post- 02/26/21

In This Issue

Father (Sometimes) Knows Best

Ingrid Ren 4

Fragments of My First Year

Lily Chahine 2

A Star Drawn with My Left Hand Nicole Kim 6

Next Episode Danielle Emerson 4 Dorrit Corwin 7

Tapestry at 50

postCover by Angela Baek

FEB 26

VOL 27

— ISSUE 4

FEATURE

Fragments of My First Year on the concealed culture of disordered eating at brown

By Lily Chahine Illustrated by riley cruzcosa (IG: rileycruzcosa)

content warning: eating disorders

Only one more thing remained for me to step

smoke you won’t be able to stop, and that nicotine

into my final form as a cottagecore college student

dulls your appetite, and that “pulling trig ” is

My last few weeks before college were defined by

who everyone would either want to be friends with

normal! Wait, what the fuck? Pulling trig is normal?

choking on excess saliva from CVS brand whitening

or fuck—be skinny! My beyond-ironically named

Regardless, I forged on in my journey to finally

strips, praying the irritation bump on my nose

“health journey” began simple enough: eating less

reach acceptance and joy and being desired by

piercing would disappear, and shamefully going to

dessert and more flavorless meals.

everyone who got the simple honor of glancing at

the salon after a disastrous box bleach job earlier that

But then I got to Brown and started learning. I

summer. Nothing truly of note, just a few superficial

learned so much and so fast! About environmental

preparations that felt of paramount importance in the

justice! And decolonization! And anti-capitalism!

But then I was requesting angel food cake for

days leading up to the voyage to Providence. (The bump

And that I should adjust for the fact that alcohol has

my nineteenth fucking birthday because it was the

did go away!!!)

a lot of calories, and that if you start eating after you

cake with the least number of calories. The sliver

Letter from the Editor Dear Readers, Where do lassos come from? When will humans run out of new music? And why haven’t I heard of Babushka Bois until today? These are a few of the questions plinking around my head on a Thursday evening wedged in the middle of midterm season and honestly, I am thrilled that these are the major concerns my silly neurons have decided to wrangle as of late.

Of course, these random musings are just a coping mechanism, but not for me: No, by some miracle, I have escaped this midterms week unscathed (mostly by praying the homework away), but others, by which I mean 9.8 out of 10 people I encounter, are having a week. And I wish that we could all step outside to see the thumbprint of the moon against the blue sky at 4:40 with a springy wind inflating the streets, and we would just laugh at it together, because Zoom has dried out our eyes and our friendships are confusing and we would really like to pet a small and joyful animal. Or something like that.

Well, post-’s writers this week are also going through it, but they’re here to help too. In Feature, our author breaks open her experience with disor-

2 post–

dered eating and fatphobia at Brown and gives us insights as she processes. In Narrative, one writer shares memories of her father’s witty wisdom and how it has shaped her, and the other revisits her favorite childhood animes and sees how she’s changed. In the vein of comforts to ease our collective midterm crisis, one author in A&C listens to IU to deal with loneliness, while the other finds strength for a new generation in the music of Carole King. Rounding off the trend, our Lifestyle writer offers up a playlist of 00s jams to motivate you through the day.

May reading these pieces bring you some inspiration, refreshment, or a zany new thought that gets you cackling to yourself. And may they keep you rolling through the next week, until we postagain. (Just kidding, if you’re as dependent on post- as we are, allow me to recommend a quarantine hobby. Have you tried crochet? MMA lessons on YouTube?)

Live from the shark tank,

Olivia Howe

Editor-in-Chief

my conventionally attractive body. And I guess I got it? At least the body part.

Fantasies to Get You Through Midterms 1. Not having midterms 2. Solo travelling! Staying in youth hostels!

Adventuring across a country!

3. Being a little rodent hibernating in a tiny house <3 4. Un-inventing chemistry 5. Perfectly mastering the “We’re All In This Together” Just Dance 6. A warm body 7. Trampolines instead of sidewalks 8. Slowly pulling your mask down while making intense eye contact with that person in your pod you’ve always wanted to be with 9. Actually getting into cottagecore like those TikTok girlies are always talking about 10. Disappearing into the forest and becoming the next Bigfoot

FEATURE

tasted like Styrofoam soaked in Splenda water.

Perhaps it’s because I go to Brown, a college

both academic and social spheres. Sure, memories

And passively observing a growing mosaic of my

illuminated by an alluring gleam of progressivism,

can be fallible, but I’m hesitant to believe that my

new friends’ smiling faces, screenshotted nutrition

and a promise of inclusion regardless of what

experience wasn’t symptomatic of the fatphobia at

labels, and body-checks in my camera roll, living

you look like. Why would anyone else be trying to

Brown and beyond.

together in discordance.

change their body? But when you really start to

In hindsight, what’s most frustrating is my

And eating until my stomach was distended

listen, it becomes obvious that diet culture doesn’t

immense struggle to verbalize the so-called “proof”

when I was kind enough (or drunk enough) to let my

miraculously disappear when you step foot into the

of my past reality. It feels impossible to record the

body desperately try to make up for many months’

02912 zip code. It just shape-shifts.

