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The observer | wednesday, march 10, 2021 | ndsmcobserver.com

InsIde column

Why I dye my hair and why you should too

Evan McKenna

Incoming managing editor

during season one of quarantine — also known as march and April 2020 — boys in my hometown started shaving their heads. It was an outbreak of its own, honestly. The process was gradual, but the effect was frightening — like children slowly and mysteriously disappearing from the cozy maine town in a stephen King novel.

Luckily, I didn’t succumb to the persuasion of the bald-headed cult (wake up, sheeple!), but truthfully, I didn’t exactly come out of April entirely unscathed: In a mid-month moment of unhinged, isolation-induced spontaneity, I drove to my local Walmart, bought a box of cheap red hair dye and with the help of my sisters — and to the disappointment of my mother — I joined the world’s small but powerful legion of gingers. They’ve been very accepting thus far. so, to be honest, I don’t really blame the bald boys of my hometown. I basically did the same thing — same coping mechanism, different fonts! The idea that the hair dye comes out as a sort of “trauma response” is a popular one, especially in the age of quarantine. To quote my research adviser after she saw my new hair over Zoom, “A lot of kids have been doing, um, traumatic things to their hair during these times.”

I mean, I wouldn’t call it “traumatic” myself, but yeah — something’s happening here. At-home hair dye was — and is — flying off the shelves. Teens and adults alike — whether out of necessity or in response to TikTok trends — are turning en masse to colored hair. so, what’s happening here?

The average hair dye aficionado — and the rare psychologist — will theorize such appearance-altering impulses come from a desperate desire for control. That’s understandable, especially today — in the midst of a whirlwind of guidelines, a suffocating semester and a labyrinth of uncertain outcomes, one’s physical appearance might be their most reliable medium of control.

And as I’m coming up on the one-year anniversary of joining the ginger community, the periodic ritual of dyeing my hair wild, variant colors has paradoxically become a sort of constant. since my initial foray into the ginger community, I’ve dyed my hair six times. I haven’t seen my natural brown hair for almost a year. so while the color of the dye changes often (maybe too often, honestly), the state of dyedness is a constant — a steady sameness within a world of harsh change. different dye, same state of dyedness. different, but the same. not to be an archetypal english major — always turning seemingly inconsequential anecdotes into metaphors — but I think this concept of simultaneous sameness and difference might resonate with a lot of people in the tri-campus community right now. same dorms, different living environment. same classes, different format. dcsame campus, different campus life.

The idea definitely resonates with me, that’s for sure — this semester, like the one before, has been an uncanny amalgamation of sameness and difference. I still have the same set of fantastic friends, but our relationships operate in wildly different ways under current restrictions. I am still studying the same subjects, but now I’m beginning to think about my future in more concrete terms. I’m still working for the same wonderful publication that is The observer, but this semester, I’m honored (and slightly afraid) to be serving the paper in a higher capacity. change in any capacity is terrifying — I think we’ve all come to recognize that over the past few years. Politics and pandemics aside, our lives have (and will continue to) change drastically. but I hope you and I both can continue to make it through — by learning to cherish what hasn’t changed, and what hopefully never will. In an eccentric, unstable world, recognize what’s steady. not exactly a silver lining — just a small sliver of sameness to clutch on to. so, as long as planet earth continues to be the way it is, I will continue to dye my hair with a variety of obscene colors — and somewhere within that variation, I will feel a calming sense of sameness. sorry, mom. sorry, hair. old habits dye hard, I guess.

A true Catholic education

Ellie Konfrst

butterfly effects

Growing up, I spent most of my time learning about the world in two rooms: my church sanctuary, and my living room, with the Tv tuned to msnbc. religion and politics have always been a part of my life, but they were always completely unrelated. I’d hear my minister mention something about racial justice, or a political candidate say “God bless America,” but they only existed in distinct spheres in my mind. It wasn’t until I came to notre dame that I found religion and politics intertwined, thanks to an x-factor I never expected: catholicism.

