6:30 p.m

The observer | Friday, april 9, 2021 | ndsmcobserver.com

inside Column

This ugly mug

Aidan O’Malley

scene editor

remember the first time you wore a mask?

As we “celebrate” the pandemic’s first anniversary, my snapchat memories have made a painful point of reminding me of countless other milestones. “one year ago, today,” notre dame canceled inperson classes. “one year ago, today,” movie theaters shuttered. And “one year ago, today,” I wore a mask for the very first time.

The snap memory in question is a selfie I took in the driver’s seat of my car. It’s super flattering; shot practically perpendicular to my face, it accentuates every titillating curve of my double chin as I tilt my head into my neck and stare down. channeling my inner ernest hemingway, I chose to keep the caption simple: “WTF.”

WTF, indeed! We were about a week or two into the pandemic at that point, and my sister and I were going to the grocery store for the first time since our family’s initial mad dash earlier that month (a trip that produced snap memories of its own).

When we went that first time, hardly anyone was wearing a mask. back then, people didn’t realize that the virus was transmitted mostly through germs in the air, and I remember oh-so-carefully reaching for what little food remained in the aisles — as if brushing my hand against the wrong cereal box would result in my instant infection. It felt like the start of an apocalypse movie, and my captions on snap said as much. but the first time I wore a mask, I felt silly. It was one of those disposable face masks which, at that point, I had only ever seen on medical dramas on television. I didn’t know which side was supposed to go over my nose versus my chin, and I had yet to master the art of not fogging up my glasses (and let’s not kid ourselves, I’m still not batting 1,000).

To be clear: This is not an anti-mask diatribe. Yes, they’re uncomfortable when it gets hot, and yes, my ears are so disproportionately small that they get sore if I wear one too long. but masks also work. I mean, forget covId-19; have you gotten a coLd this year?

Frankly, I’ve always been taken aback by the vitriol directed towards masks. not that I’m surprised that (some) people feel as if wearing one is an infringement on their God-given right to infect random strangers with a deadly, viral pathogen — that was to be expected! rather, my incredulity stems from the fact that, honestly … I kind of like wearing one. consider earlier this semester, when the temperature regularly ran below zero with windchill. every morning, I would bundle up for a long, windy walk from my dorm in the northernmost corner of campus all the way to the debartolo Performing Arts center for class. hat, gloves and scarf were a must but so, too, was a mask. And I’ve never been warmer! I might just wear a mask next February, too. no chapped lips for me! not to mention, masks can serve as a bold fashion statement. have you ever coordinated your mask with the rest of your outfit so perfectly that you feel like you walked off the cover of vogue — like the world is your personal runway, like you’re meryl f*cking streep in “The devil Wears Prada?”

And what about the amazing anonymity that wearing a mask provides? sometimes, I simply do not wish to be perceived. And when I wear my big, baggy coat with my baseball cap and mask, I become invisible. I feel like batman!

And that’s not all. here at The observer, we “uncover the truth and report it accurately,” and the truth is … I am not a looker. At the very least, I do not consider myself to be, and wearing a mask has not only reduced my social anxiety for looking like moe from “The simpsons,” it’s also reduced the time I used to waste every morning to try and un-moe myself. okay, maybe my love of masks is an indication of deeper insecurities. but I am noThInG if not self-aware, and if masks are the first step in learning to love this ugly mug, consider me a follower of public health guidance.

You can contact Aidan at aomalle2@nd.edu

The views expressed in this Inside Column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

I got into sports, and you should too

Vince Mallett

Independent Idealist

A little more than a year ago, I decided to become a ‘sports guy.’ not in the sense of participating — that’s a whole different ball game. I decided to be someone who watched sports, knew what was going on and could talk about it afterward.

I wasn’t totally ignorant of sports before. I played three sports a year growing up, as did my older siblings. my family watched frequently, rooting for the Yankees in the mLb and split between new York/new Jersey teams for the other major leagues. I’ve lived around conversations about sports for most of my life. When I was looking at colleges, I wanted to find a place where school spirit was manifested in athletic competition — and I obviously ended up choosing such a university.

