Impressionist Paintings and Challenging the Status Quo

Formal “Pitch” to Professor Sweeting

The College of General Studies Humanities 104 course covers several art movements, works of literature, musical pieces, and key themes. In the course, students grapple with ideas such as the role of nature in our industrialized world, the hierarchical order of social classes, nostalgia developed throughout childhood, and the way in which our individual personal being can also be political. The Impressionist art movement that began in Paris, France in the late 1800s emphasized course themes by calling attention to the growing impacts of industrialization on both rural and urban areas, while often depicting nontraditional subjects of ordinary people and scenes of everyday Parisian life. Founding Impressionist artists like Claude Monet (1840-1926) and Pierre-Auguste Renoir (1841-1919) directly protested the accepted artistic practices of Paris at the time that revolved around the French Academy and its government sponsored exhibitions called Salons. The art in these exhibits often only portrayed significant historical events and the upper class, but in complete contrast, the Impressionists aimed to depict relatable, short-lasting moments of the lives of both countryside and city individuals in the middle class. The most common settings tended to be those that involved leisure time: activities in the countryside on the outskirts of Paris or any of the numerous cafes and restaurants that had grown to be a huge part of Parisian culture. Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s painting The Skiff (La Yole) expresses the Impressionists’ fascination with how the countryside interacts with urbanization and can be connected to poet William Wordsworth’s contemplation of experiencing in the moment versus later in reflection. Edouard Manet’s painting At the Cafe, in contrast, depicts the Impressionist interest in city cafe scenes through multiple representations of different social classes, and reflects the consumer paradise and adventurous nature of Paris in Guy de Maupassant’s short stories. Both paintings, when combined with course reading materials, create a complex picture of Paris in the late 1800s that relate to course questions about the role of the natural world in an industrialized society and the changes in representation of traditionally underrepresented groups in a progressing society.

Renoir’s The Skiff (La Yole) from 1879-80 embodies both Impressionist stylistic art form and easy access to the countryside due to new rail lines and transportation. The painting itself (see image to the right) is oil on canvas, and has been on display at London, England’s National Gallery since it was acquired in 1982. The setting is most likely of the River Seine near the town of Chatou, but the specific location has never been confirmed.1 From a general perspective, the painting shows two fashionably dressed women, rowing in a small skiff along the river, and a railway bridge that is almost out of view along the skyline above the treetops. The common activity is painted in the Impressionists’ signature style of bright colors and light subject matter with few, less intense shadows. The brushstrokes in the foreground are bold and noticeable, but they become smoother and create a blur effect as they continue into the background. Renoir’s specific touches are the way in which the light reflects and “shimmers” across the water, and the conscious choice to make the skiff a bright orange, contrasting the light and deep blues of the surrounding river. He played off new advancements in the understanding of complimentary colors.2

The Skiff (La Yole) follows the Impressionist trend to depict the movement of city-goers to the countryside due to the increasing accessibility of transportation. These areas provided busy Parisians a stark contrast to the quick-paced and overpopulated city. Instead, they could engage in relaxing activities surrounded by the peace and serenity of the natural world. William Wordsworth (1770-1850), an English Romantic poet, explored the role of nature and its virtue in comparison to the slums of London in his time. To Wordsworth, nature had a certain healing or growing quality that allowed one to slow down and contemplate. The city, on the other hand, was often too fast-paced to live in the moment and take in one’s surroundings.3 Wordsworth extremely valued the act of experiencing: in his poem, “Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802,” he asserted a sense of specificity in the moment by making the date a part of his title and he created a scene that evokes all five senses when read. In this way, Wordsworth wrote as he was experiencing a London sunrise, on the bridge itself, instead of later on, from a removed setting.4 Similarly to this, Impressionist artists often created nature paintings outside, in the environment in which they occurred, rather than the traditional practice of using studio rooms.5 For Wordsworth and the Impressionists, the short moments–immersed in the natural world and removed from urban cities like London or Paris–had a new level of intimacy and personalization to relay the individual experience.

Although Wordsworth and the Impressionists lived almost 200 years ago, the fleeting role of the natural world is not a struggle that is lost to us today. They may have been perplexed by trying to balance steam engine trains, electricity, and eventually the combustion engine that would be used in automobiles, but today we have become even more distanced from the rural and natural parts of the world around us. The internet and its associated forms of entertainment such as movies, video games, and social media only push us further away from the outdoors and traditional activities that took place in those environments. Impressionist paintings like Renoir’s The Skiff (La Yole) force us to recognize that missing connection with the natural world that is often overlooked in the convenience of the forms of entertainment present today that can be acquired by simply pressing a few buttons on any kind of portable, mobile device.

Manet’s At the Café from 1878 embodies the other side of preferred Impressionist setting and subject matter: cafe and pub-style community gatherings in Paris. This oil painting on canvas hangs at the National Gallery among the previous The Skiff (La Yole) and other influential impressionist pieces (see image to the right). The painting was originally a part of a larger piece that was composed of both At the Café and another segment named Corner at a Café Concert, but Manet chose to split both segments into their own paintings in 1878. The selected half, At the Café, shows Parisians enjoying a concert (not pictured, but more apparent in the other half) with a few pints of beer at one of the many local brasseries. These spaces provided friends with drinks and entertainment that made meaningful quality time out of leisure time away from work. The man in the center of the painting has been identified as lithographer Henri Guérard and the woman he is leaning on to his right is actress Ellen Andrée, who happened to be a common model for many of the Impressionists.6 Manet uses similar brushstroke techniques as Renoir, which clearly shows the deliberate direction of the strokes without much blending. Manet used a much darker color palette than Renoir at points, particularly through using more shadows and depth to illustrate the ambiance of the brasserie. The golden orange of the beer in the pints contrasts the light blue paint on the walls; Manet was influenced by the same laws of complementary colors as Renoir.

The painting, from a glance, probably seems to only convey the conversations of friends and the enjoyment of the lively environment of Parisian brasseries. Despite this general first impression, Manet works in a deeper symbolism beyond what one first notices: the top hat on Guérard represents the dress of the upper class, whereas the bowler hat and simple dress on Andrée is typical of the bourgeoisie. If one looks closely, the working class also makes an appearance through the waiter in the background of the painting who is wearing a traditional blue apron or smock.7 This challenged the portraits and scenes from the Salon exhibitions mentioned earlier that likely would never have acknowledged the working or middle classes. Manet’s inclusion of many social classes formed a sense of unity and progress present in Parisian society that helped contribute to the collective community aspect.

Guy de Maupassant (1850-1893), a French author who is considered to be the master of short stories, wrote a series of short stories related to 19th century Parisian life. His stories like “A Parisian Affair” express parallel themes to Manet’s At the Café but go into more depth about the adventurous and daring environment that Paris fosters with its night and consumer scene. Maupassant focuses particularly on the way in which women, who were traditionally limited to extremely restricted roles in society, could go to Paris and let go of some of those social norms.8 Like Manet, Maupassant created space for individuals who were not traditionally represented. But whereas the painter did so by clearly depicting members of different social classes, Maupassant told the stories of women which had previously been unwritten. The economic and urban growth did not only affect consumerism and cafe culture but also fostered an environment of social change. Both the expanded mingling between socioeconomic classes and a greater presence of women in everyday life outside of the home were forces at the forefront of the altered status quo. The modern liberal society of the West has made abundant progress towards positive social change and securing rights for marginalized groups, but it is still important to understand where we have come from and which of those challenges we still face today.

Personal Conclusion

In my opinion, humanities courses are not meant to be stagnant. History plays an important part in providing context for what we learn, as I suggested in relation to social change, but it is not meant to feel stuck in time. The history that we capitalize upon in class should evoke modern-day questions that relate to the world around us. For example, with Guy de Maupassant’s short stories, I view them as relating to 21st century America despite being created in 19th century France. The theme of the representation of women and which rights they do or do not have is still of the utmost relevance today. Our course already has so many meaningful pieces of art, music, and literature that push the idea of history playing a huge role in the world today. Despite this, I found that the historical context and physical content of both The Skiff (La Yole) and At the Café made me think of certain questions and avenues that I hadn’t thought of before. These are not pieces of art that can be taken at face value without any analysis, as is especially true for the class element related to Manet’s painting. I believe in the process of deep thinking that comes with historically and socially nuanced pieces such as the two that I chose. In a world where technology and tools such as artificial intelligence are changing–arguably for the worse–the process and concept of education, these nuanced moments are the ones that will force students to think individually in a world full of growing conformity.

Bibliography

Notes

1. “About the Work: The Skiff (La Yole),” The National Gallery, accessed June 21, 2025, https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/pierre-auguste-renoir-the-skiff-la-yole.

2. “About the Work: The Skiff (La Yole),” The National Gallery.

3. “William Wordsworth,” in Norton Anthology of Western Literature (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2014), 541-544.

4. William Wordsworth, “Composed upon Westminster Abbey Bridge, September 3, 1802,” in Norton Anthology of Western Literature (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2014), 554.

5. “Art Term: Impressionism,” Tate Britain & Modern, accessed June 21, 2025, https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/i/impressionism.

6. “About the Work: At the Café,” The National Gallery, accessed June 21, 2025, https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/edouard-manet-at-the-cafe.

7. The National Gallery, Art Piece Description (Plaque.)

8. Guy de Maupassant, A Parisian Affair and Other Stories (London: Penguin Classics, 2004).

Mass Media: Angel or Devil?

Newspapers. Blogs. Books. Magazines. Radio. Television. Mass media permeates every aspect of existence, from the ads we quickly glance at while walking down the street to the cat videos we watch on Instagram. Mass media is defined as “forms of communication designed to reach many people,” and it is an undeniable and unavoidable part of modern life (“Mass Media”). How does mass media impact people? How is it a force for both good and bad? I will analyze the novella A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, the artwork Marilyn Diptych by Andy Warhol, and the sculpture Babel by Cildo Meireless to explore the nuances of mass media and argue that it functions as both an aid and a hindrance to humans due to its permanent presence in our lives.

Upon first walking into the room in the Tate Modern where Cildo Meireless’ Babel is displayed (pictured above), I was surrounded by dim lighting and empty space. As my eyes adjusted, my view became swallowed by the towering structure in front of me. Made in 2001, the behemoth of Babel consists of hundreds of radios stacked on top of one another, each tuned to a different station (“Cildo Meireless”). The lines are straight and geometrical on the bottom and rounded on the middle and top of the piece. The frenzy of noise the sculpture plays is overwhelming and slightly painful to the ears, as dozens of voices, songs, and news broadcasts play simultaneously. In terms of materials, the radios’ ages correspond to the sculpture’s height chronologically, as large radios from the 1920s form the base and small modern radios model the top, narrowing the piece and emphasizing its lofty form (“Cildo Meireless”).

Babel is an ode to the confusion and anomie experienced by consumers of mass media. The word “Babel” refers to both the “babbling” of voices and songs coming from the radios and the Tower of Babel, a biblical story in which God is displeased with a tower humans build to reach the heavens (“Tower of Babel”). God confuses the builders of the tower by making them speak different languages, thereby halting the structure’s completion (“Tower of Babel”). This echoes how mass media constantly pushes new and conflicting information onto consumers, akin to a mental tug of war. The height of the sculpture symbolizes the colossal presence of mass media in human life, and the darkness of the room expresses how mass media, such as social media, television, and books, can act as a welcome escape from the bleakness that everyday existence can be. Similar to the fever dream of voices weaving in and out of my ears when witnessing Babel, it is hard to tell truth from lie and useful from useless when being inundated with so much knowledge. Alongside confusion, this can cause feelings of isolation due to comparison with others’ carefully curated virtual lives. I am reminded of my struggles with synthesizing all the different, unending information provided by social media, from what is healthy to eat and whether a friendship is worth keeping. I am also drawn to reflect on how London has helped me step back from the escapism mass media provides and experience life beyond a screen. I feel less overwhelmed and more in tune with the present because I have less time to agonize over the news and compare myself to celebrities on television. This is not to say that mass media is all bad, but rather to point out its adverse effects, which almost everything has when consumed in extreme, one might say, towering amounts.

Andy Warhol’s 1962 screenprint Marilyn Diptych introduces how mass media commodifies people (“Marilyn Diptych”). Warhol experimented with the technique of screen printing following the untimely death of Hollywood star Marilyn Monroe, the subject of the piece. The composition is formed by a halved rectangle made up of a grid of reproduced headshots of Monroe. The left side is vibrant and colorful, consisting of orange, blue, yellow, and light purple, while the right side contrasts with the left by using only black and white. On the right, Monroe is faded and blotted out, while on the left, her image is clear and unobstructed. The lines and shapes of the piece are straight and geometrical. Monroe’s face reads an enigmatic expression, and the screen printing technique makes her appear flat and muted.

Marilyn Diptych not only explores the pressures of celebrity culture and Monroe’s legacy after her death, but also how mass media reduces celebrities and people to commodified “objects” devoid of humanity or personality. The Pop Art style employed by Warhol in his artwork was characterized by depictions of products, advertisements, Hollywood figures, and other elements of popular culture. Monroe is the perfect subject for a Pop Art piece, as she serves as both a symbol of Hollywood sex appeal and as an iconic, idealized figure beloved, yet objectified and dehumanized, by the public. Similar to mass media’s ability to extract value from things and turn them into commodities, Warhol’s use of repeated images of Monroe commercializes her, likening her to a product on a shelf rather than a human being. When new products, ideas, and people are presented in a mass, emotionless format to the public, things begin to lose their value and take on an “advertised” quality, as Monroe does. Celebrities are people who struggle with personal problems, as represented by the right side of the piece. When they are only presented as the left side, starlit and perfect, they lose their humanity and transform into “things” rather than humans.

Conversely, Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol teaches the importance of human connection and compassion. In A Christmas Carol, Scrooge is the epitome of a classical liberal, looking down upon the working class and blaming them for their station in life. Before his transformation, he states that “‘If [the poor] would rather die, they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.’” Later, he meets the emaciated and filthy children Ignorance and Want, whom he is appalled by. When Scrooge questions why the children are in such a state, the Spirit of Christmas Present points out his hypocrisy, asking, “‘Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses?’” A Christmas Carol is a ghost story about a man who changes for the better, but more importantly, a critique of social inequality and unfair attitudes towards the impoverished. Ignorance and Want symbolize the failures of society and the lack of social safety nets in the Victorian era. At the same time, Scrooge represents the wealthy, prevailing classical liberal viewpoint that the poor deserve their circumstances. Despite this, the story shows optimism and the potential for change. Scrooge sees the cruelty of his mindset and devotes Christmas to good deeds, becoming “As good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew.”

A Christmas Carol is an example of mass media’s positive impact due to its progressive messaging and immense popularity. Upon its release in 1843, it sold out in less than a week and has continued to be popular into the 21st century (Beete). When going about London, Dickens’ lessons apply all the more. It is impossible not to see unhoused people sitting on the sidewalks or lying in the Tube stations, and reading A Christmas Carol has helped me become more aware of my judgments and biases. As previously argued, mass media can cause harm, but it can also help consumers question the status quo and engage in essential critical thinking. By critiquing prevailing opinions of its time, A Christmas Carol teaches vital lessons about humanity and compassion, leaving its readers better off than they were before.

Babel, Marilyn Diptych, and A Christmas Carol all convey the message that mass media has the power to influence its consumers. My time thus far in London, reading, and observation of these pieces have drawn me to analyze how mass media influences my ideas and perceptions of myself and the world. In reflecting on my thoughts, I have become more self-aware, which I believe is the first step to becoming a better person and undoing any harm caused by my constant consumption. I am left pondering how I would feel in a world with less mass media. How would I be different? How would I be the same? Would less mass media leave the world in a better or worse state?

Works Cited

In Search of Stillness

“Spinning or casting?”

“What’s the difference?” I replied.

“What do you think about these lures? Should I get this spray for us? They say it’s supposed to attract larger ones.”

“Do you know what we actually need from here?”

“No.”

I’ve heard many say that there are moments in life that really make you aware of just exactly where you are. I had always thought that fabled moments like that are supposed to be more grandiose than standing in a Bass Pro Shop on a Thursday evening. Nevertheless, there I was, standing in the middle of the aisle with my dad (both of us clearly out of our depths) scrambling to get any piece of fishing gear that looked like it would be useful or that we could vaguely remember seeing in any TikTok videos we had shared with each other on the topic.

However, while he was dead focused on the myriad of aquatic paraphernalia laid out in front of us, all of my attention was centered on him. Why had this man, who spent his days either working all around computers or in the bustling cities of Southern California, all of a sudden gained such an interest in something as alien to him as fishing?

The more I thought about it, the more I began to notice it wasn’t just him. All around me, more and more people seemed to be turning away from the noise of modern life, drawn instead to slower rhythms, quieter spaces, and moments of contact with the natural world. I started wondering: what’s behind this pull? Why, after generations of racing toward “progress” and the amenities it’s brought with it, do we feel the need to turn back? Why turn back to the forests? Why turn back to the mountains? Why make a return to the natural world?

As time passed, my dad and I went on several trips to the various lakes and prime coastal waters of California. During this time, I always kept my questions in the back of my mind and slowly, I began to realize that what drew my dad into fishing wasn’t just filling out a new hobby, but the feeling it gave him. With him, I had experienced the stillness of the water, the early morning light, and the patience the sport required. It was in stark contrast to the noise and pace of his daily life. And he wasn’t alone. Across research and lived experience, there seems to be a growing recognition that nature actually offers something many of us have been missing, not just physically, but emotionally and psychologically.

Studies into the psychological effects of nature have shown how short periods of immersion in nature can foster feelings of awe, contentment and a sort of, “mental restoration.”1 One such research study was conducted by scientists Matthew T. Ballew and Allen M. Omoto, where they compared individuals who spent just fifteen minutes in a natural setting with those who remained in an artificial, “built” environment, and the difference was remarkable.2 Those surrounded by nature reported a greater sense of well-being and emotional calm.3 What strikes me is how little time it took for participants to feel this sentiment. Achieving the feeling didn’t require some grand, week-long retreat; it offered peace in minutes. This suggests something fundamental, even primal, about our connection to the natural world. Is this rapid, “mental restoration,” gained because it’s how we are meant to be?

In another light, could this idea be tied to our current culture? American author, Richard Louv, coined the term, “nature-deficit disorder,” which describes the cognitive, emotional and physical consequences of being alienated from the natural world.4 It’s his sentiment that Columbia Climate School student Renee Cho shares when she states how higher rates of stress, obesity, ADHD and asthma, are all linked to our increasingly modern lifestyles.5 Now I know it’s no secret that most people are spending less time outdoors, but what was less obvious to me was the real consequences that come with this lifestyle. The further we move away from green spaces, the more we seem to suffer. I was under the impression that being outdoors was just for enjoyment, but with all these ailments that come with being away from it for too long, is there something within us that needs it?

A uniquely modern angle on this issue is the growing and urgent threat of environmental collapse. Our emotional distance from the natural world, combined with this threat, gave rise to what psychiatrist Craigan Usher calls, “eco-anxiety.”6 Especially among younger generations, there is a growing sense of dread about the future of our planet.7 Climate change, deforestation, loss of biodiversity. In years past people didn’t think too deeply about these issues, but now they’re real, they’re personal.8 These issues shape how we think about having children, where we live, and even how we envision our own futures.9 Usher writes that many young people feel overwhelmed by the environmental damage they’ve inherited and how they feel powerless to fix it.10 And what has this resulted in? A kind of existential unease that I’d be lying in saying that I haven’t felt the effects of as well. It’s a kind of unsettling feeling that, ironically, immersion and building a connection with nature actually seems to calm, even as it also reminds us that we’re on the edge of losing it.

So then, what’s really driving this mass exodus to nature? Is it rooted in fear, a desperate attempt to find clarity in the face of collapse? Or does it stem from a more deep-seated desire to reconnect with something that we’ve forgotten? Maybe it’s both. Maybe we are pulled by two forces at once. The stress and chaos of modern life pushing us out, and the healing, liberating presence of nature drawing us back in.

If nature offers healing and clarity, it’s no surprise that many see it as an escape, an antidote to the discord that modern life has become. But what happens when that escape becomes something more? What happens when nature becomes not just a refuge, but an ideal? A destination not just for a weekend hike, but for the total reinvention of the self?

This is the story at the heart of Jon Krakauer’s, Into the Wild, a book that made me realize that there can be a bleak, sombering, aspect of our desires for a natural connection. The story follows Christopher McCandless, a young man who abandoned his life of privilege to venture across the great North American continent and into the Alaskan wilderness.11 For McCandless, nature wasn’t a temporary break, it was the only place he believed he could live truthfully. He wrote, “I don’t want to know what time it is. I don’t want to know what day it is or where I am. None of that matters.”12 His journey didn’t show that he simply wanted to detach from society but to completely reject it. He gave up his money, burned his IDs, and went out in search of purity, solitude, and some kind of deeper truth.13 His journey was driven by a radical rejection of modern life, but also by a longing for something more authentic than what he had known. This ambition ultimately ended in his untimely death, alone in the Alaskan wilds, right where he said he wanted to be.14 We often think of nature as some holy healer, a frontier that we think would welcome us back if we accept it, but here we find a man, so pushed into desperation and in need of an out, that he neglected the truth that nature needs not to be in tune with us as we do with it, and for that he paid with his life.

McCandless’ quest reminds me of another figure who turned to the wilderness in search of meaning, though under very different circumstances, John Muir. In My First Summer in the Sierra, Muir documents his time wandering the mountains of California, reflecting on the harmony and spirituality he found in the natural world.15 He made assertions such as, “Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life,” and, “no wonder the hills and groves were God’s first temples.”16 His relationship to nature showed an understanding that to walk among trees and mountains was to be in the presence of something sacred. His writings are filled with wonder and gratitude. He didn’t reject civilization so much as he found something in nature that civilization couldn’t give him: stillness, humility, and a sense of belonging to something far greater than himself. That type of reverence Muir expressed for the natural world is something I don’t think many understand the cruciality of. The natural world doesn’t owe us anything, yet we take from it, destroy it, plunder it, and have the ego to separate ourselves from it. If it were any other kind of relationship, I believe that we would be downright ashamed by our realization that we needed to maintain a connection to it. In contrast to McCandless, Muir felt nature holds a divinity.

Both Muir and McCandless were transformed by their experiences in nature, but in differing ways. Muir saw nature as a teacher, while McCandless saw it as a means of escape from the artificiality of society. One sought understanding, the other sought freedom. Yet, they both turned to the wild for answers, and in many ways, both achieved what they had desired.

Their stories made me think about what I desire from nature, what did my dad desire? Was he looking for an escape? Or was he just looking to pause for a while, take a breath, and understand the world he was put into? Do any of us truly want to get away from our modern lives, or do we just want to rekindle what those before us had in generations past?

But why do we even need to look for an escape? We live in a time where technologies that would have been akin to magic only a few centuries ago are commonplace in the first world. Those who live the busy, work-filled life get to enjoy all the fruits of modern progress. What about the idea of progress suddenly made us shudder? For generations, society has been driven by the idea of progress. More technology, more infrastructure, more convenience. More, more, more, more. So why do we want less? From this I started to question what our idea of “progress” has really done to us. Has it brought us closer to the kind of lives we actually want to live? Or has it pushed us into something louder, more crowded, more alienating?

Jeremy Caradonna, a professor of history at the University of Alberta, challenges the traditional belief that our idea of modernization has been virtuous.17 He argues that while industrialization brought material comfort to some, it also caused a lot of harm for others. Our communities, ecosystems and sense of self have all taken hits as we’ve “modernized.”18 The endless pursuit of growth, he suggests, often comes at the expense of sustainability and connection.19 In questioning the morality of this progress, I think Caradonna is opening up a space to think critically about the world we’ve built. If we’re so advanced, why are so many of us exhausted, anxious and disconnected?

This sense of disillusionment isn’t new. Far from it. Art from nearly a century ago sought to capture this feeling. Reginald Marsh’s 1929 drawing, I tell you, Gus, this town ain’t what it used to be, captured the sense of chaos and decay that urban life brought during a time when industrialization was reshaping American cities.20 The image of two men observing a gritty, overrun New York street shows both a sense of nostalgia for and exhaustion with what life in the city had become. It paints the realization that what was once promised as progress has, in some ways, degraded human experience. Cities that were meant to represent opportunity and modern living had begun to feel like machines that grinded people down. When I look at Marsh’s drawing and read Caradonna’s critique, I start to understand the appeal of nature not just as a place of peace, but as a counterpoint to the world we’ve created. Nature doesn’t move at the speed of profit. It doesn’t buzz, beep or demand constant attention. For many, it offers a vision of life that feels real, or at least, more real than the one defined by highways, cubicles and hours on Tiktok.

A reshaped idea of progress may be a good thing. Who said that it needed to be defined by separation from the natural? Are we not free to determine our own meaning for progress? I had always thought that one of the oddest things about humanity is how we think about freedom. We hear time and time again of stories and instances where people weren’t free to live their lives both in literal terms and more figuratively. But what I always think about is what is keeping them captive? The actions of other humans. The burden of work, of responsibility, of forced responsibility, of living to fit into an idealized version of what you should be, all ideas and constructs created and influenced by others. So if the actions of some parts of humanity are what push down the other, what happens when something else steps into the ring? What happens when everyone is pushed down to similar levels?

I don’t think a more representative example of this exists than the COVID-19 pandemic. For the first time in most of our lives, the world stopped. Everyone was locked indoors, removed from daily commutes and crowded spaces, surrounded instead by the hum of our appliances and the buzz of uncertainty. As weeks turned to months, our own homes, places that in any other case should bring us comfort, now felt claustrophobic. With what was supposed to be our refuge now creating a sense of unease, people again looked for answers in the natural world.

Mitra L. Nikoo, Cerren Richards and Amanda E. Bates discussed in their journal article about how quickly people went back to nature during the pandemic.21 They say that, “people ‘pulsed back’ to nature only one month after returning to shopping for necessities, whereas the return to luxuries lagged far behind.”22 Their article reminded me of the videos I saw of people who had never even camped before suddenly pitching tents, taking hikes, or simply spending time in their backyards. I mean even I vividly remember wanting to get outside. With the wilds of California surrounding me, how couldn’t I? It felt like they were almost calling out to me. My sentiment wasn’t limited to one region though, it was global.23 It was clear to me that people were craving air, craving space, craving freedom. They were looking for something to ease the stress, loneliness and uncertainty that had settled into our lives.

What I found most compelling about this time was the rise of the argument that access to nature should be treated not as a luxury, but as a basic human right and need.24 Same as how most of us stand for food and shelter, people have come to realize that we rely on nature for our emotional and psychological survival. As the pandemic lightened, we didn’t rush back to malls or amusement parks, we rushed back to rivers and trails. I believe that this says something. I believe it says that deep down, we know what we need to feel free.

The pandemic showed that disconnection from nature can be deeply damaging, but also, that reconnection is possible, even in times of crisis. It raised the question, why wait for catastrophe to remember what nourishes us?

In light of the pandemic, I started noticing that for many people within my generation, the desire to reconnect with the natural world isn’t just about a sense of peace or nostalgia. It’s about urgency. It’s about survival. It’s about hope. It’s about trying to find some sense of control in a future that feels increasingly unstable.

I spoke earlier of how Craigan Usher introduced me to the idea of “eco-anxiety,” but following the unease that the pandemic brought on, I wanted to really loop it into how dread can influence us to slip back into nature. Our newfound consciousness about our environment has become more than just a concern, it’s a real psychological weight.25 In exploring the sentiments people of my generation feel about the future I’ve seen that this weight comes in many forms. It’s waking up with dread about rising sea levels. It’s wondering whether bringing children into the world is ethical. It’s feeling powerless in the face of climate collapse while being told it’s our generation’s responsibility to fix it. Usher’s recognition of this responsibility being put onto young people made me feel a sense of being seen. A validation of a sentiment that I have wondered and felt uncertainty about. He treats these feelings seriously, as signs that something is profoundly wrong, both with our environment and the systems we live in.