I’m not catholic, so to an extent I chose notre dame in spite of, not because of, its status as a catholic school. I grew up attending sunday school, going through confirmation, and singing in the choir at the same Protestant church where my parents were married in the 90s. my hometown congregation belongs to the United church of christ, a theologically and politically progressive denomination.

There was a catholic church next door, but my understanding of the religion was quite minimal. I understood catholicism to be politically conservative, as well as much stricter than my idea of christianity. I had some catholic friends, but believe it or not, 7-yearolds don’t spend a ton of time talking theology. With two registered democrats for parents and a spot reserved in the pews for the 9 a.m. service at my Protestant church, I simply felt that catholicism would never be a part of my life. I planned on going through my time at notre dame respecting catholicism, but keeping it at arm’s length. Throughout my first year, I was largely successful at that.

At the same time, I was becoming politically involved on campus and taking classes toward my degree in political science. Throughout my freshman year, I felt that my politics were changing. I’ve always been broadly on the left, but I felt a deeper commitment to social and economic justice than I had before. I attributed most of it to the famed radicalization powers of college, where the supposed “liberal bubble” of academia pushes college students further left. It took until my first theology class to realize that wasn’t exactly what was happening.

Admittedly, I never paid much attention to biblical studies during sunday school, so that class was my first real exposure to the study of theology. Further, religion was placed, for the first time, in a historical context. The United church of christ was founded in 1957, so I didn’t exactly have a long line of historical traditions to look to. I love my hometown church, and I learned a lot there, but my first theology class required me to think about God in a different, more academic way.

As I began to develop a deeper understanding of catholicism and what it means to believe in God, I often found myself relating my theological studies to my political science classes. For example, (at risk of turning this into a theology paper that no one wants to read) we studied, in-depth, the philosophical idea that belief in God is really a commitment to feel for someone else. every text we studied detailed the importance of community in christianity, a principle I had experienced firsthand in my hometown congregation, but had never considered intellectually.

This resonated deeply with me, as I’ve always found empathy to be a driving force behind many of my my political beliefs. seeing empathy portrayed as such a spiritual thing, and a core aspect of christianity, really began to open my eyes. It turned out that my politics were not changing despite my presence at a catholic school; to a large extent, they were changing because of my interactions with catholicism.

I’d always heard people talk about the importance of social justice to catholicism, so it made sense to me that my politics had grown in that way. however, my politics have also become much more material — since starting college, I’ve developed a much deeper understanding of the way economic systems create and encourage social inequality, and the importance of community and solidarity in overcoming those systemic problems. As a result of my exposure to and study of catholicism, my political views were less abstract, and began to feel much more nuanced and concrete. specifically, since being at notre dame I’ve seen the concept of justice discussed in ways I never had before. In all of my previous experience in politics, justice was simply a buzzword — a phrase that made people feel good, but didn’t mean anything. At notre dame, the concept of justice is deeply woven in every aspect of life, even outside of theology classes, thanks in large part to the extensive catholic commitment to justice. catholicism has made my politics deeper, more nuanced, and more justice-oriented. more than anything, my experience at notre dame has taught me something important: the study of catholicism, and theology in general, has immense value for all fields, but especially the study of politics. my understanding of political science is better and more complex thanks to my exposure to catholicism, even though I’m not catholic myself. none of this is to say that I am converting to catholicism (don’t worry, mom and dad) or that I don’t understand the ways the catholic church often disregards its commitment to justice. I’m not a part of the church, and as an institution, it has nothing to do with my politics. Ultimately, exposure to the historical context and rich theology of catholicism has deepened my understanding of my own spirituality, and in turn has had a massive influence on my political beliefs. I hope that, even after I leave notre dame, I take the lessons of this catholic education with me, both to my own congregation and to the ballot box.

Ellie Konfrst is a junior majoring in political science, with minors in the Hesburgh Program for Public Service and civil & human rights. Originally from Des Moines, Iowa, she’s excited that people will finally be forced to listen to all of her extremely good takes. She can be reached at egloverk@nd.edu or @elliekonfrst13 on Twitter.

