THE YALE HERALD YALE’S MOST DARING PUBLICATION SINCE 1986 | VOL LXXXVI ISSUE 3 | 16 Sept. 2019
What sort of future might we imagine for Connecticut under Medicare for All? By Fiona Drenttel.
FROM THE EDITORS Friends and strangers, Shopping period is finally over. Whether for better or for worse, your classes are locked in. Any lingering gray areas within your weekly routine have been either embraced or eradicated. All the uncertainty has been purged from your life, and now everything is in perfect order.
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 contact the Editors-in-Chief at laurie.roark@yale.edu and marina.albanese@yale.edu. Receive the Herald for one semester for 40 dollars, or for the 2020 academic year for 65 dollars.
Embrace this state. You’re decisive. You’re powerful. You’re as young as you’ll ever be. Use a small slice of the vast expanse of time which stretches out before you to catch up on what’s going on in the lives of your fellows. And what better passageway to their vivid interior experiences than through the pages of the Herald?
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 2019 The Yale Herald.
In this issue, Adhya Beesam, MY ’22, catalogs the merits of an unrequited crush, Kathryn Miyawaki, MY ’21, analyzes a new exhibition on ceremonial dress in southwestern China, and the Herald sits down with Eli Sabin, GH ’22, to discuss his candidacy for the Board of Alders.
VISIT US ONLINE AT YALEHERALD.COM
Make the most of this opportunity to connect with those around you. Maybe life isn’t as simple and idyllic as your finalized schedule might make it out to be—but we’re all in the same proverbial boat. Read onward, and the Herald can function as your proverbial life preserver! Warm tidings, Will Wegner Inserts Editor
EDITORIAL STAFF EDITORS-IN-CHIEF Marina Albanese, Laurie Roark MANAGING EDITORS Kat Corfman, Eric Krebs EXECUTIVE EDITORS Chalay Chalermkraivuth, Nurit Chinn, Fiona Drenttel, Jack Kyono FEATURES EDITORS Rachel Calcott, Elliot Lewis CULTURE EDITORS Ryan Benson, Bri Wu VOICES EDITORS Hamzah Jhaveri, Silver Liftin OPINION EDITOR Spencer Hagaman REVIEWS EDITORS Everest Fang, Marc Boudreaux FUZZ EDITORS Matt Reiner, Harrison Smith INSERTS EDITORS Sarah Force, Will Wegner
DESIGN STAFF CREATIVE DIRECTORS Paige Davis, Rebecca Goldberg ILLUSTRATOR Marc Boudreaux
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IN THIS ISSUE 6
10,16
In “john,” Luca Scoppetta-Stern, TC ’22, undoes the trappings of love.
The Herald sits down with Eli Sabin, GH ’22, to discuss his campaign for Ward 1 Alder of New Haven and its effect on his life at Yale.
Voices
Meanwhile, Selena Martinez, DC ’22, writes, speaks, and signs about the complicated nature of her relationship with her mother.
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Opinions Adhya Beesam, MY ’22, takes an honest look at the rationality and reality of having a crush.
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Arts
In conversation with the Herald, Matt Reiner, JE ‘20, reflects on painting and failure.
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Cover
Fiona Drenttel, BF ’20, investigates what might lie ahead for patients, providers and insurance workers in the transition to a Medicare for All system.
Features
Spencer Hagaman, BF ’21, dives into the dynamics of the recent New Haven mayoral match-up.
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Culture Aliaksandra Tucha, DC ‘21, considers Sophie Potter’s gender-bending Orlando as the first film in the Yale Film Study Center’s 50WomenAtYale150 series Reflecting on the Yale Art Gallery’s newest show, Kathryn Miyawaki, PM ’21, explores form, function, and fish skin in southwestern Chinese ceremonial dress.
INCOMING Giardia
OUTGOING
Everything
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Reviews Adrian Rivera, JE ’20, dissects his long history with the Americana darling, Lana Del Rey. Through smoke and mirrors, Caramia Putnam, BF ’22, recounts a night at Partner’s “Modern Love.” In a heated debate, Eli Mennerick and Sam Panner, ES ’21, propose their arguments for Blk. Water and Boxed Water.
Week Ahead WINDHAM CAMPBELL FESTIVAL SEPTEMBER 18-20 DO THE RIGHT THING THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 19TH, 7-9:30 PM WHITNEY HUMANITIES CENTER DMX AT TOAD’S PLACE FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 20TH, 8PM TOAD’S PLACE
INSERTS Yale Herald Best Residential Colleges Official Rankings
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ur algorithm uses a wide range of very real and important factors to determine which residential colleges are the best. If you want to find out more about our methodology, you can go to hell! 1. Grace Hopper College I think we all saw this one coming. Grace Hopper College is the number one residential college at Yale. Ask anyone what the best college at Yale is and they’ll say, “Grace Hopper College!” 2. Pierson College Pierson College is the second best residential college at Yale for obvious reasons. Have you seen their courtyard? Now that’s second-best material! 3. Ezra Stiles College
8. Trumbull College Trumbull serves lunch in their dining hall until 2:30 pm! They’re number eight because they eat lunch late! 9. Pauli Murray College This is a big deal for Pauli Murray. As such a new college, it can be hard to get the kind of name recognition you need to make it into the top 10. Yet, here they are. Way to go Pauli Murray! 10. Branford College Branford makes a cool number 10 for our very cool rankings.
A bit of a surprise here! But everyone loves an underdog. And Ezra Stiles College is 100% an underdog. Big congrats to Stilesians everywhere!
11. (tie) Benjamin Franklin College With a picturesque courtyard and an unexpected name, Benjamin Franklin slides in as the eleventh best college at Yale.
4. Jonathan Edwards College
11. (tie) Davenport
I’m sure you could have guessed that JE is number four. Just ask anyone at Yale what the fourth best college at Yale is. They’ll say, “Jonathan Edwards College!”
We had to a throw a tie in there somewhere!
5. Timothy Dwight College This one just screams number five. 6. Silliman College As any good Yalie knows, “Silly Silliman Sits at Seat Six! 7. Morse College Fun fact: Morse College is the seventh best 4
college at Yale. Aren’t you glad you picked up a copy of the Herald today?
THE YALE HERALD
11. (tie) Saybrook We might as well make it a three-way tie! 14. Berkeley It was so hard to remember what the last college was! Berkeley is the worst college at Yale. Very forgettable and very long lines for lunch.
EVEREST FANG, ES ’20, YH STAFF
5 Top 5 College Essentials ADDISON BEER, JE ’23
5.
A Kanken Bag! Anyone who wants to be seen on The Gram™ needs a bright, carefully pinned, overpriced Swedish backpack! It’s absolutely perfect for storing all your textbooks, lab notebooks, and candles!
Trendy School Supplies! I’m talking MUJI, Moleskine, and those sticky notes shaped like ice cream cones. And don’t forget the chalk to draw your transmutation circle!
3.
A Hydroflask! Ideally in a color that compliments your new bag. This sleek metal bottle is perfect for keeping all the blood you need at a usable temperature! Make sure to put some vinyl stickers on too! Modern, sleek phrases like “Eat the Rich” or “I’m with Cthulu.”
A Cute Bike! You need something to get to class on time and in style! And how else are you going to make it all the way to Connecticut’s Forgotten Woods in time for the next blood moon?
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2.
An Unwilling Sacrifice! Now with all the supplies gathered, you just need one more thing! A human sacrifice! Just snag someone from TD; no one will go looking.
