The College Hill Independent — Vol. 44 Issue 5

THE INDY*

07 HYPERLINK LOVE 08 INTERMISSION 13 THE BOY, THE CLOCK, AND THE GIANT

Volume 44 Issue 05 18 March 2022

THE SPONTANEOUS ISSUE

* The College Hill Independent

THE INDY* This Issue

Masthead*

00 UNTITLED

MANAGING EDITORS Ifeoma Anyoku Sage Jennings Isaac McKenna Alisa Caira

Talullah King

02 WEEK IN ACCOUNTABILITY Masha Breeze & Nora Mathews

03 THE COMMUNITY MANIFESTO Rose Houglet & Jack Doughty

Justin Han

NEWS Anushka Kataruka Nicole Kim Priyanka Mahat

07 HYPERLINK LOVE Justin Scheer

ARTS Jenna Cooley Justin Scheer Arden Shostak

08 INTERMISSION Maya Polsky

09 ARCHIVAL POSTER

EPHEMERA Chloe Chen Ayça Ülgen

Isaac McKenna

11 METHOD 73

METRO Jack Doughty Nélari Figueroa Torres Rose Houglet Sacha Sloan

Laila Gamaleldin

12 THIS IS NOT MY CITY Aleina Markham

13 THE BOY, THE CLOCK, AND THE GIANT Alisa Caira

14 THE LITTLE THINGS I LIKE ABOUT YOU

SCIENCE + TECH Rhythm Rastogi Jane Wang BULLETIN BOARD Deb Marini Lily Pickett X Soeun Bae

Lola Simon & Evan Donnachie

DEAR INDY Cecilia Barron

15 ROMANI BANDITRY Charlotte Haq

LITERARY Alyscia Batista Annie Stein

17 “RABBIT HOLE” Sylvia Atwood

OUTREACH COORDINATOR Audrey Buhain

18 DEAR INDY Cecilia Barron

19 THE BULLETIN

DESIGN EDITORS Anna Brinkhuis Sam Stewart

SENIOR EDITORS Alana Baer Audrey Buhain Mara Cavallaro Anabelle Johnston Deb Marini Peder Schaefer STAFF WRITERS Hanna Aboueid Caroline Allen Zach Braner Rachel Carlson Lily Chahine Swetabh Changkakoti Danielle Emerson Osayuwamen Ede-Osifo Mariana Fajnzylber Edie Fine Ricardo Gomez Eli Gordon Eric Guo Charlotte Haq Billie McKelvie Charlie Mederios Bilal Memon Loughlin Neuert Alex Purdy Callie Rabinovitz Nick Roblee-Strauss Nell Salzman Peder Schafer Janek Schaller Koyla Shields Ella Spungen Alex Valenti Siqi ‘Kathy’ Wang Katherine Xiong COPY EDITORS Addie Allen Evangeline Bilger Klara Davidson-Schmich Megan Donohue Mack Ford Sarah Goldman Zoey Grant Alara Kalfazade Jasmine Li Abigail Lyss Tara Mandal Becca Martin-Welp Pilar McDonald Kabir Narayanan Eleanor Peters Angelina Rios-Galindo Ellie Tapping

COVER COORDINATOR Seoyoung Kim DESIGNERS Briaanna Chiu Ophelia Duchesne-Malone Clara Epstein Elisa Kim Tanya Qu Emily Tom Floria Tsui WEB DESIGN Lucas Gelfond ILLUSTRATION EDITOR Hannah Park ILLUSTRATORS Sylvie Bartusek Ashley Castaneda Hannah Chang Claire Chasse Michelle Ding Rosie Dinsmore Quinn Erickson Lillyanne Fisher Sophie Foulkes John Gendron Amonda Kallenbach Joshua Koolik Lucy Lebowitz Olivia Lunger Tom Manto Sarosh Nadeem Kenney Nguyen Izzy Roth-Dishy Lola Simon Livia Weiner GAME MAKERS Loughlin Neuert Maya Polsky WRITING FELLOW Chong Jing ‘CJ’ Gan MVP Justin Scheer — The College Hill Independent is printed

by TCI in Seekonk, Massachusets.

*Our Beloved Staff

Mission Statement

From the Editors Recently, life has been looking more like a fairytale. In the sort of way where shadows wave back and cats talk to you if you look at them too expectantly. I wake up to spring-sprouts and smells of the world leaking through window cracks.

Life has been feeling more like a fairytale too. My heart feels singsong and my skeleton dances. My ears squirm in an aspiration to touch, my mouth opens to allow in.

Life has been remembered like a fairytale. I hold books for weight rather than reading. I burrow into my memories, to tell so I will remind so I will not forget.

Maybe, this Indy is also a fairytale, of sorts. It is something wished-for, something wished-to. A vision of what may-be which, I think, is what a proper fairytale is all about.

-AC

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

WEEK IN REVIEW Masha Breeze Nora Mathews FEATURES Anabelle Johnston Corinne Leong Amelia Wyckoff

06 “FUNERAL FEAST (FOR LANZHOU)”

01

Volume 44 Issue 05 18 March 2022

The College Hill Independent is a Providence-based publication written, illustrated, designed, and edited by students from Brown University and the Rhode Island School of Design. Our paper is distributed throughout the East Side, Downtown, and online. The Indy also functions as an open, leftist, consciousness-raising workshop for writers and artists, and from this collaborative space we publish 20 pages of politically-engaged and thoughtful content once a week. We want to create work that is generative for and accountable to the Providence community—a commitment that needs consistent and persistent attention.

While the Indy is predominantly financed by Brown, we independently fundraise to support a stipend program to compensate staff who need financial support, which the University refuses to provide. Beyond making both the spaces we occupy and the creation process more accessible, we must also work to make our writing legible and relevant to our readers.

The Indy strives to disrupt dominant narratives of power. We reject content that perpetuates homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, misogyny, ableism and/or classism. We aim to produce work that is abolitionist, anti-racist, anti-capitalist, and anti-imperialist, and we want to generate spaces for radical thought, care, and futures.

Though these lists are not exhaustive, we challenge each other to be intentional and selfcritical within and beyond the workshop setting, and to find beauty and sustenance in creating and working together.

WEEK IN REVIEW

WEEK IN ACCOUNTABILITY: WiR Addresses the Rumors

TEXT MASHA BREEZE & NORA MATHEWS DESIGN TANYA QU ILLUSTRATION JOHN GENDRON

Hey guys,

Heeeyyyy guyssss—

Last week, Nora and I wrote an article titled “Week in Health: Counting Down the Top 10 Most Fun Mental Illnesses.” Our haters will tell you that we were “glamorizing mental illness” and that “Unpopular Personality Disorder is not a real condition”—ummm… try telling that to all the people we bully every day for being unpopular. Salty much? Nora and I write articles to giggle about while drinking Long Island iced teas with our gal pals (all of whom are a capella singers from Vermont), not to “spread legitimate information” or “raise awareness.” Anyone can contribute to society; how many friend groups do you know that have the capacity to do something legitimately evil while singing “You Oughta Know” in eight-part harmony?

Since this article was published, I have been publicly canceled by the student body of Brown University. You’ve probably seen my face postered all over Providence with the caption, “EAT SHIT, Masha Breeze-Kennedy-Bloomberg-Amazon.” The article has also brought attention to my personal life. You may have heard a crazy rumor that I’m a ‘nepotism baby’ and that the scheduling app which I invented and developed single-handedly, Google Calendar, was funded by my father, the founder of Utah.

You may have also heard that I eat little pellets instead of normal food, that I have a dust allergy, and that I constantly excrete a maple-scented slime from my skin. So crazy, haha! Especially the dust allergy one—I’ve never been within five goddamn feet of a Zyrtec, and if you say differently, expect a call from my dad’s lawyer, Gloria Allred-Lupone-Mariska-Hargitay-Memorial-Park Jr. She lives in an offoff-Broadway townhouse in the part of Manhattan that’s only open to people who can’t pass the Turing Test so yeah… she’s legit. Let’s just forget this whole silly thing!

Masha and I recently came under fire for a series of well-meaning articles that were wildly misinterpreted by our usually adoring public.

On one hand this is good, because it means we’re asking the important questions and getting press attention. But on the other hand, it’s threatening our sponsorship deal with Exxon Mobil’s “Gas Girl Summer Event: ABC’s Modern Family Invites You To Celebrate A ‘Hot Girl’ Summer of Oil and Gas: Brought to You by Brandy Melville’s Partnership with the Keystone XL Pipeline (‘We Put a Necklace on It!’).” This deal is still in negotiation stages and could fall through at any time, so I’m here to put some rumors to rest.

When we said “Drop The Mask Mandate So We Can Go Back To Treating People Based on How Hot They Are,” we didn’t mean for our morals to sound “questionable” or “ambiguous.” We meant that we will treat hot people better and we’re sorry that didn’t come across clearly!

We promise to write with more ideological clarity moving forward.

I also resent the accusation that our articles are “blatantly sponsored content.” We have never directly made a profit from an article published in the Indy! (disclaimer: under Rhode Island law, gifts, such as transformative plastic surgery to give us more of a “girl who takes her glasses off and she’s been beautiful the whole time”-style look, do NOT count!

Thank you to Heinz Ketchup<3).

I truly believe that all of this backlash is the result of me proudly being a Woman with Psoriasis in The Arts, and I just want to say I’m sorry you all can’t uplift the voice of a girl with a mild rash. Get Well Soon Babes!

Mwah!

-Masha

EDIT: There are some articles I still stand by, and I refuse to censor myself. As Christina Aguilera once said, “The one who conceals hatred has lying lips, and whoever utters slander is a fool.” So consider that while you read these:

EDIT: Hey, guys. Since I wrote this letter, some past articles of mine have resurfaced. The following Week in Review articles, written by me, have been deleted from the Indy website: “Week in Baking: 10 British Desserts Named After Queerphobic Slurs You Can Make at Home!”

“Week in Quizzes: Which of my Dad’s Secretaries Are YOU?” “Week in Toxic People: Why You’re One and I’m Not” “Week in Pellets: Rabbit Food or Delicious Treat? (A Listicle Interspersed With My Nudes)” “Week in Mixology: Alcoholism, Shmalcoholism—Whatever Happened to Having Fun?”

Hearteyesemoji, Nora

“Week in Geopolitics: Giving Everyone an Oscar Mayer© Hotdog Would Clear All of This Up” “Week in Problematic Faves: What it says that Mr. Bean (MAN!!!) can put paint instead of gas in a car engine and when it blows up it’s ‘a classic British comedic caper,’ but when I do it it’s a ‘prosecutable offense’ ” “Week in Mindfulness: How to Doxx Your Friends and Family in a God-Honoring Way”

I would just like to say that I’m NOT the person I was when I wrote these; November was a very difficult time for me. Ask any of my friends, I didn’t leave my apartments once. Anywayyyyy… I’m gonna go swallow a cornish game hen whole. Whatever major losers!

