TYH LV 3 by The Yale Herald

The Yale Herald Volume LV, Number 3 New Haven, Conn. Friday, February 8, 2013

From the staff

A lot of really stupid things have been said about love. Things we don’t need to repeat here in this letter, or in the rest of this paper. Yes, lucky reader who—hey, we’ll put it out there—may not be so lucky in love, you’ve come to the right issue of the right publication. In these pages you’ll find unsparingly straightforward, appropriately cerebral, and wholly sincere pearls of experience. They come to you with love and squalor from across Yale thanks to the best experts on love and the best beginners at love around. You’ll find some real-life romance stories, that much-needed sex advice, some all-out erotica, and a whole mess of personal ads to comb through in this special issue. Love intersects with poetry and art in our Voices section this week, and Culture deconstructs various ways we try to get and show it. These words are raw, they’re unfiltered, they’re unapologetic, and all in all, they’re hopeful. Because you know what? A lot of really smart things have also been said about love, not least of which is the Pedro de la Barca line that, translated from the Spanish, goes, “Love that is not madness is not love.” The madness that went into this issue, the madness that lies beneath these stories, the madness that colors this campus—it goes out as Herald love to all of you.

Happy Valentine’s Day,

The Yale Herald Volume LV, Number 3 New Haven, Conn. Friday, Feb. 8, 2013

EDITORIAL STAFF: Valentine’s Day Special Issue Editors: Emily Rappaport, Cindy Ok Editor-in-chief: Emma Schindler Managing Editors: Colin Groundwater, Eli Mandel, Maude Tisch Executive Editor: Emily Rappaport Assistant Executive Editor: Olivia Rosenthal Online Editors: Marcus Moretti, John Stillman Assistant Online Editor: Micah Rodman Senior Editors: Sam Bendinelli, Ariel Doctoroff, Carlos Gomez, Lucas Iberico Lozada, Nicolás Medina Mora, Clare Sestanovich Culture Editor: Micah Rodman Features Editors: Margaret Neil, Katy Osborn, Olivia Rosenthal Opinion Editor: Andrew Wagner Reviews Editor: Elliah Heifetz Voices Editor: Sophie Grais Design Editors: Julia Kittle-Kamp, Lian Fumerton-Liu, Christine Mi, Zachary Schiller Assistant Design Editor: Madeline Butler Photo Editor: Rebecca Wolenski BUSINESS STAFF: Publishers: William Coggins, Evan Walker-Wells Director of Advertising: Shreya Ghei Director of Finance: Stephanie Kan Director of Development: Joe Giammittorio ONLINE STAFF: Webmaster: Navy Encinias Bullblog Editor-in-chief: John Stillman Bullblog Associate Editors: David Gore, Alisha Jarwala, Grace Lindsey, Cindy Ok, Micah Rodman, Jack Schlossberg, Maude Tisch The Yale Herald is a not-for-profit, non-partisan, incorporated student publication registered with the Yale College Dean’s Office. If you wish to subscribe to the Herald, please send a check payable to The Yale Herald to the address below. Receive the Herald for one semester for 40 dollars, or for the 2012-2013 academic year for 65 dollars.

Cindy Ok & Emily Rappaport Valentine’s Day Special Issue Editors

Please address correspondence to The Yale Herald P.O. Box 201653 Yale Station New Haven, CT 06520-1653 Email: emma.schindler@yale.edu Web: www.yaleherald.com The Yale Herald is published by Yale College students, and Yale University is not responsible for its contents. All opinions expressed are those of the authors and do not reflect the views of The Yale Herald, Inc. or Yale University. Copyright 2011, The Yale Herald, Inc. Have a nice day.

The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

Cover by Kai Takahashi

IN THIS ISSUE

COVER 12 The Herald and friends

present a Valentine’s ode to love, lust, and everything that falls in between— seriously, this means everything from personal ads to Jane Austen erotica.

VOICES 6

Serena Candelaria, TD ‘15, talks marriage and the meal plan with track team husbandand-wife duo Chris Ramsey, DC, ‘13 and Allie Ramsey, BK ‘13.

Navy Encinias, SM ‘14, contemplates Ellsworth Kelly and falling in love; Nicolás Medina Mora, SM ‘13, ponders distance and Donne in relationships.

OPINION: Alison Vivinetto, MC ‘14, looks at the hype surrounding summer internships, and Cody Kahoe CC ‘15, examines U.S. drone strikes.

FEATURES 10

Alexander Saeedy, TC ’15, explores the issues raised at Mon. Feb. 4’s panel discussion of faculty diversity at Yale.

The Herald takes a look at Connecticut Governor Dannel Malloy’s recently announced budget proposal and considers the potential losses it could entail for New Haven.

REVIEWS

CULTURE 18

Marcus Moretti, BK ‘13, revisits Nathan Harden’s view of Yale’s liberal sex culture as expressed in Sex and God at Yale. Also: snapshots of love and Valentine’s Day in Yale and New Haven.

Gareth Imparato, SM ’15, on the Super Bowl. Also: Chipotle, Josh Groban, My Bloody Valentine, and the Oscar-nominated short films.

The Yale Herald (Oct. 5, 2012)

THANK GOD IT’S FRIDAY The Herald’s week in review: what rocked, what sucked, and who took the lead in IM bowling.

CREDIT/D/FAIL Cr: Earth’s Valentine Was your screw date just some strange creature that you hooked up with anyway? Are you scared that the beauty in Bass won’t give you one of those pretty pink cards back? Is your someone somewhere on a semester away? Does your beau have a fever? I know a great girl who really wants to be your Valentine: the Queen, the Empress of Pop herself, Killer B, Beyoncé. Don’t feel down because the buildings look mean, and you have work from your ankles to your eyes—your B has got your back. Soon it’ll be spring and you’ll be smiling in the shade, and until then, Beyoncé wants you to say her name. —Jake Orbison

D: Metasex Oh, no way! You read somewhere that Yale is the sexiest sexfest in the universe. Or was it “the most overrated place to have a one-night stand”? Guy at the table next to me: it’s Valentine’s Day. You don’t want to be in your dorm reading about how sexy your life is. Stop telling your friends about what your sex lives are like and live them. Yes, the people around you may or may not decide to do sex to each other, it’s called being in college. You know what?—no. It’s called being a person. If you didn’t think you were such a special little Eli, and that Yale in the public eye should be just a bunch of top hats and monocles, I’d bet New Haven Nasty wouldn’t get you (or Playboy) in such a hot frenzy, would it?

—Jake Orbison

The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

Sick on sick on sick I’ve had the sniffles for two weeks now, because getting healthy is ostensibly an impossibility here. Why would people not wash their hands when they know they’re sick? Why should anyone have to go to Sterling when his or her suite in L-Dub is totally conducive to doing an Econ p-set? (Also, quick aside, why don’t the bathrooms have paper towels, Yale? How is that not a thing, when I have a fireplace?) We’ve all been there: you’ve worked so hard, and now you have a stomach bug. STAY IN BED, you deserve it. And when you and that special screw date meet up on the 14th, let’s everyone just take a quick Purell break. Perhaps we might amend the affirmation: this Valentine’s I’ll meet a nice young man… who washes his hands thoroughly before eating. —Jake Orbison —graphics by Lian Fumerton-Liu YH Staff

BOOM/BUST INCOMING: Chipotle madness Guys, did you hear the big news? Chipotle has come to New Haven. Now you can get sometimes-good, sometimes-“Why did I eat that entire barbacoa burrito right before my cardio kickboxing class?” Mexican food whenever you want. Take a brisk walk through the cold down Chapel Street for a big ol’ serving of excitement, topped with a dash of shame and regret—and for just $2 extra, a side of guacamole!

OUTGOING: Screw season

I don’t know about you, but I’m freaking out. After four months of blind dates and awkward introductions full of hope (because you never know where you’re going to find love; it’s totally out there just waiting for you to find it, RIGHT?), I’m just supposed to go back to meeting people the normal way? Where do you even do that? Who sets you up? How does he know to find you in a cat costume on Old Campus? HOW DOES THIS WORK? —Eliana Kwartler

BY THE

NUMBERS

TYNG CUP STANDINGS 1. Jonathan Edwards 2. Trumbull 3. Saybrook 4. Pierson 5. Timothy Dwight 6. Ezra Stiles 7. Davenport 8. Branford 9. Silliman 10. Morse 11. Berkeley 12. Calhoun

537 490 468.5 458.5 433.5 399.5 386 363.5 362.5 356 294.5 91.5

INDEX 104 million Number of people who watched the Super Bowl halftime show

TOP FIVE

Ways to rock the flu/virus/February malady that’s going around

5.5 million Number of tweets about Beyoncé’s performance

40,000 Percentage boost of “killed it” references after the Beyoncé halftime show

5 4 3 2 1

Play a round of who’s hotter: you right now, or Death Valley in August.

