February 2016 by Counterpoint Magazine

COUNTERPOINT the wellesley college journal of campus life february 2016 volume 45 issue 1

CAMPUS LIFE

Advice Column BY MS. COUNTERPOINT

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counterpoint / februar y 2016

arboretum! Try out tunneling (for advice, reach out to the tunneling society via Yik Yak)! Bike to the Natick Community Organic Farm and give the animals some love—if you go in the spring, there are lots of small baby animals! How do I git gud? Practice makes perfect? How do I? Just do it™. Got questions for Ms. Counterpoint? Ask anonymously via Tumblr or Yik Yak, or email us at counterpointmagazine@wellesley.edu!

Page 2 Image: cahe1.asset-cache.net

consider that a good thing. Since we’re such a small community, how do I reconcile my need to speak out against a problem with the fear that people will only know me as the Person that Started a Conversation? I think most of us are struggling with this too. From what I can tell though, it’s kind of impossible to have only one identity at Wellesley. There are many people who have started conversations on campus, in years past as well as today, but I doubt you only know them as the person who led the #BlackLivesMatter protest, or the person who called for unconscious bias training for faculty members. At the end of the day, we’re just going to appreciate the fact that the conversation happened, rather than trying to identify who started it. What are good date ideas in Wellesley when your roommates are around and the ville is expensive? Free tickets to the science museum in Boston from the science center! Take a romantic walk around the

Cover: Sam English ’19

ow do I dismantle the patriarchy? a. You don’t. b. You stick up your middle finger and construct a matriarchy. c. You put all the mens on an island and wait for them to kill each other. How do I get a splinter out of my ass? You have two options here: go to Health Services and bask in the shame, or find a friend willing to tweeze the splinter out of your ass. Good luck on this grueling task, friend. How do I pick a roommate? Go to stalkernet, enter your class year, close your eyes, and point. Repeat as necessary. How do I stop texting people who don’t text back (aka how do I stop seeking validation from fuckboys)? Try the twenty-minute method! When you feel tempted to text a fuckboy, just wait it out for twenty minutes. Distract yourself with anything and everything: watch TV, text another friend, pay a visit to your favorite social media app, masturbate, eat cereal, do whatever you gotta do. If you can make it through that initial twenty minutes, the urge should subside and you should be able to go back to your regularly scheduled programming. Is it bad/wrong if I feel uncomfortable when I see college-age cis men around campus? Not necessarily. If your ‘uncomfortable’ is more of an ‘unsafe’ that definitely has merits in a countless number of things. If your ‘uncomfortable’ is more of a ‘why do college-age cis men exist, how dare they be on this campus’ kind of thing, I wouldn’t

E D I TO R I A L S TA F F Editors-inChief

Cecilia Nowell ’16 Hanna Day-Tenerowicz ’16 Olivia Funderburg ’18

Staff Editors

Chloe Williamson ’16 Bindu Nicholson ’16 Ally Larcom ’17 Urvashi Singh ’17 Lara Brennan ’18 Rachele Byrd ’18 Jasmine Kaduthodil ’18 Molly Hoyer ’18 Parul Koul ’19 Samantha English ’19 Kelechi Alfred-Igbokwe ’19 Tiffani Ren ’19

D E S I G N S TA F F Art Director Layout Editors

Jayne yan ’16 Midori Yang ’19 Roz Rea ’19

B U S I N E S S S TA F F Treasurers

COUNTERPOINT THE WELLESLEY COLLEGE JOURNAL OF CAMPUS LIFE FEBRURARY 2016 Volume 45 / Issue 1

A R T S & C U LT U R E CECILIA NOWELL

TO BOLDLY GO

SAM ENGLISH

HOUSING DILEMMA: THE HARRY POTTER EDITION

M E N TA L H E A LT H SARAH LEWITES

KEEPING UP APPEARANCES

TAMAR DAVIS

IMPOSTER

ANONYMOUS

TRIGGER WARNINGS

Hannah Davelman ’16

C O N T R I BU TO R S Cecilia Nowell ’16, Sam English ’19, Sarah Lewites ’18, Tamar Davis ’16, Jordan Hannink ’16

TRUSTEES Oset Babur ’15, Alison Lanier ’15, Matt Burns MIT ’05, Kristina Costa ’09, Brian Dunagan MIT ’03, Kara Hadge ’08, Edward Summers MIT ’08

SUBMISSIONS

The views expressed in Counterpoint do not necessarily reflect the views of the staff. Counterpoint invites all members of the Wellesley community to submit articles, letters, and art. Email submissions to cnowell@wellesley.edu, ofunderb@wellesley.edu, and hdaytene@wellesley.edu. Counterpoint encourages cooperation between writers and editors but reserves the right to edit all submissions for length and clarity.

