The U.S. Senate voted 51-45 on March 3 to confirm Linda McMahon as the U.S. Secretary of Education. McMahon, who previously served as the administrator of the Small Business Association, has promised to work with President Donald Trump to ensure the Department of Education runs more “efficiently” and to downsize the department. After picking McMahon for the role, Trump said her goal should be to “put herself out of a job.”
The Department of Education is a cabinet-level agency responsible for administering the Pell Grant federal aid program, managing funding to low-income K-12 schools and running the nation’s system of federal student loans, among many other services.
Trump’s proposed changes to the department’s efficiency or a complete department shutdown could pose threats to higher education institutions, including Emory University. Pell Grants face an uncertain future, especially with 19% of Emory’s undergraduate students receiving the aid.
At a University Senate meeting on Feb. 25, University President Gregory Fenves shared his concerns about the future of the Pell Grant program.
“We should be worried with the Department of Education and potential changes in that,” Fenves said. “Pell Grants are already underfunded. I do have concerns about the Department
By KimBle Schiller OxSGA Desk
Amid tumultuous global politics, Ukrainian students at Emory University hang onto every news update, cognizant of the consequences that new developments could have on their families and the region.
On Feb. 28, an Oval Office meeting between Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky and U.S. President Donald Trump turned into a shouting match, causing uncertainty about the two countries’ diplomatic relationship. The encounter between Trump and Zelensky comes three years into the war in Ukraine, which began after Russian troops invaded eastern Ukraine under the direction of Russian President Vladimir Putin.
Since the war began, the United States has given Ukraine almost $200 billion in military aid, according to the U.S. Department of Defense. Last week, Zelensky visited the White House to sign a minerals and defense agreement with the United States, but the hostile meeting led to a hold-up in peace and mineral rights negotiations, causing some Ukrainian students to grow increasingly worried about their country’s future.
Mary Kravchenko (28C), a student
of Education’s support for student loans.”
Young Democrats of Emory executive board member Royce Mann (25C) echoed this sentiment. He said that the decision to shut down the department and eliminate Pell Grants could be “extremely consequential.”
“There haven’t been clear plans released by the Trump administration about how they would go about administrating and keeping these grants going,” Mann said. “Already, we’ve seen Republican leaders work to roll back some of the progress that was made under the Biden administration when it comes to student debt relief.”
The Pell Grant program is projected to face a deficit in the current fiscal year for the first time in over a decade, exacerbating education professionals’ fears about the future of higher education. If Congress does not act to close the funding gap, the effects could be devastating, Rachel Fishman, director of the Higher Education program at New America told Inside Higher Ed. Fishman also voiced concern that increasing funding for the Pell Grant program may be more difficult than ever under Trump’s second administration.
While McMahon has stated that she plans to maintain Pell Grants, the Trump administration is reviewing the program as part of its his efforts to decrease government spending. Trump has expressed
By Spencer Friedland and Siya Kumar Managing Editor & Asst. News Editor
Tyler Martinez (26C) defeated Seth Weinfield (27C) in a runoff election yesterday to secure the Student Government Association (SGA) presidency. Zoe Grotjan (24Ox, 26B), who ran alongside Martinez, was elected vice president.
Martinez garnered 802 (58.36%) votes compared to Weinfield’s 572 (41.63%) votes. The vice presidential race was a closer call, with Grotjan earning 707 (51.45%) votes to pull ahead of Maahi Sethi (27C), who received 667 (48.54%) votes. In total, 1,374 students voted in the runoff elections, 334 less than the general election that closed on Feb. 28.
Grotjan described the runoff as “nerve-racking” and said she and Martinez put their heart and soul into the election.
“It was really beautiful to see — all my supporters and all my community come together and rally together to support ideas that both Tyler and I had,” Grotjan said.
This marks a shift from the general election, in which Weinfield garnered 615 (36%) votes while Martinez amassed 583 (34.13%) votes. Similarly, Sethi ended the vice presidential general election ahead of Grotjan, with the candidates earning 700 (40.98%) and 558 (32.66%) votes.
Since none of the candidates
from Vyshneve, Ukraine, said her “heart is in pain” for Ukraine and her family.
“It’s just been a lot of uncertainty, a lot of worries,” Kravchenko said.
“I really can’t do anything with it because I cannot impact [the United States’] politics in any way.”
Kravchenko fled Ukraine when she was 16 due to the war and said she worries daily about her family’s safety.
“They are unsafe every day, and I’m really worried about their life and safety,” Kravchenko said. “This situation between U.S. and Ukraine — it’s been very alarming to me.”
Kravchenko added that the fears of the average Ukrainian are missing from media coverage of the war.
“The news talks about what Ukraine and U.S. and other countries have to do, but it never talks about Ukraine’s safety, and this is what I’m
received more than 50% of the votes cast in the general elections, the races advanced to runoffs. Treasurer of Alpha Tau Omega Walker Liu (26C) and Alpha Kappa Psi Vice President of Service Kenneth Power (27C) ran on a joint ticket to be SGA’s next president and vice president, but were unable to continue to the runoff after both placed third in the general election.
Martinez currently serves as the Emory University National Association for the Advancement of Colored People’s (NAACP) second vice president, while Grotjan is the Bachelor of Business Administration (BBA) Council SGA representative. Martinez and Grotjan hope to imme-
worried about as a Ukrainian citizen,” Kravchenko said. “As a person whose family is in Ukraine, I want peace.”
Mariia Sukhomlinova (28C) said she feels a “psychological” distance between her and her family due to the war. She expressed that it is difficult for her to fully grasp what her family and friends in Ukraine are going through.
“I don’t want to reach out [to my best friend in Ukraine] and sound ungrateful,” Sukhomlinova said. “I don’t want to call her and be like, ‘I have so much homework I have to do,’ and her having to respond with, ‘Yeah, you get to go to college.’”
While individuals wrestle with the state of foreign affairs, nations continue to try and navigate the delicate diplomatic situation. At the United Nations (U.N.) General Assembly on Feb. 24, the United States sided with Russia in voting against a Ukrainian resolution that demanded Russia withdraw its troops from Ukraine. Despite this, the assembly approved the resolution 93-18.
Valentyna Burlaka (27C) said she is “enraged” at the turnaround in support, calling the United States’ recent actions a “betrayal” to Ukraine.
The recent U.N. vote highlights the United States’ policy shift from unwavering Ukrainian support
diately begin working on extending library hours and providing free printing to students. In the future, the pair have plans to add two student representatives to the University’s Board of Trustees. Additionally, Martinez and Grotjan said they want to work with the University Senate’s Committee for Open Expression and other student government organizations at Emory to rewrite the current Respect for Open Expression Policy. The MartinezGrotjan ticket also campaigned on creating a system for peer advising to “help lighten the burden” for the Office of Financial Aid, in addition to providing aid to students navigating
under former U.S. President Joe Biden to a more uncertain approach under Trump.
Associate Professor of History Matthew Payne called Trump’s recent press conference with Zelensky a “clown show” and said that the United States siding with Russia against most of the U.N. was surprising, “even for the Trump administration.”
Nataliia Zelinska (27C) said she worried about the current administration “abandon[ing] Ukraine” and hoped Americans would be “more vocal” in their support on account of their shared principles.
“The values of democracy and freedom are as important to Ukrainians as they are to Americans,” Zelinska said.
Zelinska acknowledged the new “unpredictability” compared to the previous administration's unwavering support and said the general worry about the future has impacted her. However, she is trying to focus on what she can do to not panic and emphasized that it’s crucial to keep Ukraine in “daily conversation.”
Payne cautioned about an excess of “instant experts” and wanted to remind students not to fall victim to “disinformation and misinformation” online.
Tyler Martinez (26C) and Zoe Grotjan (24Ox, 26B) won the SGA president and executive vice president runoff elections.
Club Sports Council members share support for new stipend bill
By Siya Kumar and JacoB muScolino Asst. News Editors
Following the failure of former Student Government Association (SGA) presidential candidate Seth Weinfield’s (27C) proposal to pay College Council legislators a stipend, the Emory University Club Sports Council (CSC) followed suit, proposing an amendment to pay their executive board. However, unlike College Council, the CSC successfully passed the amendment.
CSC’s executive board announced in a Feb. 28 email to Club Sports officers that the legislative body passed an amendment allowing their executive board members to receive compensation if they meet specific criteria. The current criteria to receive compensation includes attendance at council meetings, carrying out the duties assigned to one’s role, compliance with deadlines and satisfactory performance evaluations, according to CSC President Jayden Davis (25B). CSC’s executive board consists of the CSC president, vice president, treasurer and secretary.
The Club Sports Budget Committee and Recreational and Wellness professional staff advisers will determine who qualifies for compensation, the stipend amount and how funds are distributed. The board is currently consulting with its advisors to determine how to execute the plan, according to Davis.
The amendment states that Student Governance Services (SGS), which works with student governing bodies to manage finances, would oversee the funds. The funds will be placed into an SGS account, according to the amendment, to ensure proper management.
Davis noted that while some compensation for the CSC executive board may come from the Student Activity
Fee (SAF), a fee that all Emory students must pay each semester to support undergraduate student organizations, CSC will not be certain of the source of the funds until club sports budgets for the 2025-26 year are released.
“A portion of it may, but that hasn’t been figured out yet since we don’t know our allocations for next year,” Davis said.
In an email to The Emory Wheel, Assistant Director of University Communications Rachel Smith wrote that the CSC resolution calls for a “broader discussion with many university groups.” She also wrote that this resolution attempts to ensure “proper stewardship of Student Activity Funds.”
Davis highlighted that the amendment's central purpose was making CSC sustainable and accessible to all students. He hopes the amendment will allow students who may otherwise need to work part-time jobs to pursue leadership roles in Club Sports.
“In creating the bill, the goal was to make sure that we’re getting the
most qualified and the most passionate individuals in the [CSC] executive board,” Davis said.
Davis noted that the amendment underwent a rigorous, months-long process involving feedback from multiple stakeholders, including SGA, SGS, Student Involvement, Leadership, and Transitions and CSC members.
“We have put quite a few hours into researching this bill,” Davis said. “We’re very proud of the way it’s turned out. We’ve given it a lot of thought. We’ve had lots of checks and balances to put in place.”
CSC Vice President Mira Gurock (26B) discussed the executive board’s process while writing the amendment, saying they sought feedback from CSC.
“We did a round of feedback where we received feedback from the council and then fine-tuned our proposal from that feedback and addressed questions and concerns every step along the way before we put it up to a vote,” Gurock said.
Emory Club Ice Hockey President
Newsome wins College Council vice presidential race
Continued from Page 1
the process.
When looking for cabinet members, Martinez and Grotjan said they are looking for people who are willing to create change. Martinez added that he would be interested in working withLiu and Power during his tenure.
“I would love to work with both Walker and Kenny,” Martinez said. “They’re very active student leaders that want change and they also come from two very different backgrounds that SGA hasn’t really seen in the past, and I think that’s part of why we connected as candidates, because we were both fighting for equity within SGA.”
Many student organizations from around campus endorsed Martinez and Grotjan, including the Puerto Rican Student Association, Emory NAACP, Muslim Students Association, Young Democrats of Emory and Black Student Alliance. Liu also endorsed Martinez in the runoff election.
Weinfield, a second-year SGA and
neWsome College Council Vice President-elect Braden Newsome (25Ox) won his seat in a runoff election.
College Council legislator, hopes the student body will engage in respectful discourse under the Martinez-Grotjan administration. He noted that there was some tension between students who supported competing candidates in the election.
“We should be comfortable in a space where we can get a coffee with someone that we disagree with and be comfortable with that disagreement,” Weinfield said. “Moving forward as an Emory student body, we need to promote positive discourse.”
Although Weinfield is unsure about his future in SGA, he hopes to continue addressing issues impacting the Emory community. Sethi shared similar sentiments in an email to The Emory Wheel.
“Even though we did not win, the sentiments behind our campaign, such as the student advisory boards, the disability identity space and open expression policy, food policy — we’re still in conversations about that,” Weinfield said.
Additionally, OxSGA Speaker of the Senate Braden Newsome (25Ox) was elected to serve as the next College Council vice president with 682 (62.85%) votes, surpassing 403 (37.14%) votes of no confidence. The race advanced to a runoff between Newsome and no confidence after Emory College of Arts and Sciences students cast 418 (34.03%) votes of no confidence and 410 (33.38%) votes for Newsome in the general election. Emory student ambassador Ellie Estridge (28C), who received 400
(32.57%) votes, did not qualify for the runoff.
Newsome hopes to prioritize mental health services and reduce the amount of “unnecessary busywork” students must complete for classes. He plans to diversify the Emory community by expanding funding for cultural clubs and other resources for students.
Additionally, Newsome intends to act as a liaison between students and administration and improve transparency between students and College Council.
Newsome said he was happy with the results, adding that he is excited to work with College Council Presidentelect Vladyslav Senenko (27C). He attributed his victory in the runoff to focusing more on his campaign’s social media presence and connecting with students.
“I was a little surprised,” Newsome said. “I hate to say it — I lost to no confidence by a small eight votes in the general, so I figured it'd be a little closer in the runoff.”
Newsome said he hopes to begin implementing some initiatives before the semester ends.
“My hope for my tenure as College Council’s vice president, and the 70th College Council generally, will be that I helped make College Council more transparent and more inclusive of the student voice,” Newsome said.
— Contact Spencer Friedland at spencer.friedland@emory.edu and Siya Kumar at siya.kumar2@emory.edu
Michael Varrone (23Ox, 25C) said that he initially had reservations about paying CSC executives when the executive board presented the bill on Feb. 24. He said his biggest concern was whether student leaders deserved to be paid.
