Letter to the Editor: The Changing Needs of Grinnellians’ Wellness I loved Grinnell. I couldn’t have asked for a better first year of college. Not only did I find a group of friends that I knew I’d have forever, I found a place where I felt comfortable. At the end of every break, I’d joke with my mom and say, “Okay, I’m going home now,” referring to Grinnell. She’d flash me a disgruntled glare and say, “No! You are going to school,” in the thick Brooklyn accent I’ve only recently come to love. I’d laugh, but I always felt some truth to calling Grinnell my home. But after a series of non-stop blows to heart, mind and soul, I can no longer find it in myself to see anything more than just a school in Grinnell.
I love my job as a Student Advisor but I have to say it has exposed me to some of the darker sides of Grinnell. I can’t blame the institution for a lot of the difficulties many students face on campus, but I do acknowledge it has become the rock pinning us between our already hard places. I arrived at the Des Moines airport this past August euphoric to be returning to Grinnell, living in a single on the South side of campus by my friends and in a community where I could help a doe-eyed group of first-years fall for Grinnell as I did the year before. But the difference between what I envisioned my second year to be and what it has ended up being is something I will never understand. Even though I was never explicitly told to put on a happy face, I felt like it was my job to. As a tour guide and member of student staff, I felt obligated to act as my old cheerful and happy-go-lucky self that fell in love with Grinnell over and over again each day. I didn’t think it would be a challenging role to play, but after experiencing some of Grinnell’s biggest flaws, both first- and second-hand, the role grew harder. I’m not saying I hate Grinnell, I’m just saying the magic of my first year has long since faded and all the harsh realities of my second have cemented. I don’t have a perfect solution to fix Grinnell and I won’t pretend that I do. However, recognizing that we are doing something wrong is the first step.
Although mental health is something Grinnell talks a lot about, it’s not something it really handles. “GrinWell” shouldn’t have been introduced to students as a “challenge” but more of the standard way to live. Wellness is not something that should be so hard to obtain, yet somehow it is at Grinnell. Mental health here isn’t taken seriously until someone is already tapped out. It shouldn’t take a breakdown for the school to see someone is suffering. Mental health isn’t as black and white as Grinnell makes it seem, and it’s the in-between areas that are being forgotten.
After being attacked by another student, I got lost in my own head. I let it consume me. The one person I felt I could trust seemed further and further away each time I stepped outside of my mind to see where I had drifted. Far enough that they were completely out of sight, just not out of mind. It was in that earth-shattering moment when I realized what I had done. Just as my wellness was non-consensually taken from me, I was in the midst of apprehending someone else’s. It was the gut- wrenching jab I needed to get myself moving in the right direction.
I don’t think I’m a strong person and would never label myself as one. I haven’t faced half as many adversities as some of the students on campus, yet sometimes I struggle with the everyday motions of life. I can’t help but feel utterly helpless as I witness residents, friends and even myself fall victim to an unhealthy state of mind. Students at Grinnell tend to be more sympathetic than most. I find this to be a blessing and a curse. It’s only natural to turn to a friend for help through a rough time, but they shouldn’t be the only ones. We need professionals because we can’t carry around everyone else’s loads when we are struggling to hold our own.
Grinnell holds many firsts for me: my first love, first heartbreak, first rabbit and first realization that we could be doing something more than we are. I started this off by saying “I loved Grinnell” and I hold true to that statement. But if there is one thing a dear Grinnellian has taught me, it is that love is situational, and I know I can one day reclaim my love for the first home I had that wasn’t my parents’.
—Helena Alacha ’18 Searching for My Roots/Routes
Guest Column by Abdiel Lopez [email protected]
My mother is a housekeeper and my father paints cars for a living. I have lived in a one-bedroom apartment my entire life in the heart of Los Angeles: Koreatown. Despite some financial shortcomings throughout my childhood, my parents made a collaborative effort to enroll me in elite public schools on the “Westside of L.A.” so that I could obtain the cultural and social capital that would eventually grant me a spot at an elite postsecondary institution like Grinnell. The academic industrial complex, especially in Los Angeles, merits a different article, but for now what I can say about it is that the stark inequality in the access and quality of the education children receive on the “Westside” is a lot better than those in South and East L.A. As such, I was privileged enough to take the public city transportation to and from my home to Brentwood-Pacific Palisades just to obtain a “better” education than the one I would have otherwise.