innumerable instances in which my conventional

lack of sustenance in an ephemeral instance of

The disorder around bodies goes from explicit

body gave me access to baseline respect. How can I

talk of weight into the idolization of certain “brands”

communicate the changes in how people looked at

of people, categories of appearance whose aesthetics

me, spoke to me, and complimented me, when their

are inextricably paired with a singular body size:

links to my size were intentionally obscured by a

So much life lost for a sick body I called mine

thin. Some examples of commonly revered varieties

culture which did not tolerate an outright adoration

for a few months. A blink. That transient ownership

at Brown include the outdoorsy type, with long, lean

of weight loss?

of a size I’d always wanted cost me part of my spirit.

legs, perched in an Eno on the Quiet Green, and the

Maybe the saddest part of it all is that Brown’s

Every single part of my life was forced to live under

indie type, with baggy jeans and an ironic tee from

BWell Health Promotion is beyond well-equipped

the dulling hum of a permanent neon “vacancy” sign

Savers (accessorized with a lit cigarette, of course).

with resources to help students in a position similar

in my head.

I’m not criticizing the people who fit into these

to mine. I did eventually go to the dietician, but

surrender.

And a bunch of other pitiful memories that will always only live in my journal.

Once the hum began, it was a force so constant

molds, by any means; it just seems a disservice that

the advice and care that passed her lips could not

that I lost all awareness of the fact that it was not

the popular imagination of attractiveness at Brown

penetrate my once-measured-turned-uncontrollable

intrinsic to my being. It became a leech, an uninvited

so closely associates with thinness. (And whiteness.

pursuit of thinness. I feel immensely grateful that

guest everywhere I moved. It was only when I

I would highly recommend you listen to Short

Brown’s dietician promotes non-restrictive eating,

spent a week this summer with my childhood best

Wave’s podcast, “Fat Phobia And Its Racist Past And

championing the Health at Every Size and Intuitive

friends that it became noticeable, jarring enough

Present,” if you want to learn more about how diet

Eating frameworks, but professional help is but one

in contrast to the normal clarity and buoyancy of

culture was born out of white supremacy.)

piece of the puzzle of recovery. It is well documented

our togetherness that has been true since middle

The disorder around food goes from talk of

that the culture in which you exist has a far greater

school. Our togetherness was not the same, and the

calories to purposefully skipping meals before going

impact on promoting or discouraging disordered

deep pain brought on by the absence of my favorite

out and openly, intentionally making yourself throw

habits than anything else. So it is unsurprising to me

feeling was the impetus for my recovery.

up afterwards to “reduce a hangover” (plot twist: the

that the initial guidance of a professional did little to

Only after that point could I even begin to

detriments of pulling trig far outweigh any potential

combat the forces at Brown and in the world around

realize how much sorrow I hold for the time lost to

benefit). Sure, I didn’t have to endure constant

me. Change cannot happen only in administrative

preoccupied thoughts and half-full memories. I cry

warnings of the famed “freshman 15,” but more than

offices.

for the rich possibility of freshman year, for how

once during my first year at Brown I heard those

one of the four years I was promised is permanently

around me remark how surprised (read: elated) they

To this day, I feel like my first year at college is

marked, irreversibly shadowed.

***

were that they had actually lost weight in their first

untethered from reality. I may now have committed

Every one of my happy college firsts is shrouded

months. And I participated in that too, pretending

to the daily work of refusing to use diet behaviors,

by the background noise of hunger or the shame

that my weight loss was purely a natural process, a

but part of me feels like my escape from disordered

of fullness. I’m petrified to return to college after

side effect of being a busy college student.

eating was only a fluke, the reverse of the flipped

taking two semesters off; part of me feels like every

The way people at Brown speak of weight loss

relationship I made there was built off of a lie. How

mimics the overwhelming ethos of the campus: that

Regardless, now that I’ve lived through this

could I have authenticity in friendship when such

of nonchalance and putting effort only into socially

experience I feel as if I’ve learned a new language:

a massive, time-sucking, destructive part of my life

worthy pursuits. But mentioning the shrinking of

one of restriction and body shame. Every day my ear

was completely hidden from those closest to me?

your body in a blasé manner does not erase the pride

picks up on phrases of harm that I wish I could still

And I’m scared that I falsely attribute regrets of my

piggybacking on the supposed indifference.

be ignorant to. In hindsight, this language is one used

freshman year to my sickness, when maybe it was just me.

Of course I feel grateful to go to a school that does not openly promote weight loss as a moral

switch that plummeted me into partial numbness.

without care or attention in most spheres of my life, including my memories at Brown.

The worst part of it all is that so many people in

imperative, but in some ways this culture makes

I don’t have a solution to the endemic of diet

my life share this kind of story. Most eating disorders

it harder to insulate from popular yet disordered

culture and fatphobia in college environments. To

begin at ages 18-21, and more than ten percent of

tendencies because their presence is so discreet. All

be completely truthful, writing this was more for

college students are estimated to have a diagnosable

throughout the past year I was met with constant,

my own catharsis than anything else. But as a start,

disorder—with much higher figures for women and

subtle affirmations of my own self-harm. I felt

I ask that you try to consider more deeply what you

gender minorities. Statistically, there was at least

greater comfort in every single space at Brown when

say in relation to bodies and food, because it’s really

one other person in my first-year seminar—and an

I was in a thinner body, and it seems unlikely that the

fucking hard not to absorb.

alarming 700 other undergraduates—who found

overwhelming feeling of external approval spawned

themselves in a similar spot to me. Knowing this

solely from my own misinterpretation of social cues.

now, why did I feel so fucking alone?