I had never been really invested in the whole enterprise, though. I watched the super bowl every year, but I rarely knew who would be playing before the day of the game. I played sports, but I was more comfortable in school, or extracurriculars like boy scouts or the band. I went to every notre dame home football game, as well as a bunch of hockey and basketball games; I learned a lot about how those games were played, since I had been a soccer player, baseball player and wrestler in my years of sports. but as of late 2019, I couldn’t tell you what a cornerback did, who played third base for the Yankees or name more than two or three current basketball players. my lack of interest definitely was related to, though not entirely because of, my being gay and out of shape. I never had the skills to excel in sports, and I never truly felt at home in that area of life.

I can’t quite put my finger on what spurred me to invest my time in sportswatching and “rededicate” myself to my favorite teams. It was absolutely a conscious decision: my friends and family rolled their eyes when I first publicly announced the move, and by now are quite tired of my discussing it. I definitely wanted to be more involved in sports conversations with straight men, a group that comprises most of my close friends. I’ve always been a fan of a friendly argument, and especially of winning them, which is probably clear from my major and the fact that I write a column for The observer. I had known enough about sports to enter into arguments about them, but not enough to ever actually take a correct position; I very much wanted that to change. I enjoy thinking about complex ideas and learning about new areas, but I was looking for some area that I didn’t believe I was obligated to learn about, so there would be no pressure to learn at any particular pace or to any particular level.

That last point was one I certainly could not have articulated a year ago, but it has proven to be the most rewarding aspect of my experience. In a year of worrying about a global pandemic, increasingly conspicuous political violence and economic despair, it was a welcome relief to think about the disastrous season of the new York Jets, hockey’s distinction between a ‘point’ and a ‘goal,’ and the never-ending debate over the top five most attractive quarterbacks in the nFL. (Two quick side notes: one, for those attracted to men, professional sports provide a wonderful supply of eye candy, and two, my straight guy friends have gotten quite a kick out of this aspect of my sports fandom.) It’s been great to spend time thinking about things that aren’t so consequential, to be able to really enjoy an activity without concern for its larger implications.

Which isn’t to say, of course, that sports are apolitical, that they lack social influence, or that they don’t have profound impacts on both their participants and their fans. I’m a proponent of the idea that nothing is really apolitical, that every human interaction and activity has an impact on the functioning of the community, society and state. sports, however, are not meant to function as a means of social reform or the implementation of justice. Those ideas impact how sports operate, and to some extent vice versa, but sports are meant to be enjoyed for the competitive spirit they instill. In my opinion, that sort of competitive spirit too often manifests itself in areas such as politics these days, where we shouldn’t be rooting for particular teams or individuals, but instead for the good of the country. certain areas in life are meant to enact justice, others are meant to be competitive and fun. They always influence each other, while remaining fundamentally oriented towards different ends.

I always thought the problem between me and sports was a problem with sports: It was too toxically masculine, too exclusive of LGbTQ folk, too focused on the kind of athletic success I didn’t value, too racially problematic. I wasn’t entirely wrong — those are all problems that major leagues and other athletic institutions need to address, especially the last. but I wasn’t entirely right either. The athletic arena has more to offer to the uninterested than I had realized: communities that are largely but not exclusively tied to geography, an easy topic of conversation to bring up with both strangers and friends, intellectually stimulating subject matter, and an outlet for competitiveness without social discord. If you’re not into sports, and never gave it much of a try, I recommend you go for it. If it isn’t for you, that’s fine! but you might find it more fun and rewarding than you would have thought. I certainly have.

Vince Mallett is a senior majoring in philosophy with a minor in constitutional studies. He currently lives off campus, though he calls both New Jersey and Carroll Hall home. He can be reached at vmallett@nd.edu or @vince_mallett on Twitter.

The views expressed in this column are those of the authors and not necessarily those of The Observer.