SUBSCRIPTIONS One year’s subscription: $25. Send checks and mailing address to:

Counterpoint, Wellesley College 106 Central Street Wellesley, MA. 02481

POLITICS JORDAN HANNINK

“DIRTY ZIONIST JEW”

CAMPUS LIFE MS. COUNTERPOINT COUNTERPOINT STAFF

COUNTERPOINT STAFF

ADVICE COLUMN

CROSSWORD: BREAKUP SONGS

MONTHLY POLL: HARRY POTTER

ARTS & CULTURE

TO BOLDLY GO I

have a confession. It’s not something I like to admit; people often think I’m pretty weird after I tell them about it. But it’s time I shared: I’m a nerd, and not just any nerd. I’m a trekkie. I started watching Star Trek when I was in elementary school, and by the time I graduated from high school I had seen every episode of every series, excluding the recently released Enterprise. I didn’t speak Klingon, but I was welltrained in performing my Vulcan salute, encouraging others that “the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” and singing “Tuvok, I understand” to the tune of “La donna è mobile.” I breathed Star Trek, largely because it was a part of my family’s traditions, but also because I loved what it did as a work of imagination. As a young child, figuring out what stories could do and whether I could become a writer, I imagined all sorts of stories but wondered at their relevance. With Star Trek I loved how, as a piece of fiction and as a show about the future, this particular story played with all sorts of ideas of what could be. Not solely a show for the nerds of the 1960s, Star Trek was actually developed in order to comment on the civil rights movement and other political struggles of the era. Star Trek: The Original Series showed that a captain from Iowa, a logical alien scientist, a moody Southern doctor, a Scottish engineer, a black female communications officer, a young Russian Ensign, and a Japanese pilot could coexist peacefully. Such a scenario may not be so page 4

unbelievable today, but was an incredibly politically charged and hopeful statement in the 1960s. Many classic episodes grappled with issues of diversity, from the Original Series episode “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield” where an entire species drives itself to extinction based on the color of each half of their faces to the more recent Deep Space Nine episode “Far Beyond the Stars” where the show’s black Captain dreams of himself as a struggling science-fiction writer in the 1950s. Star Trek: The Original Series was actually designed for this very purpose. As the show’s creator, Gene Roddenberry, powerfully stated, “Star Trek was an attempt to say that humanity will reach maturity and wisdom on the day that it begins not just to tolerate, but take a special delight in differences in ideas and differences in life forms. […] If we cannot learn to actually enjoy those small differences, to take a positive delight in those small differences between our own kind, here on this planet, then we do not deserve to go out into space and meet the diversity that is almost certainly out there.” In this spirit, Star Trek not only featured a multicultural cast and delved into discussions of diversity, but also brought about noticeable change. In fact, Nichelle Nichols—who played black communications officer (and fourth incommand) Lieutenant Uhura—tells a moving story about the time she almost quit Star Trek…and was talked out of it by none other than Martin Luther King Jr:

counterpoint / februar y 2016

“I went in to tell Gene Roddenberry [Star Trek’s Director] that I was leaving after the first season, and he was very upset about it. And he said, take the weekend and think about what I am trying to achieve here in this show. You’re an integral part and very important to it. And so I said, yes, I would. And that on Saturday night, I went to an NAACP fundraiser, I believe it was, in Beverly Hills. And one of the promoters came over to me and said, Ms. Nichols, there’s someone who would like to meet you. He says he is your greatest fan. And I’m thinking a Trekker, you know. And I turn, and before I could get up, I looked across the way and there was the face of Dr. Martin Luther King smiling at me and walking toward me. And he started laughing. By the time he reached me, he said, ‘Yes, Ms. Nichols, I am your greatest fan. I am that Trekkie.’ And I was speechless. He complimented me on the manner in which I’d created the character. I thanked him, and I think I said something like, ‘Dr. King, I wish I could be out there marching with you.’ He said, ‘No, no, no. No, you don’t understand. We don’t need you [to march.] You are marching. You are reflecting what we are fighting for.’ ‘So,’ I said to him, ‘Thank you so much. And I’m going to miss my co-stars.’ And his face got very, very serious. And he said, ‘What are you talking about?’ And I said, ‘Well, I told Gene just yesterday that I’m going to leave the show after the first year because I’ve been

Image: kethinov.com

BY CECILIA NOWELL

offered—’ and he stopped me and said: ‘You cannot do that.’ And I was stunned. He said, ‘Don’t you understand what this man has achieved? For the first time, we are being seen the world over as we should be seen.’ He says, ‘Do you understand that this is the only show that my wife Coretta and I will allow our little children to stay up and watch.’ I was speechless.” And it turned out that Dr. King was right. Nichelle Nichols not only challenged viewers to see black people and women as capable and important leaders, but also inspired future actors to pursue similar roles. In fact, Whoopi Goldberg, who played Guinan on Star Trek: The Next Generation, credits Nichelle Nichols for acting as her role model as well as being one of the first black women she ever saw on television playing someone besides a maid. Star Trek even went so far as to air the first interracial kiss in television— and actors Nichelle Nichols and William Shatner (the famous Captain Kirk) reportedly flubbed every alternative scene so that the network would have to air their world-changing kiss. In these and so many other ways, Star Trek actively defied societal norms and celebrated diversity as it sought out new worlds and new civilizations. What Star Trek did as a progressive television program in the 1960s was monumental, but the idea of fiction as a medium for imagining, and ultimately

