Caliber Magazine - Issue 14

caliber MAGAZINE

presidents

layout designers

KATHLEEN LEUTY JESSLYN WHITTELL

SARAH LEE MAHIRA AHMED MARY LONSDALE

editors-in-chief

MIEKO ANDERS DELANEY INMAN HANNAH BERKMAN

graphic designers IFFAT JUNAID ISMAT JUNAID

heads of design

photographers

IFFAT JUNAID ISMAT JUNAID

AISHWARYA ARAVIND

KINCSO DOMICZI ARIA DASBACH STEVEN ELLEMAN IVAN JIANG ANIRUDH NARULA SWAN KIM

head of business ERIKA JIN

head of copy editing ANDREA HOFMAN

print writers

RAINE ROBICHAUD LILLAIN WEILAND EVY NAJARIAN GRACE CHA KATIE BERLIN MIKA ANDERS SOPHIA STEWART

heads of photography LANA COSIC

KINCSO DOMICZI

webmaster

KATIE BERLIN SOPHIA STEWART

online writers

HAYLEIGH SHOBAR MOLLY KEARNAN TALYA ZALIPSKY MICHELLE PARK FRIDA BASTIAN DANO NISSEN ANGELICA ZOCCHI

editorial editor

ANKUR MANIAR

events coordinator

ISABELLA GARCIA-MENDEZ

marketing AILEEN GUI

a note: Inside this issue you will find a culmination of all of Caliber’s work from the entirety of 2016 (and a little bit of 2017 as well). As with the year 2016, this issue embodies the meaning of transition, adaptability, and determination. It took our team twice as long to get this into your hands, and it was made with twice as much care. We hope that these pages will move you, inspire you, and motivate you to persist with humility, just as they have for us. Enjoy.

Graciously, The Caliber Team

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Tactical Urbanism & Public Art on Telegraph Bay Area Metal Colorscapes Cali Road Tripping Editorial: Tropicana Cover Story: Natalie Coughlin The Role of Routine Out To Lunch With: Professor Zook Reclaiming Agency: life after intimate partner violence Cellphones at Concerts: Ruining the Concert Experience Plugged Into Our Little Worlds Berkeley’s Next Top Drag Performer RIP The Food Network SPRING 2017 / CALIBERMAG.NET

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TACTICAL URBANISM & PUBLIC ART ON TELEGRAPH

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On a weekday morning, Telegraph Avenue is flooded with pedestrians jostling and meandering their way to campus.

Buses rumble down the street while bikes weave through the action. At first glance, one might presume that this bustle of people could only mean that the Telegraph corridor (between Bancroft Way and Dwight Way) is a successful city street.

With so much foot traffic, what else does it need? Berkeley city planners, designers, and business owners disagree.

Although there is heavy commuter activity, the street does not provide opportunities for people to rest or hang out.

According to these stakeholders, the deficiency has made the street impersonal, unsafe, and difficult for local businesses.

Beyond the rush of commuters, many see Telegraph’s potential as a weekend destination for shoppers and families with outdoor seating, music, and art. Public and private organizations are working to design spaces for these activities, while critics argue that these changes are superficial, and could exclude and even displace the homeless population.

Telegraph has a long history as a hub of art, free speech, and community inclusion. According to Achva Stien, a Professor of Landscape Architecture and Environmental Planning at UC Berkeley, the district was defined by “everything being on the street.” Doris Moskowitz, owner of Moe’s Books, explains that the vendors on the street created an “alternative economy” of handmade goods. Some of the original characteristics of Telegraph are still present, like the independent music stores, book sellers, and cafés, but others have vanished. The city of Berkeley as well as private interests are turning to public art and urban design in an attempt to make Telegraph a “cultural destination” that “celebrates [its] extraordinary diversity and historical significance” as well as “technological and social innovation,” according to the city’s Telegraph Public Art Plan.

Today, many people fear that Telegraph has lost its status as a gathering place and has become focused on shopping errands and fast dining. However, the main complaint that the Telegraph Business Improvement District (TBID) receives about experiences on Telegraph Ave are aesthetic. TBID is an organization of businesses located on Telegraph Avenue that work together to create an environment that benefits Telegraph’s businesses. TBID’s research incorporates public meetings and collborates with Berkeley Design Advocates and the UC Berkeley architects while taking into consideration the opinions of street vendors, merchants, and city planners.

The City of Berkeley has also held public meetings that allow attendees to express their interests and concerns. City of Berkeley District 7 Councilman, Kriss Worthington found that at these meetings, “certain people were very excited about the art in storefronts” because it was inexpensive and “could be done speedily.” Worthington also notes that TBID’s plan “has a lot less public input,” and many of the proposed projects will draw from private funds, such as a proposed earth-toned chemical stain for the sidewalks.

The City of Berkeley and TBID have published plans for altering the public environment of the street, offering a combination of artistic, infrastructural, and transportation elements. Both plans rely on the low-budget, outreachoriented practices of tactical urbanism, or low-cost and

temporary projects, to quickly produce changes to the street.

Along with the city’s preliminary report on Public Art, the city has also approved an implementation plan, which focuses on specific projects from both the city’s and TBID’s plans and identifies sources of funding.

Stein argues that the changes needed for Telegraph should be social rather than designed. While the City of Berkeley’s Public Art Plan and TBID’s Public Realm Plan imply that public art can harness the existing creative energy of Telegraph and is a continuation of the existing atmosphere, others disagree. Stein argues that “in order to [display] public art you need to have safe places to walk for all ages,” and should focus on ways to work with business owners and community members to “get everybody together” on the street rather than placing objects in the street with hopes of sparking interaction. She explains that interventions as simple as the addition of chairs on the street or the limiting cars can be extremely effective in increasing a sense of community.

The differing priorities for Telegraph require both compromise and collaboration. For example, the TBID, the University, and the city look to benefit from making Telegraph

“TODAY, MANY PEOPLE FEAR THAT TELEGRAPH HAS LOST ITS STATUS AS A GATHERING PLACE” more accessible for cyclists, transport users, residents, and visitors. Thus, bike racks, increased transit, and decreased automobile traffic serve multiple interests. All three parties also hope that increased public art on Telegraph will engage businesses, pedestrians, and visitors with the University and larger community. The Berkeley Police Department also presents a funding opportunity for the city, suggesting “natural surveillance” and “maintenance” over conspicuous security measures that make the space feel unfriendly and unwelcoming.

In conjunction with this, Housing Commission Chair, Matthew Lewis is working with City Council to resolve an “unintentional conflict” within zoning law, that allows the construction of tall buildings between Bancroft Way and Dwight Way on Telegraph. While this may not directly alter the public realm, it would likely add more pedestrians and activity to the street if the change in zoning prompted highdensity development.

Through The Green Initiative Fund (TGIF), a UCBerkeley sponsored grant program for sustainability projects on campus, the university is involved in an initiative called Telegraph Green, which encourages Telegraph businesses and their patrons to use reusable utensils and to-go containers.

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Jennifer McDougall, Principal Planner of UC Berkeley Real Estate, hopes that this project will serve both the environment and the atmosphere of Telegraph. By having people create less waste and taking care of the street, it might result in “taking more ownership of it” and help “reduce trash in the area.” McDougall explains that the University views Telegraph in terms of its Long Range Development Plan, which aims to shape the major corridors where students live and commute. She says the school’s top priorities are to improve public transportation along Telegraph, promote a variety of nighttime and daytime activities, and integrate curriculum with the district. As far as the University’s contribution to public art on Telegraph, McDougall envisions a thorough design process in order to ensure that “the art that goes up on Telegraph is meaningful art and not just plop art.”

Collaboration with the Chancellor’s Community Partnership Fund and the Berkeley Police Department would result in funding for projects such as a resident artist program and street lighting improvements. However, these organizations have distinct priorities from those of the TBID and the city, like student engagement in Berkeley and crime prevention through Environmental Design, as outlined in a 2006 police report. UC Berkeley’s Long Range Development Plan identifies Telegraph from Bancroft through to North Oakland as a “Housing Zone” for students and staff, so it is especially interested in changes to the street. The city may also apply for grants for its projects, utilize City of Berkeley Berkeley Public Works and county funds for infrastructure projects, and approach local businesses about potential funding for projects that will be located just outside store property.

Worthington points out that while these efforts are exciting, he is concerned about funding. He explains that projects where the money is already set aside, such as the AC Transit Parklet collaboration and other less expensive projects like the storefront art initiative, would be implemented first.

Moskowitz believes the first step of improving Telegraph depends upon Berkeley “admit[ting] that it needs development [and] that it needs housing.” She explains that business owners like herself and the neighborhood “want congestion.” She is most interested in TBID’s plan of using the Dwight Triangle Plaza “as a place for remembering our history.” As for the various other proposed improvements for Telegraph - “The more stuff happening, the better.”

These proposals and their opposition represent different perspectives and visions of what Telegraph should be, shaped by varying personal relationships to the street itself. Renee Chow, Professor of Architecture and Urban

Design and Associate Dean of Undergraduate Studies in the College of Environmental Design, studies urban design and the associations that are formed with spaces. In her work, she explores the relationship between “figure” and “field” elements. Figures are landmarks, elements designed to draw attention, while fields are overarching aesthetics of certain areas, or “distinguishing elements...that...occur often enough that we begin to associate these elements or themes with the location.” She explains that while “some would like to assign meaning to certain forms or kinds of spaces, one cannot assume that all will read the same thing.” So, what does this mean for Telegraph? For students, Telegraph might be defined by its retail and fast dining options, while older residents may miss the entertainment options of the past. These impressions of Telegraph matter when making design changes because, according to Chow, “the addition of new items should not only provide something that may have been missing but also intensify or repair some ongoing continuity in the location.”

Other changes proposed for the public realm have proven to be much more divisive.

A Public Conduct Amendment approved late last fall criminalizes leaving one’s belongings on city planters, along with other activities associated with Berkeley’s homeless population. TBID supported the amendment, citing issues that businesses owners had with cleaning the sidewalks outside of their storefronts. Baker of the TBID explains the intention of the amendment “is not to prevent an individual from using their First Amendment rights to panhandle but instead to improve “everyone’s access to the sidewalks--which are community property.” He notes that Telegraph “can be so congested that it intimidates others who want to use the sidewalk” and says that his business “regularly get[s] complaints about the situation.” He believes the Amendment to be beneficial because “for a pedestrian environment to thrive, the common space needs to be accessible and welcoming to all.”

