The Georgetown Voice, April 28, 2017

VOICE The Georgetown

Fantoms, Aliens, and Mutants page 8

Looking Back on the Thompson Era page 10

April 28, 2017

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APRIL 28, 2017

staff

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

editor-in-chief Caitlyn cobb Managing editor alex boyd

Volume 50 • Issue 1

news

executive editor lilah burke Features editor jonny amon assistant features editor caitlin mannering news editor jake maher assistant news editors michael coyne, noah telerski

culture

executive editor mike bergin Leisure editor devon o’dwyer assistant leisure editors brynn furey, ryan mazalatis, mary mei Sports editor tyler pearre Assistant sports editor beth cunniff, jorge deneve

opinion

“super jack” by Aicha nzie

contents

Editorials

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Carrying On: Hoya Saxa, or Something Ryan Miller

5

Saying Goodbye to a Room of Our Own Amy Guay Fostering a Culture of Happiness Aly Panjwani

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Fantoms, Aliens, and Mutants Amy Meng

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More than Coaches: Looking Back on the Thompson Era Jonny Amon

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Hoya Students and Faculty Call for Science Advocacy Margaret Gach and Katya Schwenk

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Short But Sweet: Art of Legacy Pop-Up Gallery Claire Goldberg

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Norman Redefines Stereotypes, Asks Audience to Look Deeper Emily Jaster

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Fun Home Remembers the Joy and Pain of Looking Back Amy Guay

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Executive editor graham piro voices editor cassidy jensen Assistant Voices editors sienna Brancato, rebecca zaritsky Editorial Board Chair chris dunn Editorial Board jon block, caitlyn cobb, Nick Gavio, Alli Kaufman, GRAHAM PIRO, Isaiah seibert, PHillip Steuber

halftime

Leisure editor emily Jaster assistant leisure editors claire goldberg, julia pinney, eman rahman Sports editor jon block Assistant sports editor phillip steuber

design

Executive editor alli kaufman Spread editor jack townsend Photo Editor Isabel lord cover Editor aicha nzie assistant design editors jake glass, keeho kang, lizz pankova, rachel zeide Staff Designers Margaux Fontaine, Sam Lee

copy

copy chief audrey bischoff assistant Copy editors Leanne Almeida, Isabel Paret editors Mica Bernhard, Sienna Brancato, Jack Cashmere, Claire Goldberg, Isabel Lord, Jack Townsend

online

website editor Anne Freeman Podcast editor nick gavio assistant podcast editor Gustav Honl-stuenkel social media editor mica bernhard

business

general manager naiara parker assistant manager of alumni outreach anna gloor assistant manager of accounts & sales karis hawkins

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 Georgeton Voice, unless otherwise indicated.

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

contributing editors emma francois, danielle hewitt, kaei li, isaiah seibert associate editors margaret Gach, amy guay, parker houston, alex lewontin, anne paglia, lindsay reilly

Staff writers

MOnica Cho, Brynne Long, Santul nerkar, madelyn rice, Brice russo, Katya Schwenk, Dan Sheehan, Maddie vagadori

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THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

READ & Listen ON GEORGETOWNVOICE.COM News University Renames Freedom and Remembrance Halls

Read Emily Jaster’s coverage of Georgetown’s continued efforts toward reconciliation for the 1838 sale of 272 slaves with the renaming and dedication of Freedom and Remembrance Halls at the Liturgy of Remembrance, Contrition, and Hope held on April 18.

Cuban Musicians Visit Georgetown for Joint Performance Katya Schwenk reports on a joint concert between eight Cuban musicians and the Georgetown University Orchestra and Concert Choir on April 22. The concert was a continuation of the exchange program which sent 12 Georgetown orchestra members to Havana in March.

podcasts Stripped: Authority in Fashion In this episode of Stripped, Emma Francois and Isabel Lord discuss unicorns, the IKEA bag, and other fashion news, followed by an in-depth look at the role of education, childhood, and fashion in cultivating identities. Then, the duo analyzes the tensions between luck and talent, inspired by Rei Kawakubo of Comme des Garçons.

The Sports Sermon: Pay the Players?

In this episode of The Sports Sermon, host Nick Gavio moderates a discussion between Graham Piro, Alex Lewontin, and Parker Houston on whether college athletes should be paid.

Taste Test: Peeps If you missed it over break, check out our Easter-themed Taste Test, where Erika Bullock is joined

by Danielle Hewitt, Graham Piro, and Isaiah Seibert to learn the history behind the popular holiday confection, Peeps!

APRIL 28, 2017

EDITORIALS

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March for Science: A Catalyst for Reaction Tens of thousands of scientists, researchers, and concerned citizens participated in marches all around the country and on all seven continents last Saturday. The march sought to advocate for greater public and government awareness of science and its importance in the public sphere. Titled the March for Science, the event took place on Earth Day and comes three months into President Trump’s administration, which which has supported slashing government-funded research in its most recent budget proposal.

Among the marchers in D.C. was a group called Hoyas March for Science, a group of over 100 students, professors, and alums. This editorial board commends the work of these members of the Georgetown community. We have said that, in the current political moment, it is more important than ever for students to become more actively engaged in politics, especially when the issues they engage with overlap with their studies. The students and faculty mobilized, made their voices heard, and set a strong example of campus organizing for the rest of the Georgetown community.

However, like any political action of its size, the march was not without its flaws, one of which was a lack of a cohesive message. In many ways, it was unclear for what exactly the marchers were marching. The event took place on Earth Day, and the relations between climate change and science are clear, and yet it comes a week before the People’s Climate March, a different event with seemingly similar goals.

Perhaps more substantial were the attempts to characterize the march as an apolitical event. On its website, the event describes itself as “nonpartisan,” and many of its participants discussed the importance of keeping science outside of the realm of politics.

There is no denying that the March for Science is a direct reaction to the current administration’s policies. It is not an annual event and was planned following Trump’s election. Lab research all across the country may have nothing to do with partisan allegiance, but how the findings are viewed and used in policy is undeniably political.

Science, the method of forming a hypothesis, running an experiment, and coming to a conclusion, can and should be done in a non-political space. Yet forming and advocating for that space is a political act, as is using the conclusions to create policies.

Climate change, public health, and the countless other areas which depend on science are political problems as well as scientific ones. To think that those lawmakers who oppose

legislation against climate change do so simply because they don’t have all the facts on the issue is naive and dangerous. The fights against these problems will certainly require research, but science alone will not spur progress.

Since his presidency began, Trump has proposed cuts of over $1 billion to the National Institutes of Health (NIH). His proposed budget also calls for slashing the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) budget by almost one third. These actions go beyond just budget cuts. Scott Pruitt, the head of the EPA, is consistently on the record as having denied human responsibility for climate change.

These examples are just some of the many decisions made by the new administration that will have disastrous effects on the lives of American citizens. The work done by the NIH is essential to modern medicine, and the EPA is responsible for preventing the environmental degradation of American communities, especially those of color that are too often disproportionately harmed. We firmly believe that the federal government can and must promote scientific research. We stand against actions by the President to limit research and regulation that can only benefit the American people.

Science and research on behalf of the common good is one of the tenets of modern human life and civilization. Without it, there can be little hope of fixing any of the problems our world faces today. Still, facts and research alone are not enough, and everyone, including those who marched on Saturday, should remember this.

KEEHO KANG

Preserve Georgetown Day Congratulations, Hoyas. You’ve made it through another grueling academic year, and the end to all the hard work you’ve put in these last two semesters is definitely cause for celebration. Today, the last Friday of classes, is Georgetown Day, a day to celebrate and relax as the term ends and finals approach. We at the Voice wish the Georgetown community a happy Georgetown Day, and hope that you all stay safe and have fun.

However, because of the administration’s desire to limit the festivities on campus, 2017 marks a crossroads for the annual year-end celebration. This editorial board believes that students deserve a day to unwind in between a long semester and upcoming finals, and that Georgetown Day fills this role. We also believe that, in order to make the holiday more safe and inclusive for the entire student body, the university should recognize and support the holiday, rather than take action to stifle student activities.

This year the university will be tracking metrics relating to Georgetown Day, according to GUSA’s weekly newsletter. The newsletter states that they will be collecting data on the number of SNAPS, GERMS, and GUPD calls. GUSA has included these details to inform students of the university’s intentions and to encourage students to have a safe Georgetown Day. They have even initiated a “Save Georgetown Day” Facebook event for April 4 to stress to students the importance of acting responsibly to keep the tradition alive.

