April 5, 2022

A Walk through The Woodlands with Jane Austen

April 5, 2022 | 34st.com

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

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR On tug–of–war, toxic habits, and lessons from geometry class

6

The perfect pop song

11 Short King spring

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I

think my younger self would be disappointed in me today.

Before you pull out the tissues and cry for my past self, allow me to provide a qualifier: I don’t mean that I’d be disappointed in my accomplishments. If anything, I’m proud of what I’ve done—but not what I’ve sacrificed to get there.

I’ve spent so much time pushing myself toward my aspirations that I’ve forgotten to care about my well–being. The struggle between my health and my resume feels like a perpetually one–sided game of tug–of–war, where the only thing powerful enough to

A walk through The Woodlands

18 Makuu's Dr. Brian Peterson

20 A union is brewing

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, Angela Shen, 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: W. Anthony Pérez, Anna Hochman, Shelby Abayie, Naima Small

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Focus Beat Writers: Gabrielle Galchen, Sheil Desai, Connor Nakamura, Lina Chihoub, Sruthi Srinivas

Music Beat Writers: Derek Wong, Grayson Catlett, Kate Ratner, Samara Himmelfarb Arts Beat Writers: Jessa Glassman, Kaliyah Dorsey, Emily Maiorano Film & TV Beat Writers: Jacob A. Pollack, Kayla Cotter, Julia Polster Ego Beat Writers: Anjali Kishore, Vidur Saigal, Grace Busser, Ariella Linhart

34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 5, 2022

conclude it is my body literally shutting down.

If I sleep too little, dozing off in class ensures that I eventually catch up on my rest. If I’m hungover, I wait out the worst of it and power through the rest with caffeine and sheer determination.

But COVID–19 isn’t something you can ignore and continue going about your life with, as much as I might wish I could. If I had all the same symptoms I have now but the disease itself wasn’t contagious, I’d roll myself out of bed—fever and all— and make my way to the Stroffice for production night. But no amount of determination can make me less infectious to other people, so I stay home, finally forced to rest.

As much as I want the lesson from this to be that I should take care of myself, it isn’t. That’s so obvious of a solution that it’s actually an impossible one—a mere platitude I tell myself to feel better about my toxic habits.

The real lesson lies in high school math class. Instead of being linear,

Staff Writers: Natalia Castillo, Chloe Hunt, Xinyi (Cindy) Jiang, Emma Marks, Shahana Banerjee 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, Daniel Kochupura, Emily Xiong, Gemma Hong THIS ISSUE Copy Editor: Brittany Darrow Design Editor: Tyler Kliem Photo Courtesy of Emily White Cover Design by Jo Xiang

self–care should be asymptotic— something I always strive to get closer to, even if I never quite reach it. I may never repair my own work–life imbalance, but it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.

In fact, this week’s issue is full of asymptotes. Our feature gives a historical perspective to the calming nature of The Woodlands Cemetery and Jane Austen, asking just how close we can get to recreating the past when we can’t travel back to it. Our piece on the anatomy of a perfect song attempts to disentangle the complexities of music and how songwriters try to recreate a feeling without duplicating the notes. Finally, our article about unionization at the 34th and Walnut Starbucks shows the difficulties of striving for progress—and the importance of recognizing the path there.

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.

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WORD ON THE STREET

Authenticity and the Art of

Letting Go

To live authentically, I am learning to release my grasp of opportunities that no longer feel right for me. | JADEN CLOOBECK

Illustration by Kilahra Lott

O

ne of the most transformative lessons I’ve learned during my four years at Penn is becoming comfortable with letting go of opportunities that no longer feel authentic to me.

College is a unique time to let go of opportunities because we have so many choices of how we can spend our time, whether be it with our friends, classes, or clubs. Becoming comfortable with change is something that I’ve had to learn in multiple contexts: my academics, my extracurricular life, and my short–lived summer 2021 internship.

For academics, I’ve changed at least one class in my schedule every semester I’ve been at Penn.

In spring 2021, I was enrolled in a psychology class on memory. I went to the first virtual class, tried a homework assignment, and quickly realized that this class was not a good fit. I promptly transferred to a class on the American presidency, which felt more authentic to my interests.

Conversely, I failed to let go of the infamous introductory astronomy class: "Survey of the Universe." When I enrolled in the class, I thought I would become interested in the final frontier of outer space. Yet, the class would not be what I had hoped for. It was very math– heavy, full of equations and abstract physics. A few classes in, my eyes drooped and stung as I anguished over how to solve the escape velocity from the surface of Mars.

It felt like a difficult decision

to let go of this class when I accounted for what I would lose.

I was attached to my supportive professor and my reliable study partner. I did not want to let them down, and astronomy fulfilled the Formal Reasoning requirement I needed to graduate, so I decided to stay.

In short, I fell for the sunkcost fallacy, which is when we continue to invest our time and energy into something because of all the time we have already invested in it. Clubs are a great application of the sunk cost fallacy because of how much time we invest in clubs at Penn, especially in leadership positions.

For extracurricular activities, I’ve had to let go of numerous clubs over the past few years, including now deactivated clubs that I’d helped found: a playwriting club called Penn Playwrights and a hazing prevention awareness club called Beyond Hazing.

Penn Playwrights was a nice way to meet fellow writers, yet

I realized that playwriting was no longer the writing style that invigorated me.

For Beyond Hazing, I am grateful to my fellow board members for taking a chance on my vision to inform fellow Penn students about the hazing spectrum and how to report hazing. I let go of Beyond Hazing because I wanted to have more time for classes, friends, and figuring out post–grad plans during my final semester at Penn.

Someone may resist my recommendation to let go of inauthentic opportunities and argue that they don’t want to be seen as a “quitter.” I’ve certainly struggled with that thought.

Rather than ruminate about quitting, I consider myself as someone who knows when to let things go for my mental health and my personal growth.

The biggest dilemma I’ve faced was letting go of theater this semester, a passion I’ve had for nine years. I used to love the

process of rehearsing and performing in plays and musicals.

However, the COVID–19 pandemic changed my relationship with theater.

As the chair of Stimulus Children’s Theater Company from April 2020 to May 2021, I encountered numerous setbacks, such as pivoting our hybrid fall 2020 musical to a virtual play when classes went fully online.

I sensed my morale languishing and my resentment toward virtual theater growing.

Instead of moping around, I decided to do something authentic to myself. With my new interest in COVID–19 historical preservation, I hosted a podcast season with Platt Student Performing Arts House called Performing Arts in the Pandemic to record the stories of Penn student–artists and administrators. As the trees bloomed in spring 2021, my artistic passion was revived by this new project.

While I feel like I am los-

ing a part of my identity by letting go of performing, I try to reframe it as growth. I am becoming someone new, which is exciting.

One of my budding interests was constitutional law, which made me excited about my summer internship. In May 2021, I was beginning a remote summer internship with the Pennsylvania Office of Attorney General’s Civil Rights Division.

The internship’s description sounded impactful: Help with investigations involving alleged civil rights violations.

Yet, I soon learned that I would be taking phone calls and following up on people’s complaints, which did not sound appealing to me.

My intuition led me to pursue creative writing instead.

Consequently, I resigned from my internship in the first week, and I started writing as an opinion columnist for The Daily Pennsylvanian.

I am grateful that writing columns has become an authentic outlet for me to share stories with the Penn community.

I encourage you to become more comfortable letting go of anything that is weighing you down in life. Consider this: If the thoughts of letting go of an opportunity gives you a feeling of relief, it might be worth releasing it from your grasp.

However uncomfortable it may be to let go of things in the short term, your long– term self will thank you for putting yourself first.

APRIL 5, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

3

EGO

MARY SADALLAH HOMETOWN: Egg Harbor Township, N.J. MAJOR:

Philosophy, politics, and economics with a minor in modern Middle Eastern studies

ACTIVITIES:

Undergraduate Assembly, Penn Egyptian Society, Sphinx Senior Society, Penn Arab Student Society, Gryphon Senior Society, Penn Political Review, Penn First

Meet the senior masterfully combining her love for her Middle Eastern heritage with her involvements in public policy. | ALANA BESS 34th STREET: What made you become so involved in social justice and policy?

MARY SADALLAH: I think it relates a lot to how I grew up. All the issues that I care about, I care about because they're personal to me. My parents immigrated to America. I was born here, and I'm first–generation, low–income (FGLI). Growing up, things weren't always super easy, but my family made it work. Coming to Penn, the differences between students are laid bare very quickly, so you see how privileged students have an upper hand in a lot of ways.

FGLI students have to catch up and oftentimes learn a lot of things for themselves. I immediately wanted to get involved in things like the Undergraduate Assembly (UA) because it was a way to advocate for my fellow students. It's tough sometimes, because as a student, you're dealing with these things actively. You're try4

ing to keep up in school, and you're trying to keep up with other personal obligations, but you're also trying to help other people at the same time. It can be tough, but it's always super rewarding to feel that you're giving back to your community and hopefully making things easier for the students who will come after you. That's always been the motivation: my friends and peers.

STREET: How have your academic interests influenced your involvements outside of school?

MS: I decided that my focus in philosophy, politics, and economics (PPE) would be on inequality and the different ways that it manifests.

I took classes on incarceration, wealth, and health. I wanted to have the facts of inequality, because that's also what I hope to work on in my professional career. It's all very intertwined, because even though I had my personal experience, it's good to learn about other groups and

34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 5, 2022

get the bigger picture.

Regarding my minor, I started out just pursuing an Arabic certificate because I grew up speaking Arabic but wasn't able to read or write—which is pretty common for a lot of second–generation immigrants. One time I was in a meeting with the director of the Middle East Center, and he told me to pursue the Middle Eastern studies minor instead. I was thinking about it, and it made a lot of sense because just learning the language on its own doesn't really give you a lot. I wanted to also learn the culture and the history of where I come from, because again, as someone who grew up in America, I felt disconnected from that sometimes. The Middle Eastern community is what I care a lot about, because in the United States, we're not as organized as other minorities and we're often overlooked. I wanted to learn what our specific needs are, so that [it can be] a group I

can hopefully advocate for in my career later.

STREET: Tell us about the Penn Egyptian Society.

MS: First of all, it was not my idea so I’m not going to take credit for it. Nour Aboelez (C '23) is amazing, and she really spearheaded this [group]. It was born during COVID–19, which is a tough time for clubs. Egyptian students at Penn were one of the bigger groups of Middle Eastern students, and there's also a lot of variation [within them]. I think the Egyptian Society was born out of a desire to bring us all together, because we have the Arab Student Society already, but sometimes you just want to be with your own people.

