April 19, 2022

April 19, 2022 | 34st.com

PENN’S VENTURE LAB TELLS A NEW STORY ABOUT ENTREPRENEURSHIP

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

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR On impostor syndrome, thank–you notes, and feeling like you belong

4

EOTW: Beatrice Forman

10 Julia Child's legacy

12

I

almost didn’t run for this job.

It feels weird to think, but there was a time when I had no aspirations to be editor–in–chief, no desire to lead this publication or pour my soul into it for a year. I was perfectly content to imagine myself editing articles or working with writers, but never running Street.

When the idea did finally pop into my head, I had to send then–Editor–in–Chief Beatrice Forman a rambling Slack message asking if I’d even be good at it—and in traditional Bea fashion, she replied with her own paragraph of affirmation mixed with

Venture Labs

16 Kendra Brooks and Philly politics

18 Generation Pandemic

34TH STREET EXECUTIVE BOARD Emily White, Editor–in–Chief: white@34st.com Eva Ingber, Campus Editor: ingber@34st.com Walden Green, Culture Editor: green@34st.com Arielle Stanger, Assignments Editor: stanger@34st. com

34TH STREET STAFF Features Staff Writers: Sejal Sangani, Jiahui (Emilee) Gu, Avalon Hinchman

34TH STREET EDITORS Mira Sydow, Features Editor Meg Gladieux, Features Editor Julia Esposito, Word on the Street Editor Jean Paik, Focus Editor Kira Wang, Style Editor Alana Bess, Ego Editor Evan Qiang, Music Editor Irma Kiss–Barath, Arts Editor Cindy Zhang, Film & TV Editor Andrew Yang, Multimedia Editor Kira Wang, Audience Engagement Editor

Style Beat Writers: Anna Hochman, Naima Small

Focus Beat Writers: Sheil Desai, Connor Nakamura, Sruthi Srinivas

Music Beat Writers: Derek Wong, Grayson Catlett, Kate Ratner, Samara Himmelfarb Arts Beat Writers: Jessa Glassman, Emily Maiorano Film & TV Beat Writers: Jacob A. Pollack, Kayla Cotter, Julia Polster Ego Beat Writers: Anjali Kishore, Vidur Saigal, Grace Busser Staff Writers: Natalia Castillo, Emma Marks, Shahana Banerjee

2

34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 19, 2022

advice. She told me I’d be a great fit, but only if I learned the importance of self–care. She told me my feelings of impostor syndrome were silly in a way that made me actually believe it.

As simple as it sounds, I just needed someone else to tell me I belonged.

It wasn’t enough to be confident in the work I’d done or the writers I’d trained, I needed someone to tell me I deserved to be respected.

As I sat down to profile Bea this week, as is tradition among the Street EIC lineage, I was reminded of this moment—the one where I stopped feeling like a staffer clamoring for the respect of my boss and started feeling like her friend. It’s also the moment where I stopped feeling out of place at this publication.

As college students, we’re all wandering around, vaguely confused about who we want to be. Being a young adult is one big long search for validation, and it almost never comes from whom you think it will.

Maybe it sounds excessively sappy, but I guess this letter is a sort of

Multimedia Associates: Roger Ge, Max Mester, Derek Wong, Andrea Barajas, Rachel Zhang Audience Engagement Associates: Kayla Cotter, Yamila Frej, Vidur Saigal, Caleb Crain, Katherine Han, Emily Xiong, Gemma Hong, Walden Green THIS ISSUE Copy Editor: Brittany Darrow Design Editor: Tyler Kliem Photo Courtesy of Emily White Cover Design by Lilian Liu

thank–you note to Bea. In a way, it’s a thank you note to all my predecessors: Tamsyn who taught Bea, Annabelle who taught Tamsyn, Nick who taught Annabelle, and so on. At some point, we each went from a wide–eyed first year to the person running the whole operation. Someday, I’ll tell someone else they belong here, too.

In a way, that’s what this week’s issue is all about. Our feature dissects startup culture, questioning why we think only certain types of people will be successful in the field and reminding us that anyone can have a great idea. Our profile of Kendra Brooks explores what it means to find a purpose and build a better world. And of course, my profile of Bea reflects on her own path to making Street feel like a place anyone could belong.

SSSF,

Emily

CONTACTING 34TH STREET MAGAZINE If you have questions, comments, complaints or letters to the editor, email Emily White, Editor– in–Chief, at white@34st.com. You can also call us at (215) 422–4640. www.34st.com © 2021 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 Tuesday.

brown goop

WORD ON THE STREET

Playing Offsides:

A Korean American Soccer Experience Seeking out what my immigrant mother saw in the perilous fields of girls soccer in America | GEMMA HONG

I

t was 2008 and the day of the first–grade soccer tryouts for the local travel team. My mother, a Korean woman in her early thirties, watched apprehensively as a crowd of seven–year–olds stampeded after a rolling soccer ball, her daughter among them. She didn’t know if she wanted her to play soccer. Being a soccer mom was a big commitment. Hell, she hardly knew what a soccer mom was—she was new to the United States, and the culture surrounding youth soccer was a mystery to her.

The coach, a white neighborhood dad, noticed her trepidation. He walked over to her.

“You should let her play,” he said. “Someday, you’ll thank me.”

Her daughter tripped over the ball and ate turf. He certainly wasn’t talking about playing at the national levels. There was a glint in his eye, though—a shine that spoke to American insider knowledge that he was inviting

Illustration by Becky Lee her to be privy to. Eunju Hong trusted that glint. She swallowed her doubts and made a decision.

———————————— My interest in soccer didn’t last long. It just wasn’t my thing. I never watched a Premier League game, nor the World Cup, and I didn’t particularly know the difference between Messi and Ronaldo. I’d sit through U.S. Women’s soccer team games picking at my popcorn and side–eyeing my neighbors to check when I should stand up and cheer.

I stuck to it for thirteen years, though. Starting from kindergarten in the recreation league, then moving up to the local travel team in first grade, then transferring to out–of–town A– flight club soccer teams in fourth grade, and the premier levels in World Class F.C. in middle school and high school. I played varsity for four years on my competitive high school team, too. You could say I was a soccer girl—I certainly had the record for it. Yet, once I got into college,

I moved on from my more than decade–long soccer career without a glance back.

You could say that my mom was a soccer mom. During those thirteen years, she drove me to hundreds of games, tournaments, practices, training sessions, and try–outs at breakneck speeds on the highway, armed to the teeth with snacks for me and my teammates. She smeared sunscreen on my face, cheered in the stands, exchanged fighting words with other parents and the coaches, the whole soccer mom shebang. Yet, once I got into college, she moved on as quickly as I did. She never pressured me to play the sport again, a far cry from the vehemence that she urged me with during those thirteen years.

I know why I moved on from that sport so quickly. It held a lot of nasty memories for me, the racist kind. I was never able to truly be a part of any girls soccer team because I wasn’t white, a lesson that was beaten into me

for thirteen years by my teammates, their parents, and my coaches. I had no idea why my mom insisted I play this sport when I was fundamentally unsuited to be a soccer player in America. I had no idea why she didn’t allow me to quit, and I had to suffer through playing for teams that never welcomed me.

I had the brief opportunity to sit down with her and talk about it. “For an article,” I said. She agreed to it.

I learned that they never welcomed her, either, that the other soccer parents refused to sit next to her at games for a long time, and that she never forged true friendships with them, much like the ephemeral nature of the relationships I had with my teammates. These facts only deepened my confusion. What exactly did she see in soccer for the both of us?

For my mom, what glinted within my soccer coach’s eyes in 2008 were the golden gates of opportunity.

“At first, when you were young, soccer was for fun—it was a team sport,” she said. “But we kept going so you would have a better future.”

“I’m an immigrant. I have a language barrier. I wasn’t educated in the U.S. I had no knowledge or connection to American culture, and couldn’t connect with American people. Your father couldn’t get a job at an American company because he’s an immigrant, and he has to run his own small business. If you didn’t play soccer, and if I wasn’t a soccer mom, we wouldn’t have been able to send you to a good high school. We couldn’t pay the tuition, so soccer was your part–time job, where you could earn the chance to get a better education than the one that you would’ve gotten in your hometown.”

And that I did—I was able to gain a scholarship to a private all–girls high school in New York through a competitive application process in middle school, a process that funded only the cream of the crop to gain a sinfully expensive education.

“Now, you don’t need to play soccer. You never need to play it again or go through what you did before. But I don’t have a single regret about being a soccer mom.”

I can’t say that I think the same—it was an overly pragmatic way of going about things that made us both sacrifice a lot emotionally. But I recognize the opportunities that she recognized and the things she sacrificed on my behalf. We’re not your average soccer mom or soccer girl, but we made do with what we could.

APRIL 19, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

3

EGO

BEATRICE FORMAN HOMETOWN: Somers, N.Y. MAJOR:

Political science and communication

ACTIVITIES:

Editor–in–chief of 34th Street Magazine, the diversity chair of The Daily Pennsylvanian

Meet Street's former editor–in–chief, who excels at telling stories and fails at passing the Bechdel test. | EMILY WHITE

FROM EMILY If there’s one thing that stands out about Beatrice Forman (C ‘22), it’s that she tells the best stories.

I don’t just mean in terms of material, although she often seems to find herself in the midst of truly mind–boggling dating nightmares that later become a series of hilarious texts. Bea is able to craft the most compelling narrative I’ve ever heard, whether the events happened to her or someone she just met.

Maybe that’s what makes her such a great writer. Or maybe, as she told me once over sushi at happy hour, it’s her ability to be introspective to just the right degree. Bea knows that she falls in love deeply and quickly, and she knows how little she knows about the world in the grand scheme of things. She isn’t afraid to ask people the difficult questions or the silly ones, and she rarely takes anything at face value. She’s taught me, and so many other writers and editors at Street, to do the same.

Almost four years after she first stepped foot inside 4015 Walnut, I sat down with my predecessor—and one of my closest friends—to talk about her time at the “big little magazine” we both love so much.