As I Wait in Line for Food h, look. Another person can’t decide what to eat, and here I am waiting in line. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Why is Saybrook so crowded right now? It’s a Thursday night, and the line to get into this chamber of hot food is unusually long. Okay, I might as well stare at the floor until I hobble up to the plates. Wait, wait, wait. Why would I look at the floor if I have my handy little phone on my person? Oh, fantastic! Here comes someone I know. My friend’s friend’s suitemate from last year. What are the odds! Should I say hi right now or should I wait until we lock eyes across the room, both unmoving, waiting, watching? Wow, this line is
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finally moving. There’s no way anything on the menu warrants this Black Friday energy. Now, what is the hold-up, people? Oh. Oh. Now there’s something that wasn’t there before. I smell carnitas and beans and flour tortillas. This is an absolute game-changer. But there’s something else at play. Could it be? Quesadillas? I am reaching for a plate and, oh, okay, I’m going to grab another one because the first one was soaking wet. Okay, okay. Everything’s fine. I’m just gonna get my quesadillas and get out. Hi, Green Beans. I see you there. How are you doing? I’d like to put you on my plate. Where are the tongs? Maybe I’ll use my hands. There they are! No! Okay, the green
SAM GALLEN, SY ’22
beans fully missed my plate and are now on that weird metallic slab that goes along the side of the food. Is there a word for that? I feel like there’s a word, but you know what, it’ll come to me. Hmm. Anyway. Something feels off. The dining hall has a line out the door right now, and I know for a fact that Saybrook is almost never crowded. That’d only happen in a dream. Dreaming. That’s it! I have to be dreaming. And if that’s the case, then I’m gonna dream up that it’s Chicken Tender Thursday.
VOICES
Steena and Brenda SELENA MARTINEZ, YH STAFF, DC ’22 On paper, I’m Selena. In voice, I’m Steena. In sign, I’m a Fist Tapped Twice on the Chin. My mother thinks her Deaf Voice is ugly. Her ‘r’s sound like ‘ah’s and she says “rap” like “rape.” When my brother and I were younger, we’d curl our index finger over our thumb, bring them to our neck, and turn them in a locking motion—asking her to “Voice Off.” We were mean because we were embarrassed, meaner because we were ashamed to be embarrassed. At home, she’d sing the lyrics—or what she thought were the lyrics—of a John Denver song. She sang completely offkey, and as loud as she wanted. Calling us down for dinner, she’d yell, “Steena and Brenda!” My name is Selena. My brother’s name is Brandon. My brother and I used to pretend Brenda and Steena were our alter egos. Brenda clocked in eight hours daily at an Arizona diner, and Steena raced cars faster than Mario Andretti. We gave them accents and marched around the back porch with funny voices until we
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doubled over, snorting and kicking the air. Once in a while, our mother would come out and ask what was so funny. Frozen and guilty and smaller than her, we’d stare at the painted-blue patio wood and shake our heads. Nothing. In sign, my mother is clever, and she corrects my handshape. Sometimes I sign “garbage” when I mean “punish,” and she’ll laugh in the most beautiful high-pitched gargle. My face will go red, and she’ll squeeze my arm in a way that makes me want to take back all the meanness. My own Deaf Voice sneaks out when I’m with my mother. It’s inherited, like my brown eyes and weird toes. I say “finish” like “fish” and “marshmallow” like “mushroom”; I trip over ‘w’s and cringe at myself. I speak loudly, matching her talk-yelling, and we laugh at hearing people who pass by and stare. Together, we’re Steena and Mom, an Open Hand Tapped Twice on the Chin.
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john LUCA SCOPPETTA-STERN, TC ’22
one john is getting married to a nurse from nebraska, with straw hair and a singing smile, who knows german and can cut open lemons with her fingernails—they met at a casino two yellow afternoon john is standing mid-stream caught in nets meant for trout his hair is hoppy, rustles with each breath, each tremor of cedar chest that sends the whole trunk writhing until the forfeit of air down toward the scraped salmon-brown of legs, ankles warped slyly by water, and then nothing but the light play of little yawning creases
the more we walk through this clearing, dropping stones like pollen, the more the wind seems to brush away our confusion among the pine-dandruff: the custodian of an old and gaping theater kicking coins into the gutter three cairns taunt falling there are no walls; yet we are solid— you trapped, me sitting on a drunk and yearning carpet of ferns while windmill flowers count the jaundiced paces of the sun wake from the sleep of the net! uncoil your twiny limbs and come
OPINION
ADHYA BEESAM, MY ’22
F
rom a biological standpoint, crushes are fucking bonkers. There’s no way that natural selection allowed my ancestors to short circuit at the mere hint of attraction, yet here I am undergoing infatuation-induced organ failure. Far unlike any rational behavior, the onset of a crush is sudden, random, and mostly fatal. It feels like every interaction with a cutie is a game of dodgeball with feels, and my heart is a lousy athlete. The list of emotions, actions, and changes that follow could be rattled off as the side effects of a prescription drug. And, even if you might convince yourself, you never really make it out of one unscathed. It makes absolutely no sense. There’s no explanation for why one look from just the right person can lead to my body rainbow-wheeling into oblivion. Literally one smile and my sweat glands attempt to single-handedly quench the thirst of an entire village. My vision becomes a video game display after the hero has been shot, blurring at the edges while the text You can’t sleep while enemies are nearby flashes menacingly. I get the shakes, the itches, the jitters, the hives, the numb tongue, the twitchy eyes—all of it. My body becomes Coachella, but the lineup is just every possible symptom of every possible illness that can ravage the human body. The best way to describe a crush is as a psychological allergy. Yet for some reason, I constantly seek to place myself in scenarios with the allergen. Now, this might seem perfectly rational: Step 1: Attraction! Step 2: Increased contact! Then, bingo: Success!! However, I also have a bonus step 1.5 where, without warning, I morph into Inspector fucking Clouseau. I traipse about like an absolute clown in locations where I might catch my new beloved, hoping to have another cardiac arrest upon sight. I blush in surprise after spotting a cutie walking out of a class, despite having been waiting outside in full anticipation. I sit in the back of a classroom and temporarily
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renounce my teacher’s pet status, willing to risk it all for one group project with someone who I know will obliterate my GPA the minute I get lost in their beautiful eyes. While actively cosplaying as a court jester, I never even try to display the already meager evolutionary advantages I have. I lose anything that could render me charming in my normal state. Instead, I take on the demeanor of a lost child frantically searching for their mother in a Walmart. My smile starts to look like a Dali clock, and my laughter becomes the textbook definition of Uncanny Valley. I look at my crush, and my mind retains nothing but fight or flight. All words lose meaning, syllables backflipping off my tongue with abandon, vowels morphing into macabre guttural gurgles. No positive feelings, be it joy, hope, or even contentedness, have ever flooded through my body during interactions with a crush. If they have, they’ve definitely been overpowered by the nausea. But if you were to ask me, I’d take decades of sweat and stutters and tears over not having a crush at all. I agree that every moment I spend being engulfed by the intensity of attraction feels like someone has flung my lungs into a dumpster fire. Yet, it calls my attention to the shortness of my breath, the beating of my heart, the tensing of my muscles. Those are always the moments I’ve felt the most alive. The sweetest days are those when I allow myself the simple luxury of thinking about those who may not think of me. Too often, I judge my life and behavior as if I’m a simulation with no variance, denying the fickle and ephemeral nature of my emotions, yet I’ve never regretted the times when I’ve let my heart drive me somewhere stupid. And every time I catch a crush, I feel like it might be my last big one. Even if it isn’t, I’ll never feel the same way as I do right now. So, honestly, fuck it. Crushes are fun.
ARTS Artist Portrait: Matt Reiner YH STAFF This week, Arts editors, Harrison Smith, ES ’20, and Matt Reiner, JE ’20, spoke about process and failure, focusing on Reiner’s practice and the beginning of his thesis project for the undergraduate painting program.
Tentatively Read, Oil on Canvas, 2018.