While there is no doubt that students sometimes go too far in their celebrations, the strategy of tracking metrics has the potential to come across as a scare tactic. Collecting statistics is easily perceived as a guise for threatening to shut down Georgetown Day. Such tactics have the capability of bringing about the very real danger of decreasing student motivation to use GERMS. Students should not be afraid to call GERMS because they think it will lead to punishment for them or the student body as a whole. GERMS specifically has a medical amnesty policy to protect students from such repercussions.

The university’s initiative to begin counting these calls on Georgetown Day comes on a year that the event is not funded at all by GUSA. Because the Georgetown Day Planning Committee failed to submit a funding request for this year, GUSA’s Finance and Appropriations Committee (Fin/App) did not allocate them funding. The Hoya reported that a divide in opinion on the importance of increasing the funding for Georgetown Day between the freshmen and upperclassmen members of Fin/App also contributed to the failure to allocate funds.

Rather than shy away from Georgetown Day as a whole, the university administration and GUSA should instead shift their focus towards instituting more activities for the student body on campus. By shutting down institutional support for the holiday, the university will push students to take their celebrations off campus, further harming relations with neighbors and putting students at risk.

Cutting on-campus opportunities on Georgetown Day will likely serve to increase tensions with neighborhood residents, who were particularly distraught after Homecoming festivities this past fall. Many residents complained to the school about public drunkenness, trash, and general disruptions. A Georgetown Day not institutionally recognized by the university will only exacerbate these frustrations.

Providing programs and activities on campus that do not revolve around drinking has many benefits. The implementation of more games, concerts, and food trucks gives students a chance to celebrate together, in an environment where students who choose not to drink can also relax and celebrate their accomplishments throughout the year. These types of events will help cultivate a greater aura of inclusivity around the event as a whole.

Georgetown Day can and should be a day to have fun. We call on the university and GUSA to embrace the celebration institutionally as we end another academic year and make the event more inclusive and festive for everyone.

5

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

If you could do it over again, would you choose Georgetown?

I sat there staring at the question.

“Well, it’s more nuanced than just ‘yes’ or ‘no,’” I thought.

No, I wouldn’t.

That sounds bad. Yes, I would.

Well now I’m just appeasing the survey. No, I wouldn’t.

I didn’t know how to answer. I don’t even remember what option I ultimately selected. I was too concerned about getting the right answer.

Would I pick Georgetown again?

No, I wouldn’t. But I’m glad I did.

I studied abroad in Denmark.

We have a joke in the Voice office that everyone who studies abroad says their lives changed. They write op-eds dissecting how two cultures that seemed so different are actually very similar once you get to the core of what it means to be human. They share anniversary posts on the day they left, and they drink beer or wine from their respective countries.

My instagram from my one year anniversary from abroad got 66 likes.

Carlsberg is a very underrated beer, and would have potential to penetrate the U.S. market if microbrew IPAs weren’t king and Heineken didn’t have a stranglehold on the European pilsner.

Danes are a quiet people but have great national pride and wave their flag furiously.

Americans are loud but love the American Project, similarly. Danish people don’t say excuse me on the metro. Coastal elites don’t say hi walking past you on the street.

I thought I was going to have something more profound to say with this column.

Nope.

Too often, people try to sum up the “meaning” of an experience as it winds down.

There’s a natural urge to write a concluding sentence to every story, and when we don’t have that brilliant thought to wrap it all up, that experience falls flat.

When I was an ESCAPE leader sophomore year, we told first years they didn’t need to sum up their thoughts when they shared during reflection. If you went on ESCAPE you know what reflection is like. A group of freshman and transfers spanning the whole emotional spectrum sit in a room and are asked to reflect on their entire life before Georgetown in front of a battery operated candle.

You hear some interesting stories as a leader. You get a wide range of life experiences throughout the year. You hear about family troubles, broken friendships, self-made pressures, the occasional funny anecdote, and everything in between.

Yet almost every freshman wants to tie a bow on the end of their reflection. “So yeah, my life before Georgetown was pretty good,” or, “So I don’t really know where to go from here.”

I’m not saying there’s something wrong with a concluding sentence. Sometimes they’re super important. “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” Pretty good concluding sentence. “Everything’s Good (Good Ass Outro),” the song that ends Chance The Rapper’s “Acid Rap?” That’s a good ass outro.

Pulp Fiction, though? You end in the middle of the movie, technically. Jules and Vincent leave the diner unscathed, but Butch hasn’t even met the gimp in the storyline yet.

No need for a concluding sentence there.

I think non-MSB Georgetown students rejecting the stereotype of Vineyard Vines and consulting jobs is trite and overplayed. Be enraged by something new.

We have a Georgetown meme page on Facebook that administrators have engaged with on Twitter. 2017 is wild.

I don’t think it has hit me yet that I’m graduating.

It’s weird because I had all these things I thought I wanted to do at Georgetown.

Not like a bucket list or anything. I mean, I do still have to sit on John Carroll’s cold, metal lap, and I never waded around in the Dahlgren fountain.

I thought I was going to learn more about how government works as a Government major. Instead, I realize now that the point of majoring in it may be to reveal the confusion.

I had a professor who said in the spring of 2015 that the presidential nomination process follows similar patterns throughout the years. “So Hillary Clinton and Jeb Bush are going to be your nominees.”

Yikes.

I thought I was going to meet a diplomat or some cool foreign stuff like that. Instead, I went to Dip Ball once, but I was in jazz band.

I thought I was going to find the love of my life at Georgetown. Instead, I make eye contact with a girl I talked to at a party once freshman year as we move through the hoards at the farmers’ market in Red Square. My eyes dart down.

It may sound weird hearing this from a former Voice editor, but I enjoy reading The Hoya.

Seriously. At the very least, I skim most issues.

I applied to The Hoya this semester, too. It was a joke—a way to make fun of their application process and the application processes of countless Georgetown clubs—but I thought that as a senior who has spent roughly three years as a student journalist, I’d have more applicable experience than any freshman who sent out applications to 10 clubs.

They dragged me into an interview on a Saturday morning. I wore a Hawaiian shirt, ripped black jeans, and slippers. Two of them sat in front me in the ICC classroom. They struck first, asking me about some editing mistakes in the Voice’s past. I asked them how this job would boost my LinkedIn profile.

During the second day interview—because for some reason The Hoya needs two days to review if someone is worthy of having their name grace that hallowed paper—they gave me old Voice articles to edit as a “news exercise.” Mean but justified.

After I was finished, I read them a letter I wrote to The Hoya, a farewell and thank you for considering me as a candidate. I pitched a few stories in it, just to show that I really did have good news judgment. The one with the most potential was an investigation into the Jesuit graveyard outside ICC. Are we sure that Jesuits are buried there? Prove it.

I then reiterated that I was applying for a position I would create myself: Senior Political Correspondent.

I didn’t get the job.

There was a mulch pile behind Darnall for like a week, and I really wanted to write a Voice article about it. “Mulch pile appears on campus.” I’d get a comment from Robin Morey and interview students who lived nearby asking how it affects their lives.

“There’s mulch behind Darnall?” John Smith (COL ’20) said.

Then, when the mulch inevitably disappeared, I’d tweet with a picture: “BREAKING: The mulch pile is gone.”

I recently asked the new Voice editors if I could be “Editor-in-Chief for a day” with this issue, kind of like how you do “teacher for the day” in fourth grade.

They said no.

By Ryan Miller He is a senior in the College.

VOICES

Hoya Saxa, or Something

Carrying On: Voice Staffers Speak

VOICES

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APRIL 28, 2017

Saying Goodbye to a Room of Our Own I wasn’t too sure about her in the beginning. We met through CHARMS, its shadowy algorithm connecting us amidst a sea of freshmen girls who counted Parks and Recreation among their favorite TV shows. After some tentative, anonymous chatting, we graduated to Facebook, our social media lives ripe for stalking. When I showed my parents her profile picture my dad said, earnestly, “She looks fun!” I remained dubious—she texted in all caps a lot—but eventually, after much feet-dragging on my part, we agreed to make it official. With the click of a button, Grace and I were bound together for our first year of quasi-adulthood.

We first met in real life on move-in day, possibly the worst setting for a formal introduction. She burst from her car for our agreed upon hug—we had discussed the proper greeting over text so no one was caught off guard—and walked to our shoebox-sized VCW dorm room while I tried to judge who was taller. We were both sticky and over-stimulated, trying to supervise our equally sticky and emotionally fragile parents as we hung photographs and adjusted bed heights. I eyed her watchfully as words tumbled out of her mouth, her trademark curly hair bobbing up and down the room in a bustle of anxious activity. To claim that I knew we would be good roommates from the very start would be to lie.

