Issue 1 Fall 2018

FEATURE

Feature

RULES VOL. CXXXVII ISSUE 1

2 Tufts Observer october 1, 2018

1

S TA F F EDITOR IN CHIEF: Emmett Pinsky MANAGING EDITOR: Alexandra Benjamin CREATIVE DIRECTOR: Erica Levy FEATURES EDITOR: Julia Press NEWS EDITORS: Cris Paulino Sasha Hulkower

1

RULES

ARTS & CULTURE EDITOR: Sonya Bhatia Owen Cheung OPINIONS EDITORS: Lena Novins-Montague Wilson Wong CAMPUS EDITORS: Myisha Majumder Anita Lam POPRO EDITOR: Ruthie Block

2

letter from the editor

By Emmett Pinsky

VOICES EDITORS: Kira Lauring PHOTO DIRECTORS: Britt Abigail Barton ART DIRECTOR: Riva Dhamala MULTIMEDIA DIRECTOR: Evie Bellew VIDEO DIRECTOR: Emai Lai PODCAST DIRECTOR: Izzy Rosenbaum

tired of the tiers

By Lena Novins-Montague

The Change That Couldn’t Wait

By Alexandra Benjamin COVERS BY ERICA LEVY

10

12

PODCAST TEAM: Kareal Amenumey Malaika Gabra

PUBLICITY DIRECTORS: Nasrin Lin Daniel Jelčić

does the shu fit?

milk teeth

By Alice Hickson

By Emma Herdman

17

Photo inset

18 20 24 28

decoding description

By Muna Mohamed

An Indistinct Recollection

By Emily Ng

Towards Divestment

By Students Against Incarceration

by my own terms

By Sonya Bhatia

BACK COVER: PHOTO BY ABIGAIL BARTON

Thought Bubble Pops Like Bubblegum

By Nasrin Lin

22 26

raising a racket

By Anéya Sousa

Where Have All The Flowers Gone

By Nina Chukwura and Elena Pastreich

STAFF WRITERS: Trina Sanyal Eman Naseer Jonathan Innocent Muna Mohamed DESIGNERS: Zahra Morgan Tyler Whitaker Richard Nakatsuka Helen Xie Yishu Huang Nick Golin Brigid Cawley LEAD COPY EDITOR: Jesse Ryan COPY EDITORS: Brittany Regas Rosy Fitzgerald Ryan Albanesi Josie Wagner Sara Barkouli Aidan Schaffert EDITOR EMERITUS: Carissa Fleury CONTRIBUTORS: Amy Tong Emma Herdman Audrey Falk Will Mueller

Letter from the Editor S

omeone told me, once, that location always precedes content. That where you are makes who you are. In other words, each space we pass through builds us as much as we build it. Places change, and we change with them. Do you remember your first day of classes here? Where you were? Who you were? What about November of your first semester? April of your fourth?

Without a physical point of reference, it is easy to forget the intermediate time between those distinct moments we might call The Beginning and The End. Matriculation and Graduation.

The Observer is a project of memory as much as anything else. The magazines are objects, are tools we can use in order to remember in-between time that is no less special than the Big Moments that bookend our time here. We write, draw, take photographs, and put it all on paper so that sometime soon we can remember what it was to be here now, at this school, together.

And let’s not pretend that where we are—Tufts—is always an easy or kind place to be. Often, the Observer has been documentation of the ways students here have been ignored, silenced, and just plain fucked over by the school administration, this country’s government, and each other. I have seen people I love hurt immensely because of this school that puts profit over students, profit over workers, profit over education, profit over everything. I am proud to have been a part of a publication that refuses to let those truths be quieted.

The Observer is also a record of student joys—triumphs! Of student artwork, poetry, and stories that serve to remind us that together we have created ways to thrive. This semester, I hope to curate a magazine that is both honest and celebratory, that holds hardship and victory together. I wish for the Observer to be, at its core, a space to communicate and commemorate the nearly inarticulable emotional textures of where and who we are.

I’ll admit I am afraid of forgetting these textures—always have been. I journal, draw, record my own interior world every day... but this only goes so far. For an enunciation of collective experience, all the shit that is happening not only in my own head but also outside of me, between so many other people, I turn to the Observer.

And I hope you can, too, for there is such triumph in remembering those pieces of life that may have otherwise been lost to generality, obscured in larger, foggier categories of time.

I have always been, am, and will continue to be amazed by the staff of this magazine who make all these triumphs possible. Through the Observer I’ve found role models who’ve become my best friends, and classmates who are now my family. Observer Staff, I have learned something (probably many things) from each of you.

And I am better for it. Thank you.

Thank you for reading our magazine. I can’t begin to imagine what this semester will bring, but someone else told me, once, that even the unthinkable can unfold in an instant. So let unfold what will, and we’ll be here to write it all down.

Emmett Pinsky

2 Tufts Observer October 1, 2018

Feature

Tired of the T I E R S

THe new cost of living at tufts

By Lena Novins-Montague

O

n July 23, 2018, Tufts announced a reconfiguration of the pricing of its on-campus housing system. Starting with the 2019 – 2020 school year, the University will move forward with tiered costs for on-campus housing, which will stratify different types of accommodations based on “variations in room configuration, kitchen access, and amenities,” according to the University’s announcement. This is a significant departure from the flat-rate system Tufts has historically utilized, under which all students paid the same rate for different types of on-campus housing.

The new system has nine different tiers for nine different types of housing, ranging from $8,220 to $10,219 a year, in contrast to the $7,934 students currently pay to live on campus.

Next year, all students will see an increase of at least 3.6 percent for their housing costs—the typical rate of increase for the past five years. However, only students who select the lowest-tiered options, such as traditional doubles, triples, and quads, will see their housing costs increase at this standard rate. Students in the highest-tiered housing, such as a single in the new Community Housing accommodaART BY LILY PISANO

tions (CoHo) or in Sophia Gordon Hall (SoGo), will see a change from $7,934 to $10,219—a whopping 28.8 percent surge.

Students living in middle-tiered housing will also experience a spike in the rate of increase for their housing costs.

The University’s budget is a major driving force behind the new system, reported Christopher Rossi, Associate Dean of Student Affairs. “The funds [currently] brought in by room revenue do not cover the upkeep of the buildings,” he explained. “And that’s not construction, this is upkeep.” Rossi noted that the oncampus housing maintenance budget has been an issue for several years.

Jonah O’Mara Schwartz, a senior who is a Tufts Community Union (TCU) Senator and organizer for Tufts Housing League (THL), a student group that advocates for housing justice in the community, expressed confusion regarding this explanation. “They’ve been packing people as efficiently as possible, charging the market rate, and still losing money,” he said. “There’s something weird about that.”

Dean Rossi and Mary Pat McMahon, Dean of Student Affairs, both conOctober 1, 2018 Tufts Observer 3

Feature

veyed that the tiered system is also tied to a need for increased on-campus housing.

In May 2018, the Tufts Daily reported that Tufts has the capacity to house only 63 percent of its student body. This percentage is especially low compared to other universities in the area, such as Brandeis University and Boston University, which house 75 percent of their students. Tufts has responded to this shortage in two major ways: bed optimization (turning single rooms into doubles and doubles into triples) and the renovation of wood frame houses into CoHo—new student housing for upperclassmen. Thus far, these initiatives have added 145 beds.

While Dean McMahon and Dean Rossi said the tiered housing system could be attributed to neither CoHo nor bed optimization, the need for dorms was relevant to the decision-making process.

“We’re trying to address multiple issues,” Dean McMahon said. “We want more juniors and seniors on campus, and we want to invest in our housing stocks so that students want to be here.” However, Jianmin Qu, Dean of the School of Engineering, wrote via email that “the decision to introduce tiered housing at Tufts was made independent of the development of CoHo and the bed optimization initiative.”

Amira Al-Subaey, a senior who is an organizer for Tufts Student Action (TSA), an activism group that has collaborated 4 Tufts Observer October 1, 2018

with THL, pointed to the connection between on-campus housing shortages and growing enrollment at Tufts. “The housing crisis is getting worse because of increased enrollment and no new dorms,” she explained. “If they’re going to continue to increase enrollment, then they need to prioritize housing. They clearly haven’t done that.”

