The Georgetown Voice 9/13/19

WHILE THE REST OF THE CLASS OF 2023 IS SETTLING IN, ONE STUDENT IS STILL TRYING TO GET TO CAMPUS.

“LEGALITY DOESN’T ALWAYS EQUAL MORALITY” PAGE 8

Contents 4

September 13, 2019 Volume 52 | Issue 2

Celebrating 50 Years

editorials

Congress Must Allow D.C. to Regulate Legal Marijuana

D.C. Must Keep the Circulator Free

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Editor-In-Chief Sienna Brancato Managing Editor Noah Telerski news

12

True Meditation in the Self-Help Era RYAN MAZALATIS

6

Booked on a Feeling: The 19th Annual National Book Festival

To the Cliffs and the Castle

JOHN WOOLLEY

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voices

First in the Family

10

feature

The Prisons and Justice Initiative Aims to Humanize Criminal Justice and Prison Reform RACHEL COHEN

CAM SMITH

cover story

“Legality doesn’t always equal morality” KATHERINE RANDOLPH

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leisure

It Chapter 2 is an Engaging but Occasionally Uneven Critique of Nostalgia

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critical voices

Norman Fucking Rockwell!, Lana Del Rey SKYLER COFFEY

Executive Editor Brynn Furey Leisure Editor Ryan Mazalatis Assistant Editors Emma Chuck, Anna Pogrebivsky, Juliana Vaccaro De Souza Halftime Editor Skyler Coffey Assistant Halftime Editors Teddy Carey, Samantha Tritt, John Woolley

sports Executive Editor Sports Editor Assistant Editor Halftime Editor Assistant Halftime Editors

Aaron Wolf Will Shanahan Tristan Lee Nathan Chen Ethan Cantrell, Josi Rosales

design Jacob Bilich Delaney Corcoran, Olivia Stevens Egan Barnitt Timmy Adami, Josh Klein, Cade Shore Staff Designers Marie Luca, Ally West, Amy Zhou

Executive Editor Spread Editors Cover Editor Assistant Design Editors

STEVEN FROST

↑

copy Copy Chief Neha Wasil Assistant Copy Editors Maya Knepp, Sophie Stewart Editors Mya Allen, Stephanie Leow, Moira Phan, Madison Scully, Cindy Strizak, Maya Tenzer, Kristin Turner,

“Even [for] people who did commit the crimes they’re convicted of, our prisons are nightmares,” he said.

“The sentences are far too long. We don’t give people a chance of getting parole and getting out of prison.”

multimedia Executive Editor Podcast Editor Assistant Podcast Editor Photo Editor

Kayla Hewitt Panna Gattyan Peter Guthrie John Picker

online Executive Editor Jake Glass Website Editor Cam Smith

business General Manager Maggie Grubert Assistant Manager of Leah Fawzi Accounts & Sales Assistant Manager of Alice Gao Alumni Outreach

PG. 10

support

The opinions expressed in The Georgetown Voice do not necessarily represent the views of the administration, faculty, or students of Georgetown University, unless specifically stated. Columns, advertisements, cartoons and opinion pieces do not necessarily reflect the views of the Editorial Board or the General Board of The Georgetown Voice. The university subscribes to the principle of responsible freedom of expression of its student editors. All materials copyright The Georgetown Voice, unless otherwise indicated.

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photo by nathan posner

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

Lizz Pankova Leina Hsu Natalie Chaudhuri, Amanda Chu Inès de Miranda Sienna Brancato, Delaney Corcoran, Annemarie Cuccia, Lizz Pankova, Julia Pinney, Noah Telerski, Jack Townsend

leisure

EMMA CHUCK

voices

Jack Townsend Katherine Randolph Rachel Cohen Annemarie Cuccia, Caroline Hamilton, Roman Peregrino

opinion Executive Editor Voices Editor Assistant Voices Editor Editorial Board Chair Editorial Board

feature

carrying on

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Executive Editor Features Editor News Editor Assistant News Editors

editor@georgetownvoice.com Leavey 424 Box 571066 Georgetown University Washington, DC 20057

Associate Editors Emily Jaster, Hannah Song Contributing Editors Dajour Evans, Damian Garcia, Julia Pinney, Katya Schwenk Staff Writers Luis Borrero, Darren Jian

“Undocumented” JACOB BILICH

Page 3

An eclectic collection of jokes, puns, doodles, playlists, and news clips from the collective mind of the Voice staff.

→ AFTERNOON TEA REPORTS

→ PLAYLIST

The Top 10 Vampire Weekend Songs According to Assistant Halftime Leisure Editor Teddy Carey

afternoon tea by egan barnitt; basketball by keith allison/flickr; puppy by olivia stevens; lacroix rat by timmy adami

We hear there’s lead in the water. We prefer chamomile and scandal ... and that’s the tea.

LISTEN TO THE AFTERNOON TEA PODCAST AT GEORGETOWNVOICE.COM → LIV'S ANIMAL DOODLE

Puppy Love

→ TIM AND LIV'S QUIZ

What Is Your Georgetown Superpower?

Tim and Liv are caped crusaders fighting crime in the name of justice. They’re super, but they don’t have just any powers: They’re useless Georgetown powers. Before you can assemble with the rest of Georgetown’s Avengers, we need to find out what your useless Hilltop-related superpower would be.

1. What pop culture rodent is living in the pipes of your VCW sink? a. Peter Pettigrew b. Remy of Ratatouille c. Tom the mouse d. That one gay mouse from Cinderella 2. Someone’s in danger, what do you do? a. Walk away. Sis pls, I got class in Car Barn. b. 911, GERMS?! c. *DMs a pic of them to Georgetown Hotmess* d. Save them myself #bossbabe

3. Did a Vil B roof ever fall on you? a. Only a little b. I don’t go even go here c. Fully d. It was a close call 4. Who is Enemy #1 on campus? a. Jay Gruber (alternatively, Pure La Croix) b. The Hoya c. The Internationals who wouldn’t let me join their table at Sax d. That thief that stole my Lulus from the SWQ laundry room

1. Hannah Hunt Vampire Weekend 2. Ottoman Vampire Weekend 3. Walcott Vampire Weekend 4. Giving Up the Gun Vampire Weekend 5. Oxford Comma Vampire Weekend 6. Diane Young Vampire Weekend 7. Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa Vampire Weekend 8. A-Punk Vampire Weekend 9. How Long?

Vampire Weekend 10. This Life Vampire Weekend For Teddy’s ranking of every single Vampire Weekend song, visit georgetownvoice.com

Check your results at the bottom of this page!

→ SPORTS

→ OVERHEARD AT GEORGETOWN

Halftime Sports Preview Some players in the NBA are straight up not having a good time right now.

DeMarcus Cousins is one of those players.

After a frustrating time in Sacramento, Cousins has bounced around the league, chasing rings but coming up short due to injury. In his Voice debut, new contributor Arshan Goudarzi explores the Cousins saga and looks to his future in the NBA. Check it out at georgetownvoice.com.

Girl, my Uber driver was arrested by the Secret Service while I was in the car.

September 13, 2019

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Mostly a’s: You have control over rats. Powerful allies are in your corner, lurking in the shadows, ready to snatch any wig. Mostly b’s: You can safely digest any Leo’s food. Food poisoning begone!

Mostly c’s: Teleportation is great. You, however, can only teleport into Henle 9. Surprise, residents! Mostly d’s: Surprise! Your Flex now works at any location of your choosing. Bon appétit.

EDITORIALS

Congress Must Allow D.C. to Regulate Legal Marijuana

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n 1998, D.C. legalized medical marijuana. But in the two decades since, Congress has blocked D.C. from spending any money on regulating marijuna, whether for medical purposes or recreational use, which voters legalized in 2014. As a result, it is legal in D.C. to possess up to two ounces of marijuana if you are over 21. It is not, however, legal to purchase or sell recreational marijuana, despite voter approval. Medical marijuana dispensaries exist— there are six in the city—but entrepreneurs face high cost barriers to entering the industry, handing it over to the wealthy and well-connected.

1998

D.C. residents vote to legalize medical marijuana

2000

Congress passes rider preventing D.C. from using funds for medical marijuana

2009

Congress overturns the amendment

2014

D.C. decriminalizes cannabis

2014

Congress’s rider blocks D.C. from using funds to decriminalize marijuana

Every year since 2015, the Appropriations Bill for DC has included a rider that has blocked spending on the legalization of marijuana

2010

D.C. Council legalizes medical marijuana.

Congress does not overturn this law

2015

D.C. Council legalizes recreational marijuana

2019

House bill passes without the rider—we now wait for the bill to leave the Senate

This editorial board believes that Congress must stop interfering with the District’s budget and allow the D.C. Council to enact the marijuana policies that have been voted on by residents. Additionally, the Council needs to ensure that, if and when the sale of recreational cannabis passes through Congress, small businesses are able to partake in the expected profits.

Currently, the D.C. government cannot tax marijuana, and no D.C. government employees can work to help regulate marijuana sales. To get around this, the D.C. cannabis industry operates in a “gray” market in which customers can purchase some innocuous item such as a T-shirt and receive cannabis as a supposed gift from the merchant—which is illegal.

