Issue 2 Fall 2022

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Vol. 69 NO. 2

OBERLIN’S ALTERNATIVE STUDENT NEWSPAPER EST. 1999 November 4, 2022

ISSUE TWO COVER ART Front Cover: Wilson Crook Back Cover: Olive Polken

Saffron Forsberg and Teagan Hughes Co-Editors-in-Chief

Raghav Raj Arts and Culture Editor

Julian Crosetto Layout Editor

Reggie Goudeau Features Editor

Isabel Hardwig Bad Habits Editor

Olive Polken Art Director

Fionna Farrell Opinions Editor

Skye Jalal, Zach Terrillion, Catie Kline, Anna Holshouser-Belden and Max Miller Staff Writers

Frances McDowell and Molly Chapin Production Assistants

Oh my Senior-year autumn has come! My last college Halloween! My last frivolous little pumpkinspice-addled fall break! This past weekend was Halloweekend – humble and boozed-out in Oberlin. I donned my favorite brown leather trench coat, dressed as a boyish cult movie character, and ambled around town, snorfing up tequila and fluorescent Jell-o shots, people-watching in other people’s houses.

Lately, I find myself feeling old at Obie functions – a right-of-passage for Seniors, I suppose. The lights creep up at the Film Co-Op screening of Raw, and I come to find out I know no one else in the room.

It’s something I couldn’t have imagined my first or second year. And I can’t help remembering my first Halloweekend here, how different it was, how much larger it felt. I dressed in a scant little outfit, did my makeup to show up in the dark, and got peach-Smirnoff-drunk on Barrows roof. I remember Lana Del Rey sounding so good. This year, I floated around strangers’ living rooms, smiling bemusedly, remembering being eighteen or nineteen and watching Seniors float around smiling bemusedly. At the time, I thought them smug and even scary; now I understand them as constantly sentimental and more than a little bit overgrown for this snowglobe of late-teens crises. Reader, how was your Halloweekend? Do you know what I mean? Either way, I hope you enjoy this spooky, silly issue of The mighty Grape.

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Hello! I got to go home since last we spoke. My route home is basically a straight shot south through Bellville (“A Community of Homes”), Mount Vernon (home of my least favorite intersections ever dreamed up by man), Granville (they have a Whit’s Frozen Custard!), and Lancaster (the nearest-big-city of my youth). I’ve engineered my path home so as to spend as little time on I-71 as possible — it takes a little longer than it would otherwise, but it’s worth it to avoid the Columbus traffic labyrinth. After about three-and-a-half hours, I arrive home to Athens (or, a little south of Athens). Southeast Ohio is wonderful in the fall — I like to think I never forget how beautiful home is, but the reality is that I forget at least a little bit every time I leave and remember every time I come back. (I promise I’m not sponsored by the Hocking Hills Tourism Association, but I will say that they do have both caves and waterfalls.)

I hope you all had a wonderful break, and a wonderful Halloween. As always, email us at thegrape@oberlin.edu with any questions, comments, or concerns.

New Play Illuminates Immigrant Workers’ Experiences in the “Mushroom Capital of the World” Catie Kline Staff Writer This fall break, I ventured back to my birthplace of Chester County, Pennsylvania, where I was lucky enough to see the world premiere of playwright Eisa Davis’ new work, “Mushroom” at the local People’s Light theater. The first-ever bilingual production at the theater, “Mushroom” explores the largely community-ignored experiences of the immigrant and migrant workers that uphold the Chester County agricultural industry.

ChesCo is home to Kennett Square, the self-professed “mushroom capital of the world.” Thanks to some of the most fertile land on the east coast, a proximity to vendor cities like Philly, NYC, and Baltimore, and a group of 1880s horticulturists who utilized the space underneath carnation beds for growing fungi, this little town 40 miles south of Philadelphia now produces over 50% of the nation’s mushroom supply. Kennett hosts The Mushroom Festival annually, filled with countless vendors, tens of thousands of attendees, and a mushroom eating contest. Every New Year’s, Kennett hosts the “Mushroom Drop,” where crowds gather in the streets to watch a 700-pound stainless steel glittering mushroom descend to the ground. While the industry takes a giant spotlight in community culture, the labor and struggles of immigrant mushroom pickers that keep the industry afloat are rarely Illustration by Derya Taspinar celebrated and often ignored.

Contributor The set of “Mushroom” resembles a mushroom house. Wooden bunks set up in the back appear as “doubles”– wooden tiered mushroom cultivation racks that fill the tiny, windowless houses on mushroom farms. The stage is also covered in chopped cork that resembles mounds of dirt. The play centers around seven characters, mostly

immigrants from Mexico, and their connections to the Kennett mushroom industry. Furthermore, the characters are linked by Epifanio, a mushroom picker who suffers a workplace injury, and doesn’t get paid for the time in which he can’t work.

“Mushroom” is deeply realistic and truthful, drawn from the actual experiences of Chester County residents. Eisa Davis began working on “Mushroom” in 2013. She has worked with the Chester County Food Bank, La Comunidad Hispana (LCH) Health and Community Services, and various mushroom farms in ChesCo. Anel Medina, a nurse, DACA recipient, and community activist who works with LCH inspired the main character of the play. Nina M. Guzman, executive director of Alianzas de Phoenixville said this regarding the play, “How emocionante this is for us. Our comunidad gets to see themselves in the true light of their struggle, humanity, and dignity without the filtering out of our realist passion and pain! We will be there with our hearts in our hands!”

In “Mushroom,” audiences learn that human labor accounts for the harvest of one hundred percent of fungi harvests.

Fungi is one of the only crops that cannot be harvested with machines. Unlike other farming industries, mushroom farming is year-round. In one scene, while a white mushroom farm owner takes someone on a tour of the farm, the narrator, named “Third-Person Omniscient” in the program, interjects: “What Tyler does not say, what Epifanio and Lety know, is that if you work here, you get up at 3am and you eat. And then you go into work at 4. If it’s summer, you start at 2:30 am. You lean over all day standing on the floor or on a ladder. Your hair is covered. Your hands are covered. Sometimes it’s cold, sometimes it’s steamy, sometimes you can’t see.

Breathing problems, hypertension, diabetes, body ache, back pain, shoulder pain, stress.” On top of workplace discrimination, the characters face the con-

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stant, looming threat of ICE. In the program, Eisa Davis wrote her thanks to researcher Dr. Hannah Johnston, who worked on mushroom farms for years and worked with the only mushroom farmers union. In her paper “Cultivating Governance: The Production of Mushrooms and Mushroom Workers,” Dr. Johnston interviewed several mushroom workers, and found that the piece-rate payments and workplace discrimination left the workers woefully underpaid. Pickers are typically paid by the amount of mushrooms they pick in a day. Pickers estimated that ‘10-pound’ boxes actually weighed between 14-17 pounds. “Thus, for every ‘10-pound’ box that weighs 15 pounds, companies are able to extract five pounds of free labor.” Johnston also investigated the use of contratistas, who “often fulfill identical workplace duties alongside direct company employees, however within mushroom houses, there is unclear legal jurisdiction over subcontracted laborers. This results in many companies attempting to absolve themselves of all responsibility to individual contratistas…In what I have seen, this often renders workers unaware of their rights and unaware of when said rights are violated.”

In recent history, there has only been one union of mushroom workers in Pennsylvania. The Kaolin Workers Union was disbanded in 2014, when it was a target of a decertification drive, an effort of rightwing groups to dismantle unions. Today, there are no unionized mushroom workers anywhere in Pennsylvania. There have even been ICE raids at mushroom farms, where ICE was let onto the property by the employers.

On what the community can do to help, Dr. Johnston said, “having things like sanctuary cities is really important. Having some understanding of where your food comes from, who picks your food, as a consumer is really valuable. Consumer boycotts have historically been really important for farmer organizing and building broader bases of support…worker’s lives are multifaceted and complex. When there’s immigrant organizing going on and a need for solidarity from community members who have the privilege of having documents, that show of solidarity is really important. Any sort of support for ensuring that social services are accessible broadly is important.” “Mushroom” believes in its audience. Associate Producer Nikko Kimzin said, “From the start, Eisa and the creative team have approached this project in the spirit of curiosity, deep listening, and collaboration. We believe Mushroom will be a catalyst for a deeper discussion around immigrant experiences in this region.”

At one point in the play, the characters repeat the affirmation “Kennett Square is a good place.” The play illuminates the injustices mushroom workers face in the community, with hope that audience members will rise up and take action. The play ends with a person in need coming to the cast of characters. The characters are confused, they don’t know exactly what to do, but they provide food and water. They sit with the person. They ask, “Do you need help?” The play begs its audience, largely white and unfamiliar with the subject matter, to ask questions, to provide help, and to listen.

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Oberlin’s Pre-Roe Abortion Underground Anna Holshouser-Belden Staff Writer CW: Mention of self-harm, blood, graphic imagery The late 1960s–a time of unrest and the turnover of an old social order. Hippie subculture ran rampant during San Francisco’s ‘Summer of Love,’ Woodstock brought folk and psychedelia to the forefront; secondwave feminism and the civil rights movement were in full swing, and Lyndon B. Johnson’s Vietnam draft cast the country in shadow. The first men walked on the moon’s surface; assassinations killed Martin Luther King Jr., Malcom X, and Bobby Kennedy. Hollywood brought titles like The Graduate, Rosemary’s Baby, Night of the Living Dead, and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang to the big screen; the Rolling Stones, Dylan, Hendrix, and the Supremes topped the charts in the recording industry. Gas cost 30 cents a gallon, the legal drinking age was 18, and the age of adulthood and consent was 21. Not everything was clouded by the tie-dye haze of flower power, however, and the era’s combination of tumult and excitement clashed at places like Oberlin with the resistance of the younger generation conflicting with the social order of those supervising.

The atmosphere of the late 1960s–a push and pull of old and new–was present at Oberlin, the perfect setting for it to permeate. Even so, strict binaristic rules still governed the way students lived, and a few conversations with alumni illuminated the stark differences between the Oberlin of the past and of today. The two alums I talked to, from the classes of ‘69 and ‘70, both pointed to the current age of legal adulthood as a large contributing factor to this lengthy rulebook. Students, though they had made the move away from home, were children in the eyes of the state and needed a guardian.

The school took the position of that guardian, acting as the loco parentis of its student population. There was a ‘Dean of Men’ and a ‘Dean of Women’ in charge of protecting students from the dangers of being independent adults. For example, the Dean of Men would go on latenight drives around campus on holidays and weekends, letting himself into dorms with lights on to inspect for illicit activity; three people my contact from ‘70 knew were expelled through these nighttime inspections.

Because of the legal ramifications that the administration fell under due to their role as loco parentis, a series of purity rules were put in place for Oberlin students, particularly women.

According to my source from the class of ‘70, in the late ‘60s the rules were as follows: Oberlin still had mandatory chapel on a weekday. At meals in the dining halls, students were assigned to sit boy-girl, boy-girl, etc.

The women’s dorms had strict curfews called “parietal hours.” Female students needed permission to stay out past this curfew; they were not granted keys to their dorm buildings and had to be let in by a dorm supervisor. Men each had their own key. Staying out past curfew was allowed for very specific reasons only (like weekend visits to parents, which required a letter from home) and the administrators were stricter with freshmen while rules were looser in co-ops. There were a total of six keys

to each dorm that could be rented out on rare occasions (with permission) for female students to stay out past 11 pm. Coming home late past fifteen minutes resulted in a trip to the Dean’s office, and staying out overnight was grounds for expulsion. Men were not allowed on women’s floors–with the exception of janitors, who had to announce their presence with the statement “man up”-aside from during Sunday afternoon “calling hours,” which were heavily supervised by dorm monitors. Doors were to be left open to the width of an average wastebasket. “Dating parlors” were held in Wilder Hall–then a mens’ dorm–another space highly supervised by administrators. By the time my source graduated, however, the planning of the familiar cinder-block co-ed dorms was in the works and both the Dean of Men and the Dean of Women were rendered somewhat obsolete.

