The Dartmouth Mirror 10/12/2016

MIR ROR 10.12.2016

WOMEN

A LOVE LETTER | 2

A UNICORN IN THE TECH WORLD | 4

BEHIND EVERY STRONG WOMAN | 6 MORGAN MOINIAN/THE DARTMOUTH

A Love Letter

2// MIR ROR

Editors’ Note

COLUMN

The leaves are changing, the weather is cold, the coffee in my dorm is 48 hours old. Happy week five.

But enough with the moving poetry, or as Lauren maybe more aptly described it, “shoddy rhyme scheme.” In her defense, Hayley briefly considered Googling what couplets are. But, remembering who she is as a person and that she is sleep deprived, Hayley thought to herself, “Who cares.” While the first five sentences of our editors’ note seem to be trying to aggressively prove otherwise, at Dartmouth we have a lot of very talented and driven women.

This issue is focused on commemorating them, which seems more necessary this week than ever, with Donald Trump’s most recent comments. So we’re exploring what it’s like to be a Dartmouth woman and women’s spaces on campus. We even put aside the age old Dartbeat-Mirror rivalry (we are referring to the Great Battle for the title of “Most Fun Section of The D,” which exists solely in our minds) aside for sisterhood, letting one of the section’s editors write about her experiences in computer science.

And we’re going to take this dedication even further next week and have Lauren write the editors’ note.

Lauren points out that this is not so much a decision born from the respect for women but rather respect for better writing. Touché. Until next week, readers.

follow @thedmirror

10.12.16 VOL. CLXXIII NO. 127 MIRROR EDITORS HAYLEY HOVERTER & LAUREN BUDD EDITOR-IN-CHIEF REBECCA ASOULIN PUBLISHER RACHEL DECHIARA

EXECUTIVE EDITOR GAYNE KALUSTIAN

By Elise Wien

“Of course, women so empowered are dangerous. So we are taught to separate the erotic from most vital areas of our lives other than sex. And the lack of concern for the erotic root and satisfactions of our work is felt in our disaffection from so much of what we do. For instance, how often do we truly love our work even at its most difficult?

The principal horror of any system which defines the good in terms of profit rather than in terms of human need, or which defines human need to the exclusion of the psychic and emotional components of that need — the principal horror of such a system is that it robs our work of its erotic value, its erotic power and life appeal and fulfillment. Such a system reduces work to a travesty of necessities, a duty by which we earn bread or oblivion for ourselves and those we love. But this is tantamount to blinding a painter and then telling her to improve her work, and to enjoy the act of painting. It is not only next to impossible, it is also profoundly cruel.”

— Audre Lorde, “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power” This is an excerpt I read over and over again. It is from one of my favorite essays, one that I return to when I’m feeling down about my womanhood, or uncertain of its bounds, or proud of it.

Lorde urges us to recognize the erotic, as in the Greek eros, as in the deeply felt, “irrational” part of ourselves, as a legitimate force, a way to feel deeply our work and play. She defines the erotic as distinctly feminine, which I’m not sure I agree with. On the one hand, I want to leave room for gender-nonconforming folks and men working to deconstruct their masculinity; on the other hand, I recognize this eros as a position in opposition to a world dominated by empirical thinking. However, I will say that gendernonconforming folks and men looking to deconstruct their masculinity have already embraced a type of eros in their queerness in privileging lived experiences and deep feeling over social impositions.

Two nights ago, on Kayuri’s birthday, we made a megabed and watched two episodes of “The Office,” the one where Dwight sets a small fire to test his coworkers’ safety skills. He also cuts the face off of a CPR dummy because he “didn’t think it was very realistic in the movie, and it turns out, it’s pretty realistic.”

We were looking for a horror movie,

’19: “What should I set as my age limit on Tinder? Mine’s currently at 34.”

but my roommates were disappointed by the offerings, and I haven’t watched a scary movie since 2008. Also, the last time Corinne watched “The Babadook” she cried.

Lying with my two roommates, curled up on a Saturday night and eating watermelon sour patch kids, I felt this erotic fulfillment, not be confused with the sexual.

It is a deep satisfaction, a warmth, a feeling of being present. Lately I’ve been associating feelings of erotic fulfillment with the womb. It is quiet, it is self-centered, it is exactly where I am meant to be. Or, on the opposite end, feelings of, “If I were to die right now, that wouldn’t be so bad.