Plus, we have a lot of fun together.

For me, being on the board was important, because I wanted to represent what maybe an uncommon Egyptian student looks like.

When I first got to Penn and I first went to the Arab Stu-

dent Society, I didn't necessarily feel like I fit in there. I didn't feel as Egyptian sometimes, even from something like not being as good at the language. I wanted to be on the board because I knew there were other students who felt the same way that I did, and I wanted them to know that this could be a space for them, too. I also really wanted to do more collaborations with other kinds of groups, because Middle Eastern people in general can kind of stick to ourselves. It's true for a lot of minorities. Egypt is also interesting because we're on the African continent, but we tend to associate more with the Arab world. I've made so many friends from other African countries, and we tend to have so much in common. It's a lot of shared cultural values and we have similar upbringings, so I really wanted to do more collaborations with other African student groups. We’re always able to learn about

EGO

each other and come out with new friends. That's something that was important to me.

STREET: What’s your most memorable experience at Penn?

MS: Hey Day. I really just loved being together with everyone. I had a first–year hall reunion that day. I saw people I hadn't seen in so long and it really was very nostalgic. After COVID–19, I was so glad that Class Board was able to put that together, because it was stressful for them. It was just a lot of fun because it was reconnecting with old friends. It finally started to set in that it was senior year and we made it, because Penn has been a long four years. You know, it hasn't been easy, and it was just a real celebration of us and everything we've been through.

STREET: What was your biggest struggle in balancing everything?

MS: I think my struggle is that I really like putting people first in my life, so if a friend needs something, it's always gonna be that I want to help that friend. Also, a lot of the time my clubs started

to feel more important than classes because I was so invested in them. Being in college, you should be a student first. That's why you're here.

I think this is something a lot people struggle with. You start to get stretched in a lot of ways.

I have my personal life, and it was tough [to balance], especially when I was in a more public position.

Sometimes your clubs can start to feel like a job. They start to take a lot of hours, so finding time for yourself can be really hard. Finding time to do nothing can be hard. Obviously Penn is a really social place—there's always something going on, and learning to say no is tough. That's something I still struggle with.

Also, just finding your place when you first get here is tough. Even though we all come in with set goals and passions, there's a lot of noise, and I feel like you have to ask yourself, “What do I really want to do? What do I really care about?” Obviously it's okay if you change your mind, but I feel like you have to really dig deep to find your footing. That

was something that I really had to think about. Finding the communities where I felt like I belonged is what helped me get through it.

You come to Penn and you see the huge range of people, and it's easy to walk out on Locust and feel like you shouldn't be here, so finding those people that make you feel like you should be here is really important.

STREET: How do you feel you have influenced Penn’s atmosphere over the last four years?

MS: I think something that I'm really proud of is that when I first got here, I wouldn't say there were a lot of FGLI students involved in student government. I knew of a couple and I met them early on, and they were [the ones who] encouraged me to get involved. As I’ve gained leadership [roles], I feel like I've seen both more Egyptians and more Arab students getting involved in student government. That’s something really cool that I feel like maybe I influenced in some way. I can't be sure, but it's really cool to see that something I was scared to do and had a lot of doubts

about, now more people are doing it. It's not just like that there's one Arab student anymore. There are like four or five, which is really awesome.

Being in UA with Mercedes Owens (C '21), who was the president, was huge, because I remember when we first got elected, there was this immediate pressure that we were gonna be able to do things that no one was able to do before us, because of the representation that we brought as students of color and as women. I think we were given a lot of opportunities that other UA duos don't get, just because I feel like there was some more trust there, and we did have the personal connection to a lot of these communities and issues. It was a little daunting at first, but I think we were able to pull off some really cool initiatives. Particularly [regarding] students of color out there—because we often do feel overlooked at Penn—it's been getting way better over my time here. I think what we really championed was evening out the experience, and not just in academic ways, but also

making sure that FGLI students and students of color can get the social experience that Penn promises, and that they're supported and able to do their best. That was really cool. I would hope that we kind of impacted that.

STREET: What’s next for you after Penn?

MS: Your guess is as good as mine at the moment. I would like to go into government. I think being in student government got me used to having those channels to solve problems and having access to important people. I'd like to work in policy, either doing social welfare policy or immigration policy someday. I want to be able to make life easier for people who look like me and for people who come from similar backgrounds as me. The hope is that I'll be in Washington, D.C., for a few years. The dream would be working for some place like Health and Human Services in the federal department. If you guys are reading this …

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

LIGHTNING ROUND STREET: Last song you listened to?

MS: “Toot It Up” by Sally Sossa and Flo Milli. I gotta prepare for Spring Fling.

STREET: Death row meal?

MS: Kebab hala. It’s my favorite thing that my mom makes. It’s basically beef stew with rice, and it’s just so warm and comforting.

STREET: Favorite study spot?

MS: Sixth floor of Van Pelt.

STREET: There are two types of people at Penn …

MS: Those who never leave campus and those who do.

STREET: And you are?

MS: The person who does. You have to!

APRIL 5, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

5

MUSIC

Illustration by Sarah Tretler

The Search for the Perfect Pop Song

Recent copyright infringement lawsuits surrounding Dua Lipa's "Levitating" highlight the constraints of modern pop songwriting. | DEREK WONG

R

emember that feeling of hearing your favorite song on the radio for the first time?

That one song that everyone knows? Pop music has been around for quite some time, and it's been shapeshifting ever since its beginning.

Pop songs, in particular, often tend to get a pretty bad rap. To some, pop songs are mind–numbing cre6

ations only meant for mass consumption. Pop songs are perceived to have little creativity or depth, and pop songwriting is frequently bashed for being uninspired.

However, making pop songs is harder than one might think. Not only does an artist have to create something that will stick in the public consciousness—they’ll also have to dodge the limita-

34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 5, 2022

tions that often appear in the form of copyright infringement lawsuits.

But is pop itself so easy to classify?

“Pop music is less of a genre designation than it is a kind of description of how a particular song circulates in a music marketplace,” says Erik Broess, a fifth– year musicology Ph.D. candidate at Penn. Broess, who

previously taught the course MUSC 030: "1,000 Years of Musical Listening" at Penn, comments, “You could reasonably make an argument that popular music is Dua Lipa or Outkast, but it is also Frank Sinatra, The Beatles, and Duke Ellington.”

Simply put, pop music is whatever dominates popular culture at a specific time.

Despite modern perceptions

of pop, it encompasses a larger variety of genres. For example, it might feel blasphemous to call rock “pop music,” but it was the dominant genre of the late 20th century, qualifying it under the pop music umbrella.

Through his research, Broess has identified three main factors that can make a pop song successful: familiarity, attention, and au-

MUSIC

thenticity.

Familiarity: “The most successful pop songs should sound like we've heard them before when we're listening to them for the first time, so someone who's really good at writing a pop music song will borrow from enough formulas, whether it's chord progressions, lyrical tropes, or rhythms. When the listener hears them, they can kind of fill in the blanks before they've happened,” says Broess. Pop songs must be new enough that they don’t feel like rehashed versions of past songs, but familiar enough that they latch onto our brains, which are prewired to our prior tastes.

Attention: “A good pop song will generally hook you in within milliseconds.” Whether it’s changing the radio station in the car or scrolling through an app like TikTok, the hook is what captures a listener’s ear. In fact, TikTok has been responsible for the rise of stars like Doja Cat and Olivia Rodrigo, captivating the audience in a medium meant for rapid consumption. Broess comments that “a good songwriter will take note of how listeners are finding [and] discovering new music.”

Authenticity: “There [must be] something in these songs that feels true to the lived experience of the songwriter...and somehow the listener feels that they can connect with that truth.”

Even if the songwriter hasn’t experienced the sentiment they’re singing about, they must present the song in a way where the audience can believe or relate to the artist. As Jack Antonoff put it, “What you’re trying to create with a perfect pop song is a song that doesn’t sacrifice emotion and energy and smarts and still reaches people.”

That said, there are certain qualities and characteristics that make pop music the way it is today.

“There's a set of formulas that are certainly used [to create a pop song], certain chord progressions, certain melodic rhythmic, even certain tempi,” says Broess.

The average beats per minute (BPM) of pop songs is around 120 BPM, meant to have an upbeat feel compared to an average resting heart rate of 60–100 BPM. Major pop songs are more often likely to be in a major key than a minor key— a notable exception is Lady Gaga, whose first few hits, like “Just Dance” and “Bad Romance,” were all in minor keys. The C major chord, a basic chord with no flats or sharps, is one of the most common chords found in pop songs.

Broess also notes that specific sounds are traced to a specific time the song was made, and he mentions the movie Yesterday as an example. Although the premise of the movie is that songs

by The Beatles would be popular if they were released today, that might not necessarily be the case due to subtle changes in the pop music landscape over the years.

“The pop music landscape moves quickly in very subtle ways, but within [very little] space, using the same chord progressions, the same kind of melodic figures, the same kind of rhythms, and the same lyrical tropes,” says Broess.

And indeed, the music industry always attempts to play the guessing game about the boundaries that pop artists can explore. One can make the perfect pop song but never get the exposure it needs, and record labels can play a big part in determining whether or not a song can make it big. Art-

ists like Rodrigo and Billie Eilish, who have been influencing the pop genre with their youthful entrances, are sometimes accused of being “industry plants,” where labels attempt to push a false narrative of authenticity onto an artist.

But Western music presents one problem: The chromatic scale only has 12 notes, with all chords and keys being a derivation and combination of these notes.

This limitation means that people are bound to accidentally repeat someone else's at some point, which has led to a string of copyright infringement lawsuits for copying another song, the latest victim being Dua Lipa’s “Levitating.”

“Levitating” has seen two lawsuits, one regarding the chorus and one regarding the verse melodies. A song like “Levitating” contains all of the most common pop song tropes: a danceable BPM of 103 and the

lyrics of a run–of–the–mill love song, although it’s written in B minor. It uses the Charleston Rhythm in the chorus and a descending scale of notes in the verse, common musical elements in music found in songs like “Cake By The Ocean” by DNCE and “The Phantom of the Opera,” respectively.

It’s likely that Lipa was inspired by past art and going for familiarity, even if this motivation is subconscious.

The chorus of “Levitating” is analogous to Outkast’s “Rosa Parks,” and Lipa herself did say at one point that Outkast inspired part of the Future Nostalgia album. An episode of Song Exploder chronicled the genesis of “Levitating,” and from the voice memos documenting the creation process, any claim of copying is unintentional. Lipa, of course, isn't the only major artist accused of copying another person’s work—Katy Perry’s “Dark Horse” and Robin Thicke’s

“Blurred Lines” were both hit with high–profile lawsuits that took years to resolve.