During the 2008 – 2009 school year, the total Tufts undergraduate population was 5,066 students. In the fall of 2017, it was 5,541, which amounts to a 475-student increase. Despite this bump in enrollment, CoHo was the first new student housing to be built since SoGo in 2008. When asked about the rationale behind increasing enrollment, Dean Qu and James Glaser, the Dean of the School of Arts and Sciences, declined to comment.

Many students have voiced their dissatisfaction with the new system. Shortly after the announcement, THL circulated a petition stating that the new tiered pricing system is “further evidence that Tufts administration does not care about lowincome students.” The petition warned that the system will create economic segregation by blocking low-income students from living in higher-tiered housing, either because of the complications of financial aid or by self-selection. Over 1,500 students, alumni, and parents have signed the petition.

Shane Woolley, a senior at Tufts who is also a TCU Senator and an organizer for THL, explained his opposition to the new system. “It’s so blatantly classist and discriminatory to kids who are here on financial aid. It sends the wrong message.” he said.

The administration, however, insists that the new system will not be detrimental to students on financial aid. Both Dean McMahon and Dean Rossi emphasized that a central part of the system is that financial aid will be readjusted so that students’ out-of-pocket payment for housing costs will not change, regardless of the housing tier they select. For example, if a student’s financial aid package requires that they contribute 40 percent of their housing costs, and they select the highesttiered housing, the student will only pay 40

w “It’s so blatantly classist and discriminatory to kids who are here on financial aid. It sends the wrong message.”

percent of the lowest-tiered housing costs.

Dean McMahon suggested that students on financial aid may even be more incentivized to live on campus, as their financial aid does not apply to off-campus housing.

O’Mara Schwartz, however, was skeptical of this claim. “The basis of the system is that they’re making money off this higher-tiered housing, so I don’t buy that explanation,” he said.

“They make revenue by having higherincome students paying more money. If they’re saying that they’ll house more

Feature

students on financial aid, then they’ll lose more money.”

Dean Rossi acknowledged that this is a potential outcome the administration has considered, but maintained that there is no way to predict the actual result. He added that the only alternative for a tiered system is to not cover higher-tiered housing for students on financial aid.

Despite the promise that out-ofpocket rates will remain consistent, there is still anxiety regarding how the new system will affect students on financial aid.

Given the fiscal reasons for the switch to tiered housing and the opaque nature of the financial aid allocation process, students are worried that if they select higher-tiered housing, they may be given less overall financial aid to account for the difference in cost. In this scenario, students would not see an increase in their out-ofpocket costs for housing. Instead, they would receive less financial aid based on the school’s changing assessment of their family’s ability to contribute.

Woolley is also concerned that this may be an issue. “[The administration] can justify it in a million ways because the system of allocating financial aid isn’t clear to anybody; it’s all behind the scenes and there’s no transparency… Students on financial aid know that it changes like the wind every year.”

Patricia Reilly, Director of Financial Aid, made a statement via e-mail in response to this apprehension. “In every step of the planning process for tiered housing, the university has built in an allowance to take into account the additional aid that will be needed to cover this new policy. The university will collect additional housing revenue as a result of this policy,” she assured.

Concerns about the new system are not just limited to students on financial aid. Nathan Foster, a 2018 alumnus, as well as a former TCU Trustee Representative and a THL organizer, commented on the matter. “It assumes that students who aren’t on financial aid are all wealthy enough that $2,000 doesn’t mean anything to them, which I don’t think is an accurate assumption,” he said. Foster also pointed out that only 35 percent of Tufts students are on financial aid, which leaves a large

swath of the student body that will see an increase in their out-of-pocket costs.

Dean McMahon claims, however, that upperclassmen who are not on financial aid will not be disproportionately affected because the new pricing system lines up with the off-campus housing market.

“We’ve pegged it so that it’s not going to be significantly more expensive to live here than it is to live off-campus. If I’m going to pay $950, plus utilities, plus first and last deposit, I see CoHo as a realistic alternative to off-campus living, as SoGo is.”

Dean Rossi said that in order to price the different tiers fairly, Tufts determined a range comparable to what students pay to live off-campus. According to Rossi, the school consulted with Walnut Hill Rentals, a rental company owned by Tufts; the Residential Strategies Working Group, an advisory task force of faculty, students, and community members; and “learned through our daily interaction with students.”

Based off the highest-tiered housing price of $10,219 and the eight and a half months that students are allowed to be in the dorms, THL has calculated that toptiered housing breaks down to $1,200 a month. Dean Rossi stipulated that while this is a correct calculation, the administration expects that most top-tiered housing options will be selected by seniors, who will be able to stay until residence halls officially close on May 20. “That extends the residency period closer to nine months at a $1,135 per month rate,” he said.

Students are not convinced that either rate is at parity with off-campus prices. Woolley pointed out, “I don’t know anywhere around here where students are paying that much, and utilities aren’t $200 or $300. So that’s a misleading justification for it.”

Al-Subaey raised the issue that increased prices for on-campus housing could have an impact that extends beyond Tufts students. “It’s going to continue to push more students off-campus, which ultimately pushes long-term residents of Medford and Somerville out of their homes,” she said. Her concerns are shared by many in the community, especially in light of skyrocketing rents and increasing gentrification.

October 1, 2018 Tufts Observer 5

Feature

Woolley expressed similar worries.

“Landlords know that there are students with wealthy parents, and they can jack up rents and capitalize on that demand,” he said.

Rocco DiRico, Director of Government & Community Relations at Tufts, countered this in a statement via-email. “[The tiered housing system] will have a positive effect on our host communities.

Residents in Medford and Somerville have been asking us to invest more money in housing, and we’re doing just that.

Our goal is to add 600 beds to our housing stock over five years. That will bring a good number of our students back onto campus and free up apartments off-campus for people in Medford and Somerville,” he wrote.

Another objection to the system is that it may further stratify social life at Tufts. CoHo is intended to serve not only as student housing, but also as a muchneeded social space. Since 2016, when Tufts suspended and disbanded the majority of its Greek life organizations from campus, students have been outspoken in their demands that the administration provide new and equitable social spaces.

Foster, who served on a TCU committee that advised on the creation of CoHo, said that the committee envisioned the new accommodations as a uniquely accessible social space because they have room for social events, but are not linked to any student group.

6 Tufts Observer October 1, 2018

“We especially thought that people living there would be given a lot of support to put on social programming … But if CoHo is going to cost $2,000 more than Lewis, then it’s not so equitable,” he said.

Woolley explained that CoHo may become a social space dominated by wealthy students, because they are the most likely to select expensive housing. “Even if some people do get into CoHo on more financial aid, most of the students applying are still going to be sure of their ability to pay. It’s going to be a culture of people who have a lot of money to spend. That culture is incredibly inaccessible to people who don’t have money,” he said.

Dean McMahon said the administration does not share these concerns. “The assumption is that it will only be wealthy students who live there, but we’re trying to attend to that. If my out-of-pocket is less for SoGo or CoHo than off-campus and if what if I pay is impacting my decision, then I don’t foresee that people will avoid Coho or SoGo for financial reasons,” she countered.

Despite the administration’s insistence that tiered housing is not detrimental to students, both THL and TSA plan on continuing to oppose the policy. Woolley said that the student groups are working on alternative proposals, such as the administration prioritizing fundraising for on-campus housing, possibly by reengaging their alumni base around a new dorm.

“We’re going try to show them that there’s other viable solutions,” he said. “It’s totally possible. We don’t have to do this.” “[The administration] wants to see a revenue increase,” O’Mara Schwartz added. “The question is, how do we spread that revenue increase so that it doesn’t hurt students as much, and how do we do it in a way that won’t create stratification?”

news

t h e c h a n g e t h a t c o u l d n ’ t w a i t ayanna Pressley energizes youth, progressives with historic primary win

By Alexandra Benjamin

L

ast October, the Tufts Observer spoke to Ayanna Pressley about her 2009 election to the Boston City Council.

As the first woman of color elected to the Council in its 100-plus years of existence, Pressley’s victory was groundbreaking— described by some as a “political earthquake.” Despite this, Pressley remained modest about her achievement.

“I am the first woman of color elected to the Boston City Council, but I am not

the first woman of color to run,” she said.