Because of its status as a federal district and not a full-fledged state, D.C.’s entire budget must be approved

by Congress. This power allows Congress to prevent D.C. from spending its local tax money on regulating the marijuana industry, which is estimated to generate $130 million per year. Because of this interference, the District loses out on $20 million in annual revenue.

In Congress, the House passed the D.C. budget for next year over the summer, and for the first time in 20 years, the bill does not include a marijuana rider. If the Senate bill, which has yet to be introduced, passes without the rider, 4

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

then D.C. could finally implement the legalized marijuana system it has voted for.

This April, Mayor Muriel Bowser also introduced the “Safe Cannabis Sales Act,” which would enable the Alcoholic Beverage Regulation Administration to also license and oversee marijuana businesses. Bowser would impose a 17 percent sales tax on marijuana products that would go toward enforcing the new regulations and funding affordable housing. Her proposal would seal the records of people with misdemeanor marijuana possession convictions.

This editorial board believes this proposal is a good start, but is insufficient to address concerns about the equity of the marijuana industry in the city. The administration must address the gray market that exists now, which remains on the wrong side of the law. With Bowser’s proposed plan, there are too many obstacles for less wealthy people to establish legal marijuana businesses. These obstacles include a $1,000 application fee for vendors and an annual $10,000 fee for cultivators—the next most expensive fee is $6,000 for spirits manufacturing and delivering—and the administration would have far-reaching discretion to deny licenses.

In Massachusetts, where recreational marijuana has been legal since 2016, the state has tried to limit the dominance of big corporations by offering several types of licenses, like for micro-businesses or craft cooperatives.

Individuals who have been disproportionately affected by the criminalization of marijuana should also have access to priority applications. This is what D.C. needs in order to equitably expand the industry and ensure safety with the elimination of the gray market.

This editorial board urges Congress to pass the city’s budget with no rider to impede legalization, and hopes the city does everything in its power to ensure that small businesses have the ability to participate in the cannabis industry. G

D.C. Must Keep the Circulator Free

S

ince Feb. 1, D.C.’s bright red and yellow Circulator buses have been free to ride. A sack is slung over the fare box bearing the slogan “Fair Shot”—the name of Mayor Muriel Bowser’s initiative to boost access to public transport. On the Georgetown Circulator, you can get from the Safeway on Wisconsin Ave. to Union Station, and back, for no cost.

A free Circulator has been a significant step forward for accessibility in the city, but the D.C. Council has slashed the program’s funding from the District’s budget, meaning that when a new fiscal year begins on Oct. 1, fares will rise back to $1 per ride. This editorial board believes that the city must keep the Circulator free and that reintroducing fares would deepen inequality in D.C.’s transit system.

The simple logic behind Bowser’s initiative is that everyone has the right to transportation, no matter their income. Rolling back the program would further cut off D.C.’s most vulnerable populations from public transit, which, in our city, is already alarmingly inequitable.

For District residents who can easily foot a $1 fare, free bus service means very little. For those who can’t, it can be a lifeline. “A lot of people applying to jobs in downtown D.C. rely on the Circulator to get there,” Colly Dennis wrote in a June piece in Street Sense, D.C.’s street newspaper serving and advocating for the city’s homeless residents. Dennis urged the Council to keep the buses free.

A free Circulator has made an impact here in Georgetown, too. Our neighborhood lacks a Metro stop, and bus service is spotty. Many staff members and students struggle to afford the commute to and from campus, and the Circulator has helped to alleviate this problem.

Bowser, who promised in March to keep the buses free “indefinitely,” has taken to social media to protest the Council’s decision in recent weeks, sharing touching videos and messages from D.C. residents saying that the free Circulator has helped them get to work, to school, or to homeless shelters.

Her fight has ignited a profound conversation in the District on public transit, and what an accessible Washington could look like. At least 37 other U.S. cities have removed fares from some part of their public transit, including Baltimore, Boston, and Pittsburgh. Why not D.C.?

The Council’s answer, vaguely, was that there wasn’t enough evidence the program was helping city residents. Yet Circulator ridership rose by 20 percent this March, from 2018.

The cost to keep it free? $3.1 million—pocket change for a city with a $15.5 billion annual budget.

Critics of the initiative have dismissed it as a flimsy publicity stunt that distracts from real reform. Free things, after all, have easy, calculable public appeal. They’re a shortcut to political capital. In a way, Bowser’s free bus rides are the public transit equivalent of your freshman chaplain handing out free muffins. It may feel good in the moment, but long-term issues linger. Her opponents have seized on this framework to scorn the initiative: “D.C. is in urgent need of *quality* public transit, not free public transit,” one disparaging tweet reads.

Others argue that the Circulator does little to benefit D.C.’s most isolated and vulnerable populations, winding through the affluent government and business districts of the city while largely neglecting Wards 7 and 8 (whose median incomes are less than half of Wards 1 and 2). It’s “inequitable,” one critic wrote on Twitter. “Why are we asking D.C. residents to subsidize a tourist’s visit to our city,” another asked.

It is certainly true that the Circulator has a thorny history. The bus system was initially conceived by the city in 1997 as a route to serve visitors traveling downtown.

And labor and safety issues have plagued the bus line since its launch in July 2005, as the Amalgamated Transit Union outlined in a 2017 report.

The report says politicians were largely unconcerned by the problems, which included alarming numbers of bus defects. “The decision to run the Circulator in areas with a wealthier, whiter population created a politically influential constituency for the service,” the report says.

While we acknowledge that these politics are still at play, most of the Circulator’s riders, it turns out, are not tourists—nor are they particularly wealthy.

A Mineta National Transit Research Consortium survey of Circulator ridership from 2005 to 2012 found that 80 percent of Circulator riders lived in D.C., without much change during peak tourist months. More than a third of riders made less than $20,000 annually, a proportion that’s likely to have risen since fares were removed. Figures on race are more difficult to pin down—they vary wildly from year to year and season to season—but few surveys show a majority white ridership. Clearly, the Circulator does serve D.C. residents, and more importantly, those residents who need low-cost transportation.

We must advocate for affordable, quality transportation that reaches all parts of the city. This editorial board believes that a free Circulator is one key step in making our discriminatory transportation system more equitable.

Let’s keep it that way. G

VOICES CARRYING ON: VOICE STAFFERS SPEAK

True Meditation in the Self-Help Era

RYAN MAZALATIS

W

hen I first started practicing Buddhism at age 11, I became the odd one out in my family of Catholics and atheists. Piles of sutras, Buddha images, and prayer beads crowded my room. I took a trip to see the Dalai Lama at Emory University during my sophomore year of high school, and I constructed a small altar on my childhood chest. While my parents often obliged me by driving me to the nearest Tibetan Buddhist center, the trip was an hour long one way, and more often than not I had to learn the tradition on my own with the books I managed to collect.

Many around me in South Carolina were baffled to discover that a kid would ever want to practice Buddhism. “After all,” one of my grandmothers would tell me, “there’s Christian meditation!” In the minds of others, it seemed, Buddhism was just meditation with baggage. But for me, there was no adequate substitute for the traditions that spawned and actively practice meditation.

The first time I tried to meditate, I had just watched a series of YouTube videos on “proper meditation techniques” and decided it was finally time to give this aspect of Buddhism a shot. These videos were short, visually rich, and had millions of views. The trick, they claimed, was to drive thoughts away while remaining completely mindful of yourself and your surroundings. But, more often than finding tranquility during meditation, random thoughts would creep into my head and I’d push them away, transfixed by the idea that the whole point was to achieve a total lack of distraction. In the process, I achieved nothing. Worse, my back began to hurt, tense from replicating the pictures I had seen online of meditators sitting stoically with perfect posture.

None of the countless apps or videos were able to help me, and I became frustrated and felt trapped inside my own mind. If I can’t figure out how to meditate on my own, I thought, how can I expect myself to continue down the Buddhist path? While the Buddhist books I had read changed my life and encouraged me to push on, true Buddhist practice seemed to be slipping my grasp.

It had never occurred to me that the apps and videos I was so reliant on were part of the problem. In recent years, Buddhist scholars such as Ronald Purser have deemed the ongoing appropriation of meditation “McMindfulness,” a shallow, egotistical means of commercializing a traditionally religious practice. For the self-help guru, McMindfulness is a way to profit off of people who are genuinely interested in meditation and may be going through mental or spiritual hardships. For corporations and universities, promoting meditation spaces without providing knowledgeable teachers can be a means of showing a commitment to mental health without actually doing anything. For Christian churches and organizations, meditation often serves as a trendy way to snap up younger converts, with thousands of books, websites, and Asian vacation packages.

The co-opting of meditation is nothing new: Since the counterculture movements of the 1960s, Christians and self-help gurus from the West have studied in Asian countries in an attempt to replicate the popularity of meditation in their own circles. John Main, the Roman Catholic priest for whom Georgetown’s meditation center is named, received “inspiration” for his brand of Christian meditation in the 1950s from a Malaysian Hindu sannyasin after multiple requests to be taught

Ryan Mazalatis is a senior in the College who enjoys icebreakers and bonding with the rats that live in his apartment.

illustration by kerry o'donnell

the practice. Now, Georgetown’s Buddhists, Hindus, and Sikhs practice meditation in a room that bears his name.