But relationships between freshman year roommates obey unique laws alien to other modes of friendship. Instead of meeting each other in a class or through a friend, we were thrust together in the sleep-deprived chaos of a rapidly-developing social network and left to hash out what qualifies as oversharing. And when the living space is as claustrophobic—or as “cozy,” to use Grace’s euphemism—as 903X, the process is only accelerated.

This means that our inseparability was guaranteed during those giddy periods between putting on pajamas and passing out from the exhaustion that came after days of snickering through information sessions, devouring GUGS burgers, and yukking it up during capture the flag. On the first night I, so used to my standard goodnight routine from home, accidentally said “love you” as we settled into bed. On the second night, we discovered that we both grew up on show tunes, arguably the bedrock of our roommate relationship and a harbinger of what was in store for our long-suffering neighbors.

KEEHO KANG

That first year, we went nearly everywhere together, inspiring good-natured incredulity (and probably pity) in our acquaintances. We coordinated late-night laundry runs and Leo’s dinners. We worked our way through D.C.’s hottest study spots and crossed the city in search of new restaurants. We climbed Old Rag Mountain at 3 a.m. and survived a metro fire on our way to the Strathmore. For a fabled couple of months, we attended Zumba classes together.

But it is our time in the room that I remember best. It was side-by-side at our cramped desks that we ignored our homework for hours, instead electing to watch our favorite SNL clip for the hundredth time, howling on cue. Perched in precarious positions on those decrepit chairs, we asked each other probing questions: How would you characterize your childhood?

Have you ever been in love? What is your greatest fear?

After crafting a complicated structure on which we could prop a laptop so that it was visible from both sides of the room, it was from our separate beds that we metaphorically wept our way through our transformative first viewings of Lemonade and When Harry Met Sally… And it was across the small strip of uncovered floor that we first performed our pseudo-waltz to “Shall We Dance?,” bounding from the door to our desks until the mortified ghosts of Rodgers and Hammerstein bade us to stop.

In that room, we swapped accounts of our workloads and deconstructed an unbroken string of current events, mutual friends, and emotional crises (mostly hers). We perfected intricate, ridiculous bits that no one outside of ourselves would find remotely amusing, adding to our joint mythology with every well-timed quip. But by the end of the year, I was happy to leave that room behind. I needed more shelf space and a bigger desk; any clutter— not to mention extra bodies—seemed to thicken the air.

Grace and I talk about everything, but perhaps our favorite topic is the nature of relationships, especially our own. Secure in the knowledge that we are going to room together all four years of college—a decision reached within the first week of knowing each other— we sometimes wonder aloud if we would have clicked so naturally in any other context. It’s likely that her unguarded extroversion and my bad habit of aloofness would have spelled doom for our friendship, or at least one as profound as we are used to now. Close quarters helped our close bond thrive.

Our sophomore year room—Reynolds 611—feels like it’s double the size of 903X. “It’s not homey,” Grace said, long after we had rearranged our desks so that they were side-byside, and I discovered how tempting it is to leave a bed unmade when it doesn’t take up 50 percent of your living space. I got defensive of the room; I liked how we could invite friends over and eat takeout on the floor without worrying about grease stains on my comforter.

But there’s some truth in her statement, though I don’t think it’s the room’s fault. We’ve still spent hours lip syncing Barbra Streisand and debating the finer points of Cate Blanchett performances, but other friends and activities have kept us busy and out of the room, despite the added square footage for our The King and I reenactment. The bulk of my most memorable experiences from this year are still with Grace, but even they have migrated outside our four common walls.

Our worlds expanded, just as our shared living space did.

We won’t be living together again for a while. This summer, I’ll be in D.C. while Grace lives in Baltimore; in the fall, I’ll be in Stockholm while Grace is in Mexico City. When we return to campus after studying abroad, we will hopefully be sharing an apartment with two of our close friends who also have an affinity for show tunes.

There is a good chance we will never have a space just for the two of us ever again. We mention this fact wistfully every so often; already, we are nostalgic for that bygone era of new experiences and wide-eyed wonder. Leaving what has become familiar is intimidating, but we need to inch our way into full-blown adulthood at some point, however reluctantly. We will grow and learn and meet new people and live wholly apart from our shared reference points and inside jokes. When we reunite, we will want to recount every part of our experience so the other will really understand—an impossible task. But I’m not worried. Wherever we are, Grace and I will always be able to return to the way we were in that tiny room from freshman year, so long as there is enough room for us to dance.

By Amy Guay She is a sophomore in the College.

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THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

VOICES

Fostering a Culture of Happiness A KOV

B

ZA

ELI

Happiness is the idea an innocent child lives by; it’s the sound of the school bell ringing for recess, the smell of delicious chocolate chip cookies baking. Happiness is the color yellow and a warm fireplace in the winter. Whether it’s through ice cream or Mom’s hugs, happiness is real and present.

But as we get older, happiness seems to become less of a constant. We become jaded.

Our worries take over our hearts, and we don’t give attention to the little things that once gave us so much joy. Lately, I’ve been asking myself what it means to be happy. With the stress of school and the intimidating future waiting around the corner, what does happiness really look like?

Happiness is found in the present moment, and it is this present moment that we so often neglect.

Happiness is found in the present moment, and it is this present moment that we so often neglect. As the sun sets beautifully over the Potomac, we hide ourselves in the depths of our frustrations and fail to appreciate what’s around us. Whether we’re running from class to a meeting or internship, we’re only thinking about what is next. We say that we’ll take care of ourselves and be happy after we graduate. We’ll be more mindful when we’re not worried about our future. We’ll take time to reflect when we can, but now is just not the time.

Often when my workload is light, I still feel the need to be as stressed as everyone around me. I feel guilty for taking in some sun or spending a few extra hours with some friends. Even having an afternoon free feels wrong. There is something really unhealthy about this. We’ve turned into machines that crank out papers and into robots that spit out facts. I question what we’re really learning and how we’re truly transforming ourselves. It’s not natural to be sleeping only three hours every night, nor is it natural to be constantly moving frantically from one stress-inducing activity to the next.

Research supports that our happiness and mental health drive our success. Shawn Achor, the author of The Happiness Advantage, explains that “positive emotions flood our brains with dopamine and serotonin, chemicals that not only make us feel good, but dial up the learning centers of our brains to higher levels.” Our happiness is not only good for its own sake. It also inspires more effective learning.

Regardless of this scientific research, if we aren’t happy doing what we are doing, what’s the point? There’s no denying that my happiness and mental health haven’t been my first priorities at Georgetown. I’m sure that this is probably the case more times than not. So what can we do about it?

PAN ETH

First, we must accept the situation. Our experiences of emotion are just as important as our experiences of bodily pain or sensation. Mental health is physical health. We should go to the therapist when we feel stressed, just as we should go to the doctor when we break a bone. We can no longer say that we don’t have enough time to go see Counseling and Psychiatric Services (CAPS) or get professional help elsewhere. It’s imperative that this stigma on campus is changed. Any test we have tomorrow is not nearly as important as taking care of ourselves.

Second, we must allow ourselves to take breaks, even if our work is piling up. Taking a break will give us the chance to engage in other activities that bring us joy. Whether it’s spending time listening to our favorite music, painting with a friend, or going for a walk, this time we devote to ourselves—and nothing else—will bring happiness along with it.

Third, to the professors reading this: give us time to breathe on breaks, and help us make our Georgetown experience more than just homework and studying. Whether it’s Thanksgiving or Easter, we should be spending time with our loved ones and refreshing ourselves. If there’s a community event happening, cancel class that day or find a compromise so we don’t miss out on all of it.

Finally, and most importantly, we must find love and support in each other. It should be okay to be vulnerable. Vulnerability lets us recognize how we are feeling and how we can transform it. It doesn’t make us any less intelligent or any less capable of changing the world.

Does this mean that we shouldn’t ever be stressed? Of course not. I see happiness as a mode of living. Even in happiness, we can feel tired, sad, angry, and lonely. Happiness grounds us in those feelings. Part of a healthy and happy mindset is recognizing other emotions and letting ourselves feel them. Happiness just means living with an open mind and full heart, permitting ourselves to absorb the environment around us, and allowing our energies to resonate with others. Becoming one with who we are, where we are, and the people who surround us, gives us the chance to appreciate the little things once again. Like the child who finds happiness in the ringing of the school bell and in the taste of ice cream, we too can find happiness in our everyday encounters.

