The Mirror 03/07/14

MIRR ROR OR MARCH 7, 2014

TAKING TIME TO GRIEVE // 2

NOT YOUR MOTHER’S FINALS SURVIVAL GUIDE // 3

PERCEPTION AND REALITY: HIV IN THE UPPER VALLEY // 4 THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS // 6

AFRAID TO CARE: A CULTURE OF APATHY // 8 ANTHONY CHICAIZA // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

2// MIRROR

EDITORS’ NOTE

TRACY WANG // THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

This campus delves deeply into discussing certain issues. We talk endlessly about our D-Plans, meal plans and fraternity culture.

This term especially, we have started to confront the complexities of race, class and sexual violence at the College. These issues are tremendously important, and it is phenomenal that we devote time and effort to understand them.

But there are others. There are problems, uncertainties and obstacles that exist completely under the radar at Dartmouth, affecting lives without a whisper of discussion or debate. HIV is one of those issues.

Before publishing this week’s Mirror, both of us were very aware of how underinformed much of campus is about something so pervasive. Erin took a course on HIV last spring, which made her realize just how little she had known about it before stepping foot into that classroom. Until this week, Marina understood only the surface-level basics and outdated stereotypes about a disease that has transformed in recent years.

Neither of us had taken the time to truly engage, talk to people or educate ourselves. Every campus issue, no matter how publicized or widely addressed, deserves a level of commitment and understanding. The past week finally gave us an opportunity to do that, and we hope this issue does the same for our readers.

And HIV is not the only campus concern that has flown under the radar for far too long. Both of us have realized, for the first time, just how rarely we come to new realizations. It’s relatively easy to contribute to discussions that are already happening on campus, and it’s absolutely critical that we do so. And it’s harder, but just as important, to start new ones.

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MIR ROR ERIN LANDAU MIRROR EDITORS MARINA SHKURATOV EDITOR-IN-CHIEF LINDSAY ELLIS PUBLISHER CARLA LARIN EXECUTIVE EDITORS

MICHAEL RIORDAN STEPHANIE McFEETERS

OVER HEARDS

TAKING TIME TO GRIEVE

By KALIE MARSICANO

At Dartmouth, life moves at breakneck speed. We’re booked by the hour, sleeping in the stacks and studying in the KAF line, but as long as things go according to plan, we manage.

That’s the catch: life almost never goes according to plan. When a loved one or a community member dies, we seldom see it coming, and even then, we can’t know how we’ll react. The grief associated with these events inevitably upturns our day-to-day lives.

As a community, we were reminded of this early in February, when Torin Tucker ’15 passed away during a cross-country ski race, leaving his fellow students, friends and teammates in a state of turmoil. The night of College President Phil Hanlon’s campus-wide blitz, grief counselors were available in Robinson Hall.

That Wednesday, the College held a highly attended memorial service in Rollins Chapel.

But soon, too soon, we had to return to the daily routine. Carly Wynn ’15, Tucker’s close friend and teammate, said that while she received support and flexibility from her professors and dean, assignments forced her to resume her normal life as soon as the memorial service had ended. With terms lasting only 10 weeks, keeping up after missing just a few classes can be impossible.

“I felt like I didn’t have time to be sad anymore,” Wynn said. “Assignments and exams don’t really wait for anybody.”

Krystyna Oszkinis ’14, who lost her father to cancer during her freshman fall, also said she found it impossible to fit grief into her relentless Dartmouth schedule. Though her dean offered her accommodations, she said she had to drop a class just to stay afloat.

“In reality, the classes move on if you get behind,” she said, “and you never really fully catch up.”

More than our academics suffer when we grieve at Dartmouth. We strive all term to find a rhythm that lets us eat, sleep, study and socialize in equal parts. When we lose a loved one, we can’t possibly stay on beat. Yet when we try desperately to do so, we marginalize our emotional wellbeing in the process.

Oszkinis did not tell many people when her father died, so she said being at Dartmouth made it easy to avoid thinking about her loss.

Instead of grieving, she jumped back into the social scene, classes and campus life. And her reaction was natural — it makes sense that our first priority is to jump back into the swing of things. In the immediate wake of a loss, some ’15 Guy: I think Jules Verne has written about bodies of water shallower than some puddles on campus.

Blitz overheards to mirror@thedartmouth.com

ALISON GUH // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

find it easier to keep busy and get things done until they are ready to actually stop and feel.

The problem occurs when we are finally ready to process, as the pace of life at Dartmouth doesn’t give us room to pause.

Oszkinis did not fully grieve until her junior year. She was sitting in Fahey Hall, listening to a Soul Scribes poem about the death of a family member, when she broke down sobbing.

“It was the first time I cried since my dad died,” Oszkinis said. “Since then, I’ve been able to cry again, and I think that’s good and healthy.”

Wynn said that though Dartmouth’s fast pace can actually help people move forward after a tragedy, the speed of terms lets us stifle our emotions instead of facing them.

The day before an organic chemistry exam his sophomore fall, Yobi Kelati ’15 found out that his mother was in the hospital. He sat down on the floor of his study room, emailed his professor to say he could not make it to the exam, then packed his things and left. He found out his mother had passed away not from his family, but from a neighbor who called to offer condolences before Kelati’s relatives had the chance to tell him what had happened.

Kelati said that he quickly threw himself back into his regular activities to maintain a sense of normalcy and did not give himself enough time that fall to fully process his grief.