4

34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 19, 2022

EMILY WHITE: You've been at the DP, but more specifically at Street, since 2018.

What drew you here and what made you stay?

BEATRICE FORMAN: I was a very goal–oriented high schooler—like all of us were—and I remember telling my mom, "I want to be the editor–in–chief of my college’s newspaper." That didn't exactly happen, and I think that was because the difference between Street and the DP truly lies in the people and their interests.

Everybody at both organizations is incredibly smart. But at Street, they're smart about the things I care about. We talk seriously about reality television, and Taylor Swift, and all of that guilty pleasure pop culture that I'm obsessed with. That's what made it feel like home. I think

beyond that, Street is unique in that everybody who works there is also friends, and that's very, very hard to find.

EW: In your final letter from the editor, you outline one of the biggest lessons that you learned during your time at Street. Other than how to be a better and more empathetic journalist, what would you say your biggest takeaway has been from your time here?

BF: This is a really tough question. I think my biggest takeaway, honestly, is that you can want an institution to change so desperately, but if the institution doesn't, that's on them and not on you. When I didn't see the DP get more diverse, or cover marginalized communities better, I would take it as a personal failing, because that was something I real-

ly wanted to change. But at the end of the day, you can't motivate people to do things for you.

And you especially can't motivate a company to intrinsically be different. And at the end of the day you have to know you did your best. And that's that.

EW: In addition to being Street’s editor–in–chief, you were the DP’s diversity chair for a year and a half. What is something that you're really proud of in terms of how the company changed during your time there?

BF: I'm really, really proud of the fact that there are trainings about the basics of talking to people from marginalized communities, and also how to be an open and empathetic interviewer. There were none of those trainings when I came here. There was one optional

EGO

diversity training when I was a [first year]. Now, it's becoming part of how we conceive of being good student journalists.

I'm also proud of DP fellows, which is the annual fellowship program that provides five $4,000 scholarships to people from marginalized backgrounds who want to get into student journalism. I think it's a really awesome program when it's run correctly. Working at the DP is literally a full–time job—it was my baby for two years—and the fact that people are getting paid to work there and do the great work we do is super important.

EW: What is your favorite memory from your time at Street?

BF: It was the last production night for the 135, which was when Annabelle Williams was editor–in–chief. That was when they were training me and Tamsyn and Sam, and all of the incoming board, on how to do production. At the end, we had a party and we popped champagne and took a bunch of photos. And it was the first time I really felt like I was a part of something. I remember feeling really vindicated that I was taking something over that was tangible. We took pictures and did human pyramids, and

remembering it makes me feel warm and fuzzy. Also, I think this is a tangential Street memory, but it was the first time me and Tamsyn ever hung out as friends. I had just gotten out of a relationship, as every anecdote in my life ever starts. And I was really sad and lonely. Because it was during finals, a lot of my friends were not on campus. So I texted her and I was like, “Do you want to hang out?” She came over with popcorn and a bottle of cheap, shitty red wine, and we talked on my couch for two hours. And she became my best friend. And I know it's changed the trajectory of my life or whatever that meme is.

EW: If you were gonna write a thank–you letter to all the people who made your time at Street what it was, who would be on that list?

BF: Oh my god, where the fuck do I start? First and foremost, I want to thank Annabelle Williams for constantly encouraging me to take on bigger roles and never saying any pitch or question I had was too stupid. I want to thank Sam Kessler. Even though you were a hard editor, you were a good editor, and you made me a better writer. I want to thank the 136, specifically Sam Mitchell

and Eliana Doft, for being just an awesome group of people to learn with. I want to thank Eliana for her bubbly personality and ability to bring people together, and Sam for his humor. Especially, I want to thank Tamsyn Brann for being the best editor–in–chief I could have ever tried to emulate and a best friend. I also want to thank my board. I really, really want to thank Karin for her girlboss energy, and her ability to get things done. I want to thank Mehek for being all of her writers' champions, and I want to thank Chelsey for her editorial brilliance and writing style and everything. And I also want to thank not just the DP, but Resolve Philly for teaching me everything I know about how to be a caring and compassionate journalist. So much of how Street was shaped came directly from me working there for a year, [and] it’d be very different without them. And I also want to thank the interviewer Emily White for listening to me complain and bitch and moan all the time, and still wanting to take up the helm. I want to thank Brittany Darrow for staying up until 2 a.m. every single Street production night. You are the real MVP, and truly the

backbone of this organization.

EW: Now that you don't have to stay up until 2 a.m. every Monday night doing production and all of the other things that you used to do, how do you use your free time?

BF: I still manage my time really poorly, but I've spent a lot more of it reading for pleasure. Now one of my pastimes is going on long walks, which has been immensely beneficial for my mental health. I go to concerts on Mondays, which is crazy. I also spend a lot of time with people I care about, which has been nice. It's been really nice to finally be able to prioritize myself and not feel guilty about it, or not feel guilty about wanting to take a break on a Monday or Tuesday. I watch a lot of reality television. I know it's not possible to win Love Is Blind, but I think if I went on [the show], I'd know how to now.

EW: You are a pop culture fiend above all else. What is your favorite weird fact about pop culture that you think everyone needs to know?

BF: This is a moment of Puerto Rican excellence. We have Google Images because of Jennifer Lopez. And it's because of the Versace dress she wore

to the 2000 Grammys. People were so enraptured by how sexy she looked and how beautiful she looked that they kept trying to Google the dress and where it was from and how to get knockoffs. And people couldn't do it, because there were no Google images. So yeah, Jennifer Lopez is basically the reason we also have Instagram, and like every other visual format of social media, except for maybe YouTube.

EW: What's next for you after Penn?

BF: After Penn, I'll be staying in Philly to be the deputy editor of Billy Penn, which is an awesome local news organization that’s part of WHYY. Over there, I'll be working with a lot of new freelancers, specifically people of color and people from marginalized communities who have never gotten the chance to write or tell their own stories. I will also be doing a lot of writing about technology and pop culture in Philly. I'll also be an aunt to two little lovely puppies, and still a general menace to society.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

LIGHTNING ROUND EW: What was the most formative reality TV show you've ever watched?

BF: Jersey Shore (ed. note: She doesn't hesitate for even a second).

EW: How many boyfriends can a person have concurrently?

BF: No less than one, no more than four.

EW: Pick one: gaslight, gatekeep, or girlboss.

BF: Girlboss. Because if you're a girlboss, you can do the other two.

EW: There are two types of people at Penn …

BF: People who read Street and people who don't.

EW: And you are?

BF: Obviously one who reads Street.

APRIL 19, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

5

MUSIC

Illustration by Kilahra Lott

34th Street Staff Picks: What We've Been Listening To, April 2022 Our recent obsessions range from songs about relationships to tracks that give us the motivation we desperately need.

2022

is shaping up to be a big year for indie and mainstream music fans alike, with releases from Harry Styles, Angel Olsen, Perfume Genius, and Pusha T in the works. As the anticipation builds for these exciting albums, Street's taking a look at the songs that are making the wait a little bit easier. From covers that are getting us through the hardest midterms to singles that are complementing the start of spring and the return of warm weather, these tracks have undoubtedly redefined our perspective on life.

–Evan Qiang, Music editor

6

“Life is a Highway” by Rascal Flatts In high school, one of my good friends introduced the phrase “fuck it, we ball” to our collective vernacular. Like an invasive species, it started popping up everywhere, sprinkled between lamentations over cryptic texts, forgotten running shoes, and missed curfews.

The phrase doesn’t have the same luster to it now, but the sentiment lives on: Sometimes, things are out of our control, and there’s nothing you can do about it but throw your metaphysical hands in the air and move along with

34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 19, 2022

your life. Before “fuck it, we ball,” there was “YOLO,” and before that, there was “c’est la vie” and “que sera, sera.”

In that spirit, I’m taking it upon myself to remind you of the cultural touchstone that is Rascal Flatts’ “Life is a Highway”—not the original of crooner Tom Cochrane, but the rollicking, pop–rock–infused remake, whose delightfully twangy guitar underlay offers an immediate hit of serotonin. Because sometimes, that’s all you can really say: Things happen, life is a highway, the world moves on …

For whatever it is that’s stressing or bumming you out, “Life is a Highway” makes it deliciously simple.

–Anjali Kishore, Ego beat

“Everything Is Embarrassing” by Sky Ferreira After going through a particularly strange string of situationships, I found solace in the past by listening to the song that defined 2014 Tumblr— Sky Ferreira’s “Everything Is Embarrassing.” Despite my 12–year–old self screaming the lyrics “Maybe if you let me be your lover / Maybe if you tried, then I would not bother” in an attempt to replicate the feelings of what I perceived as melodramatic heartbreak, I didn’t fully recognize the truth of this song until this month.

In contrast with the punchy drums and bright synths that make “Everything Is Embarrassing” a dance–pop anthem, Ferreira almost apathetically sings of the humiliation and confusion that occur when a partner slowly stops putting effort into a romantic relationship. Yet as the song progresses, Ferreira’s cool apathy progresses into a plea for reciprocated love, as she sings, “Telling me that basically you’re not looking out for me / Everything is true to me / Never words where you would see.” Through this song, Ferreira perfectly encapsulates how it feels when you suddenly realize that a relationship has become one–sided—it’s heartbreaking, perplexing, and downright embarrassing.

–Kira Wang, Style editor

MUSIC

“Wide Open Spaces” by Soccer Mommy Look, the original “Wide Open Spaces” by The Chicks was my go–to preteen power ballad—and it remains a tried–and–true feel–good anthem. But Soccer Mommy’s slightly lower–tempo cover is the emo twist I need as I’m caught between the angst of finals and the sweet promise of summer’s freedom. Violin is replaced with electric guitar, but Soccer Mommy’s heavy drums and bass somehow dip perfectly into soft rock without compromising the integrity of The Chicks' iconic pop–country steel guitar. It’s a bright and trusty jam, all grown up with a touch of Soccer Mommy’s melancholy.

