Discourses

Take the 1 Train

Daniela Lebron ’22 shares her experience as a commuter

I commute from Inwood, which is a 20-minute ride straight down to campus on the 1 train. When I decided to attend Barnard, commuting seemed to make the most sense. If I’m from New York City and live relatively close, why would I dorm? Throughout my first year at Barnard, I was constantly asked, “Oh, you’re a commuter? What’s that like?”

Commuting is all about timing, which is something that, although it seems obvious, can be very complicated. Traveling to campus makes you plan every moment down to a T. I plan my class schedule, sleep schedule, work schedule, clubs, social outings, and workouts around my commute to and from campus.

Now that I am in the second semester of my sophomore year, I’ve learned how to balance classes, work, and extracurriculars with commuting. I like to structure my day so class starts in the late morning and goes until the mid-afternoon/early evening, followed by work, clubs, or events. This gives me the ability to spend more time on campus and do all of the things I would’ve done as a residential student, without tiring myself out. Throughout the day I like to stop by the commuter lounge (in the Diana Center), which is an opportunity for me to see friends and take a moment to relax. The lounge fosters a sense of community among a group of people with shared experience.

While commuting comes with its own learning curve, there are upsides: It allows me to participate in the Barnard community but also go home every day, see my family, my cat, and get space and time to myself, away from campus, which is something I Bwouldn’t change for the world.

From left to right: Daniela prepares for the day ahead in her kitchen and gives her cat, Leyla, one last hug before she embarks on her commute. The 5-minute walk from her apartment building to the subway takes her beneath the elevated 1 train to the 215 Street station. The subway ride is an opportunity for Daniela to get some reading done before a day of classes and extracurriculars. Once on campus, Daniela stops by the commuter lounge to check email with a friend before class.

Wit & Whimsy

If I Wrote College Course Descriptions

by JiJi Lee ’01

Physics for Poets: This class is neither an “easy A” nor about the connection between Schrödinger’s cat, T.S. Eliot, and Cats.

European Art History: Study the great works of art and develop a newfound appreciation for Renaissance artists such as Leonardo da Vinci. Learn to channel the brilliance of this gifted artist by sleeping in your XL twin size bed in the pose of the Vitruvian Man.

Latin: Study classic texts and enhance your understanding of other languages, as well as gain crucial insights into your new favorite book, The Da Vinci Code.

Cryptography: Learn to encode ciphers and then start creating complex passwords for all your social media accounts, which you will definitely end up forgetting every time you try to log on.

Philosophy 101: This class will introduce you to the works of classic philosophers while preparing you for cocktail party conversations where men try to explain Hegel to you.

Architecture: This course will explore architectural space and design, as well as make you seem more like a protagonist in a groundbreaking thriller that features the iconic churches and museums of Paris.

Principles of Economics: Learn about consumption and production, inelastic and elastic demand, and other important economic terms so that you can allay your parents’ fears that you are only going to college to study the clues in Leonardo’s Last Supper and unlock the secrets to the Holy Grail. (Also, this class can help you snag an internship at an investment bank!)

Creative Writing: Learn the craft of short story writing and critique your classmates’ stories, which all revolve around their dysfunctional families. Feel confident that your story about a crime that takes place in the Louvre is highly original.

East Asian History: This class will cover key political, historical, and cultural moments in Korea, Japan, and China. Despite this, you will keep asking your professor questions related to the cover-up of the real relationship between Jesus and Mary Magdalene. When the professor politely mentions that this course only covers the region of East Asia, take this as confirmation that your professor is indeed involved in the cover-up and a member of Opus Dei.

Calculus II: While you would think that a sequel to Calculus I was unnecessary, Calculus II is a delightful addition to the franchise (don’t listen to the haters!) and offers a host of exciting new characters and situations, such as vectors and partial derivatives.

Colloquium on The Da Vinci Code: 10 prerequisites required for this course. Term paper includes analysis of Tom Hanks’ questionable hair choice in the film version. B

Discourses

Fresh ideas. Diverse perspectives. A closer look.

22 Arts & Letters 26 Strides in STEM 28 Bookshelf 30 Faculty Focus 32 Student Perspectives

‘To Persevere Because I Must’

An interdisciplinary forum where voices are heard in lively “discourses” that provide a deep dive into the College’s community — from faculty profiles and in-depth interviews to students’ achievements and recently published books by Barnard authors.

American novelist and literary critic Elizabeth Hardwick wrote in a letter to Robert Lowell about the process of writing Sleepless Nights, “Yet I mean to persevere because I must.” (At home in Castine, Maine; January 1, 1980)

Arts & Letters

Lives in Letters

A collection of letters edited by Professor Saskia Hamilton paints an illuminating portrait of the marriage of two literary greats: writer Elizabeth Hardwick, who taught at Barnard for 20 years, and poet Robert Lowell

by Catherine Barnett

Few things are more intimate and revealing than the exchange of letters, especially those that passed between one of the most famous couples of 20th-century literature, the poet Robert Lowell (called “Cal” by his friends and intimates) and the writer Elizabeth Hardwick, who wrote some of her best essays and fiction while she was teaching at Barnard. Farrar, Straus and Giroux (FSG) recently published Barnard professor and vice provost Saskia Hamilton’s meticulously edited The Dolphin Letters, 19701977: Elizabeth Hardwick, Robert Lowell and Their Circle, which has generated much interest in the literary community, garnering enthusiastic reviews from The New Yorker, Harper’s Magazine, and The New York Times, among others. In The New York Review of Books — the literary journal that Elizabeth Hardwick helped found in 1962 — Langdon Hammer, in his review, poignantly notes that “a letter passes between people, like a gift.” Poet and Barnard visiting professor Catherine Barnett spoke with Saskia Hamilton about the making of The Dolphin Letters.

How did you come to edit this book, and what were some key moments in its making?

Saskia Hamilton: In 1989, I was 22 years old, a first-semester graduate student in poetry at NYU, and I heard Elizabeth Hardwick needed an assistant. I didn’t have a sense in advance what the job would be — I thought it might be to type her essays — but it turned out that she had what she called a “whole room full of Cal’s things.” She said she needed somebody to organize and present these materials to librarians and archivists who would assess them for their collections. And so I created a catalog for her.

Elizabeth Bishop’s letters were published in 1994, and then Paul Mariani’s biography of Robert Lowell, Lost Puritan, came out the same year. When I was reading Mariani’s biography, I kept coming upon phrases I recalled from the work I had done with Elizabeth Hardwick. I had been very careful in 1989 not to read the letters I was cataloging because I didn’t want to intrude on her privacy, but upon occasion,

PHOTO BY MEG TYLER

Professor Saskia Hamilton if there was an undated letter, I’d have to read a little to get some context. It was from those letters that I recognized Mariani’s quotations and paraphrases. I was very interested to hear Lowell’s full voice, so I wrote to Elizabeth to ask if there was any current project to edit Lowell’s letters. I told her that if so I’d really love to work as an assistant on the project. She spoke to Jonathan Galassi at FSG, and together they arranged for me to edit the letters.

I edited Lowell’s letters, then later I co-edited the Bishop/Lowell letters. And then some years went by, and I thought I was done editing letters for a while! But after Hardwick’s death, when it was revealed that her letters to Lowell had survived — she thought they had been destroyed — Hardwick and Lowell’s daughter, Harriet, and Lowell’s stepdaughter Evgenia Citkowitz both asked if I would consider editing them. They both had a sense of their importance. But the letters did present a puzzle, because they record a very particular and distressed period in the lives of these two writers. The portrait the letters give of each of them is vital and necessarily incomplete, occasioned by a period of great distress and creative innovation. So how to present a rounded portrait of them both as writers and thinkers out of this material was a challenge.

What are the ethical issues you’ve had to contend with — with these letters in particular and with publishing collections of letters in general?

When Hardwick’s letters were uncovered and revealed, I was concerned about the best way to present them fairly — I was concerned about publishing them just as-is, without hearing Lowell’s replies or understanding the ways in which Hardwick’s letters were in direct response to his. I wanted the complete correspondence and understood very quickly that it would have to be a conversation between them. So outsized was Lowell’s personality and effect on their literary milieu, especially due to his episodic mania [from bipolar disorder], that, as Lowell’s editor Robert Giroux said, “the whole continental literary set is now in the act.” I felt it was important to step back from the intensity of the marital conversation and include what both Hardwick and Lowell wrote to their friends — and to include what those friends wrote to them — about their own experiences and dilemmas with the writing. This was an ethical problem, in terms of honoring Elizabeth Hardwick, because otherwise these letters would have presented such a distorted portrait of her, drawn from one of the most painful times of her life and written during great distress. So the challenge was how to be most ethical toward her — and also toward him, who is sometimes too quickly judged.

