Table of Contents
2. Behind Closed Doors: What the DSDI is (or is not) saying about Palestine Feature - Emara Saez
6. Tufts Tatts Campus - Katarina Knott Ramirez
8. Dune’s Diversity Desert: The Appropriative Nature of the Western Film Tradition Arts & Culture - Ethan Guo and Alec Rosenthal
10.To My Younger Self, a Reflection on Home Voices - Teagan Mustone
12.The Appeal of DIY Publishing and Zines at Tufts Arts & Culture - Michelle Walsh
14.The Insiders of the Outdoors: Exclusivity in the Outdoor Communities at Tufts Opinion - Mia Ivatury and Madison Clowes
16.Creative Inset Cherry Chen and Aviv Markus
20.Lawn & Order: Investigating the Popularity of Tufts’ Green Spaces Campus - Kate Weyant
22.Sustainability or Slick Marketing: A Dive into Consumer Behavior News - Ela Nalbantoglu
24.Nathaniel Billy Tuck Poetry & Prose - James Urquhart
25.Ha Noi in the Spring of Her Life Poetry & Prose - An Tran
26.Playing with Time Voices - Dahlia Breslow
28.find the clOister
29.crOsswOrd
Staff
Editor-in-Chief
Emara Saez
Editor Emeritus
Juanita Asapokhai
Managing Editor
Veronica Habashy
Creative Directors
Unmani Tewari
Aviv Markus
Feature Editors
Ashlie Doucette
Miles Kendrick
News Editors
Kara Moquin
Sofia Valdebenito
Arts & Culture Editors
Alec Rosenthal
Liani Astacio
Opinion Editors
William Zhuang
Emma Castro
Campus Editors
Madison Clowes
Anna Farrell
Poetry and Prose Editors
Mariana Campano
Erin Zhu
Voices Editors
Ivi Fung
Madison Greenstei
Art Directors
Cheyanne Atole
Amanda Chen
Creative Inset Designer
Cherry Chen
Designers
Dana Jeong Ahmed Fouad
Rachel Li
Kaya Gorsline
Jazzy Wu
Joey Marmo
Ruby Ofer
Staf Artists
Elika Wilson
Stella Omenetto
Adina Guo
Annica Grote
Erin Gobry
Elsa Schutt
Kaya Gorsline
Isabel Mahoney
Jaylin Cho
Avril Lynch
Ruby Luband
Ella Hubbard
Lead Copy Editors
Chloe Thurmgreene
Mia Ivatury
Copy Editors
Kerrera Jackson
Talia Tepper
Mallory Ewing
Wellesley Papagni
Liliane Newberry
Publicity Directors
Aatiqah Aziz
Francesca Gasasira
Publicity Team
Madison Clowes
Mathilde Vega Angela Jang
Mia Ivatury
Podcast Team
Tamara Setiadji
Isaac Ulloa Antonio
Justin Deberry
Ryan Hachey
Emma Selesnick
Dominic Matos
Danielle Campbell
Anya Glass
Eli Marcus
Website Managers
Clara Davis
Eli Marcus
Multimedia Team
Andie Cabochan
Soraya Basrai
Dylan Perkins
Evelyn Yoon
Staf Writers
Layla Kennington
Sacha Waters
Samara Haynes
Ethan Guo
Almer Yu
James Urquhart
Ela Nalbantoglu
Dahlia Breslow
Kate Weyant
Ben Choucroun
Jillie McLeod
Connor Howe
Caroline Lloyd-Jones
Danielle Campbell
Roddy Atwood
Elizabeth Chin
Katarina Knott Ramirez
Treasurer
William Zhuang
cardboard intricacies paired with cheap wine and a personal unwinding or attempts to assemble jagged shards into right angles or the unforgiving face of the unknown or the promise of a picture that we can never figure out.
Behind Closed Doors:
What the DSDI is (or is not) saying about Palestine
By Emara Saez
Editor’s Note: Emara Saez is an intern at the Latinx Center for the 2023-2024 academic year.
For International Women’s Day on March 8, the majority of student interns for the Division of Student Diversity and Inclusion centers went on strike in solidarity with the women of Gaza. Signs explaining the absence of student interns and ending with “Free Palestine” were posted across the seven identity center buildings—the Africana Center, Asian American Center, FIRST center, Latinx Center, LGBT Center, Women’s Center, and Indigenous Center.
Te strike was organized by an anonymous group of student interns tired with the DSDI’s silence regarding the ongoing genocide in Palestine. “ Tere’s a top down order… from the university as a whole that none of the DSDI staf can do anything unless they want to risk their jobs,” said AAC intern Anna Zhang. Some may interpret this as a “gag order,” in the sense that the DSDI centers and their staf are prohibited from including Palestine-related content in their newsletters, social media accounts, and ofcial programming.
“We’re DSDI centers; we’re supposed to be promoting diversity and inclusion on campus,” said AAC intern Anneqah Ahmed. Referring to ongoing student activism on the Tufs campus, she explained, “when a lot of our peers are being silenced by the university and taking part in all these actions trying to make the campus and this university a better institution, but we’re not allowed to speak up about that as diversity centers, it is really frustrating.”
Te intern strike was not the frst coordinated protest action planned by the DSDI interns. Back in December 2023, AAC interns organized a walkout at the AAC gala in protest of President Sunil Kumar and the university’s ofcial stance in support of Israel. “As interns at the center, helping host Kumar was against our values,” said Zhang. “I [thought] we should do something, a demonstration about it. So that walkout happened. And then we did a speech expressing our frustrations.” Te walkout resulted in conversations
between AAC staf and interns about the DSDI’s public complicity in the university’s actions. However, these conversations did not result in changes being made nor did they lead to any larger conversations with the administration.
“Afer that we had a conversation with our staf basically saying it [feels] very isolating to be organizers in the [AAC] space,” said Ahmed. In conversations with AAC staf, Ahmed said interns know the position of staf “because we’ve spent a lot of time with you and know who you are as people… But a lot of other people in our community don’t.” For those people, the lack of communication may lead to frustration and confusion regarding where the DSDI staf really stand. Given that the mission of the DSDI is to provide spaces for marginalized students to connect, many feel that the gag order has directly undermined their ability to achieve this mission by afecting the trust students have in the DSDI.
Te silence of the DSDI centers can be traced back to the frst few weeks of October 2023. Back in the Fall 2023 semester, a student intern at the Latinx Center reposted a Students for Justice in Palestine post on the center’s Instagram story, which was then screenshotted and reported by a student for perpetuating an “exclusionary” atmosphere in the Latinx Center.
“ Tat was the catalyst for whoever is in charge sending out an email [saying] ‘you cannot post anything or you cannot take a stance on anything Palestine related because you guys are part of the school and refect the school,’” said Ahmed. Afer this, an email was sent out to the DSDI staf from senior administration stating that they were not to repost SJP or Palestine-
related content, nor comment publicly on the matter.
Tis incident was also brought up at the recent TCU Senate hearings on BDS resolutions proposed by SJP and the Coalition for Palestinian Liberation at Tufs. Casey Weaver, an intern at the LGBT center, explained that “there was one person I know who publicly spoke at the recent hearing for the senate resolutions… about feeling excluded by the Latinx Center and the Women’s Center for being a Zionist,” referring to the student who complained about pro-Palestine content being reposted on the DSDI social media.
When asked why Palestine falls outside the purview of what the DSDI centers can include in their programming and of-
fcial communications, Director of Media Relations Patrick Collins said in a written statement to the Tufs Observer that “there are limits to what student employees and staf can do and say” because “the University, its ofces, including the DSDI Centers, and its communications channels strive to speak to the entire community, foster dialogue, and promote an inclusive atmosphere.” Tis same question was posed to Associate Dean of Diversity and Inclusion Ellise Lamotte. However, in response to
laborate on Collins’ statement rather than answer separately.
