WEEKEND

WEEKEND // FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2015

HARD TO TELL How we tell stories of experiencing and surviving sexual assault at Yale

By Stephanie Rogers and Isabelle Taft //Page 3

SUBJECTIVITY

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SOCIETY

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SEX

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HOW TO WRITE

HOW TO LIVE

HOW TO LOVE

Diego Fernandez-Pages explains what’s missing from academic writing — the prounoun “I.”

Do you suffer from FOMO? Yi-Ling Liu examines this quintessentially modern phenomenon.

WKND can predict the future! No, really — WKND knows all about that gross thing you did that one time.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND VIEWS

CAN I GET YOUR NUMBER?

FERNANDEZ-PAGES

WRAY

// BY CAROLINE WRAY

Synesthesia is a rare neurological condition — nay, superpower — that blends the senses. A synesthetic person “sees” non-visual experiences (e.g. tastes, musical notes, textures), often in color. I like to think that I have my own superpower, a colorless form of synesthesia: I see people in numbers.

I discovered my superpower thanks to the Enneagram, a test that can sort anyone into one of nine personality profiles. Like the other, more famous Myers-Briggs (which basically every corporation and private school in America now uses), the Enneagram promises that we can be explained, boxed up in ostensibly unique, yet totally generalized, packages. But if the Myers-Briggs is your mentor, offering polite and supportive career advice, Enneagram is your favorite aunt.

Enneagram loves you, and will remind you of this often, but she also *knows* you; she’s the only one who can explain that weird thing you did to your stuffed animals when you were seven. She sees your anxieties, your tics and the worst little seeds in your subconscious, and she’s not afraid to bring them up.

And I treat the Enneagram as gospel. I use it to “deeply understand” not only myself, but everyone I meet.

You, for instance. I bet I can guess your

number.

Plenty of Yalies (EP&E majors) are type Ones, “the Perfectionists.” A Two, “the Helper,” is your devoted suitemate who also hasn’t fully forgiven you for that time she bought you a sandwich and you didn’t say thank you. Fours, “the Individualists,” say fuck the patriarchy, the government, Yale Corp and you, for failing to understand their complex and overlooked feelings.

Most Yalies are Threes, “Achievers” who gain self-worth by collecting some combination of resume accolades, Goble pictures, “likes” on Goble pictures, memorized John Locke passages, significant others/hook-ups and/or competitive seminar spots. On the flip side, no one on this campus is a true Seven, “the Enthusiast,” an epicurean who avoids pain and extended exertion (although some want the rest of us to think they are).

Of course, these are my own nasty and over-simplified interpretations.

These nine types have inspired entire books, and I’m only slightly embarrassed to admit that I own two of them.

Naturally, I find the analysis of my own type, Nine, “the Peacemaker,” most engrossing.

“Healthy Nines can be the most contented and pleasant people imag-

inable. They are extraordinarily receptive, making people feel accepted as they are,” according to one book. “The inner landscape of the Nine resembles someone riding a bicycle on a beautiful day, enjoying everything about the flow of the experience.” Obviously, I rather like this picture: my sun-kissed body moving through life on one of those pastel-colored, Taylor-Swiftian bikes, a Stevie Wonder soundtrack in the background.

But, of course, it’s not so simple.

“We may fault Nines when they refuse to see that life, while being sweet, also has difficulties which must be dealt with,” the book goes on. “Their refusal to fix the tire when it goes flat, so to speak, is symbolic of their problem.

They would rather ignore whatever is wrong so that the tranquility of their ride will not be disturbed.”

The other day, I opened my “Enneathought of the Day” email — yes, that’s a real thing, and yes, I read it every day — and read “The Passion of Nines is Sloth.” Um. Can Sloth even be a passion? The “Passion” of Ones is Anger; Threes have Deceit; Eights even get sexy Lust. But my spot in Dante’s Inferno will be under the waters of the Styx, gurgling in the sludge, in darkness, doing nothing. Because, evidently, that’s my deadliest sin. Sloth.

My most intense desire.

I wanted to have a more exciting interior life. But then — there I was, reading the email in bed with the lights off at 2:45 p.m. on a Saturday, yesterday’s makeup clumped around my eyelids, unsorted laundry from last week at my feet. Well, what’s your point, Enneagram? That’s just how I relax!

“Nines confuse numbness with relaxation,” the book explains. “They start to seek numbness through television, or food … [They] begin to ‘tune out’ reality, becoming oblivious to what they do not want to see.”

What, doesn’t *everyone* need at least one episode of TV a day in order to sleep? Sure, maybe I do get a little bit — okay, a lot — of joy from food. I admit that my behavior might have seemed strange the other day, when I closed my eyes and sighed with pleasure while eating a mozzarella stick.

Oh my God. Am I “numb?”

Apparently, if things really deteriorate, I hit “Level 9” status — here, Nines become “catatonic, abandoning themselves, turning into shattered shells.”

Well, I don’t think I’ve fallen quite that far just yet. But I have — however fleetingly — touched “Level 1,” Nines’ nirvana. I’ve “become self-possessed,

feeling autonomous and fulfilled …

Intensely alive, fully connected to self and others.”

So, yes: I sweep conflicts under the rug, I procrastinate, and I grow too attached to fictional characters.

But I have also felt “intensely alive,” ecstatic, totally connected to my work and the people around me. I am Caroline, and I am a Nine.

And, yes: I know that I take this whole thing too seriously. I have uttered the sentences “God, I was such an unhealthy Nine today” and “Ugh, sometimes she can just be such a Six” more than once in the last few weeks, and that really does nauseate me. Just not enough to stop me. Maybe I spend so much time thinking about the Enneagram because I’d rather see numbers than people. I use it to explain away all those little blips in myself, and in others — why she made that mean joke, why he didn’t call back. And maybe this is just a BandAid over a cracked bone, a consolation and not a cure.

But, you know what? I’m a Nine. I’m just going to keep on riding my bicycle. True to form, even if the tire’s flat, I don’t want to fix it.

I feel like I haven’t written in months, even though I’ve turned in several papers, published a few articles and sent hundreds of emails. In trying to impress my peers or my professors, I’m afraid that my “I” gets lost the moment my fingers hit the keyboard. Not that the papers, articles and emails are devoid of meaning, but I have trouble experiencing the pleasure I once derived from writing.

It bothers me that we don’t write for ourselves anymore. I admire those who write in their spare time, those who reflect for the sake of reflection. It serves as a way to meditate and I value that intimacy — at a place like Yale, where privacy is one of the few privileges we lack, the line between solitude and loneliness can blur.

I think my argument has veered a little off course. I’m not just arguing for writing, I’m arguing against performance at the expense of the self.

Maybe it’s because I’ve lost my own “I” during the last semester and a half here. My “I,” perhaps, has been overwhelmed by the number of incredible people I’ve met, swallowed up by the amount of things I feel compelled to do. In my very brief time at Yale, I’ve realized that I’m constantly surrounded by thousands of people, most of whom I’ll never meet. That sense of community can be a good thing. But how much time do we spend on our own? Sequestered in a cubicle in Bass, studying away for the next test or banging out Monday’s paper? Checking a P.O. Box, or waiting in line at

Durfee’s? We’re almost never truly by ourselves here, just as we almost never write for ourselves anymore.

I love the stimulation, the energy, the excitement of being on campus.

But Yale doesn’t always encourage us to step back, away from the bustle, and to remember our “I”s. I don’t think we should fear solitude; it’s a way to unburden ourselves from our social and academic anxieties. So, if you find yourself with fewer things to do one afternoon, no paper to write, no party to prepare for, no hookup to worry about, then sit down, grab a pencil and start to write. You might just see yourself reflected on the page.

Contact CAROLINE WRAY at caroline.wray@yale.edu .

The “I” in Writing // BY DIEGO FERNANDEZ-PAGES

Something’s been missing from my writing, as of late. Yes, my thesis for that paper needed a little tightening, and sure, that quote worked better in the second paragraph than in the conclusion. My writing rambles, my arguments deflate, and I’ve truly been trying my hardest to eliminate the passive voice — still, this isn’t what I’m talking about. I’m talking about how little I’ve been using the word “I.” Teachers tell us to avoid the first person, to weed out the “I” out from our scholastic vocabularies like an unwelcome guest. We start writing for teachers, for schools, for good enough grades. There are exceptions, of course — perhaps our teachers assigned creative or personal writing projects at some point. But still, these are assign-

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ments to complete and return, eventually reduced to red marks in the margins and single letters at the top.

This isn’t an argument against schoolwork. After all, we need the writing skills we learn as students — they teach us to argue more eloquently, to analyze more effectively, and to express ourselves more comprehensibly. This is an argument against writing exclusively for other people, against forgetting the “I” in writing. (There are two, technically, but that’s another story.) When we write, we articulate our selves, putting our identities into words, explaining our ideas from an inherently personal perspective. When we write, we look in a mirror: We should see ourselves reflected on the page.

JOHN WALSH LECTURE ON REMBRANDT

Contact DIEGO FERNANDEZ-PAGES at diego.fernandez-pages@yale.edu .

WKND RECOMMENDS:

YUAG // 1:30 p.m.

You literally have to show up fifteen minutes early to get a seat at these lectures. Trust us.

Mercury! The warrior planet is no longer in retrograde — just in time for Friday the 13th.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

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WEEKEND COVER

SURVIVING, LIVING: YALE AFTER SEXUAL VIOLENCE // BY STEPHANIE ROGERS AND ISABELLE TAFT

// ZISHI LI

ast semester, Rachel* went home with a guy she met at a party. While they were hooking up, he penetrated her with a large object. She told him to stop, but he refused, leaving her bloodied and bruised. When she got back to her room, a friend helped her shower and get into bed.

The next morning, she woke up with fuzzy memories of the night, but with enough recollection and lingering pain to know she had experienced something violent. However, when a friend visited her room in tears, telling her he was sorry for what had happened to her, she wasn’t sure her distress matched his.

