SPECIAL EDITION: ELECTION 2016
volume xcvi, no. 8 • nov. 11, 2016 | thescarlet.org | the.clark.scarlet | @Clark_Scarlet
By Ethan Giles & Kate Summers editor-in-chief & executive editor
Article one, amendment one, states that “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press.” We, as the press, no matter how small our paper, find it our constitutional duty to bring you stories and voices from this election. This was a historic election: One candidate who had never, until Tuesday, been elected to public office, against a candidate would not have been allowed to vote 96 years ago. This newspaper will act as a record of Clark’s reaction to the election of Donald Trump. We have invited voices from across campus to write and react to Tuesday’s events. Obviously this does not include the voice of everyone, but we attempted to gather a large of people to firmly indicate their feelings. Along with articles, this issue profiles the Black Solidarity Day held the Monday before the election and the rally in Red Square on Wednesday. The Scarlet also reached out to members of the community to submit a short reflection on the election. In this issue, we did not censor our writers, or the quotes they incorporated from pundits, candidates, and our president-elect. We allowed them to use whatever language they needed to express their feelings on this election. The opinions enumerated in this issue represent those of the author and the author alone. They do not reflect the opinions of the editorial board, The Scarlet, or Clark University. photo by erin mckeon
2 | news
The Scarlet
nov. 11, 2016
The Scarlet THE STUDENT NEWSPAPER OF CLARK UNIVERSITY
CONTACT scarlet@clarku.edu | thescarlet.org
EDITORS Editor-in-Chief: Ethan Giles Executive Editor: Kate Summers Co-News Editor: Jessica Macey Co-News Editor: Kayleigh McHugh Opinions Editor: Jake Ruta Living Arts Editor: Alika Gillard Sports Editor: Scott Levine Layout Editor: Christian Rentsman Photo Editor: Celine Manneville Editor-at-Large: Alex Grayson Social Media Editor: Erin McKeon Managing Editor and Fact Checker: Daniel Juarez
SCARLET STAFF Giulia Elena Casella Steven Castiglione Christy Dang Tori Doran Max Elias Sheila Ford Pat Fox Simone McGuinness Lynn Pescaro Anna Schaeffer Lori Shanley Jay Sundar Rajan Aaron Trachtman Nikolas Wagner
LAYOUT & WEB STAFF Ryan King
WANT TO BE PART OF
The Scarlet? The Scarlet is looking for: • • • • • •
writers, copy-editors, photographers, graphic designers, cartoonists, and web designers.
No previous experience necessary!
PHOTO STAFF Emily Morang Uyanga (Melody) Mungunchimeg Krithi Vachaspati Emily Valante Amanda Quiñones Alexander Rakovshik
EMAIL SCARLET@CLARKU.EDU
The Scarlet in no way endorses its advertisers. In addition, The Scarlet maintains the right to decline any advertisements it deems unsuitable.
The Scarlet
nov. 11, 2016
news | 3
The Scarlet/News March on ‘Till Victory is Won BSU Holds Black Solidarity Day By Rachel Still contributing writer
On the eve of election day, members of the Black Student Union (BSU) were joined by fellow Clarkies of color as well as white allies in apprehensively observing this year’s Black Solidarity Day. The Black community has come together on the Monday before the presidential election every year since 1969 to discuss power, liberation, and the Black experience. Black Solidarity Day was inspired by Douglas Turner Ward’s one-act play “A Day of Absence,” which explored the social, political, and economic importance of the Black community. Dramatizing how Black absence from American infrastructure sparked the collapse of U.S. culture, industry, and commerce, the play demonstrated the vitality of the Black community to ordinary American function. Observers of Black Solidarity Day gathered in Red Square, dressed primarily in black clothes to recognize the African American influence on America. BSU Members explained the day’s history and importance while candles were lit in the background. Members and nonmembers alike shared influential poetry and other works of literature highlighting African American struggles and the need for racial reform. BSU welcomed Lynn Pescaro (’17) who read her original article “Empty Building Important Part of Clark’s African-American and Woman Students’ Narrative.” Pescaro shared what she learned while inves-
tigating what should be done with Clark’s vacant building on Woodland Street. What she found is the that empty house was once home to the Downing Street Administrative Offices of Clark University in the 1960s. More importantly, the building was home to a protest held by students of color in February of 1969 in response to the failure of Clark’s president at the time, Frederick Jackson, to follow through on his promise to use financial assistance to incentivize diversity. Pescaro wrote of the Clark community unifying to establish the Black Student Scholarship Fund and ultimately leading to Jackson’s resignation in August of 1969. She ended her reading with a tone of hope inspired by the strength of Clark’s community of color to stand their ground against an authority threatening to limit the opportunity for other students of color to enrich the campus in the future. This story of civil unrest represents part of the African American narrative that Black Solidarity Day is meant to highlight: although we are stepped on and oppressed, we continue to fight until we either win or can no longer fight. Black Solidarity Day occurs the day before elections to emphasize the importance of a united Black community in the war against the oppression and systematic racism that seems to engulf us. The day ended with the Black Anthem “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” BSU board members and the crowd sang along to the recording, “Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us, / Sing a song full of hope that the present has brought us.”
Photos by Krithi Vachaspati
4 | news
The Scarlet
nov. 11, 2016
Scenes From Red Square Students Gather to Find “Healing and Hope” Photos by Erin McKeon and Celine Manneville
Following the slim, but ever-so-real, victory of Donald Trump in the 2016 presidential election, members of the Clark community gathered in Red Square on Wednesday, Nov. 9 to express their thoughts and emotions. The crowd formed a circle, at the middle of which various students took the megaphone to give speeches, read poems, and share songs. An emotional display of grief and healing, the afternoon drew tears from the speakers and the audience. Over the course of two hours, numerous individuals spoke on a variety of issues and concerns, ranging from racial inequality to sexual assault.