Making music copyrightable has its advantages and disadvantages.

On one hand, it protects an artist’s property and creative vision.

But the limits of Western music mean that with the formulaic constraints of pop songwriting, we’re bound to get amalgamations of prior music. Does this mean musicians maliciously steal other people’s work? Not necessarily, and copyright law can get blurry in determining whether or not an artist is allowed to own a commonly used musical element.

Pop music is meant to be enjoyed by the masses and more people than ever are making music thanks to the internet. As the search for the perfect pop song continues, we are reminded that music is a shared experience and a connecting thread for many people.

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FILM & TV

Google Chrome Extension SignUp Fights to Make Movies Deaf–Accessible As Deaf representation in film grows, we must ensure these movies are within reach. | KAYLA COTTER

W

hen I first speak with Mariella Satow, I have to bite my tongue to keep from interrupting her with stories about my seven–year–old sister, whom I will inevitably boast about before we sign off. In the background, the 2022 Oscars gear up: A few hours from now, Troy Kotsur will become the first Deaf man to win an acting Oscar, and CODA will win Best Picture in a ceremony overshadowed by controversy.

A few days earlier, my sister is admitted to the hospital for an infection that prevents her from wearing her cochlear implant. From FaceTime calls, I glean that the room is stark, white, and isolated. The only color emits from the TV that plays Disney movies, and my heart sinks a little deeper. A seven–year–old can’t read a movie’s worth of captions whether they’re offered or not. I hate that one of the only sources of comfort in her vicinity is inaccessible to her. When I discover Mariella’s app on a friend’s Instagram story, my heart hurts a little less.

Though we have made strides in the accessibility of the theater experience, there’s still a long way to go. Every showing of CODA in theaters featured open captions, text that is always in view; yet for other movies such as Eternals, which features Lauren Ridloff as the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s first Deaf superhero, open caption screenings were few and far between in many areas. Though closed captions for the film were available via cup holder units or glasses that 8

project captions in every state, these can be uncomfortable, inconvenient, and isolating for Deaf moviegoers. On the other hand, open caption viewings that are available tend to be at odd hours—either late at night or during the workday. For decades, Deaf viewers have been an afterthought in Hollywood.

In many ways, they continue to be so, especially for those who prefer interpretation to captions. Luckily, CODA’s pivotal awards season success ensures that Deaf accessibility is at the forefront of the conversation.

At the height of the COVID–19 pandemic, Mariella began to learn American Sign Language (ASL), inspired by an interaction she had with a Deaf man in a supermarket years earlier. Searching for movies with ASL captions to help facilitate the learning process, she found a distinct lack of them.

After speaking with hearing parents of Deaf kids, polling the Deaf community in Facebook groups, and researching statistics, she discovered that many others shared her desire.

She decided to start SignUp, a Google Chrome extension that adds ASL captions to Disney+ content, which launched in August 2021.

SignUp should not be revolutionary, yet it is. Mariella recognizes that closed captions are not a substitute, especially for Deaf children who face reading delays. As she puts it: “Closed captions are undescriptive.

Some of the time they’re inaccurate or they’re missing from certain streaming platforms or networks. They also don’t convey the emotion and expression

34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 5, 2022

Illustration by Insha Lakhani that sign language does.” We often forget that ASL is a language with the same linguistic properties as a spoken language: It’s dynamic, developed, and dialects exist. Defaulting to closed captions undermines this.

Starting SignUp was not an effortless venture, especially against a strained budget. “I funded it myself, and I’m a dog walker. So that’s obviously not big money,” she says. “[I had to] find interpreters who were willing to work for a slightly reduced rate,” she continues.

Though she reports that these struggles have since plateaued due to the generosity of donors, it points to the difficulty in starting such a simple yet important project—one that Mariella tells me parents of Deaf children have asked for from streaming platforms for years.

Preparing to expand to Netflix, Amazon Prime Video, PBS, and Hulu in the near future, Mariella articulates her long– term goals for the medium: “[I

want to] get every movie interpreted that people ask for, which is massive, because, as you know, we’re quite behind. The interpretation should have been happening as the movies were coming out. So we’re catching up,” she says. “And I mentioned the … platforms we’re launching on this year, but I’d love to have all 300 sign languages, which will take a while.” Her goals may seem ambitious, but they should be; after all, this is long overdue.

As our conversation dwindles, Mariella’s eyes gleam as she describes who got SignUp to where it is today: the Deaf community. In particular, she speaks fondly of the first interpreter she hired: “Mikaela has been amazing. I mean, it was just her interpreting movies for the first four months.” She tells me that what she enjoys most is “when parents or teachers email [her] and give their comments, and especially when there are adorable photos of their kid watching a movie and understanding it for the

first time.” One parent, Jessica S., wrote, “My Deaf daughter is 11 and I have written emails frequently to movie producers (Disney, Blue Sky, etc.) begging for this! I'm so glad something has come along while she is still a child and can benefit!”

My sister is seven years old, but she’s the strongest, smartest, and bravest person I’ve ever met. SignUp was made with her in mind, and I feel an obligation to share it. That said, ASL captions should have been commonplace long before SignUp was launched in 2021. As Deaf representation continues to rise in mainstream media, it’s important that we remember those it is meant to serve. Open captions in movie theaters and ASL captions on streaming services are features that should be expected, not commended, and I’m disappointed that Mariella had to take the lead on the latter. Nevertheless, I’m grateful that she did, and I'm excited to use it with my sister.

FILM & TV

What You Missed at the Oscars, Minus the Slap.

The ceremony featured moving speeches and a Best Picture win that represented streaming services' expansive takeover in Hollywood. | JACOB A. POLLACK

T

Dune dominates in the technical awards Dune obliterated its competition in the technical and “below–the–line” categories, winning six of its ten nominations: Original Score, Sound, Visual Effects, Production Design, Film Editing, and Cinematography. The awards are great news for Dune, which is currently in preproduction for Dune: Part II, tentatively releasing in 2023.

he Academy Awards, aka the Oscars, is an annual awards ceremony that honors the greatest achievements in cinema from the past year, voted by just under 10,000 Academy members. Or at least it’s supposed to be about that. We all know that the 2022 Oscars will be remembered for many other reasons.

No, I promise you this isn’t another think piece dissecting the Will Smith/Chris Rock incident that unfolded on the Oscars stage. Instead, let’s discuss the major wins and moments that, in any other year, would’ve been the leading stories.

CODA wins Best Picture Sian Heder’s CODA, a heartwarming, coming–of–age tale of a teenager who loves to sing but whose entire family is deaf, was “the little film that could'' of this awards season. Premiering at Sundance in January 2021, CODA was bought by Apple for $25 million (a Sundance record), where it got dumped on Apple TV+ with little attention and had a late surge that led to a Best Picture win, a first for a streaming platform. CODA is the first Sundance film to ever win Best Picture, additionally winning Best Supporting Actor and Best Adapted Screenplay.

How did CODA pull this off?

Apple is why.

While Apple decided to release CODA on its streaming service in August without insane marketing, it decided to focus on the endgame: awards season. It might sound a little crazy, but Oscar winners are not necessarily only chosen by their merit, but also by how well they campaign for their

Illustration by Brian Lee movies, which includes Q&A sessions, film screenings, and attendance to all awards shows prior to the Oscars. Apple ran an incredible campaign, culminating in a White House visit with President Joe Biden and First Lady Jill Biden. CODA’s lead ensemble of four actors— three of whom depict deaf characters and are themselves Deaf—charmed Academy voters with its nuanced storytelling.

Who would’ve thought two years ago, when Apple TV+ was launched, that it'd be the first streaming platform to win the top prize in Hollywood? Not Netflix.

Over the years, Netflix has invested tens of millions of dollars in Oscar campaigns for films like The Irishman, Roma, and most recently, The Power of the Dog, which all failed to win Best Picture. Netflix will get a Best Picture win eventually, but it's laughable that it's been obsessed with receiving one for years and just got beat by

a newcomer, albeit one hailing from one of the world’s biggest companies.

It’s tough to fully understand the effects of a streaming film winning Best Picture right now. But for an industry like Hollywood, which relies heavily on movie theater attendance for success, awarding a film that barely played in theaters demonstrates a changing tide in Hollywood’s approval of streaming.

Best Supporting Actor and Actress shine In terms of the most endearing speeches of the night, the supporting acting categories were some of the best. Troy Kotsur became the first deaf male actor and second deaf actor ever to win an Oscar. In his speech, he thanked his family and cast for their tireless support for him.

“I really want to thank all of the wonderful Deaf theater stages where I was allowed and given the opportunity to de-

velop my craft as an actor. …

This is dedicated to the Deaf community, the CODA community, and the disabled community. This is our moment!”

Kotsur said when accepting his Oscar.

Ariana DeBose won for Best Supporting Actress for her role as Anita in West Side Story and became the first openly queer woman of color and second Latina to win an acting Oscar.

Sixty years ago, Rita Moreno, who was in the audience that evening, won the same category playing Anita in the original West Side Story. DeBose, who comes from a dancing and theater background, dedicated her award to her family and the power of art.

“Imagine this little girl in the back seat of a white Ford Focus, look into her eyes: You see a queer, openly queer woman of color, an Afro-Latina who found her strength in life through art. And that's what I believe we're here to celebrate,” DeBose said.

Liza Minnelli and Lady Gaga’s touching moment Together, Liza Minnelli and Lady Gaga presented the final award of the night. It was a rare occasion for show business legend Minnelli, who won Best Actress for Cabaret 50 years ago but took a step back from the spotlight in recent years due to health issues. While presenting the award, Minnelli was thrilled by the loud reception from the crowd but appeared to get a little lost as she stumbled on her lines. Gaga, who has a genuine love for elders in the industry (evinced by her friendship with Tony Bennett), helped Minnelli present and in a hot mic moment, leaned over to Minnelli to say, “I got you,” to which Minnelli responded, “I know.”

So yes, even without Slapgate, there were plenty of memorable and pivotal moments on Hollywood’s biggest night. The historic winners of this year's Oscars have shown us the side of Hollywood that values representation and creating inclusive stories, which is a step in the right direction.

APRIL 5, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

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Sidechat to the Main Stage: A New App That Is Taking Over Campus

S

ocial media apps dominate college campuses. They act as methods for students to connect and share memes, struggles, personal antidotes, and anything else that crosses their mind. But a new generation of social media apps are embracing anonymity—from Snapchat to Yik Yak, apps are embracing the unseen.