“I was trying to keep up with this aggressive Dartmouth mentality of keeping your shit together despite what’s going on in your life,” he said. “I should have taken the time for myself to recover emotionally.”

Though he wishes he had given himself more time to process, Kelati said his support network, from new fraternity brothers to longterm friends, went above and beyond for him.

“I could not have grieved alone,” he said.

“It was not possible.”

There is no one right time to process the loss of a loved one, but Sandi Caalim ’13, who has lost multiple family members and friends during her time at Dartmouth, emphasized the importance of taking time to grieve.

“I feel like here at Dartmouth, we don’t have enough time to even sit down and feel any emotions,” Caalim said. “Over the years, I’ve learned to just press pause and do me for a little bit.”

Caalim balances a heavy course load with extensive extracurricular involvement in the Center for Gender and Student Engagement

’15 Girl: I think I should be able to get PE credit for this even though it requires absolutely zero physical activity.

’17 Girl: NonWestern? Oh, you mean NW doesn’t stand for Northwestern culture?

and Ujima dance troupe, but that doesn’t stop her from taking a step back from her daily grind when she needs to.

“A group is still going to run,” she said.

“Maybe some of the members might freak out for a hot second ... your well-being and your health are going to take you so much further.”

Not everyone is able to slow down and face their grief. Maybe that’s because, as Caalim said, “there’s a vulnerability when it comes to pausing.” When we stop to process, we don’t just fall behind academically. We also open ourselves up to the very real possibility of pain, sorrow and, above all, uncertainty.

During my Dartmouth Outing Club firstyear trip this fall, my grandmother passed away.

I spent the week between trips and orientation preparing for her funeral and then, without skipping a beat, launched into life at Dartmouth.

My grandmother barely crossed my mind until I booked my flight home for the holidays and realized she wouldn’t be there.

My grief hit me just as I was given a six-week break to process my emotions. I got lucky.

More often, the timing doesn’t work out.

Instead, we face a trade-off between academic and social success and emotional health. Moving on quickly helps us cope in the moment, but it also stops us from processing.

This isn’t to say that being at the College during hard times is all negative. Everyone I spoke to assured me that their communities at the College were essential to their emotional health and ability to manage as they grieved.

When we lost Tucker, Wynn said the student body, faculty and staff truly came together.

“The campus felt a lot smaller at that time,” she said.

For those seeking a community, Actively Moving Forward offers an outlet by bringing together students who wish to discuss their grief. Kara Dastrup ’14, the organization’s copresident, said such a community is especially important in light of Dartmouth’s fast pace.

“I always leave it happy,” she said. “It’s emotional, but the point isn’t to wallow. The point is to actively move forward.”

No matter how it happens, grief shakes our foundations and floods our lives with uncertainty. But even if life at Dartmouth won’t pause when we need it to, the individuals in our lives will. Stopping to feel during a Dartmouth term can seem impossible, but when we finally do, the communities we’ve found here will stand behind us. ’16 Girl: In an ideal world, Novack would exclusively sell margaritas.

Psychology Professor: If you want me to play Scrabble, I have to be wasted.

’15 Girl: If I were a stripper, this is the song I would strip to.

LS A N I F S ’ ER H T O M R IDE NOPOZ NOT YOU U G L A V Y AD SURVI D HAYLE H DA WINC N A M A By

AN

1. Procrastinate: Last finals period, a friend introduced me to the game Kanye Zone (Oh, you don’t know what it is, DST? Google it.). I proceeded to play it in the librar y for an hour and a half straight and made the day’s leader board. Imagine what I could do with one more hour.

2. Nap: People always say that you can “sleep when you’re dead.” It may be more accurate to say that without sleep, you’ll just die sooner. So I feel really good about making it a priority.

I have heard you are only supposed to nap for 30 minutes maximum (who has the self-control for that?). So technically speaking, I am being robbed of two naps. TWO. 3. Buy Ever ything at the Hop, Novack, KAF, and Collis: I have $450 of DBA left. The same thing happened last term.

The DBA is not going to spend itself. So basically, it is our economic duty to buy as many KAF cakes as possible.

4. Shower/Clean: For some unknown reason, people feel like finals period is the perfect time to forfeit any and all personal maintenance to hit the books extra hard. But you know what is hitting me extra hard? Your body odor.

5. Get Some Work Done: Ha.

11 12 1 2 10 3 9 8 4 7 6 5

1. KAF Artichoke Dip: It’s just amazing, and because it is green, you can pretend it’s made of vegetables. Plus, they give you so much of the stuff that it suddenly seems fitting to purchase an entire baguette.

2. KAF Chocolate Croissant: Somehow the chocolate chips are long rectangles. I don’t know how they do it, but I like it.

3. KAF Yogurt and Granola: Sometimes you’re on your fourth KAF croissant of the day and want to feel healthy. This is the snack for that time, so long as you can get over the imbalanced yogurt to granola ratio.

No shade to KAF, but nobody who has taste buds wants that much plain yogurt.

4. Novack’s Pepperoni Hot Pocket: Other times, you hate ever ything about your life and you want to feel unhealthy, because that is the closest to “cutting loose” you have come in several sober weeks. Nothing says “reckless” like a reheated hot pocket.

5. Novack’s Oddly Fancy Chocolate: I know it’s fancy because one time I saw that Stella’s sells them.

Stall Standards: Places for “Doing Your Business” While Getting Down to Business: 1. Periodicals/KAF Solo Restroom: Solo, i.e. by yourself ... Need I say more?

