RANGILA 30 BUILDS ON THREE DECADES OF SOUTH ASIAN COMMUNITY, GROWTH, AND VISION By Ayushi Das and Aashna Nadarajah
LETTER FROM THE EDITORS: GEORGETOWN MUST PROTECT OUR COMMUNITY FROM THE THREAT OF TRUMP’S SECOND TERM By Ajani Jones and Connor
Martin
Letter from the Editors: Georgetown must protect our community from the threat of Trump’s second term
AJANI JONES AND CONNOR MARTIN
8 editorials
4
news commentary
Rangila 30 builds on three decades of South Asian community, growth, and vision
AYUSHI DAS AND AASHNA NADARAJAH
6
news
The political donations of Georgetown’s Board of Directors
KATHERINE WILKISON
7
voices
The rise of the ‘Princess,’ the fall of the Midwest
STELLA LINN
10
voices
What the election exposed about white liberalism
AMINAH MALIK
on the cover
“Au Revoir” PIA CRUZ
12
sports
The Pep Band’s perspective on Georgetown basketball
YUNJI YUN AND CHRISTIAN SMITH
13
halftime leisure Best of 2024: Albums
SAGUN SHRESTHA, TINA SOLKI, ELIZABETH ADLER, ZACHARY WARREN, AND KARCIN HAGI
14
features Georgetown TikTokers talk virality, racism, community, and making money online
CHIH-RONG KUO
“I am not someone from California that can play make-believe in a Midwest Princess t-shirt for a few days...It is not an aesthetic—it’s part of the world that I, and everyone I care about, live, suffer, and love in.”
Editor-in-Chief — Ajani Jones
Managing Editor — Connor Martin
internal resources:
Exec. Manager for Staff — Sabrina Shaffer
Exec. Editor for Resources, Diversity, and Inclusion — Aminah Malik
Asst. Editor for Resources, Diversity, and Inclusion — Imani Liburd
Editor for Sexual Violence Advocacy, Prevention, and Coverage — Alison Karki
Service Chair — Grace Nuri
Social Chairs — Ninabella Arlis, Henry Skarecky Archivist — Elle Marinello
news:
Executive Editor — Franziska Wild Features Editor — Katie Doran
News Editor — Eddy Binford-Ross
Asst. News Editors — Sydney Carroll, Dolce Coury, Samantha Monteiro
opinion:
Executive Editor — Barrett Ahn Voices Editor — Ali Chaudhry
Asst. Voices Editors — Alex Lalli, Kate Satterfield, Arthur Schnieders, Shana Struski
Staff Contributors: Leah Abraham, Elizabeth Adler, Meriam Ahmad, Isabella Baldwin, Paige Benish, Carolina Bomeny, William Brown, Aubrey Butterfield, Elspeth Campbell, Apara Chandavarkar, Mariela Cruz, Elizabeth Foster, Ryan Goodwin, Karcin Hagi, Katie Han, Rina Khoury, Rory Myers, Phoebe Nash, Christina Pan, Katie Reddy, Chih-Rong Kuo, Belinda Li, Lucy Montalti, Aidan Munroe, Nicholas Romero, Isabella Stratta, Brendan Teehan, Madison Weis, Katherine Wilkison, Catalin Wong
Thank you Hoya Game Day and Wisemiller’s for supporting this issue!
Dear Voice readers, Ajani’s Goodbye Playlist
As we draw closer to ending out this semester and my tenure as editor-in-chief, I find myself struggling to condense myriad complicated feelings into just a few words. After all, what words could totally capture what the Voice has meant to me over the past four years?
When I think of the Voice, I am caught in a wave of brash and oxymoronic emotions. It’s been joyful—a welcome anchor when I feel myself drifting away in the constant cacophony of Georgetown. The Voice has also been painful—a site of conflict fraught with tension and uncomfortable yet necessary truths. It has been my community and my sorrow. A site of love, and sometimes, a site of disillusion. To me, the Voice is a community defined by these dualities. But more than anything, for me, the Voice has been a site of growth.
This paper has been a guiding force throughout my time here at Georgetown— one that has challenged me to question the boundaries of how I define myself. And, at times, the Voice has forced me to want better— to be better. Throughout my time here, I have learned patience, and reinforced a curiosity and whimsy that, for a time, I thought I had lost. And for that, I will always be grateful.
To my friends and allies that have held my hand through this semester and to my first mentor who made this journey possible, I thank you. Your belief in me has shepherded me through tumultuous times, especially as I stand here, the first Black EIC in recent history. Now, I look back at the promise I made to myself, a promise to inspire. Even now, I know I have been changed, in some ways for the better, and in others for good—reborn, in a sense, to meet the next challenge head on and lead with love. And, as I close this chapter and prepare to journey into the next, I hope that, in some way, I have fulfilled that promise. Regardless, I am confident that I leave the Voice in good hands.
With love, and immeasurable gratitude,
Ajani Jones Editor-in-Chief, Fall 2024
Psst—here’s a collection of just a few of the songs that helped guide me through the highs and lows of my semester as editor-in-chief.
1. “Be Alive” by Beyoncé
2. “20 Something” by SZA
3. “IKYK” by Ogi
4. “Lettin Go! (Album Version)” by Janelle Monáe
5. “Can’t Hold Me” by Emily King
6. “Petals on the Moon” by Wasia Project
7. “Evergreen” by Yebba
8. “Angels Like You” by Miley Cyrus
9. “Last Hope” by Paramore
10. “II HANDS II HEAVEN” by Beyoncé
WRangila 30 builds on three decades of South Asian community, vision, and growth
BY AYUSHI DAS AND AASHNA NADARAJAH
hen students today think of Rangila, bright costumes, twinkling lights, and rowdy cheers from the audience of Gaston Hall may come to mind. However, 30 years ago, for the show’s co-founder Ushma Pandya (CAS ’97), videotaping the performance on VHS tapes and handwriting “Rangila I” marked the beginning of what would become one of Georgetown’s most significant traditions.
Hosted by the South Asian Society (SAS), Rangila is a philanthropic South Asian dance showcase fully run by students. The event takes place every November in Gaston Hall alongside a series of charity events throughout the semester. For then-sophomore Pandya and his co-founder, then-freshman Mital Shah (SFS ’98), organizing Rangila was a completely unfamiliar undertaking.
“We didn’t know what we were doing,” Pandya said. “It was bootstrapped.”
Pandya and Shah paid out of pocket for much of the first Rangila’s production costs. The duo rented curtains and purchased their own production equipment, even performing Bhangra—a form of South Asian dance—in Red Square to fundraise.
Since then, Rangila has become a beloved Georgetown tradition and the largest charity dance performance in the country. However, when the event started, South Asian culture
was rarely celebrated on campus, according to Pandya.
