Washington Square News | Influential 2018

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NYU’S TOP 10

2018



No one at NYU can be influential simply because making an impact on a university of 50,000-plus students doing 50,000 different things is nearly impossible. What sets the following 10 people apart from the droves of other accomplished and polished NYU students is their ability to make deep change in an arena where only they could make a difference. In a world where the waters can seem infinitely deep, these 10 students have been able to transform what’s around them by thinking intentionally small. Combing through more than a hundred nominations, we winnowed the list down by looking for people who are giants in their communities. Without our unwavering team, this issue wouldn’t exist. First, a big thanks to our Deputy Managing Editors Sakshi Venkatraman and Alejandro Villa Vásquez and Editor-in-Chief Jemima McEvoy, who rounds out her fifth and final semester at WSN. The three of you were essential to the perfection of this issue. Hats off to our Copy Chiefs Tarra Chen and Viral Shanker without them there would be oxford commas galore and no meaningless conversations about fellow copy editors’ dating lives on Tinder. We can’t forget their copy-editing children, Joey Hung, Paul Kim, Kate Lowe, Daija Dewberry and Sam Brinton. This issue became the coronation for the new creative directors, Sophia Di Iorio and Priya Tharawal, from the old, Rachel Buigas-Lopez and Laura Shkouratoff, who stayed around this window-less basement for two years. And to our tireless multimedia team — Sam Klein, Tony Wu, Alana Beyer and Justin Park led by their fearless leader Katie Peurrung — our staff finally understands how vital you are to helping tell their stories. To the 10 students featured in this issue, thank you for replying to our writers’ incessant emails and letting us tell your stories. SAYER DEVLIN, Managing Editor PAMELA JEW, Under the Arch Managing Editor

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Arystan Tatishev

Kyra-Lee Harry

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Kat Facchini

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Anesu Nyatanga

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Zella Christenson

Aree Worawongwasu

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Eric Gelb

Tim Sebastian

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Mark Yokoyama

Omer Malik

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KATIE PEURRUNG | WSN


ARYSTAN TATISHEV How ‘Memebers’ Create Community Written by ALEJANDRO VILLA VÁSQUEZ

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he coffee shop on Mercer Street where I met Arystan Tatishev was bustling, despite it being a Friday night. No one would expect the international student studying Mechanical Engineering, with his composure and boyish looks, to double as a meme wizard. He prides himself on his work, but all this Tandon junior really wants is to make people laugh. “Why doesn’t NYU have a meme page?” Arystan remembers asking his friend, Tandon junior Dan Lam, one winter night last February. “We’re like, ‘f-ck it, we’re gonna make our own.’” Collegiate meme pages, though not officially tracked, have become a part of campus culture for many schools across the country. Before he and his friend set out on quest for meme excellency, Arystan said the most NYU-related content he saw was on Reddit threads. He and Lam created the page, NYU Memes for Slightly Bankrupt Teens, and added their NYU friends — about 100 people. Arystan also explained that before the page became popular, it was his responsibility to create content. A relatively painless process, he admitted that Reddit provided most of his meme templates, which he would edit to cater to NYU kids. “We [needed] content to be circulating. For a long time [I’d] like to call myself the powerhouse — the mitochondria of the meme page.” Then, the group reached 500 members, and it wasn’t long until people even started recognizing Arystan’s face around campus. He mentioned that a receptionist at the Tandon campus told him that the meme page got him through the day. As Arystan said, he was glad that stupid-ass memes were making peoples’ days better. To him, it’s always been about seeing the NYU community come together. With their computers and a group chat of other moderators, a team of 12 students run the much-beloved NYUMFSBT with over 12,000 members. “It started growing,” he said. “Now it’s a community. I want people to start conversations. And the fact that [the]

page enables people to do that — I’m really happy that that is the purpose it serves.” The community in the group surged in the wake of a student’s suicide in October, Arystan and fellow moderator, Tisch junior John Stanley, decided to issue a statement about the first-year’s death. He recounted this distressing time with composure and dignity, as he chowed down on some spaghetti that his commuter friend made in exchange for sleeping over a few nights a week. Stanley posted a rough draft of the statement to be issued and all the moderators worked on it, adding and retracting as necessary. “[Arystan’s] eagerness to use memes as a tool for positivity is an instinct of a caring person, and within our chat I had that feeling that people care more than you’d expect.” Following the suicide, the page turned into a breeding ground for light, heartwarming content, away from poking fun at each of the schools or complaining about NYU’s bankrupting tuition. NYUMFSBT rebranded itself for a wholesome Wednesday, intending to bring positivity in a group whose jokes just brush past topics that students often don’t want to talk about. Arystan explained that he first started interacting with memes while he was still in Kazakhstan, where he lived until age 14, when his parents sent him to boarding school in Singapore. “It’s kind of easy to get locked up in your own room and not interact with other people,” he said, citing NYU’s propensity to make students feel isolated. “There’s not really this personal connection. I really needed just someone to talk to.” He described these trying experiences with a surprisingly casual tone. His affability didn’t waver throughout our conversation. Even when he gave a play-by-play of his near-death experience while on a class trip in Sabah, Malaysia. Around 7:12 a.m. on the second morning of a hike on Mount Kinabalu, an earthquake hit, trapping the 120 people that had scaled the mountainside just hours before. “It completely obliterated not only the peak of the mountain, but also the trail that we used to get through — we were isolated,” he said. “You’re in the highest point in

“There are things to live for. But most importantly, you are the reason to live for.”

- Arystan Tatishev

Tatishev practices classical guitar, which he picked up while living in Spain as a teenager.

ALANA BEYER | WSN

Southeast Asia and you really can’t do anything about it.” Somehow he seems to have taken this in stride. He accepted that he couldn’t have done anything to prevent the mountainside from collapsing, and so there wasn’t a reason, for him, to dwell on the shock. Arystan would much rather focus on the people around him, making memories in more ways than one. So I wasn’t too surprised when I learned that Arystan also had a passion for ballroom dancing, an activity he enjoys with the NYU Ballroom and Latin Dance club. His friends on the team echoed the same sentiment: he knows how to be himself and his befriending attitude never fails. “[Arystan] is also very meticulous and in tune with what’s going on,” said Arielle Rozencwaig, a Steinhardt senior and president of the Ballroom and Latin Dance club. “Always asking questions that are very relevant and keeps people on-task, and isn’t afraid to push himself to move further.” Whether it’s through a salsa ballad or a meme about NYU’s record-setting tuition, Arystan wants people to get together, and to get excited. “There are things to live for. But most importantly, you are the reason to live for.”

Socks are Arystan Tatishev’s most expressive clothing item. His roommate gifted these to him — which Tatishev once wore for a dance competition — saying “you are my significant ‘otter.’”

Email Alejandro Villa Vásquez at avillavasquez@nyunews.com.

ALANA BEYER | WSN

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KYRA-LEE HARRY Engineering an Image

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Written by VICTOR PORCELLI

yra-Lee’s hands slice through the air as if she is conducting a piece of music — they’re cupped and emphasize each note of the conversation with poise. When raised, her voice crescendos, becoming emphatic. Elbows tucked and hands closer together, she is sometimes at a pianissimo. But even at this lower volume, her voice does not waver: still strong, its softness perks one’s ears and invites them to lean in, to focus on each word. There is a certain power in the way this Tandon sophomore speaks. “I’ve been doing this for a very long time where my interactions are very intentional and the way I speak and act is very intentional,” the Business and Technology Management major said. Born in Brooklyn, Kyra-Lee wanted to travel a little farther from home when applying to college, but she would never say that. Not so much an attempt to cover up a less-than-ideal outcome, Kyra-Lee simply lives in the now: for her, NYU is the best place to be because it is where she is. It is this single-minded pragmatism that allows her to always be present. Knowing she would be entering a predominantly white institution, Kyra-Lee quickly searched for a community that fit her interests, finding a home in the National Society of Black Engineers. “That is where I found my connection,” Kyra-Lee said with the sureness of tone that most associate with her. Formerly the freshman ambassador, KyraLee has worked to institute five new NSBE junior chapters in local middle and high schools as the pre-collegiate initiative chair. In mid-November, she invited the junior chapter from her former high school, Medgar Evers College Preparatory School, to a college hackathon where students could participate and network with professionals. In room 400 of Tandon’s 5 Metrotech Center, Kyra-Lee and I stand with a single high schooler less than two hours before an event was to start. She was hoping to have at least 10 students by that time. And on top of that, the wide variety of different sandwiches she had carefully pre-selected had come randomized. Kyra-Lee paced the room, her eyebrows furrowed, her motions lacking their usual precision. About an hour later, Kyra-Lee entered Tandon’s Makerspace with eight students in tow. Two or three had the mis-