This is where I have found the connection to nature to be more than superficial. For many young people, returning to nature is not just a retreat, it’s a kind of resistance. It’s a way of saying, “I’m tired of being scared, I want to remember that I am a part of something larger, something older, something alive.”

I find that Usher’s sentiment can also be tied back to Caradonna’s critique of industrial progress. If the previous generations were sold a version of modernity that centered on growth and productivity, many today are choosing to question that path entirely. They’re looking at what that version of progress has done to the Earth, to our communities, to our sense of meaning, and deciding to shift course in a new direction. Reconnecting with nature, then, becomes not just restorative, but transformative. It becomes a way of envisioning a different future, one where we might live more sustainably, more gently, more in tune with the world that holds us.

However, I believe that the question remains. Will this longing translate into real action? Can the desire to reconnect become something more than individual retreats into nature, something systemic, something cultural, something that reshapes how we build, live and relate to our own planet? Therein lies one of the greatest challenges of today. It’s one thing for us to feel the pull back to nature because of our concerns and emotions, but where it ultimately puts us ten, fifty, or even a hundred years down the line is entirely up to what we decide to sustain.

I still think about that evening in the fishing aisle with my dad. Yes, because I needed a jumping off point for this essay, but also because I’m three thousand miles from home, because I am now dropped in the middle of a major city rather than maintaining the comfortable distance that I am used to, because I’m unfamiliar with my surroundings and deeply uncertain for what my own future holds. At the time, it felt so random, just me and my dad looking for a new hobby. But now, after reflecting on everything that moment opened up for me, it feels more like a quiet kind of awakening. Something in him, maybe in both of us, was searching.

As I’ve explored this question, why people today feel the need to return to nature, I’ve come to see that the answer isn’t simple or singular. Sometimes it’s psychological, a need for peace and restoration in a world that never stops moving. Sometimes it’s emotional, a deep desire to feel part of something larger and more meaningful. Sometimes it’s a reaction, a rejection to the noise, pressure and artificiality that seems to define modern life. Sometimes, it’s an act of hope, a belief that maybe, by returning to nature, we can discover a different way of being.

What remains most compelling to me is that the longing for nature is not new, but it feels newly urgent. Whether it’s through awe, anxiety, nostalgia, or necessity, people are realizing that something essential is missing, and they’re looking for it in the rivers, the trees, the quiet trails that lie just outside their hometowns. Maybe they’re not just escaping the world that is our present but just trying to remember it as it was in our past.

I don’t know if there’s a final answer to why we search for answers in nature, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe just asking the question, and following where it leads, is part of what it means to be in search of stillness.

Bibliography

Notes

1. Matthew T. Ballew and Allen M. Omoto, “Absorption: How Nature Experiences Promote Awe and Other Positive Emotions,” Ecopsychology 10, no. 1 (March 2018): 1-71, https://doi.org/10.1089/eco.2017.0044.

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid.

4. Richard Louv, “Richard Louv,” Hop Studios, 2016, https://richardlouv.com.

5. Renee Cho, “Why We Must Reconnect With Nature,” State of the Planet News from the Columbia Climate School, 2011, https://news.climate.columbia.edu/2011/05/26/why-we-must-reconnect-with-nature/.

6. Craigan Usher, “Eco-Anxiety,” Journal of the American Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatry 61., No 2. (2022): 341-342. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jaac.2021.11.020.

7. Ibid. 342.

8. Ibid.

9. Ibid.

10. Ibid.

11. Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild (United States: Villard, 1996).

12. Ibid 7. This quote was spoken by Christopher McCandless as written down in his memoir found after he had passed away.

13. Ibid.

14. Ibid.

15. John Muir, My First Summer in the Sierra (New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1911).

16. Ibid. 196.

17. Jeremy Caradonna, “Is ‘Progress’ Good for Humanity? Rethinking the narrative of economic development, with sustainability in mind,” The Atlantic, September 2014, https://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2014/09/the-industrial-revolution-and-its-discontents/379781/.

18. Ibid.

19. Ibid.

20. Reginald Marsh, I tell you, Gus, this town ain’t what it used to be, 1929, crayon and ink with graphite, United States of America, https://www.loc.gov/item/2005694408/.

21. Mitra L. Nikoo, Cerren Richards, and Amanda E. Bates, “Rapid worldwide return to nature after lockdown as a motivator for conservation and sustainable action,” Biological Conservation 292, (2024): 110517, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.biocon.2024.110517.

22. Ibid. 3.

23. Ibid.

24. Ibid.

25. Craigan Usher, “Eco-Anxiety,” Journal of the American Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatry 61., No 2. (2022): 341-342. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jaac.2021.11.020.

Renaissance Critical Thinking and Reformation Theology: A Dual Legacy of Early Debates on Secularism

Between 1350 and 1600, the Renaissance laid the intellectual groundwork for modernity by embracing critical thinking, reason, and creativity. The Renaissance directly threatened the power of the Catholic Church as curiosity led people to contemplate a better world with the wonders of science and the democratic and philosophical teachings from ancient Greece, rather than solely the limited doctrines of the Church. It is also no coincidence that humanism, a deep interest in human potential and development aside from Christian values, came to the forefront of many individuals’ minds as they sought to understand the world for what it was rather than on Christian terms. A newfound inquisitorial drive and human agency paired with the ever-growing corruption of the Catholic Church and its leadership contributed heavily to the Protestant Reformation and creation of new sects of Christianity. Martin Luther, a German monk, played a pivotal role in the Protestant Reformation: first in 1517 with his 95 Theses, and later in 1520 with his Address to the Christian Nobility calling for a new temporal governing power rather than the spiritual power of the Church. This theme of secularism—separation of Church and state—was concurrent with Niccolò Machiavelli’s 1513 book The Prince where Machiavelli explores the difficulties of defining what ‘good’ leadership means, and how effective leadership must operate beyond the restrictions of Christian virtues. Martin Luther and others’ challenges to the authority of the Catholic Church during the Protestant Reformation paired with Machiavelli’s dedication to Renaissance era thinking that shaped his controversial vision for new leadership created a long-lasting debate on the extent of secularism and the use of Christian virtues in government.

While the Catholic Church and the papacy may have started out as a righteous institution bent solely upon God’s will, slowly but surely the corrupt papal leadership tainted the reputation and credibility of the Church. The original practice of finding salvation could be achieved by acts of devotion to God and to faith; to be forgiven would require turning away from the original sin and giving back to one’s spiritual community. When the mission of the Crusades was first encouraged by Pope Urban Ⅱ in 1095, the practice of genuine salvation was diminished to plenary indulgences which granted full remission of sins to those who volunteered to partake in the Crusades. Later, Pope Leo Ⅹ (1513-1521) distanced salvation even further from its original meaning by offering indulgences as monetary transactions, which allowed the papacy to greatly enrich the Church. This was directly contradicting the Gospel of Luke which urges, “Take heed, and beware of a  covetousness: for a man’s life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth” and the counsel given by the apostle Paul to Timothy asserting “For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some  coveted after, they have erred from the faith.”1 As it was each Popes responsibility to interpret and uphold God’s word, they fell under scrutiny by citizens and other members of the Church who believed them to be misusing their power and supposed divine right to manipulate the Church’s practices to benefit themselves.

Martin Luther, concerned by the moral degeneration of the Church, set the Reformation of the Catholic Church into action in 1517 with his 95 Theses which laid out the illegitimate practice of the Church offering indulgences, which could be paid to repent for sins.2 The practice of indulgences was a power claimed by the Pope, which created a middle person in God’s judgement and his divine right to determine the salvation of his followers; this idea was at the heart of Luther’s 95 Theses as he wanted to raise a debate about the Church’s misguided practices.3

Luther may have been the first to become the face of the Reformation as he successfully spread his writing through the power of the printing press in vernacular languages across Germany and beyond, but others, such as John Calvin, also made a significant impact and gained a following in the footsteps of Luther. John Calvin, a French Pastor, wrote The Necessity of Reforming the Catholic Church in the 1540s. The text is divided into three sections focusing on worship and salvation, the sacraments, and church government. Calvin claimed that the legitimate worship and comprehension of the idea of salvation by the papacy had been rendered “obsolete”, that their use of the sacraments and word of God was extremely “polluted”, and finally that the government of the Church had become a “tyranny.” The form of worship that Calvin suggested was one in the vernacular language that people could truly understand instead of “mutter(ing) over confused prayers in an unknown tongue” (i.e. Latin), as well as experiencing a close connection to God directly, rather than having to be attached to a patron of the Church in order to practice. In terms of the sacraments, Calvin explains how the Church patrons—such as the Pope, Bishops, and Priests—do not uphold the expectation of accurately teaching God’s word, and that the sacraments have been “sullied” by the patrons’ self-serving interpretations of the holy texts. The last piece Calvin touches on is the Church’s government; he asserts that the majority of the leading patrons are lazy and not diligently upholding their responsibility to teach and exemplify God’s word. Calvin’s The Necessity of Reforming the Catholic Church is similar in message to Luther’s 95 Theses, but Calvin specifically aims to explain the current standing and circumstances of the old (Catholic) and new (Protestant) Church to the people in clear language, whereas Luther’s 95 Theses were more of a shortened list of the Catholic Church’s grievances addressed to fellow churchmen.4

Within these two influential pieces of writing, Luther and Calvin convey similar messages, ultimately calling for the reform of the Church and the possibility of a better alternative. While Calvin and Luther align in these prior pieces, they seem to differ in Luther’s Address to the Christian Nobility written in 1520. Luther not only restates his prior challenges against the corrupt Catholic Church practices and misconceptions but also poses a new question about the potentiality of temporal (local) leaders over the spiritual leaders of the Church. Luther claimed that the temporal leaders, such as local princes and other authorities not directly tied to the Church, were baptized just as any other priest or bishop, and should therefore have the same opportunity to lead. To support this idea, Luther challenged the authority of mere priests and bishops as they have been given power or appointed by a higher authority, just as any other could be, and consequently that they were simply officeholders. Ultimately, Luther is introducing the idea that different regions should have the option of local religious authority, rather than that of an ever-growing more distant Church bureaucracy.5

The Address to the Christian Nobility may seem to be a writing in favor of the ‘greater good’ for the people, their religious practices, and governance, but it is also important to consider the impact that Luther’s audience and the amount of pressure he was facing from the Catholic church in the 1520s could have had on the intentions of the text. Around the same time that Luther wrote the Address to the Christian Nobility, Hans Schwarz—a Lutheran theologian and scholar—clarified in “Luther’s Life and Work” that Luther had already been pushed by the Catholic Church and many of its patrons to stop the printing and spread of his writings.6 Luther, naturally, did not comply with the Church’s order and was forced into hiding after being excommunicated by the Church for disregarding their order.7 Luther’s audience, as hinted by the title, was the German Christian nobility. Not only was he trying to persuade them to buy into his sentiment towards the need for Reformation, but Luther also offered a shift in governing power to temporal leaders which would positively impact the nobles themselves. Therefore, Luther was in pursuit of personal security in addition to general support for the Reformation.

Martin Luther’s proposition to replace spiritual leaders with temporal ones can be attributed to the corruption he saw in the Church, but also in the way he believed that the temporal powers held proper institutional powers to govern beyond the Church.8 Luther explicitly said that the “work” of spiritual leaders is to teach and uphold God’s word, whereas temporal leaders “bear sword and rod with which to punish the evil and to protect the good,” meaning that their work was to enforce God’s word by sword and punishment—if need be—a power he did not believe could be held by spiritual patrons of the Church.9

Far off from Martin Luther’s sentiment towards the virtue of religion but close to Luther’s idea of the necessity for temporal powers was Niccolò Machiavelli’s The Prince. Nicolo Machiavelli’s political career did not begin when he wrote The Prince in 1513 but instead began in the short-lived Republic in Florence that formed during the Italian Renaissance. Eric Voegelin, a German-American political scientist, explains how Machiavelli got his start in Florence after the Medici family—wealthy bankers who gained political power and eventually rose to govern Florence—were ousted by Charles ⅤⅠⅠⅠ of France who led an invasion on Italy in 1494. After the removal of the Medici family, the Florentine hereditary monarchy was replaced with a republic in which Machiavelli served as a diplomat and secretary of foreign affairs.10 Machiavelli only served in the position until 1512, when France had suffered enough defeats trying to secure control of Italy, and the Medicis again rose to power, leading to Machiavelli being dismissed from his position and exiled to his family home outside of the city where he wrote The Prince.11

In The Prince, Machiavelli engaged in complex debates about what it means to be a good leader, reflecting on the different forms of government and leadership he experienced in Italy. Machiavelli neglects writing of the republic and instead explores principalities: a state that is governed by one sole authority—a “prince.”12 Machiavelli categorized principalities into two separate entities: new and old. Old principalities are those in which the prince is chosen by hereditary or traditional power lines, whereas new principalities have a prince who has been chosen by the people or another authority to rule, whether based on patronage (what he calls good fortune) or merit (experience and knowledge). Machiavelli explained each of these principalities as having different strengths and weaknesses, but he laid out many qualities he believes any prince should learn to balance when governing such as liberality and meanness, clemency and cruelty, and faith and religion.13

Machiavelli asserted his position on the roles religion and church values have in politics in Chapter 18 of The Prince, where he revealed when and how a prince should promote or reject religious values while governing the state. In this chapter, Machiavelli anticipates Luther’s belief that spiritual leaders could not carry out the force needed to protect states like temporal leaders could, and further expanded upon it by adding that Christian virtues do not permit a prince to govern in a way that prolongs the survival of the state and its security—in both land and the prince’s rule.14 Graham Maddox, a professor at New England University who studies political thought and comparative politics, argues that Luther and Machiavelli both “set out to deconstruct the political authority of the Church” while urging a separation of church from the state government, but they diverged in the ways they relied on scripture and literature when developing their political philosophies.15 Maddox explained that Luther derived his philosophy from “pristine Christian writings” and “the unmediated working of the (holy) Spirit,” whereas Machiavelli sought to “bypass Christianity altogether” by using ancient classical and Latin texts to develop a philosophy disconnected from the teachings of God.16 Where Luther merely urged a separation of powers between the Church and the State but temporal leaders who still practiced the doctrines of Christianity, Machiavelli challenged the traditional practice to a greater extent—in a way Luther would likely not have agreed with—by arguing that the prince should not stay within the confines of what Christianity permits, but should rely instead on his own agency and judgement.17 Although Machiavelli does not believe Christian virtues have a place in government or politics, he did argue that sometimes it is advantageous for a prince “to appear merciful, faithful, humane, religious” when it can boost his own reputation and popularity.18

John Calvin and Martin Luther would have supported a form of secularism that separated the church and the state, but not one where Christianity and its virtues were absent from governing leaders. Both men became the backbone of the Protestant Reformation, challenging the unrivaled power of the Catholic Church, but not the worth of the Christian Church as a whole. Machiavelli, on the other hand, did not believe mere secularism to be enough, but instead that Christian virtues had reached the end of their dominant role in the government. Calvin and Luther’s lasting devotion to Christianity and the Church made them key players in the Reformation, but not direct embodiments of Renaissance era thinking which would have relied on science and classical texts from ancient Greece and Rome, like Machiavelli’s philosophy more closely did. This divide in Reformation and Renaissance thinking did not end in the early-mid 1500s at the times they wrote their most influential pieces, but it continued throughout the late 1500s and 1600s as religious wars over Catholicism and Protestantism combined with struggles over control for political and social power engulfed all of developing Europe. The forms of secularism that Calvin and Luther inspired did not instantly become reality, and Machiavelli’s idealized separation from Christian values in government would take even longer to come to fruition than the separation of powers the Reformers sought. These early 1500s thinkers forever challenged the status quo, and later scholars in the Age of Enlightenment (17th and 18th centuries) and the progress towards the American (1775-1783) and French (1789-1794) Revolutions may not have materialized the same without their fundamental contributions.

Notes

1. The New Testament (Intellectual Reserve, Inc., 2014), 1299, 1511, https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/bc/content/shared/content/english/pdf/language-materials/83291_eng.pdf.

2. Martin Luther, 95 Theses (1517), http://reverendluther.org/pdfs/The_Ninety-Five_Theses.pdf.

3. Luther, 95 Theses.

4. John Calvin, “The Necessity of Reforming the Catholic Church,” in Ideas and Identity in Western Thought: Readings in Politics, Economics, Society, Law, and War, ed. Micheal Holm (Cognella, Inc., 2023), 76.-80.

5. Martin Luther, “Address to the Christian Nobility,” in Ideas and Identity in Western Thought: Readings in Politics, Economics, Society, Law, and War, ed. Micheal Holm (Cognella, Inc., 2023), 70.

6. Hans Schwarz, “1: Luther’s Life and Work,” in True Faith in the True God: An Introduction to Luther’s Life and Thought (Augsburg Fortress Press, 2015), 24-25, https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt13wwwc2.5.

7. Schwarz, “1: Luther’s Life and Work,” 25.

8. Luther, “Address to Christian Nobility,” 70.

9. Luther, “Address to Christian Nobility,” 70.

10. Eric Voegelin, “Machiavelli’s Prince: Background and Formation,” The Review of Politics 13, no. 2 (1951): 143, https://www.jstor.org/stable/1404762.

11. Voegelin, “Machiavelli’s Prince: Background and Formation,” 143.

12. Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince, trans. Rufus Goodwin (Dante University Press, 2003), https://www.google.com/books/edition/The_Prince/bRdLCgAAQBAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&pg=PA1&printsec=frontcover.

13. Machiavelli, The Prince, 74-86.

14. Machiavelli, The Prince, 83-86.

15. Graham Maddox, “The Secular Reformation and the Influence of Machiavelli,” The Journal of Religion 82, no. 4 (2015): 539-540, https://www.jstor.org/stable/1206519.

16. Maddox, “The Secular Reformation and the Influence of Machiavelli,” 539.

17. Machiavelli, The Prince, 84.

18. Machiavelli, The Prince, 85.

Too Foreign for Home, Too Foreign for Here

Every school year, without fail, there was always one moment that I dreaded: the first week icebreaker. “Get in a circle, let’s go around and introduce ourselves. Say your name, favorite hobby, and where you are from!” Although it seemed harmless enough, the question, “Where are you from?” carried more weight than peers around me probably realized. During the first couple years in America, I answered without hesitation. “I’m from Korea,” I’d say proudly. But a few years later, the question began to feel trickier than it should be. By the time I was in high school, I started wondering if I was supposed to say “California,” as we had been living there for a while by then. On a daily basis, I spoke more English than Korean. I got more used to American culture than Korean culture. And more importantly, I did not want to be seen as too foreign. So when it came time to introduce myself again, I hesitated for a moment. “Well, I was born in Korea, but I live in California.” That moment of hesitation marked the beginning of a deeper personal split. It seems like such a small moment, but it stayed with me. It was the first time I realized that identity was not what I could state so confidently, but something I had to choose, and every choice came with its consequences. Saying “Korea” felt like risking being labeled as an outsider, but “California” felt like denying a part of myself. The small moment of introducing myself every school year became a larger conflict. One that still follows me into college, and even casual conversations with strangers.

For many immigrants, identity is a constant negotiation. Torn between two worlds, we are often told to assimilate with one culture, while constantly being reminded of our foreignness. We carry our family’s language, culture, and traditions, while attempting to adapt to the norms and expectations of the new society. This “in between” state creates the sense of internal conflict, as well as alienation. “Too foreign for home, yet too foreign for here” becomes more than a saying, but a lived reality with no clear sense of feeling fully home in either place. In the end, we are simply left to ask ourselves: Who am I? What am I? Where do I belong? And at the heart of it all is the question that shaped my childhood: Can immigrants ever truly feel at home in one culture?

I started noticing the ways this question extended beyond just me, when I compared myself to my younger brother. Unlike me, he was too young to remember living in Korea. He is also much more fluent in English than in Korean, and more “Americanized,” as my parents would say. I recently asked him whether he thinks of himself as more American or Korean, in which he paused for a moment before answering. “American, I think. I don’t really speak Korean well, and sometimes I feel out of place when we go to Korea. I can’t even understand everything they’re saying.” His experience reflects an important truth, that even within the same household, immigrant experience can differ dramatically. This generational and linguistic gap parallels findings by Rubén G. Rumbaut, who explains how immigrants experience “segmented assimilation,” in which identity and belonging split along the lines of class, language, and culture. While some preserve strong ties to their home country, others lean more towards their host country, often depending on how accepted or marginalized they feel in the society. Although my brother’s answer was not surprising, it still stuck with me. While I am constantly negotiating between two identities, he feels a clearer sense of belonging, because American life is what he has always known.

Scholars have long studied how immigrants come to develop their identities. Nancy Foner, et al note that identities are “amenable to change” through dynamic processes shaped by experience and social interaction. Immigrants don’t simply assimilate or resist assimilation, but rather navigate through multiple identities that shift over time. This explains why I once clung to my Korean roots and now find myself feeling in between identities depending on the settings—school, home, or public spaces. Déborah B. Maehler and Jessica Daikeler’s extensive research on first generation immigrants further reveals how cultural identity can often include both host and home cultures in complicated ways. For many, identity becomes something hybrid rather than singular. This hybridity may allow room for flexibility, but it also creates discomfort as they may belong partially to two places, but not fully to either. This duality is especially clear in the way I switch between languages and behaviors depending on who I am with. At home, I instinctively call my parents “eomma” and “appa.” But at school or another environment, I refer to them as my mom and dad, in the “American way.” I live in this kind of cultural code-switching, trying to pass seamlessly between two different worlds.

This dilemma becomes even more complicated when it comes to national identity. Jennifer Wenshya Lee and Yvonne M. Hébert explored how youth of immigrant and non-immigrant origins in Canada acknowledged their sense of belonging. They found that youths of immigrant origin expressed a more complex relationship to the idea of “being Canadian” than of their non-immigrant peers. When two groups were asked to define what “being Canadian” means to them, findings show that immigrant origin youths described Canadian identity with more rational statements, such as “peaceful country” and “high standard of living,” while non-immigrant youths who presented their identity with more passion and confidence, like “proud” and “highest standard of living.” This difference shows a discrepancy in how rooted each group feels in the national culture. Immigrants often define identity based on ideals because they don’t feel reflected in the dominant cultural narratives like the national holidays and symbols, things one can belong to without necessarily “looking the part.” As a result, “being Canadian” becomes more about the principles than shared traditions. I’ve often found myself navigating that same sense of disconnect, trying to present as fully American yet still feeling out of place. Through language, clothing, even humor, I try to fit in. But there’s always something: a stranger asking where I’m really from, or complimenting my English. These aren’t blatant aggressions, but small reminders that my belonging comes with conditions. When national identity is closely knitted to cultural symbols and traditions that exclude their experiences, immigrants can feel like outsiders. And so they cling to values they can align with, like freedom and democracy, while still detached from the cultural references that non-immigrants take for granted. Many immigrants learn what national identity is supposed to mean, but still question whether that identity truly includes them.

But maybe the goal isn’t to fully belong in one culture. In their analysis of immigrant identity in the contexts of the U.S. and Sweden, Ylva Svensson and Moin Syed found that U.S. participants were more likely to define themselves using multi-ethnic categories like “Asian-American,” rather than the national labels alone. While the participants often described themselves as feeling different from the mainstream culture, they also felt a strong sense of belonging through communities that embraced these differences. In contrast, the Swedish participants struggled more with finding community around the deviations from the norm. This suggests that immigrant identity, particularly in the U.S., is best understood as a negotiation between the individual and society. Instead of resolving cultural contradictions, many found ways to live within them, redirecting differences as a source of connection among those who reflect their experiences. As Svensson and Syed argue, identity formation is about finding coherence amidst contradiction. That idea started to feel real during the first few months of college. I started noticing how almost everyone around me carried their own version of a layered identity, whether it was a name that didn’t come easily to others, a mix of languages spoken at home, or the experience of growing up between two cultures. This wasn’t just for immigrants; even those who had grown up in America often had stories shaped by regional differences or cultural traditions that didn’t always align with the conventional culture. No one apologized for it. No one felt the need to explain. And slowly, I stopped explaining myself too. The things I used to second-guess, like the way I’d count in Korean, switch between languages in my head, or wonder whether I was too Korean or not Korean enough, eventually started to feel like facts, not contradictions. Being different didn’t feel like something to fix anymore, it just felt normal. In a strange way, the question that haunted me growing up–where are you from?–has further pushed me to think more about who I am. Rather than choosing between two countries, maybe I can claim both, because my identity is not split, but layered.

For many of us, home is something we build piece by piece, not what we inherit fully formed. It doesn’t simply exist in one language, tradition, or passport, but in the ongoing process of choosing and blending. Through this, I’ve started to realize that identity doesn’t have to be either resolved or clearly defined to be real. In fact, maybe the more honest question here isn’t about which culture we belong to, but whether we can belong without needing to be fully understood by either. Can we embrace the complexity of who we are, even when the world around us asks for simplicity? Immigrant identity is not something to be solved, but something to be lived, both imperfect and layered. And within that space, we don’t just learn to exist, but to belong on our own terms.

Works Cited

Street Haunting in Boston’s Koreatown

Virginia Woolf, in her essay “Street Haunting: A London Adventure,” invites us into the mind of the flâneur, an individual who sheds their specific identity to become an anonymous observer, merging with the city’s vibrant ebb and flow. The goal is not arrival, but the journey itself; the purpose is observation, absorbing the surfaces of the city like “the glossy brilliance of the motor omnibuses; the carnal splendor of the butchers’ shops … the blue and red bunches of flowers burning so bravely through the plate glass of the florists’ windows” and the human dramas playing out within that urban theatre (Woolf 2). But what does this act of “street haunting,” this purposeful aimlessness, mean in the 21st century, in a city like Boston, and for someone like me—a Korean student navigating a landscape both foreign and strangely familiar? Woolf’s flaneur sought anonymity. Yet, wandering through the Koreatown neighborhood in Allston, I find my identity not shed, but perhaps refracted, illuminated in unexpected ways by the street I haunt. This essay seeks to explore my own process of street haunting in Allston, questioning how the unique, almost retro atmosphere of this specific place interacts with Woolf’s ideas and what this exploration reveals about identity, time, and the experience of diaspora in a modern American city. Why does this particular corner of Boston seem suspended in a different era, and what does observing it teach me about belonging, memory, and the act of seeing?

My journey into this exploration began not with Woolf, but with groceries. As a Boston University student living relatively close by, Allston’s Koreatown became a practical destination for familiar foods and tastes of home. Yet, beyond the aisles of tteokbokki kits and Shin Ramyun, something else caught my attention. It wasn’t just Korean; it felt like vintage Korean. Walking down Harvard Avenue or Brighton Avenue, I was caught by shop signs flaunting Hangul (Korean alphabet) fonts popular in the 1980s or early 1990s—slightly clunky, bold, sometimes with drop shadows with evident pre-digital design. Restaurants featured distinct retro decorations—colors of wood paneling, perhaps, or specific floral patterns on seating—that felt reminiscent of dramas my parents used to watch. It contrasted sharply with modern day Seoul, where minimalist, hyper-modern aesthetics prevail.

This initial observation sparked my curiosity. Why this specific aesthetic? Was it a conscious choice, an economic necessity, or simply the residue of a particular wave of immigration? As someone born long after the 1980s, I have no direct nostalgia for that period in Korea. Yet, seeing these visual cues in Boston triggered a strange, second-hand nostalgia, a connection to a past I only knew through media and family stories. It felt like stepping into a time capsule, not of Boston’s history, but of Korea’s, preserved strangely under the Massachusetts sky. I remember standing outside a small restaurant one evening, the neon sign buzzing slightly. The font used for its name was one I vaguely recognized from old photos of my grandparents. Inside, through the window, I could see old ladies chatting, the scene feeling both deeply familiar and oddly out of place blocks away from the BU campus. It wasn’t just a Korean restaurant; it felt like a specific moment of Korean culture, frozen and transported. This feeling prompted me to move beyond mere errands and engage in more deliberate wandering, Woolf’s essay providing a framework for this proliferating interest.

