Issue 1 Spring 2021

TUFTS OBSERVER uncertainty

ISSUE 1

VOLUME CXLII

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR

BY AKBOTA SAUDABAYEVA

BUILDING ON BROKEN FOUNDATIONS FEATURE • BY MYISHA MAJUMDER AND TRINA SANYAL

THE VACCINE SCENE

NEWS • BY ELEANOR FUCETOLA

TO REFORM OR TO ABOLISH

CAMPUS • BY RAGA CHILAKAMARRI

PUTTING THE “BOW” BACK IN RAINBOW

ARTS & CULTURE • BY MELANIE LITWIN

ARE YOU UNCERTAIN?

CREATIVE INSET •

BY EVELYN ABRAMOWITZ

THE CHALLENGES OF MULTIPLE PERSPECTIVES ON THE AZERBAIJANI-ARMENIAN WAR OPINION • BY SAYYARA HUSEYNLI

ON DUTY

CAMPUS • BY EMILY THOMPSON

WALKING UP A BIG HILL BY MYSELF

POETRY • BY MICHAEL NORTON

APOCALYPSE IN MONTAGES POETRY • BY ELAINE GAO

THE BOXED ART GALLERY

ARTS & CULTURE • BY SILVIA WANG

TAPESTRIES OF MY GRIEF

VOICES • BY AUDREY LEDBETTER

REFERENDUM RESULTS IGNORED

OPINION • BY ASHLEY GOMEZ, KRITHI RAM-JUNNARKAR, PAOLO PADOVA, AND SAIRA MUKHERJEE

PLEASANT BREEZES

VOICES • BY CE MALLEY

2 TUFTS OBSERVER SEPTEMBER 28, 2020

STAFF EDITOR IN CHIEF: Akbota Saudabayeva MANAGING EDITOR: Josie Wagner CREATIVE DIRECTORS: Brigid Cawley Richard Nakatsuka FEATURE EDITOR: Ryan Kim NEWS EDITORS: Rachel Dong Mira Dwyer

VOICES EDITORS: Anita Lam Lee Romaker CREATIVE INSET EDITOR: Evelyn Abramowitz LEAD ARTIST: Kelly Tan ART DIRECTORS: Kate Bowers Joanna Kleszczewski LEAD COPY EDITOR: Grace van Deelen

ARTS & CULTURE EDITORS: Wyoma Chudasama Brittany Regas

MULTIMEDIA DIRECTORS: Maddie Oh Justin Wang

OPINION EDITORS: Caroline Blanton Aroha Mackay

PODCAST DIRECTORS: Florence Almeda Sofia Pretell

CAMPUS EDITORS: Melanie Litwin Amanda Westlake

PUBLICITY DIRECTORS: Janie Ingrassia Eve Ogdon Juli Vega Del Castilo

POETRY & PROSE EDITORS: Paula Gil-Ordonez Gomez Alice Hickson

ABROAD CORRESPONDENT: Yumei Lin

COPY EDITORS: Grace Abe Claudia Aibel Sabrina Cabarcos Chloe Malley Tara Steckler Ethan Yan STAFF WRITERS: Juanita Asapokhai Sonya Bhatia Isabelle Charles Rabiya Ismail Mahika Khosla Sabah Lokhandwala Myles Platt Cana Tagawa EDITOR EMERITUS: Myisha Majumder MULTIMEDIA Ben Bortner Anushka Chadha Maddy Keipp Esther Tzau Silvia Wang

Carina Lo Sofia Pretell Julia Steiner Brenna Trollinger CONTRIBUTORS: Kate Bidgood Aidan Chang Raga Chilakamarri Eleanor Fucetola Elaine Gao Ashley Gomez Wilamina Heifner Sayyara Huseynli Audrey Ledbetter Quinn Luong CE Malley Misha Mehta Saira Mukherje Michael Norton Paolo Padova Krithi Ram-Junnarkar Aviva Rosenberg Emily Thompson Laura Wolfe

DESIGNERS: Kate Bowers Janie Ingrassia Joanna Kleszczewski

applying for an internship when you don’t know if it’ll be in person and making plans with a friend for next week when you might be in quarantine and hoping you’ll get a vaccine next month when you no faith in the rollout and planning a cute outfit for tomorrow when the world may be on fire and and and ???

DESIGN BY AND JOHN PHOTO DOE, BYART BRIGID

BY JANE CAWLEY. DOE COVER DESIGN BY RICHARD NAKATSUKA, PHOTOS BY RICHARD NAKATSUKA, JOSIE WAGNER, SOFIATUFTS PRETELL SEPTEMBERAND 28, 2020 OBSERVER

3

2 TUFTS OBSERVER MARCH 1, 2021

Had it not been for the failures of last year, and the ten stupid years before that, and all the horrible catastrophes since my ridiculous birth, I don’t think I would be here today. Flunked that tenthgrade chemistry test. Talked back to my parents a thousand times. Got rejected from several colleges.

Didn’t get the job offer. Spilled seltzer all over the family computer once and still wince at the memory. I’m a hodgepodge of mistakes. And now, I’m a junior at Tufts University and Editor-in-Chief of this beloved, ancient publication. Isn’t that great?

So, let the record show that all of us are foolish. Bumbling around, really. Walking through a haze of emotions and trying to decide if we should greet the familiar-looking person walking past us in a hallway. It’s endearing, our little acts of living. Our weak kicks into the purple-shaded space of uncertainty. Not enough average idiocy is written into history—so, let me be that person for you. I’ve shown you that I can be pulled apart. Now, here’s my spiel.

I think that this magazine is one of the best things in my life. I love the Observer because I love people. I love their stories and their passions. I love all the things they don’t like, all the things they rally against with pen, paper, and voice. I love that I know everyone’s name on this team and that they all choose to spend their nights with each other to craft together a 32-page magazine of record. All my heart’s devotion to Josie, Richie, and Brigid. All these spreads, infused with everyone’s soul-specks, sweat, and spittle. For people to pick apart, to poke in twenty-so years, to keep under their bed in a box. It’s sacred work.

Flo, one of my closest friends at Tufts, was the first to hear this soft soliloquy for the Observer before the start of the semester. We were having a classic, Whitman-esque night, laying outside and smelling leaves of grass. The black forest breathing on our necks. The smog of stars above us. I prefaced by telling her about a novel I read in middle school: The Age of Miracles by Karen Thompson Walker, which follows the preteen protagonist Julia as she grows up amidst global catastrophe—namely, the slowing of the Earth’s rotation. The book had resurfaced in my mind in the wake of the pandemic, the fires engulfing the West Coast, and the general malaise of crowning adulthood. It had struck me that, despite it all, Julia tries her best to adapt to her new reality. Brushing her teeth. Writing in her diary. Having a crush. She reminded me of the two of us, as we struggled to piece together a world for ourselves where we could still grow up, a world where we had some kind of future.

It is exactly this persistence so inherent to the human condition that I find myself obsessed with. I’ve always wondered when reading history textbooks, encyclopedias, and religious texts, what wasn’t captured in these written records. What they liked to do on their birthday. Whether they liked to drink hot cocoa in the evenings. The abundance of sex they were having. You know, the good stuff— how they were living. I want this magazine to show you a glimpse of that. Of how we live amidst the chaos of disease, of war, of death, of strife. How, amidst all the uncertainty, there is always that one constant—the drive to continue living. Spiraling in our uncertainty and constantly spinning stories, celebrating the serendipitous, the splendid, the stupid, and the spectacular. So, to the past, I cast a loving glance. To the future, I send big kisses. And to the present moment, I stumble on, headstrong.

Warmly, Akbota Saudabayeva

MARCH 1, 2021 TUFTS OBSERVER 3

FEATURE

BUILDING ON BROKEN FOUNDATIONS: EXAMINING COMMUNITY RESPONSES TO TUFTS’ LATEST ANTI-RACISM INITIATIVE

By Myisha Majumder with reporting contributions by Trina Sanyal

T

ufts’ legacy begins with its occupation on Wampanoag land and extends to occupying a campus adjacent to the Isaac Royall House, the only surviving slave quarters in the state, previously owned by the largest slaveholding family in Massachusetts. As recently as this year, Tufts experienced two explicit incidences of hatred via Zoom, one against a Black academic during a School of Engineering event, and another with little detail, along with the closure of a months-long investigation into the controversial incident between Tufts University Police Department and three women of color.

In grappling with the lack of diversity, and to mitigate racist incidents on the campus, two notable task forces had been created before 2020. One was operational from 1996 to 1997 and included subcategories of Institutional Policy, Campus Life, and Academic Experience. The other was an eighteen-month study, culminating in a final report in 2013 that detailed the strategic plan: “Tufts: The Next 10 Years.”

Some recommendations for the path forward from the report included a “diversity dashboard” in an effort to have more transparency regarding data. Rob Mack and Dr. Joyce Sackey, both key players in 4 TUFTS OBSERVER MARCH 1, 2021

the present-day efforts, detailed two quantifiable metrics that have been implemented since the 2013 report, one of which included appointing both Mack and Sackey as co-chief diversity officers. “As of 2020, every school at Tufts now has Assistant/ Associate Dean level position (ADDI) and [h]as [a] lead diversity officer responsible for implementing DEI goals at the school level. The full report of the internal audit has been previously shared,” they said in a written statement.

Within the ten years since the original report, in mid-2020, Tufts announced the “Tufts as an Anti-Racist Institution” initiative, with five workstreams established in order to work towards increasing equity across the university, culminating into five assessment reports. In the official announcement of the initiative, the university described the workstreams framework as focusing on “different aspects of our academic and administrative enterprise,” with each workstream “reaching out to stakeholders across the university to create larger, representative working groups.”

Progress pages of the five workstreams— Campus Safety, Compositional Diversity, Equity and Inclusion, Institutional Audit and Targeted Actions, and Public Art—

FEATURE

were made available soon after the announcement of the initiative, as well as a feedback forum.

Mack and Sackey also clarified that the current initiative is independent of the Tufts 10-year plan:“The Antiracism Initiative was a new effort launched in June 2020 and included work that had not previously been done, such as an institution-wide external audit (conducted by a third party) to elucidate structural racism and eradicate it.”

The “Tufts as an Anti-Racist Institution” initiative reports were released to university faculty, students, and staff approximately two and a half months following the initial December 1, 2020 deadline.

The reports are cumulative of the opinions and work of various faculty, staff, and students, none of whom were compensated for their efforts. Tufts’ Executive Director of Public Relations, Patrick Collins, explained in a written statement that the reasoning behind not compensating was due to university standard: “Members were not compensated, in keeping with university practice that regards committee membership as an act of service to the greater good of the university community. “ Conversely, global consulting giant, Accenture, was compensated for its part in the strategic plan. The company was chosen as the consulting partner through the Institutional Audit workstream, though the details of payment are confidential, Collins said. He explained that “[Accenture] was selected after a review of proposals from multiple firms with significant experience providing diversity, equity and inclusion consulting services to large organizations and, in particular, higher education institutions.”

