02.26.20

February 26, 2020 | 34st.com

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EOTW: Louis Lin

Miss Anthropocene

69th Street

TA B L E O F C O N T E N T S

3 WORD ON THE STREET CAFSA

4 EGO

EOTW: Jazzy Ortega, Louis Lin

6 MUSIC

Miss Anthropocene, Billie/Lorde Comparison

LOL

10 FEATURE CAFSA

LOL 15 FILM & TV

Springfield Beer, The Rotunda

17 ARTS

Jet Le Parti, Penn Monologues

Letter from the Editor I

dreamed about my grandmother yesterday. I dream realistic dreams that aspire to mimic daily life, though they are never lucid. I sank easily into sleep, perhaps a little too late at night.

In my mind, we are in the kitchen of her apartment, but after a moment, my grandmother walks silently and absentmindedly away. I follow her. I watch as she opens a closet near her husband’s vacant office and pulls a silver fox stole from the back. It is perfectly preserved, sheathed in a soft and ancient swath of cotton.

She wraps it around my shoulders. I turn to face an egg–shaped mirror hanging from a nail in the hallway. I see her young face in the reflection instead of my own: the same bone structure, but with pale blue eyes and coiffed yellow hair. The stole matches her eyes better than my own.

I follow her back into the kitchen. I sit down at my puzzle and see almost immediately that there is a plain gold band, previously unnoticed, mixed in with the pieces.

I slide the ring onto my finger. It is loose, so I make a fist to prevent it from falling off. The

Tamsyn Brann, Editor–in–Chief Sam Mitchell, Campus Editor Beatrice Forman, Culture Editor Eliana Doft, Assignments Editor Chelsey Zhu, Features Editor Mehek Boparai, Word on the Street Editor Hannah Yusuf, Word on the Street Editor Katie Farrell, Ego Editor Melannie Jay, Music Editor Alice Goulding, Style Editor Sam Kesler, Film & TV Editor Alice Heyeh, Arts Editor Karin Hananel, Special Issues Editor Design Editor: Ava Cruz Street Design Editor: Isabel Liang Street Audience Engagement Editor: Ryan McLaughlin Street Photo Editor: Sophia Dai Ego Beats: Fernanda Brizuela, Julia Davies, Julia Esposito, Amy Xiang

LOL 19 OVERHEARDS

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34TH STREET MAGAZINE FEBRUARY 26, 2020

Music Beats: Keely Douglas, Ananya Muthukrishnan, Gabriella Rabito, Kyle Whiting

apartment door slams shut behind me.

Nobody is in the green cinderblock hallway. The elevator is broken. I clench my right hand as I run down four flights of stairs to the lobby wearing a silver fox stole.

I’m almost awake, but not quite. I am standing in the parking lot. I see the F train subway stop to my right in the distance. I see the hazy white sky. I see the newly built bank. And I stand on the concrete outside of Key Foods. And everything turns raw. And it snows. And slush creeps up to the to sidewalk. And the snowflakes turn to water on my silver fox stole.

Features Staff: Jen Cullen, Paige Fishman, Sofia Heller, Denali Sagner

Copy Associates: Alice Goulding, Nadia Goldman, Kira Horowitz

Film & TV Beats: Anna Collins, Harshita Gupta

Audience Engagment Associates: Maya Berardi, Nicole Kloss, Rachel Markowitz, Stephanie Nam, Kat Ulich

Arts Beat: Amanpreet Singh Style Beats: Jean Chapiro, Hannah Lonser, Tara O'Brien, Diya Sethi, Jordan Wachsman, Yana Yadav Staff Writers: Jessica Bao, Sophie Burkholder, Eva Ingber, Emma Johnson, Nick Plante, Lily Stein, Peyton Toups, Dannie Watson Illustrators: Isabel Liang, Felicity Yick, Caroline Chin, Sammie Yoon, Alice Heyeh, Sudeep Bhargava Staff Photographers: Sudeep Bhargava, Adrianna Brusie, Kelly Chen, Sally Chen, Adiel Izilov, Mona Lee, Raymon Shi, Sophia Zhu Cover by Isabel Liang and Ava Cruz

Contacting 34th Street Magazine: If you have questions, comments, complaints or letters to the editor, email Tamsyn Brann, Editor–in–Chief, at brann@34st.com. You can also call us at (215) 422–4640. www.34st.com ©2020 34th Street Magazine, The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc. No part may be reproduced in whole or in part without the express, written consent of the editors (but I bet we will give you the a–okay.)

All rights reserved. 34th Street Magazine is published by The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc., 4015 Walnut St., Philadelphia, Pa., 19104, every Wednesday.

"If I'm not allowed to date a primate neither are you"

WORD ON THE STREET

Why I Left Greek Life—and Joined CAFSA How the organization offered me an opportunity for change on Penn's campus. | CLAIRE MEDINA

I

t has been roughly thirty years since my mother experienced a culture of sexual assault and harassment on Penn’s campus that radiated from fraternities. Penn’s rape culture hasn’t been addressed since then. I don’t have a friend who hasn’t been grabbed from behind at a party or cat–called by drunken frat brothers from the same organizations she avoided. Why has Penn failed to fix this systematic problem?

Our school is not a safe place. It is disproportionately dangerous for women compared to similar elite institutions. The 2019 American Association of Universities Campus Climate Survey on Sexual Assault and Sexual Misconduct cemented the lived experience of many women at Penn as a broad truth, legitimizing the whisper networks about which frats are the most dangerous and who to avoid on Locust. Working from within has been hailed by the administration as the only method of change. 6B has been told to have more meetings with fraternities to solve the issue of bigotry. As a former board member of Lambda and an avid LGBT rights advocate, I think this is misguided.

Being told that the frat brother who hurled a slur at you simply “didn’t understand it was hurtful” is both naive and dehumanizing. Minority students are not responsible for fixing the oppression they face or proving their humanity to those who benefit from their marginalization. Instead, The Coalition Against Fraternity Sexual Assault (CAFSA) is working from the ground up to challenge the existing power structures on our campus.

I was in a Greek organization just

under a semester before I realized that we were benefitting from the same organizations that protect fraternity members from changing their behavior—specifically the Inter–Fraternity Council (IFC) and the Office of Sorority and Fraternity Life (OFSL).

The most memorable meeting I have ever attended occurred just after CAFSA re–launched officially at Penn.

In an IFC meeting attended by an OFSL staff member in October 2019, several elected student officials expressed fear that the “CAFSA problem” would harm their reputation on campus. They suggested putting together a committee to fix their “image problem” (their words, not mine) in response to the statistics that CAFSA was posting, namely the results of the AAU Survey and the collected testimonials of harassment. Despite the incredibly shocking figures from that study, including the overall rate of sexual misconduct levied against cisgender women reaching rates of nearly one in three, there was no discussion of internal culpability or cultural change. There was no feeling of responsibility or empathy for those experiencing violence. The bigger issue, demonstrated both by the time dedicated to it and the anger in these men’s voices during the discussion, was the increased crackdown by the University on beer games at frat parties.

I mention this specifically because the OFSL representative closed out the meeting by reminding the fraternities that they had made enough progress on the bigger issues (sexual assault) that the university could focus on the smaller things (beer games).

His statement was troubling because

from 2015 to 2019, the AAU Climate Survey reported cisgender women’s rates of sexual assault declining from 27.2% to 25.9%. Less than a 2% decline, and yet OFSL had thought that was enough to turn their attention to policing beer pong.

I realized that I didn’t want to be a part of any organization with priorities like that. I brought the suggestion to leave IFC back to my organization.

I told them I was personally uncomfortable sitting in meetings exclusively consisting of fraternity brothers because of my gender identity and personal experiences of sexual assault. I felt unsafe looking around the room, recognizing faces from parties where women I knew had been groped or objectified. I also argued that we were complicit in fraternity assault because of our privilege as an IFC member (access to funds, institutional support). My siblings informed me that they preferred to prioritize their own well–being instead of ceasing to benefit from IFC’s recognition. In the process of these discussions, I witnessed homophobic and transphobic rhetoric, as was my girlfriend (who, despite being a former president of the organization, could no longer overlook its impact and de–brothered with me).

An organization that claimed to be founded on gender equality and inclusion failed to live up to its stated principles.

I believed, and still believe, that any member of a Greek organization has to reckon with its impact on Penn’s culture. By being a member of IFC, my own Greek organization was complicit in the material damage that fraternities have done to women

at Penn by benefiting from the institutional power. I could not continue being complicit in the harm that my organization caused. My siblings were not ready to examine their own position critically, and I couldn’t continue to act like it was okay with me. All of us have a finite amount of time and energy, and at some point every member of our community needs to decide what they will prioritize during their time here. I could not, and still cannot, prioritize my own comfort over being complacent in the face of rampant sexual assault. (Catch me at Spring Fling with CAFSA doing sober escorts!)