Varrone supported the bill after reflecting upon his own role’s difficulty and long hours. He expressed his hope that the change would encourage initiative in CSC and take a burden off of executives.
“It’ll open up the opportunity for students who … don’t have the time to dedicate to being in that position because they need to work a job, but they really want the position,” Varrone said. “Well, now they can get paid for that work and more justify it.”
Beyond these potential impacts, Varrone was unsure what benefits Club Sports members would receive. He also said critics of the bill should note that the way SGA distributes the SAF “isn’t the greatest anyway.”
Emory Club Equestrian Team Charlotte Loomis Vice President (26B), echoed similar initial con-
cerns about paying CSC executives, especially about possible effects on funding.
“I was hesitant because, obviously, I was thinking of where is this money coming from,” Loomis said. “Is this going to affect our budgeting?”
Similarly, Sarah Orozco (25C), covice president of Club Emory Gender Expansive & Women’s Ultimate Frisbee, mentioned that she was initially worried about whether the addition of the stipend would affect funding. However, after the executive board clarified that it would not change the amount of funding allocated, she felt more comfortable voting for the amendment.
“It's important to provide opportunities for more marginalized or economically disadvantaged students to be able to participate in these kinds of institutions that demand so much of your time,” Orozco said.
— Contact Siya Kumar at siya.kumar2@emory.edu and Jacob Muscolino at jake.muscolino@emory.edu
Ukrainian students discuss fear for families
Continued from Page 1
In addition, Payne urged students to remember that the Russian government is perpetuating this war, not its people, and that there are many Russians who disapprove of Putin’s governance.
“I understand that there’s tension between Ukrainian students and Russian students because of what's happening in Ukraine,” Payne said.
“But that’s the saddest thing for me because before this war, they really were neighbors and really were interconnected cultures that had a lot in common.”
Burlaka expressed gratitude for the support and understanding
she has received from the Emory community.
“A lot of students here at Emory, they are knowledgeable about what’s going on in the world,” Burlaka said. “I do feel this personally. I do feel the support as being an Emory student.”
Burlaka founded the Ukraine Solidarity Association at Emory with her peers and expects it to be chartered soon. She said that current events regularly affect her social interactions.
“As an Emory student, I’m doing everything I can,” Burlaka said. “As a Ukrainian, I feel like it’s not enough.”
— Contact Kimble Schiller at kimble.schiller@emory.edu
Courtsey of Braden
Courtsey of Wikimedia Commons/the White house
U.S. President Donald Trump and Vice President J.D. Vance discuss peace negotations for the ongoing war with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky on Feb. 28.
Courtsey of emory university
Emory University Club Sports Council's executive board announced possible stipends for executive board members on Feb. 28.
Colloquium speaker illuminates Black veteran experience during Civil War
By JacK meSSicK Contributing Writer
While white generals are often at the center of Civil War archival research, Black Civil War veterans and their families remain largely overlooked. Furman University (S.C.) Assistant Professor of History Holly Pinheiro discussed his new book, “The Families’ Civil War: Black Soldiers and the Fight for Racial Justice,” during a colloquium at Emory University’s Robert W. Woodruff Library.
In the book, Pinheiro paints an image of Black Civil War soldiers’ lives to argue that their hardships are linked to their military service. Emory’s James Weldon Johnson Institute for the Study of Race and Difference (JWJI) organized the talk as part of the Race and Difference Colloquium Series, which focuses on race in academic research.
Pinheiro’s research delves into the lives of soldiers in the third, sixth and eighth regiments of United States Colored Troops (USCT) from Philadelphia from 1850 to the 1930s, using census data, pension records and military records to explore how war impacted Black veterans. Specifically, Pinheiro researched how Civil War military service affected soldiers’ families, finding they were often left burdened with financial struggles while grieving the losses of fathers and sons.
“The mobilization of hundreds of thousands of able-bodied African American men into the service devastated these families left behind,”
Pinheiro said. “Some of these families were left to grieve and struggle economically after their male kin died in service.”
While academia lauds figures like Frederick Douglass and Henry Highland Garnet, who advocated for the enlistment of USCT as a means to fight for racial equality and Black agency, Pinheiro articulated this scholarship does not do justice to the lives of these veterans.
Pinheiro highlighted the harsh economic and social realities of many soldiers and their families through the story of a Philadelphia-born man named Andrew. According to Pinheiro, Andrew enlisted in the USCT but was denied his enlistment bonus and soon died from injuries he sustained in battle. Of all surviving family members, only Andrew’s mother Sarah applied for a pension, which amounted to Andrew’s pre-war salary of $8 per month and his $100 enlistment bonus.
“Historian Larry Logue argues that pensions were meant to only supplement an individual, not an entire family’s income,” Pinheiro said. “Members of Sarah’s local community … stated that throughout the late 19th century that Sarah frequently depended on the kindness of her neighbors to survive.”
Experiences like Andrew and his family’s reflect Pinheiro’s research, painting a bleaker picture of USCT military service than dominant historical narratives. JWJI Director and Associate Professor of Political Science Andra Gillespie noted that the
colloquium series focuses on research representing “the best of scholarship” relating to race in the United States.
“The idea is to be broad and to show folks the variety of work that’s being done on issues related to race and difference across many different disciplinary perspectives,” Gillespie said.
Gillespie chooses the JWJI speakers based on their completion of new academic work — to her, the challenge is to not rehash widelyestablished knowledge.
“It could be that there’s some new information that’s been unearthed that we need to process, or it could be there are things, stories that have not been told before, perspectives that have not yet been considered,” Gillespie said.
JWJI Postdoctoral Fellow Rosa O’Connor Acevedo discussed how Pinheiro’s research reflects the importance of representing untold stories in her own studies of philosophy and race.
“I really like this effort of recovering a lot of this history that has been silenced,” Acevedo said. “Not only recovering the history but humanizing the people and telling the story of those people and why it matters.”
Pinheiro’s passion for researching the lived experience of America’s first Black veterans stemmed from his upbringing in a military family. When recounting stories of denied pensions, unconstitutional investigations and personal loss, Pinheiro expressed his own connection to his research.
“My mom was overseas at Desert Storm, and they were setting up
bombs, I didn’t know if she was going to be alive,” Pinheiro said. “I think about my grandmother crying at that dinner table. That’s not intentional, but that’s how I process this. And for me, I write this for them, those descendants and those military people, to humanize military service.”
Pinheiro ended the talk by sharing a heartfelt comment from one of his students that resonated with his goal
to research beyond dominant narratives and magnify overlooked history. “One of my students said doing history and understanding these and other people’s realities makes her feel safe,” Pinheiro said. “Without it, we are disrespecting all of their and our sacrifices.”
— Contact Jack Messick at jack.messick@emory.edu
Faculty, students discuss potential Trump cuts to education
Continued from Page 1
interest in moving financial aid programs under the U.S. Department of the Treasury, which may slow down future proceedings.
Trump is the latest in a series of Republican politicians whose agendas include shutting down the Department of Education. Since his inauguration, the Trump administration has cut at least $600 million in funding to the department and began drawing up plans to lay off department employees.
The president does not have the power to unilaterally abolish the Department of Education, as that power belongs to Congress. A possible executive order would likely call to rehouse all the programs the department currently administers, which would require congressional approval, according to Visiting Assistant Professor of Political Science Jeff
Auerbach. He added this would entail “bureaucratic reshuffling.”
“All of the other things that the Department of Education does will just end up finding a new home,”
Auerbach said. “In the interim, there will be an enormous amount of chaos.”
Alternatively, John Acevedo, Emory School of Law’s associate dean of students and academic programs, said Trump could bypass Congress by shutting down all department programs that are not congressionally authorized and directing the department to stop hiring new employees. If Trump does get congressional approval, Auerbach said Trump could deauthorize each program under the department separately to eliminate its entire ability to function.
Auerbach said the potential shuttering of the Department of Education will likely be challenged by lawsuits, further slowing down the process.
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“There’s going to be so many lawsuits coming from states, coming from individuals who are affected, coming from families who have had their children’s special education classes cut top to bottom — just a series of lawsuits that can slow things down,” Auerbach said.
Shutting down the Department of Education might allow states to regain control over their own education programs, similar to how states ran education before former U.S. President Jimmy Carter established the department in 1980, according to Acevedo.
Both Acevedo and Auerbach mentioned that smaller, low-income states will probably be harmed most by this change, many of which largely voted for Trump in the 2024 election.
“It’s kind of ironic that states that are going to be harmed the most are going to mostly be red or purple states,” Acevedo said. “A lot of the central, upper South states are going
to feel the pinch quite a bit.”
Acevedo added that wealthier states such as New York and Georgia will likely be able to raise their property taxes to compensate for the “federal shortfall.”
The Georgia Department of Education told Atlanta News First that the discussion surrounding the U.S. Department of Education currently remains “hypothetical” and that the state department is committed to “fulfilling its duties and responsibilities.”
Emory College Republicans President Si Kai Feng (28C) believes Trump’s intentions to tear down the department have generally been “wellreceived” among Republicans on campus. Feng called the Department of Education “extremely wasteful” and said it produced poor educational outcomes.
“American students, their performance in English and mathematics and all of these critical subjects,
they’ve all fallen,” Feng said. “The current way the system is set up is probably not the best way for the system to be run.”
Feng noted that although it is unlikely that a potential executive order from Trump will shut down the department, he said the United States needs urgent education reform. He hopes Trump will give states more control over their education policies. Despite all these possibilities for the Department of Education, Auerbach emphasized that any action Trump intends to take will be a slow, dragged-out process.
“There’s no point in freaking out about something that fundamentally will not matter,” Auerbach said. “Take a breath. The process is not designed to go fast, and so even if he’s trying to move fast and break things, take a deep breath. Just wait.”
— Contact Anya Agarkar at anya.agarkar@emory.edu
Courtsey of emory university
Furman University (S.C.) Assistant Professor of History Holly Pinheiro discussed the lives of Black Civil War veterans.
ForeWorD
By safa Wahidi, opinion editor
In the 13th century, Sufi poet Rumi wrote, “What you seek is seeking you.”
At Emory University, students seek many things. From faraway cities to nearby neighborhoods, we all come to college with meticulously crafted goals and big dreams, trusting that by selecting this school, we choose a path to
propel us one step closer to our aspirations. Yet, Emory is not always the easiest place to be. Mistakes are inevitable, and often, things do not work out the way we anticipated.
It is scary when our bestlaid plans go awry, but the most meaningful moments — the ones that allow us to really grow — sometimes arise from sheer happenstance. A slow elevator can result in meeting a lifelong friend
in Harris Hall. A seemingly futile general education requirement can catalyze a change in career path. A missed shuttle departing from Oxford College’s Fleming Lot can elicit resilience and self-confidence.
Director Peter Chelsom captured this sentiment best in his film “Serendipity” (2001). During the movie, Dean Kansky (Jeremy Piven) writes to his best friend that “life is not merely a series of meaningless accidents or coincidences … but
rather, it’s a tapestry of acts that culminate in an exquisite, sublime plan.”
That quote, to us, as opinion editors, represents the essence of the college experience. A few years shy of entering the professional world, it’s not uncommon for college students to feel like the wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But, in this year’s special project, the opinion section aims to shed
light on serendipitous memories, the ones that changed us for the better by some fortuitous stroke of luck. These compiled submissions from the Emory community are the rare, glittering moments when the cards play out, the stars align and the world suddenly becomes crystal clear.
These are the stories that give us hope. This is “Serendipity: Let the wheels of fate spin.” What you seek is indeed seeking you.
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Carly Aikens Asst. Editorial Board Editor
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Peace is a short walk away: Finding joy in making music at Emory
By oLivia stanLey staff Writer
What started as a distraction is now what adds color to my life. At the beginning of the pandemic, in the post-eighth-grade-graduation limbo between middle school and high school, I made the unexpected decision to start learning the piano. Progress was slow and, at times, frustrating. There were moments when I questioned why I had started at all. However, five years and 138 original songs later, songwriting is everything to me. Over the years, it has allowed me to process my grief, delve into new forms of artistic expression and develop a body of work that is representative of my soul. Songwriting has laid the groundwork for how I cope, grow, take risks and express myself at Emory University. I would not be half the student or person that I am today without it.
The first song I ever wrote followed my grandmother’s death in December 2020. I poured my grief into the piano and onto the page, using music to tell the story of her life and all that she taught me. The catharsis of that experience was almost too great to put into words. As I told her story, my heart somehow beat differently. When I sang my own words, I heard hers once again. I hoped that history would
not repeat itself, but last semester, I lost two more grandparents. Each loss brought an achy breath of grief, and each memory of them was a punch in the gut. Going about my day, attending classes and trying to integrate myself into a new community was harder knowing I would never see two of the people I loved most ever again.
However, just like the first time I lost a grandparent, music arrived unexpectedly and grounded me when I needed it most. One morning, I woke up with a thought fully formed in my mind: I needed a piano. I was still relatively new to campus, so I was not sure where the music practice rooms were or if they even existed — but I was determined to find out. I threw on my clothes, slipped out quietly so as not to wake my sleeping roommate and made my way to a practice room in the Schwartz Center for Performing Arts. The practice room available to non-music students was in the basement and housed an acoustic piano. I sat there for three hours and wrote two songs. By the end, I felt more present and grounded than I had in weeks. Becoming a college student and living away from all that I was used to had changed the way I processed grief, but music was still there for me, waiting patiently down the street.
The piano in the Schwartz Center has been in my life ever since then.