My exploration thus shifted from passive observation during commutes or shopping trips to active “street haunting.” I started taking walks through Allston with the express purpose of seeing, trying to adopt Woolf’s observational stance. I paid closer attention to the intricate details: the specific brands—some popular decades ago—advertised in grocery store windows, the flyers—often in a mix of Korean, English, and Hanja (Chinese characters used in Korea)—, the sounds escaping from Noraebang (Korean karaoke) rooms, restaurants playing antique trot music alongside newer K-pop on their exterior speakers.

To understand this phenomenon better, I realized simple observation was not enough. My process required some external knowledge or ideas to articulate further. My first step was revisiting Woolf, contemplating her privilege and perspective as a white, affluent woman in London. Could I, as a Korean student in Boston’s Koreatown, truly achieve the anonymity she describes? Or does my very appearance, my presumed connection to the culture I’m observing, change the dynamics? Unlike Woolf on an errand to purchase a pencil, I was not just an anonymous browser; I was potentially seen as a part of the community, even though I felt like an outsider temporarily. One afternoon, I sat in a small cafe known for its Korean dessert, Patbingsu (shaved ice dessert). The interior was charmingly old fashioned—plastic artificial flowers, maybe slightly faded posters of Korean celebrities from the 90s. I eavesdropped on snippets of conversation: older customers speaking Korean with accents and vocabulary that felt distinct from my generation’s Seoul dialect, talking about community matters, church events, perhaps reminiscing. At another table, younger students like myself chatted in rapid-fire Konglish (hybrid of Korean and English), discussing exams and plans for the weekend. I felt suspended between these two worlds, an observer, yes, but one whose identity was constantly being made salient by the environment.

This experience led me to consider researching the history of Korean immigration to Boston. When did the Allston community begin to form? What were the economic and social conditions at that period? Perhaps the “retro” feel is not intentional curation but reflects the aesthetic sentiments and economic realities of the specific group that established this enclave. I also began thinking about how others might perceive this space. Would a non-Korean visitor see “authenticity,” “kitsch,” or simply a collection of ordinary businesses? Would an older Korean immigrant, who arrived in the 80s or 90s, feel comfort, nostalgia, or perhaps the pang of seeing a past they worked hard to move beyond? My perspective as a young Korean student is just one lens.

Based on these wanderings and reflections, several possibilities emerge regarding Allston’s Koreatown aesthetic. One perspective is simply economic: perhaps older signage and decor persist because updating is expensive for small businesses, many likely family-run. Another possibility relates to the specific wave of immigration that might have founded this Koreatown, bringing with them the styles current at their time of departure, which then became solidified as the visual identity of the place.

A more intriguing possibility, however, lies in the idea of diaspora and curated identity. Perhaps the “retro” feel is, consciously or unconsciously, a way of performing a certain kind of Korean authenticity, distinct from the rapidly changing trends of contemporary South Korea. It might offer a sense of stability and continuity for the community, a visual anchor to a shared past, however idealized. For younger generations like mine, born outside of that specific era, it becomes a tangible link, a sort of living museum. Woolf’s flaneur observes the present moment of the city; haunting Allston’s Koreatown feels like observing a present moment intertwined with a very specific, imported and preserved past.

This complicates Woolf’s conviction of the city as a purely contemporary spectacle. Here, the street haunting involves navigating layers of time and culture simultaneously. The anonymity Woolf sought feels less achievable, or perhaps less desirable. My connection to the language and culture allows for a deeper reading of the signs and interactions, but also prevents complete detachment. I found myself looking up the history of a specific Korean snack brand I saw advertised, one my parents mentioned eating as kids. Discovering its timeline online, then seeing the slightly faded packaging in a store window in Allston, created a peculiar connection—linking digital research, personal memory, and physical observation in this specific place. It wasn’t just seeing; it was piecing together a fragmented narrative. The exploration became less about observing the “other” and more about understanding facets of my own heritage reflected in this unique urban landscape.

This exploratory journey through Allston’s Koreatown, prompted by Woolf but taking its unique path, suggests several implications. Firstly, it highlights how the experience of “street haunting” is profoundly shaped by the observer’s own identity and relationship to the space. The idea of a neutral, invisible observer might be a myth, especially in multicultural urban landscapes where markers of identity (ethnicity, language, class) are constantly at play. Secondly, it underscores how urban spaces can function as repositories of cultural memory, sometimes preserving moments in time that have passed in their place of origin. Allston’s Koreatown isn’t just a place to get Korean food; it’s a complex dialogue between past and present, Korea and America, nostalgia and adaptation.

My future thinking on this topic involves digging deeper into the historical context— requiring library research, perhaps searching Boston city archives or local Korean community histories—and potentially exploring comparative perspectives (how does this compare to Koreatowns in LA or New York? How do other diaspora communities in Boston maintain their cultural identity visually?). This process has also changed how I view wandering itself. It’s not just about killing time, but an active mode of inquiry, a way to read the city and, in turn, understand more about oneself and the complex currents of culture we navigate daily. The questions opened up by these walks—about authenticity, representation, and the performance of identity in diaspora—feel far richer than any single answer I might have initially sought.

Returning to Woolf, her observational freedom found in wandering the city streets remains significant. However, my exploration of Allston’s Koreatown suggests that the 21st century street haunt is perhaps a more complicated affair. It involves not just observing the external world, but also navigating the internal landscapes of identity and memory, especially when the streets themselves echo with personal or cultural history. The “retro” visage of Koreatown, initially just a curious visual quirk, became a portal—prompting reflections on time, migration, and the peculiar ways cultures manifest far from their origins. While I may not have found a single answer to “why” it looks this way, the exploratory process itself—the act of walking, observing, questioning, and reflecting—has yielded a richer understanding of both this specific Boston neighborhood and the intricate ways place shapes, and is shaped by, identity. The street, as Woolf knew, remains a powerful teacher, especially when we allow ourselves to wander with open eyes and a questioning mind.

Works Cited

Yahweh: The God of Empty Spaces

How do you find God when He is nowhere? Since ancient times, polytheistic cultures have carved gods into stone and made idols for all to worship and touch. However, the Bible’s monotheistic God of empty spaces breaks this pattern. He is not a physical being or deity, nor is He something one could grasp with their hands or see with their eyes. Rather, He simply is, was, and has always been. With no direction in sight, how could people back then, and still today, rationalize a formless God? The truth is hidden in the artwork: humans need a physical sacred space to be in communion with their God.

Throughout the Bible, we witness people wrestling with the concept of a God who exists beyond the earthly realm. I first notice this in the story of Adam and Eve, when Eve is tempted by the snake, a physical animal. Even though Adam and Eve know they are created by God, spoken to by Him, and in union with Him, they are still tempted by the serpent (Genesis 3). This indicates the deep struggle rooted in humans: people have trouble believing in a God who is formless. The Lord physically forms Adam and Eve with His hands—He fills the oceans and makes the skies. He creates all the plants and animals, and still, they put their trust in the things they see with their eyes, the serpent, rather than believing in their creator. Odd, isn’t it? Their desire to understand the knowledge of good and evil reveals a disconnected faith in an invisible God. Why is that so? Is it ingrained in humans to lack confidence in a higher being? Are humans inherently insecure?

We get a keen sense of insecurity a few chapters later when the Lord calls out to Abraham (the founding father of the Jewish people), telling him He will make a great nation out of Abraham and bless his family lineage. Abraham then travels into the wilderness, where God speaks to him again, so “He built an altar there to the Lord who had appeared to him” (Genesis 12). This scene stands out because it characterizes Abraham as a man who needs tangible confirmation of the God he follows. This connects back to the idea of insecurity, where Abraham reveals he needs a physical presence to grasp God’s holiness. Therefore, he uses the altar to compensate for his inability to see God. The altar transforms the mere perception of God into an awareness of His existence, which reinforces the theme of humans putting their faith in visuals rather than voices. We see this again when Abraham pitches his tent between Bethel and Ai and builds another altar to the Lord (Genesis 12). However, this time, Abraham calls out to the Lord at the altar, a change from when the altar served as a sign of where the Lord first called out to him. The switch reveals the altar’s two purposes: one, as an acknowledgment of the Lord’s presence, and the other, as a place to call on and receive His spirit. The shift between the two uses of the altars suggests a deepening of the relationship between God and Abraham, one in which the altar is not just an indication of God’s presence but also a place to pursue His spirit. Both instances emphasize a person’s longing for concrete spaces of worship and capture the beauty behind human devotion.

This devotion translates to modern times, as people continue to build mosques, churches, and temples to honor, worship, and receive divine spirit. As a Jesus follower, I attend church every Sunday. Whenever I miss a service, it feels as if there’s a gap in my day—a void that I need to fill. Going to church has become such a deeply ingrained habit that there’s an emptiness if I don’t attend each week. However, even after years of being a Christian, there is still something so magnificent when entering a sacred place to intentionally seek out the Lord. Not only do I feel refreshed afterward, but I leave knowing there is a higher purpose for me and a higher being who is looking after my life. In a way, Abraham must have felt the same feelings of renewal when he built the altars in the wilderness. The fact that he built them twice suggests that visual representations bring him closer to the Lord. That somehow, a formless, invisible God suddenly becomes evident in physical sacred spaces.

When the prophet Moses leads the Israelites out of Egypt, they leave behind centuries of behaviors and habits, creating a void in their routine. One of these practices is worshiping the Shrine of Menmaatraemheb, a 55 x 26.5 x 21 cm limestone carving of Maatmenraemheb and his wife Weretnofret (“Shrine of Menmaatraemheb”). The shrine gives us insight into the traditions the Israelites practiced and indicates praise was given to a physical statue. Does this altar serve the same purpose as the altar Abraham once built? Possibly.

The Shrine of Menmaatraemheb
(Image: Summer Lee)

The Shrine of Menmaatraemheb may have been used to acknowledge Menmaatraemheb and his wife, as well as to visualize their prayers. Its size and material help us further detect its purpose. Since it’s made of heavy rock, it suggests the shrine was not meant to be transported once it was placed. In fact, the Boston MFA notes the shrine was originally placed in front of the large granite stele of Neferhotep at Abydos (“Shrine of Menmaatraemheb”). This suggests a different purpose for shrines: commemoration and honor. The artist(s) of this shrine may have built it to please Menmaatraemheb and his wife. This reaffirms the connection between devotion and altars while tying in a new idea: altars symbolize respect for those worshiped. This suggests shrines and altars are used for the benefit of the worshiper and the worshiped. Such awareness helps us understand the nature of spiritual dedication—humans need concrete spaces to worship because they believe it proves their faithfulness to God. This explains why the Israelites have trouble with their faith while in the wilderness. As Moses leads them out of Egypt, the sudden loss of shrines and temples creates an emptiness in their physical connection to the Lord, revealing the fragility of their faith and suggesting that spirituality relies on tangible structures. As a result, they struggle to maintain trust in God in the wilderness, turning to false idols and complaining about their freedom, highlighting that faith deeply relies on material for conviction.

The mystery behind justifying a God of empty spaces lies in the altars Abraham created and the shrines the Egyptians modeled. Altars serve as a sign that “God is here, right now, in this place” and help direct people’s focus on the present rather than the world around them. The Shrine of Menmaatraemheb indicates a need for humans to comprehend the idea of God through visuals, connecting to the broader concept of “seeing is believing.” The Egyptian shrine showcases the use of altars as a way to communicate with the higher realm and as an indication of spiritual presence. It also illustrates a wider theme of respect and honor for the god or person being praised, further emphasizing that a strong faith is built on physical sanctuaries.

The key to understanding an invisible God lies in creating spaces and structures to see, hear, and feel His presence. The human tendency to believe in visual representations explains why Eve believed the snake when she saw it with her eyes and why Abraham built an altar twice for God in the wilderness. By analyzing the Shrine of Menmaatraemheb, we can

better understand the role of visuals in a strong faith: honoring and respecting the divine. This builds off the initial analysis we obtained from solely the Bible itself: altars are created to communicate to a higher power and serve as indicators of a holy presence.

Do humans struggle with insecurity? Absolutely. We put our confidence in what we can see, which is why upholding a belief system of a God of empty spaces requires the creation of altars, temples, and churches. This is fundamental to transforming a once non-existent God into one where people can receive His boundless, formless power. It explains why Christians like me go to church, and why the Egyptians built shrines: humans need concrete structures to receive, digest, and entrust their faith.

Works Cited

Shades of Morality: Cinematography in On the Waterfront

It is the 1950s on the gritty docks of New Jersey. You are faced with a burdensome decision: get up at the crack of dawn prepared to endure hours of arduous physical labor—that is if you are lucky enough to be chosen for today’s jobs—or risk dying an ‘accidental’ death by testifying against your corrupt union boss for a chance at marginally better working conditions. This is the moral dilemma at the heart of Elia Kazan’s On the Waterfront, and it is what the film is best remembered for today—apart from its political timing and commentary on McCarthyism. In the picture, a washed-up boxer makes a decision to become more than a has-been by testifying against the union boss who once rescued him from poverty, thereby altering the fate of all those around him. On the Waterfront is not only a powerful narrative, but it was also a critical success, winning thirty awards, eight of which were Oscars, including Best Picture, Best Actor in a Leading Role, and Best Director.1 These accolades reflect the film’s profound impact on both critics and the general public itself. While the masterful dialogue and pacing of the film are largely responsible for its lasting impact, the cinematography plays a significant role as well. Every cinematographic and directorial choice made by director Kazan within On the Waterfront—from the French horn in Terry’s theme to the choice to craft the entire film in black and white—illuminates Terry’s journey toward a moral awakening.

Within On the Waterfront, Kazan furthers Terry’s moral development through his masterful command of lighting and color—or lack thereof. Perhaps the most impactful decision Kazan made when creating On the Waterfront was that of filming the movie in black and white. With technology allowing movies to be made in color as early as 1944, it is clear that Kazan’s choice not to utilize that technology is rife with purpose.2 The concept of morality as a cut-and-dry, black-and-white issue is not new. Many believe that morality is a simple choice between pure good and pure evil. If this were the case, every decision would be reached by simply reading some book of rules. Instead, morality is subjective, a game of weighing a myriad of factors, each subject to a personal valuation. In his selection of black and white for the film’s production, Kazan is toying with this idea, making an ironic choice that showcases the perceived nature of morality, wherein the film itself belies this idea through its complex narrative of choices. Kazan uses this lack of color as a symbol, as black and white is never truly black and white and is, instead, shades of gray; moral ambiguity itself is woven into the visual field of the film. This lack of color also allows for a striking contrast in the visual presentation of characters. Edie’s bright blonde hair—appearing almost white—stands out against most other tones in the movie, which are lost to the monotony of gray. White has long since represented innocence and purity, the type one may associate with a schoolmarm like Edie. This allows Edie to appear angelic, a voice of reason amongst morally gray characters. Edie therefore represents pure good: the angel on Terry’s shoulder. She urges Terry to reevaluate his moral philosophy, chiding him by saying, “I’ve never met anyone like you. There’s not a spark of sentiment or romance or human kindness in your whole body.”3 Her angelic actions are furthered by her last name, Saint. Overall, the use of monochrome cinematography within the film not only serves to dispel the purported simplicity of morality but also serves to reveal its complexity through visual contrast.

Although at first subtle in effect, the props Kazan selected and how he chose to use them allow them to act as visual symbols within On the Waterfront; props are signposts, capsules of Terry’s moral development. The most apparent of these props is Joey’s gray jacket. The jacket first appears after Joey’s death, where it is handed to Kayo Dugan, who eventually becomes the next martyr for the cause, dying like Joey after threat of testifying against Johnny Friendly. The jacket finally gets handed down to Terry, with Edie proclaiming, “I brought you Joey’s jacket. Yours is falling apart.”4 By taking possession of the jacket, Terry symbolically takes on the responsibility of testifying. When Edie says that Terry’s old jacket is “falling apart,” this mirrors the dissolution of Terry’s old moral code. It is also interesting to note that prior to receiving the jacket, Terry dons one of checked black and gray squares; these colors represent his plight of moral decision-making—black for bad and gray for better. When he wears Joey’s jacket, Terry also sheds his own moral ambiguity, replacing the checker pattern with a solid gray one, a choice, a clear direction—not checkered. However, as the film is in black and white, who’s to say it really is gray? Terry has not suddenly reached a point of virtue that might be suggested if the jacket were white; instead, he has solely decided to do the “right” thing, given the difficult circumstances he finds himself in. Joey’s pigeons also serve as an emblem of fragility when they are passed on after his death. A pigeon is, by nature, cooped up—not responsible for its own position in life, not able to do anything to change it. These pigeons mirror Terry’s standing. Their eventual death at the end of the movie reflects again the death of Terry’s outdated moral code, his freedom from being trapped in a life he did not choose for himself. Furthermore, a term frequently spoken throughout the film is “stool pigeon,” which means an individual who informs the police.5 This negative connotation is then associated with Terry as he does exactly this. These seemingly mundane props—Joey’s jacket and his pigeons—become powerful visual symbols, marking each step of Terry’s moral development.

Just as props carry symbolic weight in On the Waterfront, the theatre-inspired set design plays a crucial role in conveying deeper themes. Perhaps the most notable element of set design is the way in which Kazan designed the levels in On the Waterfront to parallel a scale of morality, from immoral to virtuous. The lowest level, the dock, represents the least moral way of thinking. On this level, the longshoremen and Johnny Friendly’s crew think only of themselves and their own benefit. They’re stuck in a fight-or-flight loop. The longshoremen stick to their moral code of “deaf and dumb,” not saying anything and pretending to know nothing out of fear of punishment from Johnny Friendly. Higher than the docks both physically and metaphorically is Father Barry’s church. Within this holy space, morals are proposed. Father Barry emphasizes the significance of speaking out and breaking this “deaf and dumb” moral code, as avenging a man’s death is more important than the fear these men harbor. Finally, the most virtuous of all is the roof on which Joey’s pigeons reside. This is the location in which Terry truly experiences key aspects of his moral development; it is the space in which he grapples with the weight and possible outcomes of his decision to testify, as well as the space in which Edie often visits to convince him of his moral obligations. It is also the space in which Terry resolves not only to testify but to pursue his independence and break free from Johnny Friendly’s rule. These levels give the audience insight into the morality of the characters that inhabit them and provide a view into Terry’s mind.

It should come as no surprise that On the Waterfront’s Oscar-nominated score serves to reinforce Terry’s journey towards moral awakening. Terry’s theme brilliantly captures the emotional turmoil of his moral dilemma. The music that plays when Terry is first introduced and in subsequent appearances consists of wind instruments—a tentative French horn and accompanying flute—played legato and with mounting urgency. The theme contains both high-pitched major notes and low-pitched minor ones, serving to emphasize the conflict going on within Terry himself. The theme itself feels somber and ominous, foreshadowing the perilous situation Terry will find himself in. These instruments work in tandem to paint Terry as a morally ambiguous character at the beginning of the film, as the conflicting treble and bass create a feeling of uncertainty within the audience. Juxtaposed to Terry’s theme is the theme of love that plays when Terry and Edie walk through the park and every time they’re alone together. This love theme is gentle, legato, with a high-pitched flute highlighting the soft playing of a harp, an instrument of love and divinity. The theme lacks the deep bassy notes of Terry’s, instead conveying emotion through the building tender crescendo of wind and stringed elements. Violins at the piece’s peak mimic the intensity one may feel in love. In the last scene of the film, Terry’s theme—with its urgency and uncertainty—is joined by this theme of love and perhaps even overcome by it. Terry, beaten half-dead by Johnny Friendly and his men, decides to get up anyway, becoming a model for the longshoremen watching with bated breath. Terry’s bassy horns are replaced by love’s soft, legato, higher-pitched flutes as Edie’s voice urges Terry on. In utilizing these elements to score this scene, Bernstein highlights Terry’s journey from the horns of moral ambiguity to the flutes of love as Edie—ever the voice of reason—sways him to do the right thing. Bernstein’s score not only parallels Terry’s emotional journey from moral ambiguity to conviction but also enhances the audience’s experience of the film, allowing them to more deeply connect with Terry’s journey.

Elia Kazan’s cinematographic choices—lighting, color palette, props, set design, and music—outline and emphasize Terry’s pursuit of the moral high ground. His choice of a black-and-white color palette paints moral ambiguity within the film, dispelling the notion that morality is black and white. This palette also serves to create a stark contrast between every scene and Edie’s bright-blonde hair, painting her as an angelic counterpart to Terry’s voyage. Furthermore, Terry’s choice of jacket—from his own black and gray checkered one to Joey’s solid gray—demonstrates his shift from moral ambiguity to decision, whereas Joey’s pigeons symbolize a part of Terry himself, and their death marks his freedom from captivity. Moreover, the different levels in the set design—from the docks to the church to the rooftop—parallel a moral hierarchy that frames Terry’s journey. Finally, the fervent soundtrack deepens the emotional complexity of Terry’s character. Kazan’s intricate use of visual and auditory symbolism allows for an expertly woven timeless tale of a man’s moral dilemma. Now, imagine the same film made in color, with a generic score, proportionate set, and no clear symbolism. Not only would the film lose much of its emotional depth, but it would fail to resonate with audiences in the same way. These choices made by Kazan are not merely aesthetic; they serve to convey the internal struggles of the characters, particularly pushing forward Terry’s moral journey. Without these elements, it would be reduced to a conventional story, losing the nuance and tension that has allowed it to become the timeless classic it is thought to be today.

Bibliography

Notes

1. “On the Waterfront Awards,” IMDb, accessed September 17, 2024, https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0047296/awards.

2. Wikipedia contributors, “Color television,” Wikipediahttps://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Color_television&oldid=1272599889 (accessed February 3, 2025).

3. Elia Kazan, On the Waterfront (United States: Columbia Pictures, 1954).

4. Kazan, On the Waterfront.

5. “Stool Pigeon Definition & Meaning,” Merriam-Webster, accessed September 18, 2024, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/stool%20pigeon.

A Walk Through Boston’s Chinatown: Modernity Photo Essay

It’s impossible to discuss modern Chinese society without considering the influence of life before the Chinese Cultural Revolution; the pre-modern and modern Chinese histories remain distinct but have become almost inextricable. How come?

Mao Zedong, the first chairman of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and a founding father of the People’s Republic of China (PRC), had a vision to create a industrialized, modernized China, and he achieved this by shaking off what he viewed as the shackles of “old China” — “old” ideas,” “old culture,” “old customs,” and “old habits” — collectively known as the Four Olds. In truth, Mao’s crusade against the Four Olds aimed to erase the remnants of Chinese traditionalism in favor of his conception of Chinese modernism: one that embraced an ostensibly progressive identity defined by communist values.

But wander through Boston’s Chinatown on a Sunday afternoon and look closely. You might uncover a different narrative — there has been, in fact, a reunion with the very customs that were purged of in the name of modernity and progress. What I’ve found is precisely the opposite of Mao’s vision. The residents of Chinatown embrace the modern principles and society introduced by Mao’s modern China, surely, but they thoughtfully engage with the remnants of pre-modern China. They preserve the worthwhile aspects of their traditional society — such as religion and leisure — while also redefining certain modern principles — including what it means to be “Chinese.”

This photograph captures the northern face of the Chinatown Gate in Boston’s Chinatown adorned with two flags: the American flag and the Republic of China (ROC) flag. The gate features traditional Chinese architecture and is inscribed, “A world shared by all.” The Chinatown Gate is my first impression of Chinatown — and even of China herself. From the language and tea to the newspapers and even the cigarettes, everything seems authentically Chinese, at least to an outsider. However, this is not completely accurate. Looking closely, it’s evident to see Chinatown’s pushback against the late-modern expectations of nationalism. From my observations, the flags on the Chinatown Gate illustrate a two-fold pushback against this monolithic expectation of nationality and nationalism.

Two Nations Among One People

Nationalism arose in the late 18th and early 19th centuries when people’s identities shifted from familial ties to their nations, which was typically outlined by ethnicity. Today, the concept of a two-nation China challenges the modernist expressions of nationalism by presenting a scenario in which a single ethnicity and culture are divided and represented by (competing) legitimate governments, thereby defying the late-modern nationalist ideal that typically defines a nationality by a single ethnicity and culture under a some unified political authority. The PRC’s “One China” vision advocates for a unified national identity under Beijing, rejecting separatist or alternate national identities such as those represented by the ROC. Thus, by displaying the ROC flag, Chinatown’s residents openly defy the widely-held understandings of nationalism, aligning themselves more so with a perspective that has rejected this principle.

One People Among Two Nations

Moreover, the juxtaposition of the American flag beside the ROC flag calls for a discussion of pluralistic nationalism — it even defies the expectations of nationalism, which are often tied to a single ethnicity and culture. It shows that the residents of Chinatown embrace a dual identity that acknowledges Chinese and/or Taiwanese ancestry alongside their American environment, lifestyles, and perspectives. This pluralistic-nationality approach rejects the late-modern principle that nationality must be defined singularly by ethnicity or culture. It’s also important to acknowledge that the Chinatown Gate was itself a gift to the residents of Boston’s Chinatown from the Government of Taipei. This realization reveals that the Chinatown Gate was designed for Chinatown’s residents (who are mainly first and second-generation American immigrants) as a reminder of their heritage and to intentionally and outwardly foster this dual-identity — and not merely to “repurchase” the loyalty of these immigrants.

In a conversation with a Chinatown resident, I learned that the combined display of the flags resonated among some members of the community. Some members express a profound connection to their plural nationalities — they acknowledge their ancestral Chinese and/or Taiwanese heritages and also fully embrace their Americanness. He added, “This may be Chinatown, but we are still in the United States.” To me, this statement summarizes the nuanced identities in this community, emphasizing a pluralistic and ethnically inclusive approach to nationality that rejects constraints of late-modern conventions.

This photograph makes the nameless mural seem much smaller than it really is. In truth, it spans about 20 feet across and about 10 feet high. It was installed by the South Cove Community Health Center Tobacco Control to discourage tobacco usage among community members. Throughout the entire mural, subjects are swallowed by a sea of smoke, and faceless figures are depicted in despair — or perhaps, dilemma — as they deal with the withdrawals and temptations of tobacco use. Pictured at the center of this mural are three figures that are of tremendous influence to Chinese religion: Daode Tianzun (Left) Buddha (Center) and Confucius (Right) — respectively symbols of the major Chinese religions: Daoism, Buddhism, and Confucianism. What is their relevance to the Community Health Center’s agenda? It’s open to interpretation.

Secularization, the dissociation of religious and spiritual matters from all public affairs, was of prime importance to Mao Zedong’s modernization initiatives. Mao’s objective was to promote scientific reasoning and rationalism over religious and spiritual beliefs to create a classless society. And religion, after all, was considered “the opiate of the masses” and was used to rationalize the domination of lower classes in feudalistic societies, including the “old China.” Undoubtedly, some of the older members of Boston’s Chinatown community grew up in “old China.” And as the Chinese Cultural Revolution unfolded, they saw the erasure of some religious and spiritual remnants which were important parts of Chinese society. The mural’s illustration of Daoist, Buddhist, and Confucianist religious symbols confronts the secularization forced by the Cultural Revolution upon Chinese people and society in the name of modernity. At best, the act of placing such spiritual figures in a community mural might be attributed to a deliberate desecularization initiated by a public authority. But even at the very least, it represents the toleration of religious and spiritual symbols (for the sake of culture and history) among the Chinatown community. Regardless, it is a reminder of the secularized policies once imposed in China and also revives and honors the pre-modern spiritual traditions within the Chinatown community. But indisputably, the mural represents the Chinatown community’s willingness to resist secularization in some contexts, thus acknowledging the enduring influences of religion and spirituality in Chinese history and even in contemporary society.