The end product of Main’s efforts was a Catholic meditation that focused solely on repeating prayers as mantras, ignoring the nuances and variations within the practice. In Buddhism alone, there are hundreds of different forms of meditation, and there are many more throughout other Dharmic faiths. Mindfulness meditation, the mantra of a spiritual era dominated by the concept of self-help, is a fairly recent addition to the practice by comparison.

As I would come to discover during workshops with Buddhist monks and nuns at my local Tibetan Center, meditation is not merely the silent contemplation that many Western self-help books make it out to be, nor is it practiced by all Buddhists. It certainly can’t be honed and perfected from YouTube videos or smartphone apps.

Some forms of traditional meditation focus on concentration, others serve as a means of active self-analysis, and others allow the meditator to visualize and meet the historical Buddha himself. It is hard to claim, therefore, that the ultimate goal of meditation is the total absence of thought. Through these guided Buddhist meditation sessions, I came to the important revelation that an educated teacher was essential to my practice of meditation. Receiving instructions from a Tibetan monk during the process of meditation, rather than memorizing the steps beforehand and trying on my own, was an incredible weight off of my shoulders.

After receiving the help of instructors, I began to notice a change in the way I approached meditation. I let my thoughts flow like a river, and long-held expectations no longer clouded my search for self-discovery. I learned ways to relax my muscles while sitting straight, and was finally able to appreciate meditation for what it was, the channeling of thought rather than its absence.

As I grew older and began college, I saw meditation becoming more common among my friends of all religious backgrounds. It seemed that everywhere I went, I found advertisements for college meditation sessions centered entirely around the idea of mindfulness and uprooted from the traditions that brought the practice into being.

This Western reproduction of meditation doesn’t merely serve as a form of cultural appropriation, it neglects the care taken by Dharmic teachers to guide their students through their meditative journeys. The end product is a form of diluted meditation whose results could be replicated by sitting in on a silent high school detention session. Additionally, for those who struggle with their mental health, this milquetoast copy of traditional meditation can be more dangerous than helpful, and cause its practitioners to dredge up past trauma. Why meditate in silence, many friends have asked me, when their thoughts are wells of deep pain? Indeed, unguided silence can be a catalyst for self-scrutiny and anxiety rather than an opportunity for mental growth. While Georgetown and the larger D.C. community does have organizations such as Dharmic Life that practice healthy, traditional meditation, it is all too easy to fall prey to shiny advertisements promising an end to all your troubles.

Meditation, like playing a guitar or oil painting, is a skill that can require months of practice before any noticeable results are achieved. For those spurred on by Western generalizations of meditation as easy and readily accessible, this reality can be discouraging. Yet, as I have learned throughout my journey of practicing meditation, acquiring the skill can be extremely beneficial to your worldview and well-being. Meditation grounds you in the present and allows you to analyze yourself and your problems as an outsider looking in rather than an individual subject to emotions and biases. More importantly, meditation allows you to realize your self-worth in a healthy, non-egotistical way while cultivating compassion for all those around you.

So, for those who want to practice meditation, start with the traditions that invented and perfected it. Engage with Georgetown’s rich Dharmic faiths, and research the many religious organizations around D.C. As the Buddha says in the Dhammapada, “You yourself must strive. The Buddhas only point the way.” G September 13, 2019

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VOICES

To the Cliffs and the Castle

JOHN WOOLLEY

T

he weight I carried with me while wandering the streets of Dublin at four in the morning is difficult for me to express.

The vacation had been planned months earlier—presented as a Christmas gift that my family would share. My parents wrapped a bar of Irish Spring soap and put it under the Christmas tree for my brother and me to open. They giggled at us while our dog, Gus, bounded around the room with excitement until (after much confusion) we finally understood the implication of the gift. We were all excited about the trip—Gus just liked the smell of soap.

By the time July came around, I was ecstatic. I had never been across the ocean before, so exploring even a recognizable city like Dublin was enticing to me. The street signs were in Gaelic. I had Euros jingling in my pocket. The cars drove on the opposite side of the road. Exotic, I know.

Those minuscule yet new sensations, when compiled together, built an experience that was monumentally exciting. This was supplemented further by the itinerary we had planned. I would have the opportunity to visit museums, monolithic cliffs, and even castles. I was exhausted while adjusting to the five-hour time difference, walking alongside my family as we roamed the streets of the capital, but my sleeplessness mattered little to me in the moment.

All these thoughts fluttered around in my head, but I still couldn’t explain the internal misalignment I felt. As much as I wanted to attribute that emotional weight to exhaustion or travel jitters, I already knew its source.

Gus passed away in May, a little over a month before we left for Ireland. *** Gus joined the family over a decade ago when we adopted him from his previous owner, an elderly woman who could no longer care for him.

When he first arrived, I was afraid; I had only ever interacted with the large, dark hound that lived down the street. I was (at least internally) vehemently against the adoption if it meant we would be living with something so big and menacing. Then Gus trotted through the door.

Tail wagging behind him, he seated himself on a tile in the center of our kitchen and gave me an introductory lick on the cheek. This, to put it simply, was not the forbidding brute that I had expected to encounter. He was a fluffy white and brown pup, a mutt smaller than I was, whose tongue would flap about as he bounced around the kitchen. He didn’t bite me, a fact that remained true for as long as I knew him, and he always remained unaggressive despite his obsession with squeaking animal toys. As I grew up, Gus was a constant.

He was there during my transition from elementary to middle school.

Most days, once I walked home from school, I would come inside and he would be waiting in the doorway ready to prance his paws around, tapping the tile underneath. I would let him out, perhaps go on a walk with him and my brother depending on the day, and then he would be rewarded with a treat. It was simple, but the sequence became one of many rituals.

Apart from the walks, on most evenings Gus was looking to play. He would

Even as his muzzle became gray, his eyes always had this pup-like sheen to them that tricked me into believing he was still five years old.

approach and prance (a signature move of his), and then one of us would grab a toy, chuck it across the house, and he’d race after it. Since the word “fetch” never entered his vocabulary, we would end up chasing him around the dining room table until he was tuckered out.

He would even choose to sleep at the foot of my bed rather than his own. While white dog hair invariably clung to the ends of my sheets, it was a small price to pay to grant him the satisfactory snoozes he deserved. Sometime near the start of high school, once he entered his teenage years, he stopped being able to climb the stairs on his own, and this ritual was concluded for his safety. We had to erect baby gates at the base of the stairwell, but luckily they had no effect on his unmatched snoozing capacity. His favorite daytime napping spot replaced the bed, and all was well.

Then, gradually as I finished up high school, those walks shortened.

His naps grew longer. The dining room sprints grew infrequent. It wasn’t surprising. He was in his mid-teens, incredibly old for a dog his size and weight. But even as his muzzle became gray, his eyes always had this puplike sheen to them that tricked me into believing he was still five years old . . . and I was still the eight-year-old who would play with him after school got out.

When I went off to college, I packed a framed photo of Gus to hang on the wall. However foolish it may seem, a small part of me felt wrong about leaving for school. Being eight hours away meant I couldn’t visit home as often as I wanted to. I was terrified that I wouldn’t be back soon enough to see him again, to play my part in the time-tested rituals of neighborhood walks and playtime frenzies. Even as he enjoyed his sunset years in luxury, surrounded by family, I irrationally clung to the notion that I was somehow abandoning him. I would wake up in the middle of the night to text my brother to check on him, and every time he’d find Gus happily snoring. Even so, the thought still lingered: What if his time came before I returned home to say goodbye?

But it didn’t. He still had to leave, but he waited for me. I spent that day sitting in the backyard with him on a blanket, the two of us shaded by an umbrella, petting him until it was time for him to go. *** The weight I carried with me while wandering the streets of Dublin at four in the morning is difficult for me to express. Part of it was excitement, part of it exhaustion, part of it anticipation. Part of it was grief.

At first the weight was heavy—the car ride home from the veterinarian gave way to an indescribable numbness. As the days passed and my phone buzzed with condolences and support, I found that load easier to bear. It never got any lighter, nor I think will it ever, but with time I became more able to carry what at first felt insurmountable. Regardless, I was happy to do so if it meant remembering everything that he unconditionally gave to me—the joy, the rituals, and the dog hair on my sheets.

So in my jet-lagged daze, I carried him with me. I brought him to Ireland and walked with him around the city. I carried him to the cliffs and the castles, and I carry him with me still. After all, he was just as enthused about the trip as we were. Even if it was just about the soap. G

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illustration by sean ye

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

John Woolley is a sophomore in the College studying government and a assistant Halftime Leisure editor. He is a musician, writer, runner, and certified dad joke champion, two years running.

VOICES

First in the Family

CAM SMITH

N

Cam is the Voice’s website editor and a senior in the College. He grew up in Saratoga Springs, New York, and organizes the apps on his phone the only correct way, by icon color.

early every night I can remember from my pre-kindergarten years, my mom would read with me. It was almost always my choice what book we would dive into that evening; I had a bookshelf of stories we would rotate through. I’m sure for my mom this was a less-than-exhilarating routine of re-reading my favorite installment of Frog and Toad or later Junie B. Jones.

But I never lost that love of reading—it continued well into my grade school years, when she often reminded me of her goal, to ensure that I would go away to college the way she and my father had not. It was an aspiration she mentioned so frequently that there was little question of its inevitability.

