image of Syrian refugees: desperate families clinging to sinking boats in the Aegean or wasting away under tents in Turkey. His is a story from the psycho-emotional wreckage of the most dehumanizing socio-political slaughterhouse in the Middle East. He’s also just a young street musician.

I spent the summer studying Arabic in Beirut, and first met Fadi one night when I stopped to hear him play. I never really knew him, though, until a month later, when I passed him on Hamra Street while walking home. His electric oud (a Middle Eastern string instrument played like a guitar) was slung over one shoulder, and his amp hung loosely in his opposite hand. I reached out to pat his arm, and he turned, forcing a smile.

“They kicked me off the street, man—the cops,” he said, and he continued in a diatribe about his life, political status, government, family, and financial struggles.

Fadi’s features draw stares; well-cut, jet black hair that wraps around his face in a thick beard and a sharp nose between very blue eyes. His English is occasionally flawed, though passionate and descriptive. He spends his days sitting in Beirut’s bars and sidewalks playing music with his small amp and oud. After each song, he tells us about its history or enthusiastically describes its genre, eyes wide and gleeful, vulgarity peppering each sentence. He could easily be a college friend of mine.

Hearing him speak, I couldn’t escape the notion that Fadi’s feelings were familiar, vivid, and relatable to my own.

His experiences as a refugee implied a gulf between us, but his thoughts and sentiments as a young man resonated with me. For the first time, this socio-political crisis felt personal, so I asked him for an interview.

In his flat, I ask him about his childhood. Fadi grew up in a snowbound hamlet in a house built by his mother and torn apart by his bipolar father. He describes the warmth of the home as it drained with his father’s descent into violent fits of abuse. “Then all the intimacy was gone from the house,” he says. Fadi, his sister, and their mother left the house. He was a refugee before the first bombs fell in Damascus.

As Fadi’s home fell apart, so did his country. Factions materialized, and heat began to build under the pressure of an inhumane regime. Syria, as Fadi describes it, had become a processing plant: branding, labeling, checking, and directing its citizens. As with some other nations, Syria even dictates the subject each student can study depending on exam scores. Half-hour bus rides stretched to four hours due to consistent, humiliating ID checks, and soldiers grew wary and defensive, mistreating citizens without hesitation. “There was something that didn’t respect humanity, something that didn’t respect each human that makes art,” he says.

“Government services were growing but people were starving,” he explains. “We used to publish posters … go out and shout”. But Fadi stopped at violence: “I couldn’t handle the idea of taking a gun and killing someone.” And through all of this, Fadi was a student, like me, struggling with the decision of vocation.

Fadi went to school in Damascus to study orthodontics, but his studies became an excuse to go to the city, explore, and play music. There his uncle gave him the oud that would become his lifeline. “I loved that instrument,” he says. We both look over at his current oud, an electronic model with no belly and an elegant wooden frame.

We talk about Beirut. He chose Lebanon because it was the closest and cheapest option. He tells me he loves the people. He loves the diversity and the opportunity to meet others who understand him. I ask him if the multitudes of strangers leave him with more time to think, unencumbered by personal interactions. He nods. “Not as many people know me,” he says. Then he sighs, and I shudder at his next comments.

“I feel a lack of safety, although I’m not afraid—I know that I can pass through it somehow, whatever happens. But sometimes when I feel pain in my leg, or, in my chest … I feel afraid because it’s not my country, and it’s too expensive. So

I feel like I’m afraid of what could happen because I’m not in my country, and I’m not protected. I’m not surrounded by people who know me or who can help me.”

He pauses for a moment. I don’t know how to respond, so I blankly contemplate the crushed bag of M&Ms. He continues.

“I feel depression. I feel like I’m devastated but I don’t have time to be devastated ... Actually, I miss when I used to sit for two weeks and feel devastation. I don’t have that time here. I have to stay in movement so I can pay the rent. Maybe it’s not safe [in Syria]. Maybe there are explosions. But [I had] time and space.”

Those words echoed in my mind for weeks, but they felt natural. I never flinched at their rawness.

Fadi and I are the same age. I first left home to go to boarding school in Massachusetts—he left to survive in Beirut with depression and a history of filial and political chaos. We both know what a full schedule feels like, we both know something about depression, and while his story took place half-way around the world, the emotions feel linked. We both pine for home, and as I take comfort in writing, Fadi resorts to music. For him, the oud is the warm house of his childhood, resuscitated in the bedlam of the Middle East.

Both Fadi and I have struggled to define ourselves as young men in changing worlds. We have both celebrated canceled school days and torrents of snow. He finds his independence suffocating and intimidating, something that I can relate to, although to a much different degree.

I don’t know what I want for a career, and Fadi doesn’t know if his country will ever be whole again, and while we face different problems, we share a common sense of uncertainty. We share the uncertainty of being 20-year-old men facing 80 years of life in a world we don’t yet understand.

Fadi reaches for the bag of M&M’s, pours the last two into his hand, and offers them to me. I take one, and we both smile. We both feel a little sorry that the bag is empty.

Austin Corona is a Sophomore in the SFS. He is a writer for the Voice interested in Arabic and the Middle East.