“Every time a woman of color ran, the electorate became more adjusted to the idea.”

It appears Pressley was right. In November 2017, the Council and several other local offices saw record numbers of women of color joining their ranks. And on September 4, 2018, Pressley made history once again when she ousted 10-term congressional incumbent Mike Capuano in the MA-07 Democratic Primary by an

astounding 17.2 points. With no Republican challenger, Pressley is all but assured to become the first Black woman to hold a Massachusetts seat in US Congress.

Pressley’s victory ran a shockwave through both the state and the nation. The news made instant headlines, with claims that her win exemplified a changing American electorate—one hungry for newer, younger politicians passionate about progressive ideals. And on college campuses october 1, 2018 Tufts Observer 7

news

like Tufts, many young people have found themselves among those most invigorated by her success.

“I think young people were everything in this victory,” said Sarah Groh, Pressley’s campaign manager. “I’m pretty familiar with the narrative of young folks as being apathetic, being disconnected… but I think we’ve proved that wrong in this election.”

Young voters are often the ones shaking up elections by refusing to equate “Democrat” with “progressive.” Furthermore, voters of all ages are assigning increasing weight to the diversity of their politicians.

This is a key element of Pressley’s District 7, Massachusetts’ only majorityminority district. It has been historically represented in Congress by middle-aged White men, including former President John F. Kennedy.

Tufts senior Olivia Ladd-Luthringshauser has lived in the district her whole life, and was an avid supporter of Pressley’s campaign. “It is a really interesting district because it spans from Boston to Somerville and includes Tufts, MIT, and Harvard along with Dorchester, Roxbury, and Mattapan,” she said. “It is a very economically and age diverse region.”

Although Capuano had been a Representative since her childhood, for LaddLuthringshauser, the difference between him and Pressley was clear.

“A lot of news… reported how hard it was for Ayanna to find political differences with Capuano because he has loyally been one of the most liberal voters in Congress,” she said. “But he is a [White] middle aged man who is out of touch with what his district actually looks like… Ayanna has such a more focused approach to eradicating 8 Tufts Observer october 1, 2018

poverty, building healthy communities, and empowering women and girls.”

Winnie Zhang, a Tufts Alumna who graduated in 2016 and now works in Boston City Government, was also inspired by Pressley, and volunteered for her campaign.

“I’ve lived in Boston my whole life and so often the politicians I see are just status quo,” Zhang said. “[Ayanna’s] been a City Councilor for eight years and during that time she’s always made an effort to reach out to constituents [and] especially to communities that are often marginalized, and that’s pretty rare I think for an elected official.”

Groh echoed this evaluation. “There were a lot of times that we were in rooms where politicians rarely go,” she said. “I’ll

“there were a lot of times that we were in rooms where politicians rarely go”

never forget one really poignant day on the trail where she sat down with young women—mostly teenagers—who were personally impacted by sex trafficking. Her proximity to those most affected by these issues make her a really effective policy maker, but that’s also just authentic to who she is.”

Zhang added that, aside from Pressley’s keen ability to create personal connections, she also began distinguishing between Capuano and Pressley’s policy platforms as she became more acquainted with Pressley’s campaign.

“She’s someone who’s not willing to make compromises that go against her values,” she said. “Mike Capuano, he was willing to send funds to build the border wall in exchange for passing a DREAM Act… Ayanna, she very clearly stated she would be looking to pass a clean DREAM Act and wouldn’t be willing to put money towards a border wall.”

Pressley prioritizes several other issues that Zhang views as critical to communities of color, such as police violence.

Ladd-Luthringshauser, too, said she trusted Pressley to pursue problems pertinent to District 7, like gentrification and the opioid epidemic.

These are topics that have been familiar to Pressley her entire life, having been raised by a single mother in Chicago.

“She has been able to leverage both her personal and professional experience in a really powerful way,” Groh said. “She talks about organizing out of necessity— the impact of policy was very present in her life and in her community, whether that was the impact of red-lining, or the war on drugs, or inequitable access to the GI bill for families of color. These issues were never abstract; they were really proximate to her lived experience.”

Throughout her career, Pressley has fought tirelessly and cunningly to defeat these issues, and many more. While sitting on the City Council, Pressley founded the Committee on Healthy Women, Families, & Communities. She worked to build a trauma-informed, personcentered, and LGBTQ-inclusive sexual education curriculum, and spearheaded a monumental initiative to provide liquor licenses to struggling restaurants in disenfranchised communities.

Many of these successes were made possible by Pressley’s willingness to collaborate across government bodies, Groh explained, such as the State House and Attorney General’s office.

News

“I think that approach to working with folks inside and outside of governments is definitely something she’ll bring to the Hill, and something we so desperately need right now,” she said.

This interdisciplinary style was also characteristic of Pressley’s campaign, and Zhang recalled being especially impressed by its efforts to establish strong community bonds.

“They built a coalition and they worked with community groups that were already trusted by a lot of local residents,” Zhang said. She mentioned Chinese Progressive Political Action, a C4 organization that she herself has volunteered with, and who endorsed Pressley’s campaign.

“They’re a familiar face for voters and for their members,” she said. “So when it comes time to endorse a candidate I feel that makes an even bolder statement, because it’s not just a stranger knocking your door.”

Oftentimes, that familiar face was that of Pressley herself.

Kathryn Jason, a Tufts senior, and Vice President of College Democrats of Massachusett s (CDM), recalled hearing Pressley speak at a conference she organized.

“I was initially told that she just had [one to two] minutes to introduce herself and had to bounce,” she remembered. “But [she and her staff] changed their minds when they realized that she was speaking with a group of young people.”

Of Pressley’s speech, Jason recalled that “[her] message was so hopeful in a time where hope in politics is rare, but it wasn’t naive or unrealistic. She was incredibly engaging and interested in everyone she talked to.” She added that Pressley insisted on staying to listen to candidates give speeches for CDM’s executive board elections.

Groh agreed that attentiveness is one of Pressley’s strongest qualities. “Ayanna authentically listens to people,” Groh said. “She actually instituted the first ever listening only City Council hearing where members of the community could come and share their

PHOTOS COURTESY OF NBC AND NEW YORK TIMES

experience and testify, but those in positions of power or authority could only listen.”

Now, as Pressley moves forward to the general election, many are anxiously waiting to see how her empathetic leadership style and progressive policies will take shape in Congress, and who will step up to join her fight. Activism, youth engagement, and community connections will remain integral to her campaign.

“I think one of the things we’ve learned in the last two years of this administration is that whether Democrats are in the majority or minority, it is so critical to work with advocacy groups, because they can put pressure and spotlight on issues in ways that extend far beyond the formal authority of a Congressional office,” Groh said. “My hope is that… people stay engaged in the run up to November, but also that all of the first-time voters and all of the college students who voted in [District 7] continue to stay really closely engaged with our office, to hold us accountable and raise critical issues.”

Presently, the afterglow of Pressley’s victory shows no signs of letting up.

“For me, as a woman of color I definitely feel motivated to continue this work after her accomplishment,” Zhang said. “With her election, [we’re] arguing about voting true blue, and making sure that not all Democrats are the same. We want a Democrat who stands for progressive values and working-class people.”

Indeed, Pressley herself has no misgivings about the transformative power of representation, perhaps best summarized by her iconic campaign slogan, “change can’t wait.”

“When that phrase popped up it just felt so resonant and consistent with the type of campaign Ayanna wanted to run,” Groh recalled. “There is definitely a fierce sense of urgency in the seventh, in communities, and across the country right now.”

Evidently, for Pressley, the seeds of that idea were sewn long ago. As she told the Observer last year, “the more women…that come from many backgrounds to represent the diversity and the continuum of the experiences of women in our society, the more women are liberated to run, telling their own story, and standing on their own truth.” october 1, 2018 Tufts Observer 9

opinion

does the shu fit?

By Alice Hickson

I

n June of 2018, the Tufts Schools of Arts and Sciences and Engineering joined many other universities in the United States by switching from its traditional one course, one credit system and adopting the standard semester-hour unit (SHU) system, a project that had been in the works since the fall of 2013. While the transition to SHUs was made with good intentions, such as helping students create a more balanced course load and making the Tufts transcript more self-explanatory to graduate and professional schools, it has had unintended consequences. Most notably, the SHU system unfairly favors STEM students over humanities students.