The other ethical dilemma — and this is probably true with any collection of letters — is that the publication of letters intrudes on the privacy of more than just the writers themselves but also on the other people whose private lives they discuss.

What moves you most in these letters?

Where is it that Yeats says that “words alone are certain good”? What moves me most in these letters are the precise words that Lowell and Hardwick use to describe their thinking, their reading, their feelings — the way they cut a certain kind of figure in prose. The clarity of expression set alongside the contradictions of feelings. To me, the most moving letters are in the last quarter of the book, where you have a sense that Lizzie really has achieved something very difficult in not settling for any of the roles that the breakup might have written for her. I’m also moved by Lowell’s wish for the true shape of his experience to be revealed to him in his lines, to help him know if his new life is an arrival or a departure. He has a wish for release from his vacillating feelings, a wish to know that what he had done by leaving Hardwick for [Caroline] Blackwood was fated somehow. The Continued on page 117

Hardwick’s Classroom Lessons

Some of Elizabeth Hardwick’s most important work was written while she was a professor at Barnard, where for 20 years — from 1965 to 1985 — she taught Experiments in Writing. “[Students] think short stories are written out of sensations and feelings,” she said in a 1974 profile of her published in the Barnard Bulletin. “I, personally, feel that any student who’s really interested in writing benefits far more from taking courses in Shakespeare or art history or reading Plato than they do in taking a writing course.”

But for a handful of America’s talented writers — including Mona Simpson, Tama Janowitz, Daphne Merkin, and Darryl Pinckney, all of whom were in her workshop together in 1973 — the chance to study with Hardwick was life-changing, if you could bear the challenge. “She taught by quotation and aside, citation and remark, stone down the well and echo,” writes Pinckney in the introduction to Hardwick’s Collected Essays (recently published by The New York Review of Books). “She would peer over the book and exhale, trusting to Fortuna that somebody sitting around the table might get it eventually.”

Hardwick told the Bulletin that she wanted students to question not only “how you go about it” but also “what’s worth writing.” When you write, she said, “you’re up against the limits of your mind, your experience, your depth as a person. ... I think you can be helped by a good critic, but only if the idea is good.”

Questioning — rather than knowing, or being certain — was also part of Hardwick’s philosophy when she taught critical writing, or what she called “imaginative prose.”

Barnard shows up fairly frequently in Saskia Hamilton’s The Dolphin Letters: In August 1971, Hardwick writes to Lowell about a former student who had become a “new wonderful friend” — Mary Gordon ’71, who went on to write more than a dozen books of fiction and memoir (and has been the Millicent C. McIntosh Professor in English and Writing at Barnard for over 30 years).

In 1976, half a decade after a tumultuous breakup, filled with recrimination, compassion, and reconciliations, Hardwick wrote to Lowell to tell him that their daughter, Harriet (then a student at Barnard), was doing well and that she herself was starting back at Barnard for the spring term, teaching one day a week. “But I am simply terrified of writing on this soi-disant novel,” she lamented, describing what would become Sleepless Nights. “It goes about one trembling paragraph per day. ... Yet I mean to persevere because I must.”

Barnard appears again in a heartbreaking entry in the “Table of Dates,” a timeline for the years covered by the letters. It’s moving to discover that on the last day of Robert Lowell’s life — just hours before his death of a heart attack in a taxi on his way back to Hardwick — she taught her 2:10 p.m. class, Experiments in Writing, a course she would teach for another eight years. Both in and out of the classroom, Hardwick went on waging what she saw as the writer’s task — the “battle with the inexpressible.” —Catherine Barnett

B

Strides in STEM

Paving the Way

Barnard’s SP2 Program helps students build experience in the lab to become leaders in science

by Andrea Cooper

Sedelia Rodriguez remembers how it feels to be an outsider in science. She grew up in California with parents from Mexico who didn’t expect her to go to college, let alone pursue a career in science. It was, Rodriguez says, “unheard of.” But she discovered her passion for the subject as a first-generation college student in a geology class at California State University, Los Angeles. There, she met a professor, a Latino like her (he was the only one in the department), who pushed her to graduate and continue her studies, encouraging her to ‘“be an example for others,’” she recalls. “He kept saying — not in a gruff way – that it was my responsibility to do this not just for myself but for others.”

Rodriguez took heed of this advice. She went on to complete her postdoctoral research at Columbia University. Today, she’s the assistant director and academic coordinator for the Science Pathways Scholars Program — nicknamed SP2 — at Barnard. And she’s become that very role model for Maria Blankemeyer ’23, an SP2 student in chemistry from Austin, Texas. Rodriguez was the first person Blankemeyer had ever met who “had a high-standing role within the sciences who was like me,” she says. “It was a relief to be able to recognize myself in somebody else who has everything I hope for.”

Providing mentorship is just one of many goals for SP2. The four-year program brings to Barnard exceptional minority and first-generation students with a strong interest in science. Students can major in biology, chemistry, environmental science, physics/astronomy, or neuroscience. (Computer science majors will be offered in fall 2020.) And the benefits are manifold. From three summers of funded research to academic advising by senior STEM faculty, SP2 provides each participant with a number of unique opportunities to delve into their studies and forge a career path in the field of science.

Launched in 2016 with a grant from the Sherman Fairchild Foundation, SP2 now includes 32 students. The first cohort graduates in May. The pool of applicants is competitive: For the class entering in fall 2019, 446 students applied for 10 slots in the program.

Barnard developed SP2 to help address the serious lack of diversity among U.S. science students and, subsequently, in the science professions, including academia. “We were tracking national trends but also responding to our perceptions of what was happening with students at Barnard,” explains Paul Hertz, Claire Tow Professor of Biology and SP2 director. “The numbers of underrepresented minority students and first-generation students who express an interest in science and then switch out [of the field] have been pretty high nationally.”

The reasons for this fallout are complex. For some students, the need to hold a job during college can make pursuing a demanding science curriculum especially challenging. And, as Rachel Narehood Austin, chair of Barnard’s chemistry department and SP2 faculty advisor, points out, “there just is still quite a bit of implicit and explicit bias about race in America,” which can manifest in different ways on college campuses and make students feel as if “they don’t belong.”

SP2 is designed to do the opposite, welcoming young talent into the

fold. It starts with the pre-first-year summer experience: Students visit the research facilities, meet professors, and get acquainted with each other and the campus. “Knowing my professors made going into introductory science courses much less intimidating and instilled me with confidence,” recalls environmental biology major Livia Martinez ’21, a Miami resident whose family immigrated from Cuba.

First-years take a seminar together called the Journal Club to read and discuss scientific literature. Students also learn how to write a résumé, create a cover letter, and approach potential mentors to discuss interest in their work. The training has proved successful based on where SP2 students have landed summer research posts, including a Nobel Prize winner’s lab in Columbia University’s biology department and a spot at the National Science Foundation program for physics research in Paris.

Martinez found her place at the New York Botanical Garden, where she’s carried out research since 2018. Her current focus is extracting DNA from historic herbarium specimens and studying their genes to better

PHOTOS BY JONATHAN KING This page: Professor Rachel Austin with Nicole Townsend ’21 and Janine Sempel ’20. Opposite: Professor John Glendinning with Gabriella Ortiz.

understand the implications they might have for contemporary agriculture.

Though the research opportunities are extraordinary, Martinez says the friendships among SP2 students have been “one of the most amazing parts” of her Barnard experience. “The older cohorts always feel a sense of responsibility to those who are younger than them,” says Martinez. This support she says, creates “a safe space where we can ask for help from those who can give it and extend our helping hand to those who need it.”

Though the retention rate in SP2 has been high, a few students have left the program when other subjects beckoned. That’s okay, Austin says. “College is a time of exploration. It’s fine if a student gets here and then realizes there’s something she likes more.” Those students even continue to receive summer research funding in their new disciplines.

For Janine Sempel ’20, SP2 spurred a revelation. She knew two things about herself when she arrived at Barnard from her home in Los Angeles: She hated chemistry, and she planned to major in neuroscience. Then she decided to take a chemistry class her sophomore year. That changed her world. She switched majors, published a paper in an academic journal with Austin, who is her mentor, and is in the process of writing two more.