With love, light, and apathy, -Masha <3

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TEXT JACK DOUGHTY & ROSE HOUGLET

DESIGN SAM STEWART

ILLUSTRATION SAROSH NADEEM

METRO

The Community Manifesto

03

An Interview with Red Ink Founder David Raileanu The College Hill Independent last spoke to our comrades at Red Ink in September. Now, just over a year into their coalescence, the leftist community library’s ties to spaces of organizing and radical thought across the City of Providence have only deepened and accompanied them through moments of crisis.

With the Mount Hope neighborhood as its nexus, Red Ink has been moving through the trials of not just growing in Mount Hope, but growing into it, and learning to enact its vision for emancipatory and liberatory change with and through the context, place, and people in the neighborhood.

Red Ink is constantly reminded of this imperative, and its obligations to Mount Hope, which exude from the very spot in which it’s situated: Red Ink has found its home within the shell of a now vacant Providence Police Department neighborhood substation. What the police station inflicted onto Mount Hope’s residents— constant surveillance, the exercising of violence, the threat of incarceration—Red Ink, in its aspirations and purpose, seeks to unravel. It offers a physical space that has become a locus of ideas, of conversation, of important encounters, of relationships to be made and ones to be nourished. In a world where such spaces have, more often than not, been displaced, developed, and denatured, Red Ink fights against the dissolution of its community. It’s not just merely a site of knowledge production, and in no way is it insular like the academy. It is a critical site where ideas—whether you acquire them from its expansive collection of socialist texts, or bring them in from your praxis—are mobilized, and given space to develop into communal action.

Red Ink is a space that cultivates the grounds from which seeds of thought grow into ecosystems of practice. Crucially, it is participatory, and the library is conceived so as to fold the community’s needs into its development.

Red Ink is a creative space in the purest, most affective sense.

The intent of this interview is not to detail why, then, on February 21 a brigade of fascists targeted the physical building and the people inside as they participated in a reading of the Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels. By ascribing meaningful intent to their actions, we risk legitimating and accepting the terms of fascism. Instead, we hope that in engaging this conversation with Red Ink’s founder, David Raileanu (he/him), our readers can come to appreciate Red Ink in its mission, one that is antithetical to fascism’s destructiveness.

Hollow News Coverage The Indy: We’ve been especially interested in this sort of distinction in the coverage that you all have received from mainstream outlets versus more radical publications. Thinking about liberal tropes like “no place for hate” and the over-emphasis on the presence of figures like Jorge Elorza and Governor Dan McKee, we’d love to hear about the Red Ink community’s

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

perception of how mainstream coverage might have misconstrued the events of February 21?

And then from there, we’re wondering what sorts of narratives and coverage you think have been more aligned with the community’s experience of that event?

David Raileanu: I’m so sorry, but I don’t think that I’ve read any of the coverage.

The Indy: Can you speak to that a little bit more? You’re quoted so much, but I think it’s actually more interesting that you haven’t really engaged with all that coverage as it’s taken on its own life.

DR: On the evening of the 21st, Uprise reached out. We’ve got a pretty friendly relationship with them, and Will James and Steve Ahlquist reached out right away. I tried to give them as much information as I could—like names and contact information—so that he could start reporting. Then, at eight o’clock the next morning [after Uprise ran their piece], it was Bill Bartholomew, of PRO, and NPR that were reaching out first… and then the Providence Journal, and the Boston Globe after that. Throughout the rest of the day, it rapidly became online news, like The Daily Beast and CNN. Around noon, early afternoon, TV showed up: three news channels were here, and one of them, I believe, Channel 10, parked across the street, and continued to deliver news reports throughout the rest of the day. Later came more monthly periodicals, like Motif and Providence Monthly. I also saw that it got picked up, in my Google News Alerts, by the New York Times, and the Washington Post. It’s reached far and wide—to the Atlanta Journal Constitution and the San Francisco Chronicle, across the country, or even the Independent in the UK. So, I was the one who was delivering the interviews. I know what I said. Whatever they chose to print was their decision.

Red Books Day The Indy: Could you locate the fact that the attack happened on Red Books Day and within the context of other expansive violence toward sites of liberatory knowledge production? The degree to which different coverage delved into that context seemed imbued with all these dynamics we’re talking about.

DR: Well, Red Books Day is the international celebration of the publication of the Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels.

This is the first year that Red Ink has been around for it, so we were very excited about being able to celebrate the day here. We were just coming out of a long pause to in-person events due to the most recent COVID surge, and we were looking forward to this particular event as it was our first opportunity to have people engaging face to face in the space again. We also invested a lot into building an online audience, acquiring better live streaming equipment, and promoting it across social media platforms. We had no indication of any impending violence. In retrospect, I feel like it makes a little bit of sense, considering that it was the first public-facing, in-person event that we had in the space in six or eight weeks, it was promoted widely, and it had the capital “C” word (Communist) in it, which tends to attract some controversy. I feel like it was probably a convergence of things; I certainly wouldn’t want to ascribe any sort of motivation to Neo-Nazis.

But, you know, it is not as surprising in retrospect.

The Indy: Can you speak a little bit to the nature of statements of support and solidarity coming from places across the country, from other libraries and thoroughly public community spaces? What did that support look like?

METRO

Why was it critical? Solidarity seemed to come from across the country, including one letter published with about 15 different signatories [most of which were radical libraries, like Red Ink].

DR: Red Books Day, at least in our experience of it, was organized primarily by People’s Forum and 1804 Books in New York City. We were asked to be included by them, and we were very flattered. Back in the beginning of January, they said, “This event is coming up, we would love for you to participate.” The fact that they were aware of us and invited us to be part of this international celebration was incredibly meaningful. We then coordinated with them for the six weeks leading up to the event, so we became very familiar with all of the people who were asked to participate in the event. The community was transnational and included leftist publishers, booksellers , and libraries from India, Ireland, South Africa. In the US, there were groups from New York City, Philadelphia, Detroit, Oakland, all across the country. Then afterwards, when they came out with such a strong public statement of support, and even spoke with us privately—the fact that they doubled down on their commitment to supporting us certainly made a big difference.

The wider community support has also been very encouraging. The deeper connections that we’ve already built with the neighborhood, with Mount Hope, and with the city of Providence has been something that we’ve been trying to do all along. Unfortunately, it took an event like this in order to kickstart that expansion, but this is certainly not the end of that work. It will continue as long as we’re here and as long as we’re open. Because one of the driving forces and missions behind Red Ink is to become an influential, meaningful partner in this neighborhood. That is very much part of the DNA of Red Ink, and the fact that we were able to build on that in the time since has been great. The fact that we have the more liberal politicians showing up at the park across the street [Billie Taylor Park] who are able to bring attention to the neighborhood is great. Hopefully they come back, you know, we hope that their commitment to Mount Hope is not just one afternoon.

Red Ink in Community The Indy: Could you elaborate on mobilizing solidarity from the neighborhood, and what the process of establishing collective safety has looked like?

DR: One of the very first meetings that I took, when I started talking about this place, was with Helen Baskerville Dukes, the executive director of the Mount Hope Community Center, just two blocks up the street here. I don’t think that she would mind me saying that she was initially very skeptical. Ever since the cops left— this used to be a Providence police substation for District 8—this spot had been vacant and

became a dumping ground for used furniture.

The cops didn’t leave it in such great shape.

So when I expressed interest in the place—especially knowing that other more commercial interests had also been expressed—there was a sense among the community that there was the potential for this to be an exploitative space that might not hire people from the neighborhood and ultimately drive up rents and make sure that people were no longer able to live here.

I had to work very hard in the early parts of the development of Red Ink, to think critically about our mission here, and how we would live that mission, how we would be an integral part of this community. In the time since Red Books Day, I have been introduced to lots of neighborhood characters, mainstays of the neighborhood, who said that they initially didn’t know what we were about, or what we were up to. But now that they know we are here, and that we are a place of education, of learning, of knowledge, and of solidarity, they feel a lot better about who we are and what we do. Those kinds of conversations have been very, very productive, and introduced me to a brand new world of possibilities of neighborhood integration.

The Indy: You said earlier, which we really appreciated, “I don’t want to ascribe any motivation to Neo-Nazis.” We don’t want to give oxygen or speculate as to if there’s anything rational in their intent. A lot of the things you’re saying about combating fascism, it’s not so much about how we will confront them, but more so about how and what to focus on building in order to eclipse them. Can you speak a little bit to that, especially in light of the community safety and organizing meeting you held on March 6?

DR: That event was hosted by Providence PSL, the Party for Socialism and Liberation, and the gist of the meeting is that we don’t fight fascism face-to-face, because it allows or accepts the terms of fascism. When we try to punch Nazis, so to speak, what we are saying is that we acknowledge the ground that they stand on, and that they have a claim to it. And that only leads to their proliferation. The way that we ultimately defeat fascism is by making it obsolete.

A popular phrase, that I forget who coined it and I apologize [Zach Norris in Building Secure, Just, and Inclusive Communities], invokes the concept that “We keep us Safe;” that ‘low crime neighborhoods’ are not unique or special in some way. They’re low crime neighborhoods because the neighborhood has agreed to keep itself safe, whether it’s through money, political influence, restrictive zoning, or whatever it is, the neighborhood has put in place certain legal or political structures to make sure that it is a low crime neighborhood. In ‘high crime neighborhoods,’ we see that those legal or political structures are not in place, and that the people who live in those neighborhoods don’t have the economic or the political power in order

to enforce those kinds of standards. They’re not able nor allowed to keep themselves safe.

They end up getting policed more often; they end up becoming the victims of both criminal violence and police violence. The way to combat violence—the way to model a neighborhood like Mount Hope, Wayland Square, Blackstone Boulevard, or even College Hill—is to build better, stronger, deeper community relations.

By organizing the neighborhood, by aligning the interests of the neighborhood, more of that political and economic power is built, and more of those political and structural boundaries around the neighborhood can also be erected.

Moving Beyond and Forward The Indy: From here, what are you all looking forward to? What sorts of events? Were any future-looking conversations particularly generative at the March 6 event?