Beyond the world-class professors and incredible courses, this community has so much to offer. I have met some of the most beautiful, down-to-earth, genuine, kind, and selfless people at Georgetown. Because of the fast-paced, head-down, headphones-plugged-in culture we find ourselves in, we miss out on human moments. What if we all took a second to say hello to the stranger in the elevator? How would campus life be different if we smiled at every stranger we passed by? Life isn’t a race and we should stop treating it like one. A culture of happiness can be created at Georgetown; it’s just going to take some effort. Call me a snowflake—I’ve heard it many times before. But I know that if we start taking care of ourselves now, we won’t melt as quickly.

By Aly Panjwani He is a sophomore in the SFS.

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APRIL 28, 2017

&

FANTOMS,

MUTANTS

ALIENS, PROMOTING SOCIAL CONSCIOUSNESS IN THE TRUMP ERA

BY AMY MENG JAKE GLASS

From its modest perch above a Subway sandwich shop in Dupont Circle, Fantom Comics supplies D.C. with the newest and latest in the comic book world. But amid tales of heroic feats and epic galactic battles, this indie comic store aims to bring into the mainstream stories of even greater importance.

Namely, that of marginalized minorities.

Through its queer, women’s, and Black Panther book clubs, the store provides a forum for dialogue amongst members of marginalized communities. “I feel like Fantom is the one space where you can come in and immediately be accepted,” Paul Branon, a Fantom employee, said.

The exterior of Fantom Comics.

Amy Meng

“We try to be a very welcoming, open, and inclusive environment,” general manager Jake Shapiro said. “You can see from the people here that we represent all different genders, ethnicities, and sexualities because we believe comic books are for everyone.”

Fantom’s model matches the efforts made in recent years to diversify and expand the range of representation in comics, which historically has been dominated by straight, white, male perspectives. A commitment to forming an inclusive, multicul-

tural readership also makes Fantom unique. “People are drawn to us because we don’t fit people’s expectations of what a comic book store is,” Shapiro said.

Raven Smith, an employee at Fantom, agreed. “For most of the comic book stores that I had visited, nobody really sat down and talked, nobody really engaged with you,” Smith said. “And it was like going to the grocery store, there wasn’t anything to it.

But there’s such a welcoming community here.”

Aside from providing a safe space, Fantom also participates in political movements and protests in support of marginalized groups.

On Inauguration Day, Fantom raised a pride flag and a Black Lives Matter flag and designated itself online as an official safe space for protesters. They supplied free food, water, first-aid, and invited people to openly discuss their political views.

“I actually got a lot of pushback from my bosses on that because, of course, as a small business you don’t want to take political stances because you don’t want to worry about alienating people,” Shapiro said. “We did it because we truly care about it.

And almost everyone here is either a person of color or Jewish, so that I feel that it directly affects all of us.”

When GOP members pushed to defund Planned Parenthood in January, the store donated 15 percent of its overall sales that day and 100 percent of its proceeds from comics featuring Women’s History Month covers to Planned Parenthood of Metropolitan Washington.

Fantom’s engaging community mirrors the enormous strides the comic book world has made to diversify its characters in the face of a homogeneous fandom. In 2011, Miles Morales, a black Hispanic teenager, replaced Peter Parker as the Ultimate Spider-Man. Alan Scott’s Green Lantern kissed his boyfriend in a shocking 2012 reveal of Marvel’s first openly gay character.

In 2014, Kamala Khan, a young Muslim Pakistani-American, became the new Ms. Marvel. The mantle of Thor, arguably the epitome of comic book hypermasculinity, passed onto

Jane Foster the same year. A year later, Spider-Gwen debuted on Earth-616 after Peter Parker’s classmate Gwen Stacy also received a bite from a radioactive spider. And last year, the franchise introduced Iron Man’s successor, Riri “Ironheart” Williams, a young black woman who managed to reverse-engineer Tony Stark’s suit in her MIT dorm room.

Marvel has moved to renew these efforts to reach a diverse audience with an “All New, All Different” branding initiative in 2015.

Posters, including an ad for Black Panther.

Amy Meng

While some fans have rejoiced at this influx of minority characters, others have decried the replacement of their childhood heroes as “political correctness gone mad.” In a 2014 San Francisco Weekly parody of Marvel’s press release, columnist Benjamin Wachs wrote, “Beginning next year, Wolverine will—once he comes back to life—be a transgender Samoan atheist whose bones are made out of 100 percent recycled metal.”

Shapiro expressed caution in attributing these trends to progress in social justice.

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THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

“When you go back to the civil rights movement, a lot of restaurants desegregated, not out of the kindness of their hearts, but because they realized they could make more money if they were willing to serve black people,” Shapiro said. “But there are definitely some good people who want to see good change. I know one of the people pushing Ms. Marvel is one of the major editors at Marvel, Sana Amanat, who’s a Muslim American woman.”

Likewise, Caetlin Benson-Allott, a Georgetown professor of Film and Media Studies, cautioned that pop culture diversity initiatives often run the risk of tokenism, advising fans to read critically.

“Did the plotlines change? Specifically, are the plotlines meaningful with respect to political issues about race, diversity, prejudice, and disenfranchisement?” Benson-Allott said. “Has race or ethnic discrimination become a meaningful part of the world in the comics? Or is it being treated like a checkbox I would mark off ? That would be the test I would apply.”

In regards to these questions, Smith is optimistic that new minority characters are playing much more than perfunctory roles in comic culture.

“Ms. Marvel, for example, broke so many industry records.

It had seven subsequent printings of the first issue because not only girls and Muslims, but everyone was buying it and talking about it—and for good reason,” Smith said. “It’s a really good superhero story that also deals with the real struggles of religious and ethnic minorities.”

Fantom witnessed a similar outpour of excitement surrounding the superhero Black Panther. When the first volume came out, Fantom’s stock of 300 copies, including their emergency shipment, sold out within days.

“IT PRESENTS REALWORLD ISSUES IN A WAY THAT IS DIGESTIBLE. YOU DON’T HAVE TO DUMB DOWN MATERIAL FOR KIDS TO GET IT OR BE SUPER INTENSE OR VIOLENT TO TEACH A LESSON.”

“We saw so many people who were interested in this character and who had a lot of feelings about him, so we decided to have a book club on it. And the very first Black Panther book club, this whole section was filled up with people from all walks of life—students, parents, social workers, teachers, everybody,” Smith said, gesturing around the room.

Entertainment aside, comics serve as a medium of social commentary on American cultural history is nothing new.

The medium’s political hues can be identified in comic book’s earliest characters. Born in the midst of the Great De-

Fantom’s employees take pride in its inclusivity.

Amy Meng

pression, America’s first superheroes embodied values held dearly by their largely Jewish-American creators. Superman, the “ultimate alien,” was created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster in response to anti-immigrant sentiment in the 1930s. Captain America, conceived by Joe Simon and Jack Kirby, directed attention towards foreign threats to democracy and battled Nazis in the hopes of nudging forward a stubbornly isolationist America during World War II. Stan Lee’s X-Men, formed during the civil rights movement, were genetic deviants whose struggles reflected the social and cultural marginalization faced by minority groups. Similarly, characters such as Spider-Man, Wonder Woman, and the Fantastic Four, equally complex and beloved throughout the decades, have charted various aspects of America’s cultural history.

While superheroes have historically been associated with world-saving struggles, for Fantom employees, contemporary minority heroes operate at a more relatable scale.

“Kamala Khan, for example, is a regular 16-year-old girl from Jersey with everyday problems,” said Smith of the new Ms. Marvel. “She loves being on the internet, she reads fanfictions, she’s just a goofy regular teenager and I don’t think comic book readers had seen that in a really long time.”

Smith believes that this ripple effect has led to more stories featuring girls and women of color as well as creators of color working in franchises such as Marvel, DC, Boom!, and Image.

“People are reading this story of a Muslim girl and seeing themselves in her. On one hand it’s personally relatable, but then society as a whole goes ‘oh, so we can tell those stories.’

People do want to hear these voices.”

Comic fans gather at Fantom.

Amy Meng

Similarly, Branon noted that Green Arrow is his favorite hero because of his relatability. “He’s essentially Bernie Sanders if he was a superhero. He fights for the lower and middle classes, the common people. He always sticks up for the little guy and his villains are not supervillains but people like drug dealers and corrupt landlords–the real villains,” Branon said.

Fantom’s staff recognizes a larger importance of relevance with respect to these heroes, especially for younger audiences. In

particular, for the staff, the accessibility of new minority heroes has helped children to visualize problems in society and how to address them. “It presents real-world issues in a way that is digestible,” Smith said. “You don’t have to dumb down material for kids to get it or be super intense or violent to teach a lesson.”