creating, alternative realities has a long history. The earliest examples of science fiction films, such as Forbidden Planet, actively considered the role of the imagination—and even went so far as to envision planets where thoughts might be able to physically change the world. Even early science fiction novels, like Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, toyed with ideas of what human imagination and reason might be able to create. One might even go so far as to argue that all storytelling—since the earliest epic poems and myths—has been about imagining different worlds, futures, histories, and lives for ourselves. All this brings us to the question I asked myself when I heard last month that CBS Television Studies will be premiering a new Star Trek series in January 2017: How will this Star Trek use its position as a science fiction series to address contemporary social issues? The Star Trek series released since the Original Series (The Next Generation, Voyager, Deep Space Nine, Enterprise, and The Animated Series) have all taken up the mantle of exploring diversity, but in much less political ways than the Original Series. Yet, I can’t help but ask myself what Star Trek could accomplish by addressing current social and political issues in its new series. Truly, a show set onboard a starship exploring the galaxy has so much space to consider what kinds of diversity might

lay beyond our world and what kinds of issues we may have to face in the future. I like to think that this new Star Trek could tackle political issues like Islamophobia, colonialism, terrorism, partisanship, racism, and sexism with a cast made up of black, indigenous, Latinx, Asian, queer, trans, female, and lower socio-economic status actors. I like to think that science fiction—and fiction in general—could continue representing, exploring, and imagining new and different ways of life. If the Star Trek of the 1960s could feature a diverse cast exploring racial, political, and moral questions—I like to think that the Star Trek of today could push itself, and viewers, even further, to imagine a progressive and meaningful and hopeful future. After all, if we’re ever going to be prepared to face what lies among the stars, we’re going to have to understand what lies on our own planet. If we’re going to seek out new civilizations, we’re going to have to get comfortable with the ones we already have. If we’re going to imagine new stories for ourselves, we have to acknowledge our reality. And we’ll have to imagine, and create, and hope once again for what might someday be.

Cecilia Nowell ’16 (cnowell@wellesley.edu) likes her tea Earl Grey. Hot.

counterpoint / februar y 2016

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ARTS & CULTURE

THE HOUSING DILEMMA:

the harry potter edition

ryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin. Courage, loyalty, intelligence, ambition. It’s so easy for the characters in the Harry Potter books to know where they are meant to be. They get to leave fate in the figurative hands of a hat. Yet, it is different for us fans. Though we still secretly pray that our Hogwarts letters will show up in our mailboxes many years too late, we know that it’s not very likely we will get to go to Hogwarts to be told where we belong. An existential crisis: what Hogwarts House am I in? Please don’t mock me. I have dealt with this problem for so many years in frustration, and I know I am not alone in this issue. If there could be a mascot for every generation, ours would be a little boy in glasses with a lightning bolt on his head. The Hogwarts Housing Dilemma may seem silly, but this past semester alone I have had dozens of discussions with people who couldn’t decide where their home would be if they were a student there. The decision is not just one of fiction; it is one of definition. The question is whether you are an lion, badger, eagle, or serpent, but you are still posed

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to question your core values. In the case of Hogwarts, it almost feels like the authority of Sorting can never be placed into your own hands or else you might chose wrong. But how are Muggles like us to answer a question forged in magic? Initially for me, Pottermore seemed like the best solution. A quiz created by J.K. Rowling herself had to be the most accurate in determining which House I would belong to. When I was thirteen, I stayed up all night waiting for Pottermore to be released, extremely excited to finally figure out my House. I trudged through the opening tasks in order to get to the test and was pleased to discover that I was a Ravenclaw, an identity I held onto for nearly five years after. But of course, like many Harry Potter fans, I had my doubts. I still clicked on every quiz available online for verification. Alas, the older I got, the more often my House changed in these quizzes to one other House in particular. In every other exam, it seemed, I appeared to be a Hufflepuff. I would deny it profusely. I’m not a Hufflepuff, I’d shake off in shame, I’m a Ravenclaw. J.K. Rowling herself told me

counterpoint / februar y 2016

so. To quote the incredible A Very Potter Musical: “what the hell is a Hufflepuff?” It is the House that every other House scoffs at. What is loyalty compared to intelligence or bravery or ambition? But, as an avid fan, I could not ignore the anxious feelings that maybe I was Sorted into the wrong House. Naturally, in a frenzy one night last summer, I made another Pottermore account and plugged in my answers, expecting to get a blue and bronze eagle crest like the time before. To my surprise, a yellow and black badger popped up instead, welcoming me to the House of Helga Hufflepuff. I felt lost. Was I not a Ravenclaw all these years? Did the House test Sort me wrongly originally, or did it Sort me wrong now? Being the Wellesley student I am, I certainly felt like I belonged in Ravenclaw. All these years, I had been one of Rowena Ravenclaw’s clever companions, comparing myself to Luna Lovegood and sporting my striped blue scarf. I used “wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure” on corny Instagram posts and dreamed of the bright common room filled with beautiful books. I was a Ravenclaw.

