Down by the River by The Harvard Independent

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I ns i de : S i c kne s s , S qua s h, a ndS wi ng

02.20.14 VOL. XLV, NO. 16

The Indy is completely okay with this issue's Dunster obsession.

02.20.14

Down by the River

Cover Design by ANNA PAPP Inside: Sickness, Squash, and Swing

CONTENTS FORUM 3 Numb from Normativity 4 Simply Sickening 5 Respect Your Elders 6 Out of Sight, Out of Mind NEWS 7 Whose House? D-HAUS! ARTS 8 A Couple of Columns 9 Finding Paradise (Hearts) SPORTS 10 Moose Balls 11 Balls to the Wall

As Harvard College's weekly undergraduate newsmagazine, the Harvard Independent provides in-depth, critical coverage of issues and events of interest to the Harvard College community. The Independent has no political affiliation, instead offering diverse commentary on news, arts, sports, and student life. For publication information and general inquiries, contact President Albert Murzakhanov (president@harvardindependent. com). Letters to the Editor and comments regarding the content of the publication should be addressed to Editor-in-Chief Sean Frazzette (editorinchief@harvardindependent.com). For email subscriptions please email president@ harvardindependent.com. The Harvard Independent is published weekly during the academic year, except during vacations, by The Harvard Independent, Inc., Student Organization Center at Hilles, Box 201, 59 Shepard Street, Cambridge, MA 02138. Copyright ÂŠ 2014 by The Harvard Independent. All rights reserved.

President Albert Murzakhanov '16 Editor-in-Chief Sean Frazzette '16 Director of Production Anna Papp '16 News Editor Forum Editor Arts Editor Sports Editor Associate Forum Editor Associate Arts Editor Associate Design Editor

Milly Wang '16 Caroline Gentile '17 Sarah Rosenthal '15 Shaquilla Harrigan '16 Aditya Agrawal '17 Joanna Schacter Travis Hallett '14

Cartoonist John McCallum '16 Illustrator Eloise Lynton '17 Business Managers Frank Tambero '16 Manik Bhatia '16 Columnists Joan Li '17 Christina Bianco '17 Senior Staff Writers Christine Wolfe '14 Angela Song '14 Sayantan Deb '14 Michael Altman '14 Meghan Brooks '14 Whitney Lee '14 Staff Writers Manik Bhatia '16 Xanni Brown '14 Terilyn Chen '16 Lauren Covalucci '14 Clare Duncan '14 Gary Gerbrandt '14 Travis Hallett '14 Yuqi Hou '15 Cindy Hsu '14 Theodora K. Powers '14 Chloe Li '16 Dominique Luongo '17 Orlea Miller '16 Albert Murzhakanov '16 Carlos Schmidt '15 Frank Tamberino '16 Michael Feehly '14 Jackie Leong '16 Andrew Lin '17 Madi Taylor '16 Shreya Vardhan '17

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Down With The Norms Goldman Rightly Punished for WECode Support By ADITYA AGRAWAL

y Facebook feed was recently swamped by a sea of posts assailing a New York Times’ article that questioned the motivations behind Goldman Sachs handing out mirrors and nail files at WeCode (Women Engineers Code) Conference, 2014 organized at Harvard. The overarching argument that resonated across board focused on the NYT choice of highlighting seemingly insignificant details over the groundbreaking initiative itself that WeCode itself represented. To quote a Crimson article, NYT “overlooked the company’s generosity and commitment to the noble goal of encouraging women in computer science.” The same editorial questioned the NYT’s decision to not report the attendance of the event by “more than 300 attendees from 40 schools” and the “thousands of dollars in scholarship” that were doled out at the event. However — for all the monetary gratuities that flowed out of its generous coffers and for all the encouragement to XX chromosomes that it helped provide — Goldman’s choice of free swag ultimately annulled all the good work. The mirrors and nail files only reflected in their metallic sheen a patriarchal set-up’s expectations of a certain way a woman should conduct the orchestra of her body. They help strengthen the belief that good looks shall continue to remain as important, if not more, as a woman’s purely professional achievements. Ultimately, the ‘small details’ trumped all advances negotiated by the conference by sending out the message that no matter how many lines of effortless, magnificent code that the girl coder next door may conjure, a girl needs a complementing appearance for her success and efforts to be validated by society. Goldman Sach’s ways could potentially be categorized under what are often termed as microagressions. Referring to subtle, offhand and oftentimes unintentional acts of non-physical aggression that involve demeaning implications for the victim, microaggressions are perpetuated as a result of (in this case) a person’s gender. The

The Harvard Independent • 02.20.14

handling out of he said swag represents to me a microaggression for a very obvious reason that I go on to outline. The free gifts could — alternatively — be interpreted as unfairly characterizing an entire sex under a certain umbrella — that women are concerned significantly with their appearances. Note here that I am, in no way, attributing a negative aspect to being concerned with your appearance. A woman (or for that case any man, transgender or subscriber to any form of gender identity) can keep at her nails obsessively with a nail filer for several hours a day to get that perfect curve and still be an awesome human being, coder, …[insert word here]....; as can be people who doesn’t give two dimes about the way the way their unkept cuticles chafe or uneven hair strays off in directions defying gravity. However to lump together an entire body of people under a common characterization vitiates and distorts the basic right of distinct individuals within that larger body to be what want to be — the very reason I consider the gifts to be representative of a microaggression. For instance, when we characterize an entire gender as being obsessed with appearances, women who choose not to stick to the stereotype end up being called out as ‘abnormal’ or ‘misfits’. Such incidents only distort their incentive to be who they want to be but rather promote their conformity to a set requirement, that is the obsession with appearances and good looks. But where does such characterizations originate from and what feeds its existence? It derives itself from an institutional, self-sustaining vicious cycle, whose existence actions such as Goldman Sach’s help sustain. Because we have been historically and culturally conditioned to think that good looks are as (if not more) vital to the female advancement as merit and talent, companies such as G.S. deem it appropriate to hand out such goodies at women conferences under the assumption that women should ideally like these goods. When (amongst a host of other things) such big corporations mass-