McDougall explains that while the University does not support these legal measures, it seeks to create a “a culture of change” in which “the entire community more or less agree that...we’re not willing to accept [certain activities] on the sidewalk.” The council meeting sparked widespread protest, with residents and student activists taking to the podium to criticize the proposal, calling it “inhumane” and unrepresentative of Berkeley’s population.

Others, including Miguel Carrera, Housing Justice Organizer of the Coalition for Homeless in San Francisco, oppose legal and physical interventions to the street environment because of their potential to displace homeless people. Carrera argues that the criminalization of the homeless

“WHAT COULD BE ADDED TO THE ELEMENTS THAT ALREADY EXIST ON TELEGRAPH? AND WHAT VALUES?”

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population in San Francisc has taken shape because it is “eas[ier] to...pay the police” than provide affordable housing.

He also cites the power imbalance between businesses and the homeless population. Businesses, which provide revenue for the city, sway the city towards their proposals and ideas, often at the cost of the homeless population which has less financial power. He emphasizes that changes to street design are superficial, when the real issues are connected to inequality and lack of affordable housing. He acknowledges that [the government] “want[s] to beautify the city” but asks: “when do they want to beautify the life of homeless people?”

Worthington seems unconcerned that the Amendment will alter the existing situation on Telegraph, noting the fact that while San Francisco has criminalized sitting on the sidewalk, and this law is rarely enforced. He notes that “it’s sort of sad that [Berkeley City Council is] willing to vote to criminalize [the homeless] but not actually solve the problem,” citing the difficulty of passing affordable housing measures in city council. However, Worthington feels that the outrage in response to the Amendment is “just political posturing in order to rile up a certain part of Berkeley” Washington maintains that while the Amendment “gets a lot of publicity, [it won’t] really...change the situation very much.”

Much of the discussion surrounding Telegraph is framed using phrases like “change,” “improvement,” and “addition.”

To Chow, the most effective interventions that can be made to a space are the ones that “take advantage of previously unseen opportunities” and “highlight [and] intensify the field.”

This raises an important question: What could be added to the elements and values that already exist on Telegraph?

This question could guide future discussion of Telegraph and produce more socially inclusive proposals. While the process may be long, the city has plans to complete several projects to improve Telegraph, including parklets funded by AC Transit.

The Public Art Plan also suggests decorative bike racks, a “monumental artwork” on Dwight and Telegraph, more beautiful trash bins, and regular events held on Telegraph.

As for the Public Realm Plan, an earth-toned chemical stain for the sidewalk will soon be piloted, while there are plans to create an Art Plaza on Durant, increased outdoor seating on the street, an extension of the sidewalks, bike lanes leading to Telegraph from Bancroft, and more street trees.

words by RAINE K. ROBICHAUD photos by SWAN KIM

B AY A R E A

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M E TA L On a chilly Friday night, I headed into the Regency Ballroom in San Francisco to see two notoriously heavy and well-known Oakland-based metal bands - Sleep and Neurosis. I was immediately greeted by a dense cloud of marijuana smoke drifting through a crowd filled with the type of people your mother probably told you to avoid when you were younger. Most of the men had hair past their shoulders and significantly more tattoos than skin. A woman in the balcony was loudly screaming obscenities to the crowd below. Immediately, the whole scene felt rebellious-the smoke, the monstrous lyrics, the leather vests. Yet, there I stood. A small, young, blonde woman excited beyond words to hear some of my favorite music, and I wondered, is metal culture truly ‘evil’? Am I ‘evil’ for loving it?

The origins of metal music are often accredited to rock giants of the 70s like Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, and Deep Purple. Black Sabbath in particular explored a darker side of music by producing lyrics about the devil, drugs, and death with heavy bass lines and screeching vocals. The demonic themes and rough melodies found in early metal inspired a genre that focused on conventional ‘evil’ associated predominantly with Christianity. Since the beginnings of rock and roll, many religious groups and concerned mothers have attacked the music for being immoral and corruptive. According to Christian advocacy group, True Discipleship, the “rockbeat” of heavy rock music forces people to disobey God by participating in “the appearance of evil.” True Discipleship claims that listening to the loud and heavy riffs in rock music “damages our hearing...brain cells...and concentration,” therefore breaking God’s commandment to treat our bodies as His temple.

Although some regarded rock as Satanic, many others felt excited by its rebellion. I still remember hearing a Slayer album when I was fourteen and freshly out of a private Christian school. Slayer’s lyrics, “Your souls are damned your God has fell, to slave for me eternally, Hell awaits…” frightened yet intrigued me. They wrote lyrics about the darker side religious ideology, a practice I and so many others have been raised to fear. Common imagery like upside down crosses, demon faces, and pentagrams made metal music and culture feel sacrilege amongst the Christian community. The rebellion from what I was told to believe made it appealing. “It’s like tasting the forbidden fruit. Evilness is exciting and moving.

It’s how many people want to be when they need a release, and it fits the aggressiveness of the music. It also directly speaks directly to people who don’t care for religion,” says Jason Gluck, Rude.

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“Well, yeah, [metal] totally has a satanic subject matter, so I get why people think it’s evil, but a lot of it doesn’t, and I think the music that does is borderline sarcastic just to go against the norm,” explained a woman from the High On Fire show.

“To be honest, I would much rather have my kid listen to metal than the popular shit on the radio. At least metal has originality and isn’t mass-produced. The bands are incredibly talented instrumentally,” claims Steven, an attendee at the D.R.I and HIRAX show at the Oakland Metro.

As I scanned the crowd at the Regency Ballroom, I searched for clues to answer my question. Amidst the bearded crowd, I spotted an audience member who looked like he could be my nerdy uncle: a balding, middle-aged male in a blue cable knit sweater and sandals. “What is he doing here?”, I wondered.

I spotted another middle--aged couple sporting glasses, athletic pants, and puffy vests. They looked so normal. My thoughts were soon interrupted by a droning drumbeat and an amplified static fuzz that left my ears ringing long after the encore.

The Bay Area’s metal scene is nothing new. Although they originally formed in Los Angeles, the band Metallica relocated to El Cerrito, CA in the early 1980s and quickly established themselves as metal giants.

Bassist Cliff Burton and guitarist Kirk Hammett formed friendships with other emerging metal bands in the Bay, such as Oakland’s Testament, Richmond’s Exodus, and San Francisco’s Death Angel. The bands’ friendship strengthened the scene and catalyzed countless shows and eventually, recording sessions. Metal took off in the Bay Area during the 80s and continued to evolve in the 90s with the expansion and diversification of the genre.

Today, there are upwards of 20 subgenres of metal with influences ranging from folk music, 60s psychedelic, to rap. Many of the Bay Area’s popular modern metal bands, like High on Fire, Acid King, and Black Cobra, focus on doom or stoner metal characterized by downtuned bass and guitar and heavy distortion. Today, metal music in the Bay hasn’t achieved the mainstream fame of its predecessors, but the music and scene survive.

Like any modern genre, getting the word out about bands and shows has taken on an almost exclusively digital form through social media and online media sites like Bandcamp. Discovering new bands is as easy as logging into Facebook, making the music more accessible. At a High on Fire show, a pretty, soft-spoken woman explained, “I heard an Electric Wizard song in

a tattoo shop when I was about 19. I thought it was kind of dark and magical all at once. I looked up the song, and started discovering more metal through Pandora. It was like a whole new world opened up.”

At a recent show at the Oakland Metro, I spoke with a man, Steven, regarding his love for metal. “I got into the music around 12 or 13. I was listening to a lot of punk at the time, and through that, I found metal. I’ve been a skateboarder since a young age, and I remember watching these skate videos and they would play this amazing metal music in the background. I think from those videos I really got interested.”

Many heavy rock bands began playing almost exclusively in seedy bars, which limited the crowd to those of drinking age and arguably encouraged a culture of drugs, alcohol, and violence. Although bands continue to play at 21+ locations like San Francisco’s Bottom of the Hill, certain venues have opened their doors to all ages. The predominantly punk rock and heavy metal venue, 924 Gilman, in Berkeley is a nonprofit, all-ages, strictly substance and violence free venue that prides itself on the diverse community of heavy music lovers it has helped maintain. Gilman also hosts a number of record release events and even an annual magazine writing workshop. The Oakland Metro Operahouse is also a nonprofit, all-ages space for all forms of art, but has consistently opened its doors to heavy metal bands of all genres. With an increasingly diverse venue array and ticket prices often under $20, the culture of metal music has expanded from the stereotypical biker or angsty teenage boy.

Yes, metal music draws inspiration from horror and sacrilege. Yes, there may be a few pentagram images or 666’s thrown in. Yes, a Hells Angels member may be working security. But, if you strip away the nefarious symbolism, you’re left with a group of people devotedly bounded to the incessant, addictive, twisted melody that is metal music.

After Sleep finished their last song, I looked around to see a crowd of people with smiles on their awe-stricken faces.

A darker music is calling. Will you listen? words by LILLAIN WEILAND photos by AISHWARYA ARAVIND

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colorscapes

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PHOTOS BY ARIA DASBACH

PHOTOS BY ARIA DASBACH

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CALI ROAD tripping

The magic of road trips resides in the optimism of discovery; as travelers we become pioneers of the land and of ourselves. Whether you’re hitting the road in a classic ’71 Volkswagen or a 2014 Prius, make sure to actively take in all the diverse scenery, culture, and experiences that the Golden State has to offer. And while driving without a destination in mind can be as equally rewarding as driving with one, sometimes it’s nice to have a terminus to ground you in your exploration of California’s raw beauty. Here are five rough itineraries to help guide you on your next vehicular journey:

1

Partington Cove, Big Sur Day Trip 6 Hour Drive - $40 gas

On the west side of Highway 1 South, which is an adventure to drive along in itself, Partington Cove offers a relaxing hike to a view of crashing waves, complete with quintessential Big Sur caves and mini waterfalls to explore with a little navigating. The Partington Cove Trail is just one easily-accessible mile, complete with a historic 60-foot wooden tunnel, which was a loading point for timber in the 1800s. Around the corner from the cove is a hidden chthonic cave built into the oceanside of the precipice. Inside the huge chamber, you’ll find cultic graffiti and mysterious scrawlings. To get a better picture student/trailblazer Alex Casteel says to, “imagine a fjordic peak composed of boulders hiding a really fucking strange secret.”

