sover 990,000 acres of stolen land from 230 Indigenous nations, the largest beneficiary of Morrill Act. Similarly, decades of uranium mining and nuclear weapons testing on Navajo Nation lands have left people with disproportionate rates of cancer, while the vast majority of Six Nations residents have unreliable access to clean water as companies like Nestlé extract millions of gallons from their watersheds for profit.
“This global pattern extends to institutions like Cornell University, granted over 990,000 acres of stolen land from 230 Indigenous nations, the largest beneficiary of Morrill Act.
“
This teach-in highlighted how settler colonialism and capitalism operate globally to gain power and profit, dispossessing Indigenous people and exploiting natural resources It also reminded me of an event from my own family history. My mom is from Kalmykia a republic in Russia and the only Buddhist region in Europe, home to nomadic Mongols who settled in the Caspian steppes in the early 17th century. As a Kalmyk-American, I knew disappointingly little about the historical context and ongoing impact of the forced deportation of Kalmyks to Siberia, so I did some research.
I learned that on the December 28, 1943, at the hands of Stalin's USSR, the entire population of 100,000 Kalmyks were forced to leave their homeland within three days in the middle of winter and relocate over 3,000 kilometers away to Siberia This was an act of collective punishment for a few thousand Kalmyks’ participation in the German army against Soviet Russia during World War II. Faced with unprepared long travel in the middle of winter, one-fifth of the population died along the way.
As an ethnic and religious minority (Kalmykia is the only Buddhist republic in Europe), this event was also an attempt of ethnic cleansing. When they were allowed to return fourteen years later in 1957, Russian settlements populated their homeland. While my grandparents met in Siberia, my mother was born in the Republic of Kalmykia, only six years after the Kalmyks were allowed to return. In the aftermath of this event, Kalmykia is one of the poorest republics in Russia, though we are still rich in nomadic traditions and Tibetan Buddhist culture
After learning about the historical and political context of Kalmyk dispossession, my participation in the Free Palestine movement became much more personal. It showed me how education on the shared histories of oppression across the world has the power to unite people across different backgrounds in mass movements like Free Palestine.
At rallies and vigils, people would often share prayers and words of comfort from Islam, Christianity, and Judaism. I wanted to The Buddhist Sangha at Cornell to join the Coalition for Mutual Liberation, but wasn't sure how we could contribute The language of liberation work so often reminded me of Buddhism At a rally regarding the encampment, Professor Russell Rickford said, “the liberated zone is a state of mind”. To me, this sounded a lot like the concept of enlightenment, the ultimate goal of Buddhist practice where one is liberated from the cycle of samsara (suffering).
Flag of the Republic of Kalmykia. The center lotus represents Buddhism.
This cessation of samsara allows the enlightened Buddha to always help others, without the burden of personal suffering. Much like enlightenment, the liberated zone is an internal state reached through education and training the mind to break free from the mental chains of oppression, which then empowers action in the outer world I wondered about the history of Buddhist activism and the precedent for political involvement amongst Buddhists. The Sangha’s co-founder, Milay, introduced me to Thich Nhat Hahn’s legacy of socially-engaged Buddhism and peace activism during the Vietnam War and beyond. In my own research, I was excited to find open letters supporting the Free Palestine movement from a Buddhist framework, written by groups like the Democratic Socialist’s of America Buddhist Circle and The Buddhist Peace Fellowship of Berkeley, CA. Genevieve Marcy of the DSA Buddhist Circle called us to action, saying “Now is not the time for Buddhists to retreat to their cushions and meditation halls It is not enough to be the most mindful person in an empty room.” To remain ignorant and apolitical at this time of intense suffering would hinder our cultivation of boundless compassion, which requires investigating and addressing the root causes of suffering, namely the ongoing legacies of colonialism and displacement in Palestine.
“To
remain ignorant and apolitical at this time of intense suffering would hinder our cultivation of boundless compassion, which requires investigating and addressing the root causes of suffering,
“
Inspired, the Sangha E-Board wrote an open letter of our own, excerpted below:
“ “
“...Following in the path of Buddhist activists before us, such as Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh, we stand strongly against war, systemic oppression, and genocide. As Buddhists, we are committed to the mutual liberation of all beings from the cycle of samsara (suffering). In the Mahayana tradition, a bodhisattva is one who has reached enlightenment but chooses to forgo nirvana to help those still suffering on Earth. We ask our sangha to please join bodhisattvas in working towards mutual liberation for all, including Palestinians. As part of our efforts, The Buddhist Sangha at Cornell has joined the Coalition for Mutual Liberation (CML) in hopes of supporting and engaging with ongoing work to liberate Palestine and to combat our university’s involvement in perpetuating genocide Specifically, CML demands that Cornell University divest from weapons manufacturers (such as BAE Systems, Boeing, Elbit Systems, L3 Harris Technologies, Leonardo, Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, RTX, and ThyssenKrupp) that our endowment is currently invested in and profiting from. This demand has direct application to Buddhism in that 1) divestment is a powerful form of nonviolent protest and that 2) as Buddhists, we will not be complicit in our university’s profit off of weapons manufacturers because of our belief in the Eightfold Path, specifically right livelihood, which teaches that the way one earns a living should not harm others...”
