THE HEART OF SMU’S INTELLECTUAL COMMUNITY
IT’S BEEN AN HONOR BY CAMILLE AUCOIN, CLASS OF 2017 Amid bouts of Senioritis, I occasionally find my mind wandering into the bittersweet territory of leaving SMU after graduation on May 20th. As of writing this, I have spent 1330 days as a student at SMU. There are precisely 35 days until that is no longer true. It’s incredible how quickly time has flown by. As I think back on my time at SMU, I could think about a lot of things. I could think about my first two weeks here, a time marred by horrible depression and anxiety. I could think about countless hours spent doing engineering homework. I could think about all the friends I’ve had the pleasure of spending time with here. I could think about how many of those 1330 days I’ve spent away from my family. I could think of how many times I’ve laughed during my time here or how many times I’ve cried during my time here. Often nowadays, I find myself thinking of all the good things that have made my time as a Mustang unforgettable and irreplaceable. A constant on my list of good things about SMU has always been the University Honors Program. Yeah, I can hear you calling me a nerd right now, but hear me out.
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My first day of classes in August 2013 was rough. I was battling intense homesickness, feelings of being overwhelmed, and worst of all, the feeling of being surrounded by people but completely lonely. When I walked up to the Honors Welcome BBQ on Clements lawn that evening, however, I felt some of that melt away. That night, I met one of my best friends, Casper, over barbeque and mariachi music. He’s also a constant on the list of good things about SMU. I left the BBQ feeling like even if adjusting to SMU was going to be hard, I could do it. Ever since that day, the UHP has been my home here. I’ve napped in the Scholars’ Den more times than I can count (sorry for my drool on those beanbags). I quickly joined the Hilltopics staff as layout editor in 2013 and found a new passion in this newspaper. At the start of my sophomore year in 2014, I began my job as Honors Office Coordinator, bringing me closer to the inner workings of the program and giving me a chance to bring some of my visions for the program to life. In May 2015, the UHP gave me quite possibly the defining moment of my life: a trip to Peru with an Honors
art history course. I will never forget sitting above the ruins of Machu Picchu at six in the morning with other Honors students watching the clouds roll over the mountains. The historical and cultural experience of that trip was indescribable. It’s not every day that you meet a potato farmer at 15,000 feet who helps your class climb a mountain then insists on giving you a bag of his potatoes because he feels blessed to have met you. I still get emotional when I think about him sometimes and I wish with all my heart I could find him again and tell him what that encounter means to me. My other Honors classes have been no less of indescribable and irreplaceable experiences. I spent a semester studying Dante’s Inferno with Professor Brandy Alvarez, who is quite possibly the most interesting and entertaining professor you will ever meet. Her passion for Dante was so inspiring, and I came to class every Tuesday and Thursday excited to unlock more secrets of the centuriesold text. My favorite part of the UHP, however, is the two amazing people who run it: Dr. Doyle and Sally Spaniolo. I never, ever get tired of coming into work and
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talking with them or just listening to them. Their passion for this program is evident in how hard they work to support students and provide a truly enriching experience for all of us. So in this, my final Hilltopics article as a student, I would like to say thank you. Thank you to my Honors professors who have encouraged me to think critically, to question constantly, and to listen endlessly. Thank you to Adam Herring for giving me an amazing week in Peru…and the last of your water on the Machu Picchu trail (I’m still convinced that’s why I didn’t die that day). Thank you to Brandy Alvarez for being an even bigger Dante nerd than me. Thank you to the staff of Hilltopics ever since 2013, especially to my editors-in-chief Tess Griesedieck, Kenny Martin, and now Terisha Kolencherry. Thank you to my
friends in the UHP who graduated in 2015 for taking me under your wings when I was at my lowest point in life. Thank you to my friends in the UHP who will graduate with me for remaining a constant source of joy, intelligent dialogue, and support in my life for the last 1330 days. Thank you to my friends in the UHP who still have time left here for always providing fresh perspectives that my jaded senior eyes have overlooked. Thank you to everyone who came to share laughs and discussions at Mad Hatter’s Tea Parties, watch parties, Gartner Lectures, and UHP field trips. And thank you, readers and Honors students, for continuing to support this program. Lastly, thank you, Dr. Doyle and Sally. I cannot even begin to describe the positive impact you have both had on my life during four short years
here. You are both irreplaceable parts of the UHP, and I’m incredibly sad to be leaving you. I’m afraid all good things must come to an end, though, and my time with the UHP has reached that point. Fortunately, endings usually signify beginnings, and I look forward to seeing what the coming years have in store for the UHP. Although I won’t be around to personally witness it, you know I’ll be watching from afar. To all of you who still have more than 35 days left here at SMU, hold on to every good moment. Our time here is finite, but the memories we make here will last forever. As for me, my 1365 days are almost up, but my story is far from over. It’s been an honor, UHP.