Nevertheless, the South Asian community at Georgetown has grown—both in size and campus impact—over the past 30 years.
“There were 10 of us total organizing Rangila,” Pandya said. “It really did overtake my life, but it was important in helping establish a stronger South Asian presence.”
Shah and Pandya were active members of the South Asian Student Association (SASA, now SAS), and trained in classical Indian dance styles like Kathak, Odissi, and Bharatanatyam. The idea for Rangila stemmed from wanting to spread their love of South Asian dance with the rest of Georgetown’s student body—an effort that has been continually defined by colorful and vibrant cultural expressions over the past three decades.
“‘Rang’ means color,” Pandya said. “We were thinking about bursts of color with this dance showcase.”
Today, Rangila showcases a diverse range of South Asian dance styles hailing from India to Pakistan to Nepal. Some performances fuse South Asian dance styles with elements from other cultures, for example, the Afro-fusion and Suave Taal dances draw inspiration from the African diaspora and Latin America, respectively. The show also includes a
musical section performed by Studio Rangila, an ensemble that primarily features South Asian instruments and vocals. The show ends with a dynamic Bhangra finale reminiscent of the Bhangra that Pandya and Shah performed to fundraise years ago.
Since its inception, a spirit of inclusivity has been integral to Rangila: the show is open to student performers of any skill level or ethnicity.
“We tried to appeal to non-South Asians,” Pandya said. “If you were a warm body, you were in the dance.”
Still, students, especially South Asian students, were initially hesitant to perform in front of their peers. According to Pandya, many students found it daunting to display their heritage so publicly at a predominantly white institution (PWI).
“Mital and I had to beg and plead with people to do our dance in Red Square,” Pandya said in regard to fundraising for the first production.
Sonali Mody (SFS ’95), who graduated soon after the first Rangila, said that her experience at Georgetown as a South Asian student wasn’t nearly as glamorous and vivid as what Rangila has created. In fact, before Rangila, there was almost no sense of community for South Asian students, according to Mody.
“We did have a South Asian society, but it was all just starting to come together,” Mody said.
To build a community, the early SASA formed relationships with other South Asian student groups across the East Coast. However, most activities were limited to pre-professional events with few outlets for creativity, according to Mody.
In 1996, a year after Mody graduated, Senthil Sankaran (CAS ’96) wrote letters to incoming Georgetown students promoting Rangila. Several of Rangila’s early organizers felt that this kind of outreach created a buzz for prospective South Asian students interested in attending Georgetown, especially because of the tight-knit South Asian community that Rangila fostered.
“The next year we saw more Indians on campus,” Pandya said. “Maybe the show helped!”
Today, the South Asian community on the Hilltop is vibrant and diverse, pieced together through organizations such as Rangila, SAS, the Asian American Student Association, and religious organizations like the Hindu, Jain, Buddhist, Sikh, and Muslim Student Associations. And, in 2022, Georgetown became one of only a few universities in the country to have a South Asian Studies certificate program after years of passionate advocacy by South Asian students.
“In the time since I left Georgetown, South Asians have made a name for themselves,” Mody said in regard to the multicultural life on campus.
Although the first year of Rangila was a barebones production, it was a success.
“It was a hit! Isn’t that crazy?” Pandya said, describing how audience members filled Gaston Hall that night in 1994.
After such a successful first run, popular demand brought Rangila back again for a second year. In the decades since, the show has become a defining aspect of the Georgetown experience and reshaped the South Asian community on campus.
Pandya and Shah’s vision for a South Asian dance showcase propelled Rangila to become a hallmark of performing arts and culture on campus, drawing hundreds of students and selling out Gaston Hall within minutes each year.
“Things like Rangila make a difference because it is hard to ignore,” Mody said.
With ICC classrooms filled with sweaty dancers practicing most days past 9 p.m. and the constant buzz of campus-wide philanthropy events, the energy of Rangila certainly is difficult to ignore—even more so this year as Rangila celebrates this historic anniversary.
This year, Alison Karki (CAS ’25), Rushil Vashee (SFS ’25), and Rania Khan (SFS ’26) are Rangila’s student coordinators. They’ve embraced the responsibility of making Rangila
30 the most spectacular celebration yet. This year’s performances include the revival of the Afro-fusion dance after ten years and, for the first time ever, the addition of a third show: a Saturday matinee.
“As corny as it sounds, there are 30 years of visionaries,” Vashee said. “We really are dancing under the 30 years of stars before us.”
The notion of 30 years of heritage is what led Karki, Vashee, and Khan to coin the theme of “Under the Stars” for Rangila 30. The show hopes to use the imagery of stars to pay tribute to the performers who came before them.
Each of the student coordinators, like their predecessors, entered Georgetown with a similar sense of uncertainty in how to navigate their South Asian identities on campus. For them, finding Rangila was more than just finding an extracurricular to fill their time—it was about finding a place to celebrate their cultural experiences within a larger community that understood them.
“As corny as it sounds, there are 30 years of visionaries,” Vashee said. “We really are dancing under the 30 years of stars before us.”
“Someone mentioned it to me when I was feeling super homesick,” Khan, who is originally from Lahore, Pakistan, said. “It made me feel that sense of home at Georgetown.”
Vashee was also introduced to Rangila through another Hoya, though not a fellow student.
“I had office hours with President DeGioia my freshman year. He explained to me what Rangila is and how I should get involved,” Vashee said.
Unlike Vashee and Khan, Karki knew about Rangila before she even arrived at Georgetown.
“I was talking to my family friend who is Nepali, and she’s the one who kind of mentioned Rangila in passing,” Karki said.
Karki was so excited about Rangila that she mentioned the dance showcase during her application interview as a major pull factor to attend Georgetown. Since arriving, Karki has performed in Rangila every year, and she co-choreographed Rangila’s first-ever Nepali dance, Lekali Nepali, in 2022 and 2023.
“I ended up creating Lekali Nepali with that family friend,” Karki said. “It was so full circle and incredible and amazing!”
Karki, Vashee, and Khan all said that Rangila’s philanthropic goals are part of what inspires them about the showcase.
Although nobody interviewed remembers when or why Rangila first started partnering with charities, philanthropy is now an integral part of the annual showcase. This year, Rangila’s philanthropic partner is the Little Sisters Fund (LSF), an organization based in Nepal that empowers young girls using educational programs and community resources and combats human trafficking, gender-based violence, and child labor.
“LSF has just done a phenomenal job with transparency. We’ve seen how each dollar has gone towards a specific scholarship or goes towards making a menstrual health kit,” Karki said.
In the past, Rangila’s philanthropy has contributed to a variety of organizations, fundraising tens of thousands of dollars for Action Against Hunger in 2023 and Distressed Children and Infants in 2022.