“I can’t go back home but I am scared to stay here… either we change the world or die trying.” - Asir Arif (‘18) “There’s power in numbers.” - Lulama Moyo (‘16) “I don’t accept that my life is valued like this.” - Lulama Moyo (‘16) “We need to be motivated by this pain and this anger and this sadness” - Joya Hall-Sullivan (‘19)
nov. 11, 2016
The Scarlet
“Presidents before Donald Trump were racist, and we’ve survived.” Beliansh Assefa (‘17) “You should eat three meals a day… take care of each other… we gon be aight.” - Beliansh Assefa (‘17) “I’m not even angry, I’m just so sad. I’m so sad that anybody would think we would hurt them.” - Sofía Fernández-Valdés (‘19) “We elected someone who probably sexually assaulted people… will people think it’s okay to just grab women by the pussy?” - Sofía FernándezValdés (‘19)
“Hope is not over… I’m from a place without sexual assault and rape laws, and we keep fighting.” - Zohaib Bilal (‘19) “The fucked up thing about the US being the superpower in the world is that there is no escaping this.” - Themal Ellawala (‘17)
news | 5
6 | what it means to me
The Scarlet
NOV. 11, 2016
The Scarlet/What it Means to Me Democracy’s Fatal Kiss
There is No Plan B
Trump’s Presidency Could Doom Minorities By Celine Manneville photo editor
By Daniel Juarez managing editor
I am the son of two former undocumented immigrants. Attempting to compensate my own guilt for the amount of hours my parents work, I study as fiercely as I can to get ahead. I am a psychology student hoping to use what I learn at this institution to try and help others who both look and think similarly to me and differently than I do. I am a Latin-American student attending this university, and I’m still praying that this is just a nightmare that’s gone on for a couple hours too long. I headed to bed on Election Day having read the polls, seen the blood-red map of our country, and been petrified by what I heard his supporters chanting. Yet there were still a couple hours on the clock, so I succumbed to sleep hoping that the ubiquitous level-headedness hidden in the brain of every eligible voter in the country would triumph over bigotry. My senses faded as I hoped for a better tomorrow. And what did we wake up to? A tragedy. A threat. An abomination. Is it unpatriotic, calling and comparing this year’s election to fatal catastrophes? Is it bitchy, voicing my upset when others would be all but ecstatic to explain to me that America’s about to be made great again? Is it unintelli-
gent to declare that it’s not a privilege to be ignorant? Is it cowardly, voicing my concerns about our former president welcoming the president-elect who questioned his citizenship into the oval office? If it is, then I certainly need to have my ideals reevaluated, because these aren’t the ideals I grew up with. And if the pockets of the white, privileged, majority think that this whole thing is a mess, then just imagine how the millions of minorities living in this country are feeling about a man who wears his prejudice like a badge of honor. We, minorities, are an anxious group of people, working and fighting much longer and much fiercer for our own shot at the American dream than the established norms. We are an honorable people, hoping to live like everyone else and not wishing problems on anybody who doesn’t wish problems on us. We are strong individuals, ones who have weathered climbs, walks, runs, and battles because we prefer waiting years for acceptance in this country than living among our own. We are a heartbroken people, that believed that the majority cared, worried, and accepted us as the integral aspect of this country that we are. And still, I can’t bring myself to dispel the sympathy I feel for the people that elected him. Dare I say that I pity the ignorant, the misogynists, and the tiny
elite who felt their influence waning, who betrayed the country without even realizing it? Dare I say that they are the real victims of the election with the president elect using, spamming, and exploiting their grief, rage, and desire for change for his own ends? I think that I’d already seen it coming that night, and that I simply tried to deny it. With so much red, who in their right mind could look at that and still hope for a slim victory? We did. But last night didn’t show us something new. It merely exposed the wide rift that we had been fooled into thinking was no longer there. This is what the Electoral College coughed out, and is it sickening to say that I’m grateful to know how much work the country still has to do? We are people with an equal desire for change as people who have been in this country for generations, and we are committed to doing all we can within the boundaries of law to bring it about. We are people desperate for a legacy, hoping to leave it behind in a place that accepts all. We are the invisibles that are only seen as a scapegoat in the sickly imaginations of a crude, priggish idiot still living in the past. I am a minority attending this university, and I think I speak for every minority in the country when I say that we are ass-fuckingly terrified of what’s to come.
Last night, on Nov. 8, my alarm went off as it does every day, at 9 p.m. My phone goes off every day at 9 p.m. no matter where I am, who I’m with, or what I’m doing. I keep this reminder because I am constantly running from one place to another, and I cannot afford to forget this. Many women on this campus and around the country have a similar alarm -- it’s the one that reminds us to take our birth control. We label them all types of ways: “That Time,” “Take your damn pill rn,” “Hey, maybe not children,” “Not ready for baby,” the pill emoji, the bunny emoji, among others. I label mine “Birth Control.” Whenever it goes off, it has become a bit of a tradition for me to announce “Time for me to not get pregnant!” right before I take it, because I’m hilarious. I’m happy to be on birth control, not because I like any of the side effects or anything, but because I get to take responsibility and control of my body, something my mother told me when she moved me into my dorm freshman year. She handed me a pack of condoms and I immediately blushed. She told me “you don’t have to use these, but this is my way of telling you that you have to take care of your body and protect yourself because nobody else will.” I applaud my mother. She was able to teach me this lesson in such a normalized way that not many people can. When I asked her if I could get birth control, she, yet again, taught me this lesson. She
texted me the number of her gynecologist and told me to make an appointment because she wouldn’t make the appointment for me. From day one, it has been my choice. She has never questioned my decisions, asked about my actions, or judged me for any of it. She gave me the resources to make informed decisions about my body in a supportive, but not overly supportive, way. I’ve made these decisions with some guidance, input, and suggestions, but in the end they have always been my choices. I chose to take birth control pills, as an IUD is not the right choice for me. I have dealt with side effects, some of them rather annoying, such as spotting, inconsistent periods, and cramps, which I never used to get. I have had to have my blood pressure taken and be asked questions by my doctor to make sure I am healthy and not showing any signs of a possible stroke, which can be caused by birth control. It has been my decision to put myself through this in order to take care of my body and protect myself. It’s strangely empowering to hear my alarm go off at 9 p.m., take my birth control--which is actually chewable and mint flavored--and say “time for me to not get pregnant!” It’s my joke. On Tuesday, my alarm went off at 9 p.m., as it does every night. But it felt different. I took my pill, but I didn’t make my daily joke. Because this isn’t a joke anymore. None of it is. Right now, my prescription is covered by my insurance. I’m lucky continued on page 8
The Scarlet
NOV. 11, 2016
Defending the Indefensible
what it means to me | 7
WTF America From a Not-Really-American, American Woman
By Brendan Burgess contributing writer
By Amanda Quiñones photo staff
They used to call America a City on a Hill, a place so pure in thought and intention that it was somehow above the pettiness that influenced politics elsewhere. Throughout history we have fallen short of that ideal countless times, but it remained at the heart of what we believed. No matter our differences in opinion, background, or beliefs, at the end of the day we were part of something greater, an example to the rest of the world. If there is one thing that has been lost this election it has been that. We have not attacked the policies of the candidates, but rather the candidates and their supporters directly. Voters dealt America a blow on Tuesday that will be felt for years. Many have laid out Donald Trump’s failings far more eloquently than I ever could, and as great of a defeat as this was, the loss of civility and understanding that has accompanied it is, in some ways, the true defeat. I’m from rural Michigan, the exact type of area that eventually won the election for Trump. I love the people I grew up with, and the community I grew up in and while much can be said about them, perhaps the most true thing I can say is they are generous. It is the type of place where new neighbors are met with brownies and the kids are tended to by the whole community. Some of the most down to earth, generous, and kind people I have ever met are from there and some of my fondest memories are of the communities that I grew up in. The closing of the Ford Plant in my community in 2009 changed a lot of that. Suddenly the livelihood of over half of my community was gone, and many of the other businesses had lost their customer base. At one point, over half of the houses in my neighborhood were either for sale or foreclosed upon as the local economy disintegrated. While my neighborhood eventually recovered, many
others didn’t. People don’t vote for a demagogue like Donald Trump if they are in the right state of mind; they vote for Donald Trump because they are scared and angry, as they see their lives and communities disintegrate before them. They think that Donald Trump’s promises to end NAFTA and other trade deals will return the jobs to their communities, so they vote for him despite the atrocious nature of his actions. This reaction is supported by reports from news organizations, such as ABC, that Trump outperformed the much more moderate Mitt Romney by Latinos, Blacks, and women five to ten percent, particularly in the Midwest. It’s only too easy to call these people racists, sexists, and bigots. While all of these things certainly played a part in Trump’s election, if we are to move beyond this election we must move beyond this inclination to call names. In the words of Michelle Obama, “when they go low, we go high.” The next four years will be filled with important fights: the fight to preserve rights for the LGBTQ+ community, fights for the immigrant soul of the country, and fights to preserve our environment. No one likes to be called racist, sexist, or bigoted, and if the election has proven one thing it is that we need to make our message more inclusive and relevant to people of the Midwest and other rural areas. To be a liberal is to believe in the inherent humanity that we all share: that if given the opportunity to succeed, people will thrive, and help not just themselves, but their communities too. America is an unequal country, so it is our duty to ensure that everyone has an opportunity to succeed. Spend the next two years before the midterm elections fighting for what you believe in. But, remember that in order to be successful, we need to encourage a philosophy that appeals to all, not just to those in metropolitan areas.