The thinner I got, the more seen and valued I felt in

*** On my twentieth birthday, I had red velvet cake.

With extra cream cheese frosting.

“I would just like to state on-record that the winter witch of the shower nozzle can go fuck herself.”

“The Weeknd is like ‘I do cocaine!’ and Lana Del Rey is like *breathy voice* ‘iiiii….do….cocaaaaaaine.’”

February 26, 2021 3

NARRATIVE

Father (Sometimes) Knows Best memories of love in its many forms

by Ingrid Ren Illustrated by Joanne Han My family is congregated around our marble kitchen island, and my dad is refusing to take a DNA test.

He’s a tiny bit upset because my mom, my brother, and I all succumbed to curiosity and shelled out $100 each (as well as our saliva, souls, and secrets) to 23andMe, fully expecting to hear that we’re 100 percent Chinese.

It turns out that my mom is an impressive 99 percent Chinese and my brother and I are around 80 percent.

This means that if we’re truly my father’s children, he’s only 60 percent Chinese.

My dad is a stout man, slightly tall for being “Chinese,” slightly short for being a “man.” (Quotation

appreciates it. At that moment, however, I’m impressed

marks because of the social construct that is gender,

that my dad is apparently funny.

not because he identifies as 60 percent man. Although,

***

Since immigrating to the U.S. from China, my dad has sought to fulfill his version of the American Dream: owning a house with an Eden-level garden. Throughout

he once said, “When I was young, I was a girl.”) My dad

My dad loves us so much, he’s desperately needy

my childhood, my mom will grow unsatisfied with our

has a round face, rounder cheeks, shamelessly crooked

about it. When I’m in high school, he tries brainwashing

apartment or house or studio and make us move every

teeth, and, always, a gently whitening goatee. He has

me into attending a local university, fantasizing, “You

one-and-a-half years. It’s easy to see the good in a new

worn a series of glasses that, throughout the years, have

can live at home if you go to UC Berkeley.” Every college

location or building until you live there long enough for

all been accidentally stepped on and snapped by me

student’s dream. When COVID-19 spreads during my

the charms to turn into annoyances. My dad patiently

and subsequently replaced by more and more modern-

first year at Brown (located a heartbreaking 3,000 miles

goes along with her changes of heart because he relishes

looking frames. His complexion is slightly darker than

away from home), my dad is inappropriately elated at

attending open houses and walking through potential

that of an average Chinese person, and his hair slightly

how much time he can now spend with family. I shelter-

new residences, hoping to make his garden dream come

lighter. I have a Mexican friend who thought my dad was

in-place at home for the whole summer. “Don’t go back,”

true. And so, I spend many a childhood Sunday putting on

Mexican and a Native friend who thought he was Native.

he keeps telling me, as I plan my escape back to the East

soft blue fabric shoe coverings to happily shuffle through

If racial appearance can be objective, my dad is objectively

Coast for fall semester. “Stay home. Just stay home,” he

manicured houses. We don’t realize it then, but I suspect

racially ambiguous.

says in a resigned murmur.

my dad was biding his time, waiting for my mom to tire

“Those tests aren’t accurate,” my dad says after learning our DNA results. We’re curious to see where this

***

us out and bring us to the brink of refusing to move again.

My father epitomizes the loving trope of immigrant

Then, he unveils to us the current family estate: a single-

parents who cut fruit for their children. My best friend,

story house with a devastatingly beautiful garden. Why

“I’m going to steal some of your saliva and send it

after witnessing my dad knock on my door and silently

single-story? “So when I’m old and I retire, I don’t have to

to 23andMe,” I threaten, laughing. Because I am the

hand me bowls of cut apples, oranges, or strawberries

climb stairs and can still live here.” What a genius. “I want

epitome of Caring Daughter.

over the course of seven years, concludes beautifully,

my ashes to be buried under that tree,” he adds peacefully,

“Your dad’s love language is preparing fruit for you.”

pointing to the back corner of the garden. Noted.

non-Chinese-ness comes from.

“No,” he says.

During a road trip over winter break a couple years

When I am six years old, I sit in the family minivan,

He buys a manual lawn mower and spends his

ago, one of the few times that my family is all together,

still parked in the garage but getting ready to drive

weekends collecting armfuls of cut grass to put into our

we stop at a rose garden in Portland, Oregon. Walking

somewhere, anywhere. My dad peels tangerines for my

compost bin.

through this garden in the mountains, we relish in the

brother and me. He stands in front of us, holding two

One day, after living in this house for a year, I drive

greenery that thrives in Oregon but not at home in

halves in his open palm. He starts to reach out to hand us

home with my dad when I spot an open house sign in

California. My brother, wearing his permanent outfit of

the tangerines but then pauses, smiling mischievously.

our neighborhood. “Do you want to visit?” I ask, perhaps

an L.L. Bean jacket, sweatpants, and tennis shoes, stares

He separates one slice from each half, says “Tax,” and pops

simply for the sake of nostalgia.

at a rose, head tilted with analytic curiosity, while my

them in his capitalist mouth. He places the remaining,

“No,” my dad replies simply.

mom studies his face.

smaller clusters into our confused, outstretched hands.

