The Mirror 05/09/14

5.9.2014

MIRROR R

RACIAL PASSING|2

THE UNICORN THEORY| 3

A modern debutante| 6

YOGA CULTURE| 8 ERIN O’NEIL // THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

2// MIRROR

EDITORS’ NOTE

An examination of racial passing at Dartmouth story

ANNIE MA // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

The “Dartmouth is Happy” video got us thinking. First, why were we not asked to be in this video? When the videomakers approached Emma in the Reserves, she was sure they would ask her to show off her stellar dance moves.

But no, they just wanted to make sure it was okay if they disturbed the sweltering silence for five minutes. In the aftermath of this snubbing, we sat back and wondered — are we happy? Luckily for all of you, we have come to the conclusion that, for the first time since we began working on The Mirror, both of us are simultaneously in a good mood. Maybe it’s the nice weather or maybe it’s the Coke “hug me” machine in FoCo that provides us with the love our imaginary boyfriends do not.

Jasmine is sort of in a good mood, but it is probably because she is simply ignoring all the reasons why she should be in a bad mood for a few hours. Taking three math and problem set-heavy classes this term has proven too much for her frail heart and ego. Lost in a frenzy of midterms with equations she doesn’t understand and a basket of laundry that hasn’t been done in an unmentionable number of weeks, Jasmine only feels silent resentment when she sees truly happy people frolicking on the Green and lackadaisically throwing a frisbee around. Why aren’t y’all studying? Commiseration is so hard to come by nowadays.

After what should have been a pretty bad week, Emma somehow ended up feeling quite content. Last Friday, her phone tragically fell (it was not her fault at all), and now the screen permanently displays a pretty but useless design of blue lines. After asking every CS major in BG if they could fix it, she came to terms with the fact that the phone was doomed. Although during the first few days of her phoneless week she was paranoid about missing hundreds of texts, she then remembered that no one ever contacts her. The week turned out to be quite liberating and gave her an excuse to be late to things. She also passed out while charitably giving blood on Wednesday, awaking to seven worried faces crowded around her. This near-death experience has given her a new appreciation for life, and she also enjoys the sympathetic looks she gets after telling the story.

Although Pharrell inspired us with his catchy lyrics, another editor just told us that “clap along” happens to be one letter away from “clap alone.” Take that as you will.

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MIRROR R MIRROR EDITORS JASMINE SACHAR, EMMA MOLEY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF LINDSAY ELLIS PUBLISHER CARLA LARIN

EXECUTIVE EDITORS MICHAEL RIORDAN STEPHANIE McFEETERS

B y Haider Ghiasuddin

Dartmouth was the first Ivy League institution to admit a black student — Edward Mitchell, Class of 1828.

No doubt his success stor y has been often told before; Mitchell passed his entrance exams, but the Board of Trustees revoked his acceptance, fearing the ensuing campus chaos. Following this decision, a student committee wrote a wonderful letter conveying its distaste for the Board’s decision, and the College reenrolled Mitchell. One of the letter’s four signatures belonged to a “dark-skinned Caucasian,” Charles Dexter Cleveland, Class of 1827.

Though Dar tmouth celebrates Mitchell’s stor y, one would be naïve not to ponder the pressures that came with being black in an elite institution during that period. As with much of the past, we must account for the stories that were hidden, particularly on purpose — of those who could conceal their identity and felt forced to do so. I speak of the passing, the practice where some black individuals presented themselves as white, that must have occurred at Dartmouth to the same extent it did at other elite American colleges. In the process of exploring historical passing, I interviewed four Dartmouth undergraduates on their feelings about passing and its relevance, if any, to black students at Dartmouth today.

Prejudice about intellect and race that promoted passing in the past are alive and well, seen in the experiences and sentiments some students relayed to me.

“Racial passing at its core is about making a part of yourself more palatable,” Chloe J. Jones ’16 said. “I think doing so in order to feel welcome or accommodated in certain spaces is a common thing.”

Jones cites selective self-censorship in the classroom as an example of the sort of sacrifice she has made.

“Sometimes I feel like I have to pick my battles and what I’m being critical of,” Jones said. “People will see me being critical of what is this one tiny, minute thing to them and it makes ever ything else I say after that inflammator y.”

In the 1890s, Anita Florence Hemmings hid her race to gain admittance to Vassar College. Weeks before her graduation, Hemmings’s roommate

’17 Guy: It’s not even DJ Self-H8?

I’m not going.

’16 Girl: All I did last year was drink, and all I do this year is lurk.

had her father hire a private investigator to confirm her suspicions, creating a controversy that nearly prompted Vassar to rescind Hemmings’s diploma. At later reunions, the roommate would complain about her “painful experience.”

A Boston newspaper at the time implied that passing was not a strategy Hemmings pursued actively: “Miss Hemmings certainly did not go to Vassar under an assumed name, nor did she give a fictitious residence.”

It would appear that, simply due to her presence at an elite academic institution, Hemmings was assumed to be white with little effort on her part. This sentiment seems to still hold some relevance.

On her arrival back home to Zimbabwe after her freshman year at Dartmouth, Tendai Masangomai ’15 recalled a family friend saying, “Now that you’ve come back from the U.S., you sound like a white person.” This was intended as a compliment and for this reason she didn’t let it upset her, though she said it did made her feel awkward for a second. She spoke to how at home “speaking like a white person” correlates to a master y of English.

“It’s why people say that to ver y smart black people, ‘Oh, I don’t see you as black,’” Jeremy Whitaker ’15 said. “‘Oh, I don’t see you as black because you’re from this rich, well-off family’ ... [As if to say] if someone’s black they have to be poor, unintelligent, unattractive.”

