LH Magazine

The Little Hawk

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Monochrome

Millennials share their reasons for choosing to distance themselves from the term ‘feminist’ page 12

Series of fashionable monochromatic looks taken at Hancher and the Voxman music building.

page 6 Bruschetta

As a final toast to a summer gone by, we prepared an assortment of bruschetta, both classic and punk, in an attempt to capture the freedom of August in an open-faced appetizer

page 4 Refugees in Iowa Aimeé Nyamadorari ‘17 and her family were forced to leave their home country, Congo, for life in a Burundian refugee camp due to a civil war

page 8

A FEMINIST BY ANY OTHER NAME

PREVIEW

4 6

Bruschetta

By Ayla Canin and Nova Meurice

As a final toast to a summer gone by, we prepared an assortment of bruschetta, both classic and punk, in an attempt to capture the freedom of August in an open-faced appetizer.

Monochrome

By Danielle Tang

Series of fashionable monochromatic looks taken at Hancher and the Voxman music building.

12

2 Little Hawk Feature Magazine

COVER PHOTO BY SARAH SMITH

8

in the middle

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a feminist by any OTHER name

By Molly Liu andNova Meurice

A refugee’s journey from Congo to Iowa City

By Sarah Smith and Lucy Wagner

Millennials share their reasons for choosing to distance themselves from the term ‘feminist’

september 30, 2016 3

Bruschetta

By Ayla Canin and Nova Meurice

4 Little Hawk Feature Magazine

As a final toast to a summer gone by, we prepared an assortment of bruschettA, both classic and punk, in an attempt to capture the freedom of August in an openfaced appetizer.

As is true of most Italian recipes, bruschetta is perfectly suited to improvisation. As long as you choose flavorful ingredients that pair together well, these recipes can be tailored to what toppings you may have on hand. Bruschetta is ideal for a quick meal, or as a visually impressive hors d’oeuvre, since the openfaced and uncomplicated preparation allows for both speed and artistic interpretations. Buon appetito!

PAGE 4 TOP LEFT: Goat cheese topped with Nova lox and fresh chives. PAGE 4 TOP RIGHT: Avocado with red pepper flakes.

PAGE 4 BOTTOM: Fresh mozzarella and cherry tomatoes, garnished with basil. PAGE 5 TOP LEFT: Braised peaches and goat cheese, drizzled with balsamic vinegar

september 30, 2016 5

monochrome DANIELLE TANG

photos TAKEN AT THE voxman MUSIC BUILDING and hancher, MODELED : CASSIDY SLATeR-SCOTT

see more looks at thelittlehawk.com

Sweater: H&M Dress: Forever 21 Sunglasses: Target

Jacket: Laura Ashley Top: Forever 21 Skirt: Forever 21 Shoes: Steve Madden

Dress: Calvin Klein Shoes: Steve Madden

Jacket: Olivier Romper: Charlotte Russe Scarf: Forever 21

I N

t h e

By Molly Liu and Nova Meurice

9 Little Hawk Feature Magazine

Aimee Nyamadorari ‘17 did not realize that she was in danger when the sound of a church hymn woke her up in the middle of the night.

The year was 2004. It was a warm August night, and Nyamadorari lay beside her parents, her five siblings, and her aunt in Gatumba, a Burundian refugee camp.

At 10 o’clock, the alleluia of a familiar church melody began to echo among the tents, waking Nyamadorari from a restless sleep.

Nyamadorari tried to ignore the music and fall back asleep, for that night, she and the other refugees were oblivious to the threat in their presence. The prayers came not from a pastor or priest; rather, they were sung by the rebel soldiers of the Forces of National Liberation (FNL).

Shouting and chanting, the soldiers slowly began to advance toward the grounds of Gatumba, causing a stir throughout the camp.

Seconds later, the sound of gunfire pierced the night air. A relentless torrent of bullets followed.

“I was so scared,” Nyamadorari said. “There were a lot of kids, and a lot of them ran away because it was so scary. I didn’t know what to do. I tried [to stay back] and keep sleeping.”

Nyamadorari called to her mother to wake her, but heard no answer. Her father, hearing her cries, confirmed her fear: her mother had been shot dead.

“I told my little siblings not to cry, because the enemies could maybe hear them, and maybe even come kill me,” Nyamadorari said.