“No?” Is he depressed?

“Who do you look like?” she wonders aloud, “You don’t look like anybody.”

***

“No, I already peaked.”

My dad is a registered Republican who has voted for

“Think about it hard,” my dad says to her, jokingly stern. I start laughing. ***

***

Democratic presidents since he became a U.S. citizen.

When I am in eighth grade, I start thinking about

His membership with the Good Old Party primarily has

shaving my body hair, about the expectation for women

to do with his pro-life stance. During my senior year

to only show the softness of bare skin. I ask my mom, who

When I am around seven, in one of my earliest

of high school, I learn that my mom, upon finding out

doesn’t start shaving until I do, to buy me a razor I picked

memories of learning about ethnic stereotypes, my

she was pregnant with me, wanted to get an abortion.

out after extensive research, and she says, “I’ll think

family dines at an Italian restaurant called “Pasta?” My

My dad, pro-life and dreaming of having four kids

about it.” That night, my dad comes into my room when

dad taught my brother and me to call it “Pasta question

(son, daughter, son, daughter, in that order) asked his

I’m about to go to bed. My mom “thinking about it” means

mark” because he doesn’t like to have fun. We’ve finished

religious coworkers of various beliefs to pray for his wife

talking to my dad.

eating, paid, and my dad is waiting to get his credit card

to carry the child. As a result, here I am, confirming that

“Why do you want to shave?”

back. The waiter loiters around us and asks, “Are you

religion is real.

“I don’t know,” I say, embarrassed.

waiting on anything more?”

I learn I am the product of a consciously pro-life

“Don’t do it.”

My dad opens his mouth, pauses, and says in what I

decision, yet I could never see myself holding those

“Why not?” I ask.

now understand to be a mocking, Italian accent, “Where

same political beliefs. Upset and confused at my upset,

“It’s natural. Just leave it. It’s natural the way it is.”

is my ~Veeesah?” Everyone laughs, and they sound like

I ask my dad, “What would you do if I got pregnant right

I don’t. I can’t leave it the way it is. It’s only when I get

they’re cackling because I don’t understand what’s so

now? At sixteen.” He remains silent, looking down.

funny. My dad smirks a little while looking down, in what

“Would you want me to have it?” I continue.

I now recognize to be his expression of self-contained

“Don’t ask me that kind of question,” he murmurs.

amusement at his own jokes, whether or not his audience

4 post–

***

to college that I begin wishing I listened to my dad when I was in middle school.

People often say mothers know best, but my father is not without his own wisdom.

NARRATIVE

Next Episode

reanimating my love for anime by danielle emerson Illustrated by joanne han

lots of laughs and wholesome shoujo romantics. I

my stomach couldn’t handle anymore. Some people

have a distant memory of reading the manga back in

say I’ve become more sensitive, and maybe this is a

middle school. General stores back home don’t sell

sign of emotional growth. But whatever the reason,

manga. If you want to buy manga volumes, you have

I could not finish Another. This goes back to preteen

to visit bookstores (i.e. Barnes & Noble, bleh). First

Danielle’s obsession with edgy content. If it didn’t

off, there isn’t a Barnes & Noble on my reservation—

have gore, death, existentialism, and violence, she

believe me, I’ve looked. Second, even when I managed

wasn’t interested. Shows like Attack on Titan, Elfen

It’s blue. A bit darker than “Facebook blue” and

to get to the closest Barnes & Noble, three hours away,

Lied, Higurashi, Highschool of the Dead, and Corpse

nowhere near as light as “Twitter blue.” The icon

I didn’t have money to buy $11.99 volumes. Basically,

Party were placed on high pedestals. Obviously, there

isn’t that memorable. Blue and white—points for

manga and anime were hard to access. Native/Diné

are good aspects to each of these shows, but Jesus

simplicity. The cellphone app didn’t exist then. But

otakus and weebs back home struggle. But, on my

Christ, preteen Danielle was apparently desensitized

even now, no one actually downloads and uses the

off-brand cell phone, by some miracle, I was able to

to suffering.

app. The website works best on a computer. Honestly,

download free scans of manga. Granted, it was slow

Looking at the MAL site now feels almost

the site hasn’t changed much since 2013.

and low-quality: some of the translations didn’t

uncomfortable. It was a prominent staple of my

I shouldn’t be too surprised. My Anime List (MAL)

make sense and pages were cut off. But, despite the

middle school years. And honestly, any thoughts from

exists for the sole purpose of updating, organizing,

difficulties, I read some of my most beloved series on

my middle school years are uncomfortable to sit with,

and ranking anime, not for modifying their website

those scans—one such being LoveCom.

regardless of the context. The more shows I rewatch,

design. At 21, it’s a little jarring looking at a site with no

I love the manga. It’s easily my favorite amongst

the more I see my tastes have changed. It’s a little sad.

obvious changes. The profile icon is still in the corner,

favorites. So when I realized there was an anime,

You aren’t aware of growth while it’s happening, you

anime and manga statistics make up the center, and

I watched the entire series on YouTube. Watching

only realize after the fact; the moment you look back

general anime, manga, character, and voice actor

anime back then was either on a sketchy site with

is the moment it hits you. Whether you’re looking

favorite bars are listed near the bottom of the page.