Growing up in these homogenously white spaces traumatized me, and I was not made aware of all the pain and the trauma until I came to Grinnell and found solace and refuge in theory. I turn to sociology when I need to make sense of the social world(s) I am constantly navigating. Activist and scholar bell hooks said it best in “Theory as liberatory practice”: “I wanted to make the hurt go away. I saw in theory then a location for healing.”
The hurt I experienced pre-Grinnell stemmed from my forced assimilation into Honors and Advanced Placement classes where I had to learn how to speak English with the right accent. I remember vividly presenting a project on Arizona and in the middle of my presentation I forgot how to pronounce Tucson. I pronounced it with a “k” instead of the silent “c.” In that moment, I was seen as different, as Other from the rest of my peers in my classroom. To this day, it fascinates me how much college students make fun of my mispronunciation of words I learned from reading literature at a young age and never remembered or thought to log on to a computer and hear the “right” linguistic pronunciation of words. Then again, right only became noticeable when I was told just how wrong I was.
When I came in and out of Latinx (a gender-inclusive term) spaces in high school I was always reminded of my difference. My inability to greet boys my age with what people in my AP classes referred to as the “ghetto handshake” made sure to let me know that I did not fit with people in my community. One time I told a group of acquaintances about playing my violin and remember being immediately dismissed with, “That shit is too white, bro.” It was this moment when notions of whiteness and Latinidad became obscure and foreign concepts that left me in the dark and continue to haunt me today.
When I finally stepped foot on the foreign land that I know as Grinnell, Iowa, I had no idea my past would become part of my present and future. My baggage of experiences would help other Latinxs position me as “the Other.” I tried — and continue to try — really hard to make friends with people in my community. Some greeted me with open arms and have continued to be part of my family to this day. Others have persisted in showing my difference to the world and myself.
I don’t align ideologically with the Student Organization of Latin@s (SOL) but my disillusionment and distance from SOL does not make me any less of a “Chicanx” or “Latinx” than someone who shows up to the weekly meetings. My critique of SOL stems from the fact that I do think it has a lot of potential to ameliorate the dialogue that has marginalized me on this campus. Nevertheless, for now, I am trying to search for ways to heal; so I turn to theory and put it in practice. This idea of self-empowerment, however, has been an issue for older Latinxs to understand. Consequently, they remind me of how their activist and leadership accomplishments have contributed to the Latinx community more visibly than the activism I do by staying alive on this campus and going to my classes. Messages like these tell me that I am not the right “kind” of Chicanx/Latinx. Furthermore, the idea that there is a Latinx “culture” has expedited the process of producing a monolithic idea of what it means to be Latinx by essentializing experiences, and in that process robbing people of their lived experiences. As such, the word “culture” has been used to help subjugate Others even within my communities.
As I write this, I am reminded of how I exist in this space, how much hurt I have left in me to address and how much others are hurt as well. I do not know where my academic autobiography will lead me, but I know this: my constant search for my roots/routes is helping me create new theoretical journeys that are leading me to my liberation. Letter to the Editor: Posse Scholars’ campus-wide impact, success propelling Mellon Mays Fellowship On Sundays, as a kid, if I wasn’t on the soccer pitch, I was watching football with my dad. My parents, both football lovers, never watched together because Daddy preferred professional play-by-play to Mom’s color commentary. So, Dad and I watched together — not really saying much, but enjoying one another’s company. It was from watching football with Daddy that I learned about a common but not necessarily coveted position in football: the Monday morning quarterback.
Monday morning quarterbacks have plenty to say after the fact. They use insight gleaned from hindsight to evaluate, to critique and sometimes, to judge.
I am that Monday morning quarterback.
I am a Monday morning quarterback in Grinnell College’s current conversation about the Posse Scholars Program and our decision to discontinue our relationship with the Posse Foundation. I didn’t participate in the decision-making process — I was not a player in this game. But now that a decision has been made, all I have is my position on the sidelines from which to offer my two cents.