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THE HEART OF SMU’S INTELLECTUAL COMMUNITY
A LETTER FOR FIRST YEARS BY A.J. JEFFRIES, SENIOR
Printed in Vol. 13, Issue 1, September 2016 Dear “First Years,” Welcome to the hallowed, carefully manicured grounds of Southern Methodist University. As you take your first steps onto campus, you will soon realize that your residential commons is full of sophomores who, having survived the terror and cluelessness of their freshman years, believe themselves omniscient. Now that they are no longer at the bottom of the totem pole, they think have learned enough to give advice. Perhaps they can, but after three years here at SMU I have attained far greater wisdom, some gained
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outside of the protective bubble of the commons, which I will now give unto you. It is inevitable that some poor, inebriated soul will try to make popcorn at two in the morning, set off the smoke alarm, and earn your eternal loathing. When that happens, just remember: it is completely acceptable to wish both the bubonic plague and scurvy on them. But please bear in mind that when cursing people you should always use illnesses that humanity has conquered to avoid the risk that the subject of your curse has lost a relative to the illness. It keeps
things from getting awkward. Aesthetics are very important to SMU. President Turner takes enormous pride in our seemingly arbitrary status as the most beautiful campus in the country, so any time you see someone with a camera please adopt a brochure-worthy pose. Options include throwing a Frisbee with a broad smile, laying on the grass with a book in front of you (reading optional), or skateboarding with a heavy backpack on. Almost everyone you know has told you to “leave your comfort zone” in college. This phrase is very vague,
so here are some interpretations we have applied to it over the course of our college experiences: 1) Always sit in very uncomfortable places to study. Comfort inevitably induces sleep (college words!), so a literal departure from a zone of comfort is vital to effective studying. 2) Do something that in high school you would have ridiculed yourself for, like attending drag bingo. Because high school you was probably supremely close-minded and didn’t understand that fun is everywhere. 3) Recycle clothing now that mom can no longer do your laundry. Liberal arts majors, you will at some point be asked “but, like, how are you going to get a job with that major?” When the person asks that question,
DON’T MISS:
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you can wish the aforementioned illnesses on them or, if you are feeling less creative, slap them. If you find yourself wanting to ask someone else that question or otherwise belittle their chosen course of study, ask yourself, “Do I want to be slapped?” Then refrain. When writing papers, do not make up funny titles and forget to remove them. That is how you send an advisor an essay entitled “Why A.J. is a super badass leader (in 500 words or less).” You do not want to send anyone an essay with that title. Appreciate the cafeterias while you have them. As you outgrow mandatory unlimited meal plans, you will come to realize that all of your complaints about food quality and cockroach infestations fade in the face of having to provide for yourself
the annual
and not having unlimited quantities of food at your fingertips. The Umph cookie bell will single-handedly defeat Michelle Obama’s efforts to create a healthier country. Calories don’t count when the cookies are fresh. I am sure you think my suggestions are little more than the musings of a dinosaur who doesn’t understand the world you are entering. After all, when I arrived at SMU as a freshman the residential commons and Arnold didn’t even exist. But do not simply dismiss them. College flies by, each year faster than the last, so I can still remember like yesterday walking into my room, seeing a Texas flag covering the wall of my roommate’s side, and thinking “how did I end up here?” I made the most of my time at SMU, and I hope all of you do as well. - A.J. Jeffries
UHP WELCOME ASEEMBLY & BBQ
MONDAY, AUGUST 21 2017 ST
WELCOME ASSEMBLY: 5 PM, MCCORD AUDITORIUM BBQ: 6 PM, CLEMENTS HALL SOUTH LAWN
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“ “
THE STRUGGLE TO COME HOME BY TERISHA KOLENCHERRY
Printed in Vol. 13, Issue 3, November 2016 When I was in the first grade, my parents sent me to a new Catholic school and on the first day during recess a girl in my class came up to me and said, “You don’t belong here, you’re not white.” She was black. I was brown. I was confused. It took me forever to understand the forces at play in that early interaction. It wasn’t until later that I had a realization: she and I had both internalized racism at several points in our lives, and I needed to start owning my brown body. It would be easy to say that my journey with my racial identity began there, but there’s really no singular moment I can point to as a starting point. Race is omnipresent for me; no matter how hard I tried to hide from it, it’s always been there and always will be. I grew up in predominantly white settings with immigrant parents who were trying to navigate this foreign country just as much as my brother and I were. There were no signposts from them in terms of how to navigate racial issues and our identities as brown, well-educated people. They were focused on making sure we had food on the table and a
