The Featheralist: Issue 06, Volume 01 by The Featheralist

DEL NORTE HIGH SCHOOL | DECEMBER 2023 | VOLUME 06, ISSUE 01

The Featheralist

FOREWORD

Dear Reader,

The word “journey” is a curious thing. We go on so many of them throughout our lifetime, one would think the term would grow exhausting, that it would lose its luster. But no matter how many times we hear it, when it appears again our hearts begin to dance in our throats, our lungs freeze in our chests, and our minds fight a battle between utter fear and immense excitement. My start to high school was just that: a storm churning in my stomach, my palms slick at the touch. Sitting on the edge of my seat, I clicked on a Zoom screen and held my breath. The loading circle paused, and I had no idea of the new life I would be embracing. Navigating the pandemic my freshman year was a journey, and a difficult one at that. I couldn’t forge any relationships, as I was often the only face among a wall of black screens. What offered me not only an outlet for expression but also a warm community to connect with during COVID was the first club I ever joined—The Featheralist. The day my first outline was approved by the writing department, I shrieked with joy. When I saw my first article published in our magazine, I knew I was in this for the long haul. My love for this brilliant community of creatives, visionaries, and artists has grown tenfold each year, and it fills my heart with pride to look back at all the issues I had the privilege of contributing to. That journey is now coming to a close. Issue 17 marks my first issue as President and the third to last issue I will ever leave my mark on, and it has been an honor to serve on this magazine for the past three years. I’ve developed close friends, advanced my own craft, and pushed my boundaries when it came to writing what I was really passionate about. None of that would have been possible without the platform The Featheralist offered me. So dear reader, please know that when you flip to the next glossy page, you will embark on a journey of your own. A word of advice: take it one step at a time. You are about to make a team of students so very happy—for you are the reason why they do this. Already I feel my heart beating fast and my breaths coming short at the new path ahead. Freshman or senior, each of our journeys this school year have barely begun. But here’s to an amazing year for all my fellow soon-to-be-graduates—let’s make the end of our journey count. Nikki Hekmat President, Editor-in-Chief

“i cannot believe that four years have already gone by.” “i blinked and before i knew it, i was in senior year.” “it’s hard to believe we’re not freshmen anymore!” such “epigrams” of seniors are as true as they are cliché. yet they are exactly the words i want to use. the first issue of the featheralist arrived on my kitchen table nearly eight years ago, when the magazine started. i remember spending the rest of the evening awed at all the works in that issue. it wasn’t even a question whether i was going to write an outline for issue 9, the first of my freshman year. and before i knew it, here i am at issue 17, having the absolute honor of writing a foreword as editor-in-chief, working alongside the most amazing and dedicated team of editors, writers, artists, and graphic designers. from rediscovering the political side of the magazine to learning how the featheralist earned its name, my journey over the last four years from reader to writer to editor to co-president has been an unforgettable one. the featheralist has done more for me than i could have ever imagined. it has pushed me outside my comfort zone of articles and prose to poetry, holding my hand as i learned what writing truly means and the secret power it holds. my time with the featheralist is nearing an end, but the chapter of my writing journey has just begun. it is these glossy pages and student voices that have made writing become the blood in my veins and the beat of my heart. i hope issue 17 does the same for you. i hope that as you flip through these pages, the writers’ words take a home in your heart, the art stays in your mind’s eye, the graphic designs fill the corners of your creativity. art in a frame is like an eagle in a cage. the featheralist has uncaged us. rini khandelwal president, editor-in-chief

TABLE OF CONTENTS 02

MY FRIEND MR. HEART

CASSETTE TAPES

by Nikki Hekmat, '24

by Rini Khandelwal, ‘24

“ripples” by Kate Xu, '25 Photography

“anagapesis” by Kaitlyn Ho, ‘25 Watercolor

SECRETS FRIENDSHIPS BETRAYALS by Joann Xie, '27

“tacenda” by Kaitlyn Ho, ‘25 Digital

WE WEREN’T ALWAYS STRANGERS by Kaitlyn Ho, '25

“strangers” by Olivia Lam, ‘26 Colored Pencil

REGRETS

by Sophia Tang, ‘25 “raindrops” by Andrea Wang, ‘24 Digital

TENNIS BALL

by Kevin Du, ‘25 “inertia” by Andrea Wang, ‘24 Digital

12,000 MILES by Joann Xie, ‘27

“desert” by Chloe Kang, ‘26 Digital

SILENT FOREST by Allison Lee, ‘25

“home” by Andrea Wang, ‘24 Digital

EPHEMERAL RECURRENCE by Riya Patil, ‘24

“Ephemeral Recurrence” by Riya Patil, ‘24 Digital

7:00 PM

by Saathvika Ajith, ‘24 “7:00 PM” by Riya Patil, ‘24 Digital

THE FAMILIAL NUANCES by Vidha Yadav Ganji, ‘26 “harmony” by Andrea Wang, ‘24 Oil Pastel

NO JUST CAUSE: THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE AND THE NATURE OF CHRIST by Evelyn Wang, '27

“Cyril of Alexandria” by Ela Efe, ‘27 Digital

CENSORSHIP IN SCHOOL: THE DEBATE OVER HIGH SCHOOL BOOK BANS by Saanvi Edlabadkar, '26

“Access Denied” by Andrea Wang, ‘24 Digital

THE OVERUSE OF OVERRATED by Shomili Sengupta, ‘26

“sea of judgement” by Sophie Tran, ‘26 Digital

DIGITAL CURRENCY by Shreena Dayal, ‘25

“World” by Andrea Wang, ‘24 Digital

THE DANGERS OF OVERWORKING: A WAKE-UP CALL by Saanvi Dogra, '26

“bleh” by Daisy Zhang, ‘24 Colored Pencil

COLOPHON

ADVERTISEMENTS 01

The Featheralist

MY FRIEND MR. HEART Written by Nikki Hekmat, ‘24 | Designed by Gloria Zhai, ‘27 mr. heart and i were born at the exact same time he sang in time with my every breath and thus our relationship began mr. heart was a fickle thing as i grew he’d cry if the lights turned off in our room he’d cry if his sandwiches weren’t cut proper he’d cry if a storm grew loud outside until finally i asked why he cried all the time mr. heart didn’t cry much after that he kept more to himself but when pretty girls walked by him in class he’d drag me along for the ride only he thumped too loud and came short of breath and always spoiled my chances it annoyed me how much mr. heart went crazy for girls until i grew up a little more and all thoughts of girls flew away mr. heart would shake shake s h a k e always at his desk typing, writing, reading he wouldn’t let me sleep when it was time for me to leave for college mr. heart was at his worst he begged me to stay each day and night told me to go back to the arts but i needed to leave this place and i needed to make real money finally it was too much “mr. heart, i’m leaving you behind!” i shouted at last “and i’m not coming back” i packed up my bags and went out the door and that was the first time mr. heart cried again one year passed then three then ten i slicked back my hair each morning for my job at the big bank but at number fifteen i began to miss mr. heart even though he annoyed me i realized he had never left me alone instead i left him and i caused us great pain that night i took one look at my crisp suit before i threw all my things in a bag i was going to go home, i decided i would listen to mr. heart a hand rested on my suitcase and i paused at the zipper i looked up to see mr. heart smiling “where were you mr. heart?” i asked “i’ve been here all along” he said

ripples Kate Xu, ‘25 Photography

December 2023 | Volume 06, Issue 01

SECRETS FRIENDSHIPS BETRAYALS Written by Joann Xie, ‘27 | Designed by Joann Xie, ‘27 Secrets, Something that should only be kept to yourself, yet you let me in. You trusted me with your words, and now I must hold it forever, As once it is said, it is lost. I held my breath, But I knew I couldn’t for very long. I tried my hardest, But it was never enough. Friendships, One of the strongest bonds between people, yet so fragile. You always trusted me, Thought I would always have your back. And I wanted it that way too. I held my breath, But I was running out of air. I said goodbye to you, And now you know why. Betrayals, To become the villain in your story. I lost all your trust, yet I was so relieved. I was loyal, I held my breath, But my time came to an end. I released your words, let them loose in the air. And at the same time, I know I lost you as well.

tacenda Kaitlyn Ho, ‘25 Digital

The Featheralist

WE WEREN'T ALWAYS STRANGERS Written by Kaitlyn Ho, ‘25 | Designed by Daisy Zhang, ‘24

strangers Olivia Lam, ‘27 Colored Pencil

Golden dirt from the gleaming mountains line the snaking road before us. Look through my eyes and promise me there is a stardust soul in my body that matches yours. We were made from different galaxies, but we still bear the same marks on our foreheads from the gravity of the world pressing on our microscopic faces. Mysterious stranger, take my palms and hold them against your timpani heart, so I can feel your booming vibrations of life. Tell me you felt the membrane of your essence tear with the holes of guilt, when you did nothing to stop those thready, wavering breaths from dissolving into silence. Why did you leave me here to cradle the corpses of your victims if you didn’t want me to become your next one? Lay your knife into my heaving chest because even though there is nothing left, I sculpted myself a monument from rotting mud when you swung a hammer into your refined granite.

