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Boomerang December 2019

We Must Scrap the Script

Illustration © IIdalina Lehtonen

By Alberto Delgado

In late November, I wrote a post in UCU Students advising people to seriously consider leaving UCU if they felt unhappy and/or noticed their classes are bad. It was imperfect, but it was honest: I said what I wish someone had told me early on. Some said I should have encouraged people to fix whatever is wrong. I sympathize, but you can suffer the consequences of a problem without grasping it. Not everyone is equipped to understand and fix whatever is wrong with UCU. Here, I will try to explain the problems I see. One problem is that many courses are bad. Classes teach little. Discussions go nowhere. Mistakes don’t get corrected. Obvious bullshit gets smiles and nods. The most confident children run the show. Teachers transmit insecurity. Terms don’t get definitions. Loaded words are used presupposing knowledge and agreement with their implicit assumptions. Politics even in stats. Explanations reduce understanding. Apparently, we all plan to become academics. Simple topics are made difficult by verbosity. Infinite readings (some not worth their weight in kilobytes) come at a pace no human can process. But that is all about that, because I’d rather spend more time on something less straightforward: this social weirdness. At UCU, it feels like there’s a way you are supposed to be. It’s pretty comprehensive. A certain sense of humor. A certain attitude towards studies. A certain style of writing. A certain arrangement of priorities. A certain set of acceptable emotions and feeling-tones. It feels like everything has to be lighthearted, sarcastic, positive and low-stakes. When you choose other attitudes instead, such as serious, ambitious, firm, or genuinely excited, things become more interesting. But how do you engage these attitudes anyways? You see so little variety around you that it’s hard to choose, combine and reinvent ideas to build a distinct personality for yourself in line with your sensibilities. Other ways of

being seem to belong exclusively on TV. Becoming and remaining distinct here takes courage and persistence, because this place has a way of sanding you down into the bland model of the “perfect UCUer”. The contrast to my former university in Venezuela is stark. I often wish I could show people the difference. Back there, you never know what to expect from people because each has such different outlooks on life, ways of talking, polit-

ical opinions and so on, even while most come from the same city. You can’t fit in because there is nothing to fit into. It comes to mind that “get yourself a personality” is a common insult back home. Beyond sharing some nostalgia though, I bring up the example to show what is possible. My former university is not an anarchic hell. All this freedom and heterogeneity exists in peaceful, creative order. But back to Utrecht. I’ll name what I consider to be some of the worst patterns of this UCU model: Fake smile and glazed eyes. People pretending to listen who clearly aren’t listening because they don’t react when you contradict yourself. Not laughing at nonsense nor doing any other of those things that make us humans feel truly seen and understood. Laughing instinctively without getting the joke. Trying to make everything chill, noncommittal and low-stakes. Saying what you think the majority thinks (with no evidence) but not saying what you think. Nodding along to a conversation where people talk too fast and use words you don’t understand. Talking too fast and saying words you don’t understand. But the worst pattern? Ignoring these things. Accepting them as inevitable. Keeping quiet to keep the peace. Can we make our lives here better? Sure. But it won’t just happen. We each need to stop imitating behaviors we dislike. We need to connect with and trust that spark within that tells us how to thrive rather than survive. UCU could become authentic, vibrant, exciting, but only if a lot of individual people, including you, choose to ignore inertia and start making a lot of small, brave decisions throughout each day without asking for permission, without expecting praise, without thinking too much. It’s up to each of us, reader. Will you try?

Getting Out of a Rut

Golden Age of Golden Rice?

Black Holes and Life

A National Obsession

What song reminds you of home?

"You want us to drive?"

The Boomerang | December 2019

BUBBLE Getting Out of a Rut by Anne Jacobsen

Coming towards the end of the year we often find ourselves feeling a bit less motivated, a bit less productive and even though we can see the finish line ahead, we can feel a lot more like an unmotivated piece of shit. Hopefully this short read will provide you with the boost you need to finish off the semester strong and propel you out of “the rut” just before the Christmas holiday! Note when you feel good: It is important to find what works for you and what healthy daily rituals result in those “lightbulb” moments. So, in saying this, my first tip is note what makes you feel what. How you feel after certain activities and what things do you do in your day give you that feeling of excitement and ecstasy (excluding the actual consumption of ecstasy). By giving yourself time to analyse what you are feeling and actively noting these emotions down, you may find daily patterns that you were unaware of. This allows you to take control of your mind and gives you that extra surge of willpower to complete any task. It is all about finding what works for you.

Dearest Campus, Fuck motivation: Motivation can help, but what happens when that momentum dies off? Begin to generate good habits and rely on them instead of waiting for that feeling of motivation (or intense stress) to hit you. These habits can include staying clean, moving your body, meditating or reading. Let’s face it, some days we just feel unmotivated, and relying solely on motivation will be the hardest thing you’ll ever do. Instead, build good habits and follow them -- even when you don’t feel like it. Delete the apps: Apps on your phone are curated to get you hooked. Every scroll is designed to lead to another, and before you know it you have spent two hours mindlessly consuming useless information. Just try deleting the apps, if only for three days. Even setting a time limit might help. You’ll begin to notice the difference and realise how little value they actually bring to your everyday life. Make mistakes and make a lot of them: Find the lessons within the struggle. During university, we are taught the lessons first and then taught that mistakes are bad. That

mistakes lead to that F on the exam paper, that will determine the pathway of our entire destiny. This doesn't cut it in the real world. In the real world, we are given the mistakes first, and from those mistakes we must find the lessons. The moments where we struggle are usually the most pivotal points in our lives, and can lead to our biggest breakthroughs. So next time you are battling with a situation, try and ask yourself: Is there is a lesson to be learnt? What am I not seeing in this moment? What is the blessing in disguise? Overall, getting out of a rut can seem like an overwhelming task. By implementing a few of the tips mentioned earlier, you set yourself apart from the crowd and will be on your way to making the final stride across the finish line. So I leave you this; the results you want the most are achieved by doing the things people do the least. I hope this short read has given you some sort of kick to get your ass into gear and go into 2020 bound for success.

...And, breathe out. A very genuine congratulations to you for making it through this semester. I am patting myself on the back, too. The etymology of the word ‘semester’ shines a light on the intensity of UCU; who thought it was a good idea to squeeze what should be six months into barely four months? Just for fun, I calculated how many words I wrote in these four months (excluding all arbitrary assignments and emails and pieces for a stupid publication called the Boomerang); 36,014. I’m not really sure what you or I will do with that information, but I wanted to take some time to reflect on my semester and be proud of what I have accomplished. I hope you all do the same, and be kind to yourselves; don’t underestimate how much effort and work it took for you to get through this semester. It is with heavy hearts that the Boomerang board waves goodbye to our Executive Editor, Rafaella, who is heading off to California on exchange. The bounce in her step as she walks into our Monday evening meetings will be missed next semester. And now, finally, we can all sleep for longer than five hours each night, for a whole month! We deserve this time to be with family and friends, to not think about readings for a while and to eat and drink too much. I look forward to starting next semester with the same vigour and excitement with which I start every semester (and that has inevitably been sucked out of me by the time finals come around). We look forward to writing for you in 2020! Yours always, Saskia Vrensen Editor-in-Chief

UCU’s Tutor Evaluation System by Annemieke Meijer, Head Tutor

A piece published in the September issue of The Boomerang called for the establishment of a tutor evaluation system. As tutors, we are passionate about our work and could not agree more that the tutor-student relationship can be a fundamental factor of the UCU experience. Unfortunately, the article contained some mistakes that as tutors we would like to address here. First and most important, UCU already has a well-established tutor evaluation cycle. Annually, all students are invited in Fall to respond to an extensive list of questions through the usual platform, Caracal. The reason why this does not happen every semester is because in the past, the second round at the end of the Spring semester

would yield a very low response rate. Second, the results of the evaluation are consistently very positive. Below are the results for the question on “overall satisfaction with the tutorial relationship” for the past five years, on a 1-5 scale:

In spite of these encouraging results, as a tutor team we always use the feedback in the evaluations to enhance our professional practice, to finetune procedures, and to address any issues raised. Third, it is not impossible to get another tutor. The success of an individual tutor-student rela-

tionship will always partially depend on personalities, and if a particular match does not work this can certainly be addressed. We are puzzled by the notion expressed in the piece that this process “is hindered by the fact that you are required to meet with the head tutor” – in fact, having this conversation would seem a logical first step towards finding a joint solution, and we know that students who have taken this step in recent months felt so too. So please fill in your tutor evaluation, indeed – Caracal will remain open until Christmas Eve and we look forward to hearing from you!