distribute goods like mirrors at such progressive events as a women’s engineering conference, women attendees take home the subtle message that they are supposed to like these goods; that they are supposed to uphold the beauty ideal. From this follows more cultural conditioning and the beauty ideal continues to be upheld. The vicious cycle runs it path over and again — in scenes diverse and varied, the WeCode being just one example. And so we continue to subject our women into living by unrealistic and unfair standards. By imposing on it a constraint that isn’t applied to the other sex, we work actively to suppress the female form, and the potential and possibilities arising from it. The same Crimson article protesting the New York Times’ move also stated: “The conference, entitled Women Engineers Code or WECode, (rather obviously) was never intended to be gender neutral. In fact, the sponsors were encouraged to provide swag that would appeal to the women attending.” These words once again encapsulate within them the same blatant characterization displayed by G.S.; with these words, the Crimson shows itself to be just about the same unflinching product of cultural conditioning as Goldman Sach’s. At the risk of sounding redundant, I will say this once again: to assume that mirrors and nail files are products that appeal to the women attending is the same as assuming that one size fits all. It is rejecting the diversity — in tastes, in individualities — of all the beautiful and colorful specimens that comprise a population of individuals. It is denying them the choice to be who they want to be. It is pigeonholing them into suffocating straits, waterboarding them with unrealistic ideals, and subjecting them to double standards. Let the games end. Aditya Agrawal ’17 (adityaagrawal@college) is sick and tired of gender normativity.

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To Skip or Not To Skip? That is the question. By CAROLINE GENTILE

lehhhhhhhhh. That’s how I would probably have described my health last Saturday night. As I lay shivering in my bed with a 104 degree fever, chest and head congested, throat on fire, I wondered how I would ever be able to get any of my work done the next day, or if I would be able to even move by Monday. In short, I felt really crappy. But I also felt trapped. You see, whenever I got sick at home, I could take a break. I could stay in bed all day, not go to school, have my mom around to make me soup and give me drugs and cold compresses. I could actually focus on getting better, and the process didn’t take very long because of that. But that night I realized that there’s no way to simply take a break from college. I live here. I can’t just go home to my parents and heal. I have lectures, labs, and seminars to attend, and problem sets with unforgiving deadlines. Somehow within my already crazy schedule, I would have to find time to get better. When Monday came around, I still had no desire to leave my bed. Now, the question that had been on my mind all weekend was finally staring me in the face: Do I skip class? Hmm. Well, since the thought of sitting in the Science Center for seven straight hours was enough to nauseate me when nausea wasn’t even one of my original symptoms, the obvious answer seemed to be yes. I also didn’t want to be “that kid” who put aside public safety for my own personal gains by infecting all of my peers just so I wouldn’t fall one day behind. But at the same time, I couldn’t just take the day off. Definitely not an option. Maybe just one class? I considered this. If I missed my first lecture, I would have no idea how to do my problem set. If I missed my Expos class, I would be at risk of failing out of the Expos program. I hadn’t been able to get to UHS because I’d been feeling so crappy. If I missed my lab, I would definitely fail out of a class that I needed to take for both my pre-med and concentration requirements. And if I missed my freshman seminar, I would be disrespectful to the professor. After all, we only meet once a week, and missing out on just one class is the equivalent of taking the week off. So no, I couldn’t even skip one single class. I ended up going to all of them, and feeling completely miserable in the process. But I didn’t fail out of any classes, and I knew how to do my problem set. Looking back, though, was it worth it? It’s been a week, and I’m still not feeling better. I never took a break. Taking a break never felt like an option for me. Which brings up a new question: is the environment at Harvard conducive to taking breaks when we need them? I think it’s safe to say that any Harvard student would answer that question with a resounding no. After all, the typical Harvard student thrives in their busy-ness. We bear our mountains of homework and extracurricular activities — how little time we have to do anything — with pride. But sometimes, our health demands that we gives our bodies a break, and I think too often Harvard students are unwilling to do that, even when they feel like they’ve been run over by a fleet of Mack trucks.

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Harvard may be a cutthroat place at times, but I don’t think any of us would want to bestow upon our peers or professors the same sickness that is making us so miserable. But that’s exactly what we do when we go to class sick. It seems obvious — everyone knows that germs spread — but I didn’t fully realize that my sick self could be the agent of spreading illness (and misery) just by going to class. A few days after my first day of attending class sick, I noticed my peers exhibiting some of the symptoms I had. Not only was I not feeling any better, but I had also made a lot of people feel much, much worse. So next time I get sick at school (hopefully never, ever, again, since it was so much fun this time around), I’ll stay in my bed. At the time, it’ll seem impossible, given all of the lectures and labs and office hours I could be attending instead. In the long run, though, it will be for the better. Any material I miss, I could look up on the course iSite. Any meeting or lab that simply can’t be missed, can be, as long as I precede my absence with an email explaining the situation. Nothing speeds up healing like rest, and nothing slows it down like trying to push through — and infecting everyone else in the process. Caroline Gentile ’17 (cgentile@college) is speedily recovering in her quarantined dorm room.