One of the goals of the administration when creating the SHU system was to help students, particularly first-years, 10 Tufts Observer october 1, 2018

better balance their course loads. The credit hour is meant to be an accurate representation of the number of hours spent in a given course each week. Most courses are assigned three SHUs, while others that require additional instructional time, such as an extra recitation, are worth four SHUs. At most, a course can be assigned five SHUs, which is usually reserved for classes with intensive labs. However, what the SHU system does not account for is the time students must spend on coursework outside of the scheduled class hours.

During my first year at Tufts, I took Arabic 1, which is now worth four SHUs. It meets three times a week: twice for an hour and 15 minutes and once for 50 minutes. However, an important aspect not re-

flected in the SHU system is that students are expected to work on outside coursework for eight to thirteen hours each week, according to the syllabus. The SHU system fails to recognize the extensive coursework that may be assigned outside of class, thereby misleading students who are building their course loads. The SHU system equates more in-class time with a more intense workload, thus simplifying a more complicated reality.

Currently, I am registered in a total of 14 SHUs: two four-SHU courses and two three-SHU courses. In the beginning of the semester, I added an extra three-SHU course to my schedule because I felt that 14 SHUs was inadequate, due to the administration’s recommendation to take 15 SHUs every semester. Even though I enjoyed the ART BY ZAHRA MORGAN

opinion

class, it was the additional four to six hours of outside work every week combined with an already rigorous course load that made me drop the class. I knew that while I would be meeting the administration’s expectations, it would be extremely difficult to meet my own. I didn’t feel satisfied offering the bare minimum to each course just to maintain five classes, rather than focusing more of my attention on and succeeding in the four I was in.

A minimum of 12 SHUs is required to be considered a full-time student, which is equivalent to four three-SHU courses. However, according to Dean of Undergraduate Studies, Carmen Lowe, in an interview with the Tufts Daily after the SHU system was introduced, students are expected to take about 15 semester hour units per semester in order to graduate on time. This expectation means that students, in particular humanities students whose courses are mostly worth three SHUs, now feel mounting pressure to take five classes per semester. Under the old system, twice per week, one hour and 15 minute classes were given four SHUs, meaning students they would have only taken four to reach the 16 SHU mark. In contrast, courses in the STEM field are now typically worth four to five SHUs, and therefore those students can comfortably take four classes without worrying about graduation requirements.

A course’s SHU value determines how much it is weighted towards a student’s grade point average; a course worth four SHUs will have more of an effect than one worth three SHUs. Since STEM classes are often worth more than humanities classes, the grades that students get in their humanities classes are proportionately worth less than the grades from their STEM classes. This devaluation of non-STEM classes goes against one of the key philosophies behind a liberal arts education—that all subjects of study possess equal worth.

This is just another instance that highlights Tufts’ lack of commitment to humanities.

Last year, the Observer brought attention to how majors in the STEM departments have the benefit of holding most of their classes in one “home” building whereas other majors like English are sprawled across 17 different buildings. This lack of

a centralized space makes it difficult for faculty and students of the same major to form meaningful relationships. Additionally, last semester, with the departure of at least 11 professors and staff of color, the Observer called attention to Tufts’ lack of commitment to supporting and retaining faculty and staff of color.

The switch to the SHU system came about after the Federal Department of Education made a change in their requirements for undergraduate and graduate degree completion, requiring all colleges to verify that their graduates were completing 120 SHUS, or the equivalent.

The New England Association of Schools and Colleges (NEASC), the organization responsible for accrediting Tufts, then mandated that Tufts make a change to the one course, one credit system because the Tufts administration could not guarantee that all students were reaching the required 120 SHUs. However, many other schools who are accredited by the NEASC, such as Bowdoin College and Bates College, still use the one course, one credit system. Classes at Bowdoin and Bates earn one full credit, which they equate to four semester hours, and all courses count equally towards students’ GPA. They still meet the federal regulations by stating that courses that count for one credit will typically meet for three hours a week, with the expectation that a minimum of nine additional hours a week will be spent in lab, discussion group, film viewings, or preparatory work. This is a fair system that meets the federal guidelines, while also remaining true to liberal arts values.

If it is not viable to overturn the SHU system and return to the one course, one credit system, then adjustments must be made. If other schools accredited by the NEASC can offer one-credit classes that correspond with four SHUs, then Tufts should follow suit. There needs to be a closer examination of every course syllabus in order to more accurately represent the number of hours required for each class. The main purpose of the SHU system is to make the standards and expectations of each course clearer, and that cannot be accomplished with just a number.

This d evalu ation class of no es go n-STE es ag the k M a inst o ey ph ne of iloso a libe p h ies be ral a hind rts e that d u catio all s ubjec n— posse ts of s ss eq ual w tudy orth .

october 1, 2018 Tufts Observer 11

poetry

M i lk T ee t h

By Emma Herdman I want to be beautiful like my sister and make art that isn’t ephemeral Use my teeth to cut through firm vegetal fibers I know we’re all made of that same pulpy stuff I want to shrink my body down to the size of empty and sift through the open pockets in my old shirts Everyone will know I don’t eat bread when I’m in a photo they’ll say where’s she?

I didn’t even notice her When I was little I watched an ice cream cone melt all down my arm transfixed by the shrinking scoop unconsumed How can you expect me to believe that matter is neither created nor destroyed—if that’s true then there are lost molecules of my mother scattered around in various places What happens to the food she doesn’t eat anymore?

Does it rot on the shelves and go back into the dirt?

She said she finally feels under control but it still seems unsettling to me that she’s basically a mosaic missing half of her original pieces She hopes no one notices they were once there My child will be full of cookies and warm milk and the swell of their belly will be health and strength May their only empty spaces be filled with gold hooped earrings and the memory of milk teeth In the summer I chopped off my hair and threw it from the roof I thought the birds would weave it into their homes but when I came back there were just clumps floating through the backyard Yesterday I saw a large leg of meat they shaved it down piece by piece until all that remained was sinew and bone and I wondered if I could ever do that

12 Tufts Observer October 1, 2018

ART BY EMMA HERDMAN

PHOTOS BY ABIGAIL BARTON AND BRITT

PHOTO BY AUDREY FALK

PHOTOS BY BRITT

PHOTOS BY BRITT

poetry

PPooppss

Like This morning I wake up as a parrot.

This is not a metaphor. I am

a parrot. This

is not a dream. I am two teacups tall like the matryoshka doll

pop “Hello, my name is-” pop like palm-sized bumper cars “Hello, my name is-” pop

like broth, thick and sizzle “Hello,

my-” pop “Hello my name is-” spinning like the beam pop of the spiraled stagelight twisted pop like a wrung towel, I poke at my body dazed rich red

like the sun—the sun! spinning too roly-poly toy twizzler stagelight pop “my name-” pop “my- pop -name is” pop

pluck my feathers good luck charms for lapels pluck petal silk pluck salutations pluck fat bellies and good teeth pluck deep throat laughter pluck that locker room or shoeshine stench pluck

“What’s so funny?” pluck

“What’s so- pluck -funny?”

pluck “What’s so goddamn funny?”

stripped red pluck carpet-dotted

joint-cracking walking husks pluck

scared like papier-mâché in the rain

pluck

I stand naked on the stage,

“Hello.”

ART BY RIVA DHAMALA

By Nasrin Lin

OCTOBER 1, 2018 Tufts Observer 17

CAMPUS

O

n August 31, students received an email from the Dean of Student Affairs informing them about an “Updated Code of Conduct.” The new code included a revision to the policy that impacts how students organize on campus.

“Active citizenship, including exercising free speech and engaging in protests, gatherings, and demonstrations, is a vital part of the Tufts community,” the policy reads. “Students engaging in protests, gatherings, or demonstrations are expected to conduct themselves responsibly and in accordance with Tufts standards of behavior.”

“Any event that occurs on campus and is expected to attract more than 25 people—including a protest, gathering, or demonstration—must be registered in advance and approved through the event registration process managed by the Office for Campus Life (OCL),” it continues.

But activism depends on a feeling of urgency—it runs on a quick sense of time.

Protests often involve a gathering of people who come together to mourn, to heal, and in many cases, to respond to a call to action.