Though a letter does not do much tangibly, we wanted to plant a seed for future generations of Buddhists to see that activism can be an extension of our Buddhist practice. Despite stereotypes of Asian apoliticism, monks secluded from worldly affairs, and the assumption that Buddhists are too "peaceful" to support movements like Palestinian liberation (which have notably included violent uprisings in response to decades of brutal apartheid and displacement), our letter hopes to challenge these misconceptions. In fact, activism is not contradictory to Buddhism, instead supporting our core principles of compassion and interconnectedness.
Throughout history, Buddhist figures and Asian communities have been deeply involved in struggles for justice, peace, and liberation. Another teach-in that profoundly impacted me was called “Sino-Japanese Imperialism: Past and Present”, hosted by APAA, the Buddhist Sangha, and United Uyghur Youth The ethnic cleansing, wrongful imprisonments, and religious persecution faced by Tibetan Buddhists and Uyghurs Muslims at the hands of the Chinese government in pursuit of territorial expansion, access to natural resources, and border security sounded eerily familiar to the injustices occurring in Palestine, in Kalmykia, and on Turtle Island. Again, it was apparent that colonialism is a shared wound across the world. Whatever form the oppressor takes, we are connected in the struggle for sovereignty, peace, and cultural survival. As I learned about how my own identities were connected to this liberation movement, it was also apparent that anyone can find connection to the fight for justice
...colonialism is a shared wound across the world... anyone can find connection to the fight for justice.
Witnessing the suffering of the Palestinian people from afar, I often felt deeply unsettled and frustrated by my own helplessness As my individual actions felt increasingly insufficient, I learned a lot from others (especially from my best friend, Michelle and her friends in Watermargin) about the importance of local community when making change. Witnessing the growth of the Coalition for Mutual Liberation on campus and the Free Palestine movement worldwide, my understanding of effective activism shifted beyond the effects of individual actions to the gradual shifts in societal consciousness created by collective action. At Cornell, education about shared histories of oppression around the world became the foundation for collective action, rooted in solidarity and the idea of mutual liberation.
During the encampment, the Sangha met nearby on the Arts Quad and read an excerpt from Thich Nhat Hahn’s “Good Citizens: Creating Enlightened Society”. Hahn reflected on his friendship with Martin Luther King Jr. and their shared value of the beloved community. He says, “it is difficult to make a change alone”. Mutual liberation work is a global recognition of interconnectedness, powered by the strength of local communities, and comprised of individuals with different strengths to offer. Together, over many lifetimes, we can walk the bodhisattva path in working towards mutual liberation for all.
Say to Neutrality: Navigating Allyship on a Divisive Campus “ “
By Eirian
In my first year at my extremely wealthy and white K-12 private school, I was involved in nothing short of a scandal I had called a classmate racist behind her back, after hearing less than savory recounts from classmates who had attended middle school with her the previous years. Unbeknownst to my freshmanyear self, I had entered something much more than just a high school. I’d entered a system that valued donors and families with recognizable names, where wealth and race were unspoken dividers. I had played with fire. I was called to meet with a counselor who was specifically in charge of “equity and inclusion.” In her office, I apologized to my classmate and hung my head in shame. While I understood where I’d gone wrong, I didn’t understand why the situation had abruptly ended with my apology To me, I’d made an assumption based on what my friends had experienced To her, I had done the unspeakable: tell a white person that they may have done something wrong in the past.
This uncomfortable situation served as the catalyst for my next four years navigating a predominantly white space in which politics interfered with every aspect of my education and social life. What a surprise – my predominantly white private school didn’t like it when I criticized them?!?!
Perhaps even worse, my school, through holding cultural events and rolling out several DEI initiatives, had made a concerted effort to be perceptibly “liberal” and “progressive” – the counselor who I’d met with being one of them Yet, when it came to addressing legitimate issues like de facto segregation with academic performance metrics, systemic racism, and how wealthy (and most often,white) students tended to get higher grades because they could afford tutors, student groups were silenced. With last minute complaints from parents, activities to encourage dialogue on race and class privilege led by students of color were canceled.