Te Tufs Observer also asked Lamotte and Collins for more information on why centers are prohibited from reposting SJP or Palestine-related posts. Lamotte and Collins did not respond to this specifc inquiry. When asked about the ofcial DSDI stance on the passage of three of four BDS resolutions and the Ofce of the President’s response to their passage, Lamotte did not respond to this inquiry. Collins was not asked to comment on the ofcial
As echoed by Ahmed and Zhang, the consensus among interns seems to be that building community is made more difcult when students of marginalized backgrounds and politicized identities are unsure of where their or center stands.
Simultaneously, another challenge for building community is that interns are unsure about what the limits of their and their respective center’s free speech are, given the university’s unclear restrictions.
“Since October, I have felt myself distancing from the center more is school year “less and less people come to the center, and I am not surprised. It’s a variety of factors, but I think it is our being not very vocal about anything that’s happening and all the centers right now are kind of in this weird world…[with a] ‘business as is “business as usual” attitude of the AAC and other DSDI centers places student interns in an awkward position. As leaders in their communities, student interns are torn between their in-
tern responsibilities and their own complicity in the university’s support of Israel. “It does feel weird for us to be promoting certain events or things without giving explicit reasoning for our politics and that nature and where we stand on things,” said Weaver.
Despte the restrictions imposed on the DSDI staf and the discomfort of student interns, Collins stated that “guidance about how to handle communications within ofcial university channels should not be interpreted as a gag order.”
Whether it is a gag order or not, the university’s forced “guidance” regarding Palestine has frustrated students within the DSDI world who rely on these centers to advocate in solidarity with their fellow marginalized communities. As Weaver notes, “all of these centers are built out of student activism and they are political places.” Weaver and others would hope, then, that they would publicly continue this legacy of activism instead of prioritizing remaining apolitical or neutral.
In one incident at the AAC, a student intern was prohibited from including an article related to Palestine in the center’s newsletter in order for the AAC to remain apolitical in its communications. “Our staf had to be like ‘we’re really sorry, but you cannot put that article in the newsletter.’ And it’s crazy. It’s like a tiny little section at the very, very bottom of our newsletter and in a tiny font, but even that is [seen as] a statement,” said Ahmed.
Te strictness of the DSDI staf regarding Palestine is likely because of the little justifcation that has been communicated to the DSDI staf and interns regarding this continued silence. “It’d be great to have them explicitly say ‘Oh, this is what we can and can’t do’ or we’re gonna lose our jobs,” said Weaver. “It defnitely can feel very disappointing or isolating as a student who’s putting themselves at risk
and doing [organizing work] to feel like, well, are you with us or not?”
Te DSDI staf have chosen to stay silent, undoubtedly, over fears of retaliation or losing their employment. Referring to the limited support the DSDI staf can offer, given their position as university employees, Weaver said, “I think it’s a tough space to be in and a tough line to walk. I think, overall, the LGBT Center… has been very supportive.” When requesting interviews for this and previous articles, staf from all of the centers turned away inquiries or forwarded them to Lamotte, confrming that they are unable to speak publicly and freely on this matter.
“In an ideal world, we as interns wouldn’t have to turn to our student organizations all the time to put on events and do programming that we want to do, and we could instead do it through the funding of our centers and with the support [of] our staf and it wouldn’t be an issue,” said Ahmed. Te DSDI, unlike student organizations, operates within the university and has access to more resources as a result, such as physical event spaces in the DSDI centers, funding for programming, and staf support with planning logistics for events. Tis becomes difcult for student organizers to access when “our values and goals [as students] are very much in confict with what the university wants to do,” said Weaver.
Despite the unclear nature of what can and cannot be done by the DSDI, some centers have maintained their agency by taking stances on Palestine in other ways. As Weaver said, “the Women’s Center and
the LGBT Center are two physical spaces at Tufs with clear messaging in the posters, what’s going on there, and people meeting there that these are pro-Palestine spaces and supporting students who are active in that.” Tis semester, the AAC has also put up Palestinian art for the frst time in the center’s history. Tese steps are signifcant given there is no MENA center or “safe space” like the other centers at Tufs.
Te public silence of the centers, despite subtle support for Palestine in other ways, is especially confusing considering that many of the student groups spearheading pro-Palestine initiatives on Tufs campus are associated with the centers and ofen do joint programming, such as the Association of Latin American Students of the Latinx Center and the Indigenous Students Organization at Tufs of the Indigenous Center. “ Te biggest thing for me… being so involved in all the organizing and being involved in a lot of clubs that are a part of the coalition… [is] just having to do everything ourselves as students and having zero support from staf or faculty, or really anyone who wasn’t also a student,” said Ahmed.
Privately, however, staf have expressed their support for pro-Palestine student organizing happening at Tufs. “ Te staf, in conversation and in their own personal politics, [are] very clear that they’re in support of Palestine and SJP and CPLT. Tey want to support us as students being involved in those kinds of things, but there’s defnitely a lot of red tape around any sort of explicit support,” said Weaver.
Te lack of clarity and transparency from the university on this matter is especially concerning given that other entities are allowed to promote programming about Israel all around campus without any difculty. “I would have appreciated and would still appreciate more transparency on their end on why they can’t do certain things or what the limitations are… I feel like we’re kind of always in a fght with admin[istration] on a lot of diferent levels,” said Weaver. As Collins himself explained, “the University has a responsibility to ensure that spaces on campus, and the programs that they host, are open and accessible to all students and that its resources are used toward that goal.” Tus, many student interns fnd it frustrating to see a plethora of pro-Israel programming from the university, yet none on Palestine.
Te precarious position that the DSDI fnd themselves in—as being part of the university but supposedly representative of the student body—ultimately boils down to availability of resources, as student organizers need them now more than ever for robust programming more closely tailored to the increasingly diverse needs of the student body. As Ahmed said, student organizers having the institutional support of the DSDI centers “to rely on, and those people and that community to rely on, would be huge.”
tufts tatts
by Katarina Knott Ramirez
Why go to a tattoo parlor when your friend can do it for you?
Tis is what sophmore Peri LaBonte was thinking as she received a tattoo from a friend-of-a-friend, laying her arm over a desk in Houston Hall. Experiences such as these are not uncommon in a Tufs dorm room, as some students are inspired to take DIY-tattooing further by setting up their own tattoo businesses.
While the idea of getting a tattoo can be exciting, especially when the opportunity presents itself to new college students, it’s easy to forget the many risks that can come with DIY-tattooing—for example, the potential for an allergic reaction to the ink, a skin infection due to incorrect sterilization techniques, or a blood-borne disease. Despite the risk for tattooers and clients alike, DIY-tattooing has nonetheless become popularized.
Neo Cleofe, a current sophomore who is completing their combined degree in English and fne arts, is one such Tufs student who has taken their artwork to a more permanent level. Cleofe explained that they frst considered becoming a tattoo artist when they went to get tattooed with a friend in Cambridge: “I was asking this artist about their process and how they got into it, and just being there, being around people who like getting tattoos, I thought maybe this is something that I can do.”
Cleofe’s interest became a hobby and then a business. Ordering sterile needles, ink, and bandage supplies, they started out with hand-poked tattoos on themself and their roommate before taking clients. “I did a few people for free and then I started charging twenty bucks. My practice grew from there.”
Cleofe is not the only Tufs tattoo artist operating out of their dorm. Teethbreaker, the artist name for a ffh year combined
degree student who has been tattooing for two years, described that there was a network of artists at Tufs: “I talk to them on Instagram [and] we reach out to each other about advice or questions.” Although Teethbreaker individually reaches out to these other artists on Instagram, “a lot of [them are] SMFA students, so [she] just know[s] them anyway.”
Cleofe explained that clientele may veer towards independent artists because they can be more inclusive than tattoo parlors, which have the quality of being “very ‘macho man’ [and] old white [male] dominated.” Unwelcome and uncomfortable in the traditional tattoo community, those who are “in the queer community or [are] people of color fourish a lot more [with] independent tattooing,” according to Cleofe.