fortune (or luck?) of walking by her when she was in need of a few extra students. One of the students, Kyra-Lee’s former high school classmate David Charles, has always known her to be the kind of person to do whatever it takes. “She’s always involved in what she’s involved in,” he said. “Some people just participate, you know? She steadily makes her way to the top. One day she’s standing next to you taking orders, the next day she’s giving them.” I had only seen Kyra-Lee giving orders myself, and so I continued to ask her if I could see her in a casual setting to get a better sense of who she was. “I want to see more than just professional Kyra-Lee,” I said. “But that’s me,” she answered. It’s for this reason that I was unsurprised when she told me that, in high school, she became the youngest person in New York State to be elected to a community board. Although just a footnote in the 19-year-olds already lengthy list of accomplishments, Kyra-Lee’s membership on Brooklyn’s Community Board 9 contextualizes her perpetual professionalism.

“You don’t work harder because that gives someone else the satisfaction of knowing that you have to do more than they do.”

wrong — although she wouldn’t mind shattering some stereotypes along the way. “You don’t work harder because that gives someone else the satisfaction of knowing that you have to do more than they do,” Kyra-Lee said. Kyra-Lee says she knows, as a black woman going into STEM, that she will need a strong support system. At NYU, that includes Tandon’s Associate Dean, Anita Farrington. “Ever since we met, we just clicked,” Kyra-Lee says of Farrington, who gave her permission to have her NSBE junior chapter to attend the hackathon. With Farrington, Kyra-Lee is visibly more comfortable. The two of them have a casual chat about the MTA, KyraLee’s open hands fly up in frustration as she talks passionately about its failures. Farrington has supported Kyra-Lee since she first came to NYU, helping her organize an event, Mercer Street: The Black Edition, last spring that she will be continuing next semester. Kyra-Lee, who has always dragged her friends to each and every NSBE event — earning her the nickname Mama-Lee — found herself with too much downtime over winter break, which led to the inception of Mercer Street: The Black Edition. A NSBE event celebrating black culture, Mercer Street represents the three black diasporas: Africa, the Caribbean and America, through various artistic displays and presentations. At an NSBE executive board meeting this semester, Kyra-Lee prepared to discuss her plans for this year’s Mercer Street event. Before the event was discussed, Kyra-Lee spoke surprisingly little. When she did, she was more casual than usual. Still sitting with impeccable posture, her hands crossed in front of her, she cracked the occasional joke, adding a clap or finger guns for emphasis. By the time it was her turn to speak, the meeting was drawing to an end. Other members began to rest their heads in their hands and a few scattered yawns subdued the room on the dwindling Tuesday night. Kyra-Lee was as energetic as ever, confidently listing out the names of people she hoped to secure her Mercer Street event, many of them elected officials. Among those on her list were Attorney General Letitia James and President Andrew Hamilton. One member asked if these people had been confirmed. “Not yet,” she responded. Not yet.

- Kyra-Lee Harry

But her life has not always looked like a picture-perfect resume. Though she began to make traction in her career, high school wasn’t an easy time for Kyra-Lee. In 10th grade, she found herself failing AP Physics despite her best efforts, and was told that she would not make it as an engineer. Once she arrived at NYU, she had an experience with a racist professor who would belittle her for being absent from lectures when she had not missed a single one and asked her if she was from Africa. But Kyra-Lee does not feel, or rather will not allow, this to be what motivates her. She says that she does STEM and works hard because she enjoys doing so, not to prove anyone

Email Victor Porcelli at vporcelli@nyunews.com.

Kyra-Lee Harry attempts to connect members of her junior chapter with two professionals from the company National Grid.

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JUSTIN PARK | WSN


KATIE PEURRUNG | WSN

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KATIE PEURRUNG | WSN


KAT FACCHINI Welcome Week Warrior I

Written by RYAN MIKEL

t was an oddly warm New Year’s Eve in Metuchen, New Jersey for Kat Facchini in 2014. The high school senior was visiting her grandmother, just hours before the regular decision deadline to apply to NYU. The Facchini Matriarch’s house was notorious for its spotty WiFi and Kat grew more and more weary of missing the midnight submission time. She thought to herself, “I guess I just won’t apply then. I probably won’t go anyway.” Four years later, the Gallatin senior is more grateful than ever for the sudden surge in connection that night so she could attend the school that would shape her in countless ways. In a few short semesters, Facchini would rise to the top of student life at NYU to become the chair of Welcome Week and experience director for the New York Dance Marathon, executive board member for Alpha Sigma Tau and the Gallatin Student Council, producer for the Gallatin Mental Health Arts Festival and one of the youngest members working tirelessly at the Mayor’s Office of Sustainability in New York City. Facchini may not cry out about her love for event planning, but every Welcome Week gives her the chance to personalize every first-year’s experience, which is where her true passion lies. It may only take up a small percentage of her 365-day calendar — her schedule is more overwhelming than her resume — but it’s truly her time to shine. While the yearly campus-wide engagement of over 500 activities and programs for the thousands of firstyears is her happy place, her own Welcome Week in 2015 was quite the opposite. “I moved into NYU on my 19th birthday and I was actually pretty pissed about it,” Facchini told WSN. “All of my friends were across the country and I was very nervous about starting college. I was shy and I didn’t put myself out there right away. I decided to work within Welcome Week because I felt like I missed out on so much from holding back.” Facchini used this regret to make sure no first-year ever had to miss out like her and went from skipping her own Welcome Week Ball for Chipotle, to planning the 2018 Ball. She spearheaded more individual programming, like a Bob Ross paint night and astrology meetup, since first-years aren’t as likely to meet their best friend at the Barclays Center Presidential Welcome. Facchini worked with her co-chair, Joey Santore, a senior in Global Public Health, to curate larger scale events, too, like the Brooklyn Bash for commuters, a silent rave and a comedy show with comedian Gina Yashere. “I was actually nervous to work with her at first because I didn’t know if I could match her level of work,” Santore told WSN. “I don’t think I ever did. All of [her] best traits are impressive even when taken individually, but when they come together, they really paint the whole picture of who she is: a steadfast leader who never has to say how much a project might mean to her, because she shows it. You can see it precisely in the way she executes it.”

Witnessing the excitement that came with students enjoying the fruits of her labor, Facchini sought out additional leadership positions. The senior is never not working, with Welcome Week only catalyzing the coming busy year of outside projects. From sorority socials and student council meetings to annual responsibilities like the Gallatin Mental Health Arts Festival, she dedicates herself to a plethora of commitments: most recently, NYDM, a philanthropic event which raised over $600,000 this past weekend. While the 12-hour dance marathon takes place only once a year, NYDM is a year-long crowdfunding campaign that goes straight into the pockets of the families with children battling pediatric cancer. NYDM is a collaborative effort with the university’s Greek life, with most of its participants taking to the dance floor through affiliation with their sorority or fraternity. In fact, it was this event that inspired Facchini to join her sorority, Alpha Sigma Tau. Through the charity, she can honor the life and legacy of a Metuchen High School friend who lost their battle to cancer in 2014. She currently serves as the charity’s experience direc-

“I was actually nervous to work with her at first because I didn’t know if I could match her level of work”

- Joey Santore

tor, and coordinates all of the day-of logistics for the 2,000-person dance party. “Kat is definitely someone you can go to with any and all [questions] and she has an answer every time,” Jen Leonard, a CAS junior and the NYDM morale chair, told WSN. “She’s a reliable person and on top of her game 24/7. All of us at NYDM see Kat putting her entire self into the event, plus she takes on a huge workload for the fall semester.” More so than organizing sponsorship deals with Redbull or speaking to a packed house at Barclays Center, Facchini is most passionate in her relationship to the environment and the efforts she makes to educate those around her. “For me, it’s all about showing how easy it can be,” Facchini said. “I feel lucky to talk about these matters in class and at my job