I was extremely privileged to attend my high school, and even more so to be able to attend Cornell. However, my experiences navigating a space where school administrators played a heavy hand in the narratives we were fed had led to a sense of frustration with the system, and confusion of whether or not things would truly provide an impetus for structural change
I was never one to keep quiet, but I became more and more wary of speaking up as I feared it would interfere with what college I would end up at, and wondered if what I was doing was actually making a difference. At Cornell, I’ve had similar fears.
I am no stranger to the fears of receiving backlash for speaking up, or jeopardizing future opportunities. At times, I’ve struggled with the question of why I should care if so many of my peers do not, and why I should be the one to take such risks. I am the first to understand why so many Asian American students may feel this way – it's not so much that they don’t harbor similar beliefs or opinions, but rather that they feel like it's not their place or not worth it to engage in active discourse and voice their opinions However, it's for these very reasons that it is so important to come together as a collective, and to stand in solidarity with one another.
“’Freedom of “’Freedom of expression’ is expression’ is hallmarked as a hallmarked as a university theme, yet university theme, yet this ‘freedom’ comes this ‘freedom’ comes with caveats, and with caveats, and ‘expression’ is only ‘expression’ is only tolerated when it is, tolerated when it is, yet again, palatable yet again, palatable to the mainstream to the mainstream aaudience.” udience.”
The Asian population is the second highest behind white students, and there are a number of well-established cultural organizations with the proper platforms and funding to inspire a large group of Asian students, especially those who may feel uneducated, preoccupied, or uninspired to act because it may not directly affect their day to day lives.
Cornell amplifies much of what I experienced in high school Cultural events and diversity are encouraged, yet only so much that it doesn’t deviate from what is widely acceptable and palatable to the mainstream audience “Freedom of expression” is hallmarked as a university theme, yet this “freedom” comes with caveats, and “expression” is only tolerated when it is, yet again, palatable to the mainstream audience.
Similarly, in the Asian American community, common themes include representation in media and cultural foods. Figures like Simu Liu and Andrew Yang are celebrated for proving the sanctity of the “American Dream,” and how “hard work will get you to your goals in life ” However, while widespread acceptance and representation is important, it should not be the end goal. Why do we have to fight so hard just to be accepted by white people? Why do celebrate and clamor for any Asian politic just on the basis that they’re Asian? What do representation mean if “the master's tool w never dismantle the master's house?” When o activism stops at representation, we fail to h these actors, politicians, and celebrities we celebrate for breaking the “bamboo ceilin accountable.
On campus, amidst cultural events that focus on food and appeal to a wide audience, there is also space for thoughtful dialogue and compassion for students who have been suspended and reprimanded for non-violent protest I understand that cultural organizations may not feel like it's their place or responsibility to comment on such events, or that they may want to provide a relaxing space
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Creative Epilogue: Minh
By Alice He
This short story is an extended imagination of one of the characters’ life in Lê Thị Diễm Thúy’s novel The Gangster We Are All Looking For. The novel tells the story from the point of view of the daughter in the immigrant family, who was an infant when she boarded the ship to San Diego. The following text is told from the point of view of the father of the family, Minh, who used to be a member of a gang in Vietnam and fought on the side of the Army of the Republic of Vietnam supported by the U S The story combines the narration in the original novel to construct the life of Minh after his move to the United States
The light from the police car flashes into the dim living room. Minh sits on the sofa, a cigarette in one hand and an open can of beer in the other He alternates between the two until the cigarette burns to its end The dying sparks touch his finger, making him spill beer on his muddy shirt and shorts Dirt lines his fingernails Finally, the police knock on his door
“Minh, can you get the door? My hands are dirty,” shouts his wife, Mai, from the kitchen
Minh doesn’t move. His vision stays fixed on the blurry reflection of himself in the dark TV screen, drowned by the blue and red light. Pieces of the afternoon flash in his mind: his hands ripping open Mrs. Fulber’s lawn, the pain of rocks against his digging fingers, and the dust from his hands staining the steering wheel of his truck. As he knelt on the grass, memories of grenades exploding in the dry San Diego air came unbidden
The knocking grows louder. The Vietnamese calendar on the door shakes.
“SDPD, open the door!”
Mai rushes out, her hands bloody from scaling fish. “What is going on, Minh?” She stares at her husband, who is covered in dirt and frozen on the couch.
“What did you do?”
Minh stands and paces. He rubs his hands on his pants, smearing more dirt. Before Mai can press further, the knocks turn explosive.
“We are here with a warrant to arrest Anh Minh Kwan We will count to three before breaking down the door ”
Sorry, officers!” Mai shouts. “I’m unlocking it.”
The door swings open. Two officers storm inside, the smell of Mai’s hands triggering their disgust
“Sorry officers the blood is from the fish!” Mai explains, pointing to the kitchen “You can see!”