Untitled (After Ingres), Graphite on Paper, 2019
Harrison Smith: Maybe we should start by talking about development—both in the sense of longevity and process. Something I think a lot about with your paintings is this sense of their having come out of a set of parameters, which delineate a space for practice. The most obvious parameter is “abstract painting,” but also, the size of the canvas or the material ground you’re using. I wonder how you begin and how you decide you’ve finished, if where you arrive is where you thought you would have. Matt Reiner: Process is something I’ve been trying to figure out for a long time. Even with a still life it’s difficult to say “okay, I’ll stop here,” because I can always keep adding paint, adding glazes to make the light a bit warmer here or cooler there, or a bit of detail in the flesh of an apple. But at the same time I’m so impatient. If I don’t finish a painting within a couple of days, I’ll get uneasy and obsessive; and if it’s a failure, I’d rather destroy it than put it aside. So to begin is in a sense always to end for me. Not that I have a fixed image of what the thing should look like, but more so that I can’t let the end properly out of sight; I have trouble really risking true and utter failure in a painting. It’s something I’m trying to work on personally and in the studio. Longevity is something I’ve been thinking about this past summer too. Last year I had lost a lot of joy in making anything; the work became very performative and I was trying to outsmart myself for the sake of winning an imaginary game. I realized that it was slowly wearing away at my desire to paint at all. I thought about how to make a practice which can endure because there is meaning outside of the performance or the exhibition or the telling—a kind of private meaning which I would only let escape when I wanted, if I wanted. I journaled a lot, kept notebooks and it helped. I’m trying to keep the studio more private this year. I think that will help, too. HS: What exactly does it mean for a painting to “fail”? MR: Yeah (laughs). It’s kind of an ambiguous statement that a lot of painters use to describe a feeling. I have a hard time pinpointing what it means. The best I can do is give an analog: you’re eating a chicken leg and you’ve bitten off a tendon. At this point you have two options—you can either spit out the tendon, or you can chew through and swallow it. A failed painting is kind of like biting off the tendon. Most of the time I spit it out because it’s painful to keep working through. The composition isn’t right
or the color is off. Something structural about the way the picture looks just doesn’t quite work. And when you want something to work really badly, sometimes you can try to convince yourself that it does, but there is just a feeling that it’s just not doing it. It’s hard to articulate. It’s a visual sense that doesn’t lend itself to language very well. HS: I’ve seen some other work of yours that is very technically savvy, where the risk is minimized to a certain extent because the outcome is controlled. Often times these are copies of other artists’ work or observational drawings. I think you would rather call them studies, though. I’m curious what it might mean to flex a certain skill in painting and thereby to “minimize” or “control” the risk in doing it. In a similar vein I’m wondering how you’re going about beginning a thesis project, which is in certain ways predicated on the assumption that you won’t utterly fail, that something will come out of it which can be presented in the gallery at the end of the year. MR: Making a painting always contains a certain ego trip for me. It’s hard to separate the grand title “Painting” from what I’m doing, which is at best an amateur knock-off of that idea—not to be self-deprecating in any way, but just to point out that that idea of painting isn’t true anymore. That being said, I’m always testing myself to see where I lie within these parameters, like I am testing a kind of validity whose existence isn’t real any longer. At the same time, the only successes I’ve actually felt in making a painting have been when I’ve let this performative testing go—when I’ve actually been able to have privacy and make the work because it felt like what I needed in relation to a “right now.” Of course, it’s difficult to really shun the performative, or the impressive, when you’re working in a class setting and you are being “evaluated”—whatever that might mean in an art context. But I hope that I can get there this year; it’s what the thesis is about in a certain way: to find the private in light of the performative elements in painting. It’s what really good painters execute in such a stunning way—I’m thinking of people like Charline Von Heyl and Jutta Keother, who have found the idiosyncratic within the historical and positioned their skill within matrices of doubt and criticality. I want to be more comfortable with the risk in that idiosyncrasy, or with the private being exposed to vulnerability. It takes a kind of confidence, which I’m developing and which maybe the studies do help to build. I’m not sure.
FEATURE
Politically Positioned YH STAFF This past June, Eli Sabin, GH ’22, declared his candidacy for Ward 1 Alder for the New Haven Board of Alders. The position, which represents eight of the 14 residential colleges as well as Old Campus, is often held by a Yale student. If elected, Sabin will succeed Hacibey Catalbasoglu, DC ’19, who has held the position since 2017—and become the fifth Yale student to serve as Ward 1 Alder since 2007. Sabin, who majors in Political Science, is a native of New Haven, son of journalist Emily Bazelon and History Professor Paul Sabin. This week, Sabin sat down with the Herald to discuss his political aspirations, the difference between politics and public service, his connection to New Haven, and the ways his campaign has affected his life at Yale. Yale Herald: You declared your candidacy on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter. What was the immediate reaction, and why did you choose social media as the way to publicize? Eli Sabin: The immediate reaction was overwhelmingly positive. Before I announced my campaign, I talked to a lot of people in the New Haven community—political leaders, activists, people I’ve worked with in the past—and I talked to a bunch of folks on campus, especially people who grew up in New Haven, who I felt had a stake in this race. And then, when I announced, there was a lot of support that I received, and I was really appreciative. A lot of people shared my announcement on social media, which I think was really a strong signal that my campaign was based in grassroots support from people I knew on campus and in the New Haven communi-
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ty, [people] who knew about all the work I’ve that actually, from 2012 to 2016, flipped like 17 done in the city and how much I care about percent from Obama to Trump. And Albis won my community. his race by, I think, nine votes, after I spent a ton of time knocking doors for him. That was a super YH: You grew up in New Haven and have a lot gratifying experience, knowing that I could make of connections to the New Haven community; a difference in local government and in my combut you are also a Yale student with connections munity by showing up and talking to people. And to Yale faculty and the Yale community. Do you that’s what I love about local politics. You see all feel your position as Ward 1 Alder will be from these things going on in DC—and Trump is obthe perspective of a Yale student or a New Haven viously terrible—but it’s hard for us to feel we resident? are making an impact on the things that happen in DC, whereas my experience in New Haven ES: A New Haven resident, I think. I was a New and on the state level has been overwhelmingly Haven resident a long time before I was a Yale positive, and I’ve had a ton of opportunity to do student, and I hope to be and plan to be a New things that I feel have made an impact and have Haven resident a long time after I’m a Yale stu- been super rewarding and really incredible expedent. I’m really invested in this community, and riences. the reason I’m running for the Board of Alders is because I want to work with and fight for the YH: Has your background working on political people I grew up with. campaigns, as well as Yale Dems, affected the way you run your campaign? YH: How did you get into politics? Is it something you’ve always been passionate about, or ES: Yeah, I think that having worked on camwhen did you start feeling politically-minded? paigns gives you an advantage. You understand how to do it, what the strategy is, how to register ES: I have always wanted to do public service. voters, how to canvas, how to make [campaign That’s what I feel is the most important thing. literature], and run social media—which are all My family talks about politics all the time, so things I’ve done in the past, so obviously that I was aware of what was going on, but my first puts me in a good position to do the nuts and exposure to politics was in 2016: I knocked on bolts of running for office. doors for former state representative James Albis, who was running for re-election in East Haven, YH: How do you manage your time, being Connecticut—which is like ten minutes from a full-time student while managing a political here—and I spent a lot of time with him, knock- campaign as well? ing on doors in a really interesting community
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ES: It’s not really any different from what I was doing last year, because last fall I was the campaign manager for state representative Roland Lemar, so I was spending a lot of time working with him. And then in the spring, I was the director of the Progressive Caucus in the state legislature, so I spent around 15 hours a week going up to Hartford and helping organize the state legislators there. And really, for the last couple years, I’ve tried to devote as much free time as I can to organizing in progressive activism, because that’s what I’m passionate about, and whenever I have time outside of school, I want to be involved in that work, which feels really important. YH: Do you feel the way you behave on campus has changed since you’ve run for office? Do you feel the way you are seen on campus has changed? ES: It’s been interesting. I have tried not to change how I act on campus. I think I’m naturally respectful and friendly to everybody, so that has not changed. Obviously, when you’re a politician, you’re supposed to be those things all the time, but I feel I’m naturally those things so I haven’t had to really change that. But it’s definitely a little bit different to be on campus as somebody running for office because you know people through your social circles, and then you’re also sort of interacting with them in a political way, which can make things a little challenging. There are definitely more people on campus who know who I am or recognize me, which is a little weird. I’m not generally an attention seeker, so I’m not always so thrilled about that, but it is what it is. YH: Sort of shifting gears here, you’ve mentioned the Jewish principle of tikkun olam before in some of your materials. How does that affect your policy, and how does perhaps other Jewish thought affect the way you look at the world? ES: I’m glad you asked that question. I think that tikkun olam is the idea of repairing the world. It’s sort of a call to service—that’s how I see it— and I was brought up in a social justice tradition. There’s this question that I’ve talked about a little bit in my campaign, which is, if I’m only for myself, who am I? So, [tikkun olam is] about serving
There’s this question that I’ve talked about a little bit in my campaign, which is, if I’m only for myself, who am I?