“love,” “kiss,” “gogo,” or “heaven” in the URL, or

at old movies, books, artwork, anime series, or dare

In my experience, nobody logs onto MAL to admire

in parts on Youtube. The Internet is slow on the

I say, an MAL account, you’ll always be looking back

the rankings; I’m just looking for some change, maybe

reservation, or at least, it’s slow in Shiprock. But

from a new perspective. Growth is constant. It doesn't

some drama—though, I will voice my slight annoyance

we had a grandmother living outside the border,

stop. So, of course I’m going to feel uncomfortable.

at Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood’s long-time reign

closer to the next largest town—conveniently called

As I rewatch old shows, I’m learning to acknowledge

as the site’s top anime series.

a bordertown. Directly across from her small, brick

and settle into that discomfort instead of ignoring it.

Revisiting MAL nearly eight years later has been

house was a newly established RV park. And this

Because ultimately, it’s a sign of movement, from one

both a blessing and a curse. I’m not returning to my

RV park had wifi. My younger brother, being a tech-

incomparable experience to another. Reflecting on

old account, the product of preteen Danielle and her

savvy ten-year-old, discerned the password—the

my old self via anime and MAL has brought forth so

edgy taste. No, I consider myself lucky. That account

park phone number posted in giant white letters

many emotions. It’s sad, awkward, and embarrassing.

is lost: login credentials wiped from my memory,

on an outside welcome poster—and we were in. My

But I can’t deny that it’s also familiar, encouraging,

username nothing more than a jumbled mess of

brother got to play “Clash of Clans” or something,

and emphatic.

letters. (This is a lie. I remember my username. I wish

and I got to watch all the anime I wanted. Nowadays,

Of course, there are still times I wonder if the

I didn’t.) I don’t have to face my long lists of poorly

being 21 with a bank account, though stressful and

decision to rewatch is what ruins the series. Five

ranked shows and anime/manga characters. Back in

panic-inducing 95 percent of the time, is pretty great

episodes into Hitorijime My Hero, a shounen-ai

March 2020, a part of myself thought, with COVID -19

because I can get a Crunchyroll account. I didn’t have

series I remember deeply relating to in terms of self-

and social-distancing, why not revisit anime and

to watch LoveCom on Youtube this time. At the start

acceptance and mental health, I couldn’t dismiss the

create a new MAL account? As an older person with

of the pandemic, despite everyone leaving campus,

problematic relationship dynamics. I dropped that

ideally matured narrative taste, I decided to start

a portion of my anxiety and loneliness eased. Sure,

series and definitely don’t recommend it. There are

anew. My old username, a complicated combination

I was isolated and confused and a little angry, but

some shows you watch as an impressionable child

of “Kirito” (yes, from the 2012 isekai anime Sword Art

rewatching LoveCom steadied my racing heart with

with blurry glasses. Hitorijime My Hero had a main

Online) and “Yuki” (yes, from the early 2000s series

its cute humor and endearing characters. LoveCom

character (MC) with struggles I related to (toxic

Vampire Knight), was ‘KiriYuki-kun.’ My current

reappeared at the right time.

home life and domestic violence); it hit too close to

The second series was Another. Short summary:

home for young Danielle. But the “good” relationship

basically Final Destination the anime—a high school

the MC accepted in the show relied heavily on

The first series I set off to rewatch was Lovely

class is cursed and, unless the students follow a

the exploitation of his trauma and a predatory

Complex (LoveCom). A short summary: tall girl and

specific protocol, they’re prone to graphic accidental

age difference. Long story short, I understand

short boy have height complexes, they’re both looking

deaths. Middle school Danielle was made of something

why preteen Danielle looked up to Hitorijime My

for love but neither expect to find it in each other—

different; I got through seven episodes and decided

Hero; she saw herself and thought this series held

username does not consist of anime characters or combined names. I already consider that a win.

answers. But now, I’ve grown to understand those parts of myself and confidently recognize harmful depictions in anime. Despite such losses, I’ve gained new favorites. Shows I once dismissed as boring or dialogue-heavy, after watching, are now revered as wholesome, heartwarming, and cute. Such shows include Kimi ni Todoke, Snow White with the Red Hair,

Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun, Tanaka-kun is

Always Listless, and my current obsession, Haikyu!!

I 100 percent recommend all of these. Logging into MAL and scrolling through my Plan to Watch, Completed, On Hold, Dropped, and Watching is a satisfying experience.

As I continue watching and rewatching anime during the pandemic, I’m reminded of something simple: you’re allowed to enjoy things. 2013 Danielle is allowed to enjoy things, no matter how much cringe it brings me today. And 2021 Danielle is allowed to enjoy things too, no matter how much cringe it might bring me in the future (Yuri!!! on Ice is good. Nobody can tell me otherwise). And if those two things aren't the same anymore, that’s okay.