December 2023 | Volume 06, Issue 01

REGRETS

Written by Sophia Tang, ‘25 | Designed by Daisy Zhang, ‘24 looking back, i should’ve done everything differently. regret is not a burning, sharp pain, but rather an electric tendril, slowly navigating through my veins, numbing my body, hindering my actions and abilities. i feel it weaving down my arms, numbing my creative outlets. i can’t sit down to write or draw, almost as if the fiery regret has sapped all my creative juices. i feel it sliding down my esophagus, collecting in the bottom of my stomach, curdling in my stomach acid, devouring the food i just ate, depriving me of my energy source. i feel it collecting in my legs, as if it was lactic acid after a workout. but the soreness prevents me from any corrective action. at any moment, all i can think of are the terrible decisions i’ve made, and how i can never recover from them again. — the flashback plays as vividly as a film scene, i can see the real ending as well as the ending i could have had. why was i embarrassed? why did i put their priorities above mine? why did i care about what people thought of me? i should’ve done it anyways. —

every chapter of my life, there is something i didn’t do, something i regret. at the time, i thought i was doing too much, but i wasn’t doing anything at all. i should’ve just gone for it, tried, attempted, strived, anything would’ve been better than idleness. because now i’m just wondering, what if…? i don’t regret the outrageous dares she and i did, putting my work off temporarily to help him endure a hardship, all the embarrassing moments in my life. sometimes the result was painful or immediate regret, but it dissipated quickly. i regret most not taking that opportunity, not staying in touch with loved ones, not reaching out to her when she needed it, not enjoying the small moments in life more, not striving for happiness instead of success, not having the courage to speak up and out. i mostly don’t regret the things i did, but i do regret the things i didn’t do. i wish i had always taken the jump into the unknown and just done it. no matter how it turned out, i would’ve been proud later on. but there’s no rewinding the clock. my only choice now is to look forward and up, to be brave and take chances.

raindrops Andrea Wang, ‘24 Digital

The Featheralist

inertia Andrea Wang, ‘24 Digital

TENNIS BALL

Written by Kevin Du, ‘25 | Designed by Olivia Li, ‘27 In the middle of an abandoned court, sits a Tennis ball, All alone hoping for someone to be accompanied by, It sits alone throughout winter, spring, summer, fall, Without a single living being noticing that poor ball nearby, Poor tennis ball got ditched after tennis season was over, Sat there crying wishing to be played with in more games, Poor tennis ball struggling to get that mindset over, Sat there hoping that at least someone remembers its name, Will it ever make love with another racket? Or will it stay here to get molded in the rain? Will it ever be touched by a human hand in a single tournament bracket? Or will it just decay crying in pain? Oh poor tennis ball; hopefully it finds some friends Until the very end.

December 2023 | Volume 06, Issue 01

12,000 MILES Written by Joann Xie, ‘27 | Designed by Joann Xie, ‘27 12,000 miles of road ahead, No one knows what lies beyond, Each child hopes their path will clear, As they spend their youths, Running, Walking, Lagging. This road is far from even, Gifted runners skip ahead, While slow, trudging travelers lag behind. The privileged lead the pack yet sit back, Not breaking a sweat. Unfortunates cut down by raging bullets, Robbed of their future, By gunmen who rejected the race, As children trudge the hateful path. At the end of this treacherous road, Awaits a crucial test. What have you learned on your journey? Prove you are unique, Know “who you are.” Pass, and take a new path. Fail, and forfeit your future. By the end, Passion is dead. Written by Joann Xie, ‘27 | Designed by Joann Xie, ‘27 Giving way to facade, Desperate to grasp the honors and merit, Hoping for a desirable road, Only to be struck with the unexpected. A pandemic of disillusionment derailing the road, 12,000 miles of tests and scores, Pounds of precautions, To stop the spread. Students become teens, Experiencing tragic side effects. Their vision grows blurry, The once straight path, Splinters. Victims stumble, Afraid of every failure, Every mistake, Every reason to give up.

desert Chloe Kang, ‘26 Digital

*Dedicated to the 4th/5th graders affected by virtual learning. According to the New York Times, research shows that a significant portion of children in America struggled academically due to the pandemic. But is this the only reason teens, travelers of the 12,000 mile journey through 12 grades, are beginning to fail?

The Featheralist

CASSETTE TAPES me:

fate had told me that your smile was destined to go with the rain. but what fate hid from me was that the rain wasn’t from the sky, but from inside you. sometimes i wonder, where did your laughter go after hiding itself? when was the last time i heard your voice? how did i forget what your voice sounds like? this, is fate’s cruel play.

you: how many times will you replay my cassette tapes? they broke long ago.

anagapesis Kaitlyn Ho, ‘25 Watercolor

Written by Rini Khandelwal, ‘24 Designed by Sophie Cao, ‘26

December 2023 | Volume 06, Issue 01

SILENT FOREST Written by Allison Lee, ‘25 | Designed by Karly Prasouvo, ‘26

The man commences with the first cut— Down the primitive torso of tree, In the heart of an unmoving forest. The resounding flow of gaping silence Convinces himself camouflaged, Under the canopy of bleached leaves And mottled clouds. His ears colossal yet fruitless, Unaware of the baleful eyes penetrating each inch Of his solemn vessel. The scutters of insect legs, The cultivated strides of the keen fox, The flutters of birds from bough to bough, On grounds of passage upholding learned centuries Of an ecosystem on scarce equilibrium— Tethered to the steadfast melodies of the crows In their daily chants As the sky becomes bruised, Weaving the pinnacles of ambition Into syrup For their kin’s saturation. What a paradox it is, peaceful genocide. The veracity of his cut issues a gravity Forced upon each living member. They, united in the impending deaths of their livelihoods On land as scathed as the blistered terrain of his knuckles Lay imprisoned Behind his barbaric bars. The man rests on the fallen trunk Awaiting the turbulence to ensue.

home Andrea Wang, ‘24 Digital

The Featheralist

EPHEMERAL RECURRENCE

Written by Riya Patil, ‘24 | Designed by Kevin Du, ‘24 and Daisy Zhang, ‘24 Trigger warning: mentions of attempted suicide “Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?” Soft chatter fills the afternoon, children giggling as they run around the open space and people chatting with their companions as they walk down the sidewalk. The brightness of the atmosphere was blinding, the sweet scent of a bakery permeating the brisk winter air. A hospital stood tall and stark beside it, out of place in the presence of the laughter and warmth. A sketchbook lay open on a park bench, the wind rifling through its pages, crisp and clean and untouched. Next to it sat a figure clad in a blue gown, weathered and faded as if it had been washed and worn many times. Fingers gripped the newly sharpened pencils, eyes searching the scene for something to draw, their world silent and uninterrupted. Until now. The patient lifted their head slowly, catching sight of the stranger who intruded upon their peaceful quiet. Strikingly handsome, with bold, piercing eyes and an apologetic smile gracing his face.

“Are there no other tables open?” the patient spoke flatly, gripping their pencils and placing the sketchbook in their lap. Something painful tugged in their chest watching the easy way the stranger held himself, memories locked away and struggling against their binds, taunting and judgemental. Maybe I used to be like that too, the patient mused, aches of regret tickling their heart. Before waking up tangled in white sheets, harsh clinical lights glaring down at them. Before the tedium of the hospital room, darkness clouding the edges of their memories. Before the young nurse who walked into the room that morning with a sad smile, checking their vitals and whispering reassurances. You might not remember me, but I’ve known you for nearly four years now. I pray that one day you’ll be happy too. “Do you think I’d be bothering you if there was?” The patient shrugged and gestured for the stranger to sit, to which he complied, seating himself on the bench and draping his coat across the backrest. Familiarity washed over them observing the way he sat; the way he crossed his legs and placed one hand in his lap. A black leather watch on his wrist

caught the patient’s eye, fancy and expensive-looking and familiar, sparking something in a brain they didn’t know what to do with. It must have been a gift. “So you like to draw?” the stranger asked, noticing the sketchbook in their lap and the pencils still gripped in their hands. The patient nodded, posture relaxing a bit as they turned down to the book, their fingers gliding over the jagged edges of the numerous pages that were ripped out. “Yeah, but I don’t know what. That’s why it's empty, I’m having artist's block.” The stranger hummed, causing the patient to look up at him again. He was quite good looking, with sharp features and a defined jawline. It made them want to let their words flow, to make him flustered, if only to see how beautiful a crimson would look on his face. “Why not draw something around you?” the stranger offered, breaking the patient out of their thoughts. “You just need some inspiration, something pretty or eye-catching.” A soft but smug smile stretched across the patient's face, “Like you?” And oh, the sight was beautiful. The stranger overcame his initial shock, tipping his head back and laughing loudly.

just wait Daisy Zhang, ‘24 Photography

“Are you flirting with me?” he asked, giving the patient an amused smile. The whites of his teeth were blinding, and the patient’s smile morphed into a smirk. “Am I allowed to?” The stranger’s smile dropped, and with it, the patient's hope. He put on a sheepish smile, lifting up his left hand. A gold band around his ring finger glinted in the low afternoon sun, and the patient dipped their head in apology. “No worries,” the stranger said, voice still friendly. He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes anymore, “We were supposed to get married in the fall. It got moved back a little due to some circumstances.” The patient nodded, feeling slightly silly for trying to flirt with an engaged man. Their fingers picked up one of the pencils, the other hand pressing down on a page to keep it firm as they sketched aimlessly. “Tell me about them, your fiance.”