Upon hearing the gunshots, Nyamadorari’s aunt hurried over to their tent to pick up Nyamadorari and her younger sister, Sarah.

However, Nyamadorari’s father was unable to flee, as he had suffered a bullet to the leg. Nyamadorari recalls feeling torn about having to leave her father behind.

“I didn’t want to leave my dad,” Nyamadorari said. “I said I wanted to stay with my dad. He told me to go, and said that he would be with

me again soon.”

So Nyamadorari and her Aunt, with her infant sister in tow, fled the camp. Behind them, Gatumba had turned into a massacre scene.

The tents had been deserted. Belongings were destroyed. More than a hundred refugees lay dead, including Nyamadorari’s mother and four of her siblings. As Nyamadorari escaped, she heard her father shout to God for forgiveness, to make peace before his death.

“They say, at that time, you had to ask God for forgiveness so you could die [in peace],” Nyamadorari said. “My dad started praying, saying ‘forgive me, forgive my family and my wife.’”

Born in Congo but raised in Burundi, Nyamadorari and her family belonged to the Banyamulenge ethnic group, and grew up in a decade surrounded by political and ethnic tensions. Congo’s recent conflicts date back to the 1990s and stem from the Rwandan genocide.

The power struggle between political groups made it difficult for rebel forces to emerge as a cohesive governmental body. One such group includes the RCD-Goma, a rebel movement that has historically advocated for the Banyamulenge people. The RCD-Goma also share an intimate relationship with the Rwandan government, a fact that renders hostility among other Congolese ethnic groups against the Banyamulenge. This hostility was further provoked by the occurrence of a series of CongoleseRwandan wars, ultimately putting the loyalties of the Banyamulenge people into question.

“They call us Congolese, but others call us Rwandans...we were just in the middle,” Nyamadorari said.

Burundi continues to live in the aftermath of the Burundian Civil War, which lasted from 1993 to 2006. Political groups, such as The

“I SAID I WANTED TO STAY WITH MY DAD. HE TOLD ME TO GO, AND SAID THAT HE WOULD BE WITH ME AGAIN SOON.” NYAMADORARI ‘17

Forces for the Defense of Democracy (FDD), clashed with the FNL over the division of power. Ethnic strife between the Hutu and Tutsi groups, which was thought to have originated from class conflicts, threatened political progress as well. The mainly Hutu FNL and the largely Tutsi FDD remain opponents to this day. Because the Banyamulenge were closely associated with the Tutsi FDD, they became a primary target for the Hutu FNL, much like Nyamadorari’s family’s experience in Gatumba.

Nyamadorari, her aunt, and her sister began to head toward a forest, where they happened upon a house to stay the night in. In the morning, Nyamadorari received a message from one of the men staying at the house: it was from her father, requesting to speak with her. When Nyamadorari was unable to make the journey back to her father, her aunt went instead. Her aunt returned later in the day, however, to deliver troubling news: her father had passed away.

“When my aunt came back from the visit crying, I knew [something bad had happened],” Nyamadorari said. “I knew then that my dad had died.”

Her father’s last words, as told by her aunt, still linger in her mind.

“He said that I had to be strong no matter what, and that I had to take good care of my sister. He told [my auntie] to take care of us two girls, because we didn’t have a mom and dad anymore,” Nyamadorari said.

Several hours later, a man arrived with a truck, offering to take injured survivors of the attack to the hospital. In the light of the day, Nyamadorari saw that her sister was covered in blood, and that she herself had been shot.

“I didn’t realize it at first,” Nyamadorari said. “I thought that I was fine, but my auntie said ‘no, they

september 30, 2016 9

shot us,’ but I [insisted], ‘no, I’m fine.’”

The man from the truck bandaged her head, and took Nyamadorari and her family to the hospital. After their week-long stay, Nyamadorari’s grandmother arrived, requesting to see the bodies of her family members.

After the massacre, the FNL had set fire to the camp. Her mother’s body, only recognizable by the clothes that she wore, was still in the charred remains of her family’s tent. “[My grandma] didn’t want to leave her daughter,” Nyamadorari said. “People came and tried to pull her away.”