It comes as no surprise that many institutional changes throughout Tufts’ history are a product of the sweat, tears, and exhaustion of student organizers in past and recent years.

The pre-orientation program you were able to attend because of waived costs, as well as the increase in your paycheck, both come from efforts of #TheThreePercent protests that occurred fall of 2015.

In the Spring of 2018, hundreds of students rallied in support of a union for Tufts Dining workers, who are now in the process of contract negotiations with the administration.

The 2011 creation of the Africana Studies program—which has since become a central place of community in the academic world for many students—is a direct product of the work of the Pan-African Alliance who gathered over 80 students to occupy administrative offices.

In all of these cases, students came together, protested, and fought for what they needed in order to exist on this campus. These are changes that, in many ways, might not have been possible under the revised student code of conduct.

Furthermore, there are many questions surrounding why the policy changes came about, where the sudden need for revision sprouted from, and whether or not it detracts from the purpose of students’ need to protest.

Edwin Jain, a senior and student organizer in the dining demonstrations that took place last semester, feels as though the new code of conduct speaks to Tufts’ failure to prioritize its students.

“My initial thoughts were that Tufts doesn’t seem to actually want to follow through on its promises and its image of being a campus open to civic engagement and political activism,” Jain said. Jain adds that this is another instance in which “Tufts has decided that it wants to put its corporate interests ahead of the welfare of students, workers, and professors on campus and its supposed values of free speech and civic engagement.”

Speaking to his experiences protesting on campus, Jain noted the importance of responding to events in real time, and how the new code of conduct jeopardizes that.

“In the context of dining workers, there were some workers that felt intimidated and scared by managers about unionizing, so a group of us students went to talk to managers and told them our concerns,” Jain

Decoding disruption students respond to the new code of conduct

By Muna Mohamed 18 Tufts Observer october 1, 2018

CAMPUS

described. “That was a response to an emergency. That was a response to something that is really wrong. In context of the new student code of conduct, these kinds of things could not happen.”

Caila Bowen, a senior and primary organizer of #TheThreePercent protests, shares a similar sentiment to Jain: “Tufts boasts about civic engagement, often using it as a calling card of sorts, and yet they expect it to be neat and concealed and respectable to the institution,” Bowen explained.

Bowen argues that many demonstrations could not have occurred in a “neat and concealed and respectable” manner, but that “Tufts has no problem with reaping the benefits years later.”

Dean of Student Affairs Mary-Pat McMahon said that the revision to the policy is meant to ensure the safety of Tufts students, as well as reconcile the relationship between administration and students by making the protest process more communicative between the two parties.

“If someone is planning a big event and there might be counter protesters or need for security details we want to be able to make sure that the support is there,” McMahon explained.

McMahon also emphasized that preserving the safety of students was a driving force for the conduct change. Following the events at the University of Virginia during the Unite the Right rally in August of 2017,

GRAPHIC BY BRIGID CAWLEY

Tufts is one of a number of schools reevaluating the needs for safety on its campus, which include needs for police and methods for dealing with counter protests.

“What we’ve seen on other campuses is that there have been significant safety concerns for students and other members of their community,” McMahon stated.

“Protest is about disruption,” Bowen said.

“It is about shaking up the status quo. It is about not asking, but demanding because in the past, asking has gotten you nowhere.”

“The goal is to provide safety, support, and help with logistics without having a referendum of good protests, bad events, or otherwise.”

However, safety in students’ lives on campus is an issue that goes beyond registering protests. Many have also questioned the police presence on campus. During #TheThreePercent protests, students demanded an end to the racial profiling of Black students on campus, particularly at predominantly Black events. Although

some of the demands were met, and there are no longer metal detectors at predominantly Black functions, there are still students who avoid taking SafeRides and squirm at the sight of TUPD officers. Our safety needs as students are complex, and our definitions of what safety feels like and looks like cannot be muddled down into a revised student code of conduct.

“In a way, [the revised student code of conduct] makes me feel less safe, because if there was anything that ever happened to me and people needed to organize in an emergency, the university might retaliate,” Jain expressed. “If anything, TUPD being there doesn’t make a lot of students feel safe.”

As of now, there is no concrete list of consequences for when a student breaks the new code of conduct. McMahon stated that she hopes it will be a communicative process between students and administration.

Students do not protest for fun—we protest in order to be able to exist freely on campus. It is often not a cooperative process because protest by nature speaks to the lack of action on administration’s end to ensure student safety and comfort.

It certainly cannot be subjugated nor reduced to a mandatory registering process at least five business days in advance.

“Protest is about disruption,” Bowen asserted. “It is about shaking up the status quo. It is about not asking, but demanding, because in the past, asking has gotten you nowhere.”

october 1, 2018 Tufts Observer 19

Arts & Culture

An Indistinct Recollection A look at cousin identities in crazy rich Asia and Asian America

By Emily Ng

T

he summer hit Crazy Rich Asians is a story of cultural clash between Asia and Asian America. Chinese American Rachel Chu, an NYU Economics professor raised by a middle-class single mother, visits her boyfriend Nick Young’s home in Singapore for the first time, only to be surprised and challenged by unwelcoming family and friends in Nick’s wealthy circles. The film has sparked a contentious discussion among Asians and Asian Americans, as many have celebrated it as a landmark step forward for Asian representation with its all-Asian cast in a White film industry. However, others have criticized the movie for its cast of mostly East Asian actors, the selection of a multiracial lead, and the film’s erasure of Singapore’s ethnic diversity. The movie is more familiar to a privileged audience, as Rachel and Nick are two highly educated individuals who live a comfortable life in New York City. Moreover, the movie focuses overwhelmingly on Chinese people, who are the dominant ethnic group among Asian Americans and Singaporeans.

With their country in the spotlight, some Singaporeans, like activist Sangeetha Thanapal, are using the popularity of Crazy Rich Asians to spotlight their narratives, which the film overlooks. Thanapal, who coined the term “Chinese Privilege” in Singapore, writes about institutionalized racism in the city-state. Singapore is 7 percent Indian and 15 percent Malay, but Brown actors only appear in the film in roles of servitude, such as security guards to the lavish Young family estate. Thanapal gives examples of racism in the country, such

20 Tufts Observer October 1, 2018

as bans on speaking Tamil (the official language of India and Sri Lanka), which Crazy Rich Asians sweeps under the rug by way of its focus on the glamour of the rich, famous, and beautiful. Poet Pooja Nansi adds more to the narrative, describing how Chinese and East Asian people are the public faces of media and advertisement, as well as the physical standard of a stereotypical Singaporean. This movie and its surrounding debate reflects two core tensions in Asia and Asian America: how Asians of different ethnicities relate to one another, and the ways in which “progress” for some can simultaneously be harmful to others.

Another piece of the discussion around Crazy Rich Asians that has frequently been missing is the relationship between Asians and Asian Americans, a theme that underlies the entire storyline and debate around the movie. Rachel’s experience in Singapore can be understood as one Asian American’s experience in Asia. Much of the conflict she experiences arises from class differences, but the friction she faces also comes from being perceived differently in a new environment.

She is no longer in the US, and faces constant reminders that being Asian American in

Asia is not as seamless a transition as one may assume. While Singapore is a place that is largely Chinese, like her, it is also a place that Rachel feels very alienated from. Nick, on the other hand, has almost

Arts & Culture

the opposite path, having been Asian in America for many years.

This rubbing of interrelated identities against each other has been a thread throughout my life in the US as someone who was born in California, raised in Hong Kong, and educated at an elite boarding school in western Massachusetts before coming to Tufts. In the past few years, I have come to understand my identity and experiences as both Asian and Asian American, and found Crazy Rich Asians to be a channel for reflecting the interactions between my two cousin identi-

ART BY WILL MUELLER

ties. I saw parts of myself in both Nick and Rachel’s stories, as Asian and Asian American narratives.

As Asians in America, Nick and I have a lot in common. We both come from owning class backgrounds—our families own things that generate wealth without us working, such as investments or businesses. We both attended elite schools in our hometowns and subsequently socialized with family circles that sent their children abroad, mostly to the US, UK, and Australia for university. We both learned how to codeswitch between contexts, using different cultural references and mannerisms based on where we were.