DR: I think we’re moving on. We’re super, super excited about the events that are coming up. One of our friends, local filmmaker Carlos Broun, has put together an anti-war film festival. It’s a couple of documentaries, and then showing the contemporary comedy film, Dr. Strangelove, so that we can put it in the context of modern anti-war movements, and think about the way that people like us encountered it 50-60 years ago. What lessons did we learn? Or what lessons did we not learn? In April, we’re focusing a little bit more on self-care. We have a de-escalation training that we’re putting together; there’s a local Emergency Department physician who wants to come and put on a demo for street medics about first aid. We’ve also got a demonstration from Rocky Douglas about natural and holistic approaches to self care, especially with a more nuanced cultural understanding of what it means to take care of yourself.

The Indy: Thinking of all the events that you have coming up, and the careful thinking that you all are doing more generally, I definitely sense that this is sort of a tricky moment for Red Ink… The way it’s coming across a lot of people’s minds right now—as a product of the coverage we were talking about before—associates it with being ‘that place’ that was swarmed by fascists. I guess we’re more interested in emerging solidarities that you’ve noticed in the wake of the event, whether they are organizational solidarities, or further community solidarities that are going to define the sweep of Red Ink moving forward. How do these networks help you think about this moment in a forward-looking way?

DR: I appreciate the question, especially given the context of the neighborhood. The fact, for example, that there’s still a memorial across the street for a young man who was shot and killed.

Just six months before I opened up here, there was a shooting in the park across the street. The idea that this neighborhood is naïve or new to

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METRO ILLUSTRATION SAROSH NADEEM DESIGN SAM STEWART TEXT JACK DOUGHTY & ROSE HOUGLET 05

some kind of violence is deeply mistaken, and I would try to disabuse people of the notion that this neighborhood is one that needs saving in any way. This neighborhood has done the work for 10 or 15 years to try and do its best to build the kind of community support that ends violence. We just want to be part of that mission; we want to contribute to that mission in the best way that we know how, which is organizing and building that solidarity. And that happens in a lot of different ways here, right? It can happen through political organizing meetings, through our partnerships with local political organizations. It happens through just regular days being open, being available to the public— where people have the opportunity to come in and sit and read and study or work, or listen to music and drink coffee, or use the bathroom or whatever! For free. It doesn’t cost anything to hang out here. It might also happen through the joy of the events that we put on here that are self-directed events, whether it’s film screenings, or concerts, shows, dances, costume parties, we’ve had all kinds of stuff happen.

Those sort of like three different ideas—political organizing, a regular presence, and self-directed events—are our approach to building a community that will only continue to get stronger in 2022.

A Center of Solidarity The Indy: Thinking about Mount Hope as a neighborhood and Red Ink being carefully situated within it, what is your perception of the state of gentrification here? In College Hill, many people seem to regard Mount Hope as totally gentrified—like the project is done—because, I think, when people go up Hope Street

by Seven Stars [Hope Village] and the numbered streets, that’s sort of what people think represents this whole neighborhood. We think that’s kind of dangerous, that there’s just this conception that it’s like, done [gentrification, displacement]. How does this space challenge that notion, and connect with people that are here and have remained here? What is Red Ink’s relationship with youth in this neighborhood?

DR: Summit and Mount Hope I think are a little bit different. Ward 3 just typically gets lumped together a lot—everywhere from University Village and all the way up to the Pawtucket line—but the truth of the matter is there isn’t an ATM or a place to get a Gatorade on Camp Street. So, right now, the concept that this particular neighborhood in Mount Hope is gentrified, I think, is a little bit presumptive. There are still opportunities to help develop this place to be more responsive to the community that it serves. The fact that we’re here and available for kids who are getting off the bus at the end of the school day to come in here, talk to me about what books they’re reading for school and grab a piece of candy before they head on home—that allows me to feel like there’s a big opportunity for more places that are responsive,

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

open, and available to the community rather than specifically commercial.

The Indy: How does Red Ink constantly cultivate a space that is avowedly abolitionist? I was really struck reading the coverage, that no one here called the police. People are obviously so wired in such moments of fear and crisis to call the police. What did the conversation not to call the police look like? Or how did you come to that collective decision? What do you think needed to be in place for that to even be tenable to people?

DR: The question comes down to how to make a plan for a given emergency situation. How do you understand what [an emergency situation is], and the different kinds of emergencies?

That’s something that we had talked about before Red Books day—discussing what constitutes an emergency, and what is something

When we try to punch Nazis, so to speak, what we are saying is that we acknowledge the ground that they stand on, and that they have a claim to it. ... The way that we ultimately defeat fascism is by making it obsolete. that might, in a moment of crisis, seem to necessitate a police response. It requires a very socialist analysis of who the police are and what they do. They are a function and arm of state violence, and they enforce the rights of property owners. In this particular instance, there wasn’t an immediate indication of lethal violence; there wasn’t any indication that the people who showed up had brought guns or other lethal weapons, and that they were intending to cause lethal injuries. So, to introduce lethal state violence into that situation and bring firearms into a situation where there previously were none, is, in our estimation, an inappropriate response, because it doesn’t de-escalate—in fact, it only escalates—the situation. However, in this particular situation, it was pretty clear that the fascists had no respect for us, who we were, or what we were doing; they had respect, though, for the police, for what they are and what they do. So, what ended the situation was when the police showed up. Again, it’s likely they showed up because of the disturbance to the property of the people who live on Camp Street, as opposed to our political meeting. But I mean, again, I couldn’t really speculate on the motivations of the police, so I suppose you’ll have to ask them.

Obviously, Nazis are the kind of situation that might necessitate a police response. So unfor-

tunately, in this case, they did. As a socialist who lives in a capitalist world, as somebody who’s building international solidarity in a world where it doesn’t currently exist, unfortunately, you have to encounter situations where you make choices that are not aligned with the ideal. There are material conditions in the world that we first have to encounter, and interrogate, before we can change them.

The Indy: Can you speak to what you, and Red Ink at large, have witnessed with regards to people from various positionalities, notably Jewish and Black communities in Mount Hope, building solidarity against Nazist violence?

DR: That’s something that’s existed for quite some time. In the Civil Rights Movement of the ‘60s, we saw a lot of alignment between the Jewish community and the Black community.

The Jewish community and the Black community have existed on the periphery of Providence for 100 years. More than that, where Benefit Street, Power Street, and Brown Street are sort of the exclusive, like, blue blood areas. Eventually, Blackstone Boulevard became the [white] working class areas, relegating the Mount Hope and Summit neighborhoods to the Black and Jewish communities. So whether they wanted to or not, they needed to build solidarity to make sure that they were able to exist and coexist peacefully. The example that we saw at the end of February, I don’t think is unusual for this neighborhood or the city, or for our history in general. I think that it makes sense, and it was a very good example of the solidarity against the intersections of racism and anti-Semitism central to fascist thought.

The Indy: Is Red Ink a place where people communicate their concerns and express grievances that they wouldn’t really know where or how to communicate otherwise? How does Red Ink mobilize these voices on a structural level?

DR: It’s not necessarily something that we direct, or that we plan for. But the fact that Corey Jones, who’s running for city council for Ward 3, often hosts campaign events here. And Jackie Goldman who’s also running for city council over in Mount Pleasant is also involved with the library, is indicative of some local electoral political action, which I think can be useful in as much as it can give people an avenue to address certain kinds of things, like making streets safer for kids, or keeping the lights on at Billy Taylor park. The true mission of Red Ink is mass organizing, so rather than specifically advocating for or pushing legislation on those particular topics, it’s more about building a mass social base, where the people themselves are empowered to make their demands.

JACK DOUGHTY B’23 AND ROSE HOUGLET B’23 dream of no sub-stations and more bookshelves.

JUSTIN HAN “FUNERAL FEAST (FOR LANZHOU)”

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Condolences — Lanzhou, 1993 Tonight I write to excise the I, to follow my itinerant kin elsewhere, this augur saying no to the knower, composing the critic’s perish song, 发出几声开心的大笑, marching down in rose, black, gown of pearlescent white, all bearing the stretcher bearing a body whose limbs are for plaster and spine is for rod, frost closing in on their parade, 寒冷的一 天, two temperate seas each lapping against the other gently, without spite. At the middle school he wrings his fiction out, 站在“圣皮斯”圣洁的墓地—furnishes it with many a plot point: greedy maneuver, blind beholder. Then 肺气肿, the dealer coughing into himself, his vision tailspinning, halfway over the sea to sell paintings in America, where a likely future grins and beckons. 他的生命结束了, let us hammer our chests three times for his death!

VOLUME 44 ISSUE 05

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TEXT JUSTIN SCHEER

DESIGN OPHELIA DUCHESNE-MALONE

ILLUSTRATION ANNA WANG

ARTS

Hyperlink Love

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“Whenever I get gloomy about the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport,” says a voiceover by Hugh Grant, playing the Prime Minister of England, over a heart-wrenching montage of airline travelers embracing children, parents, significant others, etc. The Prime Minister continues: “General opinion started to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that [...] if you look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling you’ll find that love actually is all around.” From this opening sequence proceeds Richard Curtis’ 2003 holiday rom-com Love Actually and its attempt to prove this optimistic thesis; namely, that love is everywhere. To do this, Love Actually shows us nine contemporaneous, though initially isolated, romantic subplots, which coincidentally intersect with or nearly miss each other––in other words, a network wherein individual characters constitute nodes and their sexual-romantic pursuits the nascent edges.

Love Actually borrows its structural features from the category of Hyperlink cinema, which is a term coined by media scholar Alissa Quart and further popularized (and defined more broadly) by film critic Roger Ebert. For Quart, Hyperlink cinema refers to post-internet films that enable a lateral, associative and non-chronological traversal of a fictional world, i.e. whose viewing experience is not unlike clicking down a hypertext rabbit hole on the internet. Ebert expanded the scope of hyperlink cinema to describe the category of films “in which the characters inhabit separate stories, but we gradually discover how those in one story are connected to those in another.” In either sense of the term, the hyperlink movie employs a narrative form which captivates and entertains as much through revelation of interconnectedness as through traditional narrative devices of rising/falling action.

Key to its appeal is its rendering of a complex system, mapping it “spatially, associatively, and rhythmically,” as Kristen Daly proposes in Cinema 3.0: The Interactive-Image.