The views expressed in this column are those of the authors and not necessarily those of The Observer.

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THE OBSERvER | wednesday, march 10, 2021 | NDSMCOBSERvER.COM

What CPAC means for the future of the Republican Party

Blake Ziegler

News with Zig

“And all the people took off the gold rings that were in their ears and brought them to Aaron. This he took from them and cast in a mold, and made it into a golden calf. And they exclaimed, ‘This is your god, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt!’” (Exodus 32:3-4).

The scene of the golden calf in the Book of Exodus echoed in my mind as I watched a golden statue of former President Donald Trump be unveiled at the Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC) two weeks ago. Now, idolizing politicians is nothing new. The creation of a heroic narrative is commonly used by American politicians to energize their base, and that’s exactly what we saw at CPAC. Endless booths of Trump merchandise, thousands donning Make America Great Again hats and speakers praising the former president all point to the larger-than-life personality Trump has built since his 2015 campaign. What’s interesting, though, is that despite its proTrump atmosphere, CPAC revealed how the Trump mythos can be dismantled, much like the fate of the golden calf.

The looming question since Trump left office has been whether he will run in 2024. Looking at polls, 79% of Republicans approved of Trump at the end of his presidential term, and 46% of Republicans said they would leave the GOP if Trump formed a new party. This would suggest Trump still holds a firm grip on the Republican Party, but CPAC tells a different story. According to the conference’s straw poll, only 55% of attendees said they would vote for Trump in 2024. At an event with the most loyal and active members of the Republican Party, you’d expect much more support for the former president. Beyond that, 95% of attendees want the GOP to support Trump’s agenda instead of seeing him run in 2024. The emerging narrative out of CPAC is that while Trump still has considerable control over the GOP, its members want a new face to champion Trumpism. One question, then, is what is Trumpism?

CPAC confirms Trump’s reshaping of the Republican Party. Just a few years ago, the GOP defined itself as the champion of small government and the free market. Yet, CPAC featured a new conservatism in complete opposition to the traditional Republican mold. Governor Ron DeSantis of Florida proclaimed that the GOP will not “go back to the days of the failed Republican establishment of yesteryear.” Senator Josh Hawley (R-Mo.) called for breaking up technology companies and tightening borders.

But this change in policy platform does not define Trump’s conservatism. In fact, there are steep policy divisions among Trump supporters. At CPAC, policy discussion was rare. Even support for Trump himself isn’t dependent on his platform. Despite breaking over half of his campaign promises, Trump garnered 73 million votes in the general election. While young Republicans differ with Trump on foreign policy, 31% of voters ages 18 to 24 voted for him. For the 2020 Republican National Convention, the official party platform was simply to support Trump. The common theme is that policy does not matter. Trumpian conservatism is defined by Trump, and since his supporters want someone to take Trump’s place, that new standard-bearer must embrace the Trump personality.

Trump’s personality is the reason behind his support. American politics has misdiagnosed why Trump supporters continue to follow him. We know it’s not because of policy. The left might suggest it’s because the average Trump supporter is a white supremacist (they’re not), but that’s not it either. Rather, Trump appealed to a politics of grievance and anger that Democrats and Republicans had a hand in creating.

Let’s consider the Democrats. Liberalism’s endorsement of globalization to create a “level playing field” by which all could prosper ignored the inequalities their economic policies created. Globalization has led to deeper wealth gaps, as the rich become richer and the working class sees little to no gains. When bluecollar workers were told they would be rewarded for hard work and received nothing, the result is antagonism towards the system and individuals that failed them. This anger and feeling of being left behind is what Trump tapped into.

Republicans had a hand in this too, and their complicity shows the fault on both parties. Also, Trump is the latest iteration in the battle between the establishment and anti-establishment wings of the GOP. Over the past four years, we’ve witnessed Trump reshape the party according to his liking. Republican officeholders supporting his agenda through every controversy only reinforced his influence among the base. This alienated moderate Republicans, whose departure only reflects the consensus that the GOP is Trump’s party, not the Republican Party. Moreover, the demonizing and division between both sides only aided Trump, as his supporters saw further aggression towards them, fueling their support. The GOP’s mishandling of Trump resulted in our current problem.