Nana Adjekum, a junior who has been tattooed at Tufs, feels that, as opposed to college tattooing, “the culture [at tattoo parlors] is a lot diferent…they’re a little bit snooty.” LaBonte agreed, fnding that the culture of independent artists makes her “more comfortable” and that she would be “scared about asking [artists] to change anything” at traditional parlors. “It’s easier to ask for things to be adjusted” when working with someone you know. She added that “it was just cool to be able to get [a tattoo] from someone my age and not at a shop.”
Teethbreaker also noticed this pattern, pointing out that there tends to be “a lot of macho attitude” at parlor tattooing that “can be intimidating [to woman identifying people].” She explains that this tends to discourage women from approaching
traditional male artists, as they can be less sensitive to women’s pain tolerance, tattooing with “thicker lines and more intense shading that are physically more painful.”
As a result, Tufs tattoo artists feel a responsibility to build trust with their clientele. Teethbreaker describes how tattooing in the intimate setting of a home makes the experience more comfortable for clients: “I’m [tattooing] out of my apartment. It’s intimate. I want to be comfortable. I want them to be comfortable… It’s just me and my living room, just playing some music and talking. It’s a lot less intimidating.”
However, Teethbreaker also notes that tattooing out of her home can put her in a vulnerable position and make her feel uneasy. When taking on male clients or clients she doesn’t know, she explains, “I will have my boyfriend come over. It’s weird inviting strangers into your house.”
For this reason, Cleofe restricts their clientele to their existing web of connections: “I tattoo out of my living space. It’s a great deal of trust.” Ensuring that they know their clientele in advance is “a comfort thing and also a safety thing,” and one of the reasons why they “wouldn’t want to work in a parlor [where] anyone could walk in of the street.”
Tis does not harm Cleofe’s business, as it is easy to make their particular web large, since their business succeeds in using word-of-mouth connections that bring in familiar clientele’s siblings, partners and friends—both inside and outside the Tufs community. In fact, Tufs tattoo artists like Cleofe are able to make a lasting mark on the Tufs community, explaining that “there are enough people… [who] want to get tattooed for [me] to be able to keep doing this.” Cleofe’s clients fnd them through Instagram, where they post past tattoos as a way to show their art style and experience. Teethbreaker uses a
similar business model by advertising her fash, sheets of pre-made tattoo designs, on her Instagram highlights.
Besides the fact that Tufs tattoo artists make their clients feel more comfortable, the driving reason that brings them clients is their fnancial accessibility. LaBonte described that booking a tattoo appointment that is nearby and afordable is much more appealing as “other tattoos [she has] gotten have ranged from $100 to $300,and [a Tufs tattoo] was less than $100.”
Teethbreaker explains that the pricing discrepancy between Tufs artists and tattoo parlors is not because of “the labor cost or the supplies—it’s the cost of rent.” Tufs tattoo artists such as Teethbreaker don’t have to worry about charging extra for tattooing out of a living space, and can instead accommodate, making their prices “more accessible to young people [and] students.”
In fact, Teethbreaker also focuses on making her business charitable through her raffles to fundraise aid for the ongoing crisis in Gaza. “Every $5 you Venmo me is one entry into the raffle…and then I raffle off a free flash tattoo.” Teethbreaker finds it fulfilling to be able to give someone a free tattoo and fundraise money that they “wouldn’t otherwise personally be able to donate.”
By making the tattooing experience more holistic, the tattoo community at Tufs grows. Cleofe explained that they believe receiving a tattoo from Tufs artists “automatically [makes you] a part of the tattoo community.” Te Tufs tattoo community grows at the hands of these students that are honored to create this permanent art; Cleofe refects that there will “still be a piece of [them] on [students]” long afer they physically leave this community.
For now, Tufs tattoo artists can enjoy the simple things their small business brings them. Cleofe voices they have the beneft of interacting with the diversity on campus and “at university in general, [being that] there’s a plethora of diferent kinds of people in such an experience.”
Teethbreaker shares a similar thought, revealing “it’s a good feeling” seeing people she has tattooed walking around. For her, seeing past clients is like looking “at one of [her] sketchbook pages.”
DESIGN BY ANGELA JANG, ART BY ELLA HUBBARD
Dune’s Diversity Desert: The Appropriative Nature of the Western Film Tradition
By Ethan Guo and Alec Rosenthal
DESIGN BY AHMED FOUAD, ART BY AMANDA CHEN
TO MY YOUNGER SELF,
A REFLECTION ON
By Teagen Mustone
Dear 18-year-old me,
You don’t know it, but the cracks in your foundation are spreading. I can see it now, looking back a year later. Te place you are trying to shake. Te emotions you are trying to hide. I can see the immense stress you are putting yourself under.
I see it in the way that you hold in every dream, every fear, every heartache for months until you fnally let out a breath of relief afer you walk across your high school graduation stage. I see it in the way that you constantly need to ask, “Hey, Mom! Are you proud of me?” like a preschooler handing over a blob of construction paper art, eagerly awaiting afrmation.
You don’t know it now, but you lost yourself in the race of college applications and AP classes, the impossible juggle of extracurriculars and part-time jobs, the contortionist act of twisting yourself into the perfect college applicant.
As a senior in high school, your classmates sport new college sweatshirts like badges of approval. You wear your navy blue sweatshirt with “TUFTS” across the front. But just like Medford, you outgrew that sweatshirt years ago.
You grew up driving by President’s Lawn, so the idea of attending Tufs as a student was far from exciting. It’s hard to fnd any aspect of it exciting when you’ve lived miles from campus your whole life.
Just like when you used to squint at the sky before going to bed, it will still be hard to see the stars in the suburbs even on the clearest nights.
To my 18-year-old self, I know it may be hard to believe, but going to Tufs won’t be an accident. Even with all your meticulous college spreadsheets, some patterns are shrugged of as coincidences before being called fate. Tere will be so many people and factors conspiring that now, looking back, your obvious future was only ever at Tufs. Sometimes the stars align so
H
slowly that you don’t see the constellation forming until you look up. And when you do, you will wonder how you never stopped to notice them before.
On your 19th birthday, 3000 miles away in the Andes of Peru, you’ll feel more like yourself than you had since you were a child. You’ll feel at peace in every sense of the word. Tere will be no homemade Betty Crocker cake. Dad will not mark your height on our kitchen wall. But you’ll know deep down that you will be at home.
In the quiet city of Urubamba, Peru, the breeze will foat in through the open window—with it, the smell of spring and new beginnings. You’ll slide on your Birkenstocks, the dark green rubber ones that had spent your past two birthdays in winter storage. Your two host brothers will cry “feliz cumpleaños” from behind the door to the kitchen. Your host mom, who will call you anything but your name, will surround you in a hug. “Mamacita.” “Princesita.” “Mijita.”
To you, she is a stranger. To me, she is my mom.
When the sun goes down over the Andes Mountains, your family will gather to sing “Feliz Cumpleaños.” Te chocolate cake from your favorite bakery will have both of your names spelled out in pink frosting—Teagan and Snacks, the nickname Gabriel will have given you in place of your unfamiliar English name. A singular candle will light up your faces, and your family will chant “¡Mordida! ¡Mordida!” As you lean in to take a bite of the cake, your brother, on his tippy toes, will push your face into the frosting. And with chocolate-smudged vision, you will do your best to hear the chorus of laughter coming from around you.
At that moment, you’ll feel preemptive nostalgia for your home in Urubamba. You will be leaving in a few weeks—just when you learn how to order at the café like a local, when you fnd the best stand to buy avocados at the market, when the rainy season begins and the landscape
grows green. You will quickly acclimate to your life with your host family and the daily rhythm. Each time you answer your fip phone to your host mom asking when you will be home, you will feel like you are carving a little bit more of yourself into her life. On your walks to buy croissants, the hands of your little brothers will feel more and more familiar in your own.