On Wednesday, April 13, a special Campus Memo notified the college community that we would be discontinuing our relationship with the Posse Foundation. As Posse’s website explains, for 26 years, “The Posse Foundation has identified, recruited and trained 6,983 public high school students with extraordinary academic and leadership potential to become Posse scholars. Since 1989, these students — many of whom might have been overlooked by traditional college selection processes — have been receiving four-year, full-tuition leadership scholarships from Posse’s partner institutions of higher education. Most important, Posse scholars persist and graduate at a rate of 90 percent and make a visible difference on campus and throughout their professional careers.”
I’m writing because for the past seven years, I have personally experienced and delighted in Posse’s presence on campus. In fact, as the Faculty Coordinator of the Mellon Mays Undergraduate Fellowship Program (MMUF), I can honestly say that I am not certain that Mellon Mays would have survived without Posse.
I joined the Grinnell College faculty in 2008 and became Faculty Coordinator of MMUF that same year. We welcomed our first cohort of fellows in 2009. Since then, Grinnell’s MMUF program has selected 36 Mellon fellows. Of those Mellon fellows 16 of them, or 44 percent of all fellows selected, were Posse scholars and 54 percent of our Black and Latin@ fellows are Posse scholars.
In essence, Posse has been the lifeblood of Mellon Mays, a program that, in its early years, struggled to gain traction on campus. Even though MMUF has been in existence and has thrived on the campuses of other elite institutions for over 25 years, the program has existed at Grinnell for a mere eight. Without Posse, Mellon Mays would have experienced no sustainable success. I owe much of Mellon Mays’ success to pools of Posse scholars who self-selected and applied to the program, and to the dedicated Posse mentors who invited Mellon fellows to their Posse meetings and encouraged their Posse scholars to apply to Mellon Mays. Here’s one narrative behind the numbers. After graduating from Grinnell in 2012, Los Angeles Posse scholar and Mellon Mays fellow Lizeth Gutierrez applied and was accepted to graduate school at Washington State University. A member of our second cohort, Lizeth is on track to earn the first Ph.D. of all Grinnell College Mellon fellows combined. She was recently awarded a competitive Dissertation Grant from the Woodrow Wilson National Fellowship Foundation and was selected as an honorable mention in the Ford Foundation’s Dissertation Fellowship competition. I have no doubt that she and others will go on to become faculty and administrators at colleges and universities. Even more so, I know they will go on to transform those institutions just as they have changed Grinnell, and for the better in all ways — not just in ways that can be tallied or measured, like diversity numbers.
In his letter to the campus community, President Kington discusses Posse primarily in terms of diversity. He explains how “Posse has helped [Grinnell] to pursue our goals for diversity and student success and grow as a diverse institution.” But I know that Posse scholars, and the program for which they are named, have done much, much more. They have made their mark on Grinnell, changing it in as many ways as it has changed them.
Simply stated, Posse is, and was, about more than diversity. Posse is a pipeline program that brings students who were trained to self-select for rigorous scholastic opportunities, taught the benefits of the cohort model and groomed to negotiate higher education, to colleges and universities, to Mellon Mays. Posse scholars have been visible, important and necessary to me — and to Grinnell — and in ways that can be hard to quantify.
My hope is that like Peter King, the author of the sports column “Monday Morning Quarterback,” my words will reach those who care and those who matter. I make my comments public with the hope that allies will join the fight to make sure the College’s diversity plan considers more than the numbers and deliberates with a broad range of stakeholders.
I am a Monday morning quarterback because that was the sole position afforded to me. I will, however, take President Kington at his word when he says, “We will be increasing our human and financial resources dedicated to diversity, and we will be asking for your help as we work on it.” I’m here. I’m ready to work.
Put me in, coach. I’m ready to play.