I remember a period of time between the mid-aughts and mid-teens which saw an inordinate number of rom-coms with ensemble casts and narrative structures resembling the networked, interweaving sub-plots we see in Love Actually and hyperlink cinema in general. Garry Marshall’s unofficial trilogy of New Year’s Eve (2011), Valentine’s Day (2010), and Mother’s Day (2016); Ken Kwapis’ He’s Just Not That Into You (2009); and Don Roos’ Happy Endings (2005) are just a few. In hindsight, we might suspect that this phenomenon was symptomatic of a condition particular to that moment in time. Indeed, much has been written on new subjectivities in post-internet neoliberal capitalism as reflected in the formal qualities of recent cinema. But few have commented on the extension of these narrative structures to cinematic representations of romance, love, and sex. Why did Hollywood so incessantly graft the romantic comedy, in particular, onto the Hyperlink form? +++ It is perhaps instructive that the opening sequence of Love Actually depicts the airport as the ideal and paradigmatic site of love. The airport, as a node in a network in a literal sense, frames the story in terms of webs and vast interconnectivity. More importantly, though, the airport arrival offers a glimpse at a postmodern conceptualization of the subjective experience of romance and socialization more broadly. Perhaps the airport as a symbolic setting of contemporary love poses a problem which the movie

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

attempts to resolve (whether this attempt is successful, I’m not so sure). This is a problem, as with all postmodern space, of disorientation, a loss of “structural coordinates” accessible through “immediate lived experience,” as critical theorist Fredric Jameson puts it. The subject at the airport terminal waits until their partner, for instance, emerges from the jetway, spat out by a highly coordinated and endlessly complex global transport system whose (mostly) seamless operation hinges on a vast force of anonymous labor and hidden administrative/logistical programming. The reunited lovers know that they have each other. The one who has just landed knows they’ve traveled from A to B in an airplane. Beyond these perceived truths, though, neither is remotely aware of nor particularly interested in the totality of the system from which the traveler has just emerged. This system––a deterministic global network linking disjoint locations, collapsing the space between them, the traveler a nameless element of statistical flow––is illegible. To the person waiting, their lover may as well have materialized out of thin air as they emerge at the arrivals gate. Thus read, the opening sequence of Love Actually tasks everything that follows with somehow reorienting the viewer, offering them a sort of map by which the film’s social world becomes legible and whole.

At the end of the movie, we return to Heathrow for a spectacular finale. Each of the subplots (with the exception of one) is shown resolved at the arrivals gate, the characters united with their respective love interests, platonic or romantic, as they emerge from the airport passageway (along the back wall of the passageway are two massive lightboard ads for the latest iMac; this product placement is rather apt).

It doesn’t make particular sense, since there’s no reason why these characters would have all just disembarked from planes at the same time, nor is it explained why many of them would have been flying home to England in the first place. As before, the immense machinery and labor of global air transport is hidden and unknowable. But, importantly, we know now, in terms of the characters’ social/romantic web, where they have been and how they got there. +++

“Technology has subjected the human sensorium to a complex kind of training.

There came a day when a new and urgent need for stimuli was met by film. In a film, perception conditioned by shock [chockförmige Wahrnehmung] was established as a formal principle. What determines the rhythm of production on a conveyor belt is the same thing that underlies the rhythm of reception in the film,” wrote Walter Benjamin on the reconditioning of human subjectivity by urban industrial society in the early 20th century, which produced a demand for a type of perceptual experience not previously offered in cinema. I suppose that Love Actually and the greater category of hyperlink rom-coms serve an analogous purpose in the late-aughts and early-teens. Kristen Daly argues something to this effect: just as “increasing

speed, distraction and repetition of modern life [...] were mirrored and soothed in [early 20th century] cinema,” we might expect aspects of the rhizomatic condition of internet-age postmodernity to be “mirrored and soothed” in contemporary cinema. Maybe it’s a bit absurd to credit rom-coms with such historical significance, much less to read a movie like Love Actually via Benjamin. But, after all, the quintessential enactment of chockförmige Wahrnehmung in the early 20th century context Benjamin describes is the equally unserious slapstick bits of Charlie Chaplin. Indeed, it’s possible that Charlie Chaplin’s slapstick and the hyperlink rom-com’s tendency to “soothe” owes precisely to their mediocrity as narrative art.

A consistent point of disdain for romcoms, besides their tendency to be corny, is their general adherence to formula. Each of the nine sub plots in Love Actually are more or less predictable from the outset; in true postmodern fashion, the movie is explicitly aware of its place in the rom-com tradition, the characters diegetically conscious of their fated outcomes because they know the formula. Near the end of the movie, Daniel (Liam Neeson) encourages his stepson, Sam—desperately in love with a girl in school, Joanna, who doesn’t seem to notice him—to talk to her before she leaves on a flight to America, never to return. At the end of his monologue to Sam, Daniel insists, “you’ve seen the films, kiddo!” implying that the formula of romance films (and the romantic airport chase trope) is reason to have faith—in other words, to trust that he will get the big kiss because the rom-com protagonist always does. He then chases Joanna through Heathrow and, sure enough, they kiss.

Herein lies the “soothing” Daly imagines of contemporary cinema as enacted in the hyperlink rom-com. The network these films offer is not chaotic or stochastic; rather, it is predetermined and uncomplicated, as far as social networks go. Moreover, the edges of a given network in these films are binaristic; two characters either have sex or they don’t. Analogous to Benjamin’s observation of contemporaneous cinema, webs are traced and traversed in a manner well-suited for the digital and postmodern sensibility. But, crucially, our encounter with these webs is made palatable by their unrealistic simplicity and binarism. +++ Notwithstanding my conjecture of hyperlink cinema as symptomatic of internet-age postmodernity—which I believe is an accurate periodization of the last 20-ish years up through the present—if you watched Love Actually, you’d probably find it pretty dated. The wardrobes, set design and soundtrack are unmistakably early-aughts. Its depiction of romance and sexual desire are insufferably misogynistic. But, above all, the whole multilinear hyperlink narrative structure doesn’t really resonate anymore (it doesn’t “hit” the same, as it were); it’s sort of quaint.

Is it possible that the particular “soothing” the film performs is obsolete? Maybe so; remixable and modular media (read: YouTube, Instagram, TikTok) are, I think, evidence of a digital and postmodern sensibility – only burgeoning circa the release of Love Actually—further matured. But unlike the hyperlink rom-com, it’s been my experience that these media occasionally fail to strike the crucial balance of protection from and reflection of a contemporary kind of trauma. When these media feel overwhelming, oppressively self-referential, and all too “fast” in some vague sense, perhaps it is due to their failure to soothe our encounter with them––or, more precisely, with their reflection of the contemporary condition back to us. It fails to map endless, stochastic interconnectivity and, instead, embodies it completely through its very technological form; a map of an empire as large as the empire itself.

JUSTIN SCHEER B’23 apoligizes for mentioing TikTok (he couldn’t help himself).

INTERMISSION

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Answer key on the back cover (The Bulletin)

One drawing over the lines Greek Cupid Snow clearing vehicle The RIPTA Totally Once more Royal Roman Annie or Hallie in 21-across Goulash, for one Actress Snook of Succession Truck alternative ___ of Skye Cellist or an enthusiastic greeting Nickelodeon protagonist Vega October Birthstone Opp. of North West North West Asset for a drummer or a dancer A single potato chip Four years, for a president Wastes, as time Dumb dumb “Goldfinch” author Tartt South Korean capital city You can sell them to the devil, supposedly Toussle “Stat!”

“A female version of a hustler,” per Beyonce CAT, for one B flat major, for one Home, for a puffer fish How the clocks are set in Providence, RI

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ILLUSTRATION SAGE JENNINGS

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DESIGN ISAAC MCKENNA

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PUZZLE MAYA POLSKY

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THECO LLEGE HILLI NDEPE NDENT

TEXTS LAILA GAMALELDIN

DESIGN EMILY TOM

ILLUSTRATION LIVIA WEINER

LIT

Method 73

11

Charles Brady does not remember the first tomato he threw. Although he’s never taken a physics class, he can describe to you the intimate mechanics that go into hurling a tomato across a space. Over time, he’s found just the right velocity and angle at which to hold his arm.

He likes his tomatoes firm and orange-toned, typically from Spain. The motives behind his tomato-hurling have morphed over the years, but the steadfastness with which he maintains his practice had, until its recent disruption, been one of the few consistencies in his life.

In his younger days, throwing tomatoes was often a political act. The tomato that had landed him in the greatest trouble was the one he threw on the 23rd of October, 1984 at a Reagan-Bush rally at the Seattle Center. Two stocky men had carried him out of the venue by the armpits, his legs flailing the whole way out. More recently, tomates had catapulted him into a new career, allowing him to meet his ever-increasing rent.

Four months earlier, three years into his job as a stagehand at the McCarthy Community Theater—a job he had only ever intended to keep for half of a year—he realized that getting himself fired would be more lucrative than simply quitting, what with severance pay and all.

And so, in the second act of a children’s production of The Book of Mormon, he flung a tomato at the apple-cheeked nine-year-old who sang the song about wanting to be baptized. Red dripped off of the kid’s white shirt as green rolled into the brick theater. Equal parts outraged and tickled, the denizens of Seattle, who regularly turned Mormons away at their doors, rushed to see the show. Since then, Charles had been hurled into marketing superstardom. From coffins to Chevrolets, there wasn’t an item that people weren’t begging him to help sell.

Charles’ newfound career had resulted in a significant uptick in the number of people who regularly, willingly communicated with him.

Before his career shift, his social interactions came in two primary forms: conversations with wannabe actresses who hadn’t yet worked their way south to Los Angeles, and unsolicited phone calls to his numerous ex-step-daughters.

He made sure to cycle through the ex-step-daughters, such that he would only have to come up with new content periodically, after he had already dispensed the same bits of wisdom to each of them. He worried that if he increased the frequency of his calls, the rate at which they answered the phone might go down further than it already had.

It is 5:10 in the evening when Charles dials Samantha.

“Samantha, how the hell are ya?”

“Hey Charles, I’m good, how are you?”

“Remember when we took that trip to Sea World? Wasn’t that fun?”

“I was a little old for that, don’t you think?

We looked kind of funny, two adults and a 17-year-old watching Shamu.”

“I guess I was trying to make up for lost time, since I only met your mom when your sisters had already moved out and you were just about to also.”

Pause.

“Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about?” Samantha asks.

“Not really, just wanted to say hello. You know, I read this article about how g-strings are supposed to be very good for your nether area. They let the cheeks breathe, apparently.

Supposed to be good for circulation down there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“How’s… uh… Jeff-Mark-Jason?”

“You mean Jerry? He’s doing good! We moved in together recently, so that’s been nice.”

“Oh good, good.”

“Hey, listen, I think I have to hop off.”

“Great talking to you, kiddo. Have a blessed day!”

A brief lull. She hangs up.

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

It is 7:30 in the evening when Charles Brady drops a knife on his right foot. It cuts directly through and buries itself in the shaggy, skin-colored carpet. Red seeps out and pools around, browning at the edges. Blood that is decadent and tacky. It dries from the borders inward. Later he will clean it, but no matter how thorough of a job he does, skin cells will remain buried in the floorboards. A permanent story of the time a knife pierced through his foot. He stares down, detached from his body. His foot feels like a character in a TV show he would watch from his couch. He no longer knows which limbs are his.

