October 2019

T H E U N D E RG R A D UAT E M AG A Z I N E O F C O LU M B I A U N I V E R S I T Y, E S T. 1 8 9 0

THE BLUE AND WHITE Vol. XXV No.V

October 2019

A Read You Won't Rue A Conversation with Reed Alexander

Farewell, Overton Window!

Henry Magowan on running an ultra-progressive presidential campaign

Also Insi

de:

Please Call Me So

mething

Else & Make Way For

Flora

SKETCHBOOK

Interested in writing or illlustrating?

How about copyediting or publishing?

Attend SEAS or GS? We Want You! Come to our weekly meetings Mondays at 8PM or contact us at bweditors@columbia.edu

Illustration by Samia Menon

UFONOBONG UMANAH, CC '20, Editor-in-Chief ESMÉ ABLAZA, CC '20, Managing Editor MARY ELIZABETH DAWSON, BC '21, Publisher GRACE ADEE, CC '22, Investigations Editor JACOB SNYDER, CC '20, Literary Editor ZOE METCALFE, CC '21, Online Editor SAHRA DENNER, CC '21, Senior Illustrator GIGI LEE, CC ' 22, Layout Editor KATE STEINER, CC '22, Audio Director NICOLE KOHUT, CC '22, Senior Editor RYAN MOHEN, CC '21, Senior Editor SAM NEEDLEMAN, CC '22, Senior Editor MALIA SIMON, CC '22, Senior Editor Writers-at-Large AMAD ROSS, CC '22 DRAZEN MEDINA, CC '20 GABRIELLA FERRIGINE, CC '20 HANNAH LIBERMAN, CC '20 NORA MCSORLEY, CC'20 BILLIE FORESTER, CC '22 TAMAR VIDRA, CC '22 Staff Writers SAM HOSMER, CC ‘23 SYLVIE EPSTEIN, CC ‘23 WILLIAM LYMAN, CC ‘23 BENJAMINE MO, CC ‘23 HAILEY RYAN, BC ‘22 DOMINY GALLO, CC ‘23 STEPHANIE LAI, CC ‘22 JOSEPH CAMPBELL, CC ‘22 SYDNEY TUCKER, BC ‘23 DONNA QI, CC ‘23 Blue Jay Staff CHASE CUTARELLI, CC ‘23 SADIA HAQUE, BC ‘23 RAQUEL TURNER, CC ‘23

Staff Illustrators HELEN BECKER, CC ‘22 KASSIA KARRAS, BC ‘22 LEA BROUDO, SEAS ‘21 MWANDEYI KAMWENDO, CC’ 22 REA RUSTAGI, SEAS ‘22 ROSE KUAN, CC ‘22 SUSAN STEINFELD, BC ‘22 SAMIA MENON, SEAS ‘23 BROOKE MCCORMICK, BC ‘22 AARON JACKSON, CC ‘22 LILLY CAO, CC ‘22 PETER PHAN, CC ‘23 Tech Deputies SYDNEY CONTRERAS, CC’23 WILLIAM KIM, CC’22 Assistant Publisher JAI QURESHI, CC ‘23 Staff Copyeditors BLANCHE ZHANG, CC ‘22 RACHEL ZHENG, CC ‘22 Contributors CARLY ROTH, CC ‘23

THE BLUE AND WHITE Vol. XXV

FAMAM EXTENDIMUS FACTIS

No. V

Columns

6 Blue Book 8 Blue Notes 10 Campus Characters 12 At Two Swords' Length 18 Centerfold 26 M easure for Measure

Sadia Haque

Sam Needleman

Tamar Vidra

Nora May McSorley

Gi Ferrigine and Nora May McSorley

Features

14 Please Call Me Something Else

Administrative hurdles prevent transgender students at

Barnard from killing their dead names 15 Farewell, Overton Window!

Henry Magowan on running an ultra-progressive presiden-

tial campaign 16 M ake Way for Flora

The politics of ecospace in the concrete jungle 20 K illing Me Softly

The Blue and White continues its short fiction series with a

story by a recent Columbia College graduate.

28 A R ead You Won't Rue

A conversation with Reed Alexander

theblueandwhite.org

f

Cover by Rea Rustagi

PAY I N G T H E B I L L S

Book Culture 536 West 112th Street between Broadway and Amsterdam Monday-Friday 9am-10pm Saturday 10am-8pm Sunday 11am-7pm 212-865-1588 Book Culture 2915 Broadway at West 114th Street Monday-Friday 9am-11pm Saturday 10am-11pm Sunday 10am-10pm 646-403-3000 bookculture.com

October 2019

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a

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR

TRANSACTIONS

We wouldn’t have Halloween without immigrants. I know that gives some national figures that sit in white houses a heart attack, but my goal is to scare as many people as possible. Capitalist branding has reduced a holy vigil with explicit pagan overtones into a fun children’s holiday where ghouls and demons are less scary than spoiled eggs and root canals. Columbia’s competitiveness makes sleeping with vampires and werewolves a safer prospect than interviewing with high-octane suits and frazzled hairdos. Callous brinkmanship has made hexes and curses as effective as inquiries and midterms. It’s almost as if we don’t need October to scare us anymore (unless it’s an election year, which 2019 is not).

So why do we, culturally, place faith in the grim in October? I think it’s a form of escapism. We live in fear 11 other months in the year. We still live in fear in October. But those year-long fears are real. No matter how macabre our ketchup-tattered sheets, Frankenstein’s monster is a fictional entity, but unethical scientific or technological advancement gets realer every day. These pages have featured stories that kept their subjects nightmare-ridden for weeks, months on end. How could Freddy Krueger and Hannibal Lecter truly compare to the existential dread of post-graduate employment?

Allow me, for a minute, to try.

If you can stomach it, behold the October Issue. Crafted by our darkest fears, wrapped in my pseudo-philosophical musing, it may be indeed the most haunted issue of the volume. Abandon all pretenses of hope if you learn how the sickening sausage comes out of the printer and into your cold, unfeeling hands. And if dawn’s rosy fingers return to your bedroom, pray that they stay an hour longer than they have to stay.

Oh, and make sure to watch the first episode of our new podcast, Blue Jay. Can’t leave without telling you that.

—Ufonobong Umanah

ARRIVALS

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Widespread appreciation for that old Hewitt The Blue Jay Podcast Too many speakers City and state elections DEPARTURES Alumni respect McDonalds at 125th Internship deadlines Milkshaming

Come Again?!

“Here's the tea | We need legacy admissions” —The Daily Pennsylvanian, Ill-Advised Op-ed, 10/06/19

The Blue and White

BLUE BOOK

DIGITALIA Our normally scheduled Blue Book content had to take a...dirt nap, so we’re sharing a short Digitalia based on questions submitted by students to the Diversity & the Core panel that ran earlier this month.

We hope these foster conversation where the panel could not get to them in time. We aren’t changing the wording, so we apologize for spooking the grammaticians here.

1. How much is ones experience in the Core determined by the quality of their professors versus University-level decisions on its contents? How can professors be encouraged to have students apply critical lens of analysis to ancient works, balancing both their original and contemporary treatment?

2. In both CC and Lit Hum (the two text-based Core classes I’ve taken so far), the texts are ordered roughly chronologically. What could be another way to organize the texts that would allow for a more diverse perspective, both authorially and thematically?

3. Since so many of the readings in the core contain ideas used to justify the oppression of women, people of color, and LGTB+ people across his-

tory (for example, the concept of natural slavery coined by Aristotle and popularized during the colonization of the Americas), should part of the assigned readings of the Core Curriculum contain academic refutations of said ideas?

4. What is the extent to which the students should have a say in determining the works they engage with through the Core Curriculum?

5. How does the international community at Columbia fit into the discussion on diversity in the Core? Is Columbia an international university?

6. How might we more directly incorporate material from the core into work in the sciences (particularly engineering)?

POSTCARD FROM MORNINGSIDE

October 2019

Postcard by Sahra Denner

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BLUE NOTES

O

n a recent evening, some residents of McBain floors one and two congregated in the dorm lounge for their resident advisor’s first planned event of the season. Rather than select a cheesy movie to watch or purchase a tub of ice cream, Chrissy opted to commission the owner of Studio 28, a tattoo parlor in Midtown, for an hour-long information session.

TJ, a stocky white guy in his mid-thirties covered from fingertips to stubbly chin with colorful and elaborate ink, took a seat at the center of the room while residents piled onto the couches. He introduced himself to the residents, telling them he had earned a dual degree in politics and philosophy from Hofstra University, then worked on Wall Street in mortgages until the 2008 crash, when he realized he hated his job.

He quit and opened a tattoo parlor with a friend.

TJ frequently reminded the residents that he had no artistic talent. Rather, it was his business and sales expertise that had earned his parlor hundreds of five-star Yelp reviews and a clientele including secret service agents and Forbes 500 CEOs. TJ offered penetrating insight into the richness of tattoo culture, joking glibly about the

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contrast between New York’s austere, colorless trends and the vibrant avant-garde he associates with “Cali.” He outlined how body alterations have evolved from a back-alley pastime for social outcasts and inmates to a multi-billion dollar industry. Before parting, he insisted on three things: that do our research; that we choose a clean, reputable parlor, no matter the price; and that we start from the drawing board with an artist, rather than choosing something pre-designed.