Daisy Zhang, ‘24 Photography

Fingers stilling for a second before continuing to sketch, the patient listened intently as the stranger continued to speak about their beloved, both the good and bad. Their heart opened up to this man that was so familiar yet so unknown. Conversation drifted, not lingering on one subject for too long. With every soft smile, the patient’s heartbeat skipped traitorously, nostalgia and longing washed over them with an aching so strong that it nearly made their heart stop for a second.

December 2023 | Volume 06, Issue 01

let him go

Eyes widening slightly, the stranger’s smile became a little more real. “Well, they’re the most annoying person I know. But also the smartest, and most creative. I know they struggle a lot, which is why our wedding was postponed, but they’re nothing if not strong…”

The pencil danced across the page, sketching something the patient knew they would regret. Their mind screamed, telling them to stop, stop, stop. To stop before they got themselves hurt again. They glanced down at the hospital gown hanging on their body, far too large for their lanky figure. Bandages hung limply around their wrists, covering lines and scars that were now simply a distant memory. A hand rested lightly on the patient’s arm, pulling the loose bandages up to cover the offending marks. Instead of tensing, they relaxed into the hold, letting the stranger continue to wrap their wrists.

Ephemeral Reccurence Riya Patil, ‘24 Digital

“I know it was hard for you,” the stranger whispered, as much to himself as to the patient, “I know. So just… hang in there, okay?” The patient’s heart leapt into their throat at the implication, swallowing dryly and needing to say something before this ended. They whispered back, just as soft, “I wish we’d met under different circumstances.” Watching him tense, the patient belatedly wondered if that was the wrong thing to say before the stranger smiled sadly, “I wish that too.” As he stood and picked up his coat, the patient grabbed his sleeve and tugged, causing the man to look back. They tore the page they’d been sketching on out, adding one more ripped edge to the book. Folding the paper in half, the patient pressed it into the stranger’s hand. “Don’t open it until you leave,” they instructed, before pulling back and closing the sketchbook. The man nodded wordlessly, head jerking and eyes glazing over. Then, he walked away. No fanfare, no emotional music, no dramatics. Just a farewell between acquaintances, people who barely knew each other.

The stranger kept his composure until he got in his car. His shoulders shook violently with unrestrained emotion, eyes burning but the tears never falling. Staring at the folded paper, he didn’t even need to open it to guess what, or who, the drawing was of. Reaching under the seat, he pulled out a small box and unlatched it with trembling fingers. Hundreds of folded papers filled the box, all sketches of him. Another folded paper joined them. “Why?” he gritted his teeth, “Why us?”

it. He should’ve moved on, should’ve known that wearing the watch they gifted him wouldn’t change anything, should’ve forced himself to accept that they would keep meeting him and keep forgetting him. And yet he still visited every day. A couple minutes passed and he pulled himself together, closing the box and stashing it below his seat again before driving home. ~~~~~~~~~~

He knew why.

The chilly winter day was accompanied by slight sunshine, warming people up and brightening an otherwise gloomy day.

They were supposed to get married in the fall. The fall four years ago, when their smiles were bright and with a lifetime ahead of them. But it doesn’t always work out that way.

A figure in a blue hospital gown sat idly on a park bench with a sketchbook in their lap, contemplating what to draw when a voice interrupted them, asking if the seat was taken.

“You’re terrible,” he gasped out, voice reaching a whisper. He should’ve ended the engagement by now, left this past behind when his lover wasn’t getting better. That they would keep experiencing the same day but never remember anything about

The patient looked up, dull eyes alight with apprehension and slight confusion. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

The Featheralist

old school

didn’t want to talk to her anymore — Rowan would extend their weekly calls for hours by drilling into the minutia of the other girl’s life (“I’ve booked the phone for the entire night — well, until curfew — but, Tuesday night is our! Night! C’mon, tell me about the drama you mentioned within the swim team —”), it’s just that she gracelessly skirted around returning the favor.

Daisy Zhang, ‘24 Photography

But — even if it rubbed her the wrong way — she let go of it, knowing she’d be entrusted sooner or later. “Okay?” she replied simply, and it sounded more like a question than anything. “Yep.” And there was silence.

7:00 PM Riya Patil, ‘24 Digital

7:00 PM Written by Saathvika Ajith, ‘24 | Designed by Angela Chen, ‘25 The old cell tower loomed in the foreground, hard lines of chipping paint and slowly-rusting steel beams outlined by the darkening sky. She made her way through the overgrown plants lining the side of the narrow road and covering the small stretch between it and the base of the tower, which was situated in the middle of a small grassy clearing. Gingerly laying down an old, worn-down towel (last week’s visit, the night after a heavy rain, which had led to uncomfortably damp and grass-stain-streaked jeans had taught her enough of a lesson) she plopped down and leaned against one of the base’s legs. She pulled out her phone and waited for the clock to strike 7:00 PM. At 6:59 her ringtone started blaring into the quiet, windy clearing and she rushed to pick it up. “Hello!” came the small, slightly echoey voice of her best friend. Even though the slight fuzz in the call made her sound odd, her voice was so familiar it almost hurt. “Rowan!” she cheered right back, drawing away a bit to put the phone on speaker. The cell tower kept her company, standing silently beside her, while her friend couldn’t. “The one — and only!” A slight crackle interrupted Rowan’s reply, and the girl pressed her lips into a line, whether feeling nostalgic over such a cheesy reply, or frustrated that no matter how close she sat to the cell tower, her reception never improved quite as much as she wanted it to. (It wasn’t close enough, still.)

(She couldn’t afford to take a flight across the country.) “How’s jail?” Rowan let out a dramatic sigh. “Sometimes it really feels like it. At least in jail they wouldn’t give us this much history homework.” She continued complaining loudly for a while, ranting about how much meaningless busy-work her fancy private boarding school gives her on a daily basis. “Are you adjusting alright?” She fidgeted idly with a tie hanging from her hoodie, trying her best to sound like she wasn’t too invested in the answer. Rowan had left at the end of their sophomore year summer to attend an exclusive college preparatory school on the east coast. She missed her dearly, and asked after her constantly, but besides surface-level facts from google searches and her friend’s constant whinging about homework and the weather, there wasn’t much she knew about what exactly her friend was going through. “It’s . . . been months.” Her voice went a little strange. “I know, bestie.” “It’s been, you know, a change. Not too different in everything I suppose, but, a change in most things.” She stumbled slightly over her words. “But, it’s been months, so of course I’m well adjusted, and it’s been great here.” She could almost hear Rowan’s tense, fake smile. In response, she just grimaced. It’s been — as so eloquently stated — months, and her friend was still being frustratingly sparse on any relevant details: waxing poetic for hours about something meaningless and then deflecting whenever asked anything below surface level. It wasn’t that she

“. . tell me about the horses,” she relented finally. “Is there really a polo team at your school?” “Oh they’re beautiful!!” she exclaimed, a sharp 90-degree turn in her mood. “You wouldn’t believe how majestic they are —” and Rowan, the insufferable horse girl, went on for the rest of the call about the lovely, docile horses kept for sports and recreation in her insufferable, stuffy school.

Their next few calls went in a way very similar. Though not always about horses (thank god), conversation flowed easily (as long as she didn’t pry). They seemed to talk about everything and nothing at the same time. (Was she crazy for being so fixated on suspecting something was off with her oldest friend?)

“Exams are coming up.” There was an unhappy tinge to her voice, creeping out from where it’d been hiding at the beginning of the call. “I’ve been skimping a bit on the boatload of homework they’re always giving — it worked out pretty well until now, but now I’m starting to get a bit worried,” Rowan confided. “Just do what you always do,” the girl drawled, lying back on the towel, “Cram the study guide a few nights before the test, and pray for mercy.” She grumbled over the line, scowling and huffing loudly. The girl just rolled her eyes, softening her tone. “And remember, if you’re ever having any problems you can —” “— always ask you for help, I know.” Her best friend cut in, but it came out with an odd bite to it, harsh and bordering on mocking. They sat in silence.