Writing music has always been one of the brightest, most beautiful parts of my life. But, it was not until I punched in the door code for the first time and tucked myself into the tiny corner of the warm basement room that I realized just how much of an escape songwriting truly is. Now, I regularly block out time in my busy schedule to write music. Even when I tore a ligament
last semester and was resigned to the slow, agonizing torture of hobbling to and from my classes on crutches, I kept my scheduled time slot. Hopping my way across campus and into the Schwartz Center elevator, I let the hour-long writing session distract me from the blisters on my hands and the bulky black boot strapped to my leg. I was not a music student, nor had I yet
pursued any music-related extracurriculars, but finding that piano was pure serendipity.
Songwriting quiets the discordant chaos that my life sometimes falls into and smooths my jagged edges. Being a college student is one big exercise in adapting to change, and I do not know if I would have responded well to the many changes of my first semester of college had music not been in my life. In a way, that Schwartz Center piano is more than a distraction — it is a confidant. It is a vessel through which I can pour out all my fears, frustrations and concerns and receive the gift of my story on the paper before me. In the future, I plan to keep the musical peace that I have found at Emory in my life, and I have even begun writing a musical on that very piano. I have not performed an original song live since I have arrived at Emory, and it is my hope that this will soon change. Either way, I know that my love for songwriting is not going anywhere. And, when the noise gets just a little too loud and my days get a little too packed, I know that the acoustic piano will be sitting in the Schwartz Center basement, waiting for me to sit down at the bench, rest my fingers on its keys and exhale.
- Contact Olivia Stanley at olivia.stanley@emory.edu.
Storytelling persists: An opinion editor’s swan song
By saFa WahiDi opinion editor
When I was 18 years old, my mom took me to Serendipity 3, a restaurant on the Upper East Side. Our excursion followed a particularly overwhelming bout of college applications during my senior year of high school. She told my teachers that we were touring colleges — and technically, we were — but the trip was also my chance to channel Ferris Bueller while frolicking around the early spring lawns of Central Park and the hallowed halls of the Museum of Modern Art. Ever since that trip, I have harbored an intense affection for serendipity and everything that shares its name, savoring memories of the restaurant, the romantic comedy and the hopelessly charming idea that anything meant to find you inevitably will.
Joining The Emory Wheel felt like one of those fated things. I stumbled across a copy of the newspaper the first time I walked past the Emory University Quadrangle and became captivated by the concept that words — so intangible and transcendental in nature — could be so palpable, inked onto the pages of a print edition and circulated all over campus. As a first-year student at Oxford College, I poured my heart into my column, using writing to bridge the divide between the Oxford and Atlanta campuses. At Emory, I have had the privilege of working as an opinion editor, piecing together drafts of writers’ innermost thoughts and feelings. As my tenure comes to an end, I consider it a stroke of luck to have been tasked with safeguarding the right to share meaningful storytelling, especially during this divisive time. In the face of political shifts and challenges in the media landscape, I still believe that dedicated storytelling must persist. Perhaps no writer captures the
essence of stories as well as Joan Didion.
“We live entirely, especially if we are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the ‘ideas’ with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience,”
Didion writes in her introduction to “The White Album.”
My experience at Emory so far has felt like running as fast as I can while simultaneously holding my breath and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like Didion, I turned to writing to try to make sense of uncertainty, both in the world and on campus. It is exhausting to attempt to rationalize the shifting allegiances, scandals, miscommunications and subtle jabs that comprise life in college. Words have offered me a sense of control and a way to parse the chaos together.
While I have found purpose in
my identity as a writer and student journalist, unfortunately, the broader journalism industry is currently in a state of disarray. The White House announced last week that its officials will decide which outlets will regularly cover President Donald Trump — a move that symbolizes an incursion on the enshrined right to a free press. The fact that trust in the media is at a historic low exacerbates the consequences of this decision.
Opinion journalism is also in trouble. On Feb. 26, The Washington Post’s opinion editor David Shipley resigned after owner Jeff Bezos issued a directive to no longer publish opposing viewpoints and instead exclusively publish opinions in favor of “personal liberties and free markets.” Problems in the media also exist at Emory, albeit on a smaller scale. Over the past year, I have seen the Wheel rise and fall in the ranks of campus opinion, lacerated for
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misleading headlines and then lauded for detailed reporting just weeks later. I have often heard students — usually those jaded by this publication’s coverage — proclaim that nobody reads the Wheel.
I know that isn’t true because I have seen what the Wheel is capable of firsthand. The Wheel has called attention to inadequacies in Emory’s housing, transportation and even elevator safety. The Wheel has forged friendships and taught me the true meaning of resilience — that committing to something means putting your best foot forward, even if it keeps you in the Alumni Memorial University Center offices until 4 a.m. The Wheel has also led me to messaging a stranger on Instagram, which somehow transformed from a fortunate meeting in Kaldi’s Coffee at the Emory Student Center to a series of daily Zoom calls to Sweden.
At times, however, the Wheel has felt incredibly isolating. Amid tensions on campus related to the IsraelPalestine conflict, I have often felt at odds with my identity, wary of voicing opinions too loudly — and eliciting accusations of bias — while also attempting to hold those around me accountable. There is no denying that journalism can often feel like a quixotic endeavor, but telling stories remains important to ensuring that vital perspectives are heard.
Despite these challenges, the Wheel’s offices were the first place at Emory where I felt like I really belonged, and that is how it should be. A newsroom is inextricably linked to a democracy and is critical for information gathering and dissemination.
The Wheel’s newsroom, and by extension, any college newsroom, should be accessible and open to the public. And, in light of recent attacks on diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives, news-
room leaders will need to work twice as hard to ensure that these spaces are reflective of the communities they serve. While I am leaving my role as an opinion editor, I feel lucky that this piece will join a litany of love letters to the opinion section. All storytelling is important, but there is a special kind of magic in advocacy journalism, the kind of writing that has been used to fuel social movements and shape policy. I am proud of the way different perspectives have interacted on the opinion pages, and I hope these viewpoints have encouraged reflection and consideration among the Emory community.
The first piece I ever wrote for the Wheel was an article inspired by Taylor Swift, so it seems only fitting that I return to her words before my imminent retirement from editorship.
In “The Trick to Holding On,” a poem by Swift for British Vogue, she writes, “Life nearly ran you off the road … Suddenly you’ll know / The trick to holding on / Was all that letting go.” I am letting go of the Wheel with an open heart and a sincere belief in the best that storytelling has to offer. My time here has allowed me to finally feel comfortable taking chances on myself. I may no longer spend my Tuesday nights putting together the layout for the Wheel’s print editions, but I will continue to look for stories everywhere — on the shuttles that take us to and from Woodruff Circle, in the morning chatter at Kaldi’s and among the flickers of early spring sunlight on the Quad. If you believe in the power of good journalism as ardently as I do, consider doing the same. Strokes of luck can transpire at any moment, and I am sure my next adventure will inevitably find me.
- Contact Safa Wahidi at safa.wahidi@emory.edu.
editor
Embrace spontaneity in small moments
By ethan JacoBs asst opinion editor
I sat at my computer, watching as the final 30 minutes ticked away before the college decision deadline on May 1, 2023. I felt a confusing mix of nerves and a calm resolve as I submitted my enrollment deposit to attend Emory University. I was not struck by a sudden epiphany — instead, I had a gut feeling. All of the schools I was considering exuded similar prestige and maintained strong academics, but Emory felt like the best place to experience the unexpected, subtly life-changing experiences I wanted out of college. I was particularly drawn by Emory’s diverse student body, Atlanta’s cultural significance and the geniality of the people I met while touring campus. To me, this serendipity was not an isolated event — it was the culmination of decisions I made to land at the right place at the right time. Looking back on my college search, I realize I was searching for that serendipity, hoping that the university I chose to attend would push me to unpredictable places with disparate people.
The first time I stepped onto Emory’s campus, it was not for a tour or as a new student — I was attending a high school debate tournament. My first impression of Emory on that cold Friday afternoon in January was of a tired campus with few students milling around in what seemed like cliques. I remember telling my parents I did not want to apply to Emory after that weekend. Fast forward two years later: A lively tour guide and a second, much more successful debate tournament convinced me to give Emory another chance.
When making my decision, I assumed debate would be a cornerstone of my college experience. I quit within the first two weeks at Emory, however, realizing that I wanted to discover new passions with new people.
That choice opened the door to a more genuine and spontaneous experience, freeing me to explore the pulse of campus without preordained expectations. Those initial weeks of college were a whirlwind of new faces and opportunities — I made my closest friends almost instantly. Out of my orientation group emerged a hodgepodge of guys I initially befriended out of circumstance. I spent my first Friday night on campus at Turman Hall, where my orientation friends joined a group playing ping-pong. That unplanned gathering was the first time my friend group hung out together. My favorite memories at Emory have been just as spontaneous. In choosing Emory, I could have never predicted the latenight Cook Out runs, pani puri at Patel Plaza or costly poker sessions in Eagle Hall. However, none of this spontaneity would have been possible without my proximity to Atlanta or Emory’s diverse population enabling me to make friends from all over the world. As a result, I regard my serendipity as a sort of continuum — an ongoing process of trusting my instincts in seemingly inconsequential moments.
As I contemplate my future, I am faced with a plethora of life-changing choices. I have no idea what I want to do in the future, whether I want to attend law school or even whether I will still be an international studies major next semester — and that is OK. I am happy with my last-minute decision to attend Emory. I am relieved that I rejected the comfort of continuing my high school extracurriculars and forced myself into new experiences. I know I may never have an epiphanic moment that convinces me to pursue a specific career path or major — instead, I will keep following my gut and manufacturing my own serendipity, whatever that means for my future.
- Contact Ethan Jacobs at ethan.jacobs@emory.edu
Look for fate in poetic timing
By sara garg ContriButing Writer
Walking with a bright-eyed group of prospective students in April 2023, I remember feeling amazed by Emory University.
“What is your favorite Emory tradition?” I asked the student tour guide, who launched into an explanation of his chosen event: Wonderful Wednesday. He explained how, every week, the event brings together student organizations and administration in a low-stress setting to create a vibrant community.
I was enamored, and like many other rising freshmen, dreamed of attending as many Wonderful Wednesdays as I could. Unfortunately, over the course of my freshman and sophomore years, I attended fewer than five. Luckily for me, one of those five visits introduced me to an incredible new opportunity to share my love for writing with the Emory community.
My writing journey has not been a smooth one. In fact, serendipity has colored my entire journey as a writer. My passion for poetry may have never begun without my fourth-grade homeroom teacher, Lance Brinkman, who decided to spend a week teaching poetry to our class.
It was during this week that I wrote my first real poem, “Black” (2015), which explored how one color could be beautiful and terrifying. I was bored and decided to turn 0ur 16-line poetry writing assignment into a 32-line rhyming work. In doing that assignment, I fell in love with how poems layer meaning and how I could express myself through poetic pursuits.
As my passion grew, I began taking weekly local classes with 2025 Austin Poet Laureate finalist Usha Akella, an acclaimed published author and cofounder of the Matwaala South Asian Diaspora Poets’ Collective. Under her guidance, I entered competitions and began writing a poetry book.
The summer before I came to Emory, Kallisto Gaia Press published
my chapbook, “Elements.” I was ecstatic to see the fruit of three years of concentrated writing and two years of editing in my hands, but I also found myself in a creative rut throughout the summer of 2023. As I adjusted to life at Emory, my dry spell in writing continued.
In a blink, a year had passed, and I had not written a single new poem. Half-baked lines lay abandoned on my notes app, and my not-quite-poems Google document sparkled like snow with nary a word. Academic and social commitments took up all my time, and I was constantly on the run. Wednesdays were especially busy days for me — I had class for most of the afternoon and spent the rest of
As I explore who I am as a writer, I continue to grow and change.
the day working at Emory’s Winship Cancer Institute.
Wonderful Wednesdays were uncharted territory for me until a bright October morning sophomore year when my professor canceled class at the last minute. My Winship supervisor had also sent me on break as I prepared to study abroad. With unexpected time on my hands, I decided to check out this famous Emory tradition. At the very least, I supposed I could stock up on free pens. As I wandered through the tables, I stopped to talk to every single club and organization representative. I had not even realized some of these groups existed. After picking up some free books from an Emory librarian, I came across the TEDxEmory booth. TEDxEmory was promoting their next event, something called Art Talks. I did not think much of it, but I added the group to a long list of Emory clubs I follow on Instagram.
Almost two weeks later, a stroke of
luck struck as I was scrolling through my Instagram feed and a bright pink flyer caught my eye. Posted by TEDxEmory, the flyer advertised the Art Talks speaker applications. While I love public speaking and wanted to share my thoughts on art, I did not think I deserved to apply — after all, I was not a real artist, rather just a hobbyist.
While I had given two TEDx Talks before in high school, both had focused on my computational research and were inspired by my passion for medicine. When asked what I was passionate about, my mind jumped to computational oncology, and when asked what words described me, I said “scientist” or “researcher.” I never thought of the word artist in relation to myself. Did I even qualify as a poet after a year of empty papers?
The application for Art Talks was short, so, shrugging and wondering why not, I filled it out. A few days later, I was sho cked to be selected for an interview. Shortly afterward, I was selected as a speaker. Originally, I doubted that I even qualified to apply, but the TEDxEmory organizers had faith in me, and I decided to give it my best shot.
I spoke about finding art in everyday experiences, from the way the sunlight falls to the smallest smiles you share with friends, and how creating art is not limited to traditional artists.
Standing on stage, I could not stop smiling when the audience began clapping — and not for Sara the scientist, but for Sara the poet. As I reclaimed my identity as an artist, I bloomed. As I explore who I am as a writer, I continue to grow and change. Just when it seems like I have outgrown writing or that my poetry-writing days are done, serendipity strikes. My life will always be colored by the mosaic of my artistic soul because I know how to take advantage of poetic timing.