In August, Sempel will move to Mozambique to teach high school science with the Peace Corps, serving as that critical role model for a new generation of students. Down the road, she plans to study for a Ph.D. Ultimately, she wants to work in green chemistry, researching biofuels and finding more sustainable sources of energy. “I’ve grown a lot in my time at Barnard,” she says. Thanks to SP2, she feels “at home and most confident in a lab.” Science, she knows, is where she is supposed to be. B

Bookshelf

Books by Barnard Authors

by Isabella Pechaty ’23

FICTION

Homicide & Vine: A Black Comedy About Comedy Writing by Mindy Glazer ’73

Glazer, a veteran comedy writer, loosely based this darkly hilarious tale, set in 1984 L.A., on her own experiences in the writing room. The cast and crew of fictional sitcom Something Fishy strive to keep their struggling program afloat. Enter writer Jody Gellis, breaking into their writing team with her own aspirations of stardom. Glazer’s book makes a comedy of comedy itself, offering an exclusive look at how a television show unravels.

Hitting a Straight Lick with a Crooked Stick by Zora Neale Hurston ’28

As the only African-American student during her time at Barnard, and a young female writer studying in 1920s New York, Hurston was uniquely placed to be the voice of a generation. Hitting a Straight Lick with a Crooked Stick is a compilation of her work that helped drive movements like American modernism and the Harlem Renaissance. Readers can now enjoy these stories of American life — timely, satiric, and brilliantly insightful — all in one place, including eight rediscovered ones. Hurston’s legacy as an American artist remains secure even 60 years after her passing.

Not a Thing to Comfort You by Emily Wortman-Wunder ’92

Winner of an Iowa Short Fiction Award, Wortman-Wunder’s collection of short stories all revolve around the natural world and its evercomplicated, ever-evolving relationship with humanity. People living closely with nature strive to understand the often unknowable natural world. Depicting nature with as much intricacy, unpredictability, and nuance as any of their human characters, these stories stay true to their title, captivating the reader.

NONFICTION

Concealed: Memoir of a Jewish-Iranian Daughter Caught Between the Chador and America by Esther Amini ’71

In her memoir of a first-generation IranianAmerican young woman in mid-20th-century America, Amini discusses her storied past with captivating authenticity and insightfulness. Detailing her Persian Jewish family’s flight from religious persecution to Queens, New York, their tumultuous home life, and Amini’s contentious decision to study at Barnard, Concealed is a story of how ties to home and family can both ground and obstruct our personal growth.

Don’t Be Evil: How Big Tech Betrayed Its Founding Principles and All of Us by Rana Foroohar ’92

Financial Times business columnist Foroohar responds to the recent events that have shaken public faith in big tech companies. She explains how these new tech enterprises went unchecked, taking the business world by storm and growing into traffickers of our attention and data. Informed by several years of reporting on business and technology, Don’t Be Evil is a topical guidebook on how modern citizens can be prepared for the future.

Speaking of Writing by Richard Maibaum, compiled by Sylvia Kamion Maibaum ’31

Drawn from decades of experience in the entertainment industry, writer Richard Maibaum’s essays on Broadway and Hollywood were compiled for print by his wife, Sylvia Kamion Maibaum ’31. Speaking of Writing documents Maibaum’s illustrious career,

including pictures, photographs, interviews, lectures, presentations, and essays. Aspiring playwrights and screenwriters can learn from a longtime devotee and master of the field.

A Month in Siena by Hisham Matar

Following his Pulitzer Prize-winning The Return, Barnard professor Hisham Matar produces another compelling memoir. A Month in Siena describes the illuminating relationship that unfolds between the author, the city, and selected works of the Sienese school of painting. An aged city and its artworks, portrayed here in full color, provide the backdrop for Matar’s discussion of how the past still has the power to touch and transform our present world.

A Soul’s Journey: Franciscan Art, Theology, and Devotion in the Supplicationes variae by Amy Neff ’69

Neff explores the hidden meaning of a 13thcentury devotional manuscript, Supplicationes variae, through the philosophy of the theologian Bonaventure. Using Bonaventure’s The Soul’s Journey Into God and the ornate images and texts of the Supplicationes, Neff reveals the Franciscan design for man’s journey into salvation. Years of dedicated study bring an ancient, elegant text into a new light.

Pain Studies by Lisa Olstein ’96

Through a series of short essays, Olstein investigates how our culture negotiates the idea of pain. The writer tackles this monumental concept using carefully selected historical, pop culture, scientific, philosophical, and artistic references, even drawing on personal experiences with migraines. Pain Studies is an unapologetic reckoning with pain, a prevalent and unavoidable aspect of being a human being.

This Is All I Got: A New Mother’s Search for Home by Lauren Sandler ’96

Sandler’s immersive approach to journalism leads her to form a close relationship with Camila, a young mother-to-be in New York City. Sandler is drawn to Camila’s unwavering pursuit of a better life, all while she grapples with childbirth and motherhood, relationships, homelessness, and a broken welfare system. The constant roadblocks obstructing her tenacious efforts reveal the unwinnable battle that is America’s social services system.

If I Could Paint the Moon Black: Imbi Peebo’s Wartime Journey from Estonia to America by Nancy Burke, with Imbi Peebo Truumees ’53

Truumees’ vivid recollections of a childhood in World War II Estonia are brought to life in this collaboration with writer Nancy Burke. Her memoir illuminates a long-overlooked moment in history, that of the Eastern Europeans trapped between Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia. Powerful memories and riveting storytelling come together to depict Truumees’ journey from hiding to escape and freedom.

POETRY

Dub: Finding Ceremony by Alexis Pauline Gumbs ’04

The final volume of Gumbs’ prose poetry trilogy explores black feminism and what that means for her ancestral, gender, and racial identities. Inspired by author and theorist Sylvia Wynter, Gumbs draws from dub poetry and oceanic themes to tell a story of human nature, suffering, and renewal.

The In(ter)vention of the Hay(na)ku: Selected Tercets 1996-2019 by Eileen R. Tabios ’82

Tabios’ latest collection showcases her mastery of the genre and emphasizes the various uses of tercets in her formats over the years. With universal subject matter ranging from love and gender to class and power, this compilation details the triumphs of a decade-spanning writing career. B

Faculty Focus

Collaborative Learning

Biology professor JJ Miranda counts on teamwork to research the mysteries of cancer-causing viruses

by Dana Najjar

JJ Miranda didn’t approach graduate school the way most people would. When he arrived at Harvard’s department of molecular biology in 2001, he was less concerned with choosing a topic and more intent on finding an advisor who could teach him the ins and outs of research and academia. At Barnard, he’s taken a similar, mentorship-driven approach. Since joining the faculty as an assistant professor in biology in 2018, he’s fostered the very same collaborative learning environment in the lab and classroom that benefited him in his own graduate studies.

“The sciences, maybe more so than a lot of the other fields, are really a group effort,” he says. “I could not accomplish what I’m doing without the students and staff that have decided to join this crazy roller coaster ride of a research program.”

Miranda was drawn to science by the promise of what it could accomplish. While still a freshman at Reed College, he read And the Band Played On, a journalistic account of the HIV epidemic, which set him on a path toward a career in biomedical research. “It was a book about the interplay of the scientists and researchers, the activists, and government,” Miranda says. “It was a very real kind of depiction of how different groups have to work together and coordinate to actually get something done.”

Inspired by what could be accomplished when scientists tackled real issues, he narrowed in on the field that best suited his curiosity and objectives. “Biochemistry is that sweet spot where you can engage in academic intellectualism yet do something that at some point might have an impact on medicine,” he says. “I wanted to do something that I enjoyed, but I also wanted a reason to get out of bed in the morning.”

Miranda has found that sense of purpose in the lab, where he and his group of technicians and students focus on unraveling the mysteries of cancer-causing viruses. Specifically, they study the ways in which viruses can turn on or off certain cancer-causing genes. Viruses “have evolved to basically take advantage of human processes and manipulate them to facilitate [their own] growth and reproduction,” says Miranda. “So if you learn how a virus works, you learn something about the cell at the same time.”

Some viruses can have an especially nasty effect. Epstein-Barr virus, for example, causes mononucleosis in most people it infects. The kissing disease, as it’s known, can cause fatigue and fever but ultimately resolves itself. “But in some people,” Miranda says, “it goes on to cause lymphomas or throat cancers, and we don’t know why that is.”