My last photograph shows more than a dozen men intently watching a game of Chinese chess, or Xiangqi. Some of the men are hidden behind each other. Most of the men appear to be between their mid-50s or early-60s and they appear to be engrossed in the game. And unlike the throngs of men and women assembled around other tables in Mary Soo Hoo Park, these men are silent — there is no laughter, no taunting. When I returned to the table approximately 25 minutes after capturing this photo, many of the men were still there, still quietly engrossed in the Xianqi match, still drinking tea and smoking. I must admit, their enthusiasm was contagious — I found myself becoming interested in the game. It’s possible that many of these men grew up in a China that had just experienced the Cultural Revolution. In the first eight years of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, until Mao Zedong’s death in 1976, chess was regarded as a leisure activity for the bourgeoisie. Thus it was banned to align with the communist objective of eliminating class conflict.

In fact, leisure as a whole was heavily restricted during the Chinese Cultural Revolution. Mao wanted to modernize China so as to make all aspects of life contribute to the revolutionary cause. And unfortunately, leisure activities were seen as discouraging work and therefore counterproductive to industrialization. In this way, Mao’s restrictions on leisure sought to mold the ideal Chinese communist citizen but also (ironically) echoed the capitalistic ethos for continuous work and productivity. This comparison highlights a paradox within the Marxist agenda, merging communist ideals with a work-centric philosophy found in industrializing and already industrialized nations.

Thus, the men’s interest in Xiangqi quietly resists the pro-industrial and productivity-focused norms of the Cultural Revolution, which took place in their youth. The norms they are resisting are anti-Maoist and anti-communist, surely. But, by the same token, they are also anti-capitalist. The productivity-focused Maoist principles of which they are in defiance are the same productivity-focused principles manifested by capitalist and industrialized nations of the late-modern era.

Works Cited

Modeling Monarchy: Kingship Is Earned, Not Inherited

What qualifies one to be a king? Is it a noble vision? Fair execution of justice? As Shakespeare’s The Tempest presents kingship, it is having the most powerful slaves and betraying the competition. The dilemma of the source of sovereignty is faced in The Tempest after a shipwreck strands nobility and commoners on an island. On the one hand, Shakespeare presents inherited kingship by noble birth as a more dignified alternative to rule by commoners. On the other hand, Continue reading

Latin Explosion: The Rise of Latin American Artists and Music in the United States

When planning our first road trip from Miami, Florida to Aeshville, North Carolina, it took me a while to realize that leaving the comfort of my hometown would involve more than just new scenery. Sure, the glass buildings and towering skyscrapers gradually became acres of endless grass with herds of farm animals. The flashing lights changed to rustic structures, little by little. But what really struck me was how the radio stations slowly changed from our reassuring Spanish music to strictly English only – the lack of cumbias, of strong beats with a bass that thrummed in my veins, were such a stark contrast against the poppy tunes that left a bitter impression on me. These were subtle yet significant changes that allowed me to realize the lack of Latin American culture, specifically in regards to music, beyond the culturally rich city I grew up in.

On the same trip a few years later, I feared feeling the same distressed anguish I had once felt before. As the typical Hispanic, Miami radio stations scurried into static, I listened as my mom slowly pressed the buttons in search of a new station. I dreadfully waited for someone like Taylor Swift to start playing, however a familiar and comforting sound came through; Los Caminos de La Vida began playing, a song that holds deep childhood memories of my family and I doing our spring cleaning on sunny, Sunday mornings. This became a moment of bliss as a sigh of relief took over my body like a warm embrace once I happily realized the rising influence of Latin Americans in the United States.

Over the past decade, there has been an increase in the number of Latin Americans from several countries who have been migrating to America. Although Latin Americans have been migrating for over a century, there was a large surge seen beginning in the 1980s; According to the Migration Policy Institute, “The Hispanic population in

1990 was slightly less than the entire U.S. population in 1850.”1 These migrants brought their culture with them, sharing it with others as they assimilated in America.2 Everything from cuisine, tradition, and infectious rhythms in new genres of music infused a bridge in the gap between the US and Latin America. Music, specifically, provides a form of expression and connection to the deep roots of their heritage.

With one of the main components of culture being music, Latin artists have slowly been climbing their way through the ranks. Beginning in the 1960s, a distinct period of vibrant salsa made its mark in America, holding a firm peak for over 20 years: this was known as the Salsa Golden Age.3 New York City became the main hub and epicenter of salsa due to the high amount of immigration from Caribbean countries such as Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Dominican Republic to the United States.4 The fusion of cultures brought a unique flourishing of salsa, with infectious rhythms combining elements of jazz and funk. Artists such as Celia Cruz popularized the genre and allowed it to grow tremendously both in New York City and beyond.5 Cruz’s electric performances and appealing personality captivated a worldwide audience, ultimately making her an incredibly influential figure in the Latin American community. She would go on to achieve several successes such as earning twenty-three gold albums and also having been honored with three Grammy Awards and four Latin Grammy Awards, the most for many female artists at the time.

Although one might argue that salsa’s peak ended decades ago, its impact on the musical world should not be underestimated. I didn’t grow up listening to salsa, but when Hispanic Heritage month rolled around, all the elementary classes would fight on who could dance to Celia Cruz. Our dreams consisted of saying her famous phrase “Azúcarrrrr” in front of our parents. At the time this was merely a competition, a way to take the spotlight, but now I see beyond that: it was a representation of the connection between our culture and heritage. There is a certain pride that comes with knowing the music that your parents grew up with; It demonstrates that despite having grown up in the United States I can still connect to their cultural background through music.

With time, genres of music grew in popularity, but also in variety. After a long day, we drove through the vibrant streets of Miami, blasting “Lamento Boliviano” by Los Enanitos Verdes with the windows rolled down and my parents, brother, and I knew every single lyric. Beyond our differences, my family and I always connected through music, but specifically Latin Rock. Shortly after the era of salsa, came the era of Latin Rock: a combination of American rock and roll with salsa and cumbia beats.6 It quickly gained momentum as it brought a fresh perspective on a refurbished genre—especially in countries such as Argentina and Mexico. Artists and bands such as Carlos Santana, Soda Stereo, and Los Abuelos de la Nada evolved the movement and became prominent in laying the groundwork for future Latin rock artists.7 In 2020, Netflix released a show on the success and movement of Latin Rock called “Break it All: The History of Rock in Latin America.” It highlighted the hurdles that people in South America faced during the 1960s while living in less developed countries with economic and political hardships. There was a focus on the intersectionality between their hardships and music, which represented the up-and-coming nature of these artists and how music helped them persevere.8 As I watched this show of a series of deep conversations, I realized the strong connection and love I have for Latin Rock. Having a parent who migrated from Argentina, and having grown up listening to this genre among others, I understand the depth and significance music holds for everyone. I will always remember my mom constantly saying statements along the lines of “Wow, como yo vacilé con esta musica”, as she reminisced about her days of youth and the deep memories a song can hold. Although this is not the music of my youth, I hold a deep connection to it as it brings memories of both of my parents and the sacrifices they both made so I can be where I am today.

The 21st century has landed on what feels like the peak of Urban Latin music, also known as reggaeton. Originating primarily from Puerto Rico, reggaeton is a result of blended beats from the Caribbean such as Jamaican reggae. This was a distinctive and special fusion that resonated with hundreds of people throughout America and created primary hubs in Miami, New York City, and Los Angeles. Reggaeton began growing its popularity through what is called an underground movement, essentially musicians playing their music in underground clubs and radio stations. One of the 21st century’s most famous reggaetoneros is Bad Bunny, who began his journey in the musical atmosphere in Puerto Rico. As a feature in the song “Soy Peor ”, Bad Bunny made his breakthrough, which soon allowed him to top the charts with single and album releases. His third solo album, El Último Tour del Mundo, would become the “…first all-Spanish album to debut at No.1 on the Billboard 200.”9 Bad Bunny is an active representation of the success of Latin American artists in the United States. During his current tour, he was able to reach predominantly white cities such as Salt Lake City and Nashville with almost sold-out stadiums. A few decades ago, this would have been thought to be impossible. The beats and flowy words of his music have attracted a global audience, beyond just Spanish-speakers.

Other artists have seen similar success, such as Daddy Yankee, who is known as the father of reggaeton due to his groundbreaking hits and widespread fame he has received. In 2004, Daddy Yankee released Gasolina, known as one of reggaeton’s greatest accomplishments, if not the best.13 Its catchy beats and memorable lyrics quickly caught the ears of the people, ultimately breaking the charts and debuting number one on “Billboard’s Top Latin Albums chart—being the first-ever reggaeton album to hit that spot”, and it would even stay up there for over 20 weeks.10 In 2017, Yankee would have a similar success, which some might even consider an upgrade, with the song “Despacito” in collaboration with Luis Fonsi, another popular Latin American artist. Additionally, the music video quickly became the most watched YouTube video of all time, and today it sits at number two. A few months later, the song would gain even more traction and success through a remix including Justin Bieber.11 The fusion of English and Spanish speaking artists was extremely appealing to a diverse global audience, setting the example and paving the way for future collaborations between people of different linguistic backgrounds.

Musical crossovers have played a large role in the success and rise of Latin American artists. We have seen many others use this innovative tactic to resonate with audiences all over the world. A notable example of a collaboration that thrived significantly is Spanish-speaking artist Rosalia and Canadian singer The Weeknd, together releasing “La Fama”. The fusion of traditional flamenco rhythms, with Rosalia’s soft-spoken words, and The Weeknd’s natural accent and powerful vocals resulted in a perfect blend. The switching between languages brings a sense of uniqueness and richness to the song, attracting the audience not only to the languages but to the connection between the musicians’ voices. I distinctly remember first listening to this song because I was shocked, not only by the fact that these artists collaborated, but how good they sounded together. Another stellar example would be Bad Bunny and Canadian artist Drake, who have collaborated twice, achieving huge success by making hit songs on both occasions. The blending of Drake’s typical, harsh rap style, with the catchy beats by Bad Bunny created an infectious track that has been listened to by millions. Bilingual exchange in songs shows that music has no language – even when not being able to understand the words or meaning, the rhythm and beat of the song can bring out the best in one. Through these examples, it is clearly seen that musical crossovers continue to be a trend in Latin American artists’ rising success in America.

Other artists show immense talents by consistently switching between Spanish and English, while correctly allowing for a flow between the distinct languages. In other words, the artist is essentially singing in Spanglish. While Spanglish sometimes has negative connotations, this is not always the case, especially in music. A prime example would be Kali Uchis, an up and coming singer who has absolutely broken the charts with her recent Spanglish album Orquídeas.12 Personally, as someone who constantly navigates between Spanish and English, artists who have the ability and skill to successfully perform with both languages bring a sense of comfort and relatability to me. I had the unforgettable opportunity to see Kali Uchis perform in person, and it was undeniably a breathtaking experience. When watching her connect with the audience through music, whether they speak Spanish, English, or both, one can definitely say it’s a shared emotion of inclusivity.

Another artist with whom one might have a similar audience experience is Pitbull. At the start of his career, Pitbull (also known as Mr.World-Wide, Mr. 305), who was well-aware of his bilingual talents, knew the potential of Spanglish. He created and released “We are one (Ole Ola)” for the 2014 FIFA World Cup, featuring collaborations with Jennifer Lopez and Claudia Leitte, allowing for a diverse platform.13 The captivating beats and uplifting message among the lyrics made this song a global hit. This song attests to not only the fact that Spanglish attracts a diverse audience, but also that the universal language of music unites people.

The FIFA World Cup is a perfect example of an event that globally attracts and brings attention to a variety of Latin American Artists and their music. The World Cup occurs every four years, each round gaining more and more views. Just this past year, over five billion people engaged and millions traveled to Qatar to physically attend matches.14 For each tournament, a song or theme song is created and made the official track of that year. This is a chance for Latin American artists to showcase their talents and highlight diverse genres, as the World Cup is not only a celebration of soccer but also the cultures of every country which participates.

These songs don’t only signify growth, but memory. I have so many memories of hearing the theme song playing knowing that a jaw dropping match was about to begin and my life for the next two hours would be on hold. Every four years, I am in a new era of my life but every time the World Cup rolls around, I am back to being the five year-old girl who sat beside her dad on the couch while he yelled in excitement or frustration. I remember especially the 2022 World Cup where I would proudly wear my Argentinian jersey to school every time the Argentina team had a match, and happily watched the games at school alongside friends or at home with my family. Songs like “Pá la Selección ”, made in support of the Argentinian national team, highlights the richness and distinction of Latin music genres – it resonated with not only many Argentinians but also globally.

As the 2026 World Cup slowly approaches, I can foresee an increase in Americans engaging in Latin culture and music. Anticipation is growing as plans are already being set in stone with the locations and stadiums already announced, and tickets waiting to be bought. This major event unites people of all ages across continents, breaking barriers. With the stage being set in North America, we are prepared to welcome and experience the unique, rich Latin American cultures and traditions.

Another event that has successfully captivated large audiences and spotlighted artists is the Super Bowl halftime show. In 2019, the American Football franchise iconically announced that the 2020 performers would be two pop Latin singers, Shakira and Jennifer Lopez. A powerhouse duo brought the stage to flames with their upbeat and catchy songs, leaving everyone in awe. With the Super Bowl being an event primarily viewed by white people, the announcement that two Latina females would be taking the spotlight came as a shock to all audiences. I vividly remember being more excited to watch the halftime show than the actual football, which seems to be a relatable experience among peers. I sat in awe fighting back tears as I watched my heritage be appreciated by the whole of the United States. I yelled with excitement as Bad Bunny and J Balvin walked on stage and collaborated with Shakira and Jennifer Lopez , essentially making the 2020 halftime show performed by four people of Latin American descent. It was a day of memory, passion, growth, and pride for all people of Latin America. The show was extremely successful, surpassing over 200 million views and overall providing a fresh set of genres and culture to an American sport/event.15

But what would events like these be without coverage in the media? The digital revolution has contributed to the rise of Latin American artists and the popularity of their music. The growth of media platforms has allowed artists to connect with audiences from all over the world. With intelligent marketing and strategic tactics, digital platforms can engage fans on a scale never seen before. Social media platforms like Instagram and TikTok have served as a direct line of communication and a personal connection among artists and their fandoms. Things such as concert snippets, behind-the-scenes clips, and interactive experiences all play a role in the growth of artists. This also works in the reverse direction , where fans constantly share their love and passion for their favorite artists through media. Sharing their concert experience, or excitement for an upcoming album attracts people from different music sectors and ultimately helps the artist. Latin American artists have adjusted very well to this revolution and have used it to their advantage. Beyond social media, music applications such as YouTube, Spotify, and Apple Music allow for non-stop listening of all music, music videos, and even countdowns as to when music will be released. Through the use of all platforms, Latin American artists are reaching and rising to higher levels of success and reaching their audiences like never before.

I reflect on the times where crossing city lines meant a farewell to the cumbias and infectious rhythms blasting on the radio. Constantly switching the radio stations in hopes of stumbling upon something familiar, something that transported us to the emotional memories that songs hold. What once felt remotely distant, would gradually become infused into America’s cultural landscape. Through perseverance, passion, and talent, Latin American artists have successfully risen in popularity and are now a huge part of mainstream music in the United States; Reaching the hearts of thousands nationwide through genuine and profound lyrics, addictive beats, and sincere personalities. Through admirable successes and commendable growth, Latin American artists have proven to have crossed the cultural divide of America, ultimately demonstrating that music has no language and no boundaries.

Bibliography

Abad-Santos, Alex. “How ‘Despacito’ Became the Biggest Song of 2017.” Vox, August 18, 2017. https://www.vox.com/culture/2017/8/18/16112710/despacito-biggest-song-of-2017-bieber-fonsi-daddy-yankee.

Acevedo, Beatriz. “Break It All: A History of Latin America through Rock Music,” January 24, 2021. https://drbeatrizacevedo.com/2021/01/24/break-it-all-a-history-of-latin-america-through-rock-music/.

Jeanne Batalova, “Frequently Requested Statistics on Immigrants and Immigration in the United States,” Migration Policy Institute (MPI), March 13, 2024, migrationpolicy.org.

Becker, Howard S. “The Latin Tinge: The Impact of Latin American Music on the United States by John Storm Roberts.” Popular Music Vol.1, p.215-216.

Cantor-Navas, Judy. “Pitbull’s FIFA World Cup Song a Collab with Jennifer Lopez, Claudia Leitte.” Billboard, January 23, 2014. https://www.billboard.com/music/latin/pitbulls-fifa-world-cup-song-a-collab-with-jennifer-lopez-5877900/.

FIFA. “FIFA World Cup Qatar 2022TM in Numbers.” FIFA Publications, 2022. https://publications.fifa.com/en/annual-report-2022/tournaments-and-events/fifa-world-cup-quatar-2022/fifa-world-cup-qatar-2022-in-numbers/.

Gómez, Shirley. “Shakira and Jenifer Lopez’s Halftime Show Tops among the Most Viewed Super Bowl Moments of All Time.” HOLA! January 31, 2023. https://www.hola.com/us/entertainment/20230131342164/shakira-and-jlos-super-bowl-halftime-show-is-the-most-viewed/.

Head, Howard. “What Is Latin Rock?” HBH, August 24, 2023. https://www.howardbasshead.com/what-is-latin-rock/.

McEvoy, Colin. “Bad Bunny – Songs, Career & Facts.” Biography, April 4, 2022. https://www.biography.com/musicians/bad-bunny.

Rivera, Ángel G. Quintero. “Migration, Ethnicity, and Interactions between the United States and Hispanic Caribbean Popular Culture.” Latin American Perspectives 34, no. 1 (January 2007): 83–93.

Schroeder, Pollyanna. “The Growth of Latin American Pop Music in the United States,” College Music Symposium 18, no. 2 (1978): 124–29.

Smithsonian. “Celia Cruz.” Accessed April 18, 2024. https://www.si.edu/spotlight/latin-music-legends-stamps/celia-cruz.

Yawata, Isabella. “Kali Uchis Blossoms with Brilliant New Album, Orquídeas.” The Highlander, February 2, 2024. https://thehighlandernews.com/33166/arts-ent/kali-uchis-blossoms-with-brilliant-new-album-orquideas.

Young, Takeshi. “History of Salsa Dance: Origins of Salsa.” Salsa Vida, June 26, 2023. https://www.salsavida.com/articles/history-of-salsa-dance/.

Zelazko, Alicja. “Reggaeton.” Britannica, August 22, 2023. https://www.britannica.com/art/reggaeton.

Notes

1. Jeanne Batalova. “Frequently Requested Statistics on Immigrants and Immigration in the United States,” Migration Policy Institute (MPI), March 13, 2024, migrationpolicy.org.

2. Angel G. Quintero Rivera. “Migration, Ethnicity, and Interactions between the United States and Hispanic Caribbean Popular Culture.” Latin American perspectives 34, no. 1 (2007): 83–93.

3. Pollyanna T. Schroeder. “The Growth of Latin American Pop Music in the United States.” College Music Symposium 18, no. 2 (1978): 124–129.

4. Howard S. Becker, “The Latin Tinge: The Impact of Latin American Music on the United States.” Popular Music 1 (1981): 215–216.

5. Smithsonian, “Celia Cruz.” www.si.edu/spotlight/latin-music-legends-stamps/celia-cruz. Accessed 18 Apr. 2024.

6. Howard Head. “What Is Latin Rock?” HBH, 24 Aug. 2023, www.howardbasshead.com/what-is-latin-rock. Accessed 18 Apr. 2024.

7. Ibid.

8. Beatriz Acevedo. “Break It All: A History of Latin America through Rock Music,” 24 Jan. 2021, drbeatrizacevedo.com/2021/01/24/break-it-all-a-history-of-latin-america-through-rock-music/. Accessed 15 Apr. 2024.

9. Colin McEvoy. “Bad Bunny – Songs, Career & Facts.” Biography, April 4, 2022. https://www.biography.com/musicians/bad-bunny.

10. Alicja Zelazko. “Reggaeton.” Britannica, August 22, 2023. https://www.britannica.com/art/reggaeton.

11. Alex Abad-Santos. “How “Despacito” Became the Biggest Song of 2017.” Vox, 18 Aug. 2017, www.vox.com/culture/2017/8/18/16112710/despacito-biggest-song-of-2017-bieber-fonsi-daddy-yankee. Accessed 6 Apr. 2024.

12. Isabella Yawata. “Kali Uchis Blossoms with Brilliant New Album, Orquídeas.” The Highlander, 2 Feb. 2024, thehighlandernews.com/33166/arts-ent/kali-uchis-blossoms-with-brilliant-new-album-orquideas. Accessed 18 Apr. 2024.

13. Judy Cantor-Navas. “Pitbull’s FIFA World Cup Song a Collab with Jennifer Lopez, Claudia Leitte.” Billboard, 23 Jan. 2014, www.billboard.com/music/latin/pitbulls-fifa-world-cup-song-a-collab-with-jennifer-lopez-5877900/. Accessed 16 Apr. 2024.

14. FIFA. “FIFA World Cup Qatar 2022TM in Numbers.” FIFA Publications, 2022: publications.fifa.com/en/annual-report-2022/tournaments-and-events/fifa-world-cup-quatar-2022/fifa-world-cup-qatar-2022-in-numbers/. Accessed 16 Apr. 2024.

15. Shirley Gómez. “Shakira and Jenifer Lopez’s Halftime Show Tops among the Most Viewed Super Bowl Moments of All Time.” HOLA! 31 Jan. 2023.

Echoes of Power: Men’s Fascination with the Roman Empire

How often do you think about the Roman Empire? The average man would answer several times a week, some even as much as three times a day.1 It’s been almost 2,000 years since the Romans’ height of power, yet it still impacts the way modern men think about the world today. At its peak in 230 CE, the Roman Empire conquered land stretching from present-day England to Egypt and the Middle East, and surrounded the entire Mediterranean Sea. While this empire lasted for centuries, its history can be organized into three time periods: The Period of Kings (625 BCE to 510 BCE), Republican Rome (510 BCE to 31 BCE), and Imperial Rome (31 BCE to 476 CE). The Period of Kings began at the economic and military uprisings of the Roman Empire. A transition from ruling kings to an established government made way for Republican Rome. Here, citizens followed an established law code known as the Twelve Tables. After Julius Caesar, the dictator of the empire from 46 to 44 BCE, was assassinated, his heir Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus rose to power. He assumed the name Augustus and became the first Emperor of the Roman Empire, leading to the Imperial Rome era. Imperial Rome saw centuries of prosperity and peace, up until internal and external struggles led to its demise in 476 CE.2 The long holding success of the Roman Empire lies in its unified culture. A male-dominated society built the empire based on their masculine values of power and control, which resulted in a society that constantly searched for war to satisfy the male desire to dominate. As a result, they placed great emphasis on the strength of their military, an organized social structure, and a unique governance that allowed them to establish, conquer, and run a thriving empire. The prominent cultural features and gender roles of the Roman Empire founded modern men’s ideologies of male strength and dominance. The pervasive male pursuit for power and control translates into an infatuation with the Roman Empire and its lasting legacy, which was built on such ideologies.

The Twelve Tables of Roman Law was established in 449 BC by a ruling body of ten men known as Decemvirs.3 It is the oldest Roman law code, drafted for equality between plebeians and patricians after complaints of oppression towards plebeians. This foundational legal document represents a significant step towards codifying and organizing Roman law. The twelve detailed laws defined civil rights and fixed consequences upon breaking the laws, reflecting the Romans’ commitment to establishing a fair and orderly legal system that applied to all citizens, regardless of social status or background. As such, the Twelve Tables functioned as a check on Rome’s openly hierarchical social structure, granting rights and legal recourse to plebeians.

But these partial measures were not sufficient since Rome’s patriarchal society ranked men at the height of its hierarchy. Their status above lesser members of society, especially women, is seen especially in Table V relating to guardianship and succession: “Females shall remain in guardianship even when they have attained their majority…”4 This is to say that although a woman has reached adulthood, referred to as their “majority,” they must remain under the care and control of a male figure. Roman female citizens were not trusted to think for themselves, but rather, their father, uncle, or husband would make their decisions for them. This law code shows the value, or lack thereof, of women in Roman society. They were viewed as less intelligent and less capable than a man, and as a result, placed beneath them on the social pyramid. This is another respect in which Ancient Rome offers an idealized notion to those who long for a return to the traditional gender roles of the 1950s. Roman men served as breadwinners and protectors, taking on large roles in government and in the military, while women were homemakers and caretakers of the children. The difference in roles as far as an exertion of power, especially in meaningful areas like war and politics, gave men a sense of greater importance. This justified their place above women on the social hierarchy because women were viewed as weak and frail, and it was a man’s civic duty to protect them. Furthermore, Table V referring to a male figure as a woman’s “guardian” implied ownership of her. This idea of control over those who lack authority and power relates back to why men idealize the Roman Empire. As men seek power and control in their modern lives, they fantasize about a time when it was handed to them. Male superiority was written in a legal code, and, therefore, could not be disputed. These societal implications determine the superiority of men, satisfying their masculine validity. The Roman Empire was set up to be a patriarchal society, thus reinforcing the power-hungry mentality exhibited by men.

Conquest-happy is another term that epitomizes the social construct of masculinity. The concept behind Roman conquests was analyzed by Polybius, who was the third greatest Greek historian after Herodotus and Thucydides.5 In his lifetime from 200 BCE to 118 BCE, he became most known for his writings on the Punic Wars between the Roman Republic and the Punic Empire that lasted from 264 BCE to 146 BCE, in addition to the Roman conquest, consisting of a series of operations that accumulated land and power for the Roman Empire throughout its time. These works were written in his multi-volume books, “The Histories,” that he finished in 146 BCE.6 Here, notable people, events, and ideas of Roman society were explored in great detail.

In Polybius’s second introduction of “The Histories,” he addresses the subject of military conquests and the idea of success as different from a victorious outcome. He argues that a definitive judgment cannot be made on either side of a conflict, the victors and the defeated, by only considering its outcome. Polybius explains this reasoning by writing, “Neither historical actors nor those who write about them should think that the aim of every undertaking is to win and to subjugate everyone else… in fact all men act with the aim of obtaining the pleasure, honour or profit that will result from their action.”7 Polybius argues that a military victory should not be the determinant of a successful society. Yet, men are so focused on this prowess that they paint success in a black and white light. He addresses the violent intentions of men that are clouded with a desire of dominance and power. These characteristics are heavily valued in Roman society, as it is the drive towards Rome’s expansion. As a result, they also became an internal value of the average Roman man. Polybius specifically refers to soldiers obtaining “pleasure” and “honour” from the violent conquests. This positive rhetoric relating to a violent affair proves that through an exertion of power, men are fulfilled. Inversely, men feel shameful if they are defeated. Gender roles enhanced their sense of value based on their achievements. Gender roles divided specific duties to both men and women, and their ability to perform well at them determined their worth. Therefore, if a man failed at the physical duties he was assigned, he was a disappointment as a soldier and to his greater duty to Roman society. These masculine pressures translate to the modern world. Men are encouraged to show strength and hide any emotion to not be perceived as weak. Men who struggle to suppress their emotions and meet the unrealistic expectations of men in contemporary society seek inspiration and admiration in the Roman Empire. The Roman Empire is the epitome of strength and dominance, and they look up to it as a paragon of how they should act.

This same idea of strength and dominance was found in Rome’s neighboring society, Greece. Pericles’s Funeral Oration was a speech delivered by the Athenian general and statesman Pericles (495-429 BC) and published in the historian Thucydides’s (460-395 BCE) The History of the Peloponnesian War (431-404 BCE).8 Pericles’s Funeral Oration is an example of the Athenian public practice of delivering eulogies to honor their fallen soldiers. He delivered it to Athenian citizens after the first year of fighting the Peloponnesian War against Sparta to promote nationalism and perseverance. Pericles illustrates the warrior culture of Greece, which was in itself a close cousin of the warrior culture of Rome. Greece, being a conquered city-state of the Roman Empire, embodied many of the same masculine ideals.