2. Periodicals/KAF Solo Restroom 2.0: The upstairs version of an original favorite. It even says “private” on the door, so it sort of feels like you have gained access to an elite poop club.

3. Novack Bathroom: Grim. For as many times as I have been denied access because someone was cleaning it, those stalls never cease to amaze me by just how nasty they are. Truly foul ... but open 24 hours.

4. Orozco (Rest)Room: Removed from the hustle and bustle of upstairs traffic, these single restrooms have it all: clean toilets, total privacy, a door that actually locks and won’t mysteriously open leaving you completely exposed.

5. Fourth Floor Berr y: Psych. Design flaw. Best make your way down to 3FB, where the woman’s bathroom is always flooded with some unidentifiable fluid. Gross? Indeed, but second floor just seems too far away.

Study Spaces D-classified: A Cynic’s Evaluation of Baker-Berr y Hot Spots: 1. 1902: For the masochist in all of us. While the large windows create the illusion of hope and positivity during daylight hours, don’t be fooled. The room becomes a den for stimulant-fueled late night study binges.

No bathroom in sight makes it impossible to maintain a balanced coffee diet. A giant, unnecessar y fireplace (naturally) ... but no bathroom.

2. First Floor Berr y: With its deafening volume, high-traffic flow and utter lack of conveniently placed electrical outlets, FFB boasts a coffeehouse feel in the mornings (minus the ambiance/hipster pretension) before degenerating into all-out chaos by 8 p.m. Just thinking about studying there conjures up the image of jocks in rolling chairs and Green Print traffic jams.

3. Third Floor Berr y: It’s like a more repressed version of first floor. It’s just as facetimey, but verbal interaction with others is frowned upon. It’s the serious

TRENDING @ Dartmouth

Nourishing the Mind: Best Sustenance for the Strung-Out Scholar:

As part of a movement we’ve dubbed “Productive Procrastination,” we have forgone online shopping and 45-minute KAF breaks for a more lucrative time-wasting occupation: penning an unorthodox yet accurate list of tips to help you stay sane this frosty finals period. Consider this your comprehensive how-to guide for going out with a 14Win instead of 14Whimper.

Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda: Top 5 Things I Would Do with the Hour that Daylight Savings Time is Stealing:

MIRROR //3

study spot for the social student. If you can resist falling asleep in armchairs and enjoy your homework with a side of searing sexual tension and social evasion, this is the place for you!

4. The Stacks: If you have the physical stamina of a yeti, you will flourish in this freezing icebox of academic devastation. Defined by a strict code of behavior that discourages not only speaking, but fidgeting, sniffling and mouth-breathing, the only thing more terrifying than this study space’s atmosphere is the unreasonably steep staircase one has to scale to find a decent spot.

5. Periodicals: Since some rando’s notebook and empty KAF cup already occupy nearly ever y table as soon as the librar y opens, finding a vacant study spot in this cozy corner of the librar y feels like a triumph in and of itself. Note to novices — there is lighting in the little nooks. Just find the pull string, and you can avoid sitting for hours in absolute darkness!

ELIZABETH MCNALLY // THE DARTMOUTH SENIOR STAFF

FINALS SAT UPHEAVAL

Everything we ever knew about the SATs has changed.

DARTMOUTH IDOL

Tonight, campus will cheer on people way more talented than we can ever hope to be. If you didn’t get tickets, have no fear.

There’s overflow seating in Moore. Because that’s the same.

SPRING BREAK Whether you’re hitting up Miami with 43 of your closest friends or spending the next two weeks watching Netflix in bed with your cat, spring break has appeared on the horizon. If you ask us, it can’t possibly come fast enough.

LAST DAY OF CLASS TREATS Now that classes are coming to a close, some of our professors have been trying to make up for a term of torturous assessments by bringing in delicious treats.

We’re not complaining.

GOODBYES For those of us still struggling with the D-Plan, the end of a term means saying goodbye to those we won’t be seeing for10 (or 30) weeks.

NOVACK DINNER

4// MIRROR

PERCEPTION AND REALITY: HIV IN THE UPPER VALLEY

By LUKE McCANN

“Just have a seat and someone will be with you shortly,” said the on-duty nurse at the front window, slipping me a small sheet of paper with my name and appointment time. The waiting room at Dick’s House is small, no larger than the two-room triple I called home last year. There are a handful of chairs and a tiny wooden bench crowded around one another. Next to me, a young woman leafed through a magazine. The entire room was quiet.

Nearly three hours before my first class, it was the earliest I had woken up in weeks. Groggy, I had stumbled out of my room, forgetting to put in my contacts. The writing on the pamphlets was too small and blurr y for me to read. The only words I could make out were on the glossy poster that stared at me from across the room. It read, in giant letters, “20% of Americans with HIV don’t know they have it.”

This poster is part of what Dick’s House calls the “1 in 5” campaign, an ongoing initiative to raise awareness on campus around the issue of the human immunodeficiency virus, or HIV. Similar notices are located all around campus. One flyer in Collis reads, “Soon ever yone will know someone who doesn’t know they are infected with HIV.” This Winter Carnival, several members of the Dick’s House staff participated in the polar bear swim as part of the campaign to raise awareness about the disease. A recent issue of The Stall Street Journal also tackled the issue, encouraging students to “know their status” and promoting the availability of testing at Dick’s House.