Outside his window, a bird lands on a branch and chirps its sweet song. South for the winter.

South from where, he wonders? Did this bird come from Canada? British Columbia, perhaps?

Or is it Alaskan? Is this its final stop, or will it work its way down further, like all the actresses do? Elsewhere in the apartment building, a cuckoo clock goes off.

Knife-foot-floor sandwich intact, he feels his phone buzz in his back pocket and reaches to pick it up. “Congratulations, you have won a trip to the Bahamas!” a female-robot voice cheers.

“Answer these quick demographic questions now to claim your trip. What is your bank routing number?” He hangs up and wonders: when a robot is born, how do they choose its gender?

Phone already in hand, he bends over to take a photo with all of his face, knife, carpet, and foot in it. Something to send the girls later.

Like Excalibur from a rock, he extracts the knife from his foot. Only now does he wince. He pauses for a moment to examine the mountain ridges carved out by the knife. Skin caked on muscle caked on bone. He wonders how he keeps it all together so well. Charles hobbles into the bathroom on one foot, his face contorting all the while. Sitting on the toilet, he catches his phone just before it slips from his pocket to its watery demise. The tiles are echoey and white, the color of teeth. Cheek on phone on shoulder, he uses his free hands to tie a towel around his foot as he calls for a taxi. Even with a marketing salary and a hole in his foot, an ambulance is an unjustifiable expense.

The air in the hospital feels stiff and reused.

Air that has been through too many nostrils. For the first time in years, Charles Brady does not spend the night alone. To his right is a divider screen and to its right is another bed with a body in it. The person across the screen is a sleep-talker. At night, they whisper “Don’t,” and Charles wonders what it is that they are trying to prevent.

When Charles returns home later, there will be a pamphlet on his door. That pamphlet will have been stuck there by the Mormons. It will read ‘101 Ways to Make Love Without Doing It.’ Method 73 will be to find a best friend.

“So, what are you in for?” Charles asks over the divider the next morning. He has just finished a chocolate pudding for breakfast.

“This isn’t prison, you know,” the voice responds.

Their conversation is interspersed with the consistent beeping and whirring of machines, sounds entering their ears to confirm their continuously beating hearts. “Just a question, man.”

Beep.

“I’m Charles, by the way.”

“David.”

“I’m here cause my bones aren’t working so well,” David continues after some time.

“A home with good bones. All anyone can hope for.”

“What brings you here?”

“A knife fell through my foot. Can’t walk very well anymore.”

“Did it just fall or did you drop it?”

“You ask a lot of questions, David.”

Beep.

“My mom always said: ‘If you don’t know where to take a conversation just start throwing questions like darts to a board. Something’ll stick eventually.’”

To Charles’ left is a window overlooking a field. He watches a goose slowly tease a worm out of the ground. He thinks of the ants on the trees in the park where he first told a girl he loved her. He thinks of the craft store he would bike to in order to pick out just the right kind of yarn that could weave them back together. He’d never been good with needles. He thinks of the

LIT

stand where he still periodically stops to pick up tomatoes. Now, they just wind up in salads.

Method 28 will be to share what brings you sorrow.

Charles sends the picture of his injury to his ex-wife.

Somewhere, a few miles away, Jerry prepares dinner for Samantha.

Charles’ ex-wife responds with a sad face emoji—semicolon and parentheses. Jerry and Samantha perform a prayer before eating their food. On Sunday, they will go to church and eat the body of Christ. As they do that, Charles will be crafting a jingle whose rhymes he hopes will be catchy enough to distract from the company’s mistreatment of the workers who pick fruit for them. The vine on the side of his building will continue to grow upward, reaching evermore for the sun.

It is three weeks later when Charles drives himself to the edge of the Puget Sound. He wades in slowly, the water on his skin like a thousand small knives. Ankle then knee then shoulder; each section of his body goes numb

one after the other. A rising tide. A falling tide.

He lies on his back and counts the goosebumps on his arm. Pus oozes from his foot and floats gently in the water. He watches as it dissolves.

His organs rise. His organs fall. His tingling skin persists. Above him is a cloud in the shape of two hands shaking. He stares at their wrists until they float out of his field of vision. He leans his head back and pushes his body downward. Water rushes across his face. A baptism in the Puget Sound.

Back in his car, he dries himself off and drives to his neighborhood bar to meet David.

He thinks of the sky as they shake hands. Charles orders a Bloody Mary, David a beer. They share tidbits about the nurses who cycled through their room. David’s bones are withering, but his eyes are alert as ever. Salt persists on Charles’ skin. It emanates slowly off of him, peppering the air. The red-haired nurse reminds David of the girl he rode the bus with growing up. The bar-goers’ words float lazily up above them, dance with the odor of the alcohol, get inhaled by other bar-goers and exhaled back out. They

collectively breathe one another’s conversations, drinks, sweat, and breath, the atmosphere slowly caking their lungs.

Charles tells David about the theater company he once worked for. David professes that the texture of tomatoes makes his skin crawl. Too gooey for their own good. David tells Charles about a dental procedure he had. Charles explains medical tourism to David. David shows Charles videos of people delirious after getting their wisdom teeth removed. They exchange mundanities and through it notice that the white spaces in their lives are of the same shade.

Method 89 is to talk long into the night.

LAILA GAMALELDIN B’22 is not a fan of raw tomatoes.

this is not my city roads open like desert roses blooming yellow-pink and soon to die; streets swallow me down like a song and I think I could get lost here even with the street map inked into the darkness behind my eyelids and every sign pointing me home

TEXT ALEINA MARKHAM

cacti prickle from roadsides but caroline says: don’t touch. she shows me spines, needle-sharp, gleaming bone-white— somewhere, in her ivory tower, sleeping beauty shudders we pass: a bike and a child on a bike a worm writhing in red summer dust a birds’ nest too high to reach (though we try) a painted rock that is warm when I pick it up a sign advising us to vote, to not vote, to vote for a person who doesn’t want us to vote

DESIGN EMILY TOM

and we flip it off in tandem. her leg brushes mine like an afterthought, avoidance of the bushes that push in on either side where we walk (the day turns and in the dark I cannot see the road ahead but I let her be my eyes. she is sure-footed, striding, smiling, and does not fear what’s to come.)

ILLUSTRATION ROSIE DINSMORE

the road runs out and caroline says: do you see that hill? my brother crashed his bike and fell down it once, got thistles in his hair and I came running after. the park bench on the hilltop is occupied; instead we settle on the grass and I think about belonging to a place you’ve never been. the sun always sets the same. my friend, were you to take a sudden and disastrous fall I would come running after.

I might still miss the faulty step on your staircase and your mother is a stranger in my mirror and this city breathes with a rhythm that isn’t recognizable, but I walk it like it is.

ALEINA MARKHAM B’22 doesn’t have any spring break plans.

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LIT Henry is at home on a Tuesday. Home is where Henry tends to look through windows and sit. It is not a bad way to be, and the room rings warm with ease.

On a Tuesday, Henry’s clock twitches in its corner. It is not typically a finicky machine, but rather the type that makes you forget it is a machine at all. Sometimes, it is persistent enough to count time at double speed, and Henry works to keep up with minutes that pass too quickly and days that live two lives.

That is why, really, it is odd for the clock to shudder its shoulders, to take a winter cold, to ask for a moment of peace. It is not wrong, but outside of its pattern, which is a heartbreak in its own right.

Henry accepts his clock’s easy-enough request. He exists in a standstill for a Tuesday.

Yet, the world still rushes with obligation. What waits knocks on his door. It asks questions. It wonders at a room frozen.

The giant knocks, too. It is in the habit of visiting to remind Henry of his meals. He can be quite forgetful on his own. Food melts before it is chewed. Taste sinks more to smell.

The giant knocks again, to no answer. The flowers in its hand grow impatient for a vase.

The giant’s fingers explore the underside of a

TEXTS ALISA CAIRA

DESIGN EMILY TOM

ILLUSTRATION SAGE JENNINGS

The Boy, the Clock, and the Giant

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welcome mat, its back pocket, the corners of its ear, to find the spare key. It ultimately appears tangled in armpit hairs. It cuts the key out and enters in.

Finding Henry at a standstill, the giant asks the clock what is wrong.

Clock’s hands cross over each other in resistance, in a huff, in a puff. Giant asks again.

Clock answers that maybe time is not the problem.

Giant sits next to Henry’s desk on the floor so he can be level with the timeless boy. Henry is crumpled into his homework, and the ink is finding its way onto his skin, tattooing what he has read into what he is.

Giant oh-so-gently bends him back up, molding the boy back to sitting, molding his eyes and his heart and his brain back to open.

Henry becomes again, under large hands and steady gaze.

Soon, the clock will strike. The giant will leave. And Henry will be.

And Henry will be.

ALISA CAIRA B’22.5 believes in fairytales.

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The Little Things I Like About You

Embracing Genrelessness, Intimacy, and the Otherworldly in Big Thief’s Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You out the restrictions of an overarching theme.

The plan was disrupted by the pandemic until July of 2020, when Big Thief finally reunited after their longest-ever break from performing.

In an interview with Pitchfork, Lenker recalled: “We had this huge energy source from just being hungry to play at all—and to see each other.” Forty five songs later (only twenty of which made the album), Dragon was born.

“No Reason” Like a feeling, like a flash Like a fallen eyelash On your sweater, threading future through the past

This song had simultaneously become somewhat of a legend and an inside joke shared between the band and their close fans, having been played at their live shows for several years.

“Spud Infinity” finds the band leaning into a

+++ Lenker is known for her absorbing lyrics, particularly the way in which she is able to communicate both intimacy and otherworldliness with a certain wisdom. But Dragon exhibits Lenker’s genius in new ways. Where early records may have found Lenker’s poetic license subdued as the band found its footing (Masterpiece, Capacity), more recent albums found Big Thief leaning into their obscurity, but at a frustrating cost to some of their rawness in lyrics and in sound (U.F.O.F., Two Hands). While watching Lenker embrace her strange imagination on recent albums (including writing about an alien friendship in “U.F.O.F”) was gratifying, we missed the unfiltered emotion and vulnerability that comes through on older tracks like “Masterpiece.”

Dragon finds Lenker and the rest of the band at a perfect balance, and for an entire double album.

Big Thief has found a new level of comfort, and it comes through to the listener on each one of the record’s 20 tracks in a unique way. At the end of the final track of the album, after the song fades out, a voice is heard asking: “So what do we do now?” Personally, we could not be more excited to find out.