YH: You’ve done work in the state legislature. What was that like, and how does it affect you and your campaign today?
ES: Last January, I was hired to be the director of the Progressive Caucus in the General Assembly. So the Progressive Caucus is a newer organization that the progressive legislators in the General Assembly set up…to try to organize around progressive policy goals. So, last year, I went up to Hartford every Wednesday during the spring semester [for] the legislative session which ran from June to May last year. [I] talked to lots of activists and advocates and legislators and tried to work with them to push a progressive agenda. So we organized press conferences about criminal justice reform and an equitable taxation system. Ultimately, we were pretty successful in helping push the legislature to pass a $15 minimum wage and paid family medical leave, as well as a bunch of other things: a prosecutorial transparency bill and some other great legislation. So it was a really exciting, successful legislative session last year, and I think the Progressive Caucus,which I worked with, had a big impact on that. I’m lookothers. In the work that I have done, and in my ing forward to continuing that role this spring general life, I ask myself, am I doing enough to as we have another legislative session starting lift other people up and serve the community? in February. Because I think that that’s what I want to do with YH: You’re the only current Yale student who is my life. currently running for office. What do you think YH: You talked a lot about public service over separates you from other politically minded stupolitics. Where do you think this position dents on campus? will lead you in life? Where do you want to go ES: I think, mostly, opportunity. I know that from here? there are many people on campus who are interES: I don’t know. I’m focused on this race, and ested in running for office and are equally pasI’m trying to figure out whether I want to be sionate about public service and government. I someone who runs for office. Obviously, I’m 19, think that having grown up in New Haven, and so I have a lot of time to figure that out. I defi- having done a lot of political work and communitely know that I want to be involved in gov- nity activism in high school, just put me in a good ernment, activism—I want to be in the fight. The position to continue that work by running for ofquestion for me is whether…being a legislator or fice and throwing my hat in the political ring. But an elected official in some capacity is the best way I’m sure that I will see many more Yalies in the for me to make a difference, or whether maybe future running for office. being a policy advisor or working on campaigns is the best avenue for me to affect change. I’m still trying to figure that out.
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Patient FIONA DRENTTEL, ES ’20, YH STAFF
“I see people coming back, coming back, for the same issues, and I know that they’re really not well enough to stay well outside of a hospital for an extended period of time.” Medical professionals like June F., a registered nurse in Connecticut, often wish to keep their patients around for observation, just to be safe. But usually they have no choice but to send those patients out the door before they’re completely healthy. Beds cost money; care costs money. If a patient is readmitted within 30 days of having been discharged from the hospital for the same health issue, the hospital won’t be reimbursed by the insurance company for subsequent care. This puts added pressure on the healthcare providers. June explains, “[Nurses] are walking this constant tightrope. We want to keep people in the hospital [for] long enough that they are well and won’t be readmitted, but we’re constantly getting this push to discharge them.” A 2016 study by Dr. Oahn Nguyen at the University of Texas Southwest Medical Center found that one in five patients have at least one “vital sign instability” at the time of their discharge. What results is a pattern that is typical of the healthcare and health insurance industries, wherein the nature of a patient’s care is determined by a financial need, rather than a medical one. June explains, “You can tick off all the boxes so that according to the algorithm, [the patient]
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is well enough to go, but the doctor and the nurs- companies setting regulations (such as hospital es and the case managers know that they really discharge requirements), June and other nurses shouldn’t go. They should have one more day.” would have the autonomy to give their patients the care they need, to the extent that they need it. One of the most common critiques of Medicare for All proposals, however, is that the elimination of private insurance will wreak havoc on the economy built around those companies. Hartford, Conn., the “Insurance Capital of the World,” serves as an example to weigh the legitimacy of this concern. What sort of future might we imagine for Connecticut if its health insurance companies close? How will the elimination of private insurance impact a city and state that supports these companies? (The answer: probably not as much as you’d think.)
There would only be one insurance company to deal with: ‘The Office,’” he says with air quotes. “The Office of Medicare for All.ooking
...
Insurance in Hartford, Conn., begins in 1794, when a well-off merchant named Jeremiah Wadsworth started informally selling fire insurance. This eventually morphed into a legitimate undertaking with the establishment of publicly owned insurance firms: The Hartford Insurance Co. in 1810, and The Aetna Insurance Co. in 1811. But Hartford didn’t earn its reputation as the Insurance Capital for another few decades. When New York City’s financial district burned down in 1835, almost all of New Advocates for Medicare for All see these fail- York’s insurance companies were unable to folures as evidence of the need for universal public low through with payment promises, and many health insurance. Without the private insurance of them went out of business. Hartford-based
Transtion insurance companies, however, paid out their losses, thereby demonstrating their professional reliability. Parts of Lower Manhattan burned down again 10 years later, in 1845—and again, Hartford insurers kept their promises. The city soon became a hub for the insurance industry, and by the mid-1980s, there were three dozen insurance companies in Hartford. But the city’s reputation as the Insurance Capital has been diminishing for several decades. Today, there are only a handful of insurance companies left. Many have moved their headquarters out of state, relocating to cities with bigger draws and lower taxes. It’s important to note that health insurance is only one part of an intricate, much larger industry, and that most of it—life insurance, home insurance, auto insurance, etc.—would be untouched by Medicare for All. Health insurance comprises 16 percent of the Connecticut insurance industry, employing approximately 9,500 people in Connecticut, and distributing an annual payroll of $1.1 billion. Beneath a lot of the rhetoric surrounding Medicare for All is the question of what will happen to the industry? But the threat of insurance companies withdrawing from Hartford and its economy is nothing new. In June 2017, Aetna announced that it would be moving its headquarters from Hartford to New York City.