To try to find out, the lab isolates healthy human cells, then infects them with a cancercausing virus. Some of the cells turn into cancer cells, which multiply feverishly and start to overtake all the healthy cells. Miranda and his team then compare the sick cells to the healthy ones: “And often the main difference is the presence or the state of the virus,” he says. Once they’ve pinpointed the ways in which the virus might be changing the healthy cells into cancer cells — the “pathway” of the disease — the team then checks to see if there are any drugs already on the market that might target that pathway and reverse the virus’s effect.

Growing and maintaining human cells is a constant challenge. “It’s like a combination of being a gardener and a preschool teacher and a zookeeper all at once,” Miranda says. “You have all these living organisms outside of your control and you have to constantly manage and feed and observe them.”

In addition to his work in the lab, Miranda teaches several classes. To him, teaching and research are two sides of the same coin. “In order to be a good researcher, you also need to be a good teacher. It’s easy to have this

misconception that we only teach when we’re in the classroom, that we only have those hours that are on the course catalog, but we are teaching all the time,” he says.

And Miranda’s love of teaching is not lost on his students or colleagues. Nicole Rondeau, a technician in his lab, considers him one of the best teachers she’s ever had. Rondeau graduated from Barnard in 2018 with degrees in dance and biology. “I really appreciate how patient he is and how well he’s able to articulate the things that need to get done, how to do them, and then gives you the space to try and then fail,” she says. “It’s refreshing to be allowed to fail and have someone say, ‘That’s okay, try it again.’”

Rondeau describes working with Miranda as a full-on immersion into the real world of academia and research: “That’s the mark of a phenomenal teacher, that they’re not shielding you from the things that aren’t pretty,” she says. “It doesn’t matter, they’ll equip you with the tools to be able to take those challenges as they come.” But that doesn’t mean it’s all grunt work. The attitude in Miranda’s lab, she says, is very much “We’re here to do science! And we’re gonna have fun doing that!”

True to form, Miranda’s outlook on the future of cancer research is hopeful, and he’s focused on what can be achieved by working together: “I don’t want the complexity [of the problem] to give the impression that progress can’t be made,” he says. “In order to solve a problem, you need a ton of people trying, with the full knowledge that most of us are not going to succeed. But you need that critical mass to get enough shots on goal.” B

“I could not accomplish what I’m doing without the students and staff that have decided to join this crazy roller coaster ride of a research program.”

CALL HOW A BARNARD ALUMNA TURNED OF THE HER WANDERLUST INTO SOCIAL ACTIVISM WILD

BY ALIZA GOLDBERG ’14

Photos by Loïc Burton, Michael Fearon, and Aliza Goldberg on the Pacific Crest Trail All captions are from Goldberg’s on-the-trail Instagram account of the trek. (Photos are paired with captions but not as they originally appeared.)

ç Day 132-135, mile 2,054-2,124.4: The area was a stark contrast to the forests I was used to. I had to concentrate fully on my feet to make sure I didn’t trip on the loose rocks. Sometimes the trail became a series of stone slabs and boulders, like a staircase for giants, which was cumbersome for my short legs.

Even in the worst of times, when I woke up groggy because my own shivering body kept jolting me awake or my knees buckled from dehydration or the chafing on my thighs was so raw I had to waddle down the trail, I still felt eager to see what would happen next.

The routine of thru-hiking is rather predictable, but the moments of each day are thrilling. Sometimes the most gorgeous views of a vast valley come simply from turning a corner or when thick forest coverage disappears.

Sometimes you wake up in snow, and by the afternoon have descended so far down a mountain that you end up walking in hot sand or through giant fern fronds. I miss the simplicity of that life, where every flower is special and every pebble surprising.

I had known about the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) since 2017, when a friend walked the first 200 miles as her spring vacation. At the time, I did not think about thru-hiking for myself. I enjoyed the occasional day hike in the summer, but had little experience with camping. I do not regard myself as an athlete. I am also professionally ambitious and thought it was reckless for anyone to abandon a career path.

In November 2018, I began reading about the “refugee caravan”: the 2,500-mile journey undertaken by Central American refugees from San Pedro Sula in Honduras to Tijuana in Mexico. Thousands of men, women, and children were walking this distance because they had no other choice. Walking was their best option at a better life.

Supporting refugees has always been an important cause for me. As the child of immigrants from France and Argentina, I understand how difficult it is to find and adjust to a new homeland. It is a privilege that I can hike the length of my country — 2,652 miles, almost the same distance as the refugee caravan — aided by the luxury of ultralight camping gear. And so I chose to do so, raising money and awareness for the International

Rescue Committee along the way. It was a crisp dawn in April 2019 when I set out on the trail at the Mexican border with my boyfriend and his roommate from college — both of whom I affectionately called my entourage — on a journey that lasted 159 days.

On the days when my legs sunk deep into the snow up to my hip and I had to wriggle free, the days when the sun was so hot I felt woozy, the days mosquito clouds followed me relentlessly and bit every inch of my skin, the days my calves cramped from hours of incline, the days I tripped on a tree root and fell on my face, I’d remember that I was the reason why I was there. No one dragged me to the PCT. I chose this.

At Barnard, I learned to “major in unafraid.” I have taken those lessons from my unofficial major and extended them into my postgrad years. That does not mean I don’t feel fear, I just don’t fear fear. That is why I sewed a BOLD SINCE 1889 patch onto my Osprey backpack [on this issue’s cover], so I could see that strong, beautiful torchbearer every day. I have always appreciated that Barnard celebrates strength and boldness, not just academic success.

One moment in particular has served me as a guide in the months since I finished the PCT. I had been walking along a mountain ridge covered in snow, up and down rocky crags, careful not to slip or make any missteps. In the afternoon, it was time to descend. Looking down to the valley below, all I could see was a huge white sheet before me and no indication of how to get down. Tears clouding my vision, I whispered aloud, “I can’t do this.” I stood there, looking back at the ridge now in the distance, knowing the only way out was forward. And then I did what I thought I could not do, first kicking steps into the snow, one by one, and then sliding down in my shorts when I had passed the tree line.

I still think to myself “I can’t do this,” but now I go ahead and step toward what scares me instead of turning away. B

ë Day 155-159, mile 2,518.5-2,652: After the climb, we were officially in the Sequoia National Park. ... Last 15 miles, last 10 miles, last 5 miles, last mile. And then we were done and had walked the Pacific Crest Trail [PCT]. Getting off the trail felt like staring into the sun, when you’re squinting and trying to avert your gaze. There was too much of everything and the brightness of possibility prickled my skin.

é Day 136-139, mile 2,124.4-2,216: The section felt very remote and wild, with nonplussed elk and deer eating alongside us and sniffing our tent at night.

ì Day 93-98, mile 1,374.3-1,521.8: The terrain was a vibrant green, like a rainforest. We walked through meadows of flowers. The foliage was so lush sometimes it surrounded us completely, towering over the trail. That vitality could only mean one thing: rain. We were often wet, either from precipitation, dew, or fog. Some days the sun never came out, so we never really woke up. Some nights we crawled into damp sleeping bags in damp tents, our efforts to dry out our gear proving futile in such feeble sunshine.

è Day 132-135, mile 2,054-2,124.4: In the valleys, purple and orange wildflowers danced in the strong winds. The dozens of lakes in Desolation Wilderness mirrored the surrounding rocks and mountains in such detail, creating optical illusions and doubling the beauty.

é Day 8-12, mile 109.5-179.4: We are still waiting for the day without challenges. ... Each day is harder than the last, in surprising ways. The desert is not a scorching desolate place but rather filled with characters and switchbacks. é Day 145-148, mile 2,297.2-2,381.1: There isn’t much time to pat yourself on the back on the PCT — you stop to admire the view and catch your breath, then keep walking. The beauty of your surroundings takes your breath away figuratively, so it’s all about balance.

é Day 63-67, mile 865.5-953.2: Bending down to filter water from steamy bug-infested ponds felt like an impossible endeavor, so I had no water to drink. By the time I got to Old Station, I was vomiting from dehydration, heat exhaustion, deet poisoning, or a fun combo. One of the locals of this tiny town gave me saltines and ice water. é Day 21-25, mile 266.1-369.3: The daily mileage is getting bigger and the sights more and more strange. In some moments, we are wading through river crossing after river crossing. In others, screaming wind threatens to knock us off a mountain ridge. We no longer have cell service or meet anyone without a ludicrous trail name, so each paved road or other reminder of civilization shocks us.