The observer | FRIDay, apRIL 9, 2021 | ndsmcobserver.com

A month with no taste or smell

Megumi Tamura

subject to change

About a month ago, I tested positive for covId-19. Unfortunately, I was not one of those people who experienced the virus without any symptoms. I was immediately hit with the worst fever and headache I’ve ever felt, my entire body ached to the point where I could barely get out of bed, I was coughing constantly, my throat burned like I was swallowing fire, I felt a strange pressure in my chest, I found it difficult to take a deep breath and I completely lost my sense of taste and smell. Fortunately, I was not one of the millions of people whose symptoms got so bad that they had to go to the hospital.

A month later, my symptoms have mostly gone away except for one: I still cannot taste or smell anything at all. While at first this was the symptom which bothered me least because it was better than, say, having difficulty breathing, I’ve come to realize how much of an impact it’s had on my well-being and day-to-day life. I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining about this because, thanks to my age, health and luck, I was fortunate to not experience the virus too severely like so many people around the world. rather, I thought I’d use this column to share how my view of the world has been altered a bit in the past month. before getting into my own experiences with this peculiar symptom, I’ll explain the research I’ve found behind it. While a loss of smell and taste can be a sideeffect of the common cold due to congestion, this is not necessarily what happens when someone gets covId. Instead, sArs-cov-2 (the virus which causes covId-19) may be affecting the functioning of olfactory support cells in the upper nasal cavity. According to an associate professor of neurobiology at harvard medical school, “the novel coronavirus changes the sense of smell in patients not by directly infecting neurons but by affecting the function of supporting cells.” Luckily, this means that anosmia (this loss of smell and taste) is typically not permanent. The science isn’t completely certain at this point as to why anosmia occurs, but it’s become one of the most telling signs of covId.

We take in the world around us based on our five senses: sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste. For those of us lucky enough to be born with all five of those senses functioning, they are what bring color — both literally and figuratively — into our lives. Whether it’s watching a beautiful sunrise, hearing the voices of our loved ones, holding someone’s hand, tasting our favorite foods or smelling clean laundry, our senses allow us to fully experience life. When we suddenly lose one or two of those senses, it can be quite destabilizing and unsettling.

I remember biting into a piece of ravioli pasta a month ago and being utterly confused as to why I was met not with the familiar cheesy and tomatoey flavor, but rather a mushy, starchy, flavorless cloud of nothing. Figuring the ravioli was just off that day, I shrugged and tried bits of the rest of my lunch only to be continuously met with no flavor. I tried gurgling some Listerine mouthwash, knowing its strong, chemical taste couldn’t possibly be missed, only to feel like I was gurgling water. From that meal up to a month later, eating — something that’s always brought comfort and joy to my life — has become an upsetting experience that’s affected my mental and physical health in ways I didn’t expect. smelling and tasting is a fundamental way through which we connect with the world and people around us. When that ability to smell and taste is all of a sudden lost, I’ve noticed that the world becomes a little duller and loses a bit of its color. The little sense of excitement I get whenever I pick up my favorite meals from the dining hall is met with disappointment when all I sense is a flavorless mixture of weird textures and mushiness. Walking outside and not being able to smell the earthy scents of an approaching spring or the aroma after it rains sucks small moments of joy out of everyday life. It can feel isolating at times; like I’m living behind a wall through which I can see the world but can’t fully experience it. It’s like when a word is on the tip of your tongue but you just can’t retrieve it: I know what the pizza on the plate in front of me is supposed to smell and taste like, but I just can’t reach it. It’s affected my mood and my appetite as well, as the amount that I eat has decreased significantly within the past month. I don’t eat until my stomach is begging me to because I don’t have much of an appetite. eating food has become something done out of pure biological necessity rather than enjoyment and pleasure.

