“Shang-Chi” continues on

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‘ShangChi’

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As Liu puts it, “Representation matters, and it’s about more than just actors on a screen. It’s about snacks, it’s about food, it’s about culture, in every possible way.” And hey, if legions of TikTok teens discovering (and thirsting over) Tony Leung is another one of those ways, more power to them. Of course, the critiques that this really isn’t Asian Americans’ Black Panther are certainly valid. You could argue that this isn’t the kind of representation that we need — after all, most Asian Americans live in a reality far removed from the gravity-defying heroics of “ShangChi” or the high-roller life of billionaires in “Crazy Rich Asians.” In a time of horrifc violence against Asians worldwide, “Shang-Chi” certainly could have dug deeper into the immigrant experience or xenophobia the way “Black Panther” was bold enough to tackle themes of systemic racism and Black liberation.

But just because “Shang-Chi” is one of the rare Asian-led flms to break through to the mainstream, doesn’t mean it should be saddled with the burden of encompassing everything about the Asian American experience. It shouldn’t have to discuss racial trauma to count as representation. There are stories out there showing the nuances of our experience: “Kim’s Convenience,” “The Farewell” and Wong Fu Productions’ YouTube videos, to name a few. And “Shang-Chi” is paving the way for more.

“Shang-Chi” breaks down stereotypes and the “othering” of Asians by showing that we are far more than just a shallow archetype. The movie introduces a host of well-developed, threedimensional characters to join the ranks of iconic Asian American characters like our favorite himbo Jason Mendoza (“The Good Place”), walking disaster Devi Vishwakumar (“Never Have I Ever”) and judgy conscience Ben Hargreeves (“The Umbrella Academy”).

Plot-wise, however, “Shang-Chi” falls prey to the same weaknesses as “Black Widow,” ultimately sacrifcing compelling character development and relationships for Marvel’s typical zero-stakes fnal battle with far too much CGI.

The fnal act is especially disappointing because it completely sidelines instant fan-favorite Xialing (who rivals Yelena Belova for the title of most kickass little sister) in favor of highlighting Shang’s development. Instead of giving her a single moment of emotional closure with her father after being ignored and underestimated by him all her life, Marvel kills of the villain (because redemption is too much efort) and sets Xialing up as a girlboss villain, glossing over her past. From that awkwardly forced “girl power” scene in “Avengers: Endgame” to the entirety of “Captain Marvel,” Marvel doesn’t have a great track record with its female characters. Xialing’s development is just another example of how Marvel’s attempts at female empowerment are improving, but still fail to stick the landing. So yes, “ShangChi” doesn’t manage to completely break out of the Marvel mold, but it still more than delivers, especially considering all the pressure put upon it to do well (insert stock photo Simu pointing and laughing at the haters). At the end of the day “Shang-Chi” is not just another derivative Marvel movie that pads Disney’s pockets: Its box ofce success signals to Hollywood that Asian stories — this time told by an Asian director, writer, costume designer and cast — have value.

Just a few months ago 42 percent of Americans were reported to be unable to name a single famous Asian American (yep, not even our Vice President…). “Shang-Chi” is shattering that invisibility, pushing Asian faces to the forefront of American media and making sure that we cannot be ignored.

MARVEL Xialing prepares to fght her brother, Shang-Chi. As Marvel’s frst flm to feature an almost all-Asian cast and production, Shang-Chi makes strides for Asian representation. Just because ‘Shang-Chi’ is one of the rare Asianled flms to break through to the mainstream, doesn’t mean it should be saddled with the burden of encompassing everything about the Asian American experience.

Cancel culture isn’t real — just look at Matt Damon

NATALIE WEI Senior Writer

Let’s set things straight: When a celebrity loses fans for problematic opinions, they aren’t being canceled. When someone loses their job for harassment, they aren’t being canceled. Since it entered the mainstream, we’ve turned “cancel” into such a buzzword that nobody really knows what it means anymore.

Cancel culture isn’t a new topic to harp on — the take that “cancel culture is ruining society” isn’t quite so revolutionary anymore. But as much as we complain about our faves getting canceled, it’s hard to tell what modern cancellation entails.

YouTuber David Dobrik was complicit in the rape of an intoxicated college student. After we “canceled” him, he lost a couple of sponsorships but is now more popular than ever.