02.20.14 • The Harvard Independent

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Pa r t i n g Wo r d s

S o m e a d v i c e f r o m a s e n i o r. By CHRISTINE WOLFE

’ve finally realized that, as a senior, I’m about to leave Harvard. I find the thought of exit very liberating — Harvard has not been an easy place for me. I’m ready to move on. But Harvard has been my home for the last four years. To leave without intention to return is to break with a place and a community that has changed me. I don’t want to take advantage of what I’ve been given here. Nor do I want to forget what I’ve learned from having things taken away. And I can’t ignore the fear of May 30th, of adulthood, of one of the last new starts we’ll ever have. I’m terrified I’ll make the same mistakes I’ve always made, that all that’s plagued me here will follow me, that I’ll lose everything I earned in the last four years. These articles are supposed to be our last — our farewells are meant to encompass all our well wishes, our regrets, and our wise departing advice. But isn’t that which makes improvement so difficult is that we only realize what we did wrong when we come to the end? I want to finish my time here remembering the good that came from Harvard. But I’ve also made many mistakes. Even if I can’t keep other people from repeating them, I think it helps to know that at least one other person has endured the same embarrassment, anxiety, or sadness. And if one of us can push forward, it seems a good sign that we all can. Here are some bits of senior wisdom, from me to you. Don’t feel ashamed or inferior. Harvard is competitive — it’s an irrefutable fact. The academic atmosphere can be tense, populated by aggressive know-it-alls waiting to viciously maul an “uneducated” answer. But even amidst gradegrubbing pre-meds, I’ve found the social environment more cutthroat than any classroom. Before I came to Harvard, I lived in the rural West. I didn’t know about weekend tuxes, binge drinking in $300 dresses, or the tenacious hierarchy of extracurriculars. I knew wealthy people, but I had never met the elite. Class distinctions are inextricable from any feelings of social inferiority, but the shame perturbs a deeper place, too. When I see girls walking to The Harvard Independent • 02.20.14

or from clubs, I see the expense that went into their outfit, but only for a moment. What remains is a reminder of who I am not but should be. I feel the profound ache of self-disgust, when every part of me, body and mind, repulses me so viscerally that I find even movement unbearable. I become totally conscious of all of the wrong decisions I made that day — wearing untucked jeans, snow boots, and a down jacket; braiding my hair instead of drying it down; leaving my fingernails unpainted; eating Noch’s. Why is it that I can’t just let go of who I am to become one of the desired? These feelings are more complicated than they’re made out to be. Of course we should encourage people to be proud of being themselves, but we also want to be accepted, wanted, and loved. Often, the two do not cohere as easily as a politically correct society would like. But the spontaneous sickness of self-loathing, one that eats away at our sense of selves until minute flaws become sources of intense and frightening rage: that isn’t worth our limited energy. It’s unlikely any of us will change ourself dramatically — it’s quite difficult to keep up a façade that doesn’t feel natural. And, more importantly, shame compels us to forget what’s best about ourselves. We should spend our time fostering our best qualities rather than trying to suppress what is, in the end, transient, and not as important as we think. Academic success relies on passion. We all want to be successful. We are promised opportunity upon arriving here, and no one should take that for granted. But these are probably the only four years of our lives when we will have control over what we do. Even the least academically inclined of us feel satisfied at the excitement of mastering a concept that’s individually meaningful. This is our chance to build our intellect as we see fit, and that’s an opportunity that’s even rarer than a great job. Concentrating in something I enjoy but isn’t my primary passion stopped me from pursuing research over the summer and writing a thesis, both of which likely would have benefitted my application to graduate schools and jobs. There’s something practical

to be said for guaranteeing oneself four years of academic dedication. I often hear other students say that people who prioritize their academic passions over financial practicality come from a place of privilege, and that they don’t understand what others have to lose. In some cases, this complaint is true. Anyone who says money doesn’t make life better has never lived without it. But occasionally, it is times of financial hardship and loss that can make us reevaluate what matters most. I decided to pursue my academic passions — at partial expense of financial stability — just as my family’s financial situation was at its worst. We will, most of us, lose things that matter to us. And having something meaningful to fall back on, something of one’s own, whether novels, paintings, or a beautiful home, will be our salvation from the bitterness of loss. We do not each of us know what our classmates will need most. Spending time criticizing or pitying the occupational decisions of others isn’t worth our time. What is worth our time is the accumulation of knowledge that will help us get to where we need to be to feel happy; we should all spend more time contemplating what that need may be. We will not always understand each other. Harvard’s student body is, as we all know, astoundingly diverse. Our campus unites people from distinct social, class, racial, ethnic, and ideological backgrounds. These differences confer on us a richer and more informed perspective than we would have without the breadth of mindsets that make up our community. But as our education encourages us to develop a consciousness of ourselves, both as individuals and actors within larger social systems, it can be difficult to realize that our self may be at odds with that of our closest friends. Race is only one of many examples, but it is likely one of the most common and most affecting. Being an understanding friend, someone who others can rely on in times of distress, has always been more important to me than anything. But, as I’m white, there are some things I just will never understand and will never feel

as some of my friends do. For quite some time, this was hard for me to accept: I wanted to be trusted, and I wanted our individual relationships to matter more than our history. But just because I haven’t lived their experience doesn’t mean I couldn’t listen to their discomforts, their anger, and their distress. There are some situations in which I will be the best person to turn to, and some in which I won’t, but what’s important is that I’ll be there, waiting for the moment I’m needed. We all need to be respectful of where we belong and where we don’t. But I think it’s worth trying to work things out as best we can. We can never forget how much we can learn from each other. Find people who love you for who you are. In this high anxiety environment, where we hold ourselves to impossible standards, and where people do not always foster kindness, it is easy to feel lost. I often feel I am not strong enough to be a Harvard student. I am too sensitive, tied down by my emotions to a growing and consumptive anxiety. I have never felt as alone as I have felt here. Interactions and relationships are often ephemeral, seeming attempts at networking rather than honest interest. When friends go out of their way to check in with me, making sure I’m being myself and owning my truth — that’s when I feel I can make my own way in this place. To need the love of others is inherently human. But what we need is not love of an ideal or self-transformation to something easily loved: we need friends, good old fashioned ones, who love us just the way we are. These are the people we can turn to in our darker moments, who will remind us why we matter. They bring us neither social status nor job prospects, but support, relief, and care. With them, vulnerability is a privilege and not a weakness. Don’t waste your time with anyone who doesn’t see what’s best in you. Because when we leave this place, our greatest connection will be to the people we love the most. They are Harvard’s greatest opportunity. Christine Wolfe ‘14 (crwolfe@college) finally has full-fledged senior nostalgia.

