issue-2-final

The Yale Herald Volume LXI, Number 2 New Haven, Conn.

Friday, Feb. 5, 2016

FROM THE STAFF G’day, Does anyone remember Webkinz? Those stuffed animals that came with a code to unlock an online avatar? And you could dress your cartoon pets in glamorous boots? I had a monkey, and I named him Chiquita, after the banana brand. I haven’t fed him in nine years. Hope he’s okay.

At Trail’s End, a pet crematory in Westbrook, Conn., dead animals are an everyday occurrence. In this week’s front, Ceri Godinez, CC ’17, shadows the cremator, Jeff Jones. As she follows Jones through his daily task of turning dead animals into ashes, she considers how he has adjusted to such bleak work. And what rituals have pet owners, past and present, developed to cope with their animals’ deaths?

If you’d like a lighter look at our furry friends, head over to Culture, where Nolan Phillips, TC ’18, examines a collection of bird illustrations confusingly called the Elephant Folio. Then check out the rest of the issue: in Opinion, Eva Branson, DC ’18, reflects on the name and legacy of Stephen A. Schwarzman; in Reviews, Josh Mandel, SM ’16, and Jordan Coley, SY ’17, scrutinize the latest albums from pop queens Rihanna and Sia; and in Features, Carmen Baskauf, SY ’17, gives us the low-down on New Haven’s new food truck regulations.

It’s week four, which means we’re basically already in midterm season. We hope our latest issue will help you savor your spare time while you still have it. Oh— and feed your pets.

Thx, Tom Cusano Managing Editor

The Yale Herald Volume LXI, Number 2 New Haven, Conn.

Friday, Feb. 5, 2016 EDITORIAL STAFF: Editor-in-chief: Sarah Holder Managing Editors: Brady Currey, Tom Cusano, Rachel Strodel Executive Editors: Kohler Bruno, Austin Bryniarski, Sophie Haigney, David Rossler, Alessandra Roubini, Lily SawyerKaplan, Lara Sokoloff, Charlotte Weiner Senior Editors: Libbie Katsev, Carly Lovejoy, Kendrick McDonald, Anna Meixler, Jake Orbison, Jake Stein Culture Editor: Lora Kelley Features Editors: Emma Chanen, Calvin Harrison Opinion Editors: Charlotte Ferenbach, Lea Rice Reviews Editors: Luke Chang, Joe Kuperschmidt Voices Editor: Olivia Klevorn Insert Editor: Elias Bartholomew Audio Editors: Phoebe Petrovic, Korinayo Thompson Copy Editors: Genevieve Abele, Alexander Mutuc, Allison Primak ONLINE STAFF: Online Editor: <3 Zoe Dobuler <3 Bullblog Editors: Jeremy Hoffman, Caleb Moran DESIGN STAFF: Graphics Editors: Haewon Ma, Claire Sheen Executive Design Editors: Ben McCoubrey, Kai Takahashi BUSINESS STAFF: Publishers: Olivia Briffault, Russell Heller, Ellen Kim, Jocelyn Lehman 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 2015-2016 academic year for 65 dollars.

Please address correspondence to: The Yale Herald P.O. Box 201653 Yale Station New Haven, CT 06520-1653 sarah.holder@yale.edu 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 2015, The Yale Herald, Inc. Have a nice day.

Cover by Haewon Ma YH Staff

2 – The Yale Herald

THIS WEEK

Incoming Presidential Task Force on Diversity and Inclusion

Ready to “consider... any future proposals that are submitted and advise [Salovey] and other university leaders on those that hold the most promise to advance the goal of full inclusion on campus.”

Outgoing ER&M Faculty

Okay, we get that Jafari Allen chose Miami over New Haven. But Birgit Brander Rasmussen is leaving us for upstate New York. C’mon, Yale.

In this issue Cover 12– We know all dogs go to heaven, but what happens before they get there? Ceri Godinez, CC ’17, visits a pet crematorium to find out.

Voices 6 – Hayun Cho, TC ‘17, illustrates the nature of migration, and Fernando Rojas, ES ’19, asks how much first aid kids can fix.

Opinion Friday Yale Men’s Basketball vs. Columbia Payne Whitney Gymnasium 5 p.m.

Friday Y Fashion House Presents: Synesthesia Silliman Dining Hall 9:15 p.m.

Saturday Senior Masquerade Ball The Omni 9 p.m.

Sunday Screening of Last Year at Marienbad Whitney Humanities Center 7 p.m.

8 – Eva Branson, DC ’18, demands that students consider the implications of “Schwarzman.”

9 – Ryan Wilson, SM ’17, examines the idea of a White History Month.

Features 10 – Noticed the new coffee bus on Cross Campus? Carmen Baskauf SY’17 chews on new food truck regulations for New Haven.

16 – Clay Depuy, CC ’17, investigates Connecticut’s initiative to help incarcerated drug offenders recover from addiction.

Culture 18 – Take flight with Nolan Phillips, TC ’18 and the Birds of America at the Peabody Museum.

19 – Track comics and activism with Beatrix Archer, BK ’19 at Black Pulp!

Reviews 20 – Josh Mandel, SM ’16, is pro Rihanna’s ANTI album; Libbie Katsev, DC ’17, loses faith in the X-Files; Lora Kelley, DC ’17, gets lost in The Moors; and Jordan Coley, SY ’17, realizes he just likes a good pop song.

Feb. 5, 2016 – 3

CREDIT D FAIL

THE NUMBERS Index 27.6

Grease Live

Percent of Iowa caucus delegates Ted Cruz won

Boyfriends around campus perked up when they heard their significant others say something about a “hand jive tonight.” Turns out, FOX brought back the all-American musical that your mom keeps hinting brought about her sexual awakening! The show featured all of our favorite, timeless moments: from Danny’s buds asking if Sandy “put up a fight” before she put out to that heartwarming message about love being all about compromising your values. And also putting out! Granted, some scenes didn’t age as well. For instance, Sandy almost breaks up with Danny for touching her boob.

This certainly dates the musical, considering today a boob graze is just Soads for “hello.” Things have changed since the 1950’s, after all. Young women no longer feel pressured to dress up in particular outfits and turn into someone they’re not for external validation. Wait a second…

10

Number of provinces in Cruz’s native Canada

16

Number of tweets it took Azealia Banks to explain why she’s voting for Trump

15

Number of tweets it took Donald Trump to PROVE that Ted Cruz “cheated—a total fraud”

Greek Life Ah, Yale Greek Life. What can sometimes be a lively part of campus culture often just feels like an awkward attempt to jam a TI-84 into a Vineyard Vines case. We’re not fooling anyone, folks. We’re all just a bunch of fucking calculators.

But once a year, freshmen and sophomores scramble for a chance to show the world that they’ve tried beer and they liked it. Greek Life has some major plusses. Many fraternities and sororities are involved in philanthropy work, including improving literacy rates around the world. Why’d you think they were holding up such giant letters? Even more, getting in can provide some lifelong friendships, or at least an internship connection from that pledge’s aunt who once saw Julia Louis-Dreyfus at a bar. More recently, Greek organizations have inundated us with some pretty phrustrating puns and hand signs that range from feigning the biting of one’s own finger to... Holy shit. Is that a real butterfly? But when it comes down to it, what’s the big deal? After all, you can’t judge the occasional toga-wearing classmates of ours without going back to the roots of the system. Bringing us to…

350

Days until Donald Trump makes America great again

Sources: 1) The New York Times 2) Wikipedia 3) Twitter 4) Twitter 5) a calendar.

– Calvin Harrison

Top five Fashion Tips Mascot heads. Time to invest in actually

5 – looking like a bulldog.

4–

Life in Greece Come one, come all! Experience the white sands and marble buildings that comprise the great land of—What? I see. But what exactly do you mean by “migration crisis?” Greece’s immigration policies have recently gotten the country into some trouble with its European pals. The EU is threatening to cut Greece out of the Schengen Area, which isn’t just akin to being disinvited from the party, but more like being banned from going from party to party from here on out. Think a kid who’s under 21 in Las Vegas, or a five-out-of-ten on High Street. To top this off, Greece was just rated highest out of all the EU countries on the misery index. Basically, Greece is like the rest of the European countries’ middle school-aged brother.

He keeps mentioning the Pythagorean theorem like it’s going to make up for what a little shit he’s really being.

– Rebecca Shaw and Ben Kronengold

4 – The Yale Herald

Wool socks. I don’t care if it’s 65 degrees out and you’re sweating your goddamn feet off walking up Science Hill. You’ll always be prepared for a FOOT reunion.

Weather balloon (tethered to your sleeve).

3 – Do you want to look like some schmuck who

uses the weather channel app? DIY meteorology is in right now.

2–

Waterproof Skechers. For STEM majors.

Course loads will have you submerged in pools of your own tears so you’ll need kicks that are still fire when wet.

fashion blogs. Even if you don’t dress 1 – Check better you’ll at least you have something to talk about at naked parties.

– J. Joseph

sarah.holder@yale.edu

Email russell.heller@yale.edu & jocelyn.lehman@yale.edu

VOICES Just another song Hayun Cho

Animal migrations always seem full of grace.

Small bodies moving in one direction, Even if it means they won’t come back.

Humans are animals, too, but I can’t help thinking it’s different.

I see little instinct even if there is a purpose, Even if there is no coming back.

Like my parents, I crave return.

The smell of a cellar, or the way He wore a purple sweater over his shirt.

A rain that does not wash or flood, But sticks to skin like another skin.

The new metro, now the old metro.

Come back. I think I live to hear that.

You loved in a place that knew the wild nature Of that love, and that place is calling you back.

I could write about watching geese, Like silver, cutting through evening.

Or ants preparing for a storm.

I light the lamp because I have to.

Another light has gone out of that part of my life.

In the clearing, high up in a nameless mountain, A nameless girl eats strawberries.

It is August. There are no airplanes.

The rain has started.

She does not need a country To know the touch of rain.

I write it shamelessly­—I. I was the nameless girl.

I rode on an airplane and left.

This is simply what they do not tell you.

Here is my instinct on the page, my animal skin, And it speaks of somewhere else.

It is neither good nor bad, And it hasn’t left.