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roof over our heads. So I took cues from my classmates. I stopped speaking Malayalam, yelled at my mom to stop packing me Indian food for lunch, and felt really self-conscious wearing Indian clothes—all things that bring me to tears when I think about them because I’m ashamed of the way I treated my culture. I just wanted to fit in, but I wish so dearly that I had understood the value of my heritage. All of these nudges away from my culture only served to distance me from a racial identity that I really couldn’t shake. Eventually I would “pass” and people would think of me as the “white Indian,” and I remember wearing that as a badge of pride. I went so far as to make jokes about Indian culture that make me cringe today. I went along with my white friends, who thought it was cool to make fun of my skin that was “the color of shit haha” and tell me that at least I smelled better than Indians but I always had this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. One day I’d had enough, so I picked up my lunch tray the next day and left. I went off into high school surrounded by Asian people, which was great but
also meant that I never really had to confront my status as an Indian woman. I was comfortable and I didn’t feel different. Then I came to SMU, where all of a sudden I was thrown into a very white space, and I just slipped back into passing mode. However, something was different this time around. I had been involved in debate during high school, and therefore exposed to literature and discussions on race, feminism, and sexual minorities. This exposure gave me the language necessary to express my frustrations, as well as the knowledge to pinpoint issues I had in my interactions with the world. However, it was easier to talk about race in Austin and at SMU I was far from home. There wasn’t a place for me to touch base with my identity here. It wasn’t until I started dating this guy that I really began to confront my need to accept and own my identity. We would go out to events or to grab food, and I started noticing that I was the only person of color in the room or one of three in the general vicinity. I would point it out, and it wasn’t until the third or fourth time that I became conscious
I am so thankful for this individual because he has been integral to my blossoming as a woman of color. We had conversations about our respective racial identities (he is halfAsian) and he provided a safe space for me to explain my frustration with being an Indian woman. He would say things about his experience and I would point and say “I feel the same way!” relieved that I wasn’t just going crazy. He introduced me to literature about racial tensions in the United States and he held me while I cried for hours after reading Just Mercy. His father called me “Ms. Chapati,” and it took forever for me to help him realize why that was wrong. Likewise, I would make jokes about him being half-Asian and it took forever for me to fully understand the weight of what I was saying. Years ago I would have just let the comments slide, but with him I felt comfortable enough to stand up for myself. We created a sacred space of trust and comfort that made it okay for me to be a woman of color. A space that still endures, even as the nature of our relationship has transitioned into the best of friendships. However, even with that space, I still wasn’t comfortable with most other people and my race. When a couple of my friends made comments about Indian graduate students and how they just “come and take our free food, even though they’re not going to join our organization and that’s annoying,” it took me forever to speak up. It took me a while to understand what was wrong. Another time, my friends and I were in the middle of Iowa, where we walked into a fast food place and immediately realized there were no people of color. I felt very uncomfortable and I remember one of my friends making a joke about how it was a ‘sea of white.’ We walked away from the Culver’s
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“ I FULLY UNDERSTOOD AND FELT
MINOTIRY VIOLENCE COLOR INDIAN SPEAK UP TRAUMA OUTSIDER HOME COMFORT RACE IDENTITY CONVERSATION FOREIGN STRUGGLE EXPERIENCE CONTEXT UNITED STATES
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of this that I fully understood and felt that I was a minority. However, I trudged on. I met his friends, who slowly came to be my friends, and I grew closer with all of them, but something was missing and I couldn’t put my finger on it.