Musician Morgan Wallen was “canceled” by radio stations after he was caught using racial slurs on tape, but his music sales continued to soar. He’s back to performing and has an upcoming new single.

Matt Damon, who admitted to using the f-slur as recently as a few months ago, was “canceled” exclusively on Twitter, with no other repercussions for his actions.

How did cancel culture begin? It entered the mainstream in 2015 as a way to stop supporting public fgures whose views or actions you disagreed with. It’s since escalated into a usually performative way of blasting people for their mistakes under the guise of political correctness. We blame cancel culture for fostering a narrow-minded Gen Z, one that doesn’t let people learn from their past.

Now, if we criticize a celebrity for something — no matter how wrong — we’re “canceling” them. This has led people to whine about cancel culture as a product of sensitive “snowfakes,” as if the only people we’re trying to cancel are comedians who made sexist jokes in 2005. But this completely erases any capacity for nuance and shades of severity.

It’s true that people who misspoke 10 years ago probably don’t deserve to be deplatformed. But the same can’t be said for the dozens of celebrities who walk away from rape or abuse allegations completely unscathed, with a shiny new project announced within the next week. In both cases, the public deems all criticism cancel culture, despite being applied to egregiously diferent situations.

Cancel culture makes us think of people who purposefully dig up dirt on celebrities or spread clips of politically incorrect statements from a decade ago. We associate it with bullying and death threats

But referring to all criticism as canceling equates harmful views or actions with genuine mis- and an inability to see things takes. through an objective lens. It’s easy to diminish the validity of “cancelation” and label any and all criticism as a product of mob mentality. It justifes holding no celebrities accountable at all, which means you never have to confront the decision of choosing whether or not to continue supporting them. So long as it’s labeled cancel culture, you can still

NATALIE WEI Since its entry into the mainstream, cancel culture has become the hot topic to complain about — but how we treat cancel culture ignores nuance and complexity in favor of blanket statements. enjoy their content and hold the moral high ground. But referring to all criticism as canceling equates harmful views or actions with genuine mistakes. We shouldn’t be treating crimes as serious as sexual assault like they’re at all comparable to mildly insensitive jokes, especially when the stakes have devolved to being bullied on Twitter before the news cycle moves on — trust me, the multimillionaires can handle it. Instead of jumping to the blanket solution of cancelation, we should examine each situation for its own nuances. The next time cancel culture inevitably strikes, it’s important not to be swept up by mob mentality — not only the mob mentality that we should condemn all wrongdoers, but also the mob mentality that all criticism is illegitimate.

Lorde’s ‘Solar Power’-ed return to the mainstage

NINA CROFTS Senior Writer

There’s a rather dramatic contrast between the life problems of a 16-, 20- and 24-year-old. And, if Lorde’s new album “Solar Power” is any indication of the mind of a 24-year-old, it’s flled with subdued refections on one’s youth, the paralyzing fear of getting older and eco-anxiety.

Lorde’s debut and sophomore albums, “Pure Heroine” and “Melodrama,” channel electric energy and angsty lyrics. They radiate teenager, ruminating on heartbreak, adolescence and fame.

But “Solar Power” is diferent. It feels more like a quarterlife crisis, examining diferent types of emotion, from the death of a pet on “Big Star” to a love letter to the place where she rose to fame on “California.”

Her free-spirited energy radiates from the music, and the 1970s psychedelic tones ofer a throwback feel and album you can jam to as well.

Yet the drastic change in tone on “Solar Power” did come as an unwelcome shock to some. Some diehard fans on Twitter and TikTok lamented its happy tones, as though her transition into joy and sunstreaked radiance is betrayal and she’s a traitor to the “sad girl” aesthetic. She’s not. She’s a human being, not a vessel for teenage angst. Knowing that a famous singer feels the same pain as you do can feel comforting, but it’s not the burden of pop artists to bear the brunt of our emotional turmoil.

In many tracks, it feels as though she’s speaking directly to her fanbase about this unrealistic expectation. On track one, “The Path,” she sings, “Now if you’re looking for a saviour, well, that’s not me / You need someone to take your pain for you? / Well, that’s not me,” preemptively addressing some critiques of the album.

It speaks a great deal to how Gen Z can often force artists into boxes, but artistry is never that simple. The themes of one’s music will change, as people change throughout their lives. You don’t have to love “Solar Power,” but it’s cheap criticism to say her joy hinders the album.