CAFSA is scary to a lot of Penn students because they think that we’re trying to get rid of Greek life altogether. CAFSA’s demands are centered around improving Locust Walk and making campus safe for all students— not getting rid of Greek culture. Regardless of my personal feelings on the merits of single–sex community building, it is undeniable that the institutions at Penn built around fraternities are not interested in solving the problem of sexual assault, given the history of this problem and the contemporary response to the horrifying statistics. My own experience demonstrates this apathy, but I am not alone in feeling unsafe on Locust.

In the face of the overwhelming evidence demonstrating Penn’s rape culture and its systematic degrading of minority institutions, an engaged and critical look at our campus culture is the only way to lift up survivors and marginalized people. CAFSA is working on this—CAFSA is working on changing Penn for all of us.

Brandon Li

FEBRUARY 26, 2020 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

3

EGO

jazzy ortega Sophia Zhu

MEET

BY FERNANDA BRIZUELA

Jazzy tells us about the skills she has gained at WilCaf and how the experience paved the way to opening Benny’s Diner.

4

J

azriel Ortega has a unique set of skills, ranging from figuring out problems in her chemical and biomolecular engineering courses to applying the knowledge she has gained so far by working at Williams Café (WilCaf) in order to open Benny’s Diner.

Jazzy (E ‘20) began her journey at WilCaf—even before stepping foot on Penn's campus. She’s grateful that she decided to apply for the job during the summer before her freshman year, which led to an interview that landed her the position during New Student Orientation.

“I’ve been at WilCaf since the day I got on campus basically and, yeah, I had no idea what I was getting myself into ... I didn’t realize it was such a cool community of people and that I was joining this little cult,” she jokes, “but I’m very happy that I did.”

Jazzy mentions that most of her life as a second–semester senior is currently consumed by WilCaf and Benny’s Diner, as she is executive director of WilCaf and the co–founder of Benny’s. Her work at WilCaf mostly consists of making sure that its daily operations run smoothly, with additional tasks such as looking into updating the space or running taste tests when looking for new coffee vendors. As for her work at Benny’s, she is currently focused on getting the diner up and running.

Jazzy went to the Student–Run Business Association Conference with other Penn Student Agencies (PSA) employees. PSA is an organization that houses student–run businesses on campus and focuses on giving them managerial support. At the conference, Jazzy and her Co–Founder, Michael Warren (C ‘21) saw that many other schools had student–run restaurants. At first, they joked about the idea of opening one, but they saw a possibility upon the announcement that Frontera was closing at Penn. The pair then decided to go to the financial assistant for Penn Student Agencies.

“On our drive back we were like, ‘Should we do it? Like, should we try to submit a request for that space?’ And [the financial assistant] was like ‘Why not? What’s the worst thing they’re gonna do, say no?’ and we were like ‘Okay, Debbie we’ll do it!’ and then now here we are, months later,” Jazzy says.

Even though they didn’t get the Frontera space, they were able to get a location in Houston Hall to replace Paris La Petite Crêperie. Jazzy is excited about the spot because of its size, location, and the amount of students that regularly visit the area.

“It’s bigger and everything worked out exactly how it was supposed to so it was really cool the way that it all fell together,” she said.

While it has been an exciting experience so far, opening the diner has come with a new set of challenges. These include hiring new students,

34TH STREET MAGAZINE FEBRUARY 26, 2020

training the staff, receiving food certifications, and teaching administrative tasks such as stocking items and clocking in and out. Despite the considerable amount of time dedicated to launching the diner, Jazzy is grateful that they hired an amazing team.

“It’s been insane, it has been so insane. The past couple weeks I’ve been working close to 40 hours a week, just, it’s really coming down to the wire,” she says.

“Like everyone’s so cool, and so fun, that, yeah, we’re locked up for hours like writing manuals and pricing items, but at least we’re locked up for hours with them. So at least we have a good time,” Jazzy says.

Jazzy mentions that her favorite part of her involvement with these student–run businesses has been the people that she gets to spend time with every day. She hopes that, even though Benny’s is a different business concept, the environment among the employees is similar to the one in WilCaf. Jazzy mentions that one of her favorite things at Penn is PSA, as it gave her the unique opportunity to gain skills by managing an actual business.

She says some of the most valuable lessons she has learned at Penn have been through PSA, rather than the classroom. This experience has helped her through her tough STEM courses and other life problems by giving her “the problem–solving frame of mind” to get through challenges in different areas.

Even though her two words might seem extremely different—that of a PSA employee and an engineering student—Jazzy hopes to find work in the intersection of both areas upon graduation.

“Somewhere in between the two worlds I think would be really great.

Something more like product development that works with Marketing and works with R&D, I think is kind of where I want to land,” Jazzy says.

As a second–semester senior, Jazzy has mixed feelings about having to leave Benny’s and WilCaf soon. Even though she feels relief because the demanding pace of building the diner will soon be over, she’s sad she has to leave it behind. However, she knows she will keep in touch with the other employees to see their progress and make sure she gets the chance to visit both WilCaf and Benny’s when she returns as an alumna during homecoming.

“It’s heartbreaking, I got really sad when we went to the menu tasting because everything was so good and i was like, ‘Ugh I would’ve eaten this every day for the last four years, and I’m gonna get it for two months and then I’m leaving,’” Jazzy says.

“I will definitely come back for homecoming and go to Benny’s and WilCaf.”

EGO

H O M E T OW N : MAJOR:

Health and Societies & Political Science

MINOR:

Asian American Studies, Education Policy, and Environmental Studies

AC T I V I T I E S :

Sally Chen

Long Island, New York

Chair of Theatre Arts Council, Mentor for Penn First, Committee Person for the 27th Ward, Membership Chair for Philadelphia Young Democrats, Student Liaison for the American Public Health Associationʼs School Health Committee, Truman Scholar, member of Sphinx Senior Society

MEET LOUIS LIN , A TIRELESS ADVOC ATE FOR FGLI ASIAN AMERIC AN IDENTITIES AND PUBLIC HEALTH IN PHILLY SC HOOLS . | MIC HELLE SHEN

What do you do on the Theatre Arts Council?

LOUIS LIN: I serve as the chair of the Theatre Arts Council.

Through that, we have six different groups, each one focusing on a different niche. Since freshman year, I’ve served on the board for Front Row Theatre Company, which is our socially relevant theater group, so we push issues of race and socioeconomics—the show we’re doing right now is about indigenous lands. Theater has been home for me because it’s where I found many of my closest friends. Because of that, it’s allowed me to find ways to expand some of the inclusivity and representation within our community.

A lot of the things I’ve worked in involve increasing financial accessibility. I am a FGLI student and I’ve done a lot of work in FGLI and Asian American spaces. I bring those identities to other spaces that I’m in. Something that I’m really proud of that I just started and will be launching this semester is the PAC Pass, where you pay $25 and get to see 5 shows during that semester, which significantly lowers the price of tickets.

STREET: When you say the shows in Front Row Theatre push social issues, what do you mean?

LL: Our mission is to put on socially relevant theater at Penn.

That takes on various forms. All of our shows involve pushing the envelope and trying to start conversations on campus and give representations to things STREET:

that have not, historically, been talked about on campus. I served as Community Liaison for Front Row this year, and that means that I’ve worked to build some of the connections within Philadelphia communities, which involves doing volunteering events, as well as donation events during our shows. The first show I ever acted in was a year–and–a–half ago called Yellowface. That was one of the first shows Front Row started doing about race in my time at Penn.

STREET: What do you do with PennFirst?

LL: This actually started with my pre–freshman program the Penn College Achievement Program.

This program was when I got introduced to everything. Before I got to campus, I didn’t have the language or knowledge to talk about first–generation, low–income Asian American identities.

This program really gave me a family of people who were also underrepresented. From there, I started getting really involved with FGLI issues. I was part of the group that first started the First–Generation Low–Income New Student Orientation (FGLI NSO), where FGLI students come to campus early. We give them care packages, organize a panel where students talk about the FGLI experience and plan more community–building things like a barbecue. This way, we get all the students in one room to see that when they’re here, this is a place that they belong and there are people here

who have gone through similar things.

My freshman through my sophomore year, I was director of administrative programming for 1vyG—the largest first–gen student conference in the country—and Penn got to host it in 2018. That allowed me to make connections and work with administrators not only on Penn’s campus but also with administrators across the country from twenty–six schools to talk about what issues FGLI students were facing and how to fix those. Using that as a platform, I went to my sophomore and junior year as the Professional Development Chair for PennFirst, and that was me working to ensure Career Services would provide services to FGLI students who did not have the same level of exposure.