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The Mojave Desert Weekend Trip 10 Hour Drive - $86 gas

Drive down I-5 South to the Mojave and cruise around in search of secret psytrance gatherings. If you’re lucky enough to find one, joining a group like Moontribe for the night will, according to Casteel, allow you to “meet the right people and end up at a full moon gathering that would make Dionysus proud.”

While these mostly L.A.-based groups can be hard to find, they are worth the hunt if you are looking for a once-in-a-lifetime experience and have already conquered the Mojave Trail and explored Cedar Canyon.

This trip is not for the faint of heart, so keep an open mind and make sure you’re with trusted friends.

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Highway 1and Redwood Week Trip 15 Hour Drive - $95 gas

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Eastern Sierra Hot Springs Weekend Trip 12 Hour Drive - $80 gas

To the east of Yosemite, above and around Mammoth Mountain, exists a plethora of under-utilized hot springs. The tubs by the Green Church, a small green chapel on the eastern side of Route 395 between Mono Lake and Yosemite, are especially other-worldly. Along the highway, the moon and the sun rise year-round, surrounded by mountains in all directions. Make sure to keep your eyes peeled on your way to the tubs: as Casteel recounts, “My visits have had me seeing decked out school buses, park workers on acid, and reveling boarders from Mammoth. Not to be missed.” And while you can get a ticket for hot-tubbing naked, many of the Green Church hot springs are secluded enough for you to get away with it.

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Death Valley Week Trip 17 Hour Drive - $126 gas

Fall into a desert-induced trance with the geologic beauty of Death Valley. Because of the vastness of the park, there are some designated camping areas.

But if you’re in search of some alone-time, wilderness camping may be the way to go. But travelers beware: Death Valley has the highest recorded temperature ever in North America. So if you plan on visiting in the summer months, be prepared for the heat; experienced travelers say bring twice as much water as you think you need, which should already be a whole cooler’s worth. You will also have the option to camp on one of the surrounding peaks, which will be much cooler than the floor of the valley. Don’t forget to fuel your car at one of the gas stations right outside the park - getting stranded can be fatal, and nobody wants that.

Heading north on your way to Mendocino, you’ll pass by quaint sea towns like Guerneville, which, located at the foot of the Russian River Valley, is a charming place to grab dinner after a day of whitewater rafting.

You’ll also pass Salt Point State Park, which includes a campground and access to an easy trail along the coast.

In the fall, you can hunt for mushrooms in the forested areas, but the drive is so beautiful with all of its scenic beaches you won’t even need to leave the comfort of your car to experience the majesty of the area. And, as wilderness virtuoso Dana Cash notes, “You can find some dank kush if you’re into that.” words by MIEKO ANDERS photo by STEVEN ELLEMAN

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PHOTOGRAPHED BY ANKUR MANIAR MODELED BY NAOMI BANKS OPIUM COLLECTION DESIGNED BY TINA XU ASSISTED BY SARA TABRIZI

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N ATA L I E

COUGHLIN Before becoming a 12-time Olympic medalist, threetime NCAA Swimmer of the Year, and role model for young swimmers globally, Natalie Coughlin was a Golden Bear.

Now at 33, Coughlin has competed in three Olympic games and has set numerous world and Olympic records, among adding University of California, Berkeley alumni to her hefty list of achievements and distinctions.

In April, Natalie took a break from training for the 2016 Rio Olympic games to enjoy a cup of tea with Caliber Magazine.

Caliber: What was your major at Cal and what made you choose coming to Cal? Natalie: I grew up in the area, so I wanted to go to a school in California, and one that had a good swim program as well as good academics. I really thought UCLA, but once I met Terry--the women’s coach at Cal--and the girls and the team, I just felt most at home with that team, and the campus. Everything just fit. I can’t verbalize it beyond that it felt like home.

Caliber: What about it felt like home, especially since Cal’s such a big campus?

Natalie: I think the fact that I really fit in with the swim team, mainly. You spend so many hours with those people.

Early mornings, late nights, travel. You really have to clique with them, because it will make your life hell if you don’t get along. Or if you don’t fit in. The campus was also so beautiful. I love the fact that it is a big school, but it doesn’t feel like a big school. I was always amazed when you would walk across campus and however many thousands of students there are now, you always see the same people. So you have your own groups within this massive place, and it just has a great energy. There’s ton of diversity, it’s not a sterilized campus like some other places and I really like that.

Caliber: What were the highlights of your time at Cal? What would you have changed or done differently?

Natalie: I majored in psychology and I chose that just because I took some psychology classes in high school and really loved that major. It just spoke to me. But I’m one of those people who easily could’ve majored in ten different things. Towards the end, I really fell in love with linguistics and I wanted to double major, but my senior year was the same year as the 2004 Olympics so I didn’t have the time to double major. I just needed to graduate and focus on my athletics. I absolutely loved a lot of my classes. I loved the linguistics classes, the plant bio classes I took, all the things you have to take for psych.

Caliber: How did your time at Cal help you prepare for post-graduation and life as an athlete? Any ideals or values?

Natalie: It’s really hard to say, because unlike most people my age, I never left. I’m still training here at Cal. I kinda feel like I’m stuck here in college, in the greatest way. But I feel like it was great going to Cal because you had to work for what you achieved. You don’t just get to show up and put a smile on and get an A. You have to really work for your grades, and it’s tough here. It’s really tough. You have some really smart people here. It challenged me in ways that I wasn’t challenged before, and I really appreciated that.

Caliber: How is it different training without being a student?

Natalie: After the last Olympics in London, I started training with the men’s team just to mix it up. I needed a change and there are more older swimmers, post-graduate swimmers on the men’s team so I started training with the spring group there. So that’s different. I’m the only female.

Caliber: How is that?

Natalie: I love it. The personality of my crew is perfect for me. It’s very testosterone-driven. It’s very competitive. It’s very, very aggressive. And I’ve always been that way. I have people in my group that are training for the exact same events that I’m training for, and so it gets us focused on similar goals.

When I was with the women it was just different. We didn’t really have different groups, we all just trained together and you just kind of figure out your direction within the group.

Which was awesome, but after twelve years I just needed to mix it up.

Caliber: So it’s been a good experience?

Natalie: I love it. I think they look at me is an older sister.

Fortunately, I have a juvenile sense of humor so I can fit in with them. There’s a lot more farting in that group, so that’s something I had to get used to!

Caliber: What is it like training for the Olympics?

Natalie: It’s great. I’m in the water 8 times a week; I’m in the gym 4 times a week. I’m [at Cal] 6 days a week in some combination of gym and swim. Beyond that, it’s just taking care of myself and having a good diet, plenty of rest, all of that stuff. That really adds up to a full-time job. As I’ve gotten older, I need more and more recovery time. So that’s a really big piece that I really took for granted four or five years ago. I wasn’t really focused on my recovery, and I was

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training myself like I did when I was 18. You have to make some changes.

C: What are some of the worst parts of being a swimmer?

N: Getting in cold water! It never gets easy. We have to train quite a bit for swimming, we don’t really take breaks. We train 50 weeks out of the year. You have to train multiple times a day, so before school and after school. Since I still train with the college team, that means getting up at 6 a.m., so really early mornings in a cold pool never gets easy.

C: When you do get one of those elusive breaks, what do you like to do for fun?

N: Being that I spend so much time here, we have such a great food scene in Berkeley. And after college, I really got into cooking quite a bit. Once I moved to Lafayette, that extended to gardening so I have a massive garden and chickens. We are just now adding bees.

Caliber: What’s your favorite restaurant in Berkeley, since the food scene is so important to you?

N: Ramen Shop, although I guess that’s technically Oakland.

And then Gather, I love Gather. It’s so good. It’s mostly vegan, but you can still get cheese and meat on certain things. I didn’t even realize it was vegan until I read a couple articles about it. But yea, it’s really really good.

Caliber: What’s your favorite thing to order?

N: The vegan charcuterie. It’s their signature dish and it’s this beautiful long plate with four little bites. And it’s whatever’s in season. And they do things that you would never do in your own kitchen, like a smoked watermelon foam or weird gastronomy things that take so much effort and are so creative.

I really enjoy it.

C: Do you have any advice for anybody studying at Cal or for any of our athletes?

N: For athletes out there I would say the number one thing is challenges. Setbacks or seemingly failures, anything like that, those could be learning opportunities if you look at them as such. If you take those challenges and stumbles and really evaluate how you could make yourself better, that in the long run could be the best thing. The times I’ve had the biggest challenges have been turning points in my career in the best ways. You have to have the right attitude when those come along. For the students, really enjoy your time. Take a bunch of different classes. Take classes you would never ever think you would like or want to take, just to round out things. You can be so focused on bio, but take an art class, take something outside of your subject to expose yourself to different things. You might surprise yourself with how much you enjoy it. And use all of your pass/no passes, because I didn’t and I wish I did! words by KATIE BERLIN photos by AARON OKAYAMA

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THE R OLE OF ROUTINE

“I

will either wake up and get ready for work or get ready for class; that includes showering, coffee - yes, always coffee. I will usually have my lunch prepared from the night before, but I don’t really eat breakfast; it’s usually just coffee,” UC Berkeley senior Evan Ruiz admits with a guilty chuckle.

Ruiz’s description of his morning routine is nothing new to many of us returning to hectic days filled with various academic, professional, and social obligations.

As an extremely involved Berkeley student also juggling a full-time job with a PR firm in San Francisco, Ruiz keeps a tight schedule from day to day. As a Media Studies major, he enjoys the guaranteed time he gets to check social media and browse the internet during his work commute and lunch break. He also gushes about his obsession with Google Calendar, using it to preserve his sanity, as the app outlines his plans for the day in neat color-coded squares.

Ruiz, like many creative greats, stresses the necessity of a fixed routine in finding both professional and personal satisfaction. But then why, when asked about his feelings toward the concept of routine, did he respond so negatively, admitting that he is “frustrated,” for lack of a better word, by the absence of variety in his daily life?

We often hear variations on the Steve Jobs narrative that glorifies the entrepreneur who spontaneously drops out of a comfortable collegiate environment to live in a commune and cultivate his creative genius through spiritual enlightenment. As a result, we are left with a fundamental internal dissonance in how we perceive the role of routine.