Chrissy, who remained bright and bubbly throughout the evening, flashed her two tattoos as students exited and passed out sheets of temporaries she had cut out. Whether others in attendance will muster the courage to get their own remains to be seen.

—Dominy Gallo

I

t might surprise some readers to learn that the basement of Furnald—that damp, musty place, thick with the aroma of mold and laundry left too long in the tumbler—was once a non-profit grocery, replete with dime bagels and beer, run by a rotating squadron of angsty stoners. Plans for the defunct site aren’t easily accessible, so it’s anyone’s guess what the space looked like.

Furnald was renovated in 1995, so one might surmise that the old grocery was long ago subdivided into what is today the laundry room, the trash compactor room, the basement lounge, and the employee locker rooms. A bit of vigilante exploration leads one to believe that the trash compactor room and adjoining storage room were once the main rooms of the grocery, and assorted other spaces on the lower level were once storage rooms, offices, and break rooms.

The Spectator seems to have given the grocery quite a bit of attention in its day. Archives reveal that the grocery the grocery was robbed a lot and owed various

Illustration by Lilly Cao

The Blue and White

BLUE NOTES t housa nds of dollars the store owed to seem i n gly just about ever yone.

Back in the ‘70s, when the Upper West Side was “a pretty lousy place to go to college” (as eloquently phrased in a 21 March, 1978 Spec op-ed called “The Birth of a Grocery”), the grocery was seen as a necessary perk, something to counteract Morningside’s then-persistent dreariness. It was feisty and dynamic and run by fellow students who were constantly motivated, sympathetic, and extremely high. It was, paradoxically, a little piece of counterculture. Its very existence was a middle finger to the administration, and it persistently fought against powers that remain alive and well long after the grocery’s demise.

Eventually, the perky Furnald Grocery had to face up to an enormous deficit and an on-campus beer ban and shuttered for good in 1990. Now, nary a trace of it remains, but readers may find that all of Columbia is still charged with the spirit that first brought the grocery into existence and sustained it for twelve irreverent dime-bagel years.

—Sam Hosmer

O

f the essential pieces in “After the End: Timing Socialism in Africa,” on view at Columbia’s Wallach Art Gallery until October 6, the most incisive might be a multi-media installation by the Mozambican artist Ângela Ferreira. “For Mozambique (Model no. 1 of Screen-Tribute-Kiosk Celebrating a Post-Independence Utopia),” from 2008, is a towering assemblage of wood, steel, and two projected videos. Makwayela, an anticolonial drama shot in Maputo by Jean Rouch and Jacques d’Arthuys in 1977, graces one side of the screen, and a live recording of Bob Dylan’s “Mozambique,” performed in Colorado in 1976, plays on the other.

Ferreira deftly contrasts the videos, both made shortly after Mozambique gained independence from Portugal, to raise the stakes and terms of

October 2019

colonial, postcolonial, and decolonial story-telling—vital challenges that many of the exhibition’s radically insightful artists take upon themselves.

Ferreira’s f loor-to-ceiling geometries ascend to the scale of architecture and even infrastructure, particularly when the sculpture’s glorious slats pierce the projection of Bob Dylan’s stadium and nearly graze the gallery’s ceiling.

The built environment, it turns out, permeates the whole exhibition, often as an instructive and productive palimpsest, as in a characteristically elaborate painting by Julie Mehretu, who is slated for a retrospective at the Whitney next year.

In seven striking photographs of people at work, Filipe Branquinho, also Mozambican, almost splays buildings across his backgrounds, temporarily relieving them from their functions to foreground their beauty and, crucially, their near-seamless continuities with boundless sidewalks and oceans.

Other gems from this undersung exhibit— a step in the right direction for the freshly minted Wallach, which ought to emerge as an Uptown art destination for everyone—include the Angolan artist Kiluanji Kia Henda’s witty series of prints that portray a mission to the Sun, and the Ethiopian painter Mezgebu Tesema’s ominous “Weekend,” from 2016. The show’s curator, Álvaro Luís Lima, a Ph.D. candidate in the Department of Art History and Archaeology, suspends not time but rather our ideas about temporality and its politics, which the artists help us interrogate, shatter, and if we’re lucky, reconstruct. Rather than distill one contiguous chronology or ideology—ever a fraught pursuit for small shows with grand political schemes, at Columbia or elsewhere—the show launches us into a constellation. It’s a pleasure to pick a bright star and gaze.

—Sam Needleman

Illustrations by Aaron Jackson and Lilly Cao

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Campus Characters You might not know the following figures—but you should. In Campus Characters, The Blue & White introduces you to a handful of Columbians who are up to interesting and extraordinary things and whose stories beg to be shared. This issue, we bring you two people with interests in their Columbia class pages. If you’d like to suggest a Campus Character, send us an email at bweditors@columbia.edu..

Naava Ellenberg

R

ushing from the voter registration table that she was running, Naava Ellenburg arrives at the Milstein lobby dressed head to toe in patriotic gear, red and blue scrunchies in her hair and wearing a t-shirt that says “In Women We Trust.” . Perhaps more striking than her unapologetic love of country, however, is her beaming positivity and politicianesque ease. Opting to move to the Barnard Lawn, Ellenburg tells me how she is spending her Tuesday, which also happens to be National Voter Registration Day. “I’m supposed to be nonpartisan until 6 p.m today, but I’ll make an exception for you,”' she says,, explaining her duties as Vice President of ColumbiaVotes“Pessimism doesn’t drive people to the polls in the same way optimism does,'' she tells me, explaining how she remains so bubbly after a long day registering people to vote. “This is how we fix the things that are broken.” Optimism seems to

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be more than just a political technique for Naava, but the spark that has ignited her unconventional path towards success. And with seven-plus years of experience in canvassing, it’s safe to say that Naava is no stranger to the pavement pounding lifestyle it takes to graduate a year early. Naava, however, doesn’t view her decision or the steps she had to take to get here, (including taking a heavy summer course load), as a sacrifice. “I want to be going out and doing things,” she explains, exuding a sense of urgency and excitement. “2020 is a huge year.

I wanna be an adult and work in politics already”.

Naava’s post-graduation dream is to work for Elizabeth Warren, a campaign in which she is already incredibly involved. Naava is one of the lead student organizers for “Barnard For Warren”, an on-campus group dedicated to garnering support for the Warren campaign both at Columbia University and throughout the greater Morningside Heights community.

She is also an active member of “New York City for Warren”, the group responsible for the 20,000 plus people that attended Warren’s speech in Washington Square Park. Fittingly, Naava’s role for the event was to hype up the crowd and keep the famously long Warren selfie line engaged throughout the night. And before I could even ask, Naava assured me that she didn’t leave before getting her selfie.

While the dream is to work on the Warren campaign, Naava’s dedication is not to any one candidate, but to restoring the same hope she feels to the American people. “When people ask me, ‘well what if she doesn’t win the primary?’ my response is, ‘well I guess I am doing a senate race,” Naava explains. “At this moment, I have no roots anywhere. Campaigns are powered by young people who are willing to work for not a lot of money, not get a lot of sleep, and who are willing to live in a random state. And right now, I just wanna be working for something I care about.”

As the interview neared its end, I began to thank Naava for her time when she interrupted me: “My thanks come from someone saying I’m gonna

Illustration by Lea Broudo

The Blue and White

vote for Elizabeth Warren, or just I’m gonna go out and vote.” This thankless dedication and overwhelming enthusiasm perfectly represents Naava’s atypical approach to college. She doesn’t crave recognition, she craves change, and is not afraid to risk it all to achieve this goal. No matter what campaign Naava is working on or what random state she is living come May, I have no doubt that she will take her boundless positivity with her. I am thankful to have gotten the opportunity to get to know Naava, but if you want to thank Naava for all that she has done for both Columbia and our country, I suggest you go out and vote.

—Hailey Ryan

Jacob kaplan

Y

ou might remember Jacob Kaplan as Rob Goldberg from the 123th Varsity Show. He remembers that show, almost three years later, reclining on the top floor of East Campus. And despite the controlling nature of Goldberg’s character in A Tale of Two Colleges, had Jacob known what he knows after co-writing the 125th Varsity Show, he admits he probably would have learned his lines faster.

The Varsity Show is a labor of love, and Jacob is like any loving parent. Being on the creative team means making sure that the production runs seamlessly, for both the actors and the audience, while revising and rewriting the script up until midApril. The process invokes an appreciation for consistency, something Columbia often fails to provide for university-sanctioned humor. As someone who aspires to write comedy, if only “there was a dollar in it,” that’s something he knows he can’t count on from the audience, because it’s impossible to write a joke that will offend nobody 100% of the time.

And while he believes in the power of comedy as an avenue to discuss complex issues, sometimes things have to be cut. This was the case with Barnard Public Safety, which at the time faced accusation of racism and misconduct. The scandal simply happened too close to the time the final script had to be finished.