I planned the New York City trip to introduce students to all these companies. I am all about symbolism, so this year I transitioned into a peer mentor for the pre–freshman summer program to give back to the program that gave me my start here at Penn.

That’s been the more rewarding part of things.

STREET: What sorts of activism do you do within the Philly community?

LL: I serve as the Committee Person for the 27th Ward, where I attend meetings and represent my constituency. This year, I was elected as the Membership Chair for Philadelphia Young Democrats. We work to make sure young people are registered

to vote, which is especially important in this election year.

STREET: Could you talk about your experience as a Truman Scholar?

LL: The Truman is for people who want to go into public service, and you apply your junior year of college. When I talk about my Truman friends, that’s a soft spot in my heart because these are all people who want to do good in the world and correct injustices that exist in different political or societal systems. As part of the application, you develop short term and long term plans, like where you want to go to grad school and what your five–year plan is. You also work on a policy proposal based upon an issue you’re passionate about.

STREET: What was the issue you focused on?

LL: Mine was at the intersection of education and health working on school health, and I talked

about how schools across the country do not have full–time nurses in all of them. Many school districts were built before lead and asbestos laws were put in place, so schools have lead paint in them and have not mitigated that yet. The biggest thing I work on is school lunches and access programs to get nutrition for students. Right now, the summer school lunch program, roughly five–sixths of people who participate in school lunch programs over the school year do not get their free meal over the summer.

My solution is that instead of using a meal site, we turn school buses into mobile meal sites so that they can deliver meals to a bus stop so that students can just walk up to a bus stop and get their meal. The Truman program really tries to get you thinking about the things you are passionate about and how you want to solve them.

L I G H T N I N G RO U N D STREET: Last song you listened to?

LL: "You, Me, and the City" by Josh Tobias STREET: Favorite movie?

LL: The Farewell STREET: Favorite Penn class?

LL: ASAM 110: Asian American Activism and Organizing STREET: What is something people wouldnʼt guess about you?

LL: My friend and I recently recreated the When Mama Isn't Home trombone video ... I don't actually know how to play the trombone STREET: There are two types of people at Penn…

LL: Ones who remember Bridge Cafe and ones who don't

FEBRUARY 26, 2020 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

5

MUSIC

g ri m e s ce le b r a tes t he apoc al ypse on

'Miss Anthropocene'

Su

rgava Bha p dee

On her latest album, Grimes reflects on the destruction of mankind. | kyle whiting

G

rimes (aka Claire Boucher, aka c) has had it rough the past few years. Since 2015, label issues have delayed new music from coming out. She's been under constant media and public scrutiny thanks to her relationship with Elon Musk. Azealia Banks came for her throat. And she's a bit upset that we're killing the fucking planet.

Her newest album, Miss Anthropocene, is born from this anger. The title, a portmanteau of misanthropy and the Anthropocene epoch, refers to the goddess of Climate Crisis, one of the many deities Grimes creates through the album. Across the ten tracks, she looks at the many

ways our species is hurtling toward oblivion. She screams about political apathy, raves about climate change, and cries at the devastation of the opioid crisis. Her intention is to subvert our natural fear of the apocalypse—instead of examining these crises from her perspective, she sings from the point of view of malevolent gods hell–bent on destroying humanity.

It's occasionally difficult to tell which perspective Grimes sings from. She switches characters constantly, lamenting and somehow encouraging humanity's suicidal ideation. Although the tone shifts are sometimes jarring, this is some of the greatest music Grimes has ever created. Influences from

her previous work are clear, but the album never retreads familiar ground. Miss Anthropocene, then, stands as the pinnacle of Grimes' remarkable career thus far.

Miss Anthropocene's greatest strength lies in Grimes' god– like ability to absorb a variety of genres, bend them to her will, and create dark, futuristic soundscapes. Given the impossible task of classifying Miss Anthropocene under a singular genre tag, "ethereal" comes to mind. Elements of metal, house, hip–hop, country, and synth–pop litter the record, often in the same song and morphed beyond recognition.

From the first few seconds of the opening track, "So Heavy I Fell Through the Earth," it's evi-

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34TH STREET MAGAZINE FEBRUARY 26, 2020

dent that Grimes has turned her back on the bubblegum pop influence of her previous album, Art Angels. Rumbling layers of bass, roaring electronic feedback, and sluggish drums dominate the mix while Grimes' voice, at times a low warble or a hysteric shriek, is layered in reverb. "So Heavy..." takes on the point of view of the God of Gender Roles and is about the degradation of ejaculation. It's a bold album opener, but Grimes never cared about typical pop conventions.

"So Heavy..." directly leads in to "Darkseid," where Grimes invites Taiwanese rapper 潘PAN to deliver a mind–bending series of verses. In typical Grimes fashion, the song's title cheekily references the DC Comics villain who aims to enslave all sentient life.

The album's centerpiece, "New Gods," is Grimes' take on a traditional piano ballad.

Sparse production creates a desolate sonic environment, evoking the image of a lone woman who rejects her previously held beliefs as she desperately turns towards vindictive idols. "Hands reaching out for new gods / You can't give me what I want," she sings, her voice trembling as waves of synths crash over her. Rejecting tradition is scary. Openly calling for annihilation is scarier.

On "My Name is Dark," she confronts nihilistic thoughts directly. As layers of electric guitars, synths, and bass summon an all–encompassing wall of sound, Grimes screams "I'm not gonna sleep anymore ... I'll never trust the government and pray to God for sure." The character she plays on this song is a manic in-

somniac just now expe- riencing the hedonistic liberation that comes with accepting inevitable doom. While some of the other tracks are purposefully depressing, "My Name Is Dark" revels in a depressing terror of extinction—Grimes mutters "imminent annihilation sounds so dope," at one point, her smirk audible.

There is a singular break from the gloom of Miss Anthropocene, though. On closer "IDORU," Grimes uses the framework of a love song to imagine a brighter future. "Unrequited love has reassembled me," she croons. Perhaps she's singing from the perspective of our planet when the climate crisis has been averted; perhaps optimism isn't completely implausible. "I adore you," she declares as bright textures circle the mix. If the rest of this album lives in the dark, where our most self– destructive thoughts bubble up uninvited, "IDORU" is the first glimmer of sunlight. It's the perfect epilogue, and reminds us that utopia is equally as achievable as the opposite.

Miss Anthropocene is important. The earth is dying. We're killing it and ourselves. To promote the album, Grimes released a manifesto from the point of view of the titular goddess, declaring "now is the time to burn twice as bright and half as long."

Just like the album, the manifesto is morbidly funny on the surface, but deeply unsettling upon closer look. This isn't just a great record.

It's an alarm bell for a species on the brink of extinction.

MUSIC

why

isn't the new

lorde

billie eilish

Not all teen music powerhouses are made the same. | MELANNIE JAY

Isabel Liang

B

illie Eilish is inescapable. Since releasing her debut album, WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO?, less than a year ago, Eilish's rise to fame has been stratospheric.

Eilish became a six–time Grammy recipient and the subject of a meme all before she could legally vote.

The constant media attention she receives leads to hot takes, think pieces, and comparisons to other artists—namely, Lorde, the teen alt–rock star that came before her.

There are some similarities between them—both released an LP before they turned 18, and when “Bad Guy” dethroned “Old Town Road” on the Billboard charts, Eilish became the youngest artist to hit #1 since Lorde, with “Royals.” Their public images are self–designed, not the product of managers and publicists, from Lorde’s signature unchoreographed dancing to Eilish’s baggy clothes, which were designed to prevent public commentary on her body.

Additionally, both women have a neurological condition called synesthesia—Lorde perceives colors when she hears certain sounds and Eilish told Rolling Stone that "[e]very person I know has their own color and shape and number in my head."

The artists' songwriting processes also bear similarities. Lorde told Vice she "didn't really have a specific sound in mind" for her debut album Pure Heroine, but that she "always listened to hip–hop and electronic music, and also full–on top 40 pop."

Eilish's brother Finneas O'Connell, meanwhile, told Vox, "We’re listening to everything—all genres, new music, old music, and it all just gets sort of synthesized and boiled down into a broth that we make."

That end product is where they differ. Whether paired with the minimalist, droning backgrounds of Pure Heroine or the orchestral, epic instrumentals on 2017 follow–up album Melodrama, Lorde's music always centers on her voice. Lorde told Vice, "I don't play any instruments, so my voice needs to have the focus. My vocal–scape is really important."