é Day 78-85, mile 1,080.4-1,210.9: There should be more words for snow. There’s the sharp frosty snow of morning that gives a satisfying crunch. There’s the soft snow that you slip on constantly. There’s the afternoon slush that you plunge through toward the hidden rocks and dirt below. There are the mounds of icy snow, piled high and sporadically. There are the long stretches of flat white, difficult to navigate through but easier to walk over. Walking on snow means wet feet. Bruises are immediately iced upon impact. Sliding downhill saves time and effort.

è Day 136-139, mile 2,124.4-2,216.8: It felt like walking through an old Western film. Rocky cliffsides full of purple and turquoise stones gave off an otherworldly vibe. All this unexpected tenderness combined with the peculiar scenery left me sparkling.

ê Day 105-109, mile 1,603.1-1,699.2: We climbed so much that it felt like we were walking to the stratosphere. Sometimes I would look at a majestic mountain, panting from exertion, and wonder if the view was really worth the struggle. It is in the Northern Cascades, with their strange jagged peaks and glittering alpine lakes. The scale of these beauties was difficult to comprehend. The trail grew wilder, made of either gravel, fist-size rocks, or tall boulders. Sometimes it was overgrown with dew-laden plants or full of fallen trees. We grew wilder also.

é Day 33-40, mile 454-558.5: The days heated up, which was a welcome respite. I had a 15-minute showdown with a rattlesnake, who slithered down the trail to say hi. ... In the evening we walked by moonlight the long, waterless stretch along the L.A. aqueduct. ... Joshua trees popped up around the trail like flamboyant Dr. Seuss creatures.

é Day 68-77, mile 953.2-1,082.4: I’m proud to be a member of the four-digit mileage club, but have no desire to make it to the five-digit club. ... Day 110-114, mile 1699.2-1797.3: From our vantage point in bright green meadows, we had expansive views of the whole Northern Cascades mountain range we had just walked through. There aren’t many moments like that in life when you can look back on the progress you’ve made.

To see more of Goldberg’s trek across the PCT, visit her Instagram at @pctshewrote.

The day after news spread of Barnard’s controversial dress code, two first-year students, Wendy Supovitz [Reilly] ’63, left, and Martha Kostyra [Stewart] ’63, right, paid no mind to the proposed rules, wearing Bermuda shorts to accompany Japanese guest Takako Hayashi around campus.

AP PHOTO/ANTHONY CAMERANO New Yorkers woke up on April 28, 1960, to find the headline “Ban on Shorts Threatens Classic Barnard Couture” gracing the front page of The New York Times. Elsa Solender ’61, the Barnard press correspondent for the Times, captured the contentious debate erupting on campus over a newly enforced dress code barring women from wearing the then-popular Bermuda shorts, as well as slacks.

Barnard president Millicent McIntosh had been set to issue a statement later that day to the student body, supporting Columbia University president Grayson Kirk’s concern about sartorial impropriety on campus and his request that “women in the university wear skirts to class and off campus.” Despite the headline’s levity, the ban struck a chord. Many Barnard students felt the college acting in loco parentis had overstepped its bounds, and they saw the administration’s decision as an infringement on their personal freedoms — an infuriating attempt to police women’s bodies.

The following day, students sprang into action, showing up to school defiantly baring their legs in Bermuda shorts that soon became, as described in a follow-up article in the Times, the “campus badges of independence.” As the Bermuda shorts affair unfolded — covered at length in newspapers and on television — parents, alumnae, and even the editorial board of The New York Times felt entitled to weigh in on just what it meant for young women to dress as they pleased.

Barnard’s peculiar position as a private space in the middle of the city made the administration particularly concerned with the public presentation of its students, who were considered not just private individuals but representatives of the institution. One alarmed alum wrote

“Petitions popped up in every elevator; astonished professors found springfeverish students bent over their chairs in intensive scribbling.

Four hundred indignant Barnardites were reported to have signed protests-inadvance.”

The New York Times, April 28, 1960

“One student objection to the new restrictions was that the

prestige of the University should not depend on what others think of the appearance

of the students but on their leadership and scholastic abilities.”

“Said one very determined young lady, ‘Kneecaps are at

stake here, as well as such minor issues as personal

liberties.’... The babble of voices rose. ‘Let’s MARCH!’ ... ‘They didn’t say anything about the rest of our apparel; we’ll wear burlap bags.’”

Barnard Bulletin, April 28, 1960

to Mrs. McIntosh to chide that such informal attire seemed “ill-suited to the needs of students … attending an urban college of high standing.”

Letters to Mrs. McIntosh and the administration both supported and opposed the ban. Those in favor often focused on the sloppy look of the shorts, which they felt were undignified given Barnard’s esteemed reputation. Others fixated on the inflammatory effect of abbreviated attire on men, leading to trouble that was, of course, the woman’s fault. One concerned woman — a self-described “70-year-old writer of love stories” — exhorted, “Desire is roused in any male who views the delectable sight. ... Give the New York male a break!” Another woman starchily suggested that shorts and slacks, plus excessive makeup, offered quite an “education” for young boys.

Those who spoke out against the ban emphasized the connection between freedom of choice and a thriving democracy, especially in the wake of McCarthyism and the growing civil rights and anti-nuclear arms movements. One alum cited “the freedom in all spheres of life and learning” that she felt Barnard represented as reason to strike down the sanctions. Another correspondent cheered the students’ protests: “This momentous struggle fits the tradition of free, liberal, democratic, choice education.” Even the president of a sportswear company wrote to voice his support of the student protestors by suggesting that Barnard was “entrusted with the very ideals of personal freedom on which our country is founded.” (He added that students could also concentrate better in shorts, without the worry of adjusting their skirts all the time for propriety.)

The first-year Class of 1963 took a vote and submitted a memorandum to Mrs. McIntosh against the ban, arguing that being at Barnard “presupposes a certain responsibility and maturity on our part.” They conceded that President Kirk had the right to enforce rules at Columbia, but, they said, “Barnard must consider this matter separately, in the tradition of her individual identity” and invoked it as contrary to “Barnard’s liberal tradition.”

The members of the Class of 1963 remember their own positions well. “I was fully supportive, especially for wearing slacks in the winter when the commute was pure agony on snowy winter days,” recalls Marlene Ruthen, a commuter student. According to dorm student Sheila Gordon: “We felt strongly. I remember wearing my Bermudas and protesting … and being angry that we could only wear them on campus and not ‘across the street.’”

Mrs. McIntosh had, herself, been increasingly concerned about the informal dress of students and the reputation of the college. But as a Quaker, she also believed in consensus, and that attitude meant she was open to the students’ suggestions. In a letter to student council president Ruth Cowan ’61, Mrs. McIntosh wrote: “I think you all know there is no one who respects the rights of students as much as I do.”

And so, a compromise was reached. The students would police themselves. On Columbia’s campus, it was skirts only, unless the student was just passing through, in which case a long coat could be worn to cover up shorts or slacks. On Barnard’s campus, Bermuda shorts could be worn, but they had to be no more than two inches above the knee and of a dignified nature “suitable to the academic institution,” which meant no gaudy colors or loud patterns, like the “orange, pink, and yellow” ones that Francine Stein ’63 laughingly remembers owning. The rules were published that fall in the 1960-61 student handbook.

As Cowan recalls: The rules went into effect, they worked, and that was that.

The protests of 1968 have received more attention over the years, but these early pushbacks against authority at the start of the decade can be seen as an opening salvo presaging the social and cultural changes to come. (And if Grayson Kirk had known what was in store for him eight years later, he might have considered Bermuda shorts the least of his problems.) Were there plenty of political issues to protest at the time? Of course. Cowan recalls a sit-in at a local Woolworth’s to protest racial segregation, and there was a protest in May 1960 on College Walk against “duck and cover” and the nuclear arms race. But the Bermuda shorts affair offers a glimpse of where society was heading, the rumblings of protest and change, and the ongoing conversations around women’s bodies that we are still having today. B

In an article, “The Long and the Short of It,” appearing in Barnard Magazine’s Summer 1960 issue, students are shown donning Bermuda shorts on campus. “The resolutions passed by the students showed a real sense of responsibility for solving our dress problem,” President Millicent C. McIntosh told the magazine.

PHOTO COURTESY OF BARNARD’S DIGITAL ARCHIVES

Interested in Barnard history?