In an anonymous op-ed to the Tufts Observer, a faculty member of color detailed discomfort with the initiative’s collaboration with Accenture. The letter highlighted Accenture’s partnership with a military contractor and exploitation of labor of marginalized communities, and how such a relationship appears to conflict with the sentiments of anti-racism—which Tufts emphasized as the basis of the initiative.

Though Accenture was hired through the Institutional Audit workstream, Collins explained that “[they were] retained to handle the institutional audit of policies and practices, help administer focus groups DESIGN BY KATE BOWERS, ART BY KELLY TAN

and community conversations as part of that workstream, and assist in the process of synthesizing the final reports from the five workstreams.” He confirmed that the extent of the company’s work with the initiative had been concluded.

In order to properly assess the efficacy of the workstreams, René LaPointe-Jameson, a student activist and invited speaker to a recent Bridging Differences event, argued that one must assess the idea of an “anti-racist institution” to begin with. “If becoming an anti-racist institution means making a space for everyone to thrive— a safe and accessible place for everyone, what have we been doing up till now? Has that not been part of the goals of the space beforehand?” she said.

When discussing with members of Tufts’ workstreams, some were cautiously critical, whereas others were more optimistic about the process.

Parker Killenberg, a student on the Institutional Audit workstream, characterized the initiative with optimism. “The workstreams were necessary to do a lot of education on the part of faculty and staff, and reaching out into the community and seeing the problems that are there,” she said. However, she also stated that the work was just beginning, noting that a lot of the workstreams’ recommendations were long-term, and by effect, “didn’t solve anything on their own.”

In November 2020, the Institutional Audit workstream announced its collaboration with Accenture to assist with their objectives, including “analyz[ing] the ways in which the history of racism is relevant to Tufts” and “recommend[ing] prioritized targeted actions to remove any structural racism.” The workstream itself was the result of the efforts of a steering committee, where “members representing all schools and units, including faculty, staff, and student representation” were established.

In addition, the collaboration was explained as Accenture providing “expertise, frameworks, tools, and resources” for the initiative.

Killenberg described that throughout her time on the workstream, her explicit contributions were limited and that the workstream functioned more as a conversation. Organizers Joyce Sakey and Kim Ryan set up initial meetings with the whole workstream before November, and after Accenture was appointed, the consulting partner took lead. On an individual level, Killenberg met with the consulting partner a few times as a result of missing committeewide meetings due to other commitments, though she would not describe her interactions as “working directly” with Accenture.

Killenberg characterized the relationship more so as, “[Accenture] would take the data, come up with a plan, then get our feedback. So it wasn’t like we were working with them. It was mostly that they were saying this is what we think, and then people would give their opinions.”

The consulting partner then led four public meetings, alongside Ryan and Sakey, which Killenberg attended, and described as a presentation of information found: “[They asked] what do you think about this? How could we improve on this?

They received student feedback, then compiled all of that.”

In a written statement, Collins explained that Accenture was hired to develop the structure for completing the institutional audit, including community input.

“They worked collaboratively with the steering committee and with each of the working groups for the schools and units, meeting with them weekly … Accenture designed the structure and conducted focus groups … they synthesized results and reviewed the findings,” he said, concluding that all actions were in collaboration with the steering team.

Overall, Killenberg had a positive impression of the consulting partner. “They seemed like they were really invested in the work, and making sure that it was all moving in a positive direction,” she said. She believed that by hiring an outside consultant, Tufts demonstrated a monetary commitment to their initiative. Killenberg was inspired to join the workstream after being approached by a leader in her research group, because to her, it was “important to hold the university accountable. And make sure that they weren’t just saying they were going to do something.”

MARCH 1, 2021 TUFTS OBSERVER 5

FEATURE

Kim Dao, a student member of the Compositional Diversity workstream, was similarly inspired to join after being approached by her research advisor, Dr. Chris Swan. Dao described the workstream as being dedicated to increasing transparency and suggesting improvements to the diversity makeup of faculty, students, staff, and senior leadership. She explained that she was motivated into joining the workstream to represent the communities she is a part of. Notably, she sought to represent students from the Bridge to Engineering Success at Tufts (BEST) and Bridge to Liberal Arts Success (BLAST) groups, two programs designed to “support, develop, and retain” students from marginalized backgrounds, like first-generation college students and students from underresourced high schools.

She also further explained that a major motivation for her joining this particular workstream was the amount of work imposed on Dr. Swan. “Someone was supposed to be hired to help him do [this] work,” Dao said, “but now he’s doing the majority of it.”

Dao described the work done within the Compositional Diversity Workstream as the continual assessment of Tufts’ ability to either “retain or drive students away,” especially students of color, by assessing trends from recent enrollment and outreach. The reports created by the Compositional Diversity Workstream are detailed by timeline, and the workstream internally posed questions regarding the efficacy and efficiency in the university’s ability to respond to student feedback.

Dao noted that the work done by her workstream could stand to be communicated to the student population much more transparently. “It’s not good data … it’s not what people want to see,” she explained.

6 TUFTS OBSERVER MARCH 1, 2021

Data collected by the workstream were not publicly released alongside the report.

However, the University’s public Diversity Data Dashboard states that over 50 percent of students enrolled at the undergraduate level were white students and that 71.4 percent of Tufts’ faculty were white as of Fall 2019. In the same period, only 4.4 percent of the student population and 2.7 percent of the faculty were Black.

“IF BECOMING AN ANTI-RACIST INSTITUTION MEANS MAKING A SPACE FOR EVERYONE TO THRIVE—A SAFE AND ACCESSIBLE PLACE FOR EVERYONE, WHAT HAVE WE BEEN DOING UP TILL NOW?” Dao went on to say that it would perhaps be more effective to keep the general Tufts student community more in the loop, as the workstream and her involvement are relatively obscured. “I think it could be more transparent … transparency would remind people that work is being done,” she explained. Dao believed that her workstream could have updated the Tufts community more regularly on a weekly or monthly basis. The workstream released an initial statement in November 2020, before their final report was released in conjunction with the others.

There was also a lack of transparency for Dao herself with the relationship between Accenture and the five workstreams.

She characterized the dynamic as “try[ing] not to step on their toes,” and keeping their work separate from the Institutional Audit workstream, as the consulting partner was not involved within her group.

Dao and another student brought up policing on campus, and Tufts’ lack of response to harmful events, during a workstream meeting: “[Tufts didn’t respond to] the incidence[s] of bias on campus, and

how damaging that is for students—and prospective students—of color to see that, and that they probably don’t want to come to Tufts, or people who do go to Tufts, they don’t feel safe anymore.” Though, she noted that it was difficult to balance or analyze such issues in their own workstream as to not duplicate efforts from a separate group, like Campus Safety and Policing.

The safety and comfort of students of color on campus was a common thread for many workstream members. “The idea of the workstream is that Black and brown people would feel more at home at Tufts by seeing images of themselves,” an anonymous member of the Public Art Workstream explained. They described that all of the workstream members came up with recommendations on their own, based on various experiences, all rooted in expertise in art. Accenture then went in and “scored” those recommendations.

In a written statement, Collins explained that while Accenture originally scored the recommendations, they ended up removing the scores. “The intent behind the scoring was to prioritize the targeted actions; however, because the Public Art Workstream had already done their due diligence, that exercise was not needed,” he said.

On the faculty level, Dr. Swan, the dean of undergraduate education as well as the co-chair of the Compositional Diversity Team, explained his methods in creating the Compositional Diversity Workstream, as trying to make the workstream as diverse as possible across schools. In assessing the University’s recent measures to address its racist practices, Dr. Swan asked, “Is the effort for Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion, writ large, or it is limited to a specific audience?”

Rather than solely collect data on the current state of diversity, the workstream also focused on scoping out diverse voices for hiring. During hiring processes within the faculty, he questioned where job opportunities were being posted, and how candidates were being selected. Though Swan felt this initiative was a promising start, he described the progress of these efforts as “not at the “let’s-high-five-and-slaphands together” part yet … we are only getting started at implementing things.”

FEATURE

The workstream had little involvement with Accenture, Swan reiterated. “I do not know the level of input that they gave to the Institutional Audit [workstream]. I do not know if they interacted with other workstreams specifically, but I do know that they opened up the discussions with people who were in workstreams,” he said.

Swan detailed Accenture’s involvement in the initiative as “a component of the flock of things” that were being done, but was unsure as to whether or not “[Accenture] took the role of being the Shepherd of the Flock.” Collins explained that Accenture’s role was to create “an inventory from all five workstreams.”

Swan described the fervor among students and faculty to address Tufts’ practices hopefully within the greater national urgency for equity and justice. “I’ve never seen this desire to try to do something to be any stronger,” he said, “400 years of injustice doesn’t change after four days of thoughts and wishes. It’s going to take a lot of effort to get it out of our … consciousness, to get it out of our lineage, to get it out of the ways in which … we’re going to operate in this country, in this world. So we got some stuff to push on … and we’re all going to learn in this process.”

At the nexus of these workstreams, Tufts’ reconciliation with its own history, and the new involvement of Accenture, is a picture that continues to develop. While knowledge around the workstreams varied on campus, some members of the Tufts community were distinctly aware of shortcomings of the process.

Anonymous faculty members were particularly critical of the relationship be-

tween Accenture and the initiative. One voiced their concerns in an interview: “There is a deep contradiction: while the university is saying it is addressing its racist systems, and doing that by addressing policy, in fact, the very policy that it’s using is perpetuating the problem. The policies and processes that Accenture is using and that the university is endorsing are, in fact, making the problem worse.”

Aside from Accenture’s contentious involvement in the initiative, others were critical of different mechanisms. LaPointeJameson observed that professors of color were taking on the labor of running additional committees on top of joining workstreams, similar to Dao’s conclusion in regards to Dr. Swan. LaPointe-Jameson explained that these actions often go unnoticed, given the structure of the university, and what is valued in academia: “Culturally, within this institution, I think that professors putting energy into making our school have a better climate, and making our environments more accessible and equitable, [are]n’t celebrated and appreciated.” The Compositional Diversity report recommends making service, like being involved in workstreams, in the community “an equal to research in evaluating faculty.” The roles of faculty vary in intensity but nonetheless remain relatively unrecognized.

The tasks of the faculty involved in this workstream included setting goals at the hiring level, along with metrics, housing, and culture. The Compositional Diversity report emphasized diversity in creating positions, stating, “areas likely to attract more diverse candidates must not be seen as a bonus to be invested in but core to fulfilling Tufts’ mission and values.”