On the lyrical side, “Solar Power” feels like an older sibling’s comfort, a reassurance that everything will be okay, while not looking past the more complex issues you come to develop in young adulthood, whether it be a greater understanding of the world around you or a deeper grasp on interpersonal relations.

Take “Secrets From a Girl,” which is midway through the album, and contemplates how her life has changed since she was a teenager. It is inspired by “Ribs,” a fan favorite from “Pure Heroine” that can be summed up by its lyric “It feels so scary getting old.” In “Secrets From a Girl,” Lorde takes two chords from “Ribs” and reverses them as an ode to her younger self. For those who turned to “Ribs” for solace from the pains of teenagedom, “Secrets from a Girl” is a welcome consolation.

As a 16-year-old, to know the girl who wrote “Pure Heroine” at my age is writing an album like “Solar Power” eight years later is comforting. Her three-album span refects her growth emotionally, and for an emotionally volatile teenager, it’s nice to know that someone you look up to has moved through it with radiance.

And while “Solar Power” is radically diferent from its predecessors, it is just as cohesive. From the title track to “The Path” to “Fallen Fruit,” Lorde writes a love letter to Mother Nature and a call to listeners to care for the environment, without the lyrics slipping into cringeworthy preachiness.

In subtle yet pointed lyrics, “Fallen Fruit” reads, “From the Nissan to the Phantom to the plane / We’ll disappear in the cover of the rain,” naming sources of carbon dioxide emissions and concerns over climate-related fash fooding.

And she doesn’t just talk the talk; she walks the walk. “Solar Power” does not have a CD option, as they are plastic-based. Instead, she ofers a “music box,” a CD-sized package which includes exclusive posters, notes from her and a link to a digital download of the album.

Ultimately, “Solar Power” is about cutting yourself some slack, and simply living with the vibes of mother nature. It’s a carefully created album that makes pointed comments about the state of the world, but also something you can relax to and dance to. For those who are ecstatic to see Lorde return from a silent threeyear hiatus better and brighter, it’s golden.

LORDE

Do you really want to be ‘that girl’?

ANIKA SIKKA News Editor

I love productivity. Crossing of all the tasks on my planner and cleaning my closet are the most satisfying things in the world. I also love TikTok (no explanation needed there). So, when my two favorite things in the whole world came together and birthed the “that girl” trend, I was obsessed. I had to try it immediately.

The “that girl” trend claims to promote productivity and healthy lifestyles by encouraging people to romanticize their lives and post them on TikTok with extremely aesthetic vlogs of their day-to-day routines.

Like them, I began by vlogging my days in hopes of recording my progress in being “that girl.” I woke up every day at 7:30 a.m, made variations of smoothies and avocado toast for breakfast and started to scrupulously plan my life.

I lasted approximately two weeks. Although I was following all the steps “that girls” recommended to join their ranks, my vlogs and life didn’t turn out as crisp as theirs, and I’ve come to realize why.

To be “that girl” is not just a trend. It’s a lifestyle, one of pretty planners, Lululemon and iced cofee. It encourages people — especially young girls — to “live their best lives” by partaking in constant goal setting and self-refection (and purchasing those god-awful white Lululemon shorts).

At the surface level, this trend sounds amazing — or at least, much better than teaching children to eat Tide Pods or grass (re: Hank Green’s comment section). Encouraging children to set goals and be healthy sounds like more of what we need on TikTok. But on my journey to transform into “that girl,” I discovered the dark side to the pretty stationery and $20 salads. The “that girl” trend on TikTok is a feeding ground for negativity. It gives anonymous faces an excuse to spew toxic expectations onto young girls. Users typecast girls who don’t eat healthy every day or don’t exercise as “gross.” They scrutinize girls with oily skin or hair (typically women of color), calling them terms such as “dirty” or “musty,” and actively exclude young women of color.

Users also categorize girls based on the clothing brands they wear, deeming Lululemon and Brandy Melville as the only acceptable brands. Not only can Lululemon clothing prices veer into the “hundreds of dollars” range, but brands like Brandy Melville also promote unrealistic body standards. One size does not, in fact, ft all.

The “that girl” trend is teaching young girls that only skinny, white, rich girls can be idealized in society. The trend is teaching that girls who don’t ft into that standard aren’t living up to their potential.