THAT I WAS A MINORITY
and conversation moved onto other topics, but I kept thinking about that incident. After the election of Donald Trump, I was surrounded with messages of concern and support; however, none of this support was from my main group of friends—they just kept going on with their lives. We would talk about race sometimes but it was always a surface level discussion. That’s when I realized why I was so upset. My friends all identified as white. They were able to walk away from any discussion about race without being personally perturbed and go about their daily lives without thinking about racial issues. This realization dovetailed with a crisis of identity. Black Lives Matter was gaining a lot of steam and I had been reading a lot of literature about mass incarceration. My heart wept, but I was also confused as to the part I played in all of it.
Asians are the model minority in the United States. They are seen
as hard-working and are touted as an example for all minorities, which means we’re often used as a tool to justify certain types of oppression against other minorities (“if the Asians can work hard and be successful, why can’t black people?”). As a result of this status, we’re often left out of discussions on race. Most people think of race as simply black and white, when in reality there are many other racial identities that are not included in the conversation. This is not to take away from the experience of other races, but simply to acknowledge that the black community is eons ahead of other communities, including the Asian community, in terms of organizing against forms of oppression, most likely because the need to do so has been very pressing. It doesn’t mean all Asian families are privileged, but being Asian in the United States can be slightly confusing when you enter into discourse about race.
CONT.
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In this greater context and against the backdrop of violence against black people and Native Americans, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t know, and to some extent still struggle with, how to properly ally with my black friends and still also speak out about my struggles without sounding like someone who is discounting their experience. On top of that, it was hard balancing my parent’s cultural experiences back in India and my identity growing up in the United States. A quote by Ijeoma Umebinyuo popped up on my newsfeed that put it so perfectly:
“SO, HERE YOU ARE TOO FOREIGN FOR HOME TOO FOREIGN FOR HERE. NEVER ENOUGH FOR BOTH.” This sense of limbo overwhelmed me and completely consumed me. I woke up every morning thinking
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that the rest of my life was going to be like this—never enough for both, always being “too much” for my white friends, always feeling just a bit left out. Due to this stress (on top of simply burning out academically) I quickly stopped eating many meals, I would set my alarm thirty minutes earlier to give myself time to pump myself up in order to get out of bed, I would be with my friends and then just withdraw—I was depressed. I felt alone. The guy and I had broken up; we were navigating how to be friends and it took us a while to settle into just being best friends, and I didn’t want to rely on him too much. I didn’t feel safe talking to my friends and my brother was back home with a wife and a job. So I made two decisions: I rushed an MGC and I started going to CAPS.
I thought CAPS and my sorority would be a saving grace, which was so wrong because I didn’t need to be saved—I just needed a space to be myself in full form. Through CAPS, I was able to finally say out loud all the thoughts I had been holding in. I was able to work through the issues I had with my friends, from a fundamental and racial perspective. From my sorority I found a place where being loud was just fine and where I wasn’t “too much.” I found a place where I could talk about issues that I was going through, but where race didn’t have to be brought up all the time in a formal conversation. I was also exposed to a lot of perspectives on race, religion, politics, and other issues that I didn’t agree with half the time. Although sometimes I feel like an outsider, I gained a semblance
of home and learned that comfort doesn’t mean everyone always agrees with everything you say, but rather that they give you the chance to say it and engage in conversation because they care. I found inner strength that I never thought I was capable of, which allowed me to have a conversation with my other friends about race and the nature of our friendship. It taught me the importance of having spaces for all minorities to feel comfortable with their bodies and identities. Let me be clear though, having support and safe spaces doesn’t make everything else go away. I was talking to my friends about being a racial minority and asked why certain people in the group never spoke up when we talked about race and just looked bored. One answer they gave was that they just felt that when it comes to race, they were
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brought up to treat everyone the same way and so that’s just what they’re going to do. It wasn’t an easy thing to hear and I don’t think they really understand that treating me the same way they treat everyone else in the group is what has led to me feeling like I can’t have discussions about race. I’m not white. I didn’t grow up in a white household. I should be treated with the same respect as everyone else, but saying that I’m the same as everyone else is erasing a fundamental part of my identity. A part that I have not brought forward as much as I should have, but something that is so integral to who I am and impacts how I go through the world. Something that I tried to cut away when I was a kid, but am suddenly realizing is so important to who I am. I don’t think they’ll ever fully understand the trauma of having
wished yourself into another body because of the color of your skin; the shame when I look back and ask how I could have ever thought that the aromatic spices of my mother’s cooking were inferior and stinky, or how I could have been embarrassed by the lilt of my parents’ English that reminds me of Kerala and the summers we spent there. I think about how when we all go out, excitedly, for Indian food, they taste the same morsels but view the experience as merely a foray into spicy food. What they don’t realize is that my excitement is about so much more than that. For them it’s food; for me it’s peace, a state of self-love and self-understanding. It’s coming home to the comfort of your mother’s cooking after being away for so long. I’ve been wandering a lot for the past 20 years, but I’m finally ready. I’m coming home.
