The Dartmouth 09/25/2019

MIRROR 9.25.19

FACULTY GENDER GAP 2

THE PRONOUN CONVERSATION 4-5

BEYOND THE BINARY 6 SAMANTHA BURACK AND BELLA JACOBY/THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

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Editors’ Note

Gender Gap in Dartmouth Faculty STORY

DIVYA KOPALLE/THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

Just doing a simple Google search of the word “gender” reveals the role that the socially constructed definition of women and men has on the perpetuation of gender stereotypes. This, along with the history of gender neutral pronouns and the gender wage gap of the workforce, are just a few of the topics that pop up. At Dartmouth, the idea of gender is also often on our minds as we navigate Greek spaces, interact in classrooms and even introduce ourselves. Though some of us may think about gender more than others, we are all conscious of it nonetheless, and it affects many of the decisions we make on a daily basis.

In this week’s Mirror, we explore the “apology gap” between men and women, analyze the gender ratio of Dartmouth’s faculty and look into the impact of the gender-inclusive Greek houses on campus. We also reflect on the new opportunity for students to choose their name, pronouns and gender identity on DartHub. As humans have become increasingly complex and intricate, so has gender and our relationship with it. It is no longer a binary thing. We are so much more than just “male” or “female.” We are friends, lovers, dreamers and adventurers. And for that, we should celebrate. Happy reading!

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9.25.19.19 VOL. CLXXVI NO. 67 MIRROR EDITORS NIKHITA HINGORANI KYLEE SIBILIA ASSOCIATE MIRROR NOVI ZHUKOVSKY EDITORS EDITOR-IN-CHIEF DEBORA HYEMIN HAN PUBLISHER AIDAN SHEINBERG COPY EDITOR JULIAN NATHAN

By Yuna Kim

Dartmouth — like many other top- affected her professional experience. classroom in terms of the respect that tier institutions — often boasts a nearly Because of these experiences, Orellana is automatically given to professors,” Walton said. “I’m very careful to go exact 50:50 male-to-female student said, she has felt self-doubt. ratio in its undergraduate population.

“Once, a person who led my by Professor Walton, just so students However, Dartmouth’s faculty gender committee told me to be careful to not know they should give me some of the ratio illustrates that the people who say anything wrong, and it made me respect that isn’t always automatically given to female work at and represent our institution do wonder if he was professors.” not reflect the diversity of our student just saying that to “I’m very careful to go T h e body. me or if he would by Professor Walton, concept of a maleAccordingtothe2017AnnualReport have said the same heavy space in on Faculty Diversity, approximately thing to a male just so students know academia is not 31 percent of Dartmouth’s full- colleague of mine they should give me one unfamiliar to time, tenure-line faculty are women, also,” Orellana most institutions. and about 18 percent are racial said. “It can be some of the respect and ethnic minorities. While these extremely stressful that isn’t automatically A c c o rd i n g t o the same 2017 percentages vary across departments t o c o n s t a n t l y given to female Annual Report on and disciplines, the teaching staff does wonder if you’re Faculty Diversity, not nearly match the ethnic and gender being dismissed professors.”

Dartmouth diversity of the student population: 49 and not taken showed similar percent of undergraduate students seriou s ly j us t percentages of identify as female, while 38 percent because you’re -EMILY WALTON, female faculty identify as students of color. a woman or if SOCIOLOGY PROFESSOR at the assistant To understand how this disparity it would happen professor and might play out in female professors’ anyway.” lives and experiences, I spoke with a Sociology professor Emily Walton associate professor levels and a higher few women from various departments. also recounted an uncomfortable percentage of female faculty at the Mathematics professor Rosa experience that occurred with a male full professor rank compared to peer Orellana shared that the first individual who was a student in one institutions.

Biological anthropology professor memorable experience in which her of her classes. gender played a role occurred when “Once, I was sort of physically Zaneta Thayer ’08 shared that she has she was a master’s threatened by frequently experienced white malestudent and began “When people a student who dominated academic environments applying for jobs. w a s n’t h a p py over the course of her time in academia.

