Issue 3 Fall 2018

TUFTS OBSERVER TUFTS OBSERVER TUFTS OBSERVER TUFTS OBSERVER TUFTS OBSERVER TUFTS OBSERVER TUFTS OBSERVER TUFTS OBSERVER TUFTS OBSERVER # E X C E S S VOL.

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S TA F F EDITOR IN CHIEF: Emmett Pinsky MANAGING EDITOR: Alexandra Benjamin CREATIVE DIRECTOR: Erica Levy FEATURES EDITOR: Julia Press

ARTS & CULTURE EDITORS: Sonya Bhatia Owen Cheung OPINION EDITORS: Lena Novins-Montague Wilson Wong CAMPUS EDITORS: Myisha Majumder Anita Lam POETRY & PROSE EDITOR: Ruthie Block VOICES EDITOR: Kira Lauring WEB EDITOR: Juliana Vega del Castillo PHOTO DIRECTORS: Britt Abigail Barton ART DIRECTOR: Riva Dhamala MULTIMEDIA DIRECTOR: Evie Bellew Izzy Rosenbaum VIDEO DIRECTOR: Emai Lai

Excess

NEWS EDITORS: Cris Paulino Sasha Hulkower EXTRA EXTRA…this week we’re feeling extra. This week we’re feeeEEeeEeling supercalifragilisticexpiali-exuberantly-overthetop lavishly-luxurious abundantly-unrestrained superfluously-limitless exorbitantly-overloaded extravagantly indulgent. Excessive, in fact. Too much? Maybe. But also maybe just enough.

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Unbreakable at Tufts

FEATURE

By Emmett Pinsky and Jesse Ryan

The Real Winners of the Harvard Lawsuit

OPINION

By Wilson Wong ARTS & CULTURE

Where Does the Value Come From?

By Tiffany Xie

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CAMPUS

The food we waste

By Madeleine Clarke & Marissa Donohue

PHOTO INSET

17 20 22 25

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POETRY & PROSE

Too Much

taking notes on metabiosis

Contrition

By Jessica O’Flanagan

18

ARTS & CULTURE

By Alice Hickson

Grade’s Anatomy

By Sonya Bhatia NEWS

Grasping at straws

By Lauren Quickel and Rebecca Redelmeier

STAFF WRITERS: Trina Sanyal Eman Naseer Jonathan Innocent Muna Mohamed

LEAD COPY EDITOR: Jesse Ryan

On Living offline

OPINION

PUBLICITY DIRECTORS: Nasrin Lin Daniel Jelčić

DESIGNERS: Zahra Morgan Tyler Whitaker Richard Nakatsuka Helen Xie Yishu Huang Nick Golin Brigid Cawley

Anonymous POETRY & PROSE

PODCAST TEAM: Kareal Amenumey Malaika Gabra

COPY EDITORS: Brittany Regas Rosy Triggs Ryan Albanesi Josie Wagner Sara Barkouli Aidan Schaffert EDITOR EMERITUS Carissa Fleury CONTRIBUTORS Madeline Lee Brette Lennon Jacqueline Enderle Ryan Sheehan Eleanor Sultana Yoon Sung Hannah Kahn Stuart Montgomery Janie Ingrassia Simone Lewis

VOICES

extra corruptive

By Claude Shwartz

COVERS BY ERICA LEVY, BACK COVER AND TABLE OF CONTENTS PHOTOS BY STUART MONTGOMERY

unbreakable at tufts

Feature

By Emmett Pinsky and Jesse Ryan

Dining Worke

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rs Fight For

A fair Contr

act

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L

ast April, over 500 Tufts community members marched from Dewick to Ballou, painted cardboard signs in hand, chanting together: The students and workers will never be defeated, the students and workers will never be defeated. Gathered on the academic quad, the crowd chanted and cheered until Tufts administrators emerged from Ballou’s front doors. A group of Tufts Dining workers and a Local 26 Union representative stood at the front of the crowd holding a banner with over 100 photographs of Tufts workers who were in favor of a union. They read a statement outlining their desire to unionize and demanded that the administration voluntarily recognize a union for Tufts Dining.

Tufts refused to recognize the union.

Consequently, the dining workers submitted a petition to organize a union election to the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB). According to NLRB standards, at least 30 percent of a workforce must sign a petition for unionization in order to guarantee an election. Over 75 percent of Tufts Dining workers signed theirs.

The election took place on April 24; 127 workers voted in favor of unionization and 19 voted against, substantially exceeding the NLRB’s requirement of a simple majority. With the completion of the vote, the workers won their union.

Tufts Dining is now a part of UNITE HERE Local 26, a union that, according to its website, “represents workers in the hospitality industries of Massachusetts and Rhode Island.” In 2016, Local 26 fought alongside Harvard’s dining workers to unionize and complete successful contract negotiations.

Returning to campus this semester, some students are under the impression that because the workers won the union, the fight is over. However, the tangible changes that the union can guarantee are

ART BY EMMETT PINSKY

dependent on successful contract negotiations with the Tufts administration. These contract negotiations began on August 21 and are still underway. They will continue until an agreement is reached. Christine Tringale, who has worked for Tufts Dining since 2010, emphasized the importance of securing a fair contract, saying that “there is nothing on paper that says we’re safe right now, and it’s important that we negotiate on that.”

Until then, workers will continue to earn the same wages, receive (or not receive) the same health care, and face mistreatment and poor working conditions.

Tringale said that at times, the work environment post-union win has felt even more hostile. “I noticed that they’re trying to push me a little more this year, now that they know that I speak up for others and myself,” she said.

Zahra Warsame, who has been a Second Cook at Carmichael since 2005, acknowledged that “there has been lot of issues, but coming into the semester, [the union] has given us a hope, a beacon. We came back looking forward to changes now that we won the union.” Ingrid LaFontant, who has worked in Carmichael since 2015, expressed a similar sentiment, saying, “The only thing that I can hope for is that things can change; I’m very hopeful and very positive about it, but I haven’t seen changes yet.”

Negotiation meetings currently take place every few weeks and will likely become more frequent as the workers and the administration get closer to an agreement. So far, the group has focused on “how we actually want to be treated in the workplace,” Tringale reported.

The Tufts Dining workers are negotiating for three primary provisions in their first union contract: a living wage, affordable and comprehensive healthcare, and dignity and respect on the job.

The workers hope to secure a contract that guarantees them wages relative to the cost of living in the Medford/Somerville area—they are fighting to be able to live comfortably and close to their workplace.

“I lived in campus before,” said Warsame.

“I lived right by Bromfield. Now, I can’t afford to live in campus and work there…

Because of my childcare and extra health insurance, I’m not able to live in campus or even near Boston. So, I hope with the new contract we can get a raise and affordable health insurance to be able to live our lives somewhat comfortable.”

As Warsame highlights, the fight for a living wage is vital in and of itself. However, it is also related to aspects of work life beyond just pay. LaFontant hopes that the new contract will bring increased stability to her schedule and, subsequently, her income. “I can’t afford to be working only two or three days [per week],” she said.

Additionally, because many divisions within Tufts Dining are understaffed, workers find themselves taking on roles beyond their job descriptions without additional pay. Tringale has often found herself working to send food to the SMFA campus, which is “a workload that I wasn’t expecting, but I’m being forced to do...

[The] workload has been excessive, and it’s constantly being added on.” She has tried to discuss the issue with management, but explained that, “When I raise a solution or suggestion, I constantly get restricted, and I just never hear about it again.”