A University College Student Association Magazine

BUBBLE

Peculiar Musings on Black Holes and Life by Vedika Luthra & Maya Homsy King

Ìllustration © Sofie Ryan

What even is a black hole? Is it empty space? Dark matter? Does it consume light? Stars maybe? According to NASA, its gravitational field is ‘so strong that nothing, not even light, can escape.’ Now this sounds a little familiar. It sounds a little like my future. Long story short, Einstein’s theory of general relativity states that when a massive star dies, it leaves behind a small, dense core whose gravity overpowers all other forces and produces a black hole (yes, not all of us are science majors). That basically sucks the life out of you. It is likely that this is what awaits us outside those imposing gates that enclose the 1.21km2 (could also be 74,715 m2- thanks Willem and Raf for your estimates) of rocks and random-ass buildings (the future of that is one big black hole as well, but that’s another story).

cheeky Chris’) and weekend study sessions at campus’ second social hub, Voltaire. Although it may sound a little dull, this routine is comfortable, dependable and now feels a bit like home. Suddenly, you are pulled out of this safe orbit, tossed out of your gravitational field and thrown into what seems to be a galaxy far, far away… luckily not the one that Yoda comes from (not gonna lie though, Darth Vader’s kind of hot).

Am I a star (lol no, far from) thriving, almost driving (failed my exam twice) and (barely) surviving who is now dying because a dark puddle of matter is destroying my bling?

But have faith, fellow third-years, for there is a light at the end of this impending darknessblack holes are one of science’s biggest unsolved mysteries. Who knows what actually lies within? Gap years in Mexico? Yoga teacher trainings in Thailand? Masters degrees? Nahhh. A second bachelor’s? Hell nah. But whatever it is, it’s not nothing (but are we sure? I mean, who knows). And that’s encouraging. Or is it? Never forget young ones, if all else fails, you can always return to the UCSA bar on Thursday nights, while it is still in existence, and provided you remain friends with people five years younger than you who can take your wasted self home. All of this is to say, there is nothing to worry about! Everything will be fine. If it’s not fine right now, it probably will be in a couple years, when you are living in your parents' basement, making cup noodles and pesto because the only appliance you own is a kettle.

What I’ve been trying to convey through my subpar freestyling, is that I’m nervous and uncertain. During three years at UCU, you develop a rhythm; a flow almost. Committee meetings at lunch, dinners with friends in the evenings, Thursday nights at our beloved UCSA bar, recovery Fridays (probably involving some

and they multiply until you’re sucked into the inevitable gloom. Maybe that’s why all those alumni return so frequently on Thursday nights. They miss the regularity, the comfort that is UCU, (and possibly just don’t have anywhere better to be?)

With love and encouragement, Not having plans for tomorrow is unnerving. Not knowing where you’re going is unsettling. These thoughts collect, like tiny black particles,

Your stressed, depressed, (but not lemon zest), third years.

Making UCU Sustainable by Kathi Elshorst

Sustainability. Some are passionate about it, some ignore it. I hope no one on this campus is against it, because that would just mean bad survival skills. Last semester, a group of people came together with the goal to make this university, our campus, the students and the faculty completely sustainable and prepared for the uncertain years to come. You might have heard of the group UCUACT somewhere on Facebook, you might be a part of it. Or you might not know that we exist at all because we aren’t an official Committee, have no formal board, and therefore no PR or budget. But that doesn’t mean that we haven’t done amazing things since last semester. Through this group, we have been able to share articles about the climate crisis, possible solutions and opportunities. We’ve been going to Fridays For Future and Extinction Rebellion protests together, and held a few banner-making sessions beforehand. We’ve started working groups that focus on truly making our campus more sustainable (more on that later). But mainly, UCUACT is supposed to bring together all the people that are conscious about the climate and ecological crisis, so that worrying about it feels less lonely. We want to maintain hope that we have the power to create

change. Sometimes, this means working on projects to raise awareness about the environmental crises we are facing. If there is any topic that you wish to make heard, you can always make your own project. After all, UCUACT is a platform in which you’ll find enough motivated people.

" Bring together all the people that are conscious about the climate and ecological crisis, so that worrying about it feels less lonely'" One of the main projects are the set of Sustainability Demands for our University. Below you’ll find a quick rundown (if you’re interested, the extended version is on Facebook). Most importantly though, if you want to be part of implementing any of these demands, or have ideas to help, you can message the people whose names I added behind each demand. For general interest in UCUACT, contact Tamar Goudsmit. 1. Declare a Climate Emergency (contact Rachel Nel) The EU has done it, it’s long overdue that we do

so too. It would mean including a section on our UCU website about the Climate and Ecological Crisis that would encourage other Universities, the government and the UCU Community to act according to this crisis. 2. Implement the Climate Crisis into all Curricula (contact Maura van der Ark) Nobody should leave higher education without being properly informed about the Climate Crisis, the effects it could have on our future and possible changes and solutions we could implement. 3. Become Carbon Neutral by 2025 (contact Ada Harpole) This takes many forms but basically it would mean to run on 100% renewable energy, update our heating systems, insulate our buildings, etc. This would be either on our new campus but we should also try to make our old campus sustainable. 4. Support Students in Climate Action (contact Renée Grond) Leaving more opportunity to go to protests, support petitions, build a community and support system for climate action and help implement these demands.

The Boomerang | December 2019

ARTS & CULTURE

Stan’s Sad Boy Songs :(

What Song Reminds You of Home? by Stanley Ward doing his PR for him. Betsy Middleton: “She’s a Witch” by Gengahr Why? “In sixth form (what us Brits call the last two years of high school) my friends and I loved this band. We even had our own little band where we covered solely their songs or Elliot Smith. I have a big poster on my wall of their concert that we went to together in Sheff. Whenever I see it, I remember fucking around up at Redmires during free periods, or going home at lunch to a friends and we always played this song. I saw them play again in Amsterdam last year and it wasn't the same - definitely the soundtrack of a certain era.”

Simon Alvarez Belon: “Quiet Town” by Josh Rouse Why? This song is in the soundtrack to the film Primos. The setting of the film, a peaceful Spanish town, reminds him and his brothers of a similar town they would pass through in order to get home. This song seems to ring out with nostalgia and the feeling of summer tranquility, and reminds him of summers with his brothers and family among the rolling hills of Asturias in the north of Spain.

I didn’t need to write anything for Betsy, as she wrote it all herself. I definitely relate to this, as I’m also from Sheffield, so I know what ‘sixth form’ ‘Redmires’ and ‘Crosspool’ are. If you’re curious, Redmires is a reservoir where kids definitely don’t go and do drugs, and Crosspool is a very boring middle class neighbourhood where nothing interesting has ever happened. My ex lives there. I just can’t believe Betsy didn’t invite me to play in her now broken-up Gengahr/Elliot Smith covers band, because that’s my dream.

Arnoud Roelfsema: “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd Why? Noud says he chose this song because he heard it for the first time in his room when he was 14, and after hearing the iconic guitar solo he knew he wanted to play electric guitar. “Now whenever I hear it, I think back on that moment in boring BK city (this is how Noud refers to his tiny hometown of Bovenkarspel in North Holland) where there were no prospects of any future yet.” I think things are better for him now though. In addition to being a UCU student, he is an aspiring singer-songwriter and he has a new song out on Spotify. It’s released, like his last EP Poisoned Skies, under his own name, so you can just search for that. I hate that I’m

Vanessa Morgan: “I Confess” by The Beat Why? “A lot of the songs that remind me of home are ones that my parents would play in the house, or whatever CDs we had kicking around the car ready for a road trip. I have really fond memories of flipping through the GIANT leather book we had full of CDs, and we had one of those players were you could load up like 5 CDs at a time so you could play one after the other. There are thousands of songs that spring to mind when I think of home and out of that eclectic mix, I keep thinking of “I Confess” by the British ska band The Beat (or The English Beat to North American audiences). My parents have been to see them a couple times and I remember dancing to them in the living room.”

Comic © Annelise van den Akker

Winter break is fast approaching, and for many, that means taking that plane/train/bus/boat/ car/skateboard/bike trip back to wherever it is that you come from. I’ve always found the idea of home an interesting one - especially here at UCU where home means so many different things to different people. Music can play a huge role in the identity of a place, and how we identify ourselves with where we come from. So, for this column, I thought I’d shut up for a bit, and let some of the people I know (who responded to my WhatsApp request within 15 minutes) choose a song that reminds them of home. Whatever that means.

[5:08 pm, 03/12/2019] Vanessa: One more sentence at the end of that: actually just the other day my mum and I had a little ska boogie to this song. [5:08 pm, 03/12/2019] Vanessa: Cuz that’s actually true [5:09 pm, 03/12/2019] Vanessa: Almost chose a Pavement song Vanessa also sent me a full story, which was great as I didn’t have to write anything. I also included this WhatsApp snippet as we felt it was important to acknowledge how much Vanessa loves the band Pavement. The only thing I don’t understand is why someone who has lived in Canada, Australia, and the Netherlands, chose a British song to remind them of home. If you were feeling particularly sentimental you could say music really does transcend borders. But I’m not so I won’t. Fin Simmons: “Football’s Coming Home” by Baddiel, Skinner & the Lightning Seeds Why? “Naughty Tune” This was the only explanation Fin, a man of few words, gave for this choice, but in his defence, it actually is a naughty tune. In a way, this song also reminds me of home, but not the current Boris Johnson Tory Austerity-infested Britain that I’m going home to (unless Corbyn has somehow smashed the upcoming general election by the time this is published). Instead, as I sat watching the video for this song, I was reminded of the era of Cool Britannia, a now distant aspirational dream where we decided that Britain could be cool and not shit. That’s the home this song reminds me of. Or maybe I’m hopelessly longing for the nostalgia of a time in which I never really experienced. Or maybe, in the words of Fin Simmons, a greater thinker than myself, it’s just a Naughty Tune.