There was no anger, no sadness, no emotion. Just numbness when I work up on Nov. 9. My mind could not understand how there were people out there who actually voted for Donald Trump. People who stood behind him and supported his racism, sexism, and bigotry. People I knew and members of this institution, were celebrating the win while many others poured out tears in heartbreak and fear. I am a Latina woman, and while I was lucky enough to be born in Puerto Rico – which is, technically, United States soil – to pass as white, and to have English as my second language, as soon as I open my mouth I am labeled as a spic. You’ll forget how good my English is. You’ll forget that I am an American citizen. You’ll forget my worth as a person and I will become nothing more than a label and a stereotype supported by the President-elect. I may not be Mexican, but I know when he refers to them, he is talking about me too. He is attacking MY culture and MY history. When I moved here from Puerto Rico three months ago, I believed I was coming to a place of opportunity, a place where I could study and make a future for myself. However, even though I am American, I will always be discriminated against. I will always be “the Latina,” I will never be truly accepted. Because even though I am American, I could not vote in the elections. There was nothing I could have done to stop it, and now I’m forced to face the consequences of others’ decisions. Many Latinos, Africans, Asians, Americans, immigrants, muslims, members of the LGBTQ+ community, women, and people all around America are going to have their lives changed. America is controlled by ignorance and lack of knowledge, and that is the problem. Because as much as we are scared by the most powerful man on Earth saying he is against same sex marriages, LGBTQ+ rights and immigration, that he has accusations of sexual assault, that he openly degrades women and minorities, we are more afraid of what this represents for America. We are afraid of what all of his followers will do in his name. We are afraid of sexism, racism, and bigotry becoming socially accepted norms. We are afraid for our lives and we have every right to be. So please, stop trying to discredit my feelings. Stop trying to tell me I’m overreacting. Stop trying to tell me to get over it. Stop trying to tell me that just because I look white, this does not affect me. My melanin may not be of color, but my soul sure as hell is. I am Latina and proud, but this election has left me Latina and scared, and that was something I never thought I would be.
8 | what it means to me
The Scarlet
A Letter to My American Friends By Megan Baynes former scarlet staff
It’s 7 p.m., and I’m in the bar. The polls don’t close for another five hours, but I’m excited. I’m drinking wine out of a plastic cup and chatting with my friends, anxiously refreshing BBC news even though coverage won’t start for another few hours. I’ve draped myself in the flag that normally hangs on my wall. Tonight, I’m proud to be an American citizen because I’ve just cast my vote for the first female President of the United States. Tonight, I’ve made history. It’s midnight and all the bar TVs are blaring. Some are playing a drinking game: every time Trump gets a point, take a drink. I’ve switched to coffee and am clicking between the Guardian, the New York Times, and BBC on my laptop. They’re predicting a result around 5 a.m., so it’s going to be a long night. Andrew Marr is on the screen, surrounded by a computer-generated image of the White House that wouldn’t look out of place in an 80s movie. States begin to slowly filter in. Trump takes Georgia, Hillary takes Vermont. So far, so standard. It’s 2 a.m., and Massachusetts has just turned blue. I’m cheering with the rest of the bar, but I’m the loudest because I’m doing it for all my friends that went out to vote. I’m smiling as I think of you, wearing your “I Voted” stickers, and I’m proud of us. New England slowly turns blue. I’m cheering for Chris and Heather in Connecticut: Tonight, we are going to make history. It’s 3 a.m., and I’m uneasy. The New York Times winner prediction is flicking between Trump and Hillary so quickly that I have to close the browser. The atmosphere has begun to dampen. Gone are the rowdy drinking games. Instead, a quiet unease settles in on the bar. Fewer and fewer states are turning blue, and a wave of angry red is flashing across the screens. It’s 3:19 a.m., and I’m scared. I can see what is about to happen, and I have no power to stop it. My American friends and family have stopped replying to my messages. I know that they are glued to their screens. We are praying for a miracle, but know that one will not come. It’s 4 a.m. and I know that it’s over. Trump has just won Florida. The New York Times is predicting an 80 percent chance of a Trump presidency, The Guardian 90 percent, BBC 95 percent. I slowly pack up my bag to leave. My British friends cannot see why America has done what it has done. I wish I could answer their questions. We have just gone through Brexit. We can feel the same shock from that vote from what has happened tonight. We know what you’re going through. England is just as divided and confused. We’ve always had a “special friendship” -- you jump, I jump, Jack. I take the American flag from my shoulders and I fold it neatly. When I get home, I put it in a drawer and make a promise that the next time it hangs on my wall, it will be when Trump has left the White House. Tonight, my country taught me that it is better to be a sexist, homophobic rapist than it is to be a woman. It taught me that no matter how qualified I may be, I can still be beaten by someone just because they are a man. Tonight America didn’t shatter the glass ceiling, it reminded a generation of women why they will simply never be good enough. It also taught me that life is short — potentially incredibly short when Trump gets his hands on those nuclear codes — and even though it may have failed as a political slogan, love will always trump hate. To all the friends I left in Massachusetts, tonight you did America proud. You were an ocean of blue in a country of red hate. You stood for everything that Clark represents, and I know in the coming days, weeks, and years you will stand together. I know that some of you are scared. I’m scared too, but hold faith. We will make history. All my love from across the pond, Your favourite Clarkie Brit.
Baynes is in her fourth year at University of East Anglia in England. She is Editor-in-Chief of Concrete, the student newspaper. She studied at Clark last year.
NOV. 11, 2016
Viewpoint From a Baby Boomer By Lynn Pescaro scarlet staff
If you told me 35 years ago that I would be watching the 2016 election from a dorm at Clark University, on a laptop computer, surrounded by unfinished homework and empty yogurt cups, it would be a stretch of incredible magnitude but not implausible. If you told me I would be choosing between a woman (let alone, a former First Lady) and Donald Trump, I would have been more inclined to believe Arnold Schwarzenegger would be Governor of California. Never say never. The first time I voted for president, Ronald Reagan was running against Jimmy Carter. I voted for Jimmy Carter because my family told me to. Reagan won. I have very little memory of his presidency besides the one day he, on TV, held up the classified ads in the newspaper and asked our country why we could not get a job. That was 1981. On Tuesday, my two daughters picked me up from my college dorm and we all drove to the Friendly House
in Worcester and voted together. It was the first time my youngest voted, making it an extra special evening. As a mother, it does not get any better than that. Pure joy and love. Then we all went home to watch the first woman ever become President. I could not wait to cry tears of joy. The tears came, of course, and my country that I love changed in a matter of hours. I am thankful that I experienced this terrible moment in history on a college campus. I am thankful it was Clark. Considering my non-traditional status, there is probably no point wondering where I would be without Clark and my beautiful, intelligent, and loving friends. I am thankful that this generation, including my own wonderful children, the “Millennials,” know how upside-down and wrong this election turned out. I am one Baby Boomer who got lucky because I am still with her.
Birth Control Continued continued from page 6
for that, because there are so many people who don’t have insurance covering it. My gynecologist even gave me a coupon, applicable for 12 prescription refills in case my insurance doesn’t cover it for whatever reason. Everyone surrounding my decision has been so supportive, helping make it as accessible to me as they can. And then Trump won in the Electoral College. I say it like that for a reason because I do not accept him as my president. Because
Trump won in the Electoral College, I don’t know what will happen to my access to birth control. At the very least, I imagine that I will have a high copay. That’s the BEST thing that could happen. The worst? I won’t have access. It has been my choice since the beginning. Please don’t take my alarm away from me.