By contrast, Eilish's voice, thinner and softer than her supposed predecessor's, is often the least interesting thing about her music, which is crowded with synths, trap beats, and other gimmicks. The closest she comes to sounding like Lorde is on the

Bond theme "No Time to Die," which trades synth beats and drum machines for a haunting piano line.

Lorde is to thank, in part, for Billie Eilish's success. Before "Royals" and Pure Heroine, young female musicians often fell into one of two categories: squeaky–clean, family–friendly pop stars imported from children's television, or former Disney Channel stars itching to break out of their G–rated personas. Miley Cyrus twerked with Robin Thicke at the VMAs a month before the release of Pure Heroine, and the controversial performance aligned with the established path to stardom, much like Britney Spears' albino python performance and Ariana Grande's post–Victorious career.

It's attractive, for the media narrative, if Billie Eilish is Lorde's direct successor, if a through line can be established from one socially awkward

teenager to another. That way, the alternative adolescent of the year can be designated and pigeonholed accordingly. When Eilish grows a few years older, or hands over her title to another young ingenue, she will fade into obscurity, because the niche created for her was not one based on her music, but on a transient identity of the weird teenage girl.

Billie Eilish is not the new Lorde. To suggest as much hurts both artists. For Lorde, it implies she has been replaced. For Eilish, her music becomes less unique when she has a direct predecessor.

These comparisons strip Lorde and Eilish of their individuality, the most important feature of their music. They must be appreciated for who they are, not who they might resemble. Otherwise, when another husky–voiced alt–rock adolescent releases her debut, she will be reduced to "the next Billie Eilish."

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ST YLE

ANONYMOUS 8

T

he first time I had sex was Halloween of my freshman year. He texted me that morning to remind me “I wasn’t like the other girls,” and snuck shots of Vodka into my Copa lemonade. I think I wanted him to be my boyfriend even though he had the restless energy of a frat boy with too much free time, so I let him hit it from behind in his twin XL bed. He cuddled me for 20 perfunctory minutes before declaring his friend had bottle service at some downtown. He was planning on going but I could stay as long as I liked.

After fucking me once more the next day, we didn’t talk for a month, and then sporadically after, like the contact was clearing his conscience.

It was nothing like the fantasy I’d crafted in my head—a mix of reading too many teen–beach novels during recess and Harry Styles fan fiction under my covers, I wanted my first time to be cinematic. There was going to be romance with a capital “R,” the soft strums of moany indie music, and lots of cuddling with the lights dimmed. In real life, it felt like a cruel subplot ripped from the Gossip Girl writer’s room, and I walked home from the quad that night feeling more like Season 1 Jenny and less like Season 5 Blair.

For a while, the scenario—and my emotional memory of it—sucked the wind out of me. I’d spent my high school years settling for the pragmatic option. I had my first kiss with a college–aged stranger at a Knocks concert and dated my first boyfriend out of boredom and worry. I didn’t want to come to college steeped in naivety and branded with the inexperience that makes you believe a guy when he tells you that you aren’t like the other girls, and yet here I was, still getting played after swapping romance for logic.

Now I know this trope is played out. There have been countless “Modern Love” essays about awkward first times and disappointing first times and dramatic first times. Our favorite rom–coms tell the triumphant story of the do–over. There’s Groundhog Day and 27 Dresses and It’s Complicated—all of which promise a gratifying second act. But what these stories don’t tell you is that most times a second act doesn’t come. And in that case, what do you do next?

In the weeks after, I let the night loop behind my eyelids. I never stopped watching my memory of it, my brain focused on my flaws. The slight roll of my stomach, my inability to give a good blowjob, the way I struggled to make small talk after—these were the things that rendered me discarded. “If I had only been a little bit more,” I remember saying to a friend over Hill

34TH STREET MAGAZINE FEBRUARY 26, 2020

the first time doesn’t predict them all

Dining Hall cupcakes, "then maybe he wouldn’t be so embarrassed he touched me.”

Blame is a heavy thing, and I crumbled under the burden of it. I spent the majority of last November catatonic in my bed, eyes aimlessly pointed at the ceiling and hair always a little unwashed. My virginity mattered more to me than I wanted to admit. It was less that I was hurt he was fucking other people and more that I was ashamed I'd ever let him fuck me. I reached out to friends months after they'd ghosted me, asking for lunch and forgiveness. I try—however imperfectly—to preserve the things that matter most. And if my virginity was so important, then why did it only take some buffalo wings and rum to let it go?

Soon, I stopped going to classes. I took long naps and watched Clueless on repeat until the sight of Paul Rudd made me nauseous. My friends made me nauseous, too.

Bound by his gag of “keep this quiet—I have too much drama as is,” the story of my first time wasn’t really mine anymore. Publicly, I was feisty, my friends giggling when I mentioned all the positions we’d tried. Privately, I kept asking Google if it was possible to regain my virginity.

As it turned out, it wasn’t. I felt stuck. But I refused to let this man ruin my first year of college, let alone my relationship with intimacy, so I decided to let casual sex become my thing. I found solace in how guys still wanted me, even if my brain said otherwise. Every weekend, I woke up in another guys bed, hand always loosely strewn over my waist. We never cuddled and I never orgasmed. Most never texted me back. Sure, their physical presence blocked the intrusive thoughts, but my stomach still felt hollow. Empty. “Why,” I kept asking myself, “am I not enough for them to want to stay with me?”

And then—it clicked. As cliche as it sounds, my virginity doesn’t define me. It never did.

As much as movies are about selling us easy, fake endings, they are also about resiliency. We love Groundhog Day because Bill Murray refuses to give up—he learns piano, French, and how to sculpt ice all so Andie McDowell will spend one night with him. There’s freedom in the pursuit. Sure, my first time was the antithesis of my fantasy, but that doesn’t mean my fifteenth or fortieth time has to be.

Admittedly, I still think about that night sometimes.

The holiday will always bring flashbacks just as consistently as it does candy wrappers and horror films. But they no longer upset me in the ways they once did. Fantasies don’t breed strength. Reality does.

Sudeep Bhargava

69street: TH

In this edition, a writer discusses how losing her virginity made her gain something more — strength.

ST YLE

Green Eggs Cafe

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ah Lon ser

Makes Its Rittenhouse Debut Get in loser, we’re going brunching Hannah Lonser

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runch aficionados and aspiring food bloggers rejoice: on Jan. 24, Green Eggs Cafe opened its sixth location in Rittenhouse Square. Known for serving up some of the most over– the–top breakfast dishes that Philly has to offer, the new Green Eggs Cafe is the perfect spot for your next weekend get together.

The Rittenhouse location sports a sleek interior design, yet it still manages to maintain that welcoming atmosphere characteristic of any great brunch place. After I stopped by last week, I made sure to put making a trip back with my friends at the top of my agenda.

The new cafe features the same selection of sweet and savory dishes that have made Green Eggs’ older locations a staple of Philadelphia’s brunch scene. Visitors can opt for upscale breakfast fare like bagels and lox or dig into their classic Creole shrimp and grits. But of course, any visit to Green Eggs Cafe isn’t complete without sampling one of their famous—and Instagrammable—sugar y specials. Their red velvet pancakes and cookie dough– stuffed french toast are sure to

satisfy any sweet tooth.

I couldn’t resist going the savory route when I visited the Rittenhouse location, ordering their chicken and waffles benedict. A mouthwatering combination of my all–time favorite ingredients, this meal did not disappoint. Served with home fries on the side, I left Green Eggs satisfied with my decision—though I will be trying the salted caramel banana stuffed french toast next time around.

In addition to serving a menu similar to other locations, the new branch is adhering to the same eco–conscious philosophy that has been integrated into every Green Eggs Cafe. Each restaurant has committed to buying produce locally, composting food and organic waste, prohibiting the use of styrofoam and plastic bottles, investing in biodegradable to–go boxes, and recycling aluminum, plastic, glass, and paper products.

A trip to Green Eggs Cafe should occupy a spot on every breakfast–lover’s bucket list.

Luckily, the opening of the Rittenhouse location makes it all the more convenient for anyone here in University City to cross it off.

LOCATION: 33 S 18th St. HOURS: 8 a.m. – 4 p.m. daily PRICE: $$

WEDNESDAYS 11:30AM - 4PM 1/2 PRICE BURGERS

THURSDAYS 5PM - 10PM $9.99 FAJITAS 40th & Spruce St., University city • 215-382-1330 • copauc.com FEBRUARY 26, 2020 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

9

F E AT U R E

Fraternities and student groups have different visions for the future of Penn’s campus

by Allison Wu photos by Sophia Dai

Claire Medina (C'22)

Brennan Burns (C'20)

10 34TH STREET MAGAZINE FEBRUARY 26, 2020

F E AT U R E

who owns locust?