“Part of me felt like I was the worst human on earth,” Rachel said. She had the sense that she wasn’t reacting to her experience in the “right way.”

“I felt hungover. That was my number-one feeling, and my vagina hurt a lot. It was physical stuff I felt … I just felt so much pressure to feel [traumatized] and like everyone expected that from me.”

Three days after the assault, Rachel

L

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and two friends walked to the Sexual Harassment and Assault Resource and Education Center (SHARE) at Yale Health. She saw a counselor within three minutes of arriving and delivered a matter-of-fact description of what had happened, explaining that she had come to SHARE because it seemed like “the right thing to do.” Her counselor explained various options for initiating a complaint against her assailant, formal or informal, and receiving further mental health treatment. But Rachel didn’t feel she needed anything more from SHARE. Four days after the assault, Rachel drove to her gynecologist’s office.

She recalls that everyone in the office seemed to be “walking on eggshells.”

The nurse practitioner, a middle-aged woman with a daughter Rachel’s age, greeted her with a hug — a change, Rachel noted, from earlier visits when she insinuated that Rachel’s choice to have multiple sexual partners was irresponsible.

Rachel explained that she hadn’t used a condom and needed treatment for STIs. Then the nurse practitioner examined Rachel and showed her

areas of her body — bruises, abrasions — to watch for signs of infection. She took photographs of the wounds in case Rachel ever wanted to press charges.

“Fucking guys,” Rachel recalls the nurse practitioner saying, enraged.

Back on campus, a close friend encouraged Rachel to talk to a Community and Consent Educator about the experience, but Rachel didn’t want to.

For a while, she felt guilty about it. For a while, she wondered why the man from that night had done what he did.

Within a few weeks, however, she decided he hadn’t meant to hurt her.

She doesn’t feel uncomfortable around the man from that night, and she thinks it’s possible he was so drunk he didn’t realize what he was doing. She doesn’t identify as a survivor. She considers what happened that night an act of violence, but not one significantly different from, she says, a punch to the arm.

That conclusion is not one she feels all of her friends and family immediately embraced. “I think everyone just thought I was in denial,” Rachel says.

“It wasn’t like people were mad at me or thought I was bad or stupid. I think they thought I hadn’t come to terms

THE TROUBLESOME REIGN OF KING JOHN Iseman Theater // 8 p.m.

According to Wikisource, “Performed about 1590 by the Queen’s Men. Published 1591 from foul papers. AUTHOR UNKNOWN.” WKND is intrigued.

with what had happened, and so they thought I was being matter-of fact for that reason … But I just don’t think so.”

Rachel is clear her experience does not necessarily hold any specific lessons for other women dealing with sexual violence. The lesson it does hold — for survivors, for Yalies, for anyone who may one day listen to a friend tell a story of a deeply personal trauma — is that there is no universal script and certainly no “right way” to experience the aftermath of sexual violence.

In the wake of sexual assault, regardless of whether survivors pursue disciplinary action against their attacker, they may face a transformed Yale. A space they once inhabited with ease may become a minefield of unwanted encounters, a landscape of potential pain. Friendships may disintegrate under the weight of doubt or feelings of betrayal. The residential college system may fail, in a time of crisis, to offer them the resources, support and sense of community for which it is celebrated.

Something as simple as going to dinner in a dining hall can cause memories of trauma to come rushing back.

At the same time, survivors’ deeply

personal experiences combine to form an increasingly public, political fabric: the campus sexual assault epidemic and the debate surrounding it — how to talk about it, what universities need to do to address it, whether it even exists.

Yale has played a significant role in the decades-long national conversation surrounding sexual misconduct on college campuses — Alexander v. Yale, “No means yes, yes means anal,” a Title IX suit, among other high-profile incidents. But those stories, while central to understanding sexual assault on campus, have already been told.

The narrative, meanwhile, has left some stories untold. Those stories are of women attempting to live — not just survive — in this small community after acts of sexual violence. *** In 2009, the Report of the Women Faculty Forum Council on Sexual Misconduct at Yale noted that the University had a “confusing, patchwork quilt system of formal and informal proceSEE SEXUAL ASSAULT PAGE 8

WKND RECOMMENDS: Aligned stars! Great news — according to math and geometry, any two stars are aligned at any given moment. Science.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND FEARS

THE QUESTION OF FOMO // BY YI-LING LIU

//ASHLYN OAKES

There’s always a party that you’re missing out on.

You know the party that I’m talking about. You’re sitting on the couch, planning to kick back with a plate of mint-flavored Milanos and watch all three hours and 21 minutes of “The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King.” Laptop propped by your side, you quickly scan through your Facebook newsfeed only to discover that someone has posted a photo of a party they’re hosting in their suite.

One glance at the photo, and you can tell it’s the party of the century.

You can envisage it clearly: They’re playing the perfect combination of music you like (indulgent pop, some jazz, Kendrick’s best tracks), somebody has strung up multi-colored Christmas lights, and everyone is at a perfect level of content, conversation-inducing, pink-cheeked tipsiness.

All those people that you’ve ever wanted to meet and get to know — the kid in your freshman seminar, that cool junior you met in the line at Blue State, that friend who happens to also be into botany and DC comics, your future spouse — they’re all there, at the party. The party you’re missing out on.

Despite the underlying understanding that nothing will satisfy you more than watching Aragorn and Legolas pal up with the Army of the Dead and crush Sauron’s forces, all you can think of is The Party, the Fireball and plastic cups of Popov’s that you didn’t consume, the Kendrick you didn’t bop around to, the potential spouse that you failed to meet.

You think of those Christmas lights, twinkling pixels of diamond and ruby and amethyst, taunting you from the photo on your newsfeed. You are restless and anxious; you feel like you have a phantom limb with this itch that you just can’t scratch.

This malaise is called The Fear Of Missing Out, a source of anxiety that has become so ubiquitous, thanks to the likes of Facebook and Instagram, that it has been bequeathed its own

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acronym: FOMO. The Facebook newsfeed, a treasure trove of parties unattended, of friends unmade, of roads not taken, exacerbates its symptoms.

One quick scroll-through, and you’ll find that in the hour you’ve been waiting to collect your package from the post office, somebody went jet-skiing in Bora Bora, and someone else finished writing a screenplay. While you scarfed down a P&B sandwich for lunch, someone else dined on authentic Moroccan couscous. When you did five crunches at the gym, somebody else finished a half-marathon in the desert of Inner Mongolia.

What makes things worse is that these people are not celebrities or moguls or millionaires, but people you know, friends and acquaintances. And if they could do it, you could accomplish the same. Opportunities dangle like tropical fruit, overripe and waiting to be plucked.

And so you fill your basket, pack your schedule with poetry readings at the Beinecke and intramural soccer games and dates and Free Jazz concerts and tailgates in the hope that there is a never a party missed out on. You are in a constant state of insatiability, of restlessness — a Jay Gatsby on steroids.

Instead of strolling down to the beach every other evening to check out the green light by Daisy’s dock, you find yourself constantly gazing at the world through a viridian lens of longing and endless possibility. Free meal at Geronimo’s with the Liberal Party, mixer with the ski team, master’s tea with Egyptian civil society expert, lunch with the kid who sits next to you in Econ section. The green light shines 24/7. *** If anywhere remains shielded from the green glow, it’s Deep Springs College, where 26 students live on a ranch in the empty desert near the California-Nevada border. Unlike Yale, where one is surrounded by the constant thrum of

college life, there is nothing there to distract and entice but scrub, sand, rock and a horizon of mountain ridges and ice-capped peaks.

There are no human inhabitants for 100,000 acres, and unless they are on official school business, students may not go into the nearest town.

THERE’S ALWAYS A PARTY THAT YOU’RE MISSING OUT ON.

Lucas, a Deep Springer, wakes up after six, just as the farm team disperses across the 11 fields to move irrigation lines. Over the White Mountains, the sun rises; its rays catch the gleaming alfalfa and the back of his coat as he bikes towards breakfast. A scoop of homemade yogurt, then three hours of class — the first has ten students, the second, three.

After class, he gets the baler and makes his way down to Field 4.

Deep Springs runs on student labor, and students rotate through jobs ranging from “general labor” (digging ditches, repairing fences, fixing vehicles) to “student cowboy” (keeping an eye out for calving heifers from the late afternoon until sunrise each night). Today, Lucas is in charge of the tractor.

In the afternoon, he decides to curl up by the fire to read and write.

Later, as the sun sits on the ridges over the West, he takes a slow stroll down to the corrals before setting off to the field for half an hour of soccer.

After dinner, Deep Springs’s weekly Student Body meeting is called to order; all 26 students convene to share their thoughts on the day, elect a treasurer, evaluate a pro-

YALE SCHOOL OF DRAG Yale Cabaret // 8 p.m.

Drag your friends there, kicking and screaming. Heh heh.

fessor and discuss proposals to build a new cowboy house and to ban certain technologies.

At midnight, Lucas sinks into the couch with his books, and when his eyelids begin to droop, he stumbles across the corridor into his hammock and falls into a deep, dreamless slumber.

If you find something incredibly appealing about Lucas’s lifestyle, you are not alone. We have long sought to temper the chaos of modern life with natural quiet and solitude — just as Thoreau retreated to his cabin at Walden Pond and Coleridge “reared in the great city, pent ’mid cloisters dim,” yearned for the tranquility of a frosty midnight, we too want to carve out a refuge from today’s hectic and hyper-connected world.

Think of Lucas, as he shifts gears in his tractor, walks to class and cooks omelets for dinner. Is FOMO even part of his vocabulary? I assumed that the longing to be everywhere, to see everything, to meet everyone, was muted and tamed by the barrenness of the landscape. I wanted to know what that felt like.

I decided to email another Deep Springer, a high school friend who chose two years in the Valley over big names like Stanford and Brown, with my qualms about the endless hubbub of college life.

His response, a week later, surprised me. His experiences bore less of a resemblance to Leo’s than to my own freshman fall.