Peering out, Minh sees Mai dwarfed by the officers. Her small frame is flanked by the shadow of the family portrait on the wall. In it, their daughter, only six at the time, laughs and plays with her parents. Minh’s hand brushes against a pocket knife from a long-forgotten trip to Joshua Tree. He slips it into his pocket. “Is Anh Minh Kwan here?” one officer asks. Mai blocks their path with outstretched arms, trying to explain in broken English how her husband must be the victim of a misunderstanding But the officers push past her Minh crouches behind the couch, knife in hand When the officer lunges, Minh swings but misses. He’s pinned to the ground, the blade wrested from his grip. His upper body thrashes like a fish out of water until an electric pain explodes in his lower back. His screams mingle with Mai’s, and his body goes limp. As he’s dragged outside, Mai chases after him, pleading in Vietnamese. Sweat and tears mix with fish blood on her face. Minh looks closely at her for the first time in years. The fair skin he once admired is weathered; wrinkles line her eyes. Her frantic words blur as Minh is shoved into the police car. Through the window, he tries to smile at her.
Sitting under fluorescent lights in his cell, Minh’s mind rewinds 15 years to when he fled Vietnam. A deserter of the South Vietnam army, Minh was just who the new regime leaders were scavenging for to put into re-education camps He and Mai decided that they need to raise their three-year-old daughter in a new country, to turn over the page
On the ship to America, they stood on deck, silently watching Vietnam disappear into the horizon. Mai leaned her head on his shoulder as their daughter’s baby hair tickled his face. In the cramped cabin below, the air on the ship was warm with swarming tides of people’s thoughts and dreams. Back then, Minh had hope. He imagined himself in a suit with a briefcase, earning enough so Mai wouldn’t have to work. Their daughter would play with blonde-haired children in kindergarten. They would host celebrations of spring festivals and maybe even Christmas.
But the reality was different In San Diego, Minh’s family had to move three times in two years, evicted once and priced out twice. The simplest things in life become the hardest to swallow, literally. The food was strange either too bland or too salty. Minh struggled to find steady work: rejected by Chinese businesses because he didn’t speak Mandarin and exploited by other employers who took advantage of his broken English by undercutting his pay.
Mai took on sewing piecework for a local tailor to make ends meet, despite Minh’s promise that she’d never have to work. Coming home to Mai with her glasses on, l aboring in the lamp light on a sewing machine makes Minh feel like a failure. The same girl cut off ties with her family to be with him, sent weekly letters to him throughout the war, and raised their baby without him there to help. His wedding vows haunt him in the middle of the night: For you, I would bring the moon out of the sky and turn it into a pool for you. The only pool they had come close to in the US was sealed up by their landlord a month after they moved in. One night, Minh came home to find Mai on the living room floor, crying, clutching a black-framed photo of her late parents sent by her siblings. Without any note or letter, the silence
of the picture was loud with Mai’s sibling’s blame for their big sister’s departure. They ate dinner in silence that night, a veil of grief settling over their home
Years passed, and the cracks widened Their family ties are ladened by continuous financial struggles, rejection from their surrounding community, and Minh’s pent-up guilt and regret. Was moving to America a mistake? If they stayed in South Vietnam, could they have been happier? These questions without answers enraged him like flies that escaped his palms every time he struck. He and Mai had constant arguments. More and more often, he found himself storming out of the house and headed to drink with his Vietnamese friends in the neighborhood, the fellow immigrants who remained in San Diego. For some reason, holding a beer in his hand instantly made him feel more like a man One night, Minh returned home drunk Mai was curled up on her side of the bed like a hurt animal He reached over to tap Mai’s shoulder. “Don’t touch me!” came out of Mai’s side of the bed. “I want you away from me.” Like a knife, those words slashed open his heart, and his guilt, fury, and sorrow poured out uncontrollably. He took his pillow and blanket and slept on the sofa that night, and many nights more. All of their arguments were beholden by their daughter, and as she grew older, Minh could feel her pulling away from him. While they tried to maintain an image of a happy family to his daughter, Minh knew she understood the truth. The guilt transformed into irritation that became harder for him to conceal One day, after a drunken outburst the previous night, Minh woke up to a note from her daughter in her empty bedroom Mai blamed him for everything
The job at Mrs. Fulber’s mansion was supposed to be different. The pay promised stability, maybe even enough to buy Mai something nice. Minh gladly took the job from his friend who decided to move back to Vietnam When he first arrived at Mrs Fulber’s house, Minh was stunned by the sheer size of it The 10-bedroom mansion was the size of the community kindergarten he used to send his daughter to, with a backyard overlooking the valley and the golf course that was a part of the neighborhood country club. Perhaps what shook him the most was the fountain. In the arid San Diego, where the reservoir has been dry for years, Mrs. Fulber had a waterfall in her yard that dropped into two pools, one small, one big. Its shape and size reminded Minh of the local waterfall in his hometown where he and his friends hang out. He had yet to see anyone in the household use the pool. Mrs. Fulber, barely 25, ordered workers around like pawns She demanded Minh plant lilies in her yard flowers that couldn’t survive San Diego’s climate Minh tried studying gardening books and prodding his local network for assistance, but the flowers withered without a fight. The fellow workers made fun of Minh for even trying in the first place, but he was insistent. He believed that he could make the impossible possible.