–Meg Gladieux, Features editor

"Sister Ray"

by Foxes This past year has been a controversial time for the fan–created synth–pop supergroup consisting of Carly Rae Jepsen, Charli XCX, and Lorde. While Lorde’s Solar Power and Jepsen’s upcoming single “Western Wind” are strong indicators that toned–down production is back in style, Foxes’ record The Kick proves that dance music is also here to stay. As the lead single of The Kick, “Sister Ray” perfectly captures everything that makes the album so bubbly, catchy, and optimistic. The background synths become more dominant from the verse to the prechorus and eventually explode into pure bliss and ecstasy. When Foxes sings, “Our hearts spin-

ning too fast, too far / To love someone,” she reminds us of those nights saturated with youthful energy, overwhelming vigor, and effervescent love. “Sister Ray” is more than a track inspired

by Jepsen’s own Emotion or Kylie Minogue’s Aphrodite—it’s a track that'll inspire future pop masterpieces to come.

–Evan Qiang, Music editor

“Mansard Roof” by Vampire Weekend For reasons still unknown, my mom had a CD of Vampire Weekend’s self–titled debut album in her car when I was growing up. We listened to it with the windows down so many

times that I still know all the words to every song all these years later. In addition to being a nostalgic favorite, this overzealous, African–inspired, preppy song screams sun and springtime.

Listening to this album outside on campus in the grass feels exactly like how it was intended to be listened to, and has the power to lift my mood instantly.

–Samara Himmelfarb, Music beat

“Heart Attack (Chuu)” by LOONA LOONA’s debut was unconventional, even in an industry with perfectly timed releases and manufactured idols. Instead of debut-

ing a project right off the bat, all 12 members of the girl group each released a solo song, as well as sub– unit songs, in a “Girl of the Month” manner before formally debuting as a full group in 2018.

The tenth entry was Chuu’s “Heart Attack,” a Christmas–tinged, saccharine–filled pop song about a romantic interest “attacking” Chuu’s heart. On the surface, this song seems innocent enough, but the music video tells a different story.

However one might interpret the song’s video, “Heart Attack” remains LOONA’s most–streamed song in their discography, as it deserves to be. One can't help but sing along to the track that gives nothing but pure joy while simultaneously feeling Chuu’s desperation for her lover to notice her.

–Derek Wong, Music beat

GIANT UNIVERSITY CITY FLEA MARKET More than 75 vendors will line Lancaster Ave. from 34th to 36th Streets in the heart of Drexel’s campus.

Vintage Jewelry & Fashion, Home Furnishings, Artwork & More!

SAT., APRIL 23 8AM-5PM Early Birds are Welcome!

(Rain Date: Sun., April 24) GPS: 3400 Lancaster Ave Proceeds benefit: The Lancaster Avenue 21st Century Business Association CDC

@PhilaFleaMarkets www.PhilaFleaMarkets.org (215) 625-FLEA (3532)

APRIL 19, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

7

ST YLE

Elon Musk: Defender of Free Speech or Power–Hungry Entrepreneur?

Here's what Elon Musk's attempt to buy Twitter reveals about freedom of speech and the power of wealth. | SHELBY ABAYIE

T

here's a genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist taking the world by storm, and it’s not Tony Stark. Instead it’s the man that inspired the character of Tony Stark—Elon Musk. Unsurprisingly, Musk is constantly innovating and seeking out new avenues to make daily life more efficient. However, Musk has also made a name for himself through his promotion of COVID–19 misinformation, hypocrisy regarding artificial intelligence, and transphobic memes.

But this time around, Musk isn’t making the news over his controversial persona or technological prowess. Rather, it’s something unprecedented—taking over Twitter.

Recently, Twitter has been going through an intense series of changes including a new CEO and increased censorship practices, like censoring former President Donald Trump. While many see these changes as the start of Twitter's decline, some believe that there’s an opportunity for someone to restore Twitter back to its former glory and help the app develop further. Unsurprisingly, Musk believes that he could be Twitter's savior.

In 2006, the social media app Twttr, six months later renamed as Twitter, was launched. In the beginning, Twitter was a side project of Odeo, a podcasting company. After Twitter started to gain momentum, Twitter spun off into its own company, creating the social media app we know today.

On Twitter, users can post anything in a tweet as long as it fits the 280 character limit. Oftentimes, users tweet harmless status updates, memes, and random thoughts. For the average person, 8

Illustration by Sarah Tretler Twitter is a fun, low–stakes way to interact with others.

Other times, tweets can be agents for change, highlighted by the ubiquity of #MeToo and #OscarsSoWhite. For public figures such as politicians and activists, their tweets carry more weight and often real–life ramifications due to their large followings.

Musk is notorious for treating Twitter like an average user despite his status as an incredibly influential tech mogul. In 2020, Musk casually tweeted that Tesla stock prices were "too high." In response, stockholders were incredibly alarmed, causing them to scramble and sell their shares. In the following hours after that tweet, Tesla’s stock tanked by ten percent.

Eventually the stock price rose back up, but the swift fallout highlights the immense power that Twitter has to alter reality.

Regardless of possible consequences, Musk still tweets his hot takes and opinions—but is that bold or dangerous? Musk's plan to take over the app began with an acquisition of 9.2% of Twitter shares, making him

34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 19, 2022

the largest Twitter shareholder, which soon got him into trouble with the United States Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC). This follows after his long history with the SEC due to fraud charges about tweets suggesting that Tesla will be taken private.

At first he claimed a passive stake, but switched to an active stake in the company suggesting that Musk is ready to take on Twitter as a new accomplishment to add to his repertoire.

Musk claims that his attempt to acquire Twitter rests on protecting what he deems to be freedom of speech. In order to achieve this, Musk wants to distance Twitter from the influence of shareholders by taking the platform private.

In an open letter to Twitter, Musk claims that “Twitter has extraordinary potential” and that he could “unlock it.” He has now offered an unprecedented $43 billion cash takeover offer, or $54.20 per share in exchange for control of Twitter.

Unsurprisingly, Twitter shareholders and executives are stunned and perturbed at the

offer. Many shareholders remain skeptical, including Saudi Arabian Prince Alwaleed bin Talal.

Only time will tell if they acquiesce to his offer or continue under current management. But a pressing question still remains— do we really need a billionaire to defend freedom of speech?

Social media has the capacity to instigate great good and dire consequences. In response to social media–fueled disinformation regarding COVID–19 and the validity of the United States 2020 presidential election, Twitter has taken several steps forward to solidify censorship standards and improve the safety and quality of posts on the platform.

While much controversy has emerged over Twitter's decision to ban former President Donald Trump due to his role in spreading disinformation, Musk's plan to rebuild Twitter as an absolutist harbinger of freedom of speech could be swinging way too far into the opposite direction.

Musk believes that "having a black–box algorithm promote some things and not other things … can be quite dangerous." But wouldn't blanket allowance of

every sort of speech, including hate speech and misinformation, be dangerous as well? While Musk claims that he's the harbinger of free speech, it seems that his vision of free speech isn't considerate of those who are actually impacted by the hate and misinformation often spread on social media—people of color, women, the poor, people with disabilities, and other marginalized groups.

Through this, Musk doesn't seem to care about protecting groups who need to be protected. Instead, he wants a seemingly uncontrolled Twitter where privileged people such as himself can say whatever they want. Musk seems to have little consideration for the consequences of the hate he's promoted, the threats he's made toward journalists, or the misinformation he's spread on Twitter. According to former U.S. Secretary of Labor Robert Reich, Musk's bid to control Twitter isn't really about free speech—it's about power.

Musk doesn't want to make Twitter an open space for uncontrolled free speech. He wants to remove the accountability that comes with tweeting false or hateful comments while providing himself with more control and power in the process.

How can the internet truly be free if those who spread hate and disinformation aren't held accountable? Users want and need spaces where free speech is respected, but hateful, violent posts that instigate real–life violence are swiftly removed. As Musk makes his bid to control Twitter, we need to ask ourselves: Are Musk's grandiose promises an attempt to advocate for free speech, or are they simply a bid for power and control?

ST YLE

Beer Girls, Sad Indie Alt Girls, and Why Women Can Never Win

I

The 'just like other girls' trend creates a space where women aren't ridiculed for their similar interests. | ANNA HOCHMAN

n high school, I aspired to be a beer girl. A beer girl hung out with guys and played pong at parties—she wasn’t one for girly chatter, and perhaps looked a little intimidating. She wore baggy clothing and no makeup, yet looked stunning nonetheless.

She was chill. The beer girl was the first of many types of girls who are “not like other girls"—girls who were considered "unique" and didn’t fit the mold of what most other girls were doing.

But despite what my high school self once thought, the beer girl is no longer “not like other girls,” as she is simply too common. Now, lots of girls wear T–shirts, play pong, eat pizza, and don’t like to gossip. The beer girl is now acknowledged as “just like other girls.” So why did girls who were once considered unique, indie, or quirky suddenly become the norm?

Perhaps the most known kind of girl who's "not like other girls" is the “sad indie alt girl.” Due to the trope's prominence on TikTok and other social media platforms, the sad indie alt girl is almost universally known: She listens to Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus, reads Sally Rooney novels, loves Greta Gerwig movies, and takes long walks in a big coat that she thrifted. If this girl sounds at all familiar, that's because she is.

The sad indie alt girl is no

longer alternative anymore, as the desire for this aesthetic has become so common that the sad girl's tastes have fully entered the mainstream.

Through this, it seems that a girl who claims to be "not like other girls" is absolutely “just like other girls.”

To further prove the ubiquity of wanting to be "different," videos have been circulating on TikTok about how the sad indie alt girl is no longer unique, with women jokingly calling themselves out for once thinking that they were not like other girls.

"I like to think I’m unique and quirky but I’m really not," wrote one user on her video, which featured pictures of stacks of old books, Little Women movie scenes, and references to Harry Potter. "I’m actually exactly like other girls." So where does the line between "unique"

and "basic" lie?

In part, the transition from women being considered “not like other girls” to “just like other girls” is due to social media, where videos, images, and messages circulate to millions instantly. A unique taste in style or music can't stay unique for long when it goes viral, encouraging others to shop at the same stores or listen to the same song. But this quick trend cycle that determines what's "basic" and what's "indie" seems to simply commodify female interests.