Images: pottermore.com

BY SAM ENGLISH

And yet…it had never felt completely right. I certainly identify as intelligent, but I value generosity and kindness most of all. I’d rather be liked than admired or envied; I’d rather have compassionate relationships than incredible talents or never-ending bravery. Most of all, I know most people would label me sweet before they would smart. Though I often feel like the observation somewhat belittles me, in another way, it also is touching. The more and more I examined myself, the more I realized that my traits should line me up as a Hufflepuff. For a while, I existed in a space without label, replying when asked that I was something between a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff. It was only when I joined Quidditch that I felt like I really needed to put a sock in it and pin down my House. So, I decided to put the decision into the faithful hands of Joanne again, hoping to finally get a clear answer. I turned to Pottermore again, taking the test not just once, but two more times. There it was. Hufflepuff, both times. I had a new House. The problem with the Hogwarts Housing System is that it disregards the fact that people change throughout their lives. I would like to believe that had I been Sorted by the Sorting Hat rather than a computer, I would have been a Hufflepuff at age eleven. I can never know for sure though. We are not all Neville Longbottoms who cannot see the bravery within ourselves or Luna Lovegoods who know exactly who they are from day one. If that were the case, we wouldn’t encounter characters like Severus Snape, who forces Dumbledore to make the comment that he thinks “sometimes…we Sort too soon”(Deathly Hallows, 680). Snape, had he been Sorted in his later years, could have easily been a Gryffindor, if he so chose to be. Similarly, we wouldn’t see characters like the frightened Peter Pettigrew. As Harry tells his son, it is possible that Peter

asked to be put in Gryffindor, but there had to be something in Peter that let the Sorting Hat do that. If Neville Longbottom literally couldn’t stop the Sorting Hat from putting him in Gryffindor despite his begs against it, Peter couldn’t have just asked and received what he wanted. He had to have Gryffindor tendencies. Yet, as we know, he later becomes a coward who turns his best friends over to Voldemort to save himself. Nobody goes through life being the same person. Our personalities morph as we experience new things, changing with our growth. Of course, plenty of people,

even as they change, define themselves the same way or keep the same morals. But for others, the way they view themselves might be different at one point in life than the last. You might find yourself caring the most for ambition in your childhood and find later that now you care more for loyalty or bravery. The Hogwarts Houses cannot account for transformation. The system lives on the fact that people do not change their core identities. This is not reality. This is where fiction bleeds with a speed that even magic cannot fix. Except that, even in Harry Potter, House is not everything. Harry, the

could’ve-been-Slytherin; Hermione, the maybe-Ravenclaw; and Ron, the nearHufflepuff, are all Gryffindors in the end, despite their characteristics that imply otherwise. As Dumbledore puts it for Harry, it is choices that matter, not attributes. The Sorting Hat always preaches that students must be members of the Hogwarts community, rather than of their Houses. Naturally, at the conclusion of the series, Hogwarts survives because the students choose to fight together instead of standing apart. We all want to know what House we would be in if we went to Hogwarts. We all want a perfect definition of ourselves. Reality cannot be perfect, though, which is what is truly remarkable about Rowling’s fiction. Of course the Hogwarts Housing System is bound to fail. People are not black and white, as Harry learns through his father and Severus Snape and Voldemort himself. Humans exist in the gray spectrum, and in the end, our own particular shades mean little. So, humor me, and pick a Hogwarts House. If you are like me, it will be hard. But know this: whichever one feels most right to you at this moment is perfect. If your House changes, it will still be perfect. Accept that even wizards are human. Accept that, in the end, your House will not matter. Whether you are definitively Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, or not, you are a hopeless Harry Potter fan and like me, like all of us hopeless fans, you are constantly fascinated by the spells on the page and the true magic of love all around us.