In Pericles’s Funeral Oration, he outlines the difference between an ideal Athenian man and an ideal Athenian woman. He pays tribute to the Athenian men who served and died in the war and reassures their families that it is the most honorable way to die. The soldiers who fell at the Battle of Marathon in 490 BCE are described as having “…valor distinguished above that of all others…” The soldiers were recognized to have “valor,” which goes beyond courage or bravery. The intention behind use of this word is to emphasize the respect and honor Roman society placed on their soldiers. Describing this characteristic as one that is “distinguished above that of all others” shows the extent of the true value that Athenians, and in turn, Romans, placed on their soldiers. This created a sense of a sense of necessity for men to serve their country and “prove themselves,” as Pericles describes.9 The ideal Athenian man was both mentally and physically strong, to mirror the strength of their country. When the Romans adopted this ideology, it also founded societal pressures for males that discouraged them from showing any signs of weakness that still exist today.

In contrast to Pericles’s promotion of an ideal Athenian man, he goes on to describe what he calls an “esteemed woman” by stating, “great will be your glory in not falling short of the natural character that belongs to you; and great is hers, who is least talked of among the men, either for good or evil.”10 Pericles first encourages women not to stray from their “natural character,” or purity. He then warns them not to tempt men, and that the less attention they draw to themselves, the more highly regarded they would be. This directly relates to the Roman value of piety shown through their religious position of Vestal Virgins, who were Roman priestesses. Vestal Virgins were highly respected in Roman society starting in the seventh century BCE until they were banned by emperor Theodosius I in 394 CE as part of his efforts to Christianize the Roman Empire.11 These women “functioned to instill a collective identity of what it meant to be a Roman.”12 Vestal Virgins served as a reminder to other women of how an ideal Roman woman should behave. Women who were conservative and abstinent were highly valued in society. This showcases the different expectations of Roman men and women. Men were valued for their behavior on the battlefield, whereas a woman’s value depended on what men thought of her. Because men were given this power and level of control over women, it translated into them having an over-dominant ideology. Modern men translate this Roman way of thinking into what is known today as “toxic masculinity.” Toxic masculinity is a set of stereotypical social guidelines associated with manliness that men showcase in the forms of over-dominance, aggression, and stoicism.13 Men who idealize the Roman Empire justify this toxic behavior because it was socially acceptable in Roman society.

Toxic masculinity is far from a recent phenomenon, but, rather, was present in ancient Roman and Greek myths. Publius Ovidius Naso, referred to as Ovid, was a Roman poet (43 BCE-17 CE) who was especially known for his books Ars amatoria and Metamorphoses. In his poetry, he reflected Roman ideas in his interpretations of classical Greek myths.14 Ovid’s take on the myth of Galatea and Polyphemus follows the beautiful nymph Galatea and her lover Acis. Polyphemus, a Cyclops, becomes infatuated with Galatea, and, despite his unrequited love, relentlessly pursues her. When Polyphemus catches Galatea and Acis together, he is so consumed by jealousy that, in a fit of anger, he crushes Acis to death with a massive rock.15

Polyphemus can be seen as a “toxic male” archetype in today’s society. In Ovid’s writings, Galatea describes Polyphemus’s fit of anger upon seeing her with Acis: “I saw all this; and, after he in vain had uttered such complaints, he stood up like a raging bull whose heifer has been lost…”16 Polyphemus’s rage is described to be “in vain,” as he selfishly cannot accept to see his love interest with another man. He then throws a tantrum, to which he is compared to a raging bull, which shows the extent of his uncontrollable anger when his ego is bruised. This behavior persists in modern society in the form of the typical toxic “nice guy.” The “nice guy” showers his love interest with gifts and kindness, expecting this love to be reciprocated emotionally and sexually. In the case where it is not, he is full of anger from the rejection. Modern men are able to justify this behavior because Rome normalized men acting aggressively and resorting to violence. When Galatea refused Polyphemus, he turned to violence in an attempt to assert his manhood and cope with the rejection. By killing Acis, he removed his competition for Galatea’s love, and selfishly attempted to terrorize her into submission to his emotional and sexual demands.17 When Polyphemus is not given what he wants, he exerts his dominance over what he perceives as a weaker figure in order to inflate his ego.

A modern example of a “toxic male” is the British-American social media figure Andrew Tate. Andrew’s outspoken controversial and misogynistic views have gained world-wide attention. Despite the majority of negative responses, he has managed to gain an overwhelmingly large male following.18 On various podcasts and social media platforms, Andrew has stated, “I think the women belong to the man,” and “You can’t be responsible for… a woman that doesn’t obey you.”19 These beliefs date back to ancient Roman society when women were classified as second-class citizens and the property of men, which is no longer relevant in today’s society. Yet, Andrew is able to influence young males with his ideologies by preying on their insecurities of weakness. He validates their desire for strength by preaching that men are inherently superior to women, giving them a false sense of power in their daily lives. Andrew Tate embodies the Roman Empire’s male ideologies of control and dominance. When modern men don’t meet the social standards for a strong man, they feel threatened. In an attempt to compensate for what they lack, they buy into these delusions of inherit dominance.

Male social standards are a double-edged sword. Dating back to the start of the Roman Empire in 625 BCE, men have been granted power and privilege in society, followed by a number of opportunities that women today still struggle to attain. However, they also create social pressures that negatively impact the mental health of men, making them feel like a failure if they do not live up to them. Seeking unhealthy measures to cope with what they lack in the “ideal Roman male” image, they turn to toxic male figures like Andrew Tate to validate their manliness. Young men are being told that they are dominant by nature, and it is natural for them to act aggressively. As a result, they exert their power in a harmful manner, often in the form of physical and sexual violence against women. The persistence of these outdated and sexist beliefs preached by these public figures pose a threat to feminist progress today.

So, how often do you think of the Roman Empire? Perhaps more than you realize. Its culture and beliefs have echoed throughout the centuries, long after the empire’s fall, and continue to impact modern society. The power dynamic between and expectations of men and women was largely founded by the Roman Empire. As men continue to embody its ideologies of dominance and control, traditional gender role endurance remains constant, for better or for worse.

Notes

1. Betsy Reed, “The Roman Empire: Why Men Just Can’t Stop Thinking About It,” The Guardian, September 19, 2023, link.

2. “The Roman Empire: A Brief History,” Milwaukee Public Museum, Accessed March 29, 2024, link.

3. E.B. Conant, “St. Louis Law Review: The Laws of the Twelve Tables,” HeinOnline Law Website Journal Volume XIII, no. 4 (2017): 231, link.

4. Naphtali Lewis and Meyer Reinhold, “The Twelve Tables of Roman Law,” Roman Civilization: Selected Readings, Volume I. The Republic and the Augustan Age, 108-116.

5. Errietta Bissa et al., Historiae Mundi: Studies in Universal History, (London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2013), 30, Retrieved from books.google.com.

6. Francesca Fontanella, Aelius Aristides between Greece, Rome, and the Gods, (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2008), 204, Retrieved from brill.com.

7. Quoted in Francesca Fontanella, “The Encomium on Rome as a Response to Polybius’ Doubts About the Roman Empire,” in Aelius Aristides between Greece, Rome, and the Gods, ed. W.V. Harris and Brooke Holmes, Leiden: Brill, 2008, p 203.

8. Joshua Mark, “Pericles,” World History Encyclopedia, March 12, 2018, link.

9. Thucydides; trans. Henry Dale. “Pericles’s Funeral Oration (429 BCE)” The History of the Peloponnesian War, 429 BCE, 20, 24.

10. Thucydides; trans. Henry Dale, “Pericles’s Funeral Oration (429 BCE).”

11. “Vestal Virgins | Priestesses, Temple, Rome,” Britannica, March 12, 2024, link.

12. Joshua Roberts, “Rome’s Vestal Virgins: Public Spectacle and Society,” Western Washington University CEDAR, February 19, 2012, link.

13. Sarah Vallie, “Toxic Masculinity: How to Recognize and Treat It,” WebMD, November 11, 2022, link.

14. John Kenney, “Ovid | Biography, Metamorphoses, & Facts,” Britannica, April 3, 2024, link.

15. Rhianna Padman, “Polyphemus: Who Was the Cyclops That Was Tricked by Odysseus?” The Collector, December 29, 2023, link.

16. Publius Ovidius Naso; trans. Brookes More, “Galatea & Polyphemus,” Metamorphoses 13, 738-870.

17. Melissa Marturano, “Ovid, Feminist Pedagogy, Toxic Manhood, and the Secondary School Classroom.” The Classical Outlook Volume 95, no. 4 (2020): 147–51, link.

18. Betsy Reed, “I’m Andrew Tate’s Audience and I Know Why He Appeals to Young Men,” The Guardian, January 6, 2024, link.

19. Andrej Barovic, “60 Most Controversial Andrew Tate Quotes,” Dot Esports, March 14, 2024, link.

Unshackled yet Bound: The Enduring Impact of Slavery on Black Women’s Success

At the height of the civil rights movement, Malcolm X once said, “The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman.” This powerful statement seems to constantly permeate my thoughts. Continue reading

Berraca

A parent’s job is to raise strong individuals, and in my situation, my parents had to make me a strong woman, a true berraca. For my mom, that was wearing dresses but being defiant and not letting men pisotarte (step on you). She firmly believed Continue reading

Twenty-First Century Gadfly: Rewriting Crito

JOSEPH: Sophia, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Ever since I heard that you got the notice that you’re supposed to be drafted into the war, I’ve been running all over trying to get ahold of you. I didn’t think that I’d find you wandering around town like it was just another day!

SOPHIA: Well, Joseph, it is another day. Besides, I’m not in prison yet. If I should begin to live any differently just because imprisonment is awaiting me, wouldn’t it reflect poorly on how I’ve decided to spend my time thus far in my life?

JOSEPH: I suppose… Continue reading

Why is it so hard to write about myself?

“Personal Identity: Explore some aspect of your identity about which you’re curious, troubled, conflicted, or unsure.”

You read the prompt. You read it over and over. And all you can think about is…

That you hate writing about yourself.

You hate it.

You remember writing your college essays, answering eternal questions of: “What do you love?” or “What challenges you?”

You felt that everything you wrote was:

Not authentic.

Cringey.

Hypocritical.

You prefer to explain things figuratively through metaphors, beautiful adjectives, and personifications, maybe that could make your texts more valuable.

You hate yourself for thinking that way, you are frustrated because it sounds like you are trying so hard to seem unique. But you know…. Inside…. it’s more than that.

You remember staring at a wide-eyed psychologist, as he asked you to talk to him as if he were your younger self. You couldn’t. The words twisted in your throat and came out in someone else’s voice. Someone completely alien to you. Because that is who your younger self is to you. Someone else, left in the past. No connection whatsoever. To this day you still haven’t been able to do it.

Another psychologist told you once that you viewed yourself as someone with fragmented identities. Sprinkled selves separated through every move to a different country, a family divorce, and therapy sessions. So many years of psychoanalysis, to a point where you feel like you know yourself so well that you don’t want to think about it for another minute. You ask yourself, “Does that make sense?” But then you wonder if you’re just rambling.

Does this lack authenticity?

Are you cringey?

Hypocritical?

And the spiral starts again….

So when left with no other choices, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you could write about that. Try to understand why it is so hard to just sit down and write about yourself. No metaphors or outlandish ways to avoid saying the simplest things. Just write about how you can’t write.

You think you can do that.

So you try and begin…

You start at the part that makes you most uncomfortable. The part that paralyzes your poet’s pen—that pen that usually overflows with purple prose. It’s the autobiographical aim, the invitation to carve into your soul in order to answer a vague question with one whole, direct answer.

When producing a self-narration you are supposed to display “a language that speaks of and constructs identity and which is, simultaneously, creating and presenting a sense of self”1 But what if you are yet to decipher that language itself? What if the language that constructs this ‘sense of self’ has so many variants that it has become a fractured one, representing, in itself, a fractured self?

The way you spoke to the world as a child is now a faraway memory, an innocent dialect too foreign to understand eighteen years later. Now words have twisted and turned, confused by your bilingual mind that mixes Spanish and English. Any “life of living across languages can leave a child with a fragmented sense of identity,”2 and you are one of those children. Throughout your life, the language of your identity has evolved and adapted to where you were living. Every move, from place to place, marked a breaking point. It represented the death of one identity and the rebirth of a new one. Each branching dialect carried on the trauma of every move, forever changing the way you spoke every single time. Thus, now you see your life as a timeline of deaths and rebirths, every time with a one-way airplane ticket in hand. It is a eulogy you can give by memory. Every death leaves behind an old sense of self and allows the rebirth of a new inner dialogue adapted to the new context you found yourself in. So how are you supposed to establish one language of identity when its grammatical rules and structure are always changing? How are you supposed to do that when, at each point in life, you have spoken different versions of a similar dialect?

In your own mind, your complete identity is a thing so far away, so complex that you can only imagine it figuratively. Perhaps, your form of self-narration is one that “attempts to produce a new form of autobiography where past selves are critiqued and identity can be seen as fluid and fragmented.”3 But then again, the question there is…. Are you willing to open up the fragmented bits and pull them apart to find a whole answer? Is that even possible? To find one language that will explain all of these fragmented pieces of identity. To decipher the lost dialects left behind from pain and fear? To examine the origin of the lingo you speak now which would have scared your past identities and their own dictionaries? You worry that it might not be authentic, that there is no way to be able to express, in your current place and time, how your inner dialogue was expressed when you were smaller. You feel like you are betraying that little girl.

Maybe the only way to view your current identity is to see it as one that has evolved throughout your life. That could be the only way to see yourself as whole, even if not authentic. Maybe you now see that the abandoned inner dialogues of before, ones so different from those of the present, were necessary to leave behind so you could actually grow to have the inner dialogue you are having with yourself now.

It seems, to you, that maybe you can’t write about yourself because it is scary to confront the abandoned tongues of your past selves, that you can’t find a cohesive way to talk about all of the ways your mother tongue has changed, and in a way, you are ashamed that it has so much. Because, through all of the change, your past self would not understand the language your present identity speaks today, and putting it in writing would be too much of an exposure to all the metamorphosis that has occurred in times of change. So you prefer for all that change to stay lost in time and space, because lost words and languages are left behind for a reason….

Just say it with me:

I don’t like writing about myself because it makes me consider parts of me that I don’t want to think about….

Sometimes, when looking within is too hard, you decide to look up. Up at the constellations of stars and energy.

Sometimes, it seems that connecting dots is easier on a practical chart.

Sometimes, it’s easier to explain the stars than to explain oneself in simple adjectives.

The sky is more mythical, magical, and abstract and yet at the same time you can see it. Seemingly the perfect metaphor.

You can trace the constellations with your own fingers, go back and find their meanings.

Instead of writing your own identity, you let the stars write it for you so you can read it back.

Astrology “sutures experience, possibility and choice, offering elective biographies, thereby contributing to the project of self-identity.”4 Thus, this pseudoscience breaks down parts of your personality into small parts, it allows you to find these fragmented pieces of your identity in an organized manner, allowing you to see how they interact.

You remember first sitting down with your astrologer, Susana, when you were only fifteen years old. Still very lost and worried, going to therapy every Monday, and a doctor every other day to see if someone could give you answers about your chronic sinusitis. Taking any deep breaths was hard back then. It was a two-hour discussion… The solace you found in a small astrological chart was immense and unpredictable. Yes, you hate how cringey that sounds, the need to run towards the stars to understand who you are.

But… that experience changed the way you saw yourself. Well, not really changed, but it gave you a way to explain it, it gave you reasons for your personality that you had never had the words to talk about. Through the dissection of the astrological chart, the blockage that prevents you from autobiographical reflection in writing is erased, and ‘magically’ reveals tensions within your own biographical narrative, helping you to find some sort of self-identity.5 Thus, when having to combat the cracks of your fragmented identity the chart seems to be a way to look at something whole that can explain fragments. So… astrology became the fixed dictionary to explain yourself, so that as you changed, a cohesive language would follow you, written in the sky’s blue paper lines.

So through this analysis, you realize that maybe you can’t write about yourself because it is so abstract and direct. That you need a medium through which you can expand and analyze in order to piece together vocabularies and explorations about your identity. This is the reason why your bookshelf is now dominated by books on astrology, and why you have a yearly check-up with Susi, to anticipate your year as written in the stars. It is a pseudoscience that, even though it is a cringey way for self-expression, it gives way to interpretations of yourself where you wield its own meaning. It gifts you the medium to understand yourself without feeling stripped down. The constellations cover you in protection with their own codes, twists and turns, to explain your inner self. You prefer their twinkling meanings and metaphors much more than your own.

Yet, the question remains… why do you feel so exposed when you write? Your language may be anything but cohesive, you might prefer constellations for explanations, but all the same, when it comes down to typing down the words, you stare at a naked page.

A naked, blank page.

You would rather it stay that way. Stipped to the core.

Naked in the sense that, there is nothing on it, an absence of words and meaning.

You would rather there be a naked absence than a naked vulnerability. That type of naked writing is the one you fear. The one that instead of blankness offers exposure.

Hemingway said it best: “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”6

Because the real question is: Who are you bleeding for? Why are you writing this?

(for once try to answer this with no metaphors)

As an avid reader, words have always been precious to you. Books and poems inspire your soul, you want their hardcovers to devour you whole so you live in them forever. You love the metaphors and you love writing them. But when the spotlight is shined on you, when the ink wasted on pages has to include the word “I” you spiral. There you start again with the vicious cycle: “Not authentic. Cringey. Hypocritical. ”

Writing really is an intimate act.7 But for some reason you want to be on the receiving end of that intimacy, you want to read others’ words and thoughts, but giving back to the craft is hard. It might be because you connect so much to words on paper that reading your own on there seems surreal, a reach to become someone whose words truly do deserve to be read.

This seems to be the cause of your inner critic, who seems to come out roaring in writing. Because autobiographical writing involves “recreating the past in an attempt to discover and invent the self,” you are afraid of what your inner critic might find exposed in the words that pour out through self-exploration.8 This in turn causes you to become more inclined to a technique called “self-distancing” in which “one replaces the first-person pronoun I with a non-first-person pronoun, you or he/she, when talking to themselves.”9 You now realize that the only way for you to talk about yourself rationally, is to do it from a distance. That is the only way you can actually face this inner critic, and see what they have to say. The only way for you to be naked in writing is to distance yourself from it through the language itself.

Yet, in the back of your mind, you know that your inner critic is not the only thing you worry about. It is also bothered by the idea of standing naked and vulnerable to other people’s critiques, what they will interpret and analyze in your writing. Your inner critic assures you that they are probably going to agree, the writing is: Not authentic. Cringey. Hypocritical. And you worry that their reflection on that very piece of writing will basically represent you as a whole.

You look now and read back that paragraph and realize that this way of thinking is hypocritical indeed. Because, it doesn’t matter if an “I” changed into a “you” or a “she”, you are still talking about yourself at the core of this essay. The language changes nothing. All it does is sugarcoat the process to actually write it. But the vulnerability is there. You have bled through your typewriter and have found yourself completely naked in writing, blinded by a distance that you thought covered miles, but only kept you millimeters from exposure.

Conclusion

So you decided, long ago, to abandon the “I” and distance yourself from the responsibility of writing about yourself, of feeling the way you do. You accepted seeing things from afar, looking at the stars and sky for answers, scared to decipher the languages that make up your multiple identities. You realize now, that those fragments of identities are maybe just that. Fragments of a total, full piece that adds up to one person. The one writing this very essay. Writing about herself on and on for 9 pages, naked in writing, from a distance but so very close. You realize that, as scared as you are, the paper has been written, and no, it is not about someone alienated from you.

It is about me.

Because yes.

I can write about myself.

And that can sound not authentic, cringey, and hypocritical.

After all, I wrote a whole essay about not being able to do it.

But I think I can come to terms with that.

I’ll just have to click submit and see how it goes.

Bibliography

Notes

1. Mary Jane Kehily, “Self-narration, Autobiography and Identity Construction,” Gender & Education 7, no. 1 (1995), Academic Search Premier. (My emphasis.)

2. Ken Hu, “The Dilemma of a Fragmented Self,” Public Seminar, November 9, 2022, https://publicseminar.org/essays/the-dilemma-of-a-fragmented-self/.

3. Kehily, “Self-narration, Autobiography and Identity Construction.”

4. Paul Clements, “Astrology, modernity and the project of self-identity,” Culture and Religion 21, no. 3 (2020): 260, https://doi.org/10.1080/14755610.2022.2093234.

5. Clements, “Astrology, modernity and the project of self-identity,” 276.

6.Jessica Archuleta, “How Writing is an act of Vulnerability,” The Writing Cooperative, March 20, 2017, https://writingcooperative.com/on-writing-and-vulnerability-18e30b212b96.

7.Archuleta, “How Writing is an act of Vulnerability.”

8. Kehily, “Self-narration, Autobiography and Identity Construction.”

9.Jena E Pincott, “Silencing Your Inner Critic,” Psychology Today, March 4, 2019, https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/articles/201903/silencing-your-inner-critic.

Pregnant & Afraid

I never truly liked my birthday. Every year, without fail, my family tells the story of how I almost killed my mom. Her pregnancy was going well, great even, until she was actually delivering me and there was too much blood everywhere. Hours after a near-miss, I (being the problem child that I am), stopped breathing. I had to be transported to a different hospital for a specialist, which was totally understandable and okay had I been the only one who needed care, but I was not. No, my mom, who hours after a complicated birth and seeing her child stop breathing in her own arms, was kicked out of the hospital when she needed care and rest too. I almost killed my mom, keyword being “almost”, it could have ended very differently. Knowing this happened to my mom, a Latina immigrant, and knowing that the United States has one of the highest maternal mortality rates in the world that disproportionately affects women of color, I’m able to critically think about her experience. I can’t help but question how different her experience would have been had she been a white woman.

Maternal mortality and morbidity is plaguing the United States. Maternal mortality is described as death associated with pregnancy, delivery, and the postpartum period (about 6-8 weeks postpartum).1 Maternal morbidity is described as the health consequences, associated with pregnancy, delivery, and the postpartum period, one lives with. America is the “most dangerous industrialized country in which pregnant women can live and deliver.”2 This issue is very multifaceted. It stems from institutional and structural racism that creates an unsafe environment for pregnant women of color, especially Black non-hispanic women. This unsafe environment now consists of many racial disparities such as lack of access to maternal care as well as lack of quality maternal care. Yes, even when women of color have access to maternal care, their experiences are not amazing. They are subjected to doctors whose care is influenced by implicit (and honestly, sometimes, explicit) bias against them for no reason other than their race and/or ethnicity. Even the bare minimum can be harmful to pregnant women of color. It is terrifying to think about how I can go on and on about the horrors of this.

Before we can delve into solving this problem, we must look at the causes. I spoke briefly about institutional and structural racism, but what does this actually mean? Taking a look at Jim Crow laws, legalized practices and policies that segregated Black people, they affected almost every aspect of life and continue doing so even after they were overturned. The “residential segregation due to long standing systemic racism” can be held accountable for the healthcare disparities that take the lives of pregnant women of color.3 For example, the career opportunities for the Black community were limited due to Jim Crow laws and this affected their socioeconomic status heavily.4 By having a low socioeconomic status, you are more likely to not be able to afford healthcare, maternal or other. While this may seem obvious, the implications may not be so obvious. Being able to pay for insurance allows many people to have access to prenatal care, which is incredibly important in decreasing the risk of maternal mortality and morbidity risks.5 The World Health Organization recently updated their prenatal health recommendations from four prenatal visits to the obstetrician to eight.6 If BIPOC women cannot afford healthcare, what makes you think they are going to be able to access prenatal care at all, let alone eight visits?

My sister always tells me stories about going to the local WIC with my mom while she was pregnant with me to get prenatal vitamins. Trying to understand my feelings about these stories was complicated because being able to get WIC benefits means you are a low-income family, yet despite being low-income, you are able to have access to these crucial vitamins. It’s a part of my family’s life where we were able to benefit from poverty. Living as a low-income family was always taxing, yet it helped my mom gain important vitamins for herself. We were lucky, millions of women of color do not get to just drive down to their local WIC; they do not benefit from their poverty.

Not only is this daunting to think about, it opens more doors to this complex issue. The healthier a woman is at conception, it can be assumed that she will have a healthier pregnancy.7 Keeping this in mind, I’d like to point out that women of color, especially Black women, have significantly higher rates of chronic health conditions.8 Before they are even pregnant, the odds of a healthy pregnancy are against them. Can you imagine wanting nothing more than to bring life into the world but having to think that this might also mean you will no longer grace the earth yourself? And why? Because of conditions that are not in your control. For simply living in the wrong zip code, you can be in a maternity care desert where getting maternal care is nearly impossible.9 Maternity care deserts occur in zones most impacted by redlining, another direct effect of Jim Crow laws and other various racist-based policies and practices. Maternity care ranges from prenatal care to access to abortion and contraceptives to postpartum checkups. Living in a maternity care desert goes beyond vitamins, it goes beyond ultrasound scans to see if the fetus is forming healthily, it is quite literally a matter of life and death.

One of the most important first steps in combating maternal mortality should be expanding government healthcare. Living in a maternity care desert is dangerous; by giving access to maternal healthcare thousands of lives will be saved. As of now, there is a policy to extend Medicaid, not expand.10 To me, it seems as though our federal government sees the issue

but wants to do as little as possible to help this issue. By extending it, even if a woman does not qualify for Medicaid they will be able to gain access to medical care for the duration of their pregnancy and two months postpartum.11 While this may seem great, it fails to address the fact that 31% of maternal deaths actually occur within a year postpartum.12 So for the other ten months, they are on their own. They are in one of the most vulnerable states of mind any person can even be in, and their government is doing nothing. It makes me wonder if this “expanding” government healthcare would even work. If they are still living in maternity care deserts, they won’t have a facility to go to to use their healthcare service.

Maybe providing more obstetrician and gynecology facilities in predominantly Black and Brown communities would be a better first step. I live in the San Fernando Valley, a predominantly Latino region of Los Angeles. I’ve lived there my entire life; being away at college is the most I’ve ever been out of the Valley. This means nothing to many of those reading but when I tell you I can count the number of obstetrics and gynecology clinics in the Valley on my hand… well that should perk some ears up. My neighbor from three houses down would ask me to babysit her two toddlers while she commuted over an hour (Los Angeles traffic mixed with the unreliable, inefficient public transportation system mixed with the sheer distance) to the nearest obstetrician clinic that approved her non-insurance covered visit. How is it that someone who has already given birth twice, who knows the importance of prenatal care, is still subjected to such a long trek to a clinic? She is doing her part and her government needs to do theirs.

While access to maternal healthcare is difficult to obtain in the United States, it is not impossible. But if and when women of color do get access to maternal healthcare, it’s a question of whether it’s of good quality. That’s another layer to this issue, having maternal healthcare is great but if you are being treated with no respect, it does not seem that great. Studies have shown that Black, Hispanic, Native American, and Asian women experience considerably lower quality maternal care than their white counterparts.13 There are instances of belittling and just blatant disrespect. When my mom was pregnant with my brother, the doctors would talk about her as if she wasn’t there and would only talk amongst themselves. She would hear and understand everything they were saying, but then another person would come in and say everything the doctors were saying but in Spanish. There was not a single document that indicated whether my mom needed or wanted an interpreter; no doctor ever even attempted to talk to her directly. They simply looked at her and disregarded her (she had already been fluent in English for ten years at this point in her life). There was no communication whatsoever between the doctors or my mom until she actually got upset about the entire situation. Every time she tells the story, I get chills. I can only imagine how she and thousands of other women have felt when doctors do not take you seriously or consult you about your own body.