“When I go to academic conferences, “When I told perceive that the with his grade, the most senior people, on average, my colleague — accomplishments and he backed who happened to me into a corner tend to be white and male, so I don’t you have attained be a white male — in a way that felt think that, unfortunately, Dartmouth that I was nervous are because of your very threatening,” is an outlier in this respect,” Thayer about getting a gender, it undermines Walton said. “I said. “Sometimes, I even just have the job, he said, ‘Why do feel like there underlying expectation that there won’t are you worrying? all the effort, sacrifices are times when I be many senior women and assume You’re a woman. and hard work you feel vulnerable in that it’s mostly going to be a white On top of that, a way that I don’t male-dominated space.” have put in.”

However, as a Dartmouth alumna, a m i n o r i t y, ’ ” think my male Orellana said. colleagues feel Thayer also shared a message of “When people -ROSA ORELLANA, because I don’t hope for students who don’t see perceive that the think that kind of themselves represented adequately accomplishments MATHEMATICS situation would among Dartmouth faculty.

“Things are changing, and when you have attained PROFESSOR have happened are because of with a male faculty I look at the faculty now compared to even when I was a student, I think your gender, it member.” undermines all the effort, sacrifices Walton said that she has also there’s a lot more representation,” and hard work you have put in.” occasionally felt that her relationships Thayer said. “I believe the College Following her time in school, she said with students might vary from those has really made genuine efforts to that even now as a professor, there have that students have with male professors. address these issues and disparities, been situations in which gender has “I feel like gender enters into the fortunately.”

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Sorry Not Sorry: Unpacking the Apology Gap STORY

By Maggie Doyle

During two separate performance and showing up to a meeting too reviews, bosses have told me to early. None of these offenses really stop apologizing. And both times, warranted apologies, and all were without a hint of irony or intent of by women. rebellion, I instinctively responded, I also apologized to a friend “I am so sorry.” struggling with adjusting to her It is safe to say that I, like so many long-distance relationship. Though other women, I knew I was in am a chronic no way at fault “By a conservative over-apologizer. for her suffering, Intuitively, most estimate, I apologized I felt compelled people can tell at least 10 times a day, to be the proxy you that women a p o l o g i z e r. apologize more or 70 times total this No one in the often than men week.” s i t u at i o n w a s do, but research really at fault, confirms it. Two least of all me, studies published but someone was upset and I in Psychological Science concluded therefore I felt like someone should that, one, women apologize more be apologizing. often than men, and, two, men Phyllis Chesler, a psychologist, are equally as willing as women to explained in an interview for The apologize, but they have a higher Oprah Magazine that women are threshold for what offenses warrant quick to apologize and back down, an apology. even if they don’t really mean to.

This so-called “apology gap” She attributes women’s frequency of between men and women is not new nor a secret. This week, I attempted to record the number of times I said sorry and the contexts in which these apologies occurred. I failed at keeping track of every apology, but by a conservative estimate, I apologized at least 10 times a day, or 70 times total this week.

Kathy Caprino, a women’s career coach, wrote in an article for Forbes, “[Apologizing] seems to have become a way that women can appear more accommodating, less forceful and less strident in asking for what they want and sharing what they believe. It’s a way for women to ask for what they want but couch it in terms that make it appear less of a demand and more of a soft ask.”

I apologized to the Dartmouth Dining Services worker who put the wrong dressing on my salad, to someone who bumped into me in Collis and to my friend after showing him four pictures of a dog.

People apologized to me for having dinner plans, needing to be let into my dorm because of the new building access restrictions

apologizing to the fact that we bond deeply with others and are usually afraid to lose them, so, instead, we just say sorry and move on.

Hidden within these needless apologies are the times I truly am sorry. I apologized this week for forgetting about a lunch with a friend, which is something I genuinely felt sorry for, and rightly so. I wonder how much more weight “sorry” would have held in that situation if not for the absurd quantity of automatic apologies I dole out ingenuinely. I fear my nine other apologies a day detract from the significance of the one apology that I truly mean.