As is traditional in Congo, children are expected to stay with the father’s family in the absence of the parents; however, due to her poor health and young age, Nyamadorari’s sister was sent to an orphanage in Burundi. Nyamadorari, separated from her younger sister, was sent back to Congo to live with her father’s parents. Two years later, Nyamadorari traveled back to Burundi, reuniting with her sister and residing in the orphanage. She and her sister lived there for ten years, alongside 62 other children who had lost their parents in Gatumba on that night in August.

Separated from the rest of her family, Nyamadorari sought refuge in the religious community at the orphanage.

“It was really hard [to look for hope]. The thing that helped me while living in the orphanage was our pastor,” Nyamadorari said. “He gave us courage through the word of God. I believed that there was no other man I could have trusted more, because I didn’t have my dad and my mom.”

Nyamadorari’s faith also gave her a greater sense of purpose and the strength to continue living.

“I told myself that I could trust God,” she said. “Because [the FNL] shot me, I was supposed to die, but God had a good plan for me.”

Nyamadorari also found solace in fostering relationships with the members of the orphanage - especially with the caretaker of the orphanage, who had a daughter of her own. Over a period of eleven years, Nyamadorari and her caretaker developed a close relationship. Today, Nyamadorari and her sister see their caretaker as a mother figure.

“To this day, we call [her] ‘mom,’” she said.

Although Nyamadorari was able to find comfort in the midst of her hardship, the tragedy still re-

10 Little Hawk Feature Magazine

“I SOMETIMES ASK MYSELF WHY I [FOUGHT TO STAY HOPEFUL].

I TOLD MYSELF THAT IT WAS BECAUSE I HAD A FATHER AND FAMILY.” NYAMADORARI ‘17

mained fresh in her mind. To cope, she tried to mask her emotions, but this still proved to be a challenge.

“Sometimes I would go through a bad time and I would go to my room alone. It’s just how I am; I don’t want to show others my pain.

I tried to act like I was fine,” Nyamadorari said. “But when I was alone in my room, I still felt so bad.”

In her most difficult moments, Nyamadorari sometimes found herself doubting her desire to stay optimistic. In the subsequent years following the Gatumba massacre, however, Nyamadorari was able to turn the tragedy of her family’s death into a more motivational sentiment—a daily reminder of why she had to keep living and fighting for hope.

“I sometimes ask myself why I [fought to stay hopeful]. I told myself that it was because I had a father and family,” Nyamadorari said.

“The other thing that helped me to move on was remembering all my brothers and sisters who had died.

Back when my mom was pregnant [with one of my sisters], she told me that she wanted to have a girl, because all the other girls were dying, and she didn’t know why. In that moment I asked myself why I was still alive. It was just the grace of God. That kept me going.”

For ten years, Nyamadorari and the other children in the orphanage awaited American Visas. For them, the Visa represented their chance at a better life.

“When the lady at the orphanage told me I was [getting my Visa], [saying that the] government wanted to take us kids to live in the United States and have a good life like the others, I was like ‘wow, that’s good!’ I was so excited I started crying,” Nyamadorari said.

In 2013, Nyamadorari, her younger sister, her aunt, and their caretaker moved to the United States to begin their new life. They initially arrived in Illinois, but due to the lack of suitable employment opportunities, decided to look at other options. A phone call from Nyamadorari’s cousin informed her family about job openings in Iowa, to where they relocated soon after. Nyamadorari’s aunt found a job in Iowa City, and their caretaker landed a job in Cedar Rapids.

In the past decade, an increasing number of refugees like Nyamadorari have been arriving in Iowa to escape from violence, political instability, and lack of access to education in their home countries.

In Johnson County, over half of the refugees settling in the area have come from Congo or Burundi. Because of this influx, the Iowa City Community School District’s ELL program has grown by 274% in the last five years.

Izaskun Lejarcegui, a paraeducator and ELL tutor, feels that the ELL program was unprepared to help the influx of refugees.

“In many ways, we are not prepared,” she said. “[The refugees] come in waves, and sometimes I don’t think authorities realize just how many are coming.”

Lejarcegui, who also interprets for a Children’s Clinic, the judicial system, and the Department of Human Services, started working with Congolese refugees at Alexander Elementary School, where the recent arrival of a group of refugees called for the assistance of an interpreter. In her experience, many refugees come to Iowa seeking better educational opportunities.