“Here, as at Yale, there is also never time,” he wrote. In addition to academics, governance (he’s reading faculty job applications) and labor (gardening), he’s been playing an hour of piano a day, joined a Zarathustra reading group and recently tried to make a Chinese milk/egg pudding for Sunday dinner.

“In my eagerness to do things last term,” he told me, “I ended up living like a machine – going from task to task endlessly on a treadmill.”

He also wants to fix pianos, go

climbing and read more outside of class, but he never has time. And he feels like he’s missing out on “Big College Opportunities”: He wants to learn French, math and analytic philosophy, classes not offered in the Valley. Simply going up to the mountains or down to the sea, it appears, does not cure us of these anxieties. “I’m too fucking busy doing all kinds of shit to properly hear the voice of the desert,” he said.

So it seems that we aren’t seeking refuge or isolation, but instead this elusive voice — a sense of reassurance, of guidance.

It’s not jealousy that lies at the root of FOMO, but confusion. We suffer from FOMO not because we really want to do a half-marathon in inner Mongolia but because we realize that somebody else has made a choice different from our own. Deep Springs, rather than an isolated haven, is simply another path that I chose not to take. And my anxiety stems not from having too many options, but from fear of choosing the wrong one, an anxiety inherent in any decision.

What we’re looking for is clarity. But thanks to Facebook, we’ve been thrust into a massive, swirling, chaotic galaxy of infinite alternatives; we are pulled back and forth by an anarchic tangle of status updates and parties that we could have attended. But social media has only exacerbated insecurities that have always existed. The questions driving what we call FOMO predate the acronym: Have I made the right decisions? How do I want to live my life?

And so we move from party to party, from East Egg to West Egg, from city to valley, from the suburbs to the mountains to the woods to the lakes, with these questions always on our minds. There are, no doubt, ways to learn restraint and humility, to gain focus and satisfaction, to find answers. But they won’t be written in the landscape.

Contact YI-LING LIU at yi-ling.liu@yale.edu .

WKND RECOMMENDS: Star-crossed lovers! Since any two stars are always aligned, you & your belovèd are always kinda starcrossed. Maybe.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

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WEEKEND ARTS

SHEDDING LIGHT ON JAPANESE TREASURES // BY CLAIRE WILLIAMSON What can we give back to a university like Yale? The simple answer is, of course, money, but that comes with certain implications and problems.

Money can never express the unique combination of history and emotion we associate with our alma mater: No one remembers money. Asakawa Kan’ichi, who received his doctorate at Yale and went on to spend most of his career here, personally acquired and donated over 20,000 volumes of original Japanese maps, manuscripts and other records. Additionally, he inspired the Yale Association of Japan to amass its own collection for the University.

What, then, can we give? The exhibit “Treasures from Japan,” currently on display at the Beinecke Library, is an answer to that question.

The exhibit is displayed in two glass cases on either side of the Beinecke’s ground floor. Quiet and unassuming, the objects didn’t scream for my attention, but they captured it with their elegant brush strokes and historical significance. “Treasures” is a combination of historical documents, poetry and screen printings that manage to capture Japan’s history and its relationship with art and the outside world. I saw an almanac for the year 1445 with handwritten diary entries by a highranking priest, tax receipts from the Todaiji temple, a screen print of a devastating earthquake with fire licking the sides of wooden houses, and woodblock portraits of Commodore Perry and his crew with comically large noses and wild hair — qualities out of place with their starched, formal uniforms.

Intriguing individually, these works tell the story of a country that held on to its unique culture even as it was opened to the outside world. A letter on display epitomizes this contradiction — in it, Yoshida Shoin expresses his desire to return with Perry to the United States and “see the world.” (Shoin was later executed for his desires to begin the grassroots movement that would become the Meiji Restoration, a transition into Western “modernization.”)

As I perused the records of taxes, sutras and poetry, I played a game with myself: How many of the delicately penned characters could I recognize?

To my shame (and that of my Japanese sensei, I’m sure) I recognized next to none of them. Sometimes a character would jump out at me — autumn, far, wind — but these moments of clarity were fleeting. I couldn’t unravel meaning from what seemed to be tangled knots of ink or meaningless squiggles.

Yet I took pleasure in following the gentle curves of calligraphy with my eyes, seeing how each character bled into the next. It was a relaxing, almost meditative exercise.

My favorite piece on display was a series of poems from the anthology “Grasses of Remembrance.” The last poem in particular blended the old and the new, reminding me that life is constantly in flux: “As my lover leaves, The skirt of his garment blows, Showing the lining In a flash of cool delight Comes the first breeze of autumn!”

The last line — “aki no hatsukaze” — brings to mind the skittering of leaves in a breeze and the ushering in of change.

The word “hatsu” or “new” in Japanese has great significance. The first snow of the year, hatsuyuki. The first dream in a new year, hatsuyume. And first love, hatsukoi. This poem clearly marks an ending — the lover is walking away — yet the new breeze brings changes that might not be entirely unwelcome.

In the midst of all these changes, what can we leave of ourselves here at Yale? Asakawa left behind a collection of books as a gateway for others to understand more about Japan and its rich history and culture. I usually have trouble making connections with objects so far removed from my life, but as I left the Beinecke, I realized that the objects I’d seen had illuminated the present.

Contact CLAIRE WILLIAMSON at claire.williamson@yale.edu .

// JULIA HENRY

Reckless and Raucous Mind-Space on Chapel Street // BY ERIC LIN

The name of the exhibit at the Fred Giampetro Gallery featuring art by Zachary Keeting and Anahita Vossoughi is “Rockless Volume.” I find this both confusing and a little silly. Unfortunately, the press release doesn’t fully clear things up: “Rockless (without rocks, between reckless and raucous) Volume (three-dimensional space, mind-space, loudness).” Phonetically, the explanation is sort of clever: “Rockless” combines reckless and raucous. But was the art really “*between* reckless and raucous” or was it just “reckless and raucous?”

And though volume is “three-dimensional space,” is it also “mind-space?”

Usually when I encounter such curatorial explanations, I just hope that I’ll find the art appealing. After all, I’m only a freshman non-artist who has trouble grasping conceptual art. Luckily, the art of “Rockless Volume” is appealing — wildly, deliciously appealing. Moreover, the press release made sense to me, providing conceptual grounding for work that could have just been emotional expression.

Keeting’s paintings immediately struck me, and I found the explanations of his work compelling. According to the press release, his work is “down in the orchestra pit under the timpani, and watching quietly from the back of a café … This is an art of more. More complexity, more concealment, more fluidity, more radical balance.”

It’s not a bad assessment.

As someone who can live on rich colors, textures and sharp edges, I was enraptured by his paintings. The works were intensely physical, involving peeling paint and impasto, and the results of such physicality were addictive. But the handy press release promised more than eye candy, and the art made good on that promise. There was something claustrophobic yet vibrant to the diversity of independent textures and colors. Yes, this art was exactly “down in the orchestra pit under the timpani!”

As “art of more,” the largest paintings were the best. They weren’t mood pieces; they depicted experience. Some of the smaller ones, on the other hand, were more emotionally limited. “December (1)” reminded me of ’90s psychedelia, something like Primal Scream’s “Screamadelica.” “August (2)” felt like a cool Asian landscape. These canvases weren’t bad, but they weren’t “radical balance.” That would be “November (2),” or the epic — and for

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art connoisseurs, much more expensive — “July (2).” In these two paintings, the colors and textures really overlapped, neither colliding nor fitting together like puzzle pieces. Flat blue, then a derelict, dry brown, and a rich, swirling red.

I liked Vossoughi’s sculptures just as much, though I was more skeptical of the corresponding press release explanations. Her works were described as “bodies in-between, self-aware of their inherent social and cultural contradictions, their limitations and vulnerabilities … these bodies call into question accepted notions of harmony, excess and beauty.”

I had to pick up the exhibit’s catalogue, because without it, I couldn’t discern that her creations “referenc[ed] body parts.” (I still don’t fully see it.)

She made these works over a long stretch of time, and the careful consideration is easy to see. Her sculptures had a kind of awkward beauty — like Keeting’s paintings, they derived meaning from their details. Found objects clashed with the clay’s organic forms, drawing me in.

Humor and whimsy were a necessary part of her work. “Untitled: Water Bottle” could have been a corny environmentalist gimmick, but I loved the heavy, shell-incrusted fecal shape precariously set on sticks. The most beautiful sculpture was “Untitled: Necklace and Head”: foil and a necklace rested on a smooth, imperfectly marked bust-like mass of clay. While this was a new kind of harmony, excess and beauty, I wasn’t sure that “Untitled: Necklace and Head” really “called into question” these three concepts.

I still find the name “Rockless Volume” silly. Keeting’s paintings have mind-space, but volume isn’t mind space. Vossoughi is reckless and raucous, but not “rockless.”

Nevertheless, the work is presented cleanly and the infamous press release really did help me engage with the exhibit. Be sure to ask the receptionist for a copy — your experience is incomplete without it.

Contact ERIC LIN at eric.v.lin@yale.edu .

REDHOT AND BLUE JAM Parish House // 8 p.m.

We are mostly interested in finding out what the “Parish House” is.