This desire to engage in bigger issues translates transparently, yet fairly, into how he felt about the critiques of the show. Bwog, unusually, gave a lot of praise for the technical and performative parts of the show, while providing critiques of the vilification of non-public administrators and the message behind the show’s hand waving of political “arbitrary shit” in a racialized and polarized national environment. These critiques are directed at decisions about plot and character building, which

October 2019

were directly in the department of co-writers Jacob and Jake Arlow (BC ’19). And yet, while he understood those comments, and accepted some of the remarks, he was fiercely critical of the Columbia Daily Spectator’s review, which largely levied broader criticism over the show’s pacing, humor, and technical work seen during a dress rehearsal performance. The situationality of the review, divorced from the larger audience that fills Roone Auditorium most nights, struck Jacob as unfair and impractical.

That being said, this year, he’s unlikely to take on such a huge role in the 126th. (Trust me, it was one of the first questions I asked.) After the 123th, he stayed in the community, but he returned as the drink captain instead of acting. Something similar will probably happen this senior year. Besides, he has a lot of other commitments to think about, between Third Wheel Comedy, The Kingsman, and interning at SNL. Being in so many performing arts groups, I asked him about the audition process and exclusivity therein. Here, that sense of practicality returned.

Third Wheel Comedy received 80+ applications and could only accept 10% of applicants. However, the improv group hosts a comedy workshop open to the community. This year, they’ve seen a record number of return participants...of around 3 - 5 people. Pressed as to why, Jacob theorized it might be that people are busy and prioritize permanent commitments over temporal ones. Plus, improv is a vulnerable setting, and he confessed that he wouldn’t want to go to an audition by himself. That would be way too “nerveracking.” Especially for Rob Goldberg himself.

—Ufonobong Umanah

Illustration by Kate Steiner

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AT T W O S W O R D S ’ L E N GT H

Should We U

npopular opinion: yes, make the call. I’m speak- ye, ye who is certainly more sober than Jessica and ing to everyone except those select few who Rebecca, but certainly still sauced. The Pros and yearn for the drama that comes with the inevitable Cons run through your mind like the multiple times CAVA call. You, sirs, are kind of the worst. For the throughout the night Jessica pre-pass out tried to run rest of you heart-containing humans, please feel free from you in search of all things nuggets and baseball to read on unperturbed, because we’re talking about Bobby from across the courtyard. Pro: Calling could the call of the ages. It is the only one that can end in save Jessica’s life – she’s a great friend and has a miles of medical charges for absolutely no treatment, promising future. Con: Calling could save Jessica’s a dean disciplinary hearing, and a deep-seated, life- life – you saw baseball Bobby first. Wait, is she blue? long fear of authority and Blue Raspberry Svedka. Alright, joke’s over; bring in the dancing lobsters.

Most importantly, however, it is the call that is the Shoot, maybe you are drunk, Rebecca. Call CAVA. Sure, Jessica may be emotionally scarred from being ultimate sign of a party well done.

But back to the situation at hand: you’ve tempo- carried off, half-conscious, in a stretcher and loaded into the ambulance only to drive rarily halted Nigel’s 21st birthless than a block away (dramatic) day celebration in your EC suite to the hospital, but who knows because Jessica is facedown on what could have happened if you the couch, responding to neither didn’t call? She told you last week the smashing of pots in her face that she was going carb-free and nor repeated announcements if she’d have somehow found herthat Mr. Brightside is next on the self at JJ’s…all bets of carb-lessqueue. In essence, things aren’t ness would have been off. Or she looking too hot. They were going could have run into Bobby, and swimmingly before Jessica pulled no one is more efficient at flirtout the damned toothpaste – it’s ing than she who is minutes away always the most innocent stuff from being CAVA’d. that make the best chasers. But ffirmative Jessica will thank you someday. she swore she could handle it and

By Alice Staley By that time, the two of you will you were naïve enough to believe look back on this experience her. Needless to say, before long, her dancing degenerated into something resembling fondly. You’ll get to say, ‘Hey Jess, remember that a sensual grind against the suite fern and her incoher- time you said you weren’t going out and then did and ent professions of love turned into ugly sobbing that decided to chase with toothpaste until you passed was evoked by either the plot of Forrest Gump or the out and got CAVA’d which forever put a strain on our fact that she’d finished her 2.5 pound bag of candy friendship, completely gutted your bank account, corn the night before, you couldn’t really catch which and instilled within you a hatred for all boys named Bobby?’ That or you’ll never see her again. Which, it was.

You’re starting to seriously consider making the honestly, may not be that much of a loss. Anyone call. You’ve assigned Rebecca the task of googling who’s getting CAVA’d, chasing with toothpaste, and CAVA – the success of which can be illustrated delusional enough to think they can forgo carbs through a comprehensive list of her search history, might be worth letting go. So get yourself some which progressed from Cabo to Canvas to Canada good karma, rescue that fern in the corner of your to Contradiction before arriving at the mac daddy suite, make your party one for the books: call CAVA itself. With that completed, the decision is left up to today!w

A

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Illustration by Sahra Denner

The Blue and White

AT T W O S W O R D S ’ L E N GT H

CAVA them?

D

rooling on the floor of JJs, a mango slushy in flattering, I came to Columbia to study financial one hand and an obliterated quesadilla resting economics– a CAVA infraction is a potential blemish on his forearm, the kid looks sloshed. Curious first- on my record that I am not willing to take a risk on. years start to gather around the scene, one pokes Thus, I must employ the critical argumentation skills him with a fried mozzarella stick, and some begin to that gained my acceptance to this bountiful instituask if we should call CAVA– the ever elusive, party- tion in order to convince my lower-ranking peers killing service that we had only ever heard about, that CAVA is not an option for tonight’s incident. but never scene in action. We know the rumors, but I decide to begin my line of reasoning with the one can only imagine the peril that arises out of a only thing I know they’ll all understand at this point CAVA call. Particularly, no one ever knows what in their undergraduate lives– the Iliad. I turn to the happens to the “caller.” The unquailified team of crowd: “Was it not Homer, our fearless literary leadundergraduates take the er, that said ‘Let me not then incapacitated student for an die ingloriously and without examination, but is the caller a struggle, but let me first do subjected to an interview or, some great thing that shall worse, a phone call home? be told among men hereafSuddenly, I am offered as tribter?’ Unless you’re a Barnard ute to make the dreaded call. or SEAS student, you know I only knew the kid these words are Homer’s way from NSOP. We weren’t even of indoctrinating the necesin the same OL group– our sity of vigilance, determinapaths collided when I accition, and conviction in his dentally dropped my surf readers. As Columbia stuand turf on him and he dents, are we not expected to asked me to pay for his dry take the words of Homer– the cleaning. Yet now, for some messages of the exemplary unforsaken reason, I find myself Core Curriculum– and apply it egative determining his fate. How am to our real lives? This man here,

By Nicole Kohut I supposed to judge this young who nobody even knows the name soldier’s incapacitation level? of because he apparently lives in Did RC@C really expect me to listen? a Furnald single, is our preliminary test as first-year No, I worked too hard to get here (the Ivy lions. We must place ourselves in ancient Troy and League) to be subjected to such madness. I will not think to ourselves ‘What would Homer do?’ Well, be dragged into this fatal misconduct. Moreover, he certainly wouldn’t call CAVA. No, he would see Stacy is here. I’ve been trying to get with her since that this random student has clearly had his first wild the Glow party and calling CAVA will make me night. Does he not deserve to bask in its glory?” look like a buzzkill. With that reasoning, I’ve made It was at this point that I realized nobody was up my mind– CAVA will not be called tonight. Yet, actually listening to me. The kid on the floor (apparthe eyes of scared youngins continue to look to ently named Jeremiah) chucked up a combination of me for help, assuming I know the answer. Even jungle juice and popcorn and seemed to be doing the woman aggressively flipping quesadillas seems fine– he was even in the line for a fresh quesadilla. to be waiting for me to act. Am I, perhaps, their Due to my valiant efforts, CAVA would not be called chosen leader? Godly, even? While the position is tonight, and Jeremiah’s reputation would be spared.w

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October 2019

Illustration by Sahra Denner

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T H E WA L K I N G N A M E S

Please Call Me Something Else Administrative hurdles prevent transgender students at Barnard from killing their dead names

By Sadia Haque

R

ecently, Jude Poley (BC ’19), tried to change their name in the SSOL– Columbia’s online system for students’ billing, registration, and personal information–and was met with a variety of complications.

After being accepted to Barnard, Poley went through a transition, changing their name and pronouns.

Yet, their deadname continued to exist on all official documents, emails, mail, and even their Barnard ID.

Although Poley knew they wanted to be identified with their new name and pronouns on Barnard's campus, when they asked if they could continue to have their deadname be on the letters sent home, Barnard could not comply. Poley had not yet come out to their parents and did not want their parents to see their new name. The registrar office gave Poley an ultimatum: they must choose one identity or the other. So, they were left with two choices. Either be forcibly outed to their parents via college mail or be see their deadname on every document given to them during their time at Barnard. Poley, who has been slowly adjusting to college life, went through a lot of emotional turmoil throughout this process.

“I was pissed and sad and disappointed, because a big part of why I was so excited to leave for college, especially a liberal college in NYC of all places, was the knowledge that I would be able to go by my chosen name instead of having to hear my deadname all the time,” said Poley when asked how they felt about the issue.