“They leave [their home countries] to give their children a chance to have an education. They see these big buildings, like the new Alexander Elementary, and they are shocked by the opportunities and resources of our schools” Lejarcegui said. “We have everything, whereas they often come from places where there is only one teacher in a classroom of dozens of kids of all ages, without books, pencils, or paper.”

Their desire for better educational opportunities, however, is often impeded by language barriers at school. Although a portion of the Congolese refugee population has some experience in the English language, the majority speak French or Swahili. Since very few teachers speak foreign languages with a degree of fluency, this can make it difficult for them to connect with ELL students and help them feel that they belong. Furthermore, the refugee and immigrant students are often placed in courses in accordance with graduation policies; however, many of these courses are far beyond their English ability, which further frustrates and alienates them.

“When I interpret for parents, I can feel the profound anxiety they have about their children’s struggles at school. Worse, the parents often speak even less English than their children, work night shifts, and face other challenges that make it impossible for them to communicate with the schools or help with homework,” Lejarcegui said. “Sadly, I do not have enough hours

in a day to help them all, and the district does not have the resources to hire more people with the necessary languages, specialized skills, and experience to attend to this need.”

Outside of school, language barriers force refugees to face additional obstacles in securing employment, education, and adequate housing. Iowa’s exponential growth in the immigrant population has exacerbated the shortage of affordable housing. The surge in demand has caused home assistance waiting lists to grow beyond capacity. The situation is worsened by the large number of children in the families.

“Housing has become one of the main problems for families,” Lejarcegui said. “Sometimes [I will see] three or four families living together in the same apartment, sharing two rooms.”

Another pressing issue is poverty. In some cases, families lack sufficient food and other bare necessities in their homes. Lejarcegui, who works closely with these families, notes that it can be shocking to see it firsthand.

“There is a lot of poverty; I see this poverty when I visit immigrant and refugee homes. Their homes lack beds, tables, sometimes chairs, blankets, rugs, towels...basic necessities. I think that most of the Iowa community population is unaware of the poverty that we have right here in our own city, especially the school children, who might not know about the poverty among their classmates,” she said.

Lejarcegui and other teachers in the ELL program try to alleviate some of these problems, at least while refugee students are at school, but their power to help them is constrained by a lack of adequate funding and resources.

Lejarcegui stresses that the needs for multilingual services is urgent.

“Refugees and other immigrants need services in their own languages,” she said.

Lejarcegui also advocates for greater connections between the school and its ELL students.

“In classes, students should be more aware of each other. It is surprising to me to talk to City High students who are only barely aware that we have students from different countries who speak different languages sharing their classrooms.

At City High we should find ways for all students to interact with each other—not only on the athletic fields, but through music, shows, clubs, games, parties,” she said.

“Our ELL students are great people, and increased interaction would be beneficial for all.”

Despite the challenges her job entails, Lejarcegui finds her work extremely fulfilling.

“It brings me happiness,” Lejarcegui said. “A day doesn’t go by without students saying ‘thank you.’ It’s super rewarding.”

Helping others, Lejarcegui believes, should not only happen within the settings of a school; she consciously makes an effort every day to give back to her community.

“What I try to pass on to my children is that as you [live your everyday life], you need to make the time to make a difference,” Lejarcegui said. “To live a life that touches others is amazing beyond compare.”

“WHEN I INTERPRET FOR PARENTS, I CAN FEEL THE PROFOUND ANXIETY THEY HAVE ABOUT THEIR CHILDREN’S STRUGGLES AT SCHOOL.” IZASKUN LEJARCEGUI

In 2013, Nyamadorari started school at City High. Although she had learned some English in school in Burundi, her inability to speak the language made her feel isolated at school.

“When I first came to the United States, I could understand some things, but [social situations] were still really hard,” she said. “I remember the first day that I came to City High, I was so worried. I couldn’t answer the teacher in class.”

Although some other students spoke Swahili, Nyamadorari felt that even interactions with her peers were fraught.

“It was very hard to make friends. Even now, I am sometimes scared to talk, because I am not comfortable,” Nyamadorari said. “Here the kids speak the same language, but we are still different. I am worried that I might say something that will make someone upset.”