Doctors have a way of either making you feel incredibly safe or entirely isolated in the delivery room. I think that is why many Black pregnant women choose to have a midwife present in the delivery room with them.14 When a midwife has been present for the entire duration of the pregnancy and the delivery, rates of healthy infants and mothers increase.15 There is safety in having someone in the room with you that is more concerned about your wellbeing than the fetus’s. I wish my mom had someone like that. She had my grandmother and dad in the room but they were all worried about me, who was taking care of my mom? I do think she carried that with her. I didn’t understand it then but I saw those memories coming back to her firsthand; one of her cousins was giving birth a few years ago and my mom was one of the first people she called. My aunt needed her so my mom went (she also took me along). In real time, I saw my mom give my aunt every pain-relieving position you can imagine, every word of affirmation, every ounce of support and attention that she needed all those years ago. My mom has absolutely no medical education, but she has real life experience and sometimes that’s all a mother needs in the delivery room, someone who is going to attend to their needs.

Almost all maternal deaths are preventable. Most Black maternal deaths are the result of preeclampsia and eclampsia, high blood pressure and seizures caused by the high blood pressure.16 This is yet another example of how doctors do not listen to their patients, even when explicitly told that the mothers feel something wrong, as was the case with Shamony Gibson, a Black woman who died due to medical negligence, as documented in the film Aftershock.17 The documentary tells the story of the families of two Black women who were victims of maternal mortality, and how they found solace in each other while learning about the maternal mortality epidemic. The film used visual and linguistic modes of communication to showcase the severe impact maternal mortality has on families. An especially impactful scene depicts a gynecologist explaining how Shamony Gibson’s painful cry for help being brushed off was a direct result of racist medical tactics; the pain of a black woman in labor has never been taken seriously.18 The

film pans across a photo of a woman screaming in pain as the gynecologist is explaining how the foundation of the medical gynecology field is based on the myth that Black women do not feel pain. I’ve never given birth, nor do I have a medical background, but I am positive that all people actively pushing another body out of their own body definitely feel pain. This “unconscious bias” held by the doctors in the film should have been mitigated, it is through this way that the healthcare inequities can actually be diminished.19 The scene continues to describe how Black women, specifically enslaved people, were used for medical experiments and continue to be the largest population cared for by teaching hospitals (in which people who are still learning are the ones treating patients). Medical racism may look different today, but it still persists. I had to take breaks throughout the film to collect my emotions, even imagining my dad in Shamony’s partner’s shoes made my eyes well up. There are so many ways things could have gone differently that could have resulted in Shamony being alive.

I also wonder how different this issue would be if sex wasn’t held on such a high pedestal. I remember sitting in seventh grade health class when my teacher started to demonstrate how to properly put a condom on via bubble wand. She actually said, “This is just so I can abide by district policy, I know you good girls won’t have sex until you’ve met the perfect guy.” There are many things wrong with her sentence, the first being that we were a coed health class (she didn’t have to single the girls out) and another that she was very heteronormative about it, but the point is, she was supposed to tell us how to practice safe sex. Instead of doing that, she made sex a sort of forbidden fruit. People wanted to try it now since it was something so untouchable. This is very dangerous because people were then not equipped for pregnancy at all. The point of that unit in health class was to give knowledge of safe sex so that teenagers don’t get pregnant; she failed to do so and the teenagers weren’t just pregnant, they were uneducated pregnant people. They were people who had no idea you had to take vitamins for yourself let alone prenatal vitamins. Having “inadequate education” can literally cost someone their life, even though they just wanted to try this one thing.20 Now that I’m really thinking about it, I went to a public school that was so caught up in trying to stop teenagers from having sex and would try to scare us with the fear of pregnancy, that they never equipped anyone with knowledge on what to expect if you were to actually get pregnant. The public school system let people (that I had known my whole life) fend for themselves unknowledgeable and vulnerable.

I’m terrified of giving birth in America. I wish I could say I was scared in a regular, teenage girl way, but I’m scared in a “what if I feel something is wrong with me but no one takes me seriously” way. Everything from my zip code to my skin color, my social determinants of health (those aspects of my life that can give many people a clear picture of how hard it can be for me to be healthy), is telling me that never getting pregnant is the way to go about my life. I don’t want to get ahead of myself and say that I’ll never birth a child, but right now it’s looking that way. But I do see how I get the privilege of being able to have a choice in the matter. Even if I were to get pregnant right now, I could (with some difficulty but nonetheless I would be able to) get access to an abortion. This would actually be my safest option. Contraception is actually one of the best prenatal care options in reducing maternal morbidity and mortality rates.21 Planning your parenthood is important! While I’m important by myself, the effects that can present themselves if I were to have a complicated pregnancy and/or delivery can lead to “potentially lasting effects on women’s health over a life course or along family lines across generations.”22 So not only would I be putting myself in danger, the family that I was attempting to grow would also be put in danger. There is no winning, no fear subdued until the government pays attention to the fact that I, a nineteen year old Latina with no immediate urgency to start a family, is terrified to her bones of giving birth and being pregnant in America. When will my fear end?

Bibliography

Breaking the Mold: “Lanval” and “The Blue Bird”

Childish. Naive. Magical. These are usually the first thoughts in people’s minds when they hear the words fairy tale. From growing up on films like Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast, to playing games based on these concepts, or even reading their darker original texts, fairy tales have shaped numerous lives. But there is so much more to fairy tales than just that. Continue reading

Separated yet Together: A Roxbury Love Story

A photo essay:

Unity and Community: The Chinatown Mural

A photo essay.

Why Do We Need Handwriting in the Digital Age?

Some people possess the god-given talent of “neat handwriting.” Teachers marvel at their penmanship and friends regard them with awe, always prefacing their name with “the one with the super pretty handwriting.” Emma, my high school friend, possesses this gift. I would find myself gazing over her paper whenever she wrote anything, because her letters were so masterfully drawn that they were indistinguishable from computerized fonts; each a was the exact same size and shape as all the others, as if copy-pasted from an original, and every o a perfectly closed circle with no wobble or overlap. Once, I wrote the neatest sentence I could, painstakingly focusing on every tiny stroke and replicating my ideal handwriting, and then compared that to her normal handwriting. Turns out, hers still visually looked better than mine—it was naturally flowing, unlike my stiff and obviously forced penmanship. Stylistically, each of her letters were freestanding, unconnected, and separated with consistent gap sizes; by comparison, my handwriting style was more lax, as e’s and r’s slurred and linked with subsequent letters. If I wanted to improve my handwriting, I would need to discard my current writing habits and deliberately practice writing letters in a more uniform style. However, putting so much effort into slowing my writing speed and consciously imitating the neatness of Emma’s handwriting in every press of the pencil was simply unfeasible in my everyday life, as so much strain quickly tires out my hands and arms, and focusing on the quality of individual letters would fail in fast-paced lectures or timed exams which demand efficient handwriting. But that got me thinking: am I doing something wrong when it comes to manual writing? Is neat handwriting achievable through practice? Does a person’s handwriting style signify something about their character? And why might handwriting be beneficial or important in our everyday lives?

To start my exploration, I wanted to explore the validity of long-heard claims that handwriting is influenced by personality, intelligence, or inner thoughts: from the traditional notion that doctors have messy handwriting because they are incredibly smart, to the widely accepted belief that women have neater handwriting than men, or even the commonly heard assumption that introverts have smaller handwriting than extroverts, these generalizations came from all facets of life. To find an answer to whether personality traits could be distinguished through handwriting alone, I turned to the field of graphology. According to Encyclopedia Britannica Online, graphology is the study of personality as expressed in handwriting; it posits that the shape of letters and words opens a window into the writer’s subconscious.1 This science seems revolutionary: if how we talk gives listeners insight into how we are as a person, our handwriting styles may give the reader some clues about our character. Heinz M. Graumann, a graphologist who has researched and taught in the field for more than 60 years, observed that certain ways of writing the letters a and o can convey key traits in personality: a “closed” or “knotted” a or o may indicate someone who is secretive, while an a or o which is “opened” could mean the writer is careless or honest.2 However, Peter Greasley, a modern psychologist with a PhD from the University of Manchester, questions Graumann’s claims and the validity of graphologists’ ability to pinpoint personality from handwriting. He argues that these assertions are unfounded and based on weak correlations: that if certain letters are closed then so shall be your lips is an idea “drawing on simple analogies, perceptual metaphors, and spurious symbolism.”3 Furthermore, the accuracy of these analogies is also inconsistent, as Greasley mentions a study done by Neter and Ben-Shakhar in 1989, which found that “When dealing with handwriting samples containing personal information, the graphologists achieved some, albeit small, degree of success. However, when the graphologists were presented with handwriting samples that contained no personal details the predictive validity of their inferences was reduced to a level no better than random guesses.”4 Thus, graphology is not an accepted science at all—it is a pseudoscience, made up of beliefs that are not based on proven empirical evidence. What one graphologist discovers or concludes about handwriting would be contradicted by the findings of another.5 So, while everyone’s handwriting is unique, drawing inferences based only on its qualities is not a scientifically valid way to diagnose personalities.

I was encouraged by this new understanding that personality is independent from handwriting style, since this meant my writing was not determined by my psyche, but rather something more physical. Immediately, I turned my attention to the muscles in the arm which make manual writing possible. I wanted to explore the biological science behind the action of handwriting, and figure out what exactly made my natural writing so different from Emma’s. I had some initial thoughts on these topics.

For one, people may hold the pencil differently: I hold the pencil with the index finger on top, while others may hold it with both the index and middle fingers glued together and perpendicular to their thumb. Another source of variety is the amount of force used when writing different letters, and how readily the force is adjusted. In a study done led by Tiago H. Falk of the University of Toronto and Institute of Biomaterials and Biomedical Engineering, the variability of grip force—changes in pressure used on a pencil over time—was compared to the quality of handwriting—legibility, form, strokes, alignment, etc. Each of the pencils was strapped with sensors to detect how much force was used for each grip when writing the sentence “the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog,” an English sentence which contains all the letters in the alphabet. While dynamic grip force for inexperienced writers was correlated with improved legibility, static grip force was associated with poorer performance in handwriting; on the other hand, for experienced writers, changes in their grip force resulted in incremental improvements in handwriting.6 In addition, previous studies cited that pencil grip did not influence stroke, legibility, or speed of writing; thus, quality—and variance of styles—of handwriting is determined by the “ability to change grip patterns during writing.”7 So, dynamic grip force leads to neater and higher quality handwriting in both proficient and non-proficient writers, whereas static grip force could be a cause for messy handwriting.

From Falk and his team of researchers, I gained an understanding as to where the different styles of handwriting come from, and how people are able to write so quickly yet neatly. I still wanted to understand why handwriting might be beneficial in our lives. After all, teachers seem to love neat and legible handwriting, as it is monumentally easier to read and grade compared to deciphering chicken scratch, which is both time-consuming and tiring. Though, neatness and messiness are also subjective: even among teachers, there are different preferences. I have had instructors ask us to write in large handwriting with clear gaps between letters, because students would write in the tiniest font, almost to the point of needing a magnifying glass to interpret. But does this preference for one kind of handwriting style actually have any real world implications, for example, in a classroom or academic setting?

In the same way that attractive people may receive greater advantages because of their physical appearance, a phenomenon denoted as “pretty privilege,” neat handwriting may share analogous benefits. One study, done by Rainer Greifeneder et al., educational psychologists and researchers from the University of Mannheim in Germany, coined the phrase “legibility bias,” which refers to the bias toward legible handwriting as having higher-quality content. Their results showed that “legible handwritten material may result in more positive evaluations than less legible material. This legibility bias occurred independent of performance level (good, medium, poor) and independent of subject domain (physics vs. education).”8 In other words, the visual aspect has a notable impact on graders’ opinions of the quality of content, such that a more legible paper may be of poorer quality but still receive the same score as another paper of higher quality which is less legible. This is especially crucial in academic environments, where a significant bulk of graded material is written by hand and also graded by a person, who is subject to these certain biases by virtue of being human. Thus, the legibility bias provides one clear incentive to practice and improve handwriting legibility and neatness: to present visually appealing work that positively reflects the quality of the written content.

Traversing from the field of graphology to the biomechanics of grip force, and now to the psychological effects of handwriting, I was not entirely satisfied with my findings about legibility bias and implications of handwriting in an academic environment. After all, in this electronic age, everyone’s work is visually the same due to online submissions and computerized fonts, so it seems the legibility bias may no longer be an issue. While graders might receive some psychological effect from reading someone’s handwritten work, is there a mental benefit of handwriting for the writers themselves? Why should we write by hand as opposed to other mediums of writing, such as a typewriter or a keyboard?

College students, myself included, take so many notes, manual or typed and with varying degrees of detail, that the very action of taking notes signifies academic success. Many professors and students believe in the superiority of making handwritten notes over typed notes, citing that the physical action of writing helps with better memory retention. This notion was recently corroborated by an experiment performed by Aya S. Ihara and other researchers from the Graduate School of Frontier Bioscience at Osaka University: “These results suggest that the movements involved in handwriting allow a greater memorization of new words. The advantage of handwriting over typing might also be caused by a more positive mood during learning. Finally, our results show that handwriting with a digital pen and tablet can increase the ability to learn compared with keyboard typing once the individuals are accustomed to it.”9 Writing by hand seems to be biologically more stimulating than typing for both memory and mood when it comes to learning. Even in everyday life, many people opt for handwritten notes as opposed to an electronic reminder, or prefer hard-copy books over e-books; a physical manifestation of writing has a far more profound effect on our brains.

Humans, as biological creatures, are dependent on our five senses for every action we take; memory is no different, as the more senses are utilized, the easier remembering is. I have heard study tips such as “work in a loud environment,” because when taking the test, it is not going to be completely quiet: the same environmental sounds help to stimulate our memory and make recalling them easier. Intuitively, then, handwriting would serve to be better for memory development too: when taking a physical exam, the sensory aspect—textures of the paper and pencil—and manual motion of writing helps the brain recollect tidbits of information previously formed using the same medium of writing. However, technology’s far reaching grasp has made handwriting and manual note-taking seem obsolete: the undeniable convenience and sheer efficiency of typing far trumps the marginal benefit we stand to gain from handwriting. Even still, I wonder what exactly is lost in our transition to the digital world. In David Abram’s selection “Animism and the Alphabet,” he describes the shift from orality to literacy and how it separated us from nature and made us indifferent to it.10 Now, we are once again in the middle of a shift, this time from handwriting to electronic typing, in which we may be even further away from the natural world. This sparked another question for me: why is it important that we keep the art of handwriting? What exactly makes handwriting so special, and what exactly will we lose in our transition away from it?

To understand handwriting as an art, I turned to my older sister Angela, who has a habit of collecting handwritten letters from family and friends, hanging them on an “aesthetic” wall or poster board, and displaying heartfelt messages with pretty decorations. An expert in artsy concoctions, she has a knack for creativity. She describes that something about receiving handwritten letters is infinitely more special than just reading an email: she would not print out an electronic message and paste it onto her scrapbooking wall, but would keep every handwritten letter she receives in the mail. A handwritten letter is more personal because no letter is identical; each person has a handwriting style that is different from everyone else’s, whereas the computer font is always the same—static and almost devoid of humanity. Even if the contents of two letters—one handwritten and the other electronically emailed—are entirely identical, just the existence of handwritten prose is proof of the thoughtfulness and care behind each stroke, making the first letter much more moving. This gave me insight into a special aspect of handwriting that electronic writing can not replicate: personal, heartfelt letters.

To explore further, I turned to Patrick McCormick and his magazine section “Keep those cards and letters coming,” which describes the art of writing letters and receiving them. He explains that the act of handwriting a letter is no easy feat: “Writing a good letter usually demands that we turn everything off and sit down for an hour or more with only a blank piece of paper (or computer screen) and ourselves for company…to construct our world and ourselves from within, and court, not fear, the experience of being alone.”11 When writing a letter, we isolate ourselves from the world and leave ourselves only with our thoughts, focusing on the person we are writing to and the sentimental feelings that arise from memories with them. The difficulty comes in being vulnerable with our own mind, relying only on our pen and paper to capture the affection and spark the creativity we wish to pour into the letter. However, all the toil is worth it when we receive a letter ourselves. As McCormick puts it, “How sweet it is to open a note and find that…a friend studying abroad has momentarily pushed aside his books and journals and put pen to paper to take up an old conversation and inquire how we are, how we really are.”12 A handwritten letter is so personal because the sender took time out of their day to think of and appreciate a friend, transcribing their moment of vulnerability into a tangible gift; they are presenting a part of themselves, and even if their handwriting is not the neatest, it is timelessly beautiful in the eyes of the receiver.

Going back to the original question that sparked my interest, I reflected on why handwriting is so important in our everyday lives. While handwriting may not be a fool-proof method at distinguishing introverts from extroverts or certain personality types from others, it does have its roots in psychology. Writing by hand comes naturally to us—inherent in our human nature—since we all desire to express ourselves in some way. In this digital age where everything on the internet is instantaneous and perpetual, those precious few things that are impermanent and fleeting become even more treasured. What sets it apart from something electronically typed is precisely the personal connection: that string of sentences, meticulously written down by its author, is laced with emotion and purpose in every stroke and lift of the pen. Handwriting reminds us to slow down our thoughts and treasure the present, because we are leaving behind a physical and lasting mark of our existence reflecting ourselves at that moment in time.

Bibliography

Notes

1. Britannica, T. Editors of Encyclopaedia. “graphology.” Encyclopedia Britannica, April 25, 2017. https://www.britannica.com/topic/graphology.

2. Peter Greasley. “Handwriting Analysis and Personality Assessment.” European Psychologist 5, no. 1 (2000): 47.

3. Ibid.

4. Ibid., 49.

5. Ibid., 45.

6. Tiago H Falk, Cynthia Tam, Heidi Schwellnus, and Tom Chau. “Grip Force Variability and Its Effects on Children’s Handwriting Legibility, Form, and Strokes.” Journal of Biomechanical Engineering 132, no. 11 (2010): 114504.

7. Ibid.

8. Greifeneder, Rainer, Sarah Zelt, Tim Seele, Konstantin Bottenberg, and Alexander Alt. “Towards a Better Understanding of the Legibility Bias in Performance Assessments: The Case of Gender-based Inferences.” British Journal of Educational Psychology 82, no. 3 (2012): 361-74.

9. Aya S. Ihara, Kae Nakajima, Akiyuki Kake, Kizuku Ishimaru, Kiyoyuki Osugi, and Yasushi Naruse. “Advantage of Handwriting Over Typing on Learning Words: Evidence From an N400 Event-Related Potential Index.” Frontiers in Human Neuroscience 15 (2021): 679191.

10. David Abram, “Animism and the Alphabet”, in The Spell of the Sensuous : Perception and Language in a More-than-human World. 1st ed. New York: Pantheon Books, 1996.

11. Patrick McCormick. “Keep Those Cards and Letters Coming.” U.S. Catholic 60, no. 9 (1995): 38.

12. Ibid.

Grappling With Free Will

Many philosophers have struggled to make their philosophies align with the human concept of free will. Cosmology and the matter of religion are two areas in which contradictions arise between the belief in the distinctly human trait of free will and the belief in a higher power. Philosophers have taken many different approaches in their attempts to elucidate the matter of free will. Two philosophers who explain free will in the context of divine powers are the Roman Stoic Epictetus (55-135 CE) and the Christian philosopher Saint Augustine (354-430 CE). While both of these philosophers believed in the existence of God, their definitions of religion beyond this point diverge. Epictetus, on one hand, held the pantheistic belief that God is everywhere and in everything, and is inseparable from nature.1 Saint Augustine, on the other hand, believed after converting to Christianity that God is perfect and is the creator of all things and that he exists outside of the natural world.2 Within each of their respective religions Epictetus and Saint Augustine grapple with their belief in human free will and how humans came to possess such a quality. Despite the contrast between the religions of Pantheism and Christianity, the two philosophers’ explanations for how and why humans have been granted free will share many similarities.

In the form of Pantheism believed by Stoics, God is not separated from nature, and is therefore not concerned with human sin or prayers. Because of God’s existence within everything and everyone, Epictetus asserts that the human role in the universe is acting as a part of the whole. This “whole” in the pantheistic view is governed by reason, not chance. In Epictetus’s words, “The universe is powerful and superior and consults the best for us by governing us in conjunction with the whole”.3 This supports the Stoic belief that there is no difference between the way things are and the way things ought to be. However, if humans are simply acting as a part of the whole, this does not leave much room for the concept of self-determination. Self-determination, or the idea that humans have a conscious agency over their life, is not easily separated from the idea of free will.

To rectify this seeming contradiction, Epictetus brings Pantheistic beliefs together with the Stoic idea of duty. According to Epictetus and the Stoics, all humans have a duty to fulfill their role as a part of a greater whole. This duty, however, relies on the God-given gift of “The Will”, which distinguishes humans from all other life.4 Epictetus argues that God has given humans the faculty of decision so that they may use their will to fulfill their duty or go against it. Describing the nature of the will, Epictetus says “And what has the natural power of retraining the will? Nothing beyond itself, only its own perversion. Therefore in the Will alone is vice: in the Will alone is virtue”.5 Epictetus maintains that the will is something of divine creation, but that the ability to manipulate the will is purely human. It is in this context that Epictetus is able to insist upon the existence of free will as harmonious with God and nature.

Like Epictetus, the Christian Saint Augustine also believed that the divine power of God controlled the events of the universe, including granting humans free will. This is similar to the Pantheistic belief of the Stoics that it is not chance, but a greater plan that determines the course of life. However, Augustine has distinct ideas about the form of God and the ways in which he governs the universe. In Augustine’s view, God is a benevolent entity above all other things, and is the supreme decision-maker. Augustine says of God’s creations: “All things that exist, therefore, seeing that the creator of them all is supremely good, are themselves good”.6 As He is the decider of all things, it is also through God’s power that humans have the ability to become more or less good, according to Augustine. Augustine explains how humans are able to be influenced by outside temptations, saying, “But because they are not, like their Creator, supremely and unchangeably good, their good may be diminished and increased”.7 By asserting that humans are inconstant beings, Augustine lays the groundwork for explaining free will in the context of God.

Having established God’s omnipotence, Augustine describes how human free will is the work of God. The concept of human free will, by definition, insists upon the ability to act without the control of external forces. This, however, does not easily align with Augustine’s idea of a God who is all-knowing. In an attempt to rectify this contradiction, Augustine introduces the idea of multiple causation. In this idea, just because God knows all that you will do in this life does not mean he is causing you to do those things. By this logic, human choice is a human responsibility, despite the possibility of choice being God’s creation. This definition works to explain the existence of free will under an omnipotent and omniscient God but does not save the contradictions present in Augustine’s pronouncement that God is supremely good.

Based on Augustine’s assertions about God one would conclude that if he is truly benevolent and all-powerful then there would be no evil in the world. However, in the course of human history, people have often used their free will to commit evil acts or sins. In the pantheistic philosophy of Epictetus, the existence of a balance between good and evil causes no conflict. This is because, according to Epictetus, “All things serve and obey the [laws of the] universe; the earth, the sea, the sun, the stars, and the plants and animals of the earth”.8 In Epictetus’s Pantheism, the state of all things is in harmony with God, including the influence of human free will. In his Christian philosophy, however, Augustine must in some way account for the existence of evil in the world. He does this by arguing that although God’s divine plan is ultimately good, he intentionally allows some evil in the world to achieve his benevolent plan.

In Augustine’s view, the all-knowing God must have virtuous intentions behind allowing the existence of evil in the world because God himself is undeniably good. Here, Augustine asserts a similar concept to that of Epictetus, explaining the balance and harmony of God’s plan. Both Epictetus and Augustine maintain that it is through God’s power that both good and evil exist in nature. However, in Augustine’s explanation, any evil allowed by God is a means to serve the greater good. Specifically, in the context of humans, Augustine explores the reasoning behind God’s allowance of the possibility of sin in human nature. He states that “The will of God, which is always good, is sometimes fulfilled through the evil will of man”.9 Through the insistence on God’s ultimate plan serving only the good, Augustine is able to amend the inconsistencies between a benevolent and omnipotent God and the existence of human free will and sin.

Epictetus and Saint Augustine practiced different philosophies in wildly different time periods, and their religious beliefs of Pantheism and Christianity do not align in many ways. Epictetus believed in a God that was harmonious with nature and that lived as a part of all things. Saint Augustine, on the other hand, believed in a supreme God that existed above all life, and that held the power of supreme knowledge and benevolence. These religious differences impacted the way the two philosophers grappled with the concept of human free will. Despite these differences, however, the assertions of each philosopher on how and why humans possess free will have striking similarities. In both philosophers’ views, human free will is a gift from God. And in both Epictetus’s and Augustine’s beliefs, this gift of free will must agree with the Pantheistic laws of the universe or the Christian divine providence of God.

Work Consulted

Notes

1. Epictetus, The Works of Epictetus, t.r. T.W. Higginson, Boston, Little, Brown, 1866.

2. Augustine, Enchiridion, t.r. J.F. Shaw, from The Works of Aurelius Augustine, vol. IX, Rev. Marcus Dods, ed., Edinburgh, T. & T. Clark, 1892.

3. Epictetus, The Works of Epictetus, p427.

4. Ibid., p179.

5. Ibid., p179.

6. Augustine, Augustine, Enchiridion, p182.

7. Ibid., p182.

8. Epictetus, The Works of Epictetus, p427.

9. Augustine, Augustine, Enchiridion, p246.

Only Time Will Tell

As political scientist Sir Alfred Zimmern – an advocate of the League – once said, “the League of Nations was never intended to be, nor is it, a revolutionary organization,” rather it strategically provided an efficient international institution by accepting the world as it was. Although Zimmern expressed notable concerns about the systematization of pre-war ideas with minimal innovations, he was unable to effectively consider the significant impact that the League of Nations would have on the current world order.1 Emerging from the heart-wrenching bloodshed of World War I, the League of Nations was founded “to promote international cooperation and to achieve international peace and security.”2 This organization was a preemptive measure led by world leaders to diminish the chance of war through collective security, disarmament, and negotiation. The League marked a new era in international relations by inviting global government leaders to find peaceful solutions collectively, rather than through minor alliances or applications of force. The unique political climate of the early twentieth century caused the League of Nations to fail in honoring its Wilsonian ideals and executing its Covenant. However, those unfulfilled ideals prompted a revolutionary advancement in international cooperation and an essential prerequisite to the current world order.

Towards the end of World War I, post-war reconstruction entailed fixing a flawed world order. According to international relations scholar Walter Russell Mead: before the war, except in the most glaring circumstances, states were free to treat their subjects as they wished. Even though governments were expected to abide by the accepted principles of public international law, there was no supranational body responsible for enforcing these standards.3 The horrors of World War I affirmed the need to reconstruct the post-war world by creating a cooperative international system that would prevent war. Nearing the war’s end, Europe’s long trek of conflict increased its need for external rescue. It was in no position to lead the cause to secure world peace. The United States, however, was in a more stable position to “serve humanity,” as President Woodrow Wilson idealistically believed. His nationalist idealism was reminiscent of the America-first ideology that grew the U.S. empire over the course of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. As President Wilson aligned American concerns to those of the rest of the world, his succeeding efforts elevated the U.S. as a global leader and allowed American ideals to penetrate the global system.4 Although Thomas Paine had once proposed an international league to secure world peace and American progressives had been urging the United States to lead the reconstruction of the world order since 1914, U.S. President Woodrow Wilson’s proposal of such a league into the global system was nonetheless revolutionary.5 Wilson introduced a blueprint for post-war peace negotiations in his Fourteen Points, a precursor to the League of Nations Covenant based on Wilsonian idealism.