Not only does the "not like other girls" trope pit women against each other, it also determines what interests are considered "cool" or "quirky." In order to avoid being called basic, many women often adhere to archetypes such as the sad indie alt girl in order for others

on another video made by a woman to highlight her similarities to others. Set to a Taylor Swift song, she danced around in her room, showing off vine decorations hanging from the ceiling and walls covered with posters. She had on a black dress and flannel, with some edgy makeup and chunky jewelry—a look that, while still considered “alt,” is seen everywhere. “I’m exactly like other girls,” she wrote.

Women all over TikTok are realizing that there's nothing wrong with being just like Illustration by Alice Choi other women, and, in fact, it to see their interests as valid can be celebrated. “I used to or genuine. Yet at the same have an individuality comtime, girls who "aren't like plex,” wrote another user in other girls" or who don't the comments section. “And have traditionally feminine then I realized [that] girls are hobbies are accused of being hot and cool and it’s a com"fake." It seems that either pliment to be just like them.” way, women can't win—so Another user chimed in: why does it matter if a song, “And I’m proud of it! I love outfit, or hobby is consid- the solidarity.” ered basic?

The interests or hobbies As a protest against these that women have are quessocietal standards, women tioned and ridiculed by the across the internet are now public no matter how tradistarting to embrace what tionally feminine they are— makes them “just like other so why bother pandering girls” in a new TikTok trend. to these impossible societal “I am exactly like other standards in the first place? girls,” wrote one user in a While trying to come across video. “My favorite color is as unique and “not like other green. I love thrifting. Sushi girls” can end up leading to is my favorite food. I love competition and othering partying. I love my white Air people who don't fit into the Forces and [Lululemon] leg- "indie" mold, the “just like gings. Wanna go to Target? other girls” trend is a moSign me up.” ment of solidarity and sup“I love being like other port for those who identify girls,” a user commented with the female experience.

APRIL 19, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

9

FILM & TV

JULIA CHILD:

A Towering, Persisting Image Both Child’s place in society and legacy in the American zeitgeist continue to transgress the norm for women. | JULIA POLSTER

Illustration by Brian Lee

“B

on Appetit!”

Have those words ever been uttered more lovingly, tenderly, or warmly than by Julia Child as she signed off on an episode of The French Chef? It’s hard to say. Perhaps in France—by a maman to her bébé as she ladled some delicious concoction into a shallow bowl, or by a gourmet chef as he placed the finishing touches on the meal that would earn his Paris restaurant its third Michelin star. But in America? Not one other person can take so much credit for popularizing French cuisine and making it accessible to all as Child, who returned from France with the seminal 1961 cookbook Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

But it’s Child’s television career that is the focus of the new HBO series Julia, starring Sarah Lancashire in the title role.

If Nora Ephron’s classic 2009 film Julie & Julia built upon the seeds that grew into the classic cookbook, as described in Child’s autobiographical My

Life in France, this new show is the next chapter. It covers her rise as one of the first food show hosts, as she attempts to get her public television program on the air and develop a model for demonstrating culinary techniques to the new medium’s captive audience.

Above all, however, this series offers a deeper perspective of Child's womanhood and her complex position as she wielded power and influence while working through insecurities.

Along the way to television success, Child overcomes plenty of obstacles, such as supplementing her show’s budget by teaching cooking classes or working in cahoots with her literary editor to slyly talk her husband Paul (David Hyde– Pierce) into seeing television as something more than a fad.

Ultimately, the insecurities of Paul Child come through very strongly in the series. He makes a genuine effort, but still often struggles to navigate the new territory of playing second fiddle to his wife in the early '60s.

10 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 19, 2022

This is a different portrayal of the pair’s relationship than has come through in other media, from Paul’s behind– the–scenes role in Child’s real–life television presence to his characterization as a nearly flawless, completely supportive and engaged husband in Julie & Julia. Yet in many ways, this series differs in its willingness to avoid painting an idealized image of both the woman and the relationship. And in many ways, this is its saving grace—other than the series’ inclination to offer up a grittier picture and Lancashire’s impressive performance, the series offers very little that is new or entertaining to the Julia Child story, instead leaning on forced, unrelated characters and unrealistic and sparse quips that don’t stick the landing.

Again, though, it's in the running theme throughout the season of Child's feeling insufficient within her womanhood that the show brings something new to her bountiful dining room table. One

arc thus far involves her coming to terms with reaching menopause and feeling she must give up on her dreams of having children.

However, it’s in forging boldly ahead into her own career and future that we see Child at her most vulnerable and relatable, and most in contrast to her public image.

She grapples with not being camera–friendly enough and having too distinctive of a sound. Her own father considers her to be not enough of a lady. With every step forward into her next chapter, she grows bolder and more confident, but also strays further from the mid–20th century ideal of a woman, repressed and subjugated. Due partially to this intensity of personality and even more so to her impressive stature (6’2”), any move she makes is given a sort of aggressive underpinning by the assuming masses working around her.

It's in the way that her image has persisted in its loving and lovable, effortlessly maternal

nature, in spite of the preconceived schemas that drive public opinion, that I can relate to Child’s story and am inspired by her impact. From the perspective of this one tall, outspoken Julia, striving to make it through college without scaring too many people, the material of this new series and the potency of Child’s real–life legacy offer signs of hope for the future. It's proof that a kind heart and loving personality can pair with that existing power to shine through a tall suit of armor to create not just a mere favorable impression, but a conceptualization that radiates warmth.

Even though the show may not be great, I’m grateful for the reminder it serves of Child’s real perseverance and the extent to which she made an impact on the world. Beyond the bœuf bourguignon and the laughs, I'm reminded to thank Julia Child for being a role model.

If anyone knows where to find a loving personality, please let me know.

FILM & TV

Does Disney+'s Acquisition of 'Dancing with the Stars' Foreshadow the Death of Broadcast TV? ABC's ratings problem is about to get a lot worse. | KAYLA COTTER

A

fter 30 seasons, ABC announced last week that it had dropped network darling Dancing with the Stars following a steep decline in ratings in the coveted 18–34 demographic.

However, loyal fans have nothing to fret over. Disney+ announced that it had acquired the ABC staple in what may initially seem like a surprising investment for the kid–oriented streaming service.

Shock aside, its implications are vast for the platform, which has seen its subscriber growth stagnate due to a lack of adult programs.

Disney’s acquisition of Dancing with the Stars is an exciting development for streaming networks; however, the company’s unprecedented move may mark the end for broadcast networks, which rely on the allure of live debuts. If Dancing with the Stars performs well on the platform, especially with an older crowd, Disney will take more than a subset of loyal fans from the network—it'll take what’s left of its relevance.

Streaming platforms have grown rapidly over the past few years. Netflix, for example, had 221.8 million subscribers worldwide as of 2021; Disney+ had fewer, but 129.8 million is still a remarkable number for a service that only came out in the latter half of 2019. Consequently, broadcast networks have largely become irrelevant. What remains of their appeal can be attributed to sports leagues and live reality shows, and Disney's already capitalized on the former. Under the Disney Bundle, which includes Disney+, Hulu, and ESPN+, ESPN+ saw a 75% increase in

subscribers to 14.9 million in 2021. For live reality shows, Dancing with the Stars will be the first of its kind to debut exclusively on a streaming platform, and it brings with it a myriad of possibilities for growth. Luckily for Disney+, the show already has an established fan base.

What’s especially important about Disney’s acquisition of the title is the series’ popularity with an older demographic—households that are more likely to watch traditional TV than streaming TV. According to a 2020 survey, the 50–64 demographic in the United States watches an average of four hours and 59 minutes of traditional TV a day. On the other hand, the 18–34 demographic watches an hour and twelve minutes a day—a number that has decreased 23.4% from 2019, compared to the 3.3% decline for the 50–64 demographic. While Disney+ has a major appeal for households with children, the same doesn’t necessarily hold true for the 55+ demographic, which makes up only 9% of its streamers in the U.S., compared to the 28% average for streaming services.

Dancing with the Stars promises to change that.

Days before ABC announced the shift, Nielsen, the global leader in audience analytics, announced that the median age of a viewer of Dancing with the Stars is 63.5 years old, a statistic that may have been troublesome to ABC, but welcome to Disney+. As the streaming service aims to reach 230–260 million total subscribers by September 2024, which would make it the largest stream-

ing platform today, it’s after a new image for older audiences. While ABC may not want to admit it, 55+ is the new key demographic, as the viewer age for even the network’s most popular shows skews upward. And, as this core demographic is increasingly targeted by steaming services looking to gain the favor of a few holdouts, broadcast networks are at risk of losing what allows them to prevail despite a changing entertainment landscape.

If Dancing with the Stars does what Disney intends and brings in an older audience, Disney will

Illustration by Becky Lee, photo courtesy of Disney likely invest in other programs that debut live for its streaming service. Without this audience magnet, what remains of broadcast networks? Can they survive the dawn of yet another new era? Unfortunately, the answer is probably not.

Major television networks like ABC, CBS, and FOX pale in comparison to streaming services, which dominate every age demographic except for the one that broadcast networks seem desperate to get rid of. Yes, Dancing with the Stars saw a dip in ratings this season and faced backlash over

Tyra Banks as host, but it seemed impenetrable, a forever relic of a dying method of video delivery.

It's sad that it's come to the point where a Disney+ rebrand may be precisely what this series needs to survive.

Nonetheless, ABC’s shocking revelation may just be a fatal mistake. By giving a show that's kept it relevant to a streaming service, it's opened the floodgates, and it may not like what comes in. It's a new age, and Disney+ has cemented its place in it. What ABC fails to realize is that it may have just sacrificed its own.