A University College Student Association Magazine

ARTS & CULTURE Cultural Homogenization Challenged by Artificial Intelligence by Agustina Cabado

Globalization, as Steger stated in his book, is an“unstoppable juggernaut, spreading the logic of capitalism and western values by eradicating local traditions and national cultures”. This therefore results in the homogenization of landscapes, culture and essentially humanity, with the intent to ‘Americanize’ the world. Cultural homogenization is a phenomenon not only present in indigenous cultures, but also in Dutch society. Even within Utrecht, there is an ever-increasing opening of American stores and restaurant chains previously not available in the country, which are now dominating the market with growing popularity. In my opinion, this puts not only domestic businesses at risk, whilst further promoting American standardized franchises, but it also removes the element of exclusivity to a specific geographic region as landscapes, tastes, and demands have become ubiquitous globally. Similarly, globalization has fostered technological developments at an unprecedented rate, leading to the creation of and reliance on the internet, search engines, as well as the unbelievable feats surrounding the topic of artificial intelligence (AI). Inevitably, the homogenization of landscapes and culture is not solely present tangibly, but also technologically, evident in the homogenization of search engines. This is further presented in a news article written by Swant where he promotes a project undertaken by a Dutch advertising company, J. Walter Thompson (JWT) and photographer Jimmy Nelson, who is known for his portraits of indigenous and tribal cultures. Working together, they aim to overcome cultural homogenization with AI, as they believe that indigenous cultures aren’t present and accessible when one searches for images or information online. JWT argues that “technology…is saturating the world with new content and information. This is a threat to

our global cultural diversity as it erases the lines between cultures and we forget about indigenous traditions and ways”. The challenge to prevent, or reverse the negative effects of cultural homogenization is aimed to be completed through a project called the ‘Preservation Robot’ where both parties have begun collecting and uploading images from photographers around the world. Every second of every day they will post these pictures on websites such as Reddit, Twitter and Imgur using a “software influenced by search optimization efforts”, allowing the robot to improve the search rank of these images, enabling them to move up the ranks and become more frequent. Both parties want to make a statement of using the internet, a tool of homogenization, against itself, to preserve humanity’s original cultures. Another method in which they will collect the images is through the distribution of analog cameras to the indigenous groups, supplying them with the agency of documenting and capturing the moments that these groups want to display themselves. Although some may see this as a technique to prevent a western ethnocentric depiction of indigenous cultures, I personally interpret this as more of an irony. In my opinion, this technique further promotes the hegemonic spread of Western tastes, customs and behaviours, in an attempt to simultaneously globalize these indigenous cultures. Rather than increasing the global awareness of these cultures, they are forcing a product onto a pristine group of people who have yet not been influenced by the negative externalities of globalization and remain as some of the rarest and purest cultures in the world. This can be thought of as an act of neo-colonialism where a certain westernised lifestyle and project is pushed onto these groups. It also raises the question of whether these

people wanted to be discovered in the first place. Were they given a say in whether they wanted to remain untouched or in fact immersed into an irreversible course of action? Jimmy Nelson also claims that he is partaking in this project after travelling for photography and discovering these native groups because he believes they “should bring their heritage into the future, not to abandon it” Rather these groups need to imagine a “ying-yang-esque balance of technology, in our advanced way of living”. This is further evidence that he is imposing his perspectives of what the future looks like and dictating these groups to partake in a globalized world. Nevertheless, it would be compelling to perform a follow up investigation and ask these native indigenous populations what their perceptions on these processes are now, after it was too late for them to retract themselves from the project. It may also be important to interview them in order to analyse what their comprehension of the internet, search engines and artificial intelligence was prior to their participation in this project, and whether they were correctly informed about the implications of entering a globalized technological world, raising questions about the ethics of the ‘Preservation Robot’. On the one hand, I do understand how it can serve to raise awareness and increase knowledge about indigenous cultures that most people aren’t aware of, and bringing knowledge of the existence of these cultures into the future. Nevertheless, it is the method and ethics that this project is based on which raises scepticism. It highlights that the Dutch advertising company JWT is successful in its aim, as they are advertising the project in a way that distracts you from the Western ethnocentric neo-colonialist juggernaut that they’re actually setting forth.

The Stewdent Chef Hearty Red Cabbage and Lentil Stew

Ìllustration © Lise Derksen

by Michelle Verstraaten A Dutch vegetable calendar hangs in my room to give me an idea of what’s in season when. While I don’t exclusively abide by its law, I use it to guide my purchases of produce a decent amount of the time. When I wrote this recipe in early April, I thus found myself face to face with a head of red cabbage on my fridge shelf. Part of it had been pickled but the rest called for a new method of cooking. I also had cans of tuna and lentils

that needed using up, and a strong desire to try something new. I love stews because they’re so satisfying and tasty, so this recipe is what I came up with. And red cabbages are in season again! Ingredients

Salt, chili pepper, turmeric and lemon juice to taste Directions 1. Fry the onion and garlic in oil for a few minutes until slightly softened. 2. Add the cabbage, followed by the tomatoes after a few minutes. Stir occasionally. 3. Season with salt and available spices. I used chili pepper, turmeric and a generous squeeze of lemon juice. Let everything cook until soft. 4. Mix in the lentils and tuna and heat through. 5. Serve hot with rice or quinoa. Serves 2.

½ onion, chopped 2 cloves of garlic, sliced A quarter head of red cabbage, shredded 2 or 3 tomatoes, chopped ½ can of lentils Tip: Double the quantities so you have food for a few ½ can of tuna (optional) days! Plain yoghurt makes a tasty addition to this meal.

ARTS & CULTURE

The Boomerang | December 2019

The Golden Age of Golden Rice? by Julie Clar In November, Bangladesh became the first country to approve genetically modified rice for planting after twenty years of controversy. Golden Rice is a bioengineered crop that has the potential to save millions of lives. It was designed in response to Vitamin A deficiency, a major nutritional crisis in the developing world that has a higher mortality rate than is associated to tuberculosis, malaria, or HIV.

otene is an orange-colored pigment that is metabolized into Vitamin A by the human body. Although carrots, sweet potatoes, and other vegetables naturally contain Vitamin A, their production cost is too high to enable widespread distribution to the population. More than half of the recommended daily intake of beta-carotene could indeed be supplied through a single serving of Golden Rice.

In its early stages, Vitamin A deficiency causes blindness, as it is necessary for the formation of rhodopsin, a photoreceptor pigment in the retina. In later stages, low levels of Vitamin A weaken the immune system and increase the risk of death from common infectious diseases such as measles or diarrhoea. As a consequence, over two million people die each year from diseases they would otherwise survive with adequate amounts of Vitamin A.

Over the past couple decades, advocates for “the world’s most controversial grain” have struggled to overcome the public’s fear of genetically modified organisms (GMOs). Greenpeace and other nongovernmental organizations have strongly opposed the cultivation of Golden Rice, voicing their opinion through open letters, protests, and sabotages of field trials. Once GMOs are introduced into the environment, it is impossible to eliminate them.

Agricultural engineers inserted genes for a chemical known as beta-carotene originally from corn into the DNA of normal rice. Beta-car-

Golden Rice could potentially cross-pollinate with other varieties, a phenomenon known as genetic contamination. In addition, opponents

to GMOs dread a gene transfer from the genetically modified food to body cells, which could pose a threat to human health. Despite the remote possibility of these events, many are not ready to take the risk. The approval of Golden Rice in Bangladesh could represent a turning point in a long-lasting battle considering that 21% of Bangladeshi children suffer from Vitamin A deficiency. Some agricultural economists, however, are skeptical about its success in Bangladesh. They argue that its popularity will be compromised by the relatively long-term benefit of overcoming Vitamin A deficiency. Because the positive effects are not immediate, it will supposedly be difficult to convince farmers to, essentially, abandon a staple food. The Bangladeshi government may indeed need to promote the production of Golden Rice by subsidizing the farmers that choose to grow it when, in fact, many anticipate a lack of funds to do so.