As Ruiz demonstrates, it’s easy to overlook the paradox of routine: the idea that structure and discipline can actually promote freedom. A harmful consequence of not understanding this paradox is a cynical attitude toward the repetitive nature of routine. This mindset can create a serious barrier to finding fulfillment in daily life and honing the skills about which we are most passionate.

Mason Currey’s “Daily Rituals” offers a glimpse into the highly regimented lives of artists and thinkers like Haruki Murakami, Maya Angelou, and Charles Darwin. Some of these routines include some notably eccentric activities, as Victor Hugo recorded taking an “ice bath on the roof” from 11 a.m. to 12 p.m. everyday, and Beethoven claimed to drink his coffee every morning with “exactly sixty beans per cup.” Regardless of their idiosyncrasies, each schedule demonstrates how these great minds constructed their lives according to their work and followed their regimens to a T. An interesting pattern that emerged through observing all of their routines was the relatively small fraction

of the day each person spent on “day job/admin” in comparison to “creative work,” as outlined in Podio’s “The Daily Routines of Famous Creative People.” “Creative work” included writing, painting, composing, and studying, while “day job/admin” included lecturing, giving music lessons, and writing correspondence. Perhaps it is simply a difference in mindset that causes us to categorize what these creative greats would call “creative work” as tedious obligations necessary to maintain – or in our case as students, obtain – a decent livelihood.

Academic writing and studying can easily fall into the trap of being categorized as “admin” if we regard our classes as mundane obligations rather than means by which we can pursue the subjects about which we are most passionate.

WE ARE TERRIFIED OF PLATEAUING, AND YET WE LET OURSELVES FALL INTO THAT EXACT TRAP

BY SHYING AWAY FROM THE CRUCIAL DISCIPLINE NEEDED TO IMPROVE. Or perhaps we are so severely limited by our circumstances that our routines, by necessity, consist mostly of “day job/admin,” leaving little or no time for passion projects. Dr. Ann Swidler, a professor of Sociology at UC Berkeley, points out that the upper classes maintain the privilege of being able to use money to “routinize” certain practical tasks that socioeconomically disadvantaged groups cannot. Swidler brings up the issue of the daily commute to work: while a wealthier individual likely has a car they use to get to work, an individual without a car may struggle to maintain a consistent day to day mode of transportation because public transportation and carpool are not always reliable options.

From this perspective, the upper class, or those with what may be considered more “creative” jobs, actually have a more highly routinized life, whereas disadvantaged classes have to do more improvising on a daily basis to accomplish practical tasks. Those with creative jobs have time in their days carved out specifically for imaginative and experimental work, ultimately reducing their chances of experiencing creative spontaneity altogether. This class-based understanding of the role of routine further

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complicates the traditional association of routine with a lack of creativity and vice versa.

If circumstance determines so much, maybe the key to altering our attitudes is accepting that differentiation between the day job and the creative project, and resolving to use the former to our advantage. Structured routine provides us with the temporary distance needed from our passions to ensure that what we produce during our creative hours is the best product possible. Contemporary composer Philip Glass worked as both a taxi driver and furniture mover precisely for this reason, according to Fast Company’s article, “10 Famous Creative Minds That Didn’t Quit Their Day Jobs.”

These celebrated figures understood the paradoxical benefits of structure in fostering the creative process. Brain power can only take us so far, and there comes a point when our minds need a relatively stationary prop to lean on to keep us from stretching our minds too thin. A day job can also keep us accountable for our time, motivating us to get up and running when nothing else will.

In the same vein, routine plays a vital role in preserving mental health. Author and depression counselor Douglas Bloch praises routine as an important mechanism for coping with depression and anxiety as it encourages regular socialization. Decision-making is also made easier with a regular routine, giving us the freedom to focus our energy on what we choose rather than experiencing anxiety about tasks that we face daily. Rather than worry about preparing his lunch, Ruiz spends those precious morning minutes planning spontaneous social events for the evening. Routine both creates opportunities we want and absorbs the tasks we don’t.

If we are always striving for progress and yet remain unfulfilled, perhaps we should reevaluate what we perceive to be our constraint, i.e. routine, and its fundamental role in our idea of progress entirely. In the Netflix documentary “Jiro Dreams of Sushi,” world-renowned sushi chef and owner of a Japanese three-Michelin-star sushi restaurant, Jiro Ono constructs his daily routine around the art of sushi-making, his life’s calling. In fact, he finds so much pleasure and satisfaction in following this routine that he dislikes holidays because they break him away from it. His two sons followed in his footsteps and became masters of sushi-making as well, but only after lifetimes of intense, highly disciplined training from their father.

In a society like ours that prioritizes individualism so heavily, we don’t often think of maintaining a strict routine as a means of achieving that individuality. We shy away from routine because we want to be unique, but a society characterized by constant competition can easily lead us to romanticize a false conception of progress. We are terrified of plateauing, and yet we let ourselves fall into that exact trap by shying away from the crucial discipline needed to improve.

Jiro shows us an alternate path, one that contradicts that of Steve Jobs, in which life-long repetition plays an important part in achieving what he believes to be his life’s goal: to master his craft. Ambition and structured routine are not mutually exclusive, and to treat them as such is short-sighted.

Japanese culture may be partially responsible for Jiro’s work ethic. According to Dr. Swidler, in Japan, the average

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person is under much more surveillance. “A great deal of Japanese life is organized so that everyone else can see what you’re doing all the time. So for example, when you sort your garbage for recycling, you sort it in clear, plastic bags, so that if you have not sorted it correctly, your neighbors can come and chastise you.” As a consequence of this environment, a level of restraint is present in everyday life that Americans would find uncomfortable. And yet it is the environment in which Jiro thrived and from which he emerged as an incredibly unique individual.

Drawing from her experiences in Japan and studies of the area, Swidler also believes that although adult life in Japan tends to be characterized by conformity because of their highly ritualized and routinized lifestyles, the Japanese “are less conformist than Westerners are internally: because there are so many rules for the exterior – about how you’re supposed to look, behave, conduct yourself – there are fewer rules that suggest that your true self is what you are expressing all the time, whereas Americans tend to believe that what you do and how you behave reflects who you really are.” Americans, on the other hand, spend a large amount of time and effort trying to make their inner-selves consistent with their external image and behavior. For example, intense anger is aroused in the American masses when a politician’s actions seem to be inconsistent with their actions in the past, because the inconsistency is attributed to weak character.

In other words, the Japanese have an internal freedom that Americans do not. One is left free of the burden that is created when one’s actions are always expected to be spontaneous, voluntary, and reflective of our “true” desires.

On the other hand, Japan is not exempt from the pressures of a global economy. Institutional responses to their ongoing recession have increased the number of part-time workers and minimized the portion of the workforce with guaranteed lifetime employment. Those who are not included in this share of the economy must deviate from the norm and find alternate ways of adapting to a shifting economy.

In this way, the pressures of a global economy increasingly encourage individualism and entrepreneurship in all parts of the world.

In an increasingly globalized society that glorifies creativity and spontaneity, routine gets a bad rap, despite evidence showing its benefits for both long-term success and daily satisfaction. This disconnect between attitudes about routine and its essential role in everyday life can have disastrous effects: in failing to look past stigmas about the notions of structure and repetition and not realizing that they are what allow creativity and spontaneity, we run the risk of forgoing that which we glorify the most. Freedom can be found in accepting the limitations of the present moment and using them to our advantage. A daily routine can and should be tailored to the individual, so find out what works for you and stick to it. There is value and significance to routine, even if it begins with a cup of coffee. words by MIEKO ANDERS illustration by IFFAT JUNAID

OU T TO

LUNCH

ITH W PROFESSOR ZOOK

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You may have taken Introduction to Peace and Conflict Studies after looking at its positive reviews as you were looking to fulfill your International Studies breadth requirement. Including it as one of your seven required courses may be something that you crossed off of your pre-graduation bucket list to ensure that you have been immersed in the spirit of Berkeley; after all, by the end of PACS 10, shouldn’t you know enough to get started on your journey towards being a peace activist? You might, but more importantly you will begin to learn how to get to the bottom of conflicts:learning why events unfold the way they do by analyzing a small portion of the infinitely complex modalities of human behavior. Darren Zook manages to make the class both profound and hilarious. Caliber got the chance to sit down with Zook during his office hours to discuss his research, the changes in the International Area Studies Department, and the human condition.

About Zook: Darren Zook has an undergraduate degree in mathematics, a subject seemingly far-removed from human rights, human security, and international justice, all issues which are currently the focus of his academic career. However, his intellectual pursuits took a radical 180 degree turn when he decided to pursue a Ph.D in history. Zook acknowledges that while he adores math, and still spends his time reading books on the subject, he found that the social sciences offered much more creative freedom, especially at the graduate level. He tells me that he was seeking a “bigger picture” view of the world and that the disciplines of math and science gave him a limited view of the truths he sought. After completing his dissertation on the economic development of India, his field of study became cemented in political science, Asian politics, and the study of peace and conflict, which consequently segued into his studies as part of Cal’s Political Science Department.

Caliber: What got you interested in the subject of human rights, human security, and international policy?

Zook: That’s one of the interests I’ve always had. I was genuinely bothered by injustice and it bothered me in the way that most people are bothered by bad haircuts. I asked myself, “Why is this?” And so even though I was pursuing mathematics, I remained very curious about world events and about how things like genocides happen and how governments could let such things happen. I had all these questions. And I couldn’t remember any time in my life when I didn’t have an interest in all this. And when I decided that I didn’t want to pursue mathematics, it seemed like the right choice. And the reason I was focusing on things like economic development was that economic development was really a plan with the intent of alleviating poverty, which I thought was an act of social justice. So I thought it was a good way to kind of bring all my interests together: my interest in doing international work, my interest in social

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justice, and I put them in the center of most of my work. I am very scattered sometimes, I am sure that’s how I seem to some people, but for me it is all the same thing. All the questions that I research are about human rights issues, social justice issues, and things like that.

I do believe that there are plenty of selfish and horrible people out there. So part of my work is about how to limit the damages done by such people. It is something that you can never fully eliminate. I wish the world were a place where everyone is nice and considerate and we did not have these problems, but that is not the way it is. So these are interesting questions too: they are questions asking why people become what they become. Why do so many people become so horrible and selfish? How can they inflict such horrible things on others and not care?

C: What are your research interests? Are you currently working on any projects?