“These characters of different genders, sexual orientations, and races remind you that they are real people,” Branon said.

“It’s easier for you to identify with them, because not everyone is a straight white male, and they can also serve as role models for younger children.”

In the wake of the recent election, many have once again turned to comic book imagery as a vehicle of social justice. One recent piece of fan art depicts heroes such as Superman and Wonder Woman, labeled “refugee” and “immigrant” respectively, protesting Trump’s executive travel ban.

“PEOPLE ARE READING THIS STORY OF A MUSLIM GIRL AND SEEING THEMSELVES IN HER…PEOPLE DO WANT TO HEAR THOSE VOICES.” Another set of images depicts adaptations of the iconic cover of Captain America #1 (1941), which shows the star-spangled hero punching Hitler in the face, that instead show Donald Trump, Steve Bannon, or other members of the administration receiving the blow. In one popular version, Ms. Marvel delivers the punch.

Donald Trump appeared as a super villain in Marvel’s new Spider-Gwen (2016) series, debuting as the devious Mental Organism Designed as America’s King (MODAAK). Sprouting a grotesquely enormous head and tiny hands, MODAAK throws insults such as “foreign filth” as puffs of steam shoot from his ears. His appearance is followed by a clobbering at the hands of none other than Samantha Wilson, a young black Captain America from an alternate Marvel universe.

While amusing, Benson-Allott believes these trends point towards a more ominous message regarding the current political climate.

“There’s been a stronger rise in populism and nationalism during the campaign,” Benson- Allott said. “So there’s been an increase in anti-refugee and racist and xenophobic violence over the past year, although I think we would do well to make connections between that the anti-black violence that have galvanized movements like Black Lives Matter. The rise in hate crimes in the U.S. over the last year has been tracked by the ACLU and the Southern Poverty Law Center.”

Comic books therefore occupy a unique space between idealism and realism, a vantage point from which readers can simultaneously look to the past and dream of the future. As such, it tells the American story not in spite of toeing the line between fantasy and reality, but because of it. In a climate marked by intense political rhetoric, comic book stories and stores alike are attempting to foster a dialogue of building a more inclusive America.

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APRIL 28, 2017

More than Coaches: Looking Back on the Thompson Era

By Jonny Amon Photo Georgetown Sports information Edited by Alli kaufman

In 1972, Georgetown University was a small Catholic university in a predominately white neighborhood. Best known among elite east coast families for its strong academics and Jesuit values, Georgetown was an attractive location for parents to send their future lawyers and politicians. Students arrived on campus to study, and paid little attention to the school’s modest athletic program.

Following a dismal three-win season in 1971-72, a committee led by admissions director Charles Deacon hired local St. Anthony High School coach John Thompson Jr. to lead the struggling men’s basketball team. Thompson Jr., the first black head coach in the university’s history, was a former NBA center and star player at Providence College. According to the Georgetown University Archives, Thompson Jr. was only the seventh black head coach to lead a historically white basketball team.

Over the course of the next half-century, John Thompson Jr., and his son, John Thompson III, would transform the small white liberal arts school into both a basketball powerhouse and a nationwide cultural phenomenon.

“I think it’s pretty obvious that the Georgetown that we know doesn’t exist without John Thompson Jr.. There’s no denying that,” said Bobby Bancroft, an Associated Press freelance writer and Casual Hoya contributor. “There’s a huge statue of him. He’s always been larger than life.”

Thompson Jr. began his tenure by recruiting black athletes, starting an all-black lineup by the end of the 1970s, a time when the college game was still disproportionately white. But Thompson Jr. didn’t just change the composition of his rosters, he also ushered in a different approach to the game, introducing a hardnosed, physical, and exciting style of play to a team that had been historically mired in mediocrity. Mike DeBonis (COL ’04) (Full disclosure: Mike DeBonis is a former Voice alum), writing for Slate magazine, described the team’s conscious cultivation of not only respect, but also fear from opponents.

The icon of this rough and tumble style of play was the 1981 consensus national number one recruit, Patrick Ewing (COL ’85). Thompson Jr.’s commitment to recruiting black athletes and his unconventional coaching style paid off. With

Ewing, the Hoyas attended three Final Fours and won the 1984 National Championship game, only 12 years after Thompson Jr. took the helm, marking one of the most dominant four-year spans in college basketball history. Georgetown’s academic program grew simultaneously, with applications to Georgetown rising 45 percent between 1983 and 1986, according to Forbes.

“Patrick Ewing gave Georgetown a credibility in recruiting that it had never had before,” said John Feinstein, a Washington Post columnist who covered the team in the 1980s. “And then going to three Final Fours in four years and winning a national championship–three national championship games in four years gave Georgetown almost an aura.” “[Thompson Jr.] became, I think, within a period of 10 to 12 years, an iconic figure at Georgetown. Not only in the sense that people loved the fact that he was winning games, but also to the school itself because he was making so much money for them, and they went after the Capital Center,” he continued, referring to the now demolished arena in Maryland that seated nearly 19,000 fans. “They rarely sold out the building, but they were making money playing out there. They were on national TV a lot.”

Georgetown games became accessible to national audiences for the first time after the introduction of a brand new athletic conference, the Big East. Before Thompson Jr., Georgetown was one of many urban universities without a conference that reflected their commitment to basketball. After their introduction as an original member of the Big East, the Hoyas developed powerful rivalries with long term foes Villanova, St. John’s, and Syracuse, and played out their grudge matches for all to see on up-and-coming television network ESPN. Through their new television partnerships, Georgetown began to benefit financially from their expanding basketball program. At the same time, by increasing their national visibility and quality of play, the Hoyas became prime candidates for a corporate partnership with Nike, serving as one of Nike’s newest launchpads into college athletics. Thompson Jr., now on the Nike board of directors, was in part responsible for connecting the university to the international shoe brand, a connection that still exists today.

The Hoyas’ increased national reputation manifested as an important aspect of culture across the country. People everywhere wore Georgetown gear, an unexpected and welcome feat for a small liberal arts school with only a few thousand undergraduates.

African-American communities were particularly supportive of the Hoyas, a now-unapologetically black team in a historically white sport. Thompson Jr.’s conscious effort to bring basketball to black athletes and communities, in addition to his success, made him a celebrity.

“Georgetown gear sold very big nationwide. It became sort of known in the black community as ‘America’s black school,’ to the point that I know there were some basketball players who actually thought that Georgetown was a predominately black university,” Feinstein said.

Rappers, such as Big Boi of OutKast and Nas, referenced the school’s tough play in their music. Chuck D, leader of the rap group Public Enemy, once articulated his dream of forming a rap group called “Georgetown Gangsters,” where each member wore a Georgetown Starter jacket.

Georgetown Starter jackets became staple components of urban fashion. Wearing a Georgetown Starter jacket, “It meant that you had an attitude [and] that you was bad,” said Darryl McDaniels, of Run-DMC as quoted in “The Perfect Game.” In the music video for “Just a Friend,” rapper Biz Markie enters a scene donning a Georgetown crewneck.

“They broke down a lot of barriers, some racially. The diversity of the school has grown,” said former Georgetown guard D’Vauntes Smith-Rivera (COL ’16), the school’s fifth highest career points scorer. “That’s what I think personally I have come to love about the culture of Georgetown and the history of Georgetown.”

After peaking in 1984, the team reached five Sweet Sixteens and three Elite Eights between 1985 and 1996. Then, the team that was once the nation’s most feared program began to fall back to Earth. Thompson Jr. abruptly stepped down from his post following four straight conference losses during the 1998-1999 season, citing personal problems, and finished his 27-year tenure as head coach with a record of 726-305.

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THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

Craig Esherick, a Georgetown assistant coach since 1982, became Thompson’s successor in 1999. Despite a Sweet Sixteen appearance in 2001, the new Thompson-less era was otherwise lackluster. The most lasting successes of his five-year tenure was the recruitment of future Georgetown greats Roy Hibbert (COL ’08) and Jeff Green, both a part of the 2004 recruiting class.

Following Esherick’s firing in 2004, the program was at a crisis point. Lost in the constantly-changing and increasingly fast-paced game of the 2000s without the anchor of the Thompson name and identity, one solution quickly surfaced.

The Thompson name was reinstated at Georgetown with the hiring of Thompson Jr.’s son, John Thompson III. Thompson III came from a successful stint as head coach at Princeton University, and many hoped him to be the heir to the Georgetown throne, the destined leader meant to lead the program back to national prominence.