To help integrate her into the City High environment, Nyamadorari was enrolled in the ELL program. Maria Velina McTaggart, ELL teacher, has been one of her biggest mentors. In addition to teaching English as a second language, McTaggart hopes to instill a sense of confidence in her students.

“I tell them that there are so many opportunities for them once they leave City High, and that if I can make it, then [they] can make it as well,” McTaggart said. “I know where they’re coming from, and I just relate to their personal experiences. I want to see them succeed, and get good careers and make something out of their life.”

Outside of the classroom setting, McTaggart also hopes to guide

her students by being an adviser and close confidante.

“I just make them feel welcome.

I just let them know that if they ever need anybody to speak to, that I’m here for them, and I might not offer them any advice, but I’m a person who can just listen to them,” McTaggart said.

Nyamadorari’s new life also comes with new responsibilities.

In order to help support her family, she and her aunt have to work long hours.

“My auntie worked late at night and [also] had to go to school to be able to support [my sister and me].

In my junior year, I had to work to to help the family out,” she said.

For Nyamadorari, growing up has also meant having to answer difficult questions from her sister.

“Now my sister wants to know what happened. She asks about our parents, but I don’t like to talk to her about it,” she said. “I act like I don’t know anything, because I was young at the time too. People always tell my sister that she looks like her dad and mom, and she wants to know how they really were.”

While it’s difficult for her to talk about her parents with her sister, Nyamadorari likes to stay connected to the memory of her family and her heritage through singing in church.

“People who knew my family said my mother was a singer, so I know where I come from,” she said.

Singing also helped Nyamadorari feel less isolated as she was learning to speak English.

“I love to sing and I want to share it with others,” she said.

“When I’m singing, I feel like I’m different, even if I don’t understand the language I sing in.”

With the help of teachers and mentors, Nyamadori’s English improved; school became more manageable, and she was able to make friends.

“Life in Congo was hard, really hard,” she said. “But I can tell that life here is becoming easier.

Although sometimes I don’t get off work until ten o’clock and I still have to finish homework, I can really notice the differences in my life.”

After graduation, Nyamadorari intends to continue her education, and stay close to her family in Iowa.

“I think my auntie wants to stay in Iowa. She loves Iowa and her work,” Nyamadorari said. “I couldn’t imagine moving to another state; my mind is here in Iowa.”

september 30, 2016 11

A feminist by any other name

a feminist by any other name

12 Little Hawk Feature Magazine

Millennials share their reasons for choosing to distance themselves from the term ‘feminist’

By Lucy Wagner and Sarah Smith Madeline Deninger ‘17 does not call herself a feminist. Growing up in Iowa City, she would often hear her classmates identifying with the term, which at the time carried no connotation with her.

Following their lead, Deninger too classified herself as a feminist until the age of 15. It was not until recent years that her perspective changed, and she began to distance herself the movement. She now believes feminism has evolved into a movement of exclusivity and anger.

“I feel like [fourth-wave feminism] is all about shutting out ideas and opinions that may offend you or be different from you,” Deninger said. “I want new ideas and to have mature discussions with people. I don’t think it’s me that’s changed; I think it’s the movement that’s changed.”

While the Merriam-Webster definition of feminism, ‘the belief that men and women should have equal rights and opportunities’, suits Deninger, she thinks the general interpretation adopted by today’s feminists is more focused on restricting other’s perspectives.

“Although it comes in different forms, feminism in some respects means kind of ‘my way or the highway’ or ‘no one can have a different opinion than me’,” Deninger said. “It’s all about identity politics.”

Adversely, Dr. Meenakshi Gigi Durham, professor at the University of Iowa of gender, women’s and sexuality studies sees exclusivity as beneficial to those inside the movement to create a safe environment.

“I know that women, or people who have experienced social discrimination in society in general, want safe spaces where they can address these issues without fear of being attacked, harassed, or criticised. I think those safe spaces need to exist, especially for the people who have been marginalized and discriminated against.

That even extends to the Black

Lives Matter movement, where there were certain gatherings or certain meeting that were exclusive to African American people; everyone that has experienced discrimination needs a place where they can talk about it without fear of more discrimination,” Durham said. “There are some debates about men in feminism whether men can be feminists, and some people come down to that ‘only women who experience sexual harassment and understand what that feels like’ or ‘what it’s like to live in the body of a women’ can be feminists, but they do acknowledge that men can be pro-feminist and be allies. I don’t really see exclusivity in who can be aligned with these positions.”