The purpose of the purity rules served to protect the college from falling under scrutiny if any scandal came out about their unmarried female students, still legally minors, facing unintentional pregnancies. The rules attempted to enforce abstinence, which was not effective, and sex education at the time was limited to a short workshop during freshman orientation that centered abstinence and was often scoffed at by students. The first birth control pill had been patented in 1960 and was legalized for all married women in 1965, and for unmarried women in 1972. According to my source from the class of ‘70, many womens’ dorms had a secret ‘wedding ring’ that was passed around among students in order to prove to OBGYNs in the area that they were married, as this was the only way to access the pill during this seven-year span. These factors added up to many young women facing unwanted pregnancies, a problem that my source from the class of ‘69–a woman named Linda Roberson–was very aware of during her time as a student. A twist of fate, along with a dire need from her community, landed Linda in the position of running Oberlin College’s underground abortion refferal service.

Linda’s referral service came to my attention through an article in a 1969 issue of the Lorain County Sunday Journal, sent to me via co-op email chain this summer after the Dobbs Supreme Court decision went public. The article was written by Michael Sabiers, class of ‘69, a friend of Linda and her co-conspirators. You can still find Michael in Oberlin today, where he resides and teaches online classes at American University after his retirement from teaching and running a left-wing printing press. Sabiers’ 1969 article–titled “Is Abortion a Problem on Campus?”--outlines the basics of the referral service, explaining why women might want abortions, who these women are, and how Linda works to connect them to “abortionists.” Through Sabiers, I tracked down Linda and Steven Jacobson, a man who worked with her on the service. Linda and Steven both came across the issue of abortion–which was at the time not the public issue it is today–through involvement with the American Humanist Association (AHA), an organization that focused on social justice causes through the lens of atheism.

In my conversation with Linda, she explained that during her sophomore year at Oberlin, the AHA chose abortion as their big-ticket item for the year. Linda, who tells me that she was just trying to “do my part and make my mark” with the organization, ended up organizing an national conference on the newly-emerging abortion debate. She invited speakers from all over the country, including Alan Guttmacher (successful OBGYN in New York and then head of Planned Parenthood), Patricia Maginnis and Lana Phelan (reproductive health advocates running an underground service in southern California), and Father Robert Drinan (priest from Notre Dame representing the church’s position). Along with a heated conversation between Guttmacher and Drinan where the latter accused the former of believing that “the Holy Spirit rides into the womb on the sperm like a cowboy on a horse,” what came out of Linda’s conference were a sudden series of urgent phone calls to her dorm’s shared phone.

“People who didn’t know where to turn, didn’t know what to do would call me,” says Linda, who informed me that after the conference, people from the college and surrounding community started calling her to ask if she could set them up to get illegal abortions. “It just sort of evolved organically,” Linda told me, “it wasn’t anything that was really planned, I was just the person who got called so I tried to help people out.”

Linda Roberson was nineteen years old when the calls started rolling in, and to me described her younger self as naive and uneducated. She reached out to the people she contacted for the conference to help; Patricia Maginnis, Lana Phelan, and Alan Guttmacher. She explained to me that where Maginnis and Phelan worked in California was too far and expensive for her clients, and Guttmacher refused to perform abortions until they were legalized to protect his position. Both contacts offered her a network of contacts in the Midwest and funds to get people needed help. The AHA also provided her with some money. “Slowly but surely I compiled a list–which was ever-changing–and then word spread,” Linda describes. She utilized two doctors the most, one being a retired MD named Robert Spencer who operated a covert abortion clinic alongside his wife out of their home in Ashland, PA. The other was a Holocaust survivor turned Montreal MD named Henry Morgantaler, who publicly protested Canada’s abortion laws, landing himself in court on several ocassions (and prison on one). Linda says that Robert Spencer was hard to get to from Oberlin because of his remote location, but only charged $100, while many at the time charged anywhere from $500 to $700. Morgentaler also took less money than his peers. Spencer used the D & C

method (dilation and curettage), while Morgantaler had newer technology and used a vacuum aspirator, a technique that is commonly used to this day. Linda used her connections for financial support and often drove people like herself to abortions in Pennsylvania, Montreal, or Chicago.

She told me that she helped approximately a hundred women terminate unwanted pregnancies through the underground chain of illegal clinics–mostly Oberlin students, along with a few women from the town, and even the wife of a professor.

As one might imagine, the abortion underground of the late 1960s didn’t come without its horror stories, and this applies to the Oberlin referral service as well. Linda told me on the phone that finding reli-

a woman to Chicago in her car, and being instructed by the doctors to drop her off on a street-corner. Seconds after leaving Linda’s car, the woman was blindfolded and taken into another vehicle, with neither woman knowing where she was being taken. All Linda could do was wait.

“She was returned to me bleeding [...] after that experience we never went back there.” Another time, a botched abortion left someone sick with a high fever knocking on Linda’s door, who debated calling Student Health or take her to the hospital, deciding against it due to the legal ramifications both herself and the other woman would be put under. She told me the woman, a student who lived locally, went home to her parents where her family’s doctor

Photo courtesy of Linda Roberson, OC ‘69

able operators through an illegal network involved some painful trial and error. She emphasized that her youth and lack of experience didn’t help this problem as well.

“The experiences I had, some of the early experiences, were really pretty shocking,” she says, “they were shocking secondhand, and even more shocking for the young women who were having to do it.”

Linda described one experience of driving

provided her with the necessary care. Then there were the extorters; a woman who Linda sent to her second, blindfold-free Chicago contact was asked for an additional $200 while dilated on the “operating table” (the bed of a hotel room, which the woman had to check into under a fake name). Linda says her clients knew the risk they were undergoing, but felt like they did what had to be done to continue with their education and

their lives.

Risk also ran rampant in legal abortions, which were allowed only under the circumstances that the mother’s life was in danger. Hospitals had “sterilization committees’’ who voted on a case-to-case basis, and approval of the procedure was rare. Hospitals often abided by the “rule of 40” as well, granting abortions to women under thirty with ten or more children. Many refused care unless they were undergoing sepsis, and many also died or faced long-term health issues from these legal abortions in hospitals. Linda’s service did not connect people with hospital abortions, but my contact from the class of ‘70–a woman named Mary who asked to refrain from including her last name–received the first legal abortion ever performed at Oberlin’s hospital pre-Roe, in April 1969. Mary was a 20 year-old third year, and like many of us, was not ready to start a family. Under a recommendation from her therapist, Mary was advised to seek out a legal abortion on the grounds that if forced to remain pregnant, she would commit suicide.

“Afterwards, my shrink apologized to me for not sending me to [an illegal contact] in Pittsburgh,” Mary told me in an email, “She had thought that a legal, therapeutic abortion would be safer, cleaner, and less traumatic. Wrong. Even when the bans allow ‘legal exceptions’ the reality is almost impossible, as my own experience has made clear.” Mary says that the process took three traumatic months of convincing several psychiatrists in Cleveland and doctors on Allen Hospital’s “sterilization committee” that she was serious about her threats of suicide, on top of hospitalization in a psych ward.

Mary was kind enough to outline the whole process for me of her pregnancy and its termination, which she claims she never regretted despite the many tribulations. Mary attributes Oberlin’s purity rules to the start of her pregnancy; their cruel irony left Mary locked out of her building after a party next door to Keep.

She was unable to access her dose of birth control, and had to find somewhere to wait until 7am to get let in. “I got tired, and went to sleep on a couch. Hours later, a casual friend lay down beside me.

I didn’t say no, we had a pleasant time.

Only the second time I’d ever slept with someone.” Mary explained to me that in 1969 pregnancy tests weren’t available until six weeks after a missed period, at which point she was eight weeks pregnant.

“I’d sit in Peters Hall, staring at a blob-like stain of red varnish on the floor, hoping I’d get my period. Nope.” Mary turned to her therapist, Dr. Marion Baum, who advised the legal abortion. She had to convince additional psychiatrists that she would commit suicide if she wasn’t given an abortion, which required frequent weekend trips to

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Illustration by Molly Chapin Production Assistant

Cleveland on the Greyhound since Lorain County didn’t have any. In addition, Mary had to convince the hospital’s sterilization committee, which was extremely conservative and consisted of mainly older white men. With push from Dr. Baum, the committee landed on a tied vote and Mary had to go plead her case in person. She was two and a half months pregnant at that point, and was pressured by the hospital’s only female doctor to either lie and say she had been raped, or otherwise have the baby at a home for unmarried pregnant women and take a semester off school. Mary also had to come in for weekly appointments with the hospital’s OBGYN. “He’d slap me on the thigh, say, ‘you’re so healthy! You could have ten right now!’” Mary says, “I’d look him in the eye and say, ‘That’s not what I’m here for.’” She was finally approved by the committee to have an abortion over spring break. She describes the procedure itself as being “nothing” compared to the lead-up, and tells me the hospital was very secretive about it, not even telling the nurses what she was in for. The operation Mary received for her abortion was a D & C, and it was the first of its kind performed at Oberlin.

Her parents were charged $2,000 for the abortion (which compares to around $20,000 today with inflation). She never told them about it, but suspected they approved.

Today, we find ourselves facing somewhat similar circumstances that Mary and Linda faced in the late 1960s.

While abortion is still legal for up to twenty-two weeks of pregnancy in Ohio, the urgency of today’s situation is different from that of the 60s when abortion was illegal alltogether. The political debate around abortion is much more polarized, and in places where it has been banned the legal consequences around women’s bodies will be much worse. In a New Yorker article written by Jia To-

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lentino titled “We’re Not Going Back to the Time Before Roe. We’re Going Somewhere Worse,” Tolentino states aptly: “The future that we now inhabit will not resemble the past before Roe, when women sought out illegal abortions and not infrequently found death. The principal danger now lies elsewhere, and arguably reaches further. We have entered an era not of unsafe abortion but of widespread state surveillance and criminalization—of pregnant women, certainly, but also of doctors and pharmacists and clinic staffers and volunteers and friends and family members, of anyone who comes into meaningful contact with a pregnancy that does not end in a healthy birth.” I agree with what Tolentino has to say, but I think there’s also plenty to learn from our pre-Roe predecessors. Community resilience as a response to a public need, as demonstrated by Linda’s service’s function in the late ‘60s, may be the best way to deal with this newfound danger.

Additionally, recent changes to Oberlin’s Student Health providers leave the school in another sticky situation. The administration chose to outsource Student Health in the late spring, around the same time a draft of the Roe decision was released. The new Student Health providers come through Mercy Allen Hospital, which is owned by the right-wing Catholic company Bon Secours Mercy Health. All healthcare companies that advertise themselves as Catholic publicly in the U.S. are required to follow a set of medical directives put into place by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, who in turn report back to the Vatican and Pope Francis.