COMING THIS FALL:
UHP BOOK DISCUSSIONS UHP DALLAS BUS TOUR Join the UHP for discussions of two books: Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Brown and Hillbilly Elegy by J.D. Vance! If you are interested in reading and discussing either book, contact Dr. Doyle.
Expert tour guide Dr. Doyle will lead interested UHP students on a bus tour of Dallas! Visit iconic areas like Deep Ellum, Oak Cliff, the Arts District, and more! Look for more information during the Fall 2017 semester.
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THE HEART OF SMU’S INTELLECTUAL COMMUNITY
ON THE IMPORTANCE OF THE ARTS BY ABBY HAWTHORNE
Printed in Vol. 13, Issue 4, December 2016
“ART IS OUR ONE TRUE GLOBAL LANGUAGE. IT KNOWS NO NATION, IT FAVORS NO RACE, AND IT ACKNOWLEDGES NO CLASS. IT SPEAKS TO OUR NEED TO REVEAL, HEAL, AND TRANSFORM. IT TRANSCENDS OUR ORDINARY LIVES AND LETS US IMAGINE AND CREATE WHAT IS POSSIBLE.” – Richard Kamler I am accustomed to participating in Hilltopics as a copy-editor, protected behind the comfort of my computer screen and armed with an oft-
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annoying attitude of grammatical righteousness. However, the events of these past few weeks—especially regarding the sociocultural issues recently brought to an even deeper clarity by the election and its aftermath—are too important for me to passively sit by without offering my own social commentary. I study music at Meadows, and the school firmly believes that one of the key components of a successful twenty-first century life in the arts centers around finding a way to get one’s art “out there” into the world— not only as a career-oriented mission, but also as one of social change. A fervent advocate of this mission, my oboe professor Erin Hannigan cofounded the non-profit event Artists for Animals, which combines music, photography, and studio art to raise money for the no-kill animal shelter Operation Kindness. A wall in her studio on campus also reads, “Art for Life’s Sake,” reminding us every day that we must use our talents to effect lasting change in the world around us.
I am often confronted (by myself, but also by others) with the question: What is the point of a career in the arts? Perhaps art can only be experienced for pleasure—which is not necessarily a negative thing in and of itself—but it provides absolutely no solution for battling oppression and subjection in the world. If I want to dedicate my life to such a mission, then a course of study in human rights or a career in social work might be a more suitable choice. However, I can’t allow myself to be so cynical. Sure, pleasure is good. But that’s not the only reason artists do what they do. Art is necessary because really good art gets us closer, in bits and pieces, to a Truth that we can’t otherwise express. Great art reaches toward the heart of our collective experience as humans from every angle, in every language—especially those languages not expressible by mankind. For how else can we make sense of the world, if not through sensory experiences? Why do we create art? Because we must. Because sometimes it is the
only response we have to violence, to tragedy, to despair, to injustice. Art matters. Art is powerful. Just as hospitals heal broken bodies, so too can orchestras, art galleries, or poetry readings heal broken spirits. Before a youth orchestra performance of mine in high school a few years ago, the conductor expressed to my colleagues and me his mission during each performance: one day, some poor soul might stumble into the concert hall, and we have to be prepared every night to reach out and touch that person, to change his or her life for the better.