“I don’t really think so.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them — come to her senses fully — because this was not what she was supposed to be doing right now. “I mean — I just —” it was her turn to trip all over her words evidently, “Don’t . . think so . . . that you would, I mean.” She trailed off lamely, there was no salvaging that one. “What does that mean?” she demanded. “You know what I mean,” the girl bit back viciously, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

“Oh Rowan . .” She didn’t really know what to say, as her friend was obviously upset about it. Perhaps more upset than the situation really warranted, but there was probably a reason for it. “Like I said, she’s been really busy. I’m sure she didn’t mean to, she probably just forgot.” “Forgot?” She sensed suddenly that she’d just said the wrong thing. “Um—” “Don’t even. It’s fine.” She didn’t sound fine. “I’m overreacting.” Probably, but she couldn’t say that.

so pretending to and they all hate me and think I’m no better than Minyoung.” “Oh Rowan,” She sighed, as she’d already done about 20 times over the course of this call. “I’m sure they don’t hate you, I know for a fact that you’re the most amazing person ever, and therefore impossible to hate!” she announced magnanimously, with a calm confidence she didn’t feel. Assuring the deaths of a group of idiotic girls on the other side of the country didn’t really make it onto the list of promises she could keep, so she kept it to herself. “And besides, this Minyoung girl, are we sure she’s as bad as you think? Maybe she’s new there, like you! If the other girls aren’t helping you fit in with them, maybe you could be friends with her?”

December 2023 | Volume 06, Issue 01

“I’m sorry, I —” and there was a horrible breaking in Rowan’s voice that had nothing to do with the signal. “I don’t know why I said it like that — of course I would ask y —”

They moved on. “I--” “I think, that it’s best for you to go study for those tests,” she managed stiffly. “I’m tired.” She went to hang up, pausing only slightly to add, “I’ll talk to you next week.” “Navya—” Navya cut the call before she could say something she’d regret. She turned to the side and curled up slightly against the chill wind, watching a pair of ladybugs flit about in the tall clumps of grass growing by the base of the tower.

There was a long silence on the other side of the line as Navya picked up the phone the next week, 7:00 PM sharp. “Hello?” she tried, checking if her friend was on the other side of the line.

They had their good moments, and their tense moments. Navya would just be getting the other girl to open up about her struggles within the school when Rowan would realize and switch the conversation topic abruptly, once launching into a story of how one of her dormmates fought within an inch of her life to keep her curling iron from being confiscated, going as far as to read the ancient, 80-page Student Handbook to quote obscure school rules at the dean. She managed to keep her iron, and is a shoo-in for the Speech and Debate club captain next year. Funny stories and unnecessarily long descriptions of the daily lunch menu aside, Navya, through extensive guilt-tripping, managed to glean an idea of what was going on. She would’ve felt more triumphant, if the final piece hadn’t clicked into place while Rowan was breaking down in tears over the phone.

“Hi.” Came the awkward response. They managed a few stilted exchanges about their health and whether “anything interesting happened recently?” before Rowan blurted out what was on her mind.

The dorm was empty, as most of her dormmates had left that night to celebrate one of the girls’ birthdays in the nearby town. Rowan felt she had the license to sob at her childhood best friend about this transgression, and refuse all of Navya’s attempts to persuade her to find a box of tissues.

Rowan made a disgusted noise, but with how croaky her voice was from crying she just sounded like an affronted cat. “She’s so boring. You know where she is now? At the library. Studying. Exams just ended! She’s difficult and uninteresting, and I don’t like her and no one likes her. She's cold and stuffy, and she ignores everyone and her eyeliner is always perfect!” She continued with another aggressive sniff; steadfast and unrelenting in her impassioned hatred towards this poor girl. “And her hair! It’s so awful! It’s so silky and beautiful no matter what, even the week the west dorm girls stole all our hairbrushes as a prank! She’s so pretty it’s not fair!!” “That’s . . a lot to unpack, and we’re going to do it sometime later — for now — Rowan please, stop changing the subject.” The girl took a deep breath, deep, emotional, soul-bearing talks were neither of their strong points. “Powan, I’m sorry you’re not . . great friends . . with the other girls at your school my dear, it sounds really tough even if no one’s outright bullying you.” There was another uncomfortable silence. Rowan fiddled with the phone cord and made a noncommittal humming sound. “I’m pretty sure you’ve been having a difficult time for a while now, right? You just kept trying to hide it . .”

“Is my mom okay?” “Your . . mom? Pretty sure she’s fine, why? My mom said she’s been busy with her work recently though.” “Oh.” There were sounds like the phone cord was being fiddled with on Rowan’s side. She’d told Navya once that the school was so antique there were only rotary dial phones in the dorm, and only one per each dorm cluster of 10-15 girls. Whether the school was being difficult on purpose to maintain their overly-posh aesthetic was the topic of hot debate. Cell phones were prohibited on school grounds, and no one bought the excuse that it was to facilitate learning. “It’s just that . . she didn’t pick up my call this week.”

“She invited everyone in the dorm other than me and Minyoung. Minyoung! And Minyoung sucks! I didn’t think I sucked as much as Min—” She let out a sob and ended with a sniff that was off-puttingly snotty, presumably wiping it with her sleeve before ending weakly, “. . young.” “Hey, I don’t think—” “And I know they’ve been friends with each other for longer! All the awful, snobby girls at this awful-godforsaken-atrocious school have gone here for years and they’re all best friends and they’re all so fun and close and I’m not but it still hurts! They’re all so nice to me — all the time —” her voice broke pitifully as she took in another shuddering breath to fuel her rant, “but they’re all

“It’s just not that big of a deal,” she replied finally, in a small voice. Considering she was freshly finished with a 25-minute crying session, this seemed like a lie. “No one’s treating me badly, I just can’t figure out how to be friends with them, like— like I was friends with people back home. It’s so hard, and nothing I ever do seems right anymore . .” “I’m sorry—” “Stop apologizing.” She interjected, a frown in her voice. “There’s nothing you did or can do. This is a good school, I’m doing well in class, and this will help me get into a good college. That’s all.” It sounded like a rehearsed speech.

The Featheralist

“I’m not happy with this.” She was angry and also upset, had been the whole time, and it all had no outlet to go through. She’d tried hard to keep the sharp edge out of her voice, but it came out in full force now. There was a pile of plucked grass by her side as at some point the grass she’d been anxiously tugging on had come free in her hands.

A deafening pause. “Huh??”

“Well good, because I’m not either. Mom’s having a hard time, and I’m having a hard time, so it makes sense.” Her words sped up and tumbled into one another. “I want to come back — but I can’t come back, because it’s what’s best for both of us. I need to do well here because—”

“Rowan . . . that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Wait — wait Rowan what do you mean by that?” “By . . what?” “About what’s best for . .” There was an uncomfortable shuffling, and a few false starts to her response. When she finally managed to get it out, full of shame, she said, “Well, mom sent me here because she couldn’t take care of me anymore.”

old school 14

Daisy Zhang, ‘24 Photography

“She was so excited when I got in. She didn’t ask me to stay home even once. She was always so tired . . . and now she doesn’t sound tired anymore. I’m glad.” She wasn’t even close to tears anymore, just resigned. It was horrible to hear.

The other girl made a strangled noise, as if she were mortally offended that her best friend didn’t confirm her worst fear’s legitimacy, and didn’t continue to feed into her delusion. “How long have you been holding onto that, you idiot? Is that why you’re so intent on being miserable?” There was a scandalized gasp. Navya cut off the beginnings of Rowan’s anger. “I visit your mom every few days, and we always talk about you and how much we miss you. I’ve seen every test grade for every assessment you’re taken

in the past few months — you need a calculus tutor, but great job on how well you’re doing in chemistry by the way — the point is, usually after you finish calling your mom, she has to sit down and cry because she wishes you were still living with her, and it’s not like she can ask you to come back now.” The girl rubbed at her forehead with the back of her hand to ward off her headache, letting out a slightly incredulous laugh. “I can see where you get your emotional stuntedness from if you’ve both gone this long without saying you miss each other.” They sat in the clear, cloudless night’s quiet, and for the first time in a very long time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. “It’s getting late. Not to spoil the surprise, but your mom told me the other day she’s planning to surprise you with a plane ticket back for winter break. See you then? I think you owe me a hug now, as payment for being so stupid for so long.” She could hear the beaming smile in Rowan’s voice as she replied, it was wet with tears again, but wasn’t faked or strained at all. “Of course.”