Not having a college degree caused my mother significant professional anxiety. Whenever she was passed up for a raise or a promotion, she felt that if only she had a degree, she would have the right to take issue with being overlooked. Having a network of alumni to lean on when making geographical or career changes, learning from the backgrounds of a more diverse pool of peers, getting the opportunity to study abroad, and enjoying the higher income usually associated with a degree were all reasons she was dead set on me going to college. I feel incredibly grateful for this—had she not been so intent on my continued education, I would never have been so intent on relentlessly working toward this goal. This is one enormous advantage I had over many of the people with whom I grew up.

When choosing a school, I accepted the biggest scholarship I received and enrolled at Northeastern University. A month into my time there, I knew it wasn’t what I was looking for. I wanted to feel a strong sense of community at college, an institution where everyone was at some level in it together. I researched schools where the students were more engaged with on-campus activities, and one of the most prominent results was Georgetown. And so my sophomore year, I transferred.

illustration by olivia stevens

Georgetown is a difficult school for a first-generation student to attend.

I immediately noticed the enormous amount of work students juggle. I survived my first semester, but I realized there was no way I could balance a side job after trying to assist a professor with her research and failing miserably. I couldn’t spend a dozen hours every week on something that had no effect on the five classes I was taking. This furthered the pressure to receive perfect grades; not participating in resume-building extracurriculars made me feel like the only thing I had going for me was my GPA. I felt the need to take a course load packed with upper-level major electives, creating a cycle where I received less-than-stellar grades and felt paralyzing anxiety about my post-graduation goals. Graduating without a job in hand was not an option; I’m paying my way through school via private loans whose interest was already compounding.

From applying to college to the beginning of my senior year, I have never shaken the feeling that I am flying blind. I’m not sure if I slipped through the cracks, or if everyone encounters some amount of this, but I think that if there were more consistent structures for giving and receiving advice, firstgeneration college students would have a better experience at Georgetown.

When I arrived on campus, I was provided a transfer peer mentor who shared my major. I tried to get in touch with her so that I could get a feel for what courses to take, but she did not come to our scheduled meeting during orientation and hilariously accepted my Facebook friend request after she graduated nine months later. I have never once spoken to the person listed as my “program advisor,” and my deans, who seem to change every single semester, have never conveyed a grasp of the content of my classes. Having someone advise me on what classes to take to be ready for the real world, as well as what extracurriculars would be worthwhile, could have changed my college experience for the better.

One of the career paths that I am considering, like many at Georgetown, is becoming a lawyer. Before I got to college, I had never met a lawyer. I had no idea that your undergraduate GPA is one of the most important aspects of a law school application. It might be self-evident that you should aim for the best GPA possible, but the way some students architect their class schedule around maximizing their GPA was completely foreign to me. The reality is that many students who have the advantage of family members with college experience probably knew to major in something more graduate-school friendly or to take classes that could optimize their chances. On top of legacy admissions, which inexplicably assist applicants who have already been privileged enough to have college-educated—and more likely wealthy—parents, those students will have had yet another leg up on students like me.

This is not to say that I don’t appreciate the great advantage I’ve been given in life by having the opportunity to go to Georgetown. If I had gone to SUNY Binghamton—a common choice for students from upstate New York—I’m sure I could have come out with a job and a good sense of values just as well, without staring down the barrel of a bajillion dollars in debt in the process. But having gone to Georgetown, my family has experienced a generational change. I will graduate in nine months, and I have already accepted a job. The amount of stress this removes from my future—the notion of being safely employed, presumably for the rest of my career—is hard to comprehend. I will never have the if-only-I-had-gotten-that-degree anxiety. My time here has helped me obtain a promising career, a deep sense of the values that I want to live by, and an informed understanding of why I hold those beliefs, and it will undoubtedly become even more valuable as it sets up a financially stable home for my future family.

Had I not gone to Georgetown, I would not have felt the grind of a class that I really had to struggle to pass. I would not have been surrounded by students so motivated by their goals and passionate about making a difference at both a local and national level. I would not have experienced having so many peers with different backgrounds and lofty ambitions.

A common quip from my mother was that I would “really find myself in college.” That seemed like kind of a big ask. But in some ways, I think Georgetown has prompted me to do just that. And I attribute that fact to the conversations (and debates, and arguments) I’ve had with my peers here at school, in class, in my residences, and on the Voice. The intangible, immeasurable value of Georgetown is the people that I met here and the relationship we all share as peers of the same institution. Their sense of drive rubbed off on me and became inspirational in itself. For that reason, I’ll be proud to call Georgetown my alma mater. G September 13, 2019

7

WHILE THE REST OF THE CLASS OF 2023 IS SETTLING IN, ONE STUDENT IS STILL TRYING TO GET TO CAMPUS.

"LEGALITY D O E S N ' T A L W A Y S E Q U A L MORALITY"

BY KATHERINE RANDOLPH

G

eorgetown’s class of 2023 was moving in. Eager freshmen rolled suitcases down the sidewalks, and nervous parents double-checked that their children had enough pairs of socks and extra sets of sheets. But as the new school year began, one member of Georgetown’s community watched the action from hundreds of miles away. Lia (COL ’23), whose name has been changed to protect her identity, will defer beginning her college education until January 2020 because of obstacles caused by her documentation status.

Between Lia and Georgetown lies the rapidly changing political landscape of immigration legislation. Her home in Texas is within 100 miles of the U.S.-Mexico border, which means that immigration officials only need to suspect a person has violated an immigration law to demand identification. At airports near her, she could be asked to show her documents to immigration officials. If she lies about being a U.S. citizen, she risks deportation. Even if she escapes deportation, dishonesty could prevent her from getting legal permanent residency or citizenship in the future.

Lia could have driven to another airport deeper into the state, but drug checkpoints on the major highways made this another perilous option. Any method of travel to D.C. could jeopardize Lia’s safety and any future attempts to become a legal resident. She considered braving the checkpoints in order to come to Georgetown in August— her light skin and knowledge of English might allow her to pass by immigration officials undetected, she said—but ultimately decided that the threat was too great. “I did not want to either get apprehended, get deported, or to have to lie and jeopardize my whole future.”

Since she isn’t a Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) recipient, she could possibly apply for a student visa

as a Mexican citizen, a risky pursuit as she can’t prove she lives in Mexico. Being granted a student visa would alleviate her fears of deportation, but she wouldn’t be eligible for scholarships at many universities that would consider her an international student. The layers of the U.S. immigration system combined with the bureaucracy of higher education are so complex that Lia isn’t even confident that she fully understands all the intricacies of her own situation. Every time she solves one problem, another appears.

When she began researching universities during her junior year of high school, Lia weighed her options carefully.

Which schools had the best support systems in place for undocumented students who did not qualify for DACA? Which schools would value her both as a regular student with regular problems but also as an undocumented immigrant?

And then came the financial concerns. Because she is not a U.S. citizen, Lia cannot qualify for federal financial aid, and school-provided aid packages for undocumented students vary widely between universities.

Further complicating Lia’s situation was her lack of any protection from the U.S. immigration system. Lia and her family arrived in the United States about six months before President Barack Obama enacted DACA, which allows people who entered the country as children without documentation to work and attend school without the possibility of deportation. To be eligible for DACA, a person must have continuously lived in the United States since June 15, 2007. Lia missed the cutoff. *** Lia was 10 years old when a drug cartel kidnapped her father in 2011. She recalled her half brother rushing into the room in their home in Mexico to break the news to her mother—immediately, her stomach sank.

8

design by jacob bilich

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

“I was so young at the time, so they didn’t want to tell me what was going on, but I knew something was wrong,” Lia said. “I saw the fear in my mother’s eyes.”

Lia’s father, whom the Voice is not identifying for his safety, was on his way to the bank when he was mistaken for someone else and abducted by members of the cartel.

Her family left their home in a rush, knowing that Lia’s father had his ID with him, meaning that the cartel would know where to find his family.

When the situation was finally explained to her, Lia locked herself in a room and cried herself to sleep. The family had no knowledge of her father’s whereabouts, or if he would return alive. The cartel members beat and threatened him for 12 hours until they realized they had the wrong man. Around 3 a.m. the next morning, he was released. He walked several miles until he found a gas station with a phone to call home. When he returned to his family, he bore lacerations on his wrists and ankles, and cigarette burns covered his body.

The Washington Post reported that Mexico saw around 12,000 homicides due to drug-related violence in 2011, a particularly violent year for the Mexican government’s war on organized crime groups responsible for smuggling and selling narcotics. Lia said that this violence permeated her life before her father’s kidnapping, but when it struck her family, it took on a new gravity.

“I had seen bad things happen in Mexico. It was common for me to be at home and hear gunshots near the area. So I had been used to that certain level of trauma,” Lia said. “But when it happened to my father, I was just so incredibly scared and honestly didn’t know what to do.”

For Lia and her family, their country was no longer safe.

Today, more than seven years since she left Mexico, Lia

still loves the country, but she cannot see herself returning permanently. “I hate to think about Mexico as a dangerous place,” she said. “It's just such a hard hitting thing to know that I wouldn't feel at home in what was supposed to be my home.”