—Professor Shanna Benjamin, English
Comics by Han: Pig Seppuku, Line Thoughts
Comics by Han Trinh [email protected]
The Changing Face of Online Strangers
Column by Matt Kartanata [email protected] My parents raised me Catholic, meaning that after what seemed to be an arbitrary number of masses, I would inevitably attend confession. It’s one of the seven sacraments in Catholicism, and most people know it by the tired portrayal of a dark, dramatic and cathartic talk to an unseen priest through a metal grate. But because my own knowledge of confession was informed largely by television and movies, where people confessed about murdering people (or even worse, masturbating!), my prepubescent self was confused that I was going to confession at all — what wrong had I done? So I recited what sins I could remember: that I had eaten too much ice cream that week, or that I had taken pens from the girl sitting next to me in class, or that during mass, I had dozed off during the sermon. Mostly however, I just wanted to talk about problems in my life. That, yes, I had fallen asleep during a crucial part of mass, but that I felt worse about having trouble making friends in school. My first attempt to seek out a (semi) anonymous friend in my church pastor failed miserably, as he was more concerned with my redemption than my poor social skills.
Growing up, my neighborhood had few children, and while my parents encouraged me to play outside, their hope of me making friends with our neighbors died out after a boy across the street had knocked on our door and mistaken me for a different Asian kid in his class, and had come to ask about his math homework. It was at an early age, then, that I sought out friends elsewhere.
RuneScape, a browser-based role-playing game, was in its heyday (this was around 2005), and having just installed the latest version of AOL, I was prepared to take my dial-up connection to its fullest potential. In RuneScape, you can fight creatures, go on quests of exploration, barter and trade with merchants and inevitably, talk to strangers. I was savvy with all the non-social aspects of the game, but was genuinely taken aback when once, a fellow user asked to be my friend. My parents had lectured me about stranger danger, how to navigate physical spaces discreetly and after watching an episode of 20/20, how this extended to the Internet world. But I was intrigued by this proposition of friendship, and after agreeing, went on to play RuneScape with this person on and off for nearly three years without knowing who they really were.
For what it’s worth, I can’t remember any of what we discussed over those years — only that this person’s name was Ryan and that they were fun to talk to. I suspect that my story isn’t that uncommon of a narrative. Across the web, people are making connections with complete strangers, sometimes never knowing their true identity, sometimes in relationships as ephemeral as my own, but perhaps much stronger as well. The Internet has changed the way we look at strangers. Certainly, there exist dangerous people who present and engage with others in a pedestrian manner, but overwhelmingly, that most people are genuinely interested in finding a connection. Whole communities are born out of strangers whose only tangible point of unity might be a common platform, common interest or their very anonymity. I think of various forums ranging from subreddits to Tumblr communities to tech troubleshooting websites, built up almost single-handedly by their user base for fellow members of their specific community in an act of online altruism. There are hardly tangible incentives for people to devote this kind of time to complete strangers beyond that very act, and still, people do it.
This phenomenon is in some ways encouraging and in others intimidating. In a world where there are whole billboards dedicated to warning drivers against hitchhikers, and the individualism of the family unit is prioritized versus the camaraderie of the immediate community, it is encouraging that we are rethinking who exactly a stranger might be, disconnecting their geographic place in favor of their common interests, beliefs and actions. But at the same time, it breeds caution that these very same communities being built by strangers for strangers can also be engineered as machines of hate and conscious harm, linking individuals that might otherwise have never crossed paths. If all we see of a person through an online interaction is their opinion or attitude, we risk forgetting that they’re a real, physical person behind the smoke and mirror act of the Internet, and that there exist real, tangible harms to whatever contact we may have. We ought to temper our interactions, to recognize and adjust to this new face of the old stranger.
The Back Page: April 22, 2016 “The Casual Vacancy”
Column by Chase Booth [email protected] Reactions to the news that J.K. Rowling was going to publish a book outside of the “Harry Potter” franchise were split into two main camps: those who bemoaned any writing of Rowling’s not dealing with our favorite wizard protagonist and those eager to get their hands on anything written by Rowling’s Midas touch. When I first heard about “The Casual Vacancy,” I fell into the former camp — initially, at least. After some time, I decided to buckle down and pick up “The Casual Vacancy” and was not only pleasantly surprised but also thoroughly enjoyed returning to her writing in a novel intended for and dealing with adult themes.