At the end of his first month, Minh was excited to receive the rewards of his labor. He told Mai to cook some fish to celebrate payday when she got home and promised her a surprise the red scarf Mai always wanted in the mall. However, as Mrs. Fulber’s manicured fingers dropped the envelope on his hand, he realized it was missing half of his pay “I paid for you to grow me a garden full of lilies and you clearly haven’t done so,” she said, avoiding eye contact with Minh “I will give you the second half when you are able to deliver.” Minh was in disbelief. He waited for this paycheck for the whole month to pay for his expenses and now what he received could merely cover rent. He was desperate. As Minh
tried to plead for the rest of his pay, she cut him off and threatened to fire him.
At that moment, Minh saw no way out. The world around him seemed to collapse, suffocating him with the weight of failure What would he tell Mai when he got home? How would they pay the rent? His mind spiraled, but his gaze caught on the lilies in the garden their white petals shriveled, barely clinging to the stems. They were dying.
Something inside him snapped. Driven by a force he couldn’t name, Minh stormed into the garden, ripping the lilies from the earth with his bare hands. The roots resisted, but he yanked harder, shaking them free as soil clung to his fingers. Leaves brushed and scratched his face, the sting grounding him as he dug deeper, just as he had once clawed through the dirt of Vietnam’s trenches. Clumps of earth and petals flew into Mrs. Fulber’s pristine pool.
Mrs. Fulber was screaming behind him but scared to go near Minh When the last lily lay uprooted, Minh stood up, out of breath Mrs Fulber was calling 911 on speaker phone, she held her device high like a weapon. Minh snatched it from her hands and hurled it into the water.
On the drive home, he rolled down the truck’s windows, letting the warm California wind sweep through his hair. He turned on the radio, and “Sweet Caroline” poured through the speakers a song he had once heard drifting from the tents of American soldiers during the war. For a fleeting moment, he felt free.
The cell light is harsh and unforgiving. It makes his eyes dry as he follows the small shadow of a fly reflected on the ground It eventually flies outside of the bars Minh replays his life in fragments: digging trenches in Vietnam, cradling his daughter on the ship, and promising Mai a better life. He thinks of the lilies, doomed to fail in soil where they didn’t belong.
Radical
By Joaquin Rivera
“The nonviolent resister not only refuses to shoot his opponent but he also refuses to hate him At the center of nonviolence stands the principle of love…Along the way of life, someone must have sense enough and morality enough to cut off the chain of hate. This can only be done by projecting the ethic of love to the center of our lives.” - MLK Jr.
I believe in the beauty of Cornell University. The way the sun shines on the slope on a warm day, the changing color of the leaves, the roaring waters of the falls, the birds of the air and the squirrels of the ground, and the grand clock tower that we see everyday They all declare a place of beauty
I believe in wonderful people who inhabit these hallways and green spaces. I’ve seen laughter and joy on people’s faces as they gather around a table of food. I’ve seen singers, actors, and orchestras do outstanding performances that show how talented humans can be. I’ve seen problem solvers come up with incredible ways to lead people, ways to tackle economic inequalities. That’s beautiful to me. Yet, there is injustice, too, on this campus. We have seen instances of workers and faculty who are underpaid and who feel unheard by the administration. We have seen students be unfairly penalized Students often feel threatened by statements given by the administration and faculty
Furthermore, the academic environment often pushes students to the brink. We all know how burdensome prelims and p-sets are. We all feel this pressure coming from the perception that our grades now could determine the quality of our entire life.
Even social communities that are meant to be havens from all this stress can turn into sources of strife. We all have heard about various scandals that certain organizations on campus have been caught up in. And even beyond specific scandals, I know many who feel like they have been excluded from certain student communities, or chose to leave themselves as
the group seemed overly competitive or inauthentic
Amidst all these various reasons to hate Cornell, I see many try to find their value in a life driven by a sense of individualism, their nose to the grindstone as they work their way towards some kind of ideal life of comfort. But this mindset isn’t always sustainable, I’ve seen many friends who I think overwork themselves and who easily neglect their own mental health and physical being, and certainly neglect whatever suffering may exist in the other students around them. Yet, it often seems like everyone around us is living life like this, so it feels only right to do the same. To quote the recent opinion column in the Daily Sun, “...it seems we have made being overworked cool.” Such a competitive and hectic environment fosters a cloud of apathy People don’t often care to think deeply about where they stand on political beliefs, or about questions of the meaning of life or about what kind of values and motivations beyond materialism that inspire them. They see groups of people protesting for various reasons on campus, but they ignore them, because they think that they have nothing to do with it, and that they should just focus on themselves.