February 26, 2021 5

ARTS&CULTURE

A Star Drawn with My Left Hand rhythms of reality in iu's "celebrity" by nicole kim Illustrated by caroline dai Stepping into the departures terminal at SFO, my suitcase filled with various fermented Korean sauces and clothes I probably wouldn’t be wearing to Zoom University, I felt the same sense of relief wash over me that I’ve always experienced when I fly out to Providence. It had been almost nine months

The music video for the song opens with IU half-

since I last made the trip I usually take around half a

kneeling, half-sitting dramatically on a carpeted floor,

dozen times per year. Even with the knowledge that

her iridescent blue cape billowing out onto the carpet

I was going to be spending most of the semester in an

behind her like a soft, velvety expanse of ocean. There’s

apartment befriending my laptop screen, my desperate

an edge to IU’s voice in this opening sequence, just

brain was soothed by this false pretense of normalcy—

like her. At first glance, she might seem traditionally

/ Can’t you see how beautiful / Spring will be tomorrow?

the streamlined process of traveling from origin to

attractive, with the doll-like features and ethereal long

The video cuts to another IU in a fancy red dress and

destination: following the moving walkway at the airport

hair that is common in the Korean music scene. But then

decadent jewelry as the melody echoes with the familiar

and seeing myself reflected in the blacked-out windows,

IU makes direct eye contact with the camera and smirks

“You’re my celebrity.” I grin into my mug as I watch her

listening to my sister’s playlist whilst sitting by the gate,

into the microphone as she effortlessly hits a high note,

run into the night, away from flashing cameras, sharing

nursing an almond milk latte while waiting for my flight

and you can almost see the bad b*tch energy radiating

in her newfound sense of freedom and selfhood.

at Washington Dulles. The rhythm of movement and

off her (cue swoon).

tension in the song breaks as we return to the chorus one last time, the lyrics slightly altered: “잊지마 이 오랜

겨울 사이/언 틈으로 피울 꽃 하나/보이니 하루 뒤 봄이 얼마나/ 아름다울지 말야.” Don’t forget that through this long winter / A flower can bloom through the frozen cracks

To me, “Celebrity” describes the feeling of being

passing hours felt familiar and comforting. I like flying

The irony of “Celebrity” is that IU, a singer

trapped in our own reality. Whether we’re a famous

because it resembles a break in time, a moment when

whose renowned fans include a horde of popular

musician or a college student, tracing the same patterns

I’m not occupying my life at home or in college. I’m just

artists, is telling the listener/the person the song is

through each day can feel overwhelmingly lonely and

me, moving through the world with nothing really to

addressed to that they are her celebrity—essentially,

suffocating at times—as if we’re an iceberg slowly

do and no one to talk to. It’s a nice feeling, this strange

the celebrity of the ultimate celebrity. The song isn’t

melting away, not really sure what’s happening or if

sense of obscurity.

necessarily romantic, but rather filled with a kind of

anything is changing. Within the landscape of the music

The quiet and independence I experienced

patient, soothing love. Despite the deceivingly upbeat

video, I get the feeling that IU is reassuring herself.

during the nine-ish hours of travel quickly gave way to

instrumentals and high-pitched vocals, “Celebrity”

Telling herself that this “real” you exists, both when you

overwhelming anxiety during my first few days back.

carries a tinge of sadness that I can’t shake off. The

occupy the role of the glamorous celebrity and when

Left to fend for myself after a nine-month retreat from

storyline of the video follows “celebrity” IU as she

you feel distant from it. “Celebrity” reminds us that we

“real life,” I suddenly felt threatened from all sides.

coincidentally runs into her doppelganger, “fan” IU,

can’t escape ourselves, no matter how hard we try. And

Despite the various stressors that came with living

who is sitting at a cafe, looking a little bored as she

that, conversely, we don’t have to, because it is in facing

at home, the semester I spent in California had been

distractedly plays with her coffee. Still reeling from

our fear and doubt that we find freedom from the world

accompanied by a level of seclusion that both eased and

shock, “celebrity” IU attempts to follow “fan” IU, but

around us.

encouraged my anxious mind. While the repetitive cycle

loses her in the crowds of people on the street. She ends

Talking to my therapist this week, I told her that I

of eating, sleeping, and doing schoolwork had cleared a

up returning to her apartment, flopping onto her bed

hadn’t been sleeping well and my appetite was a little

little too much space for worrying about the future, it

defeatedly as she looks out at the Seoul skyline. I can’t

low. “You seem a little depressed,” she observed. “Have

also allowed me to avoid making decisions I now had to

help but think that she looks very lonely.

you been having other symptoms?” Oh, so this is what

face at school. Now, I worried that my pod-mates (both

An echoey hollowness colors the world of the music

I’ve been experiencing, I thought to myself, feeling a

of whom are close friends of mine, but hadn’t really

video. Other than the two IUs and the dancers, the other

cooling sense of relief at this realization, knowing that

known each other previously) would feel uncomfortable

“people” in the video only appear as limbs or faceless

this is something I can sit with and tend to.

with one another. I worried that I had bought too much

bodies, passing IU by on the streets, holding up makeup

There’s only about a month and a half left of spring

spinach and was creating food waste, contributing

brushes to her face, or, at one point, circling around

semester of junior year. Somehow, that makes me feel

to global warming. I worried that I wouldn’t get into

her draped in fairy lights. The effect is eerie, as if IU is

both relieved and disappointed. Maybe I should be

graduate school next year. I worried that I wasn’t doing

living in a dollhouse or musical set where she is the only

making more of this time? Am I spending my energy

or being enough.