“The Casual Vacancy” begins with the unexpected death of small town politician Barry Fairbrother and drama ensues as the locals of Pagford vie with one another for Fairbrother’s now- vacant seat. The upcoming election turns petty conflicts and interpersonal beefs into full-on rivalries and factions. We learn that Barry’s seat is actually a linchpin in the ongoing debate about whether or not to keep “The Fields” in the town of Pagford or join the neighboring town of Yarvil. “The Fields,” home to Pagford’s poorest residents, is the site of debate that divides the town up between the rich and the poor, the privileged and the disenfranchised, the pristine and the unclean. Because Barry Fairbrother was an advocate for keeping “The Fields” in Pagford, his empty seat becomes all the more important to obtain by his opponents who will stop at nothing to remove the eyesore from their otherwise pristine town.
Tensions heat up further as the teenagers, fed up with their home life, create an online forum and post secrets about their parents (who are all running for office) under the pseudonym “The_Ghost_Of_Barry_Fairbrother.” The secrets aren’t light, either. They range from affairs and interpersonal family drama to criminal charges and even pedophilia. As the town reels from these anonymous revelations, some relationships will never repair as the adults scramble to shut down this website before darker secrets are revealed. We know from “Harry Potter” that Rowling possesses a masterful understanding of human nature, and “The Casual Vacancy” only verifies that sentiment. Juggling multiple characters within one novel is hard enough but doing that and creating in-depth, unique personalities on par with the depth of some Harry Potter characters is nothing short of praise-worthy. She deftly weaves together complex character storylines without sacrificing clarity. In fact, as the story goes on, the drama and intrigue only increase as we learn more and more about the characters and their intricate web of small town politics.
Readers of “The Casual Vacancy” are also treated to Rowling’s penchant for social commentary. One storyline in particular focuses on young Krystal Weedon, the daughter of a heroin addict who raises her younger brother in “The Fields.” Poor and living in an untenable home situation, Krystal becomes the center of “The Fields” controversy and the town’s political struggles. Rowling also deals with issues like child abuse, self-harm, rape, depression and anxiety in constructive and meaningful ways with multiple characters.
Rowling ingeniously integrates local, individual hardships with macro-level political decision-making. One of her characters, Kay Bawden, is the social worker for Krystal’s family and becomes the voice of reason in all the towns conversations about whether or not to close Bellchapel, Pagford’s only rehabilitation clinic. Without spoiling anything, the residents of Pagford end up having to cope with events resulting from poor decision-making and end up leading to a shocking and sad ending.
What one should not do while reading “The Casual Vacancy” is compare it with “Harry Potter.” Critics of this novel have had too much fun tearing it down with snide remarks like “The Casual Vacancy lacks the magic of Harry Potter” without offering any substantive critiques. It is obvious that a novel about small town muggle politics won’t resemble the magic of Harry Potter. “The Casual Vacancy” is sure to appeal to everyone at Grinnell where we know all too well how small town/college gossip spreads and what it feels like to have everyone know your business. Especially if you’re itching for more of Rowling’s “magic,” be sure to pick up this engrossing novel. Letter to the Editor: Agents for Change
The riot-proof design of Norris illustrates Grinnellians’ proud and illustrious history as rebels and agents for social justice. Yet the recent decision to terminate Posse prompted little more than a flurry of gossip among the majority of (unaffected) students. On a campus that is rife with muffled microaggressions and racial biases the question is: where is our push for change and justice? As a senior psychology major, my peers and I have spent the last few weeks teasing apart research addressing the factors underlying inequality which suggest that while we white Grinnellians are aware of and feel guilty about our privileged status, motivation to change the system comes from external outrage, achieving empathy and bridging the racial divides.
Psychologists John T. Jost and his colleagues found that individuals who identified with the privileged majority were less likely to engage in protest rejecting the status quo. Within Grinnell the dominant demographic is white and affluent individuals who benefit from the established system and culture. It’s an ugly truth, but we don’t need to strive against the system. In fact, it benefits us not to. Furthermore, the results showed that individuals were less likely to protest in environments where uncertainty was high. As we are all keenly aware, academics at Grinnell function as a source of significant stress and instability, as well as a locus for the manifestation of microaggressions and racial inequalities. Given the uncertain and unequal nature of Grinnell’s academic sphere, privileged students are doubly disincentivized to engage with and protest racial inequality. So, how can we, as dominant group members, motivate change for ourselves so that we can provide tangible support and a healthier campus for non-dominant groups?