Important Opinions on Important Movies by Sam de Visser For many of you, there must have been no escaping the discussion a few weeks ago about UCU, feeling miserable at UCU, dropping out of UCU, et cetera. As someone who struggled in my first semester, I became quite invested in the debate, and found myself agreeing with both sides like some sort of gross centrist. It made me think about how I eventually overcame what I now refer to as my ‘first semester depression’. Much of that was accomplished by overcoming some very personal issues, but what made me feel marginally better in that specific time was (surprise!) watching movies, among which was Chef (Jon Favreau, 2014). Chef isn’t a particularly good movie. It’s… mediocre at best? The story is fairly standard (professional chef Carl Casper loses his job, opens a food truck, reconnects with his family and so forth) and really very cheesy, many of the jokes fall flat, most of the female characters don’t seem like real people, Carl’s young son is cringe-inducing most of the time and above all, Chef is just not that exciting. Yeah, there are some great food scenes, but tension-wise, the story just kind of checks out two-thirds of the

way into the movie. I don’t think explaining this would be a spoiler, because due to Chef’s apparent nature, there is not a lot to spoil. Most movies adhere to the three-act structure: introduce conflict in act one, ramp up tension in act two, climax and resolution in act three. Chef also has a three-act structure, but most of the problems are solved in act two. Act three is nothing but footage of Carl, his best friend and his young son working in the food truck, touring around the country and cooking sophisticated food. Nothing goes wrong. At a certain point, a policeman shows up and everyone clenches their collective butts because we all think this is where the food truck is shut down and drama ensues - and absolutely nothing happens. Carl is only asked to move his truck a bit further down the road so he’ll meet his permit. The third act of Chef is full of moments like that, moments in which you expect everything to go wrong, except it doesn’t. Storytelling-wise, it is absolutely horrible. Personally, it is some of the most fun forty minutes of film I’ve ever

seen. The third act is so seemingly full of joy and passion. It is so incredibly satisfying to watch everything in a movie go right for once. This final act of Chef is nothing but footage of one guy, Jon Favreau, having a good time with his friends, cooking food and enjoying himself. It’s always especially uplifting to me, which is why Chef is my go-to movie for when I feel down. It might be strange to feel joy from watching someone else have the time of their lives, especially when that person is a rich and successful Hollywood actor-director, but I do. Maybe it’s the possibility that someone out there could be living chef Carl’s life that makes me happy, maybe it’s some dumb wish to do the same thing, or maybe I just fell for this (at heart pretty cynical and capitalist) feel-good food movie. It doesn’t really matter though - Chef is a movie that makes me feel good, if only for a little while. That’s what this specific column is about: finding the movie that temporarily cures your depression. I truly hope everyone has one of those, but if you don’t, Chef might be a good place to start searching.

A University College Student Association Magazine

WORLD

Silveira Linings

A National Obsession by Julia Silveira We start off with a classic (and very cliché) story of forbidden love where two of the main characters cannot be together because they come from two families of hitmen who are literally at war with each other. Of course, none of this matters because as always, love conquers all. Maria (the protagonist) somehow manages to set up a truce between the families (or so she thinks) and decides to marry Amadeu (the other main character). This is pretty much where everything starts going downhill and believe me, a lot of shit goes down. For those of you who don’t recognize it, I’ve just described the start of a riveting soap opera set in Brazil, and available only in Portuguese (sorry). It’s called ‘A dona do pedaço’ (literally translated as ‘the owner of the slice’), and is available online if you want to watch! Life can be dull at times. It can also be rough and scary. In these moments, we all need an escape – something to exonerate us from our mediocrity or hardship.

Whenever I need an escape, I turn to soap operas. Though some may argue this is a blatant waste of my time and life, watching my daily novela (soap opera in Portuguese) has always been a part of my routine. It brings me joy – and likely does the same for many other people. I read somewhere that on average, Brazilian people watch about six hours of television every day. That is a large number, and I can’t tell you with certainty that it’s accurate (I’d like to believe people do more with their day than just watch television). What I do know, is that whenever I’m with my family, watching soap operas is practically a religious experience (at least for the women in the household). At around 8pm every day, we all gather in front of the TV without fail, and stay there for two to three hours (there are always three soap operas produced on a daily basis). All of this TV-watching undoubtedly has a significant influence on us watchers, which I feel we don’t even realise most of the time. This is dangerous, because if you think about it, it gives soap operas a crazy amount of power.

There are obvious issues with this, including the argument that they reinforce the unequal power structures present in Brazilian society. It’s true that what we see on TV is meant to be a reflection of our society, but only seeing one perspective of this can be harmful. There is an evident underrepresentation of black women and the ‘beautiful female protagonist’ is usually white or light skinned and thin. Where do you fit into society if you are none of the things portrayed in a medium that’s meant to be representative of your society? Does this mean you’re not part of it? It shouldn’t, but I wouldn’t be surprised if many people felt this way. Though soap operas are often incredibly intriguing and fun to watch (in my opinion at least), there is a clear danger in constantly being exposed to a single dominant narrative of reality. How do we begin to address this? I don’t really know. Perhaps we can start by bringing to light different perspectives and hidden narratives.

Turkey Tightens Grip Around its Security by Leonard van Lembergen

“The strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must”, taken from the Thucydides’ Melian Dialogue, probably best captures the recent conflicts in Syria. With intense bombings by the Turkish Armed Forces on Kurdish strongholds in the northern part of Syria, Turkey intends to shape a war-torn Syria to its advantage. At the cost of Europe’s security, and Kurdish and American interests, Turkey stands to gain influence in the region. The defeat of ISIS at the hands of the Kurdish Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) in June 2016 sent a wave of joy throughout the world, except of Ankara, which brands the fighters as terrorists. Turkey saw a rising SDF tide along its border, aiming to link up with the Kurds in Turkey. To secure the integrity and survival of Turkey, Erdogan acted. Ankara reasoned that peace-time meant SDF ‘liberating’ Turkish Kurds from under Ankara’s yoke. A peaceful period amidst the war-torn Syria could pose a threat to Turkey. Thus, the renewed conflict initiated by Turkey, Operation Peace Spring, has as main goals to ‘destroy remaining terrorist cells (read: destroy SDF)’ and ‘allow for peaceful resettlement by Syrian Arab refugees.’ In one offensive, Turkey would eliminate two of its most urgent national security threats: destroying the PKK within its own borders and separating Kurdish ethnic groups in Syria and Turkey. Talk about two birds with one stone. Ankara’s actions are better understood against

the backdrop of offensive realism. Offensive realism holds that the anarchy dominating the international system is responsible for the promotion of aggressive state behaviour within that system. One aspect of the theory poses that a state’s primary goal is its survival. An independent nation set up by the SDF could tamper with Turkey’s territorial integrity, as it would move to secure sovereignty over Turkish Kurds. A Kurdish state in Syria means unrest in the Eastern part of Turkish Anatolia, as Kurds would rally around the flag of the newly created country with the intent of breaking away from their former overlords. By preventively striking the SDF, Erdogan negates the possibility of a Kurdish state, limiting a possible civil war of his own. A second aspect of offensive realism claims that states cannot be certain of the intentions of other states. The SDF-controlled area borders Turkey’s territory, and a détente would mean that Kurdish forces could muster a force to contest the sovereignty of Turkey over its Kurdish subjects. By pre-emptively attacking the zone, Turkey gets rid of the uncertainty, as a future fight over territory becomes impossible. Bringing the fight to the SDF means that the war is fought on Turkish terms. Furthermore, if Ankara can fulfil its objective to resettle Syrian Arab refugees, which would reduce the influence of historic Kurdish communities, then it will not have to worry about a possible rogue Kurdish state within its own borders.

Syrian Kurds stand to lose from all of this. In their historical struggle to secure a sovereign state, their plans are being foiled by Erdogan’s administration. It is estimated that securing the West from ISIS cost 11,000 Kurdish soldiers’ lives. In one phone call made by President Trump to his Turkish counterpart, their sacrifices were thanked with further bombardment. The Kurds believe Erdogan’s position to be highly immoral and unethical and further fighting should be seized. However, what the Kurds seem to overlook is that in power politics (and offensive realism), morality and ethics are only of secondtier importance. Power and morality are not always on converging paths, and states often prefer to ride along power instead of morality. By pre-emptively striking the Kurds, Erdogan appears to bring security for the Turkish nation through conflict. The uncertainty of what the SDF might have planned for Turkish Kurds as well as the survival of Turkey as a nation are at the centre of the new conflict. Wars are messy, and no operation is without its scandals. However, most of them are born out of international factors that outweigh human agency. Coming back on the quote taken from the Melian Dialogue, Turkey does not need to argue the morality of their invasion, because in practice ‘might makes right’. In our anarchic world, it is everyone for themselves, thus securing one’s survival is of utmost importance. While the West watches and waits, Turkey stands to tighten its grip on national security.