Whitaker said this problem is part of a dichotomy that exists for black students. Either they are categorized as non-black (“I don’t see you as black”), he said, or only identified in terms of their race (i.e. being someone’s “black” friend).

“You’re black. You’re at Dar tmouth,” Jones said. “The assumption is you’re here for ver y specific reasons, and you come from a ver y specific home life.”

Jones said she felt that her high school peers resented her success in college admissions, attributing it to her race.

At the end of his freshman year, Abdul-Rashid Alhassan ’16, who is from Ghana, recalled his friend

CS Prof: There’s absolutely no correlation between attendance and your grade.

’09 Guy at Pigstick: Can I get a hit of that cigar? ’16 Girl: Sure. Wait. Do you have an STD? ’09 Guy: Not in my mouth!

telling him that before he came to Dar tmouth, he thought Alhassan “was another charity case from Africa.”

“His assumption was that me being a black African meant I was here off of American generosity as opposed to academic achievement,” Alhassan said. “I don’t feel like he meant to intentionally insult me.

His assumption was a product of an inaccurate American perception that is a remnant of the historical racism that led to passing in the past.”

Indeed, Alhassan sees the problems of elite institutions like Dartmouth as uniquely American.

“Before coming to America I wasn’t aware I was a black person,” Alhassan said. “I knew I had melanin in my skin, more than ever yone else, but that was just a fact. I came to America, and being black is an identity.”

Jones said she has found her place through the Afro-American Society, to the surprise of her parents.

“We lived in a middle-class suburb, and I went to a tech high school in a ver y specific STEM program where you cannot find many AfricanAmerican or Latino students,” she said. “That was my friend group. I didn’t have a presence of black or Latino communities always present.”

When she arrived at Dartmouth, Jones said she felt most comfortable in the AAM’s space. If someone made a comment in class that she did not feel confident calling out, the AAM offered her a group with whom she could discuss these topics.

Whitaker noted that perhaps asking if the phenomenon of passing is now obsolete is the wrong question to ask.

“I’m afraid of how people are going to tr y and sweep it under the rug,” Whitaker said. “You know, well, we all personalize differently, we are all social creatures, we are all wearing masks in a sense ... In what ways is it [much more] dangerous to have a racial mask? What ways is it dangerous to have a cultural or religious mask? Like you feel that you can’t be the more vital parts of yourself in a certain environment. Are these things being un-accommodated in that environment?”

’16 Girl after orgo: Maybe I should just forge my medical license.

’17 Guy: The best part about having a single is that you can fart as much as you want to without annoying anybody.

MIRROR //3

Finding your unicorn story

Trending

B y MADDIE BROWN and Lindsay keare

D @ RTMOUTH

pow-wow weekend

high yield Dartmouth on the rise? Stay tuned.

GREEK WEEK ALISON GUH // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

You’re walking around campus when BAM! You spot your unicorn walking toward you.

You’ve already seen them three times today, and you know you will see them at least three more.

Are they stalking you? Are you subconsciously stalking them? Either way, they are coming closer.

You stare off at a tree in the distance, trying your best to avoid the awkward eye contact, but it’s inevitable. Right as they pass by, you look up and give them the usual half-smile. “See you soon,” you think.

Maybe you know their name or maybe you don’t, but we have found that most people on campus have their elusive unicorn. Your unicorn is that person you see everywhere and always cross paths with; you both recognize each other, but rarely move past the awkward eye contact because you’ve never actually met.

While standing in the KAF line, we approached Kevin Donahoe ’17 and asked him to tell us a little about his unicorn.

“Well, it’s a guy in Beta,” he said. “He has earrings, and I see him a lot. He complimented me on my Jordans once, but we have never officially met.”

Donahoe had encountered his unicorn earlier that day at the gym. They were standing next to each other and were the only two in the area.

It was a little awkward because they had once interacted, Donahoe said, but they didn’t actually know each other.

Donahoe’s unicorn, Ben Wood ’16 — whom we identified from Donahoe’s description — was sitting at a desk on First Floor Berry about 30 yards from the KAF line. While Wood told us about two of his unicorns (a ’15 in Psi U and a ’17 from his class in the fall), he did not immediately think of Donahoe. After showing him a few of Donahoe’s Facebook default pictures, he instantly recognized him.

“Oh, what’s his name? I met him at Beta and I liked his shoes,” he said. “I’ve definitely seen him around a lot since then.”

Well, now that we have informed Wood that Donahoe is his unicorn, I think he will start to notice every time they pass each other on the Green or stand next to each other at the gym, and now those encounters may be a little less awkward. You’re welcome, boys!

So why do we have unicorns? Are these unicorn connections generally unreciprocated, or do

both of the people acknowledge that they are each other’s unicorns? Let us present our unicorn theory.

Our theory explains why people have unicorns.

The most common reason for unicorns is class schedule. Especially on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, when students often move to three different classes in a row, plus lunch and breakfast, repeated crossings with the same individual or individuals is common. Artie Santry ’16 immediately named his unicorn as Holly Foster ’14. They’ve been unicorns since the winter when they crossed paths multiple times a day — between classes, at lunch, at FoCo and in the library after dinner.

To better analyze the unicorn path-crossing of Santry and Foster, we obtained the location and times of all of their whereabouts during winter term (we are not creepy at all...).

After analyzing this chart, it becomes obvious that their schedule combination is the perfect recipe for lots of run-ins. For instance, when Santry walked from Silsby Hall toward Dartmouth Hall, there is a high probability that he would run into Foster as she heads from Streeter to the Black Family Visual Arts Center, because they would both be on Tuck Street around 9:50 a.m. After their 10s, Santry and Foster both crossed the Green to get to their next location.