// IRENE JIANG

WKND RECOMMENDS: Palm readers! The wrinkle by your pinky means that Mark in ENGL 120 wants to smooch you.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

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WEEKEND DATES

Bachelorette #1 Chemistry & Economics, minoring in global food appreciation

My cuddles. I’ve been told that I “just fit so perfectly” “I Dared to Dream”

THE BLINDEST DATE

Bachelor #1

F

Ethics, Politics, and Economics (imaginary minor: East Asian Studies / Chinese)

eeling lonely? Lovelorn? Dreading Valentine’s Day? Never fear — WKND has devised

My ideal mate will somehow learn to love all sides of me: the sassy, the derpy, the nerdy, the idealistic, the logical, the ambitious, the adventurous (in all different ways… was that subtle enough?) and the loving.

the perfect solution to Yalies’ amorous woes. We’ve selected a handful of lucky bach-

I can spell basically any word you can think of.

elors and bachelorettes from a large and qualified pool of applicants for this week’s

queer edition. They’ve summarized their: major; minor; superpower; future autobiography

To Affect the Quality of the Day

title; and ideal mate for you. Now you, dear reader, get to vote for your favorite contestant to

Bachelorette #2

My ideal mate would be smart and thoughtful, with a genuine love of learning and sense of curiosity about the world. He would enjoy philosophizing till the wee hours of the morning, and he’d be an idealist, not a cynic — he would be capable of appreciating ambiguity, but he would also have deeply held beliefs and principles. He’d be a political radical who believes in the possibility of progress and making the world a more humane place, and he’d be compassionate and kind towards others. He would enjoy art, literature, theater, music and gourmandizing, and he would be adventuresome and willing to try out new activities and pastimes. He’d also have a good sense of humor and would be able to get me to lighten up when I’m too serious. Good looks certainly wouldn’t hurt, but I’m most interested in someone with a true personality.

determine who gets paired up for a V-Day blind date. Simply visit the WKND section of the YDN’s website, click on this article, scroll down and vote in the polls for your favorite bachelor and bachelorette by midnight next Wednesday.

English major with a minor in hypotheticals Some of my superpowers include shape-shifting gradually with diet and exercise, fine motor skills and invisibility to bartenders.

Playbuzz said, “The Diary of a Traveling Renegade: the Tale of You” — YOU My ideal mate has a long silken coat, fine pointed teeth and a working familiarity with all four episodes of 30 Rock. She loves games and fun-spirited horseplay and would have no use for a Brita filter. She wouldn’t even know what it was. Her one big indulgence is Q-tips.

She’s a southpaw. She rides a bicycle, or she could if she wanted to.

She’s sensitive but hard to crack, and funny, like a walnut.

Bachelor #2

Bachelor #6

English Comparative Children’s Literature

History; Imaginary Minor: Political Science You know, I’ve always wanted the power to turn my enemies into potatoes; if I were a super (or rather a supper) hero, I’d call myself “Spud” Bud. Not This Guy Again: The Life and Times of Me

Bachelorette #3

Bachelor #7

Dreams of My Father. Wait, fuck.

History

Sociology, with a minor in ugly selfies

Beautiful eyes, taller than I am (5’2 ¾”. Fractions are important), funny, charming, sarcastic and sassy, witty, enjoys/appreciates/tolerates puns of all qualities, a top-notch cuddler with a great butt.

Using beanies to cover up bad hair days (hair flip emoji)

The ability to find two girls who are clearly in love with each other in any given TV show. Also basic hacking skills.

“Programming Languages are like Real Languages, Only Better”

Music (with a minor in Unemployment Studies) Waterbending. This has been confirmed by three independent buzzfeed quizzes.

Someone sweet who appreciates nerdy pop culture references.

Blizzard Baes: The Musical I’m interested in someone who makes me laugh.

Someone athletic but who is secretly artsy in their spare time. Someone strong outside and gentle inside.

Someone who likes to go on outdoor adventures. I tend to think blond and muscular, but that’s totally not a requirement. I’m a tea person, but I don’t discriminate.

Bachelorette #5 My REAL superpower is being able to make people desire me by dilating my pupils when thinking of chocolate cake

Chemistry, probably. Imaginary minor: EDM (electronic dance music for those of you who aren’t hip with today’s youth)

I Still Don’t Know How To Cite; Sorry In Advance My ideal mate would have their sex parts intact, be musical, and be lactose-intolerant (aka vegan), but the cheesiest there is.

I’m memorable enough that people know who I am, but not memorable enough that I’m ever suspicious ;) Oh God, What’s Going On: The Story of Some Guy, or Something Someone who can surprise me. Someone feminist.

Someone was voted “Most likely to secretly be a Russian Spy” in High School.

13

My ideal mate is someone who has a lot of energy and enthusiasm, enjoys doing and talking about a lot of different things, cares about the world around him, and appreciates the occasional Yiddishism.

WKND RECOMMENDS:

SATURDAY FEBRUARY

Magical thinking! If your TA says “dialectic” in the next 3 seconds, Lizzy looooooves you.

14

Undecided (still a freshman yo); Imaginary Minor: also Undecided (I am literally clueless) The power to seduce anyone at any time.

“What I Learned from Grindr — and Other Life Lessons” Sweet and charming, great sense of humor (self-deprecating is a plus), able to hold a fun, “all over the place” conversation, around 5’8”, blue eyes, proficient at twerking. Defined forearms are also a big plus.

Bachelor #5

Bachelor #9

Thug Life: Volume 1 : Street Fame

We are mostly interested in finding out what “Nick Chapel” is.

Put(ting it) Together: My Story

Bachelor #4

Bachelor #8

Double major in computer science and linguistics

FEBRUARY

Coffeebrewing To never need sleep!

Nice hair, kind eyes, and a burning hatred for capitalism

Bachelorette #4

Nick Chapel // 9 p.m.

Mr. Darcy’s wit with Mr. Bingley’s sincerity.

Bachelor #3

The ability to control time. This is the only way I’d be able to get a decent amount of sleep AND make it to my 10:30 chem class on time.

FIFTH HUMOR SHOW

How did I get here?

Someone swell, kind, and supportive. All else is on a per-case basis.

Psychology, minoring in Sleep Inertia Studies.

FRI D AY

I can draw a map of the U.S. freehand.

TCHAIKOVSKY’S OPERA “IOLANTA” Sprague Hall // 12:30 p.m.

Iolanta is a beautiful blind princess who knows neither that she’s a princess, nor that she’s blind. But she still knows vaguely that she is missing something important. WKND relates.

Djiboutian Studies Being #flawless Faking my readings for section #YOLO Human with a pulse, between 18 and 22, under 5’11” Funny, like Iliza Shlesinger, but as a gay male Bonus quote: If I don’t understand this intro econ class, how am I supposed to know how many shoes I can buy in one semester?

WKND RECOMMENDS: Love potion #9! The science behind this one is a little vague, but WKND has faith.

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YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND COVER

SHADES OF GRAY // BY STEPHANIE ROGERS AND ISABELLE TAFT SEXUAL ASSAULT FROM PAGE 3 dures” to address sexual assault. The proposed solution, the UniversityWide Committee on Sexual Misconduct, would offer a centralized body for addressing formal and informal complaints.

Sylvia* never wanted the things that a UWC case had the potential to give her. She didn’t want retribution or the expulsion of her assailant. The most she wanted was for him to apologize, and she knew that filing a complaint with an administrative disciplinary committee couldn’t give her that.

Sylvia recalls being raped by someone in her friend group at a party during her freshman year. Although she can hardly remember the assault, some witnesses later told her that she could barely walk and claimed they saw her alleged assailant pull her into her bedroom. Two students from that party went to Yale Health for intoxication.

“I probably should have gone [to Yale Health] too,” she said.

When she woke up the next morning, Sylvia had no idea what happened to her. She found over 25 texts on her phone from others not at the party, asking whether she was okay. Later, Sylvia found out that while she was passed out, he was typing texts and telling the people in her friend group what had happened — shaping in their minds what occurred. Friends told Sylvia later that he told them that “it wasn’t even sex” because he didn’t ejaculate. Little by little, Sylvia pieced together what transpired that night.

But her close friends had already decided for her what had happened.

They called it “an awkward situation” that she “needed to fix.” They wanted her to reach a speedy and amicable reconciliation with her assailant for the sake of the friend group. They viewed the experience as a drunken mistake, rather than assault.

But she wasn’t able to resolve things so easily. Whenever she saw her assailant around campus, she tensed up and immediately left the area.

“My [sexual assault] experience was stolen from me, and I therefore couldn’t even admit to myself what had happened,” she sighed. Sylvia could not admit to herself the pain of what had occurred because others tried to force her to believe it was her fault.

She never considered filing a complaint, and she was hesitant to visit mental health facilities because, she said, of their reputation on campus for making Yale students withdraw.

Sylvia contemplated transferring to another school. She started drinking herself to sleep. What hurt her most after her experience, she says, was not the thought of her assailant walking around campus — it was that she had no support system for herself and no one to

validate her feelings.

Unlike the usual survivor story, Sylvia did not seek disciplinary retribution. While she still feels unsettled by the fact that her assailant holds a prominent position in a student group on campus, and though she finds it hard to be in the same room as him, she said that her goal was never his expulsion or imprisonment. Instead, she just wanted him to show some sense of remorse or acknowledge that what he did was wrong.

Not until Sylvia took part in the Sexual Literacy Forum (SeLF) — a discussion group that meets weekly and addresses issues of consent — did she finally admit to herself the truth and cope with the resulting emotions. In a workshop called “Violation of Boundaries,” she described to peers in her group what happened to her. Contrary to how her friends had treated the incident, the group members listened, stunned. She remembers them saying, “What happened to you sucks.”

Although their sentiments may not have been well articulated, Sylvia remembers this moment as one of relief and acceptance.

For Sylvia, this safe space on campus, rather than the conventional means of seeking justice, was the key to reclaiming her agency. The kind of informal support she found through SeLF exists in other smaller networks, which fall outside the domain of Yale’s institutional safety net.

Jessica Leão ’16 has found this to be the case with her sorority. Gathering in their sorority house once a month, Leão and her sisters place anonymous notes into a box according to a three-yearold ritual called “Things our sisters like and things our sisters dislike.” Concerns with campus sexual culture and personal experiences are often brought up. Leão explained that it is never their place to label each other as survivors of sexual assault or not; instead, they listen to one another and validate each other’s experiences.

Community and Consent Educator Corey Malone-Smolla ’16, who is in the same sorority, explained that an instructional module teaches every new sorority sister proper ways to respond to a friend who has revealed an experience with sexual assault.

Exasperated by her friends’ response to her assault, Sylvia said Yale students and administrators have a tendency to lay undue emphasis on the “perfect rape victim,” who bears little resemblance to most people at Yale who experience sexual violence.