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

SATURDAY & SUNDAY BRUNCH | 11:30AM - 3PM BLOODY MARYS & MIMOSAS 11:30AM - 2PM 40th & Spruce St., University City • 215-382-1330 • copauc.com APRIL 19, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 11

F E AT U R E

F E AT U R E

PENN’S VENTURE LAB TELLS A NEW STORY ABOUT ENTREPRENEURSHIP From innovative architecture to test kitchens and design spaces, Venture Lab redefines the traditional vision of entrepreneurship at Penn—one that welcomes all. | JIAHUI (EMILEE) GU

Entrepreneurship at Penn has a long history going all the way back to 1973, when Wharton launched its first entrepreneurial center to focus on venture capital financing. But for decades, resources remained limited to one school. Fostering inclusion and integration of resources within the University was not brought to the table until Karl Ulrich took over as vice dean of entrepreneurship & innovation in 2015.

“Karl sat at the intersection

cussion between Ulrich and the then–Wharton Dean Geoffrey Garrett at the beginning of Ulrich’s tenure. Initially, Ulrich had proposed an entirely new school, like an innovation college, pioneering the integration of different disciplines in higher education. However, after bouncing his ideas off of Garrett, they eventually decided to start small, proposing a building that could serve as a mini innovation space for the University community.

Venture Lab is a vision for

engage a broader audience from the Penn community. His research showed that decentralization was at the core of the culture that's holding back innovation and collaboration on a larger scale.

Durham discovered that students tend to feel more comfortable using resources from their home schools, the individual schools to which Penn students were admitted. For instance, a student from the College of Arts and Sciences

an incoming undergraduate may learn about campus life is that the nicely furnished group study rooms in Huntsman Hall can only be booked with a Wharton email address. The 324,000–square–foot Huntsman Hall hosts 57 group study rooms, while the rest of the University shares ten group study rooms on the ground floor of Van Pelt Library, the only other space offering 24–hour student study rooms. Given Penn’s notoriously competitive culture,

be more indifferent to a name change, the students from other schools feel much more comfortable with an organization without a specific school branding. Durham was also a strong proponent of the rebrand. “In order for entrepreneurship to be truly effective, there needs to be some kind of bridge between the schools within the University that actually have that strong foothold,” says Durham.

This is what Venture Lab aspires to be.

“DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOUR EDUCATIONAL BACKGROUND IS, WHAT YOUR ETHNIC BACKGROUND IS, WHATEVER THE STANDING IS, VENTURE LAB IS HERE TO OPEN UP AND TAKE EVERYBODY IN." TAYLOR DURHAM DIRECTOR OF MARKETING AT VENTURE LAB

E

However, this is not the story Taylor Durham, director of marketing at Venture Lab, hopes to reinforce to the rest of the University community. Along with a team of five undergraduates, Durham seeks to reposition Venture Lab— the new home base of Penn’s entrepreneurial resources—as a more inclusive and uniting force, open to all of Penn.

In July 2020, Venture Lab rebranded from Penn Wharton Entrepreneurship to its current name. The organization is located at the intersection between 40th and Sansom streets, in a square, light blue building called Tangen Hall. With windowed walls facing the sides of the road, Tangen Hall

has its arms wide open to the local community. The building is transparent for any passersby who may cast a curious look inside.

If you feel adventurous enough to push through the front doors, you'll discover a world inside that challenges the limits of imagination. The centerpiece of the welcoming lobby, a futuristic wave–shaped woodcut bench, is most indicative of Venture Lab’s character.

This furniture piece is put together by students across the engineering, design, and business sectors with hollowed–out spaces between the woodcut boards.

Once you learn about its purpose, it's hard to take your eyes

off of its presence. Innovative, inventive, and integrative, this is what Venture Lab is all about.

Combining the brainpower at Weiss Tech House from Penn Engineering, marrying innovations from the Weitzman School of Design with Wharton, Venture Lab wants to be the new one–stop shop for entrepreneurship enthusiasts in the Penn startup ecosystem, helping to provide easier access to diverse resources the University has to offer.

The organization accommodates the needs of any startup by incorporating exciting new features into the building: a test kitchen for burgeoning

food startups, a fabrication studio with 3D printers and laser cutters, and a digital design studio storing high–level photography production technologies. Venture Lab provides a young entrepreneur or innovator with everything they could wish for—except for one thing: Throughout this seven–story building, not one undergraduate or graduate school’s branding is on display.

“You don’t see Wharton branding anywhere, you don't see Engineering branding, you just see Venture Lab at the University of Pennsylvania …

That's the goal. That's what it should be,” says Durham.

of engineering, product design, and then Wharton,” says Trang Pham, the executive director of Venture Lab. Ulrich is a Wharton professor who's passionate about interdisciplinary collaborations. He personally spearheaded the shift from Wharton entrepreneurship to Penn Wharton entrepreneurship, and eventually to Venture Lab. “That shift was when we really embraced other students who were not from Wharton,” says Pham.

She recalls the ripples of change that began the transformation of integrating University–wide resources for innovation.

Pham explains that the idea of Venture Lab came out of a dis-

bridging resources across Penn undergraduate and graduate schools. “In time, what I would like to see is for anybody that's interested in entrepreneurship at the University … Venture Lab is step one,” says Durham. “Then, from Venture Lab, all roads fan out to everything else at the University, which is what the ideal would be.”

But there's a distance between the ideal and the reality, separated by “those nuances within a culture at Penn, Wharton versus non–Wharton.” Prior to the transition to Venture Lab, Durham conducted extensive research to map out strategic marketing decisions that would

may be deterred from using resources from an organization labeled under Wharton or the Engineering School. Durham’s research found two prominent reasons for this observed trend: (1) Students feel that resources outside of their home school don’t belong to them; and (2) even if they did, they believed that they would be disfavored from being awarded those resources.

Despite Penn’s goal of becoming “one university,” students from different schools are separated by building and resource restrictions, especially in the case of the business school. One of the first things

it’s no wonder that students feel discouraged from reaching out for resources under a school’s name with which they are not affiliated.

The new goal of Venture Lab is to reach more audiences at Penn and rally the entire community. To achieve that, Pham realized the importance of changing the name from Penn Wharton Entrepreneurship to something more inclusive. “All our students and alums from other schools embraced it more when the name was Venture Lab, versus when we put a qualifier in front,” says Pham.

Compared to Wharton students, whom Pham believes to

Venture Lab meets students where they are, targeting startups at all levels.

From startups that have validated the market to business ideas yet to be developed into a brand, Venture Lab welcomes them all. Durham describes that, ideally, people come into Venture Lab’s multistory building with a rough vision of what they want to do, visit the studios on the different floors, then workshop their ideas. And by the end of their visit, they could potentially have a mini mum viable product (MVP) to test on the market.

11

10

nter any intro–level Wharton entrepreneurship class, and you’re drilled with the legend of Warby Parker. In 2010, four Wharton MBA students were awarded $2,500 from the Venture Initiation Program at Wharton Entrepreneurship—they then founded an eyewear startup that eventually grew into a market– altering powerhouse now valued at $6 billion. Since then, the story of Warby Parker has been passed down through generations of Whartonites, told and retold within the startup community. From all over the world, Elon Musk wannabes flood to the Wharton School to pursue the prospect of replicating this dream themselves.

1 2 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 19, 2022

APRIL 19, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 13

F E AT U R E

Venture Lab also has myriad program offerings for Penn students interested in exploring entrepreneurship. The community’s Venture Initiation Program (VIP) branches out to four different offerings: Penn’s own incubator which helps to grow early– stage startups, a three–month accelerator program that targets more developed startups and provides mentoring resources, a San Francisco–based accelerator program, and the Fellows program dedicated to creating internship opportunities for students seeking experience in early–stage startups. The organization also devotes the Startup Internship Award, Summer Venture Award, and Penn Wharton Innovation Fund to providing the financial

to give them resources to realize their visions—and even fail.

“If you fail, that's okay,” says Durham. “We are a cocurricular center, but we're also an Academic Resource Center. So the whole purpose of this is to supplement what [students] are doing at the University.”

Durham believes that encouraging trial and error is the key to engaging more members of the Penn community. He's quick to point out the unspoken truth: This industry champions a homogenous type of success story.

“Here's a bunch of guys that look the same, went through Wharton, got their MBA, started a company, now they're billionaires,” Durham says. “The nuances that aren't discussed—

African American and less than 10% of the entrepreneurial and venture capital labor pool were women. The lack of representation and the high price of failure bar entrepreneurial hopefuls who hail from less privileged backgrounds from entering this field.

“When you see the same face over and over again in a field you want to get into, you do start to question whether or not this field is for you,” says Durham.

From his observations and personal experiences, students from disadvantaged backgrounds are less likely to explore entrepreneurship because they don't have access to the privilege of family financial support to feel comfortable embracing the consequences of failure. “Anything that's not

preneurship. He believes this to be crucial for leveling the industry playing field.

One of the ways the Venture Lab marketing team furthers this mission is through conducting founder interviews. These videos filmed in Tangen Hall are then sent back to the founders as materials for media use, while also being uploaded to a cloud database. Durham hopes that, as Venture Lab grows into a more established brand, they can eventually look back on these videos as reference of where they were in the past to where they're at now.

He recalls a memorable conversation with a Venture Lab alumni founder who worked on a medical device startup. “You’re a Black woman who’s trying to

of five undergraduate students: Gerardo Ballesteros (W '23), Bettina Catoto (W '25), Annabel Sumardi (C '25), Suzanna Wang (W '25), and Amy Zhou (W '25).

The marketing team hails from diverse backgrounds, and this is what Durham is especially proud of. He hopes to eventually grow a majority student–led, self–sustaining marketing team network at Venture Lab that both represents and highlights the diversity in the innovation space.

“It's just as important to have those people on screen telling your stories, as much as it is to have those same people behind the camera recording them.”

Durham shares that Venture

assistance required to test out a student’s venture idea. Perhaps one of the most well–known events hosted by Venture Lab is its annual Startup Challenge, where students compete for a share in the over $150,000 cash award for winners.

“One of the beautiful things about Venture Lab, that I feel like a lot of students don't know, is that we give you funding, but we do not take equity or stock or IP,” Durham says.