Based off of our calculations, they would probably intersect in the center of the Green. After Santry ate some food and Foster had her government class, there would be another run-in, probably in front of Sanborn Library. They would have several more encounters during the day.

Now that we officially feel like stalkers, let us explain other aspects of our unicorn theory. People with similar habits tend to find unicorns in each other. Daniel Knight ’15 recently found out that one of his unicorns is Matt Robinson ’15.

“I’d seen him in the gym a few times,” Knight said.

“We’d exchanged glances in the squat rack and then I waited in line behind him to get water.”

Robinson also remembers an interaction with

Knight. They were both behind the Hop walking 20 yards across the street from each other in different directions.

“We stopped and gave each other a little wave,” he said. “It was a little awkward. I think that signifies a unicorn.”

People usually realize their unicorns after there is some sort of interaction between both parties. For instance, one morning Maddie could not get into my building because she had lost her Dartmouth ID, so this girl let her in. After that encounter, Maddie ran into her at least four times that day. Now Maddie sees her everywhere, and they are even Facebook friends (so, like, they’re officially friends, right?).

Similarly, Donahoe started to notice Wood after they had briefly talked about Donahoe’s shoes.

Another quasi-interaction that leads to unicorn situations is in a non-verbal classroom setting.

Joanna Millstein ’17 took a computer animation class with 20 other students. While the students never actually interacted because they always hid behind computer screens, she said that of the 20 students, nine of them were her unicorns. She would see them everywhere but didn’t actually know who they are.

Unicorns may also exist with those who have never interacted before if the person is very uniquelooking. No, we are not using “unique-looking” as a euphemism for very weird-looking, but we are saying that maybe they have a very distinct feature or are particularly attractive. For instance, Wood thought that maybe he was recognizable because he wears earrings. Similarly, one of Robinson’s unicorns is a thin, 6’5” redhead who has a very distinct way of walking.

Indeed, many Dartmouth students found that they randomly bumped into a specific person so many times that they actually introduced themselves. Foster introduced herself to Santry when they bumped into each other at a semi-formal event.

“She came up to me at Tri-Delt semi and was like, ‘I see you everywhere,’ and so I said, ‘Yes, let’s be friends,’” Santry said.

Krystyna Miles ’16 also introduced herself to her unicorn when they stood in a line next to each other. “Now I can just say hi to him, and it’s great, and we even have inside jokes. We’re at that kind of level.”

Dartmouth allows these random unicorn relationships to blossom. Next time you walk past your unicorn, go and introduce yourself — we dare you.

We’re not really sure what this is, but there’s free food, so we’re not complaining.

dartmouth is “happy”

95 percent of our Facebook friends have shared this. It has taught us that most of Dartmouth is better at dancing than we are.

third floor berry printer

Finally, some excitement in Hanover! It may not work, but are you really surprised? Small steps, people.

“hug me” coke machine Don’t have a cuddle buddy? Neither do we. FoCo’s got us covered.

blood/organ donors Save a life and head on over to the Hop.

4// MIRROR

story

B y Victoria Nelsen

In the revelry and traditions of spring term, the Greek system has become increasingly prominent in my time at Dartmouth. My guy friends have well-established places on pre-rush lists and at fraternities, while many of my girl friends have taken advantage of the free food offered at sororities’ pre-rush events. The Greek Leadership Council just spent three days explaining to first-year students what it means to go Greek at Dartmouth, and the Green Key’s legendary parties loom on the horizon.

The Greek system has become even harder for me to avoid, and it is obvious that this will become even truer next fall when I face the decision to rush or not. Like many other students, the prevalence of the Greek system was my largest reservation about Dartmouth, but at the same time, it is starting to feel like I could find a home in a sisterhood.

Nonetheless, it’s hard to completely forget my former doubts, and I remain unsure of what I will decide come September.

Talking to affiliated and unaffiliated people has given me a broad range of perspectives, while also reminding me that everyone truly has a different experience at the College. Throughout my conversations, however, I neglected a certain viewpoint, one that might be more telling than the rest: those who were at some point affiliated, but chose for whatever reason to leave their house.

This story is often unheard on this campus, but these individuals have seen life both in and out of the system, and they thus hold a certain wisdom. And it seems hard to talk about — five students who had depledged or gone inactive did not respond to requests for comment and nine declined to comment.

Some students indicated that they passively decided to rush, especially the women who joined sororities. Though their stories are unconnected, both Annie Fagan ’15 and Deby Guzman-Buchness ’15 came to Dartmouth not planning to join a sorority but decided to pledge after others insisted they would enjoy it.

Similarly, Sam Morris ’14, Sarah Fernandez ’14 and Benjamin Meyer ’15 joined their respective houses because their friends were rushing, so they figured they might as well try it.

With a less committed attitude going in, Fernandez found herself putting in little time to her house and stopped going to most events in the winter of her sophomore year, though she depledged during her sophomore summer.

Fernandez said she immediately disliked some aspects of her sorority, one of which was the superficiality she perceived.

“It just seemed like a place where a lot of assumptions were made about people, and I’m not really about that,” Fernandez said. “It was a waste of my time. If anything, it made me feel like I had to condone things that I would

normally never condone.”

Morris believes that there are healthier ways to find community on campus, adding that he found more brotherhood with his rowing team than with members of his pledge class.

Morris depledged during his junior fall, and during his terms as a fraternity member, he said never invested much time into the house.

Morris lived in the house during sophomore summer but found himself skipping meetings to do homework and never hanging out in the basement. He liked being with his friends in the house but knew he could do that without being a member.