Vashee, Khan, and Karki are continuing the legacy of Rangila, honoring the visions of Pandya and Shah and ensuring that South Asian students today have a stronger sense of cultural community than students like Mody did three decades ago.
“With the 30-year history just comes so much growth,” Khan said. “It’s just grown to become so much more of an inclusive space.”
Rangila has certainly evolved from its first “bootstrapped” performance to the sensational showcase it is today, both on campus and nationwide. Rangila 30’s coordinators hope that the group will only continue to grow, incorporating more shows, more South Asian diasporic cultures, and even greater philanthropic efforts.
We, as South Asian students and participants of Rangila over the past two years, have personally witnessed the impact Rangila has had. It has strengthened our bonds with the South Asian community at Georgetown and connected us with a deep-rooted heritage through dance and music. Rangila is a place for communities to merge together in a colorful, energetic environment while making tangible differences in charity causes across South Asia.
“It’s the biggest event on campus, and it’s run by South Asians at a PWI,” Khan said. “Rangila feels magical.” G
This year’s glimmering production of Rangila 30: Under the Stars will be held in Gaston Hall on Nov. 22 and 23.
Editor’s Note: Alison Karki is the Editor for Sexual Violence Advocacy, Prevention, and Coverage for the Voice and Rania Khan served as a Copy Assistant in spring 2024.
The
donations of Georgetown’s Board of Directors
BY KATHERINE WILKISON
Members of Georgetown’s Board of Directors have donated more than $2.8 million to political candidates, parties, and political action committees (PACs) since in the past three election cycles, spanning from 2019-2024.
Nearly 90% of those donations supported the Democratic party and its members while about 4% of donations were made to Republicans and 6% went to bipartisan PACs. While only 20 of the board’s 40 members made any political donations during this period, their financial impact was significant. Five members each donated more than $100,000.
Eight members of the board donated a total of $790,302.55 to Vice President Kamala Harris’s 2024 presidential campaign. Their contributions ranged from $480 to more than $600,000. No members donated directly to President Donald Trump’s campaign. In 2024, only three members donated directly to Republicans.
The Voice identified contributions using campaign finance information published by the Federal Election Commission and OpenSecrets, a nonprofit organization that publishes campaign and lobbying financial data.
As a nonprofit organization, Georgetown University is prohibited from supporting or participating in any political campaigns, but members of the board are free to engage in politics as private citizens. Board members’ responsibilities include appointing or removing the university president, approving and adopting major educational changes, and authorizing changes to tuition and fees. G $970,609.43
Content warning: This article includes mention of sexual violence.
Editor’s Note: This letter from the editors is a concurring opinion with The Hoya
Dear President John DeGioia, Provost Robert Groves, and Vice President Joseph Ferrara:
As the editors of The Georgetown Voice, we spend our time listening to our fellow students, faculty, and community members. They are afraid. They are not alone in their fear. Thousands of articles have been written on the dangers a second Trump presidency will bring both locally and abroad, to say nothing of how he has emboldened hateful rhetoric and the oppressive policies of the Republican majority in the House and the Senate. We join them; his presidency poses drastic threats—of mass deportation, of shuttering the Department of Education, and more—to the dayto-day lives of Georgetown students.
The Voice’s mission is to present and analyze issues of concern to the community. We write letters like these because we believe the university has a responsibility to its students. We believe in the full nourishment of our community, but that can never happen while students are under threat at the highest level. It is the responsibility of the university to protect us because no student can alone.
Georgetown is an institution that wields extensive moral, financial, and political power. You, as leaders of our university, must exercise this power to protect its student communities, otherwise the university’s Jesuit principles are just words.
The window to prepare before a second Trump presidency threatens the rights, freedoms, and lives of marginalized communities is short. Georgetown must take measures now to resist Trump’s extremism and effectively shield all members of our community from his administration.
Protecting survivors
Survivors of campus sexual violence are not lifeless statistics; they are real people whose lives were disrupted by a dehumanizing violation. Too many students at Georgetown can testify to this reality.
The Title IX regulatory changes in Trump’s first term were violent, humiliating, discriminatory, and overall catastrophic for survivors. In a 2020 revision, the Trump administration drastically limited the scope of sexual misconduct that universities are required to investigate, creating further obstacles for survivors’ to report a range of violating actions. Trump’s guidelines also allowed universities to raise the burden of proof in Title IX proceedings and mandated cross-examinations of reporting students by attorneys—a provision that can make an already painful process excruciating.
In a second term, Trump has promised more: he has pledged to eliminate the Department of Education, which enforces Title IX, and he plans to rescind the Biden administration’s definition of “sex-based harassment,” which includes harassment based on gender and sexuality, harming queer folks, women, and gendermarginalized people in our community. Under a Trump presidency, it is Black communities, particularly Black femmes, that are at greatest risk of sexual violence, both due to his normalization of assault and his hateful, racist rhetoric.
As federal protections for students erode, Georgetown must retain survivor-centric policies around the burden of proof and definitions of misconduct, in addition to providing students with advocates to navigate Title IX proceedings. While the university must comply with federal guidance, it must also provide a fair and just process for all parties involved in a Title IX case. To compensate for the lack of regulatory support, the university should commit to modifying the code of conduct to codify pre-Trump guidelines, as it did in 2020.
It must work with the student body through proactive outreach to ensure that survivors are protected and supported, regardless of what federal guidelines say. This is more important than ever in light of the recently released 2024 Sexual Misconduct Survey, which showed that Georgetown had some of the highest rates of sexual misconduct compared to peer institutions.
The university must also bolster resources that affirm students’ gender identities and sexualities. The LGBTQ Resource Center has not had a full-time director since 2021. Under a Trump presidency, it is even more crucial that the university hires both a full-time director and associate director to help queer students navigate legal, financial, social, and emotional challenges as Trump pledges to strip away nondiscrimination policies and restrict LGBTQ+ and gender-affirming health care.
The center must support students materially: helping them navigate the legal and administrative challenges for changing name and gender on official documents and IDs, ensuring access to queeraffirming and safe healthcare, and responding to concerns over eroding discrimination protections and reductions in avenues for queer survivors to seek recourse through Title IX. The center must hold space for queer students’ concerns about an increasingly hateful and invalidating political environment, which threatens both emotional and physical harm.
In an era where a man who has been held civilly liable for sexual assault holds our nation’s highest office, Georgetown must reemphasize that rape culture is not welcome here.
The university must care for its survivors, and that care must be genuine. That care should not simply be rooted in fear of legal retribution, present only during Sexual Assault Awareness Month, or reactive to harmful regulatory changes. Regardless of a Trump presidency, the reality that one in four undergraduate women and one in 10 undergraduate men report having experienced sexual violence is an emergency worthy of every university resource. We strongly urge you to treat it as such.