In order to prevent Lia’s father from reporting his kidnappers to the authorities, the cartel threatened his family, specifically Lia. With this danger looming over their heads, Lia’s family fled to Texas and applied for asylum in early 2012. To qualify for asylum, an applicant must be able to credibly prove to a judge that they are at risk of persecution in their country of origin on the basis of religion, race, nationality, political affiliation, or membership of a certain social group. Though the family had been directly threatened by the cartel, a judge ruled that their application for asylum did not meet the required standards because the abduction was a random event not motivated by bias against a certain group.

Denied asylum in the United States but scared to return to Mexico, Lia and her family had a choice: remain in Texas without legal documentation and risk deportation, or go back to Mexico and hope that the cartel did not make good on it’s threats. They chose to stay in Texas, but Lia couldn’t ignore the sting of rejection she felt.

“We were relying that the U.S. would help us. You know, you grow up in Mexico thinking about the U.S. as the land of the free, home of the brave. And we were like ‘they're gonna help us, we're in this time of need,’” Lia said.

“I do find it extremely unfair.”

Because of the Supreme Court’s 1982 decision in Plyler v. Doe, undocumented students have access to public education in the United States. When Lia started fifth grade in Texas, the school tested her English. Her parents had enrolled her in a few beginner English classes, so while her skills were below the average fifth-grade level, she knew some phrases. In addition to English as a second language courses, she took regular classes with other students, many of which were taught in both Spanish and English. Though bilingual programs aim to encourage English-speaking students to learn a second language, Lia found that her arrival at her new school revealed many of her classmates’ preconceived notions of Mexico.

“They were just children, but I remember them being like ‘Oh you're from Mexico, right? Like your parents deal drugs?,’ and l was like 'No, that's not what's happening,’” Lia said of her peers. “It was kind of weird dealing with American kids whose parents had decided to put them in bilingual classes, but they still had an underlying hatred toward immigrants.”

Despite the prejudice she experienced from some of her classmates, Lia found solace in support from her friends. As she entered high school, she maintained a high grade point average and led the debate team. She found her footing as an outspoken voice for social justice issues, and two years ago, began dating Junior, whose name has been changed to protect the couple’s identity. Junior described Lia as constantly willing to speak her mind and praised the hard work she put into her studies.

“She's very political in everything she talks about.

Everything,” Junior said. “But once you get to know her, she's a very sweet, loving girl. She's someone you're able to have fun with, everything is just great with her. She’s still political, but that’s one thing that makes her great.”

As Lia navigated the complex social spaces of adolescence, she also grappled with the ins and outs of the U.S. immigration system. Though she was entitled to a public education, her documentation status complicated her college application process. She looked into colleges in Texas, although her heart was set on her dream school:

Georgetown, where she plans to study government and one day work on immigration reform. Georgetown’s efforts to protect undocumented students drew Lia to the school.

“I was grateful that Georgetown has such an inclusive admissions process and financial aid process,” she said.

Georgetown accepted its first undocumented student in 2006 and has since established policies to support undocumented students. In 2009, University President John DeGioia sent a letter to Sen. Richard Durbin (DIL) urging him to support the Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors (DREAM) Act. After President Donald Trump was elected in November 2016, Georgetown hired Arelis Palacios to work in the Center for Multicultural Equity and Access as the undocumented student services director, a position that became full time in September 2017.

“IT'S MY DUTY TO EDUCATE PEOPLE, TO SHOW PEOPLE THAT UNDOCUMENTED PEOPLE ARE ENOUGH, THAT UNDOCUMENTED PEOPLE ARE VALID, AND I REFUSE TO LET ANYONE MAKE ME FEEL BAD ABOUT MY UNDOCUMENTED STATUS ANYMORE,” In a Sept. 5, 2017 letter, DeGioia urged the Georgetown community to care for its undocumented students.

“We have the capacity, and responsibility, as a nation to provide a permanent legislative solution to support our undocumented students,” DeGioia wrote. “We must find the moral imagination to care for them and work together to assure their safety and wellbeing.”

In her role as the undocumented student services director, Palacios works with matriculated undocumented students in both the undergraduate and graduate schools to ensure their security at Georgetown. She provides students with information on what to do in the event of encounters with police or Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officials and connects them with Catholic Charities for legal assistance. She helps keep students apprised of immigration policy updates, which have been more frequent since the 2016 election. Palacios can help students break down the complicated intersections of immigration and higher education.

Georgetown does not comment on specific cases, and Palacios and university spokesperson Rachel Pugh declined to comment on the record for this story.

Despite Georgetown’s promising support system, Lia’s parents still had reservations about how her documentation status would affect her college prospects.

Her mother, Lupe—whose interview was conducted in Spanish and whose name has been changed to protect her

identity—found Lia’s situation bittersweet. “I had a great hope that she was going to be able to go to a big university and achieve her dreams,” Lupe said. “At the same time it was bittersweet because I knew that because of her immigration status it was going to create some obstacles in her achieving those dreams.”

When she received her Georgetown acceptance letter, Lia felt certain it would be a rejection. The envelope was thin, and she’d already been deferred from the school’s early action program back in December. When she discovered that she’d gotten in, she burst into tears and ran into her living room to tell her parents. Their celebration was tempered by a looming question: How would Lia get to D.C.?

Even if Lia could arrive at Georgetown, she would be in danger of detention every time she travelled between Texas and D.C. Her parents would not be able to come with her, and visiting them at home would be risky. Arriving at Georgetown would mean Lia could begin her college education. It would also mean indefinite separation from her family.

As Lia joined Georgetown group chats and followed her future classmates on social media, she began to realize the full weight of leaving her family behind in Texas. Her new friends talked about their families helping them find their residence halls and attending New Student Orientation events. For Lia and her family, that wasn’t an option.

“Not only are my parents not going to be able to drop me off to my college dorm or not going to be able to go to orientation with me, I don't even know when I'm going to be able to see them again. It could be in three years, two years, four years. Who knows?” Lia said. She was heartbroken at the idea of being separated from her family with no firm reunion in sight. When Lia told her father about her acceptance to Georgetown, his pride mingled with worry.

“My father, he was so, so sad. He was like ‘how are you going to get there?’ I was like, ‘Oh, I forgot about that.’ I forgot that there are so many obstacles to go through before I even get to school,” Lia said.

Though Lupe was excited to see her daughter’s dream of going to Georgetown realized, questions lingered. Would Georgetown offer her enough financial aid to attend? She promised Lia that she would attend her graduation from Georgetown, but what if she was detained on her way? Lia said that the situation was complicated for her family. “They wanted the best for me.

They wanted me to go have an education because they knew I worked so hard, but not being able to see their daughter again was just so heart wrenching.”

Lia weighed her options. Trying to matriculate at Georgetown without documentation would endanger both her life in the United States and any shot at permanent residence. Applying for a Permanent Residence Card (PRC), commonly known as a green card, would cost thousands of dollars in legal fees and take months, meaning she wouldn’t be able to start her freshman year with the rest of her class. Eventually, Lia chose the latter.

Two years into their relationship, she and Junior got engaged. Junior plans to move to D.C. with Lia to attend school, and he recalled the moment when she got into Georgetown as one of joy. The two went out to dinner, and Junior said that he was so happy that people at the restaurant asked if it was because Lia was pregnant.

“I always knew she would get into Georgetown. I never once doubted her,” Junior said. “I knew how hard she studied and how willing she was to do anything to get into her dream school.” (continued on page 15) September 13, 2019

9

THE PRISONS AND JUSTICE INITIATIVE AIMS TO HUMANIZE CRIMINAL JUSTICE AND PRISON REFORM

BY RACHEL COHEN

W

hile he started his career at Georgetown as a professor of European politics, Marc Howard (LAW ’12), has taken on a new role as an advocate for criminal justice and prison reform in America. Howard’s childhood friend, Marty Tankleff, was wrongfully convicted of the double murder of his parents and sentenced to 50 years to life in prison. After Tankleff had been imprisoned for 17 years, he and Howard rekindled their friendship. The renewal of their relationship drove Howard to pursue a law degree so he could work to exonerate him.

“We started writing letters, and talking on the phone and I started visiting him. I felt overwhelmed with this desire to help him get out of prison. So I started meeting with his lawyers, I wrote a brief as part of his appeal,” Howard said.

“It just took over my life. It got to the point where I decided I was going to go to law school to get him out of prison.”

Even though Tankleff was exonerated in December 2007, Howard continued down the path that would eventually lead him to found Georgetown’s Prisons and Justice Initiative (PJI), a program that focuses on criminal justice and prison reform, with regard to mass incarceration.

“I couldn’t go back and be like ‘Oh Marty’s out so now everything is fine,’” Howard said. “Because through working on this case, and getting involved, I realized everything is not fine. Not just in his case, but all over the place.”

When it comes to incarcerated populations, America vastly outpaces other countries. According to the World Prison Brief, the United States incarcerates more people than any other country—over 2.1 million individuals.

By comparison, China, the country with the second highest prison population, jails nearly 1.65 million people despite having a population four times larger than that of the United States. According to a study conducted by the U.S. Department of Justice between 1974 and 2001, “about 1 in 3 black males, 1 in 6 Hispanic males, and 1 in 17 white males are expected to go to prison during their lifetime, if current incarceration rates remain unchanged.”

Howard recognizes significant flaws in the American system—beyond wrongful convictions, mistakes, and misconduct—which might explain why the U.S. prison population is so large.