444

The blame game—your body didn’t just give itself the flu.

Number of verified Twitter accounts claiming a Beyoncé-caused-the-Super Bowl-blackout conspiracy theory.

Watch (the part of) the Superbowl (that Beyoncé was in). Coughopolitan, Margaritea, Nyquila Sour—the list goes on. Keep that husky voice for as long as possible. —Cindy Ok YH Staff

1,576 Number of females named Beyoncé in the United States.

1 Number of Queen B’s in the world. Sources: 1) Huffington Post 2) ABC News 3) ABC News 4) Educated Guess—Trifecta of Beyoncé’s Favorite Number 5) HowManyofMe.com 6) Literal Duh. —Jessica Sykes The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

SITTING DOWN WITH CHRIS AND ALLIE RAMSEY by Serena Candelaria Rebecca Wolenski/YH Last summer, Chris Ramsey, DC ’13, and Allie Ramsey, née Allie Rue, BK ’13, tied the knot. The West Coast natives, both also on the track team, live together on Park Street (but they’re still on the meal plan). The Herald sat down with Chris and Allie to discuss married life at Yale, the proposal, their wedding day, and Allie’s decision to be Allie Ramsey instead of Allie Ramsey-Rue. YH: Tell me a bit about your backgrounds. Where are you from? CR: I am from Southern California originally, where I lived my entire life. I didn’t date people extensively before I got here. I went on dates, but I didn’t have anything serious. AR: Chris is actually my first boyfriend. CR: But actually. You never went on a date. AR: I did! I went to a couple of dances. That counts as going on a date. Come on. YH: How did you meet? CR: We were both on the track team, so… AR: But it took a while. CR: We both run different events, so we don’t practice together, really. It’s just when meets started that we really started getting to know each other. YH: Did you ever imagine that you would be married during college or this early in life? AR: No, not during college. CR: Do you mean before we met each other? YH: Yes. AR: Okay, ideally, I didn’t want to get married this early, but I think it also seemed normal to me because my parents got married when they were young. YH: Do you come from communities where people tend to get married in their early 20s? AR: It’s varied, but yes, I have several friends from high school who are also married. Some of them are already much more established and have babies. CR: For me, it wasn’t really common. YH: When did you propose and what was it like? CR: I officially proposed in November, just after my birthday. I had the ring, but I wasn’t sure when I wanted to pro-

The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

pose, and then it just struck me. We were out at a really nice meal. I knew it was time. Allie said she needed to go back to change her shoes, and that’s when I went to get the ring. I told her I forgot my phone in the bathroom. We walked up Hillhouse, which was a nice spot for us. I said something silly about remembering times at that spot. AR: He listed these nice things that had happened in our relationship, and I got distracted because I was like, “Oh, he’s going to propose!” I don’t even remember what he said. CR: And then I did. She just grabbed me without saying anything, and without responding to the thing I was holding. AR: Chris asked, “Are you going to put [the ring] on?” I forgot. YH: How did your parents react? CR: I don’t think they were that surprised. We’d been dating for a while. AR: I remember telling my mom that we decided we didn’t want to wait until after graduation to get married, and the first thing I brought up to her was that we wanted to have the morning of our wedding in Washington and the evening in California, and she freaked out, and she doesn’t freak out very much. When I mentioned to her that we wanted to get married earlier, that seemed like way less of a big deal to her. I must have just prefaced it to her right. But our parents were already very supportive.

YH: Have you ever taken a class together? CR: We try to. AR: Sometimes. Like we’ll plan to take a fifth class. We kind of freak people out when we’re in sections together and say that we’re married. The room just gets quiet. CR: We’re taking “Political Psychology” together now, and we’re in the same section, but people don’t know [that we are married]. YH: Are you involved in any other groups on campus together besides the track team? AR: We’re both part of Yale Students for Christ. YH: Have your social interactions changed since you’ve been married? CR: I don’t find it to be too different. My circle of friends is pretty similar to my circle from last year, but that being said, [Allie and I] were already spending a lot of time together. AR: I think what I’ve found is probably also true for anyone who moves off-campus. I had to be more intentional to see my friends in Berkeley. YH: Have you started to think about your plans for after graduation? AR: I would like to go grad school for marriage and family planning. I’m looking at two places. We want to go back to the West Coast. CR: I’m looking for jobs in politics, but if that doesn’t work out, general public service things.

YH: Tell us a little about your wedding. AR: It was an outdoor wedding. One of my friends from my home church has a beautiful backyard. In the front yard, we had the wedding itself with a fountain, and in the back, we had the reception. The timing of the wedding was an important thing for me. I wanted it to get dark over the course of the reception. CR: But, since it was in Washington and over the summer, it was pretty late. We really wanted lanterns.

YH: Do you have any advice for people hoping to fall in love during college? CR: Don’t be afraid to get in a committed relationship. It’s something you need to want. By choosing this, there are a lot of other things you are choosing not to do. Since we’re attached, there’s a lot that we need to take into consideration. And I don’t think it’s for everyone, but I definitely think people prioritize it less than they should.

YH: Would you prefer to be called Chris and Allie Ramsey, or do you still go by your maiden name? AR: It’s kind of split now, but go with Ramsey. That’s what I’m transitioning towards; it’s my legal name. The only thing I keep Rue for right now is track, which gets confusing.

YH: Is there anything else we should know about you two? CR: People ask if we’re twins. AR: And it’s really hard to convince people that we aren’t. It’s easier now that we have rings. —This interview was condensed by the author.

THE CURVATURE OF EARTH by Nicolás Medina Mora YH Staff

ast winter break, I walked into a second-hand bookstore in London and stumbled upon a copy of John Donne’s Songs and Sonnets. I opened the book at random, and fate or luck—whichever you prefer— had it that I landed on “A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning.” I knew the poem well, but I still read it several times over. When I reached the last two lines, my heart began to race, striving to match the rhythm of the iambs: “Thy firmness makes my circle just / And makes me end, where I begun.” I left the bookstore in a daze, and spent the rest of the afternoon walking aimlessly around the city. A dramatic overreaction, no doubt—but then again, I had come across an oddly appropriate poem. My girlfriend of three years had just left for China, and we had thought it unwise to try to stay together with an ocean between us. It was the most amiable of break-ups, but that amiableness only made it more difficult to mourn her. There was no offense to get over, no forgiveness to earn. Just the matter-of-factness of geography, against which no argument is possible. I still wanted to be with her, and I like to think she still wanted to be with me, but the curvature of Earth made our desires irrelevant. And of course, of all the poets in the world, I had to chance upon John Donne.

poetry not least among them. My feelings were everything but new: generations of students, soldiers, and sailors had gone through the same experience. Still, I couldn’t help but feel that my separation was in some sense different from the ones of past lovers. The same can perhaps be said for many others my age. This difference seems to be mostly a matter of speed. Odysseus spent 10 years trying to cross the tiny stretch of sea between Turkey and Greece; my ex-girlfriend flew over the Pacific in less than a day. A transatlantic love letter used to take three months to reach its destination. Today, it makes no difference if an email comes from New York or Kolkata—it will arrive instantly. One would like to think that such magical devices as airplanes or the Internet would make things easier, but I’m convinced the opposite is the case. The slowness of a boat or of a letter gave one enough time to process the loss, to fully feel the absence of the other person—maybe even to compose a poem with lines like these: Our two souls therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion, Like gold to airy thinness beat.

PHYSICAL SEPARATION HAS ALWAYS BEEN PART AND parcel of the way we think about love. It is the subject of the Iliad, the Odyssey, and countless other works of art, Donne’s

SKYPE AND FACEBOOK MAKE IT SO EASY TO STAY IN touch that we can easily become convinced no real separation has taken place. Even the phrase “stay in touch” is

telling. Touch is precisely what we cannot do when the other person is thousands of miles away. Technology has put us in the position of Donne’s lovers, who are “inter-assured of the mind” and hence “care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.” The problem, of course, is that it takes either a metaphysical poet or a Protestant theologian—and Donne happened to be both—to believe that love can flourish without physical intimacy. In a sense much less poetic than Donne’s, our generation has forbidden mourning. Perhaps we would do well to get rid of the Norton Critical Editions we bought for Major English Poets and close our Facebook accounts—at least for the time prescribed for grief. THEN AGAIN, IT MAY WELL BE POSSIBLE TO RESCUE “A Valediction” from this anti-technological zeal. After all, one should never take duplicitous Donne at face value. “A Valediction” is not necessarily a poem that believes what it says. It seems much more likely, given Donne’s love for conceit, that the poem is an attempt at convincing the recipient—and maybe the speaker too—of a fiction that will help to render the pain of separation bearable, not to abolish it. The real message of the poem is not “don’t mourn,” but rather “I love you enough to say that our love is immune to distance, even if it’s not.” The paradox implicit in the title lies in the fact that, in forbidding mourning, Donne has actually begun to mourn. I for one am still waiting for the first slow letter to arrive from China.