I understand now that what I was worried about wasn’t leaving behind the place but the person I had become. It will be your frst time away from an intense academic setting. It will be the frst time in your life that you will listen to music outside without feeling guilty. It will be the frst time in your life that you will learn how to rest.
crossed your mind but seems so obvious now. Enrolling in Tufs but going abroad during your frst semester seems like the compromise I needed. And in terms of learning how to rest, I don’t think colleges measure how burnt out their students are. Colleges like Tufs do not actively promote “doing less” in favor of mental health.
To my 18-year-old self, home will become a feeling, not a place. It is wherever you are surrounded by your host family in Peru. It is wherever you will feel like yourself. Where you can heal your inner child. Where you can laugh the loudest, smile the widest, cry the deepest.
When you turn 19, Urubamba will feel like home—as much as home has ever felt in Medford. And it won’t just be the place that will feel comfortable, but who you are. Tere will be no pressure to be anyone but yourself. Tere will be no pressure beyond the day. Tere will be no place you can imagine living but there. When you lay in the grass with your friends, staring up at your future and your past, the stars will be so bright. In the Andes, at an altitude of 9,416 feet, you will be able to see the Milky Way in a way that you could only dream about in Medford.
You will ask yourself if home is a feeling. You can pick and choose where you live but can you choose where you feel most like yourself? Te illusion of the college process makes it feel like that. You are being pelted by institutions pledging they have the “happiest students” or the “most successful graduates.” But at which university do students know and appreciate how to rest?
I don’t know if you would’ve benefted from a gap year. It’s something that never
You treat your home in Medford as a burden, a negative, something to hide from others for the fear of being boring during a time when everyone is trying their best to be diferent. You will turn the tassel on your cap from right to lef and walk across Hormell Stadium into college orientation at Gantcher. Your peers will be booking fights to out-of-state universities, but you will feel stagnant. You will feel stuck as if Medford was gum on your sole, and you are doing your best to get rid of it.
Now, I feel light-years away from where you are—from who I was at 18. I feel more like myself before the pressure of high school. Te person I look at in the mirror smiles like we did when we were 8 and laughs like we did at 6.
To my 18-year-old self, you have no idea what experiences await you. You have no idea how bright the stars are in other parts of the world. You still have so many trips to take and people to meet. There are birthdays to celebrate and candles to blow out.
And there are so, so many places to call home.
With love, Your 19-year-old self
The Appeal and Importance of Zines at Tufts DIY Publishing:
Before the advent of the YouTube video essay, the Instagram news story infographic, and the creation of other art-sharing and community-building social media platforms, people turned to zines. Like these digital platforms, zines refected current issues and personal experiences people faced and allowed people to freely spread messages through art. Zines, whose name derives from their origins as a “fanzine,” due to beginning as “fan magazines,” are self-published and distributed works, most commonly in the form of printed or digital pamphlets or journals, that allow people to share their ideas, beliefs, or work. It is a medium for people to
permit themselves to distribute their art or ideas without relying on institutions within the publishing industry. As articulated by the Research and Instruction Librarian at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts’ library Carrie L. Salazar, since there are “complexities of having systems that are in place to publish something,” zines are important because they “help democratize information” and are a “beautiful format for folks that are trying to fgure out how to publish something and get information out there.”
Tere are countless categories of zines, from collection zines, in which people explore a certain topic or idea that is important to them, to literature and art zines, in which people create collections of their and others’ works. Tese are just two of the countless categories of zines, as there are unlimited possibilities. As zines became more widespread, zine culture has grown, especially in the realm of social and political activism. In the 1970s, printing businesses were more widely available, making zine production easier and more efcient, allowing many marginalized communities to create their own. Te underground feminist punk movement Riot Grrrl of the 1990s used zines politically, spreading their messages and feminist manifesto. A movement for queer punks known as Queercore used zines to spread their platform and create community. In the decades that followed, numerous more communities utilized zines in their movements.
Zines, in the contemporary moment, are spaces to uplif marginalized voices and give them a platform to share stories that are sup-
By Michelle Walsh
pressed in mainstream media. At Tufs University, many clubs and identity groups are similarly utilizing this medium to create their own journals and pamphlets, telling their stories and creating their own creative space. Some prominent zines on campus include the Tufs Asian Student Coalition’s zine called Voices, a Latinx student-led zine called Somos, and the Women’s Center’s zine called Gaze
For each person, the motivation behind creating or participating in the production of a zine is quite diferent and often personal. Tufs’ zines are no exception to this: each one has countless collaborators, each motivated to share their art and ofen their own stories. For TASC, their zine Voices serves as an extension of their mission as a collective. In the Voices 2022 edition mission statement, they say, “[we] publish Voices annually because our realities are inextricable from the wellbeing of communities of color beyond our campus gates,” and they “seek to mobilize toward progressive change.” To achieve this, each issue combines a variety of materials from poetry and written essays to visual art and mixed media collages.
Similarly, Somos, which means “we are” in Spanish, is a zine dedicated to uplifing Latinx voices and creatives. In an interview with Paola Ruiz, one of the two founders and current Editors-In-Chief of Somos, she said that she and her co-founder Emara Saez started the zine because they “wished there was a more creative Latinx space on campus.” Since starting Somos, they have expanded their membership from just two staf members to an entire team, and Ruiz found this expansion and community-based collab-
oration “important to not only ofer that space for Emara and I but for other people.” Somos and their yearly zine has become “a space to celebrate the things that the Latinx students on campus are doing, whether that be through the physical zine or the event that we host when the zine is launched.” Since its founding, Somos has held a launch party for each issue of the zine they publish, inviting Tufs community members and Latinx student artists and groups to attend. Both the content of the zines and these events build a community for Latinx students at Tufs and encourage their artistic creativity.
Additionally, Gaze, the Women’s Center’s Zine, is a space for students to contribute written or visual pieces that relate to a theme chosen for the article. As stated in their most recent issue, Issue 4, “Gaze is a body liberation zine that holds the concept of body-policing in contempt.” In this edition, students were encouraged to contribute written pieces and visual art related to themes of body liberation and body policing and their individual experiences with these topics. Te Women’s Center also holds zine-making workshops in collaboration with other student organizations to educate people on zine history and encourage them to make their own.
Tese are just three of many student groups at both Tufs and the SMFA that create zines or have zine collections. Tey may be diferent, but one thing connects them all: they are uncensored safe spaces to tell stories, and they provide a safe creative space for people to create art that expresses lived experiences. Zines have a unique artistic power because, unlike art in museums that can only be observed from afar, they are an intimate, handheld medium that can be interacted with up close and at each person’s discretion. Tis connects the viewer with the artist and all other people who read and interact with the zine. Additionally, each zine is a testament to the time it was created, making zines a record of the history of an artist or group.
Tese records can be seen in the SMFA’s library zine collection, which contains many self-published zines made by individual students, faculty, and alumni of
the SMFA alongside zines created externally. Tis collection contains upwards of 3,000 zines and is a source for students to learn about zines andgain inspiration for making their own or for research purposes. Tis collection used to be only available for viewing in the SMFA library, yet, according to Lauren Kimball-Brown, the Assistant Manager of the library, “When we closed for the pandemic, people really wanted to access the zines, and we decided to change the policy so people could check them out, and that was so popular that we kept it going.” Post-lockdown she noted that “there has been a fourishing of zine-making at SMFA and Tufs.” Te zine collection at Tufs encourages students to keep creating zines which, as Kimball-Brown said, is “a really beautiful form of self-publishing [that allows] artists and creators and writers to just get their ideas out there for an audience and translate their ideas into a physical form pretty easily.”
To make zines more accessible and approachable to students, the SMFA library, under Research Guides @ Tufs, has created a guide that catalogs zines by their subject. Salazar explained that the library created this catalog so students “are able to fnd zines that are related to their subjects.” Tis tool increases the accessibility and ease with which students can connect to the zines. Salazar feels that because “there is a strong zine culture and publishing culture at the SMFA” and students’ interest in zines is growing, “maintaining [the library’s] collection and allowing it to grow is being a part of that conversation.”