The acronym “CAFSA” didn’t mean anything one year ago. But as summer ended and students returned to Penn for the fall semester, mentions of CAFSA appeared in flashes. A poster by the elevator in Harnwell. A recommended account to follow on Instagram. It started slow, but the group’s presence was soon impossible to ignore.

On October 30, students walking past Van Pelt saw a bloody sheet, the Button plastered with posters, and a mattress covered in clothes and a sign that read “IT WAS NOT CONSENSUAL.” The Coalition Against Fraternity Sexual Assault (CAFSA) aims to shock. The anonymous testimonials on its website have much the same effect, documenting instances of harassment, racism, hazing, and assault from fraternities on Locust Walk. But the upsetting nature of CAFSA’s website and protests have a purpose. For members of CAFSA, the prominent presence of fraternities on Locust Walk is a shocking reminder to survivors of the trauma they’ve experienced.

“The fact that people functionally are required to walk past sites of trauma is a problem,” says Claire Medina (C’22), a CAFSA board member. “If you get assaulted at one of [the fraternities], you can’t avoid it.”

CAFSA was founded in the spring of 2019 as a movement with the mission of transforming “fraternities on Locust Walk into cultural and wellness centers in order to foster positive and safe environments for students with minority and historically underrepresented identities,” according to their website.

Their demands include diversifying Locust Walk by giving space to cultural centers like PAACH, La Casa Latina, and Makuu, and wellness environments such as Penn Violence Prevention (PVP) and a satellite Counseling and Psychological Services center. They also call for the University of Pennsylvania to implement Callisto, a sexual assault recording and reporting system that helps survivors detect perpetrators.

The 6B, Penn’s main minority coalition, currently works directly with administration to try to achieve some of these demands. The 6B consists of the Asian Pacific Student Coalition (APSC), Latinx Coalition, Lambda Alliance, Penn Association for Gender Equity, United Minorities Council, and UMOJA. Though there’s significant overlap between students in 6B and CAFSA, CAFSA advocates for a different approach— it hopes to work outside of administration and partake in direct action on campus such as sit–ins and protests to gain support, according to CAFSA affiliate Tanya Jain (C’20).

Like many universities, the issue of sexual violence is prevalent at Penn. The 2019 AAU climate survey reported that from 2015 to 2019, the percent of undergraduate women who had experienced sexual assault declined from 27.2 to 25.9, less than a two percent decrease.

Meanwhile, the percent of undergraduate men who’d ex-

perienced nonconsensual sexual contact increased from 5.5 to 7.3 percent. The survey also reported that 28.6 percent of such cases occurred in fraternity houses, the most frequent location on campus.

The criticism of fraternities’ prevalence on Locust isn’t new. However, the issue’s complexity—involving competing interests with regards to land and the broader issue of sexual violence on campus—makes it one that’s not easy to solve. Though there’s a diverse range of perspectives among student groups and administrations, for CAFSA members, their vision of recentering minorities and wellness spaces on campus is one that’s worth fighting for.

Fraternities occupy significant real estate on Locust. As of this semester, 24 of the 32 fraternity and sorority houses are operated by the University, which means they’re owned by Penn or leased from University City Associates, according to an email from VPUL Chief of Staff and Chief Communications Officer Monica Kinney–Yant.

Eleven of the 24 houses are owned by the University.

This includes Kappa Sigma, Phi Gamma Delta (FIJI), and Psi Upsilon (Castle).

Another 11 of the 24 houses “have Reversionary agreements, meaning that Penn has title ownership, but not equity ownership. Legal agreements dating to the 1920s state that if the buildings ceases to house fraternities, Penn must use those buildings for student housing or pay fair market value to purchase,” according to the email. This includes Delta Phi (St. Elmo) and Phi Delta Theta. Eight of the 32 houses are privately owned, including Alpha Chi Rho (“Crows”) and Delta Psi (St. A’s).

Phi Kappa Sigma (Skulls), an inactive fraternity, is privately owned by the organization and leased to Penn “for temporary use by tenants such as Office of General Counsel, PVP, and Undergraduate Admissions. The owners have the ultimate authority to determine utilization, per zoning,” according to the email.

All of the fraternity houses listed above are located on Locust. Their various ownership statuses make CAFSA’s goal of evicting the fraternities and replacing them with cultural and wellness centers practically difficult.

Despite the long odds, CAFSA has garnered support from groups across campus who feel like they aren’t being heard by Penn’s administration. CAFSA has built up a coalition of 27 organizations who support its mission, including all 6B organizations except for the United Minorities Council, as well as various cultural, political, and LGBTQ groups. CAFSA hopes to leverage this student support “into pressure that is unignorable,” Claire says.

In 1991, the Committee to Diversity Locust Walk published a report urging the University to take steps to relocate fraternities off of Locust. If Penn wanted to maintain a community of “equal access and opportunity,” it wrote, “it could no longer ignore the symbol and the

reality of exclusivity and, too often, incivility, that stood at its physical heart.”

Though what CAFSA’s pushing isn’t novel in itself, Claire says it’s still important to act now. “I've been assaulted at a frat house,” they say. “My friends have been assaulted at frat houses.”

Claire adds, “We're all only here for four years, and I don't want to spend my four years uncomfortable and unsafe and unhappy.”

Creating more space for cultural centers is just as important a part of CAFSA’s mission as moving the fraternities out. Currently, three of Penn’s cultural centers Makuu, La Casa Latina, and the Pan Asian American Community House (PAACH) share the basement of the ARCH on Locust.

In January’s University Council meeting, Penn administration offered the groups in ARCH the ability to expand to ARCH’s upper floors, according to both Sarah Kim (C’21), the chair of the Asian Pacific Student Coalition (APSC), and the meeting minutes. However, members of the 6B were hesitant to accept. To them, it indicated that their long–term goal of moving into a house on Locust would be less likely.

They ultimately rejected the offer. Administrators “were acting like they were giving us a lot of space, but in reality they weren't,” says Kim. ARCH is also home to the Center for Undergraduate Research and Fellowships (CURF), Ben Franklin Scholars, University Scholars, and Student Performing Arts.

“They told us that we're next in line to fundraise for space, but one, it might be on Locust and two, that could take years,” says Kim. However, Kim notes the importance of recognizing that APSC and CAFSA aren’t anti–frat, but pro–culture and wellness. Brennan Burns (C’20), who spoke as a representative for CAFSA at a University Council Open Forum last December, echoes that CAFSA’s goals aren’t

about abolishing Greek life, though people generally perceive it to be much more “radical than what it’s trying to be.”

Tamara Wurman (C’22), a Daily Pennsylvanian multimedia staffer and the Vice President of Penn Democrats, the latter of which is also part of the Coalition, says that a majority of their board is involved in Greek life in some capacity. But for reforms to happen, she says, “it requires a critical mass of students signing on, and that must include people who either have no problem with Greek life or are in it themselves.”

Responses to CAFSA haven’t always been as positive, particularly from those involved in Greek life. From the spring of their freshman year to the fall of their sophomore year, Claire was a member of the Alpha Delta Phi Society, which is under the Interfraternity Council (IFC), one of three governing bodies of Greek life at Penn. They remember a meeting they attended with the heads of the IFC in October of 2019—right after the AAU climate survey came out. The “general lack of gravity” with which these results were addressed made Claire uncomfortable.

At this meeting, various IFC elected officials said they were scared the “CAFSA problem” would harm their reputation on–campus, as well as recruitment efforts. They wanted to put together a committee to fix the “image problem,” Claire remembers.

Moreover, a lot of the meeting surrounded fraternity members’ indignance at the fact that they weren’t allowed to throw beer games in their houses, which they thought was a “violation of autonomy,” Claire says. At the end of the meeting, Claire remembers an Office of Fraternity and Sorority Life representative telling the fraternities they’d made enough progress on issues like sexual assault that they could afford “to focus on the little things like beer games.”

From there, Claire tried to spearhead the process of having the Alpha Delta Phi Society leave IFC, though

members were hesitant, citing “concerns about institutional privilege” and “interpersonal benefits that we were going to be losing.”

The way this was handled ultimately convinced Claire to leave the fraternity. Brennan, the president of the same fraternity at the time, also de–brothered.

Since its creation in the spring of 2019, CAFSA has mostly worked underground, though in January, a few members decided to forgo their anonymity. The Coalition originally functioned anonymously because of a “fear of reprisal” from the Penn administration, Brennan says, claiming that Penn has a “contentious relationship” with groups who have advocated for political change in the past.