Directive 45 under part four of the USCCB’s fifth edition of Ethical and Religious Directives for Catholic Health Care Services states that “Abortion (that is, the

directly intended termination of pregnancy before viability and the directly intended destruction of a viable fetus) is never permitted.” The directive further defines an abortion as including “every procedure whose sole immediate effect is the termination of pregnancy before viability…includ[ing] the interval between conception and implantation of the embryo.” The only exception to this directive is if the mother’s life is in danger. Bon Secours came under several lawsuits from women who were refused treatment on miscarriages until they began undergoing sepsis for fear of the consequences they could face performing abortions, according to an article in The Guardian entitled “Abortion Ban Linked to Dangerous Miscarriages at Catholic Hospitals” published in February 2016. This leaves us even closer to the realities of Linda and Mary’s Oberlin, making their stories that much more important to tell.

Oberlin as an institution has historically prided itself on its progressive politics; its milestones in areas of diversity. Being the first American college to admit students regardless of race and gender is wonderful, but do these far-away statistics protect Oberlin’s reputation with the changes it’s making today? Our administrators have done a great job sending out long, apologetic email blasts–but that seems to be where their action ends. Both Mary and Linda confided in me their fears for the futures of the current generation of Oberlin students, should our government and our school administration continue down the paths they now walk. Though I’m not writing this to make lofty statements, it’s my hope that we can follow their example and lean on each other as a student body–stepping up to the plate as if we’re back in the Pre-Roe universe with purity and progress running a close race.

Oberlin’s Hoe Era: The Success of Oburlesque Zach Terrillion Staff Writer To call Oburlesque a campus phenomenon would be an understatement.

A phenomenon implies a quick spark of glory. It’s here, it’s fun, and it’s gone. Oburlesque has staying power with a popularity that only grows each semester. My first exposure to the club came when I was invited to one of their shows. I assumed it would be a more intimate affair where you came 5 minutes before the thing started. When I got to the Cat in the Cream, the line winded down Lorain Street, coating my face with flabbergast. Coming out of the pandemic, I had never seen so many Obies in one place. The doors shut just as I was about to enter, with the venue quickly reaching capacity. Damn.

This Oburlesque thing must’ve been hyped. Having joined it this semester, I can say that it’s so well-deserved.

What perhaps stands out most about the organization’s productions is their sheer energy. I finally got to see one last spring. The theme was “time warp.”

The electricity in the overheated Cat is hard to define in writing. It was one of the rare events where a spot on the pointy end of a couch is the best seat in the house. The 20 or so acts that night showed our school at its best. Sexy. Cutesy.

Campy. A little Freudian. Sometimes tantalizing. Sometimes heartbreaking.

All Oberlin. One of the acts even inspired me to dye my hair pink.

I knew I needed to get involved. I was always a modest person, but one of

the reasons I first came to Oberlin was to take risks like wearing badass gogo boots on stage. Oburlesque understands this need more than many other spaces. The first meeting the club held this semester was a fruity oasis. The org laid out its inventory like a treasure trove. It ran the gamut from corsets of varying colors, devil’s tridents, skirts and stockings, and, of course, cat ears (wearing that last bit crossed an item off the bucket list). I needed all this in my life. I wasn’t alone in that need, as I and others rushed to sign-up for the next performance A form is sent out at the start of every Oburlesque rehearsal process. This form is where interested individuals sign-up to perform in one of the club’s variety showcases. To get the chance to deliver to the public fun, campy numbers in elaborate clothing (or in little clothing to begin with). Performance spots are limited and dealt out on a “first come, first served” basis. Last year’s Halloween show took a week for the acts to fill up. This year, it took four hours.

Oburlesque was not always such a phenomenon, however. “The most people we had in any given zoom call was like eight people,” according to Newt Pulley. Pulley currently serves as the organization’s media coordinator (and has drawn all the show posters from the past year). They first joined the club dur-

Illustration by Saffron Forsberg Editor-in-Chief

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ing his first year in the fall of 2020. At the height of Covid, the club had to hold all of its meetings virtually, which was a tricky situation for their performance focus. With no productions, the group instead held small discussions covering the history of burlesque, body positivity, and inclusivity.

Newt finds that “the club kind of fell into our hands because we were the only people left in 2021 after Caitie [the then-current club head] graduated.” The club’s Halloween performance that year would be the first test of its survival. At that point, the capacity of 20 acts hadn’t even been set, as the group was genuinely unsure of how many people would sign up.

I am part of a group number for this year’s Halloween performance, which dropped the last weekend of October. I’m serving as one of four backup singers for a rendition of Dentist! from the musical “Little Shop of Horrors.” It centers upon a rough-and-tumble character reflecting on his actual occupation, the one-worded title. In a way, the song speaks to many Oburlesque performers.

In this space, they find a true sense-of-self. A true identity. Just instead of “I’ll be a dentist,” it’s “I’ll be a bad b***h on stage.”

For the next month or so, my group will operate out of a little dance studio tucked in the basement of South. The average rehearsal is loose, starting with a warm-up of us dancing and stretching to

some pop. Next, we begin building the number. In a typical, de-yassified rehearsal, the choreography and blocking would already be decided. The main lead or director works in a closed-off room, drafting up plans that they make the performers replicate. At Oburlesque, the number is a collaborative process. We could all develop our ideas within a democratic and experimental setting. It’s a variety of suggestions, and these suggestions eventually come together into an often spontaneous number.

OBurlesque’s origins were also pretty spontaneous. According to organization treasurer Hazel Feldstein, it was founded in 2015, a newer organization for our nearly 200-year-old college. “She’s fresh,” in Feldstein’s words. The club was founded

by Jackie Meger, or Miss Jackie, as the staff calls her. Burlesque had a small presence at Oberlin, but Jackie founded the club to make it a legitimate, regular institution.

Still, like every other campus org, the pandemic threatened to snuff out Oburlesque when it was just getting started. Caitie, the president, had to set up those virtual meetings, planting the seeds that a group of underclassmen then needed to sow.

To pick up the pieces from a pandemic that has already struck down so much institutional memory.

For Newt, “I have to give it up for Caitie, who did everything she could to keep it alive. It really could have died and gone under.” Today, the club email list hosts about 307 people, or over 10% of the student body—a far cry from an 8-person zoom call.

The dress rehearsal, also known as “undress rehearsal,” occurs two days before a show goes up.

It allows all the groups to stage their number on the miniature Cat stage. However, as a reformed high school theatre kid, I had never seen a rehearsal feel so much like a rave. As people run their numbers, the scattered audience erupts into a chorus of hoots, hollers, and “slays!” The performers promptly returned that energy. My group soon went up to perform, the bright lights of the Cat creating an almost uncanny effect. Were we really on planet Earth right now? Had we ascended into a heavenly realm? I certainly almost did, falling out of my chair during our first run. Despite this, it was a hell of a time. A chaotic experience in the best way. It was why I chose Oberlin.

Some students fear that the college is losing its identity. Commercialization grows with a tighter budget and even tighter administration. That is perhaps why Oburlesque is more popular (and important) than ever. It’s Oberlin at its most “Oberlin.” For Newt, “I think the community that we’ve built in Oburlesque is the reason that people want to go here. The friendship. The queerness. The performance aspect of it. That is very Oberlin to me.”

As for the future, they see things getting bigger, certainly in line with a bigger first year class every year. We might be living in Oberlin’s “Hoe Era.” A renaissance with Oburlesque leading the charge.

According to officers, the club may just want more storage and an office in the future!

An Interview With Students for Energy Justice Catie Kline Staff Writer

I was lucky enough to speak with members of Students for Energy Justice (SEJ), Oberlin’s climate justice action group. We discussed SEJ’s initiatives and goals, ethos, work with the Oberlin community and various climate justice organizations, and their recent trip to Atlanta to defend the forest. SEJ is hosting a Direct Action Training on Saturday, November 12 at 3pm and a talk with activists from Defend the Atlanta Forest on at 5pm Friday, November 4th. You can follow SEJ on Instagram @sejoberlin for further information on meeting locations, future events, educational resources, and more ways to get involved.

CK: Thank you so much for doing this! First off, could you speak a little bit about what SEJ is?

SEJ: SEJ is a group of students who are fighting extreme energy extraction and climate injustice. We support various groups who are on the frontlines of these efforts. In

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addition to fighting extractive industries of harm, we’re interested in exploring what energy justice can look like in local communities. So, we’re working to break down harmful industries and also build up sustainable and resilient communities.

CK: Could you speak about some particular initiatives you’ve done in the past or are working on now?

SEJ: We do a lot of work with the Indigenous People’s Day Committee of Oberlin. We have a really good connection with various members of the council, including some Indigenous elders. We helped organize and facilitate their rally on Indigenous Peoples’ Day, we advertise for them on campus, and we help sell homemade jewelry made by a member of the committee. That’s a really good partnership that’s been going on for a while, and it feels really good to be able to support the work they’re doing in Indigenous sovereignty, which is definitely in line with our ethos

of climate justice. That relationship really shows how extensive energy justice and SEJ is with our goals and our actions. We’re not just an environmental advocacy group, we want to help people in many different aspects. Supporting Indigenous sovereignty might not seem directly applicable to SEJ at first, but it’s all interconnected. That relationship initially came out of fighting a pipeline here in Oberlin. SEJ really seeks to connect the college campus to the greater Oberlin community.

CK: Do you have any events coming up in conjunction with these organizations?

SEJ: Yes, we’re hosting a Direct Action Training on Saturday, November 12 at 3pm. An activist will be speaking about what it means to be on the ground and doing direct action resistance, and how to safely and intentionally engage. As part of a school that says to be promoting an activist community, we should uphold that by

providing opportunities for students to gain Direct Action skills to bring to their communities at home, or wherever they end up in their lives, so it’s not just centered around this space, but it can create a network that extends elsewhere. We’re connected with Defend the Atlanta Forest, which is fighting against the Atlanta Police Foundation’s efforts to bulldoze the forest and replace it with a tactical training compound, including a fake city for police training.

A major film production company, Blackhall Studios is also planning to build a soundstage and an airport on forest grounds. So, we’re bringing some activists connected with that project to Oberlin, and they’re going to speak about what it means to be on the front lines of that type of work, and how people can get involved.

That event is happening on the evening of Friday, November 4th.

CK: I understand that a group of SEJ members actually went to Atlan-

ta recently to support the Defend the Forest movement. What was that experience like?

SEJ: It was a really cool experience. We were there to support and learn from the Forest Defenders, people who are living in the forest to stop the construction from taking place.

We learned a lot and helped out by doing construction, cooking, dishes, just whatever we could do to help. Some of the people we’ve met have been there for nearly a year, and it was a great space for lots of skill-sharing. Every anarchist brought a different skill, whether it be art or construction or writing or natural dyeing, and it was a space for exchanging those things along with the actions they have against the cops. The way they move through their days and approach activism doesn’t necessarily have a strict agenda, it’s more like, ‘how can we build resilient activist spaces that move at the pace of

Illustration by Olive Polken Art Director

the people that are doing it?’

Otherwise, it won’t last as long as it has. It was really cool to be a part of that.

CK: Could you speak a little bit more about what you have gained from being in SEJ? SEJ: Something that’s really great about SEJ is our focus on relationship building. We work really hard to create a sense of community and friendship, inside and outside of organizing.

That also extends to how we engage with the groups and movements we’re a part of. We want to build genuine relationships with the people we’re working with.

That forges connections between us as a college with people in the broader Oberlin community.

That awareness and seeing that in practice has just been really lovely. Organizing can only move at the speed of trust. The outcomes we look for and the relationships we make depend on building trust within our com-

munities. Coming back from the pandemic, right now we have a mostly young organization, and one that’s pretty demographically homogeneous. Pre-covid, there was more of a variety of people and we’re really trying to rebuild that. We’ve been having a lot of conversations and meetings about dismantling whiteness and understanding how whiteness influences organizing spaces.