Visit digitalcollections. barnard.edu

Driven to Give

olunteering helps these alums find fulfillment and purpose, drawing on their Barnard experience to give back

Exercise isn’t the only way to get healthy. Research shows that volunteering can reduce stress, improve blood pressure, and maybe even help you live longer. And of course it can nourish your soul, strengthen your connections, improve your marketable skills, and make you see the world in new ways. Meet five Barnard grads — Vivien Li ’75,

Zuhirah Khaldun-Diarra ’96, Miriam Scharfman Zadek ’50, Farah Kathwari ’96, and Susan Chapnick ’78 — who share why they love donating their time to charitable causes, ranging from environmental conservation to human rights advocacy.

by Marjorie Ingall

Looking for a cause closer to home? Visit barnardconnect.barnard.edu to help students gain skills and experience for life after college.

Vivien Li ’75

Food Pantry Volunteer

“What I’m doing now veers away from what I’ve done professionally, and that’s deliberate,” Vivien Li ’75 says. After two-plus decades at The Boston Harbor Association, followed by several years as president and CEO of Pittsburgh’s Riverlife, she decided to come back to Boston in 2018. “People assumed I’d do what I’d always done: work on waterfront access and climate change,” she recalls. Instead, Li’s taking what she calls Gap Year 2.0. “I’m taking time to think about what’s next,” she says. “I enjoy travel and a good meal, but there has to be more to life than that.”

Her focus is on helping people with food insecurity. “I’d volunteered at Women’s Lunch Place going back to 1990, when I was a young mother here in Boston,” she says. The organization serves meals and helps with housing, job training, and more. “Sometimes someone comes to do makeup; sometimes there’s live music at lunchtime — it’s the gamut of getting people services and bringing them joy. It’s all about respect and dignity,” she explains. “We don’t ask anyone for ID; we don’t care if they’re here legally or not. You’re in need. We’re there to help.”

Li also volunteers with a Friday night supper program at Arlington Street Church and at a food pantry at the Church of the Covenant, both in close proximity to Chinatown. The clients are primarily Chinese and “tend to be older, some in senior and affordable housing,” she says. “I speak Cantonese, and I’ll help them pack their bags. And the clients always say what a good girl I am!” She laughs.

Helping out at these different organizations gives Li plenty of food for thought. “People in need can’t get healthy food, and yet in a country as rich as ours, so much food is wasted,” she says. “Corporations throw out food because it’s not beautiful or because the expiration date is in a day or two. What I’m thinking about, but haven’t quite developed yet, is how to lessen food waste in general.”

And Li loves the work. “I want the opportunity to work with the guests being served by the program, loading the dishwasher, running back to get the vegetarian option,” she says. “It isn’t glamorous; it doesn’t require a degree from Barnard or a master’s from Princeton. But it opens your eyes to the fact that bad things can happen to good people. I’m grateful I can make people’s day a bit better in a small way, with a little banter, a moment to make them feel welcome.”

Zuhirah Khaldun-Diarra ’96

Cultural Educator

The need to give back was instilled in Zuhirah Khaldun-Diarra ’96 at an early age. “I remember my very first volunteer experience,” she says. “I used to go up to Harlem with my family — my father is co-founder of the Harlem Children’s Zone, and my mother is the former secretary of education of Bermuda — to feed the hungry on Christmas,” she recalls. “It was a great reminder of the dignity and autonomy of all people, regardless of their current condition or position.”

As an adult, Khaldun-Diarra, who is the brand marketing director at UNICEF, has continued this family tradition, melding her personal interests with community engagement. At Barnard, she majored in economics, but the arts were always vital to her. She was the director of WBAR and hosted Strange Fruit, which she describes as “a multicultural open-mic night monthly where people of color had a platform to share their artistic expression.”

From Barnard onward, she’s been involved in a number of projects that are at the nexus of culture and education. She was the founding board member of the Hip-Hop Education Center at NYU, an institute that “focused on how hip-hop can be used to empower marginalized communities, influence the field of education to be more inclusive and culturally responsive, and improve educational outcomes,” she says. “Then, I became a host committee member for what was then called the Block Party — a pun on ‘prison block’ — which supported the Horticultural Society of New York, providing green jobs training and horticultural therapy for people detained in a facility.”

This year, she and some friends decided to do a benefit to support the National Association for Women Artists. The funds raised would go to providing gallery space across the country. The inaugural event honored Shaniqwa Jarvis, an African American woman photographer.

“It’s interesting to come full circle,” she reflects. “What motivated me earlier in my life was providing spaces for marginalized groups to share their voices. Today, the internet has democratized the distribution of music, but fine art is still so dependent on having galleries to show work.” For Khaldun-Diarra, there is still more important work to be done, and she’s up for the challenge.

Miriam Scharfman Zadek ’50

Communication Advocate

Since 1975, Miriam Scharfman Zadek ’50 has been helping people who face communication challenges. She started nearly 46 years ago at the Hearing and Speech Agency of Baltimore, and, well, she’s essentially never left.

“I got a call from the director of the agency saying they’d gotten a federal grant to develop a model of intervention for children with communicative disorders,” Zadek recalls, “and they needed someone to develop a social work counseling program for families. Would I be interested?” She wound up saying yes, and over the past four-plus decades, she’s been hard at work: She founded the organization’s Centralized Interpreter Referral Service (the first American Sign Language interpreting agency in Baltimore), served on their executive board, and is now on the president’s advisory council.

For Zadek, this professional calling was personal. She grew up with two deaf sisters and always felt she straddled different worlds. “I was part of the deaf community and the hearing community,” she says. “I could understand communication and separation between groups as well as methods of bringing them together.” At Barnard, she majored in sociology and went on to get a degree from Columbia’s School of Social Work. She’s devoted herself to helping people with hearing and speech disorders ever since. In 2017, Zadek received the Maryland Governor’s Service Lifetime Achievement Award for her many years of service to the community.

She has no intention of quitting. “I was 91 this month and spent yesterday at the office because there is a new small agency in Baltimore that provides pro bono psychiatric and social work counseling, which thrilled me, and I wanted to see how to integrate that into our other programs,” she says. “They’re developing a new research grant, and I’ve been asked to give input. I like doing [these] things! I know what a grievous loss I’d feel if I could no longer engage in this way.”

Volunteering is a family affair for the Zadeks; after her husband retired as an orthopedic surgeon, he spent 15 years teaching literacy and math to adults. “Part of living is the opportunity to give and share and learn,” she says. “And it’s fun! Get that across!”

Zadek wouldn’t know how to stop volunteering anyway, she says: “I don’t know another way to be.”

Farah Kathwari ’96

Human Rights Activist

“I’ve always seesawed between design and human-rights-related stuff,” Farah Kathwari ’96 says, laughing. “I was meant to go to art school, and at the last minute I didn’t and went to Barnard. And then I went to Parsons, where I studied interior design.” Along the way, she got a master’s in Middle East studies and worked for Ethan Allen. But through volunteering, she’s been able to pursue her passion for human rights advocacy.

She’s currently a board member of two organizations — Refugees International and Westchester County Human Rights Commission — that focus on a range of issues, from improving the lives of displaced people around the world to protecting local residents from discrimination in housing and employment.

Kathwari’s parents, who grew up in Kashmir, worked hard to make sure she knew how fortunate she was. “Coming from a place of conflict gives you a different perspective,” she says. The Kathwaris established a family foundation, and their children were involved in both charitable giving and volunteering. So when Kathwari was asked to join the committee for the New York office of Human Rights Watch, she quickly said yes. That was 10 years ago, and now, she’s on the executive committee.

One of her causes was ending child marriage in New York. Until recently, New York was one of only three states in which a 14-year-old could be married without parental permission. “If you look at countries where women have the worst standards of living, it correlates with child marriage,” Kathwari points out. “We needed to help with that at home first.” Despite pushback from some religious groups, a judge in 2017 raised the marriage age to 18, or 17 with both parental and court consent.

Kathwari is now fighting another battle: ending solitary confinement. “There are internationally accepted norms about how long a person can be in solitary confinement and how it’s used, but in New York they’ve been keeping prisoners in solitary for years. It’s literally torture.”

Kathwari initially called her disparate interests in human rights and design “right brain/left brain” but then acknowledged that perhaps her passions are related after all. “In my design work, what I love most is things that are handmade by people, that reflect their culture. To me, it shows their humanity. And it ties in with my volunteering because both are from a place of love. I know that sounds cheesy. But it’s about being human.”