Eventually, Morris said he decided he shouldn’t pay for something he put little time into. When he depledged, he said his fraternity brothers were not surprised, but they were supportive.

Morris does not believe he can really speak to the Greek system at large, especially because he was only ever a member of one house.

“My experience was personal,” Morris said. “It was mine.”

Others I spoke with left their house because of a dislike for larger, systemic issues.

Guzman-Buchness, who went inactive in her sorority two weeks ago, said she made the decision because she disapproves of the Greek system. The Greek system, she said, is “exclusive for the sake of being exclusive.”

She said the qualities that make someone successful in the rush process, such as strong eye contact and other social cues, are never formally taught, which is one of the things that makes the process unfair. Additionally, GuzmanBuchness said she does not like the connotations associated with certain Greek letters on campus.

“I instantly have an idea of what that person is like, and I think it’s so unfortunate because it’s so unfair to judge someone based on that,” Guzman-Buchness said. “We have enough judgments as it is. I don’t think we need more on this campus.”

Financial costs are another downside to the Greek system.

Social capital, Guzman-Buchness said, is correlated with the amount of dues that Greek members pay to their houses, arguing that houses with high dues wield the most social power at Dartmouth. She added that the terms “A-side” and “B-side” also carry economic connotations, and that money has stratified the campus social scene.

“If you can afford it, then you can also be a part of it,” Guzman-Buchness said.

She said that a “lazy pro” she sees in the Greek system is that it is convenient, offering one place and structured time for social interactions.

Guzman-Buchness is currently inactive, which means that she is not paying dues or participating in her sorority’s

MIRROR //5

sisterhood, but she can come back from inactivity.

“This definitely allows you to see how you feel outside of it, and it’s allowed me a lot of time to reflect on what I value from the sorority and what I really don’t miss about the sorority,” Guzman-Buchness said.

Despite the convenience of this middle ground, GuzmanBuchness said she does not like the limbo-feeling of inactivity, but she does not know where her inactivity will take her.

Yesuto Shaw ’15 and Meyer both depledged during their respective pledge terms, due to hazing. Shaw directly experienced hazing, and though Meyer said he knew he would never personally be hazed, he did not support the supposed tradition of hazing and wanted no part in watching other people be hazed. Shaw said his hazing included physical exercise, military-like regulations, physical punishments and social isolation.

“I’m sure other experiences with hazing, though different, are still equally destructive to the goals of creating a strong bond between the brothers and helping pledges become better contributing members of society,” Shaw said.

Shaw said he reported his former fraternity for their hazing, and the house had to suspend its pledge processes for a year and form a committee with national oversight on how to restructure their membership process. He initially joined the Greek system because he liked the concept of a brotherhood and forming a close bond with a group of men. Had he not been hazed, Shaw said he would not have depledged, and he sees little problem in the Greek system as a whole. The bigger problem, Shaw said, is the lack of alternatives.

“I still think the benefits of having a tight group of brothers who share the same values as me and having a strong support network are great things about fraternities,” Shaw said. “I would have wanted that in my fraternity, but unfortunately, I thought that the process by which they had new members become brothers did more harm than good, and I didn’t want to perpetuate that system myself.”

Meyer saw other problems in the Greek system, too. One major example is the prevalence of alcohol. Meyer said he does not feel like he forms real bonds or friendships while inebriated, and he dislikes the environment of basement parties with excessive alcohol, many people and loud music that hinders conversations.

Meyer said he takes advantage of the Greek system and often uses fraternities to socialize, but since he is not a part of it, he has more social autonomy. He has been able to meet a wide variety of people and does not feel constricted to one social group. Though Meyer is not a part of the Greek system, he has friends within it, as do all the other students I interviewed. He said the Greek system should not be abolished, though he does advocate for its reform.

Fagan spent more time in the Greek system than Shaw

and Meyer, and said she first began to think about depledging during her junior fall. Fagan was on a Hanover FSP and had considerable free time, most of which she chose to spend away from her house. This, she said, was telling.

During the same term, Fagan also experienced recruitment for the first time from the other side, and she said she was frustrated because “the people we said we wanted and the people we took were not the same.” The process — and the judgment and exclusivity that came with it — made her angry, not just with her house, but with the entire Greek system.

“I think the Greek system, for better or for worse, separates people,” Fagan said. “The Greek system at Dartmouth is so defining that people think of themselves as inside or out of it.”

Additionally, Fagan said the Greek system perpetuates sexual assault, gender binaries, sexism, unequal power dynamics and the idea that there is only one way to experience Dartmouth. She saw her former house as being a part of a larger systemic issue, which she could no longer support.

“It’s a bad system for a lot of people, and it perpetuates bad things,” Fagan said. “I don’t discredit anyone’s experience, but I’m starting to care more about the bad experiences because those shouldn’t have to be a thing.”

Fagan said that she had good experiences with the Greek system as well, and there were parts of the house that she really liked. After she depledged, Fagan sent an email to the other ’15s in the house, and she said she received support from them. Since depledging, she has not experienced any rudeness.

After her experiences, Fagan advises future Dartmouth students not to assume that they should rush and to think carefully about the decision they make.

Meyer said that while the Greek system was not right for him, that is only his own experience.

“You should definitely try it out,” Meyer said. “If you’re thinking about pledging, you probably should, but know that pledging is not binding. If you feel that you’re not fitting into the system that we have, then it’s okay to leave it, and there are many people on this campus who have done that and are confident in that decision.”

After hearing the stories of six students, I thought I would have come to a decision for next fall, but really, I can only take away one conclusion from their words: each person has individual experiences.