Sarah Payne (C’22) worked as a liaison for CAFSA last year and currently works on the board of Abuse and Sexual Assault Prevention (ASAP), a student awareness group. At the time, it didn’t feel right for CAFSA not to be anonymous, due to fraternities’ deeply entrenched institutional power at Penn, according to Payne. Specifically, members were scared they’d get marks on their transcripts or that the University would leverage their power in ways that would hurt individuals. Payne says ASAP is still hesitant to be too involved in CAFSA, since doing so might jeopardize their staff advisor’s position.

But at this point, Claire says CAFSA is confident that they have enough support for some members to reveal their identities, though it’s important for others to still remain anonymous to “carry on that institutional knowledge” if anyone “does get screwed over.” Brennan and Claire claim that Penn has already tried to weaken the credibility of the organization, citing instances of mischaracterization on the part of the administration.

"Penn is trying to misrepresent CAFSA on some levels, particularly the amount of communication that they have,” Brennan says. In the Jan. 29 University Council meeting, administration stated how it “has offered to bring CAFSA and Greek student leaders together for a joint discussion; however, CAFSA has declined,” according to the Jan. 29 University Council minutes.

Claire, Brennan, and Tanya say Penn administration hadn’t contacted CAFSA before the meeting on Jan. 29.

In fact, Penn administration reached out to CAFSA on Feb. 10, according to Claire, though they didn’t ask them to meet with fraternity leadership—only to sit down with administration. CAFSA has not yet responded to administration.

Tanya, who has also worked with Penn administration on 6B, says that although she thinks the administration “can be allies” and was proactive in calling up meetings with the 6B, no concrete steps were taken. These meetings with 6B, Greek leaders, and administration “were really frustrating and didn’t seem to lead anywhere,” Tanya says.

FEBRUARY 26, 2020 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 11

F E AT U R E

On Feb. 12, Penn Violence Prevention (PVP), a program under VPUL, moved back onto Locust, following backlash from students when it moved from 3539 Locust Walk to 3535 Market St. last September due to “limited campus space.” Though this is an “important first step,” Payne also wonders “if it’s the easiest thing that they can do to save face.”

Nonetheless, Malik Washington, the director of PVP, says he’s seen substantial progress in sexual violence prevention at Penn, especially since PVP’s inception in 2014. In the past six years, PVP has grown from one person to three, though they’re looking to hire two more.

Specifically, PVP works closely with Penn Anti–Violence Educators (PAVE), a peer education student group “focused on how to be an active bystander,” according to the VPUL website. Other efforts that PVP is working on include making Thrive at Penn more targeted toward combatting sexual violence in addition to putting on “Speak About It,” a scripted performance about consent education and sexual assault prevention that’s shown every year at NSO. However, CAFSA says that "Speak About It" is not enough. The group wants to expand mandatory education programs about consent for all students.

Specifically regarding PVP’s work with fraternities, Washington says that education requirements for all new IFC members now include going through a Men Against Rape and Sexual Assault (MARS) presentation.

Matthew Sydney (C’22), who’s a member of Sigma Alpha Mu, says these presentations have helped create a “certain pressure” from everyone in the fraternity to make sure all the brothers are “upholding these standards.”

Washington personally works with chapters “on issues about masculinity, gender, and interpersonal violence,” and he encourages students and “particularly members of fraternity chapters to see themselves as leaders and recognize the responsibilities that they have.”

However, Washington notes the importance of not excluding other narratives about sexual violence on campus by confining PVP’s focus to “male fraternity members or athletes,” he says. “We want to make sure that the narrative is always inclusive of everybody's experiences.”

Though Washington isn’t involved with CAFSA, he says PVP is “always supportive of students who are advocating,” and he encourages people to be passionate about these issues.

In the past few months, the response to CAFSA has gotten better, Brennan says. As some fraternities “listen genuinely to what CAFSA is trying to say, they're realizing this is actually not a really scary set of changes.”

Due to the new housing policy that requires all sophomores to live on campus starting with Class of 2024 students, fraternity houses will be more empty than they are now. “If less people are living there,” Kim asks, “isn’t it also wasted space in some ways?”

In light of this, pushing for fraternities to not be abolished but rather moved off campus where they’re not occupying “such a prominent space on Locust is not a super radical change,” Brennan says.

The reaction to CAFSA within the Greek life community has been diverse.

Louis Galarowicz (C ‘21), IFC president, says that while the organization supports CAFSA’s efforts to create a greater dialogue around sexual assault, the IFC

doesn’t agree with the “forcible removal” of fraternities from Locust Walk.

“Many IFC members are troubled by CAFSA’s persistent framing of this issue as a fraternity problem,” he wrote in an email to Street, adding that focusing on fraternities prevents CAFSA from addressing the broader issue of sexual assault.

He also emphasized the need for individuals to be accountable for their actions.

“Change will come when more individual students choose to hold others accountable and be personally responsible for preventing sexual misconduct,” he wrote.

Sahitya Mandalapu (W’21), president of the Panhellenic Council, is also skeptical that removing fraternities from Locust Walk will decrease sexual assault.

“One fear I have is that taking fraternities off of Locust Walk will only push sexual violence further away from campus and create an even more dangerous, off-campus environment,” she wrote in an email.

But Claire says that a few fraternities—including some under the IFC—have reached out to CAFSA about joining the Coalition as well as putting forth public support for the adoption of Callisto. Though fraternities have largely not cooperated with CAFSA, Claire hopes that the organization will grow to be a “cross–University mobilizing force,” much like movements like Fossil Free Penn and the Student Labor Action Project (SLAP).

CAFSA also wants to focus on community building.

Since survivors come from all backgrounds, the organization wants to ensure it -Claire Medina (C'22) coordinates in their efforts to be as unified as possible.

It also seeks to continue hosting town halls to discuss fraternities as institutional bodies, as well as what it expects from fraternities that are not on Locust, Claire says. Likewise, Kim adds that members of APSC hope to put pressure on administration by encouraging alumni to write letters.

However, conversations about what long–term benefits Greek life provides are “longer and more difficult conversations that we’re not necessarily trying to answer” right now, Claire says.

Though pushing fraternities off campus definitely doesn’t eliminate the sexual violence that occurs in them, CAFSA believes relocating these fraternities will help eliminate the idea that these fraternities are “institutions of Penn that you can’t avoid,” Claire says. In this way, CAFSA hopes to reduce fraternities’ ability to “leverage power over other people in ways that lead to sexual violence.”

Currently, fraternities on Locust are as unavoidable as ever. Interspersed amidst class buildings, cultural centers, research labs, and other assorted buildings are houses with a stream of Greek letters prominently displayed. For some students, these houses are a place to live, study, or party, and for others, they are a place of trauma. But for all students walking down Locust, the influence of Greek life is inescapable.

Currently, fraternities on Locust are as unavoidable as ever. For some students, they’re places to live, study, and party. For others, they’re places of trauma. Sandwiched between class buildings, cultural centers, research labs, and dorms are houses stamped with Greek letters.

ATO. Harnwell. Sig Chi. Commons. Huntsman. McNeil. Kappa Sigma. Phi Delt. Steiny-D. Castle.

“The fact that people functionally are required to walk past sites of trauma is a problem.”

1 2 34TH STREET MAGAZINE FEBRUARY 26, 2020

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Calling All Foodies:

East Passyunk Avenue Restaurant Week Is Back

Another restaurant week? Sign me up.

Hannah Lonser

A

lready missing CCD Restaurant Week discounts? If so, you’re in luck. From Feb. 24 through Mar. 6, East Passyunk Avenue is hosting its very own Restaurant Week for the eighth year in a row. Representing 31 businesses located on the one–mile stretch, visitors can feast on prix fixe lunch and/ or dinner for a price of $15, $25, or $35.

Many participating restaurants will be featuring new dishes on their menus alongside classic favorites. “In order to participate, [restaurants] need to put together a specific menu that either presents three courses that contain options from their existing menu or, in many cases, what they’ll do is pull out special dishes that are either specific to restaurant week or are not on the menu on a regular basis,” Executive Director of the East Passyunk Avenue Business Improvement District Adam Leiter says.

According to Leiter, the fixed menus allow patrons to sample the full breadth of what each participating East Passyunk Avenue restaurant has to offer while also getting a good deal.

But the advantages of taking part in Restaurant Week are more than just monetary. Since its inception, Restaurant Week has been an opportunity for visitors to experience the diverse selection of dining options that East Passyunk Avenue has to offer. “[There] was a really great point in time where the avenue was just exploding with a lot of new spots that were opening up and following in the great foot-

Photo courtesy of East Passyunk Avenue Business Improvement District

steps of a lot of classics that have been here for decades,” Leier explains. “We were really starting to see the transition into more expanded fine dining and new, diverse culinary options coming in that was beyond just Italian or modern American.”