While the SMFA library works to increase their collection, the Tufs Community Union Senate has announced a potential reduction of funding for print journalism on campus. Decreasing funds for print journalism would limit the distribution of student-group zines throughout campus. Fewer people would be able to get their hands on a physical copy of the zine and would have to wait until it was digitized to read. Tis also creates issues for groups that do not have the resources to digitize yet, like Somos, since they rely solely on physical copies. Limited prints create a disconnect between the creators
and their intended audience and limit the scope of people who get to experience this art.
As we enter a highly digital age, it is unclear what the future of zines will look like and if a move to digitization for distribution will become the new norm in zine publishing. Digitization is a growing trend throughout the publishing industry as a whole, from the increase in eBooks and audiobooks to optimizing content for viewing on mobile devices, and zines are no exception. As social media platforms are a central news source for many people, digitizing zines allows a wider audience to engage with their content. Tis dichotomy between the physical and digital is a point of interest for those who create and consume zines. Digitization is indisputably benefcial; as Ruiz stated, “it just becomes more accessible to more people,” but there will always be something very special about the physical zine as it acts as “physical proof that this exists at one time and hopefully continues to exist.”
DESIGN BY JOEY MARMO, ART BY AVRIL LYNCH
The Insiders of the O U T D O O R S: Exclusivity in the Outdoor Communities T U F T S at
By Mia Ivatury and Madison Clowes
AEditor’s
note: Madison Clowes and Mia Ivatury are members of the Tufs Mountain
s they exist in our world, outdoor spaces are not intrinsically exclusionary. Nature is meant to be open, accessible, and welcoming to all. However, presently, this is not the case, and it has not been for a very long time. In the US, there is a prominent history of exclusion in outdoor recreation, activities, and spaces. Te presence of public parks, land, and nature itself is built upon the violence against and displacement of Indigenous populations. Stemming from the colonial, Eurocentric foundation of the country, structures of racist segregation and discrimination promote the historical exclusion of communities of color from nature-based activities and environments. Social, political, and economic structures uphold and perpetuate this legacy through the dictation of migration patterns and subsequent costs of living, leisure activities, and access to natural resources.
Tis disproportionately afects BIPOC and low-income communities. Non-white Americans are three times more likely to live in areas with no access to nature or those that are nature-deprived as compared to white Americans, with 74 percent of non-white Americans living in these
Club.
places, as opposed to only 23 percent of white Americans. With these communities so distant from healthy outdoor spaces, the barriers to utilizing the spaces and becoming involved in outdoor activities are diffcult to surmount.
Not only do majority-BIPOC communities experience structural and historically-based exclusion from the outdoors, but many experience outright, targeted violence and discrimination when existing in these spaces. With the outdoors as an established white space, simply going to a public park to enjoy a nice day can feel uncomfortable and unsafe. In 2020, birdwatcher Christian Cooper was harassed in Central Park because his presence was threatening to a white passerby, leading to conversations about BIPOC experiences in nature. Ahmaud Arbery was killed in 2020 while running outside, and in 2023, an elderly Korean American couple was assaulted while walking in an Orange County Park. Tese examples, a few of many, exemplify the established associations of violence while enjoying nature for BIPOC.
Tufs, a university that boasts diversity and inclusion at the “very foundation” of their institution, actively plays a role in the
perpetuation of this exclusion. Te Ofce of Institutional Inclusive Excellence, in its ofcial vision, writes that “Tufs has always aimed to be inclusive.” Tis statement, however, neglects to acknowledge the involvement of university founder Charles Tufs in the Medford slave economy, or the land that Tufs’ current campus shares with the Ten Hills Farm slave plantation, the same land that colonial settlers once dispossessed from the Massachusett and Wampanoag tribes. Despite Tufs’ various diversity eforts, systemic themes of exclusion remain present in the modern institution through the history of domination and manipulation of the land it exists on.
Tese trends are especially prevalent within Tufs’ various outdoor clubs, organizations, and communities. Founded in 1939, Tufs Mountain Club is one of the oldest and largest organizations on campus. Unlike other organizations that mandate weekly meetings or host bondings, nothing concrete constitutes a sense of membership to TMC. Tose who are an ofcial part of TMC are meant to pay an annual fee of $15, but the fee is “pay what you can.” Tis payment, while providing entry and opportunity—through access
to the club’s Slack of 738 members and a weekly informational email—does not necessarily guarantee a sense of welcome or belonging to the TMC community.
Tis lack of belonging is heightened among those who are inexperienced in outdoor activities. Because of the exclusion entrenched in the history of outdoor activity, predominantly BIPOC populations may fnd it difcult to become a part of this scene. With Tufs’ status as a predominantly white institution, the demographic within TMC is not all that diferent. Tis is felt by those within the community as well. Anushka Gupta, the current TMC Inclusion Director, said, “TMC feels so much like a friend group… because a lot of those people have a lot in common. And, for a majority of them, one of those commonalities is being white.”
One of the sole opportunities to concretely step into a TMC space is through their “Big Weekends,” which are large organized group trips to the Loj, TMC’s homey lodge in New Hampshire. Big Weekends are organized throughout the semester and are open to the entire student body, except for afnity weekends, which are catered to a specifc demographic of students such as “Queekend” for LGBTQ+ students, and “POCkend” for BIPOC students.
Gupta, one of the coordinators for the spring 2024 POCkend, expressed diffculty in gathering POC support among TMC members for the weekend. “We’re having trouble [fnding] people who are comfortable enough to lead a hike and help coordinate a big weekend at the Loj,” Gupta said. “A lot of them haven’t been [to the Loj] and a lot of the times that is because it has not felt like an inclusive space for people of color.”
Te roles of caretaking, coordinating, cooking, and driving, which are typically each delegated to one or two people, have all fallen on Gupta for this particular Big Weekend. Tey expressed that “it’s obviously not a coincidence that we’re having trouble with drivers,” explaining that the current situation is indicative of a larger structural problem—many of the students encouraged to attend POCkend may not have access to vehicles. “It’s also just been slightly frustrating,” Gupta explained, “because for another weekend… we would have so many more people who ft that
identity who can step up and who are already well established… and can come in [at the] last minute… I just haven’t been able to fnd the type of support I should have from a club this big.”
Tufs Wilderness Orientation, another prominent outdoor organization, is inextricably linked to the membership base of TMC. Trough TWO, incoming Tufs freshmen can go on student-led fve-day backpacking trips through the Northeast wilderness. Te TWO website reads, “Even if your favorite outdoor experience is at your local park, we hope you sign up for TWO!” Te use of the word “even” reveals the privilege of TWO’s target audience and the inherent exclusion of marginalized communities.
While there is no ofcial connection between TWO and TMC, there exists an extreme correlation that Gupta referred to as a “pipeline,” in which, once involved in TWO, the natural progression is to eventually associate with TMC. While TMC can conduct accessibility outreach among the larger student body, outreach to incoming freshmen who are deciding between pre-orientation programs is far less feasible. TWO leaders and coordinators cannot communicate with prospective attendees and are unable to encourage or reassure students of color that there is a safe space for them on TWO, regardless of previous experience in the outdoors. All that these students are aware of is the $450 cost and a fve-page packing list. Tis in itself closes the program’s door to less privileged students. Consequently, the continual pipeline between these organizations actively contributes to the particular exclusionary system that exists within Tufs’ outdoor communities.
In light of the intrinsically exclusionary nature of TMC and the larger outdoor community at Tufs, there have been some efforts to disrupt the cycle of exclusion. Having afnity spaces like LGBTQ+ and BIPOC hikes has positively afected TMC members who are seeking out these opportunities to connect. Becca Pinto, a TMCer who led the POC afnity hike on a recent Big Weekend, appreciated her experience within a nonwhite outdoor space. “We didn’t really talk about identity until we reached the peak,” said Pinto. “We talked a little bit about how [the hike] does feel a little bit diferent…
Tere’s a diferent sense of who is in charge and has authority and who’s expected to know the most. So it’s actually like a really diferent experience.”