LOLA SIMON B’24 wants to be the shoelace that you tie.

EVAN DONNACHIE B’24 wants to drop his arms and take your arms and walk you to the shore.

VOLUME 44 ISSUE 05

ILLUSTRATION CLAIRE CHASSE

“Spud Infinity” When I say heart I mean finish The last one there is a potato knish Baking too long in the sun of spud infinity

This folk-rock pre-release is a prime example of Big Thief striking the feelings of everyday mundanity with easy wisdom and poetic intimacy. The muddled quality, homey harmonies, and twang of the guitars with Lenker’s vocals make the song feel like it’s being played on your front porch in the summer rain. With the release of “Certainty,” guitarist Buck Meek gave an account of how it came together—and we found the story to perfectly match the sound: During a summer storm power outage, Buck found Lenker out on the porch during the rain writing a new song and sat with her to finish it. Drummer James Krivchenia and bassist Max Oleartchik saw them writing and started setting up a tape machine in the kitchen powered by a cigarette lighter. With the drums in the sink, the speaker on the stove, and dogs barking in the background, Big Thief had recorded their final version of “Certainty” after three takes. Afterwards, Meek recalls, “we made pancakes and sausages and ate breakfast for dinner.”

DESIGN ANNA BRINKHUIS

Dragon was recorded over the course of five months in four different locations: Upstate New York, Topanga Canyon, the Rocky Mountains, and Tucson, Arizona. Each of the recording locations seemed to lead to distinct sounds in the songs produced there. This is especially evident in “No Reason,” a sweet track exploring companionship after separation, which was created during their stay in the Colorado Rockies. Throughout the track, the sound of a flute is heard in the background, culminating in a 20-second-long flute solo. The flutist is credited as Richard Hardy, one of the band’s neighbors during their time in Colorado. The band recalls overhearing Hardy playing his flute in a nearby lookout tower. Moved by his music, they invited him to attend a recording session, and “No Reason” came out of it. By including Hardy, they seemed to open the doors for musical experimentation outside of their known sound—a flute is one of the last instruments we would have expected to hear in a Big Thief song. Although not the most sonically exciting song on the album, “No Reason” has a sense of innocence uncharacteristic of past Big Thief—its instrumental simplicity, sincere chorus, and flute solo straight out of the 1960s give the song the listenability of a folk-pop song. Perhaps this song is the best reflection of a general feeling of connectedness and camaraderie that developed during their stay in the Rockies, and during their process of recording the album.

“Certainty” Crooked as a crow gnawing on dawn Shadow from the grass in the dirt on the lawn Why do I string you along?

TEXT LOLA SIMON & EVAN DONNACHIE

Last September, on a Thursday night, we convinced our friend, Quinn, to drive us two-and-ahalf hours to Northampton, Massachusetts for a Big Thief concert. After listening to our favorites from their previous albums on the road, we stood in the woods, watching the stage and shivering in our autumn jackets. We were still clutching the wrappers of the falafel sandwiches we had finished half an hour ago, too worried we would miss the first set to go find a trash bin. Finally, the band walked out. Almost all of the songs they played that night were unreleased. Each song seemed to carve out its own genre, blending country, rock, and folk with the band’s own unique sound. It seemed like many songs were being interpreted on the spot, each member experimenting and taking cues from each other. Adrianne Lenker, the band’s lead singer and songwriter (and our hero), would often trail off into an extended guitar solo in the middle of a song, the rest of the band nodding and smiling along. It felt less like a polished performance and more like a jam session between friends. That feeling comes through just as clearly on the double-album they released about five months later on February 11, 2022, featuring many of the songs they performed that night.

Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe in You, much like its name, makes little sense. As hinted at during their concert, this album is not like their previous work; it’s sprawling, genreless, incohesive—ambitious qualities that, when embraced, could easily turn into an album’s downfall. Yet somehow, this is what makes the album so charming. It celebrates the beauty in both the unearthly and everyday, from the birth of planets to the sizzling of onions in a pan. There is a sense of elation so apparent in each song, a feeling of spontaneity, of togetherness. Dragon is not trying to cater to anyone, including fans of indie rock, the genre that their past albums have fallen into. Even the cover—a rough pencil sketch by Lenker of a T-rex, owl, bear, and bird sitting by a campfire playing music—subverts what listeners may expect from a new indie rock album.

In an interview with Pitchfork following the album’s release, Big Thief explained that it was drummer James Krivchenia that pitched the idea that turned into Dragon during a 2019 tour in Europe for their albums U.F.O.F. and Two Hands. U.F.O.F. and Two Hands, released the same year, had been meticulously produced, cohesive albums centering on curated themes. Krivchenia wanted to produce the next album himself with the goal of highlighting the expansive talents of Lenker and the range of the band’s sound with-

hillbilly country sound like they never have before, with lyrics about dancing “even with just one finger,” “kissing your body up and down other than your elbows,” and “accepting the alien you’ve rejected in your own heart.”

Throughout the entire song, underneath the country fiddle and old country harmonies, is the unmistakable (and unignorable) boing of the jaw harp played by Lenker’s brother Noah, solidifying the song in its relentless Southern twang.

The fact that “Spud Infinity’’ finds a home on Dragon speaks to the new level of comfort Big Thief has reached with their audience on this album. They are no longer here solely to impress us with their talent for profound songwriting— they’ve done it before, and they continue to do it on this album. But now, instead, they aren’t afraid to also have a little fun with it, and share that with us.

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ROMANI BANDITRY Understanding “criminal” Roma pickpocketing practices

NEWS

Content warning: slurs; anti-Roma racism When I was 10 years old, after getting off a train at the Gare du Nord station in Paris, France, I vividly remember holding my mother’s hand as we stood in the center of a throng of passers-by. I was gazing around the station, sitting on top of my small pink suitcase, my little sister running circles around me as we waited for my father to exchange money at the ATM. As we sat there, my wandering eyes fell upon a white mother leading her children away from a darkskinned woman, wrapped in a headscarf, who appeared to be asking people to sign some sort of petition. The look of utter fear on the white woman’s face instilled a sympathetic fear in me.

I couldn’t understand her words in French, so I didn’t understand why she was so scared of the woman, but I figured that since she was, there was probably a reason for her fear. I turned to my own mother to ask her who this fear-invoking, headscarf-clad woman was. My mother responded to me with a knowing smile and told me there was no need to be scared. “These are our people,” she said. “That woman is Romani.”

TEXT CHARLOTTE HAQ

DESIGN FLORIA TSUI

ILLUSTRATION SHAY YU

+++

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Romani people, or Roma, are an ethnic group that originated in Northern India and began to migrate to Europe in the 9th century CE. Europeans and Americans often refer to Roma with the derogatory slur “Gypsies.” Europeans enslaved Roma until the 1800s and conducted genocides of Roma throughout Europe in the 19th and 20th centuries. In the 20th century, Hitler and his Nazi supporters carried out the ethnic cleansing of 250,000 Romani people during the Holocaust. Today, European governments subject Roma to disproportionate imprisonment, police brutality, housing discrimination, and legalized segregation efforts. I’ve heard European people my age, upon finding out I was Romani, shamelessly voice their disdain for ‘dirty’ and ‘thieving Gypsies’—the racism is simply that blatant. Likewise, the average American is constantly consuming media like the TV show “My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding” or the Disney film Esmeralda, solidifying the vision of Roma as exotic, mysterious, or seductive. In the United States today, there are over one million Roma, many of whom keep their Romani identity private in order to avoid the kind of racism that Roma face in Europe. However, American Roma still face a lot of the same forms of persecution and racism that they have faced throughout Europe, specifically as targets of policing.

I am a descendant of English Roma, and I have grown up in the US surrounded by practices of resistance within my own family. My mother, for example, organizes international mobilizing efforts advocating Roma rights, such as the European Roma Rights Centre. In doing so, she partakes in the relentless commitment to family and community practiced by my aunts, cousins, and other relatives. Despite the oppression that stains Romani history, we as Roma are responsible for tremendous innovation and culture.

Romanipen, the cultural code that guides us, emphasizes cleanliness, kinship, and the importance of community. Roma invented flamenco dance and music, expanded the tradition of the circus, and are responsible for scientific innovations (specifically in the field of metalworking), among many other contributions to historical traditions and inventions. The kindness and rev-

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

olutionary strength of Roma is deeply instilled within me, and I have always admired this aspect of Romani tradition and culture.

I also grew up, however, surrounded by non-Roma Americans using the word ‘Gypsy’ to talk about their free spirits, dressing as ‘Gypsies’ for Halloween, fearing ‘Gypsy curses,’ and demonstrating a general disinterest in re-evaluating their understanding of Roma or their use of the slur ‘Gypsy.’ As a young child, I listened to Shakira sing in her 2009 song “Gypsy”: “I’m a Gypsy… I might steal your clothes and wear them if they fit me. I don’t make agreements, just like a Gypsy.” More recently, I have heard songs like “Curve” by the Weeknd, where he sings about putting “a hex like a gypsy.” Just in July of 2021 (finally!), the Entomological Society of America renamed the ‘gypsy moth,’ an invasive and destructive species of moth known for causing defoliation. Such casual dehumanization and pathologization of Roma is typical in the US, and it is a pattern I have witnessed and experienced my whole life. +++ With this context for Romani people, the white woman’s behavior in the Gare du Nord in France is quite unsurprising. In fact, many French people and frequent European tourists warn newcomers of the ‘Gypsy pickpockets’ in

“When people are starving, living on railroad tracks, and watching their children grow up in severe poverty, any form of making a living, no matter how meager, becomes necessary. If that means picking the pockets of wealthy white tourists for a bit of extra cash, that is a fair form of redistribution.” the Gare du Nord. It is true that Romani women frequent the train station and pick people’s pockets there often. Under the guise of requesting people to sign various petitions, they draw people’s attention away from their bags in order to take their money while they are distracted.

I saw this practice myself as a child, and since then, I have seen numerous warnings and reviews on sites like Tripadvisor and Bonjour Paris about the ‘Gypsy thieves’ in the Gare du Nord.

Romani scholar-activist Saimir Mile tells us in the New Yorker, however, that “where nothing is really regulated or possible, where you don’t go to school, the one thing that you can learn to do to live is [pickpocketing]. I’ll say this. The Roma who rob in the Métro are the children of the French Republic before they are ours.”