Written by Vidha Yadav Ganji ‘26 | Designed by Katherine Chen, ‘27 We would all be sitting around the table, a pretty little picture of two people, and then two more people who had been born, in a permutation of those two former people, in the most expected way possible, but yet unexpected as well, the parents with no faint idea of how their children would look when they were born. Expected things could be unexpected in the way they presented themselves; the distinction between intention and image, motive and action. This idea of family–of individuals that had no linkage to each other, that if they had found one another in another life, in another realm, they might treat one another with indifference, finding comfort in shared presences, and experiences–it was a

familiar one, one that reappeared in history again again, the same sentiments repeated in fables and histories and tales, so much it was a maudlin cliche by now. But when the individual discovered family for themself, when they were put through its difficulties, its euphoria, and the steady, dully happy moments that came between, the sentiments weren’t as cliched, and they had their nuanced, distinct coloring according to the idiosyncrasies that came of the family. Nothing was maudlin, too sappy. Familial pain and grief was one that perpetuated itself, didn’t discriminate, and neither did

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THE FAMILIAL NUANCES

happiness. All emotions were burdens because if you felt one, it reflected on the family as well, and no longer was there a single sufferer but another three that put themselves through even a greater agony and hell — it was their pain that convinced you to find the light because it was always through other people we lived, through their emotions, and feeling, and fears. We never saw ourselves through our own eyes — it wasn’t physically possible — but through the eyes of those we loved most, and for this reason, it was so much easier to digest the pain, to mumble it away to unfeelable slivers until it had been masticated so thoroughly, the pieces no longer could debilitate and hurt. One could not know of family without experiencing it for themself, one couldn’t even articulate what it even was without using terms that we had all seen too much, heard much too many times, and had grown tired of. It is only when those familial nuances are felt — no, not those sharp glints and sparks of red passion — but instead the omnipresent, the forever-present glow that was like a halo over a dim fire, except the angle, the silhouette of the flame–family–differed, that one can really know.

harmony Andrea Wang, ‘24 Oil Pastel

The Featheralist

NO JUST CAUSE: THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE AND THE NATURE OF CHRIST Written by Evelyn Wang, ‘27 | Designed by Samhita Lagisetti, ‘26 Welcome to the last days of the Roman Empire in the fifth century. Already split between independently governed Eastern and Western halves, the Western half found itself plagued by actual plagues, incompetent emperors, and a weakening economy. Germanic invaders ravaged the West as well, taking Gaul, Hispania and most of North Africa. Britannia had long been a lost cause. Then the Huns joined in, raiding Rome and demanding heavy tribute. There was a glimmer of hope: the East, although heavily taxed by Huns, still held on to the rich breadbasket provinces of Egypt and Anatolia. If only they would step in and save the empire! Unfortunately for the West, their possible saviors were fighting a war of their own. Backstabbing and betrayal and even bloodshed ran amok. Each side schemed and cheated and fought tooth and nail to win.

“The battlefield of such a vicious and insidious rift, seething which such unwavering rage? The Christian church, of course.” It all started with Nestorius, the Patriarch of Constantinople. One of the core ideas of Christianity is that Jesus Christ was both man and divine, but the exact details are a bit fuzzy, even today. Nestorius proposed a new idea: Christ had two separate natures — one divine, and one human. In another attempt to distinguish between the human and the divine, he didn’t recognize the human Virgin Mary as the mother of God, only as the mother of Christ. This contradicted the notion of the Trinity, the idea that God, Christ, and the Holy Spirit exist as one being in three persons. Nestorius’s ideas didn’t go over well with the Chalcedonians, who argued that Christ had two perfectly unified natures. This belief was then challenged by the Monophysites, who believed that Christ had only one nature that was divine and human. Things took a turn for the worse when the Patriarch of Alexandria, Cyril, declared Nestorius’s beliefs heresy. The Constantinople clergy were not happy that somebody from faraway Alexandria was getting involved in what was then a

Constantinople dispute. So Cyril summoned bigger fish by writing to the Pope in Rome for an official judgment. The Pope told Nestorius that if he didn't change his mind, he would be excommunicated. So Nestorius, who was close with the Emperor Theodosius II, asked Theodosius for a council so that he could at least get a fair trial. Of course, a fair trial meant excommunicating Cyril first. To prevent this, Cyril tried to excommunicate Nestorius before the council even started! This assembly, known as the Council of Ephesus, didn’t even manage to start peacefully. When it was called, Cyril tried to start it early without several delegations. It didn’t work, but it bought him time to sway previously neutral bishops to his side. Now having a majority, he opened the council, with him naturally in charge. Nestorius was having none of this, refusing to attend after three summons. Since the delegation from Antioch hadn’t arrived yet, everyone had to wait. The Antioch delegation also happened to be supporters of Nestorius. To start the council anyway, Cyril tricked the emperor’s representative into reading the emperor’s decree. In the decree, there was an offhand line that told them to start the council “without delay.” An order is an order, so the council had to legally start. Cyril’s gambit worked; Nestorius was promptly excommunicated. Then the Antioch delegation finally showed up. After a long, grueling trek, they arrived to find that the decision had already been made without them. In response, they started their own council and excommunicated Cyril. With the confusion of two rival councils, everything went to pieces. The new council accused the old council of heresy as the old council excommunicated the new council. The bishops of the original council begged to be sent home, having suffered much emotional damage. Many of the new council’s supporters deserted, allowing the old council and the pope to condemn Nestorius. Also, somebody still had to report back to the emperor, back in Constantinople. Cue a race to see who reached the emperor first. Nestorius and his friends in the imperial court blocked Cyril’s messages. Cyril sent a messenger disguised as a beggar, who carried his message in a hollowed out cane. The emperor, already having his loyalty to Nestorius shaken by council reports, came to a unique solution. Instead of taking sides, he deposed everyone. Then he arrested Cyril and one of his allies. Cyril escaped to Egypt and after bribing the emperor’s courtiers, sent a mob to besiege the palace and hurl verbal abuse at the emperor.

Despite the Antiochian efforts, the emperor gave in and banished Nestorius. As the disarray continued, the emperor called the Second Council of Ephesus, also known as the Robbers Council to clean up the mess. This new council had a good reason for its nickname. The Robbers Council was assembled so fast that no representatives of the West could get there in time. Now controlled entirely by the Eastern Monophysites, they began to excommunicate and condemn as many people as they could associate with Nestorius as possible. The Archbishop of Constantinople was even beaten for his belief in two natures, dying of his injuries days later. Needless to say, it was a mess. And then the council decreed that the only correct interpretation was that Christ only had one nature. This pissed off the pope, the excluded bishops, and obviously all those excommunicated and condemned. The situation deteriorated, as the pope called for a redo even as the emperor continuously refused and sided with the Robbers Council. With the emperor’s death, things changed. The new emperor got the bishops to try another do-over at a city called Chalcedon. After 520 bishops miraculously came together, they overturned almost everything the prior council decreed. For the supporters of the now invalid Robbers Council, it was their turn to get excommunicated and demoted. The Chalcedonian Creed, the belief that Christ’s two natures were perfectly unified, became the official canon of the church. Again, the council, while less controversial than its predecessor, didn’t heal all rifts in the church. The Armenian, the Syriac, the Coptic, the Malankara, Ethiopian, Eritrean, and Apostolic churches split from what we now call the Eastern Orthodox and Catholic churches as a result. Christianity has a lot of churches, ok? And this split would not be over for a long time. Much blood was spilled as the two factions, Chalcedonian, and non-Chalcedonian, would rage in continual conflict for centuries as increasingly beleaguered emperors tried to shove them back into something resembling a unified church. In 482, a few years after Western Rome’s fall, Byzantine Emperor Zeno issued the Henotikon in one such desperate attempt. It was devised by Acacius, Patriarch of Constantinople and pushed through without the approval of a synod of bishops. The Henotikon reaffirmed edicts of previous councils and the divinity of Christ while carefully tiptoeing around Christ’s natures. Nobody was satisfied, and everybody became

