Tuition protest photos

Cont. from Pg. 1 intimidate students?” He also pointed out that students with on-campus jobs make Massachusetts minimum wage—$14.25 per hour—rather than the $15 that has been pushed nationwide. “Come on Emerson, pay your students!” Nalieth said. The acting major said that the time was ripe to reimagine students’ roles in college financial decisions. He touched on the nearly $1 million salary paid to Emerson’s last president, Lee Pelton, and the absence of a current permanent president, to emphasize the opportunity to restructure the relationship between students and administrators. “We are in a moment as a university that is the perfect opportunity to give students increased agency in the decision-making process—we don’t have a president,” Nalieth said. “What do we have in the meantime? An interim president they dragged out of retirement? What is he going to do for us?” Nalieth mentioned examples from the Emerson community that provide insight into how to challenge the college. “Emerson College doesn’t like that the faculty has a union, they don’t like that the staff organize and fight for their wages and fight for their treatment,” Nalieth said. “Maybe we should do something like that! Maybe we should start thinking about long-term solutions to this problem!” Beyond the single issue of tuition hikes, the crowd also aired other grievances with the college. Sophomore visual and media arts major Nyasia Mayes, another protest organizer, called attention to the college’s misrepresentation of its own diversity. “How many Instagram posts… we see someone of color happen to be there?” Mayes asked the crowd. “It’s important that [Emerson] also realize the racial inequities that they inhabit.” Emerson is a predominantly-white institution, according to the college’s 2021-22 factbook. First-year political communications major Annie Douma took the stand to argue that the college should treat students and faculty equitably. She noted that one of her professors had to step away from teaching this semester because of safety concerns for her immunocompromised mother. Instead of accommodating the professor by moving the class to a virtual option, a different profes-

Students write demands on the Wall of Power. Sydney Ciardi Beacon staff sor was brought in to teach. “That shift was not something I signed up for, and it was directly a result of the college not being accommodating to the fact that COVID is still happening,” Douma said to The Beacon. One student told the crowd that they wouldn’t have been able to attend Emerson if they hadn’t been selected as a resident assistant, and therefore exempted from paying room and board, and if they didn’t have access to scholarships and jobs. “I am incredibly lucky to be in this position,” they said. ”Where is this [assistance] for everyone else too?” Nalieth claimed that international students are rarely given financial aid offers, drawing a cry from an international student in the crowd: “If you want to keep us around, give us our money!” A first-generation student also took up the bullhorn and stated that when they emailed the college about financial aid, they didn’t get a response for two weeks before ultimately being denied an offer. “If they continue to raise tuition, I will not be able to continue to go here,” they said. “First-generation students will not be represented. That is what Emerson is representing.” Friday’s demonstration was not the first organized by this student-led coalition, which was originally created to make a stand against the administration’s previous tuition raise for the 2021-22 academic year. Those demands were not addressed by the college. Last year, the group met with administration members and trustees but said they encountered resistance. “They were largely not receptive,” Nalieth said. “It felt patronizing or condescending. They seemed to think that we were the only people who cared. So when we saw the email [announcing the raise] this year, we knew that we had to mobilize immediately and get people outside and prove to the administration that this is not an isolated concern.” The group hopes to get more students involved in their campaign so the administration will respond to the demands. “We’re planning more events in the future,” Mayes said. “It’s about tuition, but it’s also about coming together because when we come together. That’s how a change is made.” The administration’s lack of response to the concerns was not because of its justification of tuition increases, according to Nalieth. “It actually was a lot more pathetic than that,” he said. “It felt like they were throwing their hands up According to Nalieth, college administrators had told them that the board of trustees was responsible for tuition matters and financial aid allocation, while the trustees the students met with explained that they couldn’t tap into the endowment at their own discretion because funds are reserved for specific purposes. The organizers describe themselves as a decentralized organization autonomous from the school, meaning they want to create a student power structure on their own. Unlike previous movements, the group is not advocating for a tuition strike, citing the potential for disproportionate harm—especially to marginalized students. “I personally acknowledge that if administration doesn’t listen to these demands, we’ll be left with no other avenue,” Nalieth said. “We have to hit them where it hurts in the funding.” College spokesperson Michelle Gaseau said Emerson is willing to listen to the issues students raised at the protest. “The College is open to dialogue and conversation with students about their concerns and is committed to working with our students, amidst the competing demands on the College, including infrastructure needs and a rise in inflation, to ensure they are able to continue on the path to graduation,” Gaseau wrote in an email statement to the Beacon. The protest organizers encourage students to apply to the tuition offset fund, but the ultimate goal is to achieve more substantial gains for all. “Emerson College needs to address this problem beyond trying to slap band-aids on top of the systemic problems that they’re creating,” Nalieth said.

abigail_lee@emerson.edu

Emerson student Nyasia Mayes. Sydney Ciardi Beacon staff

Students protesting in the 2B alleyway. Sydney Ciardi Beacon staff

A March 31 article incorrectly referred to Anna Feder as director of programming of the Visual and Media Arts Department, rather than head of film exhibitions and festival programs. The same article quoted Feder as saying she learned of another staff member’s salary through the staff union; according to union president Dennis Levine, the union did not provide Feder with this information.