LaPointe-Jameson, however, was skeptical of the true implementation of this recommendation. “If we’re just bringing more Black, Indigenous, and people of color into this place that’s not been made accessible and equitable, then you’re bringing them into an unsafe space. That’s not growth, that’s not progress,” she said.

At the administrative level, there is hope and momentum forward, as described by Mack and Sackey. In the aforementioned written statement, the two co-chief diversity officers stated that “the Antiracism Initiative and the recommen-

dations that will be implemented are all part of a central effort.” While students and faculty within workstreams have said that the changes have yet to come into action, Mack and Sackey stated that there were other continual efforts that will allow the community to “engage in the work of becoming an antiracist institution.”

An anonymous student of color, who is not directly involved in the initiative, echoed sentiments shared by Dao and other members of the workstream. “I think making Tufts an anti-racist institution requires more than just making that declaration,” they said in a written statement. “I don’t understand how Tufts can make that statement when there are many Black and brown members of our own community who, for example, feel traumatized and uncomfortable as a result of their interactions with armed TUPD officers.”

Despite this, the student also highlighted that the initiative “provided space for important dialogue to happen” and “more transparen[cy]” than in the past.

But they feel that without “specific dates in place … it’s really easy for there to be a lack of responsibility and accountability.”

As Tufts continues to reconcile its past and future, it must also be actively aware of the damage already done to faculty, students, and staff of color who are oftentimes doubtful of the impact of new initiatives like this one. The anonymous student described that their “hesitancy stems from the fact that I’ve seen so many BIPOC members of our community advocate for change over the past four years that I have been here.” In their opinion, much of the skepticism towards the administration comes from the fact that “many BIPOC students on this campus have felt ignored, uncomfortable, and unsupported for so long. I just don’t think most people understand the urgency behind this.”

The ongoing process to dismantle the racist structure upheld by the institution will require discomfort, LaPointe-Jameson explained, but not on behalf of community members of color: “If we’re not making people who’ve been prioritized uncomfortable, and if we’re not challenging the way that they’ve been centered and benefitting from my oppression and [the oppression] of other people of color … what’s the point?”

MARCH 1, 2021 TUFTS OBSERVER 7

NEWS

BY THE NUMBERS:

THE VACCINE SCENE WHERE TUFTS STANDS ON ADMINISTERING THE COVID VACCINE

As of February 23,

By Eleanor Fucetola

about

65 MILLION people in the US have received at least one dose, about

13of the population.

PERCENT Massachusetts ranks out of

states 44th 50 for vaccinations as a percent of doses available.

99.85 PERCENT

of Tufts’ COVID tests have produced negative results since August 3, 2020.

17 HOURS

is the average processing time for Tufts’ test results.

1,283,700

doses have been shipped to Massachusetts so far, but only

910, 4 12 have been administered, which is about

70.9 PERCENT. As of February 23,

4 PERCENT

of Massachusetts residents have been fully vaccinated.

8 TUFTS OBSERVER MARCH 1, 2021

A

s Tufts University begins administering the COVID-19 vaccine to older members and health care providers in the Tufts community, students—who will likely have to wait months to get vaccinated—are left wondering how the vaccine rollout will affect campus life.

Vaccine rollout began nationally in December 2020, when the Food and Drug Administration gave emergency approval to vaccines developed

by Pfizer-BioNTech and Moderna. Both vaccines include two doses, spaced three–four weeks apart.

As of February 23, the Center for Disease Control is reporting that about 65 million people in the US have received at least one dose, totaling to about 13 percent of the population.

The state of Massachusetts has struggled to effectively tackle many of the challenges of the COVID-19 pandemic. In an evaluation by the Harvard Kennedy School, Massachusetts received a grade of F across three performance indicators—“Deaths Per Capita,” “Vaccines Per Capita,” and “Vaccinations as % of Doses Available.” The state also received a D grade in “Months to Finish Vaccinating Eligibles.” Massachusetts ranks 44th among the 50 states for “Vaccinations as % of Doses Available, and 33rd in “Months to Finish Vaccinating Eligibles.”

Tufts has outperformed the state as a whole in terms of testing processes and contact tracing, with 99.85 percent of the 369,000 tests administered since August 3, 2020 producing negative results at the time of writing. The average processing time for test results has been 17 hours.

Amy Lischko, a professor of public health and community medicine at the Tufts University School of Medicine is impressed with Tufts’ handling of COVID-19: “Compared to the state and other universities, I am very pleased with Tufts’ approach,” she said, “but I think this has been a disaster at the state level … People feel justifiably frustrated … They had months to plan and I am very unimpressed in the [vaccine] roll-out.”

After receiving the vaccine on February 9, Tufts will tackle vaccinating its faculty, staff, and students “in accordance with the state’s phased

approach,” beginning with individuals identified as eligible in Phase 1 and Phase 2, according to an email sent to the community on February 9 from Michael Jordan, the infection control health director at Tufts.

As a healthcare worker and Tufts Emergency Medical Services employee, junior Emily Brower has already been vaccinated through the Massachusetts Department of Public Safety under which TEMS operates. “The process was reasonably easy for me … I was able to get vaccinated at the Somerville Fire Department, alongside other first responders during Phase 1 of Massachusetts vaccinations,” said Brower. When other Tufts students are vaccinated, Brower hopes that Tufts’ campus life returns “as close to normalcy as possible.” Like many students, Brower is eager to return to club and sports activities on campus: “I’m also a member of the Womens’ Club Rugby Team, and I really hope the vaccination allows for the return of more in-person games and club events in general.”

In the fall, before TEMS was vaccinated, the administration did not allow them to respond to calls where COVID-19 was indicated. “After we all receive our second dose, we should be able to respond to all calls, regardless of patient COVID status,” said Brower. “Logistically, it’s meaningful to know that TEMS members will be less likely to get very ill from our work … but I’d say the emotional relief matters more.”

While Tufts’ first phase will include other healthcare workers and first responders in the community, the first group in Phase 2 to receive the vaccine are individuals aged 75 years and older.

Tufts plans to contact members directly to schedule the two necessary injections. “Appointments will be scheduled on a first-come, first-served basis while our supply of vaccines lasts,” Jordan wrote in the email.

Tufts’ move to contact eligible vaccine recipients directly contrasts the state’s process. On the Massachusetts government website, individuals looking to make a vaccination appointment must first use a zip code search to find a vaccination

NEWS

site with availability in their area. The sites consist of large venues with a high volume of vaccines—mainly consisting of stadiums.

General sites like healthcare centers, pharmacies, and grocery stores, and local sites are only open to residents of select towns.

Each location has its own link for individuals to register to determine eligibility and then make an appointment.

Lischko is disappointed in the state’s processes. “Similar to the state’s decentralized testing process, there is no single portal for people who want to get vaccinated,” Lischko said. “I appreciate the prioritization that was done, but [there is] not enough focus on making it easy to sign up and actually get the vaccinations out.”

On February 8, Governor Charlie Baker said in a press conference that large-scale vaccination sites were “batting about 100 percent in terms of vaccine allocated and vaccine administered, and they’ll continue to operate at that level.” However, the Massachusetts Department of Public Health reported on February 9 that of the 1,283,700 vaccine doses shipped to Massachusetts so far, only 910,412 doses had been administered, which is about 70.9 percent.

Lischko is not alone in her disappointment with the state’s results. In fact, nine Massachusetts state representatives signed a letter to Governor Baker expressing their concerns with the state’s vaccine rollout, emphasizing technological and language barriers to scheduling appointments through an already “cumbersome” scheduling system, a lack of investment in staff and local public health programming, a lack of clarity in the MA Department of Public Health’s communication with citizens, and the need for “expansion of training to include non-traditional vaccination volunteers and staff.”

Part of the frustration is a result of how public health is run in the US as a whole. “Maybe it’s just too hard to coordinate something this big between the federal and state governments and have it run efficiently,” Lischko said. “Public health and health care is mostly overseen by states, so we’re going to have 50 flavors of vaccine distribution, unlike many of our peer countries.”

Tufts student Isabella Jarosz decided to stay in her home state, Texas, where she anticipated receiving the vaccine earlier than she would have in Massachusetts. “I have an autoimmune condition, so I knew I wanted the vaccine as soon as possible … and in Texas people with my condition could be vaccinated under Phase 1,” said Jarosz.

The anxiety of living on a college campus during a pandemic also affected Jarosz’s decision to stay home: “Many factors of the pandemic and quarantine are affecting mental health … and I am generally an anxious hypochondriac,” she said.

For members of the Tufts community who have already been vaccinated elsewhere, social distancing and mask-wearing are still required while on campus. In his email to the Tufts community, Jordan emphasized that “vaccination against COVID-19 DESIGN BY JULIA STEINER, ART BY AVIVA ROSENBERG

does not necessarily prevent you from contracting the virus or spreading it to others.” But, after receiving both injections, the chance of contracting the virus and experiencing severe symptoms should be greatly reduced. “I have been vaccinated—I participated in the Moderna trial over the summer,” Lischko said.

“It makes me feel better to be vaccinated, but it hasn’t altered my behavior in any way.” As a student surrounded by unvaccinated peers, Brower is still “vigilant about mask-wearing, handwashing, etc.,” she said. “Although I’m vaccinated currently, I understand that this doesn’t mean I can’t contract and spread COVID.” Social distancing and wearing masks are still important now when, as of February 23, only 4 percent of Massachusetts residents are fully vaccinated.

While Tufts receiving the vaccine is good news for individuals who qualify for Phase 1 and Phase 2, it will be some time before the majority of students will be eligible to receive the vaccination. Massachusetts anticipates beginning Phase 3 in April, when most students will likely become eligible. It remains unclear how Tufts’ vaccination process will impact campus life during the spring semester, if at all. “I will definitely feel safer upon my return to campus,” said Jarosz. “I am excited to engage in socially-distanced and COVID-safe hangouts without jolting awake in the middle of the night thinking I may have accidentally strayed within six feet of someone!”

MARCH 1, 2021 TUFTS OBSERVER 9

CAMPUS

TO REFORM OR TO ABOLISH EXAMINING THE PLACE OF SORORITIES AT TUFTS

By Raga Chilakamarri

W

ith spring recruitment well underway, two new local sororities have made their debut this semester, distancing themselves from the national Panhellenic organizations amidst conversation surrounding the movement to abolish Greek life. The Ivy, born out of the recent disaffiliation and subsequent dissolution of Alpha Phi, is joined by Thalia, a group of former Chi Omega members, in presenting alternative options to the long-standing Kappa Alpha Theta and Chi Omega sororities.