The Boomerang | December 2019

WORLD “I do not sacralise my body as much as my life. I wanted to live” by Mariana de Abreu Nunes da Silva

*The Boomerang Board would like to include a warning for this article. It raises sensitive issues which could be very triggering. **Italicized parts of the texts are excerpts from a poem written by Romane, while the quoted portions are answers to interview questions based on content from the poem. Romane Guyon is 18 years old. During the late hours of May 17th, a time in which men become wicked, she was trying to find her way to a college party, walking through the Bois de Boulogne, in Paris. Romane was raped, but she has decided to talk about it. On the day after her rape, she shared her story on social media. A few months later, she posted a very personal text on Facebook, a text which takes us to that night and makes us powerless witnesses to the horror, the pain. These are some of the raw words Romane published and has decided to share with the world. A horror story through words of tremendous beauty, some might say. Her social media account became a platform for her to release these words, that “set her free”. Six months later, she talks openly of the trauma, in hopes that she can set others free as well. And suddenly, she feels her heartbeat accelerate to the obstinate rhythm of your footsteps approaching. Your hand over her mouth and comes the shock. (...) She thinks she is about to die. She contemplates the lake as one would contemplate a coffin, since she believes it is there that her body will be found. (...) You take off her clothes as one would rip out weeds; (...) She is almost naked. She can’t see a thing, but she feels you moisten the parts of her she wished she could’ve kept a secret forever. Your mouth touches them as if you were trying to mark your territory. You

disgust her, and yet you are colonizing one by one every inch of her body. The execution starts now. Now, she understands that you are raping me. But you’re already pushing yourself inside me. (...) I am in pain like never before. (...) You plant your black flag in between my thighs as one would hammer a nail (...). Although you are only now penetrating the empty corpse of a life I promised to reserve for love. You enter me like a graveyard. (...) You find your pleasure in the greatest of my misfortunes. Your blood-stained sword has only somewhat killed me.. We often think this kind of thing only happens to others. And yet it is happening to her. “It is bizarre, I know. But when he covered my mouth and dragged me, it was as if I had left my body. You block it out, so you can survive it. I was only a spectator of what was happening to me, which is also why I wrote so much of the text in the third person. Try to understand her. She wants to live. “I asked him if he was going to let me live. He asked me why, he said I would go to the police. After he was done, he told me to wait. That he’d be back. I didn’t know what to think. I don’t sacralize my body as much as my life. I wanted to live. “He had thrown my phone in the lake, I had nothing on me. So, I grabbed my red coat, got rid of my heels, and ran. I didn’t know where he was, but I knew he wasn’t far. I ran for 1.1 kilometers, barefoot, on a sprint. I was surprised I could run that fast for that long. Stones and dirt got stuck in my feet, and yet I did not feel any pain. I guess survival instinct really is something else. “I cried for help. So many people refused me, refused to help me, dared to think they were somehow more endangered than I was. The only one that came through, that night, was Hugo. He is fifteen years old. He is a child. I probably owe him my life. While he was helping me, this guy

Those Damn Terrorists My Grandad (89 years-old) shakes his head at the TV, “It’s those damn Terrorists.” I wasn’t sure whether to open a conversation about the complexities of the conflict in the middle east, or ask him, “Which terrorists?” After opening and closing my mouth a couple of times, I opted with “Hm.” I can’t be the only one with old relatives who say ‘terrorist’ with a capital T and are convinced that ‘They’ are the source of the world’s every problem. So I also can’t be the only one who finds a weekend at the Grandparents’ endearing, but often exhausting. I offered to give my aunt a break for caring for the two of them the other weekend. My respect for her has increased significantly since then. My Grandad has always had quite a laissez-faire approach to politics and generally just nods along to whomever’s opinion he is subject to in the moment. Usually he just doesn’t bother putting in his hearing aids (In his own words, “I don’t want to look like a retard.”; In Granny’s words,

drove by, he had seen me asking for help. He told him ‘you know you shouldn’t help her; she’s obviously deceiving you, she’ll take your money.’” That means nothing – courage – I only survived. I think I am only brave by default. Did I really have a choice? “I understand where people are coming from. But not for one moment did I consider keeping this story to myself. I’ve always been a feminist, so I always tried to fight taboo and it did not make any sense for me to start now. It was so painful to have to tell the same story repeatedly, reliving it each time, that I decided to tell it once and for all. I believe it would’ve been braver of me to keep it to myself, because it required so much effort. “I was lucky to have a great support system. My friends and family were tremendously supportive. My lawyer is great, fierce, reassuring, but ridiculously expensive. I am hoping the allowance will cover the 18,000 euros he is charging us with. I started having panic attacks and finding myself being unable to get anything done – nights are bright, and I find myself missing morning classes so I can get some sleep. I need to see a psychiatrist and a physiotherapist, but I cannot cover everything, it is a huge economic burden.” I will probably get to see you, because that option is often given to victims who wish to confront their attacker. What will I tell you then? Surely, that I forgive you. “I thought they’d never find him, I didn’t get a good look of him, I couldn’t identify him. There was no footage. If they couldn’t get a match for the DNA then that would be it. On August 1st, I got a call. They had found him. He had raped another woman at the end of July. I couldn’t believe it. “I am choosing to forgive him not for him, but for myself: to free myself from the burden of hatred.”

by Betsy Middleton

“He’s a pain in the backside.”). So, arguments over politics are generally avoided. But now, even he has to throw in his tupennys: “We’ve just got to get Brexit done now” he nods as BJ slags off immigrants from the safety of the screen. It’s like a terrible song that’s been stuck in your head for weeks, no months, and you can’t get rid of it, and it’s on the radio, the TV, and everyone around you hums it. Like many old people, he’s picked up the tune. The next news story cuts to the refrigerated lorry in Essex, in which 39 Vietnamese nationals had died while being smuggled into the UK. Grandad shook his head and called it a tragedy. The hypocrisy of it all was unbearable. I couldn’t say “hm.” So, I fetched his hearing aids and sat down to start a conversation. It was a conversation about what drives families from their homes to into dangerous sea-crossings; it was about the expenses attached to a privatized healthcare system, and the real cost of a hearing aid; it was about whether my sister will have the same options as I did following high school if we crashed out with a ‘hard’ Brexit. My

Grandad might be the only working class lad from Newcastle who has ever said “well, Maggie T did have some good economic policies”, but when he wants to, he can be a keen listener, and I know he has a great deal of love and respect for me. The elderly population are isolated, and rather than shying away from difficult conversations, I think we have a responsibility to start them when we are in a position of trust and influence. Over Sunday dinner, before I got the train back home, Granny (84 years-young) asked me about my plans for next year. I explained (for the fifth time that weekend) that I was going to get a job to save up to study some more, as it is quite expensive. “Ahhhh, you need a sugar daddy” she replied without hesitation. My grandad smiled over his roast and nodded amiably. I’m quitesure neither of them know what a sugar daddy is, but I decided to leave that particular conversation for another visit.

A University College Student Association Magazine

“You want us to drive?”

WORLD

by Ivan Ryan

“Hitchhiking seems so simple, so why don’t I try it out?” is the question I repeatedly asked myself before midterm break. Going on a trip across Europe to Poland with a couple of friends – what’s not to like? Surely people are understanding and sympathetic enough to help us on our way. It’ll be fun and adventurous! It won’t be that difficult! (Or so I thought.)

Ìllustration © Sofie Ryan

After setting off from campus with my friends August and Esmee, we really struggled with trying to find our first lift. The makeshift signs we’d made weren’t seeming to attract the attention we so desperately needed. We tried sticking our thumbs out, waving at drivers, and we even made begging gestures at them. This definitely caught their attention, but rather than stopping to offer us a lift they all just gave us a thumbs up and drove away. After begging for hours on the side of the road, a young man finally stopped and told us to hop in his tiny car. Despite heading in the completely wrong direction, we were just happy someone finally stopped for us. A somewhat cosy ride, it only lasted thirty minutes before we were dropped off at a gas station, where we were left to plead for a ride again. Most of the cars at this gas station were full, but we did eventually find a mother with her young child who seemed willing to drive us. She did however spend a while in the gas station shop to pay for petrol. Perhaps she hoped we’d leave her alone? She eventually let us into her car, and she luckily seemed to be driving in the right direction. She spent the entire ride talking to us in Dutch. I unfortunately couldn’t understand any of it so I spent my time gazing out the window whilst Esmee and August told her about our plan to get to Krakow. She dropped us off at a gas station near Nijmegen, making sure it was one where many other cars stopped. We noticed the large number of German cars passing through here, a clear indicator that we were about to leave the Netherlands. We asked all the cars we could find if they could give us a lift, but the people here were quick to shoo us away, uneager to help us on our trip across Europe. We did however finally find a young Polish woman who told us “I… go Germany. Can drive.” We thanked her and quickly hopped into her car, beginning our long ride zooming down the highway towards Germany. She was driving much faster than the speed limit, but at least we’d be avoiding most of the rush hour traffic. Her occasional glances at her phone made the car swerve out of its lane, making the nearby cars screech their horns. I held on for dear life. As we got closer to the border, she asked “Drive car?” “Uhhh…” I hesitated. “You drive car?” she said, trying to be understood. “Oh, you want us to drive?” August said with sudden realisation. “No. We can’t drive” he tried to explain with a sense of concern in his voice. She then shrugged this predicament off by digging a can of Red Bull out of her bag,sipping