CK: What can students do to get involved with SEJ? SEJ: Well, we’re selling some of Miss Jean’s jewelry on Instagram right now. We have open meetings every Sunday at 2pm.

They have rotating facilitation, and it’s a really chill space, and your commitment can be whatever you want it to be. For specific information about meetings and locations, you can DM our Instagram at @sejoberlin or email emoorhea@oberlin.edu.

A Message from SLAC – Animosity is the Message Izzy Sanchez-Foster, Brandon Denton, and Mary Ann Montgomery Contributors Starting this semester, The Student Labor Action Coalition (SLAC) is a low-income and BIPOC-led space looking to engage the Oberlin community in our projects/actions towards fighting for better working and living conditions for our community’s workers.

For our first piece, we would like to respond to the October 28 article “Student Protest of Bylaws Revision Favored Animosity Over Message” by the Oberlin Review Editorial Board.

In this article, the Editorial Board has chosen to echo the Board of Trustees’ calls for “civility” politics. They attempted to argue that our community’s anger weakened the message we organized behind.

Yes, our community is angry, and there is nothing wrong with that. Due to the Board’s austerity, we are at a desperate point where our campus services are rapidly declining and no longer support us. The Board has shown our community zero respect with their decisions, so why should we respect them?

The real “hardworking people deserving our decorum and respect” are the students, faculty, and employees who make this campus run every day, not the Board.

Asking the Board nicely is NOT the way forward.

We need to be honest about the way we feel and demand what we deserve. The Board’s decisions are hindering the school’s daily operations, which we feel firsthand as campus services and healthcare are more and more inaccessible. The trustees swoop into town to make significant changes to our education and lives on campus, only to disperse across the country, indifferent and removed from the implications of their decisions.

The situation is dire and the cutbacks to essential campus services, professor pay and healthcare, etc. are violent. When protesting, we cannot conflate “peaceful” with “effective” while the Board’s decisions are directly harming members of our community. Such threats to our wellbeing need to be met with an urgency that cannot be clouded by respectability politics. Building a campus beyond cruel austerity means building a campus beyond the Board of Trustees. The Board deserves, or rather needs, to experience our animosity. But more importantly, expressing communal anger is empowering and uniting. The direct-action our community took on Oct. 6th is something we should all celebrate and work to create again.

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Detroit Bootytech Legend DJ Assault Actually Gets Oberlin to Shake its Ass Saffron Forsberg Editor-in-Chief Until last Friday, when DJ Assault finally found his way to the ‘Sco, I hadn’t danced at Oberlin in a while.

And that’s because I love to dance. This is not to say that I dance well, but that I love some ugly, sweaty, nasty-ass dancing – that which makes you sore the next day.

It’s what I know. I hadn’t danced at Oberlin in a while because, in my experience, Oberlin is not really the place for it – not usually.

Obviously, we’re not a party school by any means – we don’t claim to be and I don’t necessarily want us to be – but even beyond that, there’s not a lot of recreational dancing to be had on even the most pheromonal Friday nights in town. I cannot understate the number of times, over the years, that I’ve entered a dark room pounding with a fantastic beat, only to find people sort of…bobbing…in place?

We Obies are not necessarily the most laid-back people alive. We dwell in the home of the four-person moshpit, the inert and subdued porch cigarette, the check-in-question queer kickback, the startled-to-wincingstoicism noise show, the polite and nodding free jazz jam sesh, the debilitatingly earnest co-op open-mic, the basement-middle-school-dance-butyou’re-in-your-early-twenties-verystoned-clutching-a-Modelo-tryingnot-to-make-eye-contact-with-someformer-beloved…not the twerk nor the grind. The best houseparty I’ve been to in all my time here was advertised as a rave – it took a pseudo-rave for us to have a good, nasty houseparty.

So it’s impressive what Detroit

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“bootytech” pioneer DJ Assault did to the ‘Sco Friday night. Because people were dancing…like dancing dancing. Body-to-body, sweat-slicked dancing. It takes a nextlevel DJ to get that to happen here.

And the thing is, I was sort of worried about the evercelebrated, intoxicatingly raunchy DJ Assault visiting

Illustration by Saffron Forsberg Editor-in-Chief

the ‘Sco. I worried we didn’t deserve him. I worried this genius old-head would haul ass to Oberlin only for…some swaying. “Ass-N-Titties,” Assault’s most known ‘97 track, is nothing to sway or bob or nod along to. It’s sweaty; it’s nasty and crass; it’s that shit which makes you forget everything else.

And to say that DJ Assault has a rare gift for making music to throw ass to is no novel thesis. DJ Assault, though a duo in the ‘90s, is now just techno powerhouse Craig Adams. He’s been at it since 1995, when he spun and rapped at teen house parties and clubs in Detroit at the height of techno. And he pioneered his own genre of Detroit scene-specific techno – once deemed “Ghettotech” by fans, but referred to as “Bootytech” or “booty music” by Adams himself. The genre is characterized by absurdist stripclub lyricism and hotand-heavy rhythms. Ray Philp writes of it as “the indigenous music of Detroit.”

DJ Assault’s first albums – as a duo, at the time, alongside Ade’ Mainor – were instant club hits. So much so that Adams and Mainor started their own label, Electrofunk Records, in ‘96. That same year, Assault’s seminal Straight Up Detroit Sh*t was released.

In a 2017 interview with Yog Sothoth, Adams explains: “My music has a wide fanbase. The term ‘ghettotech’ doesn’t accurately describe anything. I would describe it as Detroit booty dance music. I write and produce all my own stuff and do the lyrics on the records. Most people do collabs where it’s like ‘you do the beat, I’ll do the lyrics’ or something like that but not me, I do it all.”

Indeed, original heyday Detroit techno is distinctly club-use-only.

Those who made the best shit were those who spun every weekend, who

Illustration by Saffron Forsberg Editor-in-Chief

knew what the scene wanted to move to. If you’re not dancing while listening to Detroit techno, you’re listening to it wrong; it’s music with specific utility.

“Most dance music is made for DJs to play – ghettotech was, ultimately, a product of DJing,” writes Ray Philp. “Even in dance music, there are few genres in which that relationship is so inseparable.” DJ Assault is special because he’s both a musician churning out original tracks – over 800, at this point – and an active club DJ. If I didn’t kind of resent the concept of raw-talent prodigiousness, I’d call him one.

But let’s return to DJ Assault…at the ‘Sco of all places. Along with the Obie urge to just sort of…stand there…I was also concerned about the reception of Adams’ tracks by those unacquainted with his lyrical style.

Bootytech is distinctly explicit club music – which is saying something.

It’s not feminist-beloved music. I was no Dworkin shaking my ass last night. But Detroit techno producer Keith Tucker shrugs this off. “You know why the music is so popular and will always be popular?” He said in an interview. “The women like it. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.

The women like to feel sexy and dance to that stuff. Whatever women do, men follow.”

K-Hand agrees. “When I was playing the [Club Zippers] residency

every week, it was majority women in the club, dancing. Women really enjoyed that [raunchy] style of music a lot. This was ’92, ’93.”

DJ Godfather chimes in. “People just looked at [ghettotech] as a certain thing, just a bunch of dirty records with swearing in it, when it’s not about that. It never was. There are a lot of records that talk about that, but then there’s a lot of records that talk about footworking and jitting and dancing. Doing different dance styles. And a lot of the records don’t even have words in it.”

And though I’ve been known to be a bit of hairy-legged Lisa Simpson about some male producers, I think I mostly agree. The jams played at the ‘Sco on Friday were raunchy, of course, but also often explicitly prioritized women’s sexual pleasure. It’s clear that DJ Assault, through all the larger-than-life horny machismo, has a certain admiration for women, particularly those intent on their own sexual satisfaction. And dammit, what can I say? I also enjoy some ass and titties.

What I’m getting at, in the end, is that my concerns were mostly for naught. DJ Assault’s dirty halloweekend set was one of the best I’ve seen at the ‘Sco recently. Maybe we do deserve him after all.

The New Taylor Swift Album is… Good.

Like a little bit. Kinda.

Max Miller Staff Writer This review was supposed to be almost purely criticism. After reading all of the disappointed reviews and upset tweets, I expected the absolute worst coming in. Even Taylor Swift’s fans began to criticize her new project, Midnights. All the backlash was surprising to me; Swift has been regarded as one of the best songwriters of our generation for some time now.

Admittedly, I haven’t had Swift’s recent albums on consistent rotation. But, the last few projects have seen her take a jump in songwriting prowess.

She has shifted genres a few times over her career, from country, to pop, to folk. It is this cutting-edge dynamism that has helped keep Swift’s music in popular favor. Swift has cultivated a bit of a Stanfilled cult following, named “Swifties,” through her “relatable” lyrics and generally resilient attitude.

This cult is sizable, to say the least, and unfailingly loyal, defending their hypothetical leader whether the music justifies their energy or not.

The issue with this album is it lacks subtlety.

Where other Swift albums use specificity to their advantage, this one’s generality glares. The lyrical content is painted by an almost comically broad brush. It feels as though they were intentionally made to apply to as many listeners as physically possible. Many have deemed it Instagram caption music, with its in-your-face, confident simplicity. At points, the lyrics are so bland the listener can’t help but cringe (“If you fail to plan, you plan to fail” on “Mastermind”) and (“I don’t dress for women / I don’t dress for men / Lately, I’ve been dressing for revenge” on “Vigilante Shit”) and at others, they are simply strange (“Sometimes, I feel like everybody is a sexy baby / And I’m a monster on the hill” on “Anti-Hero”). Swift leans heavily on an idea of revenge against the world, a -specific

foe, or, at times, an unnamed lover.

When I first listened to this project, I found it tacky. I thought the lyrics were upsettingly flavorless. This was especially unfortunate given that the album was so well-produced. I was so disappointed. I let them ruin the entire listening experience for me. I was too stuck in my preconception.

As I continued to listen to the album, I began to grow more endeared to the catchy, deceivingly earworming melodies and dark, generally reverbheavy production. At one point, I found myself humming the hook on “Bejeweled” for what was likely three hours straight. Soon after, I couldn’t get “Sweet Nothings,” which has become my favorite track of the album, out of my head, looping it over and over until every detail was burned into my brain.

The more I listened to Midnights, the more I realized that the album is not meant to be consumed in the same way that folklore and evermore were.

Midnights isn’t for thinking about. When I first interacted with the project, I was simply walking around. Much of my first listening occurred while seated. It was when I stopped thinking and danced around my room that I truly enjoyed it. The words are corny. The themes of revenge are incredibly played out. But who cares? It is difficult to not think too hard when first listening to the project, especially with the expectations set on Taylor Swift to be lyrically superior to her peers. Something about the album’s vapidness scratches a certain guilty itch. In order to fully appreciate Midnights, you just have to shut your brain off, flail your arms, and forget your problems while you scream along to poorly written, confident lyrics about love and revenge.

Illustration by Olive Polken Art Director

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Alvvays Sound Buzzed and Busy on ‘Blue Rev’

Raghav Raj Arts & Culture Editor For Alvvays, the hooks have alvvays come easy. At this point, the Toronto-based indie outfit is something of an institution, a consistently delightful wellspring of tuneful and sticky-sweet pop music that never feels cloying or saccharine. With their starry-eyed debut single “Archie, Marry Me,” and the self-titled 2014 album that followed, they arrived on the indierock circuit fully formed, Alec O’Hanley’s dreamy Fender tones crashing into Molly Rankin’s soaring vocals like waves on the beach. On 2017’s Antisocialites, the songwriting got thornier as the music became clearer, assisted by John Congleton’s featherlight textures behind the boards and driven by the quintet’s unassailable melodic instincts.