If you're having trouble narrowing down which restaurants to check out, Leiter gave Street the rundown on which locations he considers a must–visit.

If you’re looking for something new that falls in the $15 price point, try out Big Catch Poke. New to Restaurant Week, Big Catch Poke opened its doors back in December and has been dishing out tasty poke bowls ever since. At $25, Adam recommends that attendees stop by Marra's—an Italian restaurant that has been an East Passyunk Avenue staple for over 90 years.

“It’s one of those places that people have gone with their grandparents and have memories of all that,” Leiter notes.

If you’re looking for something a little less traditional, however, Adam adds that Flannel is another great $25 option. “[Flannel] is a newer, southern cooking spot where they have everything from fried chicken and waffles to pulled pork sliders,” Leiter says.

On the finer dining end, Riv-

er Twice, a modern American BYOB that received a three bell review from Craig LaBan at the Philadelphia Inquirer, is a staple for this year's Restaurant Week.

Meanwhile, Bing Bing Dim Sum, another one of Leiter's favorites, is dishing out Chinese

plates with a Jewish–American twist, also at price of $35.

And after you’ve finished your meal, make sure to browse the variety of retail options that East Passyunk Avenue has to offer. “There’s an amazing business and service component down

here as well,” Adam says, “In this one–mile long stretch that is completely walkable from end to end we have over 150 independently–owned businesses.”

Interested in learning more about Restaurant Week? Leiter advises patrons to follow @eastpassyunk on Instagram and Facebook to stay informed on the latest updates.

“When you walk into the majority of these restaurants, you are either going to be interacting with or in the presence of the chef or owner directly. There’s a direct connection to the people who are running this business."

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FILM & TV

e i c e P h g f u o P r A

Lian g

Why is Florence Pugh so ubiquitous, and is it well–deserved?

Isab el

ANNA COLLINS

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very generation needs its darling. It should come as no surprise that names such as Elizabeth Taylor or Audrey Hepburn, the most famous actresses of their time, are surviving household names. More recent and comparable women who started their careers while young and have had a lasting impact on culture include Meryl Streep and Emma Thompson.

Now, however, it comes time for the current crop of college students and young people to figure out who will become the prominent name of the time.

Among a wide scope of talented performers, a single name has emerged: the 23–year–old, Academy Award–nominated, Florence Pugh.

Pugh’s recent rise to popularity is directly tied to her most recent starring roles in two incredibly popular films of 2019, Greta Gerwig’s Little Women and Ari Aster’s Midsommar. In Little Women, Pugh portrays the childish and stubborn Amy March, the youngest sister of the family and the one to undergo the most growth. Pugh, in her early 20s, portrays the 13–year– old Amy with deftness. She also perfects Amy’s transition into an adult, where she looks at the world with a degree of resigned skepticism and crushed hopes.

The contrast between these two parts of the character is played beautifully, but most impressive is the shift between the role of Amy and that of Pugh's lead role in Midsommar.

There, she plays Dani Ardor, a young woman coping with a

sudden loss who travels to Sweden with a group of her boyfriend’s buddies. As the world around her quickly reveals itself to be twisted and cruel, Dani’s gradual unraveling in the idyllic rural landscape becomes the central crux of the film. Pugh seated in a bed of flowers and the image of her crying against the other women of Midsommar have become memes themselves. Pugh’s face is now an omnipresent aspect of social media, further cementing her as a well–known name among our generation.

The night and day contrast between these two performances has been much discussed. Dani and Amy could not be more different: while Dani sucks up and copes with her loss silently, Amy is loud and brash. While Dani lives in the present day and speaks with a modern sharpness, Amy's voice is softer around the edges, leaning into a New England accent. Especially impressive is the fact that Pugh isn't even American—she's English, which may come as a surprise to many who have only seen her perform as an American.

While Pugh was not nominated at mainstream awards for the part of Dani in Misdommar (this comes as no surprise—the horror genre is frequently ignored), her Oscar nomination for Amy March was well–deserved.

Yet what makes Pugh more outstanding than her equally skilled colleagues, like four– time Oscar–nominated Saoirse Ronan? The answer is accessi-

bility. Pugh is not just famous, talented, and a lovely person to watch in interviews—she's also someone who feels just a step away. Her activity on Instagram and Twitter is more consistent than the highly–curated material of many celebrities who use social media. One of her most recent posts is her face awkwardly smushed by a neck pillow, not an ad endorsement or professionally–taken picture from award shows or photo shoots.

Also on the accessibility front is the miniature scandal surrounding her personal life: the

fact that she is dating the 44– year–old Zach Braff of Scrubs fame. When Twitter discovered this, all hell broke loose, especially considering Pugh’s beauty and Braff’s shocking blandness.

Many have criticized Braff's age in comparison to Pugh's and have pointed out that she was only five when Scrubs first aired, prompting a certain instinctual grossed–out response.

Of course, the nature of social media is to criticize relationships of which people have no first–hand knowledge, making any commentary irrelevant.

Still, such a pairing has resulted

in endless memes and jokes on social media platforms, which only puts Pugh’s name in further conversation.

Despite only eight movies under her belt, she has clearly made a name for herself. Pugh is already slated for a popular film, Black Widow, as Yelena Belova.

Yelena Belova takes over the Black Widow mantel and replaces Scarlett Johannson's Natasha Romanoff. Through this starring role, Pugh will certainly confirm herself as the favorite young actress of the time, having gained mainstream fame as well as devoted fans.

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FILM & TV

When Shows Leave Netflix, Where Do They Go? T THE LOWDOWN ON WHAT HAPPENED WITH 'FRIENDS,' AND WHERE YOU CAN FIND IT NOW. EVA INGBER

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o the horror of die–hard binge watchers, or casual viewers, Friends was removed from Netflix on Dec. 31.

It wasn’t the only beloved program that disappeared with the start of New Year, and it certainly won’t be the last. Some other classics that left Netflix so far this year include Pulp Fiction, Schindler’s List, The Pink Panther, and all four Rocky movies.

Though these losses may seem abrupt and shocking to viewers, it’s business as usual for Netflix; Netflix is a revolving door when it comes to content, with programs entering and leaving the network monthly.

But why do shows leave Netflix? And when they do leave, where do they go?

Netflix acquires its shows and movies by licensing them from studios and other content creators across the globe. These licenses, unfortunately, aren’t forever—they have expiration dates. So, when a title’s expiration date approaches, the content will sadly be forced to leave Netflix.

Netflix does have the potential to renew a contract, though.

In fact, Netflix has specific criteria to evaluate whether content is worth renewing. They investigate: “Are the rights to renew the licensing to stream still available? What is the popularity and cost of a particular title?

Are there other seasonal or localized factors?”

When it comes to the stream-

Anne Marie Grudem

ing of Friends, the issue lies with the first two considerations. In 2015, Netflix bought the license for Friends for $30 million. Last year, due to the show’s tremendous popularity, the company had to pay a whopping $100 million to keep the show on its network. It’s safe to assume that keeping it another year would have cost the company even more, which likely served as a deterrent for the show’s renewal.

Sometimes a competing network resigns the show, cutting Netflix out of the picture entirely. Such is also the case with Friends. This spring, Friends will be making its comeback on HBO and Warner Media’s new streaming service, HBO Max. And, in January 2021, the iconic and beloved TV show The Office will be leaving Netflix to be featured exclusively on NBC’s new streaming service. So at this point, even if Netflix wanted to resign these shows, they’re no longer available for purchase.

In order to save yourself from the disappointment of starting something you won’t be able to finish, try checking its details on Netflix. And to find out what’s new on the horizon, check out the network’s Media Center.

If you’re unhappy with what you learn, you can request from Netflix to add a TV show or movie. Maybe if you aggressively fill out that form for the next couple of months, Netflix will hear your plea, and keep your beloved feature. It certainly doesn’t hurt to try.

ARTS

Meet Jet Le Parti, The Self–Taught Artist Who Turned his Apartment into a Studio Artist Spotlight | Jet combines the philosophy of art with the art of philosophy. | Lily Stein

J

et Le Parti (C '20) wasn’t supposed to be an artist.

Coming to Penn from what he describes as “a military family” in the small city of Columbus, Georgia, Jet’s first time in a museum was going to the Philadelphia Museum of Art in his first year of college.

In Jet's world, art isn't just color on canvas—it’s simulation theory, the uncertainty principle, wormholes, and nonlocal quantum particles. When asked who has influenced his work, Jet named physicists, psychologists, inventors, and philosophers—“Carl Jung, David Deutsch, Max Tegmark, Friedrich Nietzsche, Martin Heidegger, Nikola Tesla.” Not a single artist made the cut.