Now, there’s potential for the GOP (and America) to move past Trump. He was a manifestation of people’s grievances that only exacerbated our problems. While Trump may depart, th;58e problem remains. Any attempt to counteract Trumpism must understand its supporters’ grievances and address them, rather than downplay their concerns or vilify them. That only worsens our situation.

Since 2016, we’ve seen a conservatism made in Trump’s image. A GOP that seeks to reject this divisive, anti-democratic ideology must embrace a new conservatism, different from the pre-Trump Republican Party, that embraces the principles of liberalism in the modern world.

Blake Ziegler is a sophomore at Notre Dame from New Orleans, Louisiana, with double majors in political science and philosophy. He loves anything politics, especially things he doesn’t agree with. For inquiries, he can be reached at bziegler@nd.edu or @NewsWithZig on Twitter if you want to see more of his opinions.

The views expressed in this column are those of the authors and not necessarily those of The Observer.

The Observer endorses Berges-Devitt

Midterms, 60-degree weather and student body elections: the three telltale signs of spring on campus. This year, three tickets will compete for Saint Mary’s student body president and vice president. Belles will be given the choice between six juniors: Tatiana Boehning and Sarah Frick, Eleanor Hanson and Adriana Salgado, and Emma Berges and Maggie Devitt.

Early this week, The Observer Editorial Board sat down and interviewed the tickets. After taking into consideration the strengths and weaknesses of each, the Board unanimously endorses Berges-Devitt.

Berges currently serves as co-chair of the marketing and social media committee of the Student Government Association (SGA). She is a communication studies major with minors in Public Relations and Advertising from Fairfield, Connecticut. Devitt, a speech language pathology major and gerontology minor, hails from LaGrange, Illinois, and currently serves as co-chair of SGA’s social life committee.

Their platform presents feasible ideas rooted in the needs of Saint Mary’s students. In addition, their passion for the College and experience in SGA — including collaboration with the current president and vice president — makes them stand out from the other tickets.

The Berges-Devitt ticket is defined by its desire to improve mental health resources, to empower diverse student voices and to emphasize social and emotional connectivity.

The pair was also the only ticket to feature women’s health and wellbeing on their platform — an essential issue at a women’s college. Increased awareness of the services provided at the Health and Counseling Center is crucial, and Berges-Devitt plans to make these resources more accessible and widely known.

Boehning and Frick emphasized the need for increased communication between students, SGA and the administration. Yet their plans for improved sustainability and composting on campus need more definition and specificity. In addition, we were deeply troubled by their thoughts on diversity, especially in regards to international and non-Catholic students. The two did not adequately address how they planned to support historically underrepresented groups on campus during their tenure.

In addition, their proposed plans to create a network connecting students with alumnae lacked knowledge of the existing framework of the Career Crossings Office. This lack of knowledge contrasted with the Berges-Devitt ticket’s familiarity with the current network.

Despite Hanson and Salgado’s experience on SGA committees, their platform lacks any basis in reality. While their campaign pillar of inclusivity seems well-intentioned, their vocabulary when discussing members of the student body is concerning and leans toward othering minority students and campus employees. However, the ticket does have plans for implementing mentorship programs for firstgeneration students and establishing a student-led business in the basement of Le Mans Hall.

Our endorsement of Berges and Devitt does not come without reservations.

The ticket did not have concrete plans to fulfill their campaign promise of forming a working relationship between NDPD and Campus Safety. While we respect their admiration for the work of Campus Safety, their inability to criticize the department’s shortcomings cannot lead to the safety improvements they seek. In addition, Berges and Devitt failed to emphasize the importance of enhancing resources for survivors of sexual assault. Much of their platform seems to be the continuation of line items started by previous administrations — and we would hope to see these goals come to fruition during their term.

Still, we are confident that Berges and Devitt will enact tangible change to the Saint Mary’s community during their term under their three tenets: “Enhance, serve and unite.”