its contents until she dropped us off on the outskirts of Osnabrück. We had a quick dinner in the gas station restaurant, which ended up being a lot tastier and cheaper than expected. We easily found our next ride, which turned out to be driving all the way to Dresden. The driver wasn’t very talkative either, so we were able to take turns sleeping. He dropped us off at a gas station just outside the city. Being around one o’clock in the morning, the gas station was more empty than the other ones we’d encountered thus far. The only people here were the restaurant workers longing to go home, drunk men throwing glass bottles, and Eastern European families in a hurry to fuel up their cars and leave. We weren’t having any luck finding any willing drivers here, so after an hour of searching, we decided to walk through the nearby truck parking lot to the nearby giftshop. But this was a mistake. Some of the trucks we snuck past had open doors, and just as we were passing through a row of them, a black van pulled up. It was a medium-sized van, one which could fit eight people if it were filled with seats. As we were walking towards it, its doors swung open, with about fifteen people all dressed in black pouring out of it. By this point it was nearly 3AM, and my gut really didn’t trust the situation. We quickly rushed behind another row of the trucks, anxious to reach the safety of the giftshop. Just as we were approaching it however, a tall muscular

man was pointing directly at us. I felt a rush of fear down my spine. I managed to convince my friends he was staring directly at us, and with fear we rushed away from him into the safety of the giftshop. It was at this point that we realised that the threateningly tall man was a statue, and that we probably looked like idiots. The giftshop was completely empty, so we hurried back to the gas station. Here we spent another hour asking every car if they could drive us to Krakow, and just as it seemed like no one would be willing to accept us, a Slovakian man simply answered “yes”. “Yes?” I wondered. Did he understand us? “Are you driving to Krakow?” I asked, thinking it was too good to be true. “Yes” he answered again. I couldn’t believe it. We found someone who would be willing to drive us all the way? The full five hours this late at night? We immediately sat in his car, eager to start the final leg of our journey after begging for a ride for hours. He told us he worked in the Hague and was going home for the weekend, having driven all the way straight after work. The quiet foggy road we were on slowly gave way to the rising sun, which felt to be welcoming us as we approached Krakow. Having been dropped off at a gas station on the outskirts of the city, we decided walking into the city as the sun rose would be a fantastic end to our journey and a great beginning of our visit.

QUAD QUERIES

The Boomerang | December 2019

gest “What is your big sexual fear?”

“Puking on their dick”

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“Parents w alking in”

“Being stuck on this campus for thre e m or e se m es ters getting any dickand not ”

“Tears”

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“Shitting m ys elf (it’s happened before)

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“Farting” “Losing my virgin ity

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“Saying the wron

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“Being filmed secretly. That’s why you have to be careful when you do doggy”

Boomerang uses wind energy printers The Boomerang is a periodical newspaper. It comes out eight times a year.

Third edition of academic year 2019-2020

A University College Student Association Magazine

g out I’m gay"

“Them findin

QUAD QUERIES

ps”

“Nipple clam

ew on a dick “You accidentally ch y” while you’re on ecstas

Having a r u m o u r about you so twisted being it b e c o mes a jok e on Super Stic ky”

your recd breaking "Kancho an tum"

“Prola

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"Anal

“Getting choked because it’s hot but then actually dying”

ng havi in and ra ower ower d e sh h in th n the s fter'' a tting ow "Shi ush it d orning to p the m

"Be i n g l a ughed at"

“C h la m y d ia ... be c a u one has th s e everyat nowad ays”

-3p e o p l e unani m

ously "

do stuff t wanting to r'' "Lying abou g it afte and regrettin

"Intimacy" "Peeing"

y to m d in shove oes h'' ng t mout "Havi

"Unk no wi ng ly have him shovin g it up my ass"

''Getting cum in my eyes''

BLACKOUT

Agony Aunt When I am doing an assignment on my own I am fine, but as soon as it is a group project I feel so insecure. I feel like I’m bringing the whole group down because I’m not smart enough compared to them, or not working hard enough. How can I get rid of this? Dear Anon, Have you ever heard of imposter syndrome? If not then I suggest looking into it, but it’s basically thoughts people have telling them they are not good enough, and don’t deserve to be in the position that they are in. These kinds of feelings can often grow in group situations, as you are more easily able to compare your work to that of those around you and feel that yours isn’t the same standard, when often it is. Whilst it is a horrible feeling, you just have to remind yourself that the people you are working with are no better (or worse) than you are, meaning that your ideas and opinions are just as valid as theirs. Also, the likelihood is that at least one other person in your group is feeling the same way. Although it’s easier said than done, try and remind yourself that you didn’t get into UCU for no reason, so the only way you would be letting your group down would be through allowing these insecurities to hold you back from your full potential. How/when can I ask about STDs and STIs to a significant other or even a friend with benefits? Dear Anon, It is never too early to ask about STDs/ STIs with someone who you are planning on sleeping with. I know, it’s awkward, but do you know what’s more awkward? Having to explain to someone later down the line that you have an STD because you were too afraid to ask the person before. Even just simply asking ‘hey, so when was the last time you got tested?’ and maybe bringing up when you were last tested to make the conversation less focused on them is a way to go about it that is both casual and effective. Also, I would suggest having this conversation before stuff is just about to ‘go down’, as while it does have to do with sex, it is not the most sexy of conversations. Lastly, if your partner gets weird about it when you ask, then maybe you

should question whether you should be having sex with them at all. Obviously STIs and STDs can be very sensitive topics and should be treated with care, but if your partner makes you feel uncomfortable or embarrassed for bringing up the subject, then they are clearly not mature enough to be having sex in the first place. Aunty! Please help. My friend has a very unhealthy relationship with her boyfriend. He does not listen to her, makes her mental health problems worse and does not seem to care about it. I want her to know that she can do so much better but (and I get this) she does not want to listen to me when I say that he is just not good for her. I don't want to see her get worse and hurt even more. How can I help without forcing her and making her uncomfortable? Dear Anon, Seeing someone you care about struggling, and feeling like you can’t do anything to help is such a horrible position to be in, especially when you know that something could be done to make things better. You have probably heard the phrase ‘love makes us blind,’ which is what seems to be going on here. If your friend is struggling with her mental health, she may feel that her relationship is providing a muchneeded constant in her life, no matter how unhealthy it is. I know you have already tried to talk to her, but maybe try again, making it clear that you are doing this for her own good and because you are genuinely worried. Try not to come across as too negative, because if she is in a bad headspace this could make things worse. Even though you need to highlight the toxic relationship, you can go about this by telling her how great she is; building her up rather than tearing her relationship down. Maybe when she sees how concerned you are she will realise how serious the issue is. A relationship is supposed to be a source of happiness, not pain, and if you can show her this, she may see that when someone truly loves you, they will show you that they care.

The Boomerang | December 2019

A Crash Course on Consent by A Female Student Who Is Sick of the Shit That People Brush Off Sit down and buckle up your seatbelts ladies and gentlemen, because you are about to embark on a ride to have a very overdue conversation about shit that happens on campus. More specifically, sexual assault. Quite frankly, I find it absolutely disgraceful that this conversation needs to happen. Many students on campus talk about the importance of consent, and claim to be passionate about preaching its practice. Hopefully after this wakeup call, people will finally practice what they preach. This column aside, the only time sexual assualt is talked about seriously is during the sex ed and consent workshop during introweek, when we all gather in a room and watch the infamous ‘sex is like tea’ video that explains how simple the concept of consent is. Afterwards, the people in the group, have a discussion about consent on campus for an hour before everyone goes off on their happy little way. While people like to keep the discussion close to heart, it seems that for some people, logic flies out the window the second a drop of alcohol touches their lips. I’m talking to you, females of UCU. I know there is an issue with females being assaulted by males on this campus (stay tuned for a rant on the next blackout edition), but recently I’ve been noticing many situations where the tables were turned. Yes, I know not all of you harass males, and yes, men can get sexually assaulted too. I understand that some of you might not be aware that your actions are classified as harassment, so let me clarify what that means as simply as possible. You are sexually assaulting someone when you are touching them in a sexual way, without their consent. Yes, this even includes touching them over their clothes. Let’s also go over a few things that some of you seem to have forgotten. Sometimes, your “flirting” is harassment. It is not cute to force yourself onto

a guy for a drunken Thursday night makeout. It is not attractive when you think you’re entitled to have sex with a guy, just because you’ve hooked up with him before. And it sure as hell is not sexy when you guilt trip a guy into sleeping with you. Look, for some reason (God knows) the line might seem a little blurry on Thursday nights when you’re drunk. But take a moment and pause. Although things may have gotten a little heated, and you’re feeling some chemistry going on, the feelings may not be reciprocated. Pay attention to their body language, or how they’re talking to you. If in doubt just ask them. Yes, it may be awkward, but as someone once said in a sex-ed and consent workshop, “Consent is sexy.” Consent isn’t a difficult concept, but for those of you who haven’t quite grasped it here are some tips and tricks to help you out. If at any point in time you’re doubting your actions, just think to yourself: Would I want to be treated this way? Would I want any of my loved ones to be treated this way? If you answered no, then stop what you’re doing and rethink your decisions. For those of you who heard about your friends’ hookup adventure and want to laugh at the situation, ask yourself: Would I still be laughing if the roles were reversed? If the answer is no, then to put it bluntly: your friend fucked up. As this ride comes to an end, I’d like to leave you with some parting words: what is happening is not okay in any way, shape, or form. If you see something wrong, speak up. If you’re about to do something wrong, then stop. Consent isn’t rocket science, wake the fuck up. Author’s note: I chose to be anonymous so that if anyone has an issue with the contents of this article, you can talk about it with your peers, instead of directing it to me. Please take a moment and start a conversation.