The question of sufficient and consistent scheduling is especially pertinent to temporary workers, who are only hired for one semester at a time, and therefore must go through a re-hiring process every few months. Many temporary workers in Tufts Dining have been working here for years; their presence is hardly temporary. But it is much cheaper for Tufts to employ “temps,” who are not offered benefits by the univerOctober 29, 2018 Tufts Observer 3

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sity. Warsame said that management often schedules temps for as many as 38 or 39 hours per week—just shy of the 40-hour minimum to qualify for full-time status.

The dining workers are fighting for a contract that requires management to work toward a standard practice of filling full-time, permanent positions with current temp workers. “It’s simple decency,” said Jules Yun, a former student worker in Tufts Dining and an organizer with the Tufts Dining Action Coalition (TDAC). “I know workers who have been asking managers for full-time positions for years and have not gotten the jobs... I’ve heard stories from workers of managers telling them to apply for a full-time job and then when they do apply, the managers laugh and say, ‘You were never going to get it.’”

Hiring temp workers full-time would also affect the health insurance benefits for which those workers are eligible—this is

the second focus of the contract for dining workers and Local 26.

And while full-time workers do qualify for benefits, the health plan that Tufts offers is unaffordable. Warsame shared that before she had her baby, she paid between $40 and $60 per week for healthcare.

“But now,” she explained, “with the baby I pay 165 per week. That’s almost $620 a month.” Warsame’s income puts her just over the threshold to be eligible for affordable health insurance like MassHealth.

However, she still struggles to afford the insurance plan she currently receives from Tufts. “I make too much to get MassHealth according to the bracket... but yet I don’t make enough to even sustain a comfortable life—or any life—by myself,” she explained. “Thank God I have my husband; if I was to be with the baby alone, I just couldn’t afford to have health insurance.”

Warsame continued that healthcare is “a big, big part of our life.” Warsame’s baby is now four months old, “and every two months she gets shots. I’m talking about doctor’s visits that cost $400 to $600. So I can’t afford to not be on health insurance.”

The dining workers’ third focus in negotiations is ensuring dignity and respect in the workplace, specifically in their relationships and interactions with managers.

Tringale said that “right now we’re dealing with hostile work environments, favoritism, unfairness,” as well as an overall refusal of management to address issues that the workers bring up because “they just don’t want to deal with them.”

This atmosphere of unfairness has manifested in various ways for dining workers. LaFontant, who is a temporary worker, said that she tried to apply for a job, only to find out that management had

“I was really excited to not be afraid anymore,” she said. “Because I have a voice, and everybody else does, and I’ve never been afraid to use it."

4 Tufts Observer October 29, 2018

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hired externally. “Somebody could have at least said to me, ‘Hey, you don’t speak enough English, you are not qualified for the job,’” said LaFontant. “They could have given me some sort of explanation—but not even being given a chance to apply for the job? I need more respect than that.”

Warsame echoed this sentiment, saying that “a lot of people are unnoticed, unappreciated. They put a lot of effort into the work they do, they take pride in the work they do, and they’re dismissed.”

This dismissal is especially prevalent for temp workers who are people of color, emphasized Yun. “I know workers who have been working as temps for eight years and they’re people of color,” they explained.

“You can definitely see the discriminatory hiring practices when Tufts fills full-time positions by hiring white people from outside rather than promoting temps of color.”

These dynamics create a work environment that is unjust and unsustainable for workers, and, overall, results in workers experiencing a “decreased value of [themselves],” said Tringale. Tringale has worked in Hodgdon since 2017, which means she frequently interacts with student workers.

She explained that “a lot of these students see some of the mistreatment we receive, and it’s unfortunate and it’s embarrassing, because we’re over here working so hard.”

Tringale emphasized her feeling that when she and her coworkers are not respected as human beings, it feels like “[we’re] almost a number, and like student [workers] are almost a number.”

Tringale began working for Tufts Dining when she was 19 years old, “fresh out of college” with an associate’s degree. “I

didn’t know any of my rights, but I knew right from wrong,” she said. So, when a former Tufts Dining employee sexually harassed her, she filed a complaint with Human Relations, “only to find that they paid the employee off. It was almost like damage control. So, for two years I dealt with retaliation from this employee, and I was viewed as a problematic person just because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”

After this incident, management gave Tringale promotion after promotion, which only made her feel more controlled and watched by those who had failed to treat her with care or respect after she reported the harassment. “They were putting me up on a pedestal just so I wouldn’t speak my mind, so for a while I was afraid to the point where I just took all of the abuse.”

Tringale also recounted receiving retaliation from management following her report. Managers would frequently “mess up my schedule or take my schedule,” she said. Recently, Tringale had a baby, and that’s when she “realized that [she] needed to switch departments.” The instability of her schedule no longer affected just her, but her family as well.

Talking with union representatives from Local 26 and eventually winning the union changed things for Tringale. “I was really excited to not be afraid anymore,” she said. “Because I have a voice, and everybody else does, and I’ve never been afraid to use it. That shouldn’t have to change just because I tried to do the right thing.”

While Tringale feels that it is important for students to be informed about the struggles she and many other employees at

Tufts Dining continue to face, she affirmed that she does not want student support to come from a place of pity.

“I feel like the students feel bad for us,” she said, “but I don’t want students to feel bad, because these are things that we have dealt with for a long time... Now it’s our turn to turn around the situation.”

Warsame and LaFontant concurred that the situation can’t be turned around without continued support from the student body. “I understand the fight, and I know that it’s not an easy fight,” LaFontant said.

“The only thing I want [students] to know is that happiness is a communal sacrifice.”

So far, this sacrifice has taken many forms for students in support of the workers’ efforts to unionize and negotiate their first contract. Warsame contends that the most meaningful kind of support emerges from the relationships that students and workers build together.

“I feel like the relationships that we used to have with the students are no longer there, because under the new management, they just want us to work work work,” Warsame said. “[But] I get up and I come to work because of the students.”

Whether it’s working side by side with them in dining facilities, educating peers about mistreatment in Tufts Dining and the ongoing fight for a contract, attending the rally last April, or continuing to be present at future actions, there are many ways to build and show support. Tufts Dining workers show up to care for us every single day, and it is time we show up for them, too. To students, LaFontant says: “I know you’re with us for the fight, and that’s the most important thing.”

October 29, 2018 Tufts Observer 5

FEATURE

opinion

the real winners of the harvard lawsuit

By Wilson Wong

O

n October 16, Harvard University went to trial in a Boston Federal District Court in defense of its raceconscious admissions policy. The lawsuit is led by Students for Fair Admissions (SFFA), a non-profit group of more than 20,000 students and parents, including a group of Asian Americans rejected from Harvard, who, according to their website “believe that racial classifications and preferences in college admissions are unfair, unnecessary, and unconstitutional.” They accuse Harvard of setting a quota on their acceptance of Asian Americans and judging them by higher standards than other applicants. The case has sparked national debate because of its potential threat to all colleges that consider race when weighing admissions decisions.

Rather than explicitly arguing that Harvard admissions is unfair to White applicants, SFFA claims that affirmative action, which is designed to benefit margin6

Tufts Observer

october 29, 2018

alized groups, including Asian Americans, is actually disadvantageous for them—for people like me. The plaintiff, SSFA, is unabashedly pitting Asian Americans against other communities of color in order to abolish affirmative action. This shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone, considering the lawsuit is being led by Edward Blum, SFFA’s founder and a White supremacist, who has organized several anti-affirmative action lawsuits in the past. If the court rules in favor of SFFA, the ramifications of this case could set a dangerous precedent for abolishing affirmative action at the federal level.