Venture Lab’s goal isn’t to profit off of student ideas, but rather

those are things that we have a really honest job to demystify.” Success stories—like that of Warby Parker—often gloss over the innate privileges that got the most notorious startup moguls to the top.

on the narrow path of you getting out of here with a degree is a risk,” Durham explains.

Venture Lab wants to challenge that mindset. “College is supposed to be your really safe space where you're supposed to be able to try and fail, and try and fail. And what is entrepreneurship but not trying and failing and trying and failing to succeed?” he says. Durham wants to dig out the topics less addressed in the industry and market with an inclusive lens to encourage more students to explore entre-

do a medical device in a white male–dominated space. How are you navigating it?” he asked.

“Because there is a lot probably expected of you.”

These questions led to an open, enlightening conversation. “There’s almost a breath of fresh air after it because I feel like nobody expects universities or higher ed to be so candid.”

Durham credits his team of undergraduate students as integral to the digital content production process. The Venture Lab marketing team consists

Lab is a majority women–led organization, and cultural diversity is reflected throughout the organization. “We need [our team] to mirror what the student population looks like.

And it's starting to do so.”

With the exception of Gerardo, all of them are Penn first years. This is a deliberate choice by Durham, who values growth and passion for marketing.

“I choose undergraduate students for a reason,” says Durham. “Undergraduate stu-

Entrepreneurship is intrinsically tied to the equal–opportunity promise of the American Dream. But that’s not the reality.

A 2017 Harvard Business School study revealed that, across the 1990–2016 period, less than 1% of founders self–identified as

14 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 19, 2022

F E AT U R E

“BEING A [FIRSTYEAR] IS ACTUALLY A REALLY SPECIAL IDENTITY AT VENTURE LAB. IT’S LIKE I’M GROWING TOGETHER WITH THIS NEW ORGANIZATION. WE’RE BOTH STARTING FROM FRESH.” AMY ZHOU (W ‘25)

dents feel more involved in what they take on, they feel more committed to the cause.” He relies on his team to understand the Penn undergraduate audience.

“The public perception of what's out here is what we have to change,” he says. Durham wants to put out content on startup successes that's different from the usual narrative, content on entrepreneurial stories from students of diverse cultural backgrounds and fields of study.

In this way, Durham hopes that more students will see themselves exploring this space that's traditionally highlighted white, male success. He firmly believes that entrepreneurship belongs to all.

“There’s raw talent here. So the best way to cultivate raw talent is to let … [them] stick

their hands in everything until they find what they want to do,” says Durham. From providing DSLR and 3D cameras and video production technologies, to funding trips to marketing conferences, to coaching digital editing techniques, Durham grows his team with time and care.

“We have a ton of tools on our hands that we would not have otherwise,” says Annabel. She explores her longtime passion for photography and design in her role as a design and communications specialist. Annabel views her time at Venture Lab as a growth journey—from nervous first product shoots to now being credited as a professional photographer on official websites.

Amy, who aspires to be a

startup founder herself, also finds Venture Lab to be her natural home. She manages the social media accounts while assisting in strategic marketing campaign advice for startups.

“Being a [first year] is actually a really special identity at Venture Lab,” says Amy. “It’s like I’m growing together with this new organization. We’re both starting from fresh.”

Amy intends to stay at Venture Lab marketing for all four years at Penn, and she’s not alone. Many of the student members have expressed a desire to work over the summer to help consult startups and plan projects for the upcoming semester, something Durham claims he's never seen before.

Annabel, who serves as

the photographer of the team, provides one rationale for why the work is so compelling: During her time taking photos for startup teams and founders, she was struck by the diversity she was seeing at Venture Lab. “Every single team I’ve worked with is so diverse.

My photos end up looking like stock photos, almost like we staged it,” says Annabel. “We already have the diversity and inclusion, and I’m just here to show that.”

Durham doesn’t want another Warby Parker story for the Venture Lab homepage. He wants to track down the stories that were untold, the ones that were left behind in someone’s

Dropbox. To Durham, Venture Lab’s transformation to its new identity begins with the face it shows to the rest of the Penn community. It's about seeing diversity differently and finding ways to communicate Venture Lab’s new values: innovation, integration, and inclusion.

Eventually, Durham hopes that Venture Lab will become a brand of its own. An organization, a community—that's the reason behind why diverse student entrepreneurs from all over the world choose Penn.

“Doesn't matter what your educational background is, what your ethnic background is, whatever the standing is, Venture Lab is here to open up and take everybody in,” says Durham.

All Photos Courtesy of Rachel Zhang APRIL 19, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 15

FOCUS

Kendra Brooks

Is the Change Philadelphia Politics Needs

n Philadelphia politics, there's little room for shakers and movers—that is, until Kendra Brooks made room for herself at the table.

In 2019, Brooks was elected to join 16 other members of Philadelphia’s City Council.

Given Philadelphia’s status as a Democratic stronghold, the City Council is traditionally composed of mostly Democrats, and two of the at–large seats are reserved for a minority party, always going to Republicans. This is how the City Council operated dating back to the 1950s. But that all changed in 2019. Councilmember Brooks was the first third–party candidate to ever be elected to City Council, taking one of the two seats usually held for Republican councilmembers. Brooks ran her campaign as a candidate for the Working Families Party (WFP), a political party with a left–leaning and progressive platform.

With a reputation for grassroots organizing and campaigning, the WFP focuses on issues like labor rights, wealth inequality, and health care.

Some elements of the party’s official platform include a national $15 minimum wage, free universal health care, and shifting resources from police departments to social services.

The WFP has made waves in national politics following its affiliation with high–profile candidates like Rep. Jamaal Bowman (D–Yonkers) and Rep. Rashida Tlaib (D–Detroit). Councilmember Brooks’ election was unprecedented in

Illustration by Amy Krimm

I

The city’s first Working Families Party member elected to City Council is making waves in Philly politics. | SHEIL DESAI

Philadelphia politics considering the city’s notorious insider political culture. Philadelphia is often described as a large city with small–town politics, and who you know can determine whether or not you make it on the ballot, let alone win an election.

“A lot of folks that are in politics have been groomed and mentored in politics. City Council is like the next step in line for them,” Brooks says. But it wasn’t a next step for Brooks.

In fact, running for elected office wasn’t even on her radar.

“When I was offered the opportunity to run, I thought, 'If not me, then who?'" she says.

Brooks was raised in Nicetown, Pa., a neighborhood in North Philadelphia. As a single teen mother, Brooks raised her four children in North Philly and still lives there today. Considering the unique set of challenges the neighborhood faces—such as high rates of poverty and joblessness—

16 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 19, 2022

and the predominantly Black population in the community, Brooks says her personal background has shaped her tenure as a public servant. “I chose to run for office because I come from an underrepresented community. My life experiences and education have broadened my perspective on what it means to be a Philadelphian as a Black woman. I ran for office to make sure that the point of view and perspective of folks like me are represented on the City Council,” she says.

Brooks’ life experiences are also grounded in grassroots activism and community organizing. As a single parent, Brooks put herself through the Community College of Philadelphia (CCP) to become a nursing assistant. During her time in health care, she joined the membership of 1199C, a Philadelphia–based chapter of the National Union of Hospital & Health Care Employees.

It was here where Brooks be-

came acquainted with the labor movement and its importance to working families struggling to make ends meet. Her time as a 1199C member showed Brooks the need for workers to organize to demand fair compensation and safe working conditions. She learned that unions are the biggest tool that workers have to organize, and she continues to be a strong advocate for unionization. After CCP, she obtained an undergraduate degree from Temple University and an MBA from Eastern University.

For 17 years, Brooks also worked with a state–funded program called Easterseals, which connects families with community programs. Her work focused on helping children with disabilities enroll in summer programs and enrichment activities. But after Pennsylvania reduced its budget under former Gov. Tom Corbett, the program was defunded and Brooks lost her job. Without

a steady source of income, Brooks lost her home in a sheriff sale, a public auction for a property that has been repossessed or defaulted on.

Around this time, Edward Steel School, the public school her children attended, was also being threatened with a takeover by a charter school operator. In response to this potential charter school takeover, Brooks founded Stand Up Nicetown and the Our City Our Schools coalition, two community organizations that have fought for local control of the School District of Philadelphia. Previously, the School Reform Commission, a Pennsylvania state–run body, decided whether or not Philadelphia public schools would be turned into charter schools.

Brooks’ campaign was highly successful and ultimately led to the end of the commission, as well as an appointment by Mayor Jim Kenney to the Philadelphia school board nominating panel.

These difficult moments in Brooks’ personal life remind her every day of what she works for as a public figure. Maggie Hart, Councilmember Brooks’ Communications Director, says, “Having faced eviction herself and her children’s schools threatening to close, Councilmember Brooks is a strong proponent for workers’ rights, housing justice, and against prep school privatization.” As a member of the 215 People’s Alliance Steering Committee, a diverse activist group fighting for equity in Philadelphia, Brooks was also a major con-

FOCUS

Brooks was also a major contributor to the People’s Platform, a set of progressive policies that address issues ranging from environmental cleanup in public schools to criminal justice reform.

across electoral politics across the country, it's going to scare some more conservative Democrats. But the reality is that’s how good laws are made—varied perspectives that reflect the interests of all Philadelphians,”

Photo Courtesy of Heather Khalifa / The Philadelphia Inquirer In regard to her progressive policies, Councilmember Brooks acknowledges there's occasional reluctance from her colleagues.PrintAd_ “As Week-of the progressive (9.05 × 5.5 in).pdf movement gains momentum

Brooks says. The most recent piece of legislation that Brooks has introduced in City Council has gained media attention for “radical” That 2its 3/30/2022 1:22:51proposition.

PM legislation, called the Philadel-

phia Wealth Tax, establishes a maximum 0.4% tax on all direct holdings on stocks and bonds for Philadelphians. The bill has garnered support from other progressive political figures including fellow Philadelphia Councilmembers Helen Gym and Jamie Gauthier, as well as Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D–Mass.). According to a document that Brooks’ office has circulated to the press, the bill will “tax individuals who have seen unprecedented profits over the course of the pandemic.” The document notes that the bill will primarily affect the top quintile of wealth holders in Philadelphia, pointing out that direct holdings in the stock market are “concentrated among the wealthiest Americans, who are predominantly white.”

