Students Host Silent Meetings to Revive Quaker Traditions On Campus

Hulu’s The Dropout narrates the rise and fall of failed Silicon Valley start-up Theranos.

Courtesy of Hulu

Jocelyn Blockinger

Staff Writer

The Dropout, a highly-anticipated drama mini-series starring Amanda Seyfried, has debuted its first six episodes on Hulu. The series chronicles the misfortunes and fraud of failed Silicon Valley startup Theranos. Focusing specifically on the company’s founder Elizabeth Holmes, the series begins at the company’s inception in 2003 and ends when its doors were shuttered in 2018. Seyfried’s portrayal of Holmes is almost endearing — a wide-eyed teen with ambitious intentions of becoming the next Steve Jobs — but something is always a little off. That being said, the dramatization of the downfall of Theranos is engaging, suspenseful, and most definitely worth a watch.

The moral nuance of The Dropout gives Holmes and her counterpart, Ramesh “Sunny” Balwani, too much room for redemption in a case where neither serves as a protagonist. Perhaps this is the biggest challenge The Dropout faces narratively — there is no central character to root for; instead, viewers are challenged to hold their breath as Holmes defrauds her investors and employees. Throughout the show, viewers watch Holmes drift further away from the driven teen we first got to know as she becomes increasingly robotic and secretive. Similarly, Balwani quickly transforms from mentor and role model to abusive boyfriend and tyrannical chief operating officer of Theranos. Depicting these changes is where The Dropout succeeds, as it creates two characters who carry the show — without making either of them likable or worthy of rooting for.

Last week, the show’s installment included the tragic death of Ian Gibbons, a once-prominent Theranos scientist who helped launch the company in its early stages. Gibbons’ character, as well as his apparent suicide, is featured at the forefront of the show, as he is one of the only characters with true redeeming qualities who sticks around Theranos long enough to watch it slowly implode. As the show progresses, nearly every competent character recognizes the deep internal flaws with Holmes’ vision and execution, causing them to flee the project before it inevitably fails. While this may be true to reality, where The Dropout fails is in its inability to hold on to a likable character for the entirety of the series. Characters played by actors Nicky Endres, Dylan Minnette, Hart Bochner, and Utkarsh Ambudkar come to represent sanity all throughout the series, though with each realization of Theranos’ inevitable collapse, every new arrival feels more doomed than the last.

With two episodes remaining in the series, the final downfall of Theranos has yet to unfold. That said, The Dropout makes it clear from the beginning that Theranos was never truly a success. Holmes and Balwani scrape by on sheer luck and manipulation, which would feel almost too unrealistic if it weren’t known to be true. When The Dropout introduces a partnership between Walgreens and Theranos, it feels impossible to imagine, from what viewers know by this point about everything from Theranos’ operational management to lab processes, that a corporation like Walgreens could possibly invest in this vision. If anything, The Dropout is a testament to the ill-informed decision-making of corporate America.

The greatest triumph of The Dropout is the portrayal of the relationship between Holmes and Balwani, played by Seyfried and Naveen Andrews, respectively. The viewer watches Balwani groom Holmes into a relationship when she is only 18 years old while he is nearly 40, taking note of the stiff way he grows to resent her as her stardom rises. Ultimately, the relationship helps to humanize both characters and takes the viewer away from the otherwise office-based series.

Seyfried perfectly embodies Holmes’ unnaturally deep cadence, ill-fitting Steve Jobs-esque wardrobe, and intentionally imperfect red lipstick. One scene in particular has caught the attention of the internet for its pure, palpable awkwardness. As Holmes begins to feel distant from Balwani, her secret-boyfriend-turned COO, she closes the doors to their offices and dances for him to the tune of Lil Wayne’s “How to Love.” While this interaction feels entirely forced and inorganic, the scene’s brilliance lies in its believability. No, the scene was not poorly written. These people are actually just that weird.

Perhaps the beauty of The Dropout lies in its sheer discomfort and strangeness, mimicking the Theranos scandal itself. The final two episodes are set to premiere March 31 and April 7 on Hulu.

nity to gather and to center deeply and connect with spirit, to connect with God, and to connect with one another in trying to follow the path [of] peace, justice, and equality. It’s a space where you can be nurtured. Then out of that, the Quaker meeting may take collective action to do something in the community. But also it encourages people to have their own conversations on how to bring peace and justice and love and simplicity to the world.”