Poley’s experience is common for many transgender youths across the country. For many who identify as transgender, or anyone in the LGBTQ+ community, coming out to family members can be extremly difficult. There are complications, struggles, and fears that are associated with coming out, meaning that the person coming out must feel ready to do so– not pressured by peers and institutions.

Sadly, even at Barnard, students are not given that great of a choice.

When the administration was asked to comment on Barnard’s inclusivity to trans youth, Alli Cooke, Associate Director for Media Relations, highlighted Barnard’s new admission’s policy.

In 2015, Barnard decided to change its admission policy to be more accepting of transgender people. Students who identified as female, regardless of their gender at birth, could now be accepted;students who identified as female and tran-

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sitioned after acceptance could remain in the institution and graduate.

Even with these efforts, Barnard still remains inaccessible for people who identify as male, nonbinary, or gender non-conforming at the time of application, regardless of the gender assigned at birth. Moreover, changes to the admission policy have not solved all the issues transgender students face.

“I don't blame the school for a lot of the issues with the system because I know a lot of it boils down to legal problems, but I do blame them for how difficult it is to even get information and how blatantly disorganized they are when it comes to their trans students. I went to the registrar and they told me there was absolutely nothing that could be done because no one even knew that there was a potential solution that could be worked toward,” said Poley.

People who identify as anything other than female continuously struggle to seamlessly fit into the student body. Unfortunately, they are forced to face the fact that some people still call a large group of Barnard students “Barnard women.” Yet, even with these struggles, students and faculty put in the effort to welcome and accept these students.

“I've [taught] at a lot of places, and [Barnard] has been the place where I've seen people be the most open about learning about these issues,” said a new professor at Barnard who declined to give a name to The Blue and White.

Even though these changes are very recent, the Barnard community has been active in trying to respect and understand people’s gender identities.

Growing pains are natural when changes occur in the system and the people at Barnard are doing their best to adjust.

“Ultimately, the problem is that this administration touts its ‘inclusivity’ and ‘diversity’ whenever possible, but when one of their ‘diverse’ student’s needs something, it takes way more work and way more unnecessary distress than it should to actually get things done,” said Poley.

Fortunately, for the Poley, their professor was able to advocate for them to the administration to help the situation get better. Although Poley is grateful for what the administration was able to do, the problem has not been fully resolved. They believe that the administration still has a long way to go on its path to inclusivity.w

The Blue and White

D E P T. O F G R E E N E R G R A S S

Make Way for Flora The politics of ecospace in the concrete jungle

By Tamar Vidra

T

he history of creating spaces for nature in New York City is riddled with as much drama as a vicious bidding war on Fifth Avenue. And much like prime real estate, greenspaces do not pop up in New York without the specter of dollar signs.

Take our primary bucolic retreat, Central Park—an oasis with class and racial warfare literally sown into its grounds. In 2011, the Institute for the Exploration of Seneca Village History unearthed artifacts from a community of pioneer African American landholders that was displaced during the park’s construction.

Claiming that Seneca Village was a community of “squatters,” wealthy merchants and landowners in the late 1850s conspired to seize acres of land from a burgeoning black community.

But Central Park is not the only greenspace in the city that lays claim to a problematic history.

The story of New York’s class and cultural conflicts also extends to newer greenspaces, including underground parks, community gardens, and rooftop greenspaces.

Today, finding spaces for nature in New York is even more onerous and expensive. The Lowline, the city’s first subterranean park, demonstrates the creativity and hefty cash flow required to create greenspaces in the city: it is projected to cost $80 million. Its developers, Dan Barasch and James Ramsey, plan to convert a 50,000-square-foot abandoned trolley station to a garden exhibiting more

October 2019

than 3,500 varieties of plants by 2021. Their vision is to create an underground green landscape through remote skylight technology and draw the flocks of pedestrians that have made its predecessor in the sky, the High Line, so renowned.

Building on the age-old tradition of ecotourism, the Lowline is strategically located in a commercial hub for hipsters in the city, the Lower East Side, and expects to generate an annual flow of at least one million visitors. The project is innovative in its repurposing of underground space and groundbreaking technology, but its arrival is unsurprising in increasingly gentrified regions of New York like the Lower East Side. Studies have shown that there is a correlation between the distribution of vegetation and socioeconomic demographics in New York—a phenomenon scholars have coined “the ecology of prestige.” Simply put, affluent New York neighborhoods have better access to flora.

The ecology of prestige is a self-sustaining cycle. In the years following the construction of the High Line, property values near the greenspace rose 106 percent, according to a study by the New York City Economic Development Corporation. These skyrocketing rent prices have radically changed the neighborhoods that the High Line’s seven million annual visitors stroll through, attracting newer greenspaces and brand names while evicting longtime residents and small businesses. Perhaps this is the reason why just five years after the opening of the High Line, Hudson Yards—with its beehive-shaped Vessel and plans for a greenspace that will include more than 200 trees and 28,000 plants—opened right next door, in Midtown West.

Greenspace trends on the Lower East Side represent larger greenspace trends throughout New York. The Benjamins determine which neighborhoods enjoy the city’s limited flora and, even more prestigious greenspaces like

Illustration by Rea Rustagi

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D E P T. O F G R E E N E R G R A S S rooftop gardens. Rooftop gardens have become a hallmark victory of the growing contemporary environmental movement as well as the go-to symbol for distinguished affluence in a city full of skyscrapers.

Many have hailed the surge in rooftop gardens as an environmental victory with a hefty price tag. As more affluent residents enter areas like the Lower East Side, they are ready to absorb the costs. According to Plant Specialist, a prominent New York Landscape Architecture firm, many rooftop gardening projects cost upwards of $1 million.

The costliness of creating rooftop greenspaces is due in part to environmental challenges: finding plants that can withstand chilling temperatures and turbulent wind speeds is no easy task.

While rooftop gardens on the Lower East Side and other affluent communities are symbols of the prestige that deepens the gap between the haves and have-nots, community gardens—a staple of greenspaces in New York— were not created by and for the wealthy. The story of community gardens on the Lower East Side is that of the doom of greenspaces when money is not involved.

The first community gardens in the largely Latinx neighborhood, known as Loisaida, popped up in the 1970s.

The fiscal crisis of the ‘70s transformed Loisaida: many negligent landlords abandoned their buildings, and the crime rate spiked.

Motivated by the string of empty lots and chaos in the neighborhood, the Green Guerillas, an urban garden group, constructed the first community gardens in Loisaida. One of their infamous gardening techniques was coined “the seed bomb”: a bundle of fertilizer, seeds, and water hurled into vacant lots.

From the ‘70s onward, these gardens have become places of political and social expression, harboring

LGBTQ+ community art in the ‘90s, grieving New Yorkers post-9/11, and political protests during the Republican National Convention in 2004. Today, there are 600 community gardens in the city. Thirtynine from the ‘70s remain on the Lower East Side, and the rest are concentrated in neighborhoods like HarlemWashington Heights, ,the South Bronx, and Brownsville, Brooklyn. Only one is located on the Upper West Side.

The narrative of community gardens on the Lower East Side reveals the underlying forces that create and destroy greenspaces in New York—gentrification, immigration, and community unity. Rising rent prices over the past 20 years have forced patrons of community gardens out of the Lower East Side, creating a membership pipeline crisis. The community’s newer residents are often transient students and young people who are unattached to the origins of community gardens. The older residents who have managed to stick around through rent spike are aging and find the labor of maintaining these gardens physically taxing. Gentrification on the Lower East Side puts these historic community gardens at risk as more residents continue to move out and wave goodbye to their community gardens.

Despite greenspaces’ problematic trends, the new energy surrounding them is exciting and should not be wholly pummeled. Rather, acknowledging greenspace trends can serve as a template for the future of the city’s greenspaces.

What would it mean for disadvantaged neighborhoods in the city to boast of more of the city’s flora and to benefit from ecotourism? In a rapidly evolving city, a future where greenspaces serve as remedies for, rather than emblems of, inequality seems distant, but possible.w

“The narrative of community gardens on the Lower East Side reveals the underlying forces that create and destroy greenspaces in New York—gentrification, immigration, and community unity.”

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Illustration by Sahra Denner

The Blue and White

THE LIBERAL MEDIA

Farewell, Overton Window!

Henry Magowan on running an ultra-progressive presidential campaign

By Sam Needleman

H

enry Magowan, CC ‘22, may have helped run a presidential campaign this year, but his primary claim to fame among Columbia’s microbody politic might be his audacity to slander the ever-popular senator from Massachusetts—you know, the self-described “capitalist to the bones.”

“I strongly believe that Bernie Sanders, when compared to Warren, is the best candidate to beat Trump,” Magowan, CC ‘22, told me on a crisp September day, hands clasped atop a table outside John Jay. We had descended into pure punditry, but we had met to parse Magowan’s role as treasurer for Mike Gravel’s presidential campaign, which he held from March until last month, when the former Alaskan senator threw in the towel.

The campaign drew significant attention, especially on Twitter, for its leadership team—four white college students, with campaign manager Henry Williams, CC ‘22, at the helm—and for its unabashedly progressive platform, which included calls to slice the military budget in half, decriminalize sex work, and “abolish the Senate as we know it.”