A March 31 obituary incorrectly referred to baseball player Mickey Mantle as Greek-American. The story has been updated to cite Milt Pappas as the player in question.

Kaitlyn Fehr

Beacon Staff

I think we’ve ALL seen the eighthour-long Victorious video essay on our YouTube recommended page. If you haven’t at least heard of this twopart series, you must be living under a rock. Admittedly, YouTube recommended this video to me because I would die for a good, obscenely long video essay. The longer and more obscure the topic, the better in my eyes. Clearly, I’m not the only one, seeing as “The End of Victorious” currently has over three million views. This infamous video essay united Tumblr, and Victorious trended on the—somehow not yet dead—site for days. If you asked me this time last year, I would have told you that consuming 30-second videos on TikTok had destroyed everyone’s ability to sit through anything longer than a minute, let alone an eight-hour-long video. On average, YouTube videos tend to be around 10 minutes in length—the ideal length to keep viewers’ attention, while simultaneously hitting the minimum time to monetize a video. The years 2021 and 2022 truly marked the rise of video essays, despite the odds set against them from dwindling attention spans to the expected length of videos on the platform. My love affair with video essays began with YouTuber Jenny Nicholson, and her video titled, “I did it. I found the worst book.” As a book lover, and someone who loves to consume shitty media, I was drawn in by the clickbait-y title. The 23-minute run time is certainly not the longest of her video essays, but it was the perfect length to hook me. For a long time, I had grown bored with YouTube content. Every video seemed the same. Once-humble stars turned vloggers hanging out with their rich, famous friends and constantly causing scandals became the norm. Nicholson’s content was wildly refreshing to me, even as a YouTube veteran. The entire video broke down and trashed what might genuinely be the worst book ever—Troll, a novel following the story of a woman and her online stalker—instead of vapidly praising an author who paid for pro-

Star of Victorious Victoria Justice. / Courtesy Creative Commons

motion or doing Patrón shots with millionaires. To put it simply, her video felt like something new on a platform that had grown old and stale. I didn’t watch Nicholson’s video when it originally came out. Instead, I found myself falling into the rabbit hole of her content as the pandemic rapidly changed the world around me. I was locked in my room at home in Pennsylvania, separated from my friends, and feeling melancholy over my abrupt departure from Kasteel Well. Nicholson’s video let me escape this isolation and dive into a video where I wouldn’t be comparing my life to that of an influencer. I quickly pillaged my way through her content, listening to it like a familiar friend talking in the back of my head, as I played Animal Crossing New Horizons on my Nintendo Switch or colored at my childhood desk. Her video essays were there for the quiet moments where I would otherwise be alone. Eventually, I had to find new content to keep me company when the world was too quiet to bear. I turned to people like Sarah Z, with even more niche videos about internet lore like “The ‘Author’ of My Immortal Emailed Me, And Then It Got Worse.” I had always been a weird kid obsessed with internet lore and drama, and suddenly there was an untapped trove of hours of content created by people who had the same love for internet weirdness and were talking about it passionately. Obviously, I was not the only one finding solace and comfort in these long videos, as the rise of the video essay began during the pandemic. Many of these long-form video essays have views in the millions. I think there is something so uniquely human and inspiring about watching another human be consumed by something they love. I can’t deny the fact that a lot of people, and myself one of them, likely clicked on Quinton Reviews’ eighthour-long Victorious video out of pure curiosity about how there is even eight hours worth of content to discuss surrounding this early 2010s Nickelodeon show. I watched Victorious as a kid, but never thought I would sit through a 13hour total, two-part video series about the show. I clicked on the video expecting to mildly chuckle and turn it off, and instead found myself consumed by the content, turning it on every time I needed background noise or something to watch while I ate. Yes, I started watching video essays because I was lonely and bored during quarantine, but along the way, I fell in love with the genre. Watching Quinton Reviews talk atlength about every single episode of Victorious in existence is hypnotizing, mostly because of how passionate he is about this (subpar) Nickelodeon show. Because of the passion shown by these creators, certain video essays transcend the need to watch the original content entirely. I’ve sat through an entire six-hour three-part video series on Pretty Little Liars, despite the fact that I have never so much as seen a single episode of the show. Pre-pandemic, YouTube, and the internet as a whole, was in a weird place. It felt like all the creativity had been sucked away, leaving an empty shell of what once was. The loneliness and the free time of the pandemic gave it that spark back. Seeing content creators make content that they genuinely love, and are passionate about, is something that will never get old. It’s something YouTube lost for a while. At first glance, hours-long videos about niche content seem kind of dumb. But, when you sit and break it down, it gives you a glance into how passionate humans can be, and how we can shield each other from loneliness even when we are physically alone.