According to The Ivy Co-President Anoushka Kiyawat, who was previously Alpha Phi’s director of diversity and inclusion, the decision to form The Ivy stemmed from mounting frustration with Alpha Phi’s national organization and serious consideration of Greek life’s problematic history. Kiyawat said that the APhi executive board’s key complaints included the lack of transparency over the spending of their dues, restrictions on the choice of philanthropic activities, and limiting rules about their financial scholarships, social media, and recruitment process.

“Disaffiliating meant that we could keep what was important to us, which is our amazing community, all of the things that we’re able to do at Tufts, [and] all of the things that we really care about, and then leave behind the parts that we felt were outdated or just didn’t work for us,” Kiyawat said.

To some, the “outdated” aspects of Greek organizations include their troubled history of exclusion, in addition to what senior Julia Falkow describes as “the racism, the misogyny, the transphobia, homophobia—all of these horrible ‘-isms’ and phobias that are just ingrained in it as an institution.” Falkow, who transferred to Tufts as a junior, was a member of Alpha Tau Omega (ATO) for a year, serving as their community outreach chair and the chair of diversity and inclusion for the 10 TUFTS OBSERVER MARCH 1, 2021

Inter-Greek Council. Following the Black Lives Matter protests and nationwide dialogue about racial justice that exploded this summer, Falkow decided to drop her fraternity ties, dedicate time towards analyzing Greek life’s enduring role in Tufts’ social scene, and envision an alternative, inclusive space. “As much as I appreciated and valued the friendships that I had formed from Greek life, I was not blind to how institutionally flawed it was,” Falkow said.

In response to an email, senior Sana Aladin described Greek life institutions as “inherently classist.” “You have to put in money to join them. There are scholarships available, but I don’t think they’re super easily accessible, and they are definitely limited in terms of what they can provide,” she said. “So I think it’s kind of a space for people of a certain social class to only interact with each other, which I think is obviously never positive.”

Aladin was a member of Chi Omega during her sophomore year, before choosing to drop her sorority partly due to personal disinterest. Aladin said she has been “behind” the movement to abolish Greek life because, for her, the negatives of Greek life outweigh the positives. “In retrospect, I think a lot of what also got at me was the privileged, exclusionary, and racist nature of sororities and Panhel[lenic council] at large,” she said. “Even if those weren’t issues that were specifically highlighted to me in my experience in Tufts Chi O[mega], I think they were kind of in the back of my mind, and I didn’t like that I was involved in that system.”

Reflecting on her personal motivations for joining a sorority as a sophomore, Aladin described that rushing was almost like a “challenge to [herself]” to prove that she could fit in.

“There’s like this connotation that [sororities are] really cool or exclusive spaces, and often associated with whiteness. So for

CAMPUS

me, it was something like …, you know, [for] me as a woman of color, can I even have proximity to these spaces?” she said.

“And I think my mindset at the time was like, “Am I good enough to be in one of these spaces?’”

In late July, the Tufts Panhellenic Council announced on Instagram their decision to suspend fall recruitment after several weeks of reflection on “the structurally and situationally problematic nature of Greek Life.”

The summer’s conversations have brought forth a recent wave of anti-Greek life sentiment that gained attention on campus due to the Abolish Greek Life at Tufts Instagram account (@AbolishTuftsIFCandPanhellenic), which has amassed nearly 1,800 followers since its creation in July 2020. The account, whose ownership passed through multiple hands—including Falkow’s—was modeled after a similar movement at Vanderbilt. They published a series of disturbing, student-submitted reports of sexual assault, hazing, racism, and violence in an effort to expose the flaws of Greek life and advocate for its abolition and replacement “with a community that is inclusive to all.”

Aladin noted the account’s influence on reducing sorority membership. “All it took [was] this Instagram account for there to be a mass exodus from so many sororities. I think it was, part of it, yes, people realizing [what was happening in Greek life], but I think it was also a lot of stuff people already knew but just [didn’t talk] about,” Aladin said. “It being out in the open made people feel shameful enough that they wanted to quit those groups.”

The push to abolish Greek life is not new. Class of 2013 alumnus Lauren Border published two op-eds in the Tufts Daily advocating against the institution: the first, in 2012, criticizing its gendered hazing practices, and the second, written last August, calling “to burn Greek life to the ground.”

In her most recent article, Border argued that Tufts has a unique opportunity to realistically dismantle all Greek life organizations because it has “long prided itself on its emphasis on inclusion and social

justice,” and because the majority of the student body is unaffiliated with Greek life.

The recent emergence of local sororities appears to be an attempt at reforming the Greek system from within. Introducing itself as a community for women-identifying and non-binary students, The Ivy aims to “cultivate a better and more inclusive experience,” in part by increasing financial accessibility and implementing mandatory diversity training for all members.

“We’ve lowered dues by about 75% for all members and we’ve committed to covering everyone’s dues,” Kiyawat said. “So, if someone can’t afford them, they’re covered.” Kiyawat also explained their intention to build a buffer system and an internal scholarship fund to contribute towards members’ dues if necessary.

Choosing to remain a part of Greek life, rather than transitioning into a women’s organization, offers members of local sororities a voice in other Greek organizations, according to Andie Stallman, CoPresident of The Ivy. “We are kind of taking on a responsibility where we can advocate for our values in the Greek community and try and make Greek life at Tufts better overall,” Stallman said.

The question of how to achieve substantial change, therefore, lies in the conflict between gradual reformation and the more radical movements to abolish Greek life. For Falkow, building the solution means addressing larger issues for students at Tufts: the search for a community and the lack of an inclusive social space. “[For] a lot of the people that I spoke to that joined Greek life in the first place, it’s because they didn’t get into any clubs that they wanted to get into their freshman year, so they didn’t have the community at Tufts yet,” Falkow said. “And that is a major problem—that they’re turning to Greek life because they weren’t accepted anywhere else.”

This issue sets the stage for Falkow’s personal passion project, which she calls the “Tufts Alternative Spaces Coalition.”

She proposes abolishing Greek life and reallocating those resources towards de-

DESIGN BY JOANNA KLESZCZEWSKI , ART BY LAURA WOLFE

veloping a system in which every incoming student is randomly assigned to a “house” that would host safe party events and provide a social foundation throughout their time at Tufts—all while being free and completely opt-in. Falkow, who has been speaking to faculty and looking into logistical barriers, is continuing to design this social schematic in her free time, seeking to create smaller communities that can be a part of students’ social identities.

While applauding the efforts of students who are striving to reshape the social scene at Tufts, Falkow advises leaders to “Move away from the structure of authority as much as you can because there’s underlying obstacles and oppression patterns that you might not even notice, that [are] affecting those that are trying to be a part of the community.”

Falkow further expressed that replacing one sorority with another while still being “designed by sorority girls” can appear like “trying to throw a new coat of paint on your old house,” and urges leaders to seek out more advisors to avoid receding into the same old patterns.

For Aladin, the concept of shifting towards local sororities as a method of addressing issues with Greek institutions lacks an “explicit purpose.”

“If you recognize that there are these problems with the groups but you want to continue to hang out with your friends and maintain those relationships you’ve got out of it … go do that yourself,” Aladin said. “I don’t really see the reasoning behind starting an official group.”

In striving to reimagine Tufts’ social scene as one that authentically cultivates a sense of social identity and unity based on community, it seems that the question is, according to Falkow, “How big are you willing to go?”

MARCH 1, 2021 TUFTS OBSERVER 11

ARTS & CULTURE

PUTTING THE “BOW” IN RAINBOW THE IMPACT OF JOJO SIWA’S COMING OUT

By Melanie Litwin

A

s a triple-threat performer and YouTube personality, JoJo Siwa has long been in the public eye. However, she’s making recent headlines simply for being herself. The 17-year-old superstar came out as a member of the LGBTQ+ community to her millions of followers in January—a largely unprecedented act for such a young celebrity with an even younger target audience.

Despite her over-the-top public persona, Siwa’s coming out was relatively simple and casual. She posted a TikTok of herself lip-syncing to Lady Gaga’s “Born this Way,” which featured colorful lights and her wearing one of her iconic rainbow bows. Siwa later confirmed the video’s implied message by tweeting a picture of her new shirt that read: “Best. Gay. Cousin. Ever.” The response from Siwa’s fanbase and other celebrities has been overwhelmingly positive, and her social media accounts have been flooded with support for her and her newly revealed girlfriend. “It was the most love I think I’ve ever received, and the coolest thing about it is that it was just by me showing the world the last little piece of me they haven’t seen yet,” Siwa told Jimmy Fallon in an interview on The Tonight Show.

Named one of Time’s Most Influential People of 2020, Siwa is certainly a visible and powerful role model. Junior Abby Kaplan is excited that young children are able to look up to Siwa and see her living authentically. She said, “This will show it’s okay to be who you are and show who you are, and I think that’s a really great message, especially because she has so many really, really young fans.” Siwa is also showing the world that strict labels are not necessary. Regarding Siwa’s decision to not label her sexuality, Kaplan said, “I think that’s really important, especially for younger people, because some may be like…‘Oh I can’t come out until I know I identify as a certain term,’ and so this shows that you can be LGBT[Q+] and not exactly know where you stand, but still be able to come out.”

12 TUFTS OBSERVER MARCH 1, 2021

Even still, Siwa’s massive fame exposes her to a broad audience, and her public coming-out has been met with some homophobic backlash. Unfortunately, it is common for queer celebrities to face damaging consequences from the industry and negative reactions from the public. Siwa’s decision to come out could have been a risk for her career, especially because her audience is primarily young, elementary-aged children. It is no secret that there are parents who will be up in arms at even the most subtle inclusions of LGBTQ+ characters—as is evidenced by online controversies and boycotts such as those over the brief inclusion of a minor queer character in Disney/Pixar’s Onward and the quick moment in the live-action Beauty and The Beast where LeFou dances with another man. Some parents have threatened online to prohibit their children from watching Siwa’s content or buying her products. However, this ignorance and homophobia don’t seem to be a primary concern for Siwa. She told Fallon during her interview, “If I lost everything that I’ve created because of being myself and because of loving who I want to love, I don’t want it.”

Queerness is often branded as not being “family-friendly.”

Junior Anna Cornish said, “[Queerness is] so oversexualized and straight people just make it into an inherently sexual thing. So, unfortunately, people look at that and they say, well, that’s not appropriate for children’s media because that’s the stereotypes that they have in their head[s].” But Siwa defies and subverts these stereotypes in many ways—with her family-friendly reputation, avoidance of “adult themes,” and sparkly, childlike aesthetic. She is a way for children and parents alike to see a complex and real person representing the LGBTQ+ community. Speaking about celebrities like Siwa coming out, senior Claire Liu said, “Through these people, [children who identify as LGBTQ+] can learn how to navigate their way through the world, because there is some-

ARTS & CULTURE

one to look up to and someone there who has paved the way for them in media.”