I would be okay to die, here, now, doing what I love and surrounded by loved ones.” This is not to say that immediate death need be the litmus test for satisfaction; plenty of ultimately satisfying work requires an interim period of suffering, but reminding ourselves of the limited time we have may make us choose wisely.

What does valuing the erotic look like in our daily lives? Certainly trusting our feelings when an interaction feels “off,” certainly giving value to the unquantifiable. Maybe curling up with your roommates instead of going out because you know this will give you the most satisfaction.

I think back to the recent denial of tenure for Dr. Aimee Bahng. She is beloved by so many students, and her tenure denial kickstarted a #fight4facultyofcolor movement. Bahng is known for many things, chief among them calling out students in her class to recognize their privilege and positionality, recognize where they’re coming from that might lead them to problematic conclusions or hateful comments and acting as a mentor to students, particularly women of color, who need advice or kinship or just to vent about what it’s like to survive as themselves at Dartmouth. The tenure board’s reasoning for denying such a renowned professor tenure was that she had not published enough. Rather than fighting this point (whatever amount of validity it may have), it is vital that we look instead at the emotional labor that Dr. Bahng puts in on campus. It is important to note that I absolutely owe learning about the concept of emotional labor to the women of color in my life. Bahng started the Ferguson Teaching Collective and the #Blacklivesmatter course (which garnered much positive publicity for the school). What,

’18: “Now all I have to do is not let the existential dread set in.”

’17: Some people put pads on their shoes to prevent their feet from sweating.”

then, is the greater contribution? The mentoring of hundreds of students, to keep them motivated, give them hope, keep them in this institution? Or publishing? The answer of some readers is surely the latter, and I wonder if those readers recognize the source of erotic fulfillment in their own lives.

“That self-connection shared is a measure of the joy which I know myself to be capable of feeling, a reminder of my capacity for feeling. And that deep and irreplaceable knowledge of my capacity for joy comes to demand from all of my life that it be lived within the knowledge that such satisfaction is possible, and does not have to be called marriage, nor god, nor an afterlife.

This is one reason why the erotic is so feared, and so often relegated to the bedroom alone, when it is recognized at all.

For once we begin to feel deeply all the aspects of our lives, we begin to demand from ourselves and from our life-pursuits that they feel in accordance with that joy which we know ourselves to be capable of. Our erotic knowledge empowers us, becomes a lens through which we scrutinize all aspects of our existence, forcing us to evaluate those aspects honestly in terms of their relative meaning within our lives. And this is a grave responsibility, projected from within each of us, not to settle for the convenient, the shoddy, the conventionally expected, nor the merely safe.” — Lorde, again Recognizing the erotic means demanding excellence from our life experiences, means prioritizing what we feel to be important and true over that which others tell us is important. The Dartmouth student who neglects a friend in need of comfort because they have a midterm to study for is rejecting the erotic force within themselves in favor of an institutionallyapproved one. And studying for this midterm will be pocked with guilt and shame, for the erotic is not suppressed without a vengeance.

It is not easy to be a woman, here, now; it is doubly difficult to be a woman of color, triply a queer one, a poor one, a non-cisgender one, a disabled one, one far from home or family. It is not womanhood alone that makes this difficult but doubt in the power that womanhood can bring us. See your softness as a strength, your capacity for radical empathy as a superpower, your refusal to settle as an advantage. And if you ever feel alone, or

’18: “Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin.” ’18: “Didn’t he also invent peanut butter?”

’17: “I just got spray-on deodorant, and now I feel like the fanciest b**** in the world.”

Womanhood at Dartmouth

MIRROR //3

A Dartmouth legacy uncovers what it means to be a woman at the Big Green COLUMN

By Marie-Capucine Pineau-Valencienne

My grandfather went to Dartmouth, as did my uncle and my cousin. Growing up, the word “Dartmouth” became synonymous with my grandfather and my family, probably due to the hours I spent listening attentively to my grandfather’s passionate accounts of the time he spent at the College, a place I soon understood had a profound impact in shaping the person he is today.

But, as an alumnus who, like so many Dartmouth students, fell in love with what many call “the

best place on earth,” did he think that in the years to come the person that would be continuing his family legacy would be a woman?