Abolishing affirmative action would lower diversity, exacerbate social inequity, and quite literally, dull our environment. In fact, affirmative action as it stands isn’t enough—Black and Hispanic students are more underrepresented in the nation’s top colleges than they were 35 years ago, and Harvard’s legacy admission

rate is five times that of the non-legacy admission rate. Removing race from the consideration of applications is an egregious derailment of decades-long work of anti-racist organizing, and Blum’s actions are a part of a larger ongoing backlash to repeal civil rights policies such as affirmative action, which were once more robust than today.

In a Huffington Post article published on January 22, 2013, Gary Orfield, Professor of Education, Law, Politics, and Urban Planning and co-director of the Civil Rights Project at the University of California, Los Angeles, details how desegregated schools of Black students have gradually re-segregated since the Supreme Court ended segregation efforts 22 years ago. According to Orfield, as affirmative action has been both cut back and eliminated in some states, Black students are continually “segregated by both race and poverty and have weaker graduation rates, less qualiART BY MADELINE LEE

FEATURE

opinion

fied teachers and weaker educational offerings,” with no significant federal efforts to prevent this deepening inequality.

Although history and memory will tell us that the continued siege on civil rights policies is unsurprising, it still feels uncomfortable to talk about my own experience with college admissions within the ongoing discourse. I am adamant about my support for Harvard’s affirmative action policies in this lawsuit, but there needs to be more nuance in how we are positioned within these discussions of race-conscious admissions. Among Asian Americans, including myself, there exists a pernicious fear of dismissing discrimination out of fear of threatening affirmative action entirely. But to blindly approve of Harvard’s admissions follows a dangerous narrative of denying the need to interrogate claims of institutional bias, which we know exist within any higher education institutions of power such as Harvard.

Harvard argues that while race is a factor in making admission decisions, it is never intended to hurt an applicant, nor is it a definitive deciding factor. Its current defense obscures the very reality that Asian Americans are discriminated against, and by arguing that discrimination against Asian Americans is not an issue, it alleviates culpability from Harvard’s admissions itself. The many Asian American writers who have voiced their support in defense of Harvard have also argued that Blum’s lawsuit is actually about affirmative action and not anti-Asian bias. However, I feel simultaneously emotional and frustrated because these analyses sometimes neglect the overwhelming stress and, at times, life-threatening challenges that accompany the college process as an Asian American, particularly for first-generation, lowincome Asian American students. Additionally, within the Asian American community, those between the ages 20 to 24 have the highest suicide rate.

In high school, despite my family declaring bankruptcy twice, I spent most after-school hours in SAT prep centers and pri-

vate one-on-one tutoring sessions. Time ceased to exist in these fluorescent-lit classrooms, jammed in a desk too small for my lanky legs, all the while committing to memory the dullness of arbitrary formulas and words too pompous for any adolescent to learn. My freshman year of high school, I suffered the first of many panic attacks, followed by early-onset depression after my Asian American classmate’s drug overdose. My education means everything to my immigrant family, no matter the price tag, and because I’m Asian American, they believed that colleges would hold me to higher standards.

My story is not the only narrative that exists for Asian Americans, but it follows a mythical and all too familiar trajectory of exceptionalism: if we adhere to meritocracy, we can be closer to Whiteness and reap its benefits while justifying racism against other people of color. And while there are infinite levels of racism Asian Americans endure in admwissions, we all experience it for the same reason: we aren’t the kind of people institutions like Harvard see as valuable, whether it be our connections, donations, or for our ability

to be tokenized in diversity and inclusion initiatives like affirmative action.

Whatever the court rules, it will not champion justice, and White people are the only group that will benefit from the lawsuit. The court will either abolish affirmative action and increase White enrollment, or maintain affirmative action and keep Black and Hispanic enrollment at low rates. Keeping affirmative action in place is a definitive way of ensuring diversity in higher education, but it isn’t sufficient to address myopic standards of meritocracy, economic redistributive justice, or the dismantling of White supremacy. The question of considering race in admissions shouldn’t be the bastion of diversity, but it must consider the humanity of Asian Americans and other students of color, and the multifaceted manifestations of racism in our experiences.

FEATURE

Arts & Culture

Where Does the Value Come From?

Recently, anonymous artist Banksy set two records. First, he set a personal sales record when his piece Girl with Balloon sold for £1,042,000. Second, he became the first person ever to create art live during an auction. The moment Girl with Balloon sold, it partially self-destructed via a shredder built in to the frame, becoming a new piece titled Love is in the Bin. Understandably, questions are being raised following this unusual stunt, and many are debating its significance within the art world and beyond. While Banksy’s identity remains anonymous, most assume the artist to be male, and much of the discourse surrounding Banksy and his most recent stunt has also been dominated by cis men. To learn more, I decided to interview a variety of female-identifying artists about the issue in order to address the lack of female viewpoints being heard in mainstream discussions.

By Tiffany Xie

What do you make of the Banksy incident?

SOFIE HODARA, Lecturer on Graphic Arts at the SMFA: I thought the piece was really, really successful. I’ve been teaching for five years at four different colleges. There’s been news such as when Trump was elected that every class addressed, but … when I asked “did anyone hear any news or did anyone go to an art show,” this was the first time that every class had the same response. He spoke to something in a lot of people and I think part of that is that it’s very accessible.

PRIYA E. SKELLY, Dual Degree SMFA, Class of 2022: It takes away attention that could be better spent [on]… POC or women or gender non-conforming or trans [artists]. Their work should be given attention and they should be respected for it but they just aren’t. So it annoys me to see this guy getting so much attention and making so much money and having all this clout and privilege from doing the same trick over and over.

CHANTAL ZAKARI, Professor of the Practice for Graphic Arts at the SMFA: Even though Banksy’s performance at Sotheby’s could be seen as a way to further increase the value of his piece, it’s still a pretty strong statement, because of the spectacular element to it. It is similar to Damien Hirst’s piece, For The Love Of God, which is a human skull covered in diamonds. It’s garish and over the top, but it is made to manipulate and comment on the value of the piece in the art market.

YOON SUNG, Dual Degree SMFA, Class of 2023: Banksy has this whole image around how he’s anti-status quo, anti-capitalist. But at the same time, he’s selling his pieces as fine art—him shredding his piece, that’s so quintessentially part of his brand that it just feeds back in. It probably makes his piece more valuable because now it’s not just the thing itself, it’s part of this whole event and he has to be aware of that. On the other hand, there’s no way for him to get around that because … we live in a capitalist society. That contradiction exists in pretty much everything we do.

SCULPTURE SERIRES BY YOON SUNG, QUOTED ABOVE

8 Tufts Observer October 29, 2018

FEATURE

Arts & Culture

When viewing or experiencing art, does the creator behind the piece matter?

PS: I think it’s really important. I don’t think anybody is in a vacuum; we’re all influencing each other and we’re situated in history. I always love reading wall text. It might not be the first thing I do, but it’s interesting to see what they choose to say about the artist and how they choose to present the piece, ’cause there’s so much information that they could [choose from].