LGBTQ+ characters in fictional content can also provide positive representation. However, film and television—particularly content aimed at children—are severely lacking in queer representation. In 2019, only 18.6 percent of the 118 films tracked

by GLAAD included LGBTQ+ characters. Representation can help normalize LGBTQ+ identities from a young age and give children the language and understanding to explain their own identities. Liu, who is majoring in Child Development and studies representation in media, said, “How you see yourself in media and how you see identities of yourself being represented in media [have] a big impact on how you see yourself.” Cornish echoed a similar sentiment: “I think it’s just a good way for people to see what their future could be.”

I THINK IT’S REALLY IMPORTANT THAT WE SEE QUEER CREATORS BEING ABLE TO TELL THEIR STORIES.

Dobrow mentioned that openly queer celebrities may contribute to shifting mainstream views and improving the representation children are able to see onscreen. She said, “The more that we see and hear about people who are diverse by a lot of different metrics, the more we are going to see that represented in media.” But this shift is not going to be instant. “We are seeing more representation, and I think a lot of executive producers and producers are starting to trend towards having more queer people represented in media which is definitely a good thing, but it kind of…depends on the medium,” Liu said. She explained that it is more common to see queer representation in live-action content or user-generated content, rather than animated children’s media.

Having celebrities like Siwa be publicly open about their identities exposes children to authentic, positive LGBTQ+ representation, even as the broader industry takes its time to catch up.

“It’s not something that Disney or any big media conglomerates can censor because it is that person’s actual life,” Cornish said.

“When it’s an actual person, they get to define their narrative, and they get to tell their complete story how they want to tell it…

And it’s fantastic that JoJo Siwa now gets to be a role model to a whole new generation of people.”

There has been extensive research about the relationship between children and media. Two major theories on the topic are cultivation theory and social learning theory, which exemplify the benefits of positive representation. Liu explained, “Cultivation theory is talking about how what you see onscreen influences how you see the world and how you perceive other people, and then social learning theory talks about how you…model what you see on screen.” Department of Child Study and Human Development professor Julie Dobrow is a principal investigator for the Children’s Television Project and has studied how a lack of representation, or stereotypical representations, affect children.

She said, “We…know that for many children, television is the primary way that they find out about people who are different from themselves, so it’s incredibly important to have thoughtful, authentic, [and] accurate portrayals of people.”

Progress has been made in some arenas toward including more—and more complex—representations of queer characters.

Children’s shows such as She-Ra and The Princesses of Power and The Owl House have been praised for their inclusion of explicitly LGBTQ+ characters. Even still, not all representation is created equal. GLAAD saw an 8 percent decrease in the racial diversity of LGBTQ+ characters in 2019. Cornish noted that authenticity is key to having positive representations of the queer community.

“I think it’s really important that we see queer creators being able to tell their stories,” she said. This is especially important when it comes to queer BIPOC creators. As Liu explained, “I think in general, white people are shown more often…just by virtue of the dominance of white people in media.”

DESIGN BY CARINA LO, ART BY AIDAN CHANG

MARCH 1, 2021 TUFTS OBSERVER 13

FEATURE

Are you

?

n i a t u n c er 14 TUFTS OBSERVER SEPTEMBER 28, 2020

1. LEONARDO RUIZ SANCHEZ, DIGITAL PHOTOGRAPHY 2. MICHELLE LI, FILM PHOTOGRAPHY

DESIGN BY EVELYN ABRAMOWITZ

OPINION

THE CHALLENGES OF MULTIPLE PERSPECTIVES ON THE AZERBAIJANI-ARMENIAN WAR

By Sayyara Huseynli

16 TUFTS OBSERVER MARCH 1, 2021

OPINION

Disclaimer: Aroha Mackay authored the piece referenced in this article in a previous issue of the Observer. She is also on the Observer staff as an Opinions Editor. Because of this conflict of interest, she had no role in the writing or editing of this article.

I

n a previous issue of the Tufts Observer, a group of Armenian students reflected on their experiences dealing with the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict between Azerbaijan and Armenia. One of the students mentioned noticing how some of the deceased soldiers were close to their age, and how they could have been their relatives. Unfortunately, I know what it feels like when your immediate relatives go to war. In fact, nearly every single family in Azerbaijan has a relative who fought for the return of Azerbaijani territories.

As the only Azerbaijani student on Tufts campus, I needed an incredible amount of support and guidance to gather my courage to write this article. Studying in the US has been a life-changing experience for me, both personally and academically. Perhaps the most salient feature of my life in the US revolves around the notion of how misunderstood my country is by the American populace. I feared my concerns would be trivialized, since most people either don’t know much about Azerbaijan or are misinformed.

Azerbaijan’s relationship with other nearby countries like Iran, Georgia, and Turkey has evolved over the years and continues to move forward. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about Armenia. Azerbaijan and Armenia have been involved in a military conflict since the late 1980s due to the occupation of Nagorno-Karabakh.

The occupation of this Azerbaijani territory caused the displacement of nearly 1 million Azerbaijani citizens.

In 1992, the creation of the Minsk Group by the Organization of Security and Cooperation in Europe drew international attention to the conflict. The countries that were members of the Minsk Group were obliged to provide a framework for a peaceful resolution, obtain conclusions for the cessation of armed conflict, and promote the peace process.

DESIGN BY JANIE INGRASSIA, ART BY JANIE INGRASSIA

Despite the ceasefire signed in 1994, the occupation continued and no progress was made in terms of peaceful resolution of the conflict. Nearly three decades of unresolved tension finally exploded into an armed conflict between Azerbaijan and Armenia on September 27, 2020, which lasted for 44 days.

With all of my family and friends in Azerbaijan, I barely slept over the course of those 44 days. My focus and attention on my studies were the first to suffer. I had to constantly check my phone to make sure that my hometown hadn’t been hit by missiles. In order to filter through the war propaganda from both sides, my friend and I established a system where we would read media reports from both sides and a third-party resource and then average out the information to make sense of what was going on in the area. Only after knowing an agreement was signed between the parties was I assured of my family’s safety and able to sleep again.

Before and after the war, I suffered from anxiety over the one-sided representation of the conflict in the US media, most of which portrayed Azerbaijani people as aggressors and ethnic cleansers. The majority of media resources neglected to recognize the fact that NagornoKarabakh has never been independent of mainland Azerbaijan, according to the international legislature. Notably, this entire situation leaves Azerbaijan at a delicate crossroads in terms of its reputation worldwide as it determines its true allies and enemies. As I go about my daily life in the US, I find myself struggling to articulate a proper defense of my country because it is important for me to offer people some understanding of the situation.

The efforts of the Tufts community to become more diverse and inclusive helped me to recognize and acknowledge my bias about this conflict. One of the most important lessons I learned was the danger of a single story, introduced to me by Professor Linda Beardsley’s “Story in Education” course. I adopted this concept in both my personal and academic life, which allowed me to critically reflect on my preconceptions and explore new points of view.

I was born and raised in Azerbaijan, and the Nagor no-Karab a k h conflict is a painful wound on my sense of national identity. As a citizen of a country at war, I was exposed to a single-sided narrative about the conflict and the Armenian nation in general. This is understandable; when a nation’s people are dehumanized it is easy to project hate and anger because of the crimes of its representatives. However, being raised in a multiethnic and multicultural family, I was aware that such representations were not definitive reflections of the truth. Living in the US for the last two years has also exposed me to previously untold narratives and created dissonance in my awareness.

No matter how hard I try, the Khojaly Genocide—one of the most violent incidents in the history of the war—pervades my thoughts. On a freezing, snowy night, Armenian forces entered a small village in the mountainous region of Karabakh and committed unspeakable war crimes against unarmed civilians. I was raised to commemorate this dark day in my nation’s history, to remember and pay respect to the lives of the people who were killed by separatists. I believed that such stories need to be passed onto future generations, but without the single-sided fear and hate that I was raised with.

Now that Nagorno-Karabakh has been reunited with mainland Azerbaijan, I hope that mutual recognition of the past will happen so that we can move forward. As I have learned to see more than a single perspective, I hope that this narrative will enable others to see Azerbaijan in a different light than that which the mainstream media shows. I hope for more cross-cultural conversations to take place before one makes any biased judgments about a person who identifies as Armenian or Azerbaijani. Reflecting on my personal experience, I know for a fact that such conversations can be eye-opening and refreshing—maybe not to change one’s perspective dramatically, but at least to acknowledge a previously unknown narrative.

MARCH 1, 2021 TUFTS OBSERVER 17

CAMPUS

ON DUTY:

RESIDENT ASSISTANTS MAKE DEMANDS FOR BETTER WORKING CONDITIONS

By Emily Thompson

V

irtual sticky notes cluttered a white screen as Resident Assistants anonymously reported their frustrations during a Zoom training session this January.

With no staff from the Office of Residential Life & Learning in the breakout room, RAs vented over their role: one sticky note read, “We just feel taken for granted.”

The sticky notes became a catalyst for action. Following the training session, junior Noah Mills began reaching out to other RAs. Within a week, he gathered over a dozen people interested in organizing for better working conditions. The group hosted a private Zoom meeting, where they decided they would take a collaborative approach in expressing their concerns. In the next training session, Mills informed the residential staff of their complaints. The

“this feels like an abusive relationship....

you’re apologizing, but you’re not stopping the abuse.”

18 TUFTS OBSERVER MARCH 1, 2021

ORLL staff agreed to host a listening session to address the issues.

The listening session brought a flood of RAs conveying their worries about COVID-19, inadequate pay, lack of transparency from leadership, and racism within the department. While the RA position description officially states that RAs serve 10-15 hours per week working, Mills said many put in more hours: “You’re kind of always an RA.” The group also expressed worries over the inappropriate roles some RAs assume. Hasan Khan, a junior serving as an RA for a second year, remembered an RA on their team in 2019 who used their position to police students of color, discriminately filing reports. Khan emphasized the gap ORLL left in RA training, saying “[W]hen I started, [Tufts] started new practices of doing land acknowledgments and they had a session on the Royall House … But at the same time, if training is not addressing the very nature of power dynamics, of being an RA for students, especially students of color, queer and trans students, and other protected identities, it’s performative.”

According to Mills, the group also brought up that the RAs were told by ORLL staff that they would not be responsible for enforcing university COVID-19 guidelines beyond asking residents to wear masks in common spaces. However, they realized that without their enforcement, there was no one inside residence halls to enforce these policies. “[I]t’s a very big mental toll of feeling responsible for the school staying open … and also managing my own health and safety.

When we break up a party … we are subjecting ourselves to a high risk COVID situation,” Mills said.