Mile reminds us that it is critical to contextualize Romani pickpocketry within a larger environment of systemic marginalization. In

France, like most other European countries, Roma communities live in various forms of shantytowns, separated physically from the rest of society. Romani children are denied equal access to education. As these children get older, the educational exclusion extends to exclusion from French labor markets. The series of legalized exclusions from typical forms of making a living makes stealing one of the only options for many Romani people to provide for themselves and their families. There is no inherent or genetic tendency to commit crime. Rather, crime is a product of environment. When people are starving, living on railroad tracks, and watching their children grow up in severe poverty, any form of making a living, no matter how meager, becomes necessary. If that means picking the pockets of wealthy white tourists for a bit of extra cash, that is a fair form of redistribution. +++ Marxist historian Eric Hobsbawm’s book Bandits describes banditry as a form of collective resistance, in which bandits must resist the subjugation of the state through committing crimes or carrying out revolts. Crime is a category invented by the state itself to designate activity that does not align with state commands or regulations. Crime is thus often used in relation to practices like robbery, tax evasion, or other forms of noncooperation with capitalism. While not necessarily dangerous, these activities are called ‘crime’ by the state in order to persecute so-called ‘criminals.’ We cannot consider criminals as inherently ‘bad’ or ‘dangerous’ people.

Rather, they are the product of a state mission to justify incarceration and other forms of violence under the guise of safety. This creates a cycle of carcerality that generally looks like: People face systemic marginalization ͢ people must find illegal forms of making a living ͢ people are marked as criminals and incarcerated ͢ people continue to face marginalization and are labeled as ‘dangerous.’

With this understanding of crime, we can situate Romani pickpockets not as the ‘dangerous criminals’ that the white woman in Gare du Nord feared them to be, but as people who are assumed to be criminals because of the sociocultural conditions the state has forced upon them. Hobsbawm writes about the “noble robber,” one who practices thievery in the face of state oppression. These bandits do not begin their “career of outlawry” because they are drawn to crime, but rather because they have experienced some form of injustice or persecution at the hands of the government. By understanding robbery as a response to injustice or persecution, we can also apply this theoretical framework to the Roma who practice pickpocketing in Paris.

Today, European governments still have direct segregation legislation intact (especially in Eastern European schools), denying Roma equal access to schools and housing. Mile, a French-Romani person, spoke about how many French Roma “have known only the bidonvilles” (French shantytowns) and “don’t go to school.”

Scholar Sarah Carmona explains in the New Yorker that Roma have essentially been forced into a corner in the sense that the government has left them no alternative for earning a living—the same government then chastises them and labels them as criminals. This cycle comprises the crux of what it means to be marked as a bandit:

NEWS

people resisting the state for the sake of survival will inevitably experience criminalization.

Roma, who have suffered under systemic marginalization and exclusion from legitimate labor markets for centuries, need to pick pockets for their survival and the survival of their families and communities. There is no active choice to be a criminal; criminality is forced upon Roma when they are excluded from every other source of income and have no other option but illegal activities like pickpocketry.

Banditry and barbarization are also often accompanied by heavy ethnicization. Political scientist James Scott writes in The Art of Not Being Governed about the fact that ethnic categories are so prevalent because of administrative control rather than because of culture itself. The state does not emphasize ethnic categories for the sake of cultural recognition or celebration.

Rather, it emphasizes such categories in order to further stigmatize groups like Roma or any other category of people of color through the justification of ethnic difference. This process is perhaps obvious to most people of color, who have experienced firsthand the oppression and violence of what it means to be marked “different” by the state. Bringing it into the context of banditry, however, demonstrates how criminalization and ethnicization are so deeply linked.

We see this linkage especially in the exoticization of Roma as the ‘mysterious Gypsy,’ which then reinforces the stereotype that Roma are dangerous and untrustworthy.

As diverse as Roma are (spanning across six continents, speaking about seven different languages, and having a wide variety of ethnic subcategories), white people tend to group them into one general category of ‘Gypsies’ in the effort to solidify their ethnicization and exoticization. When white people see Roma in French train stations or living in Eastern European slums, their distaste for and fear of them is not only about class difference; it is also inextricably racialized. To position a group of people as ‘bandits’ or ‘barbarians’ in an effort to ethnicize them is a deliberate attempt at alienating them and excluding them from not only the political realm, but also the social. This is the process with which Roma and communities of color across the world must reckon everyday as they

experience these forms of state marginalization. +++ In Tulsa, Oklahoma, in 2018, the Tulsa County Sheriff ’s Office hosted a training session called “‘The Perfect Victim’: Criminal Gypsies/Travelers and the Elderly,” focused on targeting ‘Gypsy’ criminals who supposedly run cons on the elderly. The session’s overview explains that the course topics include “Fortune Telling, Sweetheart Swindles… Paving/seal Coating Cons,” and a long list of other alleged “Gypsy crimes.”

Gypsy Police Task Forces like this one exist across the US to host “Gypsy crime classes” for police officers. This kind of organization is a clear form of racial profiling and only further exacerbates the virulent stereotypes associated with Roma in the US. In Europe, police treatment of Roma is no better. In 2017, my mother, Romani scholar and activist Ethel Brooks, was stopped in the airport going through customs by an Irish immigration officer. Upon finding out she was Romani, the officer began to rant to her about “those people who steal and beg.” She settled the discrimination case against the officer in October 2021, and it now serves as a precedent for customs discrimination. The clear prejudice that officers like this one hold against Roma, however, is still alive and well throughout both Europe and the US. Russell Webster reported that Romani women make up 0.1% of the overall global population, but 6% of the global incarcerated population. Similarly, the Guardian reported that Roma overall make up 5% of the global prison population, and up to 22% in “secure training centers” designed for incarcerated teenagers (while still making up 0.1% of the global overall population). To be a bandit, living outside the ambit of the state, means not only to be regarded as a criminal in daily interactions, but also to witness members of your community suffer the oppression of police discrimination and incarceration. +++ After my mother told me the woman in Gare du Nord was Roma, I remember watching

her approach the woman and speak to her in Romanes, the most universally-spoken Romani language. The Romani woman, recognizing that my mother was also Romani, quickly left us alone. My mother was not about to interrupt her hustle. At the time, I recall feeling hurt at the woman’s abandonment of us—why didn’t she want to stay, talk, enjoy the presence of other Roma?

Of course, now I realize that she couldn’t take the time to stay and chat, and thus risk her undercover position. It was a matter of survival.

It is a larger tradition, especially as I have seen myself in the US, for Roma not to reveal their identity to people, even to other Roma. Our survival requires that we hide within whatever geographic location we may find ourselves.

Whether that be in the US or in Paris, it is often easier to be Romani in private and gadje (non-Roma) in public. The struggle between the private and public Romani identity is one with which I have had to reckon my whole life. While I have the privilege of flaunting my Romaniness with pride and still being physically/psychologically safe, other Roma must turn to privacy in order to protect their own safety and that of their families to avoid being targets of anti-Roma racism.

When the state marks someone as a ‘bandit,’ they become the subject of processes of criminalization, ethnicization, and cyclical marginalization. As Roma, we witness these processes in the casual racism we hear daily, the dehumanization of our people and pathologization of our culture, and the imminent fear so many Roma have of being “found out.” With this mode of suffering in mind, I have such respect and love for those Gare du Nord pickpockets that the rest of France despises. When I hear of new educational segregation laws against Roma, anti-Roma police brutality cases, or the lawsuit my mother had to fight against the Irish border patrol, I think of those women in Paris hustling for the livelihood of their communities. If we are bandits, then, so be it. These are the bandits upon whom our people rely, exhibiting the resistance that is so necessary to our survival.

CHARLOTTE HAQ B’24 believes in wealth redistribution and says “Opre Roma!”

VOLUME 44 ISSUE 05

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EPHEMERA SECTION EPHEMERA SYLVIA ATWOOD “RABBIT HOLE”

Sylvia Atwood B’22 “Rabbit Hole,” Digital Video (3:24) Two characters escape from their home and traverse the space between digital and analog worlds, undergoing transformations along with their surroundings.

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THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

DEAR INDY

Dea

r In

die, My e frie x and nds I ha oth er s but w ve all e har o d!! it ma can n the sa m help ev kes it s er see e Lov o so e e cial ach Tha , ly tC oup le t hat Scr ews It A ll U p

I try—very hard—to help you all. But sometimes you’re just dealt a bad hand in life and even I can’t write your problems away. That’s the theme for this week: sucking it up. I can’t “advise” your way out of a sticky breakup nor can I redefine relationships to excuse your awkward situations. (I can, of course, offer many ways to propose a threesome to your partner, and those are listed down below.) Sometimes, even someone like me—who wears glasses and has an empty Goodreads account—doesn’t have the answer. But I have a bunch of non-answers and partial solutions. Like band-aids to cover up your bleeding hearts. It’s still something? :) Much love (: Dear Couple that Screws It All Up,

I think a cute little Evite with the confetti that falls onto the screen would be nice! I love those.

In the RSVP section, you could have a dropdown menu of potential thirds. Give an exact date and time, so they can’t flake on you. Make sure it sends a follow-up if they don’t reply.

Or you could do a threesomeprosal. I want more people asking each other to dances, to parties, on dates in ridiculously meticulous ways. I knew a guy who had his friends pants him with “will you be my prom date” scrawled across his Calvin Kleins. That could work. Or you could go the classic poster board pun route: “Since you’re studying politics, what are the international implications of a three-way?”

Or you could just ask your casual hookup politely. Don’t pressure them, though. Not everyone is as adventurous as you.

And never, ever, have a threesome with someone you both know. Unless it’s me. And you’re gonna ask me, right?

Dear Indie,

TEXT CECILIA BARRON

Easiest option: get back together. Considering you two don’t seem to be on speaking terms, this could be hard, but worth a shot! You guys can all hang out easily and pretend nothing ever happened.

Ok, you didn’t like that one. So Plan B: Win. In every breakup, there are the their-friends and the your-friends. It sounds like you guys had a pretty close group and there are a lot of ourfriends. Cute! Sweet! Lucky you! But that’s not gonna work. You need to field a team to dominate your opponent. This team should be cool, with the best people in the group, not the people everyone ‘forgets’ to invite to dinner. Court them, date them, but don’t sleep with them. Prove to them why they should be a your-friend, not a their-friend, and why they should hate the their-team.

Then, once your team is assembled, take to the field. The perfect venue for this is a medium-sized party with a theme like “Bare it All,” or “Bikinis in March” or, the laziest, “Lingerie.” Get the most neutral member of your team—that person who still has lunch with the Enemy out of some confused moral duty—to be a spy. The spy needs to tell the their-team to come to “Lingerie” on the later side. You get there first, with your players. Assemble yourselves for maximum display. You stand in the middle, like Jesus. If there’s a fan nearby, tilt it towards you. Have your disciples scattered around you laughing hysterically at something you just did. You all look good, but you need to look the best. If some of your players need to be benched because of this, then so be it. This is your moment. You may need to hold this tableau for an awkward amount of time, depending on how late the their-team arrives. But you’re an athlete—this should feel like nothing to you. Eventually, your ex will walk in with their B-team. The room will seize up. It will be still for a moment. Right at the apex of this tension, you turn to them, smile, and say “I didn’t know you guys were coming!” They will smile and immediately leave. Or, if not immediately, the power of your tableau will be so overwhelming, they will have to forfeit the game. You won! You did it! Game over!