Here is where I face the truth and confess that none of this information is news to me. I cannot claim ignorance or that my behavior is entirely subconscious. Though I was ashamed of how many times I apologized on a daily basis this week, I was not surprised by it. I

have known for years that I overapologize, and that I do so more often out of fear of being perceived as abrasive than genuine remorse.

In the moment, understanding the consequences, I apologize to soften what I’m saying for fear of being considered aggressive or arrogant.

My quest for likability trumps my feminist sense of righteousness, and the cycle continues.

This phenomenon will not self-correct and, in fact, may be worsening. In an interview with Harvard Business Review, women’s leadership consultant Sally Helgesen noted the trend in our culture of people routinely apologizing for things out of their control, which turns into an endless cycle of hearing an apology and then repeating it ourselves.

Writing down apology after apology this week convinced me that it is cowardice to resign to habit and fear and this flaw of society. I

understand how difficult it can be to kick the “I’m sorry” habit, but the first step is awareness. Tracking how many times I said “sorry” this week helped me be more conscious and less automatic about apologizing.

I’ve tried to find ways to break my habit since starting this article, and some of my favorites so far include the “Just Not Sorry” Gmail plug-in that warns email writers whenever they use apologetic language that undermines their messages. I also like the concept of leading with gratitude instead of apologizing. To me, saying “Thank you for listening” instead of something like “Sorry for ranting” seems a lot more powerful.

Women are already fighting an uphill battle to be heard and respected. Adding needlessly apologizing to the mix makes the battle that much harder to fight.

Instead of leading our lives with the word “sorry,” perhaps “sorry, not sorry” is a better approach.

CLARA PAKMAN/THE DARTMOUTH

The Pronouns Conversation 4// MIRR OR

STORY

By Cristian Cano

It was a gray day in Piazza Benedetto Cairoli, a small park just down the street from Rome’s Campo de’ Fiori, where I shared a bench with Olivia Goodwin ’21. The topic of that day’s chat? Pronouns.

This fall, I’m working as the director’s assistant for the Italian Language Study Abroad + program in Rome, and I’ve been thinking a lot about pronouns lately. Italian, like other Romance languages, is a gendered language. Every noun and adjective has a grammatical gender, usually indicated by the vowel with which a word ends — “o” is usually masculine, “a” is usually feminine, and “e” and “i” can be either depending on the specific

word and whether or not it’s singular or plural. There are exceptions, of course, but the point remains that, as far as the grammar goes, there isn’t much wiggle room for a neutral or non-binary gender to exist.

That’s why I wanted to speak to Goodwin. In English, Goodwin uses “they/them/theirs” pronouns, and I was interested in learning about their experience living in a language that doesn’t have an equivalent to the singular they.

It probably goes without saying that their experience with Italian has been a little complicated. In such a rigidly gendered language, what’s a person who identifies as neither a man nor a woman to do?

“When I decided to take Italian, I knew it was a very binary language,” they said. “But I didn’t really care because I liked it, and I liked Italian culture.”

In spoken Italian, Goodwin uses the feminine pronoun “lei” and the corresponding feminine nouns and adjectives — that is, an Italian speaker hearing Goodwin speak would probably assume they identify as female based on their word choice. While it’s not ideal, they explain that they didn’t want to take the risk of presenting themself as male, especially without knowing the cultural connotations of being a man in Italy.

In written Italian, however, there’s

LILA HOVEY/THE DARTMOUTH

a bit more flexibility. Goodwin tends to use either an asterisk or an arroba (fancy word for “at sign”) in place of gendered vowels. So, while one would usually call a boy a “ragazzo” and a girl a “ragazza,” they might instead write “ragazz*” or “ragazz@” when referring to themself.