Probably not.

Dartmouth was an all-male college when my grandfather and uncle attended, and although my cousin matriculated at the school after it had become co-ed, the fact remains that my Dartmouth family legacy has been composed entirely of men — until me.

Forty-four. That’s the number of years since Dartmouth of-

ficially became a co-educational institution and let women infiltrate the “old boys’ club.” We’ve altered the alma mater to “sons and daughters,” have a roughly 50/50 gendered student population and boast both fraternities and sororities on campus, what does it really mean to be a woman on this campus today?

Growing up I never considered my gender a deterrent to my pursuit of higher education.

For many women today, however, they are taught as early as pri-

mary school that being a woman means they have lesser intellectual capabilities.

Despite this historical, and in some cases current, adversity, women at Dartmouth have achieved great success, which can be demonstrated through the number of engineers who are women Dartmouth educates every year. In 2016, 54 percent of engineering majors at Dartmouth were women. The national average of the same year was 19 percent. The push for gender equality is not limited to traditionally male dominated academic fields.

The most recent class to matriculate boasts a 52 percent gender imbalance — in favor of women.

Beyond numbers, women have made strides in social life on campus. The new push toward localization in the Greek community demonstrates that women at Dartmouth continue to take charge of their environment. So far, the College boasts four local sororities out of the 10 on campus — nearly half.

Dartmouth is a place where women are not hesitant to wear tutus to dance parties and workout gear to class. It is a place where they are seldom worried that wearing a onesie out on a Saturday night will threaten their sexiness. Bottom line, they do what they want. They feel comfortable on this campus and aren’t afraid of what others will think if they greet anxious potential new members in head to toe sparkly spandex. In my 20 years of existence, Dartmouth is the only place where I have genuinely felt like women and men alike were not afraid or apologetic about being themselves.

When considering the small time women have populated the Dartmouth campus — 44 years in relation to the school’s 247 year history — it is clear that women at Dartmouth have thrived and made a home for themselves.

When speaking to women on campus, they describe with passion and vigor the myriad ways in which women were positive forces on campus. When discussing the role of women on campus, the women I spoke to were unanimous in expressing the pride that came with being a woman at Dartmouth.

It is evident that women belong at Dartmouth. They have carved out a place for themselves where there wasn’t one before.

They are smart, successful, reflective and never shy away from showing their love for the College on the Hill.

TRENDING @ Dartmouth

PEAK FOLIAGE

RIP every colorblind person on campus.

CLOWNS ?????????????

NEW BEAR IN TOWN Have you met the neighbors?

DDS FOOD TRUCK

Where have you been all our lives?

FORGOTTEN BUCKET LISTS It’s week five, better start checking ththose off.

PRESIDENTIAL DEBATES

It’s funny until you remember one of these people will soon have the nuke codes.

NOT HOMECOMING The anticipation is killing me....

4// MIRROR

A Unicorn in the Tech World

By Grace Miller

A unicorn in the tech world is defined as a start-up company that is currently valued at over $1 billion.

Unicorns are named as such because they are extremely rare. Here’s a number even more rare: 50 percent.

On average, women make up about 15.6 percent of technical employees.

That is a pretty insane statistic, and one that I hope to change.

I took my first computer science course my freshman spring. I honestly had no idea what computer science was. I assumed it was full of complicated math equations and words so big they scared me. This is actually quite ironic because coding literally can be broken down into bits — a unit of data that says “yes” or “no.” That’s it. That is what drives every piece of technology you have ever owned (unless you own a quantum computer).

This is all to say that I started the computer science major late — while other people had been coding

since middle school, I printed my first “hello world” three years ago. I am no coding prodigy, “Computer Science 1” wasn’t the easiest class I’ve ever taken. I would say my relationship with computer science is like an addiction.

Every assignment tears me down, but the high I get when it compiles and I watch my Google search engine, or animation or chess AI work, that is a high like no other.

Here’s the thing about computer science: it’s all or nothing. Either your code runs and everything works, or everything breaks and you get a 0 on that assignment. Classes are large, and most professors are unforgiving (if they respond to your emails at all).