It wanted me to come back, So I opened the door.

Graphic by Claire Sheen YH Staff 6 – The Yale Herald

Isopropyl alcohol Fernando Rojas The morning starts like any other. The cat wakes up before you do. Its 7:38 a.m. and the ceaseless meowing can only be stopped by food. You open the can of cat food and empty the contents in the bowl. But right before you throw the can away, the lid slices the tip of your thumb, and that familiar rusty smelling blood starts to curve down your finger. At a stressful moment like this it’s easy to fall victim to fear, but a God-sent first aid kit will relieve all the distress. After the rinse, the sanitation, and bandage, everything is fine. The wound will heal on its own.

The “Contents” section of the pamphlet inside the first aid kit lists two chewable aspirin tablets, five triple antibiotic ointment packs, two trauma pads, 25 adhesive plastic bandages, and 30 more remedies to ailments that may never come. The outside of the bag reads FAMILY FIRST AID KIT: AMERICAN RED CROSS, accompanied by a small circle that circumscribes a cross.

When we frantically look for salvation from any physical pain, the white and robust Christian symbol is the first image to command our attention. But what subconscious effects do this symbol’s history and meaning impose?

The American Red Cross is a national society in the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies (or the IFRC). Although the IFRC’s mission statement claims that the organization provides assistance “without discrimination as to nationality, race, religious beliefs,” the conflation of religious symbols and medicine exposes how society has not fully disintegrated medicine and faith, which effectively creates numerous parallels with religion. Created in 1863 in Geneva, Switzerland, the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement chose the Swiss flag as its emblem (the colors were switched to distinguish the flags). Since Switzerland’s flag had a profound Christian influence, and the Red Cross’s symbol originates from this same flag, there are undoubtable remnants of Christianity associated with that universal symbol in medicine.

Hazel Joan Barber explores the symbolism of crosses in nursing throughout history in her article “The Symbol of the Cross as Used in Nursing.” Barber argues that crosses were used on nurses’ clothes for two reasons: a) the cross demonstrated an eagerness to “soothe those who are suffering, regardless of rank or position, color or creed”; and b) the cross was a “symbol of security,” and the nurse represented life and comfort to the injured. The cross came from an old history when religion and medicine were inseparable.

Mary E. Fissell describes in “Women, Health, and Healing in Early Modern Europe” that the position of nuns in the Catholic Church was lucrative because in many cases it was equivalent to a contemporary nurse. Even if the symbols are kept because of tradition, there are parallels between religion and medicine that persist today. Just like holy books and religious symbols are found in homes as the harbingers of religion, first aid kits are miniature household representations of medicine. In addition to treating wounds and sickness, they constantly affirm society’s faith in medicine—a faith that is sometimes challenged by the unfortunate limits of science.

We first encounter first aid kits as children. The pain from scraped knees, scratched arms, bloody noses, and a myriad of other backyard injuries magically disappear because of first aid kits. This indoctrination extends beyond the confines of our homes. The school nurse absolves us of playground injuries with the same red box of ointments and bandages. It’s difficult to imagine a child that understands the biological process of healing, and how a first aid kit helps that natural process. Their only explanation? Magic. It is common for children to be inundated with the norm of magical thinking. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and crossing your fingers for good luck are all examples of things children believe because they explain the unknown.

And as we grow up, the faith we have in medicine does not deteriorate until the limits of science cure us of the childish illusion that medicine can heal everything.

In January of 2014 my grandmother, who lived her entire life in Jalisco, Mexico moved to Southern California after two kidney failures forced her to turn her care to the infalible medicine of the United States. After four surgeries and three months of excruciating recovery, my grandmother felt constantly sick and nauseous. She spent countless nights in the hospital until my family formed friendships with the nurses and janitors, and I found myself studying for exams and trudging through The Stranger in the pastel pink lobby of the hospital. Back then my grandmother saw her doctor as the savior that would bring her back from the mysterious disease. Back then my parents and family members constantly asked my grandmother’s doctor why the surgeries hadn’t worked and what was causing the nausea. The doctor responded by saying it could be the stress, or that the recovery process was simply “taking longer than expected,” or the medicine needed some time to kick in—all answers that futilely tried to calm my family’s anxiety. For the first time, my family’s faith in medicine had been challenged.

There is no problem with the faith we have in medicine, but as a society that has experienced scientific advancements, we are beginning to expect that every health problem we could possibly face has a viable treatment, even when a cure doesn’t exist. But we must acknowledge the influence faith—an idea that clashes with empiricism— has on medicine, especially when the strict parameters of science clash with unmerited expectations.

In his TED Talk, Atul Gawande explores the progression of medicine since and before the discovery of penicillin in 1937. Gawande states that hospitals were only helpful because they offered “some warmth, food, shelter, and maybe the caring attention of a doctor.” Gawande then explains how the progression of medicine has made it impossible for every doctor to know everything about medicine. The increasing intricacies of medicine made more treatments possible, but at the cost of specializing every doctor. Yet Gawande says that there are numerous parallels between priests and doctors: confidentiality, counseling, and comfort are rudimentary to the figures’ professions. The positive implications of this relationship are incredible because they foster a personal environment that promotes healing, but the possible failures of medicine become exacerbated when the person we trust cannot answer our questions. Where does a congregate turn when their priest doesn’t have an answer? Where does a patient turn when their doctor doesn’t have an answer? When my grandmother’s doctor could not give her a definite answer, the disillusionment consumed any of her remaining strength.

The ubiquity of crosses in the medical field and in first aid kits establishes the misguided idea that medicine is omnipotent. The implications of society having a blind faith in medicine are tremendous, and using first aid kits becomes a ritual that perpetuates the misconception that medicine can solve everything. The solution isn’t to stop using first aid kits, but we must become aware of our unjustified expectations of medicine.

The next time you open a can of cat food and accidently cut your thumb, reach towards salvation and find the circumscribed cross on the first aid kit. Clean and bandage the cut because it will heal, but not every medical emergency falls within the restrained capabilities of medicine. We must be prepared to face those unfortunate emergencies. If we are caught off guard by a fatal disease, then we will be disillusioned of our naïve presumptions. Any remaining strength we have will diminish.

Graphic by Claire Sheen YH Staff Feb. 5, 2016 – 7

OPINION

What’s the Big Ydea?

by Eva Branson In recent weeks, many on Yale’s campus have embraced the idea of renaming Calhoun College after one of its own former residents, Roosevelt Thompson. Beside the fact that Roosevelt Thompson is not one of American history’s most notorious pro-slavery advocates—a notable improvement upon Calhoun, and probably a prerequisite we should have for our colleges—his is a name with a legacy to which we can aspire. In his short 22 years, Thompson was elected to Phi Beta Kappa, awarded a Rhodes Scholarship, played on the Yale football team, and was dedicated to service in the greater New Haven area. Thompson was beloved both by classmates at Yale and prominent political figures, such as the Clintons; he was a promising political voice in his hometown of Little Rock, Arkansas. Right now, we students love the idea of Thompson College, and we love the idea of interrupting our university’s tradition of naming our spaces after wealthy white men.

In this movement to amend Yale’s past mistakes, though, we have forgotten to address one being made right now.

When the Schwarzman Center was first announced last May, students were engaged, and they asked questions. Do we really need a student center? Will we still be able to get pizza and french fries from Commons? Where will Freshman Screw be?

And most importantly, why should we name a building after a man who is still alive, and whose dubious financial ethics have made him a controversial figure on Wall Street? Heated debates still surround the culpability of his firm, the Blackstone Group, in the onset of the 2008 recession. Somewhere between Next Yale and finals and winter storm Jonas, we have forgotten to keep asking: should rich donors be able to mark their territories simply by writing a check?

While Stephen Schwarzman is an alumnus of Yale College and the size of his donation is remarkable, it seems unlikely that he donated his money with a sincere interest in giving meaningful support to his alma mater. If he had, some of that $150 million would have been allocated to the spaces that have been consistently requesting greater financial resources, and which have developed specific plans

on how they would use these funds. Despite the fact that institutions such as the cultural houses have voiced specific needs, the Schwarzman Center Advisory Committee is hosting focus group after focus group, seemingly just to figure out what to do with so much money. “The Big Ydea,” also known as the Schwarzman Center Idea Thinkathon, will take place on Feb. 20. The event’s website promises food as well as “awesome free gear and swag.” Every team that enters automatically receives $100, three teams receive $1000, and the runner-up and winners are awarded $1500 and $2500, respectively. Yale is quite literally handing out money in order to figure out what to do with the rest of their money.

Schwarzman has paid to rebrand one of Yale’s most iconic spaces, one that also serves as a war memorial, with his name. This isn’t the first time he’s staked his claim on a beautiful and historic space—take the Stephen A. Schwarzman building, formerly known as the New York Public Library. In fact, Schwarzman previously attempted to name Commons after himself in the late 90s, but was unsuccessful following the university’s revelation that the $17 million he proposed would only be an investment on Yale’s behalf, not a direct donation.

His greatest claim to fame is his $3 million birthday party in 2007, which was covered extensively in the New Yorker. Schwarzman’s “philanthropy” seems more like a desire to be immortalized by publicizing his donations to supposedly needy causes, or perhaps simply a desire to see his name on as many large buildings as possible.

The push for a Yale College student center, although not the most pressing issue on most Yale students’ minds, does have its merits. Our unique residential college system means that there are very few spaces where we can all gather as an undergraduate community. Commons is one of the only such spaces for undergraduates on campus, and a lunch swipe is still a requisite for entry. Cross Campus and Old Campus provide more universally accessible spaces, but New Haven’s slushy weather prevents them from being usable for the majority of the year. The decision to create a student center

may finally provide a place for students to gather outside of libraries, dining halls, and colleges. If residential colleges create smaller communities, Commons should be a place where all undergraduates can feel connected to one another. It seems counterintuitive to name Yale’s one truly communal space after such a divisive figure.

Surrounded by William L. Harkness Hall, Sheffield-Sterling-Strathcona Hall, and Anne T. and Robert M. Bass Library, Commons was once the only Yale space unburdened by labels. When I walk into Commons, I don’t want to think about who it is named for, what they’ve done, and whether or not it was ethical; I just want to enjoy spending time with my community. Freshman Screw and the Holiday Dinner, two events inextricably linked to the building, are among the few annual events in which all Yale freshmen can participate. This is what makes Commons great: its name has no meaning beyond the literal. There are no pretenses, no past histories.