“People are silenced by this narrative of victimhood, and [survivors] of rape are held to this one emotional response, having to report it in one way,” said Women’s Center Outreach Coordinator Isabel Cruz ’17. “[We] need to recognize that there are a lot of other experi-

ences and a lot of other people who are being swept under the rug by the traditional narrative of what happens in sexual assault.” *** Standing with her parents on Commencement Day, Eden Ohayon ’14 froze — her assailant had just walked past.

The man who took advantage of her on a night she can barely remember was uncomfortably close to her family. Later, about to approach some of her best friends from another residential college, she turned back because he was standing nearby. The walks back to her off-campus apartment in her last semester were ridden with anxiety because he lived close to her.

Ohayon felt that he had violated a particularly meaningful space. “I don’t have many roots because my homelife was scattered all over the country,” she said. “That was my one room and [Yale was a] home for me, and then I was completely let down by it. I think that was the worst part.”

Last semester, Ohayon wrote a column for the News in which she described her frustration with the ruling of her UWC case: Her assailant was found not to have violated Yale’s sexual misconduct policy. But her everyday experiences after the assault raises the question of how communities within Yale, aside from seeking justice, can make the environment a safe and comfortable one for survivors, even when the assailant and survivor must live alongside one another.

Masters, deans and administrators seek to make Yale a home for every student. Master of Branford College Elizabeth Bradley admitted that this task can be difficult when every student who has experienced sexual assault has a unique story. Bradley said it has always been her mission to make Branford a loving and inclusive community, a “psychologically safe space” for all students.

Although Bradley wants each student to feel comfortable enough to talk to her about anything, she hesitated to say she would ever directly address sexual assault with the Branford community at large. Besides the beginning of freshman year, when students receive instruction from CCEs, Bradley only comes in contact with entire classes during the holidays, Commencement or through her weekly Sunday email.

Bradley felt that these forums are inappropriate times and places to address the gravity of sexual assault.

When contemplating what she could write to all students in an email she said, “What would you say? It is hard to say something of a general nature that is really helpful. So, for people who have never had an experience [with sexual assault] or don’t know anyone who

has had an experience, they would read something like that and it is in one ear, out the other. And then for the people who are really hurting they will think, ‘Well that was pretty superficial.’”

Yale administrators defend the University’s institutional resources for sexual assault survivors. Yale College Dean Jonathan Holloway said that since leaving his position as master of Calhoun College for the dean’s office, he has gained a greater appreciation for the complexity of each case.

“I don’t know that [the UWC process] will ever be satisfactory to the students involved in the case,” he said.

Laura* received her desired result from her UWC case: The assailant was told to leave Yale. She commended Yale’s systems for receiving reports of sexual assault, as well as the SHARE facilities. Nonetheless, a large portion of Laura’s senior year was spent thinking about her experience and doubting her own emotions. No longer able to summon the energy to perform, she took time off from her extracurriculars.

Meanwhile, other friends expected her to write op-eds and speak in a political way about her experience. But she wasn’t ready to do so.

“Friends would ask me, ‘Well, are you going to write op-eds and, like, become an activist now?’” Laura explained.

“And that idea was so exhausting.”

Laura did find solace in what she calls a “subculture of survivors.” She was not the only person hurt by her assailant, who had assaulted several other students on campus. She felt more powerful and less victimized as part of the community of women who were also hurt by the assailant and as part of the larger community of survivors at Yale.

After she began speaking openly about her assault, other survivors shared their stories with her.

“People are excited now about the momentum surrounding this really important student activist movement, which I’m now really very much a part of, but I think that becoming a part of that [movement] took time and took autonomy. People want you to be a certain type of survivor right away, but every survivor feels a bit differently,” she added. *** Unlike many women at Yale, for Rachel, moving forward has not been an emotionally fraught process. In thinking about her experience and discussing it with friends, however, she has come to believe that, as a campus, we’re incapable of discussing sexual encounters that are uncomfortable, but which don’t qualify as assault or harassment.

She considers herself fortunate to have a group of sex-positive female friends who are troubled by the presumption

that if a girl gets drunk and has sex, her consent was necessarily violated.

Early on during their time at Yale, her friends would warn her at parties if they thought that she was too drunk to hook up with someone. She thinks their concern stemmed from the same wellmeaning, but ultimately incorrect, belief that she needed to be protected.

“There is a conversation here and I think part of that conversation needs to be women enjoy sex, should feel great having sex, should feel encouraged to have sex,” Rachel said.

Molly,* the friend of Rachel’s who helped her get to bed the night she was assaulted, recalled that Rachel had been confused, upset and in pain. But when Rachel said she wasn’t traumatized, Molly believed her. Molly, too, has had sexual experiences she considers “uncomfortable.”

Last year, she was having sex with a man when she told him she was in pain.

“I’m almost finished,” she recalls him responding.

“But it’s not sexual assault, it’s just like an uncomfortable thing,” Molly said. “But it’s also hard to talk about, because I had slept with that person before and I slept with them again.

If you talk with someone about that, would they say you’re a weak person because you slept with someone after they wronged you?” *** Even after Laura received the results she wanted from the UWC, her healing entailed working with Melanie Boyd to create CCE videos explaining the UWC process as well as speaking at “Take Back the Night.” Laura wanted to share the empowering end to her story, so she spoke about the day she decided to destroy the dress she was assaulted in.

Right after spring break of her senior year, Laura was cleaning her room when she found the dress lying across her closet floor.

“It was such a great dress. I had held onto it. I had worn it the night I was assaulted but I also wore it on the night of my brother’s wedding rehearsal dinner,” Laura explained. “At this point, the associations with it were marred, to say the least. I knew that in order to totally leave the past behind and get the most out of my last amount of time at Yale, I had to cut up the dress. So, my friend and I skipped to Cross Campus and decided we were central enough on campus to have our private exciting moment and then we just fucking tore the dress to shreds. It was amazing.” *Names have been changed for anonymity.

Contact STEPHANIE ROGERS at stephanie.rogers@yale.edu and ISABELLE TAFT at isabelle.taft@yale.edu .

YALE AND SEXUAL ASSAULT: A HISTORY 1980 Plaintiffs in Alexander v. Yale argue, for the first time, that sexual harassment constitutes gender discrimination, so universities are required under Title IX to mitigate it.

July 1, 2011 University-wide Committee begins operation.

SATURDAY FEBRUARY

14

September 2006 SHARE opens, offering resources to survivors of sexual assault, among other services.

October 2009 Yale University Women’s Faculty Forum submits report on sexual misconduct at Yale, describing evidence that sexual misconduct at Yale is underreported, and calling for establishment of the University-Wide Committee on Sexual Assault

August 2011

October 12, 2012

CCE program begins under the direction of Assistant Dean of Student Affairs Melanie Boyd, who heads the Office of Gender and Campus Culture. The program is intended to promote a healthy sexual climate on campus.

Title IX suit filed by former Yale employee.

THE MARRIAGE OF FIGARO Shubert Theater // 8 p.m.

Figaro, Figaro, Fi, ga, ro! That’s all we know.

October 13, 2010 DKE chanting Yes means no, No means Anal,” sparking a firestorm of controversy in the media.

June 2012 Title IX investigation resolved: The Department of Education’s Office of Civil Rights finds that Yale is not out of compliance with Title IX, as it has implemented changes to improve reporting of sexual misconduct and increase student awareness of on-campus resource for sexual violence.

March 15, 2011 16 undergraduates file Title IX complaint. The students file a complaint with the Office of Civil Rights at the Department of Education, claiming Yale has violated Title IX because it has failed to properly address sexual harassment and sexual assault.

August 2013 The fifth Semi-Annual Report on Sexual Misconduct includes many incidents of “nonconsensual sex” resulting in light punishments such as probation or a two-semester suspension, inciting the ire of people across the country, as well as many Yalies, including the group Students Against Sexual Violence at Yale.

WKND RECOMMENDS: Singing the previously quoted line loudly and repeatedly in the shower.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

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WEEKEND FORETELLS

WKND READS YOUR SEXY HOROSCOPE // BY WKND

// KONSTANTINOS VYZAS

Having put our faith in small talk, alcohol and Tinder, and having been consequently disappointed by each, WKND has since put our faith in the stars.

And what do you know — they’ve disappointed us too! But that experience has left us with a working knowledge of sexy astrology, a gift that we shall now bequeath upon you, dear reader. Behold: Your Sexy Horoscope!

Aries — Oh, impatient, foolhardy Aries! Don’t spend another Valentine’s Day alone in your room, watching “Friends” and sacrificing infants to Mars, god of blood and destruction.

Enough is enough! This Feb. 14, treat yourself to a night of revelry and merriment. In fact, our astrologers predict that you’ll see an old flame at a party. When the old flame makes an ambiguous gesture of friendship, go ahead and misinterpret that signal. (It may be a handshake, or a high-five or a friendly wave of the hand.) Throw yourself into the person’s arms — if it turns

out you got it all wrong, Mars will definitely smite the idiot.

Taurus — Take the bull by the horns this Valentine’s Day. Love is there for the taking, but you’ve got to strike while the iron is hot.

Don’t wait for Cupid to pierce your true love with an arrow — walk right up and hit ’em with your best shot. Literally. Just approach someone at a party, slap the cutie-pie, and wait for a reaction. Also — our astrologers have informed us that you have a secret admirer! If you’re curious, make deliberate, angry eye contact with everyone you see this Valentine’s Day: that person on High St. who blushes and looks away is your belovèd.

Gemini — Wedding bells are ringing for you and your one true love! (The Harkness tower bells, on the other hand, are not ringing for you and your one true love. The Harkness tower bells ring for no man.) While matrimony may prove a sudden and startling proposition, ignore the counsel of friends and family — follow your heart. Who says you

SATURDAY FEBRUARY

14

need to wait until thirty to wed?

Elope. Las Vegas. Move off campus before junior year.

comedown both in your art and your life as a result of these amorous vicissitudes.