In his Fourteen Points (1918), Wilson described necessary provisions of peace. He began by rejecting “secret covenants entered into in the interest of particular governments.”6 This statement was a reaction to World War I trauma that outlined his belief in foreign policy. He blamed problems of the nation and world as the result of “conflict-ridden factional politics brought on by the unenlightened pursuit of self-interest.”7 As a result, Wilson instead desired that “the world be made fit and safe to live in; and particularly that it be made safe for every peace-loving nation,” like the United States, which “wishe[d] to live its own life, determine its own institutions, be assured of justice and fair dealing by the other peoples of the world as against force and selfish aggression.”8 By hoping to make the world safe for every “peace-loving nation,” or those led by democratic governments, Wilson sought to spread democracy worldwide. This was an extension of his idealism which desired a reinvigorated sense of impartial statesmanship devoted to the common good, both on a national and global platform.9 This was a method of globally transferring American nationalism so that the proprietor of democracy – the United States – may have the extensive influence of promoting and maintaining democracy throughout the world, whether that be during times of war or simply in international relations.

The belief of a sovereign state’s inevitability to be influenced by international affairs fueled Wilson’s desire to correct the world order. In his Fourteen Points, he stated: “All the peoples of the world are in effect partners in this interest, and for our own part we see very clearly that unless justice be done to others it will not be done to us.”10 This prime example of Wilson’s belief that interdependence among global nations could not be ignored, caused him to transfer his American nationalism to the succeeding world order. In hoping to solidify American global leadership, Wilson sought to create a system that simultaenously increased dependence on international cooperation while placing the United States at the head of the table. Believing in America’s superiority as well as the strength of the democratic institution, both of which validated his desire “to sustain liberal idealism in a postwar world,”11 enabled Wilson to propose an ideological response to an international problem. He ended his Fourteen Points by coining the idea of a “general association of nations… formed under specific covenants for the purpose of affording mutual guarantees of political independence and territorial integrity to great and small states alike.”12 This influential fourteenth point, in conjunction with previous points that urged public diplomacy, removal of trade barriers, reduction of national armaments, and the adjustment of colonial claims, envisioned a post-war world order fueled by liberal idealism.13 This liberal, or Wilsonian, idealism held that a state’s internal political philosophy, which was democracy for America, was the ultimate goal of its foreign policy.

In his Fourteen Points Wilson merely proposed a world organization for collective security, yet the 1919 Paris Peace Conference signed this organization into fruition; the Armistice that ended World War I was also signed based on Wilsonian ideals. When the victorious powers negotiated Germany’s future and discussed a new international order, Wilson’s America-first solution was incorporated into the Treaty of Versailles (1919).14 His emphasis on America and rejection of all European diplomatic traditions would inevitably fuel European opposition.15 Regardless, the opposition to and failure of the League of Nations would result in its inability to honor its covenant. For instance, the treaty was introduced with the purpose “to promote international cooperation and to achieve international peace and security.”16 One of the obvious, and most significant sources of failure to this purpose, was that the United States neglected to join the League of Nations. The U.S. Senate being unwilling to sign over executive power to an international body “implied a serious loss of credibility … [that deprived] the organization of its main source of inspiration [and] the support of the American’s power.”17 The retracted participation of such a powerful nation weakened the League’s ability to cope with a very dangerous international situation.

America’s absence depleted the organization’s ability to foster a cooperative world order. Wilson’s vision of combining American interests within an idealized organization of international cooperation fell through the cracks. And so, the League of Nations was left to pick up the pieces of international destruction through a broken system. This system was not capable of handling problems such as “unsolved minority problems, serious economic strains, the substantial marginalization of the Soviet Union, and the humiliation imposed on Germany,”18 yet it would be forced to. Despite not being able to enforce solutions efficiently, the League still revolutionized the international obligation to rectify global conflicts.

As stated in Article 8 and 9 of the Treaty of Versailles, members of the League would “reduce [their] national armaments, [including military, naval, and air forces], to the lowest point consistent with national safety and the enforcement by common action of international obligations” in order to maintain peace.19 Controlling individual nations’ armaments for the sake of international cooperation was revolutionary; the unprecedented bloodshed of World War I proved this not to be the norm of the previous world order. In Article 10, the League prioritized the “respect and [preservation of] external aggression [for the] territorial integrity and existing political independence of all Members of the League,” which essentially protected the sovereignty of each nation in the League.20 This establishment of sovereignty in conjunction with Article 11’s establishment of a League-wide alliance, officially dissolved the capability of conflicting factional politics to result in war. These examples of revolutionary international cooperation were formed to combat the threat of entangled alliances that would disrupt liberal democracy as Wilson first envisioned.

To make the world safe for democracy, the League did not adamantly prepare to combat a totalitarian force like Nazi Germany. In Article 230 of the Treaty of Versailles, the German government was compelled to take “just appreciation of responsibility”21 for World War I. It went so far as to antagonize the nation for its wartime actions by mandating German monetary reparations, land concessions, and demilitarization, which excluded Germany from having a seat in the new world order. Many Germans felt betrayed by the Treaty of Versailles and all its members: after all, Germany did agree to the Armistice and was willing to peacefully negotiate after World War I. This betrayal permeated Germany for years to come, which most significantly affected Adolf Hitler.

Hitler’s resentment over the war’s end and the continued unfair treatment of Germany caused him to reject collaboration. Before becoming Chancellor and creating his dictatorship under the Nazi Party, Adolf Hitler wrote Mein Kampf (1925). It asserted Hitler’s rejection of the Treaty of Versailles as well as the world order it created. For example, Hitler believed the Treaty subjected “The rest of the world [to look] upon [Germany] only as its valet, or as a kindly dog that will lick its master’s hand after he has been whipped.”22 In order to rectify the antagonization of Germany, Hitler broke the Treaty by incorporating Mein Kampf into German foreign policy i.e. German rearmament, overturning the Versailles system, creating individual alliances, and invading non-German lands. In fear of igniting another world war, politicians allowed Hitler’s radical rule to play out. He was initially viewed as a mere extreme nationalist, yet in the succeeding decade his Nazism proved this to be an understatement.23

The failure of the League to combat Nazi Germany demonstrated its peak fragility. However, the system on which it was built would persevere. The League of Nations lacked the administrative strength and enforcement necessary to stop Hitler. This was made irrelevant when Germany fell to Allied powers, thus reigniting hope in a Wilsonian system.24 When the League of Nations came crashing down, its pieces were used to build the United Nations. In 1945, representatives of fifty countries met in San Francisco at the United Nations conference in order to draw up the U.N. Charter. Since the League proved to be “incapable of stopping aggression,” hopes embedded in a Wilsonian order were high for its successor.

Once again the United States would take the lead in preparing this international organization. Similar to Wilson in 1919, “Franklin Roosevelt had been the key inspiration for the U.N.” but his sudden death propelled Vice President Harry S. Truman to lead the cause. In his Address to the San Francisco Conference (1945), American President Harry S. Truman, despite lacking foreign policy expertise, spoke of his liberal idealist hopes for “mankind’s future and the United Nations’ role in preserving it.”25 He acknowledged that “If we had had this Charter a few years ago– and above all, the will to use it– millions now dead would be alive. If we should falter in the future in the will to use it, millions now living will surely die.” His dig at the League’s failure to stop war fueled his atonement for the sins of the past whereby the United States did not participate in the international organization. In spite of American participation and leadership, Truman assured that this charter would not be “the work of any single nation or group of nations,” instead it would be the result of “tolerance for the views and interests of others.”26 In this mindset, Truman assured that the United Nations would promote peace and justice, defend human rights and fundamental freedoms, and accomplish everything under the pretense that the “United Nations… remain united.”27

Not only did Sir Alfred Zimmern argue that the League of Nations was not revolutionary, he also believed it did “not supersede the older methods. It merely supplement[ed] them.”28 Seeing as the United Nations is the fix for a failed League, the same could easily be said for the U.N. When considering the modern-day implications of a cooperative world system, understanding the foundations of the first international institution is crucial because it gave light to the current world order. The modernized world is enslaved to passionate nationalism and inevitable internationalism, thus making world organizations the safest form of global cooperation. As a result, Wilsonian ideals continue to influence the current world order. Because of its Wilsonian influence, the United Nations should be protected against frail cooperation and ideological threats. After all, Wilson’s dreams could have been accomplished had it not been for “the combination of European obstinacy against the League’s Wilsonian principles and the absence of American postwar leadership.”29 Looking forward to the success of the United Nations entails understanding that “important changes have occurred in the world distribution of power, in the world’s economic and political structure, [and] in the world’s ideological atmosphere.”30 Being subject to these changes, the current world order may or may not be able to live up to Wilson’s ideals successfully. Because of the current United Nations, the success of a Wilsonian international organization is still up in the air. Only time will tell.

Notes

1. Leland M. Goodrich, “From League of Nations to United Nations,” International Organization 1, no. 1 (February 1947): 4, http://www.jstor.org/stable/2703515.

2. The Treaty of Versailles, “The Treaty of Versailles (1919),” in Ideas and Identity in Western Thought: Readings in Politics, Economics, Society, Law, and War, ed. Michael Holm (San Diego: Cognella, 2022), 266.

3. Walter Russell Mead, “The End of the Wilsonian Era: Why Liberal Internationalism Failed,” Foreign Affairs 100, no. 1 (January-February 2021), https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A64 5582674/AONE?u=mlin_b_bumml&sid=bookmark-AONE&xid=29c17807.

4. Edward M. Bennett and Norman A. Graebner, The Versailles Treaty and its Legacy: The Failure of the Wilsonian Vision (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 11, https://eboo kcentral.proquest.com/lib/bu/reader.action?docID=802976.

5. Michael Holm, The Marshall Plan: A New Deal for Europe, (New York: Routledge, 2017), 2.

6. “President Woodrow Wilson’s 14 Points (1918),” National Archives, accessed June 24, 2022, https://www.archives.gov/milestone-documents/president-woodrow-wilsons-14-points.

7. Edward J. Harpham, The American Political Science Review 89, no. 4 (December 1995): 1040, https://doi.org/10.2307/2082562.

8. “President Woodrow Wilson’s 14 Points (1918).”

9. Edward J. Harpham, The American Political Science Review, 1040.

10. “President Woodrow Wilson’s 14 Points (1918).”

11. Edward J. Harpham, The American Political Science Review, 1040.

12. “President Woodrow Wilson’s 14 Points (1918).”

13. Michael Holm, “The Great War and the Great Peace,” (Powerpoint Presentation, Boston University London, London, England, May 30, 2022).

14. The Treaty of Versailles, “The Treaty of Versailles (1919),” 265.

15. Michael Holm, The Marshall Plan, 2-3.

16. The Treaty of Versailles, “The Treaty of Versailles (1919),” 266.

17. Luciano Tosi, “The League of Nations: An international relations perspective,” Uniform Law Review 22, no. 1 (March 2017), https://doi.org/10.1093/ulr/unw055.

18. Tosi, “The League of Nations: An international relations perspective.”

19. The Treaty of Versailles, “The Treaty of Versailles (1919),” 266.

20. The Treaty of Versailles, “The Treaty of Versailles (1919),” 266.

21. The Treaty of Versailles, “The Treaty of Versailles (1919),” 274.

22. “Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler,” Great War, accessed June 25, 2022, https://greatwar.nl/ books/meinkampf/meinkampf.pdf.

23. Michael Holm, “The Interwar Period: The Second World War,” (Powerpoint Presentation, Boston University London, London, England, June 9, 2022).

24. Mead, “The End of the Wilsonian Era: Why Liberal Internationalism Failed.”

25. Harry S. Truman, “Harry S. Truman: Address to the San Francisco Conference (1945),” in Ideas and Identity in Western Thought: Readings in Politics, Economics, Society, Law, and War, ed. Michael Holm (San Diego: Cognella, 2022), 343.

26. Truman, “Harry S. Truman: Address to the San Francisco Conference (1945),” 344-8.

27. Truman, “Harry S. Truman: Address to the San Francisco Conference (1945),” 344-8.

28. Goodrich, “From League of Nations to United Nations,” 5.

29. Michael Holm, The Marshall Plan, 4.

30. Goodrich, “From League of Nations to United Nations,” 21.

“The Blessed Damozel” and Sancta Lilias

Artists throughout time have done impressive pictorial recreations of literary works that speak to them. However, what would the recreation painting be like if the poet painted it himself? In “The Blessed Damozel,” Dante Gabriel Rossetti tells the story of a dead woman in the Heaven, or the damozel, dreaming to rejoin her living lover on earth. However, when the dream ends, she weeps about the uncertainty of her future with the lover. As a poet and a painter, Continue reading

Alzheimer’s and the Systemic Issues in the Medical World

From my birth until I was old enough to stay home alone, my grandmother babysat my younger sister and me when our parents were at work, and we lovingly called her our Nana. Nana was an excellent babysitter given her experience as an elementary school teacher for most of her life. I always thought she had the mind of a child; she knew how to think like us and knew how to play games with us. She would always let me and my sister win; often resulting in a fight between us. Eventually we got too old to be babysat anymore and these childhood events turned into memories that I still cherish today. But Nana doesn’t have these same memories. She doesn’t even know who my sister or I am. For she has Alzheimer’s Disease. Continue reading

Jesus’s Teachings: Radical Reformer or Conformist Square?

The Christian Bible is the most read book in the world. And the impact of the Bible’s wide readership can be seen everywhere—in history, in modern day, in politics, in culture. Even in the United States, which does not consider itself a Christian nation, Judeo-Christian values have often been cited as integral to its political foundations. The pledge to the flag describes a nation under God, hopeful officials running for office use their faith to build credibility, and God or the divine is mentioned in every single state constitution (Sandstrom). It is fair to assume that something so involved in the justification of establishment, and that something so widely consumed and accepted, is pro-establishment. But the reality is more complicated Continue reading

A Topsy-Turvy Salem: Creativity Defined through Unexpected Mediums

Throughout history, humans have expressed ideas that are beyond our understanding of what is around us. The stars were told to be omens of the past and future, and comets were labelled as prophecies of impending disasters. These untold superstitions of our forefathers are some of the first examples of stories that humans lay witness too, yet one cannot help but ask just exactly what sparked such stories in the minds of our ancestors? One word: creativity. Continue reading

Indigenous Gender and Healthcare: the Gender Dynamics of the Ngäbe Buglé

Preface

As crowds of people waited in line for health services, I asked patients questions about where they got their drinking water, their living situations, and I was always told to ask women if they were pregnant or could possibly be pregnant. I found that many of these girls were afraid to admit they were pregnant, and would deny it until there was proof in a pregnancy test. This was Bocas Del Toro, Panama. The towering waterfalls and trees of vibrant green could not cover up the complex realities of an indigenous community that suffers in the hands of the viruses and diseases that have roamed this earth for centuries. Continue reading

Protect Your Peace, Not the Predator

“Moving from silence into speech is for the oppressed, the colonized, the exploited, and those who stand and struggle side by side, a gesture of defiance that heals, that makes new life and new growth possible. It is that act of speech … that is the expression of our movement from object to subject—the liberated voice.”1 – bell hooks

She walks to the bus stop and sits on the bench. The 12-year-old girl is making her way home after a school ski trip, so she patiently awaits the arrival of the 28. It usually comes frequently, but strangely enough—not today. As she waits, she whips out a book from her bulging backpack, which overflows with dozens of novels, loose papers, and anything else you can imagine. Packed beyond capacity, the bag probably weighs more than her, so she nearly buckles under its weight. She’s a bit of a hoarder with an urge to keep everything at her disposal. If you stay ready, you don’t gotta get ready. But this time, nothing could have prepared her for what was about to happen.

Now, it might seem odd for a child to carry books to a bus stop just in case they get bored. But this child is always reading—any little free time she has, she reads. When her mom asks her what she wants for Christmas, every year without failure or hesitation, she responds with a list of novels. This then swiftly prompts her mom to tease her and say, “Books are not real presents, I can buy you books any day!” But she knows her mother will buy them anyway. Her parents don’t allow her to go out much, so books offer a world of adventure within the comfort of her own home. Her current book comes from The Land of Stories. She owns the entire series and has read almost every volume. Her excitement begins to bubble as she flips the cover to page one of The Mother Goose Diaries. However, she barely makes it halfway through the page when a man approaches.

He’s a middle-aged Black man. She finds it peculiar that he sits right next to her on the bench, but she pays him no mind and continues reading. However, much to her dismay, he proceeds to address her, asking about the book. For the sake of cordiality, she answers, but concisely. She again tries to get back to her book, but soon realizes that that won’t be possible. And of all days, the bus HAD to be late today. The 28 is the most frequent and popular bus in Boston, so why does it decide to pull this mess on this. specific. day. Talk about poor timing.

“Gimme a kiss.” An alert sounds off in her mind; this is a dangerous situation. She must’ve misheard the man because, although she did find him annoying and a bit intrusive for a stranger, she didn’t peg him as a threat. He inches closer and the armrest becomes the only barrier between them. She is physically frozen, but her mind races a million miles per hour assessing her current predicament and looking for an escape. What can she say or do that’ll keep her safe, but will also put an end to this? She decides to tread lightly because one of his hands rests in his pocket, so she can’t tell if he has a weapon. She lets out a faint awkward laugh to lighten the mood, but it does not work as a deterrent, and before she can even register what is happening, his lips effortlessly engulf hers. The pungent taste of liquor consumes her as he drenches her face in saliva. His hands slowly slither up, around, and all over her body, overpowering her petite core while she remains a lifeless shell in his constrictive arms. When he finally surrenders her lips and relinquishes his touch, she slowly stands up, gathers her belongings, and hoists her heavy bag onto her back. But before she leaves, she turns to him and reassuringly says, with an unsuspecting smile, “Don’t worry I’ll be right back, I just gotta go do something really quick.” She has no intention of even looking back at that bus stop; she will wait for the bus at the school building instead. However, she doesn’t make it 20 feet away from the bench when the man stands up and crosses the street never to be seen again. He knows what he did.

My fault … Tell no one … Deep breath … Don’t cry … Take it to the grave … Nothing happened.

But who is she?

I am her, she is me. She is Bermina Marseille Chery. We are one and the same.

In that 45-second walk back to the school, I devised a plan to never speak of it to a single soul, but the terror in my eyes had other plans, and my mortified face sought to say everything that I couldn’t in that moment. They screamed with the specific aim to broadcast our secret to everyone. And they succeeded.

Is it a blessing or a curse that my face reacts with expressions before my brain can process them? She speaks before my mouth does and reveals the secrets that my heart wants to keep close and that my mind seeks to conceal and compartmentalize. Ultimately, she outed me. I guess two things can be true at the same time, so maybe it’s both a blessing—because no one should be made to shoulder such a burden on their lonesome—and a curse—because I was not ready.

I was not ready to confront my preparedness to protect a sexual predator simply because he was Black.

“Do you remember what he looked like, or what he had on?”

“No.”

I didn’t lie though; I honestly couldn’t recall. Just mere moments after the incident, the recollections played in a blurred loop. I could only remember what he did to me and how it made me feel, nothing more. However, I knew that even if I did, I wouldn’t have said anything. But why? I was a child that was just violated by an adult in the most egregious way, yet my first instinct was to protect him. Why did I instinctively choose to protect this man who just harmed me? Sadly, this phenomenon is nothing new. Black women often feel the need to protect Black men even after having been wronged by them. Take Megan Pete, more commonly known as Megan Thee Stallion, for example. Meg is a famous Black Grammy Award-winning rapper. Although she has had multiple chart-topping hits and received a plethora of accolades, even she cannot escape this instinctual need to protect. In 2020, after leaving a party, a verbal altercation ensued between Meg and, another well-known rapper, Tory Lanez. Lanez escalated the situation when he proceeded to take out a gun and shoot her, wounding her feet. When the police arrived at the scene, instead of telling the officers that Lanez shot and injured her, she lied and said she stepped on glass. While recounting the events of that night, in exasperation she stated, “I tried to save this nigga. Even though he shot me, I tried to spare him.”2 Ultimately, she put the safety of Tory, a Black man, above her own by acting as his safeguard from the police and the potential violence they could have inflicted upon him.

Megan’s response strikingly parallels mine in the sense that we acted in solidarity with our race rather than our gender. Like Meg, I felt I had to protect a Black man from the American justice system; the system that has arbitrarily looted and discarded the livelihoods of Black men from its inception and continues to do so today. Police practices combined with legal policies resulted in the systematically disproportionate severe treatment of Black Americans within the criminal justice system.3 Knowing this, it didn’t matter that the man at the bus stop violated me and infringed upon my safety because the societal structures in place would likely do worse by him than he could ever have done to me. Therefore, as a Black person myself, I felt it incumbent upon me to guard the life of another. It just so happened that forgetting his attire and appearance, though unintentional, enabled me to do so.

However, this begs the question: who then protects Black women and women altogether? Why did I readily put the protection and safety of my race above my gender? How can I justify that? Black women, like Megan and me, feel a deep burning desire to protect Blackness even in its criminality, and we must unpack that. Why is this the case? Race as we know it merely exists as a social construct that holds no biological or scientific basis, but it feels deeper than that.4 The connection I feel to other Black people courses through my veins and pumps through my blood as if to imply a biological connection. The sanctity, therefore, of Blackness transcends that of makeshift constructs and creates a family. An unspoken support system is formed to replicate the one that society never granted us. However, this support can morph into a form of violence when practiced in extremes, and the protection of Blackness in its criminality exists as an example of such. It’s counterproductive because it poses a direct threat to the sanctitude of Blackness and that of other identities outside of race. Therefore, in our perceived protection of Blackness, we undermined it, in part, because we neglected our own safety in the process. Are we not Black as well?

With that said, what becomes of the moral obligations surrounding this situation as they pertain to me? To be frank, I considered shielding a criminal from the eyes of justice, so does that make me a criminal as well? I pondered upon harboring a fugitive in the quarters of my mind and withholding the evidence needed to capture him. In a sense, I contributed in a hypothetical form of obstruction of justice. Therefore, if I could think of knowingly protecting a sexual predator and was willing to act upon it had I been given the chance, how can I consider myself a good person with an adept moral compass? If anything, I am just as culpable as he is. I completely disregarded the physical, mental, and psychological well-being of all women for the sake of saving the future of one man. My lenient thought process, if acted upon, would have made me an accomplice in his potential future violations of women; if it hadn’t already. I am both a Black person and a woman and the convergence of these two identities meet at a crossroads which obliges me to pick a side. At that moment, I abandoned my womanhood in favor of my Blackness. I left women to fight and defend themselves against the dangers of this man alone. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. famously said that “our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”5 Although said silence existed solely as a hypothetical configuration of my imagination, or a fleeting invasive thought, by these standards, it still maintained its detrimental effect. But wait … it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t do this to myself, it was done to me, yet I continue to let him off the hook without giving myself the same due diligence. I never resented him, nor did I seek vengeance; I always wished him the best. However, I didn’t grant myself the same clemency. HIS assault towards ME became less about HIM and the implications of HIS actions and more about the implications of my inaction in that moment. I faced the repercussions for the actions of another, so the real question becomes: how can I in this situation be classified as a bad person? In reality, only I assigned myself this designation.

I will never forget what my father told me that day after the incident. In utter disbelief about what transpired, he said, “Gwosè valiz sa a ou genyen an, pouki sa w pat frappe l ave l!” This loosely translates to, “Your bag is so big, why didn’t you hit him with it!?!” I keeled over in a gut-clenching fit of laughter for the first time that day. Unbeknownst to him, this phrase now encompasses how I maneuver through life. It has become a motto of mine that reminds me to combat adversity head-on. Although this looks different for everyone, to me it means speaking out about my experience and this essay works as a means for me to do just that. After six years, I finally garnered the courage to publicly relay my story. When I previously spoke out, it was against my will because my body language betrayed me, but now I do so out of my own volition: to reclaim my story and purpose. I’m not the same 12-year-old little girl anymore, I’m grown. And although I may not have all the answers, what I do know now is that the protection of Black people and women is not mutually exclusive. Protecting predators poses a threat to both groups and my obligation lies in the security of said groups. So, I hoist up my hefty backpack once again, this time, ready to take on the world and see what it has to offer. And if any obstacle arises along the way, I will not hesitate to hit it over the head with my bag.

Bibliography

Notes

1. bell hooks, Talking Back: Thinking Feminist, Thinking Black, (London: Taylor & Francis Group, 2014), 9, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/bu/detail.action?docID=1813143.

2. Charles Holmes, “Megan Thee Stallion on Tory Lanez: ‘He Shot Me. I Tried to Spare Him,’” Rolling Stone (blog), August 21, 2020. https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/megan-thee-stallion-tory-lanez-he-shot-me-1047786/.

3. Michael Tonry, “The Social, Psychological, and Political Causes of Racial Disparities in the American Criminal Justice System,” Crime and Justice 39, (January 1, 2010): 273. https://doi.org/10.1086/653045.

4. Brittany E. Bryant, Ayana Jordan, and Uraina S. Clark, “Race as a Social Construct in Psychiatry Research and Practice,” JAMA Psychiatry 79, no. 2 (February 1, 2022): 93, https://doi.org/10.1001/jamapsychiatry.2021.2877.

5. Chris Weller, Yutong Yuan, “12 Inspiring Quotes from Martin Luther King Jr,” Business Insider, accessed April 15, 2022, https://www.businessinsider.com/inspiring-martin-luther-king-jr-quotes-2017-1.