“Commons” implies a space for everyone and everything, and that implicit inclusiveness is lost with the affixture of the Schwarzman name.

Right now, student efforts are focused on renaming Calhoun College. While this is a necessary and increasingly feasible goal, it has caused us to lose sight of other immediate issues. Calhoun College was christened in 1933, but the Schwarzman Center is only 6 months old. The name has yet to eclipse Commons in our collective lexicon, and the debate surrounding Calhoun College has made most of campus aware of the fact that names really do matter. It’s not too late for us to retract the Schwarzman name, and to return Commons to what it should be: a space without labels.

Naming a building after a historical figure pays tribute to their accomplishments; naming a building after a donor commercializes the space. The names on our buildings provide markers of Yale’s commitment to progress while still holding on to the traditions that make us exceptional. To an outsider, they represent who we are. The Yale-blue plaque on the outside of the Schwarzman Center tells the world that Yale is for sale to the highest bidder.

Graphic by Joseph Valdez

8 ­– The Yale Herald

The case for White History Month

by Ryan Wilson

Every February, millions of Americans observe the long, arduous story of tragedy and triumph that is black history and ask, “But when is White History Month?“ In 2016, so far there has been no difference, except for the addition of one more voice. This time I’m taking up the call. I want a White History Month.

I first realized America could stand to benefit from a White History month this past December. On Dec. 3, a record-breaking audience tuned in to watch the live performance of the new adaptation of the Broadway musical, The Wiz, on NBC. Both during and after the performance, social media was flooded with praise for the fantastic show starring an all-black cast. Unfortunately, (but unsurprisingly) many people were discomforted by the sight of an all-black ensemble. For every tweet or post celebrating the production, there existed several more declaring that an all-black casting was racist, or even worse, “reverse-racism.” Others claimed the production promoted segregation. A number of tweeters wondered why there was no all-white version of The Wiz. It was all I could do to not delete every social media account that I have, then toss my laptop into the nearest dumpster.

There is a constant cloud of negative emotions, ranging from suspicion to hostility, hovering over black

spaces and events aimed at celebrating blackness. Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) are ignorantly criticized as promoting segregation, despite the fact that admission is not restricted by race. However, hundreds of colleges and universities have historically been and remain predominantly white institutions.

Black student unions often face similar criticism, even when surrounded by predominantly or entirely white student political unions, school newspapers, or Greek social groups. Racism as a system is made up of various institutions and practices that privilege whiteness.

While prejudice can come from anyone, only white people have the institutional power to make that prejudice have lasting consequences.

In January, the 2016 Oscar nominations were announced. For the second time in two years, no black actors were nominated for best actor or actress in a lead or supporting role, an all-too-familiar occurrence for Indigenous, Asian, or Latinx actors. Predictably, the people who spoke so vehemently against the lack of diversity in an all-black adaption of an all-white film musical were silent on the issue. When some notable black actors and filmmakers, such as Jada Pinkett Smith and Spike Lee, began to call for a boycott of this year’s Oscars, actors like Charlotte Rampling said that “maybe black actors did not deserve to make the final list,” and called the boycott “racist against whites.”

Clueless actress and Fox News Channel co-host, Stacey Dash implied that the existence of the BET Awards and Black History month is antithetical to racial integration. She argues that television networks and months dedicated to the promotion of black people are acts of self-segregation, and that promoting these institutions while criticizing the Oscars is hypocritical.

In so many aspects of media, culture, education, and daily life, the presence of whiteness is normalized and centralized to the point that it goes unnoticed. This is why so many television networks have line-ups that are disproportionately white, but BET continues to come under fire. This is why Christian Bale and Joel Edgerton are accepted as ancient Egyptians in Exodus: Gods and Kings, but Noma Dumezweni is criticized for playing Hermione Granger onstage, a fictional witch whose race is never explicitly stated by the author. Whether in real life or fiction, whiteness is assumed to be the default setting of humanity, thus rendering it standard. When that assumption is interrupted, it leads to outrage.

This is the same problem we have with Black History month. During the other 11 months of the year, the celebration and centralization of whiteness still exists, but goes unnoticed. The average U.S. or world history course largely glosses over the narratives of people of color in favor of a white-centric recounting of history.

A quick mention of slavery and an even quicker and oversimplified account of the Civil Rights Movement encompasses most of what is discussed in respect to black history. The experiences of other minority groups

usually goes unmentioned. When people say history, they usually mean “white history.”

We need to stop equating whiteness with “normal.”

If people want a White History month so badly, I say they should have one. Only, instead of reinforcing a white-washed version of history, White History month would explore whiteness as a constructed identity. It would explore how whiteness as an identity is predicated on anti-blackness and the erasure of people of color. The U.S. could spend an entire month learning and analyzing how whiteness is based on excluding, othering, and exoticizing racial and ethnic groups that don’t fall within its definition in order to make whiteness the standardized norm. A White History month that was truly dedicated to the white racial identity would have to explore and acknowledge how integral and inseparable slavery, colonization, segregation, racism and xenophobia have been and continue to be in its construction.

With white history restricted to a month, the remaining 11 could remain unnamed, but would implicitly focus on the experiences and histories of people of color.

World history classes would move out of Europe and return narrative agency to people of color on all continents. Teachings of the Atlantic Slave Trade would give voices to the enslaved and take a closer look at black abolition and rebellion. People of color would dominate television, radio, movie roles, and award show representation, while white people would have to be content with recognizing their vast history during the shortest month of the year. And people would stop misquoting Martin Luther King Jr. every February in order to dismiss ongoing struggles for equality.

Of course, there is another alternative to White History month: Americans could meaningfully include black history and the histories of other minority groups in educated thought. Ethnic studies could be incorporated into all subjects of instruction, instead of being treated as an elective. Our ongoing debate about ethnic studies at Yale is just one piece of a broader conversation about how we normalize white histories at the expense of all others. Respect for the histories and existences of people of color could be ingrained in our society instead of being completely ignored, or tolerated briefly for one month out of the year.

If white opponents to Black History month would prefer to have their entire racial identity and history reduced to a single month whose purpose is misrepresented year after year, then I think they should go right ahead.

Graphic by Claire Sheen YH Staff Feb. 5, 2016 – 9

FEATURE

What the truck?

New street food regulations in New Haven

by Carmen Baskauf

I

t’s Monday afternoon, and Yale students are rushing through Cross CamThis effort to put in place a more coordinated system of regulations and site pus. A few wander over to check out a brown mini school bus parked along allotments for vendors will make it easier for newcomers to enter the market in College Street between WLH and Calhoun College, with the words ‘Jitter the most profitable parts of the city. It will also give current vendors a clearer Bus’ painted on the side. understanding of their rights and the regulations they must follow. But the food “Yeah, it’s a terrible, corny pun,” says Andrew Mesiouris. “But we feel like truck was born from fluidity and the disruption of traditional food service—after ‘how do we not be a business without a corny pun?’ That’s, like, step one.” Me- all, their business model is based on finding and serving hungry people—and a siouris and Dan Barletta are two of three co-owners of New Haven’s newest food more formal regulatory structure will trade freedom and spontaneity for stability truck, along with their friend Paul Crosby. Monday is their second day out on the and security. The government effort to regulate this nascent industry runs a fine streets vending. Preparing coffee for a customer, Andrew is in a grey hoodie and line between creating a helpful roadmap for vendors and stamping out the innovaDan a dark shirt and beanie. The twentysomethings have spent the last seven or tion that currently defines the street food market. so years working as baristas at New Haven cafes and wanted to start their own place, but without CURRENTLY, VENDORS WHO OBTAIN A $200 the capital for a brick-and-mortar shop, they used These are the debates we’ve had in society vendor license and a $250 health inspection Kickstarter to build a food truck. “We very much going back 3000 years about the role of permit can park their carts in public streets and lead the proletariat existence,” says Andrew. “So government and how you regulate society sidewalks. There are a number of constraints: this was just the most economically feasible way of and how you regulate people and business. minimum distances from fire hydrants, curbs, doing that.” and other vendors; location restrictions on handiMesiouris and Barletta are newcomers to New – Matthew Nemerson, Director of Economic Development capped spots and brick-and-mortar restaurants Haven’s booming street food scene, which has for New Haven selling the same product; and if parked on the mushroomed in the last fifteen years into a major street, vendors must pay the meter rate. industry. Theirs is certainly not the first food truck Under the new proposal, vendors would still or cart Yale students have seen on Cross Campus, need to obtain the same permits as before. But although it is the first one that’s been around in a while. Quick eats on campus the plan creates a number of special vending districts in which vendors would achave been hard to find ever since the arepa carts on York Street and the Caseus quire yearly site licenses in order to ease enforcement, allow for more new playCheese Truck—at the very spot now occupied by the Jitter Bus—were evicted from ers to break into the industry, and give some of the value created by the trucks their longstanding daily locations last October when a city inspector realized they and carts back to the city. According to Steve Fontana, the Deputy Economic were technically in a residential zone where street vending was prohibited.

Development Officer for New Haven, the proposed permits would apply to the These zoning restrictions are just one of many aspects of New Haven’s street food four areas of the city with the most food truck and food cart activity: Long Wharf, landscape Barletta and Mesiouris will need to learn to navigate. Traditional restaurant Cedar Street, Ingalls Rink, and Downtown. Outside of the four special vending laws were not designed for a world of quick, mobile food vendors, and food trucks zones, food trucks and food carts would continue to operate under the old rules, have been forced into the existing regulatory structure. “Most of the rules that we have as would the food carts downtown. The use of these high-traffic areas is quite today were set up with the idea that there’d be a dozen hotdog vendors on the streets profitable for vendors, said Fontana. of New Haven… [Today] it’s a different world,” said Matthew Nemerson, the city’s The proposed annual permits, or site licenses, would be for a specific spot Economic Development Administrator. It’s a confusing landscape, but the city of New at each of these locations, and would cost about $5000 for a truck—approxiHaven has plans to change that. Over the last year, the Office of Economic Develop- mately the cost of feeding the meter daily for a year—and $1000 for a cart. The ment has been working on proposals to overhaul the current regulations surrounding fees would be payable in quarterly installments. Fontana said they are currently street vending in the areas of the city where most of the carts and trucks work. looking at about 22 locations downtown, although that number could change

10 –­ The Yale Herald

depending on feedback about demand. The sites will be organized into hubs equipped with electrical hookups that trucks and carts could plug into.

Allocation would be handled by two processes: a set number by sealed bids from seasoned vendors willing to pay extra to guarantee themselves a prime location, and the rest by lottery at the base price, giving newcomers a chance to break into the market in high-traffic areas.

These regulatory changes reflect broader questions about how active a role governments should take in facilitating economic growth in their cities. “The city…has a mandate by the rest of the people to bring some kind of vision of what the city should be and how it should feel,” said Douglas Coffin, owner of the Big Green Pizza Truck. But he was also hesitant about aggressive government action. “One of the things also is that we’re a free country with a capitalist economy where everybody is supposedly trying to start their own business, free to do what they want.”

“There are different philosophies here,” said Nemerson. “One philosophy of government is that government should have a few rules that tell people what not to do; other people believe philosophically that government should have a lot of rules and tell people what they can do.” In the food cart discussion, Nemerson said, different actors are coming in with strong beliefs, either about what support the government ought to provide them, or that the government should not get involved. “These are the debates we’ve had in society going back 3000 years about the role of government and how you regulate society and how you regulate people and business.”

AMONG VENDORS, THERE IS SIGNIFICANT CONFUSION AND SUSPICION about the new proposals. At Ingalls Rink, Kim, the owner of the Thai Awesome food cart, was confused about the site licenses. The current system at the rink is one of informally assigned spots, “a rule for a small family,” as Kim put it.

Similarly, vendors on Cedar Street, some of whom have been vending in front of the hospital for twenty years, described an uncontested system of seniority that currently determines the placement of the food carts. For these vendors, the site license’s space guarantee just seemed like an extra $1000 expense.

On both Cedar Street and at Ingalls Rink, it appears that the proposal, with its lottery component, will mostly benefit newcomers trying to break into these locations previously monopolized by old-timers. For the established vendors, the main change will be paying a premium for their desirable location.

For downtown trucks, the proposal will change their mode of operation significantly. Many owners were ambivalent to the changes. Site licenses, on the one hand, would guarantee vendors exclusive access to a particular location, saving them time searching for parking; on the other hand, it would restrict their ability to try out new locations—a critical component of the food truck business.

But the city has reasons to propose these changes in downtown area. According to Fontana there have been complaints about vendors improperly disposing of waste, operating without health permits, and not paying meter fees. Additionally, there have been concerns about “the manner in which food trucks and carts coexist with brick-and-mortar restaurants and each other,” said Fontana.

“The battles between the restaurants and the food trucks and the battles between the food trucks and the city have been going on for quite some time,” veteran vendor Coffin said. While the city has heard from restaurants that are wary of food carts and trucks in their vicinity, none of the brick-and-mortars interviewed in downtown felt threatened by food carts. “To be honest, we’re not really affected by them. They aren’t really near us,” said Jennifer, a manager for Book Trader, adding that as a small local business themselves, they support food cart and truck owners trying to make it in New Haven. Poul, a manager at Tomatillo, said he felt that the biggest impact on their business came from other restaurants in the area, not carts.

Ultimately, it’s the trucks, not the restaurants, that will feel most of the impact of the new licensing system. Adam, one of the chefs at the Caseus Cheese Truck was specifically worried about the loss of mobility. Having a single assigned spot would “kind of defeat the purpose of a food truck,” he said. He wasn’t completely against the new regulations, though. “I’ve got to hear their side, and then they’ve got to hear our side, and we’ll take it from there,” he said.

It seems like the dialogue Adam hopes for will come. Both Fontana and Nemerson stressed that their plans are contingent on feedback from vendors themselves. “What we’re trying to do is come up with a system or a solution where … [vendors] can say honestly ‘oh, I’m about 75-80% happy,’” said Fontana. “That’s our goal. But if people say ‘you didn’t consider this; you didn’t consider that,’ we’ll take it back and try to come up with a solution to address that issue.”

Both stressed that they saw street vending as an important and exciting component of the “future of local business,” as Nemerson put it, especially because the money generated by food trucks tends to stay in New Haven, as almost all owners, employees, and suppliers are local. With regards to the proposed regulatory overhaul, “Our goal is to have more businesses doing better,” said Nemerson. “We are trying to increase the total market and make it easier for people to have a successful, secure business opportunity in selling food on the streets of New Haven.”

For now, however, both the government and vendors will be left guessing what exactly comes next. Perhaps the Cheese Truck’s Twitter best summed up this search for a final answer that can build a more prosperous city: “Searching for parking stay tuned!!”

Graphic by Rachel An Feb. 5, 2016 – 11

12 â&#x20AC;&#x201C; The Yale Herald

COVER

Burnt bone

Ceri Godinez, CC ’17, visits a local pet crematory

“I’d like to watch a cremation,” I tell Beth on my first visit to Trail’s End Pet Crematory in Westbrook, Conn. Beth is a soft blond who works in the main office. A devout animal lover, she would rather endanger her own life than tread on a woolly bear caterpillar, and she keeps a dresser full of clothing for her five dogs. Surprised by my request, she refers me to “Poor Jeff,” the Trail’s End cremator whose sad job it is to turn little furry bodies into bags of ash. Cremations, Beth warns me, are hard to watch.

I walk over to Jeff Jones’ office and am greeted almost instantly by a taut, efficient-looking man with a camo baseball cap pulled over his eyes.

“I knew you were here,” he says. He wipes his leather-colored hands on his jeans before offering to shake one of mine.

“Don’t believe anything she says,” he says of Beth, unprompted.

He lights a cigarette. The smoke mingles with the lavender ash already in the air. While Beth is loquacious and unapologetically sentimental, Jeff is brief and sardonic, a character distinction reflected in their differing roles at the crematory. Beth acts as a counselor for the acutely bereaved; Jeff burns the bodies.

I explain to Jeff that Beth has informed me he is a softie. She has told me that Poor Jeff feeds the local deer and stops his car to help snapping turtles cross the street. Jeff gruffly denies all allegations. I ask him what it’s like to cremate dead pets.

He shrugs. “You get used to anything.”

JEFF COMES IN AT 5:30 EVERY MORNING TO START THE CRAWFORD C500p Random Load Crematory. The C500p, the smallest of the Crawford crematory line, can handle loads of up to 200 pounds: approximately the weight of a Newfoundland. Anything larger goes down the hill to the machine used for communal cremations. The C500p cremates the “privates” individually so that their ashes can be returned to the owners

post-cremation. Communal cremations are for road kill, the fish that die at pet stores before they’ve been sold, and animals whose owners do not want their ashes back. Ashes from these cremations are scattered in the forest that surrounds Trail’s End. On any given day, using the C500p, Jeff burns 15 to 18 animals at a rate of 75 pounds per hour.

Today, contained in two crematory trays and a black trash bag, his next batch of animals sits on a cart immediately in front of the crematory. The trays, which remind me of the sheet cake pans used for birthday cakes, have been heavily warped by heat. Jeff buys them from Welding Works, Inc., in Madison, Conn. Peering into the trays, I see that the animals within are shrouded in black plastic.

“A ferret, a bunny, and a pit bull,” Jeff says, anticipating my question. He arranges the tags that contain the owner’s information on a table near the crematory, so he can remember which animal is which.

“Do you need to take them out of the bags?” I ask.

“It burns off fast,” says Jeff as he tosses the pit-bull-filled bag into the crematory. He pushes the bag to the back of the machine with a metal instrument he calls “The Scraper,” which resembles the peel used to push pizzas around in pizza ovens.

The C500p has a random load feature, which means you can add animals to the main chamber at any time, since a flame is already going inside the machine. The metal chain I wear around my neck starts to feel uncomfortably hot as it absorbs the heat emanating from the crematory. Before Jeff has the ferret tray fully in the oven, the dog’s plastic bag has melted, coating the animal in a layer of black tar. The pitch-black hellhound basks in the glow of the flames as Jeff finishes loading his charges. He then moves to a touch-sensitive panel, lowers the door, and switches on the main flame. Jeff raises the door again to show me the flame, a column of fire that bores into the animals.

Feb. 5, 2016 – 13

“And that’s that. It’s a waiting game,” he says with a smile, as though he knows I was expecting guts, gore, and a touch of magic.

I try to smell the plastic as it burns, but all I get is a lungful of lavender ash and a faint whiff of meat on the grill.

CHILDREN MIGHT IMAGINE BECOMING FIREFIGHTERS OR veterinarians as adults, but when Jeff was growing up in Clinton, Conn., he never imagined becoming a cremator. Jeff was raised by his mother, Linda, who works as a secretary, and his stepfather, Bill Scully, a Clinton cop. I ask about his biological father, and Jeff replies, “We don’t talk about him.”

When he was young, Jeff pictured himself at his current age, 50, as someone on the verge of retirement from a career in the armed forces. At 18, after earning his high school diploma, Jeff enlisted in the army, but, in less than a year, family problems forced him to leave.

Jeff was running a concrete shop when he received the cremator job offer from George Bernard, the man who started Trail’s End in 1987. George, a former dog handler for the police department, was

Today, having a pet is like having a kid, only without the lifetime commitment and the risk of under-appreciation. friends with Jeff’s uncle and had known Jeff since he was a child.

He knew that Jeff was meticulous, hardworking, and caring—the qualities necessary to be a good cremator. George was also aware that Jeff was unhappy with his current job. In November of 1994, at the age of 28, Jeff began working as George’s apprentice at the crematorium. Jeff has been at Trail’s End for 21 years. Each time he has tired of the work and thought about quitting, George has offered him a raise. Today, his salary is $75,000 a year.

OVER THE COURSE OF HIS TIME AT THE CREMATORIUM, JEFF has noticed a rise in the number of cremations. In 2013, George’s son, Bill, sold the crematorium to the Hartsdale Canine Cemetery and Crematory, a New York-based company that has the distinction of being the oldest pet cemetery in the United States. Trail’s End retained all its original staff, and functions essentially the same way it always has, save for a new process in which each privately cremated animal gets assigned a number. In the year and a half since the change in ownership, 2,811 animals have passed through Jeff’s C500p.

Though pet cremation is a fairly young tradition, there have long been rituals surrounding the death of a pet. As early as 4,000 years ago in Egypt, people would mummify and bury pets alongside

14 – The Yale Herald

their owners. Animals were often killed so they could accompany their owners to the afterlife. During the nineteenth century, pet cemeteries started to become prevalent. In 1896, when it was still common for owners to throw out their dead pets with the rest of the garbage, the Hartsdale Canine Cemetery became the first pet cemetery to open in America. Hartsdale began when a woman walked into the office of veterinarian Dr. Samuel Johnson. The woman wanted to give her beloved dog a proper burial. Dr. Johnson allowed the woman to bury the animal in his apple orchard. This apple orchard grew into Hartsdale Canine Cemetery.

Though the name never officially changed, Hartsdale is now a cemetery for all types of pets, ranging from dogs and cats to birds and monkeys. Today, there are over 80,000 animals buried there, and 20 human beings who have opted to be buried alongside their pets. In 1997, the crematory branch of Hartsdale opened, allowing owners to choose between burial and cremation. Trail’s End was part of a wave of pet cemeteries and crematoriums that opened during the 70s and 80s. There are now more than 600 pet cemeteries in the U.S. according to the International Association of Pet Cemeteries, of which Hartsdale and, by extension, Trail’s End, are members.

I ask Jeff why he thinks there’s been a rise in the number of pet cremations, expecting an answer that deals with spirituality, the soul—whether or not something persists after we die.

“It’s cheaper,” he replies.

WHILE JEFF MAY HAVE “GOTTEN USED” TO THE PROCESS OF cremation, his clients occupy a very different headspace. Jeff remembers a crying kid who came into the office with a German shepherd earlier that week.

“It’s fine when it’s a kid,” he tells me. “Kids are allowed to cry.”

Jeff holds adults to higher standards, but they, too, often end up crying in Beth’s office. Since World War II, there has been a rise in the number of people who consider pets their close kin.

The website for the International Association of Pet Cemeteries includes sentimental phrases like, “as pet parents share their life with another living being who happens not to be human, they experience unconditional love and a relationship like no other.”

The hotel magnate Leona Helmsley wrote her dog into her will, leaving 12 million dollars to Trouble, her Maltese. Today, having a pet is like having a kid, only without the lifetime commitment and the risk of under-appreciation.

One Trail’s End client, upon the death of his cat, kept its body in a hammock in his bedroom. The dead start to smell after a day.

After three weeks, this man, who lived within walking distance of Trail’s End, hired a limousine service to bring him and his cat to the crematorium.

Another woman kept her dog’s corpse in her car and drove around with it for days before she was finally ready to say goodbye. The same woman, after losing her cat and its entire litter of kittens, mummified their bodies and placed the mummies in a storage unit.

Jeff believes in Heaven and believes in the “Rainbow Bridge,” a beautiful meadow where dead pets and their owners meet before crossing into Heaven together.

Beth remembers a recent phone call with an elderly gentleman that lasted 30 minutes. The man on the other end was in tears because he had just lost his dog, who he said was all he had. The dog’s name was Mother.

WHILE JEFF AND I WAIT FOR THE CREMATORY TO FINISH burning the bodies, a driver comes in with a fresh load of privates for the C500p. (The Trail’s End drivers go out four days a week to collect bodies from homes, veterinary clinics, pet stores, and the local humane society.) In this load, from a veterinary clinic, all the animals are encased in canary-yellow plastic bags. The tops of some of the bags are undone. In one, I am able to peer inside and see a medium-sized charcoal paw. As I move down the row of bags, the smell of roasting flesh from the crematory slowly gives way to the fetid scent of meat well past its prime. The smell gains force until I reach the final bag in the row. The top is untied. Inside is a floral print sheet with dark red stains. The stench and the blood make me shudder. Jeff grins.

“You get used to it,” he says. He notes that this bag’s contents should probably be cremated today.

Was there ever a time before Jeff was used to it, when he encountered something that was too gruesome for him to take? If you ask him, he says no. He has had to cremate dogs that have been hit by snowplows; halfrotten cats, dug up when owners decided to move; raccoons that have had their heads split open so their brain matter can be tested for rabies.

Beth remembers a time when a dog came to them with a pacemaker. The pacemaker would explode if it went into the crematory, so Jeff had to cut open the animal and take it out himself. She says the only time she saw Jeff upset was when he had to deal with a military service dog on which a necropsy had been performed. The dog came to Trail’s End in three bags. The army wanted Jeff to make an impression of the dog’s paw in clay as a keepsake, but Jeff refused. I imagined he was upset by the dog’s undignified end, but according to Jeff, it was a matter of practicality. Taking the paw print would have been too messy, too much blood everywhere.

For Jeff, the hardest part is cremating his own animals, but even this is something to which he claims he has adjusted. On a shelf in his office is the urn he has selected for one of his current pets, Louie, a 22-pound Chihuahua cross. (Crossed with what remains a mystery.

Louie and Jeff met at the animal shelter after the dog was found on the streets of Meriden with a giant hole in his head.) Louie’s urn is a sand colored figurine of a dog with the words “Beloved Pet” in a deep red font. Louie, when he passes, will go on the shelf in the kitchen with nine of the 11 other pets Jeff has cremated here at Trail’s End. The only animals missing from the shelf are a pair of cats, which his

ex-wife took when she left. Jeff offers an explanation: “She went her way, and I went my way. Bye-bye.”

Jeff’s current wife, Tracy, does not want to deal with New England winters indefinitely. In five years, she and Jeff will move to Florida.

Jeff says he won’t miss this place, referring to Trail’s End, and he doesn’t plan to get another job as a cremator once he’s moved. He doesn’t know what he’ll do. Life in Florida is just another thing to which he’ll have to adjust.

“Do you have any regrets?” I ask Jeff.

“Everybody has regrets,” he replies.

Jeff yelps when he burns one of his hands removing the bunny rabbit from the oven. He has discarded the gloves he was wearing earlier while loading bodies into the crematory. The tray glows orange as he lowers it to the floor. I can see an ashy white line on Jeff’s skin that marks where his hand came into contact with the metal. It’s going to leave a scar. When I peer into the tray, there’s nothing but bones.

When Jeff dies, he thinks it’s likely he’ll be cremated, though he points out that he won’t care; he’ll already be dead. Contrary to what one might expect, Jeff believes in Heaven and believes in the “Rainbow Bridge,” a beautiful meadow where dead pets and their owners meet before crossing into Heaven together. I’m surprised by Jeff’s faith.

“Why not?” he says in response to my incredulity. “It gives you a sense of peace.”

JEFF LETS THE BONES COOL FOR THIRTY MINUTES BEFORE PUTTING them in the processor, which looks like a large metal cooking pot. When Jeff lifts the lid to throw in the bones, I can see a blade at the bottom.

The processor works like a blender, grinding the bones into a coarse meal, which Jeff pours into a plastic bag. When he processes the bones of smaller animals like birds, rabbits, and snails, he places the remains in a container made from an empty plastic jug, and pounds the bones with a long metal pestle.

“And that’s that,” he says. “That’s what it all boils down to.”

He places the bunny rabbit bag in my hand. I can see why one of the frequently asked questions listed on the Trail’s End website is “How do I know that the remains returned to me are actually my pet?” There’s not much left once the flesh and fur are gone.

­Graphic by Claire Sheen YH Staff

Feb. 5, 2016 – 15

FEATURE

Living free A new initiative treats prisoners’ addiction

by Clay Dupuy

Before she enrolled in Yale’s nursing program, Bethany* struggled with cocaine and alcohol addiction. In high school, she did everything she considers “typical” of a drug-using teenager, including showing up to class drunk, getting high between classes, and selling psychedelic mushrooms and marijuana to friends. She even sold cocaine to patients at the rehabilitation center she was forced to attend following her arrest for possession with intent to distribute.

After dropping out, unable to maintain her drug habit and her 4.0 GPA, she turned to Alcoholics Anonymous to overcome her addictions. Unfortunately for Bethany, AA only exacerbated her problem.

“While it did a great job of providing community and peer support,” she recalled, “it got me into a black and white frame of thinking about addiction, and all through my recovery, I had a huge fear that if I didn’t follow the steps exactly, I would end up on a street corner smoking crack.” Counselors told her that her addiction meant she was “spiritually bankrupt.”

For the thousands of nonviolent drug offenders who have been locked in Connecticut’s prisons for drugrelated crimes, Bethany’s story is all too familiar. Until last fall, people caught possessing small amounts of heroin, cocaine, or crack cocaine were sentenced to seven years in prison for a first offense and up to 25 for a third. These draconian laws inflated the state’s prison population to the point where, last year, the Associated Press reported that Connecticut spent $25 million to house 500 nonviolent drug offenders, 65% of whom meet the diagnostic criteria for drug addiction, according to a Washington Post report.

And much like Bethany, many of these offenders lacked adequate treatment for their addictions, both in and out of prison. The Bureau of Justice Statistics *name changed to preserve anonymity

16 – The Yale Herald

Reports that 80% of addicted prisoners in the U.S. receive no drug addiction treatment whatsoever while incarcerated, so two thirds of them recidivate within two years of their release. Some even become addicted while in prison, where they “are likely to find a drug trade as active as the one outside prison walls,” according to the Washington Post.

A new program at the Yale School of Medicine headed by Sherry McKee, Ph.D, professor of Psychiatry, called “Living Free,” seeks to reverse this trend. In 2015, McKee received a $1.2 million grant from the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services (SAMSHA) to develop a program that will reduce the likelihood of relapse, lower recidivism rates, help formerly incarcerated people thrive in their new communities, and save the state money. If this program’s evidence-based approach to care overcomes the obstacles it faces and delivers the expected results, it may revolutionize the U.S.’s punitive approach to individuals who struggle with addiction and enable us to invest our resources into programs with proven results.

The program’s comprehensive approach to addiction, which combines biological and psychosocial treatments, will be devised by a team of specialists

and experts in consultation with the individual being treated. It also pairs the formerly incarcerated persons with a peer coach: someone who has had similar life experiences as the individual, and who will be uniquely suited to guide them as they adapt to life on the outside.

Living Free features several unique components relative to other treatment models. “Often, programs focus too heavily on outreach, or establishing relationships with patients once they’re released,” said Chyrell Bellamy, Ph.D, director of peer services and research from the Yale Program for Recovery and Community Health and another doctor involved with the project. “But our work begins a month before people are actually released, we go in and connect with them and allow them to form bonds within the community before they even step outside.”

By intervening prior to the individuals’ release, Bellamy said, the architects of the project hope that they will continue to attend treatment and build bonds in the community that they might not if they had been released with nowhere to go.

The point of intervention also stands to maximize the project’s results. “People certainly don’t have ac-

cess to the treatment they need during incarceration,” said Lindsay Oberleitner, Ph.D, associate director of the Forensic Drug Division Clinic of the Connecticut Mental Health Center in New Haven where much of the program’s operations will take place. “But the riskiest period is when you’re first released: exposure to substances is heightened again because you’re back in the same environment. You have more triggers and fewer places to go.” By providing a support network that can minimize the adverse effects of this stressful period, the program hopes to lower a participant’s likelihood of relapse.

Living Free is also uniquely positioned for success given the setup of Connecticut’s prison system. “Connecticut is one of the few states that has an integrated prison system run entirely by the state. The lack of private prison facilities gives us access and the ability to apply Yale’s expertise across the state,” said McKee. Moreover, the funding from SAMSHA and partnership with the Department of Corrections will enable cooperation across multiple departments that allow the program to be implemented more effectively, said McKee. Perhaps the centerpiece of the program, however, is its departure from the ineffective 12-step model in favor of evidence-based treatment. Traditionally, people leaving prison don’t fare much better on

“People certainly don’t have access to the treatment they need during incarceration, but the riskiest period is when you’re first released.”

—Lindsay Oberleitner, Ph.D, associate director of the Forensic Drug Division Clinic the outside. Few have options beyond attending a 12-step program like Bethany’s. More than 70% of America’s 13,000 rehabilitation facilities rely on the 12-step model of treatment which fail to rehabilitate 95% of their participants, according to former Harvard clinical psychiatry professor Lawrence Dodes, M.D. One explanation for this abysmal success rate is that only Vermont requires a master’s degree to become an addiction counselor, only six states require a bachelor’s degree and 14 states permit substance-use counselors to practice and testify as experts in court without a license, GED, or so much as an introductory training course, according to a 2012 Columbia University study.

The reliance on 12-step programs doubly harms patients in that it diverts them away from clinically proven addiction treatments, such as naltrexone. An opioid antagonist, naltrexone blocks cravings for and the effects of alcohol by binding to opioid receptors in the brain.

Studies have shown that 76% of people who take it an hour before drinking consume less while 26% stop drinking altogether. Currently, less than 1% of people struggling with alcohol addiction receive naltrexone treatment.

In addition to naltrexone, Living Free will offer the drug buprenorphine, brand name Suboxone, which is proven to effectively treat addiction to opioids like heroin and prescription painkillers. In a similar vein, Living Free will partner with licensed methadone providers for patients that don’t respond as well to buprenorphine. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention considers methadone the gold standard for opioid addiction, and when Washington, D.C.,

implemented methadone clinics in the midst of a heroin epidemic in 1970, it reduced crime by 50% and ran out of addicted patients to treat by 1973.

The program does face a critical challenge, however, in its lifespan.

The SAMSHA grant expires after three years, allowing researchers a limited amount of time to make adjustments and roll out the program to prove its effectiveness. Dr. McKee herself readily acknowledged the pressure the program faces and hoped that “at that point we can demonstrate the benefit of the program—that it’s a cost-effective way to treat individuals and help them reintegrate back into their communities. At that point, we can look for additional funding to continue the program, either from the federal or state government.”

Still, this unique, first-of-its kind approach to treatment has the researchers involved excited and shows great promise. At 16, Bethany dropped out of high school and failed to adequately address her addiction for five years because of the limited options available to her.

Today, she is a graduate student at Yale, balancing academic and professional pursuits and dedicating herself to help those who struggle with the same problems she had. She overcame her addictions not by submitting to a higher power or admitting powerlessness over her addiction—key steps in the 12-step model – but by engaging in activities that gave her life meaning and a sense of purpose. Bethany remarked that if Living Free had been available to her, perhaps it would not have taken her five years to recover. “What helped me the most,” she remarked, “was having the power to choose what was most helpful for me.” Living Free’s patient-centered approach puts that philosophy into practice.

The program is even making waves among undergraduates. Annelisa Leinbach, a senior in Calhoun, serves as Vice President of Students for Sensible Drug Policy. Upon learning of the program, she expressed excitement about its potential to reshape society’s treatment of addicted people. “We tell people to avoid drugs because drugs ruin lives,” she remarked, “but when we find that you’ve used them, we throw you in jail and ruin your life. That’s just crazy to me,” she said. “I think this program is wonderful because it recognizes that if you struggle with addiction you need help. I hope this snowballs into something bigger across the country and that one day, it will seem absurd that we ever incarcerated people for nonviolent drug offenses in the first place.”

Indeed, Living Free comes amidst a wave of criminal justice reform efforts that may point to this very reality. A similar program called Law Enforcement Assisted Diversion (LEAD), whereby police officers take low-level nonviolent drug offenders to social workers instead of jail, was implemented in Seattle in 2011. The recidivism rates of the program’s participants are 60% lower than those of control subjects, saving the state money by avoiding re-incarceration and making participants better off by helping them adjust to life in the outside world.

Asked if this program, or the trend it represents, could be where Living Free ends up going, McKee noted that she was “particularly interested in the aspect where police can divert individuals right into treatment without the necessity of an arrest.”

With a growing consensus among politicians, educators, treatment experts, and formerly addicted people that compassion, not criminalization, will be the key to implementing effective and cost-effective drug policies, Leinbach and McKee’s predictions may come true sooner than we think.

Graphic by Shelby Redman

Feb. 5, 2016 – 17

CULTURE

On tusks and talons

by Nolan Phillips

I

vividly remember the day I first saw a raven in the wild. A raven can’t be compared to a hawk, because it doesn’t have a hooked beak or talons—it is better described as a menacing, regal, eagle-sized crow. Ravens are strange and otherworldly. John James Audubon’s raven portrait, one of many prints on temporary display at the Peabody Museum of Natural History until July, perfectly replicates this bizarre majesty. Audubon wasn’t purely an artist, or purely a scientist: he combined the two disciplines in fascinating ways.

At the centerpiece of the Peabody exhibit are two books on loan from the Beinecke: rare early prints of The Birds of America, Audubon’s masterwork. In fact, Yale’s copy is one of only 110 intact sets that remain.

The book, published in four huge volumes (it’s called the “elephant” folio because seemingly no other adjective could conceive of its gigantic size) is a testament to Audubon’s limitless passion, bordering on obsession.

The Birds of America contains 1,055 life-sized illustrations of birds—including every species known to exist in America, plus 37 species and subspecies that Audubon discovered himself.

What’s immediately intriguing about the Peabody’s exhibit is the prints’ unshakeable emotional resonance.

Although every bird is a scientific specimen, these prints are not pure visual documentation. The birds are dynamic figures; even when they’re standing still they are contorted, opening their wings, craning their necks. The graceful, vibrant creatures are often fighting and swooping in for prey, positioned against sharply bristling greenery and stark, expansive landscapes. Not only is Audubon portraying the birds with a naturalist’s eye for realism, but he also conveys their raw beauty.

Audubon’s adult life was defined by his passion for birds. Born the illegitimate child of a French slave-owner in Haiti, Audubon grew up in France amidst the chaos of the French Revolution. As a young businessman he resettled in America, where he was immediately and inexplicably enchanted with America’s rich variety of birds.

Audubon soon devoted himself to naturalism, living a pioneer lifestyle and crossing the country to document new species. The Peabody’s exhibit effectively portrays this long and arduous livelihood. Because Audubon ensured that his paintings depicted perfect anatomical accuracy, it was crucial for him to see each bird (dead) in the flesh.

Audubon travelled extensively to observe birds in their natural habitat. But, if he got word of a new species in a far-off territory that he couldn’t feasibly visit, he always

found a way to obtain the bird’s carcass. As we learn in the exhibit, the anatomical accuracy in Audubon’s prints is stunning.

“[One] can still go to an Audubon print and accurately count the primary feathers and find the exact shape, length and contour of any bird’s feathers.” ­­– Michael Anderson,

Museum Preparator for the Peabody

According to Richard Kissel, Director of Public Programs (Exhibitions and Education) at the Peabody Museum, the intersection of art and science in Audubon’s work makes it truly fascinating. In fact, Kissel argues, The Birds of America not only shows an intersection of art and science—it exemplifies how the two disciplines are inextricably intertwined. Kissel writes in an email: “Humanity is a part of nature, so I view all art as falling within the realm of natural history; you can’t remove a species or its product from its broader context.” As Kissel explains, central to Audubon’s paintings are “certain elements of dramatic flair, eliciting emotion from viewers as he captured the beauty and (sometimes) brutality of nature.”

After viewing the prints at the Peabody, I find this scientific artistry is evident. Audubon was profoundly skilled at portraying the harsh beauty of nature.

Though Audubon’s work is artistic, many view Audubon’s scientific contributions as paramount to his legacy. Michael Anderson, the Museum Preparator for the Peabody, explains Audubon’s lasting significance as attributable to the paintings’ unprecedented realism.

Even today, “[one] can still go to an Audubon print and accurately count the primary feathers and find the exact shape, length and contour of any bird’s feathers.”

Anderson likens Audubon’s innovations to today’s revolutions in 3-D printing. As one closely examines the perfect attention to detail in these elephant folios, it is difficult to conceive of Audubon’s profound devotion to his project. The Birds of America is no less than the product of an entire life of fieldwork. As I examined Audubon’s life-sized raven print, which meticulously replicates not only every physical detail but the true essence of this strange and majestic bird, I began to understand why Audubon has secured such a prominent place in the American imagination.

Graphic by Jason Hu

18 – The Yale Herald

Pulp fiction

by Beatrix Archer

T

A video of a man belly-crawling his way through New York City, rare comic books, prints by Kerry James Marshall, and issues of the Anti-Fascist Front Magazine—these are just a few of the 65 objects and artworks on display in Black Pulp!, a show up at 32 Edgewood Avenue until Mar. 11. William Villalongo, artist and lecturer at the Yale School of Art, and Mark Gibson, ART ’13, curated the show. By displaying the work of black artists and publishers, as well as non-black artists and publishers “allied with foregrounding the black experience,” as the press release for the show explains, Pulp! aims to “challenge racist narratives and change limited notions of black experience.” The show is ambitious, and the expansive range of its content merits multiple visits to the gallery.

The idea for this multimedia exhibit arose from discussions between Villalongo and Gibson, sparked by Kara Walker’s “A Subtlety or the Marvelous Sugar Baby” project in 2014. In that show, Walker created a giant, sugar-coated sculpture in the old Domino Sugar factory in Brooklyn. “Mark and I were floored by how wild and over the top it was,” Villalongo recalled in an email to me. “The aggressiveness and subversiveness of the expression led us to start questioning it as a sort of ‘pulp’ attitude which can be defined as a lurid, satirical and absurd, most readily found in comics and pulp fiction.” When Robert Storr, Dean of the Yale School of Art, asked the faculty for Edgewood Gallery show proposals, Villalongo saw it as a chance to turn musings into a reality.

Villalongo and Gibson began by tracing “a history of printed media that addressed the history of images surrounding African-Americans that used the satirical, printed matter and fiction as a strategy to reconstruct and confront a history of derogatory imagery levied upon black people in the Americas,” Villalongo explained. Though at first unsure of any connection they might find between comics and journals from the time, Villalongo and Gibson quickly found that the visual connections were “undeniable” and “immense.” The work on view starts with the Harlem Renaissance. It was at this time, says Villalongo, that publishing became not only a tool, but a form of activism. “It’s the first time we see a concerted group effort to combat the political and social inequities of black people while producing an image of what that looks like and how black people would like themselves to be seen,” he stated.

Works from this era are displayed in cases beside recent works by contemporary artists. By placing these works in the same place, Villalongo notes, the show is able to bring together both “high” and “low” art forms across time. Doing so, he says, allows us to “question these boundaries and address similar problems of image and stereotype in our time.”

Much of the media on display is explicitly about black experiences. Black Panther Party Newspapers, or “The Crisis: A record of the Darker Races,” a publication created during the Harlem Renaissance, are both prime examples.

Other objects on display connect more subtly to these experiences. A strip of the comic “Krazy Kat” might first seem irrelevant or slightly absurd in the context of the show: the strip depicts a cat, a mouse, and a worm in and out of a jail and holding various picket signs.

But, as the entry written about the piece explains, the comic artist George Herriman’s own mixed racial identity is considered to have had an impact on the subject of his comics and the actions of the characters he created. The Krazy Kat comic is from 1944, and it sits in a display case among other comics from up to 10 years before and 40 years after its publication, an illustration of the show’s extensive reach across time.

“The aggressiveness and subversiveness of the expression led us to start questioning it as a sort of ‘pulp’ attitude which can be defined as a lurid, satirical and absurd, most readily found in comics and pulp fiction.”

-William Villalongo,

co-curator, artist, and lecturer at Yale School of Art

Villalongo and Gibson used historic media like these comics as a guide for finding contemporary work for the show. While most of this historic media came from Emory University, the contemporary works in the show are on loan from artists themselves, their galleries, and collectors. Finding this work forced Villalongo and Gibson to engage in critical conversations about race and media with the artists. “Artists wanted to know how we saw their work fitting into our framework,” Villalongo explained. Furthermore, the curators “needed to get a consensus from the 20 artists on view that their work would be placed in a context that expanded it somehow.” And the contemporary works in the show certainly present a more expanded meaning when placed among the other objects of the show. The comic-like pieces by Kerry James Marshall along the main wall of the gallery feel much different when examined beside the historical comics in the display cases than they do when observed in isolation. And the Kerry James Marshall pieces in Black Pulp! also feel quite different than the Kerry James Marshall painting in the Yale University Art Gallery. While both touch on themes of Blackness, the comics, in the context of the show, feel much more candid in their message.

Black Pulp! is up during a time when the work feels particularly relevant to discussions of race at Yale.

“Mark and I could not have imagined the uproar on campus last semester when we started the show,” Villalongo points out. “However, what we did know was that we live in an American society that largely is incapable of talking squarely about our issues with racism and sexism,” he continued. “We constantly find ways to escape it and never address it. And what we saw on campus is that no matter how educated, sensitive or informed someone may understand themselves to be we all struggle to articulate and balance American idealisms such as equality and individual freedoms with this country’s not so far back barbarous-racist beginnings and ongoing legacies.”

Villalongo hopes that anyone who sees the show comes away with an understanding of how visual media has a heavy impact on our perceptions of ourselves and of those around us, particularly when it comes to race.

“How do we understand ourselves in relationship with this, and what is our responsibility to it if we want to be in a society that lives up to the platitudes of equality and freedom for all?” Villalongo asks. The work in Black Pulp!, by presenting a history of media usually rendered invisible by the mainstream, effectively pushes viewers to consider this question for themselves. The dialogues between the works, in turn, spark dialogue among visitors, and the show succeeds in its mission.

Black Pulp Graphic by Jerome Harris & Megan Billman Feb. 5, 2016 – 19

REVIEWS ANTI works, works, works, works, works, works

by Josh Mandell

Rihanna’s albums have never received—and have rarely deserved— the same acclaim as her irresistible singles that have topped charts in years past. But with ANTI, her first full-length release since 2012, she and a small army of top-tier producers and songwriters have succeeded in creating an album that’s worth listening to in its entirety.

Rihanna tries harder than ever to convince us that she has put artistic integrity and creativity ahead of mass appeal—too hard, at times. But there’s no denying that this effort marks the dawn of an exciting new chapter in the career of the 27-year-old pop icon.

Although the single Rihanna produced with Kanye West last year (“FourFiveSeconds”) didn’t make the album, his presence still looms over ANTI. While it isn’t a groundbreaking departure from the mainstream in the way West’s last few LPs have been, she clearly aims to similarly defy expectations with songs that won’t fit easily into Top 40 radio and nightclub playlists. Of course, as a part owner of the streaming music service Tidal, and the beneficiary of an exclusive $25 million album distribution deal with Samsung, Rihanna had her creative risks backed by some serious insurance.

ANTI opens with a fuzzy, stuttering rap beat, and closes with crystalline notes of jazz piano. The 43 minutes of music in between manage to connect these disparate endpoints with surprising grace.

Rihanna’s sonic experimentation in ANTI’s heavily electronic first two-thirds brings her music to thrilling highs that easily compensate for some regrettable lows. The final portion of the album, with real instruments and retro style, is consistent, but generally less interesting.

20 – The Yale Herald

The album’s first tracks are so fresh and masterfully performed that they will make you hopeful a pop opus lies ahead. The dark, lo-fi rap production on “Consideration” is the perfect backdrop for Rihanna to announce her long awaited return. Her singing mesmerizes as it slips in and out of different accents and tones, and guest vocalist SZA keeps pace with her own dynamic melodies. In the chorus, Rihanna confronts the harsh reality of a decade spent in the limelight: “Will you ever respect me?

No. / Do things my own way darling, you should just let me / Why you won’t ever let me grow?” It’s an intimidating declaration of independence. A silky interlude, featuring Stevie Wonder-esque keyboard and harmonica from producer James Fauntleroy, builds the anticipation for whatever’s next while being delightful in its own right.

Unfortunately, the rest of the album rarely reaches the high bar that these tracks set. “Kiss it Better,” full of blaring guitars and auto-tune, is bloated and slow. The minimalist, computerized Caribbean rhythms of “Work,”, featuring Drake, speed up the tempo significantly. But the interplay between Rihanna and her equally famous ex doesn’t approach their sweltering 2010 collaboration, “What’s My Name.” The chill vibe of the stripped-down music on their new single makes them sound jaded in comparison to the unabashed dance floor banger from their younger days.

“Woo,” written with The Weeknd and co-produced by Rihanna’s current boyfriend Travis Scott, is a jumble of dissonant guitar chords and autotuned howling that can’t end soon enough. This misguided attempt to test the waters of the avantgarde comes across as a forced (and failed) gesture to establish Rihanna’s artistic credentials.

ANTI finally rights itself with “Needed Me,” a brutal rejection delivered over ethereal synths and distorted vocal loops. Few singers can give a single word as much weight as Rihanna can: at the bass drop, she stretches “needed” into seven swirling syllables that carry her tone from anguish to disgust. “Didn’t they tell you that I was a savage? / Fuck your white horse and your carriage,” she huffs.

“Same Ol’ Mistakes” bridges the album’s electronic and acoustic sequences. The track is literally stripped from psychedelic pop act Tame Impala’s acclaimed 2015 album, Currents. Rihanna sings the original lyrics over Kevin Parker’s meticulously crafted six-minute song, karaoke-style. While this may be a calculated move to pique the interest of hipsters worldwide, this unusually faithful cover still does right by Tame Impala’s version. Inner conflict —“Feel like a brand new person / (But you

make the same old mistakes)”—is conveyed with genuine emotion in Rihanna’s echoing vocals.

Ever since she suffered abuse at the hands of her on-and-off boyfriend Chris Brown in 2009, a perverse attraction to physically harmful relationships has been a common theme in Rihanna’s music. “Same Ol’ Mistakes” alludes to this; the next track, “Love on the Brain” brings it to the forefront.

You might cringe out of sympathy as she croons: “you love when when I fall apart / so you can put me together and throw me against the wall.” Those feelings may quickly fade when she confesses that she can’t get enough of this dangerous love, simply because “it fucks me so good.” But if Rihanna’s songs tell us anything, it is that she is long past giving a fuck about what you think.

Rihanna’s sultry vocal acrobatics in “Love on the Brain” are reminiscent of Beyoncé’s, but she can’t quite match Queen B’s rich, powerful pipes. She gives up on trying to sound like her on “Higher,” belting out a drunken plea for reconciliation loudly enough to make her voice crack again and again.

The two-minute, gospel-inspired track is one of the album’s highlights, displaying both the brash confidence and raw vulnerability that make her a uniquely appealing artist.

After the smoke and liquor of “Higher” fade away, Rihanna wakes up with a broken heart in “Close to You.” This piano ballad displays a degree of subtlety found nowhere in “Stay,” the piano-driven duet with Mikky Ekko on her last album, Unapologetic. The tempo is slower, the chords are nuanced and slightly muted, and notes from an upright bass add to the air of sophistication. The lyrics are no less sappy (“Nothing but a tear, that’s all for breakfast”), but the bittersweet music, without the heavy-handed vocal assault of “Stay,” allows the listener to feel something close to catharsis as the album comes to an end.

Perhaps the most striking evidence of Rihanna’s growth as an artist on ANTI is her decision to cease singing well before “Close to You” ends, letting the piano and bass take center stage during its lovely final minute. On many of Rihanna’s popular singles, her instantly recognizable voice is present from start to finish out of necessity; that voice, and the person behind it, was enough to make millions of people buy and listen to otherwise generic music. On ANTI, Rihanna’s voice consistently enhances music that is already vibrant and compelling. Even her failures are fascinating, revealing the unavoidable mess from a challenging, self-directed creative process that produced her finest work to date.

Image courtesy of Vanity Fair

Theater: The Moors Three perfect curls bounce over Huldey’s (Birgit Huppuch) right ear, four curls bounce over her left. This asymmetry mirrors some of the issues with Jen Silverman’s new play The Moors, directed by Jackson Gay, at the Yale Repertory Theater, which I attended in previews last Fri., Jan. 29. The anachronistic plot, mapping women with American accents and 21st century concerns onto a setting lifted out of Wuthering Heights, privileges quirkiness over emotional honesty. While most of the acting in The Moors was admirable, the production strains itself in an unremitting quest for laughs, making for a night of improbably boring theater. The preview suffered from some technical sloppiness, which I am optimistic will improve during the show’s run. But I’m ultimately unsure whether the play itself lives up to the Gothic literature that it riffs on.

The Moors follows four (five, if you use your imagination) women—the stern middle-aged spinster Agatha (Kelly McAndrew), her trapped younger sister Huldey, the earthy maids Mallory and Marjorie (both played by Hannah Cabell), and the fresh-faced governess Emilie (Miriam Silverman)—as they contemplate murder and meaning in the bleak moors of England. The play opens with Agatha, under her brother’s name, inviting Emilie to come to the house to work as a governess for a child that never appears. When a romance between two of the women (and a bizarre one between two anthropomorphic animals) and a murder plot derail the household, things spin out of control.

Wistful for the England of the Brontë sisters (while making parallel commentary about the treatment of women by 19th century social convention), the script dips in and out of English character conventions.

Agatha, for example, longs for fame and a world beyond her ancestral mansion. She wishes for attention as a famous author. But she also, late in the play, leaps ahead to the 20th century when she sings an absurd “power ballad,” abruptly tearing us from the carefully constructed setting. It’s a cheap gag: the anachronism tries too hard to make us laugh. In working so hard to be fun, the actors become campy. The script sucks out much that is central to the characters in the Brontë sisters’ novels—earnestness, atmosphere, and a clear struggle within their oppressive cultural context—and replaces it with empty conceits.

Hopefully some of the production’s problems will be ironed out as the run continues, since the actors felt shaky during the preview I saw. Maybe as they master the timings of the near-constant stream of scripted jokes, the show will gain heart. In the meantime, I suggest spending your evening either watching a comedy or reading a gothic novel, rather than attending a production that attempts to be both but comes up short.

—Lora Kelley YH Staff

Music: Sia Sia Furler is the forty-year-old Australian woman credited for writing the hits of artist like Katy Perry, Beyonce, Adele, and Rihanna. Much has been written in recent months about her transition from highly-soughtafter pop songwriter to hugely successful pop singer (her 2014 release,1000 Forms of Fear, has gone platinum in 4 countries). The popular narrative about Furler is a feel good one: background player finally takes the lead and becomes star. In a way, that narrative feels a lot like the songs from Sia’s seventh studio album This is Acting: cheesy, trite, yet often overwhelmingly irresistible.

The LP is comprised of twelve songs that Furler originally wrote or co-wrote for other artists. “Alive,” an Adelereject and the album’s lead single opens with “I grew up in a thunder storm / I grew up overnight” and triumphantly crashes into a chorus of “I’m still breathing, I’m still breathing / I’m still breathing, I’m still breathing / I’m alive / I’m alive / I’m alive/ I’m alive.” Kitsch little gems like this are spread uniformly among the album’s monumental drum kicks and roaring choruses. “House On Fire” was originally intended for Rihanna, and though its tale of deliciously destructive romance has RiRi written all over it, when sung in Furler’s fluttering, mid-range rasp, it has a particularly tragic and affecting quality. “Reaper,” an immediate foot-tapper with an attractive bassline as the requisite Sia drums is a story of hitting rock-bottom but managing to fight one’s way back, escaping death’s grasp — “Oh no baby, no baby, not today.” Only a few times, Sia veers too far into well-tred pop territory as in the dance pop jam “Move Your Body” (a song so obviously written for Shakira, I thought I had clicked on one of my sister’s “Party” playlists by accident). But outside of that, Sia sticks to feel-good jams about overcoming adversity or the tragic and inevitable lure of love.

In a December interview with Rolling Stone, Furler told Brittany Spanos, “It really seems the general public responds to songs about salvation or overcoming something… So yeah, I think my skill is more upbeat curating.” Though, “upbeat curating” sounds like something a man in clear-framed glasses and an emerald turtleneck would mutter to himself during a tour of The Whitney, it’s a shockingly accurate description Furler’s new album.

In that same Rolling Stone interview, Furler told Spanos quite frankly, “I think my visual work is art and my music is definitely commercial.” In an era where there is an ever-increasing discourse around “authenticity” in the music industry, it feels unusual to hear a pop performer admit something like this. Should that change the way I view her work? What does the fact that I enjoy her music say about me? I think it says that I, like many, am a person who enjoys a good pop song. Furler may not be an “authentic” pop singer, but if This is Acting is any indication, pop is about being willing to play the role.

TV: The X-Files Over winter break, my sister finally agreed to watch The X-Files with me. I was so happy I cried, even though she just wanted an excuse to buy an “I Want to Believe” poster. And so when Mulder kicked that same poster apart in the first episode of The X-Files season 10, the heavy-handed symbolism hit me even harder: this is a show that is in the middle of reinvention. But does it really need to be? For my sister – and all the show’s casual fans – the poster’s grainy picture of a UFO over some trees has become so symbolic of the show because it embodies the show’s fundamental appeal to the hope that there’s more to the world than meets the eye. That sense of wonder made the original run of The X-Files (1993-2002) something special, but it’s been nearly completely purged from the reboot. The new series’ attempt to deviate from that inherent hook is one of the reasons it falls so flat.

There are still things to love, of course. Back from seasons 1-9, which followed FBI agents Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson) and Fox Mulder (David Duchovny) as they investigated paranormal phenomena and searched for evidence of extraterrestrials, are Skinner (their former boss at the bureau, played by Mitch Pileggi), UFO footage, sinister government agents with black suits and no names, everyone’s favorite giant flukeworm (well, it at least gets a cameo), and the iconic title sequence. Mulder monotones and wisecracks, saying things that invoke enough of the paranormal (what did you just say caused global warming?) to force Scully to take on the role of the skeptic again. In the few moments when it’s just the two of them, without the new side characters, the depth of their friendship and the length of the road they’ve been on together come through, and the show just works.

Unfortunately for the cohesiveness of the show, these new characters don’t do much except move the plot along and quiz Scully about why she and Mulder broke up. That lingering post-relationship tension is a good example of one of season 10’s many contradictions: It’s a reboot that is catered to fans, but it consciously refuses to be a show that fans might like. No one stuck it out through 7 seasons of “will they, won’t they?” plus another two seasons of “they would, if Mulder hadn’t been abducted by aliens” to watch Joel McHale try to wheedle Scully into letting him be her rebound.

Fans who watched the show for the thrilling plot are in for a bigger disappointment. The new season jettisons the show’s old mythology – an appealing creative move, considering how badly the plot fell apart.

But in the switch to the modern era — Mulder and Scully use the internet and talk about government surveillance!—the conspiracies are more depressing than exciting. The exotic threat of impending alien invasion has been traded out for more pedestrian concerns: environmental collapse, pharmaceutical corporations, and consumerism. The only real sense of wonder I felt was when I considered why someone thought it would be a good idea to call this episode “My Struggle.”

The writers clearly think that this new season needs to adapt to the post-9/11 era (characters even say as much), but really their problem is the post-X-Files era. The writers struggle against the weight of all the subplots that came to nothing and alien invasions that never happened. No amount of footage of President Bush or cynical political commentary can compensate for the loss of the sincere search for the truth that made the show’s early seasons so much fun. Like Mulder, I still want to believe, but for the time being, The X-Files has given up on offering anything worth believing in.

—Libbie Katsev YH Staff

Image courtesy of Yale Repertory Theatre (top) Image courtesy of MTV (left) Image courtesy of Movienews (right)

—Jordan Coley YH Staff

Feb. 5, 2016 – 21

BULLBLOG BLACKLIST Magic Tree House the movie

What we hate this week

has anyone pitched Magic Tree House live??

when cities don’t sleep

also the word “caucus”

how the Zika virus is so gendered

go to sleep, cities

not full dead so hard to sweep up

half dead mouse rain the CDC

mysogyny actually is all around

go away

Piazza

the new Uber logo

more like ew-brr I’m cold because I’d rather walk than participate in this fugly sharing economy

when Club Penguin got racy

I’m always like “mmmm” but then I’m like :(

my first boyfriend was mistersupercow5

Feb. 5, 2016 –­ 23