- Contact Sara Garg at sgarg47@emory.edu.
Seek discomfort through luck — and teary elevator rides
By chLoe naM asst sports editor
I met my best friend in an elevator. I was frantically pressing the button to close the door when Stephanie Lee (28C) and her sister walked in, ruining my attempt at a solo elevator ride. My eyes were basically swollen shut from crying, and the last thing I wanted was for another person to see me. It was the end of move-in weekend, and my parents had just dropped me off in my Harris Hall dorm room. Clearly, I was not faring well. I was mortified about being caught crying before I realized that the sniffling sound was not just coming from me: Steph and her sister were crying, too. For a moment, there was a sense of solidarity between us. Suddenly, the elevator abruptly stopped on the second floor instead of the third floor, and the ride became significantly more awkward as an unsuspecting man joined the enclosed space filled with three crying girls. I thought that would be my last time crying in front of Steph. In reality, there would be many more tears shed and thankfully, also laughter shared together. Before coming to Emory University, I had low
expectations for finding my people. I found my people in seventh grade, and they were over 772 miles away from Georgia, back home in Pennsylvania. I was convinced no one would live up to my hometown best friends. It turns out, Steph does, even though she is nothing like the people I have known before. Somehow, I have found myself spending more and more time with her, learning weird facts about Portland, Ore., and going to her swim meets. Reflecting on it now, it feels like fate that we ever became friends. When we met, we did not share a single class together, our schedules never aligned and we came from opposite sides of the country.
I like to think our elevator incident drew us together. Plus, happen to live across from each other. I was shocked by how Steph and I managed to get along despite our different upbringings. Before meeting Steph, I was almost nervous to converse with people so unlike me. Where I am from, it is normal to be the only person of color in a high school class. Where Steph is from, it is normal for half the class to identify as people of color. In my town, people watch high school
football games every Friday and stop at Wawa for a hoagie. In Steph’s, people grocery shop at Safeway and eat at Din Tai Fung. Talking about our differences is one of my favorite things to do with Steph, and inadvertently, she has encouraged me to seek out things that make me uncomfortable and people who challenge my beliefs. I consider Steph to be my happy accident. She is only one person, but she has opened me up to so many random facts, new people and beliefs about life. Before meeting her, I had never even thought
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about Oregon. Now, I get excited just hearing that other people are from Portland, so I can mention it to her later. She has taught me little things, like how potato wedges are called jojos in her town, but she has also shown me how to be more compassionate, understanding and genuine. We used to go on what we called contemplative walks, on which I forced us to have the deepest conversations we could. Half the time we did not even walk — but sitting on the University Quadrangle at midnight, curled in my chair, I found
someone who made me feel like the most awkward parts of myself were normal. Somehow, every thought that I have considered insignificant was important to someone, and my mistakes were less shameful. I have found the brightest, best version of myself through her friendship. Steph has also inspired me to seek new opportunities. Since move-in weekend, I have found a creative community through The Emory Wheel, from which I have learned to love casual writing again. I have built relationships with the best sisters through my sorority, and I have come to love debating new topics with people different from me. While Steph never told me to do these things, having someone who makes me so comfortable has helped me be okay with adapting to places where I was once uncomfortable. Steph was my first real friend at Emory, but she has encouraged me to connect with so many other people. I have become a collection of all the places and people I know, and I am lucky to say Steph is one of the best parts of that collection.
- Contact Chloe Nam at chloe.nam@emory.edu.
The Emory Wheel
Arts Life&
Dedications: Art for special people, places, past moments
Foreword
by CAtherine goodmAn, Arts & Life editor
According to American writer Elbert Hubbard, “art is not a thing; it is a way.” Art is a way of living, a way of existing in the world, and of course, a way of connecting with others. In this special project, “Dedications,” The Emory Wheel’s Arts & Life Staff shares the places and people that defined, inspired or guided us through life. To explore these relationships, we’ve turned to art. Whether dedicating a song, movie or play, these articles reflect the intersection between community and creativity. We hope you enjoy them as much as we do.
By anya aGarkar Contributing Writer
Grace, gratitude and other lessons from my ‘Sweet Creature’ Embracing change through ‘Bliss’
By Catherine Goodman Arts & Life editor
I was raised on the water. Living on Skidaway Island in Savannah, Ga., my fondest memories smell of murky marsh soil and sound like cicadas serenading the setting sun. I spent my childhood running on bare feet through my neighborhood, catching squareback marsh crabs with my brother and driving 35 minutes to the beach on Saturdays with my dad.
But of my many adolescent memories in coastal Georgia, those that sing the loudest, smell the sweetest and wash over me like waves on the shore are the ones with my grandmother.
My Dede, known to the commoners as Deanne Wigh, passed away on Feb. 12. Dede was the first of my relatives to pass away — and I recognize the incredible privilege and luck I have in stating that fact. While dealing with a loss of this kind for the first time, I’ve turned to an age-old remedy: music.
Dede was a devoted and perhaps the only fan of my long-running music column, Cat’s Collection. After every print edition, she would send me notes about the newest installment of my column. From compliments to
constructive criticism, she was never afraid to share her thoughts.
After a year of hearing her comments, I developed an understanding of her music taste. To my surprise, Dede really loved Harry Styles.
While Dede’s favorite Styles song was “Sign of the Times” (2017), I have chosen to dedicate another track from his self-titled debut album to her: “Sweet Creature” (2017). “Sweet Creature” opens with a soft, evocative acoustic guitar. Like falling into a freshly made bed, the repetitive chord progression eases the listener into the song. Styles soon enters with a powerful but soft crooning: “Sweet creature / Had another talk about where it’s going wrong.”
While “Sweet Creature” begins with a lyric about misdeeds, the track is ultimately about empathy, humility, forgiveness and grace — all virtues I learned from my grandmother. When the girls at school were unkind, Dede never let me hold a grudge. When I lost a basketball game, she never let me pout or hiss. She just hugged me and told me to try again and try better.
When Dede was diagnosed with cancer in July, she didn’t let me cry or yell or beg for a reason. She just sat outside in the sun and asked about my day at work. In both her behavior and language — always executed with impeccable grammar and absurd refinery — she reminded me that life is scary, unfair and often unpredictable. You control only one thing: yourself.
“You are the keeper of your own soul,” Dede said.
Unlike most who grow up seeing grandparents only at Christmas, I had the privilege of spending countless nights at my grandparent’s house.
Even now, 21 years later, it is the first place I go when I return to Savannah. It is my home as much as my own on Little Comfort Road — and it helps that it’s only three minutes away.
The painted rocks on the counter, the storybooks in the drawers and the
markings of my growth on the kitchen door are a testament to the time I spent learning, loving and laughing under the adoring gaze of my grandparents. Every night, Dede sang me “Edelweiss” (1959) from “The Sound of Music” and rubbed my back until I fell asleep. As Styles sings in “Sweet Creature,” she and I were “two hearts in one home.”
As mentioned above, I grew up on the water — specifically the marsh. My grandparent’s house faced west, and on particularly beautiful nights, Dede and I would sneak through the neighbor’s shrubbery and emerge on the sandy edge of a golf course. On either side, we were surrounded by palm trees, open air and the unmistakable briney smell of marsh water.
Here, we watched the sun paint the sky with streaks of orange, yellow and pink. When the show ended and the sky grew dark, she would take my hand and guide me back to her red front door.
Although not the exact scenery, the lyric “Running through the garden / Oh, where nothing bothered us,” from “Sweet Creature” will always remind me of those nights.
“Sweet Creature” culminates in an emotional chorus as Styles sings, “Sweet creature, sweet creature / Wherever I go, you bring me home / Sweet creature, sweet creature / When I run out of road, you bring me home.”
While Dede is physically gone, I know she remains ever-present. I will hear her in my mother and sister’s laughter.
I will see her in the creases and folds of every sunset. And I will hopefully never taste her unseasoned chicken again.
It is because of her that I carry love everywhere, cover my mouth after I curse, and know that wherever I go, I can always return to the open arms of my family and the relentless humidity of Savannah.
Dede, “Wherever I go, you bring me home.”
– Contact Catherine Goodman at catherine.goodman@emory.edu
Before I went away to college, I was sure that I would be beside myself with homesickness. I have always been a terribly sentimental person, so I spent my senior year laying awake at night and reciting all the things I loved about home over and over again in my head, bracing myself for the sadness I was sure I would feel. I thought about my friends, my mother’s cooking, my dad’s horrendous jokes and the way the sunlight filtered into the living room at home.
Needless to say, this habit of mine was both pointless and detrimental, and I arrived at Emory University very homesick.
But the one thing I never expected to miss about home was the landscape.
Coastal California is characterized by sweeping, rolling hills of invasive oatgrass that turn bright green in the rainier half of the year and golden-brown in the drier half.
Even if you have never been to the region, you have likely seen the California hills before. They are the subject of the photograph “Bliss” (1998), taken by photographer Charles O’Rear.
“Bliss” is best known as the default wallpaper on devices using the Windows XP operating system. Billions of people have seen the iconic photo, and it is widely believed to be the most viewed photograph in the world. “Bliss” depicts a verdant, hilly landscape bathed in sunlight.
Overhead is an almost comically serene blue sky dotted by clouds. The scenery photographed seems so idyllic that for many years, there was an impassioned debate about whether or not the photo was real. It was, of course. According to O’Rear, the photo hadn’t even been digitally altered. It was just “perfect.”
Despite their reputation as a thing of beauty, these hills had disturbed me my entire childhood. I hated how their non-native oatgrass ruined California’s natural landscape and as a result, I often became uneasy watching the grass wither and die every summer.
When I came to Georgia, though, I was made more uncomfortable by their absence. Even though I had never been especially fond of the hills, they were a constant in my life. I had to pass them to get to school every
morning, to visit friends and to drive to the grocery store. The hills had defined my home almost as much as the people there, and I left them behind on the West Coast.
Retrospectively, it was foolish of me to view anything, even the terrain, as perpetual. “Bliss” itself is a testament to change. Since O’Rear took the iconic photograph 29 years ago, the once-barren California hills have become overgrown with classic Sonoma vineyards.
Now, it is impossible to recreate the photograph without razing the vines completely, though many have tried.
Furthermore, the Californian hills no longer change color as they used to. As the state gets hotter and drier over time, the lush, “perfect” green depicted in “Bliss” lasts a shorter duration every year. Even Windows XP, the source of the photo’s renown, slowly faded into obscurity, with Microsoft ending support for the system in 2014.
Today, people see both the photo and the operating system as relics of the 2000s, embedded into cultural memory as nostalgic images. What was once an icon of the futuristic, rapidly growing digital age is now a mere aesthetic. In a few decades, it’s possible that nobody will remember the photo anymore.
But I will never forget it. So, I would like to dedicate this photograph to myself from freshman year. “Bliss” is a reminder of home, but it’s also a reminder of change.
I still think it’s OK to hold onto the past. Even so, the places we see as steadfast are living, dying and shifting in their own ways. And perhaps that’s what makes them special to us.
– Contact Anya Agarkar at anya.agarkar@emory.edu
Experiencing womanhood through my immigrant mother’s eyes
By wendy Pelayo dei editor
In my mother’s beautiful brown eyes, I imagine the story of her past — a blurry, rose-colored image filled with sacrifice. I know she is more than a “mother” when our eyes meet, but her expression is hard to read. When my sister and I reminisce, I notice that we represent different parts of our mother. My sister does not resemble her, except slightly in the face. Her curly red hair is unique and extraordinary in our family. I have my mother’s face, almost exactly. I also have her work ethic and desire for a bright future to an exhaustive degree. My sister holds something especially precious: her unfulfilled artistry. My mother never got to pursue her dreams of being an artist, but her color has motivated us in many ways. We argue life is unfair, but she tells
us it is fine. She tells us to keep going. Self-taught, motivated and sensitive, my sister represents and highlights the various facets of our mother and her mother before her, evidenced by her acrylic piece entitled “Half of my Life” (2022).
The artwork shows the figure of a woman split, the right side of her face displaying a skeleton. The skeleton has a dark hole where the right eye should be. The left side has my mother’s eye. I know it anywhere. In the painting, life and death are face to face. There is a void of darkness around the represented woman, one which has cut her off from her body.
Onlookers of this painting see her above her chest, without the rest of her body. She is not reduced to a female body, finally, but a female figure with a disappointed expression.
Her eyes tell us she’s seen “this” before, whatever “this” is, and is not surprised. I can only imagine she
is responding to how her life has become more difficult despite her sacrifice, but it’s hard to tell. She is frail but beautiful. She holds her dignity even though she is cut in half and vulnerable.
The void of darkness moves around the woman in the portrait, like ghosts of her past or heavy thoughts racing through her mind. She is plagued by black and red, likely representing heavy emotions of anger, despair or exhaustion. I wonder what she is thinking. I wonder what her relationship with her skeleton is and why I see her that way. Why is she cut in half?
My sister created this female representation from the role of “daughter.” She sees what I see and what my youngest sister will soon see: how life, not death, eats away at the woman.
When I face her, I feel the color of my mother. My glasses are no longer rose-colored with youth — instead,
they are dipped in blood red like those of our ancestral mothers’.
The skeleton is the supporting pillar for my sister’s cracked-open woman. We, as daughters of an immigrant mother, have seen the woman in the painting’s expression in our mother’s eyes — even in her brightest, happiest moments. I see the expression faintly in my own eyes when our community is threatened by anti-immigrant policies.