Still, broadening my perspective is likely the most important thing these conversations could have achieved. Listening to the stories of the depledged helped me to both recognize and understand the multiple perspectives of the Dartmouth Greek system. As long as I carry this understanding with me, I will be able to refrain from judgment and will hopefully be able to blur my own perception of the lines that the Greek system draws between us.

ARMIN MAHBANOOZADEH // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

6// MIRROR

Through the Looking Glass Reconciling debdom with feminism COLUMN

B y maeve Lentricchia

I am a far cry from a Southern belle. In fact, I think this notion of a genteel, white and elite Southern lady is something of an imaginary, unique regional phenomenon, more rooted in ideology than in reality. Wrapped in flowery femininity and shrouded in gracious, thoughtful manners, she has the ability to survive in a man’s world.

In the spring of last year, I, the daughter of two university professors, received an invitation from the Durham Debutante Society. It was whispered that a 21st-century debutante could make up in brains what she lacked in pedigree.

So when my friends accepted their invitations, I pursued it tenaciously until my parents gave in.

The Debutante Ball is a rite of passage rooted in 17th-century European court rituals. At these ceremonies, young women of a marriageable age were presented for court’s approval. As a symbol of wealth, the debut amplified differences in social class. As a rite of passage, it brought a select group of young women into the matrimonial market.

When America began to prosper in the late 19th century, the concept of the debutante was extracted from European court life and absorbed by the American elite. For this class of Americans, the significance of the debut derived from the social recognition it afforded.

The Westernized version of the ceremony bore resemblance to its European referent insofar as it formalized the coming of age of a privileged young woman and her entrance into society.

Family wealth, social status and lineage were symbols reincarnated into “American Debdom.”

Historically speaking, the ball had metamorphic qualities. The debut signified the alteration of a young girl’s identity and orientation to society. It was the crowning achievement in her process of socialization to elitism. Despite retaining these traditional components, the contemporary debut has lost some of its significance.

While tangible rites of the ball loudly proclaim its vitality, behavioral changes for debs no longer last. Debutantes do not drop out of college and get married after having made their debut.

Why does this ritual endure if young women no longer need public recognition to marry?

The same daughter who had once paved the way for a family’s public recognition is now celebrated as a symbol of successful parenting. Though family ties and wealth were once the sole sources of social recognition, modern debutantes are selected based on achievement.

The self-discipline, dedication and personal publicity associated with the first-generation debut acknowledge not only the individual merits of the debutante, but commend the persistent and expensive private educational efforts of her parents. She is an investment, and the debut is the return.

I thought it would be possible to separate Maeve from “Maeve the debutante.”

I adopted a kind of “grin and bear it” mentality during parties and rehearsals, when my compatriots and I wise-cracked about starting a feminist blog about being a 21st-century debutante. I was fluent in irony during the entire experience. I convinced myself that I was immune to the negative elements of the ritual — the role of both old, family money and exclusion. In the face of country-club luncheons and painting lessons, I denied the ball’s celebration of the cultural myth of the Southern belle. And

After being invited to become a debutante, Maeve Lentricchia ’17 questioned the ritual’s role in today’s society. though at times I considered the ramifications of my involvement, I was scared to give up the ball, fearing that somehow the worst part of me was actually all of me. Who was that girl who had desperately begged her parents to let her be a debutante? That girl I’d done everything to distance myself from at Dartmouth?

Was it possible to find a kind of independence?

To valorize and honor my achieved self-concepts — good grades, respectable behavior, athletic achievements and an Ivy League acceptance?

To transform the old notion of the debutante with a new cadence? Certainly, to debut in 21stcentury America no longer constitutes quite the announcement of a young woman’s availability for marriage that it originally did. Yet the debut cannot be wholly isolated from its inception.

The Debutante Society inherits its position as a profoundly patriarchal institution, which hearkens back to the father’s management of property and mimics much of the rites and regalia of a wedding ceremony. No matter how hard I worked, the women who administer these organizations and events bolster traditionally gendered categories. If anything, my experience as a 21st-century debutante reveals a remarkable capacity for compartmentalizing my engagement in a ritual whose basis is at odds with my education, independence and general political outlook.

I could traverse the labyrinth of “American Debdom” ad infinitum, and I’m not entirely sure how much would come of it. Since the antiquated notion of the debut embodies patriarchal power, my involvement seems like the ultimate hypocrisy.

But something happened on Dec. 3 that silenced the relentless self-evaluations that had plagued my being from the start of my involvement with the society. Everything ceased when several weeks before the ball my dad suffered a TIA, a transient ischemic attack, a mini-stroke.

He’d always been older — older than the other dads, at least. I learned when the age of our parents came up in conversation, I wouldn’t disclose his age ­— 73 — not because I was embarrassed, but because I didn’t want to entertain the inevitable line of questions that followed. My dad was married twice before my mother, and I have only met one of his two other daughters. She didn’t like me very much.

Though my mother had told me, in passing, details of him when he was their father, I didn’t know that man. I know my dad loves me. And yet, he carries with him over 50 years of life that preceded me, 50 years of a man whom I’ll never know. In the hospital, my dad spoke to me as if he were surely on his deathbed. And though he wasn’t, the effect was still the same.

The event turned my brain off and my heart on. I stopped resenting my father for the life he had had before me, and I understood, for the first time, that this life, with me, was the one we had.

My dad may never dance with me at my wedding. But as I walked down the stairwell at the Christmas Ball to meet my father, tails and all, he reached out his arm to me. My carriage shoes rubbed against the open blisters on my heels and I could hardly breathe from inside the

Courtesy of Maeve Lentricchia

corset. But my father held me. He walked me down the center of the ballroom floor and guided me around, pausing to let me kiss my mother on the cheek. To the sweetly sad lyrics of Harold Arlen, my dad and I danced the father-daughter waltz.