For the previous 164 years of the company’s existence, it had held strong ties to Hartford: Morgan Gardner Bulkeley, a son of Aetna’s founder, served four terms as the city’s mayor and subsequently was elected governor of Connecticut—all while presiding over Aetna. The company’s plan to leave the city was scrapped, however, in January 2018, when CVS bought Aetna and decided to keep the health insurer in Hartford. “We… view Hartford as the future location of our center of excellence for the insurance business,” wrote CVS spokesman David Palombi via email. This announcement followed months of lobbying efforts by Connecticut officials. It might seem tempting to compare what would have happened to Hartford had Aetna left, with what might happen to Hartford should Medicare for All take effect. “Whenever a company shuts down, there’s a big deal,” says Ted Doolittle, a healthcare advocate for the State of Connecticut and a former employee of CMS. “However, we’re not shutting down a company; we’re shutting down an industry.” But Aetna’s attempted departure isn’t predictive of the changes that an insurance overhaul would bring about. ... Medicare, as it currently exists, is a federal health insurance program for senior citizens
and people with certain disabilities, regardless of income or medical history. When it was enacted in July 1965, the Medicare program was modeled on the private insurance system that was in place at the time; since then, however, the program has expanded and contracted at several points, including the addition of Medicare Part C, which gave people the ability to buy into private insurance plans approved by Medicare. Medicare is a program that “Americans know and largely love,” says Mark Schlesinger, a professor of health policy at the Yale School
You can actually see [it] in our data, it’s like a snake had swallowed a rat.oking at, of Public Health. It’s come to represent the gold standard of public programs. “Medicare for All,” however, means different things to different people. Broadly speaking, Medicare for All involves the elimination of private health insurance in the U.S.. Instead, the current multi-payer system would be replaced with a publicly-funded, single-payer system. (“Single-payer” means that one entity collects all the healthcare fees and pays for all the healthcare costs.) Under a single-payer system, all U.S. residents would be covered for all medically necessary services—including doctor and hospital visits, mental health, reproductive health, dental, vision, prescription drug and medical supply costs. Under some proposed
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plans, there would be no premiums, co-pays, or deductibles. “It would be far simpler,” imagines John Whitbeck, a retired physician assistant (PA) and a member of the Western Connecticut Democratic Socialists of America. “There would only be one insurance company to deal with: ‘The Office,’” he says with air quotes. “The Office of Medicare for All.” Medicare for All uses Medicare as its basis, but it’s not simply a broadening of the current system. As it exists today, Medicare is not a single-payer program; it’s about two thirds public, and one third private. There is the option to buy into a private insurance plan—if, say, a patient wants to keep the plan they’re familiar with, or if the standard Medicare benefits don’t fit a patient’s specific needs. In this way, there are essential limits to likening Medicare to Medicare for All, and vice versa. ... Since its conception, the government has contracted private, for-profit companies to administer Medicare benefits. The Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS), a federal agency that runs Medicare and Medicaid, employs only 6,200 people. These employees—who are, notably, government employees—play an important role in overseeing Medicare and Medicaid. But Medicare isn’t run by government employees, for the most part. “The actual claims, the people who answer the phones, the call centers, all those people… they work for insurance companies, and subsidiaries of insurance companies,” says Doolittle. So, is that public insurance? Is it private insurance? “It’s public insurance in the sense that the government [is] providing it, but the actual people who administer the benefits [are] all working for the private insurance companies,” says Schlesinger. In other words, he explains, “they process paper. Or process bills. Or whatever the electronic version is now.”
This relationship between Medicare and for-profit companies has been mostly left out of current healthcare discourse, but it’s always existed. In fact, the first ever Medicare claim was paid by Aetna: a check to Hartford Hospital for $517.57. It is likely that whatever form of Medicare for All is legalized, it will be administered in the same way that Medicare always has been: with private insurers acting as financial intermediaries. “When you say private insurance is going to go away,” Doolittle says, “think about the person at the desk, or the person in the call center—and most likely, that person is going to still work for the same employer, that’s going to get a contract.” “I would see insurance companies’ role actually broadening and [getting] consolidated among a few players, but I would see an expanded role for insurance companies in a Medicare for All scenario,” says Eric Galvin, president of ConnectiCare, a non-profit insurance company in the state. But Galvin doesn’t think that Medicare for All is the right policy because it doesn’t address the cost of care. He sees a larger problem of high costs and inefficiency in the healthcare industry—regardless of who is paying. Galvin emphasizes the role of private investment in innovation sponsored by private companies, hospitals, and doctors. In a Medicare for All system, those investments “wouldn’t be there to help improve the care of someone in Medicare...that innovation wouldn’t happen.” As an example: ConnectiCare is currently conducting research as to whether patients require a preoperative visit for cataract surgery. This is standard practice, but if the patient is in good health, it’s an unnecessary use of time and money. “If it weren’t for a private insurer like us, that patient would be spending more money, taking away a slot in their primary care office that somebody else might actually really need. It just adds to—in my opinion—the waste of medical spending.”
From the perspective of a nurse on the hospital floor, June imagines a future under Medicare for All where private insurance companies no longer control the way healthcare money is distributed at the point of care. “Medicare for All would free up more healthcare money to be put to the point of care, but [...] for my working conditions to change, we also need to have policies enacted at the facility level. We need to have policies that say, yes, we’re going to invest in staffing for the patients.” ... The transition period to a single-payer system will look different, depending on how much time is set aside for it. Rep. Pramila Jayapal’s (WA-07) House bill, H.R. 1384, plans for a four year phase-in; Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders’s bill, S. 1129, plans for a two year one. And California Senator Kamala Harris recently published her own Medicare for All plan, which allocates ten years for the transition. The time scale is important, particularly for those employed at companies that will undergo structural change. “It will define the careers of many senior and middle managers, as they pivot their companies to be exclusively serving the government,” says Doolittle.
The office, founded in 1999, represents individuals and families in Connecticut who are fighting with their health insurance companies. The service is free to any resident of the state; if insurers act in a deceptive way, the state will intervene on behalf of the patient. Connecticut is one of only a few states in the country that has a patient-oriented advocacy program like this one. “So, ironically, even though it’s the Insurance Capital of the World, [Connecticut] actually has one of the most aggressive consumer protection programs in the country,“ says Schlesinger. “For the longest time, people thought that insurers wouldn’t be regulated at all [in Connecticut] because they were too politically powerful. But [by 1999], the insurers were already abandoning the state a little bit. So they had already kind of lost their political power by the time it was created.”
employees. These were the people who ran the front desk, answered the phone, did the billing, and took patients’ blood pressure before the doctor came in. Whitbeck recalls that “most of [the billing work] was behind the scenes—and most of it was why we had to hire five billing people for three care-givers. For them, medical billing was a daily problem.” Under Medicare for All, a doctor’s office such as Whitbeck’s would no longer need five employees supporting two doctors. There would still be billing to do—but it wouldn’t take five people to do it.
And what else will change? First and foremost, everyone in Connecticut will have health insurance. Ellen Andrews, president of the Connecticut Health Policy Project, also imagines a more transparent healthcare system. “We’ll have better information on medications and treatments to see whether they actually worked The Office of the Health Care Advocate rep- or not—that won’t be proprietary information resents people regardless of whether they are any more. We can invest in public health… I on public or private insurance—meaning that think we’ll all be healthier.” these services will continue under Medicare for All. “When the Affordable Care Act [ACA] The insurance industry will change shape, and came in, it caused a lot of confusion. A lot of a lot of insurance workers will lose their jobs— people didn’t know how this new Obamacare but many of them will likely get new jobs that thing was supposed to work,” Doolittle re- don’t look very different. It’s difficult, if not imcalls. “We get typically 5,000 calls a year, but possible, to weigh the benefits of a single-payer it spiked up to around 8,000 in the first couple system with the disruption of making it a reyears of ACA implementation. But then people ality. In the long term, however, people’s labor got more used to it. [...] You can actually see will be put towards different things—“put back [it] in our data, it’s like a snake had swallowed into staffing bedside care and community care,” a rat.” June says. “Those are jobs. [...] There is a tremendous lot of work that needs to be done in Should Medicare for All be implemented, the actual care of people.” the Office of the Healthcare Advocate will likely offer a similar form of support as people in Connecticut adjust to new ways of receiving care.