I have pulled all-nighters just to fail tests (yes, as in got a 63) and had to ask a professor if I could still pass a class with my current grades (I could, god bless a curve). During one TA hour I nearly started a student revolt by riling up my classmates about how

insane the grading scale was. This is where being a woman comes in.

From my experience, women have an innate need to succeed; they internalize failure as their fault. In a CS1 class the breakdown of students is about 50/50 by gender. Yet, by upper-level courses I have been one of four women in a 40-person class.

Many women get discouraged by failure. They see that they bombed a test and they think “well, I guess this isn’t my thing, I’m just not good enough.”

I know, because I feel this way regularly. I have met some of the strongest women I know in computer science, the type that take failure in stride and are here to learn. This strong support network is how I’ve survived.

Out of the seven women that I live with, four of us are pursuing software engineering. This is no coincidence. These women are who have pushed me through the tough times.

Computer science is a team sport.

You need peo when you are talk through to band toget hours in Nov about your in Pritika sends fore coding in ly text me “ times at 3 a.m share screens tivational tex very smart” will pass.” Sp the library isn friends aroun I hav computer sci sible not to, in a group wi to become th expecting, th constantly as when her cod less help, try

ople around you to help e stuck on a bad bug, to h a confusing algorithm, ther with you during late vack and to complain to nsane workload. My friend s me pump up music benterviews or will random“beep boop beep” somem. My friend Wanda and I shots of our parents’ moxts, riddled with “you ARE and “I love you and this pending 12 hours a day in n’t so bad when you have nd. ve many guy friends in ience as well, it’s imposbut it can be hard to be ith all men. I don’t want he stereotype they are all he dumb weak girl who is sking for help, and cries de doesn’t run. I ask for y not to take too much of

MIRROR //5

their time and feel needy constantly.

I think a question on many peoples’ minds, including mine, is “why do we need female coders? If the code works, who cares if it was built by a woman?” The answer is that there is so much more to coding than the end product. My female friends have created a community full of empathy, where it is OK to show weakness, to ask for help and to break down occasionally. Coding is stressful enough, I don’t want to work somewhere that I can’t feel vulnerable, where I feel like every mistake I make speaks for my entire gender.

Last year, I got so frustrated by how unfair a test was that I nearly started crying during it. The professor had said it would take two hours — no one had finished three and a half hours in, and I left five hours later at 11 p.m. on the Thursday of Winter Carnival.

My voice cracked while asking him a question — he had given us code with

functions we had never used before. A week later I went to talk to him about a group project (my two male group partners couldn’t make it). He closed the door, sat me down and proceeded to lecture me with 30 minutes of unsolicited advice about how I didn’t think enough when I coded, how I was illogical.

“Are you a major?” he asked.

“Yes.” (No, I’m just in this upperlevel course for fun, duh).

“Oh…” This man had probably never looked at my code (TAs grade everything), and I was getting good grades in his class, but he was using my code as a thinlyveiled way to scold me for being too emotional. I left that meeting wanting to drop the major, feeling like I would never be good enough. Luckily I ran into a female ’16 CS major who was furious that a professor would talk to me so negatively: “He never would have done that to a guy.”

I understand that change takes time, we aren’t suddenly going to hit a 50/50 mark for women in tech tomorrow, but we can take steps to reach it right now. My mom (a true badass at her job) often tells me, “don’t come to me with a problem, come to me with a solution.” My solution starts early. Build the confidence in little girls that they can do anything. Stop telling girls that they are “bossy,” “naggy” or “shrill.”

Don’t let your female friends follow up an intelligent statement with “oh, but maybe I’m wrong, I don’t know.” Don’t let women call themselves “psycho bitches” when they demand quality work from their peers. I urge my peers to take computer science courses, and come to me with questions and for support whenever they feel discouraged. Blitz me if you want a fellow WICS support, or find me in Novack between the hours of 1 p.m.- 3 a.m.

6// MIRROR

Behind Every Strong Woman

Students explore their interests in women’s issues with off campus opportunities and on campus organizations STORY

By Carolyn Zhou

Talking to Maggie Sherin ’18, Io Jones ’19 and Anna Clark ’19 would make anyone believe in women’s ability to enact.

During the winter term of her sophomore year, Sherin interned in a medical clinic in Kenya. She worked under five clinical officers, who are medical experts in between doctors and nurses.