Granted, it’s only been around a month since I lost my smell and taste, and I’m incredibly lucky to only have these symptoms to deal with unlike the millions of people who have had to be hospitalized, put on ventilators or lost their lives due to covId. I am not someone who likes drawing attention to myself (this is the same person who once got up and walked after tearing my AcL because “I didn’t want to worry anyone”), but I have to say that the way someone experiences life is altered when two of their five senses disappear out of nowhere, and the effects on my mental, emotional and physical health are hard to ignore. The past month has made me realize how important smell and taste are to our everyday lives. We don’t pay much attention to them, but — like most of the “little things” in life — it’s certainly something you notice when it’s gone. hopefully, my taste and smell will return soon. meanwhile, I’ll end by encouraging you to get vaccinated (I’ll direct you to fellow columnist clark’s piece) and help bring this virus, the loss of life and the physical, mental, emotional, economic and social detriment it has had on our country and the world to an end.

LETTER TO THE EDITOR

Megumi Tamura is a first-year in the Gateway Program. She is originally from Ridgewood, New Jersey and enjoys going to museums, watching political debates and eating Jersey bagels. She can be reached at mtamura@nd.edu or @megtamura on Twitter.

The views expressed in this column are those of the authors and not necessarily those of The Observer.

honored, humbled and ready to serve

dear friends,

After more than a year in the pandemic, this spring is marked with an air of hope. Alongside the sunny days and vaccine rollout, it seems like we are on the road back to “normal.” As we look ahead to the future, it is certainly important to reflect on the difficult challenges we have faced in the past year.

In our nation, we have witnessed strong recent reactions to racial injustice towards the black and Asian American and Pacific Islander communities and increased tensions alongside a divisive election. here at notre dame, we have lost three beloved members of our community: olivia, valeria and Jude. In the midst of this and the pandemic, we have also faced an intense mental health crisis.

Yet some of the best leadership is forged in the crucible of difficulty. We owe a great deal of gratitude to rachel, sarah and Aaron for their adaptability and leadership during these uncertain times. In the unique circumstances we faced, they selflessly and wholeheartedly served the student body. Their service over the past year serves as both an inspiration and a motivation for us, and we thank them for everything they have done.

Last night, as the 2021-2022 student senate convened for the first time, we took our oath of office and had our executive cabinet confirmed. We are honored that the student body entrusted us with these roles and are eager to be in service. As we assume our new responsibilities, we want to assure you that we are here for you, the students. We invite you to reach out to us should you need anything at all. We are hopeful for the year to come, not only because of all the goals we have laid out, but also because we will emerge stronger than ever from this incredibly difficult year. As notre dame continues its mission to fight for the common good, we will continue the mission of student government, which is to serve that good on behalf of the student body.

Looking forward, we hope to start working right away to build a better notre dame. our campaign was focused on getting students the support they need and deserve — ensuring holistic health and well-being, standing in solidarity with the marginalized and bridging the gaps in our community. In our term, we aim to fight for an equitable academic environment, mental and sexual health resources, greater accessibility, sensitivity for difficult financial circumstances, transparency from the administration, a greener campus and more. before this semester ends, we look forward to a possible student voice summit to hear student concerns and recognize student agency in decisions related to campus policy and programs. We also look forward to crafting educational resources for our campus’ sexual health through partnerships with student organizations. In the midst of this, we want to be as transparent as possible, so we look forward to establishing a student government newsletter to keep the campus community up to date on student union affairs. on this Friday of the octave of easter, we take inspiration from today’s psalm: “o Lord, grant salvation! o Lord, grant prosperity!” In the year to come, we know that this community will experience both salvation and prosperity, and that you can guide us as we traverse whatever challenges may also arise. There is no way to anticipate what lies ahead, but we will weather it together as the Fighting Irish. The sunshine and flowering trees all over campus remind us of the beauty of our Lady’s University. We are honored, humbled and ready to serve.

Love thee,

Allan Njomo

student body president

Matthew Bisner

student body vice president

Alix Basden

chief of staff April 8

The observer | Friday, april 9, 2021 | ndsmcobserver.com

Margaret Beuter

show some skin

I once heard a homily about a man who was instructed by his therapist to sit in the middle of an empty room — alone. For a full hour. no music, no sounds, no movements, no one to accompany him. Just him and his mind, sitting.