Research shows that “moral outrage,” rather than guilt evoked by unjust systems, is key to moving beyond stagnated justifications. Moral outrage is characterized through external reactions generated by empathy and perspective- taking, such as anger and sympathy on behalf of the marginalized group, not internal feelings of guilt or negativity. A study by Cherly J. Wakslak and colleagues highlighted that the presence of moral outrage predicted individuals’ rejection of the system. The previous Jost study corroborated these findings by showing that anger on behalf of the minority predicted the likelihood of protest. In terms of Grinnell, these findings show that it doesn’t matter if I feel guilty and sad when I read the email about the Posse decision — until I reach a place of true outrage on behalf of my peers I will not be motivated to act.
So, it is by engaging in exercises of empathy and perspective- taking that we can facilitate a shift into moral outrage and action against the racial inequality on campus. Psychologists Emile G. Bruneau and Rebecca Saxe found that perspective- giving and -taking could result in positive changes in attitudes for members of conflicting groups. The results showed that dominant groups benefited most significantly from perspective-taking. Non-dominant individuals benefited from perspective-giving, the opportunity to be heard, but not from perspective-taking. As a whole community we do not engage in dialogue around issues of inequality and privilege on campus, but we should. Perpetuating the silence simply further belittles and degrades diverse students’ experiences here. As privileged and committed members of the community, it is our responsibility to actively listen and, most importantly, to be available to listen.
As a white student at Grinnell I have never been asked to represent my entire ethnic group and I am not expected to regularly be the only person who looks different in the room. As a white student, I could read that Posse email, feel sad and disappointed … and move on with my day. But that is unacceptable. Unjust systems and racial inequality most stringently affect the minority groups, but they also sicken and divide the entire community. I have loved Grinnell, and I believe that we have the potential to be something great. But it takes involvement from everyone to advocate change for a universally beneficial and nurturing environment.
Disclaimer: Posse is and recognized as a leadership scholarship, but given that many Posse scholars come from low socioeconomic status and represent racial minorities, this letter addresses the lack of support on campus for them along with other students who come from underprivileged backgrounds and racial minorities.
—Molly Shortell ’16 “Ex Machina”: Sci-Fi Movie or Glimpse into the Future?
Column by Jose Mendez [email protected] Well by now you, my loyal and incredible readers, have gotten a sense of how I just love to trash on incredibly horrendous movies. Seriously, I really get a huge kick out of it. Nothing gives me more joy than to let people know how bad a movie is when they see these movies advertised as “hilariously funny,” “number one in the world” or “the greatest blah blah since blah.” I was really debating whether or not to write another rant, but I felt like you all deserved something that you can actually read and eventually watch and enjoy. That is why I have chosen to review one of my favorite movies of 2015 (I know, it’s really late but I realized that this movie still doesn’t have the attention that it deserves.) So, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my movie review of the incredibly amazing and jaw-dropping… “Ex Machina.”
“Ex Machina,” directed by Alex Garland, staring Alicia Vikander, Oscar Isaac and Domhnall Gleeson, is just one of those movies that you’ve probably never heard of or might have seen marketed on YouTube. It’s about a computer expert named Caleb (Gleeson) who wins a competition to get flown to this innovator/genius’s (Isaac) house/research and development facility to work on some high-tech secret project. This character proceeds to discover that Isaac’s character, Nathan, has created an A.I. named Ava (Vikander) that has a humanoid form. Nathan has Caleb conduct interviews and tests with her in order to see if she is, in fact, a real A.I. It is such a simple premise, but in actuality, the film takes unique turns and twists as it begins to create tension for the characters and its viewers.
This is such a tension-filled movie, and I love it! At nowhere in this movie did I feel bored or confused, even when they discussed computer engineering or technical elements — I was just so intrigued. And this tension is only further and successfully developed because these characters/actors have such a great chemistry. I have to hand it to Isaac in this movie for someone who portrays such an intriguing character. He plays this rich recluse, but whenever he speaks he really draws his audience in. Nothing else could be happening in the scene but when he’s talking you’re just left there wanting more of him. But the real star of this movie is the lead actress, Vikander as Ava. OH. MY. GOD. Ava is on another fucking level. She is someone (yes, someone, not something) that everyone is invested in. What’s important to note is how beautifully set her motions are, how it seems that she is learning and appreciating every single element about her body and life. You, as the audience, are on an experience with Caleb through this experiment, but in actuality you are in this life experience with Ava as she is experiencing life and everything we usually take for granted.