Most recently, a new app called Sidechat is making waves in the anonymous app space, blowing up on college campuses across the nation—but what exactly is it?

Some apps like Instagram have built a culture of aesthetically pleasing vibes and perfect, postable, curated content, regardless of whether it reflects reality. In contrast, Sidechat embraces a genuine, low–key aesthetic that is clearly seen in its app design and function. The interface is simple and intuitive, with "karmic" upvotes and downvotes on anonymous posts. The app's function is almost addictive—it takes little effort to be sucked into the relaxed and humorous world of Sidechat.

But the background of Sidechat is even more elusive than its avid anonymous users. The founders prefer to keep things quiet, resulting in a lack of interviews about the app's inception and mission. Its LinkedIn page is equally understated and suggests that the company is small, with an estimated two to ten employees.

But its approach to conquering college campuses is anything but conventional for a social media app. Sidechat used a simple grassroots strategy to recruit students to introduce the app to their campus.

Toyosi Abu (W '24 and E '25) was a brand ambassador for Sidechat, describing its market-

A new app called Sidechat has taken Penn by storm—but what exactly is it? | SHELBY ABAYIE

ing strategy as having pre–established brand ambassadors recruit their friends as campus spokespeople to help launch the app on new campuses. Through this campaign, Toyosi was contacted to help launch Sidechat at Penn. “[The launch] consisted of trying to get people to download the app. [We did this by] trying to buy collaborations with student groups on campus to help promote the app, trying to find popular social media pages to help promote the [app], setting up tables around Locust Walk, and flyer distribution,” Toyosi explains.

Toyosi was drawn to the app because of how it separates itself from other anonymous social media apps. “It's [the] intersection between Reddit and Yik Yak. Reddit isn't [completely] anonymous. People [can] make [their usernames] weird things because they want anonymity …

[But] I've had frustrations with Reddit … I don't post [on Reddit] anymore because my user-

10 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 5, 2022

name is close to my real name,” Toyosi says.

On the other side of the spectrum, Yik Yak allows for total anonymity, which can embolden users to post derogatory and inflammatory comments because they don’t fear consequences.

But Toyosi explains that Sidechat is the perfect balance between anonymity and accountability.

He states that an anonymous app should be anonymous to other users so that they can post candidly. However, he also says that the backend of the ideal anonymous app should be trackable, meaning that the app can still hold users accountable for what they say and moderate content—and Sidechat accomplishes just that.

Emma Gwan–Nulla (C '25) is an avid user of Sidechat. She was introduced to the app when offered a free cookie by brand ambassadors like Toyosi promoting the app on campus. At first, she downloaded the app with little thought in order to get a free

Illustration by Kilahra Lott cookie, but eventually, she was sucked in.

According to Emma, Sidechat isn't just an app for anonymous shitposts—it's also a place for students to find out about what's going on around campus. “Somebody was talking [about an event] at NOTO, and they found it on Sidechat. I was [intrigued that the person was] keeping themself in the know through Sidechat. The app is very entertaining,” Emma recalls.

Unsurprisingly, an app that captures the random thoughts of hundreds of college students is bound to have some amusing tidbits that keep people scrolling.

For instance, a staff member at the 1920 Commons has become the muse for several posts on the app. Known as Ms. Anita, her welcoming presence has turned her into a Sidechat celebrity, with members praising her for her warm attitude and sweet greetings.

“A lot of the [posts] are about the lady at Commons that calls

everybody ‘baby.’ I didn't know her name until Sidechat. I definitely think I asked her at the very beginning of the year and I forgot. I was afraid to ask her again. I just tell her, ‘You make my day,’ and I keep it going. But now I know her name, “ Emma says.

But Sidechat provides students with much more than just memes—it also creates a community for students to vent about feelings and experiences without the direct judgment of others. Emma experienced a racially motivated incident that left her feeling unhappy. And to vent about her feelings, she posted about it on Sidechat.

To her shock, she received a flood of comments offering support and reproaching the incident.

Emma recounts, “It felt like there was a community that was also able to [understand me]. So when it blew up, it was really exciting. I remember my day was much better because I [initially thought that] no one on this campus cares—but to even see anonymous people that I know go to Penn that care is really validating.”

More so, the real feelings of students are expressed easily in multiple formats. Sometimes these posts are simple encouragements and other times these posts are delivered through timely memes.

Behind the safety of anonymity, Sidechat combats our notoriously preprofessional culture and "Penn Face" by providing an online space for students to express their struggles. Through anonymous memes, posts, and vents, Sidechat shows us the unfiltered truth about the Penn experience in all of its tired, several–lectures– behind, barely functioning glory.

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he rumors are true: It's officially Short King Spring. While men often flaunt or even lie about tall heights on dating apps and women who are attracted to men generally regard height as an important factor in their relationship decisions, a new trend—celebrating shorter men—might be changing the dating scene.

The hashtag “#shortkingspring” has more than 1 million views on TikTok as of the end of March, with people posting videos about dating men shorter than them, demonstrating height–appropriate partner poses for Instagram, talking about the benefits of shorter men, and showing off their shorter boyfriends. Many on both TikTok and Twitter say that the confidence that shorter men have, as well as their senses of humor, make them especially attractive.

Many attribute the start of the trend to Tom Holland and Zendaya, one of the most talked– about Hollywood relationships on social media. Zendaya, who stands at 5’10”, is two inches taller than Holland, who's 5’8”, but their height difference hasn't been an issue in the relationship.

Holland even called it a “stupid assumption” that it could ever be a problem for the couple.

Holland and Zendaya star in the latest Spiderman as Peter Parker and his love interest, Michelle "MJ" Jones. In past

Illustration by Lilian Liu

Short King Spring Is Upon Us

franchises, including The Hunger Games and Iron Man movies, when Jennifer Lawrence and Gwyneth Paltrow were taller than their respective on–screen romantic counterparts, Josh Hutcherson and Robert Downey Jr., directors used certain angles of perception—as well as platform shoes— to make the men look taller than they actually were. The most recent Spiderman movies show how times are changing: There was no attempt to make Holland appear taller than Zendaya, the director instead choosing to keep their natural heights.

It’s absolutely time for the stigma against short men to be done away with. The biases against shorter men are not only rooted in misogyny, but also heteronormativity and cisnormativity. There are still stereotypes at play, such as men feeling the need to play the role of a "protector" in a relationship and women needing "protection" from men—and these need to be broken down. Preferences for taller men have material implications as well: A recent study shows that a man who's 5’6” needs to earn $175,000 more a year than a man who's 6’0” to be seen as equally desirable. When running for office, tall men often win over shorter men. So why are we equating leadership, masculinity, and strength with height?

While it seems that Short King Spring appears to be turning the tide on this height bias,

there is also some danger in this trend. Currently, shorter men are popular on social media, but people easily tire of viral TikTok trends and find Tweets repetitive.

By treating the attractiveness of shorter men as a mere trend, we risk cycling back to the misogynistic and heteronormative bias against them in the future.

But not only this, the idea that unchangeable characteristics such as height can be considered

Short King Spring is trending across social media. What does it mean for masculinity? | ANNA HOCHMAN trendy or progressive further represents how social media commodifies our bodies. Similar to how some are declaring 2022 as the end of the "BBL era," Short King Spring seems to be just another iteration of how body parts are now a part of the trend cycle.

In fact, Short King Spring seems to be dubbing people who are attracted to short men as "progressive," rather than simply acknowledging the fact that there's

much more to attraction than just height.

While Short King Spring is deconstructing rigid societal expectations of height, its framing seems to promote shortness as a trend rather a trait that should be permanently accepted and celebrated. We need to ask ourselves: Is this era just another body trend or are we actually ushering in a perception of masculinity that is inclusive of all men?

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F E AT U R E

A WALK THROUGH THE WOODLANDS WITH JANE AUSTEN Jane Austen, 'Bridgerton,' and The Woodlands give us an escape from modernity and a trip into the literary past. | ALICIA LOPEZ 1 2 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 5, 2022

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Illustration by Jo Xiang e walk side by side down winding paths past new and familiar tombs, ignoring the bitter cold and enjoying the scenery around us. We turned right as we entered the gates, took the grass–covered, once–clearly–marked brick path right again, then circled past the manor and looked out onto the river. While I love The Woodlands in all its seasons, I’ve always been partial to seeing it as it is now, in early spring, with the company of a friend. The grass was green, the forsythia yellow, the sky grey, and The Woodlands Cemetery, a blend of colors, was the picture of beauty.

Here, joggers shuffle past tombstones that have guarded the land for centuries while the Schuylkill

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River drifts past the dog walkers, picnicers, and students just as it passed Woodlands visitors in the 1800s.

While it’s an easily recognizable landmark for most Penn students today, The Woodlands Cemetery was not always the prized public picnic spot it is now. In 1740, The Woodlands was part of a private estate which contained much of the land that makes up the current Penn and Drexel campuses. At its peak, it was over 600 acres and extended to Market and 42nd streets. Today, The Woodlands has a smaller footprint, roughly occupying the space between 39th and 41st streets.

Penn honors its history as part of The Woodlands estate with Hamilton Walk, which was named after Jane Austen contemporary William Hamilton, the last owner of The Woodlands estate.

Beyond this, the connection between Penn and The Woodlands runs deeper. In 1803, Penn botany students used The Woodlands as their outdoor classroom, studying the cemetery’s various plant life. The Woodlands took up this role again during the COVID–19 pandemic, hosting Penn classes—from history, to urban planning, to archaeology, to creative writing—on its lawn.

Yet perhaps there is a more personal connection between Penn students and The Woodlands on an individual level, with students of all class years, schools, and majors escaping into the cemetery on walks and enjoying the green space it provides in the midst of a bustling West Philadelphia.

Just a block from the hustle of Penn’s campus, The Woodlands is a welcome and beloved escape. Sporting an expansive, scenic greenspace, The Woodlands allows visitors to transport themselves into a world of Victorian afternoon strolls amid the sometimes overwhelming whirl of the modern era. While Woodlands supporters can escape into nature from dawn to dusk any day of the week, once a year The Woodlands’ four–person staff and its trusty cohort of volunteers work to revive the cemetery’s bygone days at its Jane Austen Promenade event, which will

be held this year on Saturday, April 23 from 11 a.m. until 1 p.m. This event gives attendees the opportunity to don their regency–style clothing and stroll the grounds like those who visited William Hamilton, when The Woodlands was a private estate.