Both the House and Senate bills have earmarked one percent of their total programming revenue to help people make the transition from a multi- to single-payer system. The Sanders bill guarantees assistance to anyone displaced by the transition—including wage replacement for near-retirement workers until they have access to their pensions, as well as job training and relocation support for people who lose their jobs. Administration for Medicare for All is an on-ramp, but not every worker in the current system will be able to keep their jobs. “There are going to be people who don’t fit into that on-ramp,” says June, “and there are also go... ing to be people who say, I don’t want to work for the government.” For four years before he retired, John Whitbeck was a PA at a doctor’s office in Western Maybe one of the most unique aspects of Connecticut. The office where he worked was healthcare in Connecticut is a state-run agency composed of two doctors, one PA (himself ), called the Office of the Health Care Advocate. and a total of five additional, “multi-purpose”
FEATURE
SPENCER HAGAMAN, BF ’20, YH STAFF
N
ew Haven was a tale of two bars on the night of Tuesday, September 10, 2019. The atmosphere of 50 Fitch Tavern was marked by somber, expected silence as Mayor Toni Harp announced that she had just called primary challenger Justin Elicker, FES ’10, SOM ’10, former Alderman of Ward 10, to concede the Democratic primary election for mayor of New Haven. She proceeded to thank her supporters for all their hard work canvassing and making phone calls. After speaking for less than two minutes, Mayor Harp withdrew from the scene.
in November, closing the margin between him and Harp from 25 points in the primary to less than six percentage points.
In a speech to supporters, Elicker expressed gratitude for his team and a desire to work with everyone in the city—even those who had supported his opponent, like Superintendent Carol Birks. During his speech, Elicker said his team had now received “a clear mandate for New Haven to have a government that is ethical, that is responsive to the people, that is accessible, and one that will point this city in the direction in which every single resident will thrive.”
Mayor Harp would go on to be reelected both in 2015 and 2017 with little opposition, running on a platform of economic development and raising graduation rates. However, Mayor Harp’s third term would not play out as smoothly as her first two terms. Plagued by FBI investigations into embezzlement by staff at City Hall, administrative mismanagement of the Board of Education, and increasing levels of lead in the city’s water system, Harp found herself at the center of scandal after scandal. The negative press emanating from City Hall opened the doors to a possible primary challenge to Mayor Harp. Nora Heaphy, MC ’21, a concerned New Haven resident, was frustrated by the Harp administration’s carelessness regarding the Board of Education (BoE), expressing her unease at how “Harp and her appointees on the BoE have pushed for policies that move funding away from the classroom and towards Central Office consultants.” Heaphy commented, “It matters to me that Elicker has two children in the New Haven Public School system and is pushing for a more transparent, democratic, and accountable city government and BoE.”
Tuesday night was not the first contest between Mayor Harp and Elicker. In 2013, both ran to fill the seat vacated by Mayor John DeStefano, Jr. Then a State Senator and former New Haven Alderwoman, Harp was seen as the likely successor to DeStefano, gaining the endorsements of Senators Chris Murphy and Richard Blumenthal, as well as New Haven Congresswoman Rosa DeLauro. Elicker, a representative on the Board of Alders, was viewed as a challenger to the establishment. With support from major party leaders, Harp won the primary with a plurality of 49.8% of the Democratic vote in a field of five candidates. Elicker would then decide to run as an unaffiliated candidate in the 2013 general election
Harp’s troubled third term culminated in Tuesday night’s upset. Little love was lost between the two candidates, who had verbally attacked one another frequently on the campaign trail. Mayor Harp often found herself on the defensive for accepting donations from developers and for her appointments to the BoE and Superintendent’s office. Sarah Miller, a longtime New Haven resident and a volunteer on Elicker’s 2013 and 2019 campaigns, argued that Harp probably would have fared better with voters if she had acknowledged her mistakes. “Issue after issue, there’s just been this denial that these issues have been happening,” Miller said. “Don’t act like everything is fine when everything is not fine.”
Meanwhile, Justin Elicker, the Democratic mayoral nominee for New Haven, arrived at Trinity Bar on Orange Street to a roar of electrified cheers of “Justin! Justin!” to which Elicker excitedly responded, “We won! We won!”
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17
Running Pains In the aftermath, Elicker found himself on top at the polls by almost 2,000 votes at the end of Tuesday night. When interviewed by the Herald on Wednesday, Elicker promised that as mayor he would organize and lead a staff that reflected the strength of the Elm City. “There hasn’t been effective leadership in every department to implement effective change,” Elicker said. “The most important thing for me is to get a good team in place that represents the diversity and expertise of the city.” Elicker specifically noted problems with the City’s budget and education system. He emphasized these same two points on the campaign trail, promising to appoint qualified and experienced representatives to the BoE and to keep the city fiscally afloat. However, Elicker was careful not to count his victory as sealed just yet. “I don’t want to be presumptuous,” Elicker explained, when asked whether or not he expected Harp to run in November. While Mayor Harp did lose the Democratic primary on Tuesday night to Elicker, she still has the option to remain in the race as the candidate for the Working Families Party in the November election. “It would certainly be difficult for [Harp] to win,” Elicker offered when asked if he thought about another challenge from Mayor Harp. Elicker is well-versed in the difficulty of third party, unaffiliated campaigns. In 2013, after losing to Harp in the primary, he attempted to run as an unaffiliated candidate—only to lose again by 1,800 votes. While unaffiliated campaigns are typically unsuccessful, they are not impossible. New Haven County is not unfamiliar with such campaigns. In 2005, Michael Jarjura won reelection as Mayor of Waterbury, a city just over 20 miles outside of New Haven.
But is Mayor Harp willing to risk a second political loss? Mayor Harp has already marred much of her legacy in her third term, and to run for another three months could serve as little more than a reminder of the scandals that have plagued her latest administration. In order to achieve victory, Mayor Harp will need to leverage the votes of the 16,000 unaffiliated and 2,000 Republican registered voters in the City. Considering Mayor Harp’s progressive record— sanctuary city legislation, liberal taxation policies– as well as her plagued third term and Elicker’s success in 2013 with the general electorate, it is unlikely that Mayor Harp would fare well in the general election. Following her loss on Tuesday, neither Mayor Harp nor her campaign offered any definitive statement as to whether the mayor would continue her campaign following the Tuesday loss. Even if Mayor Harp chooses not to run in the general election, Elicker will still need to defeat three unaffiliated candidates in November to become the 51st Mayor of New Haven. But Elicker’s toughest challenge will come if he wins the mayor’s race as he will be expected to solve the city’s education and financial woes. During a debate with Harp at Sudler Hall, Elicker promised major revisions to the New Haven public school systems, including bringing in more experienced and qualified mayoral appointments and even potentially replacing Superintendent Carol Birks. In respect to New Haven’s financial troubles, Elicker will need to carefully balance between raising taxes and cutting costs to right the financial ship. The moment Elicker is sworn in, the clock will start ticking towards the 2021 election, and in two years time, he may well find himself in the same precarious position as Mayor Harp.
CULTURE
Sally Potter’s Orlando (1992): To Never Grow Old ALIAKSANDRA TUCHA, DC ’21
O
ne of the defining features of being human is The central issues in the film remain universal and the finality of life, and confronting bodily mor- contemporary: nationalism, political boundaries, and tality prompts one to entertain the idea of transcend- populations losing and finding own identities. ing one’s time allotted. Sally Potter’s Orlando (1992), screened at the Whitney Humanities Center last Sunday, September 8, 2019, deals with this very idea. The film, introduced by Archer Nielson (Yale Film Study Center), opened the sixth season of Treasures From the Yale Film Archive, a series of classic and contemporary films from around the world shown in their original 35mm format. As part of Yale’s 50WomenAtYale150 coeducation anniversary celebrations, the 2019-2020 season of The Treasures is devoted to films by women directors.