COLORING LOVE by Navy Encinias YH Staff

he large Ellsworth Kelly painting called “Charter” must be a favorite of the Yale University Art Gallery’s curators, because they never take it down. It’s a striking piece, and so big that, standing in front of it, you can have that fabled art experience of getting lost in its colors. I’ve told people that “Charter” is important to me, which is a strange and naïve thing to say, because I can’t explain why. There’s not much in the image to grab onto and I can’t claim much, but if I had to put my feelings into words, I think Kelly is saying something about love. “Charter” is a piece about color, the magical way that a strong contrast vibrates. Then it’s a piece about drama because the orange and black graze against each other. This touch, somehow at once quiet and loud, gives the piece surprising tension. The orange shape is larger than the black rectangle, and more organic a form, and so “Charter” also becomes a painting about differences, how they look and feel. Upon looking closer, however, “Charter” isn’t what it seems. What appears to be one large painting is, in fact,

two—the orange on its white background and the black sections are actually distinct canvases, flush against each other, framed in this arrangement, and hung on the wall as one. This changes everything. That dramatic touch, which initially reads as true contact between bodies on a shared plane, becomes a reach for each other across an insurmountable separation. Kelly paints a tragedy, unsettling viewers—including me—to no end. I had the pleasure of falling in love at a very young age and the curse of never quite falling out of it. I often try to remind myself that that’s just the way falling goes—that, for instance, no one has ever fallen out of an elevator shaft. Regardless, it’s worth getting to the bottom of, this defect of mine. At times it’s easiest to call myself a monogamist as justification, to say that self-love isn’t a natural inclination for me and so I’ve loved things and people with sickly intensity. Or I claim to have an unusual propensity for commitment and never forgetting. The truth is, we have no simple words for these things. Luckily, we do have pictures.

My defect, “Charter” makes clear, is all about this reach across an insurmountable separation. It’s my infantile desire to be one of two bodies touching on a shared plane, painted on one canvas, immortalized as forever together. Young, romantic to a fault, and uncomfortable being me, I’ve always fancied love to be an unrealistic state of oneness with another, the only force in nature capable of such magic. In these years when we struggle to define “I,” it’s an easy solution to make “us”—me and you, him and I—that one word and feeling that immediately self-defines. “My love for you is everything,” I’ve said before. Another night it was, “We are who I am.” In “Charter,” Kelly paints a picture reminding how impossible this delusion is. To do so, he paints distinct canvases. They touch and it’s beautiful to see, but they remain unique individuals. He disallows the unhealthy conflation of “us” and “I,” of love and personal identity. The black is the black and the orange is the orange. He wants us to remember that, so he paints it. —Graphics by Lian Fumerton-Liu YH Staff The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

OPINION

THE ART OF STUMBLING

RETHINKING DRONES

by Alison Vivinetto

by Cody Kahoe

I am sitting on my boyfriend’s futon, and we are discussing potential questions for his upcoming investment banking interviews. We are laughing about what would happen if someone were to answer the dreaded “greatest weakness” question honestly: “I have major body image issues,“ or, “Some days I can’t get out of bed until noon and then spend the rest of the day watching Homeland.” This is hysterical because we already know our canned, fake weaknesses, rehearsed and ready: “I’m too much of a perfectionist.” Or, “I just care about my work too much!” He asks me, “Is there anything I should know about you that we couldn’t get from reading your resume?” I want to shout, “Everything!” This is absurd. Repeat after me: I am 21 years old, and I don’t fit on a piece of paper. But even this question has a designated, boiled-down answer. This simplification of self is merely a piece of the process. This month began the process of on-campus recruiting for finance and consulting internships. I didn’t participate, but so many of the very best people I know, the people whose advice I trust on nearly everything, did. And when all your best friends decide to do something, you cheer them on and find merit in their choices. I watched my friends buy and wear business-appropriate suits. I watched them trudge on a near-daily basis past the no-man’s-land of TD and up to 55 Whitney Ave. where they were asked questions meant to trip them up, testing not their knowledge but their performance in high-pressure situations. They attended almost none of their classes that week. And for what? For the glimmering promise of certainty: a job offer by February. For a shot at guaranteed success. We are 21 years old; the idea of certainty is comforting in a homefor-winter-break-with-your-dog-and-a-fire-inthe-fireplace-type way. Meanwhile, I maintained some non-judgmental but self-congratulatory feelings about staying out of it all. “I’ll find something,” I told myself. Looking back, however, I realized that I spent most of my past week writing cover letters and stalking the Yale Alumni Network on LinkedIn. I skipped Thursday night Mory’s trivia to write one more application essay. I accidently spent all of my ForMAC lecture searching for internship opportunities. And why? Because by Wednesday, the word “offer” was coming up in daily conversation, and I was nowhere near having one. But when I called Yale alumni on the phone and asked how they got their jobs in advertising, publishing, or creative communi-

The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

cations, they only wanted to talk about one thing: Yale. How much do I love it? (A lot). Do Toads/the Pundits/Tang/etc. still exist? (Yes). A collective sigh from cities all over the country; those were the days, they told me. Once back on track, I tried to find some linearity for myself: how can I get from A to B? They all told me the same terrifying thing: “I just stumbled into it.” Therein lies the rub. How exactly does one just “stumble into it”? There is no process to “stumble,” and I am not one for blind faith. A tiny bit of prescription could go a long way. I don’t need a step-by-step manual, just a friendly push in the right direction. On Friday, I receive an email from my dad. I’ve been calling strangers all week but avoiding his too optimistic advice. The email has clearly been typed on his iPhone, which is both his best friend and worst enemy. He described to me his years as a 20-something: traveling far from home to attend college and then being drawn back by his father’s failing health. He took the only job he could find as an aspiring pilot. He wrote: “The last place I wanted to work was Liberty Aviation, it was the only job I could find. It is where I met your mother. If any other job had come my way we would have never met.” I realized then that I have grown up in the presence of the Master of Stumbling Into it. A vague goal, a lot of turns, and somehow, despite accidents and illnesses and bad industries, a fairy tale ending. Job, wife, kids, small fluffy dog. And so, this week, and the next one, and the one after that, repeat after me: I am 21 years old. I don’t fit on a piece of paper. I am going to stumble into it. —graphic by Julia Kittle-Kamp YH Staff

On Mon., Feb. 4, NBC published a leaked Justice Department memo that “set forth a legal framework” to justify the use of lethal drone strikes, without due process, against U.S. citizens abroad working with alQa’ida (see 2011 drone strike against Anwar al-Awlaki in Yemen). While I agree with the Administration that the evolving nature of a relentless global war against exceedingly diverse, secretive, and capable terror organizations presents the U.S. with harsh new realities and necessities, the denial of due process rights to American citizens abroad, even terror leaders, is a delicate precedent. This memo raises apprehension about how our republic and its principles will cope with the ever-changing landscape of war. In its defense of lethal force, the memo reveals many of the concerns inherent to this new global war on terror. Many of the document’s premises are problematic, not exclusively at the fault of its authors. For one, the memo identifies “senior operational leader[s] of al-Qa’ida or an associated force” as the targets of these strikes. While this seems like a prudent specification, it raises questions. What constitutes an “associated force”? What even constitutes al-Qa’ida? What once was al-Qa’ida has splintered into diverse groups: sometimes distinct, sometimes interconnected; sometimes local (the Islamist group controlling Mali), sometimes international; sometimes real, sometimes just appropriating the name. In short, the identities, intentions, and actual links to al-Qa’ida of many of these organizations are unclear. The memo grants the use of force against these groups during the course of “armed conflict” with them, but raises the question of whether this conflict will or even could come to an end. The memo “does not require [. . .] clear evidence that a specific attack [. . .] will take place in the immediate future” because “by its nature” al-Qa’ida’s threat “demands a broader concept of imminence.” Such organizations are continually planning attacks, limiting the “window of opportunity” to stop them. While accurate, this nonetheless leads to the alarming conclusion “that the U.S. government may not be aware of all al-Qa’ida plots as they are developing and thus cannot be confident that none is about to occur” [emphasis original]. Because such plans are difficult to trace and explain, we must always act as if an attack is imminent. While this leaves substantial room for interpretation, the memo presents no plan for Congressional oversight and disqualifies ju-