We easily fall into old, comfortable habits of access and complacency when we go back home, where we are the majority instead of the minority. For me, it is easy to push aside news about civil rights and justice in the US when I’m comfortably at home in Hong Kong.

The reverse happens when I’m here at Tufts, where I easily forget about ongoing news in Hong Kong, such as the push for a more democratic government sparked by the Umbrella Movement and protests in 2014. These similarities with Nick are mostly shaped by my class privilege, and at an elite private institution like Tufts with plenty of other wealthy international students, I can comfortably stay within that one corner of international identity and upbringing.

While seeing Rachel’s story unfold in the film, I found myself thinking about

all the ways that I’ve grown into my Asian American identity as well. Particularly, I found myself resonating with her experience of being Asian American in Asia, as I made similar adjustments when moving back home to Hong Kong for my gap year before Tufts. Her big smile and warm demeanor when meeting Nick’s family reminded me of the trademark American friendliness that I had internalized after being in the US for four years. Rachel also consistently elevated a narrative of “immigrant hustle” throughout the movie, saying that her mother, Kerry, worked incredibly hard and eventually “made it” as a real estate agent in California. The retelling of this story is one of the strongest pillars of the model minority myth, wherein Asian Americans are flattened into the blanketing generalization of being a successful minority group. This resonated deeply with me, as my parents and their siblings, all Chinese Vietnamese immigrants to Australia and the US, always told my sister and me while growing up that if we worked hard, we would reap the rewards of success and financial stability when we were older.

As fun as this Hollywood hit is, it is also an indistinct recollection of the sadder moments of assimilation that Asians and Asian Americans face while existing nationally and transnationally. Crazy Rich Asians documents the harmful myths we continue to tell ourselves, and the complacency that exists when we ignore the different paths of Asian diaspora and various understandings of identity around the world. My Asian Australian family has concretely described the film as Asian American, hinting at the challenges that diasporic communities face when one piece of our global tapestry gets cut and displayed. If Crazy Rich Asians can spark the proliferation of more Asian people’s narratives in all the places that we exist and are indeed present, then perhaps the rules of minority representation can become more fluid.

October 1, 2018 Tufts Observer 21

News

raising a racket

By Anéya Sousa

O

n September 8th, 2018, Serena Williams, one of the world’s most famous professional US tennis players, competed against Haitian-Japanese tennis player Naomi Osaka in the final game of the US Open. During the final, 20-year-old Osaka beat Williams, giving Japan its first Grand Slam singles title.

Williams won $1.85 million for finishing as runner up at the US Open, but was fined a total of $17,000 for three code violation citations given by chair umpire Carlos Ramos. After Ramos gave Williams a warning, alleging that her coach used hand signals in an attempt to coach her from the sidelines, she smashed her racket in an act of frustration, for which Ramos deducted a point and issued a second citation. In the last violation, an increasingly angry Williams began sparring back and forth with 22 Tufts Observer OCTOBER 1, 2018

Ramos, demanding an apology, adding “I have never cheated in my life!” At one point, Williams called Ramos a “liar” and a “thief ” for stealing a point from her, which Ramos then cited as a “verbal abuse” violation, for which she was docked a game.

Williams called in a referee to appeal, citing differential punitive measures between her case and that of male players. Despite Serena’s efforts, Osaka was crowned champion, defeating her idol.

Subsequent discussion of this event has turned to rhetoric that stems from Williams being a darker-skinned Black woman. Since the start of her career, the media and general public have demonized Williams based on her appearance, rooting their insults in misogynoir. Misogynoir, a term coined

by Moya Bailey and Trudy in 2008, “describes the anti-Black racist misogyny that

Black women experience.” A quick search through the comments section about Williams on various social media platforms will produce a number of comments expressing disgust at her physical appearance.

In an interview with The Guardian, Williams discussed her belief that being a Black woman shapes the public’s perceptions of her: “I feel like people think I’m mean... Because I’m Black and so I look mean? ...They say African Americans have to be twice as good, especially women.”

A concrete example of the appearancebased misogynoir that Williams routinely faces is the catsuit controversy that surrounded her in May, when officials at the French Open tournament banned her from wearing her catsuit, which served to relieve life-threatening blood clots caused by her pregnancy. Her dress was labeled an issue ART BY AMY TONG

G

NEWS

of “respect[ing] the game and the place.”

Black women are incessantly policed for their clothing and public presentation because they are seen as outside the bounds of what a woman is. Accordingly, people deemed to be “officials” will go out of their way to penalize Black women for being able to play by restricting their expression and individuality as much as possible.

Afua Ofori-Darko, a Tufts student and former member of the women’s tennis team at Tufts, provided a personal account of the policing of Black women’s bodies and clothing.

“In my town, parents have complained that tennis players who were Black girls should not be able to wear spandex because ‘too much is hanging out’—that was even turned into a rule at some tennis tournaments,” she recounted. There are always so many microaggressions and stereotypes that we face as Black women in the game.”

This fixation on Black women’s physicality is manifested in the racist political cartoon that was published in the Australian newspaper The Herald Sun by its artist, Mark Knight. In the cartoon, Williams’ frustration is depicted in an exaggerated and minimizing manner, resembling a large toddler throwing a tantrum while she jumps up and down on her smashed racket on the floor. Knight draws her cry-

ing and with her tongue sticking out, reducing the situation to being that of a fussy child rather than the reality of an athlete insisting on respect and equal treatment.

Meanwhile, Naomi Osaka is depicted as a White woman with blonde hair, standing in front of Ramos as he asks her to let Williams win. The artist’s decision to contrast Williams and Osaka not only in how he illustrates their demeanors, but also their physical appearance, reveals the misogynoir in his connection between the two aspects of the athletes. He emphasizes Serena’s “abject” qualities by drawing her twice the size of Osaka and her wide nose and full lips larger than they are. Knight’s portrayal of Williams strikingly evokes minstrel caricatures during the Jim Crow era.

On the other hand, the change in Osaka’s skin color and physical features can also be traced back to colorism and manipulation of Osaka’s biracial identity, in that he chose to depict her as White as to erase her Blackness and create an even larger contrast between Osaka and Williams.

Ofori-Darko provided her input on the cartoon, remarking, “Obviously, Naomi Osaka is visibly Black and was whitewashed; on the other side, everyone gives Serena this ‘angry Black woman’ representation all of the time. It’s ridiculous that big newspapers and publications can spew terrible and racist things like this and they’re

not really punished for it.” This can also be connected to the media’s labeling of Williams’ behavior, putting the blame solely on her by labeling her reaction an “outburst,” referring to her as “angry,” “loud,” and using other abrasive descriptors that all serve to feed into the aforementioned “angry Black woman” trope.

Seble Yigletu, another Tufts student who played tennis competitively up until her senior year of high school, gave her personal take on the entirety of the situation. “Being a Black woman who used to play tennis competitively, I find the whole situation very disheartening because Serena has paved the way for so many other Black women in the field, including Naomi Osaka. It is very sad to see that although she is a trailblazer for Black women in the game, she is always under a lot of fire for just being herself and speaking her mind.

As someone that sees her as a role model and a hero in the tennis world, it is very upsetting to see her receive so much backlash all of the time.”

So, this experience of misogynoir in sports is not exclusive to Serena Williams— her’s is simply afforded more visibility due to her fame. Serena Williams is considered by many the greatest active athlete yet is unable to demand respect for herself and her gameplay without being dehumanized, disregarded, and disenfranchised.

october 1, 2018 Tufts Observer 23

opinion

Students Against incarceration:

S

towards divestment

tudents Against Incarceration is a resurrection. In 2015, a group known as “Students Against Mass Incarceration” (SAMI) worked as part of a larger Tufts Prison Divestment Coalition to push the University to abandon its investments in private prison companies.

The coalition was a joint effort between United for Immigrant Justice, Students for Justice in Palestine, SAMI, and Tufts Climate Action. But the same year that it was created, Tufts Administration unequivocally denied any attempt to change its endowment and investment policies. In the following months, SAMI dissolved as seniors graduated.

While Tufts refused to divest from private prisons, student activists around the country have been successful in changing investment practices. Columbia University, the University of California system, as well as the entire pension fund for the City of New York have dropped investments from private prison companies. In the Boston area, radical organiz24 Tufts Observer october 1, 2018

ers have continued this work—at Harvard University, Smith College, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and Brandeis University, students are working to push administrations to reevaluate their financial holdings and their impact on marginalized communities.