Orlando is an opportunity to consider history from both sides of the gender binary.look-
Orlando is a story of a young British aristocrat, played by Tilda Swinton, who inherits a castle from Elizabeth I on one condition: he cannot “fade,” “wither,” or “grow old.” For several centuries, the eternally young Orlando lives in the isolation of his castle, occasionally dabbling in poetry and receiving foreign guests until he accepts an ambassadorial position in the Far East. Orlando returns home to the native “green and pleasant land,” changed not only in terms of his char- Orlando’s world is filled with childlike curiosity and acter but also in his physicality: Orlando turns into wonder despite the unimaginable length of their life. a woman. Instead of dragging their past around like a rock on their back, as so many adults do, Orlando uses their The internationally co-produced film is an adaptation past to find novel solutions for recurrent problems. of Virginia Woolf ’s 1928 novel of the same name. The lesson to take from the film is that people and Woolf ’s narrative captivates its audience by creating countries ought to acknowledge the past, no matter the possibility of understanding generations of his- how painful, and learn from it—or else spend centutory by living through them. Orlando finds that the ries repeating the same mistakes. British Empire crumbles because its leadership has continued to make the same mistakes generation after Orlando casts a delicate balance of masculinity and generation. Both the book and the film are a narrative femininity. Midway through his adventure, Orlando of an individual and a narrative of a country’s past. magically becomes a young woman and effortlessly
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adopts the new identity. After the screening, Merritt Barnwell, SY ’21, remarked that she’s never seen “a female character so powerful” on screen before. The film is an opportunity to consider history from both sides of the gender binary. Swinton’s subtle yet compelling performance dismantles notions of what it means to “be” either man or woman. The film shifts the focal point from the differences between men and women to that which they share. Orlando as both man and woman gracefully deals with the challenges of gender prejudice. Sally Potter invites viewers to celebrate the dissemblance of gender, not use the binary as an excuse for a divide. After glancing at their newly acquired female body in the mirror, Orlando addresses the viewer: “You see? Absolutely no difference!” highlighting how natural it is to understand a person as an individual instead of as a man or woman. Orlando illustrates a humanist approach to questions of gender, fitting seamlessly with this year’s season of screenings, which opens up the conversation about the roles and paths of women in filmmaking. Though misogyny and the mistreatment of women has blemished the history of film for decades, Potter urges us to take agency over the course of our histories. Perhaps we should judge an artist’s work and legacy as a person instead of a man or a woman The Treasures from the Yale Film Archive series is presented with generous support from Paul L. Joskow, GRD ’70, ’72, and in partnership with Films at the Whitney. You can find out more about the upcoming screenings on the Treasures From the Yale Film Archive’s website.
19 Fish Skin is the New Snake Skin: Ceremonial Dress in Southwest China KATHRYN MIYAWAKI, MY ’21
A Clearly, these
works are astoundingly beautiful. But, more than that, they were created to be worn.
three-piece ensemble crafted by a bride for her groom, a jacket and trouser set made entirely of fish skin—just some of what you’ll find in the Yale University Art Gallery’s new exhibition, Ceremonial Dress from Southwest China: The Ann B. Goodman Collection. The show’s fifteen complete ensembles date from the 19th and 20th centuries and come from many of the provinces in southwestern China, including Guizhou, Sichuan, and Hunan. The relatively small show demonstrates a surprisingly comprehensive look into the cultural and linguistic groups who made these incredible pieces of wearable art, including headpieces, shoes, baby carriers, and silver accessories. Although we don’t know the identity of the individual artists, we do know the garments were made by women in these communities. The exhibition’s wall text— don’t ignore it!—explains various weaving techniques and highlights the labor behind these hand-made textiles. Store-bought fabric was readily available to these women at the time, but they clearly took great pride in their craft. The meticulous silk embroidery and cross stitch detailing exemplified in this exhibition could only have been created with the care and precision of the human hand. Clearly, these works are astoundingly beautiful. But, more than that, they were created to be worn, to adorn the human body with symbols of prowess and wealth, and to commemorate seminal moments like births, deaths, and marriages. The organizers of the show— Ruth Barnes, the Thomas Jaffe Curator of Indo-Pacific Art, and Denise Patry Leidy, the Ruth and Bruce Dayton Curator of Asian Art—insisted on displaying the ensembles as they were once worn. The curators requested custom foam armatures that mimic the human body without the distraction or bulkiness of a mannequin. For visibility’s sake, some textiles and accessories are displayed flat along the walls, stagnant and decontextualized. Thankfully, though, many necklaces, headpieces, and pairs of shoes are displayed as part of full ensembles, giving the viewer a more complete picture of these accessories in situ.
The majority of the ensembles are placed together in a large room on the fourth floor of the YUAG. However, the exhibition’s smaller second room, tucked away by the elevator, is not to be missed. The viewer is first welcomed by the sight of the glorious fish skin suit, then the glass case of silver jewelry behind it. Seven-layer hoop earrings, dragon-headed bracelets, cascading necklaces of hammered silver— jewelry worn by men to as symbols of affluence. The accompanying wall text explains the fascinating collaboration between scientists from the Institute for the Preservation of Cultural Heritage and object conservators from the Yale University Art Gallery to determine the metallic composition of these 37 accessories using microscopic and x-ray imaging. It’s a reminder that, too often, we forget the vast amount of work—both historical and scientific—that goes on behind the scenes of these wonderful exhibitions. Beyond their physical beauty, these artworks carry with them important ceremonial significance from their respective communities, and the exhibition certainly brings this to light. The object labels successfully explain technique and linguistic context, but implicitly relegate the pieces to the distant, bygone world of “history.” These ensembles are recent creations—why is it that we do not have more specific information about the individual artists? Identifying the creator as “Unidentified Artist” would have better acknowledged the individual behind the work. The exhibition fell somewhat short in bringing these ceremonies to life through rich, detailed description as well; I craved more specificity in the attributions and the contextual descriptions. Nonetheless, I left the show with a better cultural, linguistic, and historical understanding of these southwestern Chinese communities and the astounding artistry exemplified in their ceremonial dress.
REVIEWS
A Love Song for You and Me ADRIAN J. RIVERA, JE ’20
I
confess: I am a Lana stan. If you’re not, I’m not sure if what follows will be of much interest to you. I get it, a writer is supposed to write for a public audience, an audience who might not be as well versed in the subject matter as the writer, yadda yadda yadda, but I’m not sure how to write about Lana’s music for an audience that doesn’t have any experience with it. Maybe what follows will inspire you to go give her a listen? Anyway, “there’s things I want to say to you, but I’ll just let you live”—read on at your own peril. Now, where was I? Ah yes. I am a Lana stan. I am a Lana stan, and I have been for quite some time now. I was 14 when she released Born to Die. I would lie on my bed with my eyes closed, blast Summertime Sadness and wish for a lover that I could implore to kiss me hard before they went. I would jog in and around my neighborhood listening to Diet Mountain Dew, daydreaming of heart-shaped sunglasses, New York City, and a bobblehead version of Jesus Christ. I’d commiserate with my girlfriends about their boy problems and think This is What Makes Us Girls; even at 14, and even though I had never actually partied, snuck out, or drank, I was somehow nostalgic about the days when “we used to party up all night, sneaking out looking for a taste of real life, drinking in the small town firelight (Pabst Blue Ribbon on ice.)” Bel Air was one of the first songs my first girlfriend recommended to me, and Black Beauty was one of the first songs I recommended to her. Later, we’d lie in bed together, listening to American, our bodies and souls in repose as we let Lana’s lyrics drift into all the space between us. “You make me crazy, you make me wild, just like a baby, spin me ‘round like a child, your skin so, gol-den brown; be young, be dope, be proud, like an American.” Sophomore Fall at Yale is realizing I’m queer. Sophomore Fall is Ride. Sophomore Fall is sitting at the tables in the JE courtyard alone at 3 a.m., feeling the onset of winter in my bones and in my heart, wondering what I was and who I was supposed to be—“I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast, I am alone at midnight. Been trying hard not to get into trouble, but I, I’ve got a war in my mind.”