I have the desire for life to change and give us more opportunities for leisure. The expression pleads for peace and so do I. I realize I have seen my mother’s story through this woman in the painting.
On late nights I notice my eye bags mirroring my mother’s. Suddenly, I see her in the mirror: a pillar of strength. I have balanced the expressions of her somber eyes through the lens of “mother” and woman.
She reminds me that life requires strength. Some things will not
change right away, but we cannot fall, not until it is our time to see the pillar of death.
– Contact Wendy Pelayo at wendy.pelayo@emory.edu
ginnA nebrig/stA ff iLLustr Ator
ginnA nebrig/stA ff iLLustr Ator
Wolf Alice’s ‘Bros’ solidifies sisterhood in song
By mC Powell CAmpus desk
Driving my 2013 blue Subaru Outback down a gravel road with fields on both sides, I smelled freshly cut grass wafting through the open windows.
I sank into the rhythm of the road, each bump and turn comforting in its familiarity. My phone played a new song — an almost magical tune that seemed to draw me into its world. It was a song I had not heard before, but somehow, it felt like I had known it forever.
I commenced summer 2023 cutting my hair off into a bob. It was a symbolic gesture to celebrate surviving my junior year of high school, commemorating the passing of time and, in a way, my sister’s graduation from Florence High School (Al.). She was about to leave the cages of high school halls, bound for the sprawling beauty of Berry College (Ga.). Berry was a place that felt both like a dream and an admirable reality — a beautiful rolling ground of education away from my hometown that was seemingly unreachable but close enough to touch.
As the wind whipped through my hair, I thought of how much had changed in just a few years, but how some things, like this road and the fields beside it, had remained the same.
The speakers played loudly, and the lyrics to “Bros” (2015) by Wolf Alice caught my attention. Lead singer Ellie Rowsell belts, “Remember when we cut our hair? / We both looked like boys, but we didn’t care.” A sharp nostalgia hit me as I recalled the day when my sister, at six years old, with-
out a second thought, took a pair of scissors to her long locks, chopping them off in a wild act of rebellion. She cut mine too.
I remember proudly and fearfully showing our mom my sister’s new pixie and my new micro bangs. How strange, I thought, to be so suddenly thrown back in time and to hear a song that so vividly mirrored those memories.
The music swelled, and I soon realized I had found something special. It was not just a sound, though the soft but punchy guitar chords and evocative rhythm spoke to something deep inside me — but the lyrics and how they captured the sense of connection, shared history and loyalty that I always felt with my sister.
“When my sister joins me, we spend the drive with the windows down, laughing and screaming along to the lyrics of what now feels like our anthem.”
“Stick it out together, like we always do / Oh, there’s no one, there’s no one quite like you,” Rowsell sings. The lyrics were simple but expressed a truth I couldn’t ignore. It was a promise — no matter what, we would stick together. We were each other’s constants in an ever-changing world.
I thought about my sister as the
song continued to play. I admired her more than she would ever know. She had a fire, a raw passion for everything she loved and wore it like a badge of honor. I wanted to be like her. I wanted to be as unapologetically myself.
I wanted her confidence, ability to speak her mind and unwavering determination. Her hair, long and straight like golden rays of sunshine, was the only thing about her that seldom changed — a symbol of her steady, unshakeable presence in my life.
I drive through this spot when aimlessly wandering on Tate Slough Road when I’m home. It’s a part of my routine now, as much a part of me as the air I breathe. The road, trees and horses grazing lazily in the fields all hold a certain magic or nostalgia, a reminder of a time before all the changes and uncertainty. When my sister joins me, we spend the drive with the windows down, laughing and screaming along to the lyrics of what now feels like our anthem. In these moments, everything falls into place. We belt out, “I’m quite sure / Me and you”
As I drive, singing with my sister beside me, I know that no matter where we go or how much time passes, we’ll always be this way — inseparable, chasing the wind, living in the present and dreaming together. That’s what it means to be sisters, to be family. And nothing, not even time, can change that.
To my sister, thank you for being my forever friend. It’s me and you — I’m quite sure.
– Contact MC Powell at martha.caroline.powell@emory. edu
Minnesota, ‘I’m gonna love you for a long time’
By amelia Bush Asst. Arts & Life editor
It was Aug. 7, 2024 at 8:14 p.m., nine days before I boarded my flight to Atlanta to start my life at Emory University. Summer was ending, and the sun was fully set. The sky felt like a cocoon around me.
Just two hours earlier, my friend Mackenzie called me. She was bored, so we decided to get ice cream from Sebastian Joe’s, a family-owned ice cream shop that is integral to Minneapolis.
We had never been spur-of-themoment people and have always made plans at least two weeks in advance, but this day, we opted for impulsivity.
I hopped in the passenger seat of Mackenzie’s dark green Volkswagen and slammed the door. We almost went to the Sebastian Joe’s two minutes from my house, but something told us to go farther.
We decided to go to the location in Linden Hills, which was a 20 minute drive away. When we got there, we heard the faint sound of drums playing from around the corner.
We walked further and discovered a small cover band playing right next door.
performed on a small wooden stage. We had only planned to make a quick stop at Sebastian Joe’s, but we stayed for over two hours. The band played our favorite Beatles songs and a crowd of people clapped and sang along. We left only when the band concluded with an anthemic rendition of “Sweet Caroline” (1969).
We decided to take the long way home, weaving around the “Chain of Lakes,” a series of five lakes connected by trails. Even though it was dark, we still loved being so close to the water. I stared at Mackenzie’s collection of rubber ducks on the dashboard as her playlist streamed through the car speakers. Then, “Love You For a Long Time” (2019) by Maggie Rogers started to play.
Mackenzie told me, “I’m going to play this at my wedding,” breaking our silence. I was too deep in thought and worried about leaving Minnesota to have said much during the car ride.
She turned the volume up, and we sang along. She turned toward me and sang, “If devotion is a river / Then I’m floating away.”
After that moment, I started crying. In the song, Rogers repeats, “I’m gonna love you for a long time.” After Mackenzie saw me crying, she told me, “It’s OK.” When the song ended, we played it again.
Partially because of the memory attached to it and partially because of some indescribable pull I felt toward the song, I played “Love You For a Long Time” on repeat while I laid in bed and stared at the tiled ceilings of my dorm room during my first week in Atlanta.
Every time I played the song,
Ode to those who raised the curtain on ‘A Whole New World’ for me
By JaCoB musColino Asst neWs editor
When I was eight years old, sitting with a tingling anticipation in the New Amsterdam Theatre in New York City, it was as if someone removed a blindfold from my eyes, transporting me to “A Whole New World” (1992).
it reminded me of home.
When I first got to Emory, I was ashamed of being from Minnesota. At a university where everyone seemed to know each other before entering, I viewed being Minnesotan as dead weight, a restraint I could not escape. I would joke with people I had just met, saying how much I hated Minnesota and wanted to leave.
The first time I shared my bad thoughts, I felt a pang of guilt, a feeling I quickly pushed down. By the fifth disparaging comment I made about Minnesota, the state started to feel like a distant memory, like an old friend I had not talked to in years.
Every time I play “Love You For a Long Time,” though, I am taken home. Sure, I hate the cold and having to scrape the ice off of my car windshield in negative-degree weather. And sure, I definitely hate Minnesota State Highway 62 and how it always felt like I was about to crash.
But those small facts do not define Minnesota to me. Some of my best memories from spring and summer are of driving around aimlessly with my windows down, blasting music and screaming the lyrics with my friends.
But when I think of Minnesota, small everyday details also come to mind — the bare tree branches covered in snow every winter, the fluffy pancakes at The Kenwood Restaurant, the after-school trips to Kowalski’s Market for sushi.
I often find myself back in that Volkswagen with Mackenzie, just like in the song “I still think about that moment / All of the time.”
Minnesota is inescapable. Even my mom, who moved to Minnesota with my dad in 2000, only planned on staying for a year. But, 25 years later, it’s still their home — she is happy there. And for 18 years, I was happy there too.
“I’m gonna love you for a long time,” Minnesota.
– Contact Amelia Bush at amelia.bush@emory.edu
For Aladdin, it took being this diamond in the rough, or someone with great potential, to find the magic lamp. For me, it took being someone filled with passion and drive and nowhere to express my creative side, to inspire my direction toward theater.
Sitting in the maroon seat and shuffling my feet as I fidgeted with the gold and purple program in my lap, little did I realize I would be changed forever as the lights dimmed and the music of the fictional Agrabah consumed me.
My paternal and maternal grandmas united on a summer day in 2014 to take me on an adventure — or really, a magic carpet ride.
Therefore, I must dedicate “Aladdin the Musical” (2011) to my Grandma Barbara and Grandma Karen, who introduced me to my first love and to “unbelievable sights” in the world of theater.
“Aladdin the Musical” (2011) follows a teenage boy with big dreams who wishes himself into prince hood, and finds himself captured between his love for Princess Jas mine and his secret identity as a street urchin. When I first saw the musical, I was
young, filled with passion and a desire for greatness.
The way Aladdin viewed himself as a Sultan, I could picture myself accepting a Tony Award from the hands of Neil Patrick Harris and becoming the new King of Manhattan’s Theater District.
Also like Aladdin, whose friends stayed by his side throughout his struggles to succeed, my grandmas occupied the front row of every performance.
From my first lead role in “Beauty and the
While Aladdin sought an escape from squalor, I sought a life that extended far beyond the reach of my Long Island childhood.
No community or place ever felt adequate for me and my dreams. That is, until I found theater.
Like many retired Jewish grandmas, mine are enthusi asts of the Broadway scene and excitedly gifted me the experience of seeing one of my favorite Disney films on the stage. Like my own genies, they gr anted me a wish I never knew I wanted.
As I listen to the soundtrack, its enchanting, rich and sweeping power will always paint the image of that day in my mind.
It started with a lunch at Ellen’s Stardust Diner that burst with magic as the waiters and waitresses took the stage on the tabletops, inspiring me with their journeys toward life on Broadway.
Then, the memory fast-forwards to sitting in the theater as the orchestra plays “Arabian Nights” (1992), the stage illuminated by the bright hues of the “wondrous place” unfolding before me.
The fall afterward, I begged my mom to sign me up for community theater, which soon became my life. Music, dance and the stage breathed life into me, teaching me lessons and introducing me to people who would change my life forever. It was as if I unlocked my own Cave of Wonders. I felt like this “Diamond in the Rough” (2014).
Beast” (1994) to my stark personality change to a T-Bird in “Grease” (1971) and even when I was not front and center like in “Gypsy” (1959), their support never faltered. Through every performance, their presence was a constant force that guided me “One Jump Ahead” (1992) and fueled my lifelong passion. This is my love letter to Broadway and an ode to my grandmas. The stage became my home, leading me to a “thrilling chase” toward a new direction and the “soaring, tumbling and freewheeling” as described in “A Whole New World.”
The stage influenced much of my childhood, pushed me through my teenage years and will forever continue to inspire me.
The same way the Genie and Abu stood beside Aladdin when his life changed, and how the Sultan loved his daughter Jasmine through her challenges, I know my grandmas will be there for all of life’s magic carpet rides, even the ones that may be shaky or as shocking as a shooting star. In that same light, the world of theater has imprinted its undying signature on my heart and I will forever be drawn to the stage — if not as a performer, then always as an eager viewer.
To my grandmas, thank you for sharing “A Whole New World” with me.
– Contact Jacob Muscolino at jake.muscolino@emory.edu
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‘Vienna waits for you’: A dedication to my camp friends
By sasha ratner C ontributing W riter
I know three versions of Vienna — one in person, one in history and one in song.
Most of my childhood memories of visiting the Austrian capital include Mozart, Mozart chocolates and the breathtaking St. Stephen’s Cathedral, which I once mistook for Cinderella Castle.
My father, a visiting professor at the University of Vienna, attempted to explain that we had set foot in one of the world’s most beautiful Gothic structures.
Still, I was more interested in finding Prince Charming’s room than appreciating the ornately carved pulpit or Baroque stained glass windows.
In the summers of 2011–13, my family and I explored the cobbled streets and fanciful imperial gardens
that characterized the city of music, and to me, Vienna remained a fairytale city.
The summers I spent there were void of the darkness wrought by the infamous Disney villains I feared so deeply.
Unbeknownst to five-year-old me, there were villains out there — I just didn’t know them yet.
In Hitler’s Anschluss of 1938, Germany annexed Austria and its capital, and the once vibrant city descended into an authoritarian nightmare.
The Jewish people who had lived there, fortified not only by their numbers but also by their spirit and accomplishments, were largely displaced, deported and massacred, often with the enthusiastic support of the Viennese gentiles.
They were first deprived of their liberties — such as their education, financial assets and property — and
then of their dignity.
Holy sites and synagogues were set ablaze, and Viennese Jews were forced into Putzerkolonnen, or cleaning units, and obliged to scrub the settled ashes on the streets with toothbrushes.
There is a small, almost unnoticeable, bronze statue that sits in the Albertinaplatz quarter of Vienna that commemorates the thousands of Jews who suffered in the Anschluss. It is called the “Kneeling Jew,” and it depicts just that: a kneeling Jew, barbed wire encasing his back, scrubbing at the floor with a sponge.
My father told me he pointed it out one summer as we passed it on our way to the nearby butterfly museum.
I’m not sure I remember seeing it, and if I did, I probably mistook it for one of Snow White’s seven dwarfs.
But between knowing Vienna in person and knowing it in history, I
ginnA nebrig/stA ff iLLustr Ator
Ode to a typical ‘Sunday Morning’ with my sisters
By GeorGe seGall Crime desk
I grew up with two older sisters with seven and 10-year age gaps. Having such a large age difference, I wasn’t familiar with those sibling relationships where siblings were much closer in age and saw each other as equals rather than as a parent and child. Yet, my relationship with them is something I’m ultimately grateful for.