Magowan told me that his personal workload comprised tasks that presidential campaigns normally outsource, like managing and reporting on budgets. While the rest of his class crammed for final exams, Magowan ran to and from the Bank of America on 107th Street, where the campaign’s finances were based.

“I did my job correctly,” he declared, citing the meticulous filings he submitted to the Federal Elections Commission, which are available to the public online.

Magowan works hard, but he airs on the side of casual. He seems to bounce across campus, perennially en route to chit-chats, Russian history seminars, and concerts in Brooklyn. He belongs to Columbia’s distinct milieu of latter-day hipsters whose dynasty found its archetype in Ezra Koenig, but he is far more than his ilk’s infamous façade—he’s quick, careful, and impossibly sagacious.

October 2019

The Gravel campaign’s roadmap always pointed toward a debate, where, they hoped, their octogenarian candidate could stir the pot by challenging the establishment incarnate, Joe Biden, on issues that Biden ought to be challenged on. But thanks to the Democratic National Committee’s draconian rulebook—to say nothing of their draconian rule changes—Gravel never made it onstage, despite gaining over 65,000 individual donors. Their plan to assail the kind of lackluster, ersatz-progressive policies and mantras that are now de rigeur from Biden to Warren never came to fruition.

But the campaign made its mark, and Magowan has not lost faith in young activists’ capacity to shift the Democratic Overton window back to the left, where it will align with just about every other Western democracy. His ethos seems equal parts idealistic revolutionary and pragmatic reformer, if you’re willing to accept that age-old dichotomy. It makes sense, then, that Magowan now supports the candidate who embraces that balance best. “The campaign infrastructure is throwing the weight entirely behind Bernie Sanders in an effort to see him win the nomination,” Magowan said. He paused, then added, with a palpable sense of self-awareness, “Yeah, I'm a Bernie Bro.”

The team is also toying with the idea of launching a nonprofit think-tank, probably called the Gravel Institute, with two aims: to fund academic research that will support progressive policies and to create content to counter the unrelentingly popular misinformation zealots on the Right.

Predictably, this venture is not going to look like your high school friends’ YouTube diatribes against Ben Shapiro. A case in point came by way of a text the other day. “Had to miss the start of my CC class this morning to jump on a phone call with Snowden’s lawyer,” Magowan wrote. “The call went very well and we’re hoping to find ourselves in Moscow filming with Snowden before too long.”w

Illustration by Yotam Deree

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Illustration by Kate Steiner

October 2019

Illustration by Brooke McCormick

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T H E S H O RT C U T

Killing Me Softly The Blue and White continues its short fiction series with a story by a recent Columbia College graduate.

By Nora May McSorley

P

utting her life in someone else’s hands wasn’t really anything new for Emma Derry. She had difficulty thinking back to a time when all the things she had– the clothes, the job, the roof over her head– and all the things she was– a billionaire, an Ivy League graduate, a beauty queen– were solely the product of her own efforts.

Never could she point to a car or a boyfriend or a promotion and say, “That’s all because of me.” Because it never was. People had always had a hand in her outwardly personal successes.

Emma’s life was really just one big hop to the front of the line with no one ever saying a word about it. She would have it no other way.

Jack was one of those front-of-the-line finds and, naturally, Emma got first pick. Jack was handsome and endlessly wealthy, only rivalled in that realm by Emma herself. With his determined eyes and the chip on his shoulder that made him work too hard, Emma thought he would make the perfect husband. She wanted him right away. And, just as thing had always gone for Emma, she got what she wanted. She won the most eligible bachelor on the market because she had the money that Jack couldn’t help but give chase. Unlike Emma, Jack was born into a family that could be described by only half the phrase “filthy rich” and not the attractive half. He had had to work tirelessly to get to where has

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was now and at a pace he wasn’t sure he could sustain in his later years. And slowing down in any capacity meant moving backwards towards a past life with which he never wanted to be reacquainted. Being with Emma would allow Jack to slow and still remain at a safe distance from the sad, poor kid he used to be.

Derry family observers viewed Emma and Jack’s marriage as evidence for the notion that the family had too much money for their own good. Reaping the seemingly endless rewards that come with owning various fast food restaurant chains, Emma never wanted for anything and, by association, neither did those close to her. Thus, it was always a point of ambiguity as to whether those around Emma liked her or liked her money.

Onlookers noticed when boyfriends spent more time talking with Emma’s father than they did with her and when friends seemed to care more about where Emma’s old Gucci shoes were going to end up than about Emma herself.

Outsiders reveled in the little ways money seemed to actually work against her.

To the outside world, Emma was hugely confident and sure that she was a gift to whomever she granted herself. But in her mind, in the parts where money couldn’t touch, she was very aware of her flaws, at least those on the surface. Even in the depths of her mind, Emma was hopelessly superficial and her greatest concerns were in regards to the imperfections of her appearance. Each of the four Derry daughters had a realm in which they spent excessively and obsessively. For Emma, it was herself. Unlike her sisters, she lacked beauty in the conventional sense. Where her sisters had petite and perfectly shaped proportions from head to toe, she had acne scars, a crooked nose and a misshapen complexion. Designer clothes and movie star makeup artists worked well enough for a while, but when even that wasn’t enough to compensate for the monster Emma saw staring back at her, she sought more serious solutions.

Illustration by Sahra Denner

The Blue and White

T H E S H O RT C U T

Dr. West embodied the divide between averagely wealthy families and those like Emma’s. Averagely rich mothers and daughters had plastic surgery done at the hands of average doctors and ended up looking like every other woman with work done. Dr. West, on the other hand, added his own touch–a signature of sorts–to every face, chest and neck he laid knife on. He thought the staple “worked on woman” with her swelled lips and bursting breasts resembled a monster–something he never wanted his patients to resemble. Thus, Dr. West strayed from the practice of his fellow surgeons and instead of making his patients look new, he sought only to make them look different. He rearranged their parts so subtly and so gradually that his procedures often went unnoticed. Family and friends of his patients might sense a change, but they were rarely able to place it. That was his allure– he could work on you, tighten you up and make you feel new without anyone even realizing it. His ability to do so was revolutionary which was why his procedures rarely went for less than a million. Only the wealthiest of families could a fford the private perfection Dr. West sold.

Once Emma found Dr. West, she felt the one problem she had ever had in life sweetly fade away.

Emma learned to take credit for the perfectly-centered, perfectly-sloped nose, elevated cheekbones, and spotless skin given to her by Dr. West. She looked on her purchased beauty as if it were the most natural thing in the world and, to anyone who hadn’t seen her before the age of 15, it was. Emma got comfortable in the fact that she was beautiful and planned to live the rest of her life as so.

For five years, Emma and Jack lived comfortably, happily, perfectly– the only way Emma had ever known. In that time, they had had one perfect boy, established themselves in their wealthy New York suburb and made their

mailbox match their four-story home. While giving birth, Emma had been neatly slit open and quickly sown right back up, even tighter than before, by the loving hands of Dr. West. Jack entered fifty and, upon coercion from Emma, began to experiment with million dollar nips and tucks just as his wife had since she was fifteen.

Money had provided them with five years of complete satisfaction with their lives together. But as Emma’s body grew harder with two decades of procedures piling up, Jack grew uneasy.

Though there was no end in sight to their cash flow, its endless presence began to have a numbing effect on him. Jack missed excitement and having a purpose, but most of all he missed the feeling of a natural body sleeping next to him– one soft in some places and curved in others.

He forgot eyes were supposed to wrinkle in the corners with a smile, cheeks were supposed to freckle from the sun and bodies were supposed to change overtime. Emma was 31-years-old now and could have passed for a 16-year-old. He yearned for a wife who looked real, who smiled with her whole face and didn’t feel like a statue on the other side of the bed. Jack knew he should love the idea of a wife unaffected by time and appreciate Dr. West for his tireless work, but all of it made him uneasy and he grew to resent them.

Emma was up to 52 surgical procedures; 52 times, she paid to have her parts sliced, augmented and reduced. She’d stopped being Emma Derry long ago and was now simply Dr. West’s personal art project, a collage of his abilities, all chaotically combined to make one beautiful and chilling masterpiece. Despite her record high number of times under the needle, Emma’s family still did not notice the vast majority of her procedures which was exactly how she wanted it. Though it was a testament to the quality of his work, the covertness of Dr. West’s efforts kept him in the shadows– he was so good

“Dr. West strayed from the practice of his fellow surgeons and instead of making his patients look new, he sought only to make them look differ-

October 2019

Illustration by Helen Becker

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T H E S H O RT C U T that it worked against him. The countless magazine covers and news segments calling Emma Derry one of the Most Beautiful Women of this and that year made no mention of any Dr. West. He was the behind-the-scenes to Emma’s front-and-center and though he should have been content with his quiet millions, he craved recognition.

To Jack, his wife’s claim to a worldfamous beauty that was in no way her own often made him ill. He didn’t like to look at her much anymore because her shapes and portions were beginning to scare him– always waxing and waning, never at any moment imperfect. He took to staying out more–telling Emma he had taken up his work again. But really, he was hopping bars with friends, and if none were around, going through the motions alone.

It was on one of those lonely nights, sitting up at the bar in Muldoon’s that he met Catherine Craner, a waitress wholly unaware that a Derry family existed, much less that they were one of A merica’s wealthiest.