Girls who cannot aford $100 leggings or organic salads every meal are now being told that because of these circumstances — of which they have no control — they aren’t worthy of appreciation, which can harm their self-image.

Along with being a classist and materialistic mess, the “that girl” trend is blatantly misogynistic. Only girls are being held to this standard of cleanliness and productivity; I haven’t seen a single man on TikTok be shamed for the oil on his skin or hair, nor have I seen someone openly shame a man for eating at a fast-food restaurant. In fact, this trend is so directed to girls that if a man participated in it, his comment section would not even closely resemble what I see in most girls’ comment sections.

This trend teaches young girls that the only way to be “worthy” is to conform to age-old stereotypes of beauty. Telling girls that they’re not valued unless they’re productive and drink green juices doesn’t help promote goal setting in any way. If anything, it makes them less motivated to make personal goals and more motivated to focus on superfcial standards. I found myself worrying more about how certain clips in my vlogs looked rather than the actual work I was doing, which made me less productive. And sure, being “that girl” added consistency into my routine, but it took away the spice in my life. There’s something so liberating about having a half-eaten

cupcake for breakfast as opposed to avocado toast every single day. It’s captivating to stay in your home all day, doing your math homework and watching Netfix. So, I’m telling you, it’s okay if you’re not “that girl.” Really, it is. You don’t need to wear buttery leggings or eat healthy foods for breakfast all the time. You don’t need to vlog your 6 a.m. workouts and aesthetic planners to faunt a fawless, productive lifeThe ‘that girl’ style. You don’t need to ft socitrend is teachety’s warped ideals of productivity or vlog every aspect of your ing young girls life — TikTok @user12821_2812’s that only skinny, opinion doesn’t matter. white, rich girls can be idealized in society.

ELYSSA KENNEDY Senior Writer

With the start of fall comes the return of pumpkin spice lattes. Here is a defnitive ranking from the three big coffee companies — Starbucks, Peet’s and Dunkin’ — to help decide which latte is best for you. Ranking sweetness, price, visuals and the strength of the coffee, hopefully, you can determine which version deserves the title of “best pumpkin spice latte.”

In comparison to the aesthetics of Dunkin’s drink, the pumpkin spice latte from Peet’s looks like a beige cardigan from Nordstrom. The drink comes with no caramel drizzle or whipped cream, which is a crime, and this is before you realize those toppings will cost you an extra 40 cents to the already steep $4.55. Still, this fall beverage tastes like a true pumpkin spice latte and already has me thinking about fall leaves and cozy blankets. The espresso and pumpkin spice favors complement each other nicely, and the local company has high-quality coffee. The drink tastes like a warm hug, which makes it easy to forgive the small sizes and high cost. Peet’s is the target fall latte for coffee drinkers who don’t mind a drink on the pricey side.

OVERALL: A APPEARANCE: B FLAVOR: A FALL FEELS: B+ PRICE: B

OVERALL: B+ APPEARANCE: BFLAVOR: B+ FALL FEELS: B+ PRICE: A-

Is anyone really surprised by this score? Compared to a regular latte, Starbucks’s pumpkin drink is already a little off-putting with its artificial, fluorescent orange appearance, and the infamously complicated sizes. Despite the visuals, the drink itself is just the right ratio of milk to espresso with free, optional whipped cream. It could certainly do with a little more pumpkin spice, but there is still a pleasant combination of cinnamon and nutmeg. The Starbucks drink is perfect for coffee drinkers who are willing to sacrifice some quality for a cheaper price.

Dunkin’s pumpkin spice latte looks like fall — it comes with whipped cream and a mix of pumpkin and caramel drizzle on top. Naturally, I thought it would be everything that I hoped for and more. I pictured a semi-sweet latte with favors of pumpkin and cinnamon with a smooth espresso taste. Spoiler: That’s not what I got. The latte just tastes like sweetened condensed milk, and I was left wondering, Where’s the coffee? All I get is overpowering milk, sugar and pumpkin spice, but that may be the fall mood you’re looking for. However, if you’re not a big fan of coffee, the Dunkin’ latte doesn’t taste like it packs a punch. The drink allows you to have the caffeine boost without the bitter favor. So if you want a sugary and cheap pumpkin spice latte, this drink has your name written on it.

OVERALL: C+ APPEARANCE: A+ FLAVOR: C+ FALL FEELS: BPRICE: A