In my early childhood years, I never really appreciated my familial situation. My sisters, despite being several years removed from the interests of an eight-year-old, made their best efforts to entertain me and my enthusiastic, ADHD-fueled self. I loved and adored them, but I still wished for a sibling my age to play with and felt pangs of embarrassment when my teachers confused my sister with my mother when she picked me up from elementary school.
But one thing I never doubted was the superiority of the music my sisters gave me. My vast knowledge of ’90s and ’00s hits wouldn’t have been possible without the two of them exposing me to their world of music whenever they had the chance. I surrounded myself with their vast music taste, completely immersed and lost in its beautiful words. I’m so grateful for that opportunity, and I would dedicate my life to the music they showed me if I could. Instead, I’ll just dedicate one of those songs to my sisters: “Sunday Morning” (2002) by Maroon 5. “Sunday Morning” is filled with beautifully soft and comforting melodies and a gorgeous blend of seemingly harsh instruments that come together to make a soothing sound. Often I found myself humming the tune with my sisters in the back of our parents’ car. I didn’t know most of the
words, but that never stopped me. The lyrics to “Sunday Morning,” coupled with its slow, hopeful beat, evoke feelings of nostalgia, of simpler times. It reminds me of listening to my sister play the guitar in our living room, or dancing around the island in our kitchen. The song emphasizes how the best thing we can do in life is to slow things down and appreciate the time spent with loved ones. Lead singer Adam Levine sings, “Things just get so crazy, living life gets hard to do.”
Levine encourages us to slow down, singing “driving slow on Sunday morning” and declaring that we “never want to leave.” While some look back on their childhood with anger or resentment — and feel distraught over the idea of aging — this song encourages living in the present and enjoying the little moments in life.
Although I might not have been mature enough as an 8-year-old to fully understand how special my relationship with my sisters was, I knew it certainly felt unique. Being able to learn and grow from them, I attribute much of who I am today to the nurturing environment they provided, where any fight between us was rarer than the moments we took to harmonize to “Sunday Morning.”
A seven and 10-year age difference felt like an unbridgeable divide to a younger me, but the gap only closed as time progressed. Something I once saw as a hindrance now fills me with glee. I can visit my siblings in their adult apartments anytime I want, where we can listen to “Sunday Morning” and transport ourselves back to a different time — one when I still didn’t know the words to the song. And I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.
– Contact George Segall at george.segall@emory.edu
knew it in a song. And the Vienna I know in song is the hardest of them all to explain. Can anybody explain where a song takes them?
While it is a difficult task, I’ll try. “Vienna” (1977) by Billy Joel takes me to a particular place — with my friends and fellow seniors campers of Camp Seneca Lake in 2022.
The words never pass between us, but it’s apparent: This could be our last summer together before the inexorable shove into summer internships, gainful employment and inevitably, adulthood.
In just a few notes, I am immediately transported back to the fleeting moments of our final summer, indelible memories on the cusps of adulthood.
All thirty of us are packed into a ten-by-eight platform tent meant to sleep four, and my friend turns up the volume on his JBL speaker. Billy Joel plays the introductory bar to “Vienna” as if he’s playing it for us — and we sing. We sing as one.
At the end of each summer, the oldest campers choose a song to be their “senior song.” The Senior Campers of 2014 chose “Rivers and Roads” (2011) by The Head And The Heart, which chronicles the heartache of maintaining long-distance friendships in four transcendent minutes. My group chose “Vienna,” or I should really say, “Vienna” chose us.
In the song, Billy Joel sings “Slow down, you crazy child / And take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while / It’s all right, you can afford to lose a day or two.” How did he know the unparalleled bliss we felt as we unplugged for two months? How did he know the joy of having friends who knew us in our natural states, untouched by hair products and social media?
As Winnie the Pooh poses, “How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
Somehow, Billy Joel’s “Vienna” answers that question. “Vienna” knew that I was unfathomably lucky.
According to renowned anthropologist Clifford Geertz, “Man is an
animal suspended in webs of significance he himself has spun.”
If it’s not Vienna, it is your chair, your hairbrush or the smell of cut grass. They seem so simple until they are threaded in and out of your life, and 10 years later the threads are suddenly a spider web, and they are no longer simple at all.
Sigmund Freud, father of psychology and a Viennese Jew, is often attributed with saying that “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” But he knew that was the exception.
Things and places shapeshift, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually.
That same Freud advised us that “A man should not strive to eliminate his complexes but to get into accord with them: they are legitimately what directs his conduct in the world.”
Vienna has become a complex of mine. It is not so much a place, but an idea or an amalgam of distinct and contradictory ideas.
When I listen to Billy Joel’s “Vienna” today, my mind still takes its place in that platform tent, where I once sat surrounded by my camp friends.
Therefore, I dedicate this reflection to them who, unknowingly, helped shape a beautiful association with Vienna when in its place, it could’ve been an ugly one.
When I hear the song “Vienna,” or see images of the city itself, my mind first goes to the cherished memories of our last summer, eclipsing the tragedies of the Anschluss.
It is my camp friends I have to thank for this, for they are the ones who helped me reconcile the past with the present, and find meaning in both.
I know three versions of Vienna— one in person, one in history and one in song.
I try my best to remember the first, at times I wish I never learned about the second, and I hope I never forget the third.
– Contact Sasha Ratner at sasha.ratner@emory.edu
Finding ever-evolving meaning in Arcade Fire’s ‘Funeral’
By alex Gerson Arts & Life editor
Over the past year and a half, I’ve been thinking a lot about what makes a piece of art truly excellent. Through my film classes at Emory University and my time as one of the Arts & Life editors for The Emory Wheel, I’ve spent a lot of energy writing about what music, television shows and movies mean to me.
While it is still tough to articulate what exactly makes a piece of art stand out as particularly transcendent, writing articles for the Wheel about the albums and movies I love has taught me that the best works of art always offer something new to discover, no matter how often you revisit them.
On that note, I’d like to dedicate my favorite album of all time, “Funeral” (2004) by Arcade Fire, to the Arts & Life section.
“Funeral” came out the year I was born, and Arcade Fire is the first band I remember listening to. If my hazy memory serves correctly, my parents and I listened to songs from the band’s second album, “Neon Bible” (2007), on our family’s CD player. But it wasn’t until my junior year of high school that I rediscovered Arcade Fire when I saw “Funeral,” their debut album, ranked second on Pitchfork’s list of the top 200 albums of the 2000s.
As the name of the record would suggest, “Funeral” is an album about looking back at something that is not here anymore. But for such a grim title, the album is not just about what’s gone, but also about what inspires hope for the future.
The album’s opening track, “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels),” evokes childhood innocence and naivete with its gentle piano chords and swelling strings as lead singer Win Butler recounts a story of two teenagers sneaking out of their parents’ houses in the middle of a snowstorm to plan out their future lives as a cou-
ple. However, as Butler sings, the two teens age and eventually forget the names they were planning on giving their future children.
The song starts out gentle and quaint, much like the childlike innocence Butler sings about. But by the end, Arcade Fire solidifies “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)” as an anthemic indie rock banger. When I’m feeling down, I find the story of the teens and their forgotten love tragic.
But when I’m feeling hopeful, the swelling instrumentals remind me that though some things end or are forgotten, we carry them with us throughout the rest of our lives, regardless of whether we can remember every little detail.
“Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)” is the perfect setup for an album full of nuances, inconsistencies and contradictory meanings. The album’s heartbreaking lyrics are accompanied by upbeat dance-rock instrumentals. The moments of loss and grief are immediately followed by moments of hope and joy.
The stories Butler tells feel like he is describing his distant memories of the past but also his dreams for the
future. Just like in real life, moments of light and darkness in “Funeral” aren’t separate but concurrent. I keep coming back to “Funeral” because I know no two listens will ever feel the same.
Some will make me feel nostalgic, some will make me feel sad and some will fill me with hope. I know that as I continue to grow and change throughout my life, “Funeral” and its meaning to me will change too.
“Funeral” is an incredibly meaningful album to me, but I never would have thought to listen to it without a publication like Pitchfork recommending it.
That’s why I want to dedicate this album to the Arts & Life section of the Wheel.
To me, “Funeral” is a testament to the power of arts journalism — it can open our eyes to pieces of art that stay with us for the rest of our lives.
Listening to “Funeral” is like looking back on my time as an Arts & Life Editor — it makes me nostalgic for the past and hopeful for the future.
– Contact Alex Gerson at alex.gerson@emory.edu
Finding vulnerability through ‘Three Colours: Red’
By Clément lee mAnAging editor
Toward the end of my senior year of high school, I became numb to art. Despite being involved in the fine arts scene at my school, I stopped enjoying art personally, and my relationship with art became purely functional — one based on sense rather than sensibility.
I didn’t appreciate it like I once did when I took art history courses or played the clarinet and piano. Over time, I began overanalyzing art as something systematic without considering its emotional aspects.
I began to only use original soundtracks as background music for studying.
My top artists and songs on Spotify did not represent music that moved me.
For instance, my 2022 Spotify Wrapped consisted of songs composed by Trent Reznor, Atticus Ross and Nicholas Britell for movies and shows like “The Social Network” (2010), “Tenet” (2020), “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” (2011) and even “Succession” (2018).
However, I eventually discovered the late Polish filmmaker Krzysztof Kieślowski and his “Three Colours” trilogy toward the end of my first year at Emory University.
At the time, I was trying to watch more media to improve my French vernacular, so I asked my mom what films she would recommend for me to observe how French people naturally speak.
I didn’t know any of the movie titles she suggested, but she said one actress’ name I recognized: Juliette Binoche.
After clumsily clicking the first movie that appeared with a quick Google search, I watched “Three Colours: Blue” (1993), starring Binoche.
It is the first installment in Kieślowski’s film trilogy, a collection of three individual movies representing the symbolic colors of the French flag: blue, which stands for liberty; white, which represents equality; and red, which symbolizes fraternity.
While watching “Blue,” I quickly became mesmerized by Kieślowski’s ability to seamlessly combine an impactful score and beautiful cinematography while concurrently exploring moving themes such as grief and fate.
“Blue” convinced me to see the rest of Kieślowski’s last two films: “Three Colours: White” (1994) and “Three Colours: Red” (1994). Although “Blue” and “White” are remarkable in their own ways, “Red,” Kieślowski’s last film before he died in 1996, truly opened my eyes.
I began to realize that powerful art does not need to be complex to be
great if it can evoke deep emotions in a viewer or listener.
“Three Colours: Red” follows Valentine Dussaut (Irène Jacob), a parttime runway model and university student who accidentally runs over a pregnant dog with her car.
The dog’s owner and the other main protagonist, Joseph Kern (Jean-Louis Trintignant), is a retired judge who spends his time eavesdropping on his neighbor’s cell phone conversations.
Valentine and Joseph may seem different at first — the former is young and full of life, while the latter is old and cynical due to past failures. However, the film follows a circumstantial chain of events that eventually intertwines them.
In the movie, Kieślowski uses random encounters to demonstrate that little moments can turn into platonic relationships exceeding age differences and love. Ultimately, “Three Colours: Red” presents the idea that fate, destiny and metaphysical forces connect people.
The first time I saw this movie, I did not feel the need to analyze its philosophical allusions or technical achievements.
I simply surrendered to feeling the film. Kieślowski’s use of red color gradients and lighting to convey themes of passion, love and rhythm read like visual poetry.
For the first time in years, I was not trying to find the meaning behind every little scene and dissect the movie intellectually — instead, I let the film move me emotionally. I ultimately connected to the main characters’ yearnings for true connection amid their struggles with superficial and empty relationships. As “Three Colours: Red” progressed, Valentine and Joseph’s predicaments in the film reflected my own relationship with art.
I saw how in analyzing art, I prioritized technical analyses over sentimentality and began to question how one should balance viscerally appreciating art’s beauty while also considering the medium’s technical aspects.
If I could dedicate this film to anyone, it would be to my younger self who had forgotten how to truly feel art.
While putting it into words is difficult, watching “Three Colours: Red” was a transformative experience.
The film rekindled my belief that enjoying art should not be an intellectual analysis but an open, vulnerable experience. It also made me discover a piece of myself lost in a world that often values practicality more than warmth.
– Contact Clément Lee at clement.lee@emory.edu
‘Texas wants you anyway’: A love letter to the Lone Star State
By PaiGe hoGan fiLm & Live Art desk
As a born and raised Texan, I am both proud of and take comfort in my roots.
From the southern charm of College Station, Texas to the urban beauty of Dallas, the state has always provided me with adventure and a sense of belonging that has shaped who I am today.
Cultivating a love for classic country was an integral part of my upbringing in Dallas, especially artists with roots in the “Lone Star State,” Texas’ state nickname. From Merle Haggard to George Strait, these classic country artists encapsulate Southern charm in every chord and lyric.
Whenever I find myself missing Texas, one song always transports me back to the rustic beauty and winding highways of home: Lyle Lovett’s “That’s Right (You’re Not From Texas)” (1996).
The track embodies this nostalgia, perfectly blending Texas pride with an invitation to embrace its infectious Southern charm.
One of my favorite parts of this song is how Lovett describes the friendliness of Texans, where even if “You’re not from Texas / But Texas wants you anyway.” Friendship is not just the motto of Texas but also an ingrained principle that guides our hospitality, culture and overall sense of community. Lovett describes how Texan hospitality at a dance hall makes it “the finest place to be,” where even if you are a stranger, “men will buy your beer for free.” From the rustic serenity of Abilene, Texas to the bustling city streets of Austin, you would be hard-pressed to find a place where a warm smile and a friendly greeting aren’t just second nature, but a way of life.
likely to strike up conversations with strangers as well, which is by no means a flaw, but this pattern elucidates the ease of camaraderie in my home state.