10

photos courtesy of marc howard

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

“Even [for] people who did commit the crimes they’re convicted of, our prisons are nightmares,” he said. “The sentences are far too long. We don’t give people a chance of getting parole and getting out of prison. We don’t support people when they do come home.”

Howard had these concerns in mind when he became the founding director of the PJI, which aims to address some of these systemic problems.

Several projects fall within the PJI. For one, the Georgetown Prison Scholars Program at the D.C. Jail creates opportunities for incarcerated people to take credit-bearing Georgetown classes, “which provides them with a pathway that could allow them to graduate with a Bachelor’s Degree from the university,” Howard wrote in an email to the Voice. The program also offers a noncredit-bearing lecture series frequently attended by over 50 incarcerated individuals.

Additionally, the Pivot Program, which just graduated its first class this summer, provides returning citizens with the opportunity to pursue a certificate in business and entrepreneurship.

The yearlong program includes both educational and workplace support.

Aliyah Graves-Brown (COL ’17), one of Howard’s former undergraduate students, serves as the program coordinator for the PJI. She believes the initiative helps humanize currently or formerly incarcerated individuals, which she says benefits the entire D.C. community.

“What is really valuable to me specifically in this role, is telling individual stories—is getting to understand the circumstances that, particularly in D.C., young black and brown girls, and mostly boys, [face] just really unfortunate circumstances that are in a lot of ways are very much so outside their control,” she said.

A recent study published in Socius, the American Sociological Association’s research journal, revealed that 45 percent of Americans have, at some point, “had an immediate family member incarcerated.” Notably, this figure varies along racial lines, affecting 63 percent of African-American, 42 percent of white, and 48 percent of Hispanic families.

In a country where nearly half of families feel the impact of mass incarceration, the PJI aims to support local communities touched by the criminal justice system, paving the way for holistic community growth and prosperity.

“We’re preparing people to come home, we are honoring and valuing the work that people have done to transform themselves, to turn their lives around, and to just play a positive role in their community,” GravesBrown said. “When we are giving people the tools to be successful, we’re better off—everyone is better off. The community is better off.”

Since its beginning in 2016, the PJI has grown into the robust program it is today. Howard recalled that University President John DeGioia and several Jesuit priests welcomed his proposal for a criminal justice program at Georgetown. “I got a green light from the very top of the university—not an unconditional green light,” he said. “But a very supportive green light to think about breaking new ground and creating new programs, developing new models and concepts that have never even been done before.”

This institutional support is mirrored in the university culture. That is to say, Howard sees Georgetown as a

“natural fit” for criminal justice and prison reform projects like the PJI. “I think that Georgetown is a place that really, more than any other university in the country, values people— teaches its students to care, to get involved, to really have a life obligation of helping others.

Other schools that are wonderful, including the one that I went to, have something, but not really in the same way. And I think it’s a really special connection that Georgetown has with these issues,” he said.

Following the success of Georgetown’s programs, other institutions have reached out to Howard, hoping to emulate similar efforts in criminal justice reform. While this is a positive step in tackling the issue, Howard warns of the potential risks of underdeveloped programs.

“I do worry about it all being diluted and not being done as well,” he said. Despite his concerns, Howard recognizes the importance of teamwork in tackling such a wide-sweeping issue in American society. “At the same time, we’re all part of the same movement and we’re willing to partner and talk to and help anyone who I think is seriously, sincerely committed to this cause,” he said.

Howard appreciates anyone endorsing the cause—including reality TV star and fashion mogul Kim Kardashian. Now pursuing a law apprenticeship, Kardashian publicly advocates for criminal justice reform.

Her involvement also helped lead to the release of Alice Marie Johnson, who was set to serve life in prison for a drug offense before President Donald Trump commuted her sentence in June 2018.

As one of America’s most prolific celebrities, Kardashian often falls victim to criticism, but because of

"

her advocacy, Howard believes she provides a positive influence. In fact, this past July, Kardashian met with Howard to discuss the issue, a meeting which left him impressed with her dedication to criminal justice reform.

“I’ve got to say I am fully convinced by her sincerity, her passion, her dedication to this cause,” Howard said.

“I’m a positive, optimistic person, but at the same time when I am meeting somebody, particularly somebody who might have an agenda, I’m going to feel them out and be cautious.”

A hidden agenda, however, wasn’t the case for Kardashian. “I just got complete, genuine engagement from her. It was wonderful.”

Based on her recent efforts in criminal justice reform, Kardashian will air a documentary on Oxygen, an NBCUniversal channel.

She interviewed Howard for the documentary, during which the two spent the whole day together, meeting in his home and later going to a D.C. jail.

Howard will also chronicle his government class, titled the Prison Reform Project, and its accomplishment in a documentary series to be released on a major network.

Applications for the spring semester class closed in August. The course offering was met with great enthusiasm from students hoping to join the class.

Howard said that he received “nearly 100 applications,” all vying for the 15 spots in the class. Previously, this class has received between “30 to 60” applications.

The class made news last year for its role in the exoneration of Valentino Dixon, who was imprisoned

I THINK THAT GEORGETOWN IS A PLACE THAT REALLY, MORE THAN ANY OTHER UNIVERSITY IN THE COUNTRY, VALUES PEOPLE.

"

for 27 years for a crime he did not commit. The two still talk regularly, with Howard sitting as a board member of Dixon’s Art of Freedom Foundation, which, its website says, aims to highlight the accounts of wrongfully convicted individuals while working “with lawmakers to achieve prison and sentencing reform.”

Austin Riddick (COL ’20) has been engaged with criminal justice issues since his freshman year. He mentors through the PJI Pals, a program which pairs Georgetown students with children whose parents are incarcerated. For Riddick, these avenues into criminal justice reform have been transformational.

“I think it really has shown me what my purpose is— to be involved in advocacy with this particular population and trying to empower people to empower themselves, who are unbelievably marginalized,” he said. “It’s been the highlight of my college experience.”

In fact, Riddick’s experiences working with Howard have inspired his future career path, making him the first in his family to pursue law school. “After taking his class and working with him it’s really inspired me to take the leap and start studying for the LSAT and applying to law school,” he said. “I was interested in criminal justice reform before I got to college, but really, it was working with Marc that really solidified the fact that that is what I want to do with my life.”

Howard believes it is committed students like Riddick participating in the PJI that have allowed the program to make strides in criminal justice and prison reform. And while the work is very much ongoing, Howard is proud of the accomplishments Georgetown has already achieved. “Georgetown’s programs are growing and booming and thriving. It’s amazing what we’ve done in just a couple years—creating programs that have got tremendous attention within D.C. We work closely with the D.C. government. I don’t think there’s any university who works with its own community in this way,” he said.

And by engaging with the greater D.C. community in this capacity, Howard feels he has found his life’s calling.

“It’s just something that I just absolutely love,” he said.

“I love just getting people to realize that there’s a deeper level of humanity, that the world isn’t just about good and bad. We’re all complex. We're all flawed. We all make mistakes.” G

11

BOOKED ON A FEELING THE 19TH ANNUAL NATIONAL BOOK FESTIVAL

BY EMMA CHUCK

B

ooks are alive, and they remind readers what it means to be so. An opening page emits a promise of adventure and fulfillment. An author will reveal stories only to those who have the courage to venture into a world beyond their own. Books enhance your mind and touch your heart. It is no wonder, therefore, that a giant event devoted solely to celebrating their value has continued for the past two decades.

The Library of Congress hosted its 19th annual National Book Festival on Aug. 31 at the Walter E. Washington Convention Center. The event, which former First Lady Laura Bush initiated in 2001, promotes books and literacy and has historically featured countless notable presenters.

Humanitarians, poets, authors, journalists, literary critics, and more have appeared at the event to sign copies of their books and present about their fields. In addition to hosting public figures that spark adults’ interests, the festival includes a multitude of activities and speakers specially catered to captivate the attention of younger attendees. Its continued presence and success are clear evidence of the relevance and importance of books to our society.

Keisha Siriboe, director of content and programming for the children’s literacy non-profit Reading Is Fundamental, summed up the value of the event in a few words: “It’s all about loving literacy and just the power of a great story.”

At first glance, the festival felt almost overwhelming, a buzz of energy permeating the event space as people, with

noses deep in brochures, walked to and fro, sometimes congregating around the giant information booths. Despite the hectic air that filled the rooms as people rushed to and lined up for presentations, the festival committee’s careful planning and experience were evident. The brochure map highlighted a “lost children” section, and coffee carts were stationed prominently around the venue—an important feature for a festival that opened its doors at half past eight in the morning.

An 11:30 a.m. presentation featuring Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who inspires fervent cultural awe, resulted in widespread excitement.

According to a bystander, festival attendees began lining up at 7:45 a.m. to hear Ginsburg speak. The Librarian of Congress Carla Hayden and the enormous 4,000-person audience eagerly welcomed Ginsburg, who discussed her autobiography My Own Words, her experiences in law school and as a judge, her traveling adventures, and her ongoing battle with cancer.

For attendee Denise Neary, Ginsburg’s presence proved that books give readers a chance to see a broader narrative about familiar figures. “I think that sometimes people think that, for example, Ruth Bader Ginsburg was born a Justice. But she has a story. And every person has a story. And that gives people hope,” she said. “It’s a little sense of, ‘Oh, you, someone who is flesh and blood, are a writer and somebody that, if you’re a little kid, I could be.’”