VOICES

Fear and Love in Beirut: Profile of a Syrian Street Musician

OCTOBER 27, 2017

8

By Lizz Pankova

Finding Space for Georgetown's Creative Communities

When Ariel Chu (COL ’18), one of the 12 studio art majors in this year’s graduating class, was deciding where to go to college, she had narrowed it down to two schools: Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA), the 17th best college for art in America according to Niche, or Georgetown University, an elite, international university.

“I visited MICA, and when I talked to the illustration department head he actually suggested I go to Georgetown, and if I didn’t like it I could always come back. Four years later, here I am,” said Chu. Georgetown is primarily known for its excellence in government, business, and foreign service. As a result, other subjects often get overlooked. Despite the art program’s relatively small size and popularity, Georgetown’s overall reputation gives confidence to students such as Chu. “I knew it was a top-notch school with a great reputation, so I just expected it to have a good art program, however small,” she said.

Chu’s expectations were legitimate, considering the existing relationship between art education and academic prestige. Appreciation and exploration of the arts have always been core components of intellectualism and pillars of liberal arts education. Many universities with comparable ranking to Georgetown have actively invested in the artistic development of their student body for many years, evidenced by the size and prominence of their art programs. But Georgetown, while sharing the belief in a holistic model of education, does not measure up when it comes to investing in and cultivating involvement in the arts.

“If you look at other art departments in schools that are around Georgetown’s level in terms of stature and ranking, they’re bigger, they have more money in them, and they have more students taking their classes,” said Mark Keffer (COL ’19), another studio art major.

Al Acres, professor of art history and chair of the art and art history department, explained the department’s relatively belated origins. “In 1967, the Department of Art, Music, and Theater was founded, and only about 10 years ago, art and art history became their own department. That makes us a young art department compared to those in other major research universities, who had them long before that,” he said.

Because of its recent conception, Georgetown’s Department of Art and Art History is small compared to others on campus. It offers a major and minor in studio art and art history for undergraduates and consists of nine full-time faculty members, six of whom are tenured, and 13 part-time professors. In comparison,

schools of Georgetown’s caliber, such as Washington University in St. Louis (WashU), University of Pennsylvania, and Yale University have upwards of 45 faculty members in their art programs.

Some schools, such as WashU also offer other art-related majors like communication design and fashion design.

Another important component of artistic presence on university campuses is the availability of university-owned art, displayed in galleries and college museums. Yale’s all-encompassing art gallery may be the most famous example, featuring works by Peter Paul Rubens, Vincent Van Gogh, Pablo Picasso, and many other renowned artists, but it is not alone. Of the US News and World Report’s top 20 national universities, 15 have art museums with permanent collections. Georgetown is one of the five that does not.

Although it does not have a permanent art museum, Georgetown has displayed seasonal exhibitions and pieces by senior art majors in the Spagnuolo Gallery over the last 15 years. However, as a result of its small size and inconspicuous location on the first floor of the Edmund A. Walsh building, it hasn’t received much attention. In fact, many students don’t even know it exists.

“Faculty over the years hear the student tours going around.

And these families who’ve been touring other universities would ask ‘where is the art gallery?’ and the students always said ‘there isn’t one,’” Acres said.

Professor Acres, who has previously worked at University of Oregon and Princeton, offered some insight as to what led to a strong art presence and education department in peer institutions.

“Very wealthy, old universities, with prominent alumni donors were collecting art by the nineteenth century, and collecting with an eye towards teaching,” he said.

Daniel Eigler-Harding displays his work.

GraphicS Jake Glass Photos isabel LORD

Despite being founded over 200 years ago, Georgetown does not share this long history of wealth and alumni donations, a factor that has given it “a different kind of profile over the years,” according to Acres. For the first century of its existence, Georgetown was a small, religious college, not the internationally-recognized university it is today. According to the university website, only in the 1970s, under the leadership of university presidents Rev. Timothy Healy and then Rev. Leo O’Donovan, did Georgetown “grow from a regional school to one of national prominence.”

This growth refers in part to the Third Century Campaign, a project started by university President Rev. Leo O’Donovan in 1995 in an effort to increase Georgetown’s small endowment.

The campaign was successful in attracting donors, raising $1 billion over the course of 8 years. Nevertheless, at $1.5 billion, Georgetown’s current endowment is still one of the lowest, compared to Notre Dame’s $8.6 billion, UPenn’s $10.1 billion, and Stanford’s $22.2 billion.

A historically small endowment, combined with the prioritization of other projects and liberal arts subject areas, has resulted in a lack of funding for art programs and facilities at Georgetown and an inability to accrue a substantial university art collection, especially as famous art collections have developed nearby.

Albey Miner, the new gallery director, identified Georgetown’s advantageous location as another factor that has contributed to its modest art presence.

“Other university collections had a purpose to teach and create a campus culture that might not have been there geographically. Many prestigious colleges are in quasi-rural areas or small cities, so it was also an amenity to the community to build museums there,” he said.

Georgetown, on the other hand, is located within walking distance of some of the world’s most renowned art museums.

Existing in such an artistically rich, diverse, and vibrant community has relieved the university from personally fulfilling its students’ artistic needs.

However, the lively art scene is hardly what attracts students to Georgetown’s location in the nation’s capital. Government, foreign service, and business consistently draw in freshmen set on becoming senators, ambassadors, and Wall Street CEOs. In this career-oriented, competitive atmosphere, many creative disciplines, not just art, are often forgotten, despite Georgetown’s claim to “cura personalis”—education of the whole person.