It’s not unlike what happens in Spanish. At Dartmouth, the word “Latinx” is usually used instead of Latino or Latina, even if the pronunciation of the word isn’t clear to Spanish speakers who don’t speak English. (In some Spanishspeaking countries, the ending vowel “e,” as an alternative for the “x,” is also gaining some traction as a non-binary gender marker.) Like in Italian, however, no option for a gender-neutral ending in Spanish has become universally accepted.

Even this summer, when I worked at a hostel in Puerto Rico, people from outside North and South America generally seemed unfamiliar with the term Latinx.

While Goodwin has to think very intentionally about how they speak about themself in Italian — even going so far as to intentionally use words like “person” instead of man or woman, which still has a grammatical gender but whose meaning doesn’t imply a person’s gender — they said they have also had a positive experience as a whole with Italians respecting their identity. For example, after explaining their gender identity in an introductory letter to their host family before arriving in Italy, they received an email reply in which their Italian host mom went out of her way to use the gender-neutral asterisk.

Toward the end of my conversation with Goodwin, we got interrupted by a man who had been sitting on the opposite end of the bench. In a decidedly British accent, he said that he was glad to have overheard us and that he hasn’t heard many people discussing pronouns in depth in Europe. On my way back home, I kept thinking about pronouns and

how, even in English and in the United States, conversations about them can be tricky.

T h i s w a s m y t h i r d ye a r volunteering for First-Year Trips, this time around as one of the outreach coordinators. Since last year, Trips has had a policy of using pronouns when volunteers and new students introduce themselves. The first few times I introduced myself on Trips this year, I sometimes forgot to include my pronouns, but by the end of Trips, I didn’t miss a beat: “Hey everyone! My name is Cris, my pronouns are he/him/his, and I’m a ’20 from just outside of Fort Worth, Texas.”

It’s no secret that not everyone supports this policy; I’ve heard comments about how some people think repeating their pronouns over and over again is overkill, especially if everyone in a given group is cisgender. On the flip side, I’ve also heard concerns that asking people to say their pronouns can be alienating if only one person in a group is transgender or non-binary. And if someone arrives at Dartmouth while still being in the closet, being asked to give pronouns might present a difficult choice: come out to a group of strangers or remain closeted.

It’s also no secret that, once Trips is over, most people don’t seem to keep including their pronouns in introductions. Sure, I’ve been asked my pronouns on surveys and forms, and every now and then I’ll notice people introducing themselves with their pronouns — more often than not if I’m at an LGBTQIA+ event or with friends who aren’t cisgender.

But for the most part, mentioning pronouns seems to fade away as soon as classes start.

After interviewing Goodwin, I realized that I wasn’t even sure if introductions with pronouns extend to Orientation Week. I then reached out to Sruti Pari ’20, who was a part of O-Team both last year and this year. She told me that O-Team did make an effort to use pronouns during group introductions, but not always when talking to ’23s one-on-

one.

Pari believes that one reason why using pronouns hasn’t quite gone mainstream in the Dartmouth community is because experiences like Trips and Orientation Week are simply too short-lived. If upperclassmen made an effort to keep using pronouns in their various clubs and communities after the beginning of the year, she said, maybe the continued exposure would help it catch on.

“Even though we do introduce ourselves with pronouns during things like Orientation and Trips, I feel like a lot of kids might still have that mentality of, ‘Oh, I’m not at a queer event or I myself am not queer, so I don’t really feel the need to include my pronouns,’” she said.

Are all these efforts to encourage new students to say their pronouns futile? Perhaps not. Brandon Zhou ’22, who went on a First-Year Trip last year and was a volunteer on Hanover Croo this year, was the youngest student I interviewed and the only one who had been exposed to introducing pronouns before starting college. He explained that he had seen people at other colleges and universities do it, so it already felt normalized. When he got the chance to explain pronoun usage to others as a Trips volunteer this year, he said he felt like he was helping foster a supportive environment for new students.

“As a Trips volunteer this year, I feel like facilitating [introductions with pronouns] and explaining to people what they are was a very different experience,” he said. “I feel like I played a larger role in creating an inclusive community.”