If you too are an extremely hopeless Harry Potter fan, you can join Quidditch, where you will find Sam English ’19 (senglis2@ wellesley.edu) on the pitch stealing snitches.

counterpoint / februar y 2016

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Content warning: anxiety, trichotillamania

have a mental health problem that people can see and have opinions about. I have trichotillomania, and people are weirded out by that. Trich is a disorder characterized by pulling out one’s own hair. Some do it from their head, as well as their eyelashes, eyebrows, or other parts of their bodies. I have a specific spot on my head that I pull from. I look for a coarse or interesting feeling strand—one that feels “different.” I play with it for a bit before I pull it out and run it through my fingers even more. Before I know it, there is a mess of dead hair on my desk, my bed, or even the notebook of a student I’m tutoring. I never wanted to stop until I saw what it was doing to me. I have a bald patch on my head. I have tufts of baby hairs desperately trying to grow in, and red patches of prickly new hairs just beginning to form. That’s what made me realize this was an issue. The first question I’m asked when I tell people is always: “Why?” It’s related to anxiety and OCD. I’ve been treated for anxiety since I was twelve. A few months ago, when I realized how much hair I was losing, my medication dosage was raised. It doesn’t really work, but I’m trying. I pull out mirrors so I can stare at the back of my head, twisting and combing the small new locks to try to cover the angry baldness. It drives me crazy. What bothers me the most is that I’m most concerned with how it makes me look, and how people react. I hate when people notice. I constantly try to cover my scalp, and then panic when my professors say, “Oh, is your hand raised? No, I guess you’re just scratching your head.” I clean up all the strands of hair that I pull out page 8

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MENTAL HEALTH

BY SARAH LEWITES wherever I go because I know people find hair so disgusting. But I don’t STOP. Here’s the thing: I’m getting help. I see a therapist, and I’m learning to cut down on my pulling. My therapist had me keep track of how many strands I pulled a day—I had a daily quota and rewards if I stayed under it. Though the urge comes up all the time still, I’m able to pull less. I’m okay, really. But why am I so concerned with what people see? I try to explain why people have trich—I give evidence of it being a real thing to convince people it’s not just me. When someone compliments my hair, my first feeling is relief, and my second is that I’ve somehow tricked them. Mental health disorders are considered weird and scary. We don’t chat or joke about them. But hiding my bald spots doesn’t make my trich go away or lessen my anxiety. Even friends that are comfortable talking about it will panic when they see me touching my hair, and tell me to stop (they seem to feel better when I do). I see them trying not to say something at first, but then wanting to “help” after they see it get worse. I sometimes want to just tell people, “I have trich, I’m weird, and it’s not your problem!” Mentall illness is not a death sentence. It’s not something you always call 911 for, and it looks different in every person. People are terrified of mental illness, but it’s just one part of a person. People live with it every day, and it’s not always an emergency situation. So, trust me with my trich. I’m getting help—I may never stop, but I am okay. I may be missing a few hairs, but I know I’ll be alright. I love my hair. I love myself, even with trich. Don’t let it scare you. Sarah Lewites ’18 (slewites@wellesley.edu) has trich and it’s not your problem.

Images: oatsandandrea.tumblr.com, i.ytimg.com

KEEPING UP APPEARANCES

CAMPUS LIFE

IMPOSTER B Y TA M A R D AV I S

t Wellesley, I’ve developed a clear understanding of privilege: who has it, who doesn’t, and why it’s bestowed upon some and not others. I’ve realized that despite the multitude of different backgrounds we all have, just being on a college campus is a privilege that we all share. But as a woman of color, especially a Black woman, this recognition of privilege is all the more potent. It’s not necessarily because I’m one of so few. Black women are going to college and doing quite well during our times at our respective universities. But nevertheless, as a Black woman, my understanding of how deep the gulf is between where I am now and where people expect me to be gnaws at the back of my mind… It comes to the forefront when I step beyond the confines of this campus and realize that just by virtue of my race and gender, people will often automatically assume the worst about my character, my past, and my prospects. Recognizing the privilege I enjoy here has kept me grounded, on my toes, and working twice as hard. It has also fueled a fear of failure that can overwhelm and stifle me if I allow it. I didn’t know what imposter syndrome was until last year, but it is a condition I quickly realized I’ve always faced. The feeling that I wasn’t meant to be here or that failure was a price I couldn’t afford to pay based on my

class position and racial background has for too long kept me from even trying to place myself in uncomfortable situations. I can still recall the wave of stress and tears that washed over me days before my very first week of classes. I felt inadequately prepared for everything. I remember how gradually I began to eschew things that I used to reap so much joy from—dance, writing—all because I was no longer convinced that my skills would measure up at a place like Wellesley. It’s odd how prestige makes us so intimidated by institutions: the name, the reputation (sometimes even the physical structure itself ) all the while forgetting that those very institutions are made up of and enlivened by people who aren’t much different than ourselves. People generally recognize college as a place where the ambitious acquire the tools for success. We understand it as an engine where students use their self determination to create new possibilities for themselves. We are rarely told that it’s okay if we’re not successful all the time, or that maybe the moments when we fall on our faces are the very ones that helps us grow the most. While the stakes for failure may not be the same for everyone, and it’s a privilege for some that their personal shortcomings won’t be used as a strike against their entire race (or class, or gender), stepping out on a limb is still an experience that no one

should deny themselves. Imagine how much happier, more fulfilled, and better cultivated we would all be if we knew that success was based not on how many times we won but on how many times we just pushed beyond our own self-imposed limits? When I return years from now to reflect on my time here at Wellesley, or even in May when I put on my cap and gown and inevitably replay these past four years in my mind, I know that my regret will not be that I wish I had done better but rather that I wish I had done more.