9

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

“A lot of people I’ve met here are very focused on what they’ll be doing in future, so they’re taking classes that will lead them to that future, not classes they’re currently interested in,” said Daniel Eigler-Harding (COL ’20), a sophomore on the premed track currently doing an independent study in sculpture.

Even with a pre-professionalism trend, Georgetown has the abilrequirements in philosophy and theology are proof of this power.

“The Problem of God” is a signature part of the Georgetown experience, requiring students to take a break from their professional ambitions to examine their faith and explore the opinions of the class differ, the registrar’s class description boasts that “graduates consistently report that The Problem of God was one of the most important courses that they took during their time at Georgetown.”

The effort to promote interest in philosophy and theology aligns with the priorities of the Society of Jesus, which doesn’t concern itself nearly as much with visual art. Undergraduates are required to take two classes in both theology and philosophy, but only one in the humanities or arts. As a result, many students do not take an art class while on campus.

“What’s really enjoyable about art is that you get to create something with your own hands and see your progress, and I think that’s a really rewarding feeling that is unique to art,” Eigler-Harding said.

As a member of the committee that decides the class requirements for students, Al Acres is well aware that the core curriculum betrays the student body’s ignorance in art. “Right now, art isn’t central to people’s vision of what Georgetown is because it was never a part of the mission or the identity of the university,” Acres said. “But that’s beginning to change,” he added.

Since the founding of the Art, Music, and Theater department in 1967, faculty and student supporters of the arts have deavors have begun to yield more results than ever.

The emergence of a large, organized student art community and the construction of a new, bigger, and more accessible art gallery both point to a hopeful future for art at Georgetown.

In July of 2016, Alexander Lubeck (MSB ’17) created the Georgetown University Collective of Creative Individuals share their art, celebrating creativity at Georgetown, and inspiring artistic collaboration.

“I knew that every year there would be kids like me, who come in to Georgetown expecting and wanting an organized, accepting artistic community that’s not infected with Georgetown’s pre-professional culture, and I wanted to make that space for them,” Lubeck said.

Lubeck graduated this past spring, but GUCCI has continued to expand. What started as a Facebook group of about 100 people has quickly grown to 688 members, with new students, both artists and art lovers, joining almost every day.

Group members organize various art-related events, such as art shares, music shows, and open mics, which all happened at Georgetown before GUCCI, Lubeck noted, but not on the scale and level of accessibility that they do now.

“A big thing was making a group that’s inclusive and welwould go on the Facebook page and be like, ‘wow, anyone can join?’” he said.

As Georgetown students have begun to organize to create and admire art, a university-supported project to build a new art gallery while renovating the existing one is also underway.

The new de la Cruz Gallery will open on Nov. 8 with an event co-sponsored by the art department and the Georgetown University Law Center.

“A law professor will be leading a conversation with world-renowned, extraordinary artist Wangechi Mutu in the second installment of a series of talks titled ‘Dialogues on Being Human’ about art and human rights,” Miner explained.

The art department hopes to regularly host interdisciplinary events in order to attract a wide audience of faculty, students, and other members of the Georgetown community.

“The gallery will be a space where you’ll see performance some capacities,” Miner said. “We’re hoping to have more interactive and theatrical components that will make the programs

Katheryn Dunn sits with her latest project. socially and politically relevant but also dynamic and immersive.

Down the road we want to have events that engage the departments of philosophy, theology, government. A truly interdisciplinary approach.”

Both the gallery director and the department chair exwill have on student involvement in art at Georgetown.

“The kind of energy and visibility that’s going to come with the galleries will create more magnetism to the curriculum in the arts,” Acres said.

But before attracting new students to the arts, Georgetown must improve the academic experience for current people like Chu, Keffer, and other studio art majors. Limited facilities, internship opportunities all stand in the way of Georgetown catching up to its peers in art education.

“I think it’s great that there is new gallery with the opportunity to bring in famous artists and attract large audiences,” Chu said. “But, at the end of the day, the university needs to care more about the opportunities and resources available to its own art students.”

For the rest of Georgetown’s students, fundamental changes in their habits, mindsets, and values will not happen overnight. Pre-professionalism, “consulting culture,” and the hierarchy of majors are strands still woven tightly into the fabric of the university culture, preventing many Hoyas from taking time to explore the arts.

However, Lubeck pointed out that art has always been a revolutionary force, and there is potential for it to be one at Georgetown.

“All we can do is hope that people will continue sharing their art and inspiring each other,” he said. “Maybe one day it will have a larger effect on students overall, and people who didn’t care about art before college will actually be encouraged to explore it here.”

Ariel Chu describes a painting.

10

OCTOBER 27, 2017

All That Glitters Is Not Gold Georgetown Cheer Team Members Speak Out

By Claire Goldberg One Friday night in October every year, Georgetown students fill McDonough Gymnasium to celebrate the beginning of the basketball season. They wait in line to see the players, the musical performance, and this year, the debut of head coach of the men’s team, Patrick Ewing. Hoya Madness requires organization by many different groups, including the cheerleading team, which prepares for the event many weeks in advance.

For this year’s performance, cheer practiced every day leading up to Hoya Madness, going over the routine and tweaking it every time a member of their team was injured, which happened often.

Cheer, a constant presence in Hoya sports culture, is not considered a sport by the athletics department. Members of the team are not considered student athletes and receive scant media coverage.