The meetings were hugely important to the Quaker communities’ identity on campus. When the pandemic hit, the group’s close-knit dynamic was upended.

“Both the College and the Kendal community totally shut down,” Francis said. “There was no way to meet. It was a very difficult time, because for [those] two or three months, it was just so uncertain. And lives were being lost. It took us a while to get back on track — it was just so much more difficult to connect. Also, many of the key students with whom we had formed that deep connection with had graduated. There was nothing to offer for that relational part. But hopefully now we can all connect again. It’s wonderful for students to know that there is a meeting here and that it’s not just the retirement community, but it’s a meeting which connects to the wider Quaker world.”

When she got to Oberlin, College second-year Yana Levy went in search of a Quaker community to practice with. She was raised with Quaker education, as she attended a Quaker school from the first grade through high school and was used to sitting for weekly silent meetings. Levy says she searched the Office of Religious and Spiritual Life website for a student organization practicing Quakerism, but was disappointed when she couldn’t find anything. College second-year Alice Jacob also had some background in Quaker education from a summer camp that involved daily silent meetings. The two agreed that the void needed to be filled, and at the end of their first year they began practicing together.

“We went to Mount Oberlin, four of us,” Levy said. “We sat there at sunset for 45 minutes. That was the first silent meeting. Since then, we’ve done it every Sunday.”

The two spread word of their silent

Silent Meetings Hosted by Students to Revive Quaker Traditions On Campus

Lilyanna D’Amato Kathleen Kelleher

Arts & Culture Editors

Prior to the pandemic, Quaker worship in Oberlin was in-person and intergenerational, bringing residents and students together for community-led silent gatherings and religious events. The most popular Quaker meeting, Oberlin Friends Meeting, was held in the educational multi-purpose room at Kendal at Oberlin but moved to Zoom in early April 2020. Although a few students participated in virtual worship, College involvement dwindled as the retirement community and the school implemented new, isolating COVID-19 precautions. Now, younger students are revitalizing Quaker values on campus, hosting silent meetings, and promoting spiritual introspection.

The foundational tenet of the Quaker faith is a belief that God exists within every person and that all people have the potential to experience the light within. Ann Francis, a Kendal resident and leader within Oberlin Friends Meeting, explained the significance of seeing that of God in every one.

“The basic underlying principle of Quakers is that we believe in the goodness of every single person,” Francis said. “The huge principle of our meeting is that in order to do this, you connect with moral principles and Quaker testimonies of peace, justice, love, simplicity, stewardship, sustainability, and equality. But not only do you believe them, you practice them and you take action to ensure that these are the ways that lives are led and institutions operate. We believe that through meaningful worship, we can gather together as a community to foster that kind of support.”

The meetings sought to provide students with the opportunity to sit in silence and reflect for one hour a week. Meetings are “unprogrammed,” meaning they have no formal structure other than this silent, reflective period. If participants feel inclined to speak, they can stand and offer their thoughts, although the majority of the meeting is quiet and contemplative.

“People can talk a little bit or say something, but usually there’s just a lot of silence,” Francis said. “That peace, after you’re rushing around and going to class or doing whatever — it’s really nice. It’s an opportu- See Quaker, page 13

Oberlin sisters Sophie and Clara Zucker both love to laugh.

Anisa Curry Vietze

Editor-in-Chief

Sophie Zucker, OC ’15, started Shit Pit — Oberlin’s underground and informal stand-up comedy collective — with her friend Maya Sharma, OC ’15, during their fourth years together. Now, seven years later, Sophie’s younger sister, College fourth-year Clara Zucker, regularly hosts the event. This familial tie isn’t the only thing that makes the event wholesome; despite the name, there is a sweetness to Shit Pit, which strives to create a casual and supportive environment for students to workshop new material. The event, now an Oberlin staple, is often planned with little notice, hosted in someone’s basement, living room, or backyard, and is open to anyone to perform regardless of previous comedy experience. Since her time at Oberlin, Sophie has been writing for and starring in Apple TV’s Dickinson, along with performing original work at theaters and comedy clubs across the country. Clara is working on her Theater capstone, an original play she has written and directed, Shayna Punim, opening on April 21, and has also spent time in Oberlin’s Sunshine Scouts improv troupe and Good Talk. The two sisters talk on the phone almost every day and often workshop material with each other.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Sophie, you started Shit Pit along with a friend. Is that true?