While attending these meetings, Khan heard from immunocompromised RAs who feel as if they have no choice in enforcing university policy. “There’s just not the space for them to feel safe in this environment,” said Khan.

Following the listening session, the group continued meeting to create a list of demands based on feedback collected from surveys sent out to all the RAs. In an email sent on January 27 to ORLL Director Joshua Hartman, the group of RAs outlined nine demands that they hoped would improve their working conditions.

Responding to their demands in an email on February 6, Hartman addressed requests for increased transparency around residents with COVID-19: “While our policies, resources, and PPE can protect you physically, we cannot change the anxiety that students and staff may feel around COVID-19.”

Another demand made by the RAs was to ensure that compensation reflects the work being done. They wrote: “Josh Hartman … often says that no sum of money would ever be enough to compensate RAs for the immense value they provide to the university; while this is true, the current sum is woefully inadequate, and translates to compensation well below minimum wage for the number of hours worked.”

COVID-19 has highlighted the low benefits of being an RA. Currently, only the cost of housing for RAs is covered.

Mills said, “I can speak for myself that the compensation simply isn’t enough.

Things like a meal plan or a stipend would match the energy and time commitment of this job.”

Hartman responded to this point by saying that Tufts was in a precarious situation in balancing its budget due to the pandemic. In a statement over email to the Tufts Observer, Josh Hartman and Camille Lizarríbar, the dean of student affairs and chief student affairs officer said, “[W]e’ll re-examine compensation again this year to ensure that it is aligned properly with the program’s goals and RAs responsibilities.”

Hartman added in the comment that along with the housing credit, being

CAMPUS an RA provides “[T]he opportunity to demonstrate leadership, support their peers and others on campus, and develop transferrable [sic] skills.” Focusing more on financial safety rather than personal growth, Khan expressed frustration over the compensation, saying he debated returning as an RA this year because of the demands. However, he ultimately made the choice to return. “I don’t even fully understand the nature of what it would mean if I didn’t have the housing credit because it means so much to me as a student on financial aid,” Khan said.

According to Mills, being an RA includes experiencing the effects of implemented policies. Therefore, the RAs demanded that they be a part of the decision-making process that creates these policies. In response, Hartman said he appreciated the RAs interest in shaping university policy, but “[W] hile anecdotal information is important and often vital in regards to individual response, larger trends are often best found through our reporting structures, specifically weekly reports, walk logs, and Information Reports.”

The group also emphasized a need to increase emotional support for RAs who go through job-related traumatic experiences, arguing that there should be clear steps an RA can take to receive help with multiple avenues, including the possibility of restorative justice practices. Hartman replied in the email to RAs, “[I]f you feel that you cannot come to us and receive support, we have failed you and for that we are truly sorry.”

Hartman did agree with one demand made by the RAs: mandatory anti-racist training. The RAs wrote, “To work toward the university’s goals of being an anti-racist institution, we need to unlearn biases, understand racism in higher education, and work toward anti-racist actions and policies.” In the email sent to RAs, Hartman said, “We enthusiastically welcome collaboration on the development of anti-racist training that can be facilitated this semester.”

After reading the email, Khan said, “This feels like an abusive relationship … you’re apologizing, but you’re not stopping the abuse.” According to

Khan, the response email felt like putting a band-aid on issues while not addressing the root cause. “This is the second strike in two years to have happened with this department. It almost feels like this is a symptomatic part of a larger problem at Tufts where the university oversteps how much they expect from students and student workers.”

Last year, ORLL separated RAs into two groups: First Year Assistants and Community Development Assistants.

Working with first-years officially required more hours on the job, meaning FYAs received a housing credit whereas the CDAs only earned a stipend of $1500 a year. Both FYAs and CDAs worked to demand an in-

“it’s a very big mental toll of feeling responsible for the school staying open... and also managing my own health and safety.”

crease in benefits that would equalize the positions. ORLL eventually decided to remove the stipend and compensate all RAs with a housing credit.

Following the email response sent to RAs, ORLL planned a listening session to address anti-racist measures. In response to this plan, Mills said, “I’m not very confident. I actually have some sort of regrets about the decision to try to be very collaborative with the central staff because their response has just been insufficient.”

Concerned about the response to their demands, the group began exploring avenues outside of working with ORLL

DESIGN BY JOANNA KLESZCZEWSKI, ART BY MADELEINE OH

staff. After reaching out to local unions, Mills said, “[The advice I’ve heard] is that the National Labor Relations Board right now is full of Trump appointees.

If we held a union election and submitted our votes to [the NLRB] and tried to register for a formal union under them, they would probably deny it,” Mills said.

The group looked into the possibility of joining the Tufts Service Employees International Union, which represents adjunct faculty at Tufts. They were told that helping the group would require risking the resources of members and that the likelihood of success was slim.

Worried that ORLL did not take them as seriously as they believe they should’ve been taken, the RAs are looking at restrategizing. “[T]here have been conversations about what a strike looks like,” Mills said. “How do we balance the needs of the community and our own needs? How do we create a situation that is unfavorable enough for Tufts that they want to make change?”

MARCH 1, 2021 TUFTS OBSERVER 19

POETRY

m y l b y

il

sel

By Michael Norton

I think I fell in love with you While walking up a big hill by myself.

In Laconia, New Hampshire, It wasn’t cold out and I was walking fast So I got sweaty there in my winter coat And stopped to put some snow On the back of my neck.

f

wa k i n l

u g

h a p

I think I fell in love with you While bent over a machine Wrench in hand Tightening one bolt Loosening another.

My hands were not yet calloused So they hurt and I stopped For a minute to let warm water Run over them.

I think I fell in love with you While riding a subway line that doesn’t exist.

It starts in August in dry meadow and ends In February in wood by frozen lake.

It never enters the city.

I missed my stop because I fell asleep.

The conductor woke me up at the terminal And lent me cab fare.

I still haven’t paid him back because he Does not exist.

I fell in love with you When you sang to me While I sank to the bottom Of an Olympic-sized pool.

Your song had no words because I could not hear them beneath the surface.

I am at the bottom of the pool now. I love you.

Can you pay the conductor for me?

20 TUFTS OBSERVER MARCH 1, 2021

DESIGN BY BRENNA TROLLINGER, ART BY KATE BIDGOOD

POETRY

Apocalypse in Montages apocalypse in montages

By Elaine Gao

What I cannot give you is the impossible, lust of a virgin, tears of a crocodile, tooth of a dinosaur, that lived before the tectonic plate of India crashed into Eurasia.

Silent shimmering of the Earth the moment before a volcano’s eruption.

The tender heart, frozen by rainwater in December.

The tongue of fire the second the sun hits the Earth.

Cracking, screaming, shivering.

A world overflowing with laments of women.

Mountains fall into pieces, and crust collapses beneath our feet.

Stars have their destined fate, well-written centuries before you and I were born.

There is nothing that I can give you before the apocalypse hits but a kiss, light as the wings of a dragonfly, on your flinching lips.

DESIGN BY BRENNA TROLLINGER, PHOTOS BY MISHA MEHTA

MARCH 1, 2021 TUFTS OBSERVER 21

ARTS & CULTURE

THE BOXED ART GALLERY

FRAMING ART AMID THE PANDEMIC

By Silvia Wang

W

hile many art galleries are closing their doors due to the pandemic, there is one that is opening up avenues to uplift young artists and help them reach greater audiences.

Founded by sophomore Ned Carlson, a student in the SMFA’s combined degree program, the Boxed Art Gallery is an online art gallery that aims not only to revive art during the pandemic but also to give practicing artists opportunities for exposure.

“As someone who has had their art in galleries before, it’s difficult for students to break into that realm. Even if their work is good, it’s not even considered. That’s the key difference between the Boxed Art Gallery and traditional art galleries,” said Carlson.

Carlson launched the Boxed Art Gallery to provide an exhibition space for emerging young artists to share their work on a platform that is more professional than social media. “I hope to give back to emerging artists who are struggling to make it in a kind of competitive and exclusive world of art,” he explained.

Allowing viewers to scroll through rows of colorful art pieces over a white background, Carlson aimed to recreate the traditional gallery experience digitally. “It’s a very tactile and fluid wall of pieces that I’ve curated, so it’s very natural and feels like you’re looking at the works on a wall at a gallery,” he said. “But it’s not meant to be specifically like that, so it’s based around looking at these things in

22 TUFTS OBSERVER MARCH 1, 2021

the frame of a screen. That’s the reason for the name Boxed Art Gallery.”

Though the gallery started during the pandemic, Carlson said, “This was an idea that I played around with even before the pandemic hit, but once I realized that it would be that much harder with galleries closing or working with limited budgets and not accepting younger artists, it felt like the right time and place. So I took it and ran with it.”

Carlson launched the project with funding from the Tisch Student COVID Response Summer Program, an initiative started by Tisch College to support student projects that address the impacts of COVID-19. Along with connecting Carlson to professional contacts and mentors, the program provided a total of $2,800 for the Boxed Art Gallery’s website, advertising, and awards for contests.

The artwork in the gallery comes in all mediums. Many of these pieces are thematic, centering on topics such as COVID-19, economic inequality, and racial justice. Of

over 200 pieces entered in the Boxed Contest in July, three received prizes. First place went to a digital painting called “Resilience” by sophomore Quinn Luong, which reflects on the Black Lives Matter movement and its struggle against years of disenfranchisement and oppression. Using a dramatic light source, bright saturated colors, and majestic tones of gold and brown, Luong hoped to create a piece celebrating Black beauty and power amid the protests over the summer. “There were so many protests that were vilified or ignored, and I got really angry—no matter what people of color do, they get shut down,” Luong said.

In second place, senior Wilamina Heifner’s sculpture called “Tics I” sheds light on the importance of mental health issues, especially during COVID-19. The sculpture shows a King Charles Spaniel clutching its face with hand-like paws. Heifner explained the symbolism behind her subject: “I felt like the way I have to express myself at home is reminiscent of the way the King Charles was bred. It’s a very so-

ARTS & CULTURE

cially careful dog, meant to keep people warm and be a full-time companion.” She crafted dark undereye circles to emphasize stress, blue eyes to mirror her own, and human hands to capture the gesture of clutching or scratching one’s face.

“I wanted to open up the conversation about the more physical aspects of anxiety—those involuntary coping strategies which can be a bit embarrassing, but there’s nothing you can do about them except open up the floor and talk about the reality of it,” said Heifner. She hopes that her work will help others realize that they are not alone and that the symptoms of anxiety are nothing to be ashamed of.

Both Luong and Heifner were able to submit to the Boxed Art Gallery with ease, noting how straightforward the process was. “It was way less intimidating than trying to go out into the world and finding calls to work and speaking with prestigious members of the art community. It

broke down that barrier of entry,” Heifner said.