Susan Chapnick ’78

Environmental Conservationist

Susan Chapnick ’78 is an environmental chemist who runs New Environmental Horizons, a consulting firm, which helps with the cleanup of contaminated sites. In her volunteer work, she leverages her scientific background to advocate for climate change resiliency in her community. She’s the chair of the conservation commission in her town of Arlington, Massachusetts, and serves on the science advisory board of the Massachusetts Department of Environmental Protection’s Bureau of Waste Site Cleanup, among other environmentalism-focused volunteer gigs.

“Scientists have gotten a bad reputation as elitist lately,” Chapnick notes. “But I feel it’s critically important to base decisions on data rather than intuition. Climate change is caused by human intervention. And policies being made now will be in place for years to come.”

She has three grandchildren and thinks a lot about the planet they’ll inherit. Back when she was at Barnard, climate change advocacy wasn’t yet a thing. “We forget, but there were days in NYC you were advised not to go outside because the air was so bad. Then the Clean Air Act was put in place, which really helped improve air quality. Now we take it for granted.”

Today, many of us feel hopeless about climate change. Taking action, Chapnick says, helps a lot. Several years ago, there was a huge oil-tanker spill on a local highway; thousands of gallons of oil flowed into the Mystic River. “The accident made us say, ‘What can we do to improve this area and make it more resilient?’” She swiftly volunteered to help the conservation commission with the cleanup and secured a National Resource Damage Assessment and Restoration Program grant, which allowed them to add flood storage, fix a broken outfall, and create infrastructure to improve water quality and take care of storm water. They also built a small riparian habitat and enlisted students at the local elementary school to help with planting. “We said we hoped they’d come back to help take care of the plants, and we gave them each a wetland plant to put in their garden. You have to engage the next generation to care.”

Plus, she notes, environmental volunteerism can have a great ripple effect. “After I helped the town put in place these regulations for climate change around wetlands, the regulations were adopted by the town of Brookline, and some were adopted by the city of Boston,” she says. “It’s spreading out!” B

Barnard College’s most prominent, signature annual event was conceived in the most Barnard way possible: in Gloria Steinem’s living room. As Kathryn Kolbert, the Athena Film Festival’s cofounder and current producing director, remembers it, Women and Hollywood’s Melissa Silverstein had invited her to a party at Steinem’s in honor of New Zealand filmmaker Jane Campion.

“It was a great party,” she says, “and I’m walking around the living room hearing women filmmakers talk about how they have trouble getting their second and third films made.” Kolbert and festival co-founder and artistic director Silverstein agreed that something had to be done, and a film festival was born to champion women and underrepresented filmmakers.

The festival furthers Silverstein’s allencompassing professional mission to push for a film culture that centers on gender diversity and inclusion. “Films are like our cave paintings,” she says. “They’re what is going to be left behind. And if you don’t have any women there, and you don’t have any people of color, what are people going to remember? The world is not just white men, even though they want us to continue to believe that it is.”

For Kolbert, the festival was a natural extension of the Athena Center for Leadership, which she served as director of from its launch in 2009 until 2018. The center sought the same objectives that Silverstein and Kolbert, an esteemed journalist and public interest attorney (Planned Parenthood v. Casey), had for the festival: “... building a world where leadership is constantly reimagined to reflect the needs of women and society — where women obtaining and exercising power is both expected and commonplace.”

Today, the center has matured into an integral part of Barnard and grown far beyond its humble beginnings in historic Milbank Hall. As the center celebrates its 10year anniversary and better digs in the sleek, new Milstein Center, it looks to the future with its new director, Umbreen Bhatti ’00, at the helm and its mission to define and develop women’s leadership as vital as ever.

“When I was a student here, there was no place like this. I’m looking forward to growing Athena as a home for students who will lead us to a better world,” says Bhatti.

Imagining an ideal world demands visionaries, which the festival welcomes en masse every year. It has become the place for women leaders in film and filmmaking. Reverberations from the creation of this forum have been huge. Some 40,000 people have attended the film festival in the past decade, viewing more than 400 films.

“It’s a testament to the festival’s mission that 70% of all films ever screened at Athena have been directed by women, with 64% written by women,” says President Sian Leah Beilock. “And all of these films center on strong women, leading in different places and spaces throughout time and around the world. In contrast, just 25% of the films at top international festivals in the past three years were from women directors.”

Last year, the festival started to award grant money in partnership with the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation and Netflix to help support the work of up-and-coming women filmmakers. The first Sloan development grant, established to promote stories of women in STEM, was awarded to Denise Meyers for her screenplay Lucky 13, and the inaugural Athena Breakthrough Award, sponsored by Netflix,

went to director Unjoo Moon for her Helen Reddy biopic, I Am Woman.

Silverstein is especially proud of the emerging filmmakers honored by the festival who have subsequently found wide acclaim: Greta Gerwig ’06 won an Athena Award in 2011, long before 2017’s Lady Bird and 2019’s Little Women launched her into prominence for her directing chops. (The festival has screened both of Greta’s Oscar-winning films, with the director making video and in-person appearances, respectively.) And it honored Chinonye Chukwu’s script Clemency with a spot on the 2017 Athena List (a “Black List”-inspired roster that recognizes the best women-inspired screenplays not yet produced). Chukwu went on to direct the film, which took the top prize at Sundance in 2019, making her the first black woman to win it.

While the festival has proved to be a successful launch pad for women in film on a global scale, it has also had a formidable impact on the next generation of women filmmakers. For Ashley Bush ’11, who interned for the inaugural festival in the months before it opened, its mission has been personal, too.

“We spent the entire summer in the new Diana Center holed up in a room just watching all these films made by women,” Bush says. “That was incredibly impactful for me as a young filmmaker.” Since graduating from Barnard, she has built a career producing and writing in film and is currently working on a documentary that examines the history of the male gaze in cinema. Her work with the film festival “definitely affects my choices of what I work on,” she says. “What I write, who I work with — it’s had a long-term impact.” (For more on how the festival and Barnard changed Ashley Bush ’11’s idea of what’s possible in film, see page 118.)

For filmmakers like Bush, the festival very quickly became both a beacon and platform, shining a spotlight on the important work underrepresented artists are doing in film. It demonstrates and announces to Hollywood establishment what women can and should be doing as filmmakers and protagonists, while demanding change in movements such as Time’s Up and #MeToo, both of which have been featured in panels hosted by the festival.

As Athena looks to chart its next 10 years amid the rising tide of films about and by women, a sea change is coming in the industry — thanks, in no small part, to the festival that took root at Barnard. B

Films are like our cave paintings. They’re what is going to be left behind. And if you don’t have any women there, and you don’t have any people of color, what are people going to remember? The world is not just white men, even though they want us to continue to believe that it is.

ALEXANDRIA OCASIO-CORTEZ, KATE McKINNON, PAUL FEIG, LENA DUNHAM, J.J. ABRAMS, KARYN KUSAMA

Save the date for the 11th annual Athena Film Festival: FEBRUARY 18-21, 2021.

2020 VISION

A look back at the Athena Film Festival’s 10th anniversary celebration

The Athena Film Festival wrapped a perfect 10 on March 1, 2020, capping a decade of hosting 40,000 attendees at Barnard College’s signature annual event. Activists, directors, actors, and writers came together to celebrate the festival’s milestone and commitment to showcasing the work of underrepresented filmmakers in partnership with the Athena Center for Leadership and Women and Hollywood.

“Every year I watch a screening at the Athena Film Festival, and I leave all the more inspired by the strong female characters and women behind the camera,” said history major Connie Cai ’21, who attended the showing of Sister Aimee.

This year’s festival lineup presented more than 50 events and 62 films, including narrative, documentary, and short films; Q&As and panels; workshops and master classes; and more New York and international premieres than ever before — 22 total — as well as screening Golden Globe and Sundance prizewinners and Academy Award nominees over the course of the weekend-long event. The College’s faculty participated as well, attending screenings with students for classroom discussions and also through panels on topics such as women in science, which featured professor of physics and astronomy Janna Levin, and art and activism, with professors of English and Africana studies Monica Miller and Yvette Christiansë.

On February 26, the 2020 Athena Awards honored Golden Globe-nominated actress Beanie Feldstein (Booksmart), producer and CEO of Gamechanger Effie T. Brown, director Unjoo Moon (I Am Woman), and filmmaker Jennifer Kaytin Robinson (Someone Great). Moon was honored with the inaugural Athena Breakthrough Award, sponsored by Netflix, which provides $25,000 to a first- or secondtime woman filmmaker whose project has not yet secured U.S. distribution. Her film follows singer Helen Reddy and her hit song “I Am Woman,” which became an anthem amid the second-wave feminist movement of the 1970s.