“I’ve never experienced [being interviewed] while being on the team, or even heard about other girls being interviewed,” said Kaela Jackson (COL ’18), this year’s team captain.

Since the cheer team doesn’t compete, the athletic department does not classify them as a sport. While the athletic department covers their uniforms and travel expenses, the members of the team aren’t allowed access to the benefits granted to varsity athletes. Cheerleaders cannot use the Thompson center and do not have access to athletic tutoring and medical trainers.

“The only reason cheer isn’t considered a sport is because we don’t compete with other people,” said Trea-ell Davis (COL ’19). “It doesn’t take away with what we do and how we perform. We’re still very athletic. It’s not easy at all.”

Though the International Olympic Committee ruled that cheerleading is a sport in Dec. 2016, cheerleading is still not considered a “championship sport” by the NCAA. The U.S. Court of Appeals ruled in 2012 that cheerleading is not considered a varsity sport when it comes to Title IX implementation.

The ruling hinged on cheer’s lack of “post-season structure or standardized rules,” according to an Associated Press report.

“We are a sport in my eyes,” Jackson said. “I definitely feel that we are athletes.”

Jackson, who used to be on a competitive team at her North Carolina high school, noted the difference between her previous cheer experience and cheering for Georgetown as part of a “volunteer student organization.”

“Small barriers arise because we’re not athletes and not considered an official sports team,” Jackson said. “I didn’t understand the distinction until I got to Georgetown ... since we don’t compete and we’re not recognized as athletes by the athletic

department, we’re more so a reflection of the sports teams that we cheer for.”

According to the athletic department, cheer is given certain benefits that match those at other schools within Georgetown’s conference.

“The cheerleaders play an important role supporting the athletic department, as well as its teams and student-athletes, and their encouragement and dedication are greatly appreciated,” a Georgetown athletic department spokesperson wrote in an email to the Voice. “As with other volunteer student organizations that support various athletic teams, some benefits are provided to the cheerleaders. This is in alignment with other universities in the BIG EAST Conference.”

St. John’s University’s cheerleading coach, Amanda Power, confirmed in an email that their team is also not provided the same benefits as their school’s varsity athletes, such as access to tutoring, excused absences, or their varsity weight room, though their uniforms and practice gear are sponsored by Under Armour. Though the St. John’s team does compete, each member of the team has to fundraise about $1,000 for their trip to nationals.

The Georgetown cheer team performs at every home game of the varsity men’s and women’s basketball teams, as well as for the football team, and occasionally at other varsity sports games. They practice twice a week, three times or more if there’s a major performance like Hoya Madness coming up, and from August through April, they perform almost every weekend.

The team is composed of 23 undergraduate women, and for most of them, balancing cheer and academics, along with clubs, jobs, internships, and other extracurriculars, is challenging.

“It can get really stressful during midterms or when you have finals coming up,” Davis said. “At the end of the day we all did make this commitment to cheer, but we also made this commitment to academics. It’s mostly just about prioritizing your time.”

But the school-life-cheer balance can be difficult. Balancing school and a sport is difficult for any athlete. For that reason, Georgetown provides free tutoring for varsity athletes, but since cheer isn’t considered a sport, they aren’t privy to that benefit.

“My freshman and sophomore years I was really struggling academically, and I assumed those resources would be available to me, but basically I had to find tutoring, to find help,” Jackson said. “For a lot of people a lot of times it has to come out of pocket to pay for that. So that was pretty frustrating.”

For varsity athletes, professors are required to excuse absences for games, but for cheerleaders, excused absences are a privilege.

“The only potential time cheerleaders travel during classes is for postseason men’s or women’s basketball,” explained the athletic department spokesperson. “In that situation, cheer members can choose to travel or stay on campus. If they travel, a letter is provided for the students to issue to professors. Individual professors make the decision regarding an excused or unexcused absence.”

They practice twice a week, three times or more if there’s a major performance like Hoya Madness coming up, and from August through April, they perform almost every weekend.

According to Jackson, who was on the 2014-15 team that performed through the NCAA basketball tournament, many members of the team faced difficulties in getting their professors to excuse their absences.

“The basketball team was really good my freshman year, so we traveled a lot for March Madness, and it was pretty difficult to get professors to allow us to actually travel,” Jackson said. “There were some cheerleaders who had issues with their professors, but athletes don’t have that issue. They can just give them a piece of paper. Some members of the team

11

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

couldn’t get out of it whether it be a bad time in the semester or the professor didn’t care about the basketball team as much or, the professor, just personal preference, didn’t think we were athletes.”

Georgetown provides free tutoring for varsity athletes, but since cheer isn’t considered a sport, they aren’t privy to that benefit.

The team’s coach, Samantha Brewton, did not wish to provide a comment for the article, but the team members highlighted her skills as a coach, as well as her background in sports fitness. Brewton has been coaching at Georgetown since 2000, and is a former cheerleader herself.

Despite the challenges of not being considered an official sport at Georgetown, the team is tight-knit, talented, and dedicated.

“The team is super talented in terms of their ability to dance really well and pick it up quickly, always do it with a smile on their face, which I’m still trying to do, and being able to chuck people in the air with no questions asked,” Colleen Garcia (SFS ’21) said. “I give everyone on the team a lot of credit because it really is a talented group of people.”