A University College Student Association Magazine

(N)Ice-Pitchering by A Chief

You went home with your newfound lover, or you stayed for a second round, or perhaps you got angry with me for doing this to you. Admittedly, ice-pitchers are not the most comfortable end to your evening, especially now that it’s getting colder. But you knew the rules of the bar when you walked in, you knew that your extravagant make-out session would lead to this – you wouldn’t have tried to sneak into a corner if you didn’t – and you certainly knew the rules by the time the third pitcher came along. So is it really my fault that you have to walk home cold? If you’re into one another enough to make out in the middle of the bar, then perhaps you just need a (cold) nudge to go home and get changed together. That’s where the ice-pitcher comes in: you need to get out of your cold, wet clothes anyway, so you might as well do it together. And if you don’t want to go home together, you’re likely drunk enough that going home alone is still a good idea. Instead of looking at the ice-pitcher negatively, see it as a fun gimmick. Have fun trying to avoid it, pay good attention to the Chiefs holding one near, and make out together when they’re far away. The ice-pitcher also has a more serious purpose. If I think about how many people I have to splash on a Thursday night, imagine what the dancefloor would look like without

them being interrupted. Now queue all the people that were holding themselves in because they realize this behavior is unwanted. The dance floor is riddled with ten or so intimate pairs, some of whom will stay there until late. Where do I draw

the line now? Exposed skin? Hands in their pants? Visible genitals? You have yelled at me, harassed me, and assaulted me because you can’t handle some water. If you dislike ice-pitchers so much that you want them gone, you’re welcome to submit a resolution at the next GA to change the rules. But until then, these are the rules in our bar – respect them.

BLACKOUT

(Not N)Ice-Pitchering by Someone Who's Been Ice-Pitchered

The whole phenomenon of ‘ice-pitchering’ is a bit confusing to me. I remember it being discussed in many different contexts and framed in different ways. On the one hand, it is embarrassing to be ice pitchered (which perpetu -

ates the shame that shouldn’t, but does, accompany sexual freedom). And on the other, wearing a soaked T-shirt is worn as a badge of honor (but in most cases, as is usual in the sexist society we know all too well, this badge is handed to the guy and not to the girl). Perhaps these applications of very basic feminist theory are a bit of a stretch. However, the way in which ice-pitchering was framed to me in my Introweek is what I have a bigger issue with. I was told during Introweek not to get ice pitchered, but that if that were to happen, it

meant I should go home with my fellow victim. The way it was described, was that being ice-pitchered was a sign that I should stop the PDA, go home and get changed, and then see what happens from there. It was implied that whoever was ice-pitchered should leave the bar together, and the motivation to do so was to dry off after someone threw cold water on you. Now, of course both victims of an ice pitcher have agency and are able to decide whether they want to go home at all, and whether they want to go home together (however, they cannot keep up the PDA in the bar or else they will certainly be ice pitchered again). The problem I have with this dynamic is that as soon as you walk down those sticky stairs with your clothes all wet, there is this unspoken assumption as to what happens next. Neither member in this twosome should feel pressured to go home with the other, but their cold, wet state, and the social pressure attached to this symbol of sexual activity, aims to dictate the outcome of the night. This can of course be a positive thing; think of the ice-pitcher as a wingman, albeit an annoying and wet one. However, I am of the opinion that we don’t really need any more pressure to take someone home from the bar than that which already exists.

BLACKOUT

The Boomerang | December 2019

Open Letter to Mark Baldwin by A Dismissed Depressive Edit from the Boomerang Board: due to this piece being written anonymously, it was not possible to fact-check it. For this reason, it should be considered as an opinion piece only, and therefore is an interpretation of reality. Dear Bald Markwin, When I showed up outside your office for my appointment, and the first thing you said to me was that I looked “tired but resilient”, my eyes rolled so far back into my head that I saw the face of God. She told me to tell you that “Tree Surgeon” isn’t a real job. I’d made an appointment a solid 3 weeks prior, with tears streaming down my face mid-panic attack. I’d been surrounded by loose-leaf paper, haphazard notes and printouts of readings, in a dimly lit room with far too many mugs of cold tea collecting dust in a corner. I hadn’t eaten in a day and a half. Your response to my initial email had been a lukewarm acknowledgement of my “struggles”, a stilted apology for being unable to meet with me sooner, and a single, half-hour long time slot that I could come in during. I’d waited 10 of those 30 minutes sitting at reception, while you were in a meeting, but I’d chosen not to just give up and go home--maybe that was the “resilience” you allegedly read in my face. By the time I was actually sitting in front of you, you with a pen behind your ear and flipping to a specific page in your tiny notebook, we were halfway through our allotted time. “So,” you asked, already writing something down. “How have the past few weeks been?” “Fine.”

And they had been. See, the thing about being a UCU student with a mental illness (or three) is that you get used to the fact that you’re going to have to solve your own problems. I sent that email when I was one more bad day away from doing something stupid and self-endangering, and the response I got back was essentially “Please hold for 10-15 business days”. So what did I do, Bald Markwin? I got out of bed the next day, my eyes puffy from crying. I ate half a rijstwafel for “breakfast”, made myself yet another mug of tea, and called my mom. She didn’t get it--she never does, bless her, but she listened, and more than that, she dropped everything she was doing to listen to me and tell me that everything was going to be okay. Now, as my mother, she’s contractually obligated to do so. But you’d think that someone who gets paid to support students would be physically capable of doing so. Here, I’ll even give you the benefit of the doubt: appointments are hard to schedule, there are a lot of students that need help, you have limited hours and you’re doing the best you can. Here’s what the rest of our conversation looked like: “What’s been troubling you? You said in your email that you were worried about workload?” “Yeah, I was really overwhelmed. I had nine deadlines in two weeks. It was really stressful, I didn’t get enough sleep for a week and a half in the leadup to it. I’ve been having panic attacks, skipping meals, it’s gotten harder and harder to get out of bed, and the lack of sunlight is really messing me up, as usual--” “Well, I have two thoughts on this, if you’ll allow me to share them.” “Sure?” “Firstly, I find your resilience in the face of all of this so admirable. I get the sense that you’re a very strong person, mentally and emotionally speaking, and I just wanted to take a second to give space to that. Secondly, well-- hold on. Before I get into that: how are those deadlines going?” The deadlines from a week ago? Well, I met them all, Bald. I pulled an all-nighter and a week later, I’m still feeling the effects of it. Plus, all around me, students are suffer-bragging about how they barely ever sleep, how they need 5 cups of coffee to get through the day, and how horribly difficult all their courses are, so the normalized culture of suffering on campus became internalized at some point, and now I have trouble even acknowledging when I’m not doing okay. I don’t have €300 to spare for a diagnostic mental illness test, which is the only thing that will force my professors--and my parents--to take me seriously. When the panic attacks hit, my options are to hope the

six-hour time difference doesn’t wake my mom up when I call her, or to trust that you telling me how “strong” I am three weeks after the fact is going to counteract the chemical imbalances in my brain. I’m strong in ways that I shouldn’t have to be. Every student on this campus is. With no reliable source of support, it’s entirely unsurprising that we’ve managed to survive on our own and adapt accordingly. But to applaud something like that? To pile congratulations on a student that picked themselves up after being run into the ground over and over again, purely because there was no one around to help them? That’s just pitiful. Don’t be proud of students for compensating for your inadequacy. Feel free to reply to this letter in two to three weeks. My apologies for not being available to meet sooner. I understand that your struggles are difficult, but don’t worry: you are so resilient. You’ll get through this, Bald. I know it. With best regards, A Dismissed Depressive

Dearest Campus, We think it is time we open up a dialogue about anonymity on this campus. We feel grateful to be living and studying in a place where there are so many opinions, ideas and discussions whizzing through the air. We feel grateful that we feel comfortable and able to participate in this almighty whizz. We also know that many people feel that discussions and opinions on this campus are rather homogenous. This standpoint is understandable, but we believe that this may be the case because those who don’t agree with the general Campus Consensus, feel unable to raise their opinions. Anonymity offers a solution to this. Making statements that go against the norm is easier to do if no one knows it is you doing it. This is one upside to the Boomerang’s Blackout edition; offering a platform to those who may feel they don’t usually have one. That being said, anonymity within publications, and anonymity within discussions on this campus as a whole, can be more destructive than productive sometimes. We can get careless about what we say if there is no chance of being held accountable for it. Anonymity is something that the Boomerang board and all of us should ponder a little bit more. Take a moment to consider what you want to say; would you attach your name to it? Why or why not? Yours always, The Boomerang Board