sentient being, while everyone else moves around her in

on the right things? Will I regret these decisions? I find

In these first few weeks of fogginess, the digital

a mechanical rhythm. I’m sometimes reminded of how

myself groping around for a sense of agency. And despite

single “Celebrity” by renowned Korean singer-

loneliness can feel like a soft cocoon, when I’m wrapped

desperately wanting a break from everything, I’m also

songwriter Lee Ji-eun, better known by her stage name

up in its intimate, isolating hold and don’t have the

afraid of who and what I’ll be once all of the dust clears

IU, came to me like fresh snow on a winter morning. The

energy to escape. As if I’m sitting by a big window and

and the noise settles. If I don’t have a fancy internship

electro-pop track jump starts with a crisp, bouncy beat

watching the people, cars, and pets pass me by, a little

this summer, without all of the work and business that

and IU’s clear, watery vocals, describing an unspecified

detached. Wanting to join them, but mostly wanting to

pummels me through the school year, what will I do?

individual who is rejected by the world for who they are:

keep sitting there.

Towards the end of the video, the two IUs end up

hard and frightening and makes me want to crawl away

At the world’s edge, crookedly shaped, an outsider. As the

side-by-side at the edge of the bed in the aforementioned

from myself into my blankets forever. Maybe this means

lyrics illustrate, this person seems to be out of sync with

apartment. In a ripple of movement, the IU on the right

that I still have a lot of work to do on myself. Or I’m just

(celebrity IU? it’s unclear at this point) reaches out to

experiencing imposter syndrome. Nevertheless, I feel

“세상의 모서리 구부정하게 커버린 골칫거리 outsider....” the expectations of those around them: “걸음걸이 옷차림 이어폰 너머 play list 음악까지 다 minor.” The way they

If I’m being honest, sitting with that uncertainty is

touch the IU on the left (fan IU?), just as the IU on the

held because I know that I’m still showing up. Despite

walk, the way they dress, through their earphones their

left sweeps her hair back with her hand. Just before

everything that’s happening and everything that’s

playlist—-even all of their music is minor. Still, to her—

they make contact, fan IU leaves the room. Celebrity

moving too fast, I know that I’m okay and things will

the speaker and/or IU—everything about this person

IU once again rushes after her, but when she turns the

pass, as they always do, because I have myself and people

is perfect and perfectly beautiful. “Celebrity” is a love

corner, the other IU is gone, and she is faced with her

who love me, who know the real me. I’m looking into my

letter to this person and to the listener, reminding us

own reflection.

own reflection, stopping momentarily—at the airport, in

that despite everything we feel and the doubt we harbor, to those who love us, we are already whole.

6 post–

Gingerly, she reaches her fingertips up to the mirror, looking into her own eyes wide with fear. The

the windows I pass on my way to get my COVID test, in my apartment bathroom. Confirming that I’m real.

Tapestry at 50 politics & peoplehood amidst a pandemic

re-election campaign. After warning the intimate crowd that

at all the obstacles she overcame. King escaped several abusive

her voice might sound a little rusty, she sat up straight at the

relationships and marriages, challenged race boundaries in

baby grand piano situated in the center of the room and belted

music by beginning her career writing songs for Black R&B/

out vocals that sounded just as fresh as they did on Tapestry 48

soul acts in Motown like Aretha Franklin and the Drifters,

years prior.

and moved from New York City to Los Angeles in 1968 after

by dorrit corwin Illustrated by Lucid clairvoyant (IG: clairvoy.art)

I was in a state of absolute shock. When my grandparents

divorcing her husband and writing partner, Gerry Goffin. These

invited me, I had pictured a few hundred people gathered in a

experiences ignited a spark that inspired an entire generation

lavish backyard, with King playing one or two songs on a stage

of women to reevaluate their personal relationships as well as

far in the distance. Instead, my hero was within arm’s reach.

their relationships with phenomena such as motherhood, sex,

After she demolished hit after hit and personally thanked

careers, religion, and marriage.

On February 10, 2021, one day after Carole King turned

everyone for being there, I hovered for a few minutes until

The stripped-down sound and iconic album cover of

79, her legendary second studio album, Tapestry, celebrated

she had a free second. I tapped her on the shoulder. “Carole,”

Tapestry represented a personal shift as King moved across

its 50th birthday. Upon its release, her sophomore LP retained

I said, stumbling over my words, “I just needed to let you know

the country to start a new life, and came to symbolize a new

the #1 slot on the Billboard 100 for 15 consecutive weeks,

that you changed my life. I’m sure you hear this all the time,

era for women. 1971 and the release of Tapestry saw Joni

transforming an era of music and generations of listeners,

but maybe less often from people in my generation. I saw

Mitchell’s Blue and Carly Simon’s self-titled album; it was

myself included, into its own tapestry of heart, grit, and

Beautiful live, I read your memoir, and I spend most of my

a year of new sounds and horizons for female musicians in

authenticity. The semicentennial of her album reflects both

time with my vocal coach singing your songs.” I stammered

Hollywood. Specifically, it was the age of Laurel Canyon, a

the timelessness of the project’s sound and the timeliness of

about strong female role models and authenticity, until she

neighborhood tucked away in the Hollywood Hills, known by

King’s free spirit and liberal activism at this pivotal moment

cut me off and said, “You read my memoir? Wow. And you’re

most as home to artists from the Byrds and Buffalo Springfield

in her country’s history. At its core, Tapestry is about finding

here today? Where are you in school?” “Brown,” I replied.