dicial oversight on the valid basis that such ex-ante (before the event) evaluations are illogical and inefficient from the bench. The Administration cannot be held at fault for all of these concerns. This is, after all, uncharted territory for the evolving nature of the ethical conduct of war. The only truly disconcerting argument of this memo is its reliance on the 2004 Supreme Court decision Hamdi v. Rumsfeld. The government uses this decision in defense of its authorization of lethal acts upon an American citizen without due process, but the Hamdi decision deals almost exclusively with the detainment—not killing—of Americans involved with terror groups. In actuality, the Hamdi decision often renders opinions opposite of those in the memo. Although the memo cites that the Court “accord[s] the greatest respect and consideration to the judgments of military authorities,” it omits that the Court also preserved the “time-honored and constitutionally mandated roles” of judicial oversight. Although the Court held that “citizens who associate themselves with the military arm of the enemy [. . .] are enemy belligerents,” this mattered only insofar as it allowed for the detention—temporary, at that—“for the duration of the relevant hostilities.” Death is of infinite duration. Above all else, the memo’s reliance on the Hamdi case, the lynchpin of the bridge between Constitutional rights and lethal strikes, is disconcerting because, in Hamdi, the Court ruled in a spirit quite the opposite of this memo, determining that the Executive could not hold a U.S. citizen indefinitely without due process. What, then, is to be done? Not just the Administration but the whole nation is at a crossroads. The justifications for these lethal strikes against American citizens abroad, particularly the Hamdi case, are problematic. Yet, I cannot help but believe that the Administration’s strikes against such leaders are prudent and probably necessary. Albeit cautiously, I tend to think that these lethal operations are effective, if not vital, in preventing attacks on Americans by Americans who have all but renounced their citizenship. How, then, do we, as Americans, square our principles with practical considerations, our ideals with the “realities of combat”? I do not know the answer to this question. But I do think that the “fundamental law of war principles” and the Constitutional principles to which this memo, and our leaders, must look, do not presently align. As we continue the debate, we must strive to reconcile them.

A wider net Discussing the faces at the front of the classroom by Alexander Saeedy YH Staff

n uneasy silence washed over the room. Deputy Provost Frances Rosenbluth opened a manila folder and pointed at data for PresidentElect Salovey, GRD ‘86, while Dean Mary Miller, GRD ’81, furiously scribbled on her notepad. Paul Turner, ecology & evolutionary biology chair, and Richard Bribiescas, anthropology chair, gave nods and smiles of agreement. The focus of their attention, Alexander Hamilton, DIV ’15, spoke again. “Black academics have a history of feeling unwelcome at Yale and I know more than a few African-American professors who turned down prestigious positions at Yale because of this. What does it communicate to members of this community that most of its elite professors are white while all of its service and cafeteria workers are black?” The Women Faculty and Faculty of Color roundtable discussion on Mon., Feb. 4 sought to discuss the steps that Yale University is taking to promote diversity in a faculty dominated by Caucasian males. It was a response to what Priya Natarajan, professor of astronomy and physics and chair of the Women Faculty Forum (WFF) at Yale, called “the wishes of both undergraduate and graduate students of Yale” for a public forum to show “how important diversity is to our University’s faculty.” But the aura of “progress in faculty diversity” championed by Salovey, GRD ’86, and Rosenbluth at the panel was muddled by its dizzying array of graphs, statistics, projections, and in-

The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

cisive questions from audience members like Hamilton. In a presentation compiling data gathered by Yale’s Office of Institutional Research, post-doctoral research associate Allison Tait, LAW ’11, shed light on extensive gender and racial inequalities among Yale faculty, detailing the flaws of the “pipeline” system, in which disproportionate numbers of white men in PhD programs were attain-

The reality of Yale’s lagging faculty diversity goes far beyond statistics. As Edirin Okoloko, ES ‘14, President of the Yale Women’s Black Coalition, said, it is something that is “constantly felt” in the classroom. “If I’m in a class and we’re talking about misguided public health interventions and you bring up Tuskegee—I feel my blackness,” she said. “A white male professor—he doesn’t. It would be nice every

derrepresented minority faculty from WGSS, American Studies, and African American Studies,” Holloway said, “and you’ll see a pretty homogenous Yale.” Both Birgit Brander Rasmussen, professor in American Studies and thnicity, Race, & Migration, and Inderpal Grewal, chair of the WGSS department, made similar claims about their respective departments. Jazzmine Estebane, DC ‘13 is a recipient

“Take away the numbers of underrepresented minority faculty from WGSS, American Studies, and African American Studies, and you’ll see a pretty homogenous Yale.” —John Holloway, GRD ‘95, professor of history and African American Studies ing tenured positions at Yale. Meanwhile, women and people of color tended to opt for, as Rosenbluth and Natarajan explained, “lucrative and high-pay positions outside of professional academia.” For pre-tenured faculty, white men account for 52 percent of all positions and white women account for 25 percent; for tenured faculty, that number increases to 66 percent for white men, and 20 percent for white women. Minority women, however, constitute only four percent of the entire faculty.

now and then to have that perspective from the professor, so that I’m not constantly providing the black perspective on black health issues.” According to John Holloway, GRD ’95, professor of history and African American Studies and current master of Calhoun, the presence of underrepresented minorities in both the student and faculty populations has unquestionably improved over the last decade. Still, he argues, this presence is disproportionately concentrated in select departments. “Take away the numbers of un-

of the Mellon Mays Fellowship, a program for undergraduate minority students interested in pursuing careers in academia, as well as a Peer Liaison for La Casa. For her, this discrepancy between departments is one of the most pressing challenges that faces Yale in its efforts to diversify. “A diverse faculty means not only having more women and people of color in the faculty at large, but also looking to see that they are not concentrated exclusively in certain fields.” For Estebane and others, it’s insufficient to have African-American professors in the African

UBYC

Sex Week 2012 Rebecca Wolenski/YH Staff

American Studies department. As a Global Health Fellow and history of science/history of medicine major, Okoloko echoed Estebane’s concerns: “I’ve never had a person of color teach me in my major.” There was some reason for optimism at the panel on Monday. Natarajan articulated that the current racial imbalances in Yale’s faculty can be partially explained by

tance of tenure reforms which first occurred in 2007, when he was Dean of Yale College. At the time, the University faced what Grewal described as “an in-group approach to hiring faculty,” which limited the ability to diversify the staff. Faculty members hired as junior professors had no guaranteed position within a department; a new professor could only be hired when another position

committees, workshops, and incentives to the community. Holloway too warned that there were still impediments to change. “If we continue to ‘diversify’ at the pace we’re doing it, there won’t be be any significant changes to the presence of minority faculty at Yale,” he said. One of the biggest barriers he perceived was the flawed organization and co-

“I think that Yale could probably do a better job of making diversity a Yale-wide problem.” —Edirin Okoloko, ES ‘14 “an unconscious bias to feel closer to those with whom we can immediately identify. It is hard to do away with this bias,” she admitted, “but if we begin to be at least conscious of it, then we can seek to move forward.” Salovey and Rosenbluth, meanwhile, detailed initiatives both past and present within the Provost’s Office to expand departments’ hiring networks. Salovey urged that “we do away with the passivity. We need to reach out and search for highly-qualified minority candidates,” he said. “Yale will improve when we have a broader array of potential candidates.” According to Monday’s panel, the University intends to address this dilemma by “casting a wider net” and providing better mentorship programs for minority faculty members. Salovey also stressed the impor-

was vacated. “I knew quite a few bright colleagues who were told, ‘I’m sorry, we’d love to have you in our department, but there’s no room,’” Grewal said. Coupled with the 2007 reforms, better mentoring and expanding the array of potential candidates will theoretically open more positions for minority staff members and provide more support for them within Yale. Yale’s approaches to issues of faculty diversity, however, have left some skeptical. Tait concluded her presentation with plans for “direct policy incentives, institutional policies, mentoring, and education.” The steps are reminiscent of former responses to issues ranging from gender discrimination to minority involvement in student leadership to sexual misconduct, with Yale’s administration throwing a string of sub-

ordination of administrative committees to help with diversity. “For the right reasons, committees try to be as diverse as possible, whether it’s about renovating the library or reforming the athletic program. But the next thing you know, you have the same exact women and minority faculty serving on all of these committees.” Rasmussen attributed the lack of diversity at Yale to a fundamental disinterest in many departments at Yale. “People look at economics, physics, astronomy, and ask, why isn’t there diversity? It’s simple: commitment. If it isn’t happening, the departmental commitment isn’t there.” And Rasmussen, like other panel members at the talk, warned of what Yale would lose if it didn’t take action. “Diversity isn’t only a cosmetic issue. Men and women from vary-

ing ethnographic backgrounds bring different questions. We can’t simply accept the ‘Ivy League’ perspective if we seek to prepare our students for a multi-faceted and complex future.” For many in the Yale community, Monday’s dialogue represents an important step in itself. As Estebane told the Herald, “It’s good to have that kind of transparency for students and the WFF, to be able to say, ‘Ok, we’re just going to keep pushing you, because your numbers of faculty of color are atrocious, and your numbers of women are still not good enough.’” Of course, talking about the problem is only the first step. “If there’s serious initiative for change, then it can happen in a decade,” Holloway told the Herald, “but it’s not a short and easy fix to simply shake up the faculty,” said Holloway. “Before we can go forward, the question needs to be asked whether this is a necessary burden, and if it is, who will be the ones to carry it out?” It may take the entire campus to answer that question. “I think that Yale could probably do a better job of making diversity a Yale-wide problem,” Okoloko said. “The effort to diversify the faculty should be both a student and faculty effort.” As with all progress, overcoming inertia is essential to the solution. “There’s this idea that if we just wait around it’ll get better,” Estebane worried. She reinforced the need for everyone to keep pushing if Yale is to make any sort of meaningful impact. “I think, with pushes, I’m optimistic.” The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