opinions | 9
The Scarlet
NOV. 11, 2016
The Scarlet/Opinions Listening Before Understanding By Christian Rentsman layout editor
Donald Trump’s victory over Hillary Clinton has left many marginalized groups and minorities scared for their lives. Some of the privileged of society have decided to use their power and influence to help out, flooding social media with messages of support for the LGBT community, muslims, and people of color. However, it is crucial for these “good white people” to recognize what is an appropriate way of providing support and what is not. In this time of fragility, vulnerability, and fear, the wrong type of support can be destructive. As a person of color, it is hard for me to explain why certain types of racial support are problematic to a white person who has not had to deal with racial issues throughout their life. However, analyzing the ways we provide emotional support to others and their effects will provide insight to the ways different types of racial support affects people of color. There are four main ways people offer support: they can take matters in their own hands, give advice, provide understanding, and listen. Taking matters into one’s own hands is the most actionable and drastic of the four forms. Some of our friends feel so strongly for us that they seek out whoever hurt us and decide to administer undesired vengeance in our place. This is an irresponsible way of offering support, and often does more harm than good. It shows a complete disregard for our opinion and can even be demoralizing. Giving advice is another pragmatic way of providing support. Advice is given so that the person asking for it can consider different perspec-
tives, have their current perspective reaffirmed, or be nudged towards unconsidered paths. Advice gives us ideas of what we could do. Unfortunately, through misguided phrasing, it can come across as a statement of what we should do. Understanding is a sort of precursor to advice and action. Some very phrases used when support is sought after are “I understand” or “I can imagine what you are going through.” Such phrases are comforting to us. It is good to know that someone has gone through what we’re going through. It makes the burden less lonely. It gives us someone to turn to. The last form of support is listening. This is the simplest form of support, and it is the least actionable. The listener doesn’t necessarily have to offer advice or even understand; instead, all they need to do is listen and let us rant about our feelings. On the surface, it seems that there is a spectrum we can follow here. Listening leads to understanding, understanding to advice, and, in extreme circumstances, advice to outside action. As they build upon each other, the different forms of support become more action oriented. At the same time, there is a spectrum going in the other direction. From outside action to listening, the forms of support become more difficult. We want to help our friends in need as much as possible. We want to right the wrong they are facing as soon as possible. We want them to recover as fast as possible. In our heads, the more action we take, the faster results we’ll get. This is why giving advice is so abundant. This dangerous way of thinking can lead to us believing that it is our responsibility to solve all of our friends’ problems.
That way of thinking is understandable. Of course we want to help our friends, it feels wrong when we don’t. Earlier I said that understanding should come before advice. This isn’t always the case. Advice can be given without a complete understanding of the picture. The issue is that true, good, actionable advice that will guarantee positive change and progression needs a full understanding of the issue. From my own experience, I appreciate it when I get advice from my friends. Even though I usually don’t listen to their advice, having them try to help is a warm feeling. Even though they may not fully understand, I am thankful that they try. However, at the end of the day, some advice is annoying. I get frustrated by some of the advice I get. Sometimes I get advice that I dislike because I feel like the other person doesn’t understand what I’m going through and they’re giving me baseless advice. Sometimes advice is shoved down my throat and the other person doesn’t even try to understand. However, when advice comes from someone that understands my situation it is often profound and extraordinarily helpful. Again, there lies the problem: the best form of advice requires absolute understanding. I said before that “I understand,” is a common phrase used when giving advice. I also said that it feels good to hear this. However, there are a whole flurry of emotions that also accompany this phrase: “I feel thankful that I’m not alone. I feel thankful that someone understands me. I feel upset because they had to go through the same thing. I feel thankful because they are
providing support, even if they don’t fully understand. I feel ambivalent because they are providing support, even if they don’t fully understand. I feel resentful that they are saying that they understand even if they really don’t. I feel resentful because it belittles my problem and my feelings since someone was able to understand it so quickly. I feel resentful because it’s my problem and you could never understand it.” Finally, listening is the hardest and least actionable form of support. It doesn’t feel action-oriented and listening without trying to give advice or belittle the situation through a faux understanding is difficult. When all we do is listen, it doesn’t feel like we’re doing anything. Sometimes, however, all the other person wants is someone to listen to them, to not assume understanding, and to not give advice. So what happens when we give the different types of support on racial issues to people of color? First, everything I said before about emotional support is amplified heavily. Since racial issues are on a national scale, the effects of each form of support increase dramatically. Acting out in the name of people of color without considering how we feel about the action is even worse. It makes it seem like we cannot do anything for ourselves. It makes it seem like we are indebted to you. The audacity, then, to turn around after acting in place of us and expecting praise is disgusting. This is not to say that “good white people” cannot help people of color. It’s to say that “good white people” do not necessarily know what is best for people of color and should absolutely not act in our name without considering our stance.
The effects of giving advice are amplified as well. Good advice requires good understanding, but it is harder to understand than it is to give advice. Shoving advice we’ve heard a million times before down our throats, acting like the issues we are facing are simple and the solution is equally as simple is annoying and frustrating because it shows a lack of understanding. Like I said before, I get it. I totally understand that giving advice is a need. However, truly understanding racial issues from the standpoint of a person of color and not from a privileged white person is very difficult, so don’t blame me if I assume that you don’t fully get it. So then, if we assume that understanding is near impossible and that the advice has gotten annoying, what are “good white people” left to do? The only thing left on my original list is listening. Like I said before, it’s incredibly unsatisfying. It feels like nothing is happening. It feels like there is no social change. It feels like there is no advancement. Just know that it is really appreciated. Go to rallies, provide solidarity, march with us, and truly listen to our struggles! Someone who doesn’t assume understanding, who doesn’t try to force advice, who just listens and supports is rare. In this sad time of real urgency and need, minorities and marginalized groups must have support now more than ever. The gift of listening and acceptance is incredibly hard to provide, but it is truly and sincerely appreciated.
The Scarlet
10 | opinions
The Landslide That Wasn’t
NOV. 11, 2016
Is There a Right or Wrong?
By T.J. Anania former scarlet staff
By Simone McGuinness scarlet staff
American politics have never failed to disappoint. This election cycle was one of the strangest and grandest in recent memory. On the one hand, you had the epitome of the corrupt establishment in Hillary Clinton. On the other, you had a reality star with a penchant for sexual assault and fear of brown people in Donald Trump. When the dust settled, the United States voted into office the overgrown Oompa Loompa and decided that sexual assault was marginally more forgivable than the circumvention of the Freedom of Information Act. To say that these results shocked everyday people and political pundits alike is a bit of an understatement. Essentially all polls got this one wrong. Hillary was supposed mop up early and we were going to celebrate and head to bed. Reality left many of us shell-shocked at 3 a.m. asking “How the hell did this happen? How did a man with no previous experience in public service just become commander-in-chief?” Simply just an overwhelming apathetic atmosphere among younger voters. In our haste to blame somebody or something, many of us have taken to Facebook and Twitter to lash out at third-party voters, abstainers, and Trump supporters. Stop. We’ll need all that salt come winter, and frankly it’s not their fault. It might be tough to hear, but if you’re looking to offload blame, look towards the Democratic Party for producing an absolutely flawed candidate in Hillary Clinton. “But, T.J….” you may say, “Hillary Clinton isn’t a bigoted misogynist
bully. Trump IS.” To which I say: true. But Hillary just wasn’t able to inspire the same foam-at-the-mouth fervor that Trump did. At one point the left did have a candidate with populist appeal in Bernie Sanders. However, as his supporters found out later, he was never meant to have a fair chance. Instead of holding a fair contest during the primaries, the Democratic National Convention tipped the scales in Hillary’s favor. And, by doing so, told Bernie’s rabid base of millennials to sit down, shut up, and turn out again on Nov. 8 to support a candidate that had colluded with party insiders to take away their new adorable grandpa candidate. While I’m no professional pollster -- and it seems that no one is currently -- I would venture to say that this strategy backfired. In 2012, 66 million people voted for Obama. On Tuesday only 60 million turned out and voted for Clinton. Trump, meanwhile, only saw a decrease of about one million votes relative to Romney. As far as I can tell, nobody conducted a liberal purge in the last four years. Even legitimate acts of voter suppression wouldn’t be able to hold back such a flood of votes. Where did these votes go? Nowhere. After the convention in July when Schultz and Clinton gave the finger to millions of progressive youngsters, many likely couldn’t will themselves to vote for her. We all knew about Clinton’s criminality, although the severity of her crimes are debatable. Trump, ever the criminal, put the old lesser of two evils argument into play and caused a chain reaction voter apathy to the tune of six million.