Almost immediately after being hired, the Thompson energy returned to Georgetown. In 2007, just three years into the younger Thompson’s tenure, Georgetown made a Final Four run for the first time in three decades, led by Hibbert and Green. That deep post-season run would set the Hoyas up with future recruits and luxuries over the next decade.

Even though Thompson III was the head coach, Thompson Jr. was a constant presence with the team, giving advice during practice and attending every home game at Verizon Center in his courtside seat.

“He’s definitely somebody that everyone idolized. I don’t think he said too much or had the type of influence JTIII did,” Smith-Rivera said. “But with him being there, I think it gave everyone the extra motivation. You want to impress him and be somebody that he speaks highly of because at the end of the day his word matters.”

Plans to build the Thompson Jr. Athletic Center, a $65 million practice facility on Georgetown’s campus unveiled in 2016, began to take form just a few years after 2007. A statue of Thompson Jr. stands in the main entrance of the new building.

“That building doesn’t happen if they don’t make the 2007 Final Four or are not [nationally] ranked continually through 2013,” Bancroft said.

John Thompson Jr. hugging his son John Thompson III

While both father and son led their teams to success on the court, the two stressed the importance of helping their athletes transition into the challenges of adulthood as well. In the process, neither shied away from expressing his political and personal opinions.

“

I played for the fans but I also played for John Thompson III.

”

In an article posted in Washington City Paper, former Georgetown player Mark Tillmon (C ’90) discussed a confrontation between Thompson Jr. and the team in the late 1980s, when the coach berated his players for not having an opinion on the latest news events.

According to Tillmon, Thompson Jr. asked his players, “Why don’t you have an opinion about something? Just because you have an opinion doesn’t make you wrong, and it probably doesn’t make you right. But have an opinion. Don’t ever let somebody ask you something and you don’t have an opinion.”

After another well-known incident in which an opposing fan threw a banana at Ewing before a game against Villanova, Thompson Jr. said he would send his players into the stands if it were to happen again. Even after this controversial statement, the Georgetown administration backed its fiery head coach.

Georgetown President Rev. Timothy S. Healy responded to

Photo georgetown sports information

Thompson Jr.’s comments, saying, “If that’s what it takes to get people’s attention, so be it.”

Before a game against Boston College in 1989, Thompson Jr. walked off the court to protest NCAA Proposition 42, which would have denied scholarships to freshmen who were academically ineligible.

Thompson III was equally willing make a statement. In 2015, the Hoyas were the first to wear “I Can’t Breathe” t-shirts to protest the treatment of Eric Garner, who was choked to death by police in New York one year prior. While the decision was made by the players, Thompson III supported his players as soon as he was informed of their decision.

“We’ve never shied away from issues, whether it be Prop 42 or taking Allen Iverson out of jail,” Thompson III said in a USA Today article. “It’s something we’ve never run from.”

The Thompsons were coaches in the broadest sense.

Though they were paid for their success on the court, each coach also extended his role outside of the locker room. Neither shied away from taking risks or embracing the unconventional when eyeing potential players and team leaders.

Allen Iverson, a Georgetown player for two years and NBA Hall of Famer, was brought to the Hilltop after other schools had rescinded their interest following his alleged involvement in a brawl. Iverson credited John Thompson Jr. with saving his life in his 2016 NBA Hall of Fame acceptance speech.

“The Thompsons being the head guys on the staff, I think that helped for recruiting purposes,” Smith-Rivera said. “I know for me, it felt like I could trust them and build a great relationship.”

The end of the Thompson era at Georgetown comes with a bitter taste. While the past two years have seen an inundation of criticism of Thompson III, it is impossible to overlook the 2007 Final Four and three Big East Regular Season Championships during his time as head coach. Maybe more importantly, Thompson III’s early years brought back the cultural value and recognition to the team that has made Georgetown’s head coaching position one of the most highly sought in the nation.

For players such as Smith-Rivera, the reaction to Thompson III’s removal after the 2016-2017 season, the second of two losing years, spurred a difficult response.

“I played for the fans but I also played for John Thompson III. So, you know, it saddened me [to see fans celebrate].”

Smith-Rivera said.

Some of the uncertainty surrounding the program was lifted earlier this month when Georgetown hired Ewing, an NBA assistant coach since 2002 and a 2008 Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame inductee. While the program will undergo some changes with the new appointment, fans can now expect some stability, as Ewing has said he will look to provide a seamless transition from the old era.

“When JTIII was let go, I felt hurt, just like the Thompsons did, but I thought it was a great way for me to come back,” Ewing said at the team’s April 26 end-of-year banquet.

The Georgetown administration agreed that Ewing was the correct choice to not only guide the Hoyas back to their winning ways, but also to mentor athletes similarly to the Thompsons.

“We wanted someone who would set a high standard as a leader of our young men,” Lou Reed, Georgetown’s athletic director, said. “After all, that is why we are here. We wanted someone who understood and was passionate about doing things the right way, the only way, the Georgetown way as it relates to building a nationally competitive program.”

Between Thompson Jr. and Thompson III, the legacy of the Thompson family will forever be revered by Georgetown fans. Ewing will look to add to the legacy that he helped build as a player. Regardless of the influence of the Thompsons moving forward, one thing is certain: every time the team takes the court for a practice session, it will be in the house that the Thompson family built.

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APRIL 28, 2017

Marching for Science: Hoya Students and Faculty Call for Science Advocacy

Hoyas prepare for the march next to Regents Hall.

Courtesy of The Warren Lab

By Margaret Gach and Katya Schwenk “What do we want? Science! When do we want it? After peer review!”

The chant carried across the National Mall as a crowd of Hoyas marched past the Washington Monument. Despite the rain that threatened to smudge the carefully constructed slogans and designs on their poster boards, more than 200 students, faculty and staff gathered on Earth Day, April 22 for the March for Science. The march, inspired by widespread concerns over the state of science in public life and public policy, was a worldwide event to celebrate and defend the discipline. The Georgetown group that marched on Capitol Hill joined almost 15,000 other marchers in D.C., as well as tens of thousands of participants in satellite marches across the world, from Los Angeles to Antarctica.

Heidi Elmendorf, Director of Undergraduate Students and Studies in the Biology Department, and student volunteers began organizing the group after the march was announced in late January. Samantha Menegas (NHS ’19), one of the student organizers, said Elmendorf encouraged participants to bring friends from outside Georgetown’s science community, in an effort to promote a multidisciplinary presence at the event.

Elmendorf commented that this effort was part of a push for widespread participation. “The march rebranded itself early on,” she said. “The initial name for it was ‘The Scientists’ March,’ and it rebranded itself as the ‘March for Science,’ and I think that shift is important.”

Concerns about the Trump administration’s budget cuts to scientific research institutions like the National Institutes of Health and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, as well as his cabinet picks for the Department of Energy and the Environmental Protection Agency, galvanized many of the protesters. Emily Mendenhall, a professor of global health in the Science, Technology, and International Affairs (STIA) program, criticized the Trump administration’s disregard for scientific input in policymaking.

“Actually getting services to people and distributing the science that we work hard on every day, it requires justice. It requires people who are committed to populations and committed to their people,” Mendenhall said. “This administration isn’t demonstrating that, so we’re marching.”

However, the organizers of the event maintain that it was not intended to be partisan. Participants hoped to encourage

policymakers on all sides of the political spectrum to look to science when designing new laws, systems, and regulations.

Critics of the march still assert that the movement has become overly politicized. They maintain that scientists should avoid partisanship and promote political objectivity. Robert Young, writing in a New York Times op-ed, argued that the march was well-intentioned, yet flawed because of its politically charged nature.

“Among scientists, understandably, there is growing fear that fact-based decision making is losing its seat at the policy-making table,” Young wrote. “But trying to recreate the pointedly political Women’s March will serve only to reinforce the narrative from skeptical conservatives that scientists are an interest group and politicize their data, research and findings for their own ends.”

In response to these objections, many Georgetown marchers deny that their goals claimed science for a single political party. While they agree that the march was meant to inspire science supporters into political action, they also state it was not intended to encourage partisan action.

“I think a lot of people had this idea that the march is a liberal march; it’s a march for liberals, it’s an anti-Trump march and you’re using science as an excuse to do it,” said Agnes Donnelly (COL ’19), one of the student organizers of the Georgetown group. “I personally lean towards conservatism, but I participated in the march. Whether you are a Democrat or a Republican, you are going to be affected by science.”

Capitalizing on the march’s political momentum, Jane Donnelly (COL ’19) said that Georgetown faculty and students are hoping to encourage the integration of science education and literacy within the university. Although Georgetown’s reputation has historically centered around the humanities, new curriculum requirements and classes may steer students towards a more science-heavy course load.