Divestment is especially important at this political moment. The heightened violence of police forces, as well as the constant abductions of people of color by the United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement and Homeland Security, have inspired nationwide resistance. The National Prison Strike that ran from August 21 to September 9 of this year, which commemorated the 1971 rebellion at Attica Correctional Facility, is considered one of the largest uprisings against incarceration in history. In this climate of resistance, Tufts, along with other universities, has been clamoring to prove its commitment to social justice and civic engagement. Students Against Incarceration seeks to identify Tufts’ institutional hypocrisy.

Tufts University sits upon land that was brutally colonized in the 17th Century. The land of the Wampanoag people was converted into a 600-acre slave plantation owned and managed by John Winthrop, the first governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Much of the land was ceded in 1731 to Sir Isaac Royall, the wealthy proprietor of an Antiguan sugarcane plantation, which would later become the Royall House and Slave Quarters—home to the largest slaveholding family in Massachusetts. The Royall House and Slave Quarters are still standing, only three blocks away from Cousens Gym. Just as the land was converted into farmland through slave labor, much of the modern infrastructure of Tufts University can be attributed to prison labor.

For instance, many dormitory couches are manufactured by Blockhouse Furniture, a Pennsylvania company with multiple Department of Corrections (DOC) contracts. These contracts allow the company to outsource labor to incarcerART BY MIRABEL SLEIMAN

opinion ated workers. This labor is fundamentally coerced under the threat of solitary confinement, a practice which, although still used constantly in the United States, has been internationally condemned as a form of torture. Specifically, Blockhouse utilizes prison labor through contracts with Maryland Correctional Enterprises, as well as Arizona Correctional Industries (ACI). These facilities also rely on lockup quotas—mandates dictating to the state how full these prisons must be at all times.

For ACI, the required quotas are between 95 – 100 percent occupancy.

Part of the concern of prison labor is its untraceability. It is extraordinarily difficult to ascertain whether or not an item was built in a prison. This is because while the effects of the Prison-Industrial Complex (PIC), a concept that describes how private prisons become a source of industry and profit for a variety of businesses, are widely felt, their inner-workings are almost invisible. While a couch may be manufactured and sold by Blockhouse Furniture, and Blockhouse Furniture utilizes a supply of prison labor, whether or not that couch was assembled in a prison is almost unknowable. At the same time, almost any object at Tufts—light switches, mattresses, desks and chairs, lab equipment, chainlink fences—may be a product of forced prison labor. The scope of prison labor is huge, and nearly every major American company has some form of involvement in it. Furniture thus demonstrates the seemingly mundane ways in which exploitation and prison slavery invades academic and domestic spheres, implicating the University as a complicit institution.

Beyond this complicity, Tufts actively benefits from incarceration and exploitation from its endowments and investments. In March of 2015, when SAMI requested information about private prison investments, Patricia Campbell, thenVice President of the University, issued a statement indicating that it would be nearly impossible to determine that funds were not invested in specific firms. Rather, they were invested in commingled funds, which are large collections of money reinvested across thousands of smaller, direct investments. Because of their complexity, these firms would be nearly impossible to divest from. In an email exchange, Patrick Collins, Executive Director of Public Relations, explained that while Tufts holds

no direct investments in private prison companies, its “exposure to private prisons through commingled funds is 0.01 percent,” amounting to approximately $180,000 in investments.

When asked what specific criteria was used to determine which companies were considered private prisons, Collins explained that NAICS and SIC codes were used, in addition to a “classification system proprietary to the university’s custodian.” NAICS and SIC codes are established classification methods of describing the industry of a particular business.

What is troubling about this is that very few firms actually receive classification under corrections; case in point, CoreCivic (formerly the Corrections Corporation of America), the largest private

almost any object at Tufts—light switches, mattresses, desks and chairs, lab equipment, chain-link fences—may be a product of forced prison labor. prison company in the country, is classified as a “facilities support business.” The GEO Group, which operates most of the nation’s immigration detention facilities, is classified as a “management consulting firm.” What this means is that the 0.01 percent reported likely does not account for the full scope of Tufts’ investments in companies owning and operating prisons benefitting from mass incarceration.

Accordingly, Students Against Incarceration demands that the Tufts University Administration and Board of Trustees: Maintain high financial transparency regarding holdings and investments, and hold the Board of Trustees and their practices up to public scrutiny.

Immediately divest all holdings from private prison firms and private companies profiting off of incarceration. These firms include CoreCivic, GEO Group, G4S, Keefe Group Commissary Network, Securus Technologies, Global Tel Link, and Trinity Services Group. Further, remove endowment funds from the control

of investment firms which significantly support the prison industrial complex. These include Vanguard, Fidelity, BlackRock, Cohen & Steers, State Street, American Securities, Platinum Equity, and H.I.G. Capital. These companies are instrumental in the foundation and maintenance of the prison industrial complex.

Generate a plan to begin divestment from companies profiting off of prison labor.

These companies are detailed in the Correction Accountability Project’s April 2018 report, which exposed over 3,100 companies actively profiting off of incarceration.

Significantly increase funding and support for faculty and departments engaging in Ethnic Studies, Critical Prison Studies, and other disciplines seeking a radical redistribution of political and economic power. This must include a focus on hiring formerly-incarcerated faculty as well as faculty of identities and communities targeted by incarceration.

These endowment funds must be reinvested to demonstrate Tufts’ stated commitment to its community. Tufts has played a large role in acquiring residential properties, admitting large numbers of high-income students while neglecting on-campus housing options, and generally decreasing the affordability of Somerville, Medford, and Chinatown.

The displacement that occurs as families are forced out signals another link between the University and the prison industrial complex; the constant drive to expand comes at the expense of communityand the financial security of its residents. As families are displaced, they become increasingly at risk of incarceration. Accordingly, divested funds should be re-committed to supporting existing local business and affordable housing in these communities.

Public opinion both on and off campus overwhelmingly favors progressive prison system reforms. As incarcerated and free-world activists continue to make progress towards decarceration and abolition, private interests will continue to lose value as investments. It is time for Tufts to make the right decision in condemning slavery and investing in its communities.

S igned,

Students Against Incarceration

october 1, 2018 Tufts Observer 25

Arts & Culture

Where Have All The Flowers Protest music: where it’s been, and where it is now

By Nina Chukwura and Elena Pastreich

M

usic has always been a tool of protest, but who defines what protest music is or what songs should be heard?

We talked to Kate Seeger, the niece of famous activist and folk singer Pete Seeger, who is also a musician and activist herself.

In response to this question, she offered, “there’s less music in some ways [today] as classic protest songs go, but there’s lots of call and response stuff, lots of spoken word stuff, lots of slam poetry […] that is being used at protests.”

Every great movement of the past has had great protest songs accompanying it—music is as much a unifying force for people and movements as it is accessible, comforting, and often public. Thinking about protest music, there are the obvious artists or songs that come to mind, like the song “We Shall Overcome.”

26 Tufts Observer OCtober 1, 2018

The lyrics “We are not afraid today/ Oh, deep in my heart/I do believe/We shall overcome, someday” have spoken to generations of people fighting for their beliefs.

Tufts University instructor Katherine Swimm, who teaches an Ex-College class called Power, Performance, Protest: Women and the American Political System, takes interest in exploring how performance and social movements interact. Swimm takes this a step further and defines the act of protest itself as a type of performance.

“Performance can be anything as long as there is an audience and a performer,” she said. “There is a group of people who are doing an action together in an effort to create a certain effect.

[Protesting…] is about people getting together and using their bodies and their voices as a mechanism of sending a message.” Protests inherently push against rules. In the case of protest music, the music itself can be used as a tool to bring people together and make a statement. Musicians have been pushing boundaries in this way for years.

Throughout the most important movements in the past, certain artists have sacrificed part of their presence in the mainstream to make their opinions heard. Nina Simone was not only active in the Civil Rights Movement, but her music and activism were intrinsically tied together. In “Mississippi Goddam” she sings, “Picket lines, school boycotts/They try to say it’s a communist plot/All I want is equality/For my sister, my brother, my people, and me.” She wrote this song in reaction to the 1963 killing of four young Black girls in a church bombing in Birmingham, AL.