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T h e A r t o f L ov i n g Oneself Off-Campus The hardships and benefits of alternative college housing. By THEODORA K. POWERS

So much attention is focused on the lives of Harvard students living within the boundaries and “safe houses” of Harvard campus. Their dayto-day struggles revolve around their studies, social life, and sleep: they can only pick two to focus on for their remaining years of study. On-campus residency is convenient and full of benefits; the school provides room and board, and the houses catalyze social interaction. There are friends and nemeses on every floor and a strong community for support and communication. Outside of the houses, but still within the institution of Harvard, there’s the option of working for personal income for those late-night movies or drinks. The campus is a city of its own, an enclosed neighborhood of Harvard affiliates and students. Naturally, it has its dramas and tragedies, its happy moments and sad days, its romances and break-ups — it’s a PG-rated adaptation of the real world: a bubble of Harvardfocused, Harvard-contributory students and staff. They practice a perfected version of the art of selflove indirectly imposed by their community, tutors, peers and professors. The more achievements they rack up, the better they feel, because let’s admit, the hard work that they put in their goals actually pays off, and validation for that work is exciting. And most importantly, if they like themselves, then others like them as well. So… Life. Is. Good. But while all of this is taking place within the redbrick walls of Harvard’s dorms and houses, rarely do on-campus students consider or even remember that there exist Harvard undergraduate students living off-campus. While freshmen try to integrate themselves into a new atmosphere, sophomores panic to choose concentrations, juniors uphold their ‘wise guy’ titles, and seniors have bittersweet feelings about graduation, the offcampus students practice a plethora of stresses unaffiliated with the stereotypical commotion of the Harvard experience. They have already been thrust into the reality of the world with its definite deadlines, high rent rates, monthly bills, outrageous store prices, and untimely means of transportation to and from campus. Off-campus students either arrive in Cambridge

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to immediately live in non-Harvard affiliated housing, or they take the slow and gradual rise to being independent of peers and colleagues after a few semesters surrounded by the comfort of other Harvard students. Some students eventually find dorm life to be constricting and nosey and seek to find another perspective of themselves outside the “Harvard first” ideals, and so they give a shot at being more “adult” than their classmates. The majority of Harvard students that live off-campus have a clear impression of the ease of life of students in the houses, and those that arrived to the city with the initial goal to live alone or share an apartment had originally imagined that things would settle for them just by keeping up with deadlines. The prices, expectations, schoolwork, day-to-day job, that dreaded time of the day when your stomach growls and preparing a meal takes an hour, and the desperate need for a bed instead of a sleeping bag, has forged and re-forged the personalities of off-campus students and molded them into responsible and diligent characters that are prepared to take on life’s following challenges. Where the art of loving oneself on campus depends solely on grades and activities, the art of loving anything is the farthest on the minds of off-campus students. With so many daily inconveniences to take care of, the long list of personal desires has to constantly be pushed aside, and the stresses build up further without simple pleasures to relieve them. The off-campus student’s mind is filled with calculations ranging from prices to time management to means of transportation to personal safety—there are no dates on a calendar, but there are deadlines; there are no dollar signs on items, but there are hours to to work and make up for whatever is spent; there is no definite social life, but there is the concern of keeping in touch; there is no guarantee their physical health will disintegrate from the stress, but there is the concern of putting food on the table each night. When you’re plunged into a routine day of classes, job, bills, homework and sleep without the guarantee that the weather will agree with your initial plans, no promise that your job position

will always be yours, and no pledge that the lights will be on when you come home and flip that switch, students develop different kinds of selflove and ways to go about them. When you’re not surrounded by a community of people that are mirrors of yourself to share your thoughts with and be comforted that you’re not the only one with the same perspective, you create your own art of loving yourself using your adversities as the mediums to mold you, and each passing day becomes a step closer to mastering what it means to be an offcampus Harvard student. Despite the frustrations, and aside from the daily challenges that sculpt characters and keep them on their toes, there are silver linings in the hardships experienced by students living offcampus. These are experience, independence, and a deep breath, all three of which generate a rugged equation of loving oneself even with thousands of moments ahead to polish. Without the scholastic environment at their heels on a 24/7 basis, offcampus students learn more about themselves during each moment and throughout every stage of an undertaking. They gain a deep appreciation for those rare and brief relaxations; a small gathering of friends that was initially planned to last for an hour suddenly transforms into a lifelong memory to cherish, while an activity gone awry becomes a lesson of what not to do again rather than a regret. Instead of living life as if there is no tomorrow or encountering the day with the attempt to complete as many tasks as possible within that small frame of time provided, off-campus students live for the sake of each present moment. The tomorrow that on-campus students already made plans for is a tomorrow that off-campus students create with the attendance on their present task during each passing second. The absence of that “Harvard first” mindset allows them to pay attention to the reallife issues that the world revolves around, which on-campus students only get glimpses of through the cracks of their on-campus community bubble. Theodora K. Powers ’14 (kay@fas) wants to remind students living on campus and off: “this too shall pass.”

02.20.14 • The Harvard Independent

News

Fit For a King

New housing makes Dunster swing prime real estate for next year. By SEAN FRAZZETTE

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What Do You Need a Kitchen For? In praise of cracks and missing floor tiles.