Catherine had rounded edges and bulged under her tight striped dress, a uniform meant for a smaller woman definitely, but maybe the largest size the bar could find. She had sun spots and freckles and wrinkles forming around her mouth and eyes– wrinkles that indicated a life of heavy smiling and occasional smoking. Her hands were rough and she wore no makeup at all. Jack was instantly in love with her and spent all the time that he could sitting at the bar, watching her work.

Emma knew Jack was having an affair when she found cigarettes in his jacket pocket, and not the type of jacket he would be wearing to work either. Jack didn’t touch her anymore and averted his eyes whenever she directed hers at him. The way he ignored her brought her back to those teenage years when boys wouldn’t look at

her until they learned her father’s name and girls would speak to her unless they’d read the tag on the back of her jeans. Even kids 13- and 14years-old knew who was worth bothering with and who wasn’t and Emma was the latter until people learned her last name. Instead of growing up to resent the façade money turned her life into, Emma came to regard it as a gift without which she would be nothing and no one. She never thought the magic of the Derry name– the trance it put people in– would ever wear off because she knew the money never would. But here was Jack, desperately seeking something wholly indifferent to her money and Emma couldn’t figure out what it was for the life of her.

Once in Dr. West’s office, Emma spoke of her husband’s affair in a roundabout way that, in turn, blatantly blamed Dr. West and his apparent surgical shortcomings. If he’d done his job right, Jack would still be with her; he wouldn’t be out searching for satisfaction from a woman with a fraction of Emma’s inheritance and even less of her beauty. No, Dr. West was doing something wrong; he wasn’t doing enough. Lately, Emma had been feeling her age seep through in strange places, places she never thought would require work. But apparently, everything on her did. She had always been vigilant about pulling her cheeks far from their natural placing, but now the bags under her eyes had begun to hang over the taut skin below. Her lips were always perfectly rounded and pinched like pottery, but they drooped on the ends, now making every smile something of a frown as well. Emma felt like she was splitting down the seams she had paid so much to keep intact. She was too young to be feeling so old; too rich to be feeling so low.

She had spent no less than 50 million dollars on Dr. West’s surgeries– was her own biggest investment and she would see herself to the end.

“Catherine had rounded edges and bulged under her tight striped dress, a uniform meant for a smaller woman definitely, but maybe the largest size the bar could find.”

22

The Blue and White

T H E S H O RT C U T

Emma begged Dr. West to think up something new– some revolutionary procedure sure to win back what was rightfully hers. She didn’t want subtle anymore; she wanted people to notice this next change. Dr. West acquiesced quickly, seeing the headlines as she spoke: “Love Doctor Reunites Billionaire Couple.” No longer would he be held up in the shadows, kept silent by multiple millions thrown to him like a dog– he would be the name in every celebrity’s mouth, the hand on their cheeks, the scalpel in their necks. If anyone could propel him to that point, it was Emma Derry– the lovesick and vapid, 30-something teenage girl. Looking at her, Dr. West saw what the magazines ignored and what her husband only recently realized– Emma was closer to monster than human. A monster different from that which became all other women with work done. Emma was becoming a much scarier one because there seemed to be no limit to what she’d do to herself in the pursuit of beauty. The deformities she saw in herself when she was younger disappeared after a dozen or so visits to Dr. West. With another dozen, everything she was before she had ever heard of having one’s face professionally ripped up was gone. But now, with more than 50 procedures under her belt, those deformities she ran from as a girl were reappearing in different and more pronounced forms. Her nose had become far too small for the massive slab of porcelain that was her face. After collapsing twice under the stress of five backto-back surgeries, the fragile member required support from two small, metal rods that dug into her cheekbone, creating sizable dents on either side. Her eyes, with their lids reduced and the surrounding skin pulled tight, swelled in her face, resembling two painted Easter eggs. Emma rarely blinked and when she did, it appeared to be a painful process. With cheekbones so starkly defined, the space bellow them looked hollowed out, giving her a skeletal look that made Dr.

West silently shutter whenever his secretary announced Emma’s arrival for yet another appointment.

But Dr. West didn’t have to fear his patient much longer– he would get a chance to mend the monster he had had a hand in creating, really the only hand at work in the process. But, he had to remind himself, it was only ever under the direction of Emma herself that he conducted any procedure on her. He didn’t make her into what she had become without her asking for it.

But now, she was coming to her senses and would allow Dr. West to torture her still-so-youngskin one last time in attempts to bring her back from the ledge to which he brought her. Emma’s story of infidelity and her pleas for help had had a strange effect on Dr. West, an otherwise unfeeling man. When you spend years carving people up, it’s no surprise when emotional experiences dwindle in number and magnitude.

But here was this young girl–too naive, and yes, too rich for her own good– handing over her body as if it were only a means to a much more impor t a nt end.

T he things this girl would do for love, had done for love since she was 15-yearsold. It was valiant and Dr. West had a soft-spot for acts of self-sacrifice, so he promised himself to make Emma into exactly what she wanted.

On the day of the surgery, Emma arrived unafraid. She was confident in her family’s money and Dr. West and herself. As Dr. West ticked away at her face and neck with a thin black marker, Emma slipped quickly away into a familiar state of blackness. The last thing she thought of before going into that peaceful sleep was Jack with some woman, who had neither Emma’s money nor her beauty, sitting at a bar.

Winning him back would be easier than she’d thought–a poor, fat waitress woman would be no competition after Dr. West was finished with Emma. Then, she and Jack could never grow

“As Dr. West ticked away at her face and neck with a thin black marker, Emma slipped quickly away into a familiar state of blackness.”

October 2019

23

T H E S H O RT C U T old together; always stay young forever.

Emma awoke from her deep sleep and, for the first time in all the times she’d come out from under Dr. West’s drugs, her head was clear.

She felt around to account for herself like she always did– ensuring all her limbs were present and able. But when she went to move, her arms and legs were held in place by a thick belt coming out from under the operation table. She scrambled to find her voice and when she couldn’t, she searched for Dr. West. It was dark in the room and metal poles carrying bags of liquid too closely resembled darkened human figures. The heart monitor reflected the hammering member in her chest and as the beeping grew frantic, a door out of Emma’s line of sight swung open. Dr. West unstrapped her, apologizing for the wait and explained how she’d grown restless midway through the procedure to the point where he’d had to immobilize her.

As Emma listened, she wondered why she didn’t feel sore and when she touched her face, she wondered why silk lay on her cheeks and soft clouds on her forehead. Dr. West explained that the procedure and its immediate recovery time had turned out to be longer than expected– Emma had been out for three days.

Emma didn’t understand how the procedure could have require her to be unconscious for three straight days. She thought of Danny–who had watched him since she’d gone under? Then, Emma noticed Dr. West had removed the mirror that hung on the wall in the far corner when she’d first entered the operating room. Something was very wrong and Dr. West had removed the mirror so Emma wouldn’t see it. She scrambled to her feet, surprised at how easily they steadied her, and ran to her purse, pawing through it to get to her makeup bag. She pulled out a small compact and scrubbed at the

mirror in it that had accumulated a thick film of powder. As it cleared, a face slowly revealed itself to her. She looked upon herself long enough for Dr. West to tentatively cross the room and lay a hand on the small of her back. He met her eyes in the mirror and before he could say a word, he was driven back a full two feet with the most charged, all-consuming hug he had ever received. He felt thick tears and a large smile pressed up against his blue scrub. He held off on reminding Emma to keep a neutral face for the next few days– the girl could spare a few moments of happiness.

Before he could wrap his arms around her, Emma took off running. Dr. West knew exactly where she was going and what would be waiting for her. He let her go without a word.

Emma didn’t understand how, but she knew exactly where she was going. As she ran through the streets, she thought of that face she had seen only briefly in the mirror. She thought of all the years she’d have to spend looking at it in order to truly believe it was hers. She could hardly contain herself. Emma ran feeling so completely secure at the seams that she felt she’d never come a pa r t a g a i n.

She swung the door of Muldoon’s open to find it dark and completely empty save for two figures in the far corner. She didn’t bother applying rouge or primping her hair– her face was a masterpiece that needed no assistance. Emma glided towards the bar, knowing exactly who to expect set up against it. As she got closer, she saw one figure hunched while the other hung over them, like a big, fat, ugly shadow. Both turned and pulled apart at the sound of Emma approaching. She flashed a big, toothy smile as the hunched figure pushed his overbearing shadow off– just as Emma had expected him to do.

“Emma, I tried calling.” Jack’s face

“As Emma listened, she wondered why she didn’t feel sore and when she touched her face, she wondered why silk lay on her cheeks and soft clouds on her forehead.”

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The Blue and White

T H E S H O RT C U T was streaked with something. “Baby, they found Danny. The babysitter didn’t hear him all the way downstairs. He had some kind of infection.

His…”. Jack groped for something to hang onto.

Catherine grabbed him, but he shook her off.

“He had sores all over. On his back, on his stomach. He was missing skin.” He croaked the last word and grabbed his head to steady it. “A lot of skin. So much skin, they didn’t understand how.” He slammed onto his knee, but was up a moment later, colliding into Emma. He grabbed at her sweaty arms and clung to her body, using it to hold himself up. He pawed at her surprisingly soft back and innocently smooth shoulders, pushing his face deep into her cheek that felt like a pillow he wanted to lay on forever.