Although there were two female clinical officers and three male clinical officers, she interpreted it as a male dominated space.

Sherin said she mostly shadowed two of the male clinical officers in order to learn about different illnesses and ailments.

“The women were highly regarded as clinical officers, but the men were more respected.

Certain people would only want to see the men.”

She noted some of the cultural differences in gender roles between Kenya and America.

She recalled that she received comments on wearing athletic clothes while running – often from women.

“One of the nurses told me, ‘You’re going to send all these boys to Hell — you’re wearing shorts, you’re going to make them think sinful thoughts.’”

Although Sherin posed this as a cultural difference, the incident seems reminiscent of the dress codes that some public schools adopt in the United States. The criticism Sherin received echoes the justification many give for dress codes. The argument goes something along the lines of, “The way girls will disrupt the boys’ learning!”

The age of marriage and at which women gave birth surprised Sherin, who worked a lot in the maternal ward, and saw several mothers aged 13 to 15.

“Seeing girls who were younger than me have their second or third child was pretty shocking to me,” she said. “I was working in a pretty modern tribe, but I saw a lot of traditional practices, like polygamy.”

Sherin is thinking about becoming an OB/GYN, but noted the male-dominated nature of the profession.

She recalled that several male alumni who are doctors encouraged pediatrics over other specialiations. Several female alumni noted that pediatrics, with its more flexible hours, makes raising a family easier.

“And that really got to me — thinking about being in a career that is so time consuming and having to take into account

family. And thinking about how dorses candidates. you’re going to raise children On following local politics and being successful in your proclosely, Jones noted that, “It’s refession at the same time,” Sherin ally great having the knowledge said. and the facts Policies “I think Dartmouth was when you’re like paid matalking to people really missing this unique ternity leave about candidates and redis- mix of women’s rights you support.” tributing re- and political action group “It’s somesponsibilities times easy to forbetween par- on campus. It is inspirget about issues ents could ing to know that we can of access, espehelp allevicially if you’re and already have started ate some from a place of Sherin’s to spread awareness on like New York,” worries. Pol- campus and actually affect Jones said. icy change, “Or Verin fact, change in New Hampshire mont,” Clark can some- and national politics.” added. times be the On the overall best way to goal of the club, change cul- - IO JONES ’19 Jones explained, tural atti“We just want tudes toward to bring awarewomen. Io ness of a lack of Jones ’19 and Anna Clark ’19, access to people who might not the current co-presidents of know that these issues even exthe Dartmouth’s Planned Parist.” enthood chapter, founded last For example, Clark recalled year by Steph Brown ’16 , Cally that last year, the New HampBraun ’18 and Meaghan Haugh shire Executive Council defund’17, want their chapter to be ined Planned Parenthood, leaving volved in politics. In particular, over 10,000 women in the state the group is involved with lowithout access to proper healthcal elections — something that care for six months. may not be on the radar of the “These elections might be loaverage Dartmouth student but cal, but they matter,” Clark said. affects many in our community.

In addition to being directly Planned Parenthood, while a involved with politics, Jones said non-partisan organization, enthat she would like the club to

lessen the stigma around discussing women’s health issues.

“A lot of people hear the words Planned Parenthood and think abortion, but it’s so much more than that,” Jones said.

She also encouraged men to join the group.

“I think Dartmouth was really missing this unique mix of a women’s rights and political action group on campus. It is inspiring to know that we can and already have started to spread

awareness on campus and actually affect change in New Hampshire and national politics,” Jones said.

Clark noted her excitement at being involved with a women’s rights group that promotes political protection.

Clark added, “I do not think that a woman’s right to her own body should ever be subject to conversations of doubt or threatened by policy, whether it be at the national or local level.”

MIRR OR //7

Boston in the Rain

Reflecting on rainy nights with loved ones, past, present and future

COLUMN

By Clara Guo

Journal #11. Oct. 9, 2016.

I’m sad to be leaving Boston this weekend; I’ve always been bad at goodbyes, even ones that truly mean “see you soon.”

I stumbled across Mrs. Bello’s emails on the coach back up to Dartmouth. I was searching for inspiration for my column, some spark of an idea that would settle in my mind and unfreeze my words. I fell asleep briefly (I always fall asleep during long car rides) and woke up to a startling explosion of color. Peak foliage season. This — this richness, this natural beauty — is exactly the picture-perfect moment Mrs. Bello would have appreciated.