The team members who were interviewed all mentioned how friendly and kind the team is toward others and to each other, focusing on the bonding they do in and out of practice.

“I would definitely say, especially this year, the team is really close,” Davis said. “They’re all my sisters.”

Davis went on to explain that the team frequently has study sessions together, went to the Hoya Madness after-party together, and that even before their practice that night, the group went to a yoga class.

This fall has been particularly difficult for the tight-knit group. Still, the group’s bond remains strong.

“This year was really challenging because we had a lot of injuries,” Jackson said. “Every time we lost someone, we had to change the routine but we all really got through it.”

Garcia, one of the newest members of the squad, said she is excited to get closer to her teammates over the coming years as they continue to push themselves as a team.

“The hardest part of cheerleading is stunting, which is literally throwing other people in the air and having to keep them there,” Garcia said. “Some sports throw balls, cheerleaders throw people; if that doesn’t constitute a sport, I don’t know what does.”

H O Y A S

Georgetown cheerleaders, who attend home football and basketball games, on the sidelines during a game against Fordham University.

They are denied access to the same benefits varsity atheletes enjoy, including health services and academic tutoring.

CLAIRE GOLDBERG

NSEND

CK TOW

EMILY J

A

ND JA STER A

12

OCTOBER 27, 2017

Women’s and Gender Studies Program Turns

By Alice Ye

abhichana naiyapatana

“Georgetown has [historically] proven to be one of the slower institutions to react to the growing need for an expansive Women’s Studies program,” the New Press, Georgetown’s former feminist quarterly, wrote in 1992.

Despite its late start, the program has grown to occupy an introductory course was offered in 1975. The program is now celebrating 30 years at Georgetown, and members of While students showed interest in enrolling for that first class in 1975, they criticized the course as incoherent, the Hoya reported in 1987. A course was not offered again until 1984, when a seminar was introduced to test the enthusiasm for a full program. After this seminar was met with enthusiasm from the 18 students who took it, the Executive Academic Council approved the introduction of a women’s studies minor in Dec. 1986. In the spring of 1987, the first students began pursuing women’s studies minors.

Some students were concerned at the time they would be associated with the negative stereotype of a feminist. “A lot of people seem to be afraid that someone will shriek ‘Feminist! Radical Feminist! Shoot her!’” said Sheila Redling (COL ’88) in 1988 to Blue and Gray, a now defunct campus magazine.

Others doubted the validity of women’s studies as a discipline. Dean Ann Sullivan of the College reported to the Hoya in 1987 that she found others asking, “‘Is it a true discipline?’ and ‘Is it an academically respectable discipline?’”

It was not until 1989 that the program received an annual budget of $10,000, and even then, such a modest sum made Campus media was not always supportive of the path the program was taking. In 1992, the Voice published an editorial supporting a women’s studies major but implored the program to change its name to gender studies, saying that the name minimized “the important role men and relations with men plays in women’s issues.”

“Women do not live and work in a vacuum,” the editorial board wrote. “It is impossible to develop a clear picture of how and why women have been oppressed without gaining an equally clear picture of how and why men have oppressed them.”

The program became an interdisciplinary major in 1994, which was then converted to a free-standing major in women’s and gender studies in 2006. “Since I joined the program in 2004, the number of [students who are] majors and minors has grown from 8-10 majors and 15-20

students,” You-Me Park, director of the program, wrote in an email to the Voice.

Suzanne Mun (COL ’21) chose to take Introduction to Women and Gender Studies this semester to gain a wider about what feminism is, why it’s important, and form my own opinions about it and see why I think these things.”

Park says that the program is perhaps more relevant now than ever before. “As evidenced by the way the Department of Education is rolling back the Obama administration’s protection of rape survivors on campus, we are entering a new era of feminist struggle.”

“ for environmental justice and the rights of the indigenous populations around the world, and we will continue to transform our own community here at Georgetown.

”

The program also extends beyond solely feminist issues. for environmental justice and the rights of the indigenous populations around the world, and we will continue to transform our own community here at Georgetown so that it will become a safe and liberating learning place for all of our students regardless of their gender, race, class, sexual orientation, ethnicity, or religion,” Park wrote.

Mun said that the course she is taking is especially relevant to contemporary life.

“Once you start learning about the topics of sexism, racism, and discrimination based on class and gender, you start to see how it plays a role in our modern society,” she said. “Feminism has a role in every topic, because you can talk about sexism and racism in any broad topic, like in the workplace and in the media, [where] women are generally presented as being sexy and men are portrayed as having masculinity and power.”

In celebration of the program’s 30th anniversary, the department has planned numerous events which will be open to all students, not just those taking women’s and gender studies courses. The biggest event will be an academic conference scheduled for March 15, 2018 titled, “Feminist Futures: Our Struggles for the Next Thirty Years.”

“We also plan on including a student panel during the conference so that the very best feminist papers written by our students this year will be presented alongside the renowned scholars of the discipline,” Park wrote. “In the same spirit, we are also planning a separate event in March where GU student leaders and activists will convene and present their visions for feminist scholarship and activism.”

The celebration of the 30th anniversary will also include many smaller events such as performances, workshops, movie screenings, discussions on various global issues including immigration and gender, and open mic nights, open to all students. accelerated BA/MA program in women’s and gender studies.

“While Georgetown University’s Women’s Studies program has been active and thriving, [it] still lacks any components of advanced graduate level education.”