Thankfully, student g roups aren’t the only ones thinking about pronouns. Earlier this month, DartHub received an update through the new Chosen Name and Identity initiative that allows students to customize how their name, gender identity and pronouns appear in places such as the Online Dartmouth Directory and transcripts. Registrar Meredith Braz led the initiative in collaboration with Information, Technology & Consulting, and she answered some questions about the policy in an email statement.

According to Braz, a significant

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LILA HOVEY/THE DARTMOUTH

obstacle to overcome was simply the online systems that stored students’ information. The old version of Banner, which preceded DartHub, didn’t offer support for students’ chosen names, and the process that the registrar’s office had previously used to support transgender students was “extremely clumsy,” she wrote.

In addition to waiting for an update from Ellucian, DartHub’s vendor, the registrar’s office also had to coordinate the Chosen Name and

Identity initiative with offices that used different systems altogether.

“Safety and Security and the ID Card Office, which use systems other than Banner, had to figure out how to support students given their particular system and mission,” Braz wrote. “We had to work with an outside vendor to allow for Chosen Name on transcripts.”

Braz also explained how the options available in the online dropdown menu were the result

of recommendations and feedback given by students, professionals and the American Association of Collegiate Registrars and Admissions Officers, as well as national best practices. There is also the option to write in your own pronouns, which Braz specifically pointed out when asked about students who may use more than one set of pronouns.

Having autonomy over how others see your personal information, making an effort to include pronouns

when you introduce yourself, finding a way to express your gender identity in a language whose grammar doesn’t quite want to cooperate — none of these are magic solutions to making everyone feel safe and welcome. But they’re something.

Baby steps.

At the end of a long day thinking about pronouns, I then logged into DartHub to select my own gender identity and pronouns. That’s something, too.

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TTLG: Unconnecting the Stars TTLG

By Katie Carithers

It was my second week back and queens and bears in a tapestry from First-Year Trips. I’d moved of dots. Even then, these are into my dorm early for the pictures that are easier imagined debate team pre-season, but with once seen; the stars of Orion Orientation Week approaching, become a hunter once you know my floormates were finally you are looking for one. arriving. I’d left my backpack in Some days, my time at Robinson Hall earlier that day by Dartmouth feels random. Midmistake, and now it was dark. Still way through that first fall, I quit confusing in daylight, campus felt the debate team then briefly unfamiliar at night. Like many considered pre-med and left that women coming to college, I’d been track, too. I still get a chuckle told not to walk alone, and so one when I tell people that I’m now of my new floormates joined me. in a Shakespeare acting troupe The walk wasn’t long, and it was and studying literature along with one of those times when you’re women’s, gender and sexuality still getting to studies, but I know someone “The human mind took CHEM and there’s 5, “General is a patternmaker, plenty to talk Chemistry,” as about. I’m not detecting meaning my lab distrib. sure why, but on across disparate My point A the way back, seems so far in the middle of experiences, creating from my point the Green, we coherence amidst B. Looking stopped. Even back, I can worlds of ambiguities.” trace myself to with the nearby lampposts, the these starting sky was so dark, and an absent points, and I can see how they were moon made space for stars to jumping-off points that weren’t shine. They weren’t as bright or as terribly off mark. But it doesn’t numerous as the cloudy Milky Way help that every time I try to reflect visible from Moosilauke Ravine on what is “my Dartmouth,” it Lodge, but we tried to recognize returns to me in pieces and not some of the constellations. There in narratives. There are so many were three that looked like part people I care about, but when I of the Big Dipper, although they try to explain why they matter, I might have been the Little Dipper. am left with how quiet the Green Orion’s a winter constellation, so is during snowfall after 1 a.m. we couldn’t see it over the horizon. rehearsals, eating dinners around “Maybe that’s one,” my friend an old chest on an apartment said. floor, gathering around a table to The five zig-zagging stars he was scoop ice cream as fast as I can. I pointing at looked like a W. The can collect all these moments and comment was half joking, half a hundred more, and I can fill a serious, but I pulled out my phone. night sky with them and tell you a At the suggestion of an alum, I’d story. Except that’s not quite right downloaded a star-gazing app, either. and sure enough, the seemingly There have been moments random cluster was the modern I once had no idea how to constellation of Cassiopeia. constellate into the Dartmouth The human mind is a I’d been constructing inside my patternmaker, detecting meaning head — moments like learning across disparate experiences, that another person I care about creating coherence amidst worlds had experienced violence, that of ambiguities. It finds dragons another friend was told that their