By MEGHAN BROOKS

n Friday, February 14, 2014, Dunster House tore out the hearts of the sophomores that will be living in their loving Moose community next year. It is common knowledge that Harvard’s oldest upper-classman house is undergoing renovations next year — something that many acknowledge is necessary for the rickety old building that’s insides look more outdated than the Harvard Hall classrooms that still have desks for those from the 17th century. The prospect of swing housing is incredibly alluring for a Dunsterite. With a very small amount of great rooms — especially for non-seniors — the prospects of Hampden, or even Ridgley and Fairfax, is beyond exciting. But when Dunster announced that we would also have the option of some apartments on Prescott Street, excitement levels rose. My blocking group is composed of eight people, seven of which lived in Greenough and one of which “lived” in Pennypacker, so the excitement of returning to Prescott and the Union area was palpable. But then the tour happened. The apartment rooms are singles, doubles, or triples, with about four rooms per floor and five floors in each of the three buildings. And they are nothing short of magnificent. The single is like a senior single on steroids. There is a private bathroom and a small, but more than serviceable kitchen, equipped with a refrigerator, a nice sink, and a bar-style counter top with plenty of room for stools or seats. There is a spacious common room, with windows looking out into the courtyard, and plenty of room for multiple futons, a table, or anything a college student may want. And the bedroom is a slightly smaller room, with a large closet and plenty of living space. Needless to say, these singles will be sought after by the rising seniors. The double was also a beautiful set up, filled with a slightly larger kitchen and bathroom. The common room, too, looked bigger, but with the floor plans yet to be released I cannot be certain. And there are two single bedrooms branching off of the same hallway that brings you to your common space and kitchen areas. While the single and double both looked to be highly wanted entities, the triple was the clincher in terms of prized housing for next year. The kitchen is fully equipped and slightly larger, with the added bonus of having the counter top looking out over the spacious common room area. There are two bathrooms tucked away in different corners of the apartment, guaranteeing an easier shower situation for the three people living here. Each bedroom was larger than many of the common rooms I have seen in most houses, let alone Dunster. These options are other-worldly when it comes to collegiate living. While plenty of swing housing and options like DeWolfe have provided students with incredible living situations, these Prescott Street apartments seem to be the best possible place to be next year. Surely, most will be taken by seniors, leaving the rising juniors to pray for a high enough lottery number to snag one of the remaining few. While it is unlikely that many juniors will be living there, the sheer increase in number of good spaces to live will make Dunsterites happy for the next year. Also, upon returning to the home we all know and love, the new and improved Dunster will promise to be a huge upgrade to the old, yet cherished house. The basement plan shows an increased workout facility overlooking a larger public space, packed with ping-pong, pool, and foosball tables for all to enjoy. Elevators will make the house more acceptable, and the promise of renovated and more beautiful rooms is enough to make anyone excited for the Moose Mansion on Housing Day. But until that day, swing housing it is. And nothing would be sweeter than the redbrick apartments beside Greenough. While they may be far from other houses, the walk will surely be worth it.

am going to admit right off the bat that I have no legitimate cause for complaint with regard to Dunster’s swing housing, most obviously because I am a senior whose post-grad apartment will likely be half the size and twice the price of any swing housing Harvard has to offer. The buildings currently in use for Leverett — Fairfax, Ridgely, and Hampden —are lovely, with hardwood floors, ensuite kitchenettes, clean white walls, and none of the pest problems that plague the older river Houses. And, as Friday’s tour revealed, the recently converted Prescott Street Apartments have the other swing spaces’ amenities with Quad housing’s floor plans. They are large, bright, and conveniently located for access to classes in the Yard. Even the Inn at Harvard is promising; its dramatic inner atrium should make for an airy and inviting dining hall and common space, and its proximity to the Barker Center is enough to make an English concentrator swoon. This year’s juniors, sophomores, and soon-to-be-sorted freshmen will be just fine next year, and might even welcome an upgrade from what is admittedly a cramped and crumbling House. But still. As a senior who has lived in this House for three years — slept in this House, eaten in this House, worked in and befriended this House — I am sad for younger Meese. Unlike many, I am not particularly worried about the effects of Dunster’s temporary decentralization on the House community. Yes, it will be annoying to have to walk outside to get to the dining hall — goodbye midnight brain break in slippers — and students living in Ridgely might choose to eat in Quincy when the Inn feels just a little too far. Yet, if Qunicy and Leverett are accurate models for swing space living, the draw of the dining hall and its accompanying common and study spaces will be enough to keep the community more or less intact. So instead, my sadness lies in the loss of Dunster itself, the building and the odd intricacies of its interior spaces. It is arguably strange to defend the ugly and ancient architectural mess that is Dunster. The dark wood paneled dining hall and sumptuous library aside, Dunster is as bad as they say it is. As a Dorm Crew Captain previously tasked with cleaning student suites after move-out and the House fire inspector responsible for monthly safety checks, I can say with some authority that the building is falling apart. For all the commendable efforts of our Building Manager and his crew, paint is peeling, windows won’t open, showers leak incessantly, doors won’t stay shut. There are holes in walls and tiles missing from bathroom and bedroom floors, and medicine cabinet mirrors are clouded and blotched in every suite. As for the setup, triples arranged shotgun style and too-small doubles are the norm. While seniors can expect nicer digs, it is obvious that an overhaul is order. But what do we lose in the process? Maybe it’s because I’ve moved eight times in my short life, or because I know that I have to leave this place in three months, forever, but I will miss Dunster as it is and believe that the House community will, too. There is solidarity in sharing cramped bedrooms and thin walls, in running into friends and neighbors in too-narrow basement corridors, in decamping to the grille with its ripped couches and extensive VHS collection, in shrieking over cockroaches, in doing sit-ups under the Class of 2005’s badly painted mural, in telling the MooseList that yet another washing machine is out of commission. There is solidarity in knowing that despite our complaining, we love the House. Sitting in a Dunster suite, reminded that little has changed since the House was built in 1930 and that we are staring at the same ceiling stains that thousands of Meese have stared at before us, we are connected to our past in a very real way. Spaces remember their history, rooms their previous inhabitants. I am sad to leave. I am sad to see it all erased. (I am sad to see myself erased.) In comparison, swing housing and the renewal plans are antiseptic. Who needs a kitchen, anyway?

Sean Frazzette ’16 (sfrazzette@college) wants nothing more than a return to Prescott Street for next year.

Meghan Brooks ’14 (meghanbrooks@college) will miss Dunster House.

The Harvard Independent • 02.20.14

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Introducing The Spring 2014 Columnists By SARAH ROSENTHAL

he Independent’s Arts section is excited to have two columnists this semester: Joan Li ’17 and Christina Bianco ‘17. Our columnists T will alternate writing each week, with Joan’s first article appearing in this week’s issue, and Christina’s appearing in next week’s. As a publication, The Indy prioritizes content that not only engages readers, but also truly matters to our writers. Over the years, we’ve

found that the strongest articles come about when our writers are given the chance to share their passions and to explain why they are so passionate in the first place. Thus semester we’ll be exploring two such passions: Joan’s column will discuss anime and manga, and Christina’s will explore opera. We hope you’ll read their column proposals below and follow their columns each week.