CZ: It does, and it doesn’t. Roland Barthes writes in The Death of the Author that the intention of the piece is important during the creation process of the art work. But once the work is created, the meaning is re-created through the viewer’s interpretation. According to Barthes, the viewer is as much “the author” as the creator is. On the other hand, we also cannot dismiss the creator’s personal experience and understanding of their cultural influences. Some believe that your entire art career is based on one essential idea. All your work is a struggle to understand that one single idea and to explore it from different angles. However, Nicolas Bourriaud claims that art is not about a private experience, but rather, art is included in the entire social context. So a piece of art cannot be seen independent of its spatial environment, or of political events of its time.

Nowadays, I feel like art is valued less for its inherent aesthetic qualities and more for its branding and creator. What do you make of this idea that there’s a growing commodification of art and its artists?

PS: I think that the art world is totally constructed, which I don’t think is a radical view, but the reason why we think something is valuable is because we say it is, not because it inherently is. But I think that [they’re] onto something, which is that art sometimes becomes valuable because it is technically proficient or it thinks about the world in a new way, but it can easily turn into ‘…this artist is now famous because they went outside the box’ and now they’re one of the primary influencers of the art world. That can be a huge reason for why things are priced as they are, but on the whole, it’s just what people decide is important. I don’t think there should be gatekeepers to box in the idea of what is good art and what is bad art by virtue of pricing things different ways. Why do they get to decide? How are they deciding? It can be and it is very classist, racist, sexist, just by nature of who the gatekeepers are.

SH: My gut tells me that the branding, so to speak, of the artist has always existed. If somebody rises to fame, the fame perpetuates itself. That’s really what Banksy was trying to say, that you collectors, you rich people … only value the stuff that’s already been valued.

You only valued it because of my brand, you will value this more if it’s shredded, you don’t care about the material object. Maybe this is a leap, but could there be something in the dematerialization of, just in culture, of what we value? I mean, the transition from having a photo album with your family history versus digitizing everything. We don’t value the material things in the way that we used to.

Do you have any other thoughts floating around on Banksy or the art world in general?

YS: Everything is a pretentious, recursive circus and none of us know what we’re doing, so let’s just all have a good time.

October 29, 2018 Tufts Observer 9

CAMPUS

N

ext time you’re in Dewick or Carmichael, stand for a moment in front of the dish return carousel. Observe what you see.

Perhaps it’s a slow Saturday morning, and there are just a few empty coffee-stained cups on the trays, or maybe it’s rush hour at lunch on a Monday. The carousel is overflowing with bowls, plates, cups, and an abundance of uneaten food.

Salads, burgers, and sandwiches with one bite taken out of them, a whole apple here and there.

Have you ever considered what happens to this food? Have you ever thrown away food that could have been eaten?

Have you ever thought about how much food has to be prepared every single day to feed Tufts students? How Tufts Dining predicts how much to make, and what happens when they make too much?

This is excess. This is wasted food. This is food that cannot be recovered within the structure of Tufts Food Rescue Collaborative and its Family Meals program, which redirects edible excess from the kitchens of Tufts Dining to our food-insecure neighbors. Yes, there are other possible uses for wasted food, such as compost or informal recovery through dumpster-diving. However, these options rank much lower on the Environmental Protection Agency’s food recovery hierarchy. We are highlighting excess in the food system to increase awareness of the waste that cycles from visibility to invisibility on that rotating dish carousel daily.

Food consumption in affluent American culture adheres to a narrative of abundance. A cafeteria can never run out of food—what a scandal that would be! Excess is the expectation. Tufts Dining pays close attention to consumption data from Dewick and Carmichael and uses algorithms to find the perfect balance between abundance of food prepared and its actual use. Yet there is, and may always be, an expectation of excess put on Tufts Dining from its consumers—us, students.

We ask you to think about yourself as an actor in the Tufts food system.

What personal choices do you make that skew the algorithm? How can you help 10 Tufts Observer OCTOBER 29, 2018

Tufts Dining more accurately cater to the amount of food that will be consumed daily—not forgotten on the dish carousel, not composted, not made into rescued meals.

Wasted food occurs on the margins of a food system that, from an external point of view, may appear successful. One margin is the difference between the amount of food prepared and the amount of food that makes it onto a plate. This surplus exists to fulfill the expectation of excess, and this is where Tufts Food Rescue Collaborative fits into the equation, to make safe and healthy meals out of surplus, untouched food that can reach communities experiencing food insecurity. Is this a productive margin of excess? Possibly.

THE WE

By Madeleine Clarke and Marissa Donohue, Co-Coordinators of Tufts Food Rescue Collaborative

CAMPUS

F O OD W AST E Rethinking Consumption and Excess at Tufts Tufts Food Rescue Collaborative (TFRC) is a partnership between Tufts Dining, a local non-profit called Food For Free (FFF), a number of academic departments, and Tufts students. There are two programs within TFRC. First, the Leonard Carmichael Society (LCS) Food Rescue program picks up surplus food donated from local grocery stores and farmers’ markets and drops it off at food pantries and shelters in the area. When you see boxes of bread, baked goods, and bruised pears in the Campus Center on Sunday mornings, these are leftovers from LCS Food Rescue. Any food that arrives at the Tufts Campus Center is the excess of the excess, the leftovers that could not be taken by recipient organizations.

The other TFRC program is Family Meals, which works on-campus in Dewick ART BY MADELINE LEE, TFRC CORE COHORT MEMBER

and Carmichael in partnership with Tufts Dining. Imagine dozens of trays full of General Gau’s chicken, baked sweet potatoes, broccoli, stir-fried kale. Every day, Family Meals volunteers work in the dining halls, packaging surplus dining hall food into bags and meal trays. This food is then picked up by FFF and distributed to underserved families and individuals who do not have adequate access to food and kitchens. Last semester, TFRC packaged over one thousand meals, and an additional 2,096 pounds of bagged food to be made into meals at the Food for Free headquarters.

Fiona Crimmins, Director of the Family Meals program at Food For Free, commented on the value of the interconnections between FFF, TFRC, and many other partner and recipient organizations in this complex food web. “It's a real partnership,” she said, “where both groups are working on the same issues: food waste, hunger relief, and spreading awareness of these issues. FFF wouldn't be able to rescue all the great surplus food from Tufts Dining, and TFRC wouldn't have a conduit for their rescued food without FFF's network of recipients.”

TFRC addresses and combats two of the most important issues in our food system: wasted food and food insecurity. In an ideal food system, this work would not be necessary. There would be no overabundance of food produced and perfectly edible food thrown away. There would be no disparities in access to wholesome food.

The other margin, complementary to the margin of expected surplus in production, is on the consumer end. It is the difference between cereal spooned from bowl to mouth, and soggy cereal left making the rounds of the dish carousel, uneaten.

A shift in the consumer behavior of Tufts students can alter this margin and reduce the food that is wasted. What would it take to put an end to consumer-wasted food?

Can we cultivate a campus culture of conscientious consumption?

Dr. Cathy Stanton, Senior Lecturer of Anthropology who teaches the Food Systems course at Tufts, reflected on TFRC’s commitment to both “action-oriented” or-

ganizing and critical consideration of “the really challenging questions about why we waste so much food to begin with, and where food rescue fits in the bigger picture of attempts to make consequential changes in our food system.” She continued, “Raising those more critical questions in a purely academic setting often feels unproductive, but linking them with community-based work seems like a way to deepen our critique of the problems in the food system while still working on things that do some good in the world.”

Food excess can be easy to overlook.

As soon as a student makes the choice to discard food, that food becomes invisible, until an event like the Waste Less Dinners in Dewick and Carmichael asks students to scrape their plates into compost bins, which renders the collective waste of one weekday dinner visible and immediately measurable.