This heightened consciousness may fall on deaf ears, however, as many students, unaware of any HIVpositive students, don’t consider the disease to be an issue on campus.

Students often hold the misconception that HIV only affects people outside of the Dartmouth bubble, anthropology department chair Sienna Craig said. In her work, Craig focuses on cross-cultural understanding of health and illness.

Students, she’s noticed, seem to believe that HIV doesn’t concern their lives or impact the lives of those around them.

“They approach HIV as it occurs ‘out there’ rather than ‘in here,’” Craig added.

The bridging of “out there” and “in here” was a primar y topic of HIV/AIDS Through a Biosocial Lens: 30 Years of a Modern Plague, a class that Craig taught last spring. It was co-taught by Tim Lahey, an associate professor of medicine at the Geisel School of Medicine.

In inter views, both Craig and Lahey discussed the challenges that can come with addressing the issue of HIV in a rural community like the Upper Valley.

The Dar tmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center acts as a hub for HIV research and treatment in the area, providing care to patients from across the Northeast.

Lahey added that DHMC’s status as a tertiar y care hospital makes it possible for the hospital to include a robust HIV prevention and treatment program with many expert providers.

“This isn’t true of most rural hospitals, and so for about a million people living in the New Hampshire, Vermont and other nearby states, we’re the only resource,” he added.

Access to medical treatment, however, isn’t the only concern for many HIV-positive patients. At times, HIV can be a debilitating disease that causes the people who live with it to experience economic hardship stemming from missing work and the high cost of treatment, which currently may involve taking several drugs.

DHMC directly addresses several of these issues. As Lahey explains, the hospital gives multifaceted support to those patients who are living with HIV. Beyond physicians, it provides case managers, psychologists, nutritionists and medical experts from various fields.

Still, living with the disease can be challenging to handle alone. The HIV/ HCV Resource Center in Lebanon is a nonprofit organization that provides individual support for those whose lives are affected not only by HIV, but also

by Hepatitis C, an infectious disease that spreads in the same way as HIV. The resource center offers ser vices like free HIV testing and a syringe exchange program through which clients can anonymously drop off used needles.

For those who have been diagnosed, there is also a food bank and clothing drive that operates through donations.

All of the ser vices offered by the center are free, anonymous and completely confidential.

“No one should have to live in shame or secrecy because of their HIV status,” said Laura Byrne, the organization’s executive director. “We not only tr y to provide education and information, but also a sense of understanding.”

Simple understanding is important, as even the mention of HIV carries a powerful stigma.

When I asked students which groups of people they believed were most affected by the HIV virus, the over whelming response was gay males and intravenous drug users.

These stereotypes aren’t completely unfounded.

AIDS, the disease

MIRROR //5

caused by the HIV virus, was originally called GRID, which stood for gay-related immune deficiency.

Many of the most prominent early cases of HIV and AIDS involved queer men. As my Dick’s House nurse Suzanne Stebenne explained, the thinner tissue of the anus allows for facilitated transfer of the virus.

While the medical community has determined that HIV is not isolated to gay men, a strong association between HIV and the gay community continues to exist for those who are not educated about the disease.

Another widely recognized way of transferring the virus includes the sharing of needles, generally linked with intravenous drug use.

These stereotypes about who can contract HIV, however, are far from the truth. HIV can be transferred from mother to child, through blood transfusions or by occupational exposure for those working in the health care field.

Nevertheless, the connotations of HIV and its relationship with the gay community and drug abuse have left many afraid to discuss the disease or seek help.

“The Upper Valley isn’t a terribly conser vative par t of the countr y, but it’s not the most diverse place, either,” Craig said.

“It’s more difficult in some ways to get the support you might want, but also to remain anonymous in any attempts to do so.”

Lahey agreed, saying that in places like the Upper Valley, HIV can be unfamiliar to patients’ families and friends.

“There aren’t any hard and fast rules,” he said. “But I think the HIV stigma is definitely worse in rural areas.”

This stigma impacts not only the residents of the Upper Valley, but also students at Dartmouth.

When writing this ar ticle, I tried endlessly, questioning over 15 students across campus, to find someone who would talk to me about getting tested for HIV. I soon realized it wasn’t a topic that most people were incredibly open about, and not one that

Statistics courtesy of Dick’s House

I felt comfortable approaching strangers for, despite being a reporter.

Craig said teaching the class about HIV opened her eyes to the attitude that many students hold toward the disease. She was surprised and concerned, she said, to realize that many of the students taking her class had never been tested.

“There was a greater concern about sexual violence and unwanted pregnancy,” she said.

“Issues with STIs and HIV in particular were not something students were thinking about.”

She went on to discuss this attitude as something that has grown “after the cocktail,” referring to the increased prominence and availability of HIV medication. Almost all the responses I received from students mirrored this lack of concern with HIV in today’s world.

That’s why I ended up at Dick’s House early one morning. If no one was going to talk about getting tested openly, I was going to have to go through with it myself.

When I entered the small, cold room with my nurse, I was suddenly ner vous. I asked if I could buy something from the vending machine before we started. I’d skipped breakfast that morning and didn’t want to pass out when my blood was getting taken.

My nurse looked confused, standing there holding what seemed like a pregnancy test in her hand. HIV tests, it turns out, don’t require

blood samples anymore.

She swished the white stick around my mouth and sat it in a cup on her desk. Then she explained how it would test for certain antibodies in my mouth. In 20 minutes I’d know whether I was HIV negative. The stick would let her know if there were a chance that I had HIV, in which case, I would need blood work.