SZ: Yes. Maya and I had both studied at The Second City in Chicago and when we were there, these two guys had started this thing called Shit Hole, which was a very welcoming, experiCourtesy of Clara Zucker

mental, open mic in a basement. And so we were like, “We should do that at Oberlin!” And we asked them if we could use a variation of their name.

When you graduated, did you have any idea Shit Pit would still be around by the time Clara got to college?

SZ: I did not think that it would go on necessarily. We also created Good Talk with a bunch of others, including Luke Taylor, OC ’15, and I think that we hoped that would be sort of an institution. But Shit Pit? No. It was casual and always felt kind of thrown together. I don’t think we thought of it as starting something.

And Clara, how did you get involved? How old were you when Sophie was in college?

CZ: When Sophie graduated from Oberlin, I was 15. I didn’t know anything about Shit Pit. We didn’t talk as much back then. I knew she went to Second City, but I didn’t find out about Shit Pit until years later, when I was a first-year at Oberlin. I was taking the Improv ExCo, and Gabby Shiner, OC ’19, and PJ McCormick, OC ’20, were like, “You should come to Shit Pit this weekend.” I texted Sophie about it and I was like, “Do you know what this is?” And she said, “I started that.” That’s how I found out about it.

So Clara, you went to Shit Pit your freshman year, and now, as a senior, you’re generally one of the people organizing it. Do you feel like Sophie had influence in that?

CZ: Sophie definitely had a lot of influence. Coming from high school, all I did was theater and Sophie was the one who pushed me to audition for an improv troupe. I don’t think I would’ve done that without her because, growing up, I was like, “Oh I’m funny. I can make my family laugh.” But I was never like, “Oh I can make a whole audience of college students laugh.”

SZ: I was like, “Do it b***h, it’ll change your life.”

CZ: (Laughing) Yeah, exactly.

Clara, do you feel like Shit Pit will continue next year? It’s mostly you and College fourth-years Juli Freedman and Levi Dayan — all of you are graduating.

CZ: I know. But the nice thing about Shit Pit is that it’s free. You don’t have to raise any money to do it. You only need a mic, and you don’t really even need that. And Juli and Levi and I have been trying to teach the underclassmen how to organize it. It’s very easy. You just have to find a house. We always try to get underclassmen to host; we don’t wanna host every time because we don’t want it to die out when we graduate.

Sophie when you graduated, do you know who kept it going? Was that a conscious effort on your part?

SZ: No, we did not hand it off in any official way. I don’t think we thought that someone needed to continue it. Even though it was a huge success, it just didn’t seem like that sort of a thing.

CZ: Yeah. But people are always wanting to do open mics. Shit Pit is one of the easiest things to organize. Even though we’re not directly handing it off to someone, I do have confidence that the people who have been doing it every time we host it will continue to do it and eventually decide, “Oh, I guess now I have to host it and organize it.”

SZ: Yeah, if you want it, then you make it happen. That’s a good lesson to learn in comedy anyway ’cause so much of it is being a self-starter.

Sophie, what was Shit Pit like when you first started it? What did you get out of it?

SZ: Shit Pit was really one of the first times where I was performing on my own as a solo performer, because otherwise I’d only done improv, where you’re obviously supported by a group. And solo performing is a lot of what I do now. I still have some of the recordings on my phone from a while back. And honestly, some of them were good. I was like, “Okay, I was very inventive.” I had way more ideas then than I do now. My other big memory is that my friend Charlie Kaplowitz, OC ’16, had a really bad cough and he coughed so hard he fell down in the back of Shit Pit and got a concussion.

Do either of you have anything else to add?

SZ: Obviously it’s so special that Clara does Shit Pit. I definitely told her, “Audition for an improv team, that could really make your Oberlin experience.” But I didn’t necessarily expect her to do Shit Pit. She just found it on her own. We already have so much in common, but it’s nice to have even more, and I bet Clara does a really good job of running it. She is very good at that kind of stuff, better than I am for sure.

occasional cast member on the show.

While there are currently no plans to continue shooting, Friedemann aspires to return to the miniseries and continue working on it when she has more resources.

“Some of the best moments, the moments I’m most proud of, I won’t be able to show on Friday,” she said. “One day, people will be able to see the show in its entirety, which is what I want more than anything.” Courtesy of Clara Zucker

Coming Home: First Two Episodes of Sadsack Premiere Friday

Continued from page 10

J.B. is played by College fourth-year Meg Steen. Following a Zoom run-through during quarantine, Friedemann asked Steen if she’d like to be a part of the project. While filming and editing was often tough, Steen stressed the importance of the cast and crew’s dedication.