What if we take personal consumer responsibility to see our wasted food and to make it visible? Throughout this article, the words wasted food have been chosen over food waste. This small change places agency on the consumer. Food waste tends to be invisible, but wasted food is a product of us, the consumers. Moving away from excess and towards equity and food security is achievable through heightened visibility and conscientiousness.

OCTOBER 29, 2018 Tufts Observer 11

POETRY

taking notes on metabiosis

by Anonymous

i overheard a conversation between coat hanger and coat, it went something like this hurts i know bottletop and bottle, you suck your lips into a suture, you invented negotiation like i can’t breathe

me neither

german shepherd and C-4, your duet is crack cocaine, you serenade in provocation like do your thing baby you do yours last night a needle said to an open pore

we both know who’s older here

last night i found my top sheet and my mattress fucking like fit ok and while i slept my arteries signed a contract with a mosquito, it went something like save me from this weight ask twice, i’ll stay the night remember when my headache said to my head:

no one wants to hear it

you, who only speak in screams and me who only screams in that dog-whistle-pitch you were always saying we both know who wins here and i was always saying

we both know who wins here, melt the candle then light the wick or set fire to the whole goddamn house we both know who wins: mosquito spit said to fig seed hello old friend and fig seed said i know i know i know

12 Tufts Observer October 29, 2018

ART BY BRETTE LENNON & RUTHIE BLOCK

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PHOTOS BY STUART MONTGOMERY

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PHOTO BY HANNAH KAHN PHOTO BY SIMONE LEWIS

poetry

Contrition

by Jessica O’Flanagan “Man is what he eats.”

- Ludwig Andreas Feuerbach The man who taught me my scriptures leans over the Table, asks are you challenging yourself spiritually?

I explain to him that these days my faith Is not so much how I undress the day, but more How I pick up the clothes.

My faith barges in when I am sapped and sweating, Falling into Mother Mary’s wrinkled lapful of taffeta Asking her for a glass of water, forgiveness, a deal.

When disaster strikes, I find myself kneading rosary beads.

I watch my thumb gulp the little red pearls With each Amen. What is my church if not fear, If not the shadow of life’s great wrecks?

Maybe I don’t believe in G-d, but is it enough that I believe In the devil and his scorching bucket of worms?

I ask my teacher what if it’s all fake? What if we die with no heaven, And we’ve spent all this time in confession?

And he answers me, Jessica, read yourself into The faith so that for you it must be true. Make it true.

That is to say, G-d is as much a decision as He is everywhere.

If only I knew it was my choice to not choose, It was me who could curdle or consecrate the holy water, Sweet talk the powdered wine into blood.

I could point out the grease stains on the priest’s cream colored sash, Rip heaven to shreds with my teeth.

All along, my faith could both bring Christ to life and swallow him whole Just think of all the gods I could create on my knees.

ART BY JACQUELINE ENDERLE & RUTHIE BLOCK

October 29, 2018 Tufts Observer 17

FEATURE

Arts & Culture

ON Living Offline

By Alice Hickson “I would never.”

“I’d consider, but probably not.”

“That’s not happening.”

“I mean…maybe for a day or two.”

“Definitely not.”

These are just a few of the responses students gave when asked if they would consider deleting social media off of their phones. However, my roommates and friends Maddy Allen, Lilly Blumenthal, and Sarah Minster, all sophomore girls, were brave enough to take on the experiment together. Each one deleted their three most used social media applications—Snapchat, Instagram, and Facebook— for one week, beginning on October 7. The three participants each voiced their feelings about not having social media for a week. This experiment was limited in scope due to the participants’ demographic similarities, and therefore is not representative or applicable to any given person’s experience.

The one experience that all participants shared was a feeling of surprise at realizing just how much they used social media apps as a substitute for thought. When reflecting on her automatic impulse to click on Instagram every time she opened up her phone, Allen observed that “social media has been a constant in my life since my teen and even preteen years, so it’s kind of a force of habit. I never really thought about it until it wasn’t there and then I was like ‘what do I click on?’”

Blumenthal came across this same feeling of “what now?” when opening up her phone in spare moments throughout her day, and discussed how the absence of these apps actually changed how she went about her day-to-day life. “Everyday when I woke up, I would immediately go to Instagram and mindlessly scroll. Without it, I started to read the news in the morning.” This compulsive checking of social media each morning indicates an

18 Tufts Observer October 29, 2018

intrinsic need we have for our minds to constantly be preoccupied.

According to the Pew Research Center, of the 95 percent of teens who report they have at least one form of social media, 45 percent say they are online on a near-constant basis. Minster stressed that when there’s nothing else to do for a couple of minutes in your day, social media provides the ideal space to have entertainment spoon fed to you with one quick click.

Participants also realized that cutting out social media in turn reduced overall time on their phones. With their newest iOS update, Apple itself has introduced a new feature called Screen Time, which automatically monitors the amount of time spent on your phone, how much certain apps are used, and how many times you pick up your phone during the day. The update arose in response to criticism stemming from substantial research about the negative effects excessive screen-time can have, especially on teenagers. The introduction of screen time tools to limit the time users spend on certain apps is part of a greater push by tech companies to create new digital wellness features that mitigate the ways personal devices are engineered to be addictive.

All three participants commented on the fact that it seems slightly counterintuitive that tech companies responsible for these pervasive habits are simultaneously offering tools to alleviate their use. Tufts Sociology Professor Margaret McGladrey reiterated this point, noting that “critical self-awareness of our social media use habits is particularly important when we consider that social media platforms are designed and owned by commercial companies with the primary goal of monetizing our attention for advertisers.”

The reduction in daily screen times led to noticeable changes for Allen, Blumenthal, and Minster. “I started using my senses more,” Blumenthal noted with excitement. “When I had a spare moment, I would use that time to think and reflect or maybe touch a leaf while I’m on a walk.

I was no longer walking with my head in my phone.”

Additionally, Allen reflected on why she believes she and many other college students feel tied to social media. “It is validating putting something out there and getting likes and comments,” Allen said. “As much as we say we don’t need it, we enjoy it. Not having that there any-

FEATURE

Arts & Culture

more, I began to wonder: why do we feel the need to post?”

Extensive psychological research has revealed that the reason why our screens and social media can be so addicting comes from the excess release of dopamine, sometimes called the “feel good” hormone, that is triggered when we see a new post or get a reaction to ours. This hormonal reaction stimulates the same regions of the brain that cause cravings and addictions to all kinds of things— drugs, gambling, and scrolling alike.

While none of the participants felt they have ever let social media control their lives, or that they had ever been addicted to it, cutting it out entirely allowed them to reflect on the impact social media has on their thoughts and interactions. All three expressed increased fulfillment in their daily lives, as they felt they were having more genuine conversations with their peers and were freed from major platforms that lead to constant comparisons and feelings of dissatisfaction with their lives.

“You’re not supposed to be happy all the time, but social media makes you feel like you should be.”

Instagram especially fosters a large gap between the real and the ideal. It perpetuates already existing feelings of insecurity that the “grass is always greener on the other side” and an experience of “FOMO”—fear-of-missing-out. “You’re not supposed to be happy all the time, but social media makes you feel like you should be,” Blumenthal said.

McGladrey emphasized the importance of understanding how social media “intensifies the ways that humans always have enforced cultural expectations, which can heighten the emotional costs of not feeling as though we live up to others’ expectations of us, both in terms of appearance and achievements.”

While removing this source of external validation and comparison from their lives proved productive for the three participants, each one eventually re-downloaded the apps. However, they also shared their plans to actively pursue a new approach to their social media platforms.

Although Minster has felt at times that she has relied too heavily on Instagram for validation, she maintains that overall, social media has had positive impact on her life, due to the connections it can create and the platform it gives her to find and share content she is interested in. “I’m not going to discount it forever,” she insisted.

“I like to see what other people are up to and see art, but I plan to be more intentional about it.”

Moving forward, each participant mentioned their plans to take more agency with what they choose to look at when they use social media. Each one chose to follow

body positivity accounts, in addition to art and nature accounts, instead of some other accounts that they feel reinforce negative societal expectations.

One critical takeaway from this small experiment is the importance of mindfulness in our use of social media. Although some companies have made it easier to monitor phone usage, it is still up to the individual to find their own balance. As McGladrey says, “being aware and critical of the ways that we interact with new communication platforms allows us to use social media rather than social media using us.”

Blumenthal talked in-depth about the “overall feeling of inadequacy” she feels when scrolling through her Instagram feed. “You think everyone has a more fulfilling life than your own, especially since I follow people from a lot of different schools, there’s this resting feeling of ‘what if?’”

ART BY ELEANOR SULTANA

October 29, 2018 Tufts Observer 19

FEATURE

opinion

G rade s n t m a a o y

By Sonya Bhatia

‘‘ W

hy am I doing this?”

I can hear my two suitemates in the adjacent room, debating whether or not they should quit the premedical (pre-med) track at Tufts.

Their intense back and f o r t h does not

20

Tufts Observer

october 29, 2018

hinge on their ambition to become doctors, but rather on the pre-med classes’ rigor and workload. This semester, it’s chemistry. All the while, I am hunkered over my laptop, typing up my chemistry lab due the next day. My eyes are strained from staring at the bright screen for too long, and an overwhelming fatigue is beckoning me to sleep. This is a common scene in my suite, and in my experience as a pre-med student at Tufts—feeling overworked, exhausted, and deflated.

This feeling stems from the heavy emphasis placed on GPA in the pre-med track, as well as the number of “weed out” classes it requires. Even more troubling is the competitive and perfectionist environment it creates, which actively works against fostering care or compassion— two characteristics essential to being a good physician.

ART BY RYAN SHEEHAN

FEATURE

OPINION

Preparing for medical school at Tufts requires various core courses: Biology 13, and 2, Organic Chemistry, and Biochemistry. These core science classes must be completed by the end of junior year in order for a student to take the MCAT, apply to medical school during their senior year, and then immediately begin medical school.

Many of these required classes are intended to “weed out” the pool of premed students. These classes create a high-pressure environment in which low grades, high levels of stress, and feelings of inferiority become the norm. One bad test grade in a pre-med class is often the deciding factor for students who drop the track. It is not enough to survive in these classes—students must also strive for perfection, given the selectivity of medical schools. For Boston University, which is ranked the 30th best medical school in the country, the average undergraduate GPA was 3.72 and the average MCAT score was 516, which is in the 94th percentile, for the Class of 2018. According to Princeton Review, the school’s average acceptance rate is 4 percent.

I have not felt smart once while being a pre-med student. This feeling is exacerbated by the looks I receive from my peers when I don’t grasp a concept. It resurfaces when I constantly feel behind in whatever we are learning. Most of all, I feel it when after all the time and work I invest into studying for an exam, all I receive is one cold number.

Yes, being a doctor requires a certain intellectual capacity and rigor, but these quantitative qualities are tested to an unnecessary extreme in a college environment.

Reducing students to a single number sets them up for an overwhelming feeling of disposability. Instead of a culture of support and enrichment, pre-med culture is one of coldness and competition, where self-preservation trumps all else. If I dropped out of pre-med, a track I have put so much care and labor into, no one would blink an eye.

This cutthroat culture continues into medical school. In pursuit of the the highest-achieving undergraduates, medical schools lose sight of the importance of patient care. In a “common courtesy” study conducted by the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, residency interns were found to be lacking in doctor-patient communications, only using the skills nec-

essary for properly interacting with patients 4 percent of the time.

In addition, the extent to which students are discouraged from the pre-med track may be detrimental to the healthcare industry. The Association of American Medical Colleagues (AAMC) predicts a doctor shortage of 120,000 by 2030 as older doctors retire, particularly for marginalized populations such as the elderly, people who live in rural areas, and communities of color. I imagine my suitemates would be great doctors, but due to the pressures of pre-med culture, they may not actually end up pursuing this career. These two individuals are empathetic people who possess the interpersonal traits that are lacking in the healthcare industry, but pre-med culture only measures their value based on academic performance.

There are resources in place at Tufts

If I dropped out of pre-med, a track I have put so much care and labor into, no one would blink an eye. that are intended to alleviate the stress of pre-med. Both the Academic Resources Center and two administrative pre-medical advisors offer tutoring and advising sessions. However, the problems of premed culture reach far beyond what one tutoring or advising session can fix. When I meet with a pre-med advisor, I get the validation that I am on the right track and my insecurities are allayed. While these advising and tutor sessions provide a source of validation and comfort, the insecurities immediately resurface when I enter my Chemistry lecture the next day.

Outside of the pre-medical track, I am involved in the Tufts Observer and Tisch Scholars, two activities that I care about deeply. However, since they are not related to my studies, the culture of pre-med makes me feel that they are not

worth my time and have no bearing on my future. To prove to myself I am more than just a number, and to even engage in self-care, are antithetical to being premed. It seems impossible to have the best of both worlds, and this makes me debate what I have to sacrifice to follow a career I would love.

So why do I continue? It is because I want to be a doctor, specifically an OBGYN. I want to be in science because my mother, an engineer, showed me what it means to be a strong woman in STEM. I want to help people in an impactful way.

However, there is a disconnect between the career of a doctor, especially its interpersonal aspect, and the track of pre-med.

Other higher education institutions have gotten a start in the right direction to correct this disconnect. Harvard University provides Life Sciences foundation classes for students from schools with a weak STEM background to better prepare them for science classes, including pre-medical courses. In medical schools, they have integrated “Empathetics Training” in a variety of ways, such as offering online courses on how to display empathy while interacting with patients or virtual reality simulations that allow students to experience the world from a patient’s perspective. Tufts also conducts some programming, such as sending out a prehealth newsletter to inform students of events and resources, or hosting panels with past alumni. However, Tufts should still follow in the footsteps of other institutions to help further combat the toxic environment of the pre-med track.

Tufts could require pre-med students to take community health classes that center marginalized communities as well as create courses teaching patient empathy. This would better contextualize purpose of being a doctor. Even if these changes are implemented, it is hard to say if these steps will truly eliminate the pressures and stresses of being pre-med. All I know is that something has to change in order to prevent Tufts and other schools from pushing out their best and brightest. For me personally, the desire to drop pre-med lingers constantly in the back of my mind; it is only the promise of what comes after—being an OB-GYN—that keeps me going. october 29, 2018

Tufts Observer

21

News

O

n October 8, 2018, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) released a report declaring that the state of the Earth has reached a tipping point: either we focus all efforts on reducing carbon emissions, or climate change will continue to cause catastrophic flooding, drought, food shortages, hurricanes, ocean acidification, and sea-level rise at a rate that will alter our world fundamentally and permanently. All of this comes in the wake of President Donald Trump’s rollback of carbon-reducing policies since his election.

The report called for “rapid, farreaching and unprecedented changes in all aspects of society.” These changes would require individuals, institutions, and politicians to join and rally around reducing carbon emissions.

Yet despite the urgency of global warming, changes of the magnitude suggested by the IPCC have failed to be implemented. Instead, “trendy” sustainability initiatives have taken center stage among the environmental causes that powerful institutions rally behind.

College campuses are no exception.

With cutting-edge researchers and sustainability funds, universities have the potential to be leaders in catalyzing environmental change. Yet at Tufts, sustainability initiatives often overlook changes that could reduce carbon emissions and opt to follow trends instead.

One popular trend is the “No Straw” movement, which seeks to reduce unnecessary straw usage in order to save marine life whose ocean habitats are invaded by 8 million tons of plastic each year. Until recently, this anti-straw sentiment was largely confined to niche sustainability groups and die-hard environmentalists. But in over just a few short months, it has been catapulted into the mainstream.

So why are trendy sustainability initiatives gaining the social traction that more impactful sustainability initiatives cannot?

By tapping into trends, are individuals and institutions tapping out of implementing more meaningful change?

The popularization of the No Straw movement is far from random. In mid2017, the environmental non-profit Lonely Whale launched their #StopSucking campaign. Their mission was to stigmatize 22 Tufts Observer October 29. 2018

G R A S P I N G A T

By Rebecca Redelmeier and Lauren Quickel

and stop straw usage as a step towards reducing the plastics that pollute Earth’s oceans. “Join the movement for a strawless ocean,” their website implores. “Take action against plastic pollution, starting with the plastic straw!”

The organization released videos featuring celebrities like Adrian Grenier and Kendrick Sampson, and “challenged” other celebrities to join their campaign over social media. By the end of the year, the movement had gone viral. Martha Stewart and Tom Brady got on board, Starbucks announced it would remove all straws from its stores, and a video of a bloody turtle with a straw stuck up its nostril ricocheted around the internet. Ocean plastics became a public enemy, straws represented the embodiment of environmental evil, and individual actions could make it all go away—if we would just #StopSucking.

The tremors of the viral “no straw” popularity invigorated Tufts’ own No

Straw movement. In October, Tufts Dining replaced its usual plastic straws with paper alternatives at Kindlevan Cafe, Hodgdon On-the-Run, and The Commons. “Help support our efforts to continue to become more sustainable,” Tufts Dining announced on Twitter. The Rez began offering metal alternatives for purchase. Plastic straws all but vanished from campus.

But the campus conversation surrounding Tufts’ eradication of plastic straws is divided. Some students complain of the tendency of the new paper straws to disintegrate upon use. For others, the adoption of the straw ban exemplifies something bigger: Tufts’ prioritization of following trends over making impactful changes.

Among the latter group is Junior Celia Bottger, co-president of Tufts Climate Action (TCA), a student group whose mission includes encouraging Tufts to divest from the fossil fuel industry. Though Bottger noted that sustainability trends can be “good in

News

a way,” she emphasized that they risk diverting attention and action from the “systemic level changes that need to happen.”

“Changing to paper straws isn’t worse for the environment, but it definitely takes up the space that other, more important issues should be taking and need to be taking,” Bottger said. “In that way, it is harmful because it’s prioritizing these really minor problems in the short term and acting as if that’s enough, preventing more systemic change in the long run.”

Furthermore, trends often misrepresent the scientific facts of sustainability.

For example, many environmentalists have also identified styrofoam as an eco-enemy because it is wasteful and harmful to marine and human health. The outcry propelling this fact forward became so loud that policy-makers have been incentivized to ban many styrofoam items.

But although styrofoam takes at least 500 years to degrade, it actually creates less waste by volume than a paper cup with a sleeve, according to the American Chemistry Council. A styrofoam cup also has a smaller carbon footprint than its paper counterpart and, depending on use, can even be more energy efficient than a ceramic cup. In heralding the eradication of styrofoam as a gateway to achieving environmental protection, these scientific intricacies are often overlooked.

However, achieving the systemic changes that the IPCC calls for can feel inaccessible, or even impossible. Tufts junior Paul Henjes knows this feeling well— as student director of Tufts Eco-Reps, he works to enhance student awareness about

environmental issues and encourage sustainable living at Tufts.

For Henjes and other Eco-Reps, asking students to drastically change their behavior or spending habits can feel futile.

Meanwhile, tapping into trendiness is one way to engage students who might otherwise not be motivated to care. “If you can convince people that it looks more trendy to use reusable things, that’s actually an easier way to make people change than saying something is more sustainable,” Henjes said.

Henjes also noted that trends help provide a simple solution for busy students wanting to live more sustainable lives. “In general people want to make the right decision, they just don’t know how,” he said.

The No Straw movement’s clickable, likable, and adoptable mission has also made it easy for anyone to get on board. “I think a lot of it has to do with viral videos,” Henjes explained. “People see a turtle strug-

“We have an economic and political system that allows this complete destruction of the environment and people along with it.”

gling to breathe because of plastic straws and that’s where the movement stems from.

It’s definitely a social media thing.”

To Henjes, social media can both perpetuate and dissolve environmental guilt.

While graphic viral videos of the damaging effects of climate change and over-consumption feed into our personal guilt, getting likes and comments in response to our small sustainable actions can help erase it.

As a result, guilt creates a paradox when it comes to environmental action—it can spur action by the often-inactive, but its motivation can also be superficial and shortlived. “I feel like we all want to justify our actions,” Henjes said. Refusing a straw for a day can feed into that kind of justification.

For Bottger, environmental guilt and trends are also responsible for distracting individuals from larger environmental issues at play and the more significant actions one could take to mitigate them.

“A lot of what we’re told about the environment is that individuals can make a difference, like if you eat locally and use reusable bags and thrift you can save the environment,” Bottger said. “While that’s true to some extent, that’s not the root of the problem. The root of the problem is that we have an economic and political system that allows this complete destruction of the environment and people along with it.”

That’s why Bottger and TCA are dedicated to pushing Tufts to divest from fossil fuels. But this requires Tufts’ approval, and so far the administration has not cooperated.

Office of Sustainability (OOS) Director Tina Woolston and Education and Outreach

October 29. 2018 Tufts Observer 23

News

Program Administrator Shoshana Blank acknowledged that trends can often decide the sustainability initiatives the university pursues. Both emphasized that though the OOS tries not to blindly follow superficial fads, Tufts as a whole often makes trendy choices because they are more economically viable and less contentious.

Woolston also worries that the popularity of sustainability trends may give people a “pass” to do nothing else for sustainability. “Do the people who now refuse straws feel less motivated to do other actions?” she asked. “Because they’ve refused this straw, they might feel like they can throw away this other stuff, or eat meat, or do some other environmentally-damaging activity because they feel guilt-free.”

Woolston pointed out Tufts’ recent investment in solar panels as another example of sustainability trends influencing institutional decisions. She noted that lessglamorous investments, like replacing old windows and insulating buildings, could create a much larger reduction of Tufts’ energy usage than the solar panels, and that furthermore, the school has “millions and millions of dollars of sunk cost in our energy infrastructure.”

But because solar panels are visible and popular, they are more attractive to the administration, and thus are prioritized. “They’re not the biggest impact you can have,” Woolston said. “But people really want solar panels – they want to be able to see solar panels. It seems not to matter to people whether that’s the best way to spend your time and effort.”

Although Tufts sometimes defaults to prioritizing observable and trendy sustainability initiatives, the University has also made some significant strides in implementing more impactful sustainability initiatives in recent years, according to Woolston. She emphasized that Tufts has committed to becoming carbon neutral by 2050, meaning that the amount of carbon emissions that Tufts releases will be offset, giving Tufts a zero or net negative carbon contribution to the atmosphere. This follows in the footsteps of initiatives at similar universities, such as Harvard’s pledge to become fossil fuel-free by 2050 and Mid24 Tufts Observer October 29.2018

dlebury’s achievement of carbon neutrality in 2016. Although it seems like Tufts and Harvard are decades behind other similarly-sized schools, location plays a huge role in achieving carbon neutrality, and an urban campus lacks the physical space to house solar fields and carbonsequestering forests.

Still, when it comes to environmental leadership, some faculty feel like Tufts has failed to step up. John Durant, a professor in the Civil and Environmental Engineering department, has experience pushing the administration to make sustainable choices. He noted that Tufts often won’t make these changes because “bigger action is more contentious.”

Durant noticed a similar lack of enthusiasm for sustainability in his work with the new CoHo housing development. Durant and his student team have pushed for the houses to feature technology that allows students to monitor their energy and water usage. Initially, the administration and building team were onboard. But as renovations began, some of these agreements fell from priority.

“It’s a bit like trench warfare,” Durant said of the constant back-and-forth with the administration. “We have to push really hard for small bits of progress,” he said.

“What we’re asking for is not that expensive.”

According to Durant, the administration has limited passion for making sustain-

able changes that are expensive, onerous, or risky. And when it comes to shifting Tufts’ sustainability action away from trends and towards more meaningful action, it’s a slow process. “You’re trying to fight the powers that be,” he said. “It’s a huge slow-moving battleship that you’re trying to nudge along in the right direction.”

Changing sustainability habits can be even more difficult when climate change is viewed as a political statement. Trends become low-risk answers for institutions like Tufts that hope not to fall behind the environmental standard. “Environmental leadership is not on Tony Monaco’s list of priorities,” Durant said. “Tufts is more likely to follow societal leads instead of being leaders itself.”

For Durant, though sustainability trends aren’t harmful, their scale of impact is miniscule compared to the urgent global changes the IPCC calls for. The changes demanded by the IPCC require updated policies to enact change on the global level rather than just the personal—the exact updates that President Trump is reversing in office.

“The greatest impact you can make is to make sure that Trump doesn’t get reelected,” Durant said. “Forget straws, forget everything else.”

FEATURE

VOICES

EXTRA corruptive

By Claude Shwartz

october 29, 2018 Tufts Observer 25

FEATURE

voices

A

few weeks ago, I was in my apartment with my roommates, waiting for a delivery man to drop off a dresser that I bought.

Suddenly, I was struck with a fantastic idea. Why don’t I put on my highest heels and a black leather skirt and greet the delivery man? I immediately ran to my room and put on the outfit. I walked into my living room where I was met with thunderous applause and veneration from my queer roommates. As we waited for the delivery man, one of my roommates commented on my outfit.

“You’re being so extra,” they said. I most certainly was.

In my experience as a high-femme, I’m often labeled as “being extra” or “doing the most.” This makes sense to me.

From my perspective, high-femmes are femme-identifying individuals who perform femininity with specific tools and methods that society sees as immoderately feminine. I don’t want to essentialize this identity, but it is important to me that my performance of “high-femmeness” manifests in everything from dramatic makeup, high-heeled shoes and miniskirts, to my style of walking and ardent gesticulation.

Along with the self-fashioning and physical mannerisms, “being extra” also applies to certain attitudes and corresponding behaviors. Generally, this identification would be applied to characteristics that are considered dramatic or performative. But in my experience, “being extra” applies to behavior that exudes a feminine or “diva-like” level of confidence.

While I’m fortunate enough to be living with other queer and trans people that value high-femmeness, I have found that the outside world rarely does. When I was recently visiting my friend in Texas, we drove from her place in Austin to go to a rave in an abandoned warehouse in Houston. I was dressed “excessively feminine”: plaid nine-inch platform heels, a latex miniskirt, a full mug with beautifully blended purple and pink eye shadow, and a skin-tight top made of only black lace with sleeves that hung to my calves. At some point in our drive to Houston, my friend and I needed to use the restroom, so we stopped at a gas station in Littlecountrytown, Texas, with an estimated population of 204.

26 TuftsObserver Observer April october 25, 2017 29, 2018

What high-femmes do is perform gender that deviates from the norms of society, and, as a result, we become highly noticeable.

ART BY RIVA DHAMALA

voices

As soon as we exited the vehicle I knew I shouldn’t have gotten out.

As much as I want to be seen as a self-empowered, trans, non-binary-identifying high-femme who will never sweat at the opinions of ignorant transmisogynist pigs, I’m still terrified of the world I live in and what it could do to me.

In the convenience store of the gas station (which was the size of a supermarket) I tried to be low-key, but that is impossible when you’re standing in heels that make you nearly seven feet tall. Every head in the store turned, and not in a good way. I decided not to use the bathroom, since using either restroom available would put me in the most dangerous situation possible. Fortunately, I did not experience any acts of physical violence—but several people followed me around, taking my photo and heckling me with questions about my genitalia.

While I assume it is easy to imagine how the presence of high-femmes would be reckoned with in places deemed “conservative America,” the discomfort that comes with the disruption of normative gender and sexual practices can be just as prominent in liberal bubbles such as Medford, Massachusetts.

Although living in constant fear and danger and being subjected to a status of “otherness” is something many queer and trans people experience, I think there is something about trans people who perform a high-femme gender that is regarded as particularly abhorrent and deviant.

This clearly seems to be the result of a larger society-wide femmephobia. High-femmeness is

regarded as “being extra” because it bastardizes an acceptable performance of femininity.

To be “extra,” you must be doing something that cannot be qualified as rational according to the values and social rules of mainstream society. Rational seems to be categorized as something that is simple, efficient, and/or pragmatic. Simultaneously, an intrinsic aspect of high-femmeness, to me, is a disregard for all of these things. It’s about doing you and having fun and not caring abut following normative practices. What high-femmes do is perform gender that deviates from the norms of society, and as a result, we become highly noticeable. This I am glad for.

And while the term “queer” has shifted meaning recently in its vernacular use, its original theory was meant to describe the use of gender to subvert the fabric of our capitalist, patriarchal society. Through our mere existence, high-femmes corrode the dominant narratives of how gender and sexuality should look and behave, making us, in essence, queer.

If what I do and how I do gender provokes discomfort because of its dismissal of and attack on society’s deeply familiar concepts of gender—a pillar of social order—I get a little thrill. I love being provocative.

When the delivery man was coming to my house, he confirmed my assumption that he would be a hyper-masculine Boston bro. As I paraded around in my outfit of excess, I was delighted in his lack of comfort with my hyper-feminine, trans existence.

When I chose to wear my “high-femme” outfit for that Texas rave, I was once again appealing to this desire. Fuck the normative; I just wanted to display myself as a mysterious, sexy, latex-wearing femme eroding the concept of the binary genders. And I did.

I want to take up space in our masculinesupremacist world. I want to do my gender with excess and drama. I want to be confrontational and I want to claw at the heart and soul of the disgustingly transphobic, femmephobic society we live in. If that makes you notice me more and you consider me “performative,” “provocative,” “extra,” or “excessive,” then I guess I’ll just be a fucking star.

october 29, 2018 Tufts Observer 27

PHOTOS BY JANIE INGRASSIA AND HANNAH KAHN

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