Because Durham sees feminism as generally inclusive, she finds people with views like Deninger paradoxical.

“I think it’s really odd in a way.

Some people just don’t like to be labeled in any way, but part of

reason is that the term ‘feminism’ has been mischaracterized and sensationalized in ways that don’t really convey as a social movement for equality,” Durham said.

“I think it’s really funny that many women and men will say “yes, I’m in favor of pay equity’, ‘yes, I’m against domestic violence’, even ‘I’m pro-choice’, yet they’ll say ‘I’m not a feminist’. They’re supporting all these issues that feminism has played a key role in. Feminism has really been behind all of these things that they seem to support.

The term has been sensationalized and given a negative value in our society that isn’t true to how much a force for good it’s been.”

While Machlen Polfliet ‘17 still classifies himself with the term, he agrees that it carries a controversial reputation.

“The word feminist itself has a stigma to it because of the extremists in the movement. I think that if someone used the phrase, ‘I believe in equal rights between

women and men’, they would get a lot more support than someone saying ‘I am a feminist,’ even though it’s the same thing,” Polfliet said. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself a feminist, but by the definition of the word, I am.”

Unlike Polfliet, Durham deems the concept of feminist extremism mythical and used to thwart people from joining the movement.

“It’s just like a stereotype, like there’s a boogey woman out there, a kind of man-hating, violent monster and those people don’t exist as far as I know. It recognizes that oppression and discrimination is rooted in the intersections of gender, sexuality, race, class, nation and other markers of identity. Feminism at its core is a social justice and pro-equality movement seeking to address and correct injustices and violence that are based on these factors, so I don’t know what people mean by a feminist extremist.

“IT’S LIKE PEOPLE TAKE EXAMPLES FROM MEN WHO DON’T SUPPORT GENDER EQUALITY AND THINK ‘IF WE DO IT BACK, WE’RE BASICALLY EQUAL’.

I DON’T THINK THAT’S HOW IT SHOULD GET EQUAL. WE SHOULDN’T BE EQUALLY BAD; WE SHOULD BE EQUALLY GOOD.” MACHLEN POLFLIET ‘17

september 30, 2016 13

I don’t even have a notion of who that could be; I don’t have anyone who might be characterized that way. I almost think it’s a myth, a scary myth that keeps people out of the movement.”

Polfliet sees today’s feminist movement as generally empowering, but he believes the negative aspects of the movement can be attributed to feminist extremists.

“It’s definitely a different motive now than it used to be, but the main goal of feminism, of gaining equality, is positive,” Polfliet said.

“I do feel like it would be a lot easier to accomplish what they’re doing without the extremists. If you talk to someone who doesn’t believe in gender equality, all they’re going to give is examples of extremists; it’s almost like they’re holding back and hurting the movement rather than helping it.”

Despite ambiguity of feminist extremism, Polfliet remembers an encounter he experienced specifically.

“I was watching this speaker on TV holding a pep rally with a small crowd that was holding signs saying things like ‘bring down the almighty man.’ It was almost like instead of trying to raise women’s rights to equal men’s, they were trying to bring men down to equal women,” Polfliet said. “It’s like people take examples from men who don’t support gender equality and think ‘if we do it back, we’re basically equal’. I don’t think that’s how it should get equal. We shouldn’t be equally bad; we should be equally good.”

Along with Polfliet, Tony Morphew ‘18 has also encountered feminists who he believes have ulterior motives to creating equality.

“Walking down the street in Chicago, I’ve seen women holding up signs that men should pay extra taxes,” Morphew said. “Some people who call themselves feminists aren’t fighting to promote gender equality. There are people with views who are so [politically] far to the left that I would consider it regressive, and I’m pretty far to the left. Sometimes they are working to put something where there is nothing needed.”

Morphew believes these stances can extend into blaming men for uncontrollable past inequalities.

“It was men that had the power, but that is not my fault personally,” Morphew said. “I don’t think men should deal with [guilt] today, when it is not directly their fault. I don’t think that it is my fault. I didn’t get to choose what men back then did.”