For Hannah Daly, part of The Woodlands’ four–person staff, working at The Woodlands gives her the opportunity to enjoy and promote one of her favorite places in Philadelphia. “It's very hard to find a quiet, serene place in Philly, and [The Woodlands] really suited a lot of my needs,” she says. “[Before I was hired,] I would go for walks here and have picnics with small groups of friends. I knew I wanted to work here if I ever saw an opening.” In 2020, her opportunity arrived, and Daly began managing The Woodlands’ private events. In doing so, Daly became fully immersed in the space, organizing events and learning its history, while still reserving time for her much–loved walks around the grounds.

The Woodlands’ mission is to bring educational events to the community “to enrich the lives of area residents and visitors” by celebrating the history contained within its “historic buildings and tranquil green space” and making them welcome to

deems the cemetery in “romantic decay,” and relishes the grass–covered paths and quiet tranquility the cemetery provides.

But before becoming the publicly accessible, urban escape it is today, The Woodlands Cemetery estate was inherited by its last and most

The design of Hamilton's old Woodlands Estate. Photo Courtesy of Hannah Daly notable owner, William Hamilton (1745–1813). As owner, Hamilton conducted major renovations, updating the cemetery to fit the latest European style. Inspired by English architecture and landscaping, Hamilton built a 16–room mansion, one of

The Woodlands Estate. Courtesy of the Library of Congress the public. A mix of paved roads and brick walkways, Daly affectionately

impressive gardens teeming with rare plants. Hamilton’s study of English architecture did not go unnoticed— Thomas Jefferson claimed the estate was “the only rival [which he had] known in America to what may be seen in England,” then invited him to help design the gardens at Monti-

the earliest examples of Federal–style architecture in North America, and

cello, his home in Virginia.

Across the ocean in Chawton, England, novelist Jane Austen (1775–1817) was building her own creations: her novels. Austen’s upper– middle class life allowed her to take in the types of landscapes, people, and social conventions that she describes in her work. While she never visited the United States or met Hamilton, Austen would have been familiar with estates like The Woodlands— in writing them into her work, she has helped preserve a literary picture of them for the present. Although she modestly claimed in a letter to her nephew that she metaphorically wrote “with so fine a brush, as produces little effect after much labor,” Austen’s works were and remain crucial to the English literary canon.

Because it was deemed improper for women to claim writing as a full– time occupation, Austen published her novels anonymously and received relatively little fame during her lifetime. Of her six most famous works, only four were published while she was alive. Despite never marrying and remaining a spinstress until her untimely death at age 41, Austen and

the depictions of love in her novels helped define the romance genre, and for many, the concept of romance itself.

Although set in different countries, both Austen’s and Hamilton’s creations are products of the same era, catering to the same pre–Victorian audience. To celebrate the era and the much–beloved novels of Jane Austen, each year, The Woodlands Cemetery holds a Jane Austen Promenade, encouraging people to dress up in regency attire and remember its origins.

The event started back in 2016, when The Woodlands partnered with the Eastern Pennsylvania chapter of the Jane Austen Society to create what was initially called “Jane Austen Night.” It was hosted inside the Hamilton mansion and featured tea, croquet, and finger sandwiches, before wrapping up with a screening of Sense and Sensibility.

In 2017, Jane Austen Night was transformed into a Jane Austen double feature centered around her 1815 novel, Emma. Attendees watched the movie adaptation followed by loosely–Emma–inspired fan–favorite, Clueless. To get into the spirit of the event, many dressed in either Austen–era regency clothing or 1990s garb resulting in a combo of old and (relatively) new.

The party atmosphere fits Woodlands well since Hamilton lived as

a 19th–century Gatsby, placing his home in full view of anyone traveling upriver. Here, Hamilton would often entertain guests at his lavish parties.

It's easy to imagine men wearing top hats and coattails and women in impractically large dresses strolling the grounds and waving at everyone floating along the Schuylkill. As a member of the Philadelphia Dancing Assembly, a dance–based social club, Hamilton hosted extravagant balls in his mansion, perhaps proof that Penn’s party spirit is as old as the land itself. While Hamilton’s parties were hosted partially for the company, they were also often used as a means of displaying the opulence of the house and grounds, a crucial part of one’s status in the Austen era.

The noise of passing traffic took me out of my trip back to Fitzwilliam Darcy’s estate, Pemberley, and distracted me from my visiting companion, Elizabeth Bennet.

I was reading Pride and Prejudice again, but this time for a class, the wonderful but sadly–at–8:30–a.m.

“Jane Austen Revisited.” Thinking of The Woodlands, Philadelphia’s own 19th–century estate, I couldn’t help but pause on the descriptions of lavish, rustic parklands such as that of Darcy’s Pemberley and use them as a means of personal escape from the noise of the city.

Photo Courtesy of Hannah Daly APRIL 5, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 13

F E AT U R E

"It was a large, handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance."

­—Pride & Prejudice

Photos Courtesy of Hannah Daly

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Yet the Jane Austen Promenade enables everyone to take part in life on a luxurious estate, not just elite, white Britons with several thousand pounds a year.

In 2021, amid the COVID–19 pandemic, The Woodlands expanded the Jane Austen Promenade to incorporate aspects of the Netflix original series, Bridgerton, an Austen–period TV show. The inclusion of Bridgerton seemed to draw the new faces of a younger crowd, especially students, and The Woodlands was happy to be able to celebrate a more–inclusive depiction of the historically white–centered era.

Last year’s event included “a pretty solid mix of people who are

long–term fans of the site. From historic preservationists who love a Victorian–era themed party to new folks who were drawn in by Bridgerton,” says Daly. Almost 100 people participated, resulting in a colorful array of period–piece outfits throughout the cemetery.

With so many people in attendance, it’s easy to feel whisked away to Austen’s world.

Visitors and Woodlands staff alike dressed in regency costumes.

Hannah Daly flaunted oversized, pink peacock feathers and lace gloves while Jessica Baumert, The Woodlands’ executive director,

wore an exaggeratedly fancy wig.

“The parody elements of Bridgerton added a playfulness that I think Jane Austen embodied but brought it to the current day,” says Daly. It’s certainly true that Austen was quite the comic, filling her stories with hilarious faux pas, and at times, writing commentary on the verge of satire. Despite this, the Austen era is romanticized, distracting viewers with bonnets, rolling grass hills, and Colin Firth sexily diving into a lake for no apparent reason.

With the Promenade’s addition of Bridgerton, a show that both celebrates and critiques the era through excessive costuming, modern participants can both indulge in the collective imagination of the era (including Colin Firth) and also mock it for its many flaws.

Adding Bridgerton to the event is perfectly in line with Austen’s work. Beyond simple escapism, Austen novels show us how the apparent “fundamentals” of our society are not necessarily innate. Barri Gold, professor of “Jane Austen Revisited,” explains how Austen can be used as a lens through which we can “think about the way we got here, into a culture that’s proven ecology–breaking,” and recognize that it “was not the only way we could have gone.”

Austen shows us the unnatural structuring of our world by underscoring the absurdity of traditional hierarchies. In critiquing the slave trade, mocking class distinctions, and ridiculing almost all characters who care about physical appearance, Austen highlights and criticizes many of the biggest issues of the day, advocating for a much more progressive world.

That said, Austen’s novels are pleasure reads for many, and that’s perfectly okay, too.

There’s nothing wrong with picking up Northanger Abbey for fun. Austen provides opportunity for both pleasure and reflection. Gold and I talked briefly about the pleasure of

F E AT U R E

reading a romance novel. “I grew up not on Austen, but on Georgette Heyer,” an early 20th century romance writer.

Heyer’s books were “circulated around my family,” says Gold, and she devoured them in her free time. Yet, Gold confesses, “Austen does it better than any of them. Heyer’s got it. She can turn a sentence nicely, but nobody turns a sentence like Austen.”

This year’s Jane Austen Promenade is set to be the best one to date. According to Daly, The Woodlands staff “started brainstorming this year's event as soon as last year's ended,” but have “been planning hard for it since the new year.” As in the past, regency dress is encouraged but definitely not required—participants will have the opportunity to stroll the grounds, play croquet, and participate in other Austen–era pastimes.

Honoring Hamilton’s love of dancing, the Germantown Country Dancers will be performing both modern and period–accurate English country dances in a manner that they describe as “elegant, rowdy, romantic, and playful,” all elements of Austen’s novels. In addition, there will be Victorian–style treats created by Lil Pop Shop, a maypole, and crafts such as a headdress/headband DIY station.

Whether you want to take your own selfies or get your photos taken by the event photographer, the mansion and grounds will lend themselves to many elegant photo opportunities. While there will be some treats available, visitors are also encouraged to bring their own picnics to celebrate the occasion.

Tickets for the event are being sold on a sliding scale, with ticket prices ranging from $5 to $30. Attendees are encouraged to pay what they can. “While we act a lot like a public green space, we are privately owned and funded. That's also a reason

why we put on these events, to help support this space,” Daly says. Despite the hundreds of members of the public who enjoy The Woodlands for free each week, without grants, donations, and ticket revenue, The Woodlands would not be able to remain open. As such, the Jane Austen Promenade’s sliding scale is crucial to keeping the event widely accessible while also allowing those who can afford to pay more to support The Woodlands.

In the event of bad weather (knock on wood), the Promenade will be held at the same time on the following day, April 24. The Woodlands encourages attendees to enjoy “the chance to take a stroll like Julie Andrews is narrating your life” and is thrilled that, like last year, Bridgerton will be included in the Promenade. “This year, it's going to be a really nice return to spring in Philadelphia,” says Daly. “Even if you're not a Bridgerton fan or a Jane Austen fan, you would enjoy this event because there are daffodils in bloom, hyacinths, beautiful flowers to see, and a gorgeous historic mansion as backdrop.”

Upon his death in 1813, Hamilton’s heirs sold off much of the estate to be developed into the suburban residential and commercial buildings that make up West Philly as we know it today.

In 1840, several decades after Hamilton’s death, The Woodlands Cemetery Company of Pennsylvania purchased the remaining 92 acres of Hamilton’s estate, which included the mansion, greenhouse, carriage house, and much of the plant life rooted into the land, in hopes that “the beautiful landscape and scenery of [Hamilton’s estate] may be perpetually preserved.” The Woodlands gained notoriety through its reinterment of the remains of David Porter, a naval officer who fought in the

War of 1812. With a celebrity in the ground, Philadelphia Victorians began coming to The Woodlands to pay respects to the officer and stroll

when everything started in The Woodlands, helping to honor the history of the estate and escape the world of the present.

the grounds, living up to its status as a “Victorian pleasure garden.”