Oh somewhere over the rainbow Bluebirds fly And the dreams that you dream of Dreams really do come true Someday I’ll wish upon a star Wake up where the clouds are far behind me Where trouble melts like lemon drops High above the chimney tops That’s where you’ll find me It would be easily justified for me to regard my debut with self-disdain. It would be equally justifiable to posit the experience as some anthropological experiment of Southern culture, one performed without meaning. I hadn’t explicitly broken down any patriarchal foundations, and maybe I had even supported some.

But as we danced, my dad supported my back and held my hand. Tears slipped out of his eyes as he mouthed the words of Arlen’s song. And in this moment, the ball and the society — in all their rites, regalia and implications — were completely worth it. They gave a debutante her father.

MIRROR //7

What have we done? IN CASE YOU WERE COLUMN By Seanie Civale and Amanda Smith WONDERING COLUMN By Katie Sinclair

During freshman orientation, there are a few questions that, to be normal, you must ask people when you meet them. What’s your name? Where are you from? What’s your schedule? Where are you living on campus? The River? Ouch.

In the month before graduation, the ’14 class has fallen into a similar habit, albeit with different curiosities. Do you know what you’re doing after?

(We’ll even strand our prepositions to avoid saying the G-word.) Where will you be? Have you found a place yet? Do you think it’s pathetic if I have a pong table in my new apartment that I will be sharing with several of my closest Dartmouth friends? Isn’t it weird, you know ... that we’re leaving?

No. Weird is too neat of a term. It is supremely bizarre. In many ways. But mostly, it’s so strange that this conglomeration of people won’t ever exist, eat meals in the same three places, pass each other on Main Street with a smile (or the equally common hassled grunt), succeed and miserably, wildly fail in the same few-mile radius again. We can’t answer any of the routine, pre-G-word questions, but we’ve never had trouble when asked what the best part of Dartmouth has been. The people (or as Amanda would say, the homies). Obviously, the people.

You guys are so cool and weird, and cohabitation with you has been one hell of a ride. For a bunch of smart people, your ability to do hilariously stupid things is truly astonishing. We salute you and thank you for making us laugh and allowing us to do hilariously stupid things right alongside you.

Seanie: I will switch gears before we start to cry. Our rejection of sentiment was already nearly destructed in one fell swoop last Thursday night when the song “Hey There Delilah” was played in a basement and its theme of long-distance love caused me to weep like a newborn baby. So instead of indulging myself, I will use this space for a discussion of McDonald’s and its pivotal role in my time as a Dartmouth senior. My most notable foray into the McDonald’s menu occurred just this week in the bus terminal of Boston South Station. I spotted the restaurant by the sign that glowed like a beacon.

I was not allowed much McDonald’s as a child because my parents inexplicably considered In-NOut a healthier alternative. Now that I am liberated from my McDonald’s-less youth, poor in money but rich with the freedom of adulthood, the Dollar Menu has become one of my favorite parts of being alive. I’ve spent many Sunday afternoons this year lurking with friends in the West Leb McDonald’s, purchasing fries, burgers and McFlurries over the course of several hours.

This week at the South Station McDonald’s, I decided to throw caution to the wind and purchase a “Southwest Chicken Salad” in addition to my standard order. My carefully thought-through logic was that eating a salad negates eating anything else that is bad for you (like salad + fries = simply just salad).

I don’t have anything else to say about the experience besides that it was regrettable. The salad was underwhelming, and eating McDonald’s alone in an urban bus station has nothing on eating McDonald’s with people you love in rural New Hampshire.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this.

Mainly I just wanted to publicly acknowledge my gratitude toward the West Leb McDonald’s and the space that it has provided for me. In that McDonald’s, I have laughed, cried (surprise!!!!), reflected, made short-term plans, made long-term plans, lamented my lack of plans and just generally ate many fries. I was initially going to connect this to my attachment to various spaces at Dartmouth and the unexpected ways in which they’ve served me and the fact that you can’t reproduce that in other places with other people try as you might and holy wow graduation ... but I think that is a stretch, even for me, and will spare you.

Amanda: Though dyeing my hair purple last week was not unexpected, certain things happened this week that were. I recently learned that in my current state, perspiring profusely is strictly out of the question — unless having purple drip marks down the sides of my face is the look I’m going for (it ain’t). I also unexpectedly learned that having purple hair gives me a warm feeling of kinship to those out there in the world who have unnaturally colored locks as well — and also to the one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple people eater, even though I really only identify with one of those traits.

This week I labeled myself a hunter. Not of deer or geese or any other creature — I’ve actually never even touched a gun before. But of jobs and apartments, using Gmail, LinkedIn, Google and my mom as my necessary weapons.

The job application process, while long, has proven to be far from boring. One application called for the traditional cover letter and resume, but also asked me to submit a link to a GIF that represents my work style. For a solid minute I googled Olivia Pope GIFs before conceding that the comparison is not permissible.

I later realized that LinkedIn is less like Facebook than I thought, which means that profile-stalking is relatively ill-advised. There’s a tab designed to reveal “Who’s Viewed Your Profile,” which completely obliterates any attempt at stealthiness and may result in accidental reconnections. Like it did for me.

On another afternoon, I sifted through hundreds of different apartments on StreetEasy and found myself not-so-subconsciously dismissing apartments that were not pet friendly, which is ridiculous because Seanie and I still have no pet piglet that requires this pet friendliness. Our faith is yet Herculean.