COURTESY OF KATIE CARITHERS

experience “doesn’t count,” that what I’ve learned is that it’s okay, this campus feels unsafe for some and even necessary, to reflect and of my peers every single day for reorient. It’s okay to realize that so many different reasons. When you need to reconfigure, to teach I first began your mind to reckon with to recognize them, I had “I had no idea how to h a r m f u l no idea how to hold the good that I patterns and hold the good learn how have experienced at that I have to work to e x p e r i e n c e d Dartmouth alongside deconstruct at Dartmouth the trauma and them.

The alongside important part the trauma isolation expereinced is that you do. and isolation by my friends and It’s my second experienced week back peers at the same by my friends from First-Year and peers institution.”

Trips, again, at the same but this time as institution. a volunteer. A I’ll be the first to admit that I drive towards meaning-making is was late to these conversations, not maybe inevitable, especially when having made a dedicated effort to trying to wrap my head around the engage in them my first year. But fact that I’ve spent the past three

years growing here and that there’s only one more left. There’s the desire to be able to make sense of it all, to connect all the moments together and to take complexity and produce coherency. But that doesn’t feel quite right.

I hope that the Dartmouth I first imagined sharing is not the same one I hold now — that there are patterns I would not have recognized that I recognize now. In the end, “my Dartmouth” hasn’t been linear or well-planned.

It’s been messy and unstructured, three years punctuated by chance encounters, illuminating mishaps, and sudden decisions. It’s been incohesive and meaningful, random and intentional. It’s felt confusing and exhilarating and heart-breaking.

But most importantly, “my Dartmouth” is still in the making.

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Beyond the Binary: Gender-Inclusive Social Spaces STORY

By Christina Baris

It’s no secret that Greek life is prominent on Dartmouth’s campus.

Enter any residential building, and I guarantee that you’ll find at least one “Animal House”-themed poster of John Belushi chugging Jack Daniels, perhaps an ode to the fact that the film was largely based on screenwriter Chris Miller’s ’63 experiences at a former Dartmouth fraternity. On a typical on-night, you’ll find groups of friends in frackets and dirty sneakers debating whether they will scope out the scene at another frat or head to Collis late night while crumpled cans of Keystones line the sidewalk.

But to say that Greek life is solely associated with community and fun nights full of pong and dancing would be to tell a one-sided story. Traditional Greek houses are not places that everyone feels comfortable in. However, there are communities at Dartmouth that aim to provide a comfortable space for those who feel uncomfortable in traditional Greek houses. These communities include gender-inclusive Greek houses — Alpha Theta, Phi Tau, and The Tabard — and co-ed undergraduate societies—Amarna and Panarchy.

Evan Barton ’20, who joined The Tabard during his sophomore summer, holds the common belief that Dartmouth’s social scene is heavily centered on traditional Greek houses.

Because of Greek life’s prevalence on campus, Barton was soon able to notice some of the negative aspects of Greek life, such as hazing and exclusivity. After joining The Tabard, Barton recognized the immense positive impact that genderinclusive Greek houses could have on one’s Dartmouth experience.

“It wholeheartedly changed my experience. Prior to being in Tabard, I feel like I didn’t have a place,” Barton said. “[After joining,] I had a space that chose me, instead of me choosing it.”

Moreover, Barton said that joining The Tabard gave him a community that he felt was previously missing from his Dartmouth experience.

“I found a very similar-minded group of people to my friends in high school, and that was what I was looking for here at Dartmouth, but I hadn’t found,”

Barton said. “The Tabard was truly life changing in that regard,” he added.