“THE TERM HAS BEEN SENSATIONALIZED AND GIVEN A NEGATIVE VALUE IN OUR SOCIETY THAT ISN’T TRUE TO HOW MUCH A FORCE FOR GOOD IT’S BEEN.” DR. MEENAKSHI GIGI DURHAM

Instead of victimizing people, Durham prioritizes recognizing male privilege when approaching past inequity.

“Acknowledging that there have been past inequalities and that these inequalities continue to exist is important,” Durham said. “I think recognizing that and being very open in terms of saying ‘yes, there are differences in how women and men are being paid’ or ‘yes women do experience sexual assault at far higher numbers than men do’. The first step is awareness and consciousness raising.”

The first wave of feminism to address these past inequalities began in 1920 when the 19th Amendment was passed granting American women the right to vote.

The campaign, known as “women’s suffrage,” is widely received as a milestone for women. The second wave of feminism followed in the early 1960s, focusing closer on reproductive rights, sexuality, workplace, and family equalities. Today’s feminism is often referenced as third-wave or fourth-wave. While containing themes of second-wave feminism, modern feminism is additionally known for breaking previous social constructs by diversifying its outreach to queer and women of color. Some activists, such as journalist Jennifer Baumgardner, have identified a fourth wave of feminism they believe began in 2008. This wave is often considered

to be riding atop the third wave as it supports related causes, but is centered around the internet and social media. Deninger believes that today’s feminism, considered third or fourth-wave feminism, divides the sexes more than it previously brought them together.

“Fifty years ago, [the feminist movement] was all about women having equality in the workplace or not being seen as housewives or childbearers. I think that feminism was, and is, necessary, but now feminism is more ‘you shouldn’t be in this discussion’ or ‘we don’t want to hear your opinion’,” Deninger said. “To me, feminism should be all races, all genders, all ages etcetera if we want equality.

I don’t think today’s feminist’s motives are truly to be superior to men. I think [the movement] definitely focuses on women more than men. In some cases women need more attention, but I think it focuses on women in the wrong ways while leaving men out completely.”

Although Deninger sees the positive effects of feminism, she feels it is ultimately can be a negative movement. Specifically, Deninger finds some feminists are focused primarily on trivial issues, one such being The School that Bleeds, a feminine product fundraiser turned demonstration when the slogan “The School that Bleeds” was initially censored by the school.

“One thing that really bothers me about feminism today is that it focuses on these little issues just trying to pick a fight, like The School That Bleeds campaign,” Deninger said. “I’m not offended by it. I personally didn’t think the slogan was that great just because it doesn’t matter that City High is bleeding, it’s the women at the crisis shelter. But I don’t care if people wanted to write that on the bin. It’s just when it came out that’s all anyone was talking about, and we really lost track of what [the campaign] was actually about.”

To Deninger, the movement should be turning its attention to introducing a first wave of feminism to developing countries. “[Modern feminism] is like taking something small and turning it into ‘I’m a victim.’ Just because a man is expressing an opinion that’s different from yours doesn’t mean he’s misogynistic or sexist,” Deninger said. “Instead of talking about places in the world where there is real legitimate rape culture, women are talking about ‘the waist size of this mannequin is too small and it’s hurting women’ or ‘a dress code at school isn’t allowing me to show half my ass and it’s oppressing me’ instead of focusing on real issues like oppressed women, men, and minorities.”

The subject of restrictive dress codes has popularized over social media with young adults.

After experiencing several instances of suspension due to “inappropriate clothing”, a group of New Jersey high-schoolers launched a Twitter campaign with the hashtag #IfAnythingSchoolTaughtMe which inspired thousands of teenagers to take to social media exemplifying their disapproval of dress code regulations. Ailsa Burke ‘17 considers issues such as this instrumental in gaining attention towards teens.

“When it comes to clothing like spaghetti strap tops or shorts too short, it’s considered inappropriate, but the only reason it would be inappropriate is because they’re sexualizing a young woman’s body,” Burke said. “I think that issues like dress codes are important, especially with teenagers. A lot more people are getting involved which is great.”

While Burke agrees with Deninger that aiding women in developing countries is necessary, she doesn’t think the movement should restrict topics facing American feminists.