“Students think it’s a long, drawn-out process to get tested for HIV,” she said. “It’s not at all. It’s completely free and takes less than 20 minutes.”

I sat there for a while longer, discussing HIV at Dartmouth with her, almost forgetting about the test that was only a few feet away from us. She reminded me multiple times that the testing is free for all students associated with Dartmouth, not just those on the school’s insurance. When I finished my questions, she informed me of my results. Before I had made it back to the librar y, I received a message from the nurse on Banner Student wishing me the best of luck with my research on HIV. Despite the stigma that continues to exist around the discussion of HIV on this campus and beyond, there’s no argument that it is necessar y to raise awareness of the disease.

No matter your risk, know your status. HIV is not a thing of the past.

ARMIN MAHBANOOZADEH // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

6// MIRROR

Through the Looking Glass

PERSPECTIVES ON VULNERABILITY AND PURPOSE B y MARY DiGERONIMO

To make others feel valued and appreciated. That is the reason I am here. This purpose came to me during freshman winter at Dartmouth, when I cried out to God (literally), asking Him why I was here. I initially tried to block out His response — to make those around you feel valued and appreciated. Though it seems simple on the surface, this purpose sounded too complex in its fluidity. Honestly, I was expecting a relatively more tangible response — something like leading a student service organization, a purpose that would fit like a spooning lover alongside my impressive interdisciplinary psychological and brain sciences major. I thought, how am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to bring light to some other person’s day when I don’t even like it here?

I now realize that this charge appeared overwhelming because it directly contrasted with issues that I would have to confront if I wanted to live out this purpose. The message contradicted self-inflicted expectations and ideologies that I felt my immediate community of friends and peers had placed upon me.

I felt pressure to sit at a desk and work, work, work to show that I am worthy of receiving good things in life. Stress, stress, stress to show that I care about this society and will do something (maybe self-righteously) great to prove it. Perform, perform, perform to add the best possible value to a community that is watching and judging me based on my abilities.

In this admittedly hellish cycle, mental and social, when was someone going to speak up and say, “Turn off the expectation pressure cooker and just be you?” But at that time, I didn’t really know what it meant to be me.

The intervening force in this hellish vortex, I believe, was God. The palpable, strained sense of hell that held me down from feeling joy and embracing, rather than dissociating from, my present state of being at Dartmouth broke down. A Peace beyond my own understanding cradled my weary mind and body and restored this inexplicable piece of humanness — my soul — back to a state of wholeness.

I now study contemplative meditation in a randomized control trial setting. This opportunity is a blessing, and the evidence from my research brings a unique sense of meaning to my daily life.

In order to fulfill my purpose further, I apply the principle of deep listening when interacting with those around me. My own mental distractions must be checked at the door, and I must prioritize compassion for whatever the other person currently is experiencing at the time (obviously, this includes leaving any media sources and distracting technology out of sight). Ideally, the interaction resonates with love.

I also make sure to write notes out of sincerity and take the time to pray for friends individually. I believe there must be something greater than us that can pour out unending love, grace and the refreshing sense of power that people need to get through the seemingly unbearable.

It’s a matter of acknowledging and accepting that I am by no means capable of making people feel fully valued and appreciated. Inviting a loving power beyond me to do the work is the next best option.

Undoubtedly, God still intervenes in my life today, when layers of self-inflicted expectations begin to film over my lenses of life perspective, twisting this invisible knob just below my clavicle that cranks my neck closer and tighter toward my ears. Only then, with this power that intervenes exactly where my weaknesses would have pervaded, can I take a stand against the faulty thoughts that try to weld shackles of judgmental, expectant restraint around my hands.

On a not so basic level, expectations create shackles — shackles of the self, in conjunction with society’s expectations of people as objects of sexuality. We need to cast these expectations aside, need to embrace the sensual beauty that is authentically present and compassionately receptive.

We need to cast aside shackles of the expectation of being a perfect specimen. Accept the challenge to reconcile cognitive dissonance and emotional discomforts with unequivocal happiness and emotional ease.

Continually confronting my shackles in exchange for mental (or spiritual) freedom at Dartmouth has come with an overwhelming sense of fullness in being. Not doing, but being— being active, being in progress, being invested in a sincere connection with others through love. Being in love especially with the young man I am engaged to marry (hi there, Freddie).

This freedom has paradoxically ushered vulnerability into my life.

Genuinely listening to people and expressing love takes an emptying of the mental self-defense heuristics that would otherwise protect us from recognizing the differences or discomforts between us. I think

Courtesy of Mary DiGeronimo

While it is easy to lose sight of the important things in the chaos of Dartmouth life, Mary DiGeronimo ’14 found her personal calling through God’s message to make those around her feel valued and appreciated. this vulnerability gives conversation a restful tone and might relieve underlying tension.

On that note, I believe authenticity is connected to embracing one’s quirks, which induces vulnerability in the face of others’ possible expectations about your persona. Pausing to remember and embrace quirks of individuality or shortcomings could foster humility in Dartmouth’s culture of individualistic ambition.

Some of my personal quirks at Dartmouth, for good measure, include my brief naked morning yoga sessions in the privacy of my own room and my selfsoothing finals technique of making various flared-nose faces in Photo Booth in the library. Freddie and I, as a pair, also consistently embrace the quirk of being engaged undergrads at Dartmouth.