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For how else can we see the clear moon on a cloudless night, or bask in the glow of the setting sun sending bouncing shadows through the leaves above us, or truly engage with a text, work of art, or piece of music in a deep way and not realize that it is our very humanity that binds us together? I encourage you to allow yourself to feel deeply—to appreciate the beauty in our shared world—and then to DO something about it. Use your passion to effect lasting change in the world around you. Think extremely deeply, work incredibly hard, discover what makes you tick—and then find a way to bring it into the community at large. Use your work as a rallying cry, as an expression of deep grief or intense elation; use your art to move people—all people—as creatures who are one and the same on this earth. The Meadows Symphony Orchestra was challenged at the beginning of this semester by Maestro Paul Phillips to live artistic lives, every day. And I would like to extend this same challenge to all readers. Even if your profession is not one within the “traditional art” field, I encourage you to approach everyone you encounter— friends, peers, colleagues, mentors, and especially people with whom you disagree—with the same sort of awe and respect with which you would approach a famous work of art or highly-acclaimed piece of music. Look deeply within each other to find the beautiful aspects of humanity we all carry inside of us.
Stejara Dinulescu Clarity Oil Paint 9” x 9”
My friends—I challenge you to lead artistic lives. In everything that you do, for as long as you live. For in so doing, you will discover an internal sense of tolerance, a deeper appreciation of beauty, and an unconditional love for all—things this world needs now more than ever.
(above) Angie Reisch Name and Number Please, Part II (Imperfect)
Coffee, tea, mouthwash, vegetable oil, shaving cream, toothpaste, pink lemonade mix, honey, pepto bismol, salt and pepper, medicine, cumin, cocoa, mustard, foundation, metal, soap, febreeze, body spray, water, sugar, mascara, lipstick, lotion, hand sanitizer, chocolate, condom, tampon, floss, cotton thread 36” x 36”
(left) River Ribas Within grasp Ceramics 2 feet x 1 foot
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YET ANOTHER CROSSROADS THE REFUGEE CRISIS BY ALEC MASON Printed in Vol. 13, Issue 5, February 2017 Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempesttost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door! These are the hallowed words that have greeted immigrants and refugees alike to the hopeful land of America for over a century. Despite this welcoming message that Lady Liberty broadcasts out to the sea, the American populace tends to prefer sending suspicious glares and hateful policy towards people who have given everything to come here. The ubiquity of fear-based politics has transformed the country that was built by immigrants, refugees, and religious minorities into a society that turns its back on those who most need its help. Fear of the unknown has driven many groups of people away from America while giving power to those who feed upon it. From Joseph McCarthy’s Red Scare, to the American rejection of Jewish refugees escaping the German Nazi regime, to Donald Trump’s rejection of Muslim refugees and immigrants today, politics in the United States has historically been heavily influenced by fear. But just as rejecting persecuted Jewish refugees led to a death toll of around eleven million in the twentieth century,
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denying refugees, building walls, and persecuting minorities will never be ethical or effective. Refugees come to the United States to seek normalcy (or “normality”). Compared to people caught in these conflicts, Americans are in a position of privilege. Americans are able to wake up in a place where death is not a constant threat. They are able to provide a future for their families. They are able to live in a society where their identity will not lead to persecution. To let fear of the unknown decide the fate of those seeking refuge is an injustice beyond compare. Donald Trump ran a campaign that fed upon this hate and fear. His rhetoric preyed upon the most vulnerable humans for the benefit of his own hunger for power. He painted diverse groups of people with a broad and harmful brush. Refugees are terrorists in disguise. Immigrants steal jobs from “real Americans.” Muslims hate Christianity and freedom. These generalizations are not only untrue, they are direct results of thinly-veiled bigotry. Trump’s politics of fear led him to put in place one of the most inhumane orders in recent American history: the travel and refugee ban. This order can only be explained by a widespread lack of empathy in the president and his supporters. Families were kept apart, innocent people were detained
for days, and the order even kept an Iranian girl from receiving emergency medical treatment in America. This hastily implemented policy caused a widespread humanitarian crisis that could have been easily avoided. Osama AlOlabi is an SMU student who was kept apart from his family for a long period of time at DFW International Airport on the day the order was implemented. His family is of Syrian nationality, but they have lived in Saudi Arabia for almost two decades. When asked for his opinion on the current debate over Trump’s ban, he stated that he wishes for people “to put themselves in our shoes.” He went on to say that “it is already not easy to live outside your country away from your family, and now not being able to see them is just devastating.” For those who base their support for the ban on fear of terrorism, he stated that people “should not judge the many based on the actions of a few.” As painful as it is to use a cliché in a situation like this, I must say that our society is at yet another crossroads in its history. Will we be remembered as a nation that saved a multitude of lives by offering refuge to those in need, despite the risks we might incur? Or will we be remembered for standing by in silence as innocent lives were taken because we were too scared to make sacrifices? History is watching, where do you stand?