This may sound nice at first — I, for one, find myself saying, “I wish I could just sit and do nothing” anytime I feel overwhelmed by the ludicrous amount of things on my to-do list. but for a full hour?! In broad daylight? This man wasn’t even allowed to nap. After a few minutes, he started to get anxious. he eventually caved into his discomfort and turned on music. When he reported back to his therapist on his hour-long agony, he was told that he had failed. he had jumped immediately to a distraction, something to tune out the thoughts that he habitually shoved away. They had come crawling back, and there was nothing he could do to halt the tide. Angry thoughts, sad thoughts, selfloathing thoughts. All the messages our minds send us that we wish would remain at a healthy distance. or at least what we think is a healthy distance.

For me, that distance from self-loathing thoughts — or, as many people refer to it, “negative self-talk” — was eliminated in high school. every time I was alone driving myself to and from school, alone at my desk doing homework, alone eating at the dinner table — my mind abruptly began yelling at me.

WhY cAn’T YoU JUsT cheW And sWALLoW LIKe A normAL Person? FInIsh YoUr dAmn dInner.

WhY dId YoU sAY ThAT AT LUnch? no one ThInKs YoU’re FUnnY.

YoU KnoW ThAT TheY’re ALL PLAnnInG To hAnG oUT WIThoUT YoU LATer. she TALKed behInd YoUr bAcK And sAId YoU hAve A sTIcK UP YoUr Ass. Is ThAT WhAT everYone sees When TheY LooK AT YoU?

LIKe ALWAYs, YoU’re osTrAcIZed. dIsPLAced. From YoUr FrIends, YoUr bodY, YoUr oWn mInd.

WhY WoULd AnYone WAnT YoU AroUnd, AnYWAY.

I was so utterly, perpetually intimate with these screaming thoughts that I couldn’t see around them anymore. They defined my sight. Anywhere I went, they insisted on following. I started to understand why the man from the homily was so antsy, so quick to distance himself from his frightening mind. somebody in my show some skin small group performed a monologue about anxiety and panic attacks, and it has a line that reads, “...it leaves me scared of myself, scared of my brain. I’m literally fighting with myself.”

When I heard this line at our first readthrough, I was yanked back into that space of screaming, self-loathing thoughts. not only did they trail me like a loyal pet, they transformed me into a being constantly afraid of herself. Always at war, just not visibly.

As brandi carlile (a musician I dearly love) sings,

“my mind and spirit are at odds sometimes.” my spirit claimed that I was loved. my mind claimed that I was not. my thoughts yelled that I was a fool, laughable and always dIsPLAced. UnseTTLed.

I would cry, I would try to take big deep breaths (which never really worked), I would write in my journal. but all that time, I was expecting that these practices would silence the negative self-talk. That the self-loathing thoughts would be exiled to a place so far that their relentless mockery was simply out of earshot.

This is not what we should hope for. These thoughts will inevitably come, whether they’re self-loathing, angry or sad. Whatever they are, to whomever they speak. They will remain. I’m sure the man alone in the room can attest to that.

These days, though, I am not tethered to these thoughts. They still yell at me from time to time, but I can finish my dinner without their criticism. I can exist in social settings without them second-guessing every move I make. I can recall that there are reasons why I am a hUmAn and deserve both self-love and the love of others. not because the thoughts are silenced, but because I acknowledge them and (try, at least) to let them pass in peace. negative self-talk is a common human experience. As it once was for me, it can be consuming, the only means of sight. If it is consuming for you, muster up all the courage you have and tell somebody. That is what helped me regain my sense of self, and I am no longer waging a constant war with my mind.

If you feel as though there is no one to tell, tell a stranger. We all understand because we have all felt displaced. We have all felt bombarded by our screaming thoughts at one point or another. We can’t always halt their tide, but we can attempt to let them pass.