On a deeper level, I am concerned that I will never earn enough to reimburse my parents for this education or justify the stress that my family underwent to send me here on financial aid. I am afraid to feel like I have not adequately served my purpose as a Dartmouth student.

Hopefully we can recognize that our thoughts are fleeting, transient forms of energy expenditure.

Here I am, here you are, reading, and we are in this “humanness” thing together. We know that struggle is inevitable. Alternatively, we know that the flow that comes with doing something that you’ve mastered is undoubtedly pleasurable.

To conclude this microscopic piece for a microcosmic campus, I want to take a moment to share with you, dear reader, what I would if this were a conversation over a meal together ...

You are more than a fulfillment of expectations. You are a gatekeeper and a cultivator of truth in the present moment. Each of your thoughts, though transient, is potential. Quite literally, action potential is occurring within your synaptic clefts. I hope that you find the means to cast out self-inflicted or societal expectations that increasingly construct manacles around your ever-so-capable and gifted hands. You and I are undeniably different — though human to human, I see your struggle. I am humbled by your perseverance and ask you to endure seasons of testing to experience the redemption of fully being yourself. I hope that you feel sincere rest in simply being. Above all, please know that you are deeply valued.

MIRROR //7

COLUMN

OFFTURMOIL

By

By

KATIE SINCLAIR

SARA KASSIR I’m really jealous of Ben Affleck, and it isn’t even because he regularly gets to hang out with Matt Damon.

This envy is a new realization, and I have to be honest, it surprises me a lot. Affleck is objectively not an unusual or illogical person to be jealous of — he’s talented, charismatic and easy on the eyes. But if you examine my other role models from childhood (John Lennon), adolescence (Christiane Amanpour) or the present (my little brother), he doesn’t exactly fit the mold. I respect his work and credibility as an entertainer — I’ve just never been remotely interested in gracing the silver screen.

But I’m jealous of him because he gets the career that he’s probably always wanted — and then some. He gets to have the high-profile, money-making, legendary movie star status, but then he turns around and uses it to make a difference in issues he believes are important. In late February, Affleck testified before Congress about the humanitarian issues in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, sparking discussion among people (read: fans) who probably couldn’t have told you where the DRC was on a map before his appearance. And he plays a role in the new Batman movie set to debut in 2015 (my terrifyingly close graduation year). Talk about having your cake and eating it, too.

In my opinion, it’s going to take a lot more than a little bit of humanitarian intervention and goodwill (hunting, get it?) from the U.S. to bring peace to that part of the world. But I applaud Affleck for trying. I initially doubted his background and wrote the testimony off as a publicity stunt, but his testimony proved that he does have experience in the region.

And after all, expressing conviction about something is better than a stint in rehab.

My realizing just how good Affleck has it came primarily from my current internship experience and my summer internship search. When I selected my college major, I didn’t fully appreciate the dichotomy that often exists between choosing to make a lot of money and choosing to make a difference in the world. I decided on the latter without really understanding that the former would consequently be more difficult. My argument isn’t that finance bankers cannot effect, but you’re kidding yourself if you say that’s why people chose to work on Wall Street.

I’ve spent the past term doing work on high-conflict areas for the State Department.

It feels good to wake up in the morning and know that even the most boring Excel projects contribute to helping people around the world. It feels less good not to be paid for my time, though, especially when I consider that I could probably have a job that would deter the

IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING

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costs of living in an expensive metropolitan area. Also, it turns out it’s harder to fix the world’s problems than you would think.

Don’t get me wrong — I fully appreciate that I’m fortunate enough to even consider the idea of having an unpaid internship. I know that many of my peers are not in the same boat. But when you’re on the brink of figuring out what you want to do with the rest of your life, it’s good to question your priorities.

My most recent round of existential questioning has focused a lot on defining success. In my book, it’s always been about doing something “noble” — that is, something meaningful and bigger than myself.

A lot of people at Dartmouth and the world define it differently.

If you’ve ever taken a Myers-Briggs Type Indicator personality test, I’m an INFJ. This means that I have introverted intuition with extraverted feeling. It’s the rarest personality type, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing. Among other peculiarities, it means that I have such a big-picture outlook that my perspective becomes unrelatable to a lot of people. Go figure.

These days, I’ve tried to bring my viewfrom-outer-space conception of the world into closer focus. I have considered the possibility that maybe a more egocentric understanding would be a good thing. To be frank, when I chose to study and work in international relations, I was not in a place where worrying about money was an immediate concern. I don’t regret my decision in the slightest because I have a passion for it and am confident that my education has given me the skills to do well no matter where I end up. I also don’t really care about being able to own a Maserati. I have, however, come to appreciate that there is intrinsic value in all kinds of work, and that careers aimed at achieving the lifestyle you want for yourself and your family have their own merit.

I hope that 20 years down the line, regardless of which side of the dichotomy we end up on, we all end up as Ben Afflecks. I hope that my friends who say they want to work in a high-earning career so they can give back pull it off. I hope we defy the evidence that addiction to greed is real. I hope we keep in mind that money is a means to an end and not an end in itself. In sum, I hope that we’re able to have our cake (perhaps in varying degrees of gourmet-ness) and eat it, too (whatever that greater good means for you).

And if you happen to have an internship in mind that sets the stage for all that, blitz me. The hunt is still on.