There is already strong support among faculty and administrators for a science requirement in the SFS, a school jokingly referred to as “Safe From Science.” Elmendorf said that while science majors have always received excellent opportunities at the university, students who major in other disciplines often miss out on important scientific perspectives. She hopes that these proposed science requirements for all undergraduates will help to expose students to scientific thought processes.

“I think one of the things that we’re trying to do more consistently is to offer students opportunities to encounter issues where science and society intersect and encounter them within the curriculum,” Elmendorf said.

The push to promote students’ science literacy is not just coming from science departments. Andrew Bennett, a professor in the government department, advised the foundation of the new Students for Climate Security group after the presidential election, and has moderated several panels on the future of science and policy in recent weeks. Bennett wrote in an email to the Voice that he hopes that developing this kind of scientific literacy in students will help them understand the extensive processes that aim to protect science against partial research or conclusions inclined towards political goals.

“At the same time, I think they should know that scientists are the first to agree that we need to work together to ensure that science embodies our values,” Bennett wrote. “Technologies—artificial intelligence, cloning, robotics—are creating social and economic challenges and ethical dilemmas that only political processes, informed by the best science, can address.”

Menegas, Jane Donnelly, Agnes Donnelly, and Julia Bevilacqua (COL ’19) are in the process of forming a new science advocacy group on campus which they said will aim to make science more accessible to students who do not typically encounter scientific research in their studies. But just as she hopes that others will take the time to learn more about scientific disciplines, Agnes Donnelly warns that it is also important for scientists to look outside their labs for learning opportunities.

“It’s important that, moving forward, with the science advocacy thing, that this doesn’t seem like a one-way street where we’re trying to push science on everyone,” Donnelly said. “I think that if we really want to look at the intersection of science and policy, science and business, science and fill-in-the-blank, hopefully, by extension, we as scientists will learn more about those fields, just as those fields are learning more about science.”

For students and faculty, their participation in the march was an energetic display of their determination to engage Georgetown in the intensifying national conversation on science. Yet their seven-mile march was just the first step in the effort to fully integrate science and society at the university, in D.C., and throughout the world.

Isaiah Seibert contributed reporting.

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THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

Short But Sweet: Art of Legacy Pop-Up Gallery

By Claire Goldberg

“Portlandia,” Raymond Kaskey

The old movie theater on Wisconsin and O Street sits right in the middle of Georgetown, its recognizable neon sign lighting up the street below. The space, opened in 1913 as the Dumbarton Theatre, was recently remodeled with the idea of a commercial or retail space in mind, but is still looking for a permanent inhabitant after its closure over 30 years ago. Briefly last month, it was home to art dealership Closed Monday Production’s pop-up gallery, the Art of Legacy exhibition, showcasing abstract art and surrealist photography.

The space feels perfect for a gallery due to its long, open structure and copious natural lighting. A partially-exposed downstairs area allows for an organic break in collections while maintaining a united theme. In the expansive yet intimate gallery, the pieces on display are seen as part of a whole, inviting viewers to experience the work without spatial obstructions.

When you first walk into the gallery, a metal sculpture of a woman crouching with a trident sits atop a white pillar directly to your left. The piece, entitled “Portlandia,” is the only sculpture in the entire space, standing out in its realism amongst abstractions. Behind it is a singular, brightly colored painting, hanging alone in the front window. And rightfully so. “Come Fly With Me,” by Barbara Januszkiewicz, is fresh and floral, distinctive with its glossy surface and a stark contrast of blues, oranges, and purples. It is the prime piece to lure in passers-by.

Januszkiewicz’s collection, a continuation of the theme in “Come Fly With Me,” is one of the highlights of the gallery, reminiscent of springtime buds and blooms. Her works are accompanied in the pop-up by those of Anne Marchand, whose tie-dye-esque abstractionist paintings are exceedingly vibrant,

Claire Goldberg

Works by Anne Marchand

appearing almost intergalactic. The two artists evoke similar feelings from their use of explosive styles and vivid hues, an obvious nod to the season. Both rely on color and abstraction to create conceptual meaning, but they stand alone, distinct in their own right. Januszkiewicz’s paintings are constructive and translucent, inviting more layers, while Marchand’s works are reductive and solid, as if the paint is melting away.

Januszkiewicz covers metal plates of various sizes with ceramic or glass-like coatings. These glossy surfaces make the vivid, juxtaposed colors of her abstracts erupt in bursts of emotion. From afar, the images look like tulips. Her paintings emit tremendous light and motion, creating an overwhelming sense of happiness.

Marchand’s work is spectacular. The technique behind each piece is very similar, making it look as if the paint is still in its liquid form, in the process of being dyed or washed away. But this doesn’t contribute to any sort of stylistic redundancy. The canvases are all the same size, but the variation in color and composition gives the pieces individual prominence. No two swirls, spins, or splotches are the same.

One of Marchand’s stand-out pieces is “Counterpoint,” which is mostly white space, lightly splattered with green, yellow, and purple. The work gives the illusion of melting, as if it is transitioning back into a blank canvas. It sits in opposition to all the other pieces, which are strikingly full of a variety of colors, hardly any blank canvas left to see. However, the juxtaposition of swirling motion despite its two-dimensional plane and relative emptiness gives it fullness and life.

Claire Goldberg

Another artist on display is abstractionist John Blee, whose paintings are pleasant, although they do not stand out as much as those of Januszkiewicz and Marchand. All of his works, except one, are downstairs, and after seeing the bright, wide variety of colors in Marchand and Januszkiewicz’s art, they pale in comparison. The color choices are dimmer, and the technique heavier. On top of this, Blee’s collection lacks an overall stylistic cohesion, unlike those of his two peers.

The photography in the gallery is imaginative but not incredibly compelling. Marissa White’s surrealist photos are intriguing: the best work depicts hands holding monarch butterflies underwater, and a cheerful photograph shows a headless woman in a pink dress with bubbles emerging from the area where her neck should be. However, none of her photographs are incredibly thought-provoking. Like Blee’s paintings, the colors of the photographs are darker and dimmer than those of the abstract paintings hung on the opposite wall. They feel static, juxtaposed with the active, motion-driven paintings.

Although the Art of Legacy exhibition is no longer in existence, Closed Monday will be opening another gallery in May. The idea of a pop-up exhibition allows for a natural cycle of creativity, with fresh takes on collections rotating in the right space. Though it’s hard to see some of the works go so fast, it’s comforting to know that many new artists and curators will have the chance to express their creativity. The pieces invited passers-by, at least for a moment, to escape the hectic streets of Georgtown and reflect on the rapidly departing season.

APRIL 28, 2017

LEISURE

14

Norman Redefines Stereotypes, Asks Audiences to Look Deeper

By Emily Jaster IMDB

Norman Oppenheimer (Richard Gere) is a curious, awkward, and struggling New York fixer, someone who incessantly hatches illicit deals and schemes. The entire world of Norman: The Moderate Rise and Tragic Fall of a New York Fixer revolves around Norman and the consequences of his ambitious endeavors, yet no one—neither characters, nor the audience members—ever manages to learn anything about him. “[Norman] was the motivation for the whole film,” director Joseph Cedar said in an interview with the Voice. “I had to figure this guy out. All the other people around Norman, at least for the world of this film, are defined by their relationship with Norman, and how they reject Norman, take advantage of him, betray him. But at the center is this one character that I needed to figure out.”

Norman is a modern take on the archetypal Court Jew story, which traditionally involves a Jew who meets a struggling man who is eventually fated to come to power, then the Jew offers the man a gift or favor, according to Cedar.

Once the man is in power, the Jew rises to high office in the man’s court. Ultimately, the Jew becomes subject to antagonism, and the man in power willingly removes the Jew from his court.

Norman is a story told through phone calls: a mode of communication that is omnipresent and unavoidable in modern life and contemporary film, and one that is also deeply representative of Norman’s detached relationships.

Norman is a sharp departure from the confident, womanizing characters whom Gere has played in the past. Even so, Gere brings Norman to life with such depth that he pulls the heartbreaking theme of loneliness into every moment

of the film. Visually, Norman walls himself from his surroundings with a hat, a bulky coat, and ever-present earbuds, while Gere masterfully enacts Norman’s stiffness and his quizzical facial expressions, which tell a story of their own.

Norman first appears in a New York coffee shop, entreating an uninterested man to attempt a grandiose financial scheme.