When the Patriarch of Alexandria refused to recognize the act, the emperor replaced him with a Miaphysite. Other Miaphysites abandoned him. After two years of Acacius stalling about the whole thing, the Pope excommunicated him. However this was largely ignored in Constantinople, even after Acacius’s death. Emperor Zeno died in 491, and his successor, sympathetic to the Miaphysites, accepted the Henotikon. This angered the mostly Chalcedonian Constantinople, and a coup or two was attempted (the emperor would be fine). The Miaphysite Eastern church and Chalcedonian Western church would be at each other’s throats for 35 years. Even a religious war or two was waged. Finally, Emperor Justin I acknowledged Acacius’s excommunication, bringing the churches back together in 519. Despite the reunion, nobody could actually agree on the Chalcedonian issue. Emperor Justinian I, Justin’s successor, decided to take another stab at fixing the schism, thinking that mutual dislike of Nestorianism was just the thing to unite the church. Behind the scenes, he was also influenced by the Origenists, another controversial Christian sect. Other churches were giving the Origenists flak for their beliefs about the preexistence of souls, and the Origenists wanted to distract them with Nestorianism. So in 543 or 544 Emperor Justinian I condemned the “Three Chapters”, certain writings by three different people that were said to support Nestorianism. Curiously, the authors of the writings had criticized Origenists in the past. After the edict was declared, Justinian coerced Eastern bishops and Patriarchs into signing, despite their protests that the authors of the Three Writings had already been approved by the Council of Chalcedon. Most of the Greek-speaking East crumbled and obeyed Justinian. However, the Latin-speaking bishops fiercely refused him, defending the Three Chapters. It didn’t help that all the writings were in Greek, which the resisting bishops couldn’t read. For their resistance, the Latin-speaking bishops were excommunicated, which shockingly started another schism. So in 553, Justinian called the Second Council of Constantinople to finally condemn the Three Chapters for once and for all. Since most of the Western bishops had been excommunicated, the council was overwhelmingly Eastern. The pope was invited, but refused to come, even ordering them to not start without him. The council began anyway and excommunicated him. Because of his continual refusal to acknowledge the council, the

pope was arrested. A few months later, the council condemned the Three Chapters, ignoring the still resisting pope. After a few months of being held hostage by the emperor, he yielded, blamed the whole thing on his advisors, and started supporting the council’s verdict. Although the pope succumbed, much of the West did not. The provinces Milan and Aquileia were excommunicated for disagreeing. The rest of the Western church would reluctantly accept it, but Visigothic Spain would never even acknowledge its existence. Despite the total lack of cooperation and the resulting century-long schism, something was still accomplished theologically. Chalcedonian theology was defined more distinctly, allowing future Byzantine Christology to be built on it. If it weren’t for Muslim conquests next century, the Chalcedonians and non-Chalcedonians may have actually reconciled at some point. Speaking of conquests, in the seventh century, Emperor Heraclius set off to reconquer lands lost to said Muslims. In order to fully reintegrate the newly restored provinces into the empire, he and Patriarch Sergius of Constantinople proposed some new ideas to end the schism: one, that Christ, despite his two natures, had one energy, known as monoenergism, and that Christ also had one will, monothelitism. No, even historians don’t know what he meant by “energy.” Neither did Heraclius. It was intentionally vague to avoid further controversy. Most of the Byzantine world had no problem with this new doctrine. Rome and Jerusalem very much did. Even after Heraclius died (swearing on his dying breath that the whole thing was Sergius’s fault) and the empire lost those provinces, the controversy lived on. When Heraclius’s grandson, Constans II became emperor, he recognized that this was well on its way to cause yet another giant schism. And at 17, he couldn’t care less about who was technically right. So Constans tried to nip it in

the bud by banning any discussion for or against those doctrines. Tensions simmered hot anyway. The pope held a synod in Rome with a like-minded monk in 649 that condemned the two ideas. After stirring up more trouble four years later, the pope was accused of revolution, arrested, tortured, tried, condemned, exiled, and then died shortly into his exile. Then Constans decided that the best way to silence the conflicted church for once and for all was to cut off the monk’s tongue and right hand. As a result, patriarchs and even popes wisely kept their mouths shut for the rest of his reign.

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angry at what they saw as imperial meddling. It didn’t help that a FOURTH position had been gaining popularity: Miaphysitism. Unlike Monophysites, Miaphysites believe that Christ has one nature that is completely human and divine at the same time, not something like a hybrid or demigod.

After Constans’ successor Constantine IV defeated the Muslim siege of Constantinople in 678, he wanted another go at unifying the church. Pope Agatho agreed, and synods were held throughout the West. Patriarchs were summoned for a new council: the Third Council of Constantinople. In round three, the council vigorously debated if the two monos were heretical or not. One Monothelite priest claimed that his power to raise the dead proved him right and had a corpse brought in to prove his point. He was unable to revive it. The monos were declared heretical, and its supporters condemned. The decrees were ratified, and hopefully everyone would get along now, right? Right? In fact, the Three Chapters schism finally ended about a decade later. As the schism lost steam, many churches reconciled with one another. Well, not all of them do. While monophysitism died out, miaphysitism is still going strong today with the Oriental Orthodox churches. After the council, they split off from what would later become the Eastern Orthodox church, and the Roman Catholic church with its Protestant derivations. The church enjoyed a few years of blissful peace … before iconoclasm smashed into the church, causing countless controversies. And then after that, the Great Schism between the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic churches. And then after that, the Protestant Reformation and all of its derivations, with the latest official schism in the church just last year. Petty as all these squabbling and schisms may seem, they’ve had a monumental impact on history. The fingerprints of these disputes and heresies can still be seen today. For better or worse, the modern era would be culturally unrecognizable without these hard-fought ideals shaping society and history as the Late Classical period moved to the Early Medieval period. Would a more unified church have saved Rome? Or would Europe have been even more divided without this hard-won religious foundation holding it together?

Cyril of Alexandria Ela Efe, ‘27 Digital

So thanks for sticking with this article as it wound through all these theological tangles. Thanks for your time, and hopefully you’ve learned something new.

The Featheralist

CENSORSHIP IN SCHOOL: THE DEBATE OVER HIGH SCHOOL BOOK BANS Written by Saanvi Edlabadkar, ‘27 | Designed by Jordan Pham, ‘24

Since the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, a wide spectrum of perspectives and ideas have entered American schools, causing a heated debate that has intensified as students returned to in-person learning in 2021. The content, including LGBTQ+ themes, discussions of government opposition, and a variety of other contentious viewpoints featured in these novels, has met opposition from a significant number of parents. Local school board, and PTA (parent-teacher-association) meetings have become the battleground for said debates. They revolve around the primary question of whether it is appropriate to expose minors to sensitive material.Concerned parents, representing one side of the argument, have raised apprehensions about the age appropriateness of these topics and their impacts on young minds. On the opposing front, many people argue that the banning of books is a detrimental process. They view it as harmful to intellectual freedom, and something that prevents the exchange of diverse ideas. Removing these books from curriculums and libraries, they argue, limits the broadening of students’ perspectives and their understanding of the world around them. This controversy underscores the challenging act to balance between the safeguarding of students and the promotion of critical thinking and exposure to a variety of viewpoints in an educational environment. It’s a contentious issue that has far reaching implications in the post-pandemic world where the boundaries between education, censorship, and cultural values are increasingly blurred. In recent years, a wave of book bannings has swept through American schools, raising questions involving sensitive content and its appropriateness for readers. The issue has become increasingly prominent, with a notable focus on books addressing race and LGBTQ+ related topics. According to a report by PEN-America, a staggering 874 books were banned during the 2022-2023 academic year alone. An alarming trend emerged, as it was revealed that roughly 30% of banned books dealt with themes involving race and racism, LGBTQ+ issues also took a hit, with 26% of novels featuring such themes. As the 2022-2023 school year progressed, an even broader array of books came under consideration for banning. These books delve into subjects ranging from abuse, violence, and discussions of wellbeing and mental health to topics surrounding death and grief. In some cases, books are being dubbed “pornographic”, primarily for containing sexual content. What sets the 2023-2024 school year apart is the emergence of “wholesale bans”, where entire

school libraries are shut down or denied access to new books. Among the most popular books facing bans are Gender Queer by Maia Kobabe, Flamer by Mike Curato, Tricks by Ellen Hopkins, and even classics like The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood. These books delve into themes such as queerness, drug usage, sexual activity, and the portrayal of dystopian societies. The center of this ongoing debate tends to be in states with conservative majorities, such as Texas, Florida, Missouri, and South Carolina. Parents being motivated by the desire to shield students from sensitive material, these states have taken the lead in instituting book bans. However, the crux of the issue lies in whether these bans genuinely protect young-minds or whether they serve to shape the perspectives of students in accordance with the beliefs of their parents or other authorities. This debate highlights the broader question of where the

“Concerned parents, representing one side of the argument, have raised apprehensions about the age appropriateness of these topics and their impacts on young minds.” line should be drawn regarding the protection of young readers and preserving the principles of intellectual freedom and diversity of thought. The impulse to ban books under the guise of protecting children has a long history, and this age-old debate has experienced a resurgence in recent years. Remarkably, the historical parallels can be drawn back to World War II, in which the Nazis sought to censor ideas deemed inferior or impure. The chilling echoes of that era have raised concerns that we are witnessing similar processes today, where narratives are being banned simply based on their origin, or the manner in which they are presented. Del Norte High School’s teacher librarian, Michelle Furtado, offers a thought provoking perspective on the matter. She notes that book bans are often driven by the well intentioned desire to protect individuals by shielding them from specific ideas. However the underlying issues lies in the absence of a clear

Access Denied Andrea Wang, ‘24 Digital arbitrator to decide what should be sanctioned or safeguarded. Those advocating for bans come with distinct agendas, and a commitment to specific ideals, such as the concept of a nuclear family, making them resistant to ideas that challenge their world view. Furtado underscores the far reaching impact of book bannings on students and their education. Research has demonstrated that students with access to books tend to perform better in a variety of subjects, from math and science to comprehension skills. Beyond academic prowess, reading fosters an understanding of different perspectives, which is crucial to personal growth and empathy. Furthermore, Furtado highlights a more profound concern: that students deprived of a full and accessible library may find themselves unprepared to navigate the expansive college-level libraries. The ability to understand, research, and critically engage with a wide variety of materials is an essential skill for students to thrive in their academic pursuits and beyond. In the ongoing book bans in American schools, one thing is clear: the battle lines have been drawn, and the implications reach far beyond the classroom. The central question of whether sensitive material is appropriate for minors remains at the front of these clashes, underscoring the challenges of balancing protection with intellectual freedom. With the banning of books becoming more widespread, the 2022-2023 academic year saw an alarming number of books banned, raising questions about the suppression of diverse ideas and perspectives. As we understand this heated problem, the future of education, intellectual freedom, and the shaping of young minds hangs in the balance.

Written by Shomili Sengupta, '27 | Designed by Julia Huynh, ‘24 “It’s ironic that the term ‘overrated’ is becoming overrated, and overused” is what AP Psychology and AP Human Geography teacher Mrs. Roberts said about the use, or overuse, as she put it, of the word “overrated.”

December 2023 | Volume 06, Issue 01

THE OVERUSE OF OVERRATED WHAT DOES OVERRATED MEAN?

According to Cambridge Dictionary, something/ someone is overrated when they are “considered to be better or more important than they really are.” Del Norte’s definition was similar, best summed up by this response: “too much; when something is more appreciated than it should be.” Based on this definition, I asked several students whether they thought the number two artist on Spotify (Taylor Swift) and the number one artist (The Weeknd) were overrated or not. If the definition of the word itself is so simple, then why did this question prompt so many different replies, ranging from “I love Taylor Swift” to “she is probably the worst recording artist of this generation?”

THE OUTCOME

Out of the 60 students interviewed, 62.7% said that Taylor Swift was overrated, 35.6% said she wasn’t, and 1.7% said something different. The Weeknd is almost even with overrated and not overrated responses, 47.6% saying he is overrated, 46% saying he isn't, and surprisingly, 6.3% saying they haven’t heard of him/don’t know him well. So why is it that more people think the number two artist in the world is more overrated compared to the number one?

which has lasted 17 years and counting, has made her more popular, and while doing so, has made people less interested. She said, “when something or someone is so popular, it’s not as cool anymore to be on the bandwagon.” With her increasing popularity comes her decreasing “cool factor,” so to speak, making more people think she’s overrated because of it. With The Weeknd, the people that believed he is overrated responded by saying things like “‘Blinding Lights’ was on repeat for so long, it literally made my ears bleed” and “that show he did is really bad.” Several responses attacked him as a person, saying he’s “sexist,” “ugly,” and saying that they simply don’t like him, or that “he’s a (profanity).” These responses generally focus on scandals that have broken out about him, like his recent and extremely controversial show, The Idol,

Is The Weeknd overrated?

Is Taylor Swift overrated?

“How can we agree on one thing being overrated when all of us are judging this thing off a different set of rules, ideas, and thoughts?” CONCLUSION

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?

Mrs. Darcey, an Honors English and AP English Language teacher, says this could be due to how present Taylor Swift is in the news, in our school, and in society in general, compared to The Weeknd. Taylor Swift tends to be more present, more talked about, more seen. This can cause people to hear things about her on a daily basis, making them appreciate her work much less, since it appears to be everywhere. Mrs. Roberts believes that along with this, the longevity of her career,

from each other’s use of the word too. This is due to both, hearing about something/someone too much to the point where you think it’s overrated because you don’t want to hear about it anymore, or just basic personal preference. One student pointed this out by saying that thinking Taylor Swift or The Weeknd is overrated is subjective. They said, “I personally don’t love Taylor Swift but I don’t think she’s overrated because I don’t listen to her a lot anyways, so it’s all up to judgment of like, one's self.” They said this also applies to The Weeknd.

produced by Sam Levinson, who also produced HBO’s Euphoria. This show apparently had many problematic themes within it. Others stated that they simply didn’t like his music, or in some cases, hadn’t even heard his music, which is surprising considering his status. What both of these artists have in common is that several people think they’re overrated because they’re “too popular.” This made me wonder, what is the limit of popularity? Along with this, have we been confusing “overrated” with “overplayed?” I asked Mrs. Darcey this, and she said, “I have a feeling we tend to associate them, even though they shouldn’t be.” While our definition for the word might be accurate, how we use it is completely different, both from the official definition, and

When we use the word overrated, we usually apply it to certain things from a subjective standpoint. Personal preference and music taste is entirely subjective, as is perception of people and their lives. So how do we know what the limitations of popularity are? When do we know when something gets to be “too much?” How can we agree on one thing being overrated when all of us are judging this thing off a different set of rules, ideas, and thoughts? The word overrated is so present in our vocabulary, and yet we have no clue how to use it while not being from a subjective standpoint, because it’s simply not possible. We can’t all agree on one thing entirely because there’s always going to be a different thinking process, a different idea, a different perception that contradicts with another. Is that thing or person really overrated? Or have you just heard too much about them, or you don’t like them, or maybe you don’t even really know that much about them? What’s the difference?

The Featheralist

DIGITAL CURRENCY Written by Shreena Dayal, ‘26 | Designed by Daisy Zhang, ‘24 On my family’s recent visit to India I noted quite a few odd looks from impatient vendors as we fumbled with our paper cash. Every merchant, from the street vendors selling flower garlands to the salesmen at high end clothing shops in air conditioned malls, sported multiple QR codes labeled with various payment services. The ability to simply scan a QR code and transfer money online made the payment process fast and frictionless. QR code and digital payment systems are increasingly popular throughout the world. In China, widely used QR code payment systems are built into multi-use social media apps like WeChat. The central banks of multiple Southeast Asian countries have created a cross border QR code-based payment system that eliminates the need to convert cash between currencies. Kenya’s M-Pesa and Nigeria’s OPay are among some of Africa’s most successful fintech (financial technology) companies. In the US, 53% of people use a digital wallet more often than traditional payment methods. Though digital payment occurs less frequently in the US than in many Asian countries, the practice is growing significantly, especially post-pandemic. In order to understand the impact of digital currencies and payment interfaces on our world economy, we must first understand the basics on how digital currencies work. Though you may be familiar with online money transfer systems like Venmo and Zelle as “digital currencies”, this classification is incorrect. Currency that can be used in both physical and digital forms is called “electronic currency.” Alternatively, currency that remains exclusively in digital form is called “digital currency.” Digital currencies fall under three categories: Central Bank Digital Currencies (CBDCs), stablecoins, and cryptocurrency. CBDCs are simply a digital version of the money issued by the central bank of a country, therefore making them safer and more likely to be implemented throughout the world than cryptocurrencies and stablecoins (cryptocurrencies backed by reference assets). These digital currencies, which are currently being tested in multiple regions of the world, are particularly useful in accommodating digital transfer systems.

Andrea Wang, ‘24 Digital

$ 20

Despite the multiple benefits that digital currencies have over cash, the drawbacks to improper implementation and use are also high. Digital currencies must be as accessible as cash, something you can simply pull out of your pocket and use. This means that worldwide internet access must increase significantly to accommodate the replacement of physical cash with internet-dependent digital currencies. In addition to this, teaching people around the world how to use smartphones takes effort. Digital payment platforms must be easy to use and accessible for all people for the currency to be effective and widely used. The amount of server power and energy required to maintain a digital currency is high, possibly leading to negative effects on the environment. Additionally, the development of digital currencies is a slow process. Though multiple countries are testing out CBDCs, progress is still slow, showing that digital currencies still have a ways to go before being implemented. For these reasons, it’s important to understand what digital currencies are and evaluate how they impact society so that policymakers and tech service providers can implement new systems without harm. With proper regulations and sufficient digital infrastructure, digital currencies and the digital payment systems that they enable can create efficiency in the international trade arena beyond traditional banking.