Luong spoke about the challenges she faced sharing her work on social media, specifically Instagram.

“Recently, people have been complaining about the Instagram algorithm, which makes it harder to share other people’s work and posts in general. It’s been difficult trying to advertise myself as an artist on the social media platform,” she says. Luong prefers the online mode of the Boxed Art Gallery over in-person viewings, since her digital pieces can be displayed in high resolution and viewers can zoom in to see details.

Participating in the gallery not only as artists, but also as viewers, Luong and Heifner draw inspiration from looking at the work of their peers and gain greater motivation to improve their own skills. “It’s a great way for me to learn more about people at the SMFA. Now people are moved online and we can’t meet each other in class, so this alternative to learn about other people’s work makes me really happy,” Luong said.

Heifner described her amazement at seeing her friend’s work evolve. The third place prize recipient, junior Claire Valentine, submitted a piece titled “Forecast,” celebrating female friendship and spiritual empowerment. “I had no idea the direction in which her art had taken recently, and it was honestly really wonderful seeing Claire speak on it,” Heifner said.

The upcoming call for submissions will open this month, and features four prizes of $500 each. While prizes will favor artwork related to COVID-19 and other important issues, the call encourages artists to submit anything they have.

Carlson hopes to double or triple the number of artists entered in the last con-

DESIGN BY CARINA LO, ART BY WILAMINA HEIFNER (LEFT), QUINN LUONG (RIGHT)

test. To accommodate the expected increase in submissions, he is working to add jurors to his team, who will be tasked with reviewing artwork. To connect with members of art councils and other professionals in the art world, Carlson is consulting the Office of Government and Community Relations at Tufts. The office works to bridge the school with its neighboring communities.

Currently, Carlson is working closely with the office director, Rocco DiRico, to expand the Boxed Art Gallery’s reach beyond Tufts.

“I’m very excited about this project as it’s an innovative way to partner with local artists in our host communities,” DiRico said in an email. He has recently helped add judges from Medford, Somerville, and the SMFA, and hopes to add a judge from Boston as well. DiRico notes that while the campus is closed to visitors due to COVID-19 restrictions, the Boxed Art Gallery provides a way to connect local artists across communities.

But even within the Tufts community, the gallery plays a part in connecting student artists who can’t meet like they used to. As Heifner said, “That’s one of the things I’ve missed. You used to be able to visit other people’s studios and see what they’re working on, but with everyone in different corners of the world, you don’t get that same experience. So, the little snippets you do see are really special and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful for it.”

MARCH 1, 2021 TUFTS OBSERVER 23

By Audrey Ledbetter

TAPESTRIES OF MY GRIEF

VOICES

April 22, 2019, passed without note until I was walking out of Carmichael after dinner with my friend Cate. I looked down at my phone to see a call coming in from “Mothership.” I picked up, expecting an ordinary “How are you?” from her, followed by a “Can I call you back?

I’m with friends,” from me. The first thing I heard, though, was the sound of crying, then, “Angie is gone.” It took me a long time to understand what she meant, even after I kept asking, “What?” over and over. After a couple of minutes, it began to seep in. I left the fluorescent lights of the dining hall to stand in shock under the cover of darkness. My beloved high school lacrosse coach Angie Kensinger, Coach K to me, and her husband, passed away earlier that day when the plane they were on went down just south of the airport in Kerville, Texas.

Coach K was the patron saint of women’s lacrosse in Houston. The statistics speak for themselves, telling the story of a legendary coach, but her players’ memories of her tell the story of a woman who personified magic, imbuing every moment with an energy I have never seen matched.

My mind is stuck on an image of her wide smile, her glasses pulled down over her eyes as she focused on a small sheet of paper, asking us for a beat for one of her epic raps before a championship game. With her on the sideline, I felt invincible, armed with the highest confidence that existed this one person in the world who wholeheartedly believed in me, accepted my flaws, and expected my best. There was nothing better than receiving Coach K’s pride, seeing that look in her eyes after a good play that always seemed to say, “I knew you would do it.” To be loved by her as she loved so many was the blessing of a lifetime.

I picked up a copy of The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion when COVID lost all possible novelty, the words opening the door for me to look back on my grief at

24 TUFTS OBSERVER MARCH 1, 2021

Coach K’s passing. Didion recounts the experience of losing her husband to a heart attack at the dinner table after an ordinary day. On the second page, she notes that “confronted with sudden disaster we all focus on how unremarkable the circumstances were in which the unthinkable occurred.” I realized I had focused all my attention on a text I sent her on April 19, when I was home for Easter weekend, and had asked her if I could stop by practice.

She responded: “Darn! We don’t have school or practice today! Hope you have a GREAT Easter weekend! Enjoy this spring weather!!” I rested in the knowledge that I would see her over the summer, the possibility that she would be gone three days later never came close to crossing my mind.

For the first few days, my fixation on how ordinary that interaction was inhibited me from processing and absorbing her death. We talk about the ordinary nature of everything preceding the event to plead our case to nobody in particular that this should not have happened. There’s nothing anyone can do, but can’t someone do something? I spoke very little, removing myself from conversations in the evening to cry in the Hill Hall back stairwell, my body overloaded with shock. I started talking to a flickering light as I sat on the top step, telling her, “I will make you proud, I promise. I will do your legacy justice, I promise. I will not disappoint you, I promise.”

The service was held in the time between the end of classes and finals, so I flew back home to Houston for a few days. The night before the service, all 23 years worth of her players gathered around the middle of our home field.

The captains from each year took turns lighting a candle and sharing memories of Coach K. The way I felt about her was not unique in any way; to all of us, the world felt a little bit less bright that night. It was wonderful, reminiscing and being with people whom she loved and who loved her. A welcome change from the loneliness I felt in my grief at school. But it was also horrible.

VOICES

I had the same conversations over and over, constantly verbalizing and acknowledging the fact that she was gone. It started to feel normal, normal that someone so dear to me died in a plane crash, normal that I use the past tense when I talk about her. This should not be normal. This should not have happened. I raged against my acceptance. Time wore on, though, and gut-wrenching pangs of disbelief every couple of days became unsustainable. Again, I accepted.

Something unexpected happens, but then it begins to feel normal. This is how it goes. As long as I kept my grief to myself I could hold out hope that Coach K’s death was only an imaginative fiction, but externalization ruined that hope. Talking about her smoothed the ragged edges of my grief, sanding it down until the boiled-down story I told everyone else became the story I told myself, too. I packaged what I learned from her into a readymade worldview that I rattle off quickly to explain my emotional reaction to seeing a ladybug. But every so often, this story that keeps the grief at bay disappears, and I’m left with no defense against the pain. Nothing makes any sense and I feel, as Didion describes it, “the relentless succession of moments during which we will confront the experience of meaninglessness itself.”

Some time passes, though, and I piece my story back together so I can go on with my life, carrying her with me in everything I do.

A little less than a year later, as I sat at a corner table in Harleston Hall, we got an email from Tufts telling us to pack up and move out of our dorms for good.

The weeks after that moment all blurred together, my move out and drive back to Texas punctuated by the same, specific form of denial that characterized my shock at Coach K’s passing. I thought solely about the ordinariness of the last pre-COVID party I went to—the warmth of strangers’ bodies searching for release in the crowd, the walk home in a jacket too thin for the cold, the open box of pizza getting cold in the dorm hallway—and nothing of what DESIGN BY SOFIA PRETELL, ART BY KELLY TAN

the next few months of my life would look like.

I felt the familiar pattern of shock inhibiting my processing, followed by externalization cementing reality. I wove myself a narrative of how to cope, largely informed by what I learned from Coach K: do the best I can for myself so I can do my best for others, make the best of any situation, care deeply for the people around me. These stories seeped into my being, their existence manifested through “let’s catch up!” conversations mediated by screens and separated by thousands of miles.

There are moments when the narrative unravels, and I release my grip on reality, confronting meaninglessness, floating above the insanity. I get it together because I must.

These unexpected sorrows drown me, but unexpected joy dives headfirst into the water and swims me out, allowing me a breath of fresh air before I get pulled back under again. Coach K’s death and COVID both took me under water so murky I couldn’t see the surface, but joy is the beam of light shining through, showing me the way out. There are the little things. When I get so caught up in my work that I don’t realize I’m going to wake up to snowfall.

A last-minute dinner invitation with lovely people I don’t see often. There are the big things. Falling in love with friends I had no idea I was going to have. An unnecessarily kind email from a professor that defined my future. The stories that I tell myself, woven into the fabric of my mind by conversation with friends, keep the grief at arm’s length and give me the space to experience this joy.

As long as I am alive, Coach K will be, too. She is part of me, I am who I am because of her. And in the future, I will be who I am because of COVID, my identity defined by months of living within unrelenting uncertainty.

I can’t hope for Coach K to return as I can hope for life after COVID, but I still have my life and capacity for joy.

The unknown and unexpected carries much beauty, hopefully enough to hold my hand through the sorrow.

MARCH 1, 2021 TUFTS OBSERVER 25

OPINION

REFERENDUM TUFTS CANNOT BE ANTI-RACIST RESULTS UNTIL WE END IGNORED THE DEADLY EXCHANGE I

n a historic special election this past November, Tufts students voted to pass the first referendum on any college campus in the US to end the Deadly Exchange.

The Deadly Exchange refers to the exchange of strategies and tactics between American law enforcement and Israeli forces. The vote reflected overwhelming support among students, with 68 percent of students voting to end all military training trips abroad for campus police.

Furthermore, the referendum had the highest turnout of any election in Tufts’ history, with over 40 percent of the student body participating in the vote. In coalition with Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP), Tufts for a Racially Equitable Endowment (TREE) passed a referendum calling on the university to divest from private prisons. While this was a victory for justice movements from the US to Palestine, the administration’s refusal to pursue any action following the referendum displays their hypocrisy and carelessness towards students.

In response to the passage of the referendum, Patrick Collins, the Executive Director of Public Relations at Tufts, pushed the same tired lie that the AntiDefamation League sponsored trip to Israel attended by former Chief of Tufts University Police Department Kevin Maguire in 2017 “was not a military training program, nor was it intended to serve as an endorsement of any particular policy or policing strategy.” By sending not only an officer but the highest-ranking member of the TUPD on a certain training program, the administration is endorsing that program’s strategies. The claim that the trip was not militarized has been disproven time and time again, including by The Tufts Daily and the ADL’s own website. The university should not minimize 26 TUFTS OBSERVER MARCH 1, 2021

By Ashley Gomez, Krithi Ram-Junnarkar, Paolo Padova and Saira Mukherjee the gravity of this trip. Our former police chief met with members of a military that may soon be investigated for war crimes and crimes against humanity by the International Criminal Court. Even if an investigation doesn’t occur, Maguire still met with “security” forces that openly use racial profiling on minorities, particularly Palestinians.