While Hamilton and the full estate is long gone, it survives through the Jane Austen Promenade, the event that brings Jane Austen lovers, students, Bridgerton fans, Woodlands supporters, and various combinations of those categories together to share their love of the cemetery and the idealized Austen period.

Whether attending for the costumes, for the literature, for the greenery, for the people, or for the Lil Pop Shop, attendees will find themselves transported in time to the era

Photos Courtesy of Hannah Daly

While no longer a private estate, The Woodlands still allows visitors the chance to indulge in an escape into a Jane Austen–esque, almost literary world, which would be otherwise difficult to find. Daly encourages students to visit saying, “[Even] if you're not a history buff, if you're not a Jane Austen fan, you can still have a great afternoon at The Woodlands, at the Promenade, or on another day.”

“Ready to go?” I nodded.

We looked around, drinking in the beauty of The Woodlands before heading toward the cemetery gates. Our eyes flitted over the grass, the tombs, the trees, the river.

Once again the colors blurred as we walked, and we left the estate behind us, stepping back into the world of the present. As we stepped toward the rush of Woodland Avenue, we promised that we would be back again soon.

APRIL 5, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 15

ARTS

Meet Anna Hoppel, the Painter Bringing Motion to a Static Form of Art

A

midnight blue paints the sky and streetlights adorn unassuming buildings, casting a soft glow on those passing by. This painted landscape is tranquil and uncomplicated—it could be any downtown suburban street. But in reality, it’s a dreamscape of Anna Hoppel’s (C '23) conception—incredibly real, yet entirely fictitious.

Anna is dual–enrolled in the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts (PAFA) and Penn.

Their studies at Penn encompass the liberal arts—Anna is a fine arts major with a painting concentration—while their studies at PAFA hone their technical skills as an artist.

Academic and technical studies aside, Anna is a student of life. Art is her desired form of communication because of the diversity and nuance its forms can take on. But they also reveal that “painting is a difficult way to pursue [visual communication] because you have to really sit with it, and interpret it.” Anna finds visual communication especially difficult in the modern world, “where you’re just scrolling through Instagram, seeing someone’s image for five seconds.” But that challenge is one she finds appealing, often asking herself: “Can I make a painting that will force someone to stop and stare at it?”

It was on a trip to Montreal that Anna found the inspiration for the hauntingly dreamy painting she would title after the real city, Le Plateau–Mont– Royal. The painting itself represents Anna's identity as an artist and an individual. Canvas and oil paints aren’t quite so easy to carry over country lines, so Anna traveled unaccompanied by their familiar

Anna wants you to know that art is all around you and within you. | NATALIA CASTILLO

tools, choosing to work from memory upon their return. Le Plateau–Mont–Royal is an ode to hasty sketchbook outlines overlaid with memories and adorned with painted renditions of old photographs. Anna reinvents collaging as an art form, turning it into a mode of inspiration. This painting calls upon what she knows and loves—the bodega on the corner of her hometown in Philadelphia, and the memory of her friends meandering through a dim Montreal evening. But most importantly they express “what it means to be a traveler inhabit[ing] a space for a short amount of time.” Anna knows that “the feeling of being an outsider versus a member of the community” can be strange yet alluring. While the story behind the painting's creation was only revealed to me

by Anna herself, the painting's sentiment can be felt by many.

The secret of the painting’s eclectic inspiration manifests

16 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 5, 2022

on canvas—it's Anna's purest expression of artistry.

Anna believes that the truth behind artistry reveals itself when we recognize beauty in raw expression—the act of being consumed by joy in a loved one’s presence, feeling the wash of relief cleansing oneself after times of stress, and the weight of anguish in a moment of loss.

The early days of quarantine were littered with those now– familiar feelings of loss, anguish, and sorrow. For Anna, it meant no longer being able to explore new landscapes and tell stories of places unexplored.

She instead had to reflect and contemplate the fact that their surroundings were shrinking to a singular habitat. Anna became introspective in order to bring new worlds to life on canvas. They learned how to shed light on old feelings and experienced their stagnant surroundings from a new perspective.

Anna's work is largely in-

Illustration by Amy Krimm spired by the people, places, and perspectives around them. When asked about style and genre, they shared, “I [wouldn't] want to pigeonhole myself so early. I sort of associate with perceptual painting, which works from observation, but I also work from photography and sketches, so I don’t fit fully into that [genre] either.” Escaping the binaries of classification and observation inspires how Anna experiences their work as an artist.

Art is full of happy accidents.

Anna even declares, “If I’m not experimenting and learning new things throughout the course of the paintings, why am I even doing it?” There’s no secret to making good art, and there’s no secret to viewing art either. Anna expresses, “The division between an artist and a normal person is so Western and so American. [Art] is so vague and abstract—it can be approached from so many different angles. It’s just way more

accessible than most people think it is.”

Anna shares, “When I’m cooking, or playing music, or writing, or doing anything, it’s all coming from the same place,” that place of creativity and emotion. She believes everyone holds the ability to create and express within themselves.

We can learn to harness light and love, warming those around us, but we can also preserve it for our own enjoyment—both actions are incredibly valid and entirely honest forms of artistic expression. When we restrict expression with monetary and cultural barriers, we effectively lock the gates, preventing one another from experiencing these intangible expressions of life as art.

Anna's invaluable wisdom lingers in my mind as staggered strikes of lighting paint an otherwise darkened sky. I try to imagine how Anna would capture the light on this particular evening. Would they focus on the bolt’s iridescent reflection against the glass skyline? Or would her oil paints capture the tranquil shadows, reimagining tones of blue inhabiting the silence after light scatters?

I recall the echo of Anna's words as I contemplate the sky's performance unfolding above me—she believes “everybody has that creative thing … everybody is able to [create].”

Perhaps the mental snapshots we take of moments in time, and accompanying reflection, are their own art form. We can see our surroundings as art in motion—because appreciation in itself can be the purest form of artistic expression.

Anna Hoppel’s senior exhibition will be on display at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts from May 13 until June 5.

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EGO

On Black Culture, Societal Reckonings, and Penn's Place in It All A conversation with Makuu Director Dr. Brian Peterson | ANJALI KISHORE

D

r. Brian Peterson first set foot on Penn's campus in 1989 as an undergraduate student looking to study engineering. More than 30 years later, after earning a master's and Ph.D. from the Graduate School of Education, Peterson is still here. Now the director of Makuu: The Black Cultural Center on campus, as well as a lecturer in the Africana and Urban Studies departments, Peterson reflects on his path with the ever–present realities of race dynamics of our society in mind.

In a conversation that began on the tail end of Black History Month but remains perennially relevant, Peterson sheds light on Makuu, Penn's impact on the greater Philadelphia community, and how we as a university reflect difficult truths about our nation.

STREET: What sparked your interest in Makuu, and how does it tie into what you do with your programs today?

DR. BRIAN PETERSON: There were already some hubs of Black culture on campus [before Makuu], being Du Bois College House, Africana Studies, and the African–American Resource Center, but within University life, there was a student–led push to create different spaces. [The Pan–Asian American Community House], La Casa [Latina, the Latinx cultural space on campus], and Makuu grew out of that—we're all about 20 years old. Greenfield Intercultural Center predates us, and then the [LGBT] and Penn Women's Center are older, stand–alone spaces. Roughly around the time that Makuu, PAACH, and La Casa were founded, Penn bought the ARCH building. It used to be the Christian association, so the opportunity to get this building and centralize student life was really sort of the genesis of Makuu.

Photo Courtesy of Dr. Brian Peterson For us now, in terms of Black services. Maybe a student is saycultural life, we really try to see ing, "Hey, I'm not able to focus what's happening and how we in class," and we help them get can partner with [not only] Du- tested, and now they understand Bois [and] Africana Studies, but that they have ADHD. also partner with Penn Women's STREET: Have you noticed Center, the [LGBT] center, an evolution in your experience PAACH, and La Casa, as well as as a Black man and member of different academic departments. that community during the years We try to figure out where they you’ve been at Penn? intersect and really support the DR. BP: I got to Penn in different student groups that 1989, and for a lot of alumni that operate under the UMOJA um- I know from that era who may brella. There are a whole lot of be a little bit older than me, they organizations under them like often lead with encounters with Black Wharton, National Society police, whether it's Penn Police for Black Engineers, the African or Philadelphia Police [DepartAmerican Arts Alliance, and per- ment] in West Philadelphia. In forming arts groups really ampli- a lot of ways, that clouds their fying what they're doing on cam- involvement. They don't want pus and trying to meet the needs to reconnect as alumni, because of students on the organizational they have this feeling of not beand individual sides. When stu- ing wanted. When they're condents have issues about belonging stantly asked to show IDs by or financial concerns, whether security guards, or actually pulled it's first–year students adjusting over by police on campus for just to campus or seniors trying to minding their own business, a get a job or anyone in between lot of Black men from the '80s struggling with wellness, we're have countless stories. I have my not going to handle the wellness own as well, but one of the main concern primarily, but we'll try differences now is that even deto partner with CAPS and other spite Breonna Taylor and George

1 8 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 5, 2022

Floyd, by and large Penn has really tried to step up in terms of what policing looks like. There's still a long conversation that needs to be had broadly about policing, because I think what happened with the Black Lives Matter movement in the summer of 2020 is that people really began to question, "What is policing?"

When we talk about mental health on Penn's campus, we talk about services and support and resources, but when we have someone facing a crisis like Walter Wallace in West Philadelphia, you lose a life because there aren't support services to be called in. Unfortunately, in a lot of ways, that was the story for Black students at Penn when I was here in the '80s and the '90s. It's gotten a lot better, but for students still, there's still this sense of policing—not necessarily by security, but by the Penn community broadly. Students feel like, "people are questioning my intellectual ability,” or, "people are not letting me be in study groups,” or that people are

isolating them in peculiar ways.

That happens, but then on the flip side, this generation of Penn students has a lot more access to services and resources than my generation had.

A lot more Black students are traveling abroad, a lot more Black students are applying for fellowships through CURF, a lot more Black students are just in more "mainstream" student organizations where they're a lot more visible. And at the same time, students are still supporting Black student organizations and minority organizations. I think the fact that students have more of a choice, more options, more opportunities, is a really really good thing. Of course, Penn still has a lot of work to do in creating inclusive spaces where people feel like, "I can be my full self here and feel valued,” because sometimes we don't want to have those difficult conversations about what that really needs to look like. It's challenging, but we've definitely come a long way from my time as an undergraduate student.

STREET: What can we do, as members of an institution like Penn, to expand this movement to the greater community?