The Herald relationship trajectory selector

â&#x20AC;&#x201D;graphic by Julia Kittle-Kamp YH Staff

The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

Pride and prudishness by Fanny Price It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of a good fortune and a good wife must be in want of a good lay. But, of late, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy had not been acknowledging this certain truth, and it began to lie heavy on his young bride’s mind. So, in absence of marital communion, Elizabeth turned to the company of Emma Knightley, an erstwhile friend whose advice was never reluctantly given. “Oh Emma, Pemberley grows so cold in the winter,” Elizabeth said over tea. “Pemberley?” Emma inquired, biting into her buttered scone. “Or Pemberley’s master.” “Pemberley’s, well, Pemberley’s bed, to be frank.” “Ah.” A smirk crept up the side of Emma’s alabaster cheek. “Pemberley’s master’s master, then.” Lizzy sighed. “Darcy grows tired of me. I simply cannot rouse him to anything. He grows tired of my touch, so much so that now even I have grown tired of my touch.” Elizabeth looked up suddenly and covered her mouth, aghast at her monstrous disclosure. “My dear Lizzy, I have never known you to be so prudish. This is a lady’s greatest secret, and if we cannot share it with each other, with whom can we? At times a woman must take matters into her own capable hands.” “Oh Emma!” “Oh Lizzy, everyone does it. Good heavens, my fingers are positively arthritic!” “Emma! ” Elizabeth giggled into her gloves, her face crimson with the flush of iniquity. “If a man cannot meet a woman’s need,” Emma continued, “the woman must knead—” “Enough! ” They devolved into fits of laughter, petticoats aflutter with their puckish prattle. Elizabeth regained control and smoothed the heavy folds of her skirts. She sipped her tea and thought again of Darcy. Outside the snow fell soft and thick, scrupulously erasing Pemberley’s grounds. In her present state,

Elizabeth could view the white snowfall only as a reminder of her newfound and unwelcome innocence. If only she could be bold like Emma. Elizabeth did so admire her brazen nature, quite unlike her own these days. But perhaps, she thought, this was capable of amendment. “Tell me, dearest Emma. What do you do to make, oh you know, you and Mr. Knightley’s rest less…restful?” “Finally, the proper enquiry.” “So go on, and try not to look quite so superior.” “Dear Lizzy, this is not superiority but sagacity. You have much to learn from me, you are so newly wed. Tell me, are you forward in approach?” “I suppose not, but Darcy, he has so much pride. I feel my approach would seem an affront to his manliness.” “Oh to hell with men and their manliness!” Emma exclaimed, blowing steam from her teacup in ghosted gusts. “Particularly if one’s manliness cannot rise to the occasion. How can one learn if not by trial? Tell me, has Darcy had much experience before you?” “Oh, we’ve never discussed it in full, but I presume that twenty thousand pounds a year has afforded much experience.” “See, a man is allowed years to experiment before marriage and yet a woman is fit for it only if untouched. Now, then, is your belated occasion.” Emma rose and knelt next to her friend, still holding her teacup. She began to blow it slowly toward Elizabeth, the steam twisting and licking up Elizabeth’s neck. Emma watched her resolve not to move or to look or even to acknowledge this happening. And yet, her bosom pressed against its constraint as her breath grew heavy. “Does he often touch your face?” She drew her fingers up, following the trail of condensation. She felt Elizabeth tremble, and she blew softly in her ear. “I can—cannot, I have not…” Elizabeth stumbled over her words, unsure whether she should or even wanted it to cease. “Not since Charlotte.”

“This is instructional.” Emma pressed on. “Consider it a lesson, yes, and you are my pupil.” She continued to trace Elizabeth’s face, down her cheek and across her slight jaw line to where she slowly impelled Elizabeth’s face to face her own. Emma drew her slender fingers up to Elizabeth’s lips, just barely pulling them apart until she could feel hot breath pour out of the supple pucker. “Emma, I—” but Emma pressed still further on. “Does Darcy touch you here?” She pulled her finger down Elizabeth’s neck and blew a steady gush of breath in its trail. “Or here?” She continued across Elizabeth’s collarbone, down her open chest, and fingered the ruffle along the top border of her dress. The tips of Emma’s fingers brushed just barely across and below the fabric to the milky skin beneath, and Elizabeth’s breath quickened, deepened, pressing her bosom still further against Emma’s touch. “Does Darcy touch you here?” With a sudden motion, Emma pulled down on the restrictive cloth, and Elizabeth’s right breast fell into Emma’s palm. “Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed as Emma began caressing her smooth curve, kissing it lightly on the side as she rolled her fingers around and over and then, lightly, squeezed Elizabeth’s nipple, eliciting a low moan. Suddenly Elizabeth pushed Emma away. “Give me a moment.” Emma sat back with nonchalance and resumed sipping her tea. Elizabeth sat for a second before deciding and, then, with one fluid motion, undid the strings in the back, her dress and corset collapsing into her lap. He breasts fell forward as Emma resumed, taking both into her hands and running her tongue along the side and around the nipple, circling then spiraling before flicking her warm tongue over and back and over and back until she felt it stiffen between her lips. Elizabeth grabbed Emma’s head, twisting her fingers into the soft, blonde tresses and then pulling involuntarily as Emma’s hand brushed up her leg, just under the petticoat.

“Oh!” Elizabeth pulled Emma’s hair tighter as she felt her delicate fingers slide up her thigh, which she spread as Emma crept nearer. She whimpered unwittingly and shook her head back as Emma pressed into her warm folds, spreading and massaging until Elizabeth felt as though she was being filled with a thick, warm ocean. She melted into Emma’s touch, her face and chest and legs nearly pulsating with heat. She closed her eyes still tighter as Emma slid into her before pulling up Elizabeth’s petticoats and running her tongue along the inside of her thigh until her face was buried between sprawling legs— “Oh!” Darcy walked in. Elizabeth pulled Emma up but was otherwise immobile. Emma’s head rose confidently and she said, “Oh, hello, Darcy. Would you care for some tea?” Darcy’s eyes flashed ravenously, but he stood there, silent, transfixed on the spot. Emma took this as permission to continue, and Elizabeth followed suit, any mental protestation overwhelmed by sheer physical craving. But still, she watched him, trying to decode his enigmatic countenance. And yet, even as his face remained stoic, Elizabeth watched the fabric of his pants grow taut as his large member began to grow. Emma continued, tonguing every recess until Elizabeth nearly drew blood biting her lip. Darcy walked over, unbuttoning his shirt until it gaped open, flapping beside him as he approached and knelt beside Emma. He pulled her back and looked at her, hard, before gently nudging her away to take control. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled Elizabeth’s dress clear over her head, running his tongue from her thigh up her stomach to her breasts, circling her nipple before grabbing her face and crushing his lips against hers. “You must go now,” he growled to Emma, who stood up and pressed down her skirts with a grin. She walked to the doorway and watched for a moment. Darcy’s large, heavy organ fell from his pants, where he grabbed it in his left hand and began stroking it as he descended between Elizabeth’s legs then up, twisting her nipple in his taut mouth as he slowly teased her with the head of his engorged member. Emma watched as he pressed entirely inside, Elizabeth’s hands clasping around him as he entered her, their moans sounding as one euphonious note. With that, Emma turned and left, pleased with yet another successful arrangement. Elizabeth and Darcy were both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards Emma Knightley who, by bringing her to new terrain, had been the means of uniting them once more. —graphic by Devon Geyelin

The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

PERSONAL ADS Looking for someone to spend V-Day with? The Herald wants you to meet our friends.

UPPER EAST SIDE PRINCESS Seeking grungy, 25-30 year old pauper. I guess I’m lucky in lot of ways. I finally broke in a nice boy to bring home to the parents. He understands my weekly sushi dates with the girls. He washes and walks my chihuahua, Duchess. He knows not to watch football on Sundays because usually I won’t want to see him but how about if I change my mind and he’s with his friends? Like, all the way on the upper west side. That’d just be insensitive. But now I want some grunge. Force me to get helmet hair on your bike. Force me to eat at Olive Garden. I’m looking for a guy who would be into the fact that I’m in a serious monogamous relationship. I hope his pitbull, Spike, hates Duchess. I’m looking for the king of Alphabet City who, on occasion, will take me to the hookah bar for some “grub.” Please hate my parents. Please hate my Pulitzer. But understand that Wednesdays at 10 p.m. will always be reserved for Nashville with my honeybear!