Many believe that Simone never reached the same level of superstardom as other Black women singers of her generation— such as Aretha Franklin, Diana Ross, or Whitney Houston—because of her political outspokenness.

protests inherently push against the rules. In this case, they also push the rules of what we consider to be music.

Dr. Kerri Greenidge, director for the Study of Race and Democracy at Tufts, elaborated on the role of music during the Civil Rights Movement. She emphasized that influential music at the time was largely “rooted in the African American church… and those churches had a long history of using hymns from the early 19th century.”

She also discussed the persistence of these songs throughout time. “A lot of the music that we now think of as protest music, like ‘This Little Light of Mine,’ ‘Amazing Grace’ … have their roots in West African Culture.” She noted that many of the protest songs of the Civil Rights Movement were songs that had been sung for generations before.

Folk music also played an important role in activism in the 1960s and 1970s, around the time that Pete Seeger was an important folk artist. He famously sang “Where Have All the Flowers Gone,” an anti-war song protesting the Vietnam War, and popularized other songs with political messages like “Solidarity Forever,” a union song which asks, “Is there anything left to us but to organize and fight?/For the union makes us strong.” Later, in the late 80s, Tufts University Alumna Tracy Chapman wrote “Talking ‘Bout a Revolution,” which highlighted issues of poverty she was aware

Arts & Culture

Gone? of at the time. She sings, “Poor people gonna rise up/And get their share/Poor people gonna rise up/And take what’s theirs.” Her song did not reach the same level of usage as the protest songs of the 60s, but it explicitly called out the harsh realities of the time in an open and unapologetic way.

In contrast, the songs performed today at large protests such as the Women’s March or March for Our Lives, often fall in line with songs like “Fight Song” by Rachel Platten. The difference is that Platten never had any intention of being political in her art, and never explicitly references social issues in her music. Because her song keeps more people comfortable, it is a departure from the history of typical, more narrative music that has been used as protest. These types of songs represent a larger imbalance in contemporary protests.

On one hand, it is important that these gatherings are bringing in many people who have not previously participated in civil disobedience, but on the other, many are frustrated by what they see as “surface level protesting.” The range of music that goes along with these protests, from tame to more radical, reflects this struggle to find a balance. In an interview with Dean Spencer, husband of Kate Seeger and an accomplished musician and activist, he asked: “Do you have to sacrifice your political existence to succeed economically?”

Although the true protest music of today may seem more under the radar, it very much still exists. However, its new wave of artists has been kept just outside of the mainstream. For example, in Donald Glover’s “This is America,” he raps, “Look how I’m livin’ now/Police be trippin’ now.”

Similarly, in Kendrick Lamar’s “Alright,” he makes a powerful statement about Police brutality with the lines, “And we hate popo/Wanna kill us dead in the street fo sho’.”

These songs have reached fame among teens and young adults, but they have not reached mainstream success comparable to other major hits. “This is America” went spectacularly viral, but its

ART BY RIVA DHAMALA

radio airplay was unusually low. Similarly, these songs are not present at popular political movements in the same way that less political songs like “Fight Song” are. For example, at March for Our Lives in Washington, D.C., some big-name White artists such as Miley Cyrus and Ariana Grande were present, while other

Black artists who had been talking about gun violence for years before the march were not. This is not to say that there is no room for artists like Cyrus and Grande in activism, but they should not be the only voices.

Additionally, songs like “Fight Song” have reached mainstream recognition under the vague guise of empowerment.

What sets Glover and Lamar’s songs apart is their refusal to stay silent about the institutions oppressing them—they inevitably cause controversy in a way that mainstream pop songs do not. It is time that this era of protest music intentionally encompasses all voices. It is time we lean into discomfort and appreciate protest music for what it must be: pervasive and catalytic.

October 1, 2018 Tufts Observer 27

VOICES

by my own terms

By Sonya Bhatia

T

his summer, I was sitting at the head of the table watching my parents eat, my mom scraping the plate with the tips of her fork and my dad drinking his Diet Coke (a very bad habit of his). I looked at my dad, who holds such a special place in my heart.

He’s one of my best friends; he never fails to remind me of how loved I am. I then glanced to my mother— my rock, who gives me advice when I need it most.

But looking at them also reminded me of the part of my identity that I have hidden from them.

A year ago, I came out as bisexual at Tufts. Realizing I was bisexual was an out-of-body experience— I had no idea how to go about it or conceptualize it.

The first person I came out to was my best friend at Tufts. I was sitting next to her on the Prez Lawn, with the sun warming our legs. I slipped a piece of paper in her pocket, on it the prose I wrote about me liking women and men. I was so nervous that I could not even utter the words “I am bisexual” to her. I asked her to read it after I left; I did not want to be there when she did. I got a text in my room later that evening, strewn with heart emojis and a message that said, “Thank you so much, I had no idea.”

As my parents and I ate, I decided to test the waters, telling them that one of my friends at Tufts 28 Tufts Observer OCTOBER 1, 2018

is bisexual. I remember my dad looked bewildered, asking me if I was serious. He gave a face of astonishment, almost as if being bisexual was a sin. My mother was more vocal about her disdain, exclaiming, “No way. I don’t trust bisexuals!” I remember leaving the dinner feeling deflated and overwhelmed by my inner dread.

At first, when I came home for the holidays, I did not feel that my bisexuality was a secret. I thought to myself, “I wouldn’t tell them about a casual date anyways. I don’t tell them everything. How is this different?” I rationalized that if I did not have a girlfriend to prove it, then there was no purpose in coming out.

In my head, when my bisexuality was so new, the purpose of coming out was the chance to be open about my attraction and eventual intimacy with women. So, if I had nothing to show, what was there to even say?

As I continued to process what my queer identity meant to me, I came to realize that my queerness is more than the sum of my attractions. It has affected the way I view my femininity and has allowed me to break out of boxes that I did not even realize I had restricted myself to. Even though I was not dating anyone, my sexuality still became more of a central

Voices

identity to me. This transformation made me feel like I was now hiding an important part of myself. Now, I constantly debate whether to tell my parents or continue to keep it a secret.

Being at Tufts, the friends I have, spaces I occupy, and my own privileges allow me the comfort to express my queer identity proudly. In addition, the physical distance from my parents gives me peace of mind that my secret is safe, and that they won’t find out before I am ready to tell them.

However, when I am with my parents, I question what it means to “come out” at all. Maybe if I had just kept on sweeping my attractions I felt towards women under the rug, I would not feel so torn inside. I notice the glimmer in my parents’ eyes when they talk about the prospect of me getting married and having a family. But I know their vision includes a husband by my side. Being queer, I feel like I am not the daughter my parents wanted. It makes it harder that I am the only person in my family who is openly queer.

It makes the secret I keep that much heavier because I feel so different from them. I wish there was some magic instruction guide on how to navigate my situation to bring me a sense of direction in this uncharted territory. These are the moments where I wish I could

PHOTO BY RIVA DHAMALA AND ABIGAIL BARTON

be straight. It would be easier. Why couldn’t I just be the daughter that I know they want?

When I wrote the first draft of this piece, even though my underlying emotions and vulnerability were present, my own voice was lost. This is my story, so I need to center myself. I realized that when I first wrote it, I tried to avoid my own voice and the specifics because that would mean facing my reality headon. It would mean that I have to come to terms with being stuck between two places in which I am proud to be queer and where I play the part of being straight.

Sometimes thinking about it too deeply makes it hard for me to breathe. As much as it hurts me to keep a secret or part of me hidden away, what hurts me more is the possibility of causing pain to my parents and shattering my family’s heteronormative dream. I am so scared of seeing the looks in their eyes and hearing my mother’s possibly hurtful comments. Most of all, I am scared to lose my best friend; I am scared that my dad, as loving and caring as he is, would consider me a stranger because of my queerness. Of course, there is the possibility I am wrong, that they would still accept and love me the same. But it is not a risk that I am willing to take just yet.

OCTOBER 1, 2018 Tufts Observer 29

I before E except after C

Stand clear of the closing doors

Handle with care

This way up

Red means stop Green means go

Walk, don’t run

For emergency use only

FEATURE