Protecting undocumented and international students
Trump has pledged to utilize the Alien Enemies Act of 1798 to ensure the mass deportation of undocumented immigrants “on day one.” His promise threatens the 23,000 recipients of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program (DACA) who reside in the DMV area, approximately half of whom are in school or attend college. This, too, is not without precedent; successive legal challenges over the last Trump presidency severely weakened the DACA program, resulting in a 51% drop in undocumented enrollment in California universities.
Georgetown’s first priority must be to inform undocumented Hoyas of their rights and means of working and studying in the United States. It must also shore up its support for these students’ emotional well being through Counseling and Psychiatric Services (CAPS) and the Undocumented Students Working Group, as they endure legal, financial, social, emotional, and familial hardship during Trump’s second term.
Trump’s campaign has escalated antiimmigrant propaganda and sentiment just as anti-immigrant laws surge at the state level, empowering local officials to arrest and prosecute people suspected of having illegally entered the country and paving the way for rampant racial profiling.
Now holding broad presidential powers and near total immunity, Trump’s plan to use the U.S. military to carry out violent deportations is a threat that must be taken extremely seriously. To defend its communities, Georgetown has a significant responsibility to legally challenge any directives that impact immigrant students and their families.
In the past, Georgetown has co-signed legal challenges to ICE directives, travel bans on majority Muslim countries, and attempts to end DACA. The university’s legal solidarity with undocumented and international students must continue—and expand—in a second Trump presidency.
In Trump’s second term, more must be done to communicate with undocumented and international students, facilitate and protect F-1 visa statuses, ensure safe housing, and negotiate a sustainable academic environment amid emotional and familial challenges. We ask that Georgetown strengthen its efforts as violent policy against immigrant communities comes from the highest levels of the U.S. government.
Protecting academic freedom and student protest
Trump plans to wield federal money and alter policies to combat what he sees as “leftwing indoctrination.” Trump has explicitly said he wants to punish schools with Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) policies by filing lawsuits for “racial discrimination” and fining or withholding federal funds from schools that refuse to shutter their DEI programs. Trump has also threatened to apply an endowment tax and weaponize the accreditation process to compel universities to comply.
The term “DEI” has been appropriated by the right to represent any idea that challenges a white supremacist and Christian nationalist viewpoint of the world. While it seems improbable for Trump’s actions to impact Georgetown’s diversity programs and academics, they broadly threaten academic
free speech and aim to create a society based on white hegemony.
Georgetown should bolster departments that will come under fire by the right’s campaign against free thought. The university should expand tenure line facultyships in areas like Black studies, women and gender studies, Indigenous studies, and Asian American studies. These fields seek to dismantle violence against marginalized communities and elevate the experiences of people underrepresented in the academy.
In addition to protecting academic departments potentially undermined by a Trump presidency, Georgetown can proactively defend academic freedoms by ensuring students’ right to protest. Trump has a track record of authorizing police force against protesters. He has said he would deport international students protesting U.S. involvement in Israel’s continuous, violent assault in Gaza. If Trump is serious about this claim, Georgetown must be proactive in protecting its students by denying campus access to police or military units seeking to detain them, and by lending legal and rhetorical support for free speech. Without free speech and free thought, what good is higher education?
Escalating violence abroad
Trump has promised to terminate military aid to Ukraine, provide continued support for Israel’s genocide in Gaza and bombardment of Lebanon and Syria, ensure unwavering support for Israel’s illegal West Bank settlements, and more. Trump’s foreign policy will materially and horrifically impact the lives of Georgetown community members from these regions.
Hamas’s Oct. 7 attacks and Israel’s subsequent assault on the Gaza Strip have inflicted a brutal emotional toll that many members of our community carry every day. In Georgetown’s overwhelming academic and work driven culture, most mechanisms for support have fallen short.
We argue that the expansion of emergency financial aid, housing options, and visa assistance for students whose lives are upended by military aggression is especially vital now. This support should come in conjunction with the university addressing its own complicity by divesting from companies arming and profiting from Israel’s genocide in Gaza. Community members have recently put forth a proposal to the Committee on Investments and Social Responsibility that recommends an actionable human rights screen on our investments, and we urge you to support it.
Some of this work, namely the expansion of financial aid, has already started. This past year, the Center for Contemporary Arab Studies fundraised scholarships for four graduate students from Gaza. In 2022, Georgetown received a $5 million private donation to support 14 Ukrainian students. The university
should work to collect more funds to ensure that students impacted by global conflict have a sustainable financial pathway to higher education at the Hilltop.
Georgetown can also work to bolster other, non-financial support for its community members. Following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Georgetown reached out directly to impacted community members, offering mental health resources. The university must extend this kind of outreach to other community members, including students from Lebanon and the occupied Palestinian territories. Moreover, Georgetown must dedicate resources to expanding CAPS while also building out thorough frameworks for academic flexibility to support impacted students.
Georgetown already has a blueprint for meaningful action with their comprehensive support of Ukrainian students. Now, the university must extend that support to all students facing the impacts of violence abroad.
…
We return to Georgetown’s mission: “The university was founded on the principle that serious and sustained discourse among people of different faiths, cultures, and beliefs promotes intellectual, ethical and spiritual understanding.” Georgetown cannot retain a commitment to this mission without decisively, publically, and institutionally countering the dangers of a second Trump presidency. More than ever before, Georgetown’s marginalized students are at an increased risk of political, social, and legal retribution. At the same time, Georgetown’s academic community is under threat from a White House that promotes white, masculine, anti-scientific, and ahistorical hegemonic thinking as the nation’s status quo and undermines any viewpoints that defy it.
The Trump administration will only deepen pre-existing scars in this nation and further deteriorate a system that already fails to protect its most vulnerable. Now is the time for Georgetown’s administration to strategize and enact proactive policies and resources to limit the harms of Donald Trump’s new regime.
With hope,
Ajani Jones, Editor-in-Chief Connor Martin, Managing Editor on behalf of the General Board of The Georgetown Voice G
Read the full version of this letter at georgetownvoice.com.
What the election exposed about white liberalism
BY AMINAH MALIK
Last semester, I saw keffiyehs all around campus, not just worn by Arab and Muslim students, but by students of all communities. Collectively outraged at the ongoing genocide in Gaza, swaths of the student community came together to demand a ceasefire. Georgetown University Students for Justice in Palestine organized demonstrations and walkouts, which dozens of students participated in. On Nov. 4, 2023, tens of thousands of demonstrators gathered in D.C.’s Freedom Plaza to demand an end to the violence. I remember that so many Georgetown students traveled to Freedom Plaza together that we couldn’t all fit in the same bus. The campus was alive and active with Palestinian solidarity.
But this semester, I don’t feel that same spirit for Palestine in the student body. And unfortunately, I’m not surprised.