I support an ethic of hard work, and firmly believe that college should be a time for students to push ourselves academically and professionally. Yet, that cannot be the whole of the college experience. I think that as much as any person should be able to engage in any study at Cornell, every person should feel like they are loved, like they have value on this campus This is the core injustice of Cornell to
me, that not every student feels like they are truly loved.
While by and large, I think that most students don’t really care to try to make this campus as a whole a more just and inclusive place, there is a powerful minority that does have this intention, and the members of APAA are among them We purposefully take the time to engage in advocacy that we believe will bring positive impacts to the lives of students. This can take several powerful forms, such as directly taking it up with the university by writing columns, protesting, and otherwise calling on the university to change its policies in some way.
But in addition to these methods, I challenge us to all consider that an equally powerful way to transform the lives of students is to actively engage in changing the culture at Cornell into one of love.
What do I mean by this? Love is, indeed, a pretty broad term. At its base level, I think that loving someone means to acknowledge their value as a person, to actively care for their wellbeing, and simply to be present in their lives It’s easy for anyone to love people who are like them, or who have natural charisma. Student groups and friend groups are formed around people with similar majors, upbringings, political beliefs, or other extracurricular similarities. I support such groups. It’s important for people to spend time with people similar to themselves in some way. But when I say that we ought to love the people on this campus better, I mean something deeper. Convention tells us that we should love the people who love us back. But what about the person who can’t easily connect with other people? What about le shun? What about the pe roclaims ideals that are far dif
Wouldn’t it be truly radical to have an inclusive sense of love that is built on the idea of creating a community where everyone is not only welcomed, but actively invited in? “ “
I once heard a Cornell student give a talk that summarized the lessons she had learned. For years, she had participated in and led protests on Ho Plaza with the desire to change this university, and indeed, with her activism she was able to accomplish amazing things such as securing university resources to help those suffering from food insecurity. But that constant disposition of rage against the university burnt her out. So instead, in her senior year, she decided to spend it by loving people around her, and hosting dinners for her various communities. It was through this work that she felt more fulfilled than ever, and like she was most directly working towards improving outcomes on this campus The protests still meant a lot to her, but it was through helping people in actions of love that felt the most ctful
I had a similar discovery when I had the to facilitate a story sharing event through Asian American Studies Center and the A American Studies Program. Everyone at event would break off into pairs and take sharing a story from their life that was im to them Then everyone would reconvene each person would take turns sharing th partner’s story in the 1st person. This pra forced people to imagine themselves in t of their partner, and ultimately made peo empathize on a really deep level. Throug with people at the end of the event, I foun this simple story exchange was really transformative, and helped people to und new perspectives, but also realize how si people are across perceived differences. Recently, I had the opportunity to chat with Derek Chang, a professor in the Asian American Studies Program, about how to create movements of lasting social change, and he said that love and personal transformation has been at the heart of many activists Many believed that if a movement to tear down a current system is rooted purely in hate and anger, then the ensuing system will also be full of hate and anger, and thus the cycle continues. He brought up Grace Lee-Boggs, a famous Asian American activist from the 20th century who believed in ideas of “revolutionary love”. In practical action, Lee-Boggs was heavily inspired by Martin Luther King Jr and sought nonviolent measures to create “beloved communities.” She founded cooperatives, community groups, and youth education programs to help those who could not help themselves. She once wrote, “We are not subversives. We are struggling to change this world because we love it ” And of course, MLK himself has a rich body of literature that talks about rooting movements of change in the idea of a deep love even of the people standing in our way.
He once wrote that “Nonviolence … does not seek to defeat or humiliate the opponent, but to win his friendship and understanding…. The end is redemption and reconciliation.”