World

Digital currencies and the associated transfer systems are useful in multiple ways. One advantage is cheaper, faster, and constantly available international money transfer. Migrant workers and people living away from home can send remittances with ease and avoid the remittance transfer fees that cut into their income. Along with this, the accessibility of digital currency beyond physical banks increases support for the under- and un-banked. People who did not previously have access to the banking system might now be able to manage their finances more effectively. With innovations like India’s Paytm sound box that announces payments as they arrive, even people who are illiterate or otherwise unable to use smartphones can access digital money transfer. Finally, digital currencies, particularly CBDCs, can be extremely useful in streamlining government aid. Things like tax refunds, child benefits, and food stamps can be sent directly to a digital wallet rather than relying on “snail mail”.

Written by Saanvi Dogra, ‘27 | Designed by Daisy Zhang, ‘24 I furiously scribbled on the paper, battling against my drooping eyelids and the cramps seizing my hand. The clock struck one in the morning, and despite the demanding rigor of a long school day, an arduous tennis practice, and an intensive study session for my upcoming exam, I kept pushing, determined to perfect this assignment before bed. This is the life of billions of people in today’s pervasive culture of overworking. But when did we transition from having laid back societies to the practices we commonly see today? This trend dates back to the Industrial Revolution, as machines began to replace manual labor and mass production became the norm. Employers, driven by greed, demanded longer work hours with little time off to maximize profits. Despite widespread social and economic inequality, workers could only speak up at the risk of losing their jobs.

work. In fact, nursing homes in Sweden that switched to shorter 6-hour work days surprisingly demonstrated improved worker productivity. Furthermore, overworking has dire mental and physical consequences, with rising rates of burnout and depression in both schools and workplaces. In the U.S., a staggering 88% of college students reported feeling overwhelmed by their workload. These issues are accompanied by severe physiological effects, such as high blood pressure, heart disease, and insomnia. Centuries have passed since the Industrial Revolution, yet society remains caught up in the cycle of overworking, romanticizing the “hustle” and “grind” as a status symbol in our desire to be

the next revolutionary entrepreneur. Admittedly, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to navigate a world full of pressures and to stand out from the crowd, but exhausting ourselves isn’t the answer.

December 2023 | Volume 06, Issue 01

THE DANGERS OF OVERWORKING: A WAKE-UP CALL Setting aside time to engage in recreational activities and spending quality downtime with friends or family will help bring energy, focus, passion, and productivity back to work. It’s not about resting just for the sake of it, but truly understanding the value of leisure in maintaining long-term wellbeing. A harmony between work and life will lead to contentment and better outcomes on both fronts, bringing us a step closer to a society that values quality of life over quantity of work. So maybe it’s time to take a break and rethink our perspective.

Eventually, labor movements emerged, advocating reforms and passing worker laws, but the damage was done — we were stuck in the cycle. Even now, with the onslaught of consumerism and accumulation of post-pandemic workload, the elusive idea of “work-life balance” remains a far-fetched dream. Currently, adults report an average of 9.2 hours of unpaid overtime weekly. Unfortunately, overworking bled into the lives of the younger generation as well. As the economy shifted towards industrialization, schools began to emphasize discipline, punctuality, and obedience. After World War II, concerns about global competition led to a renewed emphasis on academic achievement. Now, in an increasingly competitive environment, students are pressured to maintain a high GPA, enroll in advanced courses, and excel in extracurriculars. But doesn’t this surge in engagement benefit us all? Well, while longer hours create an illusion of greater accomplishment, working overtime in the face of exhaustion actually produces lower-quality

bleh Daisy Zhang, ‘24 Colored Pencil

The Featheralist

CONTRIBUTORS Staff Contributors Nikki Hekmat, ‘24 - Co-president/Editor-in-Chief Rini Khandelwal, ‘24 - Co-president/Editor-in-Chief Tyler Xiao, ‘24 - Vice-president/Deputy Editor-in-Chief Sophia Tang, ‘25 - Treasurer/Editor Kate Xu, ‘25 - Secretary/Editor Sophia Cao ’26 - Board Editor Riya Patil, ‘24 - Board Editor Vinay Rajagopalan, ‘24 - Board Editor Aliya Tang, ‘25 - Board Editor Andrea Wang, ‘24 - Head of Art Samhita Lagisetti, ‘26 - Co-head of Graphic Design Daisy Zhang, ‘24 - Co-head of Graphic Design Advisors Mr. Thomas Swanson Dr. Trent Hall

Writers Saathvika Ajith ‘24 Shreena Dayal ‘26 Saanvi Dogra ‘26 Kevin Du ‘25 Saanvi Edlabadkar ‘26 Vidha Ganji Yadav ‘26 Nikki Hekmat ‘24 Kaitlyn Ho ‘25 Rini Khandelwal ‘24 Allison Lee ‘25 Riya Patil ‘24 Shomili Sengupta ‘26 Sophia Tang ‘25 Evelyn Wang ‘27 Joann Xie ‘27

COLOPHON The Featheralist, Volume 06, Issue 01 Del Norte High School's Political and Literary magazine. Published on December 23, 2023. Del Norte High School, 16601 Nighthawk Lane San Diego, CA 92127 Phone: (858) 487-0877 Fax: (858) 487-2443 https://www.powayusd.com/Schools/HS/DNHS https://dnhshumanities.weebly.com/ dnhshumanities@gmail.com School Population 2,459 students 153 full-time staff Font Families League Gothic (titles) Oswald (pull quotes) Libertinus Serif (by lines/body text) Computer Hardware and Software Windows 10 MacOS Adobe Illustrator Adobe Photoshop Adobe InDesign

Paper stock Cover: 100# Glossy Text Inside: 80# Glossy Text We would like to thank our printing company, Best Printing USA, for their steadfast technical support and consistent high quality. Price of magazine We rely 100% on local advertisers and student-essay-contest-award money to print our magazines. We print approximately 150 copies per issue depending on page count and distribute copies for free to the Del Norte student body and surrounding community. Editorial Policy The Featheralist is produced and managed entirely by members of the synonymous The Featheralist club, an 100% student-run extracurricular club. The Featheralist club members are divided into three distinct but coordinating departments: Writing, Art, and Graphic Design. Each department is led by a small group of student officers. The Writing Department collects drafts from both staff and guest writers. Student-led “editing squads” ensure that all articles are publication-ready. The Art Department curates artwork of all subjects, mediums, and styles through methods similar to the Writing

Artists Ela Efe ‘27 Kaitlyn Ho ‘25 Chloe Kang ‘26 Olivia Lam ‘27 Riya Patil ‘24 Sophie Tran ‘26 Andrea Wang ‘24 Kate Xu ‘25 Daisy Zhang ‘24 Graphic Designers Sophie Cao ‘26 Angela Chen ‘25 Katherine Chen ‘27 Kevin Du ‘25 Julia Huynh ‘24 Samhita Lagisetti ‘26 Olivia Li ‘27 Jordan Pham ‘24 Karly Prasouvo ‘26 Joann Xie ‘27

Department. Officers screen all writing and art pieces for school appropriateness. Lastly, the Graphic Design Department combines verbal and visual content together into print-ready spreads. The positions expressed in any of the articles are solely those of the individual writer(s). They do not represent the viewpoints of The Featheralist, nor those of Del Norte High School or the Poway Unified School District. Mission Statement: The Featheralist as a club exists to foster a collaborative and mutually edifying community of artists, writers, and graphic designers. We empower students to explore topics spanning the entire spectrum of the humanities — from screenplay to political essay, from poetry to short story. We serve as a megaphone to broadcast students’ unique ideas, experiences, and visions to the entire campus and the larger community. Scholastic Affiliations We are a proud member of the Columbia Student Press Association. Cover art “untitled” by Andrea Wang, ‘24

Digital Currency Bhat, Adnan. “How Tiny, Cheap Smart Speakers Unlocked the Rise of Digital Payments in India.” Rest of World, 4 Apr. 2023, restofworld.org/2023/india-sound-boxes-paytm-phonepe/. Accessed 11 Dec. 2023. Claypool, Amanda . “Digital Wallet Consumer Preferences: Trends and Statistics 2023 – Forbes Advisor.” Forbes.com, 25 Aug. 2023, forbes.com/advisor/banking/digital-wallets-paym ent-apps/. Accessed 11 Dec. 2023. Frankenfield, Jake. “Digital Currency.” Investopedia, 2019, www.investopedia.com/terms/d/digital-currency.asp. Rumengan, Joan Aurelia. “A Traveler’s Dream: Cash-Free Payment Systems Link up across Southeast Asia.” Rest of World, 18 May 2023, restofworld.org/2023/borderless-qr-pay ments-indonesia-thailand-malaysia/. Accessed 11 Dec. 2023.

December 2023 | Volume 06, Issue 01

WORKS CITED

sprinkle girl Hannah Geng, ‘24 Acrylic

SOME BIRDS ARE NOT MEANT TO BE CAGED, THAT'S ALL. THEIR FEATHERS ARE TOO BRIGHT, THEIR SONGS TOO SWEET AND WILD. Stephen King