“I definitely think in developing countries, the issues they’re fighting for is making an impact on a broader scale because it’s so fundamental in life to have education, and food sources, and a general place in society,” Burke said. “I don’t think that means that people in a first world country don’t have

issues worth fighting for. The seriousness of some issues don’t take away from the seriousness of other issues. Obviously they’re on different scales, but they’re just as important. It would be great if we could help them, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t help ourselves too.”

Durham agrees that these issues should also be addressed.

“It’s sort of on a continuum, you sort of have to look at the ways in which discrimination and bias get expressed in different social contexts. I would even say access to education and basic resources is a more pressing problem, but at the same time, if the dress code is a differential for boys and girls, it’s still an expression of discrimination,” Durham said. “I think we need to address every form of bias and injustice. I’m not really going to argue to against taking note of all these different ways in which discrimination plays out and trying to challenge it.”

Deninger would prefer feminists to center their resources and influence around women in developing countries who have yet to experience fundamental rights.

“I don’t think it’s wrong to look at feminism in the scope of America; it’s still needed here. However, I think it’s really silly to say ‘I’m so oppressed’ by a small little issue that may have not been intention-

al, over women who haven’t even had a first wave of feminism yet,” Deninger said. “It’s not wrong to talk about women’s issues in America, but to completely forgo third world countries where women have little to no rights is ignorant.”

Generally, she wishes first world feminism would realign itself to mirror past waves.

“I think women have made great strides, and it’s because of feminism. Feminism is very important, but in today’s culture it has kind of gone off the rails,” Deninger said. “I think the suffragette women would be amazed at what women have achieved today and they probably wouldn’t even be thinking about whether a man commented on their makeup or said something online.”

Deninger’s attitude towards online feminism has similarly been applied to criticism concerning comedy and social media platforms promoting anti-feminist behavior. Memes such as ‘shut up and go make me a sandwich’ have drawn negative attention online.

While Morphew has used jokes similar to these in the past, he claims his intentions are to mock those who criticise feminists.

“I’ve definitely felt nervous about offending people,” Morphew said. “When I say jokes [about feminism] that might offend people, I generally say them to

“I DON’T THINK TODAY’S FEMINIST’S MOTIVES ARE TRULY TO BE SUPERIOR TO MEN. I THINK [THE MOVEMENT] DEFINITELY FOCUSES ON WOMEN MORE THAN MEN. IN SOME CASES WOMEN NEED MORE ATTENTION, BUT I THINK IT FOCUSES ON WOMEN IN THE WRONG WAYS WHILE LEAVING MEN OUT COMPLETELY.” MADELINE DENINGER ‘17

people I know won’t be offended by them or I don’t say them at all.

I’ll make many jokes that come from the perspective I don’t agree with. It comes from a more satirical way, where I’m making fun of the person who would say that realistically.”

Polfliet thinks most people who do use those jokes share the same perspective as Morphew.

“I think the vast majority of people who say that don’t actually think that,” Polfleit said. “I think most people these days don’t see women as ‘housewives’; I think most people see them now as just an average person.”

Durham regards all anti-feminist jokes to bolster those views, whether the intention is real or not.

“Anti feminist jokes are just like racist jokes, they’re not really jokes,” Durham said. “They perpetuate the same types of bias and stereotyping. They’re not funny.”

Anti-feminists have also introduced the term ‘feminazi’ to compare radical feminists to German fascists in Nazi Germany. The term was first coined in the 1990s and peaked in 2002. Morphew does not support the term, but does not believe censoring those who do say it.

“I have heard the term ‘feminazi’ thrown around a lot,” Morphew said. “I don’t like it because it equates them with the Nazis who were on a completely different level. I don’t think I have ever used it, and I won’t ever use it. I think if people want to use it then they are going to get judged for using it by other people, and I will judge people who use the term.”

Despite his distaste towards the word ‘feminazi’, Morphew generally believes the reaction towards jokes shared conversationally shouldn’t be as severe.

“I think getting offended about a thing like that, there will be a lot more that will affect you later on,” Morphew said. “There’s a lot of stuff in the world that’s more offensive than the things I’ve ever said.”

Morphew sees the variety of feminist reception of humor and perspectives in general, is the primary problem facing the term today.

“There are a lot of [feminists] who are working for equal rights,” Morphew said. “That is the problem with putting it all under one branch, one word. It envelopes a whole group of people who are working towards different things and different views of the same thing.”

september 30, 2016 15

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