Gupta and current Loj Director Jeannine Pecoraro began a program called Loj Partnerships, where clubs and organizations on campus can take weekend trips to the Loj and utilize TMC’s outdoor resources. Te purpose of this program is to incorporate more of the Tufs student body and create avenues of entry for those who would be excluded otherwise. In their role as the Inclusion Director, Gupta is working on building a repertoire of historyconscious and inclusion-based resources in TMC in hopes of improving the TMC atmosphere. Tey said, “I would just love for there to be more people like me around me who are outdoorsy people of color, who want to do all of these activities and want to learn this history. But also, we can just hang out and be there for each other and feel like a friend group the same way that TMC itself feels like a friend group.”
While a lot of outdoor activities are complicated by their attachment to racist and classist power structures, the foundation of being outdoors is simply that: being outdoors. TMC’s motto, “Go Outside,” speaks directly to this. Te entrenched systemic racism and classism in the history of US land, within Tufs as an institution and among the various outdoor communities in the student body, is frankly unavoidable. “Obviously, we’re not perfect,” Pinto refected, “But I think a really great thing about TMC is that we’re always trying to be better.” In order to counteract the exclusion in the outdoors, those within outdoor communities must recognize existing exclusionary practices, actively create opportunities for newcomers, and contribute to inclusive natural spaces in meaningful ways.
ART BY CHERRY CHEN
Investigating the Popularity of Tufts’ Green Spaces
On Monday, April 8, President’s Lawn, afectionately known as Prez Lawn, was packed with students excited to watch the solar eclipse. Many pulled out their phones, taking pictures to document the rare shoulder-toshoulder congestion of Tufs’ most popular green space. Guitars were played, trees were scaled, and the energy was palpable. When the clock hit 3:29 p.m., at the peak of the eclipse, the crowd erupted into cheers.
This kind of camaraderie on President’s Lawn is not unique to a onceevery-20-years event. As soon as the weather hits 60 degrees, students flock to the lawn to hammock, slackline, hang out, and relax. On Saturday mornings, dogs and their owners from the surrounding neighborhood transform the hill into a dog park. Once winter snow has blanketed the grass, students take the opportunity to sled, build snowmen, and snowboard off jumps. President’s Lawn has a rich communal history as a central greenspace that hosts concerts, student events, and the annual Illumination ceremony.
President’s Lawn’s popularity can be partially attributed to its elevation, which allows for a view of the greater Boston area. President’s Lawn is also located mid-
hill, making it more of a central location than other green spaces, and a convenient spot to meet friends, being close to central student locations such as the Mayer Campus Center, Dewick-Macphie Dining Center, and Tisch Library.
Tere are numerous other green spaces on campus, such as the Academic Quad, the Residential Quad, and Fletcher Field. However, none of these invite as much student activity as President’s Lawn. Elanor Kinderman, a frst-year and avid President’s Lawn dweller said, “I love Prez Lawn the most out of all the green spaces on campus… when I’m out there with my friends listening to music, it’s just got this really great sense of community.” While President’s Lawn may always have a unique allure, an investigation into the other green spaces revealed that they could attain the same student usage with the addition of recreational equipment and furniture.
all too well by college students. Outdoor green campus spaces have been recognized as places that can develop positive mental health. Research shows that they provide an environment for students to release energy, and reduce stress and loneliness. Even mental health professionals have been making the switch to conducting therapy outdoors. Te central green spaces serve as vital “third spaces” —locations that facilitate social interaction outside of the places where one lives or works—which promote cross-disciplinary collaboration and create a “sticky campus,” a campus where students feel they belong.
Green spaces are useful not just for lounging and Spikeball-ing. Studies show that individuals between 15-and-21-yearsold are signifcantly more stressed than older generations. In fact, students’ poor mental health is associated with a decline in immune system function and infectious illnesses, including strep throat, sinusitis, and ear infections—sicknesses known
Kinderman explains why the other quads may not be as popular: “ Te Rez quad is just very barren. I think [there is a] lack of trees, and it also gets muddy a lot,” which is because it is a man-made, artifcially created green space made out of a fattened and flled out reservoir. “ Tere’s no shade either. If you don’t live in one of the dorms on Rez quad, why would you go all the way over there when you could just go somewhere closer,” said Kinderman. Her explanation for the lack of popularity of the Academic Quad is that it feels “academic.” For example, she said, “a lot of the people who come out on the academic quad are having class outside… but I feel
like Prez Lawn feels a little bit more relaxed.” She added that “on [the Academic quad] it feels like you’re boxed in by academic buildings, so you feel very enclosed by it.” Kinderman acknowledges a cycle that occurs with President’s Lawn; because more people are on President’s Lawn, she’s more inclined to go there, which then makes more people join, and so on.
Austin Kof, a frst-year and recreational soccer player, said that he would be more inclined to utilize the other outdoor green spaces if there were more places to do work. Currently, the lawn furniture across campus consists only of Adirondack chairs. Kof said, “I think if there were more places to sit, especially to put work down, I would defnitely want to sit outside.” He also expressed an interest in having equipment like Kan Jam and mini soccer nets for students to borrow for free, since his friends usually create makeshif goals with their backpacks. When asked what Kinderman would love to see in the green spaces, she expressed her desire for a GaGa Ball pit and Tetherball pole.
tion. Emphasizing their uncertainty, they guessed that the Grounds Manager, Henry Puza, might be the person to contact. Puza contacted a member of the administration, who then pointed back to Puza and Heidi Sokol, the Senior Campus Planner, as the people who manage the green spaces. Tis extensive chain of command poses an additional challenge for students seeking answers or resources related to green spaces.
In a written statement to the Tufs Observer, Puza and Sokol
As for what lawn furniture and outdoor activities are available to students, this information is relatively unknown to students and tangled within the bureaucratic chain of command. TCU Senator Jacqueline Brand said in a written statement to the Tufs Observer that the equipment typically seen in the green spaces comes from students. For example, the slacklines on President’s Lawn are owned by individual students, and a spikeball net free for students to use (lef behind by a graduated student) resides in a Tilton common room.
It took many points of contact to fnd out who handles the green spaces. Brand suggested the Ofce of Campus Life as the place to ask for more information. However, in an interview with Molly Bruno, the Operations Coordinator, and Anna Craf, the Associate Director of Operations at OCL, they explained that the green spaces aren’t their jurisdiction, but they would love to lend out equipment if they had the op-
explained that campus planning is the department that works with the university to decide upon and procure the outdoor furniture.
When discussing the furniture of President’s Lawn, they explained that “at the beginning of the COVID pandemic, the university purchased a few hundred Adirondack chairs” for student use. However, they went on to say, “Since that time, a signifcant number of the chairs have gone missing.”
In terms of tables, they explained that they can only be installed on hardscape, not grass. Te solar-powered tables around the Science Engineering Complex, Tisch Library, and other buildings are the tables they direct students to use. When asked if there are any plans to add sports equipment, they stated, “ Tere are no plans to install permanent lawn games or sporting equipment. Students are welcome to bring their own equipment to set up on the felds.” Te implication seems to be that the current furniture on the grass gets stolen, so any more furniture would have to be bolted into the cement ground, which can’t be done on green spaces. However, they encouraged students to continue to bring any equipment they own to the lawns.
On a campus that clearly values its outdoor spaces and the time spent within them, there is a strong demand for free outdoor activities and more furniture, which students have expressed would make them want to spend even more benefcial time outside.
President’s Lawn has been a long-established third space for students but can expand this legacy to other green spaces. Trough the sharing of personal equipment, students themselves can expand outdoor oferings. Students have the power to continue enriching these spaces and campus experiences, directly promoting a greater sense of community and school spirit.