MLK drew inspiration from many religious movements, particularly his own Christian faith, which I also think provide a powerful model for social change. The fundamental message of Christianity and many religions is understanding the transcendental value of all the humans around us, and reveling in the joy and lessons taught through living lives defined by radical inclusion Chapter 2 of the Biblical book of Acts describes the early Christians in this way: “All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts.” They chose not to tear down the Roman Empire, the draconian ruling power of the day, but instead created communities that prioritized mutual aid, so that traditionally marginalized people like poor
Grace Lee Boggs
women, slaves, and orphans were able to receive care for the first time Christians believed that the people’s value wasn’t based on birth status, strength, or what they could produce for society, but rather believed that everyone intrinsically had equal value as children of God. It took time, but within decades after the inception of the Christian faith, huge swaths of people began joining them. The Empire tried to crush them, but they persisted, and eventually Constantine, the 3rd century emperor of Rome, was so compelled by the faith that he himself converted.
Perhaps this all sounds quite utopian, but I’ve seen amazing communities do wonderful things on campus I draw inspiration from so many amazing student leaders who came before me who taught me how to lead in creating community. It’s difficult work, yet seeing progress in the form of more smiles from those around me is so rewarding.
As we all consider how we can bring positive change to this campus, I want us to imagine what it could look like for Cornell to be truly beautiful. A place where people do not merely live lives centered around themselves, but where people carry out every interaction out of love for I don’t believe we are far from that reality. I’ve seen these sights of beauty; when a professor passionately teaches a subject they love, when Happy Dave swipes me in at Okenshields, when a friend wants to watch the sunset on the slope Professor Chang said unjust governments win when they can demean what is ordinary
So let's not let the joy and significance of love in the ordinary moments be stripped away from us. Let us lean into seeking the welfare of all our neighbors, through both our efforts against the administration, and our efforts to better understand each of our peers on this campus.
“ “
Let us strive to be culture changers on campus, steering people away from lives grounded in materialism, and towards lives founded on relationships.
Let’s capture those moments of beauty that exist on campus, and seek to compound and truly create a university that is beautiful
Maria Popova, “An Experiment in Love: Martin Luther King, Jr on the Six Pillars of Nonviolent Resistance and the Ancient Greek Notion of ‘Agape,’” The Marginalian, https://www themarginalian org/2015/07/01/martin-luther-kingjr-an-experiment-in-love/ Grace Lee Boggs, “Reimagine Everything,” Race, Poverty & the Environment, Vol 19, No 2, Reimagine (2012), pp 44-45, https://www jstor org/stable/41806667
Alice Jennings and Scott Kurashige, “Let’s Carry on Grace Lee Boggs’s Revolutionary Legacy by Continuing Her Struggle,” | Truthout, https://truthout org/articles/lets-carry-on-grace-lee-boggss-revolutionarylegacy-by-continuing-her-struggle/ Robert D McFadden, “Grace Lee Boggs, Human Rights Advocate for 7 Decades, Dies at 100 , ” The New York Times, https://www nytimes com/2015/10/06/us/grace-lee-boggs-detroit-activistdies-at-100 html
Rebecca Sparacio, “Club Fair, or Unfair? It’s Complicated,” The Cornell Daily Sun, https://cornellsun com/2022/02/22/sparacio-club-fair-or-unfair-itscomplicated/
From Parallax Volume II published in 1993:
“Why is it called Parallax?”
The term “parallax” is an astronomical concept referring to the perceived shift in a star or other heavenly body when the earth moves and people view the object from different perspectives. The object appears to shift because the person has moved and changed their viewing point, but the object has not actually moved.
Through this magazine and especially this revival issue, we aim to ignite the AAPI community, shifting perspectives to recognize our personal responsibilities to each other, our communities, and the planet
About the Contributors
Editor-in-Chief
Grace Nivera
Class of 2027. Asian Studies Major. From Holmdel, NJ! Enthusiast of all things music, but especially Spotify playlists Co-Programming Chair for APAA Has been involved in the club since freshman year Excited to revive Parallax for this semester and hopefully many more to come!
Assistant Editors
Suzuki Lin
Class of 2025. Design & Environmental Analysis Major from Queens, NY She’s been involved with APAA since her sophomore year and has filled many roles ranging from Outreach Chair to Advocacy Chair She’s got a thing for tiny homes, roller coasters, grilling, and puzzles and hopes to take her passion for sustainability, social justice, and building community into her work as a designer of the built environment
Emily Vo
Class of 2025 CS Major, Asian American Studies Minor From Margate, FL and served as APAA’s President for 2024 She is currently on a Health Leave of Absence because she thought she could magically skateboard after watching the Olympic Skateboarding competition and subsequently fell and broke her right ankle Emily hopes to return in full health next semester Her ultimate goal in life is to outlive the apartheid state of “Israel” because it was always and will be a free Palestine
Amanda Xie
Class of 2028. Economics Major and Law & Society Minor From Hopkinton, Massachusetts New member of APAA and Parallax, as well as Cornell Undergraduate Research Journal’s editorial team and executive board Loves reading (especially memoirs), crocheting, and day-long crafting sessions with friends
Designers
Joyce Li
Class of 2025 Animal Science Major From Long Island, New York On campus, she holds leadership positions in APAA, Guild of Visual Arts, and the Pre-Vet Society After graduation, she hopes to start a career in wildlife conservation Lover of cats, studio ghibli, and sweet treats
Cici Yang
Class of 2028 Hospitality Major From San Antonio, Texas She is a new member of APAA, and a Multimedia/Data Science staffer at the Daily Sun She loves smiskis, anything peach flavored and a Lorelai Gilmore fan Excited to work on Parallax!