It’s hard to believe that in a month, all of us seniors will scatter across the globe like rainbow sprinkles on a sundae. Watching the rest of campus go through room draw took us back to the not-sodistant days of posting our future dorm locations as our Facebook statuses. We make no promises that we won’t rejoice and do the same once we’ve officially signed off on our respective future pads, wherever they may be.

And though the next time you hear from us will also be the last, don’t forget that — as the song goes — all you weirdos make us “Happy.”

Yours in kindred weirdness, Lucy & Ethel

In case you were wondering, the ver y first electric washing machine was called “Mighty Thor” and was manufactured

by Hurley Electric Laundr y Equipment Company in 1908. Though we now live in an age where you can track your laundr y’s progress online, I still believe that “Mighty Thor” is one of the best product names ever. Washing machines were also a boon for whoever did the laundr y back in the day: scrubbing clothes by hand was time-intensive and difficult. Even though we live in the modern era where doing laundr y means putting your clothes in the machine, pressing a button and returning in 45 minutes, people still manage to mess up. Because I have limited time left, I am quickly running out of things to complain about. But before we seniors leave forever, there are some words of wisdom that I need to pass on. In short, there is a right way and a wrong way to do laundr y.

Of all the things I will miss about Dartmouth, the communal laundry services are not one of them. I don’t understand why people leave their nasty damp undergarments sitting in a washer for three hours.

It takes approximately two minutes of your life to move things from the washer to the dr yer. On the flip side, why do people take your wet clothes and throw them out on the counter the second after the cycle ends, even when all the dr yers are occupied? I know you’re in a hurr y, but you’re still going to have to wait for the person whose clothes you’ve thrown ever ywhere to run their dr yer cycle. Unlike skinning a cat, there is one and only one correct way to do laundr y, and that is the way I do it. Step one: find a convenient time when the washers you want are not in use. You can do this from the comfort of your dorm room using the magic of the Internet. Step two: put things in the washer. Step three: come back no sooner than 38 minutes and no later than 45 minutes after. Step 4: put things in the dr yer, and reclaim them in an hour. It’s really that simple.

Despite the incompetence of others, I have done countless loads of laundr y at Dartmouth. One of the upsides of braving the washing machines is that you get clean sheets out of the deal — which turn out to be the perfect costume for a toga party.

Perhaps it was the nostalgia, or perhaps the vodka, (probably a little of both) but after semi was over, we decided that the best thing to do was to complete a circuit, because sometimes when you’re wearing a toga you’re just compelled to do certain

things.

Generally, I have been more or less positive toward the Greek system, but on our adventures through frat row I came to a realization that some houses are definitely more welcoming to strangers wearing togas than others. Which is odd, because after going to several houses, I discovered that ever y place is more or less the same.

Bored, preening girls sitting on the walls.

Boys with the exact same haircut playing game after game of pong. This was both an epiphany and incredibly disorienting.

I then realized that I was over being cool.

Our journey through the subterranean lairs of the frat system was more or less uneventful. We entered, informed others of our mission, grabbed a beer and then left. That is, until we got to the last third of it, and people at a house-that-shall-remainnameless were not receptive to our desire to complete our journey, which I did not quite understand, as the door was open and they were all playing pong, like ever y other house we entered.

“But we’re on a mission from God!” I declared. No one got the reference, proving that they were not only inhospitable but not well-versed in John Belushi movies. There are many ways to get people wearing togas out of your hair, if you seriously take offense at their presence.

Screaming at them to get the eff out is probably not the best way to do it. You’d think that a place that takes its name from an Anglo-Saxon epic would show a bit more chivalr y.

Despite minor setbacks, we completed our mission. Another thing crossed off the bucket list. Bonus points for the costume.

Seeing the whole of Dartmouth’s evening entertainment, as opposed to just the usual houses that I hang out at, reminded me why I hang out where I hang out. I am not going to rise up and cr y, “Abolish all fraternities! They spread alcoholism/ sexism/plague!” There’s nothing wrong with getting along better with one group of people over another. But I am going to say, it’s not that hard to not be an asshole.

Be nice to people. Don’t throw their wet laundry on the floor. (And also, don’t leave your wet laundry unattended for a gazillion hours.) When nostalgic seniors wearing (clean!) bed sheets knock on your door in the middle of the night on a mission, let them in, because even though they are not scantily clad freshmen, they may still be pretty cool. Because one day soon, that could be you.

8// MIRROR

What’s behind the

Craze?

STORY

B y amanda winch and hayley adnopoz

After some deliberation, we have come to the conclusion that our friendship has been built (in part) upon a love of two things: messy buns and elastic waistbands. While there is definitely some camaraderie in consistently looking like you just woke up or wearing gym clothes to create the illusion of fitness, you may be surprised to learn that the vast majority of people don’t view sweatpants with quite the same admiration that we do. Searching desperately for a community that would appreciate our unique sense of style and disdain for restrictive clothing, we ventured down to Mighty Yoga in Hanover for a class.

Having both practiced infrequently before, we were encouraged by tales of studios full of spandex and the promise of flexibility. But after arriving five minutes late and listening to yoga buzzwords (“breathe in,” “downward dog” and “flow through your vinyasa”) through the closed studio door, we were intimidated and left. We figured we had no business messing with our vinyasas (much less flowing anything through them) given that we had no clue what a vinyasa is.

We did snap a pretty sweet selfie with the logo, though, as proof that we did, in fact, make it over there.

As true novices to the practice, it is hard for us to see yoga as anything more than glorified stretching. Although yoga feels awesome and offers a nice reprieve from work that won’t leave NARPs like ourselves cripplingly exhausted, neither of us has ever gotten involved enough to get through an entire class without the urge to surrender in child’s pose for the entire hour. But after finally finding a place where Lulu’s are not only the appropriate but the expected substitute for jeans, we knew we couldn’t give up on yoga so easily. So we decided to find some people who “get” yoga a little better than we do, and ask them about it.