Tamar Davis ’16 (tdavis@wellesley.edu) is not an imposter.

counterpoint / februar y 2016

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MENTAL HEALTH

am triggered by bugs. I was assaulted and am triggered by bugs. I was sexually assaulted and am triggered by bugs. I was raped and left for dead and am triggered by bugs. I was raped and left for dead and am triggered by bugs because when I woke up on the floor of that dirty fucking shed, my twelve-year-old body was covered in blood and spiders. I refuse all offers to go camping because the sound of crickets makes me feel his hands and taste copper and see it all over again. When I’m having a flashback (because make no mistake, that’s what I’m describing), I can’t hear anything else but his words screamed into my face, punctuated by fists. I’d apologize for the detail, but I’ve found that this is the level of depth I have to give in order for someone to consider taking my triggers seriously. People feel entitled to know why something causes me to have such an extreme reaction, especially because there are often no outward signs of that reaction besides a glazed look in my eyes. In practice, this means that if I want to have a chance at being respected while asking for trigger warnings, I have to offer more information than I’d like to. It’s no longer enough to simply say “I am triggered by ____.” Trigger warnings are not about me feeling “uncomfortable.” It’s not just some hot topic being debated in academic circles, packaged in soundbite-sized pieces that tell one narrative: the coddled college student living in a liberal ivory tower threatened by the reality of a harsh world. To hear some pundits tell it, trigger warnings are a mark of America’s downfall and, somehow, an exercise in censorship. Appage 10

TRIGGER WARNINGS BY ANONYMOUS

parently there can be no free speech without the unrestricted ability to completely disregard the experiences of those you are speaking to, without fear of being told you’re an asshole. This isn’t about free speech. This is about those of us who know the harsh realities of the world all too fucking well, so well that we won’t ever be able to forget—unless we do forget and have it all come rushing back when we can’t brace for impact. That’s what happened to me. My mind had pushed my traumas aside until, years later, all of my repressed memories rose to the surface. I guess my brain was so overwhelmed it couldn’t hold back anymore. I screamed my entire family awake. I cried myself to sleep. I often still do. I go through a version of that realization, of remembering and reliving, every single time I am triggered. Remember that roach in Stone-Davis? The one people posted photos of on Yik Yak? Yeah, that made for one hell of a night. We think of Wellesley as this “politically correct” bastion of liberal students, people who would never disparage someone’s mental health. Yet, that is exactly what I had to deal with when I posted a yak asking that people not post photos of bugs. I was intentionally specific and apologetic in my request, saying bugs are a major trigger of mine and other people

counterpoint / februar y 2016

I know on our campus and asking that others avoid posting photos of them so we didn’t have to stop using the app. I even added a “thank you so much” as the first comment, and an addendum asking if people were going to post the photos that they add a trigger warning as a separate yak so when scrolling, people would know what was coming. That addendum was downvoted before anyone else had even commented. Once the comments did start rolling in, I was blindsided. I was accused of censorship by multiple people, told my trigger isn’t real because bugs are harmless, and reminded that “college is not a counseling service.” I needed to go to the Stone Center. I should have known that being triggered is just a form of “exposure therapy.” I needed to “woman up and get over it.” Nevermind that I cannot learn if I am in the middle of a flashback, that I’m not simply afraid of bugs (though I do believe phobias should be acknowledged and are also helped by trigger warnings) but am trying to avoid reliving being raped. Nevermind that exposure therapy is done by trained clinicians, with the informed consent of the patient, and in a controlled environment. Nevermind that I’ve been in treatment for my mental illness for years now. Nevermind that I am not a woman. The assumptions these commenters— my peers—made about me are truly staggering. The blissfully ignorant position

Images: Mina Oh ’18

Content warning: bugs, sexual assault, physical violence, PTSD

they occupy might lend a note of absurdity to their comments if they didn’t hurt so badly. Who are these people to discount my trauma and tell me what’s best for my own mental health? When I posted that yak, I wasn’t looking for people to fall at my feet. I was just looking for the sort of consideration you’d give to someone who’s had a rough time and doesn’t want to be reminded of it out of the blue. I figured that those who disagreed would simply continue on with their day, and those who were compassionate would read it and maybe prevent a future flashback of mine. Hell, I’ve seen more compassion given towards students who didn’t get into a society and were sick

of reading about those who did. All I am asking for is a bit of tact, a sense of empathy, and a willingness not to co-opt the struggles of mentally ill people in whichever way best benefits your political position. Yik Yak is just an extension of the culture we’ve steeped ourselves in. Wellesley thankfully doesn’t have the ideology that trigger warnings are unnecessary because they stifle academic freedom. However, there is still a culture of knowing what’s best for everyone, and we need to address the ills that come with it, like believing all a person with PTSD needs is a trip to the Stone Center, some exposure therapy, and perhaps a prescription. Maybe this way of thinking is a side

effect of attending a college full of typeA students, where mental illness is so commonplace everyone thinks they’re an expert. Maybe it’s not. No matter the reason, I only hope students will learn to take the words of students with triggers at face value and recognize the harm that comes from believing themselves entitled to our life stories. I only hope that next time, saying “I am triggered by bugs” will be enough. For information about articles published anonymously, please contact the Editors-InChief (ofunderb@wellesley.edu, hdaytene@ wellesley.edu, cnowell@wellesley.edu).

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POLITICS

“DIRTY ZIONIST JEW” A RESPONSE FROM A FEMINIST ZIONIST

t came to my “other” box on Facebook: “You Dirty Zionist Jew! You Zionist pig!” She didn’t know me, but my presence as a Zionist, both on- and offline, makes this kind of message a common occurrence. My simple response, cultivated over months of tears brought on by similar messages, was “I am either Jewish or a pig, but the two don’t really go together.” This isn’t your typical article about Zionism, or even Israel. I am not going to write a politically charged assessment of Middle Eastern politics, assert Israel’s socialist-democracy as a superior form of government, or even evoke the memory of the Shoah (Holocaust), though all of these undertakings are certainly warranted in other conversations. Rather, I present you with a tale of a Feminist Zionist, an intersection that has made many of my peers and professors at Wellesley uneasy, if not directly critical. Zionism is the belief that Jews have the right to an autonomous homeland, where they are self-determining as a majority in a nation-state. While various groups have interpreted and reproduced (and complicated) Zionism through religion, politics, and even Christian theology, the primary tenement of Zionism is simple: A separate people, who are oppressed everywhere they go, deserve a separate homeland free from ethnocultural division. As a Jew who has faced anti-Semitism and microaggressions in various forms, I can attest to the ethnocultural division page 12

omnipresent to a Jew in the non-Jewish world. Obtaining appropriate accommodations at Wellesley, on flights, and at restaurants is an exhausting and expensive venture. More direct comments about being “another Jewish girl” and being assaulted on public buses for wearing a Star of David are monthly occurrences. In my Southern hometown, being heckled by Christian Evangelicals repeating that I am “going to hell” is emotionally draining. Many feminist scholars have divided the world into two categories: the oppressed and the oppressor. In recent decades, Jews have gone from being considered the oppressed to being considered the oppressor. Regarding Israel, Zionism, and Jews as part of the “oppressor” group is based on two categorizations: Jewish wealth and Jewish whiteness. Yet, the fact that 50% of Boston’s Jewish community lives at or below the poverty line is a local example of the falsity of one of these stereotypes. The claim of Jewish whiteness is rooted in whitewashed tellings of history; for example, many US high schools teach the history of the Holocaust, but how many people (including Jews) know about the Silent Exodus? The diversity within Judaism, a result of the diaspora’s long existence, is ignored both within and outside of Judaism, doubly erasing the histories, traditions, and existence of Jews of color (Mizrachi Jews from the Middle East and North Africa, Sephardi Jews from Italy, Spain, and Portugal, and Beta Yis-

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rael Jews from Ethiopia, among others). While it cannot be denied that many Jews are “white passing,” maintaining distinct cultures and languages wherever we land has continuously prevented our complete assimilation. I am one of the many Jews considered white passing—and this is definitely a privilege. Next to my Tunisian Jewish partner, the difference in how we are viewed manifests itself in obvious ways. Yet, this does not indicate my willful assimilation into white society. Rather, my actions are informed by my Judaism, beyond faith or religion, by my experience of what it means to be Jewish—which is, inherently, to be an outsider. My whiteness may give me the privilege to enter white society—but it doesn’t mean I choose to. Being at Wellesley has informed my intersectional-feminist thinking, increasing my dedication to anti-colonialism, allyship with marginalized groups, and awareness of the right to autonomy. But during my collegiate years, I have also found that there is a liberal benchmark for “the oppressed,” and Jews, particularly Zionists, don’t make the list. Despite many anti-Zionists supporting the right to self-determination of other peoples, the Jewish exception persists. In being a feminist and a Zionist, I see the Palestinians’ plight for self-determination as intimately related to my own—thus I can ignore neither. The Palestinian people, exploited by Jordan,