On their latest record, Blue Rev, the band just keeps leveling up. Rankin and O’Hanley began writing the record in 2017, during their extensive tour around the US and Europe with The National. But a series of misfortunes, from a thief stealing a recorder from Rankin’s house with demo tapes, to a basement flood nearly wrecking the band’s gear the very next day — not to mention the global pandemic that separated the band by way of border closures between the US and Canada — delayed the recording to October of 2021, when the band reconvened in Los Angeles with producer Shawn Everett to set the songs to tape.

Everett, whose work has yielded some of the most essential indie-rock records (Alabama Shakes’ Sound & Color, The War on Drugs’ A Deeper Understanding) of the past decade, brings a maximalism that plays on the push-and-pull tension of Alvvays’ music, elevating that tension into something deeply cathartic. Helmed by the ramped-up rhythm section of Sheridan Riley on kits and Abbey Blackwell playing bass, everything here sounds bigger, more effusive, more explosive; the hooks are hookier, the power chords are more powerful, and the anthems feel more anthemic than they’ve ever felt before.

It’s an incredible step forward for the band. Blue Rev is an ambitious record, overflowing with ideas and directions, distilled into a barrage of 14 songs under 40 minutes that never really lets its foot off the gas pedal.

The longest song here, “Tom Verlaine,” doesn’t even cross the threeand-a-half minute mark; it’s a fiercely efficient space-rock gem, gliding through MBV-esque washes of fuzz, glimmering synths, and girl-group melodies at a feverish clip.

On the next song, “Pressed,” the angular, jangly guitar work evokes none other than Verlaine’s band Television, firing into a key-change that lifts the song towards something dreamlike and dissonant all at once.

And after that, they dive headlong into the Mazzy Star-esque gleam of “Many Mirrors,” a cosmic collision between O’Hanley’s guitar heroics and Rankin’s tailspin of hooks, a song cascading into itself as it reverberates ahead.

Rankin’s ability to construct a deliciously catchy tune remains unparalleled, but it’s bolstered on Blue Rev by a quantum leap in her songwriting, which is disarmingly fluid and staggeringly vivid at once. If the current mode of indie rock songwriting exists within a sardonic, stream of consciousness monologue, Rankin’s wordplay serves as a skipping stone, as keen on jumping from one idea to another as it is to simply take the plunge and let the surf wash all over it. There’s a deep longing in her language, but it comes by way of memory colliding with the mundane reality: it’s an old lover’s sister at the pharmacist that reminds her of a worn, unvisited path; it’s the dull knife of college education, monochromatic

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Illustration by Frances McDowell Production Assistant

hallways, another weekend spent alone; it’s an earthquake moving flowers to your feet as you’re weighed down.

Even on songs like “Very Online Guy,” an absurdist, synth-slathered psych-rock song about a reply guy, Rankin manages to find a moment of piercing clarity (“the truth is I’m afraid of sudden change/but when you’re close to me, does anyone notice?”) and lingers on it as it swells into a crescendo of existential angst. She’s astutely aware of the present, even as she wraps herself in jealousy and longing — as she says on the gauzy “Velveteen,” “who am I to debase in this economy?” Belinda Carlisle might’ve said that heaven is a place on Earth, but Rankin’s response cuts to the bone, yearning to escape from the comfort of settling down into something new: “well, so is hell.” That song, “Belinda Says,” is another example of Alvvays’ immaculate songcraft, coming to a head at this brilliantly structured climax, lifting keys into a soaring solo that tears through all this existential dread with revelatory force.

Incredibly, that’s not even the best solo here. That arrives at the conclusion of “Pomeranian Spinster,” which is maybe the single best song that the band has ever crafted, a perfect rush of gleaming bluster that carries all the momentum of a freight train throttling downhill with the brakes cut. It comes out of the gate like its been shot out of a cannon, Rankin spitting out fuck-you-isms (“I don’t wanna be nice/I don’t want your advice”) as guitars and organs squall behind her. It’s mealy-mouthed and hyper-literate at once, detouring and careening from hummingbirds to pomeranians, glass slippers to Presbytarian ministers, a thrashing, spirited barrage that’s deliciously defiant of misogynist expectations. Even before O’Hanley’s guitar comes screaming in, “Pomeranian Spinster” is Blue Rev at its most elemental, a rip-roaring barnburner of epic proportions. That solo — one of the most thrilling moments on as exciting a rock record as I’ve heard in years — is just the cherry on top.

Yeofits: Outfits of Northeast Ohio Edition Skye Jalal Staff Writer “Yeofit” is defined on the Oberlin Athletics website as, “A HEALTH AND WELLNESS PROGRAM DESIGNED TO ENERGIZE, EMPOWER, AND ENGAGE THE OBERLIN COMMUNITY.” “Yeo-fits” is a little pun I came up with in my head when thinking this week about how to cover outfits on the Oberlin campus - which got me thinking. What is the intersection between the two? It definitely is a stereotype that Oberlin students don’t care about sports, and there may be an element of truth to this. Athletes here are openly bullied, and when asking friends about the most recent homecoming game, I received only reports of And What?!’s half-time performance and the concession stand nachos.

However, us Oberlin students are multi-faceted individuals, right?

We can write poetry by day, and tailgate or whatever by night, right? I wanted to explore this further, to possibly prove that maybe our Sambas were made for climbing bleachers too.

Starting with my own difficulty even writing the question, I was immediately disheartened with the cause. Still, I was curious to see if I could uncover some Oberlin sports-fanatics. So in the spirit of the Oberlin Athletics department, here are some yeo-fits(haha!), and Oberlin takes on recent football news.

The Question: The Chicago Bears recently traded defensive player and much-beloved team member, Robert Quinn away to the Philadelphia Eagles. Matt Eberflus has stated in the past his intentions of getting rid of all tradable players, however some still say this was a poor trade for the Bears since Quinn still has value as an edge rusher. What do you think about this trade, what does it say about Eberflus’s leadership and the future of the Bears defensive line?

Delaney Shoes: Steve Madden loafers from Nordstroms, Socks: thrifted, Tights: from middle school, probably also from Nordstroms, Dress: thrifted, Sweaters: both thrifted, one two-ply cashmere from Savers, Jewelry: from a gem store, heirlooms from great-grandmother, Ebay

“Oh God, you know whatever, if it’s better for the team. It is sad for the fans but also fuck the bears, I don’t think I like the Bears. You’re a Steelers fan, aren’t you? I’m also a Steelers fan.

I don’t think I like the Bears at all. Like not even a little bit. So I really don’t care what they do.

So like, you know what? Whatever makes them worse, maybe, is good for me. Yeah, that’s my take. Fuck the Bears

Continued on page 16

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Continued from page 13

Clio Skirt: From a thrift store years ago, Shoes: Doc Martens, Top: Brandy Melville from freshman year of high school, Necklace & Bracelet: Made by a friend from home

“Why are we trading people? Can’t we all just be friends?”

Charlotte

“What recent news? Oh, the football news? I don’t know. I think it says a lot about..society, and um and about um power, and about... sports.

I don’t know, I just think its really telling.”

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Shoes: from a thrift store in Napa, California, Socks: from an airport in Russia, a gift from a friend, Pants: from a fence post in Brooklyn, Sweatshirt: from sister’s closet, Necklace: from an antique mall, Rings: from all over the place.

Elias Shoes: purchased four years ago, online, Pants: Dave’s New York Jacket: Volunteers Shirt: purchased online Pendant: from a little antique shop in the Berkshires, with mom’s old chain Watch: from Dad Ring: matching with mom

“Can you say that again? Can you say it again?”- Well I think that Eberflus, he um, is, you gotta stick with your players. If you get ‘em on the team you gotta stick withyou know like Brady and what’s his name? They were together for like what 25 years? You gotta stick with your players. Because if he didn’t still have any value, which I argue is a rude statement to say for a person, if he didn’t have any value on the team, then that would make sense, but he still has value. So you gotta stick with your players.”

Ezra

Shoes: Dexter, from parents, Pants: JCPenney, Socks: from suit-store in Chicago, Vest: H&M, Turtleneck: Urban Outfitters, Necklaces: Primark, Earrings: JCPenney Eyeglasses: prescribed by eye doctor

“Well I’m not really a huge fan of football. But I will say that hearing the logical side of it, with like ‘this person still has value and potential’ I think that the trade was probably not the best in terms of moves-wise. I think that if you’re thinking strategy you always want to hold out for the best potential. Because if you think about society and like where the children are, you invest into the children because they have the most potential to grow and take things further than where they are. So in that regard, it wasn’t a great trade.”

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Dorothy Tote: screen-printed art from first grade, Boots & Socks: from Timberland, Sweater: Norwegian Dale sweater, a family heirloom and gift from aunt, Shirt: Grandma’s, used for painting since it has bleach stains, Jewelry: H&M, from Grandma Necklace: from New Orleans Jazz Fest

“I’m gonna tell you something right now Skye. Listen, I respect you and I appreciate you and I always am listening to you, but when you said that whole sentence nothing happened in my brain. Nothing. And you’re probably like ‘Oh, people who thrift don’t watch football,’ but I watch hockey. If you ask me a question about Brad Marchand or something I would have an answer, but I got nothing. I’m sorry.”

Neva Shoes: Reeboks Jacket: thrifted Sweater: thrifted Pants: Lucy Delilah Blum’s Jewelry: From mom, from sister, grandma’s class ring, from Florida, and purchased a really long time ago at a flea market.

“I don’t know much about it, but I do know that their defensive line is probably not going to be great after htis, since Quinn was such a key player. I just think it sucks anytime someone who’s very highly regarded on a team leaves.”

In conclusion, perhaps some stereotypes are true. Or perhaps I was asking the wrong questions, maybe Oberlin students really would have more to say about hockey, or more-likely, women’s soccer. But how much does any of that really matter? Do you really need to “watch sports” in order to have something valuable to say about them? I think Clio brought up a really good point, the concept of trading people does seem very de-humanizing and unkind. And Ezra was right, regardless of performance, shouldn’t we be holding out for the player’s best potential anyways?

The Obies that I interviewed this week showed that sometimes the best opinions can come from people who know absolutely nothing about the topic at hand. Or as a wise woman I know once put it, “I just think its really telling.”

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Obieweekends: Death or Rebirth of Obie Party Culture?

Julian Crosetto Layout Editor I party… kind of… or at least I partied enough last year to consider myself qualified to speak on Oberlin party culture. I’ve been to raves, house shows, coop functions, and (regretfully) sports parties, and overall, I would say Oberlin parties can be pretty good. I went to a Pitzer party last year over spring break, and it was just a bunch of drunk people standing in a quart yard listening to a Bluetooth speaker, so considering that’s my frame of reference, Oberlin gets pretty lit. Most of the parties I’ve been to have also had live music, which I think people need to appreciate more. Anyway, I digress; I know Oberlin isn’t known for its parties, and to be honest, I do usually end up leaving after 20 minutes to watch a movie and go to bed.

Maybe this was just my experience, but last year, it felt like pulling teeth to find a party. Somehow, though, my friends and I always ended up finding one when it really came down to it. This year, however, a new resource has entered the equation. We now have, at our fingertips, Obieweekends—the anonymous events Instagram where all the Oberlin functions get promoted. Tracking down a party has never been easier. Last year my friends and I would have to search far and wide for an address, and even then, the parties would be closed, canceled, or just an all-out bust. I remember one time we heard about a Euphoria party on Union street. It was right after we finished season two, and my Raygun Uptempos (Faye’s shoes) had just arrived, so one might say we were a little excited. We show up, and it’s a bunch of football players (sorry guys) standing in a room with LED lights and a speaker that we couldn’t even hear–what. That isn’t to say the parties on Obieweekends are movie-like ragers, but the increased access has absolutely made finding a good party easier.