The real quest within this movie is being able to trust these characters. You begin to trust one person and then abandon them for another just to feel nervous about them. You want to trust Nathan because of his intellect but then you begin to question his morality and reasoning for creating Ava. You initially trust Caleb as he is the one learning about the creation of A.I. and the implications it has on humanity. But then you want to trust Ava as she begins to interact with humans and you just feel that she is the victim of humanity itself. With these characters, you are left there subconscious about it all.
I will warn you that if you are someone who happens to dislike tension building, character development and slow movies then you might not really enjoy this movie. Which is really unfortunate because this movie deserves more than just an Oscar nomination for visual effects. This movie is like wine. The more you think about it and the more you view it, the more you will enjoy and appreciate it. This is not something that I am trying to warn you about — this is a movie you need to watch and have the experience of watching it. Take note: don’t watch it with people that will only talk and talk and not give a rat’s ass about it. Trust me, watching this movie with friends that have had a long day of taking shots and partying all day and night is not worth.
I Love You Like Kanye Love Kanye
Column by Christian Clark [email protected]
Hey everybody! Welcome to the Hot Room. Lately, there has not been any good celebrity news. So I have decided to provide commentary on a few things. First, we have to talk about these celebrity commercials (I’m looking at you Beyoncé and Taylor Swift). Second, Rihanna’s “Kiss It Better” video came out two weeks ago and all I can say is, wow. Third, I finally decided to listen to Kanye’s “The Life of Pablo” album, and it has changed my life forever. Lastly, I have been taking a class with Professor Cori Jakubiak, Education, and we’ve been discussing language varieties and education, so I have developed quite the view on Rihanna’s “Work” and Desiigner’s “Panda.”
I watched Taylor Swift’s Apple Music commercial and realized that Apple Music has not released a good commercial since that amazing Kerry Washington, Taraji P. Henson and Mary J. Blige one last year. This commercial was not good. It was actually pretty boring. Like, I like Taylor. I think she makes great music. However, she’s bland. Her attempting to rap “Jumpman” while on a treadmill was kind of gross. Admittedly, watching her slip and fall made the slightest smile emerge from my face.
Beyoncé’s “Lemonade” preview commercial was also bland. Maybe I’m just not under the Beyoncé spell anymore. I enjoyed “Formation” from the political stance she took more than hearing her say, “When he fuck me good I take his ass to Red Lobster.” That’s another issue I have with her at this point. I feel like Beyoncé is not creating the great music she did before the album “Beyoncé” because she’s scratching for the young vote. I wholeheartedly believe she made “Formation” and “Drunk in Love” to stay relevant to the younger generation. But hey, it worked, so I really can’t knock her too much.
While Beyoncé is pandering worse than Hillary Clinton, Rihanna released her music video for “Kiss It Better,” and the only thing visible is her nipple ring. Now, I’m not one for censorship. People tend to have this very ‘holier than thou’ view when it comes to Rihanna and her fashion choices, but I enjoy her. This music video was literally the most sexual one- person video you will ever see. She even has dice magnetically rolling around her body. Tell me that is not a futuristic R&B, thot fusion. Anyway, I enjoyed the music video and the song, even though I prefer “Work” over any other song on the album. She just released a preview to her new music video and, yes, she does have a sheer robe on. Nipple piercings for everyone! I started listening to “The Life of Pablo” and it is genius. Kanye is the only person who can mix hip-hop and gospel music on an album and not have the world go into complete destruction. He even questioned, “what if Mary (yes, Mary herself)was in the club, when she met Joseph?” See, only Kanye can do this. My favorite song is “Ultralight Beam” featuring Chance the Rapper. Now, if anyone knows me, they know that I’m not really a Chance the Rapper fan. Like, I can do without him, but he honestly made that song what it was besides the little girl screaming, “We don’t want no devil in the house, God!” Kanye was a master at this album and I need for every Grinnellian to listen to it. It’s the dopest thing Kanye has done since rebranding himself as Yeezus. Trust me, it’s worth it!