Z: My research interests are infinite and I am working on an infinite number of projects. It really depends at any given point of time. Last summer I was travelling through Europe and was in France right when the migrant crisis broke out. So I decided that I was going to make a go at it and spent a good portion of my summer in Europe – in France, Germany, the UK – when my original intention was to go to Iceland. I had not done work in Europe for a while. The reason I was so interested was that I had done work in Australia, which has been dealing with this issue for several years and it has been one of their most contentious issues. I work a lot with indigenous rights and on issues of identity, so anything which involves things like indigenous rights, migration, citizenship, I tend to work on. This coming summer actually, as I started a major project on cyber-security issues, looking at it from the more political end as opposed to the technical end, I am actually going to go back to a place I haven’t been to in awhile- which is Estonia. Because Estonia is considered to be the site of what is considered to be the first cyber war in the world. I thought nobody had revisited the cyberwar since it happened in 2007. And so I thought I would go back and see how things have changed.

C: What interesting places have you gotten the chance to explore and travel as a result of your research?

Z: Every place I go is interesting, but every place is interesting for different reasons. One of the places I have been to twice is North Korea. You can read about it all you want but there is really no substitute for being there. You get a chance to see how everyday Koreans live and work. I have also had a chance to work in the Pacific islands in places that only have a population of 200. We have a belief in fields like PACS that small groups work better together and I can definitely say that that’s not the case. Just because there are only 200 people on the island does not mean it is not going to be full of gangs, deep divisions, and all sorts of political intrigues.

C: What experiences aside from academics have contributed to your intellectual pursuits?

Z: One of the reasons I love international work is that you really have to spend time understanding how other people think. When you are in a place where there is a different cultural environment and a different set of values at play, you have to understand the different ways in which things work. And I love that because you can’t become fluent in another way of life without also re-examining your own.

On the one hand, I think it makes me a better person and I think it definitely helps inform my academics by putting me in a place where I have to ask different questions. I also think it makes me a better teacher because you come to understand how others consume knowledge and so you are able to speak better to a diverse audience because you know that not everyone is going to have the same way of understanding things.

C: Can you tell us a bit about the departmental change happening with International Area Studies? [Every major but Political Economics in the department including Peace and Conflict Studies, Development Studies, Latin American Studies, Asian Studies, Middle Eastern Studies will be integrated into one major called Global Studies effective Spring 2017].

Z: I think in general this is a good thing. People are worried that majors will disappear but they definitely will not. IAS is a program which has been around for a while but definitely needs restructuring. IAS was kind of an umbrella for all these different majors which do not communicate well with each other whereas Global Studies is designed to bring the faculty working in disparate fields whether PACS, Middle Eastern Studies, or Development Studies together as all these majors are also brought together under one roof to integrate them better. You can choose to concentrate in a field like PACS or development studies and also choose a geographical region to focus on. The way the classes will be set up you will be more likely to interact with students of different interests.

C: What do you think is one of society’s most pressing issues?

Z: In the United States, and certainly also globally, I think the biggest issue is how different identities can coexist in ways that work. In the United States, it is not working well.

We have tried for years and we have developed the whole melting pot metaphor. Lots of nations have tried different ways of putting diverse groups of people in the same country and making it work. And no country has gotten it quite right. But you have to think of all the things which could happen if we don’t get it right. In the United States, we deal with racism, which is a byproduct of different groups which cannot coexist or only coexist in ways which have lingering, and sometimes profound, elements of social

injustice. Ethnic conflicts, civil wars, and genocides are all byproducts of how people become overly attached to their own identities and how they disparage other identities. So much of my work focuses on identity politics precisely for that reason. We can sit here and say things like “the world is a smaller place.” But globalization does not take the lack of our ability to transcend the differences between us off the plate.

C: Do you think that people have become more tolerant or do we remain as divisive as ever?

Z: I am an optimist so when I say a phrase like “we are more divided than ever,” I cannot say it easily. I would like to believe that yes, we are more tolerant and more open. But I think we are not for precisely the reasons I just outlined.

We think that we are moving towards tolerance, looking at America or also most other places in the world, but really the byproduct is more racism and more divisiveness. And I see a lot more of it now. But people are less likely to acknowledge it because they would like to believe that we are moving in a much better direction. That’s why I get deeply disturbed by these things: because I have done research in so many other countries where getting identity wrong has the outcome of not just resentment and racism but also violent civil war and all sorts of horrible things.

And so this is one of those questions which you really can’t afford to ignore and you have to get it right. In the United States, I see a tremendous amount of resentment despite the fact that we love to talk about diversity. And it is resentment about who is getting an unfair share of things, about which groups are exploited, and which are victims. And everybody is competing for this place over how to position themselves in American society. Diversity becomes a competition over how to package one’s identity to ensure the greatest share of benefits — competition is a divisive process, not an integrative one. And what I am discovering is that not only is there a lot of resentment but because of the sensitivity of the subject of identity, we also have simmering anger and beliefs about injustice; but no one is going to talk about it because it is too sensitive.

Everyone is afraid that if you ask just the wrong question you will be accused of racism. Maybe it will not create a civil war, but it can definitely create even deeper fault lines in American society. You can divide a society very easily and once you do it it takes a generation or more to fix. So I would rather do it right rather than make mistakes which will take one, two, or three generations to fix. words by ANGELICA ZOCCHI photo by IFFAT JUNAID

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“I

understand it now,” my best friend slurred, slightly intoxicated on the couch. “I understand why Rihanna stayed with Chris Brown. When he’s mean, it’s debilitating. But when he’s sweet, it’s the most beautiful feeling in the world. And you wade through the bad moments with hopes of the good ones.”

She was in a mood. He wasn’t going to like this. I fearfully checked my phone, he would be here any minute now. “Outside,” the text read.

I didn’t know then that when I let him in, it would be the last time. Or that when he slammed the door wordlessly behind him, it would be the last whiff of his scent that would linger in my apartment.

That was the last message I’d ever receive before deleting his phone number, naively hoping it would efface all the damage he had done.

But as Laverne Cox said in a talk to the Berkeley community in November 2015, “My mom had taken me out of therapy, but the damage was already done.” He was my therapy and no matter how many times I wash my skin, no matter how many deep breaths I take, no matter how many times I convince myself that even nightmares end, I can’t help but feel his ghost suppressing me.

I can’t shake him from my memory. Nor can I forget the destruction he left in his wake. I remember the first time he called me beautiful. I remember when he told me I had gorgeous eyes. I remember when he held me in his arms and assured me he would keep me safe after I had opened myself up to him in a way I had never done before. But the sweet nothings he whispered in my ear as we fell asleep together aren’t what keep me awake at night; it’s the first time he became aggressive when he was drunk. It’s the first time he called me fat. It’s the first time he shouted that I was “a fucking bitch.”

This type of abuse is so subtle and unconsciously impairing that it took a breakdown in the middle of the North Reading Room on a rainy morning to realize that his aggression, his “I’m only doing what’s best for you” attitude, and his degrading “jokes” weren’t endearing. They weren’t cute, they weren’t hilarious, they weren’t playful. They were demeaning. They were dehumanizing. They were degrading. They were emotionally and verbally abusive. He was emotionally abusive.

Emotional abuse affects one in five women in sexual or romantic relationships, according to The National Domestic Violence Hotline.

This accounts for one of five types of abuse that 43% of dating females in college experience. The National Domestic Violence Hotline defines abuse as a “repetitive pattern of behaviors to maintain power and control over an intimate partner. These are behaviors that physically harm, arouse fear, prevent a partner from doing what they wish or force them to behave in ways they do not want.”

When asked why people stay in these power-struggle situations, it is difficult to explain the psychology of believing that aggression can somehow mirror an act of love. Unfortunately for many, it’s not love that traps them in the grips of their abusers; it’s fear and intimidation.

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Often the inception of the relationship is like any other. The abuser seems perfect. It isn’t until much later—and much deeper—into the relationship that attributes of intimate partner violence manifest. According to the National Domestic Violence Hotline, signs of emotional abuse include, but are not limited to: insulting or criticizing a partner, isolating a partner from his/her friends and family, acting jealous, controlling with who and where a partner spends their time, humiliating a partner, cheating to prove they’re wanted by others more than their partner, telling a partner how lucky they are to be in a relationship with the abuser, and controlling a partner’s appearance.

When I finally admitted that he exhibited most, if not all, of these attributes I sobbed on the phone to my father for hours as I confessed to him that my boyfriend had become my abuser. He didn’t seem like the type of guy who could hurt me like this, I remember uttering through forced breaths.

“Nobody ever seems like the type of person who could hurt others. When you see this kind of story on the news, nobody ever says ‘I knew it was coming,’ they say things like ‘he seemed like such a nice guy, everybody loved him.’ But Katie, be grateful you left now,” His voice choked up, silence filled my speaker.

“Because I’m afraid that if you stay with him, he will do more than emotionally hurt you. I’m afraid he will physically injure you or one day he will kill you.”

At first this seemed like an over-exaggeration.

My dad is protective, ergo the name Papa Bear, but my friends agreed. My friend who prescribed the drunken wisdom also shared that a boy she was with had emotionally abused her until one day it wasn’t enough and he hit her. A sinking feeling slowly drowned me as she looked me in the eyes and told me I needed to break up with him because she was afraid he would hit me too.

That is was only a matter of time. That the emotional abuse is never enough.

And for many, it’s not. According to The National Domestic Violence Hotline, emotional abuse is often combined with other forms of abuse, including physical violence.

This intervention sparked the realization that all those hours in high school health classes and mandatory abuse prevention programs in college prioritized certain phenomenons and disregarded an entire space in the continuum of abuse, assault, and addiction. While I can recite to you the long-term effects of snorting too much cocaine, I cannot identify the signs or symptoms of domestic violence. If you ask me about the repercussions of unprotected sex, I could quote Mean Girls; but if you asked me how to help create a healthy and safe intervention for someone suffering from intimate

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“YOUR HEALING PROCESS IS YOUR OWN, & NO ONE CAN CONTROL IT EXCEPT FOR YOU. MAYBE THAT MEANS LOVING YOURSELF BEFORE YOU CAN BEGIN TO LET GO.” partner violence, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Like sexual violence and other forms of abuse, emotional abuse doesn’t alleviate itself so easily. You can change out of your hospital gown and back into your trashed party clothes. You can always eat more of that edible, but never less. But the internal damage of psychological violence can’t be eviscerated with aspirin and a text that reads, “Last night never happened, OK?” By marginalizing intimate partner violence, we silence the gravity of it.