Then it hit him.

Emma felt Jack’s body shudder and in the quickest moment of her life, she felt him rip away from her with so much force that he slammed himself into the bar. His eyes were wide and dazed.

Catherine grabbed for him and this time, he let her take hold. Emma saw something in her husband’s eyes that began to tell a story she didn’t want to hear.

“You.” Jack said it painfully slow, as if it were the hardest word he had ever had to pronounce. Emma didn’t understand and Jack didn’t wait to enlighten her: “The coroner said the skin had been removed…surgically.” All at once, Emma’s mind went to Dr. West, to him insisting Danny come to him for checkups and dietary supplements…and baths. He had said they were special baths, baths good for a little boy’s skin. Emma stopped breathing. She hadn’t washed her own son in weeks– she never had the chance to notice the sores along his back and all over his stomach. She remembered the night, not two weeks back, when he had cried out to her, saying he was hurting all over. Emma was busy painting her face with serums given to her by Dr. West himself; she didn’t even go into Danny’s room.

Emma raised her hands as if they were

white flags offered after a long-fought fight. She silently thanked herself for forgetting to cut her nails last week. She took all 10 fingers and placed them at the base of her hairline. With the inside of her forearm raised up against her face, she could smell him–the skin still had Danny’s scent. Then she dug, feeling all ten fingers slip into the skin of her forehead. She felt droplets of blood warm her fingertips and took this as a sign to proceed. She looked at her husband, down on his knees at her feet with a big woman wrapped tightly around him. She wondered if Jack could breathe and then she ripped her fingers down the middle of her face, tearing through her eyes and then her cheeks. The skin peeled easily; after all, it did belong to a five-year-old.

She raised her bloodied hands to her face again, this time starting at her temples. The screaming Emma thought was the waitress’s silenced when she tore her own lips into shreds. Jack and Catherine watched and did not try to stop her as she ripped herself apart. No one ever had. She slashed through her neck over and over, marveling at how easily her body unraveled. Fingernails snapped off and stayed lodged in the muscles of her arms and legs as she pulled and pulled for the skin to come off. It was all gone by now, but it still didn’t feel like enough. Emma wondered what her 13-year-old boyfriends would think of her now. She thought she had to be close to dying and hoped that wherever she went after she did, Danny was nowhere to be found. Emma hoped he was somewhere with skin and a mother who wouldn’t take it from him.

Emma’s shoes were soggy with blood and they left whole footprints all the way to 66 th and Riverside. That’s as far as anyone could tell she’d gotten–her prints went from dark red stamps on the sidewalk to nothing at all. Since then, some claim to have seen her around Riverside at night, pink and crying and asking for a Dr. West.w

“She remembered the night, not two weeks back, when he had cried out to her, saying he was hurting all over.”

October 2019

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M easure

for

M easure

from nancy’s charcoaled hands

look - you can see from the street below. we have her rusted poppies on our wall in their olive stems i see her twig arms they shoot bullets through canvas and writhe through still air her tapered fingers ink the fiery blossoms holes left by tungsten cartridges gape at their centers I have seen goats in bonnets etched intestine from her downtown room she warms our eggshell mantel above the hearth we have her poppies and her bleeding green grocery monster somewhere how odd how warm he makes me how warm he makes the the room —Sylvie Claire Epstein

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The Blue and White

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M easure

for

M easure

Anelle In time they shortened everything for me.

It began with sleeves and hair, the edge of my fan, which grazed the watery dirt.

It spread to my school, my meals, my lengthy plans to flee.

When they saw that I danced, that too was banned-In time, they shortened it for me.

It creeped upon me slowly. I was stricken and alert.

I kept a wobbly pen in hand, which grazed the watery dirt.

They cut apart my songs, my prized philosophy And everybody that I met, they flowed away from me.

They shortened it for me.

I'd like to say a word or two in praise of all of this But there waits the ghoul on my desk, clock and knife in hand In the watery dirt.

In time, everything was shortened for me.

In the watery dirt. —Carly Roth

October 2019

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T H E C O N V E R S AT I O N

A Read You Won’t Rue A Conversation with Reed Alexander

By Gi Ferrigine and Nora May McSorley Reed Alexander, best known for his work on the Nickelodeon TV show iCarly, is a lot more than Nevel Papperman. Reed is a published author, established healthcare advocate, experienced news writer and spokesperson for various healthy-living initiatives. After receiving his undergraduate degree at NYU, Reed is now at the Columbia School of Journalism where he is pursuing his passions in news and reporting. You can catch him on cold mornings walking through central with his triple espresso latte.

BW: You first started acting at 8-years-old. What was it like being a child actor?

that’s a really great approach to raising kids. It’s risky, but in the end, it works out.

RA: It was a very unique experience. I grew up in a family of lawyers– my parents are lawyers, my uncle is a lawyer. When I was very young, I was part of the theatre group at Pine Crest School in Boca Raton and we actually had Ariana Grande in our group. I really loved it. I started out just doing school plays as an after school activity. My parents signed me up for a million after school activities and I left all of them miserable. But then, I found the theatre group and I fell madly in love with acting. At one point during my time with the group, our acting teacher said to my mom, ‘Your son really seems to love this and I think you should encourage him to pursue it. There’s a lot of auditions in Miami that you could look into.’ At the time, my mother was running a law firm, my dad was becoming a senior partner at his firm. They were in their early 30’s so this was early on in their careers and to hear that their son wanted to have this acting career was so foreign to them. My parents eventually came around because they saw how passionate I was about it and I started doing auditions on tape with an agent in California. We were flying out there at least once a month and when I was 14, we finally moved there for a year and a half. I got to do what I loved at a young age which is honestly such a blessing. It was a really great growth experience––I grew up faster and I had great exposure to the professional world.

Not everything was great about it, but I also had a very strong family. Their belief was the second this isn't fun, we’re finished. My parents have always been so supportive; they could have said, ‘You’re going to law school. That’s what we did. You’re going to work for the family firms.’ Instead, they’ve always allowed me to do whatever it was that made me happy. I think

BW: You won the Young Artist Award for Best Performance for your appearance in Will and Grace.

What was that like?

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RA: Many years ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I gueststarred on Will and Grace in the beginning of the show. It was the final season of the first version of the show. I was a recurring character and it was great. It was a really cool opportunity to be a part of a project that was just so huge. By the eighth season, Will and Grace was like Friends. I think back then, this was a big cultural moment. People were really watching Will and Grace. It was such an honor to be on that show and I learned so much working with that cast.

James Burrows was the director and he is probably the most venerated director in television today. He’s a legend. He taught me a lot when I was just 11-yearsold and that was right before iCarly. Being on iCarly was a very different experience because I was working with kids.

I am terribly fascinated and honestly, surprised that so many people come up to me on campus.

People are so friendly and I love meeting the students here. You have to understand for me, it’s been five years since the show during which I have been doing other stuff. I’ve been out here as a journalist and going to college and living what I think is a vastly different life. Sometimes, I honestly forget. It comes flooding back all the time because I meet people everyday that watched the show and will come up and say hi. I was surprised to see that there was such a nostalgic remembrance of the show. It’s not what I think about everyday. Frankly, I am very consumed with reporting and assignments and planning panels.

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T H E C O N V E R S AT I O N I was running a Healthcare Trade Magazine for the healthcare industry. Before that, I was the youngest reporter for The Wall Street Journal at the digital network at Dow Jones. I wrote dozens and dozens of stories every week and I hosted a web series that I also executive produced. Before that, I lived in Hong Kong and I worked for CNN as a Breaking News international reporter. I feel like what has happened since the show has really been the most exciting part of my life, but it’s not necessarily the most visible.

When I see the reaction from people when they recognize me, it’s a lot of fun. I love meeting the people here, but first and foremost, I genuinely see myself as a Columbia Journalism student. That’s just a frame that not everyone is used to seeing me in.

[In reference in the viral Barstool video] Something happened with that video. It’s not the first time iCarly memes have blown up and that’s fine.

I’m just surprised this one did. Kids came up to me on campus and a very healthy share of them asked what it was like to be a reporter. Or told me that they really wanted to go to the J School when they graduate undergrad and how they should go about that. Or what’s it like and how I got into covering the news. I am so thankful and happy to talk about those parts of my life. I’m equally happy to talk about those parts when I was acting. I did the show for years. We were nominated for Emmys; I was nominated for a Kid’s Choice Award. It’s been a very helpful thing. It has provided a great platform for me to write my book and get involved in food and nutrition. But when people want to know about what I am currently doing, that’s so fun and fulfilling.

BW: You’re very passionate about food and nutrition.

Tell us about that.

schools, after writing my cookbook. I worked with Rachael Ray and we recreated recipes in 20,000 public schools for 30 million students according to USDA standards. And then, I wrote this book.

And I have been, for a long time, an ambassador for the Clinton Foundation. President Clinton actually wrote the quote on the cover of the book. He called it ‘a valuable guide for a new generation of Amercians’.

And that was pretty incredible. I went to 30 cities on the book tour and it was just very, very successful.