“I am honored to play this part,” Steen said. “It’s semi-autobiographical, so it’s nice that [Friedmann] trusted me to take it on. I don’t think there was ever a moment during filming where anyone wanted to give up.”

Steen remarked that some of the show’s best moments were the result of production mistakes.

“[One time,] the tripod wasn’t working right, but then we got this really cool shot,” Steen said. “It was a little sideways but it actually turned out to be one of my favorite shots in the whole thing.”

During Winter Term, the crew attempted to shoot a beach scene at Lake Erie, not realizing that it was frozen over. They shot it anyway.

“It gave it a new perspective because it was so desolate and cold and snowy and bright, so that scene took on a new meaning,” said College thirdyear Gwen Gemmel, who was a crew member and

ABUSUA Presents Black History Month Ball

Continued from page 10 that the team hopes will help regenerate enthusiasm surrounding the event after the COVID-19 shutdown, ABUSUA will be bringing in a student DJ: double-degree fifth-year Kopano Muhammad, who previously DJed at the Black History Month fashion show.

Beyond the ball itself, ABUSUA and A-House work year-round to empower Oberlin’s Black community and create a space in which students may exchange ideas and support one another while also making their voices heard around campus. Sanford explained that a significant objective ABUSUA is currently working on is the fulfillment of the 2020 ABUSUA Demands, which were released in the wake of the murder of George Floyd and the surge in anti-racist protests around the country.

“We decided that Oberlin needed to be held accountable for how they treated and supported Black students not only during that time but beyond; that is how our list of demands was created,” Sanford wrote. “And while these demands were released in 2020, we are still working with the College currently to achieve many of these goals, making great progress [and] hoping to have the majority of our demands completed by the end of this academic year!”

A-House, meanwhile, remains focused on increasing engagement from the student body with a constant stream of events aimed at fostering a stronger and more involved community.

“A big focus right now in our programming is just trying to see how we can meet people where they’re at,” Lundy said. “Because COVID really has shifted a lot of social dynamics and we’ve noticed that we haven’t had as much engagement in events this year as we had in the past, at least for smaller, more intimate events.”

As the team looks to the future of ABUSUA and A-House, Sanford hopes that enthusiasm about the Black History Month Ball will prompt further motivation from students, both Black and non-Black, to continue to engage with the community they are cultivating.

“For A-House in particular, we hope that students continue to come to events in the house, eat at A-House dinner, and engage with our community. While the house is a safe space for Black students on campus, it is also a learning space for others. We hope that students will continue to engage with us and that we can continue to foster and support the Oberlin Africana community.”

Quaker Worship Brings Students Together for Silent Meetings

Continued from page 11 meetings mostly via informal routes and maintained a loose movement between locations, often holding their meetings at the Clark Bandstand in Tappan Square.

“The only way people found out is word of mouth, or through our Instagrams,” Jacob said. “But we’ve had a lot of people we didn’t really know at all come.”

Ultimately, the two are hoping to expand these personal, informal silent meetings into something associated with the College.

“Our Winter Term project was to make a Quaker club, and we’re in the process of making that an official thing and making the silent meetings something that we get space and funding for,” Levy said. “I feel like Quaker values are something that not a lot of people know about; people think about Quakerism as this weird offset of Christianity with those weird hats and the oats guy, when the Quaker values really are in line with a lot of spiritualities that a lot of people align themselves with here. … What I would wish is that people would be open to it; it’s a space of community for people to come to and feel held.”

The two hope that the club will involve more than just silent meetings, and would like to use it as an opportunity for students to learn about and understand Quakerism beyond stereotypes.

“Once we establish a club, I think we will have other things outside of silent meetings,” Jacob said. “I had the idea to have Quaker tea, where we sit and drink tea and eat cookies and talk about the values of Quakerism, as a way to have people understand what they’re practicing and the history of it.”

Levy noted the perception of Quakerism as being fundamentalist, exclusionary, or just a branch of Christianity. She says that’s not the case in modern Quakerism.

“What I find really powerful about our silent meetings, especially when it’s a bunch of random people, is that you can feel that moment where it settles, and people are being present with that light without necessarily doing anything,” Levy said. “It’s about accessing the good and being present in that good. Part of what I want to implement in these meetings is more Quaker education, more people understanding where we’re coming from.”

COMIC Late Spring Break Gives Obies FOMO

Holly Yelton, Staff Cartoonist