Leading up to this election, it didn’t matter what news station you listened to (Faux News excluded), Trump’s candidacy reportedly foretold of the impending destruction of the Grand Ol’ Party itself. According to several anchors, having someone that radically incompetent at the top of your ticket only spoke to the widespread lunacy and disconnect of your party. The media, in its infinite wisdom and impartiality got one thing right: the GOP sure is filled with some crazy bastards, but they won and now we are stuck with Trump for the next few years. Over the next four years, while this nation unravels and Trump paints The White House a solid shade of gold (as is befitting of the “blue collar candidate”) we need to make a choice. Do we, as young liberals, want to maintain the status quo with our party and hope that another progressive candidate comes to our aid? Or do we fight like hell to rebuild the party that betrayed so many of us? The passion is already here. Just take a look at the university’s real food challenge, divestment plans, and attempts to diversify the university-all championed efforts made by students. Instead of cowering under Supreme Leader Trump for the next four years, let’s redirect that passion towards actual progressive movements. Organize, don’t settle for “good enough,” and for Christ-sake vote in the midterms. If we want the change we have been promised for the last decade, we need more progressive voices in all levels of government -- local, state, and federal.
“Rarely do I post statuses, but in a time such as this with the amount of sadness and despair I feel, I found it only imperative to do so. Last night our country made a detrimental decision to elect a man who aims to erase the racial, sexual, and gendered progress citizens before him have lived and died for. The bigotry, hate, and pure evil he perpetuates instills fear, disgust, but mostly sadness in me, for those who are not white males now feeling unsafe to live in the country that was founded off of immigration. My prayers go out to all. This is not the America I am proud of.” This was the Facebook status I posted Wednesday morning at 9:56 a.m. The amount of shock and disbelief I felt at 2:30 a.m. eventually turned into anger and disgust, then finally, sadness. These past 48 hours have also been a time for reflection. I was raised in an extremely liberally-progressive town. Right outside of Washington D.C., my peers and I are quite politically involved and are adequately aware of the political, social, and economic changes our nation has recently undergone. I cannot say the same for my Clark peers. And this is one of the beauties of Clark—it’s student body is diverse and representative of many different facets of American society. Coming from a socio-economic climate that is intolerant of Donald Trump, I have been ignorant to the mindset of a majority of America. On Tuesday, that majority made their voice heard. I value the exposure that I have to Trump supporters at Clark because I do not have this exposure at home. Until recently, I have not listened to what they have to say, because I have not previously been surrounded by so many people that support him. I ask my friends who voted for Trump, or those whose parents or relatives voted for Trump, “Why?” What I’ve found is that Donald Trump caters to a group of Americans who have felt stuck. These are predominantly working-class Americans who believe that Trump will lower their taxes and give them a chance at success in America. My father’s family were laborers, and most of the men worked in factories. When they were laid off, they entered a paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle with the real fear that, any day, they could be left to the streets. What I’ve struggled with in these past 48 hours is trying to understand how the desire to better their family’s life can overpower the dire consequences of minority groups when deciding who to vote for. The Trump supporters that I know do not support racism and sexism and bigotry, but where my sadness lies is their willingness to disregard Trump’s endorsement of these hateful values in the fight for themselves. One of my friends asked her sister why she voted for Trump even though he degrades the LGBTQ+ community. Her sister responded, “To be honest, I didn’t really think of the LGBTQ+ community when voting.” Is that wrong? Is that wrong to put your personal well-being before others if it means that the others will suffer as a result? I cannot answer this question, but I will continue to try to understand.
opinions | 11
The Scarlet
NOV. 11, 2016
This Is America By Jay Sundar Rajan scarlet staff
To all of you suffering as a result of what happened last night: know that events like this test our cohesiveness as a nation and know that nothing can tear us apart. We have faced far more struggles than this election can ever bring; America has come back from times of darkness, pain, and destruction, the likes of which have caused other nations to collapse. We have made progress and put the problems of the past behind us, using our pain as a way to move on and become stronger. We are not the kind of people to back down. It is not who we are or who we ever will be. America is a nation where the “little guy” can do something beautiful, meaningful, and amazing with their life. We cannot let a man like Donald Trump break the spirit of a nation that has given so many a voice, a dream, and a way to make their lives wonderful. We have to stop looking at people’s differences and start looking at them through a lens of compassion and love. While we are a nation of unique individuals, our similarities have united us under one flag and one set of beliefs. Look at how beautiful we are together -- this is America. We must be quick to mend the rift between us that has caused so much pain and suffering. We must start immediately. Look around you. Give someone a hug, hold them in your arms, and cry if you need to. Emotion makes us human. Talk to a stranger that may have a different story. Don’t be afraid. Be optimistic, for justice is always served to the wicked. We will come back, we don’t have anywhere to go but up. Keep your chin up, there will be peace.
Where Do We Go From Here? By Anna Schaeffer scarlet staff
In the wake of what is arguably the biggest national mistake in the modern era, a generation of disappointed, frustrated, and terrified voters looks around at the rubble. Female voters anticipating a first-time female presidency are faced with the grim fact that Hillary Clinton conceded to man accused on multiple occasions of sexual assault and rape. Environmental advocates are faced with a regression of sixty years of climate progress and fear for the future. Resurgence in terror for members of the LGBTQ+ community is born, just a scant six months after the Marriage Equality Act. Immigrants, minorities, and Muslims were born into a new reality of discrimination today. This is not an election where the losing party is slightly disappointed. The losing party now fears for their safety in a country that guaranteed it
only months ago, and one question lies on the minds of many: What now? Where do we go at this point with the prospect of environmental destruction, discrimination on all fronts, and the nearly certain economic turmoil which looms ahead of us? We stay mad. Ignore the the people who are urging us to unite and “give Trump a chance to prove himself as a leader.” Trump has already proved himself as a bigot and a liar unfit to lead a business, let alone a country. In this moment, it is important to hold onto your frustration productively and remember the power of the voice of the people. Whatever media you have to speak your mind in the coming weeks, months, and years, use it. If you care about the environment, speak up. Protest the proposals, the laws, the budget cuts, the construction proposals, which will happen. If you care about LGBTQ+ rights or have any regard for the safety and happiness of those people, hit the streets, write, sing,
scream. Do what it takes to make a national nuisance so powerful it can take down the closest the United States has ever come to fascism since its very beginning. People united against injustice are destined to succeed eventually, even if a tough road lies ahead of them. We are a strong generation, we are savvy, and we are determined. Donald Trump may have won this battle, but he has already earned the hatred of the world. By a majority, millennials oppose Trump; let that be a motivator for us and a reminder that he is not our president. So we organize. We pick up the pieces and plan. The next few weeks and months and years will be arduous and chaotic and nobody wants to think too much about them, but we must. It’s time for us to come together, for us to stand defiantly against the xenophobia, homophobia, sexism, and destruction that Donald Trump perpetuates with his every breath.