Mind-war

Margaret Beuter is a part of this year’s Show Some Skin. Show Some Skin is a student-run initiative committed to giving voice to unspoken narratives about identity and difference. Using the art of storytelling as a catalyst for positive social change across campus, we seek to make Notre Dame a more open and welcoming place for all. If you are interested in breaking the silence and getting involved with Show Some Skin, email s.someskin@gmail.com

The views expressed in this column are those of the authors and not necessarily those of The Observer.

do more than denounce

Antisemitism is on the rise in America. A recent Anti-defamation League (AdL) survey found that 63% of American Jews had experienced or witnessed antisemitism over the past five years — a 10% increase since last year’s poll. And Tuesday night, antisemitism made a horrific appearance on notre dame’s campus, at an event hosted by the Jewish club at notre dame. An unknown group of people Zoombombed the meeting, sharing lewd content and harassing event organizers — one of the individuals who tried to disrupt the event even had a swastika as their profile picture. While club leaders believe these individuals are not associated with the University, the notre dame administration nonetheless launched an investigation into this hateful act — a good first step toward ensuring antisemitism and bigotry continue to have no place in our community. but the events of Tuesday night tell us something bigger than just the fact that Zoombombers are still thriving. Tuesday’s meeting was meant to be a safe space for the Jewish community here at notre dame during Antisemitism Awareness Week — a community that is a minority on our campus. but instead, it was violated by internet trolls looking to inflict psychological and emotional harm upon our fellow students. Tuesday night should serve as a reminder that it’s still on all of us to stand up for marginalized communities; it’s still on us to be active allies for justice. our tri-campus is primarily white and overwhelmingly catholic — this is a fact. And not in spite of, but because of this integral part of our schools’ identity, we must work to make this a place where other faith communities can also thrive. As a predominantly white institution, notre dame, specifically, owes its minority students safe spaces where they can thrive without fear of harassment. because our tri-campus tends towards homogeneity, it’s on each of us — students, faculty, employees, alumni — to keep this responsibility to each other in mind and work to create spaces for all people to live their truth. It’s on each member of the tri-campus community to shut down offensive jokes and challenge injustices. It’s on each of us to educate ourselves so we can recognize blatant hate, structural disadvantages, microaggressions and ignorance. In a world that is growing increasingly disconnected — be it by a pandemic, extremism, inequality — we must be more intentional in connecting to the life experiences of those around us.

Listen to those who are directly affected by bigotry and the actions it begets. check in on your Jewish friends — and the African American, hispanic and Latino, Asian American, LGbTQ, disabled, low-income people that surround you as well. but don’t only check in when an unfortunate event happens; rather, try to be proactive. Pay attention to the different ways in which they experience this world, and use those lessons to nurture safer and stronger communities today, so that we can look to the future with hope for better days for all people, not just privileged majorities.

The creation of safe spaces specifically for our Jewish community at notre dame should not be limited to the social sphere, either. The University can cultivate a more diverse and inclusive campus by extending these opportunities to its academic programming. currently, there are three Jewish studies positions under the theology department. Yet a tangible undergraduate program, concentration, minor or major in Jewish studies does not exist. Allowing students to study this subject would not only enable important discussions, but also connect with Jewish scholars on campus. In a university guided by a mission to foster solidarity, implementing these academic opportunities would breed greater understanding and tolerance.

At The observer, we hope to be a safe space for the tri-campus community and work to amplify the voices of underrepresented groups. Letters to the editor are a form of expression available to anyone, and our viewpoint department works especially hard to share the opinions of each student, professor and alumni of the tri-campus who wishes to do so. our news department is always looking for stories we should be sharing with the greater community and striving to learn how we can serve our tri-campus better — if you have any tips, we are here and happy to listen.

We can wish and pray all we’d like for a more secure and more diverse community, but it’s our responsibility to help create that community. each of us needs to work to not only condemn bigotry in the strongest possible terms, but also to actively create and cultivate safe spaces for those around us and to advocate for larger, more structural safe spaces within our campus communities. A better future demands it from us.