Cancer — You are a strong independent person who don’t need no man/ woman. Our astrologers foretell high levels of inebriation for you this Valentine’s Day. In fact, others will spot your dilated pupils and ruddy cheeks and mistake this drunken stupor for love. They will feel pangs of jealousy; they will plot to overthrow you; they will spread rumors about you, your family and your heritage.

Look out for those who attempt to absorb your innermost self.

Virgo — You have a fraught relationship to your virginity.

You have spent the last three months picking at your cuticles and longing for that grad student named Chuck. Nevertheless, you’ll have bigger fish to fry this weekend, when disaster strikes from an unexpected place. Our astrologers tell us that you will wake up as a literal bug someday soon — while this sounds frightening, it could be a blessing in disguise. Has a cockroach ever had a fraught relationship with its virginity?

Leo — A passionate encounter will fuel your creativity for the next month. You will find yourself feverishly typing up a new novel, finishing a painting, perfecting a recipe for Eggplant Parmigiano. Riding this high, you will eventually write an entire midterm paper in one night, only to discover that you’ve typed your lover’s name 3,000 times in a row. Schlomo, Schlomo, Schlomo … Prepare for an abrupt

SOME “INTERFACING” WITH YOUR HONEY

Libra — you will be whisked away on a romantic getaway this weekend, but feel torn because the romantic getaway coincides with your friend’s birthday/ wedding/ improv show. Don’t beat yourself up over this tiny betrayal, however — you just tend to experience guilt more vividly than you experience any other emotion. Accept massages, candygrams, smooches and pizza

slices, wherever they may come from.

Scorpio — Pucker up, little scorpion — this weekend you’ll experience your first kiss!

(If you’ve already been kissed, this will be your first true kiss.)

The setting might not be very romantic, but the circumstances will be memorable. (Look out for a young man with tattoos and a pet monkey. Our astrologers tell us that the monkey goes by Carl.) However, while you are in a woozy, starry-eyed daze, you might forget the ones you love.

Under no circumstances should you succomb to such a lapse in memory. Never forget where you come from, Scorpio.

Sagittarius — In the coming days, one of your physical charms will leave you. For men, this may be the premature onset of baldness. For women, this could be the sudden appearance of fish scales and fins. Despite this disheartening turn of events, our astrologers recommend that you make hay while the sun shines. Live life to the full-

Capricorn — This Valentine’s Day, you will find yourself temporarily thrust into the nightmarish realm of a young adult novel. A dystopian totalitarian regime will drive you to do things you never dreamed of doing. You will work the arid land alongside your beautiful siblings; you will repair robots; you will harvest human organs. When you return from your journey, you will have aged a thousand years, and your hair will be streaked grey. Shaky and devastated, you will spend the rest of your life alienated from the authentic human contact you once craved.

Pisces / Aquarius — you will fall in love in a watery wonderland. You will swim in a pool of loving feeling, which will wash you clean from your former sins and mistakes. Fear death by fire.

WKND RECOMMENDS:

Your room // 10 p.m.

“Interfacing” — all the cool kids are doing it.

est! Touch your hair while it’s still attached to your head, use your body while it’s still vaguely mammalian. Your anticipation of the impending disaster will actually prove productive, generating some exciting surprises!

Not using the word “interfacing.”

PAGE B10

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND COLUMNS

ON YOUR MARKS, GET SET, COOK! // BY LUCAS SIN

CAROLINE TISDALEW

You are late to the Second Annual Intercollegiate Iron Chef Competition at wintry UMass Amherst, so when you saunter into the welcoming reception, the eyes of those already arrived follow you hungrily.

And they keep watching, even after hands are shaken and welcomes exchanged. You remember, in particular, the gaze of a French Canadian. His name might have been Etienne. His thick arms are crossed behind his head, and he wears half a scowl on his chiseled jaw.

Before ushering you out of the waiting room and into the commons for dinner, the UMass culinary director explains the many buffet stations on offer: the pizza station, the pasta station, the grill station, the soup and salad station, the yogurt bar, and all the way over there we have the — he hesitates — street food section, you know, Asian food, like

Southeast Asian and lo mein. You opt for turkey dinner instead.

You line up with the hoodied and sweatpantsed UMass students already queuing for food.

Of course, you aren’t in sweatpants. Nor are you in the right colors (maroon?). And the only other people of your skin color are behind the counters: there is a row of four Asian students working at the bastardized, American “sushi” station.

Back in the briefing room after dinner, student dining hall workers sweep in and replace your now empty plastic plates with printouts of the competition guidelines. As the culinary director at the front of the room reads the rules aloud, you notice that all the participants in the auxiliary brownie competition (120 portions of an original brownie recipe, to be judged by the masses) are women.

You could have spent the

remainder of your evening at the UPub. The tab was on the event organizers, as were the microwaved chicken tenders and the pizza, from Famous Famiglia Pizzeria. There was a pool table, but it was being hogged by a rather odd double date (they all looked like they met in biology lab, not on Tinder.) But the clinical fluorescent lights were too bright and the space too well-tiled. So instead, you head downtown for poutine with a friend of a friend, a brother of a sister, and a rockstar.

The next morning filters through gauze curtains at UMass’s on-campus hotel. Over continental breakfast, you walk through your plan of action with your coach. Two dishes, an appetizer and an entree, to be prepared and plated in an hour and a half. The operation was tight.

Written out, play by play, player by player. 2:30 p.m.: clean, prep,

and smoke fish. 2:40: pickle shallots in whipping canister.

2:50: start dashi. And so on and so forth.

Because all culinary directors at northeast colleges are friends with each other, one can imagine that they occasionally gather to talk about dried herbs, synergy and labor laws. Perhaps they also plan events that are — to a degree — self-indulgent, over-reaching and absurd, but nevertheless a whole lot of fun. Thus, the Intercollegiate Iron Chef Competition: six teams of undergraduates from the US and Canada, vying for “a trophy and bragging rights for one year.”

The competition schedule is staggered to accommodate judging, so you must wait three hours after the 11 a.m. start to begin cooking. And so there’s time to consider the rather strange situation in which you’ve found yourself. When did cooking

become a sport? How did this come about? Given that you had only been roped into this a week ago, questions remain. Why are you here? What are you doing?

How is Etienne?

He stands beside you, with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

The two of you are watching the students from the University of New Hampshire. Though their coach describes their culinary program as the “red-headed stepchild of the school,” they’re making perfect batons out of apples. They could be deboning chickens with their bare hands.

You don’t know how to do that.

This seems unfair: aren’t students from culinary programs technically barred from competing?

But then the clock strikes 2:15, and you have other things to worry about. You set up your cutting board, prep your cold smoker, polish your knives.

You’re up and the clock starts ticking. Over an hour and a half, you poach flounder filets in butter, you reduce veal jus, you avoid the camera, you nick your finger slicing shallots, you muck up and clarify a shiitake broth, your hands begin to shake, you get told off by your coach, you plate the food, and finally you sit waiting for your hands to stop shaking.

In the end, even though you forget to garnish some of your appetizers and your tenderloin begins to bleed into your mashed potatoes, the results don’t taste half-bad. You win. Perhaps you’re the only one who knows the depth of your own illegitimacies.

And Etienne, who’s sliced open his thumb too — he gives you a pat on the back.

is resolved; many are left annoyingly open-ended, even more so than usual. And, most importantly, the plot ends up playing second fiddle to Grisham’s furious and noble vendetta against Big Coal.

desecration that is fundamentally changing Appalachia. In doing so, Grisham runs the risk of losing the story, while retaining nothing but his politics. Yet he doesn’t quite go so far. The novel has an unusual plot and no clear ending, but its characters are engaging, its scenery beautiful and its story cohesive enough to hold interest.

“Gray Mountain” is a good read, as always. But it also brings light to a largely unknown, massive problem. It is a public service. It is the reason we just may be reading Grisham in a hundred years.

“I was drawn to the topic of mountaintop removal because it is an ongoing environmental disaster, destroying much of the culture of Appalachia,” Grisham said in a recent interview. “And I’m not finished with it.”

And I’m certainly not finished with Grisham and his exciting new activism (whatever my substitute teachers might say).

Contact LUCAS SIN at lucas.sin@yale.edu .

An Old Formula, Reheated: John Grisham’s “Gray Mountain” // BY SCOTT STERN Sometime early in ninth grade, a substitute teacher saw me reading a John Grisham novel and laughed. I told him I liked the book and he said something like, “Yeah, but it’s not like they’re going to be teaching Grisham in a hundred years.”

I love John Grisham novels.

I’ve read everything he’s ever written. Sure, they’re formulaic, but, as I’ve written in the News before, I really like that formula.

For what it’s worth, there are actually two formulae: The first is the generic high-stakes legal thriller, and the second is the small-town legal thriller. Virtually all of these latter novels take place in fictional Ford County, Mississippi, a Faulknerian universe unto itself, with a cast of recurring minor and major characters and an endless supply of provincial intrigue. (There are also a few outlying books, such as one devoted to baseball, two devoted to football, a Christmas novel, a memoir, five children’s books — the “Theodore Boone: Kid Lawyer” series — and a nonfiction book. Like I said, I love

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SCOTT STERN READING BETWEEN THE LINES me some Grisham.)

In the last few years, however, Grisham has departed from his previous formulae to create a new, hybrid model: the activist legal-thriller. His novels are no longer about “just,” say, a freshfaced Harvard grad working for a mafia-controlled firm, or a fresh-faced Tulane student trying to solve a murder, or a freshfaced Ole Miss grad stumbling into a twenty-million-dollar case, or a fresh-faced Georgetown grad stumbling into a hundred-million-dollar case. Now, they have a political message.

At first, this message was subtle. “The Appeal” (2008) was about the immense problem of electing appellate judges. “The Associate” (2009) was about the soul-sucking perils of Big Law.

“The Confession” (2011) was about the iniquities of the death penalty. “Sycamore Row” (2013) was about the prevalence of racism in the legal system.