Friends in Low Places Communicating with the Other By Alika Gillard living arts editor
If you stand at the edge of the Clark campus and throw a stone outward, you have about a 50/50 chance of hitting a Trump supporter (of course that is not statistically correct in Massachusetts, or in Worcester, but in terms of the popular vote). The country is severed in two: us versus them. I was raised in Montana, where if you throw a stone you have about a 50/50 chance of hitting a deer. A place where a friendly black bear occasionally mosied onto my front porch, and the closest mall was eighty miles away. I used to gaze up at the sky, entranced by the openness, the unimaginable depth of the space above, the raw, undisturbed beauty of the crystal clear lakes that reflected it, and the blanket of stars that crowded the deepest, blackest, quietest of nights. I used to gaze up at the sky and wonder how such a beautiful, open place, could be the home of so many ugly, close-minded ideals. I found out quickly upon moving there that I was an outcast, ridiculed for being non-religious, agreeing with liberal arguments on social issues, being bisexual, and wanting to further my education. After the presidential results, many of my friends voiced their happiness for the Trump presidency on Facebook, and some personally messaged me to ask how I could be disappointed with these results. At first, I only wanted to delete them from my Facebook, from
my phone, from my life. How could someone so close to me agree with this man? I tried to fathom why someone would vote for Trump. This was difficult, especially since people whom I love, and who care for me, voted for a man that denies climate change and chose an antiLGBTQ+ running mate. I opened a dialogue with them, to share ideas and foster understanding, because I would want the same opportunity if the tables were turned. Many of you will be going home for Thanksgiving break and are bracing yourselves for gatherings of Democrats and Republicans alike, only having DNA and a last name in common. I encourage you to, instead of avoiding the BIG topics like sex, politics, and religion, try and open up a dialogue, some discussion, some agreement and disagreement. The people closest to you are most likely to listen, to empathize, to understand. This is a complex issue and cannot be summed up or generalized in any meaningful way. No, you might not be able to get through to great-uncle Joe, but talking to your friends and family about the repercussions of this election upon future generations, their future or current children, and the rest of their own lives, can broaden their perspective. Discuss alternatives, encourage knowledge and inquisition. Listen to them, as difficult as it may be, start a discussion, and just maybe, return to a place of acceptance.
The Scarlet
12 | opinions
The Position of Whiteness in a Donald Trump Presidency By Eliana Stanislawski contributing writer
Tuesday night, the American people sent a definitive message: our country, supposedly built on principles of welcoming and acceptance, is not accepting of everyone. Many white students at our university, including myself, heard these results and felt deep pain over what we have allowed to go on (every white person has allowed this to happen, no one is exempt from the blame). Many of these people were also shocked by what has taken place. Those who are the most safe appear to be the most surprised. The pain felt by white people today is not the same as the pain felt by people of color. We have to understand this. You may feel that you already understand this, but try reflecting on the ways you have been expressing your pain in response to what has happened. To all of us white people: this loss is not about our pain. You may be in pain, your heart may be breaking for our country, but the people who will suffer the most should not have to hear about how sorry you feel. The results of the election are shocking, but to be shocked by the depth of hatred in this country that brought about these results is to be privileged. To be so ignorant as to believe that the embodiment of bigotry did not have a chance to win is to be unaware of the neverending racist undercurrent of our country’s history and defining principles. We need to work on ourselves. We need to work on our communities. The Klu Klux Klan is able to celebrate right now because white folks like us were too self-involved to be brave enough to confront ourselves. To be clear, I am not saying that white people cannot feel pain about this result. White supremacy is pain-
ful for everyone, white people included. We have every right to be deeply hurt. We have every right to express that pain. In fact, we must express that pain. However, I urge you to be mindful about the way you are expressing that pain. I urge you to be mindful of the fact that your pain is likely coming from guilt and deep avoidance whereas other people’s pain is coming from fear for their own safety. I urge you to consider who should and should not be burdened with your pain at this moment. In the words of Devra Goldstein (‘16), a leader of the Student Community for Unlearning Racism (SCUR): “Let’s be careful not to perpetuate white supremacy even in our conversations. What we can also do is be sensitive about our reactions and realize that there are aspects of our identities where we might be vulnerable, and other aspects of our identity, like being white, where we have power and privilege that we can use for resistance and solidarity.” In addition, for those white women who are expressing fear about a Trump presidency: I am scared too. But we need to understand the space that we occupy and the privilege we hold. It is not the same to be a white woman in the United States today as it is to be someone who is black, Latinx, Muslim, indigenous, differently abled, or a member of other very visible groups Trump has targeted. We made this mess. It is our job to clean it up, and if we don’t, we will have no one to blame but ourselves. Show people how sorry you are by working on your white self and the white communities you are a part of. SCUR is hosting another workshop this Sunday evening for white students to work on transforming the ways we participate in racial dynamics. Show up. We owe it everyone to confront what we are complicit in.
NOV. 11, 2016
Dear Professor, It’s the day after Election Day. I have been holding back tears, crying, or fully breaking down for at least the past 17 hours at the time I am writing this. I’ve only ever felt worse than this freshman year, when my grandfather died. Walking around campus today, I feel like a shell. I have not been able to concentrate on anything academic, so thank goodness your paper isn’t due for another week and a half. I am in shock. Campus has an eerie, somber feel to it, as if we are all attending a funeral. It feels like someone died. I have heard of professors cancelling classes or making them optional, postponing tests, or releasing class early. You have been talking about the election since the first day of classes, so I kind of expected SOME sympathy from you. Yet, you decided to keep class as normal. That’s fine, I understand. However, you do not allow laptops in class. I approach you before class started. I explain to you that writing is a coping mechanism for me, I tell you I am writing a piece, and I ask if I could keep my laptop out today so I can write. I want to use my laptop because I can type faster than I can write, and on a day where my thoughts are racing faster than my hands can write, it would help me calm my mind to write it all as fast as I can. You shut me down. You tell me, “If you’re going to be in class, be here. That’s the point, isn’t it?” I thought about not coming to class today. It took so much of me to show up. I consider leaving before class starts, but decide not to because I’ve already missed one class, and leaving would be rude. I type on my computer until the moment class starts, and then I put it away. I’m trying to be respectful on a day when I really don’t want to. You start class by talking about the election results. Once you’re done with the conversation, you tell us “we have a syllabus to follow,” and move on. Don’t you understand that this election is triggering to people right now? Don’t you understand that people are in shock today? Don’t you understand that there are students who are currently terrified, many scared for their lives or those of their families and friends? I cannot sit here, unable to cope in my own way because you have to go over how to conduct an interview for the thousandth time in class, something that I already know how to do. So I write by hand instead. I cannot write as fast as my thoughts are coming to me, but it helps just a little. If there’s one thing I’ve learned today, it’s that I cannot just sit here and do nothing. I have decided not to leave class, as I wanted to show you SOME respect as my professor. But I will continue to cope with it all. And you will not stop me.
Best, Celine Manneville
NOV. 11, 2016
The Scarlet
living arts | 13
The Scarlet/Living Arts
Black by Marika Thompson What do you want from me? What do you want me to do? I’m Black, I AM, And I'm here. We’re here and we’re not going anywhere, So why batter and bruise me because I'm different. Yes slavery happened, yes they lynched me, and they whipped me. Now they keep penetrating my skin with their ignorance. You're disregarding me How can you ignore something that surrounds you. I can’t give you what you want. I’m Black, I can’t change that, nor do I want to. I love the melanin in my skin. How can you not see its Beauty. You don’t see the heart that beats irrevocably for you, the ones who tore me into many unstable pieces that can’t quite mesh themselves together because no matter how much I try to be a part of you and give you parts of me, I some how am not enough for you. And some how everything that I am is what seems to be wrong with the world. I just want you to see me, but you can’t, or maybe you just don’t want to and that’s ok. I can’t make you love me. I know what you see. You see something that’s NOT But I see Beauty You don’t see me and I don’t know how to make you see, so I hope and pray that everything’s going to be ok. I internalize these feelings and hold them close in hopes that you’ll change your minds and see things my way, but you don’t and so I isolate myself from you. Not physically but mentally. I don’t want to separate myself, but I do as a way to try and feel ok, but it’s not working. I just want to fucking cry inside and scream out loud or scream inside and cry out loud. I don’t know. Anymore. I just don’t understand. Can you please help me to understand why you dislike me? I did nothing to you, but love you, but you do nothing, but hurt me unconsciously and subconsciously, but I can’t blame you for what your ancestors did to mine. But could you at least try and help to get rid of the illusion that my being Black is BAD, A Danger I just wish you knew what it’s like to be reminded that I AM Black every time I wake up till I go to bed I wish you knew how much it hurt to feel the whip my ancestors
photo by erin mckeon
endured every day through your unwelcoming eyes and your piercing words. We’re divided, separated by a blue wall that is constantly closing in on me. A wall that is stained with red from the blood of my people, the Black ones, the Niggers or Negros because we are supposedly a threat to you. But what’s the threat Black or blue. I love the colour blue. It’s been my favourite colour since I was a little kid back in Barbados. I loved everything about the colour blue. It was my go to colour. There was so much beauty behind that colour, the sky, the sea, the ocean. We were like two peas in a pod. We were one. I never thought that it would turn its back on me. It was my friend and now it feels like the enemy. I can’t trust the colour blue. I can’t trust the colour that keeps targeting me and killing me with its guns and nerve wracking footsteps. I guess now I should learn to love the colour red. I mean we’ve been getting pretty close lately. It doesn’t comfort me. It’s not comforting or warming to think of the colour red. It hurts me mentally and physically to think of this colour because that’s all I see when I look at my family and people who look like me. This is all I see when I think of the ones I held close
but can’t anymore because the colour blue betrayed me. It’s funny isn’t it? That you can be so close to something and it can suddenly abandon you as if you were never close to begin with. I guess we have our differences, though we have so much history and so many memories that connect us. I guess I became too different for the colour blue. YES I AM DIFFERENT Yes I LOOK different, My lips are big, My nose is big, I have locks and tattoos, I’m gay, and I'm Black So yes I'm different. I don’t belong to any one category. I don’t know where to place myself in a society that constantly needs to know everything about me. Why can’t my different be beautiful? Why can’t you embrace me for who I am? A Black girl from the island of Barbados, who just so happens to be gay, with big lips, a big nose, locks and tattoos and just can’t help loving the colour blue. I know I may be Black and you may be blue but can you please find your way back to me because I miss you.