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photo by nathan posner; design by olivia stevens

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

Besides Ginsburg, other featured speakers included chef José Andrés, graphic novelist Raina Telgemier, and historian Henry Louis Gates, Jr. If books themselves are the main actors, the variety of people and their diverse stories hold the crucial supporting roles. Holly, a mother and a self-professed “literature person,” has fond memories of the National Book Festival stretching all the way back to its humble beginnings when the event was held outdoors. She reminisced about a time when she saw Hoda Kotb of the Today Show after wandering into her talk. Kotb left such an impression on Holly that she still remembers the lingering respect she felt for the host and her life. She ended her anecdote with a recommendation to keep an open mind to all that the festival offers.

Ultimately, her experience captures the valuable essence of reading: the expansion of beliefs, understanding, and delight that inevitably follow after turning the first page of a new book. “Books teach us a lot about the world and about other people’s experiences that we might never experience,” Holly said. “That’s a huge value in people reading more.”

Every year, the event draws newcomers and oldtimers alike, but the reasons for coming are universal. The enchanting nature of what hides between covers eventually captures all people, be it a memoir of an inspirational figure, a collection of eye-opening poems, or a transfixing work of fiction. Besides their (continued on page 15)

LEISURE

It Chapter 2 Is an Engaging but Occasionally Uneven Critique of Nostalgia STEVEN FROST

T

wenty-seven years have passed since the Losers Club had to face off against the child-eating shapeshifter known only as It. In that time, they’ve grown up and left their hometown of Derry, Maine, to lead successful lives, overcoming the trauma inflicted upon them by that evil, dancing clown. But It never died. It is back, terrorizing their childhood town and threatening to ruin the lives of a whole new generation of children. So, the Losers Club must reassemble, return to Derry, and kill It once and for all. Thus begins It Chapter 2 (2019), an in-depth exploration of the dangers of nostalgia and its power to warp memory cloaked in a horror adventure about a terrifying clown.

The only problem is that most of the Losers Club doesn’t remember what happened the first time they fought It. With the exception of Mike Hanlon (Isaiah Mustafa), who never left Derry, each of the Losers has slowly forgotten the small town where they grew up and the many horrors that shaped them into their flawed adult selves. When they first return home, all their good memories come flooding back,

but that isn’t the whole story. In order to beat It, the Losers have to remember everything, both the good and the bad, and reckon with the unresolved issues from the past that still haunt them in the present.

In the town of Derry, memory conceals as much as it reveals, hiding trauma and preventing characters from fully growing up. Bill Denbrough (James McAvoy) has become so fixated on the loss of his little brother that he’s forgotten the bond that held them together. Beverly Marsh (Jessica Chastain) can’t seem to escape from violent relationships with men who resemble her father. Ben Hanscom (Jay Ryan) still harbors childhood insecurities, despite his physical transformation and financial success.

The other Losers, Richie Tozier (Bill Hader), Eddie Kaspbrak (James Ransone), and Stanley Uris (Andy Bean) are all trapped by fear: fear of their identities, fear of the world, and, of course, fear of It. In each case, events from their childhood that they want to forget must be confronted if the Losers want to defeat It and survive adulthood. Their young lives were defined

not only by riding bikes and swimming in quarries, but also by secrets, lies, jealousy, regrets, and abuse at the hands of both Pennywise (Bill Skarsgård) and many adults in Derry.

Although the film’s critique of nostalgia as a whole is quite effective, it falters when addressing how this applies to more immediate political issues. Mike, the only black member of the Losers Club, has clearly been affected by racism, but the film sidelines this aspect of his story so that he can act as a mystical guide to the other, white, Losers. It’s sad to see this common, racist trope perpetuated in the film. Similarly, Beverly’s domestic abuse storyline features strongly in one early scene, but is then forgotten. It Chapter 2 confronts homophobia more consistently, but even its treatment of this issue comes with a caveat. One of the Losers is gay and has been hiding it from his friends because of the brutally violent homophobia that runs rampant in Derry. His entire storyline is based around this hidden identity, while Pennywise, who also participates in horrific hate crimes against Derry’s LGBTQ residents, taunts him for being too scared to come out to anyone. When the film reaches its climax, however, his storyline is left unresolved. Each of the other Losers gets the chance to confront their particular trauma except him, as that plotline evaporates into the bombast of the finale. It’s a jarring lack of resolution that serves to highlight the movie’s difficulties in handling the stories of anyone who isn’t straight, white, and male.

In spite of these flaws, It Chapter 2 is mostly an exciting movie with a lot to enjoy. The horror scenes are well executed, slowly building tension before exploding in terrifying jump-scares. Pennywise is an ideal villain for dynamic horror filmmaking, eschewing the silent horror villain stereotype to verbally assault his victims before killing them. He knows how

design by cade shore

to play on people’s fears and insecurities, luring them into making bad decisions or elevating their already extreme terror.

Where some of the horror scenes suffer, however, is in showing too much of the villain. The movie is scariest when It is just out of focus, hidden by shadows or lurking eerily in the background of the otherwise tranquil cinematography. Unfortunately, director Andy Muschietti abandons that subtlety in later sequences of the film, overexposing It’s many forms and removing some of the creepiness from the character.

But the horror sequences are only one part of a film that is interspersed with important character moments and a surprising amount of comedy. The adult cast does a fantastic job of capturing the essence of their younger costars, believably acting as mature versions of their characters even when there isn’t much physical resemblance. Hader, in particular, has a standout performance, stealing every scene he’s in with a mix of serious dramatic acting and impeccable comedic timing.

Some of the various plot elements don’t always mesh very well, with several dropped plotlines and a slightly absurd finale marring the end product, but overall the film is enjoyable, breezing through its nearly threehour runtime.

It Chapter 2 may have some issues, and it doesn’t quite live up to its 2017 predecessor, but it is still a satisfying conclusion to the It film series. The film’s commentary on memory is important and, frankly, rather surprising from a franchise thats appeal is so heavily based on nostalgia for the 1980s.

In an age where much of our pop culture is based on referencing cultural properties from the ’80s and ’90s, it’s nice to see one suggest that those decades weren’t always all that great. Even if it doesn’t quite manage to apply its critiques to more specific issues, It Chapter 2 is still an engaging movie with a clear message: Sometimes the good old days weren’t so good after all. G September 13, 2019

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LEISURE

Critical Voices: Norman Fucking Rockwell!, Lana Del Rey SKYLER COFFEY

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ntrospective and immersed in nostalgia, The first and title track, “Norman Lana Del Rey’s sixth studio album Norman fucking Rockwell” begins with a biting Fucking Rockwell! (2019) does not reflect a line delivered over laxly tumbling piano specific era—it captures a feeling. Infused chords: “Goddamn, man-child / You with images and memories of California, fucked me so good that I almost said ‘I the album exemplifies Lana’s ability to love you.’” Despite its ire, the lyricism is transcend genre and allows listeners to playful and full of self-aware wit. While the glimpse a more tender, vulnerable side of song is about an unhealthy, emotionally her character. taxing relationship—a theme common Lana Del Rey’s artistic momentum throughout Lana’s discography—she adds fluctuated severely following Ultraviolence a sense of distance. Instead of dulling the (2014), yet her latest album marks a turning emotion, this reflective outlook allows her point in her musical career. Honeymoon to include more thought and perspective in (2015) is a slow and distant record which her storytelling. garnered much critical acclaim but almost “Mariners Apartment Complex” no radio play. Likewise, Lust For Life’s establishes Lana as the savior rather than (2017) fast-paced tracks and high-profile the victim in her relationship. In a song collaborations u l t i m a t e l y f e l t l i k e a n that builds from strumming acoustic inauthentic overcorrection. In guitars to a sweeping, stringthis new 14-track LP, renowned filled chorus, Lana defiantly NORMAN musician and producer Jack rejects the typical perception FUCKING Antonoff adds structure and of herself as a troubled ROCKWELL direction to Lana’s signature girl. Yet, what “Mariners sound. This is unsurprising as Apartment Complex” builds, MARINERS Antonoff has worked on some “Venice Bitch” deconstructs.

APARTMENT COMPLEX* of the best-selling pop albums A nearly ten-minute track, of the past decade, including the song deviates from its VENICE BITCH Lorde’s Melodrama (2017). conventional form before the While Lana’s sonic aesthetic 3:30 mark. Gentle, floating FUCK IT I has lent itself to expressive yet memories of simple love give LOVE YOU meandering ballads in the past, way to stark, experimental DOIN' TIME this record has an unmistakable tones racing over choked guitar sense of movement. chords, fading in and out. This LOVE SONG Norman Fucking Rockwell! song introduces the listener to features a melodic journey the album’s theme of nostalgia, CINNAMON GIRL that underpins its emotional transforming into an unfamiliar narrative. Lana acknowledged sonic whirlwind after Lana HOW TO DISAPPEAR the album’s cohesive sweetly sings, “Nothing gold CALIFORNIA soundscape in an interview, can stay.” claiming the record was The following tracks THE NEXT BEST “without any one particular big continue this ethereal California AMERICAN song.” Instead, each track has odyssey. A more traditional Lana RECORD* its standout moments, like the tale of unrequited love, “Fuck it THE GREATEST* grand ricocheting intensity of I love you,” presents a cathartic the chorus of “The Next Best release in its titular lyrics. As BARTENDER American Record.” Others, like the sliding pitches from “Venice “Happiness is a butterfly,” build Bitch” re-emerge, she uses this HAPPINESS IS A with a bare piano’s quickening song to speed up the pace of BUTTERFLY chords and Lana’s doubled her album with a rhythmic ​H OPE IS A vocals, while songs like “Fuck pre-chorus, bridge, and outro, DANGEROUS it I love you” oscillate between singing, “California dreaming THING FOR A a lofty chorus and a lyrically got my money on my mind.”