Park said that the program’s shortcomings are particularly pronounced when in comparison to programs at neighboring universities.

“George Washington University’s Women’s Studies program offers not only a regular Master’s degree, but joint options apparently not only keep the program active and Maryland has an extensive program that offers MAs and PhDs in Women’s Studies.”

Park acknowledges that “we will need more lines of faculty and hopefully achieve the status of a department rather than remain as a program.” However, she remains hopeful about the program’s future.

“I am quite optimistic that our students, faculty, and administration will join in our effort to recognize women’s, transgender, and sexual rights as a worthy scholarly subject that warrants support and commitment at the highest level!” she wrote.

“If anything women’s studies is something from which everyone can draw and gain new insight,” said Fr. Royden Davis, Dean of the College to Blue and Gray in 1988. “We can only learn from those that give us a new vision.”

Jake Maher and Lilah Burke contributed reporting.

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

13

Nomadic Theatre Balances Comedy and Domestic Violence in Exit, Pursued by a Bear

By Mary Mei A figure struggles against the duct tape that binds him to a sofa-chair. A stripper and a man dressed as a cheerleader console a conflicted woman. The floor is littered with piles of deer meat. The trapped man is sticky with honey. And oh, at the end, someone’s crotch gets lit on fire.

Contrary to the the implications of the above description, Exit, Pursued by a Bear, presented by Georgetown’s Nomadic Theatre from Oct. 19 to Oct. 28, is not nearly as strange as one might expect. In fact, the premise is fairly simple and the script is modern—almost jarringly so. The real eccentricity of the play lies in its attempt to address themes of domestic violence and abuse while remaining a “revenge comedy.”

While this is a delicate and bizarre balance to strike, the Nomadic Theatre does an impressive job. The script, written by award-winning playwright Lauren Gunderson in 2012, illustrates the story of Nan Carter (Allison Lane, COL ’19), a docile wife who decides to leave her abusive husband Kyle (Jake Sanford, COL ’20) and take destiny into her own hands. Kyle is somewhat of a dead-beat: a drinker, a hunter (without a license), and a belligerent. He both physically and emotionally abuses Nan. Nan’s support system takes the form of Sweetheart (Kylie Navarro, COL ’20), a stripper and aspiring actress whose exaggerated and exuberant behavior serves as comic relief during the play’s tensest moments. Simon (Mark Camilli, COL ’19), Nan’s gay best friend, is at times even more humorous than Sweetheart. His first entrance is unforgettable, as he bursts onto the scene in his Gators cheerleader outfit—complete with pompoms and a skirt. Although a supporting character, Simon steals the show with his witty dialogue and snarky comments.

Nan’s plan is straightforward. She binds Kyle to a chair and stages a play recounting the incidents of their relationship, especially the abusive ones. Sweetheart enthusiastically portrays Kyle, and Nan and Simon play themselves. A struggling Kyle, constrained to his chair, watches helplessly, begging Nan to remember their early days together and promising to change. Before Nan, Sweetheart, and Simon abandon Kyle and leave for Atlanta, they drizzle him with honey, scatter deer meat around

him, and leave the front door open—baiting him for a black bear. Nan is sympathetic enough to leave Kyle a phone to call 911. We see her later as a successful author on Anderson Cooper 360, discussing a book about her experience with domestic violence.

Jake Sanford as “Kyle” in Exit, Pursued by a Bear

Mark Camilli (left) as “Simon” and Kylie Navarro (right) as“SweetheaWWrt”

The real eccentricity of the play lies in its attempt to address themes of domestic violence and abuse while remaining a “revenge comedy.”

The performances by the lead actors of the Nomadic Theatre are quite remarkable. Lane simultaneously portrays the strength and resolve of a woman who is determined to regain control over her life and the frailty and indecision of a wife who is leaving her husband. The role of Kyle is undoubtedly a difficult one; we don’t hear much dialogue from him as he is either unconscious or struggling mutely through many of the scenes. In the flashbacks to the earlier days in Nan and Kyle’s relationship, however, Sanford is able to give us a glimpse of the softer sides of his character, briefly causing the audience to develop conflicting feelings about Kyle’s true nature. Navarro and Camilli commit fully and earnestly to their performances of Sweetheart and Simon, fulfilling their roles as Nan’s support system and the play’s chief supply of comic relief.

At no point during the performance, however, does the humor eclipse the gravity of the situation. The seriousness of Kyle’s actions is never lost in the well-meaning and humorous banter of Sweetheart and Simon as the actors prepare for their

monologues in the play within the actual play. For producer Cristin Crowley (MSB ’20), the major challenge that she and director Bailey Premeaux (COL ’19) faced was “walking the fine line between providing entertainment and discussing a sensitive topic.” Ultimately, they succeeded in achieving a conscious symmetry of the two.

For a performance in such a small and intimate space like the Village C Theatre, Nomadic’s version of Exit, Pursued by a Bear had a surprisingly engaging and diverse visual experience.

Throughout the entire show, stage directions were integrated into the scenes from a series of projectors aimed at a screen above the actors. The set, though relatively modest in size and composition, reflected the modernity of Gunderson’s script (with small details like a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos) and complemented the rugged ambience of Nan and Kyle’s home.