Students are losing their momentum. The number of people actively fighting for Palestine are dwindling, gradually returning to just those who were active before October of last year. As a Muslim student, Palestine is still a top priority for our community. At every weekly Jummah khutbah, community gathering, or event, we are reminded of our responsibility to act. But outside of my Muslim community, the genocide in Gaza is barely acknowledged.
Dwindling support from allied communities is a common problem in activism. It’s happened before with Palestine—I remember an uptick in pro-Palestine posts on my Twitter timeline when Palestinian journalist Shireen Abu Akhel was killed by the Israeli Defense Forces. Support from new communities was incredibly motivating and exciting. But eventually, I watched that support die out. Once again, the few who have been fighting the whole time were left to fight alone. Now, watching this cycle repeat, I am filled with a frustration that has only grown after four years attending a predominantly white institution. To me, waning student support for Palestine, combined with the 2024 election, is reminiscent of a larger systemic issue: white liberalism.
The term “white liberalism” is often used as a critique of individuals who identify on the far-left of the political spectrum but do not reckon with the complex relationship between their own identities and beliefs. These “wellmeaning white people” support marginalized communities as allies in their efforts to
achieve societal equality, but in reality this phenomenon is not exclusive to white people. At surface level their support is welcomed and encouraged, but the greater issues punctuating the support of “white liberalism” are complex. Beyond its fleeting nature—present only when an issue is novel—white liberalism fundamentally holds an outlook on activism that is out of touch with the communities it intends to support. “White liberalism” largely fosters a belief in individual political power and the effectiveness of abundant advocacy. As a result, “white liberals” have an idealistic view of activism, believing that as long as they keep trying, success will follow quickly. On the one hand, confidence in democracy’s power encourages constant action and strategic mobilization. However, this utopian view of our political system is laden with internalized white privilege. White communities’ genuine belief in their own political power is reflective of a political system that actually responds to their demands. At its core, the American government was designed to serve white people.
“This mindset is steeped in white supremacy: as long as white citizens get to dictate the actions of nonwhite individuals, they’ll be happy to throw them a bone here and there.”
In contrast, non-white communities tend to have a more skeptical outlook on government responsiveness. They still organize and protest, but because of a history of governmental failures, they know that it will take a lot more than just their voices for political leaders to incite change—a process they know is long, complicated, and often, unsuccessful.
These conflicting outlooks create friction between marginalized groups and their allies. It can be extremely frustrating to hear a white ally tell them change is possible if they “just vote!”—a response that ignores the structural barriers to change embedded within electoral politics. These communities have been fighting for change long before white liberals even took up their cause. To have the pathway to change minimized to something as simple as voting is ignorant of the systemic difficulties marginalized groups face when trying to advocate for themselves. Although wellmeaning, white allies’ “anything is possible” mentality is detached from the realistic mindset of marginalized communities, indicating a lack of understanding of the challenges they face.
Secondly, because white liberals are not directly impacted by the problems they advocate for, they have the privilege of selecting which issues to prioritize and when to prioritize them. They are able to make political concessions or pare down their commitment to a cause without actually facing the consequences of such concessions.
For example, in light of the Biden administration’s continued military support to Israel and its failure to bring an end to the violence in Palestine, many Muslim and Arab Americans opted to vote third-party in the 2024 presidential election. The goal was never about electing a third-party candidate or serving as a means to get Trump elected. The third-party movement was meant to show Democrats, in a tangible and measurable way, that if they are unresponsive to these communities’ demands, they will not receive their vote. Muslim and Arab Americans have grown tired of the Democratic Party’s failure to meet their demands. The American two-party system has for years allowed the Democratic Party to fall short on its promises unabashedly; they know that no matter how much they ignore these communities, they can count on their vote, as the only other “real” option is the Republican Party.
Meanwhile, white allies, who supported Arab and Muslim communities in demanding a ceasefire in Gaza, urged others to vote Harris-Walz. Those who had shown equal outrage over the genocide were now willing to settle on voting for an administration actively contributing to the very same issue they had been protesting. Many of these voters still
considered Palestine in their decision, but ultimately decided that avoiding another Trump presidency was their top priority. Arguing that things in Gaza will only worsen under Trump and that Harris would be more open to a change in policy towards Palestine, they emphasized a need to vote Harris-Walz.
Again, this difference in the prioritization of voting issues is reflective of the subtle impacts of white privilege. While white liberals believed in their ability to sway a Democratic nominee’s policy on Gaza through advocacy, Muslim and Arab voters knew change would only come once politicians are forced to acknowledge the communities they are letting down.
After Trump’s victory, many Democrats were understandably upset. But in expressing their frustrations, they misplaced their anger. Believing that third-party votes caused Harris to lose, despite a lack of evidence, they blamed Arab and Muslim voters for another Trump presidency. Upset liberals took to social media, saying that they would not care when Trump turns Gaza into “a parking lot,” that they would no longer boycott companies with financial ties to Israel, and that they would turn a blind eye when Trump reinstates the Muslim ban.
Not only is this type of reaction incredibly hurtful to communities already in pain, but it demonstrates the potential for liberals to turn on the very communities they used to support. It suggests that their solidarity is unreliable, which jeopardizes the momentum and strength of social justice movements. Furthermore, it implies that liberals practice transactional activism: they will only support a cause so long as marginalized communities act and vote the way they want. This mindset is steeped in white supremacy: as long as white citizens get to dictate the actions of non-white people, they’ll be happy to throw them a bone here and there.
The pitfalls of white liberalism can be incredibly dangerous: marginalized communities may face prejudice from the people they least expect. Ultimately, it allows white communities to portray themselves as inclusive, diverse, and supportive while enabling microaggressions and allowing subconscious biases to persist.
For me, the hypocrisy of white liberalism hits close to home. A graduate of the Howard County Public School System in Maryland, I have seen white liberalism take its mask off before. Howard County prides itself on its inclusivity and diversity, and this isn’t unfounded. It is a non-majority county, meaning no one race makes up half of the total population. With less than half the population being white (47%), Black and Asian residents
each make up about 20% of the population, and Hispanic residents make up 8%. However, the county’s schools are incredibly segregated by race and socioeconomic status. For example, over 72% of high school students participating in the Free and Reduced Price Meals Program attend just five of the district’s 12 high schools. In an effort to alleviate this problem, Superintendent Michael J. Martirano announced a redistricting plan in 2019. The plan, called Equity in Action, intended to bus students to different schools in an effort to reduce the school system’s socioeconomic segregation. The plan would have shifted the poverty rates of half the district’s schools closer to the districtwide average of 22.5% while simultaneously reducing overcrowding on some campuses.
But this proposal, in a self-proclaiming liberal community, was met with intense backlash. Parents of high-income families opposed the redistricting, not wanting their children to attend another county school due to stereotypes about its quality rooted in the socioeconomic status of the student body. The superintendent’s office received a stream of hate mail, saying “Blacks destroy school systems and schools” and “certain families and communities do not have strong values in healthy family structure, high expectations on education, or firm beliefs in raising kids with good characters.”