With that, though, come some possible consequences. Some are concerned the publicizing of these events is ruining them, polluting them with first-years and generally uncool partygoers. I’d like to argue, however,

Illustration by Teagan Hughes Editor in Chief

that Obieweekends is not to blame for the perceived “lameness” of this year’s parties. First of all, there are so many freshmen, like SO many–they are gonna fill up parties. I know it might not make for the best crowd, but we were all first-years desperately looking for a function on a Friday night at one point, so I say give them a break. I think that if someone wants to go to a party, they will find a way, so I don’t see a point in gatekeeping open parties when all it really does is make people feel like shit. Somehow my first-year self ended up in some crowded house every Friday without Obieweekends. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think Obieweekends has drastically changed Oberlin party culture; they have just streamlined the process of finding one and taken away some of the debilitating FOMO we have surely all experienced.

That said, I’m not all hunky dory with this comprehensive, all-in-one Oberlin events page. A couple of

weeks ago, my friend John was throwing a birthday party. The theme was creatures and cryptids, and it was in the arb. He posted about it on his story, so all his friends knew it was happening, and the next day I saw it on Obieweekends. It wasn’t that big a deal since it was outside, and he posted it on his story anyway, but he didn’t ask Obieweekends to post it, nor did he know they posted it. He DMed them and got it resolved, and it was all very civil and ok, but I think it’s a good example of how an account like Obieweekends may be troublesome. Many parties here are closed, or, as in John’s case, the host just doesn’t want the invite going around to everyone. I’m not sure how John’s story post ended up on Obieweekends. Maybe someone sent it to them, and they thought whoever sent it had permission from John to post it. Either way, I don’t want to sound like I’m anti-Obieweekends.

As someone who enjoys the occasional basement

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rave, I really do appreciate their presence. I think it’s unfair to place too much blame on Obieweekends for publicizing semi-private or even private events like John’s birthday. Unfortunately, the way invites get spread is like a game of telephone, and details on if the event is closed or not get lost. That’s not Obieweekends fault, it’s just the unfortunate nature of party invites that can be exacerbated by the existence of a public events page. Being a public platform with the explicit purpose of publicizing events, though, Obieweekends should be wary of which parties are public and private. I spoke with Obieweekends via Instagram, and it’s clear that they try to be. The following is pulled from my conversation with Obieweekends over Instagram (edited for grammar and format only).

How Many Chances Does a Jeen-Yuhs Deserve?

Reggie Goudeau Features Editor Illustration by Frances McDowell Production Assistant

JC: How did you end up running the Obieweekends account?

OW: So I ended up running the account because of the one that existed last year that I wasn’t affiliated with–I just got so sick of being the person who hits up everyone saying like “what’s the move tn?” and I figured other ppl would like to be more in the know as well.

JC: Do you think Obieweekends has changed Oberlin party culture at all, for better or worse?

OW: I have no idea if Obieweekends has changed party culture at all–I don’t have a super big following or anything, even in relation to more established Oberlin Instagrams like yikyakyeo.I figure people are going to parties either way, so why not just centralize things so it’s less of a game of who on campus you know. Within reason, I don’t want to share anything that’s not meant for a public audience, which is why I only share things if they’re sent to me or on someone’s public Instagram, and I would take anything down if anyone tells me it’s not meant to be public.”

JC: “How do you usually end up hearing about parties? Is it usually the host who tells you or just whoever?”

OW: “Finally, though, the way I hear about things is, like I said, public posts, people sending me things, or just word of mouth. I’m not the most well-connected person or even consider myself a big party person, so there’s definitely stuff that happens that doesn’t get posted because I just didn’t know it was happening.ut I just figure if people want the event to be on here, the DMs are open.”

Overall (and per our conversation), I think it’s clear that Obieweekends is simply helping people find a place to go out. Perhaps I’m mistaken, but I haven’t noticed this year’s parties being astoundingly different from last year’s; I think I’m just not as into partying. What’s more, they make a good point about their following-–it’s not that big. As I’m writing this, Obieweekends has 381 followers. Based on literally no data, that’s less than most Obies posting party invites on their personal stories.

Some are concerned that Obieweekends is overcrowding house shows, publicizing private events, and generally ruining the vibe. While there may be some substance behind these concerns, I would like to argue that Oberlin parties have been packed and invites have wound up where they shouldn’t be long before Obieweekends. Anyway, I appreciate Obieweekends for making it easier for anyone who wants to find parties to do so, so if you’ve been struggling to find somewhere to go on Friday, go ahead and give them a follow.

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October of 2022 is far from the first time Mr. West has been in the news headlines for controversial actions. I recall him interrupting Taylor Swift at the 2009 Video Music Awards, supporting Donald Trump during and following the 2016 Presidential Election, running for president in 2020, and even saying on live television that George Bush does not care about Black people. I’m not scratching the surface of Ye’s impulsive and chaotic history but continuing the list would not benefit the rest of this article. Despite the long list of (more than) questionable actions and positions, he’s remained largely unfazed by the backlash he’s received... until recently. Within the past two weeks, he’s faced the loss of a few deals from brands such as Gap, Balenciaga, and Foot Locker, along with scrutiny from crowds who long gave up on him caring about more than his brand. However, his recent antics have terminated partnerships and deals that Mr. West claimed were

immune to his self-destructive tendencies. A few of these recent offenses include crafting and distributing “White Lives Matter” merchandise, giving away said merchandise to the homeless, and the spread of misinformation regarding George Floyd on “Drink Champs.”

What most brands and followers of Ye considered the last straw as of late were his antisemitic remarks that began on Twitter. This blatant disregard for the well-being of a community besides his own continued through his recent string of press disasters such as the aforementioned Drink Champs interview, and in his nearly two-hour long talk with Tucker Carlson. As of October 25, Foot Locker has pulled Yeezys from their shelves, Adidas has terminated their relationship with Ye, and MRC shelved a documentary they had been developing about the rapper. Since this pattern is nothing new for a man like Ye, this string of consequences for the former billion

aire raises one particular question.

Is this the moment where Ye’s immunity to cancel culture finally ends, or is this merely another setback that he’ll amend with a new song and fierce rebranding? To understand how Ye’s situation now seems more impactful or notable than previous controversies, it is vital to note his typical methods for avoiding consequences. By doing so and analyzing the excuses that seemed satisfactory in the past, we may understand why this meltdown seems more notable (if there is a rational reason). The first and most obvious is that Ye’s music and contributions to hip-hop rival that of legends like Jay-Z and Kendrick Lamar. The sheer volume of great music he’s produced and written for himself and others is enough to make any unsuspecting listener more forgiving of Ye acting out.

I’m even guilty of still blasting his music following events that had represented the last straw for many others in the Black community (such as his 2016 presidential campaign and subsequent backing of Donald Trump). I apologize to anyone who feels that makes me a fake activist, but his bangers speak for themselves. I still rap along to classics like “Yikes,” “Touch the Sky,” and “Off the Grid” in the shower to this day. My music habits aside, Ye and many other famous people like him often gain this immunity to cancellation (to a degree) because their talent excuses their shortcomings.

Or the public believes that it should. Another common defense for Mr. West is that his mental health (specifically his bipolar disorder) causes him to act out during whatever episode of the month. As a frequent advocate for mental health, I have many feelings on this defense. First, unstable mental health does not give anyone the right to do anything regardless of their legacy, income, or background.

Society has many written and unwritten rules in place, and while not all of them are necessarily just, most exist to help people instead of limiting us. If Ye is going to constantly act out and make polarizing statements and decisions in the name of “free-thinking,” he needs to accept the possibility that others can like or dislike those choices from him

too. It’s also notably hard to sympathize with Ye’s potential struggles with mental illness when he’s spent the past year tormenting Pete Davidson.

Some of the most notable moments in that saga include Pete’s death in the “Eazy” music video and many deleted Instagram posts documenting Kanye’s dislike of the comedian. It would be one thing if he simply made one or two comments about him, but this obsession and pattern indicate that Kanye went too far long ago.

Many alleged mental health experts claim that Ye cannot control his outbursts, especially because of his aforementioned mental health and his lack of guidance following the death of his mother, Donda West. While I empathize with Ye for what he’s been through, I also acknowledge the reality that he’s a grown ass man. Specifically, he’s a grown ass man with more than enough money, resources, and people surrounding him to keep him in check if he wants to be. If Kanye wanted therapy, medication, or any other practical remedy besides prayer to help him through tough times, he could have access to all of it by now. However, both Ye and his ex-wife Kim Kardashian have been on record multiple times

denying his need to take medication.

Kim has declared this in a handful of interviews, and Kanye has done so in his music, particularly on his 2018 album Ye. In typical Kanye fashion, he alludes to his mental state at the end of one of my favorite songs by him. At the end of the track “Yikes,” Kanye raps the following: “That’s my bipolar shit nigga what. That’s my superpower nigga ain’t no disability I’m a superhero! I’m a superhero.” While this is admittedly pretty funny, it is still very telling that

kindly about his threat to go Def Con 3 on them. After this and the many other deals he lost, it seemed like Kanye could not fall much deeper into the sunken place. However, that changed when he attempted to apologize for some of his recent antics, particularly the antisemitic comments (likely because he lost most of his opportunities after making those). I’ll list a portion of the apology below, but in short, he made an even worse point than usual.

According to a piece from Alex Young’s “Kanye West Now Sympathizes With George Illustration by Frances McDowell Floyd’s Family After Production Assistant Losing Adidas Deal,” Kanye said the following: “I want to apologize.

Because God has showed me by what adidas is doing, by what the media is doing, I know what it feels to have a knee on my neck right now. So thank you God for humbling me and letting me know how it really felt. Because how could the richest Black men ever be humbled other than to be made to not be a billionaire in front of everyone off a comment.”

This horrible parallel left me with one final, grim conclusion: this is the best we’re gonna get anytime soon from Ye in terms of an apology unless platforms actually start removing his music.

Otherwise, I’m pretty sure he’s just gonna either double down on the problematic points he’s made or go on a social media hiatus for a few months to a year until this all blows over. I sadly think Kanye he’s been this open about refusing to is beyond the point of seeing the depth accept help and embracing his mental of his descent into cancellation. At illness for years. If anything, it further best, this was a poor attempt at lightproves that someone good at their job ening the mood during this interview, (in Kanye’s case, being skilled at rapand Kanye genuinely does feel bad for ping, producing, and clothing design) the Floyd family but is too egotistiand entertaining to the masses has cal or unstable to give them a genuine even more dangerous potential than apology. At worst, he’s doubling down anyone could have anticipated. The on his unpredictability and going slew of brands now dropping Kanye completely off the deep end, realizing could have avoided this recent PR this string of nonsense is something he disaster if any chose to both see and may not immediately (if ever) recover acknowledge these warning signs. from. No matter his reasoning, lookYe’s last major public act of contening at this spiraling is painful to see as tion was showing up to a Los Angeles a longtime fan of Ye. I only hope that Skechers HQ in a failed attempt to find someday he’ll accept the help he clearly a new home for Yeezys. He was ignoneeds, or at the very least learn to keep rant to the fact that many higher-ups his mouth shut and focus on his craft. there are Jewish, and thus did not feel

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Just Two Regular Joes: Why the Senate Race Is So Tight, and What it Means for our Future Fionna Farrell Opinions Editor The fated Tuesday is upon us, and the race for Ohio senate couldn’t be more nail-bitingly close. By the time you’ve picked this up, maybe the state’s future-– and with it, the state of the future—has already been determined. Rejoice, or lament—the taxing Tim Ryan memes will never be read the same again! If there’s anything new to be said of the election, it’s that, regardless of who it is that ends up on top, it was certainly far less than a cake walk for them to get there. If not through the election’s actual outcome, this year’s contentious senate race has proven Ohio to be in a fresh stage of its political history, where a system of shared values might finally be what ends up pushing us forward together. But amid the tumultuous national landscape that is post-Trump America, the obnoxiously rhetorical question remains: are simply these values enough? Has “compromise” been permanently erased from the vernacular—will the JD Vances always end up on top?