But Grisham’s latest novel, “Gray Mountain,” published in October, goes way further than any of these. It also breaks new ground for Grisham’s literary activism: environmentalism.

“Gray Mountain” tells the story of Samantha Kofer, a fresh-faced Columbia graduate who is laid off by her Wall Street mega-firm in the midst of the 2008 financial crisis. Kofer is not completely cut loose, however; she can keep her benefits and have a shot at re-employment if she works pro bono for a year. So Samantha sets off for the Mountain Legal Aid Clinic, a tiny public interest firm in rural Brady, Virginia.

“Gray Mountain” has all the usual Grisham themes of an unlikely-yet-oh-so-predictable love interest, a diamondin-the-rough case and the charms of small-town America. Samantha gradually grows

GINGERBREAD COOKIE STUDY BREAK

to appreciate her time in Brady, falling for its unadorned beauty.

She helps poor people fight against ruthless lawyers, intransigent bureaucrats and abusive spouses. She meets Donovan Gray, a man straight out of a soap opera: the ruggedly handsome, smart, tough, earthy, orphaned, fierce lawyer with a heart of gold, lungs of coal and a tragic past. When Samantha meets him, Donovan is in the midst of a series of suits against Big Coal. In one, a strip-mining company accidentally dislodged a boulder that crushed two small children, killing them in their beds. In another, the chemicals used by a mining company have created a cancer cluster in a small town. Meanwhile, Samantha finds a cause of her own: an apparent epidemic of “black lung” among poor, unlettered miners.

But “Gray Mountain” also departs from the Grisham model in a few important ways. First, a main character unexpectedly dies. Second, there is no climactic case — in fact, no major case

IN THE LAST FEW YEARS, GRISHAM HAS DEPARTED FROM HIS PREVIOUS FORMULAE TO CREATE THE ACTIVIST LEGALTHRILLER. Much of “Gray Mountain” amounts to an unrestrained jeremiad against the mining industry. Grisham decries the evil companies that mislead Appalachians and then abuse their land. He points out the countless instances of murder, the jurists and politicians in the pockets of industry and the environmental

Contact SCOTT STERN at scott.stern@yale.edu .

WKND RECOMMENDS:

Davenport College // 12:30 p.m.

Oh, snap!

Setting an alarm clock on a weekend just so you can experience the satisfaction of falling back to sleep.

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

PAGE B11

WEEKEND THEATER

FACING “FAMILIAR” DILEMMAS // BY MONICA WANG

// JOAN MARCUS

Fiery, fierce and full of passion, Danai Gurira’s “Familiar,” which runs through Feb. 21 at the Yale Repertory Theatre, opens on an unassuming scene: the well-furnished living room of an exquisite house in suburban Minneapolis. As the lights in the theater dim and Marvelous Chinyaramwira (Saidah Arrika Ekulona) and Donald Chinyaramwira (Harvy Blanks) begin to go about their daily routines, everything seems ordinary and “American.” And as could happen in any American household, Marvelous prepares lasagna while Donald checks the evening news on TV, at times sipping from a glass of whiskey.

Yet I couldn’t help but wondering if there was something out of place in the scene, something strange happening in the familiar surroundings. Perhaps it was the bright yellow Robert Mugabe portrait that Donald tried to hang on the wall without Marvelous noticing, his furtive actions often soliciting laughter from the audience; perhaps it was the thick Zimbabwean accent that still lingered in their

dialogue. Whatever it was, this bubble of suburban American life hinted at a place beyond the confines of the living room walls, the voices of characters suggesting the tones and sounds of a distant land. And beneath the serene surface, unseen forces stir within this immigrant family. Pandemonium begins to build with the arrival of Nyasha (Shyko Amos) after a recent trip to Zimbabwe.

A singer-songwriter and feng shui artist trying to make a living in New York City, free-spirited Nyasha assumes the role of the rebellious child in front of her demanding mother Marvelous, the bright hues of Nyasha’s Zimbabwean dress standing in stark contrast to Marvelous’s more somber and subdued wardrobe. Nyasha tries to advocate for a return to Zimbabwean culture and tradition, but her Americanized family gives her no time to speak, preferring a football game to Nyasha’s travel tales. Ostensibly, everyone is caught up in the frenzied planning for the wedding of Nyasha’s older sister Tendiyaki (Cherise Boothe) and “little white

boy” Chris (Ross Marquand).

Secretly, though, every character is struggling with his or her own worries and fears.

Tackling many profound themes including cultural assimilation, the struggles of the immigrant family and even a little bit of Zimbabwean politics, “Familiar” is an ambitious play. Of particular interest to me was the clash of cultures embodied by Marvelous, Auntie Maggie (Patrice Johnson Chevannes) and Auntie Annie (Kimberly Scott DRA ’87), three sisters with distinct personalities.

Marvelous is a typically “successful” immigrant, a biochemistry professor with a degree from MIT, brilliant and daunting as her name suggests. She is the nononsense authority figure of the family, towering over Baba Chinyaramwira (Shona for “father”) and commanding the thoughts and actions of those around her.

Playing Marvelous, Ekulona truly propelled an impassioned performance, highlighting both the intensity and pride of the conflicted character.

Maggie, on the other hand, is

the “lesser” version of Marvelous.

She too pursued her education in America, but realizing that academia was not for her, she went on to a job in direct sales. Nonetheless, Maggie follows Marvelous’s footsteps in relinquishing her ties with Zimbabwe in favor of the American way of life. On the far end of the spectrum is Auntie Annie, who still lives in Zimbabwe and enjoys bucket baths. She joins the family for the sole purpose of performing the roora ceremony, a traditional Zimbabwean wedding ritual concerning the bride’s dowry. Annie hopes to exploit the ceremony to extract money from Chris, who, being white, appears rich and privileged from her provincial perspective.

Together, all three women are Tendiyaki’s mothers, not only

by Zimbabwean custom but also because, in a twist towards the play’s end, Tendi’s real mother is revealed to be a fourth sister who died years ago during Zimbabwe’s struggle for independence. Tendi is officially taken in by Marvelous, who leaves Zimbabwe with Tendi in tow, determined to raise her to

be a strong woman. Though Marvelous’s high expectations of her children make her easy to portray as the villain, her firm stance and stern words are only a cover for the love she harbors for her family. Despite her best efforts, she never completely assimilates into American society, so she vows to help her children succeed, a commitment not unfamiliar to those who also grew up in immigrant families.

Tendi is a testament to this commitment. Beautiful and powerful, she stands tall in her high heels and commands the spotlight just like Marvelous. “Anyway, anyway, anyway,” they both like to say in the same petulant and sassy way, and both seem to have earned their right to authority. The breadwinner of her future household and a top-notch lawyer with a world of potential, Tendi is the gem of the Chinyaramwira family. Marvelous is certainly proud of her daughter, approving Tendi’s choice of an educated Caucasian husband as perhaps the next step towards fully integrating the Chinyaram-

wiras into the American Dream.

But family is not all about dreams and achievements, aspirations and desires. There is a deeper bond that overcomes the differences between family members, a kinship in blood, culture and spirit. Nyasha, Tendi’s “c’estla-vie” counterpart, conveys this realization through a lovely song on the mbira, the national instrument of Zimbabwe. The light notes of the mbira left me a little breathless, as did the sound of her voice. “Familiar,” the song is called; familiar, a word with “family” as the root.

As I watched the play, a quote from James Gelvin, a history professor at UCLA, kept popping into my mind. “Cultures are not billiard balls that bounce off each other when they come into contact,” he writes. “Throughout history, cultures have borrowed from and influenced each other.”

“Familiar” brings this quote to life in the form of a family that is truly one of a kind.

Contact MONICA WANG at monica.wang@yale.edu .

A Faithful “Marriage” // BY SAATCHI KALSI There is something to be said for the various forms of entertainment available at Yale. On Wednesday night, I caught a breather from the undergraduate madness by immersing myself in another “folle journée”: the Yale Opera’s rendition of Mozart’s ‘The Marriage of Figaro.” The swelling presto overture shocked me, an opera virgin, into a state of reverie that would remain unbroken until the end of the performance. While this year marks the 100th anniversary of the historic Shubert Theater, the musicians’ accomplished fingers and the singers’ soaring voices bore me instantly back to the 18th century, when such entertainment was commonplace.

Yet I find uninterrupted music potentially monotonous. Fortunately, “The Marriage of Figaro” is a classic exemple of “opera buffa” or comic opera, injected with just enough witty dialogue and romantic chemistry to complement the instrumentation.

Mozart composed the opera as a sequel to Baudron’s “The Barber of Seville,” and it narrates the flagrant attempts of a Spanish count to sabotage the marriage between two of his servants: Figaro (Brad Walker) the valet, and Susanna (Meechot Marrero) the maid.

We watch a day of intrigue, revenge and hyperbolic comedy unfold before us, only to see the opera end just like its prequel: With the union of the count and the countess, leaving Figaro and Susanna free to pursue their own romance. Marrero as Susanna steals the show. She has the most to sing, and I found it hard to wrap my head around the fact that so powerful a voice could emanate

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// DYLAN CROSS

from so petite a person.

The entirety of the opera is comfortably vacant, gleefully toying with the roles set forth in “The Barber of Seville”: The count, that story’s hero, is now the undeniable villain, set on spoiling the happiness of his lovable and charismatic servants. More comical than sad, “The Marriage of Figaro” is nonetheless laced with a biting social commentary on the burdens of being a woman.

It’s hard to watch the countess

sing that she would rather die than suffer her husband’s betrayal, and her astute observations about the “modern husband” being “jealous out of pride” remain topical. However, there is something undeniably refreshing about the triumvirate that forms between Figaro, Susanna and the countess.

It is further edifying when the latter, rather than accusing her maid, lets the blame for her husband’s infidelity fall justly fall on him.