Emotional abuse through control affects 31% of college women, while 22% experience verbal abuse, according to a study done by Fifth & Pacific Companies, Inc. Even worse, 58% of college students reported not knowing how to help a friend remove themselves from an abusive situation, 38% of students reported not knowing how to get help for themselves, and 57% of students say that they cannot identify the signs of emotionally abusive relationships. As a university, we perpetuate these statistics as we neglect teaching proper and necessary methods for leaving, helping, or coping with the effects of emotional abuse. According to the same study, 40% of college women and 52% of college men don’t believe that psychologically abusive relationships pose a problem on their campus. But that ideology stems from a place of ignorance, naivety, and privilege. If one cannot see the symptoms, then clearly it does not exist, right?

The proof may not lie on my skin, but that doesn’t

mean that my heart isn’t full of scars. That my head isn’t full of fear. That my muscles aren’t full of tension.

That my body isn’t damaged in ways I can never fully express to you.

Which, post-leaving, led me to the question: now what? Through loving him, I forgot how to love myself.

When he left, my self-worth, self-confidence, and self-esteem walked right out the door with him. He controlled so many aspects of my life that I couldn’t remember what it felt like to decide for myself. He stole my identity and, worst of all, my agency.

Unfortunately, there are no how-to books, study guides, borrowed lecture notes, or Buzzfeed listicles that define how to reclaim your agency once your abuser strips it away. I wish I could prescribe you all the answers, I wish I could write this as a personal testimony of success like Marie Osmond and her NutriSystem diet.

But the truth is I’m still healing. There are days when I falter and regress back into the boxes that he labeled and forced me into. There are days when I stand taller and more confident than I did before I met him. There are days when I am both, and there are days when I’m still numb. And I’m sure others out there who have survived intimate partner violence have felt the same.

But maybe not. It took leaving Berkeley for a month--the longest I have been away from the locus of my pain--to realize that I am not qualified to tell you how to cope with intimate partner violence and its aftermath. Healing is exclusive and individualistic in the best sense of the word. Everyone heals differently, and these differences are a crucial part of reclaiming your agency. Your healing process is your own, and no one can control it except for you. Maybe that means loving yourself before you can begin to let go. Maybe it means returning to normalcy as best as you can: eating what you like to eat, drinking what you like to drink, wearing what you like to wear. Maybe it’s hanging out with people that your ex refused you to see. Maybe it means saying “fuck it.” There are a lot of maybe’s when it comes to recovery.

For me, recovery meant overcoming fear. The fear of disappointing him. The fear of his anger. The fear of never being enough. The fear of letting go. The fear of moving on. The fear of the past. The fear of the future.

At the time, my joys became entangled with so many of my fears that I couldn’t feel happy without simultaneously feeling scared. I was constantly worried about accommodating my outside stimuli that I neglected my internal ones. But part of healing was remembering that I come first.

He despised when I wore flannel. He told me that it made me look ugly, that he was doing me a favor by telling me to stop wearing some of my favorite

shirts. Now, every time I open my closet and run my fingertips over the clothes he hated, I get nervous. He always made a comment when I wore that one, I think to myself. Sometimes I can’t wear what I love because it’s tinged with reminders of him. But reclaiming my agency means taking back what was mine. And to rise above that fear, I wear my flannels even if it makes me uncomfortable, and I strut down Sproul Plaza like it was a catwalk built solely for me.

These acts of defiance were the ones that made him angry. When he saw his control on me slipping between his fingers, he gripped tighter until I suffocated under his dictatorship. This behavior stems from a place of hate and insecurity, but it’s not our duty as a boyfriend or a girlfriend to accept the physical or verbal manifestations of someone else’s self-loathing. Relationships should foster love, not hate. Mutual respect, not control. Growth, not fear. “No one deserves to be controlled or belittled by someone who claims to love them. We shouldn’t be afraid to leave someone who only wants to tear us down instead of build us up,” one student shared about her experience with an abusive partner.

But now, this opposition to his opinions empowers me. As his hate fostered my fear, my love nurtures my growth. Because as my favorite contemporary poet, Nayyirah Waheed, wrote: “if no one has ever told you, your freedom is more important than their anger.”

Reclaiming agency is about more than healing.

It’s about more than recovery. It’s about freedom and liberation. It’s about escaping the box of abuse we are trapped in, and nailing it shut like a coffin behind us.

Our agency should never be sacrificed in order to lift someone up. To let them feel their anger. To fuel their rage or their hate or their anguish. If I can tell you one thing I’ve learned from recovery, and if one thing sticks with you from this article, I hope it’s this: reclaiming agency is empowering yourself to live freely, to be your own person, to embrace liberation like a newborn child. It is yours alone. You were born with its power.

You manifested it in its own special way. And no one can take that away from you. words by KATIE BERLIN

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CELLPHONES AT CONCERTS: RUINING THE CONCERT EXPERIENCE?

PHOTO SHOT BY KINCSO DOMICZII ON IPHONE 5

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etting a UC Berkeley student to admit that they use their cell phone to record concerts is tough work. It is understandable, as we are in Berkeley -- home of many music purists who will most likely shame you for admitting to the fact. However, I did manage to coax it out of Lindsay Cook, a current junior majoring in Plant Biology. She reluctantly confessed to the fact that she does sometimes film concerts on her phone, but she wants to stress that she didn’t film the entire time. Rather, just a few moments that she wanted to hold onto firmly in her grasp to remind herself of the night she saw one of her favorite bands, Radiohead, back in 2012. “I need this in my life,” was her rationale for taking a few videos of the band performing her favorite song of the moment when Thom Yorke showed off his hilariously awful dance moves to the crowd. Rewatching this video brings her back to the mindset of that night; for her, it’s simply a pathway to nostalgia.

People recording concerts on their cell phones has become a popular occurrence at live performances as of late. No longer is there a shared glance between the artist and spectator, as many audience members have chosen to, instead, view them from behind a lens. Is recording a concert or any type of live performance disrupting the connection between the performer and the audience? Or is it no harm no foul? While recording any type of live performance is done to keep the memory alive, it has prompted people to underappreciate the value of what makes a live event so unique and special. During my interview with Greil Marcus, music journalist, scholar, and author of the acclaimed “Mystery Train: Images of America in Rock ‘n’ Roll Music,” he spoke about the joy of truly experiencing an event while watching a live performance. “Some people come to life on stage,” Marcus said. “On stage they don’t know what’s going to happen next…and that sense of uncertainty and unpredictability creates a kind of excitement that just can’t be replicated anywhere else.”

That level of excitement never reaches its full threshold when holding up a phone to record the show, as it creates a wall between yourself and the performer.

It generates a sort of shield that protects the audience member from connecting with the artist. “When you’re holding up your cell phone and you’re recording a video of a performance, you are yourself representing it rather than experiencing it directly,” Marcus said. “You’re putting distance between yourself--emotional, physical, technological--and the performance.”

This distance has had such an effect that many performers are now fighting back, writing personal messages to their audience so that they will refrain from taking videos. Prince, Beyonce, She & Him, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and Jack White have all led the charge in restricting cellphone use during their live performances.

It even led the normally private and reclusive Kate Bushto

“Can these two conflicting sides wanting to remember a performance while still being present in the moment - be reconciled?” release a statement to her fans before her return to the stage in 2014 after a 35 year absence. After making a request for fans not to use their cellphones she stated, “I very much want to have contact with you as an audience, not with iPhones, iPads, or cameras. I know it’s a lot to ask but it would allow us all to share in the experience together.”

Don Henley, Eagles’ drummer and co-vocalist, took a much more aggressive stance on the matter.

During their “History of the Eagles” tour in 2015, the band implemented a policy to reprimand anyone caught recording. “This could be our last time around,” Henley told news.com.au. “We want people to be in the moment with us and experience the concert through their eyeballs and not a tiny square on a phone.”

Comedians have also joined the fray, and have even paired up with a phone-locking company to battle this issue head-on. During a string of shows in Chicago late last year in 2015, comedian Dave Chappelle made a deal with San Francisco-based company Yondr, which provides smartphone-locking pouches for concert attendees. Theatre attendees place their smartphones inside the Yondr case, and upon entry of the phone-free zone the cases will lock. If anyone wants to use their cellphones, they simply step out of the phone-free zone to unlock the

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case. The company, founded in January 2014 by Graham Dugoni, has been used by music venues such as Oakland’s Stork Club and San Francisco’s FAME Venue. In an interview with Newsweek, Dugino explains that the idea is to “remind people why they’re at a live event and to give people a reprieve from hyper-connected lifestyle while forcing them to interact with others instead of reflexively pulling out a device.” Stated on Yondr’s website, the vision of the company entails a single purpose: “to show people how powerful a moment can be when we aren’t focused on documenting or broadcasting it.”

While it may sound extreme, the policy established by the Augusta National Golf Club during the 2015 Masters Tournament takes the cake. According to officials, any attendee taking a cell phone onto the course at Augusta National will be escorted off the premises and banned from purchasing tickets there for life.

Nick Bielak, a fourth year Classics major, performs guitar and vocals for the local Berkeley band Animal Pants. He was more open-minded about the subject, but said he had mixed feelings. He admits that there are benefits if people choose to share their videos on social media, as more people can be exposed to his band’s music, and they can help him and others remember the show.

“I know that I particularly will go through my pictures and videos,” he said. “And every time I do, it brings me back to that day.”

Despite being pleased that fans want to film his show, Bielak explains that it serves as a barrier between the performer and the audience more than anything else.

“The point of a show is to let go, dance, and enjoy the moment,” he said. “I don’t see it as not paying attention, but rather [as] not completely immersing yourself in the moment.”

Can these two conflicting sides - wanting to remember a performance while still being present in the moment - be reconciled? Founders and supporters of the StereoCast app seem to think so. The app, created in October 2015, gives concert attendees the ability to download a live recording of the concert as soon as the show is over. Its technology is directly linked to the artist’s soundboard, thus providing digitally mixed and mastered recordings of the performance to be directly shared only with the people who attended the concert. If this app became available to all concerts, and not just a few, it would change the music landscape for the better as both sides would win.

For fans who want to have that digital souvenir, it would now be readily available to them–all while being totally immersed in the concert experience and not having to spend time filming it on their cell phones.