Guests included Gloria Steinem, filmmaker Lorraine Toussaint, and Netflix vice president of inclusion strategy Vernā Myers ’82, among other luminaries. Academy Award-nominated director Greta Gerwig ’06 presented Feldstein with an Athena Award in what became an onstage Lady Bird reunion for the two friends.

On Friday night,

Yu Gu’s documentary A Woman’s Work: The NFL’s Cheerleader Problem screened, followed by a Q&A with former New York Jets cheerleader Krystal Cruz and New York Assemblywoman Nily Rozic. The film takes a closer look at the salary imbalance between NFL cheerleaders and the football players, highlighting the mistreatment of the cheerleaders and lawsuits against their teams. On Saturday, Disney’s Frozen II gathered students, staff, and children dressed as their favorite characters to see the animated feminist tale. The screening was preceded by “The Present and Future of Women in Animation,” a panel moderated by animation veteran Jinko Gotoh.

In what was a powerful discussion, Hollywood Reporter journalist Tatiana Siegel moderated the “Silence Breakers” panel with music producer Drew Dixon, writer Sheri Sher, actress Sarah Masse, and writer Jasmine Lobe. Dixon and Sher discussed breaking their silence against hip-hop mogul Russell Simmons, while Masse and Lobe discussed coming forward to describe their experiences with the former Hollywood media giant Harvey Weinstein.

The four are now advocating together to further the employment of sexual survivors in Hollywood, via the #HireSurvivorsHollywood initiative, spearheaded by Masse. “It is important for me to let fellow artists know that this is an issue in our industry right now and how they can be a part of changing it,” Masse stated.

“Barnard sits at the intersection of STEM fields and female narrative[s],” said screenwriter Mary Elder. This year, the festival featured more STEM-focused films and events than ever before, through its partnership with the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation, a nonprofit organization that awards grants for science and technology. The Foundation bolsters screenwriting labs and STEM-focused films as part of Athena’s larger parity pipeline that features women on screen and at the forefront of creative development.

The festival screened four films centered on women in STEM fields: Neasa Hardiman’s Sea Fever, Marie-Sophie Chambon’s Stars by the Pound, Todd Thompson’s Woman in Motion, and Jack Thorne’s Radioactive. “With research showing how important it is for girls to ‘do science,’ as opposed to ‘being scientists,’ it’s critical that films represent women doing science and achieving their dreams,” said President Beilock. B — Stefani Shoreibah ’21 UNJOO MOON, LIZ GARBUS, DAN COGAN, LORRAINE TOUSSAINT, ARI AFSAR, PAUL FEIG, EFFIE T. BROWN, VERNĀ MYERS ’82, KATHRYN KOLBERT, SIAN LEAH BEILOCK, MELISSA SILVERSTEIN, UMBREEN BHATTI ’00

Sketchbook

A Conversation with Suze Myers ’16

The graphic artist and art director gives us a glimpse into her creative process and talks feminist zines, fine paperstock, and sketching under the magnolia tree

Where do you draw inspiration from?

I do read design publications, like It’s Nice That or AIGA’s Eye on Design, but my favorite projects draw inspiration from elsewhere, like community activist movements, illustrated children’s books, archival collections, or the film world.

Which classes at Barnard have most informed your work?

Every art history class I took at Barnard shaped the way I understand methods of looking and seeing in both art and design. I loved Jack McGrath’s Body Politics Since 1945, Elizabeth Hutchinson’s Native American Art, and Rosalyn Deutsche’s Institutional Critique.

What is your creative process like?

Ideally, I like to start by doing research. I pull inspiration from books, online, or real life, and print it all out. I physically cut and paste the images into a sketchbook, making notes alongside them. Before this, I have a general concept of what I’m trying to communicate, but this is the point where I start to ideate on what form my final product should actually take. I then design a few rudimentary experiments.

How would you describe your aesthetic (in 3-5 adjectives)?

Playful, irreverent, feminist.

What is your favorite project or piece?

I’m very proud of my thesis from design school, Women’s Lib. It was a feminist toolkit full of interventions that one could take into a library to protest and make visible the dearth of women in the art and design canon. I screen printed library cards, bookmarks, shelf talkers, and posters, and designed (and dyed and sewed!) a backpack to hold everything. It was specifically inspired by my time as a worker in the Barnard Library — after I left, I wished every library could be as radical, warm, and inclusive as the community there. It was the first time I had approached a design project like I would a research paper, and it fundamentally changed the way I thought about my work and my process.

Where would I find you sketching on campus?

Back in the day, I’d be under the magnolia tree! If I were a student at Barnard now, you would definitely catch me working on my sketchbooks in the Design Center. I would roast a chicken, but Claire would have to bring dessert.

What artwork was on your dorm wall?

The walls had a similar mishmash aesthetic and DIY vibe to my sketchbooks and zines. Any well-designed printed matter could go up there — postcards from the Met, illustrations from zine fests, notes from friends, a giant foldout map of London’s independent bookstores, prints of photos from the Archives that I rescued before the Lehman Hall demolition. I had this huge poster of a smashed clementine that someone had scanned and a thin newsprint drawing of a sad Bigfoot with a speech bubble that said “I stink.”

Which living person do you most admire?

I’ve worked a bit in film as both a producer and first assistant director, and off set as a graphic artist. I have the utmost respect for all women working in that wild industry, which somehow

To see more of Myers’ work, visit Sketchbook at Barnard.edu/ magazine

What do you listen to while at work in your studio?

Garrett, the bartender at my favorite bar, has a great collection of playlists for every mood, so I’ll usually put one of them on since they’re 8-9 hours long each! Also, in grad school, I listened to all seven Harry Potter audiobooks while working on my thesis.

Who is at your dream dinner party?

Bong Joon Ho, Alexandria OcasioCortez, Claire Saffitz from the Bon Appétit Test Kitchen, and Elena Ferrante.

manages to be even more white and maledominated than the world of graphic design. I particularly admire the directors Lulu Wang, Céline Sciamma, Ava DuVernay, and Lorene Scafaria.

What’s your guilty pleasure?

The Instagram algorithm continuously shows me pictures of Timothée Chalamet....

What is your idea of perfect happiness?

A library book, a loaf of homemade sourdough bread, and a picnic blanket in Prospect Park on the first warm day of the year.

What is your favorite place to see art?

In New York: the Met, the Cooper Hewitt, and Chinatown Soup. In London: the Design Museum and the ICA.

What is your greatest extravagance?

Fancy paper stock for printmaking. I have a box full under my bed.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?

I love being a co-organizer of the NYC Feminist Zine Fest alongside fellow Barnard alum Lili Finckel ’16 and Barnard zine librarian Jenna Freedman! Even though it’s just one day a year, it really feels like a community space that brings people together.

Where would you most like to live?

I would love to live in London again someday! Other contenders: Amsterdam, Copenhagen, or anywhere in Japan.

What is your most treasured possession?

My zine collection, which has 500+ zines and counting. Plus, my four external hard drives that archive my work, and my grandmother’s jewelry box from Trinidad.

Who are your heroes in real life?

All community activists everywhere.

What is your motto?

Start before you’re ready. B

KEEP ON BEING DRIVEN, PASSIONATE, PROUD, IN-THE-KNOW, EAGER, IRREVERENT, ORIGINAL, GUTSY, WRITING MOTIVATED, FOCUSED, HUNGRY FOR EXPERIENCE, INTENSE, ENGAGED, AMBITIOUS, CONFIDENT, WORLDLY, FORTHRIGHT, INCLUSIVE, UNAPOLOGETIC, BOLD, POWERFUL, VIBRANT, ASPIRATIONAL, DISCERNING, THE BOOK GENUINE, AWARE, SPIRITED, WITTY, IRONIC, DIRECT, RELEVANT, COMMUNITY-DRIVEN, SUSTAINABLE, AUDACIOUS, AGGRESSIVE, INDEPENDENT, FEARLESS, THOUGHTFUL, RESILIENT, COSMOPOLITAN, AND FIERCELY INTELLECTUAL.

Send your unequivocally Barnard letters, essays, poems, art, photos, travels, and ideas to magazine@barnard.edu