Sustainability r Slick Marketing: A Dive into Consumer Behavior
By Ela Nalbantoglu
Everyday consumer culture, which is deeply ingrained in American society, contributes to a continuous cycle of consumption resulting in millions of tons of waste per year. Te results of this everlasting relationship have become too substantial to ignore, especially in the marketing of fashion and lifestyle products.
Sustainability is “the property of being environmentally sustainable; the degree to which a process or enterprise is able to be maintained or continued while avoiding the long-term depletion of natural resources,” as defned by the Oxford English Dictionary. In other words, sustainability means ensuring that fashion processes and productions can continue without harming natural resources in the long run. One thing that consumers do not seem to be aware of, however, is how discourse around sustainability has infltrated marketing, for better or for worse.
Michelle Tempesta, a business marketing professor at Tufs, notes that “there’s an education gap” in the US regarding sustainability and climate change, and that “any major change starts with education.” One of the reasons for the current disregard towards climate change and the ways it impacts marketing can be explained through the lack of education on the topic. “ Te United States is behind on this,” Professor Tempesta said.
Although the ofcial defnition of the word marketing is “the action of buying or selling, esp. in a market,” Professor Tempesta underlines that “people perceive the word marketing diferently depending on who you talk to,” as marketing grows and changes based on the audience and time. Similar to this change, most brands
have altered their marketing policies to accommodate sustainability as their markets have given it more and more attention over time. Conversely, lots of brands have been canceled for not being sustainable or co-opting consumers’ concerns via greenwashing rather than making eco-friendly changes to their production processes.
According to the Natural Resources Defense Council, greenwashing is “the act of making false or misleading statements about the environmental benefts of a product or practice.” It is ofen used as a veil for a company’s unsustainable practices, allowing them to beneft economically from sustainability-conscious consumers with genuine intentions. Brands like Reformation, whose products are believed to be sustainable, ofen beneft from greenwashing. Even though they try to be environmentally conscious to some extent with their production, they only upcycle select items and mostly downcycle the rest of their products, which isn’t sustainable in the long run.
H&M, a brand that profts from greenwashing and has faced criticism for its unethical practices, has received a sustainability rating of two out of fve from Good On You, a platform that evaluates brands’ practices and ofers environmentally-ethical alternatives. According to the Center for Alliance of Labor and Human Rights, workers for H&M sufer from highly unethical working conditions that strip away the workers’ rights. Workers in nine out of twelve H&M factories reported experiencing sexual harassment, along with workers in nine out of eleven factories being employed by fxed-duration contracts. Workers also report not being paid a living wage.
Yet, H&M claims to be highly sustainable and suggests that they are one of the most sustainable brands since 2011 afer coming out with a “Conscious” collection when sustainability was not as trendy. Tey continue to produce “Conscious” items that “[unite] modern romantic designs and every piece in the collection is made from a sustainably sourced material.” Currently, there is a sustainability page on their website that highlights their concern for the environment. However, consumers cannot be certain if this sudden care for the environment is authentic. Evan Sulpizio Estrada, a frst-year student at Tufs University, said weaponized sustainability “makes them a lot of money.” In a similar vein, as multiple sources show that H&M’s practices are not sustainable, having an aesthetic sustainability page on their website could be seen by consumers as a marketing technique to increase profts rather than a genuine change in their ethos.
As brands like H&M have been called out by consumers, others have become favored by eco-conscious consumers. One of the products that comes to mind when considering the popular rebrand around sustainable products is water bottles. Te rise in interest in reusable water bottles, especially since the VSCO girl trend in 2019, has decreased the use of plastic bottled water. Te bottled water volume growth slowed to a 1.1% increase in 2022, compared to a 4.6% increase in 2021. Tis is an example of the impact of marketing around sustainability increasing the popularity of a product.
It would be remiss to mention the popularity of water bottles without talking about the Stanley cup. 2023 was coined by many as the year of the Stanley Cup. Between 2019 and 2023, Stanley’s sales revenue grew more than tenfold, increasing from 70 million to 750 million USD. Te consumer market for Stanley completely changed from being marketed for nature lovers to now towards Gen-Z, who popularized this product among themselves through trending social media apps such as TikTok and Instagram. Forbes names this growing trend of the Stanley cup as a part of “social contagion,” which is efectively, peer pressure. Peer pressure combined with social media produces marketing techniques that infuence consumption. Although it may seem ideal for a reusable product such as the Stanley cup to be purchased, this widespread popularity is contributing to waste. As people accumulate the cups and continue buying and collecting them, they end up owning more than they need. Tis produces a contradiction between consumer behavior and consumer values. Consumers value sustainability, but continue to overconsume.
Not all marketing around sustainability is negative, however. One brand that is on the way to becoming fully sustainable and has gained online popularity is Djerf Avenue. Founded by the infuencer Matilda Djerf, Djerf Avenue is a brand that ethically produces and mindfully chooses its products to “embody the confdent, chic, and laid-back person on the go.” Te brand also remarks upon how they’ve “launched their own re-sell platform,” how their team “participates in clean-up activities” once a month, and how they’ve “bought 8000m² of Swedish forest for preservation.”
Te director of the Ofce of Sustainability at Tufs University, Tina Woolston, said, “When you’re thinking about creating change, having a celebrity spokesperson can move behavior.” Even though Matilda Djerf is not an A-List celebrity, her fanbase allows her to reach out to people; she’s able to move their behaviors in a way that infuences them to shop from her brand. Not only that, but the branding of the website aligns with the recently booming “Clean Girl Aesthetic,” enticing consumers to shop and be sustainable while doing so.
While the commendable eforts of this brand in promoting sustainability and encouraging environmentally-conscious lifestyles should be acknowledged, it’s important to consider the negative aspects that can impact consumer behavior and the overall sustainability of both the brands and consumers.
Tere is one common aspect between many sustainable clothing brands and other eco-friendly products: the steep pricing. Djerf Avenue and Stanley have both faced backlash on their price and quality. One of the most famous items on Djerf Avenue’s website, the “Forever Blazer” is priced at $189 and is made out of 74 percent recycled polyester. Ela Abay, a frst-year student interested in fashion and economics, said in an interview, “I think the price tag is more justifed by it being made by an infuencer rather than the quality,” highlighting a common issue seen in sustainable brands and the power marketing has over it. Additionally, following this quality issue with Djerf Avenue, Stanley has faced scrutiny afer a consumer’s viral video highlighted lead presence in their cups, raising health concerns. Although subsequent investigation revealed that the lead wasn’t in the cups themselves and therefore could not be consumed directly, the brand still faced legal repercussions. Tis incident, albeit ending with the conclusion that Stanley products are safe to use, still fuelled signifcant backlash, especially given consumers’ expectations of safe materials, particularly for a $45 price tag.
consumer to buy more things that they don’t need, condoning this because it’s “sustainable.” Overconsumption, as a behavior, is still unsustainable.
In the past year, lots of content regarding unsustainable consumer behavior has gone viral. In January 2024, Stanley and Starbucks came up with a limited edition collaboration: the famous model in hot pink, sold exclusively at select Starbucks locations. Videos on TikTok show people camping overnight to get these cups, attacking Stanley shelves, all while trying to get one for themselves.
Even though this impact, in the case of shopping frantically, is somewhat typical consumer behavior, it should be noted that some of these people already have Stanley cups at home. Woolston recalls her student Lenka Smiljanić saying in class, “what good is being sustainable with water bottles if you just end up buying 10 of them?” Tus, marketing sustainable items, albeit advocating for products that are eco-friendly, could end up provoking unsustainable consumer behavior. To add on, Woolston noted, “people tend to be drawn to luxury.” Tis luxury could be owning an electric car or having 10 Stanley cups, thus drawing people to purchase more as a display of wealth.