A University College Student Association Magazine

BLACKOUT

is a compilation of names that have come up in multiple Confessions regarding relationship status, availability, appreciation, and general compliments. It has nothing to do with the opinions of the Victorias - we simply assemble the list.” They also made it very clear that the page normally does not condone Confessions that call people out by name, with the exception of the VIC list because of its positive nature. Naturally, I had to ask the age old question, ‘why didn’t UCU confessions post my confession?’ to get to know how submissions are selected. “As you might have noticed, a certain pattern emerges in the variety of Confessions posted per batch. We try to give a stage to all types of confessions: funny, serious, help-seeking, informative, etc.,” the page responded. “We never post Confessions that target specific people or groups in a non-constructive, blatantly hateful way. As you could imagine, we receive repetitive Confessions about a certain issue and thus choose the most representative, and thoughtful one.” Needless to say, UCU confessions receives a number of drunken submissions. However, they are often accompanied by requests to not be posted the morning after, with which the page respectfully complies. While it might be fun and games to look at UCU Confessions and read through people’s innermost thoughts (like a rather detailed love note to Diederix), there does come some responsibility running the page. There have been a few times where the Victorias found themselves dealing with Confessions addressing issues on campus. In 2016, the page made a post addressing numerous sexual submissions targeting (primarily) girls who changed with their curtains open. Earlier this semester, the page also addressed the chlamydia outbreak on campus, urging students to stay safe and share resources with one another. So how often does UCU Confessions feel responsible for addressing issues on campus? “We generally don’t want to interfere with what’s being posted too much, seeing as we’re keen on

UCU Confessions Confesses by Vicki 1

It’s 2am, and you’re sitting in Voltaire, trying to cram 5 weeks worth of readings into one day so you don’t fail your midterm. You set down an empty can of Red Bull on the table and sigh, hoping your misery is coming close to an end. It better be, considering you snagged the last can from the vending machine. So, you pick up your phone to check the time, only to see that you have a new Facebook notification. ‘Willem has mentioned you in a comment’, the screen says. You smile, hoping you’re tagged in yet another meme. To your surprise, you’ve been tagged in a new UCU confessions post. Your heart races, as the posts start to trickle in. Suddenly whispers erupt in Voltaire. A new batch of confessions is upon everyone. Let’s face it, UCU Confessions shapes community influence: LogiCo organised a kahoot session after a Confession concerning the platform emerged. GameCo also took it upon themselves to plan a campus-wide hide and seek event, also because a Confession concerning hide and seek was posted. Let’s also not forget how juicy confessions have become the centre of (many) conversations (like seriously, who had sex on the dancefloor in the bar during chief day???). Although the founder of the page was unmasked during his graduation ceremony (check out UCU studios for the reveal), no one really knows who’s running the page now and what’s going on behind the scenes. So, I took it upon myself to ask the Victorias the questions we all want to know. Running a page, especially one as popular as UCU Confessions might be a lot of pressure for one person. So, logically speaking, a number of individuals would be working on it, and I wanted to know how many people were responsible for the page. The response was rather interesting. “The beauty of the UCU Confessions page is that it is run by everyone and no one at the same time,” they wrote. If anything, this just builds on to the mystery of UCU Confessions. Although the interview had an ambiguous start, I was hoping that I’d least get a clear answer about the VIC list, because who really knows what that is? “VIC list stands for Victoria's list, not 'victim' as many might believe,” the Victorias wrote. “It

keeping our neutral and non-political standpoint,” the Victorias responded. “However, when we do choose to involve ourselves, it is for the general safety, well-being, and health of our community. Issues that might be too taboo or personal to post on UCU Students, anonymously find a platform on UCU Confessions. We feel responsible to shed light on important topics that involve us all.” Because of the page’s popularity, and anonymous nature, the page admins find themselves confronted with submissions from students admitting they’re struggling with mental health, and in some unfortunate cases, suicidal thoughts. Understandably, this can put admins in a difficult position, because they are unable to give people the help they need and deserve. “We take the issue of mental health, including suicide, very seriously, as it always should. Therefore we always give priority to Confessions seeking help. It is difficult to witness the hardships and struggles our peers are going through, and we, as a page, do often feel helpless. However, as individuals, with our personal accounts, we are still able to support these Confessions. It is heartwarming to see how eager our community is to help and provide support for each other in the comment section. Hopefully, this extends to personal interactions as well.”

Dearest UCSA members, As you might know, the UCSA Board is responsible for proofreading any article submitted to the Boomerang and checking whether these are factually correct, especially when any third parties are mentioned. We do this as we feel it is important that any article published by the Boomerang, and therefore the UCSA, sticks to the general values of journalism to stay as objective and trustworthy as possible. As you might understand, such fact checking becomes a bit more complicated when articles are submitted anonymously. In this edition specifically, we’d like to let you know that we experienced some difficulties with the article directed at Mark Baldwin, as we cannot conclude whether it is factually correct. Because of the anonymity of the writer and the fact that Mark Baldwin has to be confidential about all conversations he engages in in his job as counselor, it is impossible for us to say whether the quoted conversation actually occurred as described, or whether parts were left out or explained differently. Therefore, when reading this article, it is important to keep in mind that although we don’t claim this was the author’s intention, there is a possibility that the conversation is misrepresented due to a lack of context. In addition, we would like to point out that the article does disclose a conversation initially held behind closed doors, and is, in that sense, confidentiality-breaching. Considering both of these issues, we felt it was important to let you know that this article should be considered as an opinion piece. Nonetheless, we support the Boomerang offering a platform for discussion and opinion to all UCSA members and will always continue to do so.

With much love, The UCSA Board 19-20

The

The Boomerang | December 2019

Blackout December 2019

The Fall of the Fraternities by Not in a Frat

We all know them: the slacks and-button-downshirt, loafer-wearing, pale-skinned, brown or blond-haired, obnoxious, Dutch-speaking boys.

line alternative scruffy jeans and tattered boots. Word on the quad is that they are not as wellliked as before, and that they’re going the same way as the equestrians. Some solid guesses for why include that there’s too much “toxic masculinity”, or that “they’re all druggies”, and that they have a tendency to make a mountain out of a molehill. Let’s not forget the heated posts on Facebook about spilt coffee, ice water and other mundane issues that seemed to spark rage in select members of this lovely group of men. In the same vein however, it can’t be denied that this somewhat haphazard bunch of males has a certain energy that would be missed if it they weren’t around. What would we do without the excessive chanting from their borrels reverberating around campus? Or their ridiculously long initiation frequently interrupting daily campus life (usually in a good way)? And of course, what about the most well-loved nude image to grace the news feed of UCU Students?

Our beloved Dutch white boy fraternity has had a bit of a rough time in the past two fall introweeks. Why is this, I wonder: is it a reflection of the increasing divide between liberal and conservative European politics? (Not to label them as conservative, but that is what I have heard many a student say about them). Is it that we hate on them too intensely during introweek, discouraging people from rushing? Is it time for them to finally come down to the level of us mere mortals and have open borrels? Or is it simply that their time is up? I won't lie, I have done my fair share of criticizing the fratorities, but I can't help but feel a little sad to contemplate a life without the most talked-about group of pale Dutch males in their strange, sometimes problematic organized social group. Because let's be honest- who would we gossip about? Who would generate the juicy confessions and the intense socio-political discussions? And most importantly, what on earth would Super Sticky do?! All of their prime material would be gone. UCU wouldn’t be the same without them. Apart from this specific group, the other fraternity on campus is past their peak as well. This group leans towards hipster-ish jackets, border-

In the end though, this marks the beginning of the downfall of UCU's fraternities, and honestly, it's good timing. Who knows what will become of them once we are housed in a looming monstrosity surrounded by the mysterious sheep of the Uithof.

Between Two Dying Ikea Plants with Danny Haul by John Newton

Danny ponders as he sips his espresso martini. He’s lounging on one of my unit armchairs, which have now become the balcony armchairs, and are hence very wet and rotten. A dying Ikea plant is perched behind both shoulders.

Anon: “How are you feeling today?” Danny: *literally lifts leg in air and farts* Anon: “So you used to run Danny Haul, a key participant in UCU Memes for Lekker Dreams. What made you start running this page?” Danny: “What made you be part of the world’s least successful newspaper?” Anon: “How does it feel to have graduated, and this is your only legacy left at UCU?” Danny: “Better than killing a rabbit I suppose.” Anon: “So at what point did you realise that Danny Haul was dying out?” Danny: “I think the moment that The Boomerang wanted to write an article on Danny Haul.”

Anon: “How does it feel to have no one know who you are?” Danny: “The thing is, I said who Danny Haul really was on my yearbook page.” Anon: “And yet still no one knows.” Danny: “Yup, because obviously no one cares to read my page.” Anon: “Do you have any statistics about how quickly your likes were decreasing by the end?” Danny: “Around twice the therapy appointments per week.” Anon: “How does it feel to have already had your peak in life?” Danny: (staring into the distance) “There’s nothing left to look forward to.”