It didn’t take long to realize that Jet, the up–and–coming artist who is blowing up on social media, didn't see a difference between thinking about art and thinking about life. In fact, he believed them to be mutually inclusive.

“I've always had this imagination of what if you could step out of one universe and break it down and see another you and kinda take that place.” Now, in the second semester of his senior year, Jet has done just this. He has transformed his Radian apartment into a studio—paintings upon paintings line the walls, some hanging while others leaned against cluttered surfaces or were stacked on the ground. He stands in the center of his labyrinth, paint streaked across his clothes and his shoes an unrecognizable color. His friends from back home sit in the living room–turned–art–gallery behind him, one of them manning a DJ set, another photoshopping pictures, and a third setting up a camera to film the room. Loud techno music overpowers the already eccentric, sensory–overload-

ed gallery, adding a psychedelic feel to the scene.

His bedroom is no exception to the chaos, as pastels and jugs of paint dominate every surface of the space. A giant wall–sized canvas is the centerpiece, and Jet explains it has been repainted three times, left outside to the elements, and even been scraped with a rake.

“From a young age I asked a lot of questions, and the environment I was in just told me to go along with it, so I did that. I repressed it and I went along with it.” As Jet says this, he sits on a chair in his room next to a diverse collection of physics, philosophy, and math books. I remark that it’s rare for such a creative mind and free spirit to be so enamored with the definitive world of science. He doesn’t agree.

“When I grew up I thought people would have answers, but when I got to school I realized that no one really knows … so I’ve been exploring every avenue for an answer.” Prior to becoming an artist, he had wanted to be either a professor or philosopher. Yet, he found the world of academics to be limiting, creating the stalemate endemic to his whole life. “I thought, ok, so I've lost my mind.

What do I do?”

Art was his release. Where words fall short, art never runs out of things to say. For someone who has taken a scholarly approach to life’s existential questions, it comes as little surprise that he refers to painting as “taking notes” and “breaking down the ongoing conversation in his head.”

“The way I imagine it is I can create these kinds of models and imaginary spaces and explore these ideas in different realms as I stay here.” His gallery reflects this— all the paintings are intentionally interconnected. “I'll leave doors

within the painting to give the idea that entering it is a realm in which you enter another one.”

He leaves other clues too, such as miniature versions of his other paintings in the backdrop of all his art, communicating the idea that they are all scenes in the same story. Sometimes, he even embeds secret messages in the form of binary code.

It wasn’t always like this. Jet found Penn through baseball, and through baseball, he found art. True to his theories of uncertainty, his career as an artist started in the most unlikely of places. While staying at a house in the Hamptons for a sports summer training, Jet encountered some art supplies in the basement and decided to give it a try. His Wednesdays off from baseball soon became art days, and it wasn’t long before there was no baseball altogether.

Regardless of how much he “plays the game,” Jet has not lost sight of his reasons for becoming an artist. “Ideally I'll get to a position where I just have to sell one or two pieces. I want to detach myself from the politics of art, but at the same time I have to pay rent and eat.”

Ultimately, he hopes that his gallery will provide an answer, or at the very least, a world in which it is okay to ask questions.

“My end–all is to get my stuff into spaces where people like me can see it...all I really need to do is reach that one person.”

Jet, translating the binary code in a black and white painting he created in his earlier days, gives hope to all unlikely artists: “Don’t worry, we’ve been here before. The hole is our home.

We swim as we drown. Don’t worry about this, just see it through. I know it’ll be okay because I was once you too.”

Sudeep Bhargava

Live music • Film • Dance • Theater Art Education • Community The Gathering Feb 27 2020 @ 9:00 PM Admission is $3 before 10pm, $5 after 10pm.

The Gathering IS b-boys/b-girls, pop-lockers, emcees, graffiti writers, DJs, men, women, and children of all ages enjoying a celebration of Hip Hop. DJs spin Hiphop, breaks, and funk all night, and there are open cyphas, a tag wall, and a featured performance and graffiti panel each month.

Old-Fashioned Storytelling Feb 28 & 29 @ 7:00 PM Admission is FREE Hosted by storyteller Denise McCormack, each evening will feature a special guest artist poised to showcase the art of storytelling. On Friday, storyteller Ed Stivender will regale all with his wit, charm, and stalwart stories, while on Saturday, Ingrid Bohn will delight with a lively fare of uniquely-spun traditional tales. For more information, or to participate as a teller, contact Denise McCormack @ 609-807-8238 or info@patchworkstorytelling.org.

Womynsfest 2020 Mar 1 2020 @ 7:00 PM Admission is FREE Vitamin D Productions brings the annual Womynsfest back to The Rotunda with this year’s theme, A Celebration of Life. This year’s festival features old and new friends including GhettoSongBird, Mia Johnson, Line, Ascxnsion, Vassel, and more!

As an alcohol-free/smoke-free venue, The Rotunda provides an invaluable social alternative for all ages.

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ARTS

Penn Monologues: A Transformation

Amanpreet Singh

Penn V–Day’s new performance offers a space for reflection & healing

Sudeep Bhargava new beginning. Penn V–Day had CONTENT WARNING: previously performed the Vagina Mentions of sexual violence and Monologues, a series of pieces other trauma. written by Eve Leiser, a white cis woman, for twenty years. The t the end of Penn V- proceeds from this show and Day’s first ever Penn other events go to Women OrMonologues, perform- ganized Against Rape (WOAR), ers and cast, wearing all black, en- Philadelphia’s only full–service tered the stage to form a semi–cir- rape crisis center. This past weekcle. Standing together, they held end, Penn V–Day debuted a new hands and hug. This was a space show built on pieces submitted by and moment meant for them. the community, including those Penn Monologues marks a by undergraduate and graduate

A

students, alumni, and even WOAR counselors.

Beyond a production, this space focused on survivors and understanding the emotional journeys that individuals face when dealing with their experiences. Serena Martinez (C ‘22), who wrote and choreographed for Penn Monologues, says, “First and foremost the performance of the pieces were for the survivors and the cast.”

Mckayla Warwick (C ‘20), director of this inaugural performance, emphasized focusing on survivors, the cast, and those who chose to write for the performances.

“We wanted the space to center survivors, and often V–Day

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does have an element of that but I would say that we really did have that [this year], because people were so closely connected to the work that we performed,” she says.

“Many people within the cast of told me that having this outlet was a space to be seen and a space to be heard—yes by audiences, but also by each other, creating a network of people who do understand.”

Briar Essex (C ‘20) acted as workshop chair, a new position created for Penn Monologues.

Briar worked with writers to translate pieces into performances, saying that giving writers agency was especially important because “a lot of folks are talking about moments when they didn't have ownership or agency." That, they say, was taken from them.

They also tried to respect the work done by anonymous writers by giving them input around who would perform the pieces.

They say, “You don't need to tell us who you are in order to share it. We want to hear your voice no matter what.”

These pieces, including monologues, spoken word, poetry, and dance, illustrate the complexity of dealing with traumatic experiences. While most performances dealt with similar themes, each piece employed a variety of different choices: some used only one speaker, while others included many, and each performer’s physicality set a different tone.

The pieces acknowledge that grappling with violence can result in anger, sadness, depression, hope, fear, and confusion.

Nurul Ezzaty Binti Hasbullah (C ‘20), an international student from Malaysia, performed a piece titled "Intruder." She says, “Parts of it were uplifting, and parts were confusing, reflecting the healing

process. It was a very complex and dynamic piece, but I hope I was able to portray it.”

Typically, each performer wears black and red: black for survivors, and red to match the theme of VDay. This year, however, Mckayla required the performers to wear only black.

Throughout the process, Penn V–Day worked to support survivors by providing resources and allowing performers to take breaks when necessary. Penn V-Day gave content warnings at the beginning of the show, before the intermission, and after. CAPS, Penn Violence Prevention, and WOAR counselors were also available at the performance for any audience members who needed to talk to someone.

These warnings are especially important given the emotions that can emerge during the call to rise.

While traditionally occuring after the Vagina Monologues, V–Day decided to keep the call to rise in Penn Monologues because of its significance to performers and audience members alike.

Penn V-Day board members hope to sustain this show next year, and fit it to what the community needs. As Mckayla says, “This place needs to exist and I'm unapologetic in my belief about that.”

Penn V-Day will host a talkback where community members can discuss the show and give feedback. The talkback will be hosted on Monday, March 2nd at 6pm in the Bishop White Room on the second floor of Houston Hall. More details will be announced on their Facebook page.

If you would like to give feedback but are unable to go or do not feel comfortable going in person, Penn V-Day encourages you to send your comments there.

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