Even though Stanley’s and Djerf Avenue’s eforts in sustainability should not be undermined, consumer behavior diverts these brands away from being truly sustainable. Woolston noted, “We live in a society that is not designed in a sustainable way.” In that vein, consumers continue to shop more and more. It’s habitual because of overconsumption: fast delivery, mass production, and fast fashion have become the way of living. Te new-found remedy—the constant purchasing of sustainable goods instead of unsustainable products—does not hide the fact that it’s still overconsumption. Te trends supporting such items, such as the glorifcation of these products via marketing, prompt the
Marketing is the invisible hand over consumer behavior, and it can support sustainability when employed by ecoconscious brands or undermine it. Both Professor Woolston and Professor Tempesta agree that change can mainly happen through consumer behavior and that consumers forget the power they have in shifing the market toward sustainability. As Professor Tempesta said, “ Te consumer votes every day with their dollar.”
Nathaniel Billy Tuck
By James Urquhart
Nathaniel Billy Tuck did swing his Louis Slug, and hit a single every single time.
But when young Billy Tuck did swing with all his gut, to stay at frst felt plainly like a crime.
Te poor young Billy Tuck, and Billy’s Louis Slug— For him frst base was simply not enough.
First base seemed mighty fne, the coach said “You’re sublime!” His games became the reason to his rhyme.
Tey cheered him as a star, Te best one in the game; his picture put up in the Hall O’Fame.
Well, Billy was the fnest, and so Billy decided to hit out of the park in perfect stride.
But inning afer inning, he ran clean out of luck and quit the game without a home run struck.
Despite the praise he gained, for Billy it was plain. He never swung his Louis Slug again.
Ha Noi in the Spring of Her Life
By An Tran
Kite strings snatch at my ankles as I try to fy with milk-grown bones and across Atlantic water.
I fear Ha Noi is fowering under a diferent sky
while I thin, brown, and dry like prunes in my spotty American skin and court doubt as a woeful lover.
Kite strings snatch at my ankles as I try to fy
to the city—pretty girls bloom from war-scorched pavements and hide under dry terracotta eaves so their feshy white thighs won’t color for summer.
I fear Ha Noi fowers without me under a diferent sky.
My mother candied her tears in a jar on her father’s dresser and I remember how they dripped down his skin, but now his bones drink their salted favor from the ground. Kite strings snatch at her ankles as she tries to fy
home—a new one where cars and Caucasians fll the streets of Hoang Mai and the pockets of toy-food-silk-fower-vendors.
I fear Ha Noi fowers without me under a diferent sky.
I plummet to the cold Atlantic, not far enough from shore to die, to drown. So I dig my toes into the sun-beat sand and leap over the ocean’s homeward—but kite strings snatch at my ankles as I try to fy.
Ha Noi fowers without me under a diferent sky.
Playing with Time
By Dahlia Breslow
If you asked me in elementary school what my favorite game was, rather than Monopoly, Spit, or Mario Kart, I would respond with a game of my own invention: Future. Conceived by me and my childhood best friend, Future was a giddy way to dream. We would alternate telling tales of our future lives, from our frst kiss, to what college we would go to, where we would live as adults, and how many kids we would have. Each time we played, the details difered slightly, though usually following a prescribed path of college, marriage, and kids.
Te game was endlessly entertaining. “I want to have a boy and a girl, no, maybe two girls,” we debated, as we shopped for our future lives. “Obviously we should lose
our virginity in high school,” we agreed (god forbid we start college as virgins). It was an escape from our small school and hometown, a world expanded by the boundless possibilities of the future. Dissatisfed with the present, I craved the exciting futures I laid out for myself. Give me a skip button, I begged.
I was a kid enamored by the life I would one day have: books and TV shows faunted girls with large groups of friends and thrilling romances, lives I envisioned for myself. Playing Future ofered a chance to plan out these fctional lives, albeit with the expectation that these fantasies would at some point become reality.
I eventually grew up. Te stories and lives I craved remained fctional, belonging to someone else. I wasn’t popular. I didn’t fall in love. My younger self’s expectations clashed with the reality of my high school life. I felt disillusioned, as though I was falling behind. A failure according to society, the media, and most importantly, little me’s hopes. And yet, I had every reason to be content. I had wonderful friends and family, fun little hobbies, and an
engaging academic life. Nonetheless, the overthinker in me was not satiated. Was I living my life to its fullest? Tese thoughts plagued me, and each year, I resolved to seize opportunities and push myself out of my comfort zone (spoiler alert: I didn’t). I spent most of my time with a small group of close friends, rather than branching out. I still have never successfully climbed a tree. I walk my dog on the same predictable path each day. Meanwhile, I steadily grew to hate change, fear it, and despise it. Change acts as a persistent reminder that time is running out to try new things and fulfll my unreasonable expectations of high school life.
Birthdays were the worst. Tey reminded me of how easily time could change things and emphasized the degree to which I felt behind my peers. On my 18th birthday, I felt crushed under the weight of the milestones marked by the day, sufocated by the expectations I associated with being labeled an adult. I was flled with dread at the sight of the number 18 inside my mom’s well-intentioned card, placed on my bedside table so it was the frst thing I saw in the morning.
As I neared the end of my senior year, I became paralyzed by the thought of the future. Drawing a sharp contrast to my younger self, I pleaded, please god, let me press pause. I was happy, and incapable of reckoning with the fact that I would soon leave behind my high school friends and family life. I just need more time. More time with my friends, more time to cultivate and attain the life I never seemed to achieve.
Te last few months of senior year, rather than savoring the moment, were spent in a haze of devastating nostalgia and existential dread. I refused to think about leaving home,
refused to accept that I would soon be in college. I wouldn’t research fun classes to take, or reach out to admitted students on social media. Tough I somehow understood that the future could be just as good, I mourned that I would never be able to return to my life at that moment.
For most of my life, my relationship with time and growing up followed this similar pattern. Panic-stricken over New Years, graduations, and birthdays, I would yearn for times unmarked by change. Slow down, I would beg, even as my head was frmly anchored in the past.
College has come with its own set of expectations, both societally and self-inficted. Be social or be lef behind, my brain screams. Try everything, my dad advises, telling me about the sports, clubs, and especially acapella groups I should join. For most of us, college is our frst time living beyond the watchful gaze of parents or guardians—the sky’s the limit on what we can do and who we can be. Tese seemingly endless possibilities and opportunities for self-discovery can be overwhelming; I felt simultaneously pushed into a box and told to eradicate the concept of the box. I ofen fnd myself anxious about how my life here fts with and conficts with my image of what college should look like. Yet I’ve found that I can be happy even when I don’t meet these lofy expectations. Would my younger self be disappointed seeing my grades or the number of parties I’ve been to? Or maybe she’d feel proud watching me settle in for a movie with my closest friends. More likely, she’s overwhelmed at how much I grew up.
Now, I’m nearing the end of my freshman year of college. If you asked me right now, would I stop time? Would I change the rules of the game? Most likely, I’d plead the Fifh and decline to answer the question. However, (just between you and me), I’ll say that if presented with a skip, pause, or slow down button, I would decline.
I’m content. Nay, happy! Yet, I cannot escape the overthinker tendencies so central to my being. Refecting on my life here at college, I almost feel guilty that I don’t ache for the past. Am I being unfaithful to my high school self, who, happy and in love with her friends and family, clung to
life as she knew it? Tat girl wasn’t stupid; she treasured those she loved most, and stubbornly refused to move on.
I carry these contradictions within me; bittersweet mourning of a life transformed by time, new joy over who I am now. My current life flls me with the same excitement that I found all those years ago, playing Future. If I was a perfect human, I would be equally grounded in the present, learning from the past, and striving for the future. Sadly, I’m not perfect. I won’t pretend that, somewhere down the road, I won’t wish to return to the days I’m now living, scrolling through my camera roll with longing. Nor will I say that I won’t lose myself fantasizing about my future. But I’ll say (and I’m writing it down so someone will hold me accountable) that I will try to maintain a balance regarding these recent revelations, even if I’m unsure of exactly how to keep it as I move forward.
CAN YOU FIND THE ’S?
did u see the eclipse?