Artists
Melissa Moon
Class of 2028 College of Arts and Sciences From Los Angeles, California. New member of APAA and artist/designer for Parallax, as well as writer for Arts & Culture for The Cornell Daily Sun
Authors
Taryn Chung
Class of 2026 from New York City Majoring in Environment and Sustainability, with minors in Sustainable Business, Urban Studies, and Law Contributing to this issue of Parallax is her first involvement with APAA, and she has interned at the Asian and Asian American Center (A3C) since her freshman year On campus, her media-related extracurriculars span from photography to radio to writing publications She hopes to pursue a career in urban development with a specific focus on making built environments more accessible and safe for women and other overlooked communities.
Allie Pallotta
Class of 2027 English and CAPS major From Aurora, CO Allie has been a member of APAA since her freshman year and is a writer for Parallax. She is also on the editorial board for Rainy Day and the LOGOS Undergradute Philosophy Journal In her free time, she enjoys reading, watching movies, trying new flavors of boba, and going on strolls in nature
Serena Wu
Class of 2028. Industrial and Labor Relations Major. From Westchester, NY She is a new member of APAA and writer for Parallax as well as the Interdisciplinary Psychology Club Journal and ILR Women’s Caucus She intends on continuing her education to receive a Master’s degree and work in Human Resource Management Chronic watcher of sunsets on the slope and lover of literally anything purple, Reese’s pieces, and congee with pork floss She is very excited to be a part of the revival of Parallax!
Brittany Sun
Class of 2027 Information Science and China & Asian Pacific Studies From New York City, she enjoys biking the Hudson Greenway and discovering new brunch places She is an avid fan of journaling, blueberries, swimming, and meditation. This is her first year with APAA and Parallax, and she is also active in Cornell Minds Matter, Startup Consulting, Dragon Boat, and Early College Awareness Her career goal is to apply technology to address disparities in underserved communities, aiming to develop community-oriented solutions She plans on continuing her studies through graduate studies
Iunius
(a pen name), an Asian diaspora & PhD student at Cornell who is dedicated to exploring radical justice and radical love
Audrey Lockett
A first-generation Kalmyk-American settler, based in New Jersey (Lenape Nation) She is biracial, with a white American father and Kalmyk mother who immigrated from Russia She graduated from Cornell University in May 2024 and is currently working as a Medical Assistant at a Chinese medicine and acupuncture clinic
Eirian
Class of 2026 Information Science and English Enjoys contemporary fiction, ribs (the food and by Lorde), theater, and being witty
Milay Haskin
Born and raised in Bellevue, Washington to a Japanese mother and American father Milay graduated from Cornell University in August 2024 with a degree in Plant Science. She hopes to work to restore agriculture in postwar zones but in the meantime has been working on restoring her personal finances and adopting stray cats
Alice He
Class of 2025 Born and raised in Beijing until she was 14 She is majoring in Industrial and Labor Relations with minors in English and Law. She attended the East Coast Asian and Asian American Student conference in 2024 On campus, she is involved with the Office of Student Government Relations, PSE Business Fraternity, the Mainland Chinese Student Association, and the Laidlaw Scholars program In her free time, you can find her helping out at the Model UN conferences, or cooking She is considering a career in global development, focusing on education and economic development for needy countries
Joaquin Rivera
Class of 2025 From Texas in the ILR school with minors in Classics and Southeast Asia Studies On campus he’s involved with the Asian American Studies Program, the Shakespeare Troupe, the Cornell Filipino Association, Cru, and Claritas, another journal which is the Editor-in-chief of For the past 3 years, he has led planning of BeComing, a speaker series on campus meant to elevate the stories of seniors of the AAPI community He loves cooking, climbing trees, drinking white chocolate steamers at the Green Dragon, and gatekeeping the best couches to nap on on campus.
A huge thank you t0 all the contributors for all the hard work and passion that went into this issue! We could not have revived Parallax without you all.
Since its launch in 1991, Parallax’s mission has been to inform the Cornell community of and offer insight on socio-political issues affecting the Asian American diaspora.
Interested in writing, designing, or submitting work for the next Parallax?
“Keep expanding your horizons, decolonize your mind, and cross borders.”