While other high schools were either majority Black or majority white, mine was a non-majority school. The redistricting protesters were not in our immediate community, but we still felt exposed to the ugly truths of our community. I remember sitting in class discussing the issue with a professor who had lived in Maryland during federal desegregation efforts decades earlier, listening to him recount the similarities. Our class sat in disappointed silence. Our faith in the integrity of liberal progressiveness was shaken, and our trust in those who called themselves our allies shattered. The love and empathy our community upheld was proving itself to be a facade. It all felt cruelly ironic given the county’s motto: “choose civility.”
It’s important to note that the parents protesting the proposal were not all white.
They were joined by several East Asian and South Asian parents. Though not white themselves, they were demonstrating the same behaviors and qualities of white liberalism. Herein lies another hidden danger: white liberalism is not exclusive to white people. Oftentimes, when racial minorities are able to climb the socioeconomic ladder, they begin to view themselves as enjoying the same privileges of their white counterparts. They internalize the privileges of whiteness and the societal structures enabling racism and classism. When white liberalism permeates non-white communities, we lose another pillar of united, intersectional activism.
Somehow, it can be more hurtful to see someone say they support you, then contradict themselves in their actions, than it is to see someone be overtly prejudiced. While racists and xenophobes are upfront about their distaste for non-white communities, white liberals fail to acknowledge the ways in which they hurt marginalized communities and their efforts. Instead, they praise themselves for being progressive and socially correct.
In order for us to make meaningful change, it is essential to stay critical of our methods and the implementation of our advocacy. Allyship is necessary, but we must acknowledge and unroot its racist undertones. Cleansing liberalism of its tendency to be shallow and performative is the only way for
The Pep Band’s perspective on Georgetown basketball
BY YUNJI YUN AND CHRISTIAN SMITH
As students and fans file out after every Georgetown basketball game, the Pep Band plays the Georgetown alma mater—victory or not. Since we attend most home basketball games for both men’s and women’s teams, we notice the little things, from changes in team dynamics, to audience engagement, to even the overall ebb and flow of energy in the student section. As a constant observer, the Pep Band can provide a perspective on how the 2024–25 basketball season has kicked off, and where we hope it goes.
The men’s and women’s basketball teams
After the abysmal performance of last year’s men’s team, we entered this basketball season with a combination of great hope and cynicism. It’s our job to keep everyone hyped up, yet we also want to see our team do well. Last year, it was disheartening to watch loss after loss and still have to play our music with enthusiasm. When games got tough and Georgetown trailed, you could see our players accept defeat. The Pep Band would try to restore their spirit with our cheering and music, but time and again we failed. By the end of the season we had accepted defeat as much as the players.
This year, however, team spirit has looked wildly different. In the Lehigh game, our team stood firm instead of collapsing in tough moments. We were there to hype up the crowd and help keep spirits up as we recovered and won. There’s no energy quite like the Pep Band performing our last songs after a hard-won victory, and it’s our great hope that this new spirit in our basketball players will allow us to keep playing our hearts out with the zeal of a winning team.
Last March, the Pep Band traveled with the women’s basketball team to the BIG EAST tournament. During our week in Connecticut’s Mohegan Sun casino, the Pep Band’s enthusiasm for the team grew every additional day we spent there as we witnessed the Hoyas outperform predictions and win three consecutive games. Though our voices got hoarse from cheering and we got weak from the lack of sunlight and vegetables in the casino, we refused to waver in our support. Leaving Mohegan Sun after the conference championship loss to UConn, our support for the team only grew in anticipation for the future.
Our excitement was met with the 88-31 victory against UVA-Lynchburg. Being the first time back in McDonough Arena since March 2024, it felt like nothing had changed, except for the newly painted walls. We were located in the same bleachers of the arena, the team brought on the energy, and we played our hit songs. With every 3-pointer, free throw, and foul committed by Lynchburg, the Pep Band followed with our signature cheers. The energy we poured into the game was more than anything we gave in McDonough Arena last season. We were prepared to give our all, as we had in Mohegan Sun. Seeing the women’s team in a confident state of experimenting with new duos and trying new shots—such as junior guard Victoria Rivera’s layups—only made us more energetic. This year, we are excited to see how plays and team dynamics are developed in return for our undying support.
The student section
Turnout and energy at the men’s games have been similar to the beginning of last year, when spirits were high after Ed Cooley’s hiring. So far this season, the crowd at each game has been electric. Bigger and more enthusiastic crowds are always more fun to play for, as we love seeing people cheering and singing along. It makes us play louder and better, and heightens the experience. It does, however, remain to be seen whether the newfound energy on the court will prevent the annual drop-off in turnout by the beginning of BIG EAST play. As the chances of us winning any games diminish, we play to more and more empty stands, and the few students who do come see our team beaten up. We still play our songs, but nothing we can do will reinvigorate a disillusioned crowd, so we hope that this year’s initial crowds and energy will endure throughout the season. Especially considering the relative lack of non-student fans at Capital One games, the relationship between the student section, band, and cheer is even more important to give as much support as possible to the Hoyas. The student section’s engagement with cheer and band fluctuated in the first two games, but by Fairfield we seemed to have struck a good balance,
building off of one another in our cheers and general enthusiasm for our team. We hope that enthusiasm continues as the season progresses. Though the team buzzed with energy in McDonough during the women’s home opener, the crowd told a different story. Attendance was sparse, and among those who were present, many were distracted, with some even on their laptops throughout the game. Though our cheers carried across the gym, it was never quite enough to fill the space. Despite the tough crowd, we refused to back down and committed to supporting the Hoyas. After a strong BIG EAST and WBIT performance last season, the Hoyas were ranked highly in BIG EAST preseason rankings and made the “Next Four Out” in ESPN’s initial Women’s Bracketology. There is so much potential for the team, and this campus needs to make an active effort to support women’s basketball, with the Pep Band leading the charge. Rain or shine, you can expect to see us at any home game, ready to bring on the pep.
We are hoping for a season where we play the victory ending of the alma mater after every game, to the BIG EAST Championship and beyond. Until then, please follow the GU Pep Band on Instagram, and we hope to see you at a basketball game soon! G
Best of 2024: Albums
By Halftime Leisure
Design by Katie Reddy
With 2024 coming to a close, Halftime Leisure has compiled a list of our picks for the best albums of the year. From Fontaines D.C.’s rock ‘n’ roll realness in Romance to the Americana influences in British singersongwriter ZAYN’s ROOM UNDER THE STAIRS to the multifaceted pop of Charli xcx’s BRAT and Ariana Grande’s eternal sunshine, we have something for everyone. Clairo’s self-released Charm shines a spotlight on both indie and alternative releases, and the transformative power of a deft hand in songwriting.