I remember one of my last conversations with Mrs. Bello in high school. I asked her why she quit law after decades of practice, and she told me she was bored. It was time for something different, and so she pursued teaching.

Her English classroom provided a respite from the suffocating bubble of stress; her 20-minute timed writings helped me find my voice.

I’ve emailed her several times already, providing school and career updates in disjointed paragraphs. To her, I express my desires and fears: “I want to take a creative writing course my sophomore year at Dartmouth with an (eventual) end goal of writing a book I would be proud to share.” (July 16, 2014) “A part of me wishes that I had never chosen to Google ‘publishing internships’ this last summer after too much organic chemistry. But another part of me tells the first part of me that I’m

being foolish. Of course I wanted to have this experience. Of course I want to learn more.”

(Feb. 4, 2015) Mrs. Bello has never taken more than a day to respond: “I do hope you will continue to write, in any event, b/c the gift of strong writing was bestowed upon you and you have cultivated it well.” (July 16, 2014) “Must you choose between science and writing, or could you do both? Atul Gawande is my measure of how to combine the two fields beautifully (and quite successfully). And of course, you could do some creative writing while pursuing a medical career, but medicine (like law) is a jealous creature, demanding so much of your time.”

(Feb. 4, 2015) I realized not so long ago that I want to be like her — a powerful woman passionate about living, a caring teacher accepting of flaws. I admire her intelligence, her work ethic, her energy, her willingness to believe unequivocally in a college student who did not always trust in herself.

Journal #26. Oct. 9, 2064.

My husband and I walked around Boston yesterday, celebrating my 70th a few weeks early. We ambled along the Charles, past a burning fireplace and a crowd of young professionals in suits until we arrived at steel steps leading to a dock.

Our hands held onto each other and dragged along the railing. It terrifies me how much I leaned on him for support.

We sat next to the water, our feet dangling off

the edge of the wooden dock. We sat in silence, watching the glimmer of city lights illuminate the distal half of ripples that danced in synchrony.

The sky shone with yellow- and grey-tinted clouds, hidden in the navy-black of night that forbade me from pointing upward and asking, “Do you see the one-clawed scorpion too?”

Another couple soon joined us, decades younger. Their laugh echoed in the emptiness, their hips joined together in a stumble telling of alcohol.

I remembered a moment, 48 years earlier — a moment strikingly similar. I sat on a dock like this one, legs crossed under me, worried that my shoes would fall into the water below. Beside me sat a friend grown familiar with time. We talked about medicine. My future. I showed him a photo of my final AP Psychology project, and he laughed, like I did, when he read the events I believed would define me. “Two years of residency?” he asked, teasing my naivety.

I must have laughed with him. “If only. How many years is optho?”

“Including internship? Four.”

“Fellowship?”

“A few more, I think.”

If only I could remember more of that night.

I had gone down for my friend’s 23rd birthday celebration in the middle of fall term. I think we ordered sushi at some point and even survived a Saturday morning spin class (60 minute spin if I remember correctly) — a tribute to the summer moments that bonded us as mutual confidantes.

I recounted to my husband the memory that randomly escaped the confines of storage decades later. We felt drops of rain land on the tops of our head and the curves of our nose. He helped me stand up. How quickly our bodies grow old.

We forgot to bring an umbrella last night.

Classic us. I’ve always loved walking in the rain, especially on an autumn night, but, lately, my body has grown weary, and I’ve found myself eager to seek dry haven.

The first time I ran in a downpour with someone I loved, I was 19 years old. The last time must have been years ago.

We debated taxiing back to our hotel, but I asked to walk instead. I wanted to spend just a little more time in a drizzle.

We walked past a tribute to old New Yorker covers last night, and I was reminded of Mrs. Bello. My first timed writing for her was inspired by the 9/11 cover, and I distinctly recall Googling the definition of her comment, “poignant,” in the middle of class.

I woke up this morning with a sore back and stiff ankles; regardless, I am thankful that I spent the extra 20 minutes outside (and even more thankful for a husband willing to massage old joints).