Brooks and her team have touted the need for the bill to fund Philadelphia’s crumbling social safety net. This includes mobile response units for mental health crises, funding public libraries, youth program-

ming at recreation centers, and homeless services for housing– insecure senior citizens. The bill has received some initial pushback from more conservative leaders who claim the tax will deter wealthy Americans from investing in Philadelphia and urge the city to make better use of its existing funding.

Kendra Brooks’ story should be a wake–up call for career politicians. Her progressive, social safety net–focused policies are part of a larger national progressive movement that has gained steam over the last few election cycles. Progressive politicians like Sen. Bernie Sanders (I–Vt.), for instance, have captured national attention even when they've failed to win consequential elections. Kendra Brooks, far from a career politician, has lived through the issues she writes legislation for. Through her background in local activism, Brooks has been impacting the lives of communities that are often neglected and whose needs are rarely prioritized. Her

rise to City Council as a third– party candidate is a sign that Philadelphians want politicians that are aware of their issues and have a stake in the community—breaking through long legacies of precedent in the process.

Brooks is still a relatively new presence in the world of Philadelphia politics, but she likely has a long career ahead of her to enact influential change.

As for her own vision for the city, Brooks remains hopeful.

“I have to keep a level of optimism to believe that all the work that I'm doing is not in vain. It's building a better city for my children and the children of other Philadelphians in my generation and those to come,” she says. And for young Philadelphians, Brooks has a special message: “We need young, motivated, progressive people to get involved in politics in order for us to build something that works for everyone. But we need generations of young folks to get involved and be consistent."

April 18 — April 24

Scan for more info & calendar of events Photo © Kylie Cooper

Join us and Celebrate A P R I L 1 9 , 2 0 2 2 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E 17

EGO

Generation Pandemic: A Monument to Our Young People

How two seniors allowed us to understand American strangers’ lives during the world’s worst months. | ANJALI KISHORE

Photo Courtesy of Eric Sucar, University of Pennsylvania

I

n 2020, Merriam–Webster dictionary chose “pandemic” as its word of the year, and it’s hard to argue with that. In fact, given the way that it's followed us around relentlessly for the last few years, one could argue that it’s more the word of an era. Or, if you ask Max Strickberger (C '22) and Alan Jinich (C '22), the word of a generation.

In the spring of 2021, they traversed the country to interview drastically different 18 to 25year–olds, collecting oral histories which would come to comprise their "collective remembrance" storytelling project Generation Pandemic.

During the COVID–19 pandemic, the two then–

juniors were forced to re– examine their near future, finding that the path that once seemed so sure wasn't working anymore. "Last fall, sitting through online classes, we were really having two thoughts: One [was] that staying in school seemed so much less meaningful, [and that was] coming from two people who usually really loved their classes," Max says. The second thought, he explains, came from a sense of frustration with the media coverage of the impacts of COVID–19. "When we were reading articles, a lot of stories concerned older generations, which made a lot of sense, but we were curious how it impacted people our age because it’s such a

1 8 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 19, 2022

precarious time of trying to figure out relationships, futures, and what we care about,” he says.

Max and Alan decided to take matters into their own hands. They took their junior spring semester off and, armed with a borrowed recorder, began what would become a 16–state jaunt across the country, in which they stopped in cities such as Chicago, Dallas, and New Orleans, as well as towns like Greensboro, Ala., home to only a few thousand people.

"We decided to start that semester, rather than waiting for the summer or after graduation, because things were happening so fast, and we wanted to get out and hear from people in the mo-

ment,” Alan explains.

Their first stop was Chattanooga, Tenn., but according to Max, Greensboro was where things started to feel real. In Chattanooga, they were able to meet people through Penn connections, but Greensboro was the first town they visited where they truly didn't know a soul.

"We spent the whole day just walking up and down the street, going into every shop, and we couldn’t find anyone.

You show up to these places without anything, which is so rare, and we looked at each other like, ‘Holy shit, this could be over before it even starts,’" Max says.

"A woman at the bed– and–breakfast we stayed at told us a lot of young people

worked at the grocery store, so the next day we drove to the grocery store. I remember feeling so excited when I got my first ‘yes’ from a cashier at the grocery store; it’s kind of a high of getting someone involved in an idea that, at that point, had no traction,” he says.

Max used the term "personal–yet–universal" to describe one of the stories they discovered—Grant from Georgia, a college student struggling with mental health since online school began—and I personally can't think of a better way to describe the overarching essence of their project.

Through each incredibly unique story—a French bulldog importer from Jalisco,

EGO

Mexico, or the experience of a young woman trapped in a family that had fallen victim to addiction—there were certain common threads of the 18– to 25– year–old experience.

You don't have to take my word for it, or even Alan and Max's. After Generation Pandemic had been published, a psychology professor at Penn reached out to ask them whether they'd been inspired by psychologist Jeffrey Arnett, who published a theory on what he calls the five features of emerging adulthood.

The professor had noticed many features of Arnett's research manifesting themselves in the stories that the two seniors had collected.

Once they began to look into Arnett's theory, Max and Alan were surprised to find a strong concordance between the tenets he laid out—feelings of identity exploration, instability, self–focus, in–betweenness, and possibility—and their stories.

"In the pandemic, there were extremes in how these tenets manifested themselves," explains Max, and a quick look through the Generation Pandemic archive makes this clear. People tell stories about their shifting relationships, drastic career and location changes, and ideological exploration, all spurred by the uncertainty of the pandemic, which only amplified the already– delicate nature of this stage of young adulthood.

Beyond any formal theory or research, the two seniors noticed certain commonalities in the responses of their interviewees. Their compassion, in particular, stood out. "People spoke, unprompted, about being grateful to be young and not

have a family to take care of, because of how stressful that would be," Max notes.

"Generally, people think of young people as selfish, but these young people were so grateful and aware of the struggles that others were having.”

The resourcefulness and resilience of the young people they met left an impact on Alan, who animatedly recounts the story of Fernando, the Mexican bulldog seller from Chicago whose forced career pivot—his fruit stand shut down for the pandemic—ultimately came to offer him more financial stability than he had before the pandemic.

Fernando's story captures, in essence, something that the pair saw across many of their interviews: Young people, perhaps because of our own internal instability, proved themselves to be remarkably adaptable to the world’s newly dire times.

For Alan, though he resonated to a certain degree with people struggling with career uncertainty, Generation Pandemic offered a much–appreciated broadening perspective. "With a lot of people, the only thing that we had in common was our age. We were all coming from totally different backgrounds, whose expectations and experiences were so different from mine, so feeling that way was really the norm,” he says.

He and Max were struck by the vastness of the young adult experience, describing it as humbling. “It was such a privilege to be able to talk to people just out of our own curiosity and not really think about ourselves so much," Alan explains.

"At Penn, the expectation is that you’re self–focused and prove yourself in whatever

sense. On our trip, I was following my curiosity and focusing on other people’s experiences without having to think about myself.”

Since their return to Penn, keeping that sense of openness and perspective has proven difficult. "It’s been hard at Penn to maintain that kind of curiosity and patience with people we meet every day,” Max says. “How much richer could our experience be if we treated every person we interacted with with that same level of patience and time?” Referring to Carnegie Mellon professor Randy Pausch's “Last Lecture,” in which Pausch says that if you give anyone enough time, they’ll surprise and impress you, Max realized that we “rarely give people enough time in that way.”

The stubbornness of the pandemic, which all but promises to stick around for another summer in some capacity, has a silver lining for the two College seniors: That is, Generation Pandemic Part Two, their second cross–country venture to discover the lasting effects of the pandemic from even more perspectives.

They've got their eyes set on a few particular storylines to follow—those who turned to online communities in their times of isolation, for example—thanks to some feedback from Penn professor Paul Hendrikson, who warned them against repetition.

The Penn English Department has proven to be enormously helpful with the project. When Max and Alan first hit upon the idea of doing an oral history project, they consulted professor Sam Apple, who introduced them to Washington Post reporter

Eli Saslow’s work. Saslow, who won a Pulitzer Prize in 2014 for his character– focused reporting on food stamps and the aftermath of the Great Recession, had been working on covering the pandemic through raw, unfiltered interviews that would become somewhat of a blueprint for Max and Alan's project. “What really spoke to me, the first time I read Eli Saslow’s stories, was that I’d never opened up a newspaper like the Post and just read someone speak from the ‘I’ for three pages straight," Alan explains. "It was a totally different medium from what I was used to in storytelling, and it felt so much more personal than the other journalism that we were reading.”

We've all lived through an unfathomable event, experiencing both unprecedented togetherness and previously unthinkable isolation. Generation Pandemic probes at this dichotomy through its thematically cohesive collection of incredibly personal experiences, offering us a uniquely human perspective on the historical impact of the past few years.

The economy will bounce back, hospital cases will decrease, our immune systems will adapt, and at some point, mandates will become a thing of the past.

But our collective past will continue to impact the individual futures of every single person who lived through the pandemic, in ways that we can hardly understand in the present.

And, as Alan says, “In the long–term interest of understanding how this is really affecting people, we can’t just stop paying attention.”

APRIL 19, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 19

MUSIC

Reddit’s r/place:

A Chaotic Digital Art Experiment Penn’s logo stakes its claim on a canvas of a million pixels. | JESSA GLASSMAN

T

he internet is a ruthless place: Twitter wars, harsh memes, and ferocious fights in comment sections are the norm. For four days beginning on April Fool's day in 2017 (and revived for its fifth anniversary at the beginning of this month), Reddit’s r/ Place subreddit was the home of much of this intensity. Instead of up– or down–voting one another’s posts, users both cooperated and competed for space on a virtual canvas as part of this online initiative.

The project allows each Reddit user to place a single pixel, of any color they choose, every five minutes on a 1,000– by 1,000–pixel grid. When it began, a million users placed 16 million of these pixels. This year, 72 million pixels were laid down by over 6 million users.