But then I kind of gave it up because I realized that food and acting were wonderful parts of my life that I had really valued, but they weren't really where my heart was anymore. What I really wanted to be doing was asking questions and telling stories.

In the beginning, a lot of people looked at me and thought I would obviously be an entertainment or a popular culture reporter. That’s probably what I would have assumed on the outside because I came from the crucible of the entertainment industry.

Franky, if I were an entertainment reporter, it would be very easy because I could just call up people I knew everyday and profile them and my job would be done. What really attracts me is hard news, breaking news, world news, foreign affairs. Sure, I’ve written for other magazines and done light-hearted features and profiles. There’s a place for all that. But the real work that stood out was covering the Parkland Shooting, North Korea, policy, etc. When I was at the healthcare magazine, I really believed that we should be having a broader discussion around addiction and mental health in our country. Mental health is a huge passion point for me. I covered a lot of stories of people who have survived Substance Use Disorder and have come from some very trying times. Those are the stories that really drew me in– the deeply reported

RA: Before I became a reporter and while I was on Nickelodeon, I became very interested in cooking and I really had started cooking heavily while I was living in California. I became a huge force in the food space. I was, for many years and still continue to be to this day, a Today Show contributor, cooking every couple of weeks on the show. I worked with Michelle Obama pretty heavily on her Let’s Move initiative. I traveled across the country a lot, speaking at

October 2019

Illustration by Kate Steiner

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T H E C O N V E R S AT I O N investigations, the hard-hitting pieces. It was hard when I first started because people were saying, ‘What on earth does Nevel from iCarly know about covering breaking news?’ Imagine if Nevel from iCarly is telling you your news! You might laugh so it was twice as hard starting out, having to overcome that as opposed to someone who didn't have that history. I don’t regret it at all; I’m very happy I did what I did, it was just a hard career turn, from being an actor on a kid’s sitcom to now writing for these news outlets. I had to convince people that I was the real deal. I put those questions to bed for sure, but early on in my career and in college when I was declaring my major, that was a question people asked. I don't fault them for asking; I think it is a legitimate question.

BW: How has your experience at Columbia differed from your time at NYU? I’m madly in love with them both. I think my educational experiences have been unique insofar as, all of my education has been in a big city which is quite valuable for what I do as a journalist. Being in New York and having access to libraries and public resources and meeting all the people that come and go has been very valuable. There’s always news happening somewhere if you look closely. My time at NYU could not have been better. I was very involved in student life there and I ended up being graduation speaker and senator for my school. I had a ball.

Columbia is a vastly different experience in the best way. I don't think academically being a grad student is so much harder than being an undergraduate student. I think I had a pretty thick and fast undergraduate schedule. I am the biggest fan of academia. One of my biggest dreams is to eventually be an adjunct journalism professor either here or at NYU teaching undergrads how to do what we do because I think it is a really important art. It’s our responsibility to pass that knowledge along.

I feel like I go to Hogwarts now that I’m at Columbia. I feel like I’m at the Hogwarts of Journalism and our dean is Dumbledore. He’s just so incredibly brilliant. He’s a lot younger than Dumbledore, but he’s equally talented and skilled.

He’s a two-time Pulitzer Prize winner. He used to be the managing editor of the Washington Post. Our teachers are, likewise, the best in the business. But I love being at Columbia. Nothing gives me greater pride than walking on that quad, walking under the

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Butler windows. When you look at the names up there: Virgil, Cicero, Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, it’s riveting. It really is not lost on me. Honestly, I haven't told anybody this, but my favorite thing to do is, if I get out of school late, I go and sit on the ledge under the Alma Mater and I look out onto the quad where the whole school is illuminated and I just feel like I rule the galaxy. In the seat of knowledge under the Alma Mater and looking across to Butler, it gives you the chills. What an honor.

BW: If you were a cocktail, what would you be and why?

RA: Espresso martini for sure! I knew the answer — I was prepared! The executive producer of iCarly and I travel a lot together. We’ve been to Bali and Indonesia and Thailand...a million places. And every time we’re together we have an espresso martini, so it’s quite sentimental. And I love the drink because the vodka can really chill you out but the espresso wakes you right back up again. My advice is to have them lighten it, because if it doesn’t have Kahlua or some kind of cream, it’s really heavy. But if you lighten it — it’s emulsified, it’s just like a shake or smoothie with all the wrong stuff and all the right stuff. And it’s just outrageous!

BW: Are you planning on dressing up for Halloween this year, and if so, any ideas?

RA: Oh my god — I have no ideas! I think I have to, though. The J School has a gala on the 18th, and I’m on the government, so I’ll have to go and present myself. I don’t know, I’ll probably wear a bag over my head because I’ll look so tired from school. The only thing I can wear is something to hide myself. I’m all ears for suggestions!

BW: You’re rocking some bleach blonde hair right now. You could be Ken, the Barbie doll.

RA: (laughs) People have said that before, but I don’t know. I’m not quite as fit. I’m like Ken that stopped working out for four years. That’s me. (laughs) BW: What is your favorite part of the city?

RA: My favorite part of the city is Central Park and Midtown, and along like Madison Avenue in the 50s

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T H E C O N V E R S AT I O N and 60s. I’m so happy there. I live on the Upper West Side now, but I lived on the Upper East Side for years.

I really like SoHo — that’s my second favorite. But the grand, old Upper East Side in all its glory...that’s my favorite. And the park is right there and you have nature! Because I’m madly in love with the Central Park Zoo. I love zoos and animals — like, ethical zoos that are good to the animals. And I love animals so much that the Central Park Zoo is a favorite of mine.

BW: Do you have any pets?

RA: No. I feel really bad, but they’re like, lots of work. And I think I’d never be home — with school and everything — to walk the dog, and if I had a dog walker I’d never see the dog.

BW: What is you go-to coffee order?

RA: I live at Pret, because they’re fast. I literally uber to school everyday and the stop is the Pret. And I will always have a skim latte, extra hot. It has to be burning. On fire, like, a thousand degrees. Extra hot, it’s true! (laughs) Nobody wants it to be lukewarm. I drink it in a hurry, so that it’s still hot.

BW: Doesn’t it hurt?

RA: Eh, no. It doesn’t hurt any more than screaming, “Rue the day!” at the top of your lungs for seven years. At this point, my vocal chords are fried!

Doesn’t make a difference now. (laughs) BW: What does you ideal fall day look like?

RA: Oooo. Hmm. I would say that it would start out with that I should be doing more of, which is cardio. I do indoor cycling, I’m like madly obsessed. I think it would start out with the exercise classes that I really need to do more of, early. And then, as the morning is starting, hopefully it’s like 45 degrees out. I go for a walk, have a coffee — I love morning walks with a coffee. My mom’s in town, we’re going to do that. So I’d probably do the park. The other thing I’d do is Sunday’s, if I’m not busy, my aunt and I will go for like seven mile walks in Central Park. So if it’s a weekend fall day, I’ll start with that. The next thing I’d do is go to my favorite place for lunch: Forty Carrots. It’s so good. Maybe leave this part out because people might laugh, but it’s at Bloomingdales, on the seventh floor.

October 2019

So I would love to get lunch at Forty Carrots. And then I’d probably catch an afternoon Broadway matinee, because I love going to the theater — it’s so fun.

And then I would do dinner. Ideal fall day, perfect meal that I’d be craving, I’d go to my favorite place — it’s this Mediterranean restaurant call Avra, (spells it out), on 60th and Madison. I had my graduation party from NYU there, which was so much fun. It’s like, the best. So that’s my perfect fall day. And I’d be soaking up the cold the whole time — I’m obsessed with cold.

It’s funny, I’m from Florida and I’m so anti-heat. I guess I grew up with heat, so I’m sick of it. And still, after seven years in New York, cold is still fascinating to me. I’m so tired of hot weather vacations — I’m sick of all that. I just love ice. I love snow, I love cold... it’s so clean, it feels so refreshing. I don’t get regular seasonal depression. I get it in April! Can you just die from the nonsense I say?! I must sound like a moron.

BW: What are you most looking forward to in the near future?

RA: That’s a great question. Ok, short term and long term. The short term is the throwaway answer and the long term is the real answer. So the short term is that I’m actually very excited for December. My birthday is December 23rd, and I’ll be in both London and Paris that day. I’m going to take the EuroStar, so on my birthday I’ll be in transit to Paris. Or, I think it’s the other way. I’m going to go to bed in Paris and wake up in London. Long term what I’m really excited about is that, you know, it’s such an honor to get to do what we do...something you love. I get to get up every day and be a student doing the work that I love, and now I’m going to be going into a career that I love. So what I’m most looking forward to is really carving out an opportunity where I can ideally have a broadcast presence, because I love being in front of the camera. But also get to write and ask the really tough questions about serious news in foreign affairs.

I am so excited to be back out on the scene. And not that I’m rushing this — I am so happy being a student, I think it’s one of the most wonderful times of life. But I will know that I’m going into such a wonderful chapter in a new career that I am obsessed with. So that’s like the long term thing that excites me is knowing every day — well presuming that I don’t get hit by a bus tomorrow because I tend to run through the street a lot — that I can hit the ground running in a career that just stimulates me. All the time.w

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