WOMAN LIKE rhythmic decrescendo. All It’s miraculous that a cover of ME TO HAVE masterfully executed, every Sublime, a California-based BUT I HAVE IT song ebbs and flows, the album ska band, fits into this record, *VOICE CHOICE surging and receding like the but “Doin’ Time” capitalizes Pacific surf. on this change in tempo to 14

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

transform into a hazy, thematically dark summer ballad.

The middle of the album consists of three tastefully understated tracks. One of these, “Love song,” was the first Lana wrote for the album with Antonoff. Its warm chords and earnest request to “be my once in a lifetime” show a refreshingly tender side of a singer who sees her own happiness as a point of vulnerability. Her decision to showcase this results in an angelic ode.

“California,” “The Next Best American Record,” and “The greatest,” serve as powerful ballads for the album’s elongated climax, each one featuring an intense nostalgia. In “California,” Lana spearheads an attempt to salvage a relationship, a sentiment similar to that of “Mariners Apartment Complex.” The pre-chorus ascends and descends melodically. Finally, the song opens into a sweeping chorus of heavy strumming and prolonged synths while she promises to take a former lover on a tour of California, through their favorite memories. The sonic power of the chorus juxtaposes strongly against the futility of her plan. Repeating the past is impossible, but it won’t stop her from trying to do so in order to fix the present.

Lana fondly reminisces about a time of perceived invincibility on “The Next Best American Record.” The sultry and impassioned chorus makes it one of the standout tracks on an album filled with many unique, atmospheric songs.

Echoing percussion surrounds Lana’s admission: “You make me feel like there’s something that I never knew I wanted.”

Slow electric guitar backs “The greatest,” a reflection on the past imbued

with tragedy. This track brings new, uncomfortably real meaning to the ominous “nothing gold can stay” of “Venice Bitch.” While the song opens with some recurring nostalgic elements, its real focus is on euphoria’s collapse. A melancholy guitar riff and Lana’s vocal passion manage to make “I’m wasted / Don’t leave I just need a wake up call,” one of the most heartwrenching lines on the entire album.

Norman Fucking Rockwell! elegantly draws to a close with its last three songs, all almost entirely instrumentalized on piano. These tracks do not lose energy, but rather transform the record’s momentum.

Culminating in “hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have - but i have it,” Lana makes a welcome return to a familiar voice airing her internal struggles and troubled past. After 13 songs granting listeners the privilege of hearing her deepest yearnings and fondest memories, she closes out the best album of her career with a nuanced message of defiance. At the end of an album focused on the past, Lana Del Rey finally braces for her future. G

photo courtesy of polydor and interscope records; design by timmy adami

“Legality doesn’t always equal morality” (continued from page 9) The two were married in a judge’s office in July, and Junior, who is a U.S. citizen, is petitioning for her PRC so she can begin school at Georgetown in January. After the ceremony, they held a small dinner with family and friends, where Junior’s parents hired a musician to sing and play the guitar. According to Junior, his only concern the day of their wedding was that he would not fit into his suit.

“Us getting married has honestly been one of the best decisions of my life, and I love her so much,” Junior said. “I wouldn't have chosen any other way, really.”

Lia’s PRC application is currently pending, and if it is accepted she and Junior will move to D.C. in January.

Lia will still get to pursue her career in government, and will eventually get to meet the Georgetown friends she’s found online. But there’s a lot she’s missed out on, too.

She was accepted to a pre-orientation program, yet her circumstances caused her to forfeit her spot. Her housing was cancelled for the fall semester. Lia will not attend homecoming this fall or go to her first college party on a Village A rooftop. Instead, she watched from behind social media screens as her peers decorated dorm rooms and met orientation groups. Lia described the feeling of witnessing her fellow freshmen’s first week of school as devastating.

“You can't help but feel a little guilty because of your status. Sometimes I wish I was documented, but then I always snap back to, ‘this isn't my fault, this is my story,’” Lia said. “I can't feel bad for being undocumented because being undocumented isn't bad, and so I had to just remind myself that yeah, it's going to hurt a little, but in the end, it's going to pay off.”

Lia’s situation is complicated, but she is not alone.

According to the nonpartisan think tank Migration Policy Institute, around 17,000 undocumented students graduate from Texas high schools every year, with or without DACA protection. Currently, the United States lacks a cut-anddry path to citizenship for these children, and students like Lia will continue to face challenges.

The Trump administration continues to restrict the freedoms of undocumented people. As Lia and Junior celebrated their wedding this summer, ICE was targeting thousands of immigrants in mass raids. In El Paso in August, a mass shooter targeted Mexicans to try to stop what he called an “invasion” of immigrants. These threats do not make Lia hesitant to speak out about her documentation status. Instead, she said that she feels her voice is more important than ever.

“It's my duty to educate people, to show people that undocumented people are enough, that undocumented people are valid, and I refuse to let anyone make me feel bad about my undocumented status anymore,” Lia said.

“Legality doesn't always equal morality.” G

Booked on a Feeling (continued from page 12) unique allure for individuals, books also possess the ability to bring people together. Neary, who has attended every festival since its inception, sees it as a family tradition.

“It was something to take my children to … when they were little,” Neary said. “It’s just something that’s been a wonderful habit.”

Despite the ways in which the National Book Festival remains a familiar institution for many, there were some noticeable differences from previous years. Neary recalled

the first year the event was held, when tents full of authors were set up on the National Mall, between the Capitol building and the Washington Monument.

Today, the National Book Festival exists because of a cohesive team of committee members, sponsors, and organizations, many of whom were present at this year’s hub: the lower level, which was a home to book signings, children’s activities, state exhibits, book sales, and food booths. Local and national sponsors were present in support of the festival. Wells Fargo had a station where doting parents could take pictures of their little ones riding in a covered wagon, and Scholastic gave books to children for free. The event was largely made possible due to an important figure on the D.C. scene, local philanthropist David Rubinstein. While the Library of Congress, which did not respond to requests for comment by press time, hosted and oversaw the event, Rubinstein underwrote a major portion of the fees, a little-known fact that Neary admires. “I feel really lucky. I’m aware that while it’s free to me, someone else is paying for it.”

In addition to making the event financially accessible, this year’s festival also aimed to accommodate attendees of all abilities and ages. The floor of the lower level featured a Library of Congress stage, where workers discussed the availability of special-needs library services.

The staff informed attendees of a service for people with disabilities that would provide reading materials, such as braille novels and audiobooks.

The event provided a plethora of activities for children.

Hundreds of families roamed the floor of a festival within a festival. The children’s area was a perfect counterpart to the events occurring directly above. Two different stages featured presentations of children’s authors and graphic novelists, including Molly Brooks, author of Sanity and Tallulah, a children’s sci-fi graphic novel.

During her presentation, Brooks unveiled her latest book and shared the journey of its creation. Afterwards, she answered questions from the children who listened to her talk in a special area laden with toys and comfortable chairs. Many families are spurred on by the hope that the festival will help children to understand the importance of

photo by nathan posner

reading, or, at the very least, find entertainment for the day.

The massive number of parents present indicated quite strongly the consensus on the importance of teaching the future generation the value of reading.

Kai Bird, executive director for the Leon Levy Center for Biography, emphasized an overarching wish that the festival can keep the power of words alive. “This festival and other book fairs around the country demonstrate that the book is not dead—despite Twitter, despite all the words on social media, readers are still hungry for real stories, artfully told.” The throng of festival attendees certainly supported his point: The book is definitely still a vital part of society.

While the event is simply described as a book festival, it clearly is more than that. The long-standing tradition of the National Book Festival is a haven for those who love to learn, want to expand their horizons, and seek to pass down the tradition. At the National Book Festival, bibliophiles are not only present behind the scenes; they are the people walking through the doors.

For one attendee, the festival is more than an event: It is evidence of unity in an ever-divided world. “Just look at everybody here. Just look at all the families that are here. It’s like, what problem in the world? It’s nice that they’re down here. [It’s] just a good thing to bring everybody together.”

Another visitor echoed the same sentiment. “Words matter. Now more than ever, it's so important to be able to communicate openly and kindly with one another and to understand people of different backgrounds. Books and reading can be such a powerful tool for building empathy and learning how other people see the world.” The festival showcases the dichotomy of books: They are art, but they also hold profound truths.

That simply is the way it is with books; they unify.

They present perspectives one might not otherwise have.

They force the widening of notions and of possibilities.

Books allow us to escape, but they urge us to grow. The existence of the Book Festival is a gift that spreads as it reaches more people, subsequently bestowing upon the public an infectious adoration for stories and the people who tell them. G September 13, 2019

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