Read the extended version of this article on georgetownvoice.com!
BY ZAYN
Room UndeR the StaiRs
ZAYN’s switch from mainstream pop to the folksy, country-inspired sounds of ROOM UNDER THE STAIRS may come as a surprise for those who still see him as an extension of One Direction. However, longtime listeners, particularly those who paid attention to the lullaby-esque songs in his last album ironically titled Nobody Is Listening (2021), are not likely to be shocked. With a musical oeuvre of impressive genre-melding tracks that expertly blend pop, R&B, and even a bit of soul, ZAYN’s greatest asset has always been his voice, which is why his shift to stripped-down acoustics works so well: his vocals are able to take center stage. Even when his talent wasn’t quite as refined during his X Factor (2004–2018) days, he always has been a vocalist first and foremost, displaying an innate ability that others may only ever dream of developing. The laid-back instrumentals on this album allow ZAYN to truly shine and explore a vulnerability that might have been shrouded under the confines of any other genre. Embellished with his signature riffs and runs, ROOM UNDER THE STAIRS feels exactly like the passion project it is meant to be. The rural nature of his long-time Pennsylvania refuge is brought forth beautifully, creating a compelling and contemplative record. — Sagun Shrestha
Charm
in July, but I carried it with me into the fall. It watched, gently, as love turned into habit, then memory, then nothing at all. To Claire Cottrill, is that first electric haze when the story is still half-told and possibilities hang unspent, static in the air. It’s that delicate moment that she, and new collaborator Leon Michels, render into sound in her third studio album. presents Cottrill at her most craft-conscious; it feels both studied and startlingly intimate. It is also, if nothing else, deliberate. Negative space is used with a deft hand, and the instrumentation moves like summer heat, mingling with her voice until it’s not quite clear where one ends and the other begins. Cottrill writes about love without needing to name it; what emerges, both lyrically and sonically, is a series of quiet revelations. Love is the footprint
BY CHARLI XCX
Having crashed onto the scene with the force of a (lime-green) tidal wave, BRAT represents a monumental moment for Charli xcx—a mainstream breakthrough in the second decade of her career. To many, singles suffused with Charli’s infectious brashness like “360” and “Von dutch” supplied the hyperpop soundtrack to their nightclub and dive bar escapades. Underneath BRAT’s surface, however, is a project rooted in Charli’s ruminations on the pop industry and her place within it. Scored by intense yet mesmerizing synthesizers, “Sympathy is a knife” explores her pervasive insecurity and self-doubt when comparing herself to her peers. Weighty lyricism continues in “Girl, so confusing,” a track with dual meanings: it is both a frustrated message to fellow pop star Lorde and a broader reflection on the industry’s unrealistic expectation for female artists to be best friends and fierce competitors simultaneously. Whereas most albums would falter under the dueling themes of decadence and emotional vulnerability, Charli embraces these clashing subjects to stellar effect. Through auto-tuned vocals and electronic drum beats, she has emboldened a generation of listeners to just be “brat.” Or, for the uninitiated, allow yourself to smoke, drink, sob, and rage, but most of all, to have hedonistic fun. — Zachary Warren
BY ARIANA GRANDE
No one thought Ariana Grande would release new music this year—least of all her. Wickedly, it’s thanks to a combination of public resentment towards Grande and a brief moratorium on Wicked’s (2024) film production that we were graced with the “true story about all the lies” that is eternal sunshine. Following a public divorce, highly publicized accusations of home-wrecking, and the onset of a healing romance, Grande uses eternal sunshine as an outlet to lay bare everything she wishes to say to fans and foes alike. Grande draws inspiration from elements of house and ’80s synth to tell the story of this chapter in her life, from her initial fury at her defamation to provocative disregard of the public’s narrative. The track “we can’t be friends (wait for your love)” encapsulates the project’s core essence, detailing Grande’s yearning for public approval, only to be met with unwavering criticism and unachievable standards. Although she ultimately resolves to “sit in silence” with her truth, Grande also fires back at critics, asking frankly, “Why do you care so much whose - I ride?” in her vibrantly apathetic initial single “yes, and?” Grande’s eternal sunshine masterfully depicts the balance she has found when it comes to protecting her peace and tastefully putting critics in their place. —
Karcin Hagi G
eternal sunshine
Georgetown TikTokers talk virality, racism, community, and making money online Georgetown TikTokers talk virality, racism, community, and making money online
Like many young people across the country, Georgetown students may find themselves scrolling for hours on TikTok to escape the reality of an 11:59 p.m. deadline.
Some Georgetown students have capitalized on the popularity of TikTok among their peers to create content. It’s not uncommon for students to find people they know on their “For You” page while “doomscrolling.” Unlike other social media platforms, TikTok’s “For You” page allows smaller influencers to be featured more easily, fostering an environment for rapid growth for influencers—content creators with 10,000 to 100,000 followers—who may be more relatable to their audience than more wellestablished online
Joey Trigiani’s (MSB ‘26) TikTok success began by accident. Now, @ joeytrigiani boasts over 33,000 followers and 1.9 million likes.
Unlike Trigiani and Bloom, Arianna Mackey’s (LAW ‘26) prior experience with social media helped to propel her into content creation. Her account, @badgaalariri, has over 27,000 followers and 3.4 million likes.
“I’ve always been a creative,” Mackey said, “I ran a social media account for HBCU [Historically Black College or University] paraphernalia and Greek life paraphernalia. And so that’s when I got really into content creation.”
While Mackey, Trigiani, and Bloom center parts of their content around Georgetown, each of them has fostered different communities and niches.
For Bloom, her content has always revolved around her personal life. She regularly posts morning routines, day-in-the-life slides, and get-ready-with-me videos—something, she said, that has allowed her page to naturally evolve into one geared towards prospective students and college-aged women.
Like Bloom, much of Trigiani’s audience consists of high school or college students. Trigiani also said that he has a substantial parental following which he caters some videos to. In a couple videos, Trigiani shares a list of messages that students would want their parents to know, such as how to best support them during the school year.
“I’d make some Amazon storefronts of things that people might need to bring to college with them,” Trigiani said. “I decided to share them with a wider audience. Just gave it a shot and threw one on Tiktok. It kind of blew up overnight, unexpectedly.”
Similarly, Amanda Bloom (SFS ‘27) didn’t expect to gain traction on social media. Her TikTok account, @amandabloomm, has almost 27,000 followers and 1.6 million likes. One of her viral videos, posted in April 2024, shows clips of her Copley dorm and has since amassed 4.4 million views and almost 900,000 likes.
“I was just kind of posting stuff, not really with the purpose of anyone seeing it,” Bloom said, “It was just a creative outlet for me.”