Collins also stated that the administration has “received no requests from staff to attend the ADL program since that time, and therefore there are no plans to participate in the future.” However, our referendum not only demanded that Tufts prohibit TUPD officers from attending militarized international training trips, but also that prior attendees of such trips not be hired. The administration has not addressed either of these demands, exemplifying how their supposedly progressive politics consistently exclude anything related to justice for Palestinians.

Approaching the 2020 presidential election, the Tufts administration emphasized their belief in voting as a vital form of civic engagement. In emails to the Tufts community, President Monaco lauded students and staff who were “raising their voices for what they believe” and working to engage voters. The administration repeatedly underscored that democracy and civic leadership are at the heart of Tufts as an institution. Monaco said, “whatever the outcome of the election, I assure you that this university will stay true to its commitments to democracy, anti-racism, and civic leadership.”

In contrast, the Tufts administration’s antagonistic response to the referendums

demonstrates the hypocrisy of their supposed commitment to democracy and civic engagement. Despite their praise of civic leadership and voiced commitments to anti-racism, when the civic leaders are Black and brown students, Tufts is quick to abandon these commitments— especially when students are pushing for change that does not benefit Tufts as a private, predominantly white institution. Furthermore, when Tufts ignores students mobilizing around an issue and rejects the results of a majority-won vote, they discourage students from wanting to be civically engaged. Ultimately, the Tufts administration is committed to civic engagement and democracy until the democratic process challenges them to confront the white supremacy inherent to the institution and take steps to tangibly address the harm they have caused.

The administration’s refusal to engage with these demands is just one of the many limits we have seen in Tufts’ supposedly progressive politics. Tufts brands itself as a university where students collaborate across intellectual traditions, faiths, and ethnicities. The administration’s superficial commitment to these ideas, however, is exemplified in their treatment of student activist groups on campus. Last spring, SJP was given the Collaboration Award by the Office of Campus Life. In response, the administration condemned us, claiming we were anti-semitic for supporting Palestinian rights. The administration’s statement incited racist attacks against SJP online, which were revived leading up to the referendum vote. Despite these attacks, the

OPINION

End the Deadly Exchange Coalition, a coalition of over 40 student groups, still managed to engage the student body and pass the referendum.

Tufts frequently states in emails to the student body that the university is committed to being an anti-racist institution, and that the administration is doing the necessary work to eradicate racism from our community. However, we have yet to see explicit plans or proposed changes that are tangible rather than idealistic. Despite 180 recommendations from the antiracism task force, the university is only tackling surface issues. Here, the phrase “anti-racist” functions solely to absolve Tufts of accountability when it comes to discrimination on campus. If the university’s true intention is to actively mobilize against racism, we would not only see avenues of justice that don’t involve policing, but we would see collaboration between the administration and communities on campus that engage in anti-racist work. The Department of Race, Colonialism and Diaspora, in conjunction with the Women’s Center, the Africana Center, the Latinx Center, and many other groups on campus have dedicated themselves to creating spaces for open discussion about equity and inclusion on campus. Though there has been a lot of talk, the administration’s minimal collaboration with these groups has not resulted in tangible actions. Throughout history, activist clubs on campus have pinpointed ways that Tufts can improve campus life for marginalized groups. Listening to these groups is not enough—the administration must actually implement their suggestions.

Even outside of our referendum, when activist groups make direct demands of the administration, the response is always silence, inaction, or performative statements. In 2011, the Pan Afrikan Alliance called for the university to improve DESIGN BY JANIE INGRASSIA, ART BY KELLY TAN

resource allocation for Black students, implement faculty cultural competency trainings, and create an Africana studies major. Instead of acquiescing to these demands, the administration formed a task force and a diversity council, neither of which was explicitly asked for. In order for Tufts to adhere to the values that the administration claims to uphold, they will need to fully implement the actionable and feasible steps that student groups, faculty, and underrepresented groups on campus have outlined.

Tufts’ goal in working towards becoming anti-racist, as stated by Professor Abi Williams, is to address the virus of racism that has been plaguing the institution for a long time. Tufts is not plagued with a disease of racism; rather, as an elite private institution, it is defined by it. White supremacy is embedded in every aspect of this university. The SJP and TREE referendum is, unfortunately, one of the many instances in which the university has failed in its mission of becoming anti-racist.

Tufts needs to address the root causes of racial inequality by turning to a framework of anti-imperialism and explicitly dismantling white supremacy.

An anti-imperialist perspective would allow us to see how all of these things are connected. It is counterintuitive to invest $25 million into anti-racist initiatives while failing to acknowledge the militarization of TUPD. Even with the presentation of these initiatives, there is no clear timeline of when they will be implemented. If the university’s actual goal is to address structural oppression, it must move away from surface-level frameworks like anti-racism and interrogate Tufts’ legacy of white supremacy. The SJP referendum shows that Tufts students want structural change. It is the administration’s responsibility to comply.

MARCH 1, 2021 TUFTS OBSERVER 27

VOICES

PLEASANT BREEZES

By CE Malley

When he left home for the last time, his name was Simon, but his mother called him princess. He had gone back home for spring break, not expecting to have to deal with his family for longer than a couple of weeks, but as the Texas spring went on and bubbled over into a blistering summer, the heat of his mother’s presence and the weight of his clothes had begun to drag him into the dirt. He could feel his feet digging indents into the gravel paths that he took every day to his garden. Most days,

28 TUFTS OBSERVER MARCH 1, 2021

he would sit and sweat with his plants, marigold and mint and chrysanthemum, and wait until the sun baked their scents with his and he could go inside smelling of the earth. That summer was especially hot, and when he sat for the last time under his tree, the pungent smell of the flowers was withered by midday, and all he had left were the muted sounds of his mother’s voice inside the house. Her shrill and girlish screams sounded a bit too much like his own when he got angry, and

he could remember exactly how he had picked apart his own voice for those same feminine qualities. Not a breeze blew over him. He could feel the sweat dripping down the front of his shirt, in between the clefts in his breastbone, the fabric constricting tight against his skin. The sweat slicked on his forehead and he felt slowly encased in the heat and the taut skin draped over his chest. He wound his shirt between his hands, grasping at something, anything, to force him to get up and let go. He felt an odd sense of nostalgia as he packed up his bags and left.

He saw his mother again, reflecting back in the airport bathroom mirror.

The beginnings of what he hoped was a mustache lingered at the edges of the smirk he had inherited from her. A quick glance behind him; an older man paused on his way to the stall staring at him. His mother’s chest stared back at the man. He was going to be caught here, he was going to be found out, he knew it. His clothes were suddenly too tight again, his skin crawling and unbearably warm, and his mother’s piercing voice screamed at him to leave, to avoid embarrassing himself.

“Look at the body you gave me,” he wanted to tell her, but all he did was grab his bags, give a curt nod to the man, and run away, straining under the weight of his carry-on and his mother’s voice at the gate.

He found himself safely landed in a quarantine single with only his bags and himself for company. His room was high enough off the ground that even with the windows open he couldn’t get a breeze circulating, and a thick tree blocked his view to the street. Even if he had wanted to, he couldn’t have gone anywhere other than his room and his body. The college campus meant no air-conditioning, so every flat surface that could fit in his hand became a fan. He had to work constantly not to

VOICES

let himself drown in the sticky heat of the summer. But despite all of the frustratingly small inconveniences involved with it, his isolation became one of introspection as well. His thoughts wandered to summers and years past, to his future, his family and friends, everything that was normally so grounding. And as painfully, excruciatingly slow as the days went, just as suddenly were the days precarious, anticipating, and waiting for something to happen. Rife with potential.

As he waited out his quarantine, he recalled the image of a little girl that had once lived in his house—grew up at the same time as him, even. His thoughts often went to her. She was so little, he remembered, even then. So involved, so passionate, all she wanted to do was stick her head into everything. He remembered the time when she discovered fantasy novels, and she was convinced that she could control the wind with her breath.

He could see her in his mind’s eye running through the cool grass, laughing with the blustering wind. She loved adventuring as little boys did. She would often wander, her small frame slipping easily through cracks in the fence, but she would always come back before midday, smelling of grass and morning dew. She was safe and happy. He saw the same sort of wide-eyed, boyish dreaming in himself.

Then, she had wandered off one day and had come back different. Never quite the same. She had always been a peoplepleaser, but when her mother came jangling in with her metal anklets and wine-scented perfume, she started trying to please her too. When did the pieces begin breaking off? When did her little face start to smear with makeup and her mother’s tight-lipped smile? Skirts and dresses began to cling too tightly to her hips and chest, and the masculinity she had worn before with so much ease now slowly began to morph into something intensely unfamiliar. She had never been the person her mother wanted.

He remembered the day that the roiling discomfort had boiled over, and she became him. A man so masculine that his mother would never try to put a dress on him again. Before visiting his family for the last time, he bought himself a hockey jersey. A sport that he didn’t know anything DESIGN BY SOFIA PRETELL, ART BY BRIGID CAWLEY

about and a shirt that he had never wanted to wear. Suddenly, he felt a steady, stifling heat settle onto his shoulders, and he began to pack his bags to leave.

Quarantine didn’t necessarily solve everything. It was a slow, unraveling process for me: questioning, uncertainty, and then a gentle release of my bags and my fears at the doorway. And as tightly as I had coiled into myself, building an immense shell of crackling pain around my tightly-wound heart, so now did those layers slowly begin to unfold. As the warmer seasons ended, and I found myself out of isolation but still stuck inside, a kind of quiet settled over me and the town, a muffled, introspective quiet. I was free of expectations. My mother couldn’t reach me here. I felt unfettered and cool, like emerging from a hot shower, scrubbed clean and with all of the heat and sweat wicked off of my body. Me and the little girl-turned-boy I used to be were all here

too, all of my pieces in one place again. It felt like contentment, relaxation into my pieced-together personhood. I’ve stopped wandering now, stopped running, taken a seat, and relaxed into my identity. My nonbinary identity.

My mother doesn’t scream at me from my mirror as much anymore, and I’ve settled into the idea that I don’t need to get away from her to be myself. My femininity is much more than my mother, and my masculinity is much more than not-my-mother. I can love myself wholly without fitting into any sort of rigid expectations of gender. Being alone in quarantine allowed me the space to become familiar and comfortable with my boundaries and personhood; I am not the woman my mother wanted, and I am not the man I stumbled into. I’ve put my bags down now, and I’ve begun to find more and more pleasant breezes passing by.

MARCH 1, 2021 TUFTS OBSERVER 29

PS IT WAS OAT MILK IF THAT MAKES ANY DIFFERENCE