As usual, Norman fails to strike a deal—but this failure is shortlived. He soon hears that an Israeli politician, the disheartened Micha Eshel (Lior Ashkenazi), is coming to New York, and so Norman, like the archetypical Court Jew, gives Eshel a gift of expensive shoes to gain a lucrative connection. Norman establishes a friendship—or something like one—still extant when Eshel becomes Prime Minister.

Later, during Eshel’s inauguration celebration, it seems that Norman has struck networking gold. Norman finds himself swimming in a mirage of faces and introductions, each one a gateway to a new scheming opportunity. By using Eshel’s name to accumulate expensive deals and transactions, Norman catalyzes his own downfall and places Eshel’s reputation in peril.

As one may expect, Norman is selfishly motivated, but not by wealth nor power. Above all else, Norman is lonely. “Loneliness is the scariest thing, in my mind, in the human experience,” Cedar said. “Everything is a little bit easier if you’re not alone.

And Norman is lonely. The things that he does are a way for him to feel less lonely, or less alone … There are films about diseases, or films about social problems, wars; this is definitely a story about loneliness.”

Connections were as essential to the making of the film as they are to the plot. Norman, Cedar’s first-ever English-language film, was shot on site in New York City. “Working in a new country is almost like starting from scratch. You have to rely on other people’s experience,” Cedar said. However, through the learning process of filming, Cedar gained a new perspective of New York. “There are all these secrets about how to shoot on the street,” Cedar said. “Finding locations in New York is a way to rediscover the city.”

The product is impeccable: the storyline is moving and the acting is intriguing. The cinematography is a work of art, even while capturing events and images that are not intrinsically aesthetic. Norman is a story told through phone calls: a mode of communication that is omnipresent and unavoidable in modern life and contemporary film, and one that is also deeply representative of Norman’s detached relationships.

“There’s something boring about someone talking to a phone, or reading a text … Technology is not beautiful,” Ce-

dar said. Cedar chose to portray phone calls with the shared screen aesthetic, which sets the images of the two speakers sideby-side, as a way to dramatize phone calls and illustrate how, through perpetual phone calls, Norman is invading other people’s space.

The buildup of events and their stunning portrayal consummates an ironic tragedy as superficial successes fail to heal Norman’s loneliness. Norman is in constant contact with his ever-growing network, but each character’s relationship to Norman is void of genuine friendship. “Norman is alone. Norman is constantly trying to interact with people … but no one ties their destiny to him. And I think that’s the meaning of not being alone,” Cedar said.

‘Norman is alone. Norman is constantly trying to interact with people… but no one ties their destiny to him. And I think that’s the meaning of not being alone,’ Cedar said.

Norman becomes a generalization in himself: even his name becomes a common noun. “Norman is almost like a business tradition; it’s not only a person. Doing a Norman. Being a Norman. Afraid of the Norman. Beware of the Normans. I think I like that notion. He’s more than just this one person. There are many Normans,” Cedar said.

Amid all the mixed results of his own life-story, Norman manages to help the off-screen audience by opening their eyes and minds. The world doesn’t necessarily need the help and favors of the Normans, but the Norman of this film needs us, needs someone who will accept his help. “I’ll accept the gift from you, and in return, you can call,” said Cedar. “That’s all he wants. Access.”

Norman: The Moderate Rise and Tragic Fall of a New York Fixer is a poignant tale of one person’s loneliness within a popular ignorance. Through a story that aims to redefine divisive and superficial stereotypes, the mysterious Norman Oppenheimer invites the world to care and to understand.

15

THE GEORGETOWN VOICE

LEISURE

Fun Home Remembers the Joy and Pain of Looking Back

by Amy Guay

Kate Shindle as Alison Bechdel in Fun Home.

I had my qualms about Fun Home. The national touring production of the five-time Tony winning musical was coming to D.C.’s National Theatre and my expectations were stratospheric despite my best attempts to temper them, which means disappointment was almost inevitable. Even with the Tony’s stamp of approval—its 2015 haul includes Best Musical, Best Score, and Best Book—I couldn’t fathom how creators Jeanine Tesori and Lisa Kron managed to translate Alison Bechdel’s superb 2006 “tragicomic” of the same name to a genre often associated with elaborate dance numbers and weepy ballads. Stranger things have become musicals before—look to Hamilton or to the indefatigable head-scratcher that is Cats—but Bechdel’s literary prose and intricate, non-linear narration seemed to defy adaptation.

Not to mention the premise: Fun Home, the first Broadway show boasting a lesbian in the leading role, features cadavers, sex with underage boys, and suicide.

I shouldn’t have worried. Within the first seven minutes, as the entire cast had assembled on stage to sing the goose bumpinducing crescendo of the first song “It All Comes Back,” the audience seemed to collectively hold its breath. Luckily, and impossibly, the rest of the musical only got better.

Fun Home begins simply: a woman with a cropped haircut walks onstage and stands at a desk. This is Alison (Kate Shindle, 1998 winner of Miss America), and it is her memories that will drive the musical as she reflects on her childhood, college years, and fraught relationships with her father and mother. Shindle, whose powerful singing voice was one of the first signs that this cast was of the highest caliber, shares the spotlight with two younger iterations of herself, Small Alison (Alessandra Baldacchino) and Medium Alison (Abby Corrigan). The Alisons are joined by father Bruce (Robert Petkoff), mother Helen (Susan Monz), brothers Christian and John (Pierson Salvador

Photo Joan Marcus Edited By Margaux Fontaine

and Lennon Nate Hammond), and her college girlfriend, Joan (Karen Eilbacher). Robert Hager rounds out the cast, playing various young men with whom Bruce is involved.

Though deprived of a theatre-in-the-round and a stage that allows furniture to disappear and reappear magically (the original Broadway production had both), this Fun Home still benefits from Ben Stanton’s creative lighting. Some highlights of his work include a single horizontal beam standing in for an oncoming truck’s headlights and overlapping squares of light projected on a white wall symbolizing comic frames. However, the musical primarily engages through the sheer force of its performances and beautiful score.

As Small Alison, Baldacchino stars in two of the musical’s most unabashedly joyous moments as well as one of its most affecting. In “Come to the Fun Home,” she wiggles along to a DIY musical advertisement for the family funeral home; in “Raincoat of Love,” she directs an idealized version of her family in a coordinated disco dance. And in “Ring of Keys,” Baldacchino voices a moment of one-sided recognition when she sees “an old school butch,” singing pointedly, “I know you.”

Corrigan—with her hesitant posture and deer-in-the-headlights expression—is reliable comic relief as Medium Alison, a student who is uncertain about her place in the world. Her big number, the post-sex “Changing my Major,” is one of Broadway’s sweetest, most truthful love songs in recent memory, all while subverting its history of heteronormativity. Corrigan elevates Tesori and Kron’s already spot-on music and lyrics with her triumphant awkwardness, effortlessly conveying the trappings of first lust. (As Joan, Eilbacher is Corrigan’s perfect foil: the epitome of self-assured cool.)

As her character does, Shindle mostly reacts and comments while past selves Baldacchino and Corrigan get to do most of the doing. But Shindle is a great narrator; she’s hilariously

exasperated when she relives Medium Alison’s embarrassing first times, and she’s rapt as she watches her father’s unseemly past unspool in front of her. In a heartbreaking scene, Shindle strives to have an honest conversation with Bruce one last time, only to discover that he can’t—or won’t—meet her halfway. It’s devastating, and Shindle’s emotive singing brings the tragedy of their missed connection home.

Though he seduces high school boys and assaults his wife with vitriol, it is impossible to demonize Bruce, a credit to both Kron’s book (which gives him more leniency than even Bechdel’s graphic memoir) and Petkoff ’s nuanced performance.

Petkoff is cold when he briskly switches off Alison’s favorite program, and tender when he softly sings to her moments before he sneaks out to meet men. He is playful when he bangs out an old tune on the piano, and agonized when he sings “Edges of the World,” stumbling around the stage as he watches his foundation crumble. And though Helen is not the central parent of this story, Monz matches Petkoff ’s inner turmoil with dignity and suppressed rage. In a musical filled with breathtaking numbers, Monz’s charged delivery of “Days and Days,” a song about years of regret and disappointment, is perhaps its most mesmerizing.

Live theater carries with it the potential for true transcendence and Fun Home is no exception. It knows that there is only one Alison Bechdel; we will never find perfect reflections of ourselves in her life. To relate to its themes does not require you to be a lesbian, or a cartoonist, or the daughter of a gay funeral home director. If that were the case, I would imagine, it would be difficult to fill the seats. It does ask the audience to watch with compassion and empathy and to recognize the universality of love and looking back. With that, Fun Home gifts the members of the audience the chance to dig deep, make a connection, and find their way home.

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