14 | living arts
The Scarlet
NOV. 11, 2016
Tomorrow By Audrey Dolan
by Eddie McCluskey
contributing writer
My world feels a little smaller today, Quieter than normal. I woke up this morning, and as promised, the sun did rise again But it was cloudy and dark, The sky hung melancholy above me. I looked into the faces of people I see every day
Daylight savings threw Off my sleep cycle; last night I dreamed that Trump won Trying to do my Homework without worrying About fascism
And all I saw was my own pain reflected back at me, A mirror of the anguish I could not hide. Shock, confusion, sadness, anger. I keep searching for the words but I come up short every time. In times like this, we are supposed to put pen to paper to make sense of it all But how do you explain this? Countless numbers people went to bed which hope in their hearts
Looks like the South rose Again, all the way up to Ohio and Maine… Why do we keep on Letting rubes in Ohio Decide this for us?
A belief that the next day would be a new step toward a bright future Instead, we grieve. We fear. We cry. We question. Somewhere along the way to this historic moment, fear took over. A hatred for anything different became planted into too many hearts It’s now bloomed into a beast I do not recognize A country divided, a world in awe. Today, we are left speechless. Today, we are allowed to feel hopeless and helpless. Today, we can do nothing but try to search for meaning in all of this. But tomorrow, we must rise to the occasion. We will not go willingly. We will go kicking & screaming, resisting every act of bigotry they try to force upon us. We will come together, a collective voice louder than the scattered few. We will drown out those who prey upon uncertainty. We will unite in ways we have never before Today, we acknowledge defeat. Tomorrow, we find ways to refute anything that tries to shackle our humanity.
Yo, Florida...why? Don’t you know that climate change Will affect you first? I hope the boomers That put Mr. Pence in charge Don’t need Medicare Trump has invested A million bucks in the Dakota Pipeline I hate to be so Pessimistic, but it’s hard To make jokes right now
NOV. 11, 2016
The Scarlet
living arts | 15
A Postcard from Ireland
Illustrated by Carter Stever
16 | living arts
`
The Scarlet
NOV. 11, 2016
Words by Sofía Fernández-Valdés TRIGGER WARNING: These poems discuss sexual assault.
Dear People Dear people: Why do we make it so hard to respect each other? Dear white people: Who the fuck do you think you are? Dear white people: It’s Sofía, not Sophia. Dear white people: Yes I have two last names. Acknowledge them. Dear white people: My culture is constantly making us remember where we came from, unlike yours, that tries to forget and deny it. Dear white people: Yes, I know you can tell I’m not white, although maybe the color of my skin is. Dear white people: Don’t try to make me white. Dear white people: Why are you so obsessed with me? Dear white people: Yes, I am loud, and yes, I love dancing, but that doesn’t give you a reason to stare at me all the time. Dear white people: Who gave you permission to mock my culture? Dear white people: Don’t identify me with my race or my ethnicity unless I tell you to. Dear white people: Who told you it was okay to mock my ethnicity? Dear white Americans: Fuck you! Dear white people: Why do you look at me like I’m going to hit or rob you? Dear white people: You make me want to hit or rob you! Dear white people: Why do you like to pretend your life is so hard? Dear white people: Try living in a place where you cannot express the way you actually feel because of the language barrier. Dear white people: Yes, I have an accent, don’t be rude about it. Dear white people: I’m bilingual, get over it. Dear white people: Who gave you permission to use and treat me like I was your property? Dear white people: Try living in a place that when being introduced they say your name and where you are from with a fake, mocking accent. Dear white people: Try living in a place where you will never fit in. Dear white people: What authority you think you have to be able to call me a Spic? Dear white people: DO NOT EVER CALL ME A SPIC AGAIN. Dear white people: I will not tolerate any derogatory term used towards me or any of my Latino brothers and sisters. Dear white people: I will not shut up and accept your racism. Dear white people: Thanks to you I now know and completely understand how racism works. Dear white people: I feel so bad for my African American, Asian American, and Native American siblings. Dear white ally: Thank you, more please! Dear white ally: Never forget you will never understand how I feel. Dear white ally: Thank you for acknowledging that you will never understand. Dear white ally: Thank you for having my back.
To Remind My Sexual Assaulter To remind my sexual assaulter why cried so much when America voted for a monster that said “grab them by the pussy” It’s Been So Many Days Since I Last Slept Do you remember even the night? Three days before I went home Do you remember all the missed calls Or the texts you left on my phone You came in my room later that night Do you remember what you tried to do? I told you, you weren’t thinking right I could smell the drunkenness coming off you You kissed me while pulling my shirt Constantly reaching for my breasts I acted like everything was okay As you tried, to get me undressed Do you remember me telling you How upset your girl would be? That didn’t seem to bother you though Since you already had some before me I told you that we didn’t want this I told you that it was too late at night I told you to go back to bed and sleep But you simply turned deaf ears on my plight I wonder if you even know my face The face that desperately begged you to go You knocked on my door four times that night But that’s something we already know For the longest time, I told myself If I never said night, you wouldn’t come by if I didn’t respond to all those texts You wouldn’t have even bothered to try if my skirt was made a little longer I’d be spared all these tears If my pants were a little looser Maybe I’d be free from all these fears Fear that it was part of the college life And you’d come back to my room someday That you knew what you were doing to me Yet decided to do it anyway I keep thinking you didn’t mean to That one day you’ll apologize Saying shit like, I don’t remember Or whatever other typical lies But let me ask you my one question The one that’s constantly been on my mind I know you remember what happened that night But what made you think that I’d be fine Cause now I’m hollow, almost broken And my heart feels like it’s beginning to rot I’ll never understand why you did it But please don’t act like you forgot Cause sadly I still do remember But I’ve really tried my best to forget You’re what keeps me up at night It’s been so many days since I last slept
The Scarlet
NOV. 11, 2016
voices | 17
The Scarlet/Voices Students React to the Election Photos by Erin McKeon and Celine Manneville
“
Today I went to school and faced our future. If you can look children in the eye and not feel ashamed on behalf of our country, there is a problem. These children are our future. It was really hard to carry on with our day today because lives really will change. Students came up to me crying, telling me their families are hated. That their parents will be sent back to a different country, while they’d be left here alone. It is heartbreaking to watch our future grow up in a land of hate, stupidity, and selfishness, a land that is flying back decades. I will continue to go into school and teach them how to be informed and mindful citizens. I will make sure they know that they will be supported for being themselves. I will give them all I can in any way I can, for that is what they deserve. That is what our future deserves. I’ll tell you the same advice I give them: don’t give up. While there may be a ton of hate emerging, there is a ton of love, too. We need to continue to spread this, even though you may not think it’s contagious at the moment, you have no idea how much of an impact one person (you) can make.