DR. BP: In some ways, Penn could do more. Penn scholarship has experts in different fields, like Dorothy Roberts, Mary Frances Berry—you could go down the list. But there's a disconnect in who you're talking to and who's actually paying attention. It's complicated, because the past two years have a sort of asterisk on them, because we were doing it during a pandemic. You can't just hold a town hall in a crowded forum, right, so I don't know when that asterisk will be completely lifted. So yes, Penn has this scholarship, Penn has this reach, but this is also not a Penn–

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specific issue. America has a lot of challenges talking about race in a relevant way, and it's not necessarily for Penn to solve America's problems.

Philadelphia is a very neighborhood–specific city, which is very racially isolating for specific groups depending on where you are, but that's not a Penn thing.

Penn could do its part and not displace people, but we can't draw a new map for Philadelphia and figure out how to have more integrated spaces. It might be due to financial concerns or this complicated neighborhood’s history—that's not a Penn thing.

In some ways, the best thing that could happen at Penn is bringing in diverse students and then allowing them to figure it out in the way that they want to, which is what I would urge Penn administrators and faculty to do.

Listen to the students as they're figuring their stuff out and creating their own spaces. Then,

we still have to be careful not to indoctrinate them into the same racially isolating modes that history has given us, and if you're not careful, you fall into that same trap.

STREET: What can students do to really make that happen?

DR. BP: I think you are doing it. The way that leadership responds to students now is definitely much different than it used to be. I mean, you can go back and look at a lot of anti–war protests. Students got a lot of stuff done, but now, you're much more connected to each other because of social media and phones, so you can get a lot more done quicker and more effectively because of the communication that you have access to. To me, across the nation, institutional presidents and faculty need to better understand how you all operate. There's a disconnect in terms of their access to technology and their experiences com-

ing up through this stuff, but it definitely makes the impact that you have much deeper across the board.

I see a lot of change that has occurred, but there's still some deep questions that are really hard for students to tackle when you're talking about racism and antiracist work, just because that's hard for everybody. But you have a clearer understanding of what justice should look like, and you're really helping older generations understand gender fluidity, identity, and intersectionality in ways that people didn't have language for. Now, faculty members are Googling, trying to figure out what this language is.

And that's really important: You can't just say, "Oh, this doesn't really matter because they've tried to say that." There are people who mis–pronoun people on purpose, for example: There's no place for that, and students are the ones who are saying

there's no place for that.

STREET: What are Makuu's and the Penn administration’s goals for us as an institution to address everything we’ve discussed today?

DR. BP: It's hard to really name the goals now just because there [are] so many question marks. I think we're still, despite what we want to believe, in COVID–19 times. Knock on wood, we don't have to cancel a graduation again. We also have a new president coming in, we have a new provost, so there's a lot of trying to get everyone acclimated. Regardless of who's here, I hope that we can figure out constructive ways to unpause some of the conversations about what justice looks like, figuring out how to bring people to the table, whether it's faculty, community members, staff members, grad students, undergraduate students. The answers are probably already within our community: If

we just get the right people talking to each other, we can figure out some really constructive ways to break down barriers.

I guess that's the biggest thing, in an abstract and direct way: We have to break down more barriers. Penn is very compartmentalized in a way that's sometimes counterproductive, and when we allow those barriers to exist and be okay with whatever people can produce in their own spaces, it's not what we should be doing. If we do want to pick up the torch on their bigger conversations from 2020, that's going to require a different way of thinking and a different way of doing. I'm hoping that we can commit to that, figure out what that could possibly look like, and just keep moving forward. We could take a cue from youthful impatience and say, “This needs to be done by this time, let's set a day.” Let's set a day, and let's get it done.

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FOCUS

A Union Is Brewing The significance of union organizing at the 34th and Walnut Starbucks | CONNOR NAKAMURA

L

ately, it’s been busier than usual near the Starbucks at the corner of 34th and Walnut streets. Waves of customers approach the store and notice the doors are locked and lights are turned off inside. A small poster at the entrance reads “Sorry For the Inconvenience.” But in front of the closed store, enthusiastic volunteers can be seen talking to incoming customers, handing out flyers, or passing around clipboards. Several of these off–duty workers and volunteers wear pins that have the words “Starbucks Workers United” imprinted in all caps, outlining an image of a raised fist and coffee mug.

Since November 2021, workers at the 34th Street Starbucks have been spearheading a unionization effort at the store.

It began by word of mouth, with workers floating around the idea of joining Workers United, a labor organization that advocates for service workers. Through countless hours of dialogue and advocacy, organizers at the store have been rallying support among the staff. Now, workers are preparing to take an official vote on the establishment of a labor union.

At the beginning of the process, many of the workers at the 34th Street Starbucks were unfamiliar with unions— member–based democratic organizations that advocate on behalf of workers. They negotiate wages, benefits, and hours with the employer, ensuring that workers have a say in their working conditions. Currently, only 10.3% of Americans are involved in unions and 1.2% of all food service workers are formally organized.

Unions represent all the workers in a particular region or district and can cover various occupations, such as teachers or dockworkers. But this isn’t the case for Starbucks, where each store is treated as an individual bargaining unit and must form independently. As a result, these new Starbucks unions will join the larger Workers United organization, where they will have the support of successful unions from across the country. This also gives union organizers access to the knowledge and experience of fellow labor organizing members.

The unionization effort at this particular Starbucks location is part of a broader

movement that began in Buffalo, N.Y., where multiple stores successfully voted to unionize despite the hostile response from the company’s corporate management team. Following the success of organizers in Buffalo, employees at over 100 stores nationwide joined the unionization process. In Philadelphia, employees at several Starbucks locations and local chains like Good Karma and Old City Coffee have started to agitate for democracy in the workplace.

Tiernan, a union organizer and Starbucks shift supervisor, is passionate about bringing the union to University City.

They and their fellow organizers believe that a union is the best way for their demands to be heard. “We want to have a say in this place where we spend such a large portion of our lives,” Tiernan says.

At stores like Starbucks, the workplace can be highly volatile and unpredictable.

Because of a nationwide employee shortage, Tiernan notes that management expects unfair hours from workers, often asking them to come in on their off days.

Additionally, they have not respected employees’ concerns around COVID–19 safety and lifted the mask mandate without fully consulting their workers. Customer safety remains another critical issue across Starbucks locations in Philadelphia.

Tiernan points out that employees are expected to handle customer issues without any real oversight or set policies.

These complaints could be directed through a union. Rather than one or two employees approaching management with their opinions or suggestions, workers can come together and democratically decide what they think is best for their store. Through contract negotiations, a Starbucks union gives workers an avenue to create more predictable schedules and influence other store policies regarding safety and customer relations. Critically, unions allow employees to negotiate a just cause clause in contracts to protect individuals from unfair discipline or firing.

Store management hasn't responded kindly to the unionization effort. Tiernan says that every week until the union election, management subjects employees to captive audience meetings, where the store is shut down and employees are

20 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 5, 2022

fed anti–union messages. Starbucks and other corporations are not allowed to explicitly discourage employees from voting against the union, but instead present the “facts”—fixating on the cost of union dues or the current benefits that Starbucks already offers.

Worker solidarity has been central to countering these misleading messages from management. Tiernan notes that throughout the process, it has become clear that “this whole thing is built on relationships.” When union dues or other concerns come up during meetings, the organizers are able to work through these issues in a collective and transparent manner. They acknowledge that their fellow workers may have to support a family or work multiple jobs in order to make ends meet. But they also present the facts of unionization—paying dues allows the union to build resources, advocate for workers, and fight for higher wages.

In addition to talking to fellow workers, the organizers are committed to educating the general public about the benefits of unionization. When Penn students and other customers are confused about why Starbucks is closed at 11 a.m. on a Wednesday, organizers take the time to explain the unionization process and answer the many questions some people might have. Customers often have significant sway over how a store is managed, and this customer is always right mentality could change the tide of a unionization effort.

To support the unionization efforts at Starbucks, Tiernan encourages customers to keep coming in to buy their daily

Illustration by Becky Lee coffee. Workers have a stake in their business succeeding just as much as the owner does, and it’s especially critical for the store to perform well during the unionization process. When ordering through the Starbucks app, Tiernan recommends giving good ratings, as “​​metrics really matter to corporate.” When visiting the store, congratulating or commenting on the union effort is another key way to show your support for the employees.

On a less material level, shifting the narrative around unionization is essential.

Since such a small fraction of Americans participate in organized labor, many don’t have an already–formed opinion besides what they might have heard in the media. Sharing a story about an uncle who’s in the electrical workers union or talking about one’s involvement in local unionization efforts can help clarify the value of democracy in the workplace.

Tiernan wants their fellow organizers to remember that they are part of this “powerful tradition of organized labor” and represent an “emerging new chapter in the labor movement.” In Philadelphia, it’s easy to draw upon a rich history of organized labor when contextualizing the Starbucks unionization. The first labor union in the country was founded in Philadelphia by shoemakers resisting the domination of their factory owners.

The radical IWW Interracial Longshore Union was founded here, centering racial justice in its unionization efforts. Tracing from this legacy of resistance, the new generation of workers is up to facing the injustices of the workplace and beginning to shift the landscape of organized labor.

ST YLE

Why Ketanji Brown Jackson’s Hair Matters to Black Women The first Black woman nominated to the Supreme Court is wearing her natural curls—here's why that's important. | NAIMA SMALL

W

hen I watched clips of Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson’s confirmation hearings, I first took note of her calm way of responding to the Republican senators’ tricky questioning, a familiar experience for Black women dealing with white peers or superiors. And like many other Black women, I also took note of her hair.

Jackson has sisterlocks, a thinner version of traditional locs. The hairstyle, which requires a unique training method, was created in 1993 by Dr. JoAnne Cornwell for “women who are interested in self–empowerment and cultural self expression” and who want to “embrace a natural hair care system that is self–affirming.”

Natural Black hair is frequently deemed unprofessional. People with locs, specifically, face accusations of being unclean—such as when Zendaya wore faux locs to the Academy Awards in 2015, causing white talk show host Giuliana Rancic to joke that that Zendaya’s hair looked like it smelled like “patchouli oil and weed.”

I've had locs since I was four years old, and flippant comments such as these stuck with me.

Though there has been somewhat

Illustration by Alice Choi of a revival of the natural hair movement in recent years due to social media, I grew up seeing few women with natural hair like mine. Growing up, I genuinely accepted that I'd have to wear a straighter hairstyle if I wanted to work in professional settings or be considered beautiful by societal standards.