We both initially attended yoga classes to convince ourselves that we were exercising, while staying mostly stationary.

Surprisingly, even the most intense yogis we reached out to seem to express a similar sentiment, leaving us rather reassured about our progress thus far. Rebecca Jacobson ’15, who has now practiced yoga on and off for six years, said she initially started yoga for PE credit in high school because she, like many of us, hated running and being sweaty.

“I’m naturally pretty flexible, so I thought it would be an easy way out,” Jacobson, who practiced yoga four times a week in high school, said.

Others sought to supplement vigorous athletic activity with something more therapeutic.

“I used to lift a lot and suffered a lot of back pain and muscle tightness as a result,” Jake Leichtling ’14 said. In his experience, yoga helped with stretching and post-workout pain. He is not alone in this belief.

“My doctor actually recommended I begin practicing yoga to help offset muscle pain I was having from water polo and swim-

ming,” Taylor Magnuson ’15 said, suggesting that the physical benefits of yoga are substantial enough to garner the support of the medical community. Yoga classes are now available to all students, Upper Valley residents and Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center and College employees, through the Fitness and Lifestyle Improvement Plan, which aims “to increase overall general fitness and health awareness within the college community.”

Coaches, quick to heed the advice of athletic trainers, have likewise developed an appreciation for the practice. Just ask any member of the Dartmouth rugby and football teams which, like many other varsity sports teams, recently incorporated yoga as an optional component of the workout regimens of their athletes. Abby Markowitz ’16, a member of the cross country and track and field teams, uses yoga to improve her performance.

“Yoga is a great way to prevent injuries and complement my training routine,” she said. “It’s a great activity to do on an off-day to help recovery.”

Participants are taking time to tend to their muscles, which many fail to do otherwise by their own volition. There is undeniable merit in taking time to unwind between workouts and schoolwork.

While the reason for taking up yoga might not be the most profound, the reasons for continuing it are.

“I ended up sticking with it because I noticed a lot of really incredible mental health benefits in addition to the physical ones,” Jacobson said. “By focusing on your breath and body awareness while practicing yoga, you simultaneously learn how to live in the moment.”

With our busy schedules, many of us fail to allocate enough time to strengthening our mental health, despite the vast benefits that doing so confers.

Many of the more avid yogis we connected with spoke about the ways in which yoga allows one to completely disconnect from cares and obligations.

Libby Buttenwieser ’15 described studio time as a chance to “completely tune out your thoughts and connect with yourself.”

The idea of not simply placing latent anxieties on the backburner but actually parting with one’s worries for an hour a day likely sounds ludicrous to the high-achieving, heavily-burdened Dartmouth student. Yet, as Buttenweiser explained, yoga emphasizes cutting out stressors like grades, internships and job searches, and replacing these with the realization that “everything, in that particular hour and a half, is perfectly fine.”

Sarah Whittaker ’16 has found similar benefits in her yoga practice, which has taken her all the way to India.

“I started practicing yoga about three years ago and had the opportunity to study it for a bit in India, where it is much more of a lifestyle and is even sometimes used as part of medical treatment,” she said. “Even

though it can be very different here, I love how many people practice yoga at any level because it is so good for the body and for stress relief.”

As Leichtling put it, yoga gives him an opportunity to clear his mind and manage his stress.

“Knowing that I have a mechanism for tangibly changing my outlook and attitude is really reassuring,” he said.

Cecelia Shao ’16 helped us get an idea of what an hour in the studio feels like, both physically and emotionally.

“In the studio, we focus on the breath to shut out distraction, inhaling positive energy to cleanse the spirit while exhaling emotional pollutants,” she said. Shao acknowledged that such a statement likely seems absurd, but allowing oneself to relax in the practice can generate a profound emotional effect.

“Everyone moves as one in the studio,” she said. “We breathe the same air, and move together into silence. You establish a sense of intimacy without words by making yourself open to the shared experience.”

With these rave reviews, we started to question our own intimidation. Why was it that we felt too inexperienced or out of place to reap the bounty of benefits yoga seems to boast? Perhaps, we wondered, it is the culture surrounding yoga that acts as more of a deterrent than the exercise itself. Jacobson seemed to connect with this sentiment.

“I sometimes feel uneasy trying out a new studio if I’m not dressed in Lululemon,” Jacobson said, speaking to the tendency to associate pricey or popular yoga apparel with skill level. She pointed out, however, that this idea contradicts yoga’s basic message: “finding peace with yourself and not judging others,” as she put it.

“I’m not particularly into it or in it,” Alex Jones ’16 said when we asked her about yoga culture. “If popular opinion of yoga is based on getting in shape and wearing cute yoga pants, I think it does a disservice to yoga on the whole.”

As two unpracticed yogis seeking something more profound than a hour of sweating and bodily contortion, it has served us well to think of yoga as “poetry for the body,” meshing physical well-being with one’s spirituality.

At times, the Dartmouth bubble seems difficult to escape; we become wrapped up in trivialities, actively contributing to and combating a sense of low-burning anxiety that seems impossible to avoid. Within this familiar realm, maybe we would benefit from taking a step back and breathing through a yoga class. After all, those who take up the art seem more than enthusiastic about the improvement they’ve seen. For the two of us, however, these are pretty long-term goals; first, we should probably focus on being able to get to Mighty Yoga without running away in fear.

Shao is a former member of The Dartmouth staff.

must-do Yoga Poses Mountain man

Warrior I

Child’s pose

Courtesy of student.expressions.edu ERIN O’NEIL // THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF