Issue 3 Fall 2020

TUFTS OBSERVER MOTION ISSUE 3 & CREATIVE ISSUE VOLUME CXLI

ISSUE 3 FROM FAMILY TO FEAR TACTICS FEATURE • BY AROHA MACKAY AND EVAN SCIANCALEPORE

WHEN STAYING HOME IS NOT SAFE NEWS • BY MELANIE LITWIN

LABOR AND LOCAL ARTISTS

CAMPUS • BY SABAH LOKHANDWALA

POLITICAL THEATER: THE IMAGE OF A PRESIDENCY

ARTS & CULTURE • BY UNNATHY NELLUTLA

WHAT’S IMPORTANT TO YOU RIGHT NOW?

OPINION • BY THE TUFTS COMMUNITY

WE HAVEN’T ALWAYS LIVED IN A YELLOW HOUSE

BY NUHA SHAIKH

BETWEEN

BY GIANNA SHIN

THE GREAT EMPTY

BY ALICE HICKSON

CREATIVE INSET

BY ERICA LEVY

INUNDATION

BY ISABELLA URDAHL

SWEET POTATO LOVE STORY

BY AMY CHU

UNTITLED

CREATIVE ISSUE

BY SARAH COHEN

THE SMELL OF HOPE IS LILAC

UNTITLED

BY SARAH MINSTER

BY SARAH COHEN

DAISIES AND PEONIES

SUNDAY MORNING ERRANDS

BURIED MOON

JOYOUS

BY SONYA BHATIA

BY NUHA SHAIKH

BY ALEX ELIASEN

BY PAULA GIL-ORDOÑEZ GOMEZ

STAFF EDITOR IN CHIEF: Myisha Majumder MANAGING EDITOR: Akbota Saudabayeva CREATIVE DIRECTORS: Brigid Cawley Richard Nakatsuka FEATURE EDITORS: Evan Sciancalepore Cana Tagawa NEWS EDITORS: Caroline Blanton Anita Lam ARTS & CULTURE EDITORS: Wyoma Chudasama Ethan Lipson OPINION EDITORS: Mira Dwyer Mahika Khosla CAMPUS EDITORS: Melanie Litwin Josie Wagner POETRY & PROSE EDITOR: Alice Hickson VOICES EDITORS: Rachel Dong Ryan Kim CREATIVE INSET EDITOR: Erica Levy

COLUMN EDITORS: Gloria Revanche Juliana Vega del Castillo ART DIRECTOR: Laura Wolfe LEAD ARTIST: Kelly Tan LEAD COPY EDITOR: Brittany Regas MULTIMEDIA DIRECTORS: Madeleine Oh Esther Tzau PODCAST DIRECTOR: Ethan Lipson PUBLICITY DIRECTORS: Paula Gil-Ordoñez Gomez Eve Ogdon STAFF WRITERS: Sonya Bhatia Rabiya Ismail Sabah Lokhandwala Aroha Mackay Issay Matsumoto Unnathy Nellutla Myles Platt Lee Romaker Siddhant Talwar Amanda Westlake COPY EDITORS: Claudia Aibel Chloe Courtney-Bohl

Grace van Deelen Mahdi Ibrahim Unnathy Nellutla Ethan Yan COLUMNISTS: Sabrina Cabarcos Samantha Park Juliette Wu DESIGNERS: Evelyn Abramowitz Kate Bowers Janie Ingrassia Joanna Kleszczewski Camille Shimshak Brenna Trollinger Sofia Pretell

CONTRIBUTORS: Amy Chu Sarah Cohen Alex Eliasen Ashley Jin Sabah Lokhandwala Sarah Minster Nuha Shaikh Isabella Urdahl Katherine Wang

MULTIMEDIA: Florence Almeda Ben Bortner Alex Liu Mijael Maratuech Seminario Unnathy Nellutla Justin Wang Silvia Wang

MOTION

Every time I run, I taste blood. Sun metal from sky slipping into soul, stubborn sick in throat. It hurts. I ran away from home howls in my hightops. I ran in landscapes of love and with barren burdens. I ran, I run, I rip through ligaments in relief. Five-kilometer killing. Ten-mile tyranny.

Muscle ache to shake me awake, earthquake at day break.

DESIGN BY BRIGID CAWLEY, PHOTO BY MYISHA MAJUMDER, COVER PHOTO BY PAULA GIL-ORDOÑEZ GOMEZ DESIGN BY JOHN DOE, ART BY JANE DOE

EDITOR EMERITUS: Owen Cheung

FEATURE

FROM FAMILY TO FEAR TACTICS: FACILITIES WORKERS ALLEGE INCREASINGLY HOSTILE ENVIRONMENT

By Aroha Mackay and Evan Sciancalepore

Editor’s Note: This article includes quotes from several facilities workers who chose to remain anonymous for their personal safety and job security.

O

ver the last three decades, Tufts has adopted an increasingly corporate outlook towards the facilities department.

Tufts’ move towards privatization follows a national trend in higher education. Focused on cutting costs, the University’s increasingly for-profit model higher-up has trickled down into what an anonymous facilities worker described as a corporate culture lacking empathy and care for employees at the lowest level.

These workers, quite literally, keep the lights on. The Facilities Services Department at Tufts employs 110 workers across numerous areas of University operations, including the grounds crew and tradespeople like carpenters and electricians.

These employees work hard every day to keep Tufts’ campus running. However, many workers are feeling less and less appreciated. “You don’t feel the respect or appreciation for your contributions to the University,” said a facilities tradesperson.

“It wasn’t the case when I first started. I was very happy here…But it’s changed. Over the last few years, I’d say my opinion has changed about 180 percent.”

“We’re treated like second class citizens,” said a facilities worker about working for Tufts. Georgia Kay, an organizer 2 TUFTS OBSERVER NOVEMBER 9, 2020

with Tufts Labor Coalition added in a written statement to the Tufts Observer, “The work culture for facilities workers is one of fear and emotional manipulation.” “[Managers implement] unreasonable rules and make issues out of small little things that don’t help the University. The only thing they do is drive the guys crazy…

They’ve taken their best employees and made them bitter,” said a facilities tradesperson. Another facilities tradesperson said: “At one time it was a great place to work. It was like working for a member of your family, and you felt like family. But the past six years, it’s been hell.”

Investigation into abuses by management In a letter written to the administration provided to the Observer by an anonymous group of facilities employees, workers described a “morale killing culture.”

The letter detailed a “toxic environment” created by management in the facilities department. The employees discussed an intimidation tactic used by a member of senior staff who “walks the halls of 520 Boston Ave with a stick wrapped in tape that says ‘common sense’ on it insinuating [they] will beat common sense into whomever needs it.”

Facilities workers with knowledge of the situation allege that a version of this letter was presented to the Tufts administration, including Executive Vice President Mike Howard, early this year. In a written

statement, Executive Director of Media Relations Patrick Collins stated, “The Facilities department in June received an anonymous letter raising several concerns.

While the letter was reviewed and discussed by Facilities department leadership, it was deemed not to merit an investigation.”

Changing Management Interviewed workers uniformly attributed the subpar work culture to a recent shift in management. Jamie Neikrie (A’18) worked on the Tufts grounds crew during the summer of 2018. In a Tufts Daily op-ed published in October 2018, Neikrie detailed what it was like working under Director of Campus Services Gary Hill and Grounds Supervisor Greg Mellett and interviewed several members of his immediate crew. One worker employed at Tufts for 12 years commented: “There are what I call the three c’s of a healthy work environment: communication, cooperation and camaraderie. Gary Hill and Greg Mellett have a different three c’s: cut benefits, cut corners and cut grass.” The for-profit models increasingly adopted by the Tufts administration higher-ups trickle down to incentivize what one facilities worker described as a “corporate America stance,” focused more on cutting costs than cultivating a healthy work environment.

Neikrie suggested that unhelpful mandates from Hill and Mellett were harming morale and productivity and costing the

FEATURE

school. In 2018, a worker estimated that five grounds and labor shop employees resigned or retired early that year because of the work environment created by Mellett and Hill. Now, multiple workers estimate that over 15 employees have left the grounds department in the past three years due to mistreatment by management.

When asked to comment, Labor Relations Manager David Ossam did not have exact figures on the current amount of turnover in the grounds department.

It wasn’t always like this. Neikrie described how the department used to be run: “The campus and the workers thrived under the previous administration of [grounds supervisor] John Vik and Jesse Carreiro, who created a work environment of respect and mutual support.” Vik worked for Tufts for a third of a century. He is a certified arborist who knew the history behind many of Tufts’s 100+ year old trees and used to take long walks in the woods with his father and play the “What-treeis-this?” game. Carreiro worked for Tufts for over 40 years. “But after Vik retired in December 2015 and Carreiro passed away in early 2017, new management arrived at Tufts with a series of changes, abrupt for longtime workers accustomed to a familiar routine,” continued Neikrie.

Another recent change in management came when Cory Pouliot replaced Kenneth Person in the role of senior facilities director in 2019. Multiple longtime workers spoke fondly of Person. In a 2018 Tufts Daily profile, Person praised the level of skill and pride of Tufts facilities workers: “We have some of the best tradesmen in the business.”

Corporatization In a 2015 Somerville Scout article, Professor Gary Goldstein, a central player in the community response, noted that in the 52 years he’s spent at Tufts, he’s seen “the administration get bigger, hire more middle managers, [and] move people around” at the detriment of its workers.

DESIGN BY EVELYN ABRAMOWITZ, ART BY KELLY TAN

This phenomenon is called “the corporatization of higher education.” Starting in the early 2000s, universities have increasingly been economizing, adopting corporate models, and searching for ways to increase profit. In Dissent Magazine, Nicholas Mills,

“At one time it was a great place to work. It was like working for a member of your family, and you felt like family. But the past six years, it’s been hell.”

a professor of American studies at Sarah Lawrence College, explained that administrators are often unwilling to downsize themselves, so they target janitorial and food-service workers.

According to the New England Center for Investigative Reporting, Tufts has increased its number of full-time administrators by roughly 29 percent between 1987 and 2011, while continually

downsizing its facilities workers. Professor Mills explained that besides saving the University money, outsourcing allows the University breathing room when “their workers complain about their wages and benefits and win the support of students and faculty. The schools can then promise to deal with the contractor while insisting that they are caught in the middle of a crisis not of their making.”

A tradesperson in the facilities department echoed this sentiment, describing a department increasingly populated by management and focused on cutting costs at the bottom: “Six years ago, there was one director, and he had three or four managers. Now we’ve got 12 managers under these three directors. It’s too top-heavy.”

The Impacts of Custodial Outsourcing The recent alleged abuses from management towards facilities workers are not new. In a 2018 Tufts Daily article, several custodial workers describe workplace abuse, unjust firing, and racist treatment, including the use of the n-word from managers employed by C&W Services.

Tufts subcontracts its janitorial workers from a third party, C&W Services, instead of directly employing janitors themselves to cut costs.

When the janitors alerted C&W services’ HR, in the same Tufts Daily article they described being ignored and then promised an investigation that never happened. After unsuccessfully trying to contact HR, the custodial workers filed a complaint with Gary Hill. Hill told them that it wasn’t his responsibility and that he “had nothing to do with it because [they’re] under a contract and [they’re] part of a company that is subcontracted by the [U]niversity.” By making itself a third party, the University has been able to avoid responsibility while the janitorial staff was left without recourse.

Further, the University seems to be moving towards outsourcing in other facilities departments as well. In an email NOVEMBER 9, 2020 TUFTS OBSERVER 3

FEATURE

to the Observer, Senior Facilities Director Cory Pouliot commented that “if work cannot be performed or scheduled per the request or assignment, the work may be contracted to a non-Tufts employee.” An anonymous facilities worker described an increasing trend of outsourcing in snow removal: “we used to handle 80 percent of snow removal before this new management. We handle now just one-third.”

Tufts’ History of Outsourcing Tufts first began subcontracting its custodial staff in 1994. From that point on, the custodial staff lost benefits, were met with wage reductions, and fought layoffs.

In 1994, after the University decided to subcontract, Tufts custodians were given the option to accept a severance package or accept a position with University Cleaning Company (UNICCO) with the same wages and working conditions but without University benefits. According to a 1994 Tufts Daily article, those that accepted the new position lost “health care packages,

4 TUFTS OBSERVER NOVEMBER 9, 2020

tuition remission for themselves and their children and pension plans.”

Three years later, when Tufts subcontracted to a different company, the janitorial staff were offered their jobs back with a $3.50 hourly wage reduction. Many longtime employees refused and as a result were laid off. A year later, the results of a survey administered by the group Faculty/ Staff Committee in Support of the Custodians showed that of the former Tufts employees, three had lost their homes, 15 were still unemployed, and 13 depended on soup kitchens and food pantries. Additionally, one of the former janitors had been told that other local employers were actively discouraged to hire former Tufts janitors.

The 49 layoffs sparked outrage from students, faculty, and public officials. In an open letter to the president of Tufts, then Somerville Mayor Michael Capuano wrote that the janitors “have been treated as little more than an employee number,” despite being “part of the Tufts family for years and, as such, deserve more than a

choice between a last-minute termination or a serious reduction in their lifestyles.”

Again, Tufts tried to distance itself from the issue by claiming that it had no role in third-party contract negotiations. However, Professor Ostrander pointed out that Tufts officials signed off on the contract, including the lower pay, so she argued that the administration could not “in good conscience say they aren’t responsible for [the janitors].”

More recently, in 2015, a consultant employed by the University calculated that Tufts custodians cleaned 19 percent less gross square feet than their counterparts at similar universities. To save an estimated $900,000, 18 custodians were laid off and the remaining employees were given fewer hours with more work. The downsizing impacted not just the remaining custodians but the entire campus. In a 2015 Tufts Daily article, Anna Gaebler, a TLC member, said that the reorganization “increased the individual workloads of the remaining janitors and has decreased the overall quality of cleaning around campus.”

The workloads were increased so much that, according to Gaebler, some janitors “had to find extra time—by skipping lunch breaks, for example—to keep up with the amount of work they are now assigned.” The reorganization led to an outburst of protest actions, including arrests, a 33-hour occupation of Ballou Hall, and the week-long hunger strike that made national news. When asked if the janitors’ demands for better working conditions and respect would be met during contract renegotiations, President Monaco said that the administration had “no role in those negotiations.”

COVID-19 Workers are even more vulnerable now than ever. When the novel coronavirus arrived in Boston in March 2020, ordinary life was upended. That is, for everyone but facilities workers. Facilities workers were deemed essential, and continued to work, even in the absence of proper precautions. “We didn’t have the appropriate PPE—no masks, gloves, or sanitizer,” said one tradesperson. While it was difficult to

FEATURE

obtain certain PPE in March, this worker stated that “we had no direction on how to proceed or behave without that PPE.” They said they received their first PPE, hand sanitizer, and gloves three weeks after the closing of campus.

Since then, PPE has been made readily available for workers. In a written statement, Hill noted that in addition to PPE, an additional break room has been created so that workers can take their breaks indoors in the cold winter months while remaining socially distant.

Multiple facilities workers confirmed that no scheduling changes were initially made to limit workers’ exposure. Employees said the entire crew continued working their normal hours, while managers adjusted their own schedules so that they only had to come in one day per week. One worker commented, “I was really offended at their lack of consideration for me and my family at the time.” A month after the closing of campus, workers’ schedules were shifted so that half the crew came in one week and the other half came in the next. Workers were still paid in full for their normal hours during this time.

Tufts’ COVID-19 reopening plan included extensive testing for students, faculty, and staff. In the Facilities department, Hill stated that mailroom workers are tested twice per week because they work “in close proximity” to students, and employees whose work “cannot be performed at a distance,” like trades workers, are tested once per week. Grounds workers

DESIGN BY EVELYN ABRAMOWITZ, ART BY KELLY TAN

do not undergo surveillance COVID-19 testing. Hill noted that many facilities workers work in lower risk situations: “Our Facilities staff have certain occupational advantages that can help them to avoid contagion. For example, many can work outside and remain socially distant while performing their duties.”

However, one grounds worker noted that they frequently go inside buildings at Tufts. Research has indicated COVID-19 spreads much more easily indoors, even beyond the recommended six-foot social distancing recommendation. In addition, multiple facilities workers alleged that some grounds workers work in the mailroom but are still not being tested.

Director of Building Operations Jeffrey McKay commented in a written statement that “if an individual employee’s job duty has changed where they have more contact and interactions with the University public, they would be placed into the testing program.”

“All the good workers—the good people that actually care about [Tufts]— everyone’s leaving. We’re losing them left and right. We’ve lost some really quality people,” said a facilities worker. While there may not be a shortage of workers to hire or outsource work to, workers expressed that the dedication of longtime employees should be better appreciated.

In the words of a facilities worker, “If you have a good worker that could be here for 20 – 25 years, there’s value to that. But not to [management].”

Where to go from here Kay encouraged involvement in TLC for students who wish to support workers at Tufts: “As always, TLC stands with workers and will continue to put pressure on the administration to treat workers with the dignity and respect they deserve. We encourage everyone to tune into our social media @tuftslabor on Instagram to stay up to date on our future plans. If anyone wants to get involved, our weekly meetings are on Sundays on Zoom at 6pm—all are welcome.”

NOVEMBER 9, 2020 TUFTS OBSERVER 5

NEWS

WHEN STAYING HOME IS NOT SAFE : IMPACT of the COVID-19 PANDEMIC ON INTIMATE PARTNER VIOLENCE

By Melanie Litwin

Content warning: intimate partner violence Disclaimer: The author is involved with Tufts’ Action for Sexual Assault Prevention as a member of the Events branch.

T

he instruction “just stay home”—prevalent since the spring as an important COVID-19 protection measure—is not as straightforward as it seems. For those experiencing intimate partner violence (IPV), staying home poses its own risks.

IPV is a longstanding and severe issue in the US, affecting over 12 million people annually. According to the CDC, IPV is “physical violence, sexual violence, stalking, or psychological harm by a current or former partner or spouse.” The dangers that survivors of IPV experience have been intensified by the COVID-19 pandemic with mandatory stay-at-home orders being just one of many factors. Being confined to their homes forces IPV survivors to be in closer and more frequent contact with their abusive partners—potentially increasing the amount of abuse and making it more difficult for survivors to contact emergency IPV services without their abusers’ knowledge. The National Domestic Violence Hotline originally saw a decrease in contacts in March 2020 compared to March 2019, which may be because of this added risk. Adrienne Ramcharan, Jane Doe Inc.’s Policy Coordinator, explained, “[N]ow [survivors] don’t have a sort of ‘safe space’ where [they] can go and can make that call and...reach out to someone in private.” Ramcharan also noted that some survivors’ confusion as to whether services were even open may also have contributed to this initial dip in outreach.

However, throughout the overall pandemic, service providers saw an increase in survivors seeking help. A recent study from Brigham Young University found an approximately 10.2% increase in police calls reporting domestic violence since the start of the pandemic. The National Domestic Violence Hotline saw a 9% increase in contacts during March 2020 to May 2020 compared to the same period in 2019, with approximately 10% of contacts noting that COVID-19 negatively impacted their situation in some way.

6 TUFTS OBSERVER NOVEMBER 9, 2020

NEWS

Even in the Tufts community, there has been a rise in cases of IPV. Alexandra Donovan, director of Tufts’ Center for Awareness, Resources, and Education (CARE), noted that their number of contacts related to domestic and intimate partner violence have tripled since the pandemic began. The experience of Tufts’ students reflects the broader trends occurring across the country. Donovan explained, “We’re seeing students that are in relationships where...because it’s such a close environment and there aren’t spaces to go...their partner has been able to...control their world even more than normal.” Ramcharan added, “Power and control are really common dynamics in a relationship...where there is violence. There’s often signs of isolating the person who’s being harmed…[like] taking them out of situations where they’re forming connections with loved ones and friends, sort of isolating them, having them be on their own.” Social distancing regulations have now contributed to this isolation, making it even harder to connect with one’s support system.

In addition to social control, abusers may exert financial control over their partners. Economic instability can force survivors to remain dependent on their abusers if they lack the financial means to leave. This phenomenon has worsened during the pandemic due to increased unemployment and job instability. Ramcharan described, “[M]ost recently in the last couple of months, there’s really been an increase in requests for safe housing and shelter services...And survivors are also asking for...basic needs, so things like help paying their rent, help paying utilities, access to things like food.” Women of color, immigrants, and workers lacking a college education are especially impacted, as they are disproportionately deprived of the same economic opportunities, stability, and resources as other demographics and are some of the communities being hit hardest by COVID-19. “I think, for some people, we’re seeing coronavirus is sort of exacerbating inequality that is already accepted and social issues that already existed and I think sexual violence falls into that,” said Eliza Campbell, Boston Area Rape Crisis Center’s Outreach and Education Manager.

At a time when people are more vulnerable, it is a detriment to our communities that resources such as Tufts’ CARE are less visible than ever. Accessing services, both on and off campus, has become more difficult for survivors at Tufts. Service providers like Donovan and Campbell also share an underlying concern that survivors will not reach out for help—partially because they are already overwhelmed by all of the new issues the pandemic has created. “[I]f folks just have a lot of stressors in their life and immediate things they have to deal with, it...makes it less likely that they’ll reach out around sexual violence,” Campbell said. However, resources such as CARE, CMHS, and off-campus organizations are still providing services—often in a virtual format.

Student organizations such as Action for Sexual Assault Prevention (ASAP) have also had to transition to providing support in new ways during the pandemic. All of ASAP’s branches are

DESIGN BY KATE BOWERS, ART BY KELLY TAN

now virtual and its Survivor Space—a group that meets to provide community and support to survivors—is working around these challenges with creative events like virtual pumpkin carvings. “[E]ven this semester, Survivor Support has found really creative ways of still making it accessible...bringing together a community that definitely needs [it],” said ASAP co-president Malaika Gabra.

Despite the obstacles, there are still many ways to seek confidential help or provide support for survivors during this time, according to Donovan. “Someone who’s going through [IPV] is...[thinking], ‘how could I possibly burden myself on a friend or a family member when things are really tough’...if we can just be open to [the mindset of] ‘I’m here, I want you to do that. I want to make sure you’re okay. That’s a priority for me.’ I think that’s really important.”

Confidential Resources At Tufts: Center for Awareness, Resources, and Education (CARE) care.tufts.edu Tufts Counseling and Mental Health Services 617-627-3360 Tufts Chaplaincy chaplaincy.tufts.edu Outside Tufts: National Domestic Violence Hotline

24/7 hotline: 800-799-SAFE (7233)

chat online: thehotline.org The Network/La Red

24/7 hotline: 800-832-1901 tnlr.org Boston Area Rape Crisis Center (BARCC) barcc.org Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (RAINN)

24/7 hotline: 800-656-4673

chat online: rainn.org

NOVEMBER 9, 2020 TUFTS OBSERVER 7

CAMPUS

LABOR AND LOCAL ARTISTS:

BALANCING PRODUCTIVITY AND CREATIVITY AMIDST A PANDEMIC

By Sabah Lokhandwala

I

t’s now routine to open one’s laptop, log onto Zoom, and discuss a new project or the nuances of calculus. However, earlier this year, universities, companies, and organizations all scrambled to move their work online, adapting to new labor inhibitions created by the COVID-19 pandemic.

To maintain normalcy was to maintain work schedules, support one’s family, or strive towards one’s degree. Work is influential in American culture. In the wake of the pandemic, some people’s lives became consumed by work more than ever, while others suddenly had the luxury of increased time to pursue creative outlets.

Katie Moynihan was taking a gap year when the pandemic started. In her increased free time, she picked up the guitar that was collecting dust in her closet.

“Over quarantine, I thought, ‘My time is now.’ After not practicing ever for four years, I was practicing every day,” she said.

She turned to guitar to create structure in her day. “I am so grateful for that creative outlet. Without it, I was just sitting around watching TV. [Playing guitar] allowed me

8 TUFTS OBSERVER NOVEMBER 9, 2020

to lose track of time,” she continued. As a singer, Moynihan loves to learn songs she can sing along to and grow her musicianship.

Alvalyn Dixon-Gardner used her creativity to fill an empty space. After being accepted to Tufts, Dixon-Gardner turned to college YouTubers to understand the school. While doing so, she noticed the lack of YouTubers—specifically Black YouTubers—at Tufts. As someone who was always interested in filmmaking, she used quarantine to start her YouTube channel, “Just Avalyn.” Her channel addresses topics ranging from natural hair care to navigating a predominantly white institution as a Black woman. Dixon-Gardner’s YouTube channel allows her to insert her voice into important conversations, but it also allows her to relax. “[Making videos] allows me to just decompress…Sometimes just sitting here with my laptop, and just focusing on editing a video allows me to disassociate from stress,” she said.

Since school has started again, both Moynihan and Dixon-Gardner have had to balance their creative pursuits with their

coursework. Moynihan used her gap year to better her relationship with work and creativity. “During my gap year, I reorganized my priorities about how important work is, what the value of work is, and understanding [that] in a capitalist society we are often advertised as products even though we are just people. I want the distinction that I am doing work because I like to,” she said. For her, that means integrating guitar into her time at Tufts. She takes weekly guitar lessons in tandem with her classes to create a balance between academics and music.

Dixon-Gardner has also struggled to juggle school and YouTube. Like Moynihan, she incorporated her creative outlet into her schedule. She is currently taking a film class to improve her camera skills. In addition, she creates weekly schedules revolving around her schoolwork to make time for filming, editing, and uploading her videos. “Sometimes you have to make a sacrifice and your work has to take over. But I do think having that creativity is still significant...You can’t just get rid of it com pletely,” she said.

CAMPUS

For some Tufts students, the boundary between work and craft is blurred. Georgia Kay started an earring business in 2019, and when the pandemic hit, their business moved from Wren Hall and Tufts’ Craft Center to their parents’ house. As the line between home and school blurred, so did the line between creativity and commodification as they invested more time into their business. “Capitalizing on your creative outlet, it’s like, so weird. I have been asking myself, does it not feel like work because I like it? And are we supposed to not enjoy work? Is it supposed to be hard?” they said.

Despite dealing with the dissonance of creativity and productivity, Kay is happy to embody the autonomy that comes with having their own business. “Two summers ago… I worked at this restaurant, and my bosses were really homophobic and really transphobic. I had to kind of be totally closeted to work there to not… be harassed or even fired. After that I kind of was just like: what if I worked for myself?” they said. Kay supports themself with the income that comes from selling earrings.

“I actually can’t believe that I’m supporting myself with my art,” they added.

Campbell Simmons also owns an earring shop. She started making earrings in

DESIGN BY CAMILLE SHIMSHAK, ART BY KELLY TAN

January and started selling her products in June, during the pandemic. “I needed something that was creative, artistic, and physical that would keep me out of my head and keep me out of all these different, annoying emotions… I really relied on it in May and June,” she said.

Now, making earrings holds her accountable for taking breaks during a strenuous semester. “There’s something about putting each bead there and feeling the wire bend around. Thursday evenings, I really like to light my special candle, watch ‘New Girl’ [and make earrings,]” she said.

Making and selling earrings is feasible for Simmons because she found a way to navigate classes, her jobs, and her business.

She is strategic about how much she posts on her shop so that she doesn’t get an unmanageable amount of orders. But she also acknowledged that earring-making is not her only form of income. “It’s not an income that I rely on. And I think for some people, even at Tufts, that is very much the case. Creators rely on their craft to [make money] and I feel like that would add a big stress for me, but because it’s something so extracurricular for me it doesn’t,” she said.

Eve Abraha found herself working more when the pandemic hit. “I lost my main job, which was like 15 to 20 hours a

week. I was going to be homeless, and I was applying [for] several jobs. In my critical education policy class [we] always do check-ins. I was talking about how I was stressed…[and] one of the ladies was like, I have a non-profit, and I would love it if you could work for me,” she said. Until June, Abraha delivered meals to families experiencing food insecurity. After working at the non-profit, Abraha started delivering meals on her own once a week. “I told myself, if I had the option to be able to order Grubhub or DoorDash, or anything while I still have some form of food in my fridge, that’s money that I’m going to reserve to make meals [for homeless individuals],” she continued.

Abraha now balances working multiple jobs to support herself with spending time making meals for those struggling with food insecurity. “I’m not gonna say I’m [going] to be homeless [as] easily as they are, but I can see how I’m much closer than most people because I’ve [got] such limited resources. That [means] that I need to work even more to make tangible change,” she said.

Despite doing more work, Abraha views her initiative as creative. “I crafted something I’m passionate about, but also is productive for the community and is progressing the world. I think to me, that’s the art,” she continued. Abraha is now coordinating turning her social justice work into a grassroots organization where other community members can get involved to help mitigate homelessness and food insecurity.

The relationship between work and creativity is different for everyone. This pandemic will not end soon, but how people approach their time while navigating new norms is a conversation that will persist. Whether it’s bending wire to create art that dangles from an ear, strumming the chords to a classic song, or packing meals for delivery, students use their free time with intention. Creative expression can be a form of escape, a mode for paying the bills, or even a way to help others.

NOVEMBER 9, 2020 TUFTS OBSERVER 9

ARTS & CULTURE

POLITICAL THEATRE: THE IMAGE OF A PRESIDENCY

By Unnathy Nellutla

W

hile many US presidents have struggled with their public perception, fictional presidents on TV are made to be fascinating to the audience, although they benefit from not having to solve real-world problems. A 2015 Reuters-Ipsos poll showed that NBC viewers had a much higher approval rating of fictional presidents, such as Scandal’s Fitzgerald Grant and even the diabolical Frank Underwood from House of Cards, than they did of their real president, Barack Obama. Presidents have to perform when they are campaigning as well as during their term, through speeches and other public appearances.

The characters they project are some of the most important in American TV. The West Wing, a political drama that follows the term of a fictional president, began airing in 1999 during Bill Clinton’s presidency and ran for seven seasons into George W. Bush’s term. According to Google Trends, interest in the show is growing again, as it did around the time of President Obama’s first run. Martin Sheen described his character, President Jed Bartlet, to the fan site Empire as a conglomeration of “the very best that we had in that office in recent history.” Bartlet is a wise, fatherly, witty economics professor— a Democrat and a descendant of a founding father—and known for always trying to follow his conscience. The show centers around the White House communications staff, who help Bartlet craft his public image and serve as advisors as he navigates the complex playing field of United States politics. His staff prepare constantly to deliver appropriate information to the people, the press, and the other branches of government. Their job becomes especially difficult when the president—or anyone at the White House—says something controversial and creates a crisis for the staff to solve. There are many more forms of media through which the public perceives the president in the real world, including social media. Tufts Professor of Political Science 10 TUFTS OBSERVER NOVEMBER 9, 2020

Jeffrey Berry said in an email, “President Trump is unique in his dominance of the news through his tweets and deliberately provocative pronouncements. Staff vetting does not restrain him.”

In contrast to The West Wing’s moralistic representation, Frank and Claire Underwood from House of Cards represent the darker and often sadistic side to wielding presidential power. The first season of the show opens with Frank Underwood killing a dog and continues as he lies, cheats, and murders his way to the top. His successor and later widow, Claire, is equally conniving, making shady deals and hiding condemning evidence throughout her tenure. When the show first aired as part of Netflix’s debut into original content in 2013, it was the most streamed show on the platform. This popularity suggests, in a fictional context at least, that people like to see a very ambitious president—one who cares less about morals or crafting a careful political message and more about getting things done by any means necessary.

Though House of Cards is a drama and not necessarily reflective of how politics function in the real world, the characters on the show still operate in the same setting and with many of the same motivations as real politicians do. All presidential candidates need to perform in televised debates, town halls, and other events while campaigning. The first-ever televised presidential debate took place in 1960 between Richard Nixon and John F. Kennedy. According to the University of Virginia’s Miller Center of Public Affairs, even though those who listened to the debate on the radio mostly thought that Nixon had performed better in the de-

bate, most television viewers either called it a draw or said that Kennedy had won.

Footage of the debate shows that Kennedy presented himself better and was more at ease before a camera, displaying an attractive charisma to the voting populace. In fact, Kennedy’s narrow win is often attributed to the televised debate.

After the defeat, Nixon’s 1968 race included a team of public speaking coaches to help him through televised appearances, creating what would become a norm for all future presidential candidates. Presidents are still very visible on TV, whether it be through election debates or public announcements. Their behavior and remarks give an impression to the public of the candidate’s personality beyond their position on current issues. The character that candidates choose to play on TV can make a significant difference to their public image and whether they are perceived as a good representative of the country.

Many politicians make cameo appearances on TV shows, like Joe Biden’s appearance on an episode of Parks and Recreation and the various politician hosts on Saturday Night Live. However, besides President Reagan (who acted in films), President Trump, who created The Apprentice, is the only president to have a recurring role in a reality TV show. Berry said, “[The Apprentice] did have an impact as it greatly expanded Trump’s name recognition and generated an image of him as a dynamic, successful businessman.” Donald Trump was the presidential figure on The Apprentice. He showed up only to make important decisions in a briefing room, leaving other parts of the show to staff. Television creates a sense of intimacy between the watcher and the subject, be it a fictional subject or real personality.

Still, there is a stark contrast between the fictional White House and the actual White House. In the first season of The West Wing, President Bartlet’s staff feel that his administration is unable to make significant changes because they are too focused on trying to make sure nothing he says or does makes him unpopular when he runs for re-election. Trump’s presidency has often gone in the opposite direction— Trump demands control over his words, even on delicate subjects, and neglects the assistance of his staff. A White House

ARTS & CULTURE

spokesperson told the New York Times that “whether it be at a rally, a manufacturing plant opening or the State of the Union.

What the American people hear is 100 percent President Trump’s own words.”

His words have instigated backlash from his press staff, his political allies and foes, and even on the social media platform that he uses most, Twitter.

However, Vice President Joe Biden also commits errors that would have upset The West Wing staff. During a speech in Michigan, he said that there had been “6,144 military COVID deaths” when he meant to say “Michigan deaths.” Additionally, Biden said during a campaign event in Ohio that he was running for Senate currently instead of in the past.

While Trump’s insistence on writing his own words are difficult to spin, Biden’s stumbling can be spun and attributed to his speech impediment.

Both candidates offer distinct images of their intended presidencies. Joe Biden is a Jed Bartlet style president: he’s moralistic, a career politician, and prone to sweeping declarations, such as when Biden announced that he would cure cancer if elected at a campaign stop in Iowa in June.

It remains to be seen if he is the kind of president people want in real life, though his on-screen counterpart was likeable.

While President Trump is no Frank Underwood, his projected image has been of a presidency with much less emphasis on political correctness.

Leo McGarry, President Bartlet’s chief of staff, said to Bartlet when he was running for his first term, “I’m tired of it.

Year after year after year after year having to choose between the lesser of who cares, of trying to get myself excited about a candidate who can speak in complete sentences, of setting the bar so low, I can hardly look at it. They say a good man can’t get elected president. I don’t believe that, do you?” There is no fictional character that would make a good president, for the very reason that they are fictional.

However, every president in the modern age does have to inhabit a persona on TV. It is up to each president to figure out how to make an emotional connection with the American people through television that makes them feel like they personally know the politician.

DESIGN AND ART BY JANIE INGRASSIA

NOVEMBER 9, 2020 TUFTS OBSERVER 11

OPINION

WHAT’S IMPORTANT TO YOU RIGHT NOW? We’re living through a historic moment—from the pandemic, to Black Lives Matter, to the upcoming election. Since we’re a magazine of record, we asked the Tufts community to send us anonymous responses to the question, “What’s important to you right now?”

my memories, maintaining them, remembering

The aftermath of election day is the only thing on my mind. It’s exhausting feeling as though nothing you do will ever change the balance of power. I hate that the line between politics, entertainment, and trendiness have been blurred so much that nothing seems real anymore. Nobody has political efficacy, and it seems as though that will never change.

Though the world around me is in limbo, I hold tightly onto the things I know I can trust. I can trust that though there will be bad days, there will also be good ones to look forward to. I can trust that every day, the sun will rise and also set. I can trust that there will always be pen and paper at hand to convey the things that are too difficult to say. I trust that even though I cannot control what happens, I can control my reaction.

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everything, all at the same time. my head is full. the safety and rights of my friends and my family and mostly people i don't know at all. blexas (blue texas). getting joe biden into office and then slamming him with leftist policy plans. and also, the girl i just started dating, and the way she looks in the dark next to me.

Staying sane. I'm so uncertain about my future plans at the moment, partly due to changing circumstances as a result of COVID. Honestly, I'm just unsure about the future in general. Will we ever get back to a semblance of normalcy? Seriously, will we ever get to a point where we can safely sit inside a crowded restaurant eating a meal at a table of more than 10 people? Will I ever even get to go to another concert and stand in a crowd of people standing shoulder to shoulder? Here's to hoping that I'll at least be able to go to one more dingy frat basement party before I graduate. <3

My free time and my friends. It definitely feels as though the professors are increasing the amount of busy work we're having to do because most things are virtual now. So, I typically don't have a lot of time for friends or free time, so when I do get it, it's really something worth cherishing, especially because friend groups have become more insular on and off campus.

A peaceful and respectful election

calling my gma <3

Smoothie bowls from Hotung

DESIGN BY BRENNA TROLLINGER, ART BY KELLY TAN

TUFTS OBSERVER

III. MOTION PART II. CREATIVE

I could choose to remember this as the year the world stopped. Unrelentingly slow. Water in my rain boots; heavy. Gazing at magnificent flocks of migrating birds and aching to be among them. But I could also choose to remember this as the year of discovery. That within each of us I know now there exists untamed oceans with oscillating tides, hearts which hold the force of rushing rivers, and convictions that sit delicately on our tongues, bravely awaiting escape.

Within each of us, our own small universe set in motion by the most ordinary of movements, the most effortless of words for the unassuming eye to rest on for a few minutes and delight in the company of other stirring souls.

By Alice Hickson

DESIGN AND ART BY ERICA LEVY

NOVEMBER 9, 2020 TUFTS OBSERVER 13

FEATURE

THE SMELL OF HOPE IS LILAC

By Sarah Minster

I wrote to a friend about falling in love: I told her the things that changed most were the windows, how looking outside became radical, the sky suddenly enveloped all that it touched—like it was expecting veneration, like it was the keeper of our humanity, like the unending promise of possibility I told my friend that I’ve never felt so rightly-shaped, I told her that I put a poem in a yellow mailbox,

That rose-colored nostalgia fills my most mundane intimacies She wrote back about chapped lips and light melting over corners,

She wishes it wasn’t so wrenching The softness of the sky makes her want to start drinking orange soda again, if only to swallow the fizz of her youth She told me that falling in love is a chair pulling back. It’s a seat at our table. Premature transcendence It’s together rising, uplifting, the days stretching in front of us like lilacs in late July.

Not yet fully ripe in their violet bliss, they’re sparks of opportunity and infinite bloom I grew up bathed in the sweet scent of summer lilacs, it is the olfactory intuition of what is to come. Of what has always been I remembered lilacs as I spoke to my friend, as we grew into our rounded edges and hope-filled Augusts I told her this is the scent of remembering.

I wrote that undercurrents of possibility run through past loves.

The past-future permanence is one of flowers on tongues and open skies; gracing empty spaces in ethereal, vibrant incense

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FEATURE

DAISIES AND PEONIES

By Sonya Bhatia

They called in broken sentences with urgent tones.

His breaths were not his own, and his body stiff, fastened to the hospital bed.

The breathing tube uncomfortably rests on his unshaven face, lining down his chest that rises and falls with every anxious thought in the room.

My grandma received flowers at her doorstep Crisp white daisies and peonies with soft pink hues wrapped in brown paper, Meticulously and gently tied at the bottom with ribbon so all of their delicate petals hold She sent me her gratitude “Your grandpa will see you marry your husband.

He will walk you down the aisle” She affirms the words with shaky breaths and hurried, reassuring nods As if she’s negotiating with God himself I nod my head listless As silent shudders radiate from my chest like butterflies I never sent her flowers

DESIGN AND ART BY SOFIA PRETELL

NOVEMBER 9, 2020 TUFTS OBSERVER 15

FEATURE

buried moon

By Nuha Shaikh

together we were yellow-happy lucky number sevens and you kept me warm, saying, iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m with you we were white-hot like the aftermath of lightning imprint yourself on my eyelids like a promise of your return those nights were like a dream that i would try to find my way to during the sun, running behind you through the cedarwood, you always looking back but never stopping for me

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FEATURE

Give me a clean box To put my love in/ /I will We will be vivid and liquid When we are alone And lit from within by our secrets.

I will put our letters here We will have a happy time Even if it should have been Done differently/ /But what if Unfinished summers crushed by The space that time heavily took up.

we haven’t always lived in a yellow house

By Nuha Shaikh

Maybe it’s time to break the mirror And leave the windows open So that we can finally breathe Without anyone watching us/ /everybody’s here now Voice like blossom petals and bison fur, Light with a gifted touch, salve from good women. //

DESIGN BY SOFIA PRETELL, ART BY KELLY TAN

NOVEMBER 9, 2020 TUFTS OBSERVER 17

between

By Gianna Shin It’s a dewy Tuesday morning and you wake with the sun. The air smells like the camping trip you went on, the year you sprained your ankle. Did it rain last night? The flavor of wood sorrel fills your mouth—it tastes like apples. Everything is still. Your skin tingles as a chill creeps into the folds of your sheets.

You pour yourself the same ginger tea as every morning. Golden swirls leak into the hot water, curling like tentacles. The tea laps over your tongue. It is sweeter than you remember.

You’re not really one for sweets. You left the spoon in for too long and the metal burns hot on your fingertips. You don’t mind. Your fingers are calloused from practicing guitar.

A flicker of light draws your eye to the window. The sun squeezes through the gauzy curtains at just the right angle and casts fluttering shadows on the floor. The shade and sunlight waltz. You step into the spill of light and let the pair dance on your feet. The plants in the windowsill glow. You might even see the leaves stretch slowly towards the sky. You realize you must never have been in the kitchen at exactly 7:03 am.

A thought wriggles beneath the peace. There must be something you’re missing. Doubt bleeds through your thoughts, veining like ink. It’s all too seamless. Is there nothing you’ve spilled, nothing you’ve left out in the rain, nothing you’ve forgotten at the store? You check the calendar—is it really Tuesday? You must be late for something. Your body tells you to breathe. Something else pushes you from the calm.

Warm water runs off your chin. You look yourself in the eye as you scrub a towel on your face. Has that freckle always been there? Have your eyelashes always been this long?

You drink in a breath.

Time has honeyed.

You almost wonder if you’ve slipped into a parallel dimension. Maybe you swapped with your reflection.

Is this what characters must feel, between pages? Old movies, between reels of film?

Who was it, yesterday, who slept in your skin? Who is it, now, who’s come to stay? You wonder if you will know them forever. Or perhaps, they will leave tomorrow, still a stranger.

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the great empty

By Alice Hickson

It’s the kind of stillness where you forget to breathe. Forget the rain. Only when I break puddles into fragments, cracking them loose like glass, do I remember the storm from the night before. It’s the kind of night where the crickets, resurrected from Summer, are out waving to you. Paralyzed by the memories of last Spring, the scent of cashmere rain floats through the aperture.

Lying with my eyes shut, ears open, I try to stop my mind from running its routine laps. I try to forgive, release myself from false promises set in motion. I try to erase the things I anticipate with you: citrus, linen, pine, a feeling, the sunrise through the slats of the eastern-facing blinds and a bramble of messages in the looming relentlessness of love or something just like it.

DESIGN BY KATE BOWERS, PHOTOS BY PAULA GIL-ORDOÑEZ GOMEZ

NOVEMBER 9, 2020 TUFTS OBSERVER 19

FEATURE

Works by

from left: “Coping Mechanisms,” acrylic.

“Me, Myself, and I,” mixed media.

“Reflections,” colored pencil.

“Unapologetic,” acrylic.

20 TUFTS OBSERVER NOVEMBER 9, 2020

Ashley Jin.

FEATURE

DESIGN BY JOHN DOE, ART BY JANE DOE

NOVEMBER 9, 2020 TUFTS OBSERVER 21

inundation

By Isabella Urdahl “An ars poetica, is of course, articulating one’s raison-d’être for being a poet.”

Ocean Vuong It is impossible to hold all of myself –

my hands are too fragile.

Suburban Massachusetts sidewalks, pale-lit with street-lamp radiance, as he walks me home, my red blood cells dance tipsy off the gentle smile that plays on his lips.

Her hands glazing my thighs and the wine-dark bloom that she smolders onto my neck.

I didn’t know teeth could feel so sweet, so free.

The crush of body on body, so grounding, reactive, igniting a new nuclear planet, from the collision of terribly delicate, luminous foundations.

Myself is too much to hold.

For waves keep coming over the boughs and holy rain keeps blessing me as it torrents down and my mouth opens like a soft pink tulip, begging to be drowned by its beautiful wet sun.

Palo Alto at 6:00pm in November, a perfect rosy dusk. Paris at 2:14am, unbearably musical. Brooklyn, 85 degrees at 7:00pm on July 23, when you slipped melody and rose and the sun melting into the East inside the inlet of my lips, tasting like whiskey, caramel pretty and burning me dizzy.

I cannot help but crave the bittersweet salt of waves french-kissing my tongue.

My stomach begs to gorge itself, full on the ocean’s storms, but can only cradle one tsunami at a time.

So I bail myself out, flood, spill into pristine, waiting white.

22 TUFTS OBSERVER NOVEMBER 9, 2020

Licks of Austin sun radiating on sunscreened calves – June wind hugs and humid grass tickles.

Autumn smells like a fire burning and perhaps that’s why I’m always more breathless in fall, falling in bonfires of leaves, exquisite explosions as their tenuous paper bodies tremble down into dust.

Endless iterations of fresh snow on a tender hill, downy pureness that I’d turn blue just to nestle into.

And dark, brackish water seeps into my lungs sometimes like suffocation so I pour out the liquid obsidian in my chest and place it in crystal bottles.

I remember too many 5:45pms in this cold cold bathroom with ugly white tiles.

My bones haven’t lost the memory of being frozen.

I feverishly daydream sometimes of these bottles greeting the sun – wondering if love song prisms of light will be symphonied out of the glow of glass and decanted scars and saltwater collarbone pools and memories of an unstable house shaking with anger.

My mother who hugs me like I am the one who gave her life, whose missing me soaks into my skin, damp and loved.

My older brother whose world is instinctively colored a perpetual yellow sunshine. His joy smells of banana pancakes on a Sunday, and a five year old’s smile on a face six feet tall.

I plead for more water than this frame can swallow, spilling over my skin, to continue to float in this flood.

The way dawn always quavers with the light of new morning.

DESIGN AND ART BY JOANNA KLESZCZEWSKI

NOVEMBER 9, 2020 TUFTS OBSERVER 23

24 TUFTS OBSERVER NOVEMBER 9, 2020

By A

et swe

t o p

r y o t s ato love hu C y m

DESIGN BY JOANNA KLESZCZEWSKI

NOVEMBER 9, 2020 TUFTS OBSERVER 25

Once I moved closer to the ocean I finally wrenched my body out from under the circular core of the earth.

I was covered in termites but I brushed them off and drenched my shoes in puddles. I sat in the backseat while we passed sharp shards of sky and glistened.

I bared my fangs at curly haired creatures and slept with my body wrapped in the silk of all the good nights. Reclaiming myself was a poem that actually came true, but soon enough I returned to my inevitable; April throttled me under the concrete and smashed the sun into pebbles.

By Sarah Cohen

26 TUFTS OBSERVER NOVEMBER 9, 2020

the sun wilts in submission sooner most days it seems it shun the spawning bodies longing to stretch up into, it bodies thronging to find rebirth in its slanting light coffee structures the hours like pillars towers over me perennially in my subconscious laughs sly at me in the stumbling morning promises of tomorrow luring till then iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll diminish head down into the dwindling days it seems we will never finish

By Sarah Cohen

DESIGN BY JANIE INGRASSIA, ART BY JANIE INGRASSIA AND KELLY TAN

NOVEMBER 9, 2020 TUFTS OBSERVER 27

sunday morning errands

By Alex Eliasen

When the dog lost its molar The transformation began Two novel appendages Forming atop my forehead Dawn, skin breaking A skull dilapidated Spiritual shredding Curved teeth emit shrieks Satinification takes certain Time, focus, repetition Horns need moonlight to soak Upon completion: a blackened aura With Capitalistic intent The regrowth of sorts Masks the pale trashed pieces No candlelit vigil To mark the painful alteration Just blood And a pricey replacement

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DESIGN BY BRENNA TROLLINGER, ART BY KELLY TAN

FEATURE

joyous joyous joyous

By Paula Gil-Ordoñez Gomez when we awoke sunday morning, dark water had turned sparkling cradled by shore. eight of us sprawled in sand and sunlight sweat trickling down backs swaddled in cotton pullovers racing to the tide skipped copper colored rocks wading legs into autumn water shrieking as toes numbed now when i try to think of my happy place i’ll think of here birthday girl proclaimed making pretend that today could last

DESIGN BY BRENNA TROLLINGER, PHOTO BY PAULA GIL-ORDOÑEZ GOMEZ

NOVEMBER 9, 2020 TUFTS OBSERVER 29