Christina Bianco: When the average person thinks of opera, he Joan Li: or she probably imagines a fat lady in a Viking helmet singing ungodly high notes. One might picture a five-hour opera in German with no subtitles and a plot that is incredibly stupid. While some truth hides in this perception, only a couple of operas fit these criteria. But why do people assume these stereotypes are the norm? Many people believe that they would never enjoy opera so they never give it a chance. And because of this image of a large bellowing person, opera singers are very underappreciated artists in American society today. I have personally been singing opera since I was twelve years old, have seen over 40 operas live, and have listened to the recording of countless others. The general aim of my column will thus be to help make the opera review accessible to people who are not opera veterans like myself. Despite a common misconception, opera is not just “controlled screaming” as my mom likes to call it. Opera is actually some of the most beautiful, pure music of any genre. Brilliant composers write the music, and extremely talented singers perform it. To be an opera singer, a person must go through years and years of training before he or she can attain the proper technique required to sing arias. In addition to learning difficult music, they must have proper diction, breathing, vibrato, vowels, support, raised soft palate, and masque placement. Vocal technique is one major distinction between opera and other types of music. The music industry of today no longer stresses proper vocal technique (or any vocal technique for that matter). Synthesizers and auto-tune manipulate the sound of people’s voices to make them sound “flawless.” With all of these technologies to enhance a singer’s voice, singers like Katy Perry and Miley Cyrus are almost painful to hear live. But opera singers are completely dependent on their own vocal skills, even developing the ability to project easily without microphones. But aside from operas being impressive and beautiful to hear, they are also very enjoyable to see. In order for the opera singers to be cast, they must have great stage presences. It is essential that they be able to act and dance. Also, in the past twenty years or so, opera companies have made efforts to modernize opera to entertain a twenty-first century audience. Operas rarely lack subtitles now, for the directors want to make sure that the audience can follow the plot. The directors have also found many ways to reinterpret the operas and give them an entirely new context by adapting them to different time periods. I have seen a few post-modern productions of operas, one of which where the set consisted of just a couch and a large clock. And many other operas have such elaborate sets and costumes that it seems as though the set designers have transformed the stage into an actual street in Paris. It really saddens me that people have come to consider opera — a medium frequently misjudged based on stereotypes — a dying art form. And I think that if more people were to give opera a chance, they actually enjoy it.

The first person I ever wanted to be was a magical girl. At the age of five, my friends in ballet class wanted to be dancers or a pop star singers with dance routines, but I was just there because I believed that acquiring a tutu was a necessary task for my future career as a heroine with supernatural powers. After that, all I needed was a magical staff of some sort and to grow up into a teenager, which I waited for with each passing day, when I came home from school, sat on my mother’s lap, and watched Sailor Moon. I never grew up from anime — I grew up with it. As art forms that tell stories through both the unlimited mediums of language and visuals, Japanese animation and its artistically related comic style, manga, have accompanied me through my stages of life. It followed me through my transitioning years from Singapore during which I had to learn English through dubs, to my awkward years as a try-hard tomboy making Yugioh! card deals on the playground, to my beginning years as an aspiring writer who didn’t know where to start and so gained confidence through publishing fan fiction online. As my tastes and interests evolved, so did the series I read and watched. They are unique art forms in an aesthetic and literary sense, providing a wide breadth of themes and genres relevant to people of all genders, ages, sexual orientations, and interests that mainstream culture has unfortunately barely skimmed. Just recently, a friend from my hometown had been persuaded by his new college friends to get into anime. Remembering the enthusiast I am on the topic, he texted me about it. “What have your friends suggested to you?” I eagerly asked. He gave me the following: Naruto, Bleach, One Piece, Attack on Titan, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, and Sword Art Online. The last one is just plain awful in its plot and ridden with sexist fanservice that is somehow overlooked in the unwarranted hype over the show. The first three — the long-running, dominant series in the industry — are considered the “Big Three” in the shōnen genre that is geared for boys. The second to last two are shorter and more recent, but are also popular works contributing to the action-fantasy genre that eclipses other categories even in the general anime and manga community. It frustrates me to see the art form limited to common battles and superpowers, high school love triangles and vampires that make it no different from superhero comic or CW show. Although many well-known, action-packed series are worthy of their large viewership, I’ve also found suspense in a show about the poetic Japanese card game karuta, compassion in a manga about a single man raising an adoptive daughter, and heavy thought in a bildungsroman of a boy who desperately wishes to be a girl. I hope to have the opportunity to introduce anime and manga that do not seem to have a large, prevalent fanbase, yet stand out to me in their genre. Through writing about these series, I would like to explore the artistic and literary devices that make them notable while comparing them to, and criticizing, the typical tropes that show up in anime and manga. My goal is to share the range of enjoyable experiences I’ve had with these two art forms in their kaleidoscope of forms and to broaden the general perspective of the topic. WikiMedia Commons

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02.20.14 11.21.13 • The Harvard Independent

THE MAGIC GIRL’S GUIDE TO ANIME AND MANGA / BY JOAN LI

Introducing Pandora Hearts as a Gateway Series

f you’re like me, then you suffer from a kind of wanderlust for places that neither the wondrous stretches of the T nor any amount of funding from the OIE can satisfy. That’s because unfortunately, you can only get to Hogwarts via platform 9 ¾ (or an enchanted car, provided that you know how to drive in the air) and to Pandora via some hyper-advanced space shuttle (as long as you don’t mind the 6-year ride). Luckily these imaginative cravings can be fulfilled by books, movies, and a whole list of other media, which for me, include Japanese anime and manga. So yes, going along the general perception of what anime is, I have once travelled across the lands searching far and wide to catch ‘em all. I have also met a kid with outrageously spiky hair that might even scare a porcupine, who thinks that any time is a good time to duel (cue dramatic shuffling of card decks). Oh, and I still time-leap back to the pseudo-past of Japan on a weekly basis to check up on a certain ninja clad in an obnoxiously orange jumpsuit. Over the past decade, Pokémon, Yugioh, and Naruto have served as gateway series for many fans in the present anime and manga community. Currently, the industry is experiencing a burst in commercial success due to the anime adaptation of the manga series Attack on Titan, which has rung in a whole new audience, taken over the shelves of Anime Zakka in the form of miscellaneous merchandise, and made its way to our campus with the few people cosplaying as Survey Corps soldiers on Halloween. All this has led me to ask one question: why not Pandora Hearts? Chances are, you’re part of the majority — including even long time anime and manga fans — who have never heard of Pandora Hearts. The manga features a boy named Oz, whose life is suddenly interrupted when he is cast in a nightmarish realm called the “Abyss,” convicted for his mere existence, which is supposedly a sin. Upon his escape, he becomes determined to investigate his origins. In doing so, he becomes entangled in a string of mysteries and adventures surrounding a historical tragedy. The series is an unfortunately underrated, eclipsed by works such as Naruto and Attack on Titan. As gateway series, the latter two belong in the shōnen genre which is geared for (but certainly not limited to attracting) boys and young men. Both are set in fictional realms with supernatural elements mixed

with action and adventure. Also notable in the two works, along with other dominant titles, are their large cast of characters meant to add to the three dimensionality of the fantastical world they live in. Patterns of successful anime and manga seem to suggest these characteristics as criteria for gateway series, and Pandora Hearts fits them all. Drawn and written by Jun Mochizuki, Pandora Hearts exceeds the basic aspects of dominant introductory series in the industry, taking them one step further and legitimizing the artistic and literary value that anime and manga have to offer. In terms of world-building, Mochizuki’s universe is a carefully crafted one, with intricate laws, terminology, and culture revolving around and enhancing the authenticity of the supernatural phenomena that occur. The basis of her world is captivating, but it is the characters and the story they drive that really to set Pandora Hearts apart. More often than not, gateway series like Naruto end up with a cast of what more critical audiences would see as diverse but one-dimensional characters. Personally, I have found myself exasperated with the protagonist’s overly-noble cause and his ability to fix problems through the magic of friendship or ridiculous power-ups apparently catalyzed by a “Will of Fire.” What makes Pandora Hearts so refreshing is that its characters are complex and not quite so black-andwhite. In other words, they are like us. Neither Oz nor his friends nor the enemies they face are super-powered heroes and villains with grandiose goals; they are humans. They are children and adults simply trying to reclaim a piece of happiness they’ve lost. Their personal pursuits and struggles with inner demons represent a wide range of themes. Pandora Hearts knows that there is madness in humanity, and so it is more than just a story of friendship and love. Instead, it is a layered story of redemption, vengeance, humility, and the fall from grace — it is a story of life. And it is a story that is masterfully told and has a high reread value. Taking full advantage of her monthly deadlines as opposed to other creators’ weekly ones, Mochizuki utilizes the narrative potential of the visual aspect of manga. The details of her art and the formatting of her panels all serve to the story arcs under an overall wellplanned plot. Allusions to Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland and a number of other recurrent

themes add symbolism and depth, giving the tale a layer of literary complexity. Pandora Hearts has an anime adaptation that does its brilliance no justice, and it deserves a remake that actually follows the original plot. But until then, you can read the series and watch it progress monthly in the online anthology Yen Plus. Its chapters are compiled into graphic novels published by Yen Press. I suggest you give Pandora Hearts a try. It’s a versatile series good for procrastination and provides a roller coaster of a journey for when your psets aren’t quite actionpacked enough. I personally like to read it on Existential Crisis Fridays, when instead of posing college-induced, philosophical questions about my own identity, I procrastinate on life and ask the same questions about fictional characters instead. The slushy gray spell of New England weather calls for a good story to whisk us away every once in a while, and if you’re willing to branch out a little, Pandora Hearts might just open your figurative library to a whole new media of narratives to explore. Joan Li ’17 (joanli@college) is a magical girl who fights the forces of Awkward Silences with Bad Jokes and Anime References.

Illustration by Eloise Lynton The Harvard Independent • 02.20.14 11.21.13

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Sports

Conference Domination Volleyball takes down Princeton and George Mason in one weekend. By HENRY DUNSTER MOOSE

ast year, the Harvard Men’s Volleyball team was coming off their best season in program history. One in which they reached the conference championship before losing in heartbreaking fashion to Penn State University. So it’s safe to say that they entered this season with high hopes. The team improved their roster by adding Casey White, a Fab Fifty recruit and brother to current senior DJ White, along with the very good setter Nick Bendell. Sam Murphy walked onto the team, bringing the new player total up to three. Led by senior captains Nick Madden and Chris Gibbons, the team looked poised to contend in the conference and expand on last season’s success. While HMV dominated early in their season in exhibition games, they started the season a disappointing 0-3, before knocking off MIT and conference foe Sacred Heart. The past weekend, the team had two big conference games against Princeton and then George Mason — the other two teams that finished towards the top of the conference last year.

With six fellow Meese on the roster — including the two co-captains — I felt an obligation to attend the festivities. I would not be disappointed. The Princeton game started with a bang, as Madden, an opposite side hitter, got the first kill of the game. Princeton hung around in the first set, but Harvard began to pull away, before Madden once again got the kill to secure the first set, 25-20. After giving up the first point in the second set, Harvard received the next four points, including a devastating smash from junior middle blocker Caleb Zimmick, which forced Princeton into calling a timeout. Harvard went on to control the rest of the set, winning 25-21, and putting the team one set away from victory. The next two sets, however, were a struggle for this moose to watch. Princeton jumped up to a 6-2 lead. Despite DJ White’s powerful serves that brought the game within a point, the Tigers never really seemed to lose control. A block at the net decided the final play of the set, with Princeton’s Junior Oboh blocking Zimmick at the net, and giving the visitors a 25-20 win. The fourth set was tough to watch for those rooting for the Crimson. Princeton took all the momentum their previous victory had given them and went on a role, crushing the ball and taking advantage of sloppy play from Harvard. Quickly, the set was over, with the Tigers dominating 25-13, and the decisive fifth set coming up. The crowd was anxious as the play came down to the final set, which by rule is played to 15 instead of 25. The Tigers stuck with them for a while, but Harvard pulled ahead 12-8 from a DJ White’s kill, putting the Crimson only 3 points away from victory. Despite all their efforts, Princeton ended up falling 15-12, with a service error giving Harvard the win. The Meese of the game showed up big, highlighted by Madden racking up 17 kills and Gibbons displaying some solid passing along with 7 digs. Freshman setter Bendell also had a terrific game, dishing out 47 assists to go with 6 digs. The second game of the weekend was not quite the same in terms of intensity. George Mason came in as a team much depleted after losing most of their stars from last year’s squad. Harvard swept the Patriots, 25-22, 25-18, and 25-23. Freshman Casey White led the Crimson with 11 kills, but the middles for Harvard — Zimmick and senior (moose!) Kyle Rehkemper — dominated the game, smashing down 14 kills combined, and hitting .636 and .556, respectively. Gibbons once again showed off terrific passing skills, with 7 digs, while Bendell dished out 38 assists and directed the offense to perfection. The team as a whole hit .390, which marks their highest percentage since last April against Sacred Heart. Harvard improved to 3-0 in the Eastern Intercollegiate Volleyball Association, and put their overall record back above .500 at 4-3. The squad heads to Pennsylvania next weekend with a game against St. Francis and then the biggest match of the season thus far against conference favorites Penn State. While I will not be trekking out to the woods of Pennsylvania, I will surely be in attendance in future games, supporting HMV and my fellow Meese. Until then, I will return to planning steins and crossing roads obnoxiously slow. Henry Dunster Moose can be contacted via his Facebook page or through chance encounters at sporting events.

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02.20.14 • The Harvard Independent

Sports

indy

Squashing the Competition Farag Leads Crimson to Squash National Championship By PEYTON FINE

et me make something very clear. Ali Farag, Harvard’s number one squash player, is really good. We are talking number one junior player in the world good, reigning collegiate national champion good. In this year’s national championship, Farag swept his opponent while never giving up more than four points in a game. Harvard swept all three of its opponents this weekend in route to the Potter Cup; Harvard’s first collegiate squash team championship since 1998. That’s domination no matter what sport you follow. Look, I love sports, but covering the national championship was my first exposure to squash. I had to use trusty Wikipedia just to figure out the rules for the tournament. Each team is comprised of nine players ranked one through nine, who face off in a match against the opposing team’s player with the same rank. The matches are best of five games, and the first team to win five matches wins. After watching the various matches throughout the tournament, I began to understand that the strategy in squash is pretty simple. A player wants to use the walls of the court to place the ball in places that would cause his opponent to be unable to return the ball before it bounces twice. Most players, at least at the collegiate level, attempt to do this by consistently forcing their opponent to return shots from the corners and wearing them down in a match of attrition. This war of attrition is referred to as the “British” style of play. Harvard’s two through nine ranked players employed the British style to perfection, sweeping Trinity of Connecticut in the first eight out of nine matches in the national championship. Trinity until last year possessed a 252-match unbeaten streak, so this was no small feat. Take senior co-captain Brandon McLaughlin. In his match that clinched the national championship by giving the Crimson its fifth and decisive win, McLaughlin came from a two to one game deficit in a best-of-five match. He stormed back to take the fourth match 112. Then, he fended off two match points before ultimately winning the decisive fifth game. His match was a microcosm of the manner in which Harvard won each of its matches throughout the championship weekend — wearing down opponents and consistently winning decisive points at the end of games and matches. However, Farag’s domination was of a different sort. The way he played was totally different. He employed all different shots with different spins that left his opponent at times utterly hapless and the crowd in awe. I discovered (this time with Google) that Farag’s playing style is called “Egyptian.” This makes

The Harvard Independent • 02.20.14

sense considering Farag is originally from Cairo and trains with many of the best Egyptian players while home. The Egyptian style of play hinges on a player’s ability to accurately place a ball at the intersection of the court’s walls or floors making the bounce nonexistent or tough to handle. This is easier said than done; one has to angle the shot off the wall just right. If not, one can miss the shot completely or give the opponent a very easy shot. I should have known to expect something special from Farag on the court. Before the match, the College Squash Association presented him with the Skillman Award for his accomplishments on and off the court. The surprising part was the second half of the award — his accomplishments off the court. I cannot say that I know much about Farag off the court, but I do know that he is pursuing an S.B. in engineering, which entails twenty courses for graduation, and is working on a project to harness solar energy in Egypt. I can tell you that what I saw of Farag’s actions during the national championship revealed him as very deserving of the Skillman Award. While waiting to begin his own match, Farag was practically another coach for the Harvard players. At each break in a match, Farag was the first to talk to his teammates as they left the court. As the matches were in progress, Farag was the most vocal cheerleader. And, when McLaughlin won the fifth match to give Harvard its championship, Farag bounded to him with such speed that he whacked junior Amanda Sobhy in the face. Sobhy, a junior on the women’s squash team, is the reigning collegiate champion and former junior World champion with Farag. During the match Farag was the epitome of sportsmanship. After one particular slam early in the match that left his opponent sprawled on the ground, Farag stopped the match to make sure his opponent could continue. After the few points that his opponent was able to win off Farag, he would applaud the quality of the shot his opponent played. As sports fans, we are acutely aware of the mistakes star athletes make. Ali Farag on this day broke that mold. My first experience with squash in many ways resembled a lot of other sports I’ve watched where the winning team is usually “clutch” as Harvard was in capturing the national title. However, the Egyptian game played by Ali Farag coupled with his actions off the court made this particular weekend one that reminded me of the reasons why I love sports.

Photo by Peyton Fine ‘17

Peyton Fine ‘17 (peytonfine@college) got to witness glory up close.

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c a pt ur e d& s ho t BYSHAQUI LLAHARRI GAN