“I was posting advice to parents sending their children to school, and a lot of them were quite receptive to my messages. They liked how I both incorporated the viewpoint of a teenager, but also the wisdom of an adult, and I thought that that became quite effective,” Trigiani said.
Trigiani and Bloom said that they create content based on what kinds of videos have been received well by their audience, which drives their content into their respective niches. However, when considering how to evolve their content, creators may worry that branching out could risk losing their audience and traction.
Mackey, however, prefers not to stick to a specific category but instead makes content about her various interests including makeup, locs, and fashion.
“Something that I struggle with now is feeling like if I stuck to one niche, maybe it’d be easier to gain a bigger following. But I’m just multifaceted, I guess,” she said.
Striking a balance between creative expression and audience retention is difficult and can feel high-pressure, especially when influencers already experience discrimination on social media for their race and other factors.
Racism is pervasive in the social media industry. A 2021 study found that Black influencers receive 35% less compensation than their white counterparts. Despite several of her videos blowing up on TikTok, Mackey, who is a Black woman, has not received substantial financial compensation for her content on TikTok.
“I probably have garnered $30 via TikTok, and that’s been over two years,” she said.
Racism on social media also manifests in hate comments—something Mackey has experienced.
“I get the most interaction, especially on Instagram, from hateful viewers,” she said. “Obviously, racism is entrenched in every area of our life here in the U.S., and I think that it’s a lot easier for people to stomach law school content from someone that they think should be in law school.”
While hate comments affect Mackey’s mental health, she said that they also empower her to continue content creation.
“It’s always people that are not in law school, and they are deeply offended by the idea that a Black woman is in law school, let alone for free,” Mackey said, “It motivates me because a lot of people—I’ll be out and about—and they’ll come up to me, and not just Black people, anyone that wants to go to law school, and they’ll be like, ‘I’ve seen your content. You really motivated me. You pushed me to want to apply.’”
Through content creation, Mackey aims to find community and be a voice of encouragement and reassurance, especially for her lower-income and non-white viewers.
“The reason that I do all this is because I feel like there’s a lot I just never knew. I just realized there is a knowledge gap,” Mackey said. “One of the most important things to me is making it clear that anyone can go to law school, because we know that there’s a stereotypical law student and a lot of lower-income, first-generation students don’t even know about the possibility.”
According to Mackey, Georgetown’s name and prestige have also helped in establishing her credibility. She said that Georgetown content creators benefit from the prospective students’ interest in content about the school, especially regarding admissions. Like Mackey, Bloom also
at Georgetown are. I rely on financial aid to attend Georgetown,” he said. “My social media experience is actually paying my way through school. For some part, it’s largely the reason I’m still able to attend Georgetown.”
However, micro-influencers often do not have the resources, time, or knowledge to acquire help from talent management agencies and must navigate the social media marketing space alone.
“I don’t have management or anything and my account isn’t too big,” Bloom said. “Most of the collaborations I do, they’ll send me something for free, and then I’ll just post a video or take pictures.”
Like Bloom, Trigiani doesn’t have an external social media manager. He manages three revenue streams from social media by himself. He receives some income through the TikTok Creator Fund, which pays him based on the number of qualified views he receives per video. He also earns a percentage commission from his Amazon storefront. However, his largest social media income source comes from brand deals.
generates buzz.
“I definitely get a lot of DMs asking for college advice or asking about different aspects of Georgetown,” she said. “Georgetown is just such a good name.”
Mackey said that building a community of followers has also made her impact feel more tangible.
“You see something-k followers, and you don’t recognize that that’s a lot of people. I’m like, ‘Oh, that’s not even that many. Like, people have a 100k,’” Mackey said. “But I’m like, ‘Wait, no. That’s thousands of people.’ So it’s nice to put it in perspective.”
For Trigiani, meeting people who have seen his videos online has helped him grow a deeper appreciation for his content.
“Both my sophomore year and junior year, when the new freshmen would come in, I had multiple of them come up to me and thank me for providing resources that ended up helping them both get into Georgetown and choose to come here,” Trigiani said. “It’s incredible that I’ve been able to have that kind of impact on the people that are younger than me and like I fostered a little sense of community here.”
a more traditional professional path in consulting, but has found his social media career to be a differentiating factor for recruitment.
“I think that having a presence on social media and working with some of these really large brands actually made me stand out in that recruitment process,” Trigiani said. “Being able to speak about one, being creative; two, strategizing; but three, also keeping the bottom line of a large corporation in mind was quite impressive to these consultants.”
Besides building a sense of community and purpose on TikTok, many influencers have also benefited financially from the emerging industry. Content creators can earn income through content monetization, gifts, partnerships, and brand deals.
For Trigiani, the ability to earn income from social media has made a significant impact on his academic life.
“Georgetown is extremely expensive, and my family is not one that is just able to pay for it out of pocket completely, as many
“I’ve worked with Aeropostale and lots of brands—that would probably be the largest revenue stream, just because I think the general environment of brands working with influencers is one that is quite costly, and I’ve been lucky enough to reap the benefits of that,” Trigiani said.
While it may be exciting for budding influencers to receive partnerships and free samples, the lack of management makes it difficult to discern how much their content is truly worth, and whether they deserve additional financial compensation for essentially free product advertising.
“I’m not a contract lawyer, my parents aren’t contract lawyers. And suddenly I’m being met with contracts written by the biggest companies in the world,” Trigiani said. “I had no idea what the market rate or the going rate was for someone like me making 60-second video.”
Like many other influencers, Trigiani’s lack of knowledge caused him much confusion initially. Because of how new and unregulated the social media industry is, it is easy for influencers to lowball their rates, or worse, get exploited for their work by not receiving pay or having their content stolen.
While social media may not become a full-time career for these content creators, it has had a positive impact on their professional lives.
Trigiani is pursuing
Looking to the future, however, Georgetown TikTokers said they are concerned with how a TikTok ban might impact their content creation. The Biden administration signed a bill in April 2024 that would ban TikTok in the U.S. if the company didn’t find a new owner not based in China by January 2025. Trump initially proposed a TikTok ban while in office but now opposes the ban and intends to reverse it. With the uncertainty of TikTok’s future, some influencers have attempted to branch out into other platforms.
“I’m trying to get more into YouTube and just diversify so that it’s not just TikTok, especially if they ban it,” Mackey said, “Instagram, YouTube, Pinterest—especially YouTube because of the monetization. It’s a lot easier to make money off of YouTube than TikTok. And I think long-form videos would be more helpful for law school applicants.”
However, for other influencers, the potential ban has led them to refocus their non financial social media goals.
“I have to keep in mind that it’s not explicitly for the money,” Trigiani said, “Because it all started as a way to make an impact on both the younger generation, but also the older generation. And I have to keep that mission at the forefront.” G