In case you were wondering, Douglas Tompkins and Kenneth Klopp established The North Face brand in the 1960’s. For the first 10 years or so, the company only made tents, backpacks and mountainclimbing gear. It then branched out into high-performance outerwear designed to withstand the freezing temperatures on Mount Everest. All of this makes me wonder how exactly Dartmouth students kept themselves warm and stylish before North Face introduced the iconic Denali polar fleece jacket.

Since Polar fleece, Gore-Tex and other miraculous, water-repellent and insulating fabrics weren’t invented until the latter half of the 20th century, I am deeply impressed with the first Dartmouth students for braving the harsh winters back in 1769.

They lived in a world without snowplows, central heating or waterproof anything.

Even though we are the beneficiaries of thousands of years of human progress designed to keep us warm, beginning with the discovery of fire and culminating in those microwaveable lavender-scented slippers, I feel no qualms whatsoever about complaining about the weather. This is not because I am particularly sensitive to the cold but rather because I like to complain.

March is finally upon us, and spring is slated to arrive in two weeks. It’s been somewhat amusing watching the rest of the country panic over the “polar vortex.”

It’s what we in Hanover call “winter.” My brother goes to school in North Carolina and had two days of class cancelled after 2 inches of snow. Hanover gets a foot and a half in 36 hours, and students slog through the snow to class as usual.

I’ve spent several columns keeping track of my “last ever” moments, and my last winter in Hanover is probably the only one I feel little sorrow for. Winter Carnival is fun — I went (and failed at) ice skating once, and I like the idea of the Dartmouth Skiway even though I only skied during my freshman winter. I have never gone sledding on the golf course at night, but I survived the Polar Bear Swim and will certainly continue to bring that up in casual conversation to show how cool and adventurous I am. But all in all, I have no regrets about my last Hanover winter coming to a close.

Winter might have been marginally less irritating if I didn’t have to hike to the Life Sciences Center twice a day every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

Someone decided to place my graphic

novel class there, and I have an hour and a half between my 10 and my 12. Without food or, more importantly, coffee in the Life Sciences Center, I must walk the full seven minutes to Novack to make up for the fact that getting breakfast before a 10 is impossible. I have to walk there one more time, for my final, and then hopefully never again.

One of the things that gets me through winter, besides the promise of a spring break Caribbean cruise, is my hideous brown knee-length North Face jacket, which my mother bought me in October 2010 when my parents visited for Homecoming and my birthday. The jacket makes me feel sleek and well-insulated, like a walrus or a fur seal. It’s definitely one of the sexiest pieces of clothing I own. I barely wore it all freshman year, choosing instead to don my grandfather’s old peacoat from the Navy. Now that I am old and above caring how hip I look, the hideous brown jacket comes out whenever the temperature drops below 20 degrees.

Even though approximately 37 percent of campus owns that exact same ugly jacket, you can’t miss me in the winter — I always augment my winter apparel with fashionable animal-themed headwear.

I have outgrown my youthful vanity and have accepted sacrificing stylishness for warmth. Cute lace-up boots with the halfinch heel? Nope, I’m wearing Uggs. Little short skirts with sheer black tights? No way, because then my legs are both freezing and itchy. I’m still curious as to how some guys keep their feet dry in winter, because I swear there are those who wear sneakers even when there’s 6 inches of snow on the ground. Also, I’ve never seen a guy in a knee-length coat or wearing a cheerful animal hat. Are Dartmouth guys just so manly that their legs and ears don’t get cold? This is a question that a future columnist must work to answer. That and where all the lost frackets go.

I’ve always enjoyed the gradual approach of spring, when the snow recedes and things turn green again. This spring will be particularly strange — as the weather gets nicer, I’ll be closer and closer to leaving. Dartmouth, I love you, but I shall not miss your winters. Maybe when this column returns in two weeks, the snow will be gone and the sun will come back. Frankly, I doubt it, but that’s okay.

You really can’t appreciate how beautiful spring and summer are unless you put up with winter.

8// MIRROR

AFRAID TO CARE: A CULTURE OF APATHY

By IRIS LIU

In the heyday of sophomore summer, the hot air clung to campus like a sweaty bed sheet, a strained bubble threatening to burst, saturated with a tantalizing blend of feverish heat and fervent youth. The Connecticut River sparkled, beckoning the glare of the rising sun creeping from the east. Down Tuck Drive, she was sitting alone on a bench. It was uncharacteristically early, and campus had only just begun to stir.

In the stillness of the morning, she was numb.

Numb in a way that dwarfed the lingering ache from having her head smashed against a wall. Numb in a silencing, helpless way. In the way sexual assault is numbing. *** In recounting her story to me, she told me she had been sexually assaulted — well, raped, she clarified, but she hates using that word.

The term “sexual assault” can sometimes confer a sense of formality and dignity — in this particular case upon an inherently callous, undignified and degrading act. The word “rape” is derived from the Latin verb “rapere,” which means “to seize,” or to attack or take with force and violence. You cannot seize something in a formal or dignified way.

In general, people fear feeling uncomfortable. We are afraid to appear as though we “care too much,” whether that means calling rape what it is or just sending consecutive text messages to a new friend.

In the context of fleeting 10-week terms compounded by the D-Plan’s erratic nature, we are left with a student body fragmented by the strictness of time, former health education programs coordinator Kari Jo Grant said.

“When you get to a place that’s super fast-paced and everybody’s time is of incredible value, there’s that inherent sense of not wanting to waste someone’s time,” she said.