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SHOOT ME DOWN BY ALEC PETSCHE
Printed in Vol. 13, Issue 6, March 2017 I was asked not to write about politics, so I’m forced to shift my focus to the only other thing I have any real experience in: being turned down by beautiful men and women. If I could offer everyone interested in dating (but mostly straight men) one piece of advice, it would be this: learn to politely accept a rejection. I ask a lot of people out. Most of them say no. This isn’t really surprising; I’m an average looking guy with no particular charisma beyond being funny and supportive of my partners. No, the surprising thing is that I like getting turned down. I like knowing upfront what is and isn’t on the table. I like knowing I’ve taken the necessary action. I expect to get turned down later today and frankly I’m kind of looking forward to it. Too often, people (mostly men) allow their feelings to grow out of control by building idealized fantasies of someone they barely know. I once decided I was going to marry a girl after sitting behind her on a two-hour flight. If you have never done this, you are a liar. Developing intense feelings for someone before you start
seeing them romantically is (and I mean this in the nicest way possible) incredibly stupid. You grow into love with another person; it’s a mutual act. If you’re five steps ahead when you let them know you’re interested then your relationship has a serious problem before it starts. The solution is simple: ask out anyone you want to immediately after you recognize you like the person. People (again, mostly straight men) are horrified of rejection. I really don’t understand this. Do you know what happens when someone rejects you? Nothing. You feel sad for an hour, and then you go get frozen yogurt with your best friend. The only way rejection can actually hurt you is if you’ve let those feelings fester for too long. If you’ve created a world in your mind before taking the first step to make it real, then rejection becomes an internal apocalypse instead of a mildly uncomfortable conversation. Why? Why do we do this? It’s needlessly painful, not to mention delusional. In real life, the person you like isn’t that special, and frankly neither are you. Stop wasting time and see if (s)he’s interested. If (s)he
is, great! If (s)he’s not, nothing in the world could matter less than whether or not someone feels like dating you. Attraction is random and stupid; the laws of probability and evolution are not picking on you. Amazing things can happen when you open yourself up to possibilities beyond “I want a relationship with you and nothing else will cut it, so I’m just going to sit on my hands until my feelings explode out of me in an unhealthy way.” Yes, my shootfrom-the-hip asking out policy led me to my first real relationship last summer, but just as important is what I found because I didn’t worry too much about being rejected. There was a girl I tried to ask out in Café 100 who told me about an experimental theatre troupe she was in; I haven’t missed one of their shows since. Four of my closest friends are people that I briefly dated, or people I asked out who then proceeded to turn me down or date me and dump me. People (almost exclusively straight men) constantly complain about being “friend-zoned.” Well, y’all are morons, because the friend zone is awesome;
CONT.
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THE HEART OF SMU’S INTELLECTUAL COMMUNITY
do you know how many friends I have now? Most importantly, I don’t live in constant worry over whether some cute person will share my feelings because I skip that step. I like the guy my friend says I’d be good for? Asked. Wasn’t feeling it. Well, time to do some homework. I think I’d be good with the cute girl in my ethics class? Asked. No thanks. Okay, where am I going for dinner?
At a certain point, it becomes easier to accept rejection than to deal with someone saying yes. When somebody else is shutting a door, that’s easy; you gave it your best shot. When the door stays open and there are infinite opportunities to make stupid mistakes on the other side…well that’s an entirely different rabbit hole and I don’t have time to talk about it. So, to anyone reading this article (but quite especially heterosexual men), go ask out that cute person
you’ve had your eye on. (S)he said no? Just say the magic words: “Okay, I just wanted to ask,” and then go do something productive with the hours you won’t waste obsessing. The Young Pope is great, maybe watch that. At least now you know, and you’re still the same cool, valuable person you were a second ago. (S)he said yes? Wow…I don’t really know how to help you there…good luck, kid. You’re gonna need it.
meet the
HILLTOPICS 2017-2018 STAFF TERISHA KOLENCHERRY, EDITOR IN CHIEF
DESTINY ROSE MURPHY, COPY EDITOR
STEJARA DINULESCU, LAYOUT EDITOR
ANDREW SNEED, COPY EDITOR
Terisha Kolencherry is a rising senior at SMU. She studies Economics and Public Policy and hails from Austin, TX. She enjoys going to comedy shows with her bff.