It does not matter if someone is a friend or an absolute stranger — polite conversation is a given in Texas, and a simple “How is your day going?” can turn into a genuine, friendly exchange.
If there is one defining trait in most Texans that outweighs friendliness, it is our immense pride for our state. I am not ashamed to admit I talk about Texas often, a trait that I share with Lovett. He presents this pride in “That’s Right (You’re Not From Texas)” when describing a conversation with his girlfriend, who asks him, “‘How come you’re always going on / About your Lone Star State?’”
There is no shortage of what Texas offers to tourists and locals alike. From the natural beauty of West Texas to the cosmopolitan flair of Central Texas, there is something for everyone.
The uniqueness of Texan hospitality did not hit home for me until I traveled out of the state. In my hometown, whether I was walking through my neighborhood or on nearby trails, I always smiled and said hello to strangers. I grew used to receiving a similar reaction in return, which I found was not as common outside of Texas.
I noticed that people were less
To me, the beauty of this song is that it is told from the perspective of a local to a tourist. Lovett pokes fun at the tourist for trying to dress the part of a Texan, but understands the tourist’s enthusiasm because “Even Moses got excited / when he saw the promised land.”
Despite Lovett’s playful jabs toward the tourist’s imitation of locals, he is excited to introduce him to the Texan way of life and show him how special it is to him as someone who was “born and raised in Texas.”
The story within the song perfectly embodies the culture of Texas, where everyone is welcome and treated as a friend, no matter if they are a local or a tourist.
“That’s Right (You’re Not From Texas)” is not just dedicated to my family and friends in Texas but also to the state itself. I dedicate this song to Texas A&M University football games and long hikes through state parks, to country music concerts, to too much Buc-ee’s merchandise and all the new opportunities, kindness and pride the “Lone Star State” has given me. And for anyone who has not had the pleasure of visiting Texas yet, “Texas wants you anyway.”
– Contact Paige Hogan at paige.hogan@emory.edu
‘A Brighter Summer Day’: A dedication to Taiwan, my family, the songs that stay
Jessie li Contributing Writer
I want to dedicate the film “A Brighter Summer Day” (1991), directed by Edward Yang, to my family in Penghu Islands, Taiwan. Penghu Islands, where my mother grew up, is an archipelago of tiny islands in the heart of the Taiwan Strait. It could be one of the first combat sites if mainland China ever chose to invade Taiwan, so it has always been heavily militarized. My mother often recalled that once there were so many soldiers in Penghu that it seemed like half the population was part of the military. She explained that, during their downtime, the soldiers would flock to coffee shops and karaoke boxes to flirt with young girls.
However, the soldiers were always on edge and nervously joked about possible invasions from mainland China.
From the colonial era to the Republic of China period, through the Chinese Civil War, martial law and eventual democratization,
Taiwan has always been a land of fluctuating tensions.
At its heart, the country is home to people striving to carve out their cultural identity, constantly adjusting to a landscape of shifting allegiances and ever-present outside pressures.
Taiwan’s story and those of its people are intertwined in ways that make one story impossible to tell without the other.
I have not seen another film capture the essence of Taiwan’s national identity as powerfully as “A Brighter Summer Day.” The film follows a teenage boy, Xiao Si’r (Chang Chen), as he navigates gang conflicts, first love and family struggles under Taiwanese martial law in the 1960s. But “A Brighter Summer Day” is not a simple plot-driven story. Rather, its story is a web of intersecting relationships, events and characters.
Every interaction, glance and action in the film is imbued with meaning, from a doctor’s self-deprecating speech to Cat’s (Wong Chizan) wonderful performances of Elvis Presley songs. There are more
than 100 speaking characters, all of whom have a vital role in this epic Taiwanese narrative.
In the film, teenage gangs perform thrilling performances of Presley’s songs, idolizing him as a symbol of rebellion and freedom. As I watched these characters perform the songs on screen while sitting in my college dorm room across the world last December, it struck me that I had been listening to the film’s soundtrack since I was 4 years old. Every summer, my family visited Penghu Islands. We drove around in my uncle’s car, which had a disc of this film’s soundtrack stuck in the CD player.
The soundtrack played on loop, filling the air with music as we went about our day. But nobody ever told me that this soundtrack was from one of the greatest films ever made. I can still recite every lyric line by line.
To me and my brother, we were just listening to fantastical and mysterious Taiwanese renditions of Presley’s greatest hits. Those songs stayed with me for years, and whenever I hear one, I am not in the
United States, but instead, I am in the Penghu Islands, with its lush forests, the cool sea breeze and the wind-swept coast.
And in those memories of the place and people who make Taiwan my home, I see echoes of “A Brighter Summer Day.” My mother and grandmother liv ed through the shifting tides of Taiwan’s history, just as the film’s characters did.
Art, like “A Brighter Summer Day,” is never confined to a single meaning — its resonance shifts across time, places and personal histories. So, when I think of “A Brighter Summer Day,” I don’t just think of the film. I think of my family in Taiwan, their history and the beautifully complex story of the island itself.
– Contact Jessie Li at jessie.li@emory.edu
ginnA nebrig/stA ff iLLustr Ator
Treading water: Reclaiming my love for swimming at Emory
By AdAm BrAunschweig Contributing Writer
Content Warning: This article contains references to suicidal ideation.
One of my favorite sayings in the sport of competitive swimming is: “In the water, they can’t see you cry.” Whether you’re overcoming your fear of the ocean or you’re a competitive athlete spending countless hours in the pool, the water has a unique ability to dry out your skin, hide your exhaustion and mask your true emotions.
I began swimming competitively at five years old. Despite early experimentation with other sports, there was nothing quite like the feeling of the cool water against my skin and the adrenaline rush from racing the person next to me. At first, I aspired to follow in the footsteps of my older sister, who also swam competitively. But with each practice, I found other joys — making new friends, watching my body grow stronger, mastering skills such as attention to detail, discipline and time management.
In high school, I was determined to take my swimming to the next level. I hit each milestone in stride, reaching USA Swimming Junior National Championships, winning high school state championships and eventually committing to Emory University. I set my sights on trips to the NCAA championships, shelves of trophies and White House visits. Notorious for its Division III dominance, I knew that by committing to Emory, my expectations were sure to become reality.
Then came the 5 a.m. practices and growing weight to maintain this image of success.
Big fish in a bigger pond
Throughout my early swimming
career, I’d grown accustomed to individual attention from my coaches and from my peers. So, arriving at Emory, I was shocked to be surrounded by other high-achieving students and athletes who expected the same thing. I was no longer the stand-out student or swimmer I had been in high school.
In retrospect, I should have known about the competitiveness of a top school like Emory, but as an inexperienced freshman, I internalized my normalcy as a flaw in my abilities and went into damage-control mode. I found myself making short-term fixes to my rapidly growing insecurities. If other people were smarter, that meant I needed to study more. If my teammates swam faster, I needed to work even harder at practice. I was spinning my wheels tirelessly, convincing myself that I was keeping up with the competition. In reality, I was losing my individualism and confidence, and the internal measuring stick only continued to grow.
Then came the culmination of all my hard work freshman year: the anticipated roster selection for the University Athletic Association (UAA) and NCAA Swimming and Diving Championships. For outsiders, what often goes unseen is the internal competition within each team for the twenty hallowed spots to compete at these events. So, when I failed to see my name on the list of selected athletes, I sunk into a depression.
All my hard work throughout the season was suddenly futile. I felt as though I meant nothing on this revered team. This setback, which came at the end of my freshman year, made me spiral into a downwardtrending mindset. By the end of my sophomore year, I was posting slower times than I did as a high school freshman. Now, not only was I comparing my failures to the immeasur-
Senior Scherrer reflects on final indoor UAA
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Women’s team battles for third at UAAs
The Emory women’s track and field team got off to a quick start at the 2024 UAA Championships. Graduate student Nikki Boon set the tone early, winning the long jump with a distance of 5.70 meters. She followed up the event win with a third-place finish in 60-meter hurdles with a time of 8.83 seconds. A multi-event athlete, Boon was also on the podium for the shot put, placing third with a 13.05-meter throw.
Senior distance runner Liesl Scherrer had a busy weekend, securing a second-place finish in the 5000-meter run with a time of 17:09.42 on Saturday and a fifthplace finish in the 3000-meter run on Sunday. Reflecting on her big weekend on the track, Scherrer said she was happy to be able to fully take in her last UAA indoor meet as an Eagle.
“Now that I’m a senior, looking back, I wish I had been more happy with the fact that I’m at a huge meet and really soaking it all in,” Scherrer said. “When you’re younger, you’re trying to prove yourself and hit the time that you want and reach your goals. Now that I’m older, I realize it’s not about that, it’s about making memories.”
Graduate sprinter Eva Carchidi also had a big meet, winning the
able success of my teammates, but also to the success I once had. There was no winning this competition. I suffered mentally and physically as a result. My deteriorating mental health spiraled into weight loss, suicidal ideation and constant self-criticism. Paired with the sleep deprivation caused by the early morning practices and the 10 training sessions per week, I was burnt out. I debated quitting or transferring schools. My expectations for this once-perfect team were tainted by my failures and the unattainable notions of perfection in collegiate athletics.
Finding myself at Emory
By the end of my sophomore year, I knew I needed to do something differently that did not involve academics or athletics. While rudimentary, I ultimately decided to focus on what college was for: figuring out what I wanted with my life.
Coming into Emory, I had interests in a variety of academic disciplines, but what was central to all of them was the joy I found in connecting with others. This, combined with my love of Emory’s rigorous science courses, drew me toward healthcare. With swimming no longer my focus, I traveled abroad to Guatemala and worked in medically underserved clinics. Seeing the disparities in other parts of the world reinvigorated my spark to live a more meaningful and purposeful life. I’d taken so much for granted throughout my life, including access to higher education and the ability to pursue my passions, like swimming, without hesitation.
With a redefined sense of gratitude and desire to bridge the disparities I’d seen in Guatemala, I decided to return to the sport that gave me so much. I was now armed with an understanding that my role would
NCAA
200-meter dash with a time of 24.74 seconds, 0.01 off of her own program-record time of 24.73, which she set the day prior during prelims.
Carchidi also earned All-UAA honors in the 60-meter dash, coming in second place. Later, she was joined by seniors Kaya Binetti and Audrey Johnson and Boon in the 4x400meter race, where they closed out the meet with a third-place finish with a time of 3:57.69.
In the middle-distance events, junior runner Madison Tiaffay placed second in the mile with a time of 4:55.45, also earning AllUAA honors in the event. In the field events, first-year jumper Amaya Grant placed third in the triple jump with a personal best of 11.56 meters.
The Eagles finished the meet with 112 points, trailing UChicago’s 160.5 and WashU’s 181. First-year sprinter Melayna Pettigrew said the competition helped the team build momentum as they gear up for the upcoming indoor nationals and outdoor season.
“UAAs was definitely a show of how close we’ve become as a team,” Pettigrew said. “Everyone was there, everyone was cheering. ... That really just brought us closer together, and it’s gonna fuel us up for the outdoor season to really build off that team energy.”
— Contact Justin Guo at justin.guo@emory
be much different— I would work as hard as possible to support my teammates while I watched them win at UAAs, vie for roster spots at NCAAs and swim times that I could only dream of. Yet, underneath my new goals and immense pride for them, there was still a lingering disappointment that my teammates were living out my dreams.
Ironically, with the realization that I didn’t need the sport to be a successful person, I started to flourish in the pool.
I felt like a different person in my junior year and I swam like one too. In my six-month break, I found ways to get myself physically and emotionally stronger, including weightlifting, meeting with a therapist, eating properly with the help of a nutritionist and finding a balance with other extracurriculars. I gained a newfound confidence in both my body and mind, and I was determined to soak in each moment, knowing that there were people around the world who didn’t have the opportunities I had. By the end of that season, I was living out my freshman dreams of competing at UAAs and NCAAs. Only this time, my appreciation for the sport was not the same as the hopes and dreams I had coming into college.
Standing on the NCAA podium after my 100-yard backstroke, I remember searching for my parents up in the stands. It was at this moment that I felt like the accomplished leader and decorated athlete that Emory’s swim and dive team is known for.
But it wasn’t the trophy that made me feel this way. It was the realization that my resilience, perseverance and ability to connect with others defined me as a leader and carried me to the podium.
Ultimately, I would have never reached that moment without the
tournament
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ors last season, said his coaches have been important to his development as a player over his four seasons at Emory.
“They’ve helped me much more mentally than I ever could’ve thought was possible,” Sicoli said. “Baseball is a game of failure — so you fail every three out of 10 times, and you’re still considered a very good player. And a lot of people get super frustrated really easily with the results, especially myself, and having good coaches that are able to keep you levelheaded was definitely super important for me.”
“All 10 of our seniors have taken an active leadership role and have done a good job of helping steer and mentor and lead the younger guys.”
— Bobby Perez
As the season progresses, Perez said he has both daily and long-term goals for the team.
“Our ultimate goal is to get back to the NCAA tournament and compete for a national championship,” Perez said. “We’re looking for guys to compete every day in practice and in games, play hard and put our best foot forward and continue to improve and get better as the season goes along.”