What makes the StereoCast app unique is that it unites the artist and their fans. No one is taking away anyone’s phone here. But at the same time it values the idea of watching a live performance through one’s own eyes. The memory inside your head is an underestimated tool that will bring an even more lively and rich experience

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than a shaky video filmed on a phone ever could.

When I asked Marcus if he would, given the chance, want to go back in time and film the night he saw Johnny “Rotten” Lydon’s band, Public Image Ltd, on his phone in order to relive it again, he didn’t know. “If there was a DVD of that particular show…I’d probably buy it,” he said. “But I don’t know if I would ever watch it. I would be sort of comforted knowing that I had a record of that night.” He added that it wouldn’t hold the same significance as remembering it from his own point of view, however. “But I was at that show, and I remember it really well. It was distinctive. It was so powerful, I can’t even tell you if someone was holding up a phone.

I didn’t notice… I didn’t care.”

I’m not promoting enhanced security or a lifetime ban from a venue or sporting event to police phone usage, because, simply, there is a shared understanding of the desire to physically document a special live performance that you want to cherish for years to come. Wanting the memory to be kept alive is not an evil inclination. Well, except if you’re over six-feet tall and are blocking the view of Stevie Nicks swaying in a gypsy-like dance while bellowing out “Gold Dust Woman,” because you’ve decided to film for the entire two-and-a-half-hour concert.

That’s when you officially cross the line, and become the spawn of Satan in my eyes.

The idea is to put yourself in the perspective of your favorite artist, comedian, athlete, or other performer you are dying to go see in person. Imagine setting up this whole live experience in your head: endless preparation and rehearsal of songs, speeches, or jokes, or exhaustive training sessions and practicing for the tournament you’ve been waiting to compete in for your entire life. Now, you look into the audience, anxiously waiting for them to be in this moment with you. But instead of locking eyes with the people who are there to support you and see you perform, you find yourself alone on stage. You are faced not with their eyes, but instead, with the steady white glow of iPhones. Is this the kind of interaction you were hoping for? words by SARAH SOUSSI photo by KINCSO DOMICZI

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ou’re walking down the steps of your dorm, out into the crisp Berkeley morning air, fumbling to untangle your headphones. You click on one of your favorite playlists, and start the brisk walk to Dwinelle Hall. As your music drowns out the sounds around you, you cross the street hearing only the subtle whoosh of a car driving by. You become completely immersed in the music flooding your ears.

Your mind wanders to the classes you have for the day, the lecture approaching, the essay you have to write later, what you will have for lunch, and who you’re going to hang out with this weekend. You feel as if you’re in your own world, isolated from what’s going on around you, and just existing within the music.

It is this daily experience that has become so integral so many of our lives.

Everywhere we go, we pass people listening to music through their headphones. Despite all the surrounding chatter and bustle, chances are that these people are only listening to what’s playing in their ears; the people on either side of you in the GBC line probably listening to completely different songs. Everyone’s individual experiences are transformed depending on the music they choose. While you may have chosen a specific song to get you in an upbeat mood to start the day, the person next to you may have wanted to relax and ease into

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"Experiencing music alone creates a form of interaction and communicationwith ourselves" the day on the way to class. For many students on campus, the walk to class is a crucial moment when they can step away from the busy environment and be in their own world. We all have the freedom to let our minds wander and enjoy the rhythm of our music.

This fosters a personal connection to our music.

From listening to the surround-sound stereo at cafés, to blasting the radio in your car with your friends; music is central in our lives. It is difficult for most of us to go a day without hearing at least a few seconds of a song. Whether we consider ourselves music lovers or not, it is present in our lives.

In an report by the National Museum of Ethnology in Osaka, Japan, Robert Garfias describes the process of culture and tradition development through the creation of music. “Culture and tradition are intertwined,” he wrote. “We do things in a certain way, others take the idea, and still others take it up, even modify it in the next generation...Cultural diffusion is not new and music has been affected by it in the past as in the present.”

Although music has always been an important

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part of our culture, the way it functions within it has evolved and changed. Our generation took the experience of listening to music in groups and modified it to become more personal through individual headphones.

In the past few years, music has become prominent in our culture in a different way. Although there are still parties, cafés, and car rides, a lot of us listen to music primarily through our personal headphones.

Even when music is playing at a coffeeshop, we often end up putting in earbuds to drown out the surrounding bustle. This simple action is emblematic of today’s culture. We are so used to listening to our own music that it becomes instinct, even if there is already other music playing. Over the past decade, we have begun to interact with music on a much more intimate level, revealing a transformation in the way we experience music.

Through our headphones, the experience becomes limited to just us and the music. We are left to interpret it however we choose, without any outside forces or opinions. While we may be embarrassed to listen to Katy Perry with our friends or family, our headphones allow us to enjoy our sometimes dorky music preferences free of judgment.

We can now also experience music anywhere we choose through the accessibility of our earbuds. If we want to listen to our favorite song next to Strawberry Creek we can; if we want to listen to it on top of the Campanile, we can do that too.

Cal sophomore Paige Petrashko, a Music and Peace and Conflict Studies double major, investigated this idea with a campus map she made for her Geography class showing where she listens to particular playlists.

“I oftentimes make a lot of playlists,” she said.

“Sometimes I listen to a playlist over and over for a week straight. When I go back to that playlist, I remember that time in my life. It really connects you to old memories.” At this pivotal point in our lives, we form connections with areas of campus where we spend a lot of time, or the route we take every day to class. While you might come to associate a certain song with your route along Memorial Glade, someone might also have a connection to the same song, but they associate it with their route to work.

Music then comes to hold nostalgic power for each individual listener.

This idea was illustrated in a study at UC Davis.

Thirteen students were fMRI scanned while they listened to songs that were popular during their childhood. On average, the survey reported that out of the

30 song excerpts heard, students said that at least 13 were moderately or strongly associated with an autobiographical memory. By mapping this brain activity, head researcher Petr Janata concluded, “The region of the brain where memories of our past are supported and retrieved also serves as a hub that links familiar music, memories, and emotion.” Music then quite literally has a way of transporting us back to a specific memory or time.

Throughout history, music has been a crucial part of culture and our daily lives. With the advent of the first record players in the mid-1800s, music became an integral part of family and social life, as people listened to music together at social gatherings.

This would lead to more social interactions like dancing or or getting together to listen to popular radio shows. Through the evolution of technology, the way people listened to music changed, eventually leading to the development of the Walkman and iPod. While music is a cultural ritual acting as a social fabric to connect people, it has also increasingly become an essential experience for many of us to have in solitude.

Experiencing music alone creates a form of interaction and communication with ourselves. There is a way that music creates a personal connection within you, leading to a sense of belonging. When you feel connected to a song, you identify with it, and feel like you belong to something bigger. We then put our earbuds in while walking alone to feel less lonely, and we appreciate the time we have alone with our thoughts.

In a similar way, many of us turn to music for comfort in a difficult situation. Your parents and friends can provide support, but so can your Spotify.

Music can become both a way to escape reality, and a way to get mental comfort. It has been shown to have a huge impact on your mood; this concept has been integrated into the practice of music therapy.

The American Music Therapy Association defines music therapy as “the clinical and evidence-based use of music interventions to accomplish individualized goals.” This definition asserts that it is beneficial to listen to music that corresponds to your emotional state as a way of restoring energy, improving mood, and helping your body heal more naturally.

It is cathartic to listen to sad music after unfortunate events like breakups, as a way of reflecting and commiserating with your own feelings. In addition to just improving your mood, this way of listening to music allows us to enjoy the experience

of finding happiness, and not just focus on being happy immediately.

Nevertheless, rushing through campus with earbuds also causes you to miss out on reality. You can’t hear the birds chirping, the subtle chatter of people, or even a good friend from a freshman year class saying hi to you. Although you may be physically walking on Telegraph Ave to class, your mind is in a different world. Are we limiting ourselves by doing this? Does this make us antisocial and narrow-minded? Or are we just appreciating a moment to ourselves?

Authors Mizuko Ito, Daisuke Okabe and Ken Anderson discuss this dilemma in their book “The Reconstruction of Space and Time.” They describe the cocooning phenomenon as “micro-places built through private, individually controlled infrastructures, temporarily appropriating public space for personal use.” Through these cocoons, we transform “dead time” in incidental locations into time that we find personally satisfying. We can see how listening to music on our way to class is a way for us to gain a richer experience of time that would otherwise be thought of as just commute time.

As for our disconnection from reality, Cal Freshman Melanie Seyfried explains that she doesn’t think listening to music makes her less aware of her surroundings. Instead, it adds another more enjoyable aspect to them. “If I run into someone I know or if I have a walking buddy, I’ll just pull out my earbuds and have a conversation.”

This is a constant balancing act: do we plug ourselves into our cocoon or not? Gaining an emotional connection to music is unavoidable, but it is up to us to decide how personal we want to make it. Our earbuds have the power to transform a song into a one-on-one experience with just us and the music. Despite feeling disconnected from bits of reality, the walk to class can be the perfect time to put on your headphones and let your mind roam free. words by EVY NAJARIAN

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DRAG

BERKELEY’S

artistic and rewarding way” - performer anthony chou

next

PERFORMER

top

took place on april 1, 2016 at 7:30 pm. “i’m grateful for

cal’s nineth annual campus drag show

this opportunity to explore myself in an

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words by NAME HERE photo by NAME HERE photos by IVAN JIANG AND ANIRUDH NARULA illustration by IFFAT JUNAID

RIP 49

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BAM! My bag of Cheetos was propelled upwards as my nuclear-orange fingers gripped and smeared our couch. I was startled. Why was this round-bellied chef with a weird accent yelling at me?

And why did I like it?

Emeril Lagasse, the host of “Emeril Live,” mesmerized me with his rambunctious personality and passion for cooking good, rustic Italian food. Simply put, Emeril was my gateway drug into the fantastical world of the Food Network. He could even make garnishing a Bolognese with parsley look cool with his signature, explosive outbursts. “Let’s kick it up a notch and add some more gah-lic.” The live audience always went wild for that. After Emeril, I was soon lured into the kitchens of Giada, Ina, and Paula Deen before her unfortunate, yet inevitable public demise.

No dish requires six sticks of butter or racist remarks.