Now, I’m not a linguist, nor do I have the right to knock anyone’s creative hustle, but I can’t deal with all the comments about not being able to understand Rihanna and Desiigner and questioning if they are even speaking English. First, that’s how you know we have a privilege problem when someone can outright question whether someone is speaking English right. What does that even mean? All of the comments about not understanding Rihanna and then praising a white girl for Americanizing the song are just privileged ignorance. Admittedly, I make up words whenever I sing “Work.” But, it is not because I don’t understand her. It’s because there are some songs that not knowing the words to, makes it better, i.e. “September” by Earth, Wind and Fire. Do you really know the words to “September”? Or are you just screaming “September!”
Thanks for joining me for this edition of the Hot Room!
The Back Page: April 15, 2016 Discussing Race at Center Court
Column by Matt Kartanata [email protected] Since Yao Ming retired with foot injuries and Sun Yue never ended up making it big, Jeremy Lin has become the premier Asian-American athlete in NBA basketball — and if only because of those dastardly identity politics (if it’s not obvious, I’m Asian-American), I should pay attention to him. At the very least, I should care because Lin had an endearing but disastrous stint on “Byron Scott’s Wild Ride” with the Los Angeles Lakers last year, and the Lakers are my favorite train wreck in the NBA. But Lin is a good athlete in his own right, sparking headlines throughout the duration of “Linsanity.” He’s been having his best season since 2012 with the Charlotte Hornets and he’s made it back into the headlines. This time, however, it’s for how others referee him.
A video featuring Lin went viral this week, showcasing numerous times throughout his career that referees ignored Lin, failing to call fouls when he has been swatted, punched and bloodied. In order to avoid the boring, pedantic details of NBA refereeing, suffice it to say that the amount of evidence presented is as damning as it is mind-boggling for so many sports fans. Referees making bad calls is accepted — it’s a necessary, albeit frustrating, part of the job. But to this extent? Something smelled rotten.
Nearly a decade ago, a study was conducted on the implicit, subconscious racial bias in NBA refereeing, finding that referees of a race different to those of players were more likely to make incorrect calls against them. The context of the study was between white/black players and refs, and a follow-up study in 2010 found that since the original findings elicited a flustered denial by the NBA of any racial bias (they conducted their own internal study with no similar observations), such bias seemed to be corrected. Fast forward to 2016 however, and Lin’s case seems to stand as a counterexample.
“Stuff like this is how I’m just astonished when I see people say stuff like racism doesn’t exist anymore. Yeah, it isn’t as blatant as it was, but this is just terrible,” said Reddit user Agastopia on the r/NBA subreddit. “I don’t know that I’ve called racism on anything before, but I agree with you. It’s racism,” chimed in fellow user Ddnsf11.
The point of singling out Reddit comments is to show that this is an aggregate belief, not a unique opinion. Both comments were met with robust support. But these comments in particular stand out to me. Make no mistake: race is an intimate part of sports. There are volumes of literature on this, if the majority of players being black and majority of coaches and owners being white didn’t already set off an alarm (See: William Rhoden, Billy Hawkins, Krystal Beamon). I won’t even get into the distinction of systemic racism versus what is being discussed in those comments. But in any other context, when race is brought up, the conversation is moved out towards the periphery, rather than being discussed center court. The fault is put on the “sensitive” for noticing inequality, getting offended or making it about race. The idea that someone of privilege might only decide to recognize the product of systemic oppression through a montage of Lin failing to receive foul calls is surreal.
That might be encouraging, rather than disheartening. So often the discussions we have surrounding racism in a structural context alienate those who don’t have the background knowledge to critically engage with the concept. I suspect this column has likely done the same. Recognizing my own elitism, these conversations are inaccessible and while not wholly unproductive, could have a different bottom line than empty theoretical talk. However, I also know that there are people far better than myself at having accessible conversations, who are still met with reluctance at the mere mention of race. The onus should never be on the underrepresented, the oppressed, the minority to educate those in power.
I don’t think the discussion surrounding Lin will be the turning point for those who were already skeptical of the mere existence of racism in the 21st century. But it could be the start of something.