In the Black community and outside of it, “good hair” is equivalent to "white hair," or at least the looser curls that are deemed more socially acceptable. According to Marita Golden, author of Me, My Hair and I: Twenty–Seven Women Untangle an Obsession, Black women in America today spend “half a trillion dollars a year on weaves, wigs, braids, and relaxers … and little Black girls still get the message that their hair needs to be tamed.”

The negative perception of natural Black hair is likely why some of the most influential Black female professionals and leaders—former First Lady Michelle Obama, Vice President Kamala Harris, and most mainstream, popular celebrities such as Kerry Washington—are seen with straightened hair. While a Black woman’s decision to wear her hair straightened is her own, as natural hair can be

difficult to properly manage and maintain, natural hair was a rarity to see as a child when watching successful Black women on the news or on television.

Ketanji Brown Jackson—the first Black woman nominated to serve on the Supreme Court in United States history—wearing her natural hair is more meaningful than many non–Black people may recognize. Jackson’s hair is far from the only reason her nomination matters for Black women and the Black community as a whole, but the wide interest and coverage of her natural hair is more important than just a mat-

ter of hairstyle. Black hair symbolizes our cultural identity, our Black pride, and oftentimes our willingness to defy the beauty or professional standards traditionally expected of women.

The nomination of Jackson coincides with the House of Representatives’ passage of the CROWN (Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair) Act of 2022, which would prohibit discrimination based on hair texture. The act still has to pass the Senate, but it marks a considerable point of progress since the act was initially brought to Congress two years ago.

Moments of visibility brought on by leaders such as Ketanji Brown Jackson shouldn’t be as rare as they are. Furthermore, the CROWN Act shines a light on the importance of protecting against hair discrimination that has caused generations of Black women to shy away from embracing their natural curls. With Jackson’s extremely well–deserved nomination, notions of Black hair being unprofessional or otherwise transgressive are being shattered, setting a precedent that will allow more young Black girls to grow up knowing the inherent worth of their hair.

Catering · Delivery · Takeout 4040 Locust St. pattayarestaurant.com APRIL 5, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 21

UNDER THE BUTTON

Penn to Launch the LGBT Center Into Outer Space | OSCAR EICHMANN

N

eil Armstrong. Buzz Aldrin. Alan Shepard.

What do these fools have in common?

NOT GAY. You heard me. Astronomy is a backwards, fucked-up, conservative business.

And what would be better to overcome this mighty challenge than the Penn Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender Center, which finds itself at 3907 Spruce Street, Philadelphia, PA 19104 to help all of you needy little sinners?

So here’s the plan, gals: Strap a series of poppers around the circumference of

the building. Throw nail polish across the curtains. Rip up all the carpets and demand that they get replaced with pink stretchy fabric. Remove all erroneous items weighing us down (books, sports gear, sports balls, sports clothes) and burn, burn, burn baby.

This is the fuel to our fire.

Once all is lit, the combustion will get this sucker free from the homophobic waters within which it wades. We will go up, up, up and away, filling the void so woefully and ignorantly established at present by the lack of spacegays.

Ten Ways to Maintain Your Painstakingly Crafted and Curated Persona on BeReal | IAN ONG

Photo courtesy of Pixbay / CCo 22 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 5, 2022

While floating around, expect to seOh wait! Hahah. I forgot!

We would have overcome the regressive perspectives of cosmic entities except for one problem: does anyone ever actually go inside that building? It’s pretty close to a church, and it's impossible for those two things to coexist.

Homophobia PREVAILS. Alas. We will now focus our efforts and funding on expanding and adding more tampons to Locust. #WomensHistoryMonthForever

S

o, you’ve finally caved to peer pressure and downloaded BeReal. Now, what’s next? Is it finally time to show your true, genuine self to others? Of course not, silly! Leave that to the knuckle-dragging plebeians with boring, meaningless lives—you, my friend, have an image to uphold. When it comes time to snap that fateful pic, here are ten easy tricks you can use to appear more interesting, fun, and thoughtful than you really are: Take a picture of one of the potted plants in your house.

Preferably choose one that’s near a window—the framing and lighting need to be perfect.

Wow, you’re so chill and artistic.

Hang out on the bus all day.

That’s right, you’re on public transport. You’re down to earth.

And you’ve got places to be.

Just snap a pic of the nearest crowd of people. If you shake your camera a bit, it almost kind

Photo courtesy of UTB Staff of looks like all of them could be your friends.

Loiter in upscale restaurants.

Order a glass of white wine from time to time to keep the restaurant managers from kicking you out. Fancy food means you have loads of disposable income!

Leave a Word Doc with a couple pages of filler text open at all times. Of course, any scholar worth their salt has longform essays to write. Note: Google Docs won’t cut it. Jesus, you’re classier than that.

Run outside and take a selfie with the first tree you can find.

Quick, you only have two minutes! If you can pull this one off, then people will know that you’re a grounded, well-adjusted individual who is in touch with Mother Earth.

Lie in bed and watch cult classic movies on repeat. Your friends need to know of your exquisite taste and refined sensibilities.

Don’t overdo it though—make

sure you can fit your casually sock-clad feet in the photo.

Prepare a five-course meal and have it on standby. Make sure you clear all the junk off your dining room table and get the plating just right before immortalizing that delicious spread online. Bonus points if you can rope people into pretending to be your dinner guests!

Borrow notes and a textbook from one of your nerd friends.

Highlight a couple of random words and give the camera a quizzical look as if you’re lost in thought, pondering the intricacies of quantum mechanics and crystal field theory.

Place a copy of Baudrillard’s Simulacra and Simulation on the coffee table in front of you.

When someone asks about it, explain how the social perception of authenticity has supplanted authenticity itself, and everyone will think you are very smart.

UNDER THE BUTTON

BREAKING: GSR Disputes Will Now Be Settled With Staring Contests | CLAIRE HAYES

T

hink of the most revolutionary invention to exist. You guessed it!

Group study rooms. Every day, some of Penn’s best and brightest compete to book 30-minute time slots in tiny box-shaped rooms that don’t have windows.

Students can only book 4 time slots at a time. Due to four n uptick in annoying roommate at Penn, Penn Mobile has seen more traffic than ever before.

Booking a study room has become more competitive than most Division I sports. Even now, I am scouring the app for a GSR in Biotech Commons next month, but alas, there are none left. America runs on Dunkin, but the University of Pennsylvania seems to run on the competitive nature of booking GSRs. I, for one, am very familiar with the song and dance of GSR behavior. Does this make me a genius? Probably.

Let’s take a look into one of my recent GSR excursions: It's

Tuesday morning. I show the woman at the front desk in Biotech my green pass. She hisses at me. Fair enough. I walk up to room five (that's right, the one that seats eight people) knowing that I would be the only one occupying the room. It’s 11:31, and a group of people is still in the room. How dare they betray the laws of Penn Mobile! They seem to be writing the formula for some sort of a potion on the board, must be chemistry. I stare through the glass door and wave. They give me a look of despair. I watch as they erase hours of work from the numerous whiteboards.

They finally exit, but the scent of their desperation and yogurt remains. I sit down anyway and pull out my 2019 Rose Gold MacBook Air. I turn on the lecture that I recently skipped and play 2048 in a separate tab. Oh, how I love being a part of the Ivy League!

I felt rude making those students leave the GSR. They were

Photo courtesy of Claire Hayes

obviously doing more important work than I was. I totally could have watched the lecture in my room. Oh well.

The issue with GSRs is that the quantity demanded exceeds the quantity supplied, and sometimes this shortage causes issues among students.

For example, last week a GSR dispute in Van Pelt ended in a Castle-style brawl. In response to this occurrence and in alignment with Pennsylvania’s antibullying laws, Penn has decided that staring contests will now decide who gets to stay in the GSR. That’s right. If I get to a GSR at 8:00 a.m., all I have to do to protect my territory for the entire day is beat any brave challenger in a staring contest.

No more Penn Mobile. First come, first serve. Buffet-style, if you will.

So go stock up on your eye drops and blue light glasses—dry eyes are now a major vulnerability. BLINKING IS FOR THE WEAK.

Penn Recruits Five-Star Spikeball Prospect | MATTHEW FRANK

F

or the first time since the 1800s, probably, Penn has recruited a five-star prospect. No, it’s not for football or basketball, but for the

biggest sport on Penn’s campus: spikeball.

Local Philadelphia high schooler Craig Daum has impressed many scouts across the

Photo courtesy of Seth Fein, Elvert Barnes / CC BY-SA 2.0

country with his stellar play and raw ability. Now, he will have a chance to prove himself on the biggest stages imaginable, which include that little grassy area outside of Harrison in addition to the grass outside of NCHW. Although Ivy League schools typically do not give out scholarships to athletes, Daum became the rare exception to the rule, as University officials, including Penn spikeball head coach Chuck McPoyle, are prepared to pay him a whopping seven figures to stay in Philly.

“You know, obviously, seven figures is a lot, but when you have a talent like Daum, it’s hard not to justify paying the big bucks,” McPoyle said.

“This kid’s a four-tool prospect. He can hit, he can pass, he can defend, and he can politely ask people walking by if they wouldn’t mind being a

fourth in his game. He’s got what it takes.”

When asked what drove him to commit to Penn over his numerous other suitors, Daum referenced the culture around spikeball at the school that would make him a star on campus.

“Columbia was willing to pay me eight figures, but I thought that Penn would give me the best chance to become the superstar spikeball player I’ve always dreamed of becoming,” Daum said. “If I really put my mind to it, I think I can make it to the big leagues.”

By “big leagues,” Daum refers of course to Rittenhouse Square and even Lincoln Financial Field (outside of it where the tailgates are). If he can get there, the upstart prospect may even make it onto ESPN+/-, where the content includes spikeball, professional Uno, and semi-professional

charades.

Although Daum realizes the position his outsized role gives him on campus (Noah Schnapp-level famous, but also unathletic), the 17-year-old is hopeful that people will be able to play it cool around him when they see him in public.

“I know everyone wants to get a selfie or make a TikTok while I do my legendary catchphrase (‘that’s pocket!’), but I’d urge everyone to please just treat me like you would anyone else,” Daum said. “I’m a student just like you, and even though I might have a sponsorship deal with Axis Pizza, that doesn’t mean you should act like I’m a deity or something.”

If you want to catch Daum in his final games before arriving at Penn, head to the middle school playground behind an alleyway in Center City and prepare yourself for greatness.

APRIL 5, 2022 34TH STREET MAGAZINE 23

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24 34TH STREET MAGAZINE APRIL 5, 2022