Because I like to burden the reader, this is another very rhetorical question to really answer. But prior to this race, it might have had a far simpler— or, at least, more predictable—one. Despite being a regular swing state since 1980, in the previous two elections, Trump won Ohio with more than eight percentage points. From his Mar-a-Lago clubhouse, Trump decided not to mar Vance’s reputation (even though the latter has referred to him as “America’s Hitler”), instead endorsing the republican candidate back in April. Maybe this was because Vance showed character, or maybe because he happened to support the “Big Lie” (that the 2020 election was fraudulent).

Trump might have chided Vance as an “ass-kisser” for that, like a father scolding his obsequious teenager who wants to stay out past curfew, but people have been called far worse things by the ex commander-inchief. Moving forward, then—despite Trump’s powerful endorsement, why are the numbers so precariously close just a few months later?

First, there’s what we get when we push Vance and democratic candidate Tim Ryan’s images aside (if there’s anything, now, that can exist independently of the veneer). They have quite a few things in common, including the choir that either extends a now-trembling hand to preach to. Both candidates are natives of Ohio, a fact that certain snake oil salesmen of “Pennsylvania” continuously remind us not to take for granted. They each grew up in economically hard-hit cities that, decades ago, were homes to thriving manufacturing firms (Ryan’s grandfather was a steelworker, a fact he will not hesitate to remind you of). Because of these similar backgrounds, either candidate has made it a priority to appeal to Ohio’s working-class population—particularly those from, what Ryan phrases as, those “small, forgotten areas”---“These small, forgotten areas know that I come from a forgotten area, too,” he declared, “And that I’m gonna fight for ‘em. And I think we’re really gonna overperform for ‘em along the river.” Ryan is campaigning for the

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so-called “exhausted majority”—-whether as cause or result of this, he often only identifies as Democrat with a soft-”d”.

Vance, on the other hand, isn’t one so open to the idea of compromise. His fealty to the Republican party, if not their ideology, leader, agenda, or policies, is as fierce and dogged as his self identification with the term “hillbilly.” This isn’t meant mockingly or figuratively; Vance indeed entered the public eye when his 2016 memoir Hillbilly Elegy rose to national acclaim. The book, although an extremely personal and sobering portrait of a “culture in crisis” (that of white working-class Americans), does have some potentially dangerous implications. Namely, that white working-class Americans, particularly those who grew up in communities similar to Vance’s, are the sole group who exists at the epicenter of workingclass America. And that, because Vance was able to overcome his family’s struggles towards a prescriptive ideal of success (the Marine Corps, to Yale law, to Silicon Valley), so too should everyone else if they work hard enough. To put it simply, Vance’s narrative is void of much nuance or complexity, made all the more tantalizing by the urgent hostility of his Trumpflavored rhetoric, even if both him and Ryan can come across as pretty mild-mannered with their soccer dad outfits and prolific usage of the word “buddy.”

It wouldn’t be exactly fair to characterize Ryan’s campaign, on the other hand, as the absolute beacon of progressivism or quixotic moral integrity.

He doesn’t try to ride in on any high horse—you can tell this by just his TV ads, where he’s often pictured tossing darts at a bar, or the old pigskin at a sign that reads “Defund the police.” In one ad, he asks us, “you want culture wars? I’m not your guy. You want a fighter for Ohio? I’m all in.” Authenticity and politics often feel like two mutually opposed terms, but it’s hard not to believe Ryan when he says these things so naturally, maybe after hours of rehearsing them in the mirror. It’s like the enviable, enigmatic person wearing that cool outfit—-do they really not care, or have they put hours into crafting the image that they don’t care?

In today’s world, it sometimes feels comically impossible to maintain a level of optimism when answering these questions. However, in Ryan’s case, at least the question still presents itself; Vance’s history—just who and what exactly he is funded, or, in more cynical terms, owned by—is alarmingly more nefarious. This is the real issue at hand; finding politicians who aren’t firmly lodged in other’s pockets, from which they yield a megaphone pointed at the vulnerable shadows of their former selves. Vance is a danger not so much for what he stands for—at least, that’s up for debate—but the fact that it’s not always up to him.

He appeals to the working class, while being funded $10 million by Peter Thiel. In 2017, he started a charity called Our Ohio Renewal, with the lofty ambition of “making it easier for disadvantaged children to

Illustration by Teagan Hughes Editor in Chief

achieve their dreams,” but the charity fizzled out after only two years. Some of the staffers said they felt exploited just to jumpstart Vance’s political career.

I talked with longtime Oberlin resident and man of many hyphens (professor, environmentalist, writer, etc.), David Orr, about this troubling truth and what the general outcome of the election might mean for Ohio’s future—as well as the future of the country.

Orr voiced some critical concerns about how Vance’s election would fit into the broader state of democracy.

He warned about dark money—”It took 35 million to get Vance there. You don’t want to drink dirty water, or breathe dirty air, do you?” Certainly not—although the thing about air is, you can’t exactly see when it’s polluted. This should not be a reason to lose hope, though, but rather to have more of it—to be more politically engaged while we still can. Putting puppets like Vance in power would have a “disastrous” outcome for democracy, Orr says; it is tantamount to ignoring the existential threats like climate change that quietly loom over us. If there’s anything that this senate race teaches us, it’s not to take these things for granted—-we are in a very precarious time, merged on a precipice, where we have to look beyond the folly of rhetoric and image. In many ways, a lot of that has become awfully uniform on both sides. Vance and Ryan present themselves in similar ways, and both claim to stand for the same people. Perhaps it’s what exists behind the blue jeans and well-worn smiles that separates them—that points to one of them as a “fraud,” in a way much more dangerous than we see thrown around on Twitter.

Halloween Candies, Ranked by Moral Purity Isabel Hardwig Bad Habits Editor 1. Junior Mints, obviously. Nothing feels more virtuous than a handful of Junior Mints. Between the name, which gives strong vibes of “I was such a good boy during Mother’s book club and now I get a little treat,” and the gentle toothpaste flavor, you know that this is the candy that will finally get you into heaven.

2. Backpack chewing gum. In high school, I believed that moral purity started and ended with having a little pack of chewing gum in the front or side pocket of your backpack. This simple act opens the door to a host of other virtues, such as consistently using a planner and owning 16-22 colored gel pens. In early adolescence, I found myself unable to chew one piece all through the school day, and was forever labeled as a weak-willed pansy spitter girl, but that’s my burden to bear.

3.

M&Ms, in descending order: regular, peanut, pretzel, peanut butter. Plato claimed that the circle is the purest and most ideal form, nigh-unattainable in the physical world, until he had his first M&M and said, “it’s attainable now, guys, I’m attaining the shit out of this thing.”

4.

Chocolate-covered fruit/nuts/whatever. Special mention goes out to almonds, coffee beans, and acai seeds (big hit with drunk aunts).

5. Charmingly off-brand candies with names such as “Mr. Al’s All-Organic Sugar Slop Bit,” “Famous Gummed Bears By Baby Smile Inc.,” and “Trader Joe Peanut Butter Thang.”

6. Square of dark chocolate, because at this point you’re trying too hard and everyone knows it.

7. Skittles. Wretched evil twin of the M&M, filled with asbestos dust.

8. Laffy Taffy’s. Perhaps the warmest, dampest candy known to man. Impossible to unwrap, meaning that you will either go through the day with the telltale smudge of Laffy Taffy on your hands, or you’ll end up eating some of the wrapper like the animal you are.

9. The Tootsie Rolls that are just one huge brick of Tootsie Roll. This candy was created through hubris, and is consumed through hubris. Slightly too large to eat all at once, slightly too small to ever remember that it’s too large to eat all at once. The candy for people who looked at the petite, charming Tootsie Roll and thought, “What if it was the size of an SAT standard eraser?” The big brick Tootsie Roll leeches pure immorality into your bloodstream with every bite, and that’s a Tootsie Roll promise.

Illustration by Saffron Forsberg Editor in Chief

Epic Winning vs. Epic Fail: the Definitive List For as long as humanity has been as long as, we have been labeling objects and entities as “epic winning” or “epic fail.”

However, not all objects or entities are worthy of such a distinct honor — nonentities, or non-epic-ies, if you will (if you won’t, that’s okay too). It’s time to separate the cream from the crop. Without further ado, we at The Grape present to you: the definitive list of things that are epic winning versus epic fail.

EPIC WINNING

EPIC FAIL

• • • • •

•

• • • •

R (software) Power pop Glass-blowing Model trains Sloth, envy, lust, gluttony, greed, pride, and the other one Mass market paperbacks Vanity license plates Beekeeping garb Shoebox dioramas

• • • • • • • •

The plastics class I took in middle school Penny-farthing bicycles Butternut squash Helvetica Crepe paper No-show socks Goodreads Multi-surface cleaner Elder-Beerman stores Illustration by Julian Crosetto Layout Editor

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A Short Soliloquy Regarding a Sandwich from Stevie Zach Terrillion Staff Writer

(Not COVID) Emails Isabel Hardwig Bad Habits Editor Hey, all!

How’s it hanging, friends?

I’ve been feeling pretty sick lately (not COVID), so I won’t be able to participate in the group project on Monday.

My symptoms are pretty severe (fever, chills, no sense of smell, six positive COVID tests and a passive-aggressive personal email from Dr. Fauci), but could be a lot of different things, and I’ve only kissed like two people with COVID this week so it’s probably not that.

In the interest of full disclosure, I’ve been feeling really sick lately, but my psychic told me that I don’t have COVID and instead have this secret other thing that acts like COVID but isn’t, and that is completely unique to me.

I’m looking forward to embarking on this medical journey with you all, and I’m excited to see what we’ll discover together!

Can’t wait to see you on Tuesday!

To whom it may concern– Hello, gang!

Illustration by Derya Taspinar Contributor

I’d like you all to know that I’m in a relationship. One based on the unprecedented possibility of an edible Stevie dish. Sriracha mayo.

Salami meat. Between them, a slice of the finest artificially flavored cheddar. People like to say dating culture at Oberlin is toxic. There’s too much emphasis on hook-ups and break-ups. The passion is dead.

For me, however, passion can be found in one place: my “Stevie Special.”

I’ve been eating this dry yet somehow also greasy hero since my first week of school. It’s objectively of subpar quality, but it’s also irresistible. The salami is concerningly tough, but for me that toughness means it can withstand any forces that could drive us apart. The white bread is soggy, but for me that means it’s nice and sensitive.

Let sandwiches cry damnit!

I met it my first year at Oberlin, setting out from my microwaveable Langston single to find something that wouldn’t give me an anaphylactic reaction. My first ever meal was a Tzatziki-drizzled Gyro.

It was fine, but it didn’t sit right with me. This is a universal descriptor for Stevie food. After more searching, I finally found it hanging out by the deli. The connection was raw, my Italian-American veins permeating over the dried meats. I had my sandwich.