If there are any issues to be had with Exit, Pursued by a Bear, they should be found in the content of Lauren Gunderson’s script. The characters of Sweetheart and Simon, though humorous, are often one-dimensional. Although the focus of the play is on Nan, there is a lack of depth to her two supporters that is quite noticeable to even the most casual viewer. Kyle is a slightly more nuanced individual, but his periods of violence and superficial remorse are very typical of the theatrical depiction of an abuser. We do catch a glimpse of the gentler aspects of his personality, but he is also more or less one-sided. And while Nan’s experience in finding her strength and calling is very impressive, the concluding scene in which she is on Anderson Cooper clashes with the style and atmosphere of the rest of the play.

Exit, Pursued by a Bear may attempt to reconcile two very strange elements, but the result is not wanting. Whatever faults can be found in Lauren Gunderson’s script do not overshadow the impressive performances of the four lead actors and the careful deliberation of the directorial staff. In Exit, Pursued by a Bear, The Nomadic Theatre is able to provide a clever, passionate, and entertaining performance that still grapples with the dark themes of domestic violence.

The cast and crew of Exit, Pursued by a Bear

All photos ERIN BYRNE

OCTOBER 27, 2017

LEISURE

14

Murder at the Renwick: An Exploration of Forensics Pioneer Frances Glessner Lee

By Monica Cho Frances Glessner Lee, ParsonageParlor, about 1946-48. Collection of the Harvard Medical iner, Baltimore, MD

A doll hanging from a noose is exactly the sort of image that sends a shiver down the spine—after all “dolls and death” are a pretty unsettling duo—but Frances Glessner Lee’s dollhouse death recreations are a fascinating and macabre study in perspective and attention to detail.

From now through January, the Renwick Gallery of the Smithsonian American Art Museum will be showcasing, “Murder Is Her Hobby: Frances Glessner Lee and The Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death,” presenring the works of Frangodmother of forensic science,” is most well-known known for “Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death,” miniature, dollhouse dioramas that she created during the 1940’s replicating the mysterious death of a person or persons. Within the crime iner system over the coroner system—medical examiners are required to be physicians, coroners are not—and her dioramas, or “nutshells,” as she called them, were designed to be learning aids for forensic trainees.

Lee was born in 1878 and grew up in a very traditional but very wealthy family. Although she found an early interest in forensic pathology, only her older brother was allowed to attend college. It wasn’t until after both her parents and her brother passed away in the early 1930s that she was able to use her in-

heritance to pursue her true interests. Lee created her nutshells taking care to preserve the integrity of the scene. Her diorathe Chief Medical Examiner to teach crime scene investigation techniques. carpenter, Alton Mosher, she brought crime scenes back to life. The pair spent about three months per nutshell, as Mosher of the rooms. Each piece cost today’s equivalent of $40,000 to $80,000, but it was a small sum to pay for her mission of encouraging all, in her own words, to “convict the guilty, clear The scenes themselves are striking in their realism, not afraid to shy away from blood or uncomfortable reality. In “Parsonage Parlor,” a young woman lies in a pool of blood with her blouse ripped open, and in “Three-Room Dwelling,” a baby has been shot in its crib. Many of the murder scenes look as if they could have been an accident or suicide—one woman was found face down on the stairs, another man in a locked garage with the car running—but the slightest of details, an overturned bucket

-

in the corner or a coil of rope kicked under a railing, simply that there’s much more than meets the eye.

Each detail is deliberate, from the half-peeled potatoes on the counter in “Kitchen” to the tiny stubbed out cigarettes in “Living Room.” Lee once rejected a rocking chair that Mosher built because it didn’t rock the same number of times as the original at the crime scene. She even took care to accurately depict both rigor mortis, stiffness of the body after death, and lithe walls—were created from her own imagination, lending a storytelling element to her recreations.

Historically, dollhouses were used to teach upper class girls ing a stereotypically female craft to forge her way through a to be good housewives, Lee was showing young men how to be New Hampshire Police Department appointed her as Police hold that rank.

Each nutshell is accompanied by a police report written by Lee, and these are the exact reports that trainees receive when they investigate the nutshells themselves. Unfortunately, the answers to the crime scenes are under lock and key in the Baltimore police department and visitors must rely on their own skills of deduction to determine cause of death. It’s largely unsatisfying to never know the truth behind the exhibits. “Kitchen” includes a place where visitors can add their own deductions to a wall of sticky notes. Answers range from “It’s ALWAYS the husband,” to “Alien invasion from the planet Zorpe,” and to long-winded breakdowns of the nutshell spanning several sticky notes. This section provides an interesting peek into the thought processes of other visitors, and the exhibit would have felt much more interactive had a wall been included for every one of Lee’s works. maintains a lasting legacy. Though her nutshells were built in the ’40s, they’re still used to teach the fundamentals of crime scene investigation. Lee seized the opportunity to make a name

Frances Glessner Lee, Living Room(detail), about 1943-48. Collection of the Harvard Medical School, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA,

Frances Glessner Lee, Attic(detail),about 1946-48. Collection of the Harvard Medical School, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA, courtesy graph by Susan Marks, Courtesy of Murder in a Nutshell documentary

meticulously crafted recreations are both a message of determination and a call for scrutiny over assumption. An unfortunate accident could be masking a cold-blooded murder, obscured only by the details hiding in plain sight. In a nutshell, a closer look can be the difference between sentencing an innocent person and letting a killer walk free.