to the aforementioned women in the ’60s and ’70s, but known

yourself through reinvention despite isolation and hardship—a

She told me that out of everyone in that room she was most

to me as the windy road I drove down to get to my weekly voice

message King never could have guessed would be so topical 50

excited to see the few young people who showed, because we

lessons. King’s discography remains realistic and emotionally

years later, in the midst of a global pandemic.

are finally recognizing how much our votes and voices matter.

raw about both platonic and romantic relationships, making

According to the Los Angeles Times, King declines

“Got any friends registered in Massachusetts?” she asked me,

her music accessible to all audiences—resonating with me from

almost every interview request she receives. But, despite

wondering who I could recruit to support Markey. “Tons,” I

a young age long before I would go through most of the events

her wish to live a modest life far from the public eye, she has

told her, beaming.

described in the lyrics of pop songs.

not let her love of privacy get in the way of her progressive

Since that life-altering, serotonin-inducing interaction

According to her dear friend James Taylor, King has

activism, beginning with her early support of John Kerry and

two and a half years ago, Ed Markey was re-elected, Trump

always been an underdog who forged her place in Hollywood

the environmentalist movement, and continuing through her

was not, and between those two events, King has continued

by never giving anyone enough time to question her place

personal connections to many politicians today. I was lucky

singing her heart out at political fundraisers—from Barbara

in it. This kind of confidence and zeal radiates throughout A

enough to witness the performance of a lifetime from King in

Boxer’s PAC to a pre-inauguration virtual concert hosted by

Natural Woman: A Memoir, and the musical, Beautiful, and is

November 2019, in what is likely her favorite stage: the living

the Biden administration in January. The 50th anniversary of

what made King such a role model to me, as a young Jewish

room of an old friend’s Los Angeles home, in front of fewer than

Tapestry comes at an opportune moment both to look forward

woman also aspiring to pursue a creative career in Hollywood.

100 passionate Democrats, in support of Senator Ed Markey’s

to all that King continues to do for the world, and to look back

Her refreshing aura and raspy charm made her music appear effortless and approachable, yet still full of authentic emotion.

Songs from Tapestry have enveloped my life, from performing “You’ve Got a Friend” with my second grade class to hearing “Where You Lead” every time my mom and I watch an episode of Gilmore Girls together, to singing every track in between on Sunday mornings with my high school vocal coach, in the car, and in the shower.

When I was sent home from Brown due to the COVID-19 pandemic almost a year ago, I had Tapestry on repeat as I packed up my freshman year dorm room, tears filling my eyes. “It’s Too Late” made me nostalgic for all of the memories I would have made that spring on College Hill, while “So Far Away” helped me acknowledge the pain of the physical distance between me and all of the friends I had made. I can only imagine how many other people have found solace in King’s relatable lyrics and soft melodies throughout quarantine. Within the discography of Tapestry lies a dichotomy of seclusion and empowerment that transformed ‘70s pop music and remains just as relevant 50 years later. When I close my eyes and listen to the album from start to finish, my friends, college campus, and Carole King herself are just within reach.

“Maybe earnestness is about faith: believing that it is worth it to be sincere and fail rather than relentlessly dodging hurt through ironic living. I have to believe in things.”

—Anna Harvey, “Tell Me How You Really Feel,” 2.21.20

“But I suppose part of getting better is learning not to need the key changes of a movie score or the animation of an aurora borealis to actually feel like a human being.”

—Nicole Fegan, “Ascending Through the Clouds,” 2.22.19

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Olivia Howe a FEATURE Managing Editor Alice Bai Section Editors Andrew Lu Ethan Pan ARTS & CULTURE Managing Editor Emma Schneider

NARRATIVE Managing Editor Minako Ogita Section Editors Siena Capone Christina Vasquez LIFESTYLE Managing Editor Caitlin McCartney Section Editors Kimberly Liu Emily Wang

Section Editors Kyoko Leaman Maddy McGrath

COPY CHIEF Aditi Marshan

CO-LAYOUT CHIEFS Briaanna Chiu Jiahua Chen

Copy Editors Emily Cigarroa Laura David Samuel Nevins Eleanor Peters SOCIAL MEDIA EDITORS Tessa Devoe

Layout Designers Lily Chahine Sharlene Deng WEB MASTER Amy Pu

STAFF WRITERS Kaitlan Bui Editors Siena Capone Kelsey Cooper Eashan Das Julia Gubner Danielle Emerson Kyra Haddad Jordan Hartzell Jolie Rolnick Nicole Kim Chloe Zhao Gus Kmetz Elliana Reynolds HEAD ILLUSTRATOR Adi Thatai Joanne Han Victoria Yin

Want to be involved?

Email: olivia_howe@brown.edu!

February 26, 2021 7