The search for unity at Dartmouth may not be as apparent as, say, our upcoming final exams, but certain milestones we associate with our experience here — Dimensions, Dartmouth Outing Club first-year trips, sophomore summer and senior spring — reveal the value we assign to our rare periods of shared time together.

Yet we pride ourselves on our independence, and we are rightly encouraged to chase down our passions and grow in our own directions. For the most part, we navigate much of our

personal development alone. As we are ’14 said. doing so, it’s easy to lose track of our “When nothing is permanent, and relationships. you’re not really held accountable for A Duke University and University of things, you have a culture of, ‘Why Arizona study showed that Americans not? It’s just going to move on,’” she had fewer close friends in 2006 than said. “Dartmouth has a culture of being they did two decades prior. The averproductive without reflection, of moving age American in 1985 had around three without stopping.” family and non-family members he or According to psychologist Erik she felt comfortable discussing imporErikson’s theory on stages of developtant matters with, the study reported. ment, people move through eight stages In 2004, nearly half of Americans — of psychosocial development, each double the figure from 1985 — said of which is associated with a “crisis” they discussed important matters with that determines how we construct our one other person, identity. Our college including family. years happen to fall We are, however, between stage five “When capable of maintainand stage six, those nothing is ing a far greater that most heavily permanent, volume of peripheral emphasize relationor non-intimate reand you’re not ships. Erikson posits lationships, accordthat during this time, really held ing to anthropolowe struggle to define accountable our identity and our gist Robin Dunbar, for things, whose theor y arappearance to othgues that people can ers, and as young you have a maintain around 150 adults, we may feel culture of, stable relationships isolated when we ‘why not? it’s are unable to make at a time.

At a small school, just going to the sacrifices and it’s not hard to comcompromises that inmove on.’” pose a lengthy list of timate relationships — Eliana acquaintances. Yet require. there is a pervasive Farwell said that piper ’14 sense of loneliness coming from a high — of being alone in a crowded room, Cedar Farwell ’17 said.

“It almost feels personal when you feel lonely, like somehow you’re doing something wrong,” he said. “As if Dartmouth doesn’t care for you, or your friends don’t care for you, specifically.”

Farwell said that in his experience, the most important aspect of building a close relationship is making an investment and taking a stake in another person’s well-being.

“It’s really hard to put yourself out there to people here because it’s hard to tell your story in a way that feels genuine, especially when everyone is always so busy,” Farwell said. “Empathy and sympathy are very different, and sympathy doesn’t always give people the same sense of being cared for.”

Particularly because Dartmouth attracts many “perfectionistic” students, a lot of work and time is invested in keeping up appearances, Grant said.

“Vulnerability is so difficult to express,” she said. “We worry whether others will be able empathize.”

On both a personal and an institutional level, students are driven by a sense of transience rooted in the D-Plan and our fast-paced terms, Eliana Piper

school graduating class of 35 students, he was immediately struck by how “impersonal” Dartmouth felt compared to his collaborative high school experience. Then, he said, he felt “a sense of collective responsibility” with his classmates.

“Even if you didn’t get along with everybody, you were really in it together,” he said.

Factors such as the length of our terms and the size of our student body, however, often facilitate forming acquaintances but not intimate friendships, Alexia Pereira ’14 said.

“You can easily become surface-level friends with a lot of really cool, enjoyable people, but you don’t often get into really serious situations where you want to share your story,” Pereira said. “If people are well-versed in thinking the thoughts and feelings of those who are going through something rough — essentially, being empathetic — it’s easier to notice issues, and the signs are always visible.”

Building deeper relationships, then, requires conscious effort and often some degree of self-consciousness.

After rushing her sophomore fall, Pereira especially noticed our need to

ALISON GUH // THE DARTMOUTH STAFF

justify reaching out or connecting with others. She described how repeatedly engaging with sisters she didn’t know as well seemed almost taboo, as if “trying too hard” made her seem as though she cared too much.

“We’re so scared of overstepping,” Pereira said. “It’s not that we’re actively ignoring each others’ problems. A lot of the time, it’s about learning how to navigate situations and learning how to help someone.”

Grant said that Dartmouth students often operate on the idea of “tolerating” rather than truly handling our hardships because the transient nature of the College’s terms and our constantly shifting community of students makes it challenging to reflect on an emotional level.

“If we don’t make time for each other and that intentional relationship development, there will always be a sense of being unfulfilled, off-center and off-balance,” Grant said. “It can be really hard to talk about, and it requires emotional and personal work.” *** She sat alone on the bench until a friend who happened to be jogging by found her and walked her home. She remembers seeking help from the College and being passed around from one “resource” to the next, repeating and reliving her story again and again, until she finally decided to go on Google and find a therapist in town. She remembers opening up to her close friends and her friends crying for her pain.

As we sat together on a Thursday evening, she reflected on her past experiences, warning me in advance that she doesn’t really talk about emotions, so not to be alarmed if she broached the subject casually.

“We’re so isolated, our lives here get so wrapped up in the Dartmouth bubble we forget there are more important things than work and going out,” she said, reflecting on the feeling that Dartmouth’s community does not abide by a unifying code of conduct.

Creating close friendships is viewed as an anomaly, she added, since we show very little common courtesy toward those we are merely acquainted with on a regular basis.

“We’re scared of burdening others, and we’re scared of taking on other people’s burdens,” she said. “Knowing that someone feels comfortable enough to come to you — that’s a huge milestone in any friendship, and it’s the best feeling.”