Female administrator at a top-tier university seeking a bit of companionship. Anything, really. We could even lie next to each other, no touching necessary. I just want to hear you breathing. Oh, gosh. It’s lonely at the top.

LITTLE SALAD BETCH Seeking BK boi with excess guest swipes for the dhall on Monday nights. Every other Monday night, I find myself having to settle for Silli or Trum salad offerings. And while the YCC salad report is supposed to handle this situation, nothing compares to BK’s broc and sprouts—why does Berkeley salad taste just a little less like leaves than every other dhall’s? I don’t know, but I’m hooked. If you’ve got a connectch at the check-in desk and are willing to drop swipes so I can get leafy greens, I’m your girl. Hit me up. Alternately, will consider dates at the newly renamed New Haven Salad Shop.

JEWISH AMERICAN PRINCE Seeking his princess. 22-25 year old Jewish female who likes to get *spiritual*. Must be down with Xbox, HOVA, Israel, and chilling. I live on the Westside, so 310 convenience. Appreciation for glass an added plus. Conservative at the polls but not with the touch ;) Call me up and we’ll watch some Entourage.

Middle Aged person seeking Architecture student Hello, i am a man looking for someone with a architecture background. I have a patio already, Its still winter time but i know springs coming and thats why i need your help. If you respond to this coming over 1 or so afternoons and drawing some architecture plans for new patio deck--not designed yet. Id like someone with architecture experience and with a vision. In my head the patio is about 10 by twenty and has a couple stairs to get up onto it and fresh pine im shellacking it for this purpose. with maybe a table or bench built in for summer guests. This is good resume or cv item for interested architects. Plus, good portfolio item for architecture students. Contact/call 2034922552 if interested.

NEVER BEEN KISSED Seeking: the perfect guy. Jezebel says it’s actually really normal. Like, it’s trending. People are just waiting longer. The days of Never Been Kissed are over. Drew Barrymore was completely desperate. I want you to know that that’s not at all my situation, and if you’re looking for a Drew Barrymore thing I’m really not your girl. I’m cool, I’m confident, I’ve been kissing my mirror for years so I know I’m good. I’m just waiting for the right guy, because in sixth grade my best friend hooked up with a guy in a closet and said his tongue felt like a soggy roasted pepper, and that’s not what I’m about. Prince Charming does not have a pepper in his mouth. Honestly, don’t judge me. This is Yale, so believe me when I say that you’ve probably never been kissed either.

You : a Fox. A Capital-F Fox. What do I mean by capital F? If you don’t understand it’s not meant to be.

Me : I’m a bachelor who’s looking for some midnight luvvin in my freezing cold attic-turned-bedroom whose heat doesn’t work because the house I live in isn’t finished. Don’t worry about it. Do you have an empty bedroom? Even better. We can roleplay being live-in roommates. Get a third in on this and we can turn it into a Three’s Company-type-deal. Except only on the condition that I get to be Janet.

The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

Dear Harold

Troubled Yalies write in to hear the sage advice of the Herald’s love guru, Harold.

Dear Harold,

How can I keep my long-distance relationship sexy?

I keep finding myself in horribly embarrassing sexual and romantic situations. How do I survive them and—more importantly—recover from them?

Yours, Wrong-Distance Relationship Dear Wrong-Distance, We have all been there. At some point or another each of us has been separated from our significant other, whether for a week or for three years, and we’ve been forced to carry on an intimate relationship remotely. When you first realize that your one and only is leaving the city, state, or maybe even the country, panic strikes—you can feel your sexual frustration rising by the second. But take a deep breath, because your long-distance sexual awakening is right around the corner. To warm up, send a racy text and never look back. I know it’s tempting to text a classic “I miss you,” but next time try “I miss your c*** (Insert M/F terminology) and let the games begin. It’s important to note that before you begin sexting you absolutely must make sure that your phone does not “Show Preview” of your text messages in alerts. It might seem funny now, but no one wants “I need your throbbing…” showing up with a vibration on the seminar table. And if you are planning to turn these texts into full-blown sexual experiences, I suggest sending a few while you are both out at night. It will be your little secret at the party and ensure that by the time you both get home you’ll be ready to go. Once you have gotten comfortable with erotic texts, you can enhance the sexting experience with some hot pics. If it seems too nerve-wracking to send these vulnerable images out into cyberspace, just download Snapchat (being sure to set the timer to a full 10 seconds—this is your lover we’re talking about, after all). If you don’t already have a phone with a flip-view camera, trust me, now is the time to invest. While it was fun at first to have my roommate take pictures of me in underwear, things are going to heat up fast and you’re going to want to take these pictures privately. (Hint: everyone looks better lying down with one or both knees up). Ladies, I know you don’t necessarily want to see your guy touching himself—but here’s the thing, you should pretend. He’s settling for text-sex, and the least you could do is compliment his bulging physique. Classic phone sex, though somewhat outdated, can definitely help to mix up this text grind. It may seem stressful, but just close your eyes, imagine that a real live human could touch you in the next moment, and vocalize it. You won’t be sorry. And if it gets too distracting trying to pleasure yourself manually while texting/talking/snapping-pics (it’s a lot!), invest in a sex toy. Orgasms are simply not overrated. Lastly, there’s Skype. Here’s the thing: it’s not super flattering, and that’s a fact. Beyoncé probably doesn’t even look good touching herself on Skype. But the live action can be nice. So just make sure that you are comfortable with your partner and that you have dimmed the lights. The situation may seem grim…but I promise that you (armed with a very good cellular plan) have got this.

Sincerely, An Awkward Turtle

Dear Turtle, Some people have brought to my attention that what I consider “normal” sex situations are actually awkward and embarrassing. To me, cuddling is harmless, fingers can go anywhere, and blood isn’t a big deal. “HOW,” my friends ask me, “HOW DO YOU LET THESE THINGS SLIDE?” It’s a skill. I’ll tell you how I learned it, and how you can learn it too. Once I met a guy at a party and he got my number, we hooked up, blah blah blah—you know how it goes. One day, probably two weeks after we met, I went over to his apartment. We started making out on his bed, and then he pulled away. He said he had a present for me. It seemed a little early on in our relationship to be giving presents, but what’s a girl not to like about a gift? He went into his closet and came back with a pink—hell, there is no other way to describe it—it was a pink vibrator. WHAT THE FUCK? But I kept calm. I said, “Thank you.” I put it in my backpack and went to meet my friend at the gym. “He gave you WHAT?” she screamed on the elliptical. I laughed and kept moving in place. But my advice is not to simply keep calm and carry on, or just to laugh it off (although these are all good strategies). Because a few weeks later, long after that guy and I had broken things off, I decided to try the vibrator. It was a good—a very good—decision. These “awkward” or “embarrassing” encounters can introduce you to something new. One of them even taught me to how to masturbate—and man, wasn’t I missing out before! So, next time something unexpected happens in bed, roll with it. And hey, maybe you’ll like the finger up your asshole.

Freshman screw: actually fun? Hey, I didn’t expect freshman screw to be genuinely fun either. But it was. Real fun. A shocking amount of fun. It took me a little while to get over the ambiguous “theme.” Why there was a theme at all? It’s a school-sanctioned dance, and somehow history tells us that it is downright unacceptable to throw an unthemed school-sanctioned dance. “Drop it Like F. Scott” was what the competent elected officials of the FCC decided on, an apt blend of the way past (the dude himself), the more recent past (Snoop’s “Drop it Like It’s Hot”), the near future (the upcoming release of the Baz Luhrmann remake), and of course the distant future. But what did they want me to do with the theme? Were we actually supposed to dress according to that theme? In the end we got the killer combo of girls rocking their flapper frocks and feathers, girls suddenly deciding it’s okay to dress like a Q-pac girl, and the rest, sad souls who just didn’t know what to wear. It made for quite the spectacle. What about the absurdly expensive neon green wristband tickets? (And sidenote: was I even supposed to buy my ticket, or would my date get it for me?) Anyway, eight bucks for the thing, and I’m not even going to try to guess what those funds are going towards. But to the crux of the matter: the actual night of. The pregaming situation obviously ended up being a little anticlimactic, but that was expected. The dance itself was pretty lame, too, so we left after about 18 minutes. But somehow, I still had a darn good time. My date was really, really cool, and we actually enjoyed hanging out for the night. I stayed up way past my bedtime and was beyond dead the entire next day, which I think makes the night an all-around success, for freshman screw. The key here is having suitemates who know what’s what—and how to screw down instead of screwing up. —Lara Sokoloff YH Staff

—graphics by Lian Fumerton-Liu YH Staff and Devon Geyelin —layout by Angela Liu and Daniel Roza The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