Images: placesofreligiouspilgrimage.weebly.com

BY JORDAN HANNINK

Lebanon, Syria, Egypt, and the State of Israel, deserve an acknowledgement of historic wrongs and the right to live as a self-determining population free of terror, extremism, and fear. However, this must not come at the expense of Israelis—Jews, Arabs, and others who have found refuge in the thriving country. Whenever I observe activist groups and academic organizations supporting boycotts, divestments, and sanctions against the State of Israel while also proclaiming to support feminism, I can’t help but question their scholarship and research. On our own campus, students and faculty have stated or implied that “Zionism is Racism,” a trope of the early 90’s that developed during the First Intifada. However, such a claim is counterintuitive—the belief in self-determining statehood for a particular group of people is not racist, but how any nation forms. While Israel, the Zionist State, certainly has to answer to historic and ongoing wrongs against the Palestinian population, so too do countries in which Palestinians are legally discriminated against—including Jordan, Syria, Lebanon, and Egypt. In Jordan, despite the fact that 70% of the population are Palestinian refugees, they have yet to be assimilated into Jordanian social and economic structures. The

seventy years they have lived in refugee camps sets the record for refugee life anywhere. Not addressing these wrongs contributes to discontent in the Middle East. But more than just addressing the omnipresent tensions between Palestinians and Israelis, my feminism is critical of the Jewish State, which continues to perpetrate racist policies against its Mizrachi, Beta Yisrael, and African refugee populations. Their gendered approaches to justice, particularly in regards to life cycle events, belong in the time of the Tanakh (Hebrew Bible)—not post second wave. The large class disparities in Israel are appalling—as the housing crisis leaves many, mostly millennials, homeless or in squalor, while wealthy Europeans and Americans own empty second residences in the middle of the cities. The issues within the execution of Zionism show us where power lies: international wealth structures, racism, classism, and sexism. The problem with the Jewish State is not Zionism, but that it is a nation state in a capitalist, “globalized” world. Simplistic answers given without critical thought should be the enemy of feminists. Yet, in our haste to support marginalized persons, many have forgotten their critical lenses. While complicated by being the first “diasporic” community,

the simultaneous erasure, oppression, and othering of Jewish culture, not to mention the eradication of Jewish communities, uniquely situates Jews as needing an independent nation, where we have a government and state to protect and defend us from the global threat of anti-Semitism while building a community that thrives on Jewish values. In becoming Israeli myself, I hope to contribute to the league of people in Israel fighting its structural problems, acting on my feminism, even if it only ends in compromise (for now). In the meantime, I will stand as your ally, so we can fight the classist, racist, sexist, machine together. I will accept the “dirty Zionist Jew!” messages I receive simply as a credit to my radical, feminist-informed Zionism.

Jordan Hannink ’16 (jhannink@wellesley. edu) is a Jewish feminist and a feminist Jew who stands again at Sinai.

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DOWN 2. The music video for this song features nudity, geometry, and paint 4. We like to think that the chorus to this song sounds a bit like angry screeching goats 6. Nevermind, I’ll find _________ 8. This song is actually about a stalker, oops 9. Bruno Mars sings about being devoted to an unhealthy degree 11. Pat Benatar wants us all to know that all heartbreak is survivable with some serious girl-power 12. Hello there, childhood memories of Avril Lavigne-inspired angst 13. Sleep here if your heart is broken 15. A hit by the first American Idol; the music video includes the notorious “destroy his apartment” premise 16. We could have had it all 21. Same premise as 19 across, honestly 23. “Kept his dick wet” 25. Oxygen>love 30. T-Swift showing off her pyromaniacal side circa 2007 31. Every single indie artist has an acoustic cover of this Bon Iver song. Every. Single. One. 32. Courtney Barnett covered this (really depressing) You Am I song 34. Friendly reminder not to be a narcissist

Image: listen.com

ACROSS 1. Lorelai brought us all to tears while singing this ballad to Luke Danes 3. “Questions of ______, ______ and progress” 5. “TURN AROUND, BRIGHT EYES” 7. This song is about Taylor Lautner 10. Biebs don’t care 12. “Like... ever.” 14. The album art for this song features a dude with a rainbow exploding out of his head 17. All my problems seemed so far away… 18. I don’t give a single solitary fuck 19. Vandalism is the best way to get over a breakup 20. “Our album needs just one” 22. Don’t get on P!nk’s bad side 24. “I wake up every evening”...wait what? Who sleeps in that late? 26. This song, sung by a member of the Black-Eyed Peas, is also known as “Personal” 27. J-Biebs feels entitled to kudos for missing more than just your body 28. “FROM THE OUTSIIIIIIIIIIIDE” 29. “Should I give up?” 33. Think Beyoncé in a leotard 35. To the left 36. Well-regarded as a truly terrible story-song, this masterpiece was performed by Rachel Berry in Glee to demonstrate her “bad reputation” 37. The first track on one of the most well-known breakup albums of all time; reminds us that “players only love you when they’re playing” 38. Who do you think you are? 39. Survival song, so disco it hurts

CROSSWORD:

breakup songs

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This month we asked you what House you were Sorted into (either by Pottermore or by your own choice). We got 416 responses (from 416 nerds); for your reading pleasure, here are the results! Other responses: 3 votes to Gryffinpuff, 6 votes to Huffleclaw, 5 votes to Slytherclaw, 1 vote to Hagrid’s Hut, 1 vote to Beauxbaton’s Academy of Magic, 1 vote to the Divergent, and 1 vote to “hedgehog hoe house.”