You didn’t like that option either? It’s a little vindictive, I know. But if you’re not willing to date your ex and you’re not willing to ostracize them, then I fear that your only option is waiting it out. You’ll miss out on some things, they will miss out on some things, your friends will be anxiously biting their nails at both sets of things. That’s just what happens for those of us who find ourselves friends then lovers then exes. Perhaps with time, things will get less awkward. Maybe, though, you just irreparably fucked this friend group up. That’s ok! There are other friend groups to fuck up. Go out there, find your person, and wreck a new one. Love is messy. e’s a Party De ove, Thre L ? p ar u k o Ind casual ho e with my ie, m o s e re th bring up a How do I

Dear Three’s a Party,

What’s the difference between being in a relationship and exclusively seeing each other?

Love, Defining Our Terms

Dear Defining Our Terms,

VOLUME 44 ISSUE 05

DESIGN SAM STEWART

What a wise and poignant question, my reader! I am, as titled by the Dean, the University expert on Space: not in the STEM sense, more in the metaphysical-philosophical-Bachelor’s-Of-Arts sense. The first thing we learn in Space Studies is that there can be no space without difference, without two different things opposing one another. The second thing we learn is that there is no space between exclusively seeing each other and dating, so there can thus be no difference between them. QED. I hear the exclusively-intimately-lovingly-seeing-each-other crowd yelling at me from the stands: WHY DO WE HAVE TO LABEL EVERYTHING? You don’t, guys. Chill. But also, shut up. You all, more than anyone else, love labels. Exclusive-but-not-dating is a whole three words more than “dating.”

And what do you save in all those words you’re adding? Having to go out to dinner? Having to meet the parents? Having some faint duty to do right by the person you’re dating? These things are all easy; in fact, they’re even nice! There’s no better feeling than someone else’s mom loving you. And no one ever regrets going out to eat. I understand the words “girlfriend,” “boyfriend,” and “partner” sound like nails on a chalkboard, but which one do you prefer? “This is Indie, my girlfriend,” or “This is Indie, this girl that I’m seeing and we’re actually exclusive but we’re not dating and it’s really casual because I just don’t really know why we need to label everything” or, my favorite, “This is Indie, my friend.”

I don’t judge—or rather, I try not to judge. There’s nothing wrong with avoiding labels, and I won’t say your relationship is weird behind your back if you’ve been exclusively hooking up for two years. But, also, why aren’t you dating? Like, what’s really going on there? The third thing we learn in Space Studies is the proof for determining difference. It goes something like: exclusive but not dating (because she is embarrassed by me/because he doesn’t really want to have to hang out when we’re not having sex/because I’m scared of losing them but I’m more scared of committing to them) ≠ dating ≠ love. Those are very different things. QED.

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BULLETIN Upcoming Actions & Community Events

BULLETIN

Friday 3/18 6 - 8 PM: Russia/Ukraine Crisis Q+A Join Red Ink for a Q + A about the Russia/Ukraine Crisis with Red Ink board member Alexander Herbert. Herbert is a PhD candidate in Russian and Soviet history who was in Russia for the first few days of the war. The Q + A will also act as a fundraiser for internal improvements to Red Ink. Donations are not required, but are strongly suggested.

Location: Red Ink, 130 Cypress St., Providence Saturday 3/19 - Thursday 3/24: Iraeli Apartheid Week Join Brown Students for Justice in Palestine (BSJP) and the Palestine Solidarity Complex for a number of events this coming week, including: + 3/19 3-4 PM: Palestine 101: Come learn with BSJP and the Palestine Solidarity Complex about the history of Palestine, Israli settler colonialism, and divestment efforts. Desserts from Aleppo Sweets included. Location: Petteruti Lounge, Brown University + 3/23 7-9 PM: Naila and the Uprising film screening: The film screening will include a panel discussion with graduate workers from the Palestine Solidarity Caucus. Location: Petteruti Lounge, Brown University Sunday 3/20 12 - 3 PM: Queer Archive Work Open Library Hours The QAW’s Open Library Hours are back. The library is free and open to anyone for drop in browsing, reading, chatting, resting, etc etc etc. The library will be open every other Sunday this spring, beginning March 20.

Location: 400 Harris Ave, Unit F, Providence, RI Tuesday 3/22 2 - 4 PM: Criminal Record Expungement and Sealing Clinic Project Weber Renew will be holding a free criminal record expungement and sealing clinic at their Olneyville drop-in center. Assistance is available in both Spanish and English. If you’re interested, call either (401) 400-1207 or (401) 682-7405 ahead of time to confirm an appointment.

Location: Project Weber Renew, 249 Manton Ave., Providence Thursday 3/24 6 PM: Make Films Not War screening of Loin du Vietname Join Red Ink for the second film of their anti-war film festival. Next Thursday is Dr. Strangelove. Feel free to bring snacks and drinks.

Location: Red Ink, 130 Cypress Ave., Providence Friday 3/25 12 - 1 PM: DSF Negotiate: Teach-in with the Fairlawn Tenants Assoc.

See the message from the Fairlawn Tenants Association below!

Sign-up: https://tinyurl.com/fairlawntenants

Mutual aid* & community fundraisers

DESIGN SAM STEWART

ILLUSTRATION TALLULAH KING

*Mutual aid is “survival pending on revolution,” as described by the Black Panthers. Join in redistributing wealth to create an ecosystem of care in response to a system of institutions that have failed or harmed our communities.

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Community Support Needed Donate at https://givebutter.com/amor4sol AMOR is fundraising for Sulayman, “Sol”, a Gambian father to an 8-year old boy from Providence. Sol was detained by ICE in late 2018, and ultimately deported to Gambia in March of 2019. Now, his family are beginning the process of getting Sol back to the US to reunite with his wife and son. Any help would be appreciated.

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Support a Black mom who is grieving Donate at tinyurl.com/Black-mom-grieving This fundraiser is intended to raise money for a Providence community member who has faced several trials this past year: assaults on her family at the hands of police, traumatizing DCYF raids, and the passing of close family members and friends, including her father. While battling cancer, she is also the primary caretaker of several grandchildren, and needs the funds to provide for them and pay for her father’s service.

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Queer and Trans Mutual Aid PVD Venmo @qtmapvd, PayPal.me/qtmapvd Support mutual aid for LGBTQIA people in Rhode Island! There are currently 16 outstanding requests for aid, equal to $1600. Help QTMA fill this need!

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Kennedy Plaza Survival Drive (by Wide Awake Collective) Venmo WideAwakes-PVD, Cashapp: $MutualAidMondays Support weekly survival drives on Saturdays at Kennedy Plaza! This drive distributes food, water, hygiene materials, warm clothing and other important items to folks in need.

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Railroad Fund PVD Venmo: theorytakespraxis The railroad fund provides sustainable support to people currently incarcerated

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

in Rhode Island. Please donate and help Railroad support a friend who is in need of continued survival and support this winter. +

Ocean State A$$ Mutual Aid Fund 2022 Venmo: OSA-funds Support local sex workers by donating to the venmo above and consider buying an Ocean State A$$ calendar, on sale at Fortnight Wine Bar, Hungry Ghost Press, Symposium Books, Mister Sister Erotica, and RiffRaff.

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COYOTE RI Closet (Call Off Your Old Tired Ethics RI) Now accepting donations of hygiene products and new or used clothing at the Love and Compassion Day Health Center; 92 East Avenue, Pawtucket RI, 02904. Contact Sheila Brown (401) 548-3756 to donate or collect items.

A Message from the Fairlawn Tenants Association: For decades, Fairlawn Apartments in Mattapan, MA offered affordable housing to its primarily black, immigrant, and low-income residents.

Then corporate landlord DSF Group bought this 347+ unit apartment complex in 2018, and started raising the rents, in conjunction with plans to gentrify the neighborhood. Many residents have faced evictions and displacement since then, while also dealing with poor conditions in their buildings. Tenants have responded by forming the Fairlawn Tenants Association and organizing to stay in their homes. They are demanding that DSF meet with them to negotiate a long-term collective contract to prevent further displacement, but DSF is thus far refusing to meet with tenants.

DSF was co-founded and is currently chaired by Arthur P. Solomon.

Solomon is an illustrious Brown alumni and Trinity Repertory trustee, who donated enough money to have the Artistic Director position at Trinity Repertory Company named after him. This endowed director position is held by Brown University professor and artistic director of the Brown/Trinity MFA programs in Acting and Directing.

Join the Fairlawn tenants for a teach-in on Friday, March 25 to learn more about their organizing efforts. We will also discuss how we, as people affiliated with Brown, can support the Fairlawn tenants in pressuring DSF from within the Brown and Trinity Repertory communities.

Sign up for the Zoom here: https://tinyurl.com/fairlawntenants Closer to the date of the teach-in, be on the lookout for a petition demanding that DSF negotiate with Fairlawn Tenants for a long-term contract or Solomon’s name be removed from the title of the artistic director position and Solomon be removed from the Board of Trustees at Trinity Repertory. We will also circulate the petition at the teach-in.

Railroad PVD - Help Cimarron get back on his feet!

We are members of Railroad, a Brown University based group providing material support to people in prison and fighting against the racist system of incarceration. Please help us raise funds for an associate, comrade, and friend of Railroad, Cimarron, for when he gets out of prison.

Cimarron, who is currently incarcerated at the ACI, is due to be released in early spring after serving 10 years of a 15 year sentence. He is Black, a member of the LGBTQ community, and loves cars and sports.

He has dedicated his time in prison to learning and supporting other incarcerated people in doing the same. Last year, he helped Railroad start a prisoner commissary fund to help his fellow inmates and put other inmates in touch with Railroad as pen-pals.

Cimarron is grateful for all the learning he has been able to do over the last 10 years, and hopes to support himself and others in learning to be caring and compassionate members of their community. He is currently an apprentice to become a mindfulness instructor at the Prison Mindfulness Institute.

Funds raised will be used to help Cimarron with rent, clothes, technology, transportation, and other necessities. Please help set Cimarron up for a smooth transition back into society and his community.

Donate to the fund for Cimarron at the linktree in @railroadpvd’s instagram bio!

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