Death, Prudence, and Agency: Cornerstones of Narrative Medicine

At the intersection of medicine, ethics, and literature exists a practice known as narrative medicine—an approach which stresses the humanization of patients and the subsequent care that follows attentively tuning into the stories of those grappling with illness and death. Dr. Rita Charon, an internist and literary scholar Continue reading

New Structure, Same Space: Why the Soviet pro-atheist campaign failed

Introduction

Open year-round, the open-air “Moskva” pool was oblivious to the infamous Russian winter. The heated water, especially during snowfall, sent up waves of steam. Snow fell on the diving platforms, the pool ropes, and the brightly colored caps of the swimmers; some would have snowball fights with the still melting snow. My mother recalled how strange it was to experience the disassociation between the warm pool and the frigid outside, heightened as pedestrians dressed in fur coats and winter boots rushed past. But in fact, this pool had once been a magnificent, massive church whose empty foundation had been repurposed. Continue reading

Dadaism: Post-War Chaos

The degree of carnage and destruction, intensified by technological advances of a new industrial age, caused World War I to be a period of unprecedented conflict dating from 1914 to 1918 Generating catastrophic consequences such as economic turmoil, social discord and political strife, the war left millions of corpses in its wake. After the chaos and nationalistic fervor of the war Continue reading

What Heaven Leaves Behind

Emily Dickinson said, “Hold dear to your parents, for it is a scary and confusing world without them.”1

Emily, to you, I pose this question: what do you do when it is not a matter of holding? Continue reading

Under the Magnolia Trees

Blush petals adorn the concrete sidewalks and frame the Boston skyline. The air is crowded with sweet fragrance, masking the industrial stench of the T. For the first time this semester, I can feel the sun’s rays warming my skin and marvel at the red and yellow tulips blooming all around South Campus. I find myself thankful for this little bit of wild amidst human invention; peace amongst the chaos of finals season, internship hunting, maybe even capitalist hunger. As variegated ivy leaves begin to poke through dry branches, crawl up barren brick walls, and dot my brownstone with some much-needed green, a theme in Montaigne’s famous essay “Of Cannibals” comes to mind: even our “utmost endeavors cannot arrive at so much as to imitate the nest of the least of birds, its contexture, beauty, and convenience.” According to this logic, even the finest of man’s creation cannot rival the beauty and perfection of nature. Continue reading

Politics and Art: How Frida Kahlo Translated Mexican Politics into an Artistic Movement

Preface

Frida Kahlo’s boldness and confidence as a woman have always greatly inspired me. In a time when the politicization of feminism is a heavily debated topic, sharing Frida Kahlo’s stories is more important than ever. I began reading about Kahlo in high school, and her bravery immediately struck me. When hearing her stories, it seemed to me that Kahlo was so ahead of her time that she was independently creating a feminist movement. One thing that I find exceptionally admirable about Kahlo is that Continue reading

The Power of Myth: Folklore and Transformation in Amitav Ghosh’s The Hungry Tide

Amitav Ghosh’s 2004 novel The Hungry Tidecontemplates the complex relationship between humans and the natural world through a series of parallel, intersecting narratives. The novel centers around the research project of Piya, an Indian-American cetologist, who meets Kanai, a translator from New Delhi, and Fokir, a village crab fisherman from the tide country of the Sundarbans in Southern Bengal in which the novel is set. The Sundarbans serve as an ecologically rich backdrop for Ghosh to illustrate the possibility and the way in which humans can reestablish a healthy relationship with nature. Continue reading

If Morality were a Library

If morality were a library, John Stuart Mill constructed the first two floors and Søren Kierkegaard attached a third with a large skylight. Mill, whose vision involves only a two-story library, takes great issue with the extra floor and even more with the skylight. He complains that the skylight offers no benefit to the rest of the library; in fact, when the skylight is opened, falling rain makes all the books on the top floor damp and unreadable for days. In particularly drafty months, Continue reading

Nussbaum’s Central Capabilities Presented in the film Herself

In philosopher Martha Nussbaum’s theory, she believes everyone has the right to the central capabilities of life. One of the core capabilities is happiness. Happiness is different for everyone. For some it may be a new car, a vacation to Europe, or even a designer handbag. But for those whose lives are filled with financial instability, domestic abuse, and discrimination, happiness is the moments spent laughing, dancing in the kitchen, singing loud to the song on the radio, playing dress up, and putting on makeup. This is the principal lesson of happiness for Sandra in the film Herself, a 2021 feature film presenting the suffering and joy of Sandra’s life situation. Continue reading

Revolution From Above: State-Sanctioned Violence from Lenin to Stalin

Stalin ordered the execution of more Communists than Hitler; however, where Hitler proclaimed himself the enemy of Communism, Stalin purported to be both leader and protector of the international movement. Continue reading

Is Hobbesian Realism Realistic? Cold War to Present

Every thinking person fears nuclear war, and every technological state plans for it. Everyone knows it is madness, and every nation has an excuse

― Carl Sagan, Cosmos

In 1980, as the US and USSR became more entrenched in their separate camps, Carl Sagan warned of the terrifying possibility of a nuclear war Continue reading

Monolithism: The Religion of the Cosmos

As science has progressed, especially in the past few hundred years since the Scientific Revolution, the field has slowly explained away many of nature’s literal supernatural interpretations and sacred objects: we no longer view the planets as literal gods in the sky, but as the nearly spherical collections of gas, dust, rock, and ice that they are. We now look to the stars in search of data, not deities. Continue reading

On Inspiration

I stood side stage at John Hancock Hall. Blood rushed to my feet, my neck stiffened, and anxiety consumed me. This was the same kind of paralyzing, intense anxiety that occurred when I presented a final project worth a third of my grade or when I interviewed for a job for the first time. Now it was back, just before performing at a ballet competition against hundreds of other talented dancers from around the world. Continue reading

Of Color: The Battle Between Self-Cognizance and Societal Impact

When my parents had to break the news to my starry-eyed seven-year-old self that they had decided to move, they did so by proposing a fresh start. For many children, the idea of moving may be frightening; so my mom sat me down and explained it in the most “Sommer” way possible. She had told me we were going shopping in order to decorate my new room, and those who know me are well aware of the fact that the easiest way to win me over is through some old-fashioned retail therapy. I was sold. Our first stop was a paint store. Continue reading

Analysis of “The Last Supper”: Da Vinci and Rubens





Why might two representations from different artistic movements of the same biblical event differ greatly? Continue reading

Christ Carrying the Cross

After the great rebirth of art during the Renaissance, many different styles of painting emerged that were used by artists to share their creativity, thoughts, and ideas with the world. By using a specific style, an artist could express a story or piece of history uniquely. Two artists, known as Titian and El Greco, demonstrate this by using their styles to paint different interpretations of Jesus carrying the cross to His crucifixion. Continue reading

Bureaucracy in Disease Control: A sketch of China’s governmental response to SARS-CoV-2

Since the beginning of 2020, reports on the novel Coronavirus (COVID) have monopolized international media, politics, and even private conversations. Such reports serve to track the geographic spread of not only infection, but also fear. The origination of the disease in China renders the country a focal point for criticism and reflection on the state’s response to the disease; while the extreme measures taken to negate the spread of the virus have served to substantially reduce China’s rate of infection, domestic and foreign voices alike condemn the governmental response to the disease as altogether inadequate. Continue reading

Before the Opium War Came a Letter

Until the British infiltration of opium into China, the Chinese had “never doubted their place in the world.”1 As the country suffocated in fumes of a foreign narcotic, scholar-official Lin Zexiu responded to the crisis with a scathing letter to Queen Victoria in 1839. Continue reading

Terry Malloy’s Moral Development

On the Waterfront, the 1954 film directed by Elia Kazan, depicts the moral development of the main character Terry Malloy. Terry was once a talented boxer with aspirations of success and a goal to make a name for himself. However, Terry’s reliance on the mob, run by corrupt union leader, Johnny Friendly, derailed his boxing career, forcing him to become a longshoreman and low-level member of Friendly’s crew. Terry lacks a strong moral code at the beginning of the movie and is heavily influenced by the corrupt mob. However, after Terry unknowingly plays a role in the murder of his friend Joey Doyle, he goes through a moral awakening. Continue reading

Parenting Styles in Modern Society

“My parents are going to be so mad at me,” stated my dear friend Trista. The antithesis of a troublemaker, Trista had earned countless awards recognizing her honesty and faithfulness throughout grade school. She sat on the other side of the lunch table from me holding her test. When I asked why her parents would be angry at her, she explained that she had earned a slightly less than perfect grade on her test, even though she had studied diligently. I was confused: why would her parents be furious if she tried her best? How could her parents not be pleased? I was unfamiliar with and intrigued by her parents’ response. Continue reading

Discovering Nature and Action in Montagu and Marx: an Emersonian Pursuit

American author, poet, and essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson emerged as a distinguished member of the literary movement known as Transcendentalism in the mid-19th Century. The writings of Emerson enchanted readers with refreshing reflections on the individual, natural facts, and intellectual self-reliance. Emerson’s 1837 speech, “The American Scholar,” was delivered at Harvard College’s chapter of the Phi Beta Kappa Society and included some of his greatest ideas. In his rousing address, Continue reading

The Nanking Massacre: Revisionism and the Entanglement of Asia and America

On December 13, 1937, the Japanese captured China’s capital Nanking, thus marking the inception of mass murder and rape that continues to haunt Sino-Japanese relations today.1 Nanking stood as China’s capital from the third to the sixth century but fell just five months into the war under the leadership of General Iwane Matsui.2 For Japan, this victory established their nation as a viable imperialist power and reinforced nationalist ideologies that fueled the nations’ wartime aggression. For China, however, Continue reading

Obama’s Middle East Legacy: The 2001 Military Force Authorization

In the aftermath of 9/11, the general American social sentiment could be characterized as a state of fear mixed with xenophobia. More specifically, the escalation of xenophobic tendencies were directed toward Islamic countries and Muslim American citizens. In 2001, the FBI released a report which detailed the xenophobia. The report found that 83.3% of all anti-Islamic hate crimes had occurred in the weeks following 9/11 and concluded with a “statistically significant increase in anti-Islamic hate crime” overall. Continue reading

Of Self-Help

A herd of toddlers crowd the ballet studio. Most of these miscreants spin in circles or invent entirely new dance moves. One child, however, marches around in tiny toddler steps to correct her less devoted classmates. She even treks to the teacher’s side (if not in front of the teacher) to demonstrate the right way to dance. This diva child, as my family can easily confirm with a chuckle, was me. But my history of being a know-it-all didn’t stop at the ballet studio. Continue reading

Bacchus and Ariadne

Bacchus and Ariadne is an oil painting by French artist, Eustache Le Sueur.1 The Baroque style painting illustrates the Greek myth of Bacchus (Dionysus) and his love for a heartbroken woman, Ariadne. French Baroque paintings “had non-religious themes derived from Continue reading

Let’s Talk Guns: Double Date Edition

Setting: Johnny Rockets restaurant, approx. 7:50 pm. The ladies are in the restroom discussing their plan of action while the boys do the same at their designated booth.

From the Desk of E.O. Wilson

Dear David Livingston Smith,

I must first of all commend you on your willingness to broach this controversial topic. In 1975, my book Sociobiology garnered much criticism from my colleagues, not because of its theories but because of the application of those theories to humans. I stated that our actions and behaviors originate in our genetics; given the thesis of your book, you agree. Many people assumed I was harkening back to the dark days of evolutionary biology as racist pseudoscience, and in fact protested against and threatened me. I think they vastly misunderstood my point, but you obviously did not. Continue reading

The Rhetoric of Nutrition and Starvation

There is no doubt that current societal standards for female beauty inordinately emphasize the desirability of thinness–and thinness at a level that is impossible for most women to achieve by healthy means. In their pervasiveness, the mass media are powerful conveyors of this sociocultural ideal. – Marika Tiggemann

The tension between the modern public and the topic of diet remains Continue reading

Altruistic Behavior of Ants and the Lessons Men Must Learn

As we face an age of severe environmental destruction, it is now more urgent than ever to understand ourselves in order to save our reality. As renowned scientist E.O. Wilson has said:

Humanity today is like a waking dreamer, caught between the fantasies of sleep and the chaos of the real world. We thrash about. We are terribly confused by the mere fact of our existence, and we are a danger to ourselves and to the rest of life. (Of Ants and Men 01:40)

Considering how fragile and intimately connected our ecosystem is, Continue reading

Can The Individual Ever Be Higher Than The Universal?

Living during the same time under relatively similar conditions, how different could two philosophers be? Soren Kierkegaard wrote his book Fear and Trembling after he broke up with his fiancé, Regine, and was able to explore the implications of faith. Karl Marx wrote on communism after being faced with corrupt capitalist societies at the height of the Industrial Revolution. While Kierkegaard’s focus seems to be on the difference between ethics and religious faith, Marx’s readings emphasize economics as the basis of life. Continue reading

A “Mother’s” Love

Is it possible for an individual to single-handedly change the fortunes of an oppressed group of people? Moreover, is it believable that this individual is simply a “mother” trying to educate her “children?” This was the essence of a case that occurred at the Boston University Metropolitan College: “I didn’t know anything about prisoners then, and I was impressed, not only by their brilliance but (also) by their eagerness for learning” Continue reading

Narrative Medicine through the Lens of Ethical Philosophy

In The Nicomachean Ethics Aristotle discusses what makes a good professional. For Aristotle the difference between the ordinary and the exceptional is his balance between reason and soul: “the function of man is an activity of the soul in accordance with or implying, a rational principle” (109a8-9). Aristotle specifically distinguished a harpist from a good harpist, a comparison applicable to the medical profession. Aristotle argued that a good harpist is someone who uses his ability to play the harp, his rational principle, alongside his passion for the harp, the activity of his soul. Likewise, a good doctor is one who Continue reading

Rethinking Our Virtues

As a Chilean immigrant to the United States, I wish borders between countries would not exist, yet I understand their significance. Today, borders between countries work as a system for humans to coexist in safety. The importance of a sovereign territory under certain political and economic systems allows humans to survive and be in peace. However, not all countries have capable leaders and systems to protect their citizens Continue reading

Institutionalized Homophobia in Russia: The “Non-Russian” Russians

Russification or Russizination is defined as a form of cultural assimilation in which “non-Russian” communities forfeit their cultural identity to conform to Russian norms and traditions.

Throughout history, Russian politicians and social figures have sought to further “russify” Russia as a form of extreme patriotism. For instance, the slogan and political doctrine, “Russia for Russians” originated during the 19th century. This nationalist slogan, Continue reading

A Hidden Holocaust History

Two months ago, I learned the truth about my family history.

Ever since I was a child, I have been told about my paternal grandfather, Samuel Kitrosser. Born in 1912 in Soroki, a small town in Bessarabia,1 Sam immigrated to the United States in 1936. He settled in Massachusetts where he and his wife Helen had three children.2 Although Sam passed away when I was only one, he has remained present in my life through stories. At family functions, I heard about how Sam could speak five languages. At home, his picture—taped to the cabinet above the yellow pages—presided over our kitchen. Yet it was as though Sam’s history had begun in the United States. Nothing was ever said about Sam’s life in Soroki, or about what happened to my great grandparents, who stayed behind. Continue reading

Goldilocks and the Three Bears Antidepressants

Abstract: This paper explores potential genetic testing that could help doctors prescribe antidepressants that are more effective, with fewer side effects. Various methods are explored including metabolization of psychotropic drugs and levels of DNA methylation on CpG islands and the effectiveness of the GeneSight Psychotropic Genetic Panel. The findings suggest that doctors should utilize DNA tests more, and that scientists should do more research on the tests to increase their effectiveness.

Continue reading

A Debate Concerning Faith and Abraham

Jacob and David leave a Bible study class together. David finds that his personal beliefs and feelings about God are fortified. Meanwhile, Jacob leaves somewhat indifferent and ponders the class’s lesson of Abraham and Isaac.

The Hundred Flowers Campaign and China’s Intellectual Community

A Historical Analysis

“Let a hundred flowers blossom; let a hundred schools of thought contend.” Under this slogan, Mao Zedong promoted the Hundred Flowers Campaign, a movement that would signal a significant shift in his career as well as in the history of China’s intellectual and cultural sphere. Mao had instigated the campaign in response to Nikita Khrushchev’s 1956 Secret Speech that had levied charges against Joseph Stalin that Mao himself was also vulnerable to. Though Mao had aimed to restore relations with China’s intellectual community, the movement was roundly criticized, forcing him to respond swiftly and severely with his Anti-Rightist campaign that followed roughly one year after. Considering the outcome Continue reading

My Defense of the Imperfect Democratic Republic

A Grandmother’s Lesson in Preventing the Perfect from Becoming the Enemy of the Good

◆◆◆

Dear Grandson,

Today you turn eighteen, a very special age because it means that you have become a man, but more importantly, you are now eligible to vote. Your mother tells me that you have been enjoying your classes in school, particularly your political philosophy course. Now, she also tells me that you have befriended some people who think socialism is a better alternative to our democracy after having read Plato’s Republic. Continue reading

Call of the Void: Antigone, Hamlet, and Redemption

The inception of literary tragedy can be traced back to ancient Greece. One can easily argue that tragedy is heavily influenced by bloodlust: most, if not all, Greek tragedies culminate in macabre finales filled to the brim with unbridled anguish: for example, Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex culminates in the titular character committing regicide, incest, and self-mutilation. At the heart of tragedy, however, is not bloodlust but catharsis. Continue reading

Ideological Undertones: The Atomic Bomb and U.S. Tone-deafness

Ideology, the struggle between contending ones, and their spread throughout nations was at the heart of World War II. In contrast to the Great War, World War II was not a morally ambiguous or aimless war; it instead had clear righteous and wrongful sides—or so would those fighting for the moral right would have us believe. Continue reading

Getting to God Through Fear and Trembling

Despite their differences, all three of the monotheistic traditions—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—trace their origins back to the story of one man. Abraham, as he was named by God, is considered the patriarch of these organized religions. He is revered as the first man to actively choose a life of faith, and in doing so, develop a close relationship with God. Continue reading

The Rise of Nationalism in Germany

“We have the good fortune to live in a great age, we must brace ourselves and triumph over hardship!”1 exclaimed the German schoolmaster, Kantorek, who inspired many of his students to join the German war effort in World War I. His speech owed its power to the rise of nationalism in Germany. Continue reading

Reconsider The Apartment

Baxter, a young employee of a large corporation, is sitting self-satisfied in his new office, a prize for his promotion. While he is pleased by his higher status in the corporation of 50,000 people and enjoys the larger space in the office, a group of his former bosses enters his office, all with fake smiles. Continue reading

Adoption in Russia

Russia has shifted stance toward foreign adoption several times over the past 30 years. Under Communism, there were no guidelines that allowed for Russian children to be adopted. But, when Yeltsin took over, he allowed the citizens more freedom and allowed for Russian children to be adopted by other families. Once Vladimir Putin came along, the stakes changed. Continue reading

Fish Poem

The Cambodian Genocide: Do Survivors Learn to Forgive, or Is It Something Else That Helps Them Adjust to Life Post-Genocide?

I heard my father talking about it with my mother all of the time. They both survived it, and now they appeared comfortable discussing their experiences. They recalled the pain, suffering, and trauma that they had to undergo before finally arriving in America in 1982, but how could they so openly reminisce about such a horrific period in their lives? Continue reading

A Crusader Attains True Faith: Ingmar Bergman’s Kierkegaardian Vision in The Seventh Seal

“This is my hand. I can move it, feel the blood pulsing through it. The sun is still high in the sky and I, Antonius Block, am playing chess with Death.”

Philosophers have long contemplated the mystery of existence and the certainty of death, but in the course of the past century these existential questions have become present topics in cinema. Continue reading

Culture Clashes and Family Ties: Summer Travels in Italy

Following is a portfolio of paragraphs, each written with a different goal.

1: Description

The Wonderful Diversity of Italian Life

On my family’s summer vacations to Italy, I plunge into Italian life, in all its wondrous diversity. Every morning, we drive down to the marina, a sandy beach littered with a peculiar mixture of jubilant kids scampering about and torpid old men and women drying in the scorching Mediterranean sun. Continue reading

Sin or Sickness: Antigay Ideology in the 1960s

The topic of homosexuality in 1960s America faced an incredible amount of opposition. Homophobia was extremely prevalent in society and there were many discriminatory laws against homosexuals. When discussing the homosexual rights movement, scholars like Fred Fejes, author of Gay Rights and Moral Panic, focus on the struggle of homosexuals gaining equal rights against an adversary heterosexual society. Continue reading

How Does Trauma Change Identity?

Most people can see that traumatic experiences such as war, torture, or kidnapping can have a profound effect on the social skills, violent tendencies, and paranoia of victims after returning home. The problem with people’s perceptions of trauma victims is that they still believe that those victims are the same people that they were before. The reality is that trauma victims, depending on the severity and nature of the trauma, can be changed to the point where they can only identify themselves as existent in relation to the trauma. Continue reading

Rumi and the Five Philosophers

Abduljalal al-Din Rumi, a thirteenth century mystic poet, whirled like a Sufi dervish on the sandy beach of a foreign land. As he whirled, he softly sung the lyrics to his poem titled Only Breath.

An Evening at the House of Satire Coffeehouse

One drop, two drops, three drops, four.

The cobblestone pavements of London soon gleam under the dim streetlights. A street beggar, with a bottle of gin in one hand and a loaf of stale bread in the other, hastens his steps to escape the unsought shower. Continue reading

The Disastrous Alienation of the Mass

Adam Smith challenged fundamental mercantilist doctrines and laid the foundations for classical laissez-faire capitalism theory starting in the mid-18th century. Since the Industrial Revolution, capitalism progressively dominated the economic ideologies of Europe. Continue reading

Harry Haller’s Torn and Painful Existence

Herman Hesse’s novel Steppenwolf, published in 1927, touches upon the existential theme of dual personalities and the notion that life is filled with spiritual searching and suffering. It follows the intriguing tale of a middle-aged man, Harry Haller, also known as the Steppenwolf, and analyzes his physical, mental, and spiritual crises. Many readers, although not the author, consider the book to be a fundamentally existentialist novel. Continue reading

Becoming a Christian in a Boston Starbucks

Now We Know How

The way we use the term “technology,” implies that it is a very new concept, therein defining the modern era by our advancements in the readability of knowledge and the supposed ease added to our lives because of it; however technology by definition is simply any scientific development used for practical purposes making it’s existence dated to the first time humans used a self-constructed fire for warmth and cooking. At the time Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance was written, technology Continue reading

The Absence of a Link Between the Infamous Measles, Mumps and Rubella Vaccine and Autism

Whenever a disease is on the rise, people search for answers and feel the need to find a reason for the cause. This is a naturally occurring human response. Since the rate of autism has been on the rise, it is understandable that people search for a cause for the debilitating developmental disease. In a few incidents, onset of autism has closely followed the administration of the MMR vaccine, resulting in increased scrutiny and scapegoating of this widely used immunization. In truth, we may not yet have all the answers to how and why the condition develops. Continue reading

Humans: The True Pioneers

Comparing the size of a single human being to the vastness of the whole universe inspires feelings of amazement, wonder, and fear. Despite these feelings or perhaps because of them, humans have bravely ventured to the moon, low-Earth orbit, and have sent probes to planets as far as Mars, Venus, and Saturn. These endeavors, however, raise questions about their goals. Although President John F. Kennedy along with astrophysicists Carl Sagan and Neil deGrasse Tyson all appear to have the same goals for space exploration, further inspection reveals that their underlying motives differ greatly. Continue reading

Look At Me Now: Self-Objectification and the Illusion of Agency in Media

Self-objectification is the process of treating one’s own body as a mere commodity: an object that can only be appreciated for aesthetic value. Third-wave feminists have attempted to redefine objectification, claiming that by choosing to portray oneself as an object, the individual takes back agency from those who would have objectified them. Yet this understanding of self-objectification is controversial. What message does self-objectification actually portray: one of empowerment, or simply one of submission to the hegemonic standards to which self-objectification conforms? Continue reading

Creating the Canvas for the Martial Arts

Humbly nestled next to a laundromat on 236 Brighton Avenue is a martial arts gym with a combined team record of 83 wins and only 13 losses in professional and amateur bouts. Wai Kru Mixed Martial Arts, known simply as “Wai Kru”, is one of the most respected and sought out martial arts gyms in the Boston area, offering classes in Muay Thai, boxing, and Brazilian jiu-jitsu. There is no doubt that the success of Wai Kru’s fighters Continue reading

The Tiananmen Square Massacre

History is history not because events happen, but because there are people there to witness and testify to it. However, since a single individual could not possibly know every detail surrounding any particular event while it happens, it is the role of the historian to see and understand history from as many angles as possible. Through the research process for this paper, I came to realize that events happen the way they do because each person present makes a specific decision to act a certain way. This is the story of that realization. Continue reading

Does I Love Lucy Love Subordinate Women? An Investigation into a Sitcom?s Influence on 1950s Society

The live studio audience laughs hysterically, its frantic clapping steadily increasing in the background as the flaming redhead on screen pouts her lips, tilts her head, crosses her arms, and groans loudly as she realizes her most recent mistake. Lucy’s newest scheme has blown up again and a laughing Ricky is standing next to her shaking his head, rolling his eyes.

At first glance the 1950s sitcom I Love Lucy portrays the comical, prank-filled marriage of an adorable couple: Lucy and Ricky Ricardo. While on the surface it appears as if Lucy is just a goofy character who always seems to be getting into trouble, further inspection illuminates the fact that her actions and their outcomes are so much more than just clever scriptwriting. Continue reading

Addressing the Impossible: A Letter from Karl Marx to John Maynard Keynes

Dear Mr. Keynes,

I am writing to address your notions on the current depressed state of the economy and your proposals concerning how to solve the difficulties the United States is facing. The Great Depression is an example of the instability that lies within capitalism. The law of accumulation has resulted in the elite class getting wealthier and Continue reading

Scaring Up a Panic: Sputnik and The Military Industrial Complex

On Saturday October 4, 1957, Americans all over the country listened at their radio sets to the sound of a beacon being projected from a 183-pound man-made satellite orbiting earth at 18,000 mph.1 Given their intensity, Americans might have been celebrating the first US satellite launch.2 Instead, the country erupted into a state of hysteria, as the fear was confirmed that the Soviet Socialist Republic had pulled ahead of the US in an event that what would later be referred to as the largest defeat of the Cold War. What occurred over the course the next year could be described as nothing short of a crisis in confidence of the American people and their way of life. Continue reading

Late 19th Century Japan; Eastern Teutons

Traditional Eurocentric historiography attributes Japan’s ascendance as a powerful actor on the international stage at the end of the 19th century as being the result of an adoption of Prussian and German paradigms regarding politics and the military. However, a more in depth analysis reveals that Japan’s ascendance stems from the desire to keep Japan Japanese, and that the story of Japan’s modern history is one of a Japanese struggle for sovereignty in a time and region dominated by Western imperialist practices. Continue reading

Becoming American

How does an individual find their place in foreign territory, with different customs, and often a different language? These are only a few obstacles new populations must overcome to be associated with the dominant group. Historically the United States has, for the most part, welcomed immigrants and embraced the concept of a melting pot society where different people from different parts of the world share their cultures and enrich the diversity of America. Continue reading

An Intelligently Designed Curriculum: How the Use of Clever Language May Change School Board Standards Regarding the Teaching of Creationism in Public Schools

In an on going controversy regarding the very origins of the human species, ideas essential to the founding of our nation are being challenged. The line which separates church from state, an especially crucial boundary in terms of public education, is being continuously challenged by creationist science enthusiasts, who proceed to push for the incorporation of creationist origin theories into science curricula across America.  This matter has seen the insides of the highest of court rooms; two of the most notable cases Continue reading

An Attempt at Teaching Learning

Deep learning is by nature next to impossible to teach in school because it relies so heavily on students’ self-motivation. A deep learner can always be recognized by the way he articulates his scholastic experiences. Instead of recounting which books he was assigned for class, he recalls specific discussions or readings that struck him on a more personal note. In his book, What the Best College Teachers Do, Ken Bain mentions that deep learners will speak about “developing an understanding, making something their own, ‘getting into it’, and making sense of it all” (9). This is not easy for every schoolchild to do, however. Continue reading

21st Century Kid: Confusions and Illusions Surrounding China’s Youth

This essay is missing from our archive, but we hope to locate it soon. Here’s an abstract:

A critique of Sue Williams’ recent documentary about the post-Tiananmen generation. Jonathan brings Marxist theory to bear on Williams’ Young and Restless in China in an effort to explain why Williams’ effort to let her subjects tell their own stories winds up inscribing them within a Western paradigm of economic progress.

The Surge of Suburbia and its Legacy

In the America of today, suburbia is simply a fact of life. It’s the place where much of the country eats, sleeps, plays and returns to every day after work. But why is it that modern America has not emerged as an entirely city-based culture as had been the natural trend since the Industrial Revolution? The answer is not entirely simple and requires looking back in time at an era familiar to many of us only as a time of drive-in movies, poodle skirts and finned-cars—the 1950s. Continue reading

The Falling Man: An Analysis of Media Ethics

This essay is missing from our archive, but we hope to locate it soon. Here’s an abstract:

A thoughtful analysis of the ethics of photojournalism. Using Richard Drew’s iconic photograph of one of the jumpers from the World Trade Center as his point of reference, Thomas takes note not only of the contributions which this photograph made to public discourse and grieving, but also a variety of difficult and complicated ethical dilemmas that both preceded and followed the image?s publication.

The Greatest Show on Earth?

Children of all ages

“The greatest show on Earth is now the tallest show on Earth, the strongest show on Earth, the most amazing show on Earth, and the funniest show on Earth.”1 These are the lines heard in the television commercial shown in the Cleveland, Ohio area when Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus was coming to the Gund Arena in 1998. And they were not lying. What the spectator sees is amazing. The 29 second commercial shows acrobats and gymnasts who seem to be defying gravity, a man pulling, with only his mouth, a rope attached to an elephant, another man who blows fire, jugglers, clowns, tightrope walkers, and people bursting out of cannons. But it also shows a roaring tiger popping out of a paper- covered ring, an elephant dancing with a woman, and a choreographed dance in which elephants form a line and stand on their hind legs while hanging on to each other’s shoulders. Continue reading

Art: Science’s Counterpart

Often artists’ works speaks more to the human condition when they have a deep understanding of the human body’s physical makeup and how it relates to the mind and soul. Christine Borland, for instance, combines both scientific thought and medical research into her art in order to examine the ethics behind modern science. As both an artist and an apprentice to forensic scientists, she epitomizes the nexus between science and art Continue reading