Eduardo Corea-Dilbert ’20, who joined The Tabard during his sophomore fall, shared a similar opinion on the sense of community that he gained there. Corea-Dilbert found Greek life at Dartmouth to be confusing and hard to navigate at first. However, he was interested in the idea of Greek houses where the barrier of gender was broken and ultimately found a great community at the Tabard.

“As a freshman, the first thing that you want to do is find a community where you belong and establish your subset of friends. I feel like becoming a Tabard was finding that space for me — finding a place where I wanted to be, somewhere that I could always come back to, and somewhere I enjoyed being around.

Not just the physical space, but also the people in the space,” Corea-Dilbert said.

Furthermore, Corea-Dilbert emphasized that gender-inclusive houses provide the siblingship that is associated with traditional Greek life without the barriers that can prevent some people from finding a comfortable community.

“I understand the enticing feeling and hype behind Greek houses. They can be very good some times for some people.

[Greek houses] are another community where people can find where they feel like they belong. However, you can’t really ignore the facts about how these spaces can feel towards women or people of different sexualities or people of different gender identities. It’s a hegemony that can be broken down with genderinclusive spaces,” Corea-Dilbert said.

Gender-inclusive Greek houses are not nearly as prevalent as traditional Greek houses at Dartmouth. However, some students gain exposure to genderinclusive houses through the wellattended lingerie show that is held once a term at The Tabard. According to Barton, the lingerie show was started by queer men in Tabard in the late ‘90s and was originally intended to be a drag show. “[The lingerie show] sort of morphed from a show that centers around drag to a show that centers around body positivity, sex positivity and performance

art by anyone who feels comfortable to [perform] … People are very vulnerable in their performances, and I really appreciate that about [the show],” Barton said.

He added that the show is really impactful and makes The Tabard a more inclusive space.

Corea-Dilbert agreed that the lingerie show showcases body positivity, differing bodies and differing ways to represent one’s body. The show highlights The Tabard’s values of representation and inclusivity. Corea-Dilbert noted that some performances are especially impactful and important.

“Someone switched from malepresenting to female-presenting clothes, which was a very powerful way of talking about how you are still one body, but the way that you choose to present it can manifest itself in many different ways,” Corea-Dilbert said.

In addition to gender-inclusive Greek houses such as The Tabard, Dartmouth also has co-ed undergraduate societies, Amarna and Panarchy.

The first opportunity for Dartmouth undergraduates to join a Greek house is during their sophomore fall. However, students can join Amarna as early as their freshman fall. Nathaniel Stornelli ’21, who has been a part of Amarna since their freshman fall, noted that quickly finding a community within Amarna was an essential part of their Dartmouth experience. “[Amarna] was a lot of my support freshman year, and it was really invaluable. I don’t want to say that it’s not something I could have found in a Greek space, but it wasn’t something that I would have found in a Greek space that early on, so I was really lucky to have that,” Stornelli said.

Moreover, Stornelli highlighted the strong bond between members of Amarna. “[The sense of community] is very, very strong. I think that’s because [Amarna] attracts people who have a harder time fitting into traditional Dartmouth spaces. We want to have community, and we want to have close

friendships and almost familial bonds.

We want to be together, and we know that we’re better together and stronger together,” Stornelli said.

If you ask Dartmouth students to list the reasons why they like Dartmouth, “the people” will surely be among the top answers. And there’s a good reason for that: Dartmouth students value community. The people you choose to surround yourself with will largely impact your Dartmouth experience, and those people can be found in many different spaces. However, one factor that certainly should not hinder your ability to find those people is your gender identity.

Stornelli summarized the importance of gender-inclusive social spaces.

“I think it’s so important to have spaces for people who are underrepresented.

As a trans person, I find it absolutely invaluable to have a place where I’m not an exception — I’m inherently accepted and inherently welcomed. In general, Dartmouth needs that kind of energy.

The world needs that kind of energy.”

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Across The Spectrum PHOTO

By Natalie Dameron