You may wonder why I have been eating the same sandwich from Stevie every day for the past two years. Is it the same reason I have two Nutri-Grain bars for dessert daily? Is it a bizarre attempt at saving calories? This sandwich is just not like other girls? Everything else in the dining hall is just that bad? It’s probably all four of these things.

But within this routine there is also love, and love can be toxic.

You may hate the person, or in this case the pasteurized cheese, but you keep going back to them. To survive Oberlin dining, I’d recommend finding a “steady,” as the Boomers like to call it. A reliable dish that doesn’t upgrade, but doesn’t downgrade either. Some consistency in the “dynamic” environment that is Stevenson Dining Hall. Anyway, I gotta get to the Rat for a cheeseburger. It’s a cheat day in more ways than one.

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My hair has been falling out and my pee is green (not COVID). This has no bearing on whether or not I’ll be able to attend our experimental possum-themed poetry workshop, I just like to maintain total 100% transparency with everyone in my life.

I have come down with a terrible case of the vapors (not COVID) and will be retiring to the seaside for my health.

Because of this, I will be unable to pitch in on the grocery bill this week.

Hope all is well, send regards to your sister from me.

Excited to read your ‘poss po’s!

Hi-diddly-ho, neighbors!

What’s up, guys?

I broke my wrist last week playing with the garbage disposal, and I’m experiencing symptoms like extreme wrist pain, limited wrist mobility, and persistent potato-skin smell. It’s probably not COVID, but I understand that caution is key right now, so I’ll be happy to test if that would make anyone more comfortable. Otherwise, I’ll just be maintaining six feet of distance at our next baby corn potluck, and I can also separate my baby corn dish from the other baby corn dishes, to limit transmissibility.

Illustrations by Molly Chapin Production Assistant

I seem to have stumbled myself into a major case of “talking like Ned Flanders disease” (not COVIDidididilly-doo).

Thank you for all your support as I continue to test positive for “talking like Ned Flanders disease,” and I hope to see you all at the rollerskating prayer-apalooza!

What’s up, y’all?

I got bitten by a feral cat while taking out the trash, and I’ve been experiencing some flu-like symptoms like depression, headaches, irritability, and excessive saliva production. Luckily, I’ve had two negative rapid tests, so I’ll see you all in contact improv class tomorrow!

A Semi-Comprehensive Blue Rooster Review Proudly Brought to You By Two Uninformed, Unqualified Idiots Max Miller Staff Writer When I graduated high school, my Aunt Liz and Uncle Howard very generously gifted me a $35 gift certificate to Oberlin bakery Blue Rooster. Like the true dimwit I am, I completely forgot about the gift, and it has unknowingly been burning a hole in my hypothetical pocket ever since. After rediscovering the piece of paper, now folded, while cleaning the bottom of my backpack, I decided to treat myself and my ginger friend Harry Sneddon to some tasty pastries. I picked the pastries up, headed to the science center lounge, and we dug in.

1. Peach Turnover

2. French Butter Cake

3. Mixed Berry Custard Pinwheel

Max Miller: Let’s try this peach turnover.

Expectations here? Honestly, I don’t love peach.

Harry Sneddon: I like a raw peach.

Cooked peach gets a little slimy.

MM: This next one, high expectations.

HS: Of course. It’s fucking… the best one.

MM: I’m curious. It’s cool because it looks like a ninja star. And that is nostalgic for me so that gives it points off the bat.

HS: That definitely gives it points. There are also four total berries in there. The berry ratio is a little bit low.

[Bites] MM: We’ll get into better stuff. It is a little slimy, for sure. But, that’s just peach.

The pastry itself is good. This was a bad pick on my part.

HS: A little bit, but it happens.

MM: I’m sorry.

HS: You really should be. It’s cool. You just wasted a sixth of our time but it’s fine.

[Bites] MM: It’s so beautiful, bro. I feel like I’m floating. It’s one of the best feelings I’ve ever had eating a pastry. It might be a top two pastry for me. I’ve never had it before Blue Rooster. It’s just so good.

HS: It’s really good. It’s like a croissant but... better. More enjoyable. It doesn’t have the croissant dryness. Probably because of the six sticks of butter.

MM: Who cares. We’re young.

HS: Cholesterol levels are overrated.

MM: I don’t know if that one’s gonna be topped.

HS: That’s a staple.

[Bites raspberry side] HS: That’s really nice. I like that a lot more than I expected.

MM: It’s a little mustardy, which is strange.

HS: I am not tasting mustardy at all.

MM: Maybe I’m just an idiot.

HS: I’m not gonna rule out that possibility.

[Bites blackberry side] HS: I like blackberries more than raspberries.

MM: I love blackberries. Raspberries are kind of whatever to me. Sorry raspberry lovers. I feel like raspberries need to be picked fresh from a farm in Western Pennsylvania.

Like you buy raspberries from the grocery store, half of them are busted.

HS: And moldy. It’s one of those things like tomatoes where you can’t transport a ripe tomato. So you have to transport super unripe tomatoes and let them ripen.

Which is not the same as when they actually get ripe.

Have you ever had fresh pineapple? I grew a pineapple in my backyard once. They’re not sour. Just a purely sweet fruit.

MM: We need to grow one. We could figure it out.

HS: You think we have the climate for that in Ohio?

MM: Where there’s a will there’s a way.

HS: Hydroponic pineapple?

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4. Spinach, Tomato, Feta Puff MM: OK. So we’re journeying into savory now. It looks pizza-y.

[Bites] MM: That one makes me feel happy. It makes me feel like I’m in Williamsburg.

HS: Where’s Williamsburg?

MM: Brooklyn. [Points to camera.] You get it.

HS: They don’t fucking get it.

Ehhh, you probably can say you get it and you have an 86% shot. I got a pure crust bite and my mouth is so dry.

MM: The crust might overpower the middle part a little.

It might benefit from more middle part. That said, it tastes pretty good.

HS: It tastes good. It’s just not my favorite. I like when I eat something and it makes my mouth really dry and it’s bland.

MM: You like blandness? Like a saltine?

HS: I love a saltine. You know water crackers? I will eat a straight roll of water crackers.

MM: You like Popeyes biscuits? No water?

HS: Yeah.

MM: Shut the fuck up.

HS: Well, I haven’t been to Popeyes in a long time. Maybe I’m thinking of KFC. Normally I dip in mashed potatoes and gravy. Does Popeyes have mashed potatoes and gravy?

MM: Possibly? I’m not a huge Popeyes sides guy. I got the mac and cheese once and it made me want to die.

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5.Basil Pesto Parmesan Croissant MM: I can’t imagine a world where this is not good. I don’t think it’s gonna knoHS: Knock your socks off? Is that what you were gonna say?

MM: Yeah, but then I stopped myself.

HS: I’m not afraid. I’m ready to get my socks knocked, quite frankly.

[Bites] MM: It’s just good. You love pesto. You love croissant. You love parmesan. Together they’re just unguardable. It’s kinda the perfect pastry.

HS: The crisp to layer ratio is good here in terms of being fluffy and moist still.

MM: That surpassed my expectations by a pretty solid margin.

HS: Socks are knocked.

MM: Also, the rise of the croissant makes it a lot easier to eat.

Whereas number four just felt like a crust. It wasn’t a full pastry. It was like a flatbread. This one is more cohesive.

HS: It’s the Little Caesars cheese stuffed crust of pastries.

MM: Is it?

HS: No, I’ve never had Little Caesars. I’m just imagining a cheese-stuffed crust. It fixes the blandness of the crust.

MM: That’s upsetting. Is that even Little Caesars? I thought that was Pizza Hut. HS: I don’t know. I’ve never had either.

6. Apple Cider with Caramel Ganache Baby Bundt MM: I’m really excited about this one.

HS: I am too. I love apple cider.

MM: I don’t really know what ganache is. The only thing I know about ganache is that it’s in baking shows that I have watched.

[Bites] MM: It’s a very floury finish. And I don’t hate it. I like the taste of flour, I’ll be honest with you. That might be a bad take but.

HS: The start tastes like nothing. The first bite hits your mouth and there’s just no taste. And the middle tastes like I’m eating spices. Like putting spices in my mouth. You know how some cider has a lot of cinnamon in it and it coats your throat? And you feel like there’s sand in your mouth? It has that a little bit. But it doesn’t taste apple-y.

MM: I don’t dislike it at all though. I’m trying to be positive. Because I feel like we shat on the peach one a little bit too much. I loved the peach one.

HS: You did not love the peach one. You do not get to lie. There are four pillars of journalistic integrity… The cake is alright. It’s cool. The cake with the cream is very good. The amount of cream relative to the amount of cake is not proper. It’s enough for you to have four bites where you’re like, “Oh, this shit’s really good!”

And then you run out of cream and it’s just... Bundt cake. Which is alright.

MM: I don’t know if it’s particularly apple cider-y or caramel-y.

HS: The whipped cream just tastes like whipped cream. If this was a strawberry shortcake where you get the thick layer on top, it would be fantastic. Also, making a decent pound cake is pretty easy. You can go to Ralph’s and get the $3 bunch of pound cake and it doesn’t taste that different from this. Which is still good. But just for the value of pastries, a lot of these are things that I feel like you need a real bakery to do properly. I could make this if you gave me a couple tries. But the pesto croissant? You give me a million years, I’ll never figure it out. When you’re spending $7 on something you can make, it has to be like, “Actually I couldn’t make this.”

MM: The pesto croissant and the butter cake - tens. Those are the winners. And the others are good, don’t get me wrong. It’s a very good bakery. We’re being idiots and college students that are being picky because we’re pretending to be reviewers. But it’s a good bakery and those two specifically, to my immature taste buds, are excellent.

HS: Totally. We could eat all six of these and be like, “Those are some good pastries.”

MM: I feel bad that I didn’t absolutely love the ninja star because I love ninja stars.

HS: The ninja star part was really cool. I like when they have a little custard or ganache. Balancing creaminess. And if this Bundt cake had more of that it would be very good.

MM: Overall thoughts. Obviously, big fan. The two that we loved were the two best.

HS: Staples. And with the seasonal one, that’s part of the beauty of seasonal things is you try them out and it’s a fun little event. It comes and it goes.

MM: And maybe it comes again next year! Alright. It’s been lovely talking to you.

HS: Man, that basil is good.

Header by Teagan Hughes Editor-in-Chief

ACROSS: 1. Worst first year dorm 8. Your collection of 14-across 10. Oberlin sports chant 13. A first year might ask you to get them some vodka from Mickey_____ 14. Slang for a certain drug, gaining its name from the term “hydroponic” 15. A long time _____ 16. Tumblr term for “that sucks” 17. First name of problematic actor who shares last name with problematic bakery 18. Comedian known for pulling famous women 19. The person who gives you readings and mental breakdowns 22. “Never _____ Up” by Aaliyah 23. Netflix drama starring Jade from Victorious Crossword by Ilana McNamara and Taso Mullen Contributors

DOWN: 2. The reason your ex cited for breaking up with you (they’re a Gemini) 3. Cool way to spell artist 4. Cum____ 5. “Bear” in Spanish 6. “______ my bf love me?” (Possible Google autofill response) 7. Ok this one is a bit of a stretch, but,: what your band might plug their guitars into while playing a house party on a certain Oberlin street named after a tree

9. Types of speakers found in the Sco, alternatively a term for students working on random farms (minus a W) 11. How you could describe a co-oper who is maybe a bit too into helping out around the co-op 12. Prefix relating to smut 18. Trident-looking Greek letters 20. This might flash across the screen at the end of a French film 21. _____ Mendes of The Place Beyond the Pines 27

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