Furthermore, the class strug-

LONE WOLVES AND STRAY DOGS: THE JAPANESE CRIME FILM, 1931-1969

gles explored in an opera where “servants become masters” are of much interest to an audience captivated by television shows such as “Downton Abbey,” which treats similar themes. In an opera written on the eve of the French Revolution, a denunciation of aristocratic privilege lurks between the notes of song and the overtones of comedy.

But however relevant such ideas may be, they aren’t the product of conscious updating.

The opera’s stage director, Ted Huffman, maintained absolute fidelity to the original, and in an era when edgy, envelope-pushing adaptations are the mot du jour, this faithfulness is both nostalgic and comforting.

I left the theater with much to contemplate. On one hand, I had witnessed my first opera, and was still in awe of Mozart’s composition. On the other hand, the more I thought about it, the more I understood the politi-

Contact SAATCHI KALSI at saatchi.kalsi@yale.edu .

WKND RECOMMENDS:

WHC Auditorium // 4 p.m.

A stunningly uninformative and selfreferential title, but it’s still probably interesting.

cal messages tucked between the lines. Together, they made for a thought-provoking but digestible performance.

The authenticity of the adaptation, combined with the finesse of the performers, renders this classic true to the artist’s intention, and makes for a very different, if lengthy, way to spend one’s evening.

Closing your mouth when you chew.

PAGE B12

YALE DAILY NEWS · FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2015 · yaledailynews.com

WEEKEND BACKSTAGE

ERIC LIU — BE USEFUL // BY LEAF ARBUTHNOT

T

he son of successful immigrants from Taiwan, Eric Liu ’90 studied history at Yale College and has since then become a successful philanthropist and writer. After Yale, he went on

to serve as a speechwriter for President Bill Clinton, and later became Clinton’s deputy domestic policy advisor. A graduate of Harvard Law School, Liu has written several books, including “The Accidental Asian: Notes of a Native Speaker.” He is a regular columnist for The Atlantic and CNN.com, and is the founder and CEO of Citizen University, a non-profit that promotes and teaches the art of positive citizenship. Liu was on campus last week to launch Citizen University’s new partnership with Yale College and to co-host a one-day summit on civic empowerment alongside Dean Jonathan Holloway.

Q: You went to Harvard Law School, but you haven’t been a practicing lawyer. How come?

A: I went to law school explicitly with the intention of not practicing. I thought of it as a general graduate education, with a major in law. I took courses all around Harvard and came to know faculty and leaders in different disciplines around campus.

Soon after I graduated from Yale in 1990, I realized there was so much more I could have explored intellectually. So when I went to law school, I was more aware of my interests and knew what I was passionate about. I wanted a second bite at the apple.

Q: How has your training in law helped you?

A: In a couple of ways. In between Yale and Harvard, I worked in D.C., first for David Boren, the U.S. senator for Oklahoma, and then for President Clinton. A lot of people I admired in Washington had trained in law but were not practicing. Problems and issues seemed to pop out in another dimension for them. Their ability to frame and understand problems and arguments was really compelling. And secondly, the training I received in law allows me to speak a certain language. The work I do now is all about teaching different aspects of citizenship, both at an ethical level and at a more legal, political and constitutional level. If we’re going to talk about the Fourteenth Amendment or the Citizenship Clause, for instance, having fluency in that language helps.

Q: You spent a few years working as an executive at a digital media company in Seattle. What was that like?

A: It was a really important part of my life, a pivotal period of failure and self-reckoning. I took that job for reasons that I had not followed prior to that, and have not followed since that. I listened to a voice that said, “You should get some business experience.” But it didn’t come from an intrinsic love of business or a desire to learn about it. It was an intellectually interesting time, but working there absolutely did not feed my sense of purpose. Particularly given the kind of hours I was putting in and the pressure I was under, I felt a kind of spirit-level emptiness.

Q: You’ve got an incredibly varied resume. You’ve been an author, a philanthropist, a policy-maker, a speechwriter and more. How do you know when it’s time to change tack?

A: I feel that there’s been a common thread for many of the different jobs and work environments I’ve been in. That common thread has been about civic empowerment. It’s been about exploring American identity and engaging in ways to activate the full promise of American life. That impulse was certainly there when I was working in politics. But it was also there while I was writing books about race or citizenship. And again, in the work I’m doing now, running Citizen University, it’s also key.

Q: Where do you get your drive from?

A: I’m a second-generation U.S. citizen; my parents are immigrants. If you translate it from Mandarin, my grandfather’s name means “Deliverance of the Nation.” [Laughs] Highpressure name, right? As I was growing up, there was this sense that you should be of service. Have you ever

“

MY VIEW IS THAT, AS MEMBERS OF THE BODY POLITIC, WE SHOULDN’T JUST TURN AWAY AND PRETEND CHANGE ISN’T HAPPENING.

been to the base of the Harkness Tower in Branford?

Q: No… Go into Branford, and at the base of Harkness Tower you’ll see this quote from Nathan Hale, class of 1773. It’s his second most famous quote. It says, “I wish to be useful.” That’s all. That is the essence of my sense of purpose — I wish to be civically useful. I wish to be part of delivering on the idea that is America. That is a second-generation, son-of-immigrants kind of thing, but still.

Q: How would you tell other people to be useful? Particularly to those who don’t have your hunger or drive, for instance? Sometimes, just practically speaking, it can be difficult to know.

A: It totally can be. No one is born knowing how to be of service. And even in an institution like Yale, which has a great long tradition of citizen service and leadership, it’s not explicitly reinforced. There are many other paths that quickly lead towards other kinds of works and measures of success.

Q: Is that why you decided that Citizen University should get involved at Yale?

A: Yes. That’s why I’m on campus this weekend. Citizen University has just launched this civic leadership initiative for Yale College undergraduates. We had a kick-off summit yesterday that Dean Holloway and I put together. Fifty or so undergraduates, from different colleges, backgrounds and ages, took part. We brought in six very diverse speakers to teach different aspects about what it means to be a capable and active citizen. We brought up questions like, How do you cultivate civic imagination? How do you use narrative to create a sense of community?

How do you activate popular culture to change politics? How do you come up with cross-partisan political alliances that break apart tired frames of left-right, Democrat-Republican? Dean Holloway and I felt it was necessary for Yale to become more intentional and systematic in its attempts to cultivate a spirit and skillset of effective, engaged citizen leadership.

Q: On the Citizen University website, one of the quotes that jumps out is “Most people are fundamentally illiterate in power.” Could you unpack that?

A: Every association you can have with the word “power” is negative.

Power-mad, power-trip, power-

hungry… It’s a dirty word. And that is unfortunate. The heart of the work Citizen University does is to try to democratize the understanding of civic power. The reality is that in civic life, you are either literate in how power operates (and have agency in how it operates), or you are simply the object of other people’s operation of power. It seems to me that the most basic promise of a democratic republic is that everybody at least can have a shot at exercising power. If people are wasting that shot by willful or unwitting ignorance, then we are wasting the promise of democracy.

Q: Is leadership taught enough in high school?

A: There used to be robust civic education in the K-12 public schools system, but over the last several decades, that has winnowed away.

Q: How come?

A: It’s two things. Number one: Public education has gotten increasingly driven by standardized tests and increasingly geared towards things that are considered high priority, like math, science and reading. So civic education has been squeezed out. Number two: A lot of schools feel that to talk about civic issues is to court controversy. In our polarized political times, increasing numbers of educators are frankly just scared to go there. Schools fear that there will be a social media backlash, or that parents will get involved. So we’ve ended up with a systematic avoidance of the topic. That has to be remedied. Even just a little awareness about how power operates can help someone become that much more effective in civic life.

Q: Where do you stand on gun policy?

A: When Newtown happened, a friend and colleague of mine resolved to do something about it.

We set up a kind of discussion posse that became the Washington [State] Alliance for Gun Responsibility.

We ran a campaign to put a measure on our ballot that would create a statewide system of criminal background checks for gun purchasers.

And it passed! The gun lobby fought it tooth and nail, but we organized people in every corner of our state.

The name — “Gun Responsibility” — is important. It’s not gun restraint, it’s gun responsibility. We acknowledge that there are gun rights. But if you’re going to be a grown-up citizen, if you’re going to be a “nontoddler,” you have to recognize that every right comes with responsibilities. We have not had a grown-up

conversation about guns. For us, it wasn’t just about securing a particular system of background checks, it was about opening up a wider conversation about the meaning of responsibility in civic life.

Q: You have expressed your support for a truth and reconciliation commission on extrajudicial violence against African-Americans. Do you stand by that?

A: I believe that the U.S. could use a truth and reconciliation process, not just around African-Americans, but around race generally. It would look at how race has distorted policymaking, social norms, opportunity and definitions of Americanness.

These issues are not just in the news today — they have roots that precede the founding of the country. I’m not naive. Having a commission like that in the U.S. would look very different to the way similar things have been done in South Africa, Argentina, Australia and other nations.

But forget about the mechanics for a moment — if we are going to grow up as a country, we need to have an honest, non-defensive reckoning with race.

Q: I totally agree, but I don’t think that everyone has your energy. Many people would balk at the size of the challenge. And others would fear that a large-scale commission would blow things up even more, disturb whatever fragile “equilibrium” is currently in existence.

A: I acknowledge that. A commission would be hard. But the equilibrium currently is only an appearance of an equilibrium. A lot of the old ways in which power is arranged in this country are breaking apart.

Some of that is driven by technology and social media. Ten years ago there was no such thing as a “hashtag,” much less using a hashtag to generate and catalyze citizen protest and action around the country. There has also been a shift in demography.

Statistically, we are fast approaching the day when we will be a majority people of color country. The reality of that, and the anticipation of that, creates turbulence and anxiety, but it also creates a certain amount of hope and expectation. This is by definition not an equilibrium period.

This is a period of disruption, both welcome and unwelcome. My view is that, as members of the body politic, we shouldn’t just turn away and pretend change isn’t happening. We should run toward it.

Contact LEAF ARBUTHNOT at leafarbuthnot@googlemail.com .

“