Stejara Dinulescu is a junior creative computing, psychology, and studio art major. Her hobbies include ballroom dancing, consuming coffee when it is raining, slinging around paint in her studio, and consuming copious amounts of cherry pie.
ALEC MASON, ONLINE EDITOR
Alec Mason is a sophomore chemistry major on the pre-medicine track. A member of the SMU Mustang Band, he plays flute and alto saxophone, and he is also an active member of organizations such as Amnesty International. His other hobbies include debating politics, ballroom dancing, and cooking.
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Destiny Rose Murphy is a junior majoring in political science, philosophy, and English. She competes on the SMU ballroom dancing team and hopes to become a Supreme Court Justice, own a narwhal tusk, properly cook tablitas, and see religious centers of the world. (She has already checked off the Vatican.)
Drew Sneed is a rising sophomore here at SMU. He has a passion for music and last year he lived in VS Commons. Check out some of his articles online!
ANDREA DEL ANGEL, COMICS & GRAPHICS
Andrea Del Angel is a rising sophomore in the UHP. A fun fact about her is that she works on SMU’s fashion publication, the Look. If you see her styling around campus, be sure to say hello!
THE HEART OF SMU’S INTELLECTUAL COMMUNITY
WELCOME TO THE UNIVERSITY HONORS PROGRAM To our newest Honors students! When asked to encapsulate the UHP in one phrase I always respond, “to intellectually enrich a student’s time here at SMU.” In other words, our program is here to help the Honors student get the most out of his or her college experience. Whether this means taking special innovative Honors seminars with small enrollments and interesting twists and turns; embarking on one of the travel courses to far-away destinations; undertaking your own independent research project anywhere in the world through a Richter Fellowship, participating in an Honors field trip to parts of Dallas and Texas; or just hanging out in the Scholars’ Den drinking free coffee and talking with your friends –it is all part of the same Honors experience. Most formally the 6 Honors courses you take, and the final Culminating Project you complete before
graduation is your roadmap for completing the program. It all begins with our special 2 semester-long “Honors Humanities Seminar” an experience that will prepare you for college classes—and will set the tone for one of intellectual inquiry, debate, and growth. In addition, our special Honors advising with Dr. Susan Harris, Maria Crouch, Sally Spaniolo, and others you will be guided at each step along the way toward your goals. But we often remind students—these courses are just the beginning— myriad other opportunities await you throughout your four years here at SMU. This year our Honors travel courses ventured to New York City to study the Art scene; to Rome, Italy and Paris, France to study European history; to Washington and the Supreme Court to study original Supreme Court justice papers; and to Managua, Nicaragua to see first-hand how the forces of globalization are
changing that country’s economy and culture. Our independent Richter Fellowships are traveling the globe— everywhere from Taos, New Mexico to India—studying topics such as diabetes, ethnic discrimination found in the U.S., and writing a book of poetry. Beginning with our Welcome Assembly and Honors Barbeque held the first day of classes, Honors events will take place throughout the year— bringing the first year students together periodically outside the classes—with each other, upper class students through the Commons Mentoring Program, as well as faculty and staff. I look forward to welcoming you in person soon. Dr. David D. Doyle, Jr. Director
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STAFF AND CONTRIBUTORS Editor in Chief.............................. Terisha Kolencherry Tech and Layout Editor ............... Stejara Dinulescu Copy Editors ............................... Abby Hawthorne ................................ Destiny Rose Murphy ................................ Andrew Sneed Online Editor ............................... Alec Mason
Find us online at: smu.edu/univhonors Or on Facebook: SMU University Honors Program | SMU Hilltopics For exclusive online content, visit hilltopicssmu.wordpress.com
Writers
Camille Aucoin Terisha Kolencherry Alec Petsche
Abby Hawthorne Alec Mason
Images
Camille Aucoin Cover by Andrea Del Angel
Special Thanks to David Doyle Sally Spaniolo Susan Harris Camille Aucoin