15

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

LEISURE

Photo by Lee Stalsworth Courtesy Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden

Giovanni Anselmo, Invisible, 1971. Slide (projector); dimensions variable. Holenia Purchase Fund, in memory of Joseph H. Hirshhorn, 2003.

Photo by Lee Stalsworth Courtesy Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden.

AA Bronson, Mirror Sequences, 1969-1970. Gelatin silver print; 7 3/4 x 5 in. each. Joseph H. Hirshhorn Bequest Fund, 2008.

‘What Absence is Made Of’ Proves That Less is More The Hirshhorn’s newest exhibit, “What Absence is Made Of,” is a little hard to get into at first. This is because, as the title suggests, the exhibit focuses on what isn’t there as opposed to what is. During a cursory walk around the exhibit and its 70 pieces of art, it is easy to become confused or disoriented by the artwork’s variety of styles. But upon further examination, the exhibit, which will run from Oct. 19 until summer 2019, manages to find its voice through its use of absence to speak volumes about how, sometimes, what an artist doesn’t show is more important than what an artist does.

Exploring art’s absence allows for deep introspection on the part of the observer. Ann Hamilton’s “at hand” creates an immersive experience that involves a large industry linelike set of machines attached to the ceiling of a completely bare, rectangular room. The machines produce white, blank slips of paper, which float to the ground freely, creating piles of sheets for visitors to climb through. The whirring of machinery provides a strangely rhythmic, automated sense to the production of the paper, giving the whole room a feeling of routine. And yet, the slips of paper have nothing printed on them, suggesting a sort of pointlessness to the whole procedure. The slips of paper scattered about provides momentary amusement before calling on the visitor to move deeper into the artwork, asking questions concerning the patterns and routines of industrial labor.

Mental examination is practically demanded by the scarcity of some of the artwork in the exhibit. Indeed, “at hand” provides a template for the rest of “What Absence is Made Of ”: Many of the displays provide fleeting, superficial rewards before demonstrating the intangibility of the artwork. Some also deconstruct and reinterpret classic works from human history.

Reynier Leyva Novo’s “5 Nights (from the series The Weight of History)” does this job by reinterpreting three famous works from history. The three books, History Will Absolve Me by Fidel Castro, The Little Red Book by Mao Zedong, and The Green Book by Muammar al-Gaddafi are reimagined as vertical rectangles of black ink, each of differing sizes. The different sizes are determined by the length of each book and

quite literally how much ink is used in writing them. The display lacks any sort of overt political statement. The controversial figures behind each book are only acknowledged in the explanatory paragraphs to the side of the display without any sort of judgment on the works. The viewer is instead left to ponder the basic simplicity through which the artwork conveys the impact of these books. At first glance, the three boxes are barely distinguishable, save for their size. But with context, they begin to provoke reflections on the weight and power of the works they represent. Such influence can be boiled down to groupings of ink with barely any differentiation from one another.

Courtesy Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden

Joseph Beuys, F.I.U. Blackboards, 1977-1979. Blackboards, chalk, pail, water and rags; each blackboard: 63 x 47, 1/2 x 5/8 in.; bucket: 12 1/2 x 11 1/4 dia. Gift of Frayda and Ronald Feldman in Honor of James T. Demetrion, 2002.

The simplicity of “5 Nights” contrasts with other more opaque works in the exhibit. Huang Yong Ping’s “Abbottabad” is easily the most straightforward display, as it depicts the compound where Osama bin Laden was shot and killed as a lush, green space instead of a barren area, devoid of life and permeated with death. “Abbottabad” draws attention to its natural imagery of trees overgrowing the compound, making it seem more like a plentiful garden than a hiding space.

Moreover, the size of the work is large enough for the observer to walk around, providing a bird’s eye view not unlike the one that a satellite would give. The cognitive dissonance between the knowledge of the death that occurred at the location and the signs of life provides an impact that deepens the longer the observer examines the work.

What is easily the most stunning part of the exhibit, however, strays away from conventional mediums of art. Ed Atkins’ “Safe Conduct” combines computer-generated imagery with surround sound to create a bizarre display of animated humans literally taking themselves apart piece by piece and placing various body parts in trays similar to those used at TSA checkpoints in airports. The graphic nature of the art, which is displayed on three separate televisions with 5.1 surround sound playing a repeated series of disorienting chords and words around the observer, serves to first shock, then to draw deeper. The images of a fake-looking human detaching his arm, then draining his blood, then peeling off his face deconstructs a typical depiction of humanity in art, creating a vibrant, constantly moving display of what it means to strip a human being down to its bare, physical essentials. The result is an experience that creates art through the absence of a fully-realized human subject, as it prefers to depict humanity as an unrealistic creation of a computer.

“What Absence is Made Of ” provides the visitor with a litany of experiences. Some, like “5 Nights” and “Abbotabad” draw attention to the simplicity of the presentation and ask the observer to deconstruct already existing works, while displays like “Safe Conduct” work to present the viewer with shocking imagery before questioning what the display excludes. Most art presents the viewer with imagery to provoke a reaction; “What Absence is Made Of ” deliberately withholds or deconstructs traditional forms of art to accomplish its purpose. Some of the displays are more difficult to comprehend than others, but together they form an experience that imparts knowledge and interpretation to the observer by first taking away traditional depictions of art.

By Graham Piro

Egan barnitt