“Back in 2017, which was the first year that they [Reddit] did it, I saw and unfortunately couldn't participate because I was too late,” Henry Ge (E, W '24) says. “When I saw that it came back in 2022, I really wanted to do it. I wanted to leave an insignificant but lasting mark on the internet.”

For Henry, r/place is an intriguing social experiment that attempts to see if people can work together to create a cohesive work of art. “To me, it seems very unexpected that people could spontaneously

Illustration by Alice Choi coordinate a piece of art without any central leadership,” he says. As a result, the end product of the project astonished both Henry and the internet at large.

By the time r/place closed for edits, the canvas was decorated with an unfathomable amount of designs, ranging from flags to logos to memes and everything in between. Even on a grand scale, it's incredibly visually intriguing, covered in bright colors and seemingly infinite designs that catch the eye. Spending hours zooming in and out on the canvas will never get boring, as there are images ranging anywhere from

20 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 19, 2022

just a handful of pixels to thousands in size.

In fact, Henry and many other members of Penn’s very own subreddit spearheaded an effort to create our school’s logo on the canvas, which can be seen now at coordinates 1258, 1806. Based on a post which broke the logo down into its necessary pixels, users began to construct and perfect it. While Henry and his friends coordinated roughly 14 accounts and met in a meeting room to work on the design together, the rest of the Penn subreddit’s effort was decentralized.

Creating the Penn logo was the easy part, but the real chal-

lenge was defending the image all the way through to the end of the project, according to Henry. “The problem with r/ place was that even if you put in artwork, if you couldn’t defend it, it would be gone even in a few minutes,” he says.

“Keeping the effort was definitely a really interesting experience, just sitting around the computer screen and everyone trying to get the pixels back in their place.”

Luckily, the Penn Reddit community was able to maintain the logo so it can be seen in the final product. Other users weren’t so lucky, including some New York universities

like Cornell, whose logo, Henry recalls, got wiped from the canvas by a Twitch streamer in the last few minutes r/place was open. Sometimes vandalism of certain designs took place, with tiny crewmates from the video game Among Us appearing frequently within other images. r/place is representative of the internet—it's a place full of mayhem and creativity.

With various corners representing different communities, whether subscribers to prominent YouTubers, fans of Studio Ghibli’s My Neighbor Totoro, or even students at a university like Penn, the canvas is diverse and teeming with far–reaching self–expression.

The iconic Penn “P” on Reddit’s canvas is an innovative display of school pride. It symbolizes community, exhibited even in the way it was created by a collection of students working together. Its presence commemorates everyone who considers themselves a member of the Penn community, preserving school spirit in an internet artifact that people around the world will scroll through for decades to come.

While there isn’t any news about when r/place might take place again, Henry and internet lovers around the world are itching to see what a new canvas may bring. “I hope they do it again next year,” Henry says.

OVERHEARDS

Overheards 04.19.22

TAUGHT OB/GYN F–

CT

IS

"No babe I love you let's do anal ahaha …"

A

LY LIKE YOU, BUT(T)

P

"I think I was a peasant in my past life. I have peasant taste."

AL

UALLY JEWISH

"I gave up my sanity for Lent, and I haven't gotten it back yet."

NG MAGICIAN IRI

AS

I RE

ANONYMOUS FS

SE L

SE R

This week: butt stuff, reproductive health, and Easter

"I would never make such a massive mistake as to refer to you as fertile."

"It was healthy until we sawed it in half."

THE POWER OF 3’S

NEVER LOOKED SO GOOD

All-inclusive rates from $1609 Limited time | per person, 12 installments

T O U R T O D AY theradian.com 215-222-4212 | 3925 Walnut St

APRIL 19, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 21

UNDER THE BUTTON

Two Can Play This Game: Your Therapist Also Texts During Your Session JACKSON PARLI

Y

ou thought you were getting away with it, huh? Your telehealth therapist is droning on and on about how you're “exhibiting toxic behaviors to your family” and “put your roommate in serious danger” while you nod and smile, secretly playing Angry Birds on your phone. Who still plays Angry Birds anyway?

But as you chime in to defend yourself because your “roommate didn’t even need

two functional kneecaps,” you notice as he nods along, stone-faced, his eyes look down and his face is lit from below.

That’s right, your therapist is texting too. He’s planning a lunch date with his girlfriend (straight vibes, lol) right after your session. In fact, he literally could not care about you or anything you do. You pay his bills and as much as he tells you that you are important, he does

not care if you live or die.

As you describe how your roommate had run over your dog with her new sedan, your therapist stifles a chuckle.

His girlfriend has just texted him a “dank meme” about SuperWhoLock. To cover, he tells you he was choking back a sob. But his fingers … they were fluttering.

Good luck with fixing your mental health. If your therapist doesn’t care about you, who does?

Photo by Zoosk // cc by 2.0

Hmm: Cryptic, Hastily Applied Sticker on Lamp Post Doesn't Really Give Anything to Go Off Of

H

Photo by Ian Ong / The Daily Pennsylvanian

mm. This one is a real head-scratcher.

I suppose it could be some sort of political statement? I mean, you have a virus in a TV on top of a suit. Maybe it’s like, commentary on how mass media has influenced the popular perception of the pandemic? Then again, it

could just as easily be the calling card for some underground, sharply-dressed EDM musician named DJ Sicko.

I guess what I’m trying to say is — there’s not a whole lot to go off of here.

I mean, what disgruntled Penn student was pissed off enough to

22 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 19, 2022

IAN ONG print out a couple stickers and stick them haphazardly on some lone pole on Sansom? Assuming it was a Penn student — after all, it’s not like there’s any indication of affiliation or authorship anywhere. Strange, wouldn’t you want to be credited for your handicraft?

Gee, talk about a bonafide mystery, with multiple layers to boot.

Who even is the intended audience here? Bored, slightly distracted pedestrians who really like to take in their environment?

Hopelessly avant-garde art majors trying to find “art in the streets?”

Tattered, water-damaged sticker

on lamp post enthusiasts? I hate to say it, but — to whoever put up this thing — your message is kinda falling on deaf ears here.

That’s it, I’m completely baffled. I think it’s best for all of us if we just assume it’s related to some Republican talking point and move on.

UNDER THE BUTTON

Path@Penn Is a Convenient, High-Tech, Innovative, Yet Nostalgic Website for All Your Needs MAYA KREGER

P

ath@Penn — I love you.

I love your web-design, your labyrinthine tabs, your convoluted ways. Websites like google.com and yahoo. com never make me think. I just search for what I want, and get a response back within seconds. But with you, it’s like fighting the good fight. I have to know what I want.

To find out which introductory course I should take next semester, you require some soul searching.

You play hard to get. I like that.

You’re not like PennInTouch,

you’re different. You make me feel ways I’ve never felt with any other course registration website. I yearn for April 18, the day registration goes live. By then, I hope to have figured out your mysterious ways. Sure, right now, some parts of you are still PennInTouch and sometime this summer you and PennInTouch will merge into one supreme life form. But for now, I love seeing you as you are. Simple, yet sophisticated.

Let’s not forget about the websites that came before us. Penn

InTouch, you are lost, but not forgotten. You have served our community well, but we will always remember you for your kindness.

47 minutes of silence. Thank you.

My dear lovely Path@Penn (what a gorgeous, gorgeous name for an angelic website), I knew from the moment I struggled with your various menus, that this was going to work. I can finally settle down with your upgraded home page. I’m excited to get my registration hold lifted and find out what else the heavenly creation

Photo by Pixabay (with edits) // CC 2.0 that is Path@Penn has to offer.

If you have yet to experience the overwhelming joy that comes with loading the Path@Penn main

page, then you are missing out and I pity you and your family. Drop everything and click here to enter nirvana.

I Lived It: He Left Me for a Girl Who Uses “Begs the Question” Erroneously LIWA SUN

B

etrayal is a common theme in our post-truth society. I’ve known betrayal. I’ve known it since a very young age. It doesn’t break my heart anymore when people betray me: I have long since stopped letting anyone in on me, my earnestness and sincerity. So, when I found out my white boyfriend of three years, Andy, cheated on me, I spent no time wallowing. I dropped him without a thought and went on with my life. That is — until I discovered that the girl he cheated on me with is one who uses the phrase “begs the question” erroneously.

I found out about this piece of information last Saturday night at home on my iPhone (SE 2nd Generation). I was casually scrolling on Twitter, just a quick glance, over my ex’s new girl’s tweets from 2017. I came across this one tweet: “This begs the question: is it time to go back to brunch yet?”

Readers, my jaw was on the floor.

Photo from PxHere / CC0 Did this girl seriously just invoke the logical fallacy in an erroneous manner?

“Beg the question” (Latin: petitio principii) is an informal fallacy in classical rhetoric and logic that occurs when an argument’s premises assume the truth of the conclusion, instead of supporting it.

It is a type of circular reasoning: an argument that requires that the desired conclusion be true.

Does Andy’s new girl know that? No. She never bothered to learn about the proper usage of all the logical fallacies. I bet she also never bothered to know the difference between dual consciousness and double consciousness.

Would she understand the concept of accelerationism? I doubt it.

Good riddance. I’m glad Andy showed his true colors to me by fucking a girl behind my back – not just any girl. A girl who does not know her strawman from her false dilemma.

Fuel for finals with kegstands we deliver

2206 Washington Ave. | (215) 546-7301 APRIL 19, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 23

OPEN LATE & LATE NITE DELIVERY

R LOOKING FMOE WORK? TI T R A P R O L FUL NG! I R I H E R ’ E W .com s o n i m o d . s job

Domino’s Dom

TM

SUN-THURS: 10AM - 2AM • FRI & SAT 10AM - 3AM

WE MAKE ORDERING EASY!

CALL DIRECT OR CHOOSE YOUR ONLINE OR MOBILE DEVICE

Smart Phones

215-662-1400

4438 Chestnut St. 24 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 19, 2022

Tablets

215-557-0940 401 N. 21st St.