CULTURE What we talk about when we talk about hooking up by Marcus Moretti YH Staff

ince you’re reading this, you’re alone on or around Valentine’s Day. I’m so sorry, un-less you’re alone because you’re taking a break from all the sex you’re having. If that’s not the case, I’m here to cheer you up. Check out these hilarious excerpts from Nathan Harden’s conser-vative polemic Sex and God at Yale: “If there is one thing that best captures the essence of the Yale experience, it would be a YPU party debate.” “Jennifer was that rare mix of the good and the lovely. She was the vegetable and the dessert all mixed into one.” “...naked parties at Yale function as proxy religious rituals in an age of moral relativ-ism.” How easy it would be to write my review like this! Anyone can locate a book’s most out-landish statements and list them. And the book would probably do well. Dismissive laughter is a habit of people on the left and on the right: it’s the Daily Show-ization of political discourse. If you can laugh at something, it’s not even worth thinking about. Harden wrote thousands of other sentences that are not these, and many of them are worth brooding over. If, after reading the above sentences, you decide not to read SGY, you may be depriving yourself of chances to grow intellectually. One line that actually moved me, as a Yale senior, and a liberal, was this apolitical insight: “You enter Yale overawed by the place. You leave feeling like you own the place.” As a liberal, I even found some of his arguments admissible, e.g. those about the morally and physically corrosive effect of porn consumption. At other times, though, resisting the urge to fling the hardcover across

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The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

the room was difficult. It was an exercise in taking the other side seriously, which you should do if only to form an articulate objection. Now to walk the walk. Since this is the “Valentine’s Day” issue, I’d like to focus on Chapter 10 of SGY, titled “Hooking Up.” The two reviews written by other Yale students, pub-lished in The New Republic and The Daily Beast, scantly address this chapter and ignore it (re-spectively). But these reviews are astute enough. Both notice Harden’s constant presumption that merely describing his own visceral reactions to the events of Sex Week will induce the same e-motions in the reader. But this chapter hasn’t been given its due. There’s some good stuff on the term “hooking up.” In my high school, and in the high schools of many of my friends from the northeast, “hooking up” meant making out only. Here, “‘Hooking up’ is a broad term that can refer to almost any kind of physical interaction between a guy and a girl. It can be a single kiss, it can be making out for two hours, it can be oral sex, hand jobs, anal sex, intercourse, spending the night together, spending three minutes together—anything, everything, and nothing.” “In the college hookup culture,” he continues, “women often feel pressured to make themselves sexually available to men more quickly and more frequently than they might want to under normal circumstances.” This also strikes me as true, though Harden seems to ignore the voluntarism of women’s participation in the hookup culture. And he can be hyperbolic. This is not true: “Actually taking a girl to dinner is tantamount to a college marriage.” (The heteronor-mative shouldn’t have caught you off guard.)

But consider this observation. “It used to be that dating led to sex. At Yale, and many other colleges, sex is most often seen as the first step toward a possible romantic relationship.” It’s now normal for a guy to have sex with a girl a few times, and then ask her out on a date. Does that trigger anything in you? I was surprised while reading this section to feel a vague discomfort, that yes, considered objectively, there is something strange about treating sex as a sort of pre-date. I was surprised to feel this because it is an unmistakably conservative impulse, that the present is perverted in light of the past. I don’t find Harden’s conservatism convincing—it’s too patriarchic and religious. But on this point his and my viscera were in alignment. I won’t make the same presumption as him: telling you about my emotions doesn’t make you feel them. In this case, maybe—probably?—you don’t feel the way I do. For you, com-pletely no-strings-attached sex may be a good thing, or harmless at worst. Think about why you feel that way. In my case, I’d say it’s a mix of romanticism, sexual jealousy, and, to be honest, paternalism. Two of those things have no place in determining social rules and mores, I think, but the third might. Harden’s book prodded me to think more precisely about porn, moral relativism, and postmodernism. It didn’t do much to change me politically. But I do have a better understanding of myself and my intuitions that I would not have gained if I had dismissed the book as a Chris-tian screed. Read at least some chapters of the book, or of its namesake, God & Man at Yale. But not today. No, today, lonely reader, you should ask someone on a date. —graphic by Madeline Butler

Broadway blooms

It’s all in your head Yale president-elect Peter Salovey is a man of many talents. Not only is he the former provost and a member of a bluegrass band, but he’s also the University’s resident love doctor. This is meant with only the slightest sense of irony: Salovey happens to be an expert in the field of emotional psychology. On Valentine’s Day, 2007, he delivered a guest lecture for PSYC 110, which, luckily, was recorded on Open Yale Courses. In his 75-minute lecture, he discussed the psychology of love. True love, he explained, requires intimacy, passion, and commitment—a combination of any two of the three is not real love. Salovey went on to identify the variables that have a powerful influence on love. Some of these variables are obvious: we tend to fall in love with people who are familiar and in close proximity; and we are more likely to fall in love with people who are similar to us—whether it be in height or extracurricular interests or political tendencies. And as much as we’d like to think it isn’t true, good looks heighten not only physical attraction but also romantic feelings. Perhaps the most fascinating discovery—one that Yale students in particular might want to take to heart—is that we are especially attracted to competent people who make occasional blunders. “People who are super competent…they’re kind of threatening to us,” Salovey said. “They make us feel a bit diminished by comparison.” Unlike animals, humans aren’t attracted to perfect people. Rather, we often fall in love with those who are accomplished but also make mistakes. So the next time you drop a cup in the dining hall or answer a question in section incorrectly, don’t beat yourself up over it—you may have just won your crush’s heart. Just make sure your next big blunder isn’t a bad Valentine’s Day gift. —Anna-Sophie Harling

With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, it’s a little ominous that the flowers that are usually outside of Broadway’s most renowned latenight eatery have vanished. What you probably don’t know is that the display of flowers, which nobody ever seems to ever touch, is a stipulation of University Properties’ lease with Gourmet Heaven. Although this requirement has been reported in both the New York Times and the Yale Daily News, Adam, MVP of the G-Heav graveyard shift, wasn’t able to tell me much about it. Aside from the heightened street aesthetics provided by the floral display, he could only reason that the flowers served the purpose of convenience; students buying flowers for a concert or date can easily grab a bouquet, scurry inside, and pay within seconds. Tanya, the daytime cashier, couldn’t explain the mysterious requirement either. She did tell me, though, that the flowers would be back out soon; this week’s cold weather is the cause of their disappearance. So don’t despair, young lovers—you’ll get your flowers soon! Oh, and apparently they’re from Colombia, so you can tell everyone that you got your girlfriend an exotic gift. Score! —Wesley Yiin YH Staff

TAs need love, too On Tues., Feb. 19, the Craigslist “personals” board will see a dip in a major demographic: Yale grad students. The Yale Graduate and Professional School Senate will be hosting a speed-dating event at GPSCY, the Yale-subsidized pub for graduate and professional students. The event will provide participants an opportunity to strike up conversation in order to find a companion. According to the event’s website, there will be five shifts. Participants are given identification numbers that their dates can record if interested. The “romantic musical chairs” allows for three-to-five-minute dates for our East Rock dwellers to court each other. Lily Vanderbloemen, CC ’16, works at Blue Dog Café in the McDougal Graduate Student Center and has discussed the event with her graduate student co-workers. “I think graduate life is often so constrained, and speed-dating would be a great opportunity to spice things up and meet some new, interesting people!” she said. The event seems to be popular. The multiple sessions come in response to an increased demand for the event. At press time, one of eight slots was filled. —Austin Bryniarski

The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

REVIEWS Game of legends by Gareth Imparato YH Staff

ass culture isn’t what it used to be. The rise of the Internet and cable TV has made media consumption an à la carte experience; the entertainment comes to you, whenever it’s convenient. Most of my friends have given up on watching TV in real time, preferring instead to watch chunks of shows on Netflix, Hulu, or some seedy website with a .eu domain name. In the midst of this fractured entertainment landscape, the Super Bowl stands alone. Of the top 20 alltime most-watched broadcasts, 10 are Super Bowls. It remains, against all odds, an event for everyone. It was easy for me to forget that, though, as I watched the game. Since the Ravens came to Baltimore in 1996, the team has gradually wormed its way into the fabric of the city. My family moved to Baltimore in 1994, so I grew up surrounded by the iconography of our city’s new team. For me, therefore, this game did not feel universal. In fact, as a child of Baltimore, the Super Bowl did not seem totally real—rather, it felt like a myth. Joe Flacco, Ed Reed, Ray Lewis: these men were legends already. Add to that the fact that Lewis, our biggest star, had been with the team since the first season and had also announced that he would retire at the end of this one. Now consider that the coaches of the Ravens and the San Francisco 49ers are brothers. The story was epic in the traditional sense, and once the lights went up the game played out like a prophecy fulfilled. The first half of the game was marked by a series of routs by the Ravens, ending in a 21 to six score and a series of knock-on-wood Facebook statuses by my friends from high school. Then came Beyoncé’s tripped-out halftime performance. The Super Bowl’s halftime is too often an excuse for aging pop stars to put on a lackluster show and then settle back onto their laurels and/or comically oversized pile of money. The decision to hire a real pop star at the peak of her abilities this year was therefore a deviation from the norm, and it paid dividends. Not only was Beyoncé’s show incredible, the reunited Destiny’s Child lent an air of pop culture significance that complemented the game itself. By the third quarter, a Ravens victory seemed inevitable. Jacoby Jones’ NFL record-tying 108-yard kickoff return felt like a divine hint that yes, Baltimore, this was going to turn out alright. The favor of the gods was thrown into confusion by man, however, when the power went out. This was a jarring mistake for a mainstream media event of this scale, a reminder of how difficult live television is to make and how impressive it is that so many games each year go by without a hitch. The Superdome’s