Mariyam Quaisar

Beacon Staff

My skin is still tingling from season two of Netflix’s Bridgerton, and I finished the new episodes almost a week ago. While the casting of season one was immaculate, this season topped it off with the addition of Simone Ashley and Charithra Chandran as two Indian sisters, Kathani and Edwina Sharma, joined the powerful English families of the ton. Witnessing such an empowering portrayal of Indian women in a white-led television series ignited a sense of pride within me. Many South Asians, myself included, are used to––and expect to see––stereotypical depictions of fellow South Asians in television and film. But this? This incredible representation could pave the way for a new era of casting actors from South Asian heritage, and thank God for it. Not only are Kathani and Edwina Sharma illustrated as strong, independent women, but their genuine character development is inspiring to all those watching. There are truly no words to describe the thrill I felt knowing I was watching someone who looks like me rock the socks off millions of watchers. And can we talk about the chemistry between Kathani and Anthony Bridgerton (played by Jonathan Bailey)? Their lust, passion, and desire were almost tangible and, let me tell you, it had me pacing around my room every few scenes. There were moments I had to do jumping jacks to calm myself down. Bailey and Ashley did a remarkable job. They truly allowed the audience to feel—or at least long to feel— what coursed through their veins with every passing look and each graze of their fingertips. Anthony and Kathani’s many sensual scenes made viewers forget that they were actors playing a role. Instead, it undoubtedly amped up audience members’ libido and made their palms sweat. When Anthony told Kathani, “You are the bane of my existence, and the object of all my desires. Night and day, I dream of you. Do you even know the ways a lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you ...” Gawd, I wish someone would say those words to me. Moving forward, the sibling dynamic between the Bridgertons not only diffused the heavy hotness of the show (which was definitely necessary at times), but also brought a chuckle to my lips. The understanding between Eloise and Benedict was adorable and hilarious, and a great addition to the relationships between the characters. Speaking of relationships, the bonds throughout the show—some unexpected—keep the audience hooked. Lady Danbury and Violet’s cunning and well-meant antics, Edwina and the Queen’s connection over love, Lady and Lord Featherington’s surprising © 2022 The Berkeley Beacon. All rights reserved.

The Beacon is published weekly. Anything submitted to the Beacon becomes the sole property of the newspaper. No part of the publication may be reproduced by any means without the express written permission of the editor. Illustration Lucia Thorne

attraction, and Eloise’s crush on Theo Sharpe were just a few side plot lines that kept the show worthwhile. Of course, the neverending eyesex between Kathani and Anthony kept my eyes glued to the screen, but getting a break here and there to explore the other characters’ purpose in the show was refreshing. Like a cold shower, if you will. The show’s creators knew we’d need to touch some grass… To top it off, the hustle around Eloise trying to uncover Lady Whistledown while Penelope Featherington tried to maintain her identity as the gossip girl was thrilling. The back and forth was exhausting, but both womens’ persistence was badass. Season 2 of Bridgerton was undeniably better than season 1. Not only because of the palpable and constant sexual tension, but also because of the South Asian representation that I have been longing for for the past 15 years. However, I do have one qualm. Her name is Kathani Sharma, not “Kate” Sharma. I did not understand the need to essentially whitewash her name. If you are going to so incredibly portray an Indian woman, go all the way with it. When Anthony said her full name while declaring his love to her, I quite literally fell out of my chair. It was the single hottest thing I have ever experienced… and there was a full-on sex scene in the episode prior. Season two of Bridgerton exceeded expectations and became the first show that not only depicted South Asian women beautifully, but also solidified my pride in being a South Asian woman myself. Thank you to the creators and thank you to Simone Ashley.

Editor-in-Chief Lucia Thorne Managing Editors Shannon Garrido (Content) Camilo Fonseca (Content) Marcus Cocova (Multimedia) Campbell Parish (Operations) Section Editors Frankie Rowley (News) Hadera McKay (Opinion) mariyam_quaisar@emerson.edu Karissa Schaefer (Living Arts) Tyler Foy (Sports) Kaitlyn Fehr (Copy)

Advisor David Dahl