Anyway, I digress. I would spend hours with my eyes glued to the T.V. watching Channel 73. I soon learned how to chiffonade herbs, what sous-vide was, and that when making chocolate cake, you should always add a little bit of espresso to bring out the chocolate essence. But, it had to be “‘really good quality’ chocolate; if not, store-bought works fine.” I don’t think Ina Garten understands that not everybody lives in the Hamptons with really good ingredients on demand. Anyway, I digress once again. My parents were confused, yet somewhat encouraging of my Food Network binges, but I think they sometimes wished their daughter would just watch Spongebob or the Simpsons. But, nope. The innate rebel-weirdo in me refused. Little did I know that this fascination and unhealthy obsession with the Food Network would hurt me in the long run. In exchange for culinary intelligence and a highly advanced palate for an eight-year-old, I had sacrificed my cultural identity.

I looked at the pristinely white kitchens of these celebrity chefs with their happy families and Golden-Retrievers, and I was jealous. Why didn’t my family look like that? Why weren’t we creepily happy all the time? I became resentful and ashamed.

I started to pack my own lunches filled with PB&J sandwiches, Red Delicious apples (by the way, these are terrible, go for the Honey Crisps), and CheezIts. It also didn’t help that I attended a private high school with predominantly white families that lived in mansions with beautiful kitchens – just like the ones I’d seen on the Food Network. My friends’ families ate routinely timed dinners with vivacious conversations and tasty meals. On the other hand, my kitchen had two semi-functioning stoves and my

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family rarely ate together around the dinner table. When we did, the meal was quick, smelled, and usually ended with my parents fighting. To top it off, our holiday meals were devoid of the expected turkey, mashed potatoes, and stuffing. Instead, we ordered KFC and called it a night.

For years, I desperately tried to try to make a traditional holiday meal with my mom that mirrored Rachel Ray’s, but our turkey came out limp, soggy, and lifeless. Also, I found out that my family doesn’t even like or eat turkey.

This was not our food. This was not our culture. It was forced. But I didn’t care. Where the hell was my happy family?

As I reflect now, I realized that watching these cooking shows made me feel terrible about my family, my cultural roots, and myself. But, I just couldn’t stop.

I was addicted. Watching the Food Network became my form of comfort food since my mom didn’t know how to make anything but Korean food. I so badly wanted to be white. But, I settled for the visual stimulation and satisfaction I got from simply watching Ina Garten making homemade meatloaf and roast chicken. This strange fetish continued over the next few years until I began to notice that the Food Network seemed to be undergoing an identity crisis, too.

We were both going through paralleling identity crises. Instructional shows began to give way to more competition-based shows. I couldn’t care less about what amateur chefs could hastily concoct in 30 stress-inducing minutes. I found myself ditching the Food Network altogether and soon moved on to the Travel Channel to watch other shows like Anthony Bourdain’s “No Reservations” and Andrew Zimmern’s “Bizarre Foods.” They combined food and travel in an unique way that was neither instructional nor “reality-television-esque.” Instead, they exited their kitchens into foreign lands to explore and eat around the world. By being displaced from the pristine, white kitchens of a television set, I was able to realize that the world is actually best found by wandering the bustling and dusty streets of Tokyo, Morocco or Trinidad.

A shiny, bald head resting atop an orange flannel was what initially caught my attention. I had had just enough of watching Bobby Flay compete with amateur cooks in his show, “Throwdown.” What was the point of that show if he won almost every time? To feed his already enormous ego? I found solace and a rare sense of calm in Andrew Zimmern’s “Bizarre Foods.” Zimmern’s whole spiel was that he would travel to foreign countries

and eagerly try their respective native dishes that had “weird” ingredients – or at least in the Western perspective. These “bizarre foods” ranged from unfertilized eggs in the Philippines to pig head in Jamaica. His motto is “if it looks good, eat it.” By the way, I still don’t understand this maxim since I don’t get how raw, warm cow placenta looks appetizing in any way. But that’s just me. He did, however, somehow make slurping the dregs of fish sperm soup seem delectable enough to try. This middle-aged, white bald man excitedly dove right into these dishes and regarded them as highly sacred reminders of a nation’s past and tradition. This show made me realize how what’s considered “weird” in one country can be another person’s daily, normal meal. Watching him travel to all these different countries and try all these dishes with such excitement and vigor made me realize that my life doesn’t necessarily have to follow the traditional, Western idea of the path to happiness. Life is more adventurous and fun when experimenting and tasting new foods with an open mind.

After Zimmern came Anthony Bourdain. His badass swagger, snarky comments, lanky figure and crooked smile wooed me instantly.

What a silver fox. His Emmy-winning show, “No Reservations,” was similar to “Bizarre Foods.” Bourdain is an acclaimed chef, writer, and traveler with an adventurous palate that matches Zimmern’s. However, his show highlights the historical, social, political, and economic background that all contribute to the national dishes of a country. In his visit to South Korea, his Korean producer, Nari Kye, accompanies and shows him the foods and culture of Korea with great pride and affection. They weave in and out of the cramped, lively streets and humbly eat on plastic stools outside tents that serve ddukboggi, kimbap and daenjangjjeegae. Bourdain even learns how to make kimchi! He meticulously spreads the fiery red spices on each leaf of the cabbage before it’s stored underground to marinate and blossom beautifully into our national dish. The process of making kimchi is like a religious resurrection. After the cabbage heads are lowered in the ground for a few months, they magically come back to life as an entirely transformed food. I didn’t realize how much love and patience it takes to make a simple side dish that I had long neglected not because I didn’t enjoy its taste, but because of its shameful association. For the first time, I was proud of my heritage and decided to take a break from watching the Food Network altogether.

“watching these cooking shows made me feel terrible about my family, my cultural roots and myself”

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The timing seemed almost too perfect. I left at the initial transitional stages of the Food Network – the beginnings of their still continued and much confused television identity. I still don’t know if their main intent is to teach viewers how to cook or to morph food and reality TV together. But as I stopped watching, I began to unearth, solidify, and reclaim my own identity. I guess I can say karma’s a bitch? Reality competition shows now dominate its time slots, and Emeril was booted long ago. It seems as if we no longer want to watch chefs dump, mix, and cook ingredients in a pan. Instructional cooking shows have now been overtaken by competitive ones. The network first ditched talented chefs with strong TV personalities in exchange for celebrity-chefs with little to no experience of even working in a restaurant kitchen (remember Sandra Lee’s Semi-Homemade “kwanzaa” cake?). Now, it has fully entered the realm of competitive reality cooking shows.

But, apparently the majority of Americans seem to like this stuff. There are 782,000 dedicated viewers watching any and every variation of “Chopped” possible from “Chopped Teen Tournament” to “Chopped Grill Masters.” Other top shows, like “Rachael vs. Guy: Celebrity Cook-Off” also recently announced its third season. So perhaps the idea of the celebrity chef is not extinct, but now they need to do something other than just stir a pot. This isn’t just true with the Food Network, however. Bravo’s “Top Chef” is another highly popular cooking show that competes with those of the Food Network. With the explosion of online media content over the past year, the Food Network has had to adapt to our changing taste. We can now simply search YouTube to find out how to make chicken vindaloo in less than three minutes without waiting for the commercials to end on T.V. I understand the need to adapt to our rapidly changing times. Technology is advancing in a scary and fast pace.

But, I think the Food Network has gone overboard.

For example, from 6pm to 3am tonight, Food Network will be airing “Chopped” with a brief hour intermission for “Cupcake Wars.” Tomorrow, Guy Fieri’s “Diner, Drive-Ins and Dives” will be airing for a total of seven hours. Seven. Seriously? Come on. What happened to the cooking? When I used to watch the Food Network, it was a time for me to wind down and take comfort in the soothing voices of Ina, Mario, and Nigella. Nowadays, I just get Guy Fieri nonsensically shouting, “welcome back to TRIPLE D!!! Wanna head over to FLAVORTOWN?!” – his mouth full of quadruple bacon-wrapped deep-fried Oreos. I’m going to have to go with a strong hell no. Someone get this guy a box of Tums and a pacifier. It is upsetting that my once dear Food Network Channel has turned into hours of countless competitive cooking shows instead of actual cooking. A once relaxing pastime has managed to make me even more stressed whenever I watch it.

I could go on about the lack of diversity on the

Food Network, but they’re not the only ones guilty. Television and media as a whole have a long way to go before diversity is fully shown and accepted as the norm. I still feel the utmost tenderness for the Food Network since it essentially shaped my childhood. It instilled a passion and love for cooking and the culinary world – a world I would have never been exposed to if it weren’t for them. Who knew a 24-hour program solely devoted to food and instructional cooking would be so popular to the masses? I guess it was a blessing in disguise. By stripping me of any sort of cultural diversity, it later challenged me to wrestle with my own identity to proudly reclaim my Korean roots.

But it seems like they should be focusing on their own identity now. The Food Network has stopped taking risks. What started as a small start-up taking a bold, creative gamble in television has shrunk into re-runs of watching Guy Fieri slobber over mediocre lasagna in a diner found in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps the demise of instructional cooking is due to our rapidly changing society. We simply don’t have the time to cook anymore. Time spent cooking is seen as time wasted. Instead, we want to know where to get the best Sloppy Joes in town. I’ll still give Food Network some time to reclaim its identity, just as I did (and still am doing) with my own, and most importantly, diversify because at the core, I strongly believe in their initial mission – reminding viewers of the importance of food. Eating and making good food from all cultures should be pursued as both a means of pleasure and a rare reminder to simply pause in our hectic schedules. It should use its influence to introduce America to different cuisines, not to stress viewers out with outrageous, time-restrained culinary challenges. I believe that this can be done in the kitchen, as well as outside of it, like in the Travel Channel. It’s time to reclaim the kitchen as a safe and authentic place to show viewers the importance of slowing down our lives to cook for ourselves and our loved ones. In the mean time, I’ll still be watching the Travel Channel. But, I have faith. Just as the Food Network took a creative risk with its bold birth into television, I have hope that it will bounce back. As Allen Sankin said, “Will it settle being the chicken it thinks the world wants it to be or go down fighting with tripe?”

I’m rooting for the latter. words by GRACE CHA photo by STEVEN ELLEMAN

Cover photo taken by Aaron Okayama..

While Caliber is a part of the Associated Students of the University of California at Berkeley, the content of the magazaine does not reflect the opinions of the ASUC in any way.

CALIBER MAGAZINE ISSUE 14 SPRING 2017 VISIT US AT CALIBERMAG.NET AND FOLLOW US @CALIBERMAG