With 18 returning upperclassmen and one transfer, the Eagles are more motivated than ever. Sicoli is deter-
support of my teammates, coaches and the extra hands that help propel Emory athletics to its excellence. My time with the swim team has helped me understand how the sport has given me a gift to connect with others and reach my goals personally, intellectually and professionally. Things may not have gone exactly how I envisioned them, but despite that, I’ve still left my mark on the team. I’ve shown the benefits of perseverance, empowered the voices of those around me and displayed how spirit and enthusiasm can propel a team forward beyond tangible successes.
As I transition into a life beyond swimming, I will keep the invaluable lessons, memories and unshakeable resilience that this athletic journey has instilled in me. While everyone has a different experience on our team, I am fortunate for my teammates and coaches who helped me transform obstacles into excellence at every level.
I know that these principles will guide me each day, not only shaping me into a better doctor but also into a more compassionate and purpose-driven individual. So, while they can’t see you cry in the water, they will undoubtedly witness the strengthened individual that comes out of it.
If you or someone you know is having thoughts of self-harm or suicide, you can call Student Intervention Services at (404) 430-1120 or reach Emory’s Counseling and Psychological Services at (404) 7277450. You can reach the Georgia Suicide Prevention Lifeline 24/7 at (800) 273-TALK (8255) and the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline 24/7 at 988.
— Contact Adam Braunschweig at adam.braunschweig@emory. edu
is baseball’s ‘ultimate goal’
mined to help the team get a regional bid before he graduates. Junior infielder Zach Wasserlauf shared that goal, saying that the top UAA team will get an automatic NCAA tournament bid under a new rule. He noted that this could help boost the team’s postseason odds.
“This year, we have an auto bid for our conference, and I think that can help us immensely,” Wasserlauf said. “Our only goal as a team is to win and continue to grow as a team and win that conference bid and then get into the regional and compete for a national championship.”
The upperclassmen-heavy team has many strengths, including notable leadership and experience, Perez explained.
“A lot of our seniors have stepped up and really done a nice job,” Perez said. “All 10 of our seniors have taken an active leadership role and have done a good job of helping steer and mentor and lead the younger guys.”
In addition to the upperclassmen, the new members of the team are also making their mark this season. Wasserlauf said he is eager to see how the freshmen step up this season.
“All of our guys are great, so I’m just excited to see who steps up for us in big spots,” Wasserlauf said. “There’s … four that are healthy right now that are gonna be impact guys for us.”
Not only is the team talented and ambitious, but they have strong chemistry that will aid members in communicating with one another during challenging situations, Sicoli said, adding that every player is driven to win for each other, not just them-
selves. Wasserlauf expressed a similar sentiment, specifically between the infielders.
“The chemistry among the infielders is fun,” Wasserlauf said. “We have a great dynamic. We’re all a little bit more mature, a little bit older this year. Last year was a younger infield, and now we have a couple years under our belt each, so it’s great.”
The team officially opened this season on Feb. 7 with a win against Berry College (Ga.), during which the Eagles came back from trailing 7-0 to win the game 12-11. They ultimately dropped the series 2-1. Most recently, the team secured three wins against Middlebury College (Vt.) on March 1 and March 2, including two mercyrule victories.
Looking ahead to the team’s upcoming matchups, Sicoli recognized Case Western Reserve University (Ohio) as notable competition. However, Sicoli said he feels more confident going into the series against the Spartans on April 4 than he did last season.
“We’ve had a lot of back and forth between them, so those are always chippy games,” Sicoli said. “They came down here last year and took three out of four and that was pretty embarrassing and I’m excited to bring it back on when we go to them up in Cleveland.”
The Eagles hope to add more wins to their 9-4 overall record this weekend when they take on Covenant College (Ga.), starting with a home game before traveling to Lookout Mountain, Ga. for two away games.
— Contact Alexa Waryn at alex.waryn@emory.edu
By Alex wAryn Contributing Writer
With 13 games completed for the 2025 season, Emory University’s baseball team is eager to make their mark.
The team finished the 2024 season — their 12th consecutive winning year — second in the University Athletic Association (UAA) standings with a 5.34 ERA and third in the UAA with a 3.19 batting average. The Eagles ended 2024 with a 23-15-1 overall record and finished with a conference record of 10-6-1. However, because the NCAA did not grant automatic qualification to the top UAA teams in 2024, the Eagles missed out on the NCAA postseason. So, with 17 underclassmen and 19 upperclassmen on the roster, the team is looking to make it to the national tournament this season.
Head coach Bobby Perez is leading the team this year after taking over for the now-retired Mike Twardoski in May 2024. Alongside Perez are pitching coach Sam Carpenter and assistant coach Trace Twardoski. Carpenter has been with the team for the past three seasons, receiving two UAA Coaching Staff of the Year honors in that time. Trace Twardoski, Mike Twardoski’s son, joined the coaching staff prior to the 2024 season.
Senior outfielder Matthew Sicoli, who earned UAA All-Academic hon-
See NCAA, Page 11
The Emory Wheel
Sports
To combat gender troubles in collegiate sports, eliminate the binary Baseball returns to diamond with high hopes, strong leadership
By ellie FivAs Managing Editor
Hate and discrimination toward transgender athletes is the latest development in a rich history of harmful gender segregation in sports.
In early February, President Donald Trump’s administration issued an executive order that effectively bans trans athletes from women’s sports in federally funded programs, such as public grade schools and universities, by threatening to withdraw funds. Soon after, the NCAA, which governs all three divisions of college athletics, also changed its policies to ban trans women from women’s sports. More recently, Senate Majority Leader John Thune (R-S.D.) teased a new bill that would codify Trump’s executive order, further oppressing trans women in sports.
These changes, fueled by an ultraconservative administration, threaten equality in sports from youth to professional levels. Trans, nonbinary, genderfluid and gender non-conforming people exist and must be permitted to live and function in a world that is not structured around a binary to which many do not conform. If Americans want to eliminate the current discrimination against trans athletes, then we need to let go of our historic allegiance to gender binaries in sports.
Fundamentally, arguments for gender segregation in sports are ground-
Emory track soars onto UAA podiums
By Justin guo Staff Writer
The Emory University men’s and women’s track and field teams traveled to Chicago over the weekend, where they competed at the 2025 University Athletic Association (UAA) Indoor Track and Field Championships from March 1-2. The men’s team finished in second place behind the University of Chicago (UChicago), while the women’s team came in third, trailing Washington University in St. Louis (WashU) (Mo.) and UChicago.
Although this was the final official UAA meet before the 2025 NCAA DIII Indoor Track and Field Championships, the Eagles still have a chance to qualify. This weekend, the teams will compete again at the March 8 Tufts University Qualifying Meet in Medford, Mass.
Men’s team races to runner-up finish
The men’s track and field team finished second out of seven teams at the UAA Championships, claiming 12 AllUAA finishes and breaking program records along the way. Even though the Eagles fell short of the team UAA title, senior sprinter Jackson Price, who broke two personal records [PRs] at the meet, felt that the Eagles raced well collectively and is optimistic for the upcoming outdoor season.
“As a team, obviously we fell a little bit short of first place, which always stinks,” Price said. “But overall performance, tons of PRs and great races and a lot of good efforts, so we’ve got to be happy with what we did, but definitely aiming for first for outdoors.”
Junior sprinter and jumper Henry
ed in the fairness of competition, which is sustained by modern capitalistic systems. In a market-based global economy, making a career out of sports means you must be as good at your trade — your sport — as possible, further intensifying its competitive aspect. The Trump administration and NCAA want to shut trans and gender non-conforming people out of sports because of the notion that being the best in a competition is the only positive outcome that one can achieve. While competition is undoubtedly a key aspect of sports, it is not the only way athletes grow and better themselves — boosted self-confidence, physical health and mental well-being are all benefits of participating in sports. Trump and his allies in the NCAA claim that their new policies promote “safe and fair” sports environments, but irony drips from those words. Trans and gender nonconforming athletes have been displaced from an environment already structured in a discriminatory way.
In 1936, track and field athlete Helen Stephens was the first female Olympian to be accused of “being a man in disguise.” After winning the 100-meter dash against the reigning champion, Polish runner Stella Walsh, Stephens was hounded by journalists for not presenting as sufficiently feminine — despite the International Olympic Committee forcing her to undergo sex testing prior to the competition. Driven by stereotypical ideas
Brandstadter set the tone for the meet as the first to claim an individual title for the Eagles, winning the long jump with a mark of 7.26 meters. However, even after winning the long jump, Brandstadter was not done collecting accolades — he clocked in a 1.99meter All-UAA high jump before winning the 60-meter dash with a time of 6.89 seconds. Senior sprinter Sam Ryba followed not far behind him, joining Brandstadter on the podium with a 6.95-second third-place finish in the 60-meter run. In the preliminary round for the race, Brandstadter
and Ryba had both broken UAA and Emory records, clocking in at 6.86 and 6.90 seconds, respectively, before landing on the podium in the final.
Price added to the Eagles’ excellence in the sprints on day two of the competition, winning the 200-meter run with a time of 22.00 seconds.
Brandstadter reached the podium again in this race, checking in at 22.33 seconds to round out a one-two finish for the Eagles. Price said the Eagles’ sprints results embody the way that he and his fellow sprinters make each other better during practice.
of femininity, separating sports by gender has never been in the service of women. Our current system only developed due to our global idealization of femininity, in sports and otherwise, as well as male insecurity toward competitive female athletes.
That’s why I laugh at critics who defend gender discrimination toward trans athletes as advancing and uplifting cisgender women. If our system of sports segregation was not already forcing women into boxes and prescribing women feminine qualities, perhaps these current conflicts over gender identity would not exist.
With the new policies from the NCAA, the few trans women competing in collegiate sports are targeted — and this is not limited to only public universities with federal funding. Even Emory University’s collegiate sports are subject to the new gender discrimination policies. So, in the face of the NCAA folding to an oppressive U.S. government, I have a question for Emory, who declined to comment on this article: Will you fold? Peer institutions like Stanford University are giving into the pressure from the NCAA and the Trump administration, seemingly posed to follow the policy and ban trans women from participating in female athletics. Whether or not we have genderqueer or trans athletes at Emory, our administration must take a stand to support them, lest we foster an environment where they are not welcome.
Enough evidence dismissing concerns over trans women athletes dominating women’s sports has been propounded that it is clear these policymakers do not truly value equality in sports. The time has come for the NCAA, professional sports organizations, the federal government and even Emory to rethink how we segregate our sports based on gender. Mixed-gender sports, such as medley swimming, have seen a rise in support — even with persisting critiques of competitive fairness, younger generations generally agree on the benefits of co-ed sports, including promoting gender equality. Our university, as well as us as students, have a duty to pursue the change that we hope to see in the world of collegiate sports.
Take Emory’s Gender Expansive and Women’s Ultimate frisbee team (EGEWU) as an example of how club sports, and perhaps eventually other teams on campus, can make athletic spaces more inclusive. EGEWU promotes its group as a “welcoming space for LGBTQ and trans athletes” and “the first of [its] kind at Emory.” The benefits of mixed-gender sports are apparent: Instead of forcing a genderqueer student to reckon with a gender binary to participate in sports, you embrace openness with co-ed opportunities. Gender has riddled sports competitions for years, but we have not yet attempted to change the system — instead, we’ve allowed athletes like Lia Thomas and Imane Khelif to
“I’ve been training with those two, [Ryba] the past three years and [Brandstadter] the past two, and they’re great training partners,” Price said. “They’re two incredibly fast dudes, and they help me be the best I can to race.”
Graduate sprinter Dawit Dean was uncatchable in the 800-meter run, turning in a time of 1:50.97, breaking both the UAA and program records. Dean was joined by first-years Ryan McGonigle and Joshua Han, as well as sophomore Sebastian Kou, in the 4x400-meter relay, where their time of 3:23.86 led to another third-place finish. In the distance medley relay, seniors Jonathan Orelowitz and Marcus Cheema teamed up with first year Ethan Lu and graduate student Scott Masterson to claim second place with a time of 10:09.00.
In the field events, first-year jumper Sam Gouvalaris earned All-UAA recognition with a 14.33-meter triple jump, and fellow first-year Ari Klasky claimed third in the shot put with a distance of 14.97 meters. Klasky also received AllUAA recognition in the shot put with a distance of 15.60 meters.
The Eagles ultimately secured second place in the meet with 142.5 points, while UChicago took the indoor UAA title with 164 points. As he closes out his final indoor season, Price said he is “grateful” for all the help he has received from his teammates and coaches.
“It’s definitely sad, but at the same time, looking back on it, I’m very grateful for the time that I’ve had,” Price said. “To end my indoor conference on two PRs, I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
See SENIOR, Page 11
be publicly harassed. For Thomas and Khelif, their apparently controversial gender identities overshadowed their journeys to peak athleticism. Although it may intimidate some proponents of gender-segregated sports, overhauling this discriminatory system needs to start from the ground up — once we prioritize gender inclusivity in student-run sports, there will be more pressure and precedent for change beyond.
We are so preoccupied with artificially designing fairness by segregating by gender that we miss the opportunity to make collegiate, recreational and professional sports truly fair. By remaining desperately attached to gender segregation in sports, we threaten the integrity of competition — throwing out athletes like Thomas and Khelif, who have worked as hard as their competitors and deserve the same chances to excel in their sports. To create a better world for trans athletes, we should start here, at our university. Fostering inclusive environments is easier said than done, and standing up to an institution that wields power is scary. But, at the end of the day, trans, nonbinary and genderqueer students should all feel included and safe on our campus — our athletes should sweat over their sports, not over their identities.
— Contact Ellie Fivas at ellie.fivas@emory.edu
Courtesy of Jenny Csikai
Senior Liesl Scherrer (left) races at a meet earlier this season.