The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

(WIkimedia Commons)

blackout pulled me back into reality, out from my regional fixation. I realized that my frustration at this moment was shared by tens of millions, and was struck by the power of the event. Here was mass culture in action, forcing much of the country to experience boredom, to delay gratification. When the lights came back on they brought with them a changed momentum, a 49ers resurgence that set my native-son stomach on edge. It was undeniably exhilarating, however. The game’s stakes grew throughout the second half, until the 49ers were left with a final shot at victory. Baltimore led 34 to 29 and San Francisco had possession. It was perhaps inevitable that the game would end with Ray Lewis’s defense making a final stand, driving back San Francisco rookie phenom quarterback Colin Kaepernick. The night’s teleology was set; the outcome foretold. Baltimore is a city that has suffered its fair share of setbacks. It is best known among members of my generation for a TV series heralded for its brutal depiction of the realities of urban blight. It continues to face real problems in terms of crime, drug addiction, and public education. It is not in spite of those facts but because of them that this Super Bowl mattered so much for me, and for my city. For the past decade and a half, the Ravens have consistently provided a point of hope for the city. This game marked an end to the Ray Lewis era of the team, on the best terms possible. It gave me, and my hometown, a reason to believe.

Food: Chipotle

Music: Josh Groban

People have come to associate Chipotle with over-sized burritos, guacamole made from actual avocados, and fast food treated with respect. If that’s what Yalies are looking for, they won’t be satisfied by Chipotle’s arrival in New Haven. Because, so far, the burrito franchise’s newly opened branch is really not worth the trek. On one Sunday evening, the line goes all the way around the shop. Not surprising, given that it’s the new kid on the block. What’s more surprising is the mess: a 30-minute wait, chicken breasts burning on the griddle, and table salt stored in Tabasco bottles. When I finally arrive at the start of the burrito assembly line, the server demands my order. She lazily heats up my tortilla and spoons on overcooked cilantro-lime rice that obviously lacks both cilantro and lime. The carnitas is kept moist only by the leaking salsa-water. Speaking of salsa, my “roasted” corn salsa seemed to have foregone roasting. They’ve run out of sour cream, but at least there’s guacamole—too bad it’s ice-cold. Perhaps it’s because they’ve paired cold guacamole with stale chips. As I reach the cashier, they unsuccessfully attempt to wrap up my burrito in the toasted tortilla, and dump its insides all over a new, cold tortilla. As it stands, what’s occupied the corner of Chapel and Temple Streets isn’t quite what we expect in a Chipotle. It’s an inconsistent, sub-par, faux-Mexican mess that lacks efficiency, organization, and the integrity of its brand. Until they pull themselves together, just go to Tomatillo. —Lucas Sin YH Staff

Classical, pop, flamenco, death metal, Gregorian chant—Josh Groban could sing anything, and it would probably place near the top of the charts. The American vocal legend’s sixth and newest album, All That Echoes, might rely too heavily on that assumption. Each of Groban’s albums, four of which went multi-platinum, is a compilation of pieces plucked from a variety of genres and a number of different languages. The juxtaposition of musical styles on All That Echoes, though, is jarring even for Groban. The first and most satisfying track on the album, “Brave,” which Groban co-wrote, presents classic Groban: sweeping crescendos, strings, vaguely inspiring but largely incoherent lyrics, and a gospel choir singing backup on the last chorus. The other tracks are similarly formulaic—a bit lackluster, but nonetheless, elegantly executed. The middle five songs, though, make All That Echoes start to feel like a college audition tape (albeit one at which any middle-aged woman would swoon). Groban goes from a theatrical take on a traditional Irish folk melody to a reggae pop song to an Italian ballad; only two tracks later, he’s seducing his listeners with “Un Alma Mas,” a sultry Latin dance number. The popcorn effect of the song selection seems at odds with the star’s caramel-coated voice. The stylistic variety on the album comes across as forced; with over 22 million records sold in America alone, what is Groban trying to prove? —Helen Rouner

Music: My Bloody Valentine

Movie: Oscar-nominated short films

Twenty-two years—that’s how long it’s been since My Bloody Valentine released their last album, the iconic Loveless. And this past Saturday night, with little more than a warning on the day of, the band finally released its beyond-highly-anticipated follow-up: mbv. After two decades of postponements upon postponements, mbv is an album that most fans never thought would see the light of day. The immediate question, then, is if it is as good as Loveless—and the answer is obviously no. Loveless was one of those rare albums that rises above its contemporaries to define its era, and it would have been damn near impossible for Kevin Shields to replicate that. So comparing the albums is basically pointless. But as far as albums go, mbv is pretty damn good. Roughly divided into three different sections, the album feels like My Bloody Valentine waking from a long slumber. The first section is made up of long and meditative songs, coupling quiet, melancholic singing with characteristic shoegaze-y guitars. Though these songs may sound simplistic at first, their complexities unfold with each subsequent listen. The middle of mbv is the album’s biggest departure, with My Bloody Valentine going straight-up dream pop. “Is This and Yes” is a welcome respite from the usual walls of noise, making heavy use of idyllic synths and angelic vocals. The excellent “New You,” meanwhile, is as purely fun and joyful as My Bloody Valentine gets. However, the best part of mbv is undoubtedly its dizzying shoegaze opus of a closer, “Wonder 2.” Here, My Bloody Valentine adds a riveting chopped-up beat to make a song as pulsing as it is transcendent. It’s also the song that sounds the most contemporary, envisioning how what many may deem to be a thoroughly ’90s sound can be relevant today. Hopefully, it won’t take another two decades for us to see how My Bloody Valentine continues with that development. —Andrew Wagner YH Staff

Pensive, off-beat, and poignant, the short films nominated for this year’s Academy Award for Best Live Action Short offer distinct takes on a universal phenomenon—the feeling of holding on to something. Some are successful. “Curfew,” a film about redemption and family, tells the story of a young mother, her daughter, and her troubled brother who realize they can’t live happily without being together. Its cinematography is stunning, especially the soft, warm city lights visible from the apartment building windows. Overall, it’s a fresh success. “Henry” depicts an elderly concert pianist searching for his missing wife as he struggles with dementia. The film delays our full realization of Henry’s mental condition, so until the end, we live as Henry lives, confused about what is true and what is illusion. Also quite successful, “Henry” may be the clear winner. Others fare less well. In “Death of a Shadow,” a deceased soldier clings to memories of a woman he met soon before dying. The film is incredibly imaginative, employing intriguing, futuristic devices and focusing on emotionally complex characters. However, although its plot irregularities are meant to create suspense and emotional investment, they result in confusion. Similarly, “Buzkashi Boys” and “Asad” were not entirely effective. The films, which take place in Afghanistan and Somalia, respectively, present young boys faced with decisions about their futures who attempt to hold onto friendships and normalcy in the face of conflict and death. “Buzkashi Boys” is often melodramatic, and “Asad” moves too slowly at times. Ultimately, though, the Academy has succeeded in bringing to our attention films worth seeing: each short, in one way or another, challenges the limitations of its medium. Though shorts may not be as popular as feature films, the technical and emotional innovations that the nominees attempt to achieve make them just as essential. —Josh Jacobs

The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)

We found him.

Write for the YALE HERALD email emma.schindler@yale.edu

BULLBLOG BLACKLIST Are they for real? Ugh. For not being the weekend. Like, seriously, the Cuyahoga?

SOMESOM

Retainers

Went the last three weeks without them. Now it hurts too much and I quit.

Yale suing people who can’t pay back their loans

The week

Why do I still feel uncomfortable pooping anywhere but my apartment, the basement bathroom in Loria, and the private bathrooms in Silliman?

Pooping anxiety

Two-page papers, so professors can “see where you’re at”

Bulldogs in the Cuyahoga

Whoever is currently playing “Gangnam Style” in Blue State Also, whoever is now playing “Shots” in Blue State.

FellFe

Our Spring Fling headliner

Rolled-down Uggs My bed, is where I’m at. And we don’t even know who it is yet.

Wearing rolled-down Uggs because you can’t bring yourself to wear any other shoes.

The Yale Herald (Feb. 8, 2013)