I pull up the saved emails from Mrs. Bello, rereading her advice for the millionth time, still marveling at the unwavering confidence she had in my abilities.

“Go well and stay well. Upward and onward.”

8// MIRROR

Beyond Book Club: Women’s Spaces on Campus

An exploration of “girl power” as it exists at Dartmouth STORY

By Abbey Cahill

I was going to write a story about how it is hard to be a woman at Dartmouth. I could write about problematic terms like “the Dartmouth X” or the flaws of hookup culture. I could write about the intersectionality of gender inequality and other forms of discrimination. I could write about a campus that is overwhelmed by male dominated social spaces. These issues are important. It is vital that we address them. But it is equally vital that we celebrate the spaces that empower Dartmouth women every single day.

Girl power is real, and it is vibrant, powerful and thriving on this campus.

The February of her freshman year, Jess King Fredel ’17 directed the first annual production of “Voices” with Semarley Jarrett ’14 and Sandi Caalim ’13. “Voices” is one of many performances under the larger umbrella of V-February, Dartmouth’s annual campaign to end violence and promote gender equity. The campaign is important because it provides an accessible space for students to reflect on issues of gender, race, sexuality and socioeconomic status.

“While this campus can often feel polarized in terms of these issues, we work to make V-Feb an inclusive space where any and all students can ask questions, challenge their perceptions and biases and en-

gage with dialogue in a healthy and productive manner,” King Fredel said.

“Voices” was a response to pushback against “The Vagina Monologues,” a part of V-February that, while historically important, does not completely address the intersectional aspects of modern feminism.

King Fredel, Jarrett and Caalim wanted something current that could transform from year to year.

Because each segment of “Voices” is an original performance, the production allows self-identifying women to explore issues immediately relevant to this campus. Her sophomore year, King Fredel wrote a piece herself about her relationship with her body and with men. She describes it as a powerful moment of self-definition.

“For women to be able to stand on stage and speak candidly about such intense issues makes me feel intensely proud to be involved,” Fredel said.

Lauren Huff ’17 is also interested in creating a platform where women speak about campus-wide issues. As the president of the Panhellenic Council, it is her job to foster productive inter-sorority relationships.

“There’s something very valuable about getting a bunch of women with different experiences and perspectives in a room to talk about issues that affect us directly,” Huff said.

Right now, she is interested in promoting diversity within the Greek system by prioritizing scholarships and assessing the advantages and disadvantages of the recruitment process.

“I personally hope to leave the system more inclusive than I found it,” she explained.

For Ashley Zepeda ’18, female empowerment means pushing boundaries. Society puts us in boxes, she argues, and it is our job to question them. She loves rugby because it does just that: In a contact sport typically dominated by men, womens’ NCAA rugby is governed by all the same rules as its male counterpart.

Rugby allowed Zepeda to find strength in community. She describes the team culture as accepting and supportive, a space where women never talk badly about their bodies or themselves. It’s a culture of toughness, and it’s contagious.

“I’ve not only become physically stronger and fitter, but also mentally,” Zepeda said.

“I’ve learned not to make excuses for myself.

I can do whatever the next guy can on and off the field.”

Huff expressed similar sentiments about her sorority, Alpha Phi. To her, it is both a physical home base and a massive support network. Each term, the sorority hosts “Women of A Phi,” an event that allows

sisters to share personal struggles, thoughts and stories with the entire house. It is a safe space for women to provide fresh perspectives, and Huff describes it as one of the most gratifying experiences as a member of A Phi. King Fredel is a member of Kappa Kappa Gamma, which puts on its own analogous termly event called “Women of Kappa.” She says that her involvement with Kappa has been an overwhelmingly positive experience and that the house has made her a much more confident woman. As a freshman, she remembers feeling that fraternities established power dynamics between men and women. After joining a larger community of women, she feels supported even in traditionally male spaces.

“As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become increasingly comfortable entering a fraternity and feel less aware of my gender in those spaces,” King Fredel said.

Rugby has instilled a similar confidence in Zepeda. She says that it has taught her about parts of her own identity and sexuality that she didn’t have the courage to explore before. It has made her unapologetically herself.

“I feel proud of being me in every way and can walk into whatever situation — or male dominated space — with ease because I feel in control and confident,” Zepeda said.