TONY WU | WSN

Kat Facchini talks to her colleagues during an NYDM meeting. Stickers from Welcome Week and NYDM cover her laptop. every day so now it’s really about showing those around me the resources we already have to make it easier on them and the planet.” Environmentalism is a small part of most people’s lives, but for Facchini, it is her academic concentration and desired future source of income. Not only is her concentration — Environmental Science and History — steeped in environmental policy and sustainable practices, but she spends her free time working in the Mayor’s Office of Sustainability, and this past summer, at the nonprofit Service for the Underserved, known as S:US. As her graduation date nears, potential places of employment loom over Facchini but she says she can envision herself at a company like S:US. S:US works with individuals in society who experience poverty, homelessness or disabilities and through therapy intersecting with agriculture, the company can make a change. This summer, Facchini worked one of the S:US farms in Bushwick, Brooklyn to help these underprivileged populations regain strength through urban practices like beekeeping and sustainable farming. By intersecting therapy with the environment and art with activism, Facchini hopes to make a difference in the lives of both the individual and society at large. “I’m learning I want to cater to populations that don’t get to learn about environmental protection every day,” Facchini said. “It can sometimes become a very privileged conversation and I wish it wasn’t. The people who need sustainable development and infrastructure the most are underprivileged populations so helping them rather than just white areas is something I strive to do.” This is the final New Year’s Eve that Facchini will be spending at NYU. Reflecting on this same period of time before college, Facchini is overjoyed to be among the students and faculty that she is today. In this robust institution of future Nobel Prize recipients and Academy Award-winners, she stands out for her selflessness. It’s clear there’s never been a Welcome Week warrior, or egoless environmentalist like her before.

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Email Ryan Mikel at rmikel@nyunews.com.

TONY WU | WSN

Facchini talks to her colleagues during an New York Dance Marathon meeting. Facchini, a Gallatin senior, is the experience director for NYDM, which raised over $600,000 last year to fight childhood cancer and a total of $1,700,000 since its inception.


ANESU NYATANGA

Love Actionably

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Written by NATALIE CHINN

s members of SHADES trickle into the LGBTQ Center’s lounge for their biweekly meeting, Anesu Nyatanga invites them to grab an empanada and make themselves comfortable in the plush blue chairs. Anesu chats with each person that walks through the door, and everyone eases into conversation, discussing black barber shops and university events. Even though this is the first meeting for some attendees, the group gets along effortlessly. Anesu is a co-leader — or thought leader as they call it — for SHADES, a club for queer and trans people of color. Currently a CAS senior studying Social and Cultural Analysis, Anesu joined the organization his first year. He is also the chair of Gender and Sexuality for the Governance Council of Marginalized and Minority Students, a presidential intern currently working in the Department of Public Safety and a member of student government. Within student government he is the senator-at-large for queer and trans students, as well as black students, and the vice chair of the Student Senators Council. Despite all these titles, there’s only one thing Anesu wants to be known as: a lover. “Is that weird?” he asked. “I kind of have fallen into everything I’ve done because I have love for others, and love for people.”

“I really think black queer and trans people are like the best people on this earth.”

- Anesu Nyatanga

From SHADES to student government, Anesu has immersed himself in these environments because he wanted to extend his love to different groups on campus. For Anesu, part of this means being able to help communities find happiness and reach their full potential. “I think real love is actionable, it’s healing, it’s challenging — it’s a verb,” Anesu said. “It’s a thing you’re constantly doing, constantly trying to do. I have, in moments of my life, experienced not the kind of love that I would like, and I think there are a lot of ways you can respond to that.” As a black transgender man, Anesu has endured moments without love, including the actionable kind. Anesu has identified as trans for many years and medically transitioned when he came to NYU. His identity has put a strain on many of his relationships, and he often felt as though the people around him didn’t understand his identity as a whole — where his blackness and being trans intersected. “I really think black queer and trans people are like the best people on this earth,” Anesu said. “I think that there’s just something beautiful and unique in our collective history and how we navigate this world. And when we all get to be in spaces together

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and talk about it, I think something beautiful happens.” Although it took time to find the communities he feels most at home in, the people in these spaces can see him for who he truly is, which is something he missed for a lot of his life. The close connections Anesu has made have helped him heal — and continue to heal. Throughout his adolescence and into college, his family struggled to come to terms with his identity. His single mother, an immigrant from Zimbabwe, and older siblings didn’t fully understand why he wanted to cut his hair or take hormone pills or get top surgery. Since family meant everything, it became especially hard to imagine life without their support. His resilience has not gone unnoticed. Over the past two years of knowing Anesu, Tisch doctoral candidate Troizel Carr has watched him use his experiences to help and support others. “It’s been so special to see someone who has been through so much still have so much love for the world,” said Troizel, who calls Anesu their mini-me. Troizel started the CMEP retreat, Horizons, which brings together queer and trans black students. Anesu has attended its two retreats so far, and helped facilitate the most recent one, citing it as one of the best experiences he’s had at NYU. For him, creating a space for queer and trans black people to feel safe, appreciated and seen was incredibly powerful. “I think that really can hit your heart in a special way,” Anesu said. “When someone leaves something that you’ve done and looks at you and says that [it] was needed, and that they appreciated it — that’s the best thing ever.” Anesu is constantly trying to create safe spaces for those around him. “Anesu himself is a safe space,” Ron Piper, Anesu’s cothought leader for SHADES, said. “He creates a welcoming space for students just by being present.” Even in large, public settings, Anesu can make a roomful of people feel comfortable and intimate. I saw this during a Town Hall on the Being@NYU results in November, where Anesu sat on a panel alongside university administrators President Andy Hamilton and Chief Diversity Officer Lisa Coleman. It’s the little things — he listens intently when someone else has the floor. Even when he stares at the ground or at someone else’s shoes, his head bobs up and down as he absorbs every word. And when he hears someone speak their truth, he grins and his whole being lights up, charged by their passion. “Everything he does is intentional, he never just shows up to show up, he is present and engaging within all spaces he’s in,” Ron said. “He makes sure that everyone feels the strength and acceptance that their voices should be heard.” Anesu approaches his leadership roles with the utmost seriousness because the people he represents — students, minorities, the LGBTQ community — often get overlooked by institutions. He is very aware of the fact that he has more decision-making power in the NYU community than the average student. In fact, every time I met with Anesu, he brought this up, pointing out that many others deserve to be where he is, too. “I think it’s a lot of privilege,” Anesu said, referencing his power within the university. “It’s not something I like to take lightly. In a way, the privilege really motivates me to do it all.”

KATIE PEURRUNG | WSN

After the panel, Anesu Nyatanga walks around the room and talks with fellow students and friends. And do it all he does. Some projects he’s currently working on are collaborating with other student leaders to create a list of pronouns for students to choose from on Albert and bringing intersectionality to the forefront of institutional conversations. But there is so much more Anesu wants to do — to the point where he wishes there was more time in the day. “You can forget to care about yourself,” Anesu said. “Or you can care about others to run away from caring about yourself. And I think that has always been easier for me — to pour a lot of love into everyone else around me or into whatever instead of putting it in myself.” Despite his hectic schedule, Anesu is the kind of guy that will find time — hours or even mere minutes — to catch up, go watch a movie or grab a drink. Gallatin senior Jaysen Henderson-Greenbey, a leader of Queer Union and a close friend, is amazed by Anesu’s ever-thoughtful soul. “I would recommend a book to Anesu, and he’ll actually read it,” Jaysen said. “He’s always super busy — his calendar is packed — but he will make time for you.” Anesu’s friends describe him as self-sacrificial, noting how much good has come out of his hard work. “He’s brought me out of dark days,” Ron said. But Anesu remains humble. “I hope for him that he realizes how important he is to the existence of other people,” Troizel said. “Because if Anesu wasn’t here, then a lot of other people wouldn’t be here either.” Email Natalie Chinn at nchinn@nyunews.com.

KATIE PEURRUNG | WSN

Nyatanga speaks on a panel about the results of the Being@NYU survey. He is the vice chair of the Student Senators Council and spoke on the behalf of Student Government Assembly.


KATIE PEURRUNG | WSN

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KATIE PEURRUNG | WSN


ZELLA CHRISTENSON The Queen of Food Studies

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Written by YASMIN GULEC

ounds of laughter and the smell of Thanksgiving dinner oozed out of the apartment where NYU Navigator’s all-girl Bible study group hosts its weekly meeting. While the group usually meets up to go over a different chapter of the Bible, this week’s meeting focused on gathering and sharing gratitude over good food cooked by Zella. The Navigators munched on the meal of perfectly glazed rotisserie chicken, mac and cheese, sweet potatoes, brussel sprouts and spinach salad with pomegranate vinaigrette. Among all this food was the piece de resistance; a perfectly golden crusted warm apple crumble with scoops of vanilla ice cream that slowly melted from the crumble’s heat : a beauty. The girls shared stories about their days as they devoured the dessert, gently smiling. One of the members said “My stomach and heart [are] full.” Steinhardt senior Zella Christenson was especially grateful that Thursday night for the Food Studies department in which she studies and works as a Purchasing Manager. “I am thankful for my job that works my brain,” Zella shared after a spoonful of crumble and vanilla ice cream. She went on to tell a story about how she had once cut and kept a whole branch of brussel sprouts growing on the side of the road while road tripping around California with one of her best friends. Brussel sprouts, she emphasized, were their favorite vegetable and when they arrived in San Francisco, she used them to cook a great meal with their friends. Zella shares food stories similar to this all the time. Her passion for food was evident in her enthusiasm in class, inspiring adjunct professor Lourdes Castro to offer Zella a po-

“I love the capacity to transform food and how in ways people do that connects to culture, connects to family and nostalgia”

- Zella Christenson

sition as a teaching assistant in the Introduction to Foods and Food Science course when she was only a first-year. “Zella is one of those people who is wise beyond her years, is tenacious and incredibly empathetic,” Castro said. In the classroom, Zella took the initiative to single-handedly create the department’s first composting program within a month of starting her job. Across the seven sections of the Food Science course, around 140 students diced peppers, sliced potatoes and minced garlic just for their knife skills exam, all of which were thrown away shortly after. Zella started taking the scraps to the Union Square Farmers Market to compost. “I was rolling home with a cart I had stolen from the kitchen,” Zella said. “50 pounds of compost in my dorm and my roommates being like ‘Zella, this is too far.’” Eventually Zella realized that this wasn’t a one-person job. She invited students who had classes in the food lab of the Department of Nutrition and Food Studies to come on the weekly trips to the farmers market and had composting bins placed in the food lab. From there, the Compost Crusaders were born, changing the conversation on waste and sustainability within the department. “That is such an important part of programming, it shouldn’t be dependant on a singular person,” she said. “To have a sustainable program it should be able to function without that person being there.” Zella saw the Compost Crusaders thrive by themselves when she left to study abroad in Argentina the spring of her sophomore year. Argentina became her favorite place that she lived in for an extended period of time. “I love uprooting and I think so much growth happens when you are out of your comfort zone,” she said of her study abroad experience. Born into a military family, Zella is used to being far away from her family members and being on her own. “You learn to adapt, you learn to appreciate the wealth of culture, thoughts, ideas and perspectives that are in this world.” For Zella, there is so much more potential for growth outside of New York. With her post-graduation plans in mind, she applied to the Peace Corps, one of the many options she is considering for her future. “With my interest in Food Studies and Spanish, that generally translates into is being interested in international devel-

KATIE PEURRUNG | WSN

opment, looking at different trade policies and how policy impacts food systems,” Zella said, dwelling on the calming effect that an organized future has. Zella’s interest in food and food policy stems from her past experiences. She used to model in her hometown of Denver and eventually moved to New York to pursue modeling for a year, deferring her acceptance to NYU. After walking for major shows like Yves Saint Laurent’s at Paris Fashion Week, she realized that this was not her calling. Although Zella came to NYU set to become a dietitian, as she strayed away from the modelling world, she found that her heart didn’t desire the world of nutrition. Instead it craved the world of food. “It is kind of hard not to be hyper-aware of what you are eating and putting in your body [as a model] and so it was a genuine interest in nutrition,” said Zella. “I love food, I was never on any super crazy diets but I was just hyper-aware of what I was eating.” Her interest in food and Spanish mushroomed her firstyear when she went on an Alternative Breaks trip to Ecuador after randomly signing up for it at Club Fest. She realized the privilege she had and how that fits into her naive but genuine desire to make a positive impact in the world. “We were looking at the way people in Ecuador were relating to food and how it was so fundamentally different than how people in the U.S. relate to food,” Zella said. “So that was one of the major pushes, maybe I need to rethink how I want to be approaching this interest, how I am interested in food.” After she returned from studying abroad in Argentina, she became the president of the Community Agriculture Project as a junior, a club she had joined as a first-year because she was impressed with the homemade salsa they offered during Club Fest. There, she got to interact with others interested in food production and sustainability. “I think enthusiasm gets me a lot of places in life,” Zella said reflecting back on not only her leadership role in the club but also the jobs she was offered in the Food Lab. “I was just very enthusiastic to be there and I jump into commitments wholeheartedly.” During her junior year, she started working at Steinhardt’s Urban Food Lab as the purchasing manager. She is responsible for purchasing and organizing ingredients for the Food

Lab, making sure all classes run smoothly. “It’s been really cool to learn and to grow in this environment and to feel like I have a job that is meaningful,” Zella shared. “Everytime I get overwhelmed with work I try to remind myself what an opportunity it is to have a student job that is applicable to what I want to be doing.” For Zella, food is a gift. She finds it miraculous that something that is so fundamental to life can taste so good. “There is nothing I love more than going to the farmer’s market and seeing this gorgeous bounty,” Zella said, her eyes lighting up. “For me, it is God’s creation and his creativity in being able to gift us with this joyous experience in fulfilling this biological necessity. I love the capacity to transform food and how in ways people do that connects to culture, connects to family and nostalgia.” While some feel closer to God when they are in nature, Zella feels closer to him when she sees food — similar to the love and care that goes into cooking. Zella feels God’s love for people every time she experiences God’s artistry with food. With this belief in mind, upon a suggestion from her Bible study leader Leann Sebald, she worked as the chef for a nine-week Navigators program in Boston. She is also a Bible study group leader for the NYU Navigators where she leads study every week and creates a space filled with support and gratitude. “Zella is a go-getter, committed and all in for the things she’s passionate about,” Sebald said. “When I think of her, this verse from the Bible comes to mind, ‘He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?’ These are things that Zella fights to embody and I love that about her.” Zella wants to reach as many people as she can using food as a means of connecting and sharing new experiences with them. She aims to combine her academics with her zeal to connect with people and spread love. “My heart is invested in seeing people be well fed,” Zella said. “I can’t separate that desire from people being well fed spiritually because there is so much nourishment in community, in understanding how deeply and profoundly God loves us.” Email Yasmin Gulec at ygulec@nyunews.com.

Zella Christenson reorganizes the pots and pans in the Department of Nutrition and Food Studies Food Lab. Christenson previously worked more one-on-one with Food Lab students, but now primarily works behind-the-scenes.

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AREE WORAWONGWASU

A Journey Home

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Written by JANICE LEE

nside her East Village apartment, Aree Worawongwasu sat crosslegged on her bed. Social justice posters hide her white walls and the typography yells phrases like “not your fetish” and “decolonize, indigenize.” We, two Asian women, faced each other with three tarot cards, pulled from a deck tailored to Asian-Americans, laid out between us. Aree sometimes looks to these cards to ground herself, but on that day, she sought to help me unpack my uncertainty. The three cards before us symbolized my past, present and future, respectively, and each one had an illustrated image and featured a description on the opposite side. I read aloud the card representing my past, the ghost card, which ended with the question: “How have the forces of history brought you to this moment?” As we talked through possible answers, Aree mentioned how she personally grapples with this same question. “For a lot of [Asian-Americans], we’re told to forget the past that’s behind us — that in order to assimilate, live and survive, we forget that our families had been displaced in some way,” she said. “But then sometimes I think, ‘What am I forgetting’ and ‘How could I have forgotten?’ I feel unsettled sometimes and I try to think back to that.” Longing for what has slipped away lies central to Aree’s passion for social justice and her pursuits at NYU as a scholar and activist. Though Aree grew up in Bangkok and her entire family has been in Thailand for generations, she’s not ethnically Thai — she is a combination of Teochew Chinese, a group affected by a diaspora, and Mon, a people indigenous to the eastern delta region of Myanmar. Her father’s Mon ancestors were of those who came to Thailand as refugees to escape the oppressive Burmese regime over Mon lands. Aree traces this displacement to about five generations ago. “It’s hard to trace back these histories and that’s been a side project for me — to just do oral histories of my family,” she said. Despite her transnational background, she fully embraces her identity as Asian-American — not in the sense of citizenship but rather in its original meaning when the term was conceived in the 1960s. Then, “Asian-American” was a unifying, inclusive term across Asian ethnic groups in the United States. that signified solidarity against imperialism and racism. Ever since coming to New York, Aree spends most of her time away from her family and she speaks very fondly of them, with a gentle cheerfulness that’s unafraid of turning into earnest laughter. Her father is an orchid farmer, tending to a farm located an hour away from Bangkok. “He would bring the orchids back home and put them on the rooftop,” she said. “He still brings them back from the farm and sings to them really badly off-key.” As for the orchids that wouldn’t sell, she would bring them to school to give to her friends. For Aree, orchids seem to be a sort of cultural touchstone, emblematic of her upbringing. Growing up, she remembers loathing visits to the countryside when she would have to help her father on the farm, which she now cherishes. “Now that I’m older and reading more about indigeneity and land reclamation, I’m much more interested in farming,” she said. “But now my dad is like, ‘Where was this interest in farming when you actually worked on the farm?’” Apart from her father’s farm, Aree also has a profound, heartfelt relationship with food. Like many Asians, she deems food as one of the richest, most robust forms to communicate love — food, in one encounter, simultaneously carries culture, memory and someone’s care. In her own words, “food is a love language.” Aree recalls her grandmother’s hor mok, a Thai steamed fish custard wrapped in banana leaves. When Aree was still living back home, she would come downstairs to the kitchen and see that her grandmother made hor mok for her. “[My grandmother] wouldn’t announce it either, it would just be like a special surprise,” she said. Now in the United States, Aree is in her fourth year at NYU. Her Gallatin concentration, “Decolonization,” and her minor in Asian/Pacific/American Studies are both deeply rooted in her cultural and ethnic identity. To Aree, her academics are not just a scholarly pursuit — they’re a starting point for action. Aree has been an activist since high school, starting in environ-

ALANA BEYER | WSN

Aree Worawongwasu showcases her collection of anti-colonialist artwork. She used this particular banner while organizing with the liberation movement: “Decolonize This Place.” mental justice, and now organizes on campus with Decolonize This Place, the No New Jails campaign and NYU Sanctuary. In the spring of 2017, she co-founded NYU Asian American Political Activism Coalition, a club on campus that aims to “politically educate and mobilize Asian-American and Asian diaspora students at NYU for our collective liberation.” Aree has been leading as president of APAC ever since it became recognized as a club the following fall. Through her curriculum on indigeneity and Asian-American history, Aree historicizes herself — her study continuously gives her insight on how to interpret the present and mobilize for the future. Assistant Professor Dean Saranillio, one of Aree’s mentors within the Social and Cultural Analysis department, noticed how she would take knowledge from class and directly apply it to herself, a practice that gives relevance and urgency to what he teaches. Outside of class, Aree regularly visits Saranillio during his office hours. When trying to recall what they talk about, Saranillio didn’t know where to start since their conversations are expansive, ranging from concepts discussed in class to Aree’s extensive organizing work. “I’ve always been impressed with the ways in which she wholeheartedly pursues not just what she studies but also what she organizes,” he said. “I think a lot of that is her own Mon identity. For a lot of indigenous peoples, decolonization is about survival.” A former student activist himself, Professor Saranillio is familiar with how bruising and difficult organizing can be and sees his office as a place where Aree can decompress. Activism requires resilience — to vigilantly react to injustice regardless of discouraging setbacks along the way. “The anger is really soul-sucking in many ways,” Aree said. “What’s been important for me is having a support system and friends who I can talk to about it.” Through her activism work, Aree has made some of her closest comrades and friends and part of that is because she centers her work around building relationships. NYU graduate student and NYU Divest member

Lola Jusidman met Aree last year through NYU Sanctuary meetings and the Governance Council for Minority and Marginalized Students. They became much closer this past summer after attending a talk together on the hurricanes in the Caribbean. Aree would eat with Jusidman when she cooked for shabbat, after discovering that they lived in the same neighborhood. Now, their friendship is characterized by depth — they relate to one another by discussing activism, academia and their lives, ultimately redefining their relationship as something much larger than themselves. “[Aree’s] not just thinking about about technologies, programs, policies or structures in the way I do,” Lola said. “She also is really effective at profoundly changing people.” As someone who is entirely dedicated to her work and the people she works with, Aree finds herself consoling her friends dealing with problems and traumas. But she admits that some days, taking care of others is emotionally draining for her. And this isn’t an easy confession for her to make either because she feels immensely grateful to know that she’s trusted within activist spaces. Since activist spaces especially encourage vulnerability, Aree has to manage a delicate balance between helping others and taking care of herself. She aims to prioritize self care as she struggles with mental illness. Even though mental health is an everyday struggle for her, Aree reminds herself to practice self-compassion. “I’m constantly reminding myself that it’s not a linear process and that I need to be patient with my healing,” she said. But nothing stops her from thinking about her ambitions for decolonization and being mindful of how she treats herself and how she relates to other people and the land she’s on. “It’s important for me to always be thinking about how do I not only study decolonization but how do I turn it into an everyday practice.” Email Janice Lee at jlee@nyunews.com.

Worawongwasu does a tarot reading for a WSN reporter. This 22-card deck is designed specifically for Asian-Americans.

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ALANA BEYER | WSN


KATIE PEURRUNG | WSN

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KATIE PEURRUNG | WSN


ERIC GELB Almost Famous

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Written by PAMELA JEW

ow do you become popular at NYU? High school is over and there’s no homecoming to solidify your place in the social hierarchy. At a university with over 25,000 undergraduates, it’s not an easy feat to have more than a few handfuls of people know your name. But somehow, Eric Gelb has done it. I don’t have the numbers to prove it, but I would argue that if you’re part of the Class of 2020 and you have a Facebook, you probably know Eric. He practically has B-list celebrity status — just below the most lionized social activists and Clive Davis starlets. Eric’s starring role has been on the NYU Class of 2020 Facebook group. Even prior to coming to NYU, Eric could be found in the comments or authoring posts. The posts varied from how grateful he was to go to NYU, the search for fellow class members and memes featuring himself. He even has a Twitter page dedicated to his meme-ability. He also promoted his self-published book, “Growing Up in the Wings,” a memoir he wrote his senior year of high school as a reaction to his lack of recognition from faculty members. One member even joked Eric’s book was the required summer reading for incoming CAS students. “Last day of school, I handed it to my principle, never looking back,” Eric proudly told me. This was Eric before NYU, when he was still in his hometown of Huntington Woods, Michigan. Eric’s parents, two white psychologists from New York, adopted him in Hanoi, Vietnam, when he was an infant. Throughout his childhood, Eric’s life revolved around theater. He acted (although he says he wasn’t that good at it) in a local theater group, Project DayDream, and even co-directed his own show, “Project X the Musical,” with his childhood best friend, Ryan Hurley, a junior at Juilliard. The idea came about in their seventh grade gym class, Hurley wrote in an email, when they decided to write their own musical performed at their local library’s basement. In addition to writing a majority of the script, Eric costumed the show, ran its Facebook page, contacted newspapers, found additional venues for their show to play in, made set pieces, funded most of it by himself, among other things. “When you produce a musical at 13, you don’t have a producer or a lighting designer to work with — you are all of those things. It’s you, a couple of parents, and as many friends as you can rustle up,” Hurley said. The stage gave him the opportunity to represent himself and show that people of color can also be center stage. “I’m not your typical Asian kid,” Eric said. “I look Asian, but most of the connection I have to Vietnam is through my appearance. Coming to NYU, I definitely started to see more importance in honing in on my identity. I work on that through theater as well, trying to give people of color more opportunities. Our stories matter too.”

In high school, Eric co-founded Magical Memories Entertainment, which “offers magical and authentic Prince and Princess Entertainment for the Metro Detroit area” according to its Facebook page, and performed as its resident prince charming. But he says the most enriching experience was with Project DayDream. “Project DayDream is where I really learned about the ins and outs of theater,” Eric said. “I got to do everything from acting to producing to directing.” Now, the Steinhardt junior has settled in — into Steinhardt’s Educational Theatre department and his Second Street dorm room ­— but he never settles for long. He’ll soon move out to become a spring semester resident assistant in Third North Residence Hall. Eric calls himself a “constant mover.” All of his belongings fit into two large suitcases and a carry-on. This past summer, after countless applications, Eric found himself with no internship prospects after being a stage management intern for “Wicked” last spring. “I had just finished up ‘Wicked,’” he said, his “Wicked”-emblazoned sweatshirt slung over the seat beside him. “And there was nothing. Nothing. I really thought I was going to get something; I was just on ‘Wicked’ for crying out loud.” Like something out of “Waitress,” Eric packed up his bags and found himself in Macon, Missouri, working at Maples Repertory Theatre and serving cobblers to local theater goers. Each night, he hung up his apron and made his way back to the house where he stayed with locals. Rather than sitting up watching YouTube — something Eric typically does now to wind down — or hanging out with friends — he didn’t have many there — he’d spend time searching for people he could ask for money from. Before Eric left for Missouri, Kayla Greenspan, who interviewed Eric for a producing internship at TBD Theatricals, turned him down for the internship but told him that he could have a shot at being a producer for “Head Over Heels,” the 2018 revival of the Go Go’s jukebox Broadway musical. He just had to raise $50,000 in less than three months to become a producer for the show. After a summer of isolation and many phone calls later, Eric returned to New York for “Head Over Heels” three weeks after opening night to find his name listed among other high-profile creatives, like Goop founder and actress Gwyneth Paltrow and talent agent Rick Ferrari. “I said if I didn’t make my Broadway debut by 26, I’d leave the theater world and reevaluate,” Eric beams. “I’ve done it at 20.” But as a producer, Eric’s sole job is to raise money so the show can go on; he’s raised the money, now his name sits on the poster. Returning to NYU this Fall a Broadway producer, Eric was back to the theater — this time as the director for “Legally Blonde: The Musical” for NYU Lamplighters, a theater club dedicated to producing theater for young audiences. He sits on the Lamplighters’ executive board as special

TONY WU | WSN

Gelb help adjusting an cast member’s wig during a rehearsal of NYU Lamplighters’ “Legally Blonde: The Musical.” NYU Lamplighters is a theatre club dedicated to producing theatre for young audiences, on which Gelb sits as the special events coordinator on the executive board.

TONY WU | WSN

events coordinator. As director, Eric dedicated about 25 to 30 hours a week to the show. Eric says directing “Legally Blonde” is something he gets to do, not something he has to do unlike the annual winter cabaret, a requirement of the special events coordinator. This year’s cabaret will be “Mamma Mia!” which went straight into rehearsals after “Legally Blonde” closed on Nov. 18. In classic Eric Gelb fashion, he turned to the NYU Class of 2020 Facebook page to let the public decide what the show would be although each of his posts hinted at him wanting it to be “Mamma Mia!” “I came up with that idea, and I thought it’d be really fun to ask the community,” Eric says. “Theater is a community.” When Eric takes off his director’s hat, he becomes his friends’ number-one advocate. He keeps a spreadsheet of all his friends’ upcoming events and birthdays so he never misses one. “I try to make those days important to me, and they’re important to them,” he said. Eric dovetails his sentences with “I think people like me,” acknowledging that some people might find him and his social media presence annoying, but he always shows up for his friends despite his jester-like perception. “He’s super open and loving and will accept you for you. I vent to him all the time about relationships, theater, class, friends, you name it, he’s heard it from me,” Emma Burnham, a fellow Steinhardt Educational Theatre junior, told me in Facebook message. But Eric isn’t always this flamboyant, outspoken individual. He often keeps to himself, walking dogs or retreating to his room on weekends because he doesn’t drink or do drugs and prefers not be around that environment. “I’m not really into that scene,” Eric said. “I amuse myself in other types of ways like buying $20-worth of Taco Bell and having people over to my house if I randomly don’t have something to do on a Friday night.” To accompany his Taco Bell feast, Eric tabs through videos of YouTubers like Trisha Paytas, Colleen Ballinger (known as Miranda Sings) and JoJo Siwa. “Watching those videos, it’s like getting to know someone but in hyperdrive, and getting to know people and studying them is something I really enjoy, but I don’t enjoy how long it takes,” Eric explains. Theater gives him the same feeling — he gets to cut straight to the inner psyche of his cast to learn their respective habits and ticks. Like his parents, Eric loves psychology but without all the “science stuff.” He loves the psychology of theater and connecting with people and audiences on stage; it explains his love for directing. Clutching his pillow, Eric tells me theater is all he has. “I’ve dedicated my life to it, and I’d be off without it.” He transitions to paraphrasing a quote by Abby Lee Miller of “Dance Moms.” “When you’re not doing what you love, you should be doing activities about that thing so you can get better at it. If you really like something that much, you should dedicate your entire life.” It’s been three years since I first saw Eric Gelb’s name, but something tells me it won’t be the last. Email Pamela Jew at pjew@nyunews.com.

Eric Gelb reviews the cast’s performance after the rehearsal. “I’ve dedicated my life to it, and I’d be off without it,” says Gelb as he was asked his relationship with the theater.

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TIM SEBASTIAN The Man Behind the Spotlight Written by DANIELLA NICHINSON

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pening night. Tim Sebastian sits in the seats of the SoHo Playhouse and watches as the taxing months-long undertaking of “Next to Normal” culminates in front of an audience. A cocktail of nerves and excitement runs through his body. Everyone who had a hand in animating the show waits behind the curtain as the lights dim and silence fills the room. The draping curtain of a theater stage is a wall that divides perception from reality. It shields the audience from the chaos behind it, leaving the impression of a calmly executed performance. But the actors are just the first layer of the drama. Tim Sebastian, a junior in Tisch Drama’s Production and Design Studio, thrives on the adrenaline from the high-stakes arena of a live show. “There’s a sense of pressure that’s like, everyone’s watching this live, so if something goes wrong, it’s going wrong and everyone’s watching,” he said. “There’s also something about everyone being in a room together watching one thing and experiencing that together. There’s more of a realness for me when it’s in person.” Despite his acclimation to the theater, Sebastian’s introduction to live performance did not happen there. In third grade, he formed a DJ group called The Emcees DJ Company. What began as a simple creative outlet quickly snowballed into a passion: the group played at such venues as weddings and school events. The Emcees still exists, and though it is now run by someone else, Sebastian still occasionally advises its new leaders. He has moved on, but this is where his love for performance flourished. Since middle school, Sebastian has been heavily involved in theater, but the ardor he has now wasn’t always there. It took some coercing by a friend to join the crew of their school production, which slowly but surely sparked his interest in theater’s technical aspects. That road inevitably led to stage management and producing, which is where Sebastian now focuses most of his time as a student in Tisch. Sebastian wasted no time in jumping onto a stage after arriving at NYU. In his time at Tisch, Sebastian has worked as stage manager on projects like “The Conference of the Birds,” “Danny and the Rocket” and “The House of Bernarda Alba.” All of this steered him toward Tisch New Theatre — NYU’s student-run theater organization — where he went on to serve as associate producer and producer for the large-scale shows “Little Shop of Horrors” and “ONWARD,” respectively. Through these shows, Sebastian came to understand the reach of TNT, especially for those who don’t have the chance to see a Broadway production. “[It’s] kind of cool to actually get people into a theater who just don’t really see shows,” Sebastian said. “It’s nice to get them in and share that because it’s a little bit inaccessible if you’re out of New York.” Sebastian was able to see firsthand the effect of a novel live theater experience through his own family. Attending his shows at NYU is the only taste of Broadway his family can afford, and Sebastian wanted to recreate that feeling of inclusivity for students at NYU.

It was this past fall that proved to be the biggest undertaking of Sebastian’s undergraduate career and allowed him to realize his desire for integrating many different backgrounds into the workings of a show. Serving as president of TNT, Sebastian worked as producer on the production of “Next to Normal” — a show that explores mental illness through the eyes of a mother with bipolar disorder. The play ran for an astounding two weeks at the Off-Broadway SoHo Playhouse — TNT’s longest running production yet. Though audiences only saw “Next to Normal” for a couple of weeks in October and November, the process began in April for Sebastian and his TNT team. Those seven months were marked by conversations and planning ranging from the show’s concept and set design to the marketing approach and casting. Though these technical aspects are a necessary evil, Sebastian’s meticulous organi-

cast and crew was composed of students across five different NYU schools. Sebastian recognized that someone from the School of Professional Studies would bring something different to the table than someone from Tisch. Anyone can harbor a passion for theater, and Sebastian believes that it shouldn’t be thwarted by majors or schools. “We love bringing those folks on because many of them did theater in high school and aren’t currently pursuing it now, but still have the passion for it,” Sebastian said. TNT may be a student organization, but it has an air about it — reminiscent of the string of theaters that line Broadway. Casey Whyland, a Gallatin graduate who worked alongside Sebastian at TNT, saw an environment where collaboration was encouraged and everyone, regardless of their role, had an equal voice. “The way that Tim views Tisch New Theatre and wants to make it a welcoming place, it creates this environment of professionalism and this environment of really, really passionate people, which is so lovely to be a part of,” Whyland said. “Tim being the leader of that, serves that community in a way where you feel supported.” For Sebastian, theater is not confined exclusively to the world of Broadway or Tisch. It has a beauty and thrill that he believes should be available to everyone, regardless of whether they live in New York or a small town in Massachusetts; whether they’re a student at the Tisch School of the Arts or the Tandon School of Engineering. Its collaborative nature begs for contribution from an array of minds because each one can offer something new. Art is not meant to be hidden — it is made for the sake of sharing that triumph of creation with others. “When he involves someone in the process, it’s all about working with everyone and building a team and collaborating and bringing everyone into the fold,” Apostolo said. “That inclusivity is something that’s very special — where everyone learns a lot, but it’s not a classroom.”

“There’s a sense of pressure that’s like, everyone’s watching this live, so if something goes wrong, it’s going wrong and everyone’s watching.”

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- Tim Sebastian

zation helped elevate the play and made it a fertile ground for performance. TNT’s Vice President Basil Apostolo, a Gallatin junior, has worked with Sebastian on numerous productions. Apostolo emphasized that despite the hours of labor that go into a project of this magnitude, Sebastian’s devotion to his work never wavered. “One testament to Tim’s dedication is the stamina and dedication he brings to the process from beginning to end,” Apostolo said. “Bringing the same amount of energy to each day takes a lot of effort and that’s something that Tim definitely does.” Maintaining that enthusiasm is not a difficult task for Sebastian — it’s all part of the joy that comes from working with a driven and diverse team. In “Next to Normal,” the

Email Daniella Nichinson at dnichinson@nyunews.com.

SAM KLEIN | WSN

Tim Sebastian occupies a classroom in the Tisch building. Sebastian is the president of Tisch New Theatre, most recently working on a production of “Next to Normal.”


KATIE PEURRUNG | WSN

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KATIE PEURRUNG | WSN


MARK YOKOYAMA The Nuclear Reactor

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Written by JEMIMA MCEVOY

ark limps into Bobst with a cast on his foot. There’s a round Boba Guys sticker slapped on the side, but that holds my attention for only a second. “What happened?” I ask him, a little shocked. I’d seen him only two days before — cast-less — and he’d already canceled an interview with me the week prior for a different medical emergency. “An allergic reaction I got to the cold,” he’d told me in an email. How could someone be so unlucky? “Well, after we met, I was tap dancing,” he explains. An old ankle injury had flared up. “Were you tap dancing in your room?” “Yes.” “OK.” I laugh at him. He laughs at himself. Mark Yokoyama isn’t like most other people. He seems to end up in the emergency room a lot. Eight times so far this year, to be exact. A slight hypochondriac? Maybe. But his lifestyle is notably extreme and often leads to serious health issues. This past summer, for example, Mark grew sick from radiation poisoning. It was low level, he assumes, but still led to hair loss, nosebleeds and sustained fatigue that kept him bedridden for a week and taking medication to this day. The thing about Mark is that he’ll say something jokinglythat throws you off, but then he’ll get very, very serious. After we chat about his tap dancing and the subsequent dirty looks from his roommate, he gets back to his computer, where he’s looking at a map of Japan. “My favorite thing to do is to look at where I used to live,” he says, pointing to the big red dot on Fukushima, a prefecture north of Tokyo. Mark grew up in the countryside, seven kilometers from Fukushima Daiichi, the nuclear power plant that exploded on March 11, 2011 in what is considered one of the worst nuclear catastrophes in history. He was in his last class of the day when the ground began to shake and still remembers the exact time, 2:46 p.m., when the earthquake started to tremble, conjuring a tsunami and then the nuclear explosion that would transform his hometown into a wasteland. Because he was at school in Tokyo at the time, a three-hour drive from his family home, Mark didn’t immediately discern the severity of the situation. Then he turned on the news and watched his home fall apart. “From God knows how many miles away, I watched my hometown be devoured by the tsunami,” he recalls. “Everything changed.” When he talks about it now, it’s almost like he’s back in the mo-

ment — fearfully waiting to hear from his grandma who was in Fukushima at the time, watching his neighbors lose their homes, realizing he would not be returning to his own for a long time. Almost eight years later — finishing up his third and final year of an expedited Public Policy degree — he sits in front of his map tracking radiation in Fukushima, a project he’s working on with NYU’s Marron Institute on Cities and Urban Development. Though he’s thousands of miles from Japan, his head is still fixated on his hometown. “He told me about his experiences living as a refugee in Japan and quite honestly it was shocking that he could lead a normal life after seeing and experiencing some of the traumatic things he did,” said friend and alumnus Robert Escobar, who met Mark during their first-year at NYU’s Washington D.C. campus. “After the disaster, he realized that everything he cared about could be taken from him at any moment. He learned that the only person he could ever rely on is himself.” Every year since the disaster, Mark has returned to Fukushima, parts of which are still tainted by lethal levels of radiation. He’s worked with nonprofits and government organizations, like Human Rights Now, to clean up the nuclear city, and has even taken to working alone to measure, by-hand with a Geiger counter,

Where he grew up, people of different races didn’t coexist in the way he saw that day in New York. As a child, Mark was ostracized from his community because of his Japanese and Native Hawaiian identity. The “bruises, blood and fist fights” that resulted from his bullying became so severe that he eventually had to move to an international school in Tokyo, where he was on the day of the disaster. “I remember the way that the people looked at me,” he said. “I always have that blood, so I don’t look like a Japanese. No matter how much I [tried] to assimilate, in the end I would always be, in the NYU term, ‘other.’” The explosion plucked him the sharp tongues that molded him into an outsider and dropped him in the middle of something more important than fitting in. If the explosion hadn’t happened, Mark says he probably wouldn’t have gone to college. The work he does defines him and has defined his time at NYU. “He’s very much determined to prove those people wrong,” Mark’s roommate and close friend Anna Filoneko, a recent CAS graduate, said of the people who bullied him growing up. “It’s one of the driving factors of what he does, but obviously not the only one. He has a genuine attachment to his homeland and his region specifically, which I respect a lot.” Anna and Mark have been living together since September. She says that he tap dances almost every day — sometimes to rap music — and that it’s not uncommon for her to come home and find him collapsed on the ground. “Coming home: Oh person on the floor! Well, sh-t happens,” Anna laughs. His incredible work ethic and the sky-high standards he sets for himself are what LS professor Louis Pataki says he first noticed about Mark when they met. Pataki worked with Mark on an independent study about nuclear power and political reactions to nuclear disasters. “He sets very high goals for himself … and he meets them,” Pataki said. With a seemingly insatiable drive and a varied selection of interests, Mark has plenty of options post-graduation. Though he was offered a full-time position at J.P. Morgan, he wants to keep doing policy work instead and take advantage of what he sees as a unique opportunity to make a difference. “Since the disaster, I’ve had many friends that went many ways. I had friends who turned to suicide. I had friends who decided to forget about their hometown completely and start a new life. Everyone made their own decisions based on their own rationale. But at the same time, I had the actual blessing to keep pursuing ways to try and fix the situation in front of us.”

“From God knows how many miles away, I watched my hometown be devoured by the tsunami. Everything changed.”

- Mark Yokoyama

the levels of radiation in affected areas of Fukushima (hence the radiation poisoning). Ultimately, he wants to figure out the most effective way he can help other nuclear refugees, which is what he’s been researching as a Gallatin Global Human Rights Fellow, an honor he earned at the end of his sophomore year. If he’s not up all night reading, which he’ll often do until he passes out from exhaustion, hoping to learn everything about policy and economics to further inform his activism, Mark likes to wander. That’s how he found NYU. He was living with a host family in Long Island, New York for nine days to test the waters in the United States and wandered away from his hosts during a trip to Times Square. “I ended up in Washington Square Park, saw the amount of Starbucks, got really excited, saw all the types of people and saw the NYU banner all over the place and thought: I really want to go there,” he said. “I couldn’t understand how everyone could get along in the same park.”

Email Jemima McEvoy at jmcevoy@nyunews.com.

SAM KLEIN | WSN

Mark Yokoyama works with geographic information system mapping software in Bobst Library. Yokoyama is an NYU senior who researches radiation in Fukushima, Japan.

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OMER MALIK A Quiet Force for Good Written by SAKSHI VENKATRAMAN

I

t was Nov. 9, 2016, and the Muslim community at NYU was in a frenzy. Businessman and TV personality Donald Trump had just been elected 45th president of the United States, and someone had spray painted his name onto the door of a prayer room at the Tandon campus. The Muslim Students Association, then led by President Afraz Khan, wasted no time in responding. The leadership team, along with Islamic Center Chaplain Khalid Latif, organized a massive rally on the steps of the Kimmel Center for University Life. Hundreds attended; the main staircase and lounges were completely packed. Khan was up in the early hours of that morning, toiling over the speech he was about to make. Looking over his shoulder was a sophomore: Omer Malik. —

Seven years earlier, on the eighth anniversary of 9/11, Omer was an eighth grader on Long Island, New York. Standing tall, he recited the Pledge of Allegiance along with the other 20 students in his class. But when the time came for a moment of silence to honor those killed in the attacks, all eyes turned to him. Some of his classmates snickered, others looked on with mock-disdain. It was just another day as the only Muslim at school. “It started in middle school, the racist jokes,” said Omer, a CAS senior and current president of the Muslim Students Association. “There were a lot of people who called me a terrorist. I had to do a lot of explaining, like ‘no, my religion means peace.’ I’m always happy to explain, but at a certain point it just gets exhausting. It just didn’t feel like people were willing to listen.” Shy and quiet, Omer has always been a peacekeeper. When his faith or his race became the butt of a joke, he turned the other cheek. “Now I realize it was racist, but in those moments I would just take it,” he said. “I try to keep peace as much as possible. I was just trying to survive.” Lacking a strong Muslim community outside his immediate family, Omer felt like an outsider throughout much of his childhood. But through his three older siblings, all NYU graduates, he found respite. He cites his sister, who is 10 years his senior, as one of the biggest religious influences in his childhood. “My mom worked a lot so my sister would always take care of me,” Omer said. “She was kind of like my second mom.” Some of his favorite childhood memories involve taking the train into the city from Long Island and exploring NYU with his sister or brothers. Walking around Washington Square Park, his head bobbing below the shoulders of students on their way class, 10-year-old Omer was the center of attention among his siblings’ friends. “People took me out to lunch and to hang out in Washington Square Park,” he said. “Everyone was so interested in me.” It was in these formative years that Omer got his first taste of what a large Muslim community looked like — a sharp contrast from what he was experiencing at school only 30 miles away. “It meant everything to me,” he said. So when he was accepted into the class of 2019, he was nothing short of thrilled. Though his reserved na-

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ture made it difficult to find his place during his first year, the roots his siblings established helped guide him. Omer found comfort in what he knew — the Islamic Center. “When I first met him, he was sitting in the lounge on the fourth floor of [the Global Center for Academic and Spiritual Life], and he was kind of to himself and on his own,” said Khan, who graduated from CAS in 2017. As vice president of MSA at the time, Khan felt an obligation to make everyone feel included. So he bought cupcakes and sat down with Omer. After that day, their friendship deepened. Khan went on to be MSA president the following year, and Omer dove headfirst into NYU’s Muslim community. Though not often heard, he was always there. He earned the nickname “Big O” from his friends on the fourth floor of GCASL — the place where he still spends most of his time. “At the end of the day, I can never doubt or question Big O’s dedication,” Khan said. “That is very rare. And I don’t think people know how much he’s had to deal with internally. He has this passion that supersedes everything.” Khan, along with the other leaders of MSA, inspired and mentored Omer through his first and second years at NYU. Islamophobic incidents were on the rise, especially after Trump was elected, and the MSA was on the front lines of the campus political scene. “Everything changed for me after the [2016 presidential] election,” Omer said. “That Wednesday, no one went to class. I remember the park was just completely empty. I take the elevator up in GCASL and everyone is there from the MSA. People are coming in and out, but there were probably 50 kids at a time taking over this lounge.” Omer had found his community. And he looked on as his fellow Muslims mourned what they felt they had lost after the election. “People are laughing, people are crying,” he said. “Every emotion was being felt in a different corner. We were all in that space just healing with each other. It was the worst thing that could happen, but that space was filled with so much love. It’s something I will never forget.” After the rally in response to Islamophobic graffiti at Tandon, Omer immersed himself even more into his MSA duties. “He’s not a personality that really grabs the attention of a room,” Khan said. “But he’s built his name up by staying so consistent in how he participates. Over time, people build that trust with him. Like he’s someone we can continuously rely upon.” Never having held a board position before, Omer took the MSA presidency at the beginning of this semester. The role has brought him new challenges. In early October, it was time for him to organize a

JUSTIN PARK | WSN

Omer Malik volunteers to take donations for NYU’s Islamic Center in Global Center for Academic and Spiritual Life. rally of his own. This time, it was in response to the allegations against now Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh. “[Omer] had friends and peers of his saying ‘it doesn’t make sense for the Muslim Student Association to be hosting or be the lead on this,’” Chaplain Khalid Latif said. “And he said, ‘you know why wouldn’t we be the lead on that?’ It’s not that we only have to convene people together when there is an Islamophobic attack. But within the framework of our religion, an attack on anybody is an attack on everybody.” Twenty clubs ended up cosponsoring the event and Omer, quiet and shy as he is, commanded the attention of hundreds. He encouraged the audience to be there for the women telling their stories and “listen with your hearts.” In short, it’s Omer’s goal — as MSA president and in life — to be present for as many people as he can. Whether it’s through organizing a massive rally or sitting on the floor of the GCASL prayer room talking to students. “To me, being Muslim isn’t just about prayers,” Omer said. “I’m being Muslim just by being nice to people, being welcoming to people, trying to stand up for what’s right.” Email Sakshi Venkataraman at svenkataraman@nyunews.com.

Malik prays with fellow Muslim students in the Grand Hall of GCASL on a Friday afternoon.

JUSTIN PARK | WSN


KATIE PEURRUNG | WSN

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Washington Square News Staff Editor-in-Chief Jemima McEvoy

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