”
- Maia Moore (‘17 MAT)
“
We live in a misogynistic and white supremacist America. Looking at the voting demographics, white voters by and large were the reason that Trump is president. He won’t affect white people, and that’s why we needed to look outside of our privilege. And white women who claim to be feminists and still voted for Trump, please examine your lack of intersectionality and your detrimental effect on women, especially women of color. Look at what you have done. How fearful are we of change? Just how much do we fucking despise women? I am ashamed of our country. The seven year old version of Abby was so excited for the first woman president, and I waited 14 years for last night, only to see the white supremacist patriarchy take down a woman who has worked in politics for thirty years with a man who just felt like running. Do not tell me the patriarchy is not a problem. Do not tell me that racism is not a problem. Do not tell me that you stand with women. Do not tell me that you stand with LGBTQ+ lives. Do not tell me that you support people with disabilities. And you should really really not tell me that you stand for black lives. You just stood against all of that when you voted for him. This is my stand against racism, sexism, xenophobia, and fearing of the “other”’ This is not my America. And he is sure as fuck not my president.
- Abigail Waldron (‘18)
”
“
Like millions of Americans, I am disheartened by the outcome of this election. It hurts, it stinks, it was unimaginable. We fought for 18 months to prove that love trumps hate. We did not come out on the side we expected, but that does not mean our voices are not heard. Nothing in this country has changed without the actions and voices of millions of people behind any cause. Women’s suffrage, the civil rights movement, Vietnam protests, and so much more. We can be the change and love that this country needs now, but it’s up to us to be Donald Trump’s checks and balances system now. Do not give up hope. I end this statement with a notion of optimism and faith for the hardships to come: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” – Martin Luther King Jr.
- Karla Kahale (‘20)
”
18 | voices
The Scarlet
NOV. 11, 2016
“
So many of us are hurting today, and we deserve to live in and work through that grief. But let’s be cautious about the hope we try instill in us, y’all. America is not great because of the American dream, that myth was shattered a long time ago. To me, America is great because it taught me to be both passionate and critical, to believe in a cause bigger than myself while constantly questioning myself on my many capacities to cause harm. It is this ability to question and challenge that has birthed so many movements for change. Let’s remember that, in these bleak days, building inclusive movements and the ability to love across differences can only be achieved through being critical of ourselves and our communities. This is the kind of hope I wish to embody.
- Themal Ellawala (‘17)
“
”
Last night, I heard a fellow Clarkie say that they hoped Donald Trump would be the worst president in history. That he would have single digit approval ratings, that his businesses would fail, and that he would leave office in disgrace in 2020. I must disagree. I hope that Donald John Trump is the best president this nation has ever had. I hope that his words on Tuesday night of unity and national healing not only are sincere, but a reality four years from now. And I hope that the majority of my fellow Clarkies and Americans feel the same. In the words of one of my greatest role models, we owe Donald Trump an open mind and the chance to lead. Donald Trump is our president, and as Americans, we must wish him the best.
- Peter Kang (‘20)
“
”
I am still waiting for Ashton Kutcher to come out and say “You just got punk’d,” because this doesn’t feel real. “Trump is president.” Processing and trying to accept that sentence alone made me realize the harsh reality of how the outcome of this election is going to affect everyone, one way or another. And as an international student, I cannot tell you that I understand what Americans are going through right now because I surely cannot. But what I can tell you is what my friend told me – hate and anger should be directed towards a broken system, not broken people.
“
- Mary Yohannes (‘19)
”“
In spite of this fear and anger, I think that we need to reach out to one another and remember that these political changes do not change what we want and need as people. It will become much harder, but for now we need to check in on one another and offer support to those in need. We need to keep those dear to us close, and remind everyone that this man does not represent the values we hold as a society. As young people we have the ability to shape the future and be catalysts for change. Let’s not allow this to stop that change; our futures, and the futures of the generations below us are depending on us.
- Henry Butler (‘17)
”
My best friend is a Trump supporter. She is a Republican. And honestly it doesn’t matter. I would love to understand why she decided to vote for him. I think it’s important to voice your opinion to others, but humans are fickle creatures and are difficult to sway when they have formed a concrete opinion. I stopped talking to my best friend for a while because she said she was voting for Trump. I didn’t get it. Why did she vote for him if he didn’t support basically any of her views? Most of these things don’t affect her, as she is a privileged white woman who legally immigrated. But I had to realize that you can’t hate someone for having racist or xenophobic thoughts. These thoughts stem from a lack of education and inexperience with unpacking the influence of racism on her daily life. You can only fight for what you believe in, and attempt to educate or enlighten them about the current rhetorics in this country and why it needs to be changed.
- Rachel Donnelly (‘18)
”
NOV. 11, 2016
The Scarlet
voices | 19
“
It’s election night, I’m more terrified than I think I’ve ever been in my life. Deciding that maybe if I did some homework I could at least watch the results as they came in. It’s 3 a.m. I open the tab with the election results, and to my utter shock, I read the words: “Donald Trump won the Presidency.” My eyes widened, I put my hands over my mouth and broke down in tears. I don’t think I’ve ever feared for my own life, and the lives of so many others around me more in my entire life. This is not the America that I believe in, and Donald Trump is definitely not my president. That said, regardless of how sad, frustrated and scared I am by the result of this year’s election, I cannot sit idle and do nothing about it. To other people of color, the LGBTQ+ community, people with disabilities, my fellow women, religious minorities, and many more: I stand with you. Know that you’re loved, and that your life matters. Continue to fight whenever you can because we cannot let our lives be taken by hate. Hillary Clinton said, “This loss hurts, but please, never stop believing that fighting for what’s right is worth it.” It’s never too late to stand up for what you believe in, and to stand up for yourself. It’s now up to the people to keep America strong, and not hate, but love one another because at the end of the day, if we can all stand together, we can fight to make this country a safe and welcoming place for everyone. Just remember, only the weak let themselves be trampled by the powerful because they fail to recognize that sometimes, those who are powerful are often just as weak as they are. Those who are strong understand that when the weak come into power, you cannot let them trample over society because ultimately, if you are strong you never stop fighting for what’s right.
”
- Krithi Vachaspati (‘18)
“
We are in a dark time. However, our country has gone through many dark times before. We have been literally divided by slavery, engulfed in a depression in which 25 percent of us were unemployed, and hit by the most catastrophic terrorist attack in global history. In all of those times, we thought all hope was lost. However, we survived with the same principles each time: courage, perseverance, and working together. That is what we must remember here. Also, because our government will be fighting against justice and equality, it is crucial that we further our own efforts to achieve such ideals. If only the millennials in our country voted, then Trump, and therefore bigotry, would have lost. Therefore, it is particularly the duty of the millennial generation to do everything in their power to bring justice to those most hurt by bigotry. Democracy has given us rights and powers that allow us, as the American people, to have the final say in our country’s future. Most Americans, however, do not take advantage of this, which now must change. We must do everything in our power to fight hate and bring progress to this country. Every one of us can help achieve this goal. When we see bigotry in any form, we must have the courage to fight against it. Fear is what gives us bigotry; courage is what will defeat it. If we all do this and stand together, then we can defeat Trump and end hate in this country.
- Alden Welles (‘18)
”
20 | voices
The Scarlet
NOV. 11, 2016
photo by erin mckeon