20 THE YALE HERALD
Sophomore Spring at Yale is doing something about it. Sophomore Spring is Change. Sophomore Spring is going out every weekend in April, feeling young for the first time in my life, choosing to be myself—“There’s somethin’ in the wind, I can feel it blowin’ in, It’s comin’ in softly on the wings of a bomb; There’s somethin’ in the wind, I can feel it blowin’ in, It’s comin’ in hotly and it’s coming in strong… Every time that I run, I don’t know what it’s from; Now I finally slow down, I feel close to it. There’s a change gonna come, I don’t know where or when, But whenever it does, I’ll be here for it.” Just a few weeks ago, at the start of my senior year, Lana released Norman Fucking Rockwell! (NFR! for younger audiences and for short). There’s a lot to love about the album, and people are, in fact, loving it. Metacritic gave NFR! an 88 rating, meaning it has earned “Universal Acclaim.” Rolling Stone wrote that the album was “even more massive and majestic than everyone hoped it would be,” and Pitchfork described Norman Fucking Rockewell! as the album that “establishes [Lana del Rey] as one of America’s greatest living songwriters,” awarding it a rating of 9.4, the highest rating a woman has received this decade. NFR! appears to be an altogether new stage in Lana’s career. Indeed, that same Pitchfork article says the album signifies Lana’s apotheosis—her ascension to the realm of the divine. Some people really like Happiness is a butterfly, while others are partial to California. I’m in love with Love song.
Hear me out. Yes, Lana is a cis, straight woman. Yes, I might just be seeing what I want to see, seeing what I feel like I need right now. But, as written by Billboard, “Lana del Rey Is a Muse to Gay Fans.” We’re not supposed to have sex in cars, but there’s a sense in which the backseat of the car becomes even more forbidden when you’re with someone of the same gender. “Be my once in a lifetime,” Lana urges, because of course, Lana—or at least, this imagined version of Lana, the Lana of Love song — knows that this queer relationship is doomed, like so many queer relationships a lá Jack and Ennis in Brokeback Mountain. It’s a once in a lifetime thing because never again will she take a female lover. Why? Because even though Lana’s lying on the chest of a woman, a woman who tells her about the new world of acceptance and tolerance and security afforded to queer people (“I believe in a place you take me…”), the woman is lying to her. The world has obviously gotten better for queer people, but so many in our community still face violence, social ostracism, and discrimination in all its forms for simply being who they are. Is it safe, is it safe to just be who we are? I ask myself the same thing as I think about the following facts: 1. This is the first time I’ve written publicly about my queerness, and I’m really nervous about it because I’m afraid people will start to treat me differently; 2. I probably won’t share this article on Facebook because I’m scared family members who I haven’t come out to will see it, and I won’t share this article on Facebook because I’m scared that the people who I have come out to would disapprove; and 3. This article will be on the internet forever, my queerness will be on display forever, and law schools, legal jobs, and all other sorts of organizations will be able to point at this and say “He’s too queer.” Is it safe, is it safe to just be who we are?
At first blush, I didn’t think it was any different from any other song with a title like “Love song.” Man plus woman equals love; love plus something bad or complicating equals heartbreak, no more love. But then, after listening to Lana sing about a love consummated in the back of a car and all the usual sentiments, I heard the following line:“Is it safe, is it safe to just be who we Some of those fears are more rational than others, but are? Is it safe, is it safe to just be who we are?” they are fears nonetheless. Most of the country isn’t like What do Lana and her lover have to be afraid of? Yale, the world isn’t like Yale, and I won’t be here for Suddenly, the back of the car took on new resonances for much longer. But I am comforted by the fact that Lana me: it was no longer just a cramped and uncomfortable seems to have written a song for me—for us. Others hookup spot for horny teenagers, but a place of refuge, have touched on NFR!’s relevance to the current a place safe from the prying eyes of the world, a place to political movement, and as the world burns, maybe be who they were. And what were they? On my reading, all we can hope for is to have someone who loves us, Lana’s lover in Lovesong is a woman. Lovesong is a someone with which to make a love song. queer anthem.
21 A
s a Yale student, going to Partners Cafe feels like an exercise in ignoring. Ignoring the man at the front asking for your ID. Ignoring the welllit downstairs, full of New Haven-ers playing pool, standing or leaning on a gold bar. Ignoring the eyes of that person you hooked up with last year. Or locking eyes and wondering if, later tonight, your head will once again be sandwiched against a lockless bathroom stall. Your first “Modern Love” night at Partners Cafe—one of New Haven’s gay bars/clubs—is a hallmark Yale experience. There will be Crushes, and Queer Proms, and Radio Proms, and many, many other Yale-affiliated events at Partners, but “Modern Love” isn’t one of them. Open to the public, “Modern Love” happens each month with a different music theme. The most popular “Modern Love” among Yalies of the year is “Bowie Night,” where DJs play and project David Bowie against darkness and glitter and screams. Last Friday’s “Modern Love” felt familiar to most nights I’ve had at Partners. This month was Bossanova themed, playful and smooth compared to the usual EDM club beats and blinking lights. The dance floor was brighter and smokier; the
crowds were less familiar, less Yale-tainted. The air felt lighter than usual. My favorite part of Partners are the mirrors upstairs, hanging on opposite walls, endlessly reflecting the mesh of twisting bodies and expressions in between. It’s hard to understand the actual magnitude of this mesh of bodies when you’re one of them. If you’re drunk enough, you might be fooled into thinking there’s a second room where the mirrors are. If not, you might get a sinking instinct to shrink away and ignore yourself (and the iconic phallic paintings hanging throughout the room). Last week, amid blinding smoke, everyone looked like they were slipping out of their chest, loosening, becoming themselves. Maybe in a way we don’t want to acknowledge. Maybe ways we’re normally ashamed of. But it sort of felt magical, like dancing in clouds. By the end of the school year, a “Modern Love” night ends up feeling almost like another suite party—a dark, sweaty room full of people you know all too well. At the start of a new year, however, Partners feels almost unadulterated, still full of New Haven-ers and new faces. Full of new magic and hope and changing lights, before it becomes a familiar place full of faces to ignore.
O
Some Thoughts on Water SAM PANNER, ES ’21 AND ELI MENNERICK, ES ‘21
n Saturday, September 7, Sam Panner and Eli Mennerick visited Elm City Market. They were thirsty after gorging themselves on cannolis from Libby’s, so they decided to look for water. After nearly an hour wandering the aisles, they left with one bottle of blk. Water and one box of Boxed Water. Here are their thoughts. Sam Panner: blk. Water is black, but it’s not water. The Elm City Market receipt reads “Water w/ Fulvic Acid,” which proves my point. The bottle is labeled “Water Beverage,” which also proves my point. It’s hard to justify spending $1.99 on a cardboard box filled with tap water, especially if that tap water tastes like a cardboard box. $2.99 for some water in a plastic bottle would be even more ridiculous. Luckily, blk. Water costs $2.99 and is not water. blk. Water tastes like a mild tea. It is more basic than regular water (pH 8.0), which is hard to understand given the Fulvic Acid. It also has a mouth feel much like water, only slightly smoother, with slightly more body, and a satisfying, slightly earthy aftertaste. Once you drink about half of the bottle, a secret message in black ink is revealed. I can’t disclose this message. When I began to write this review, I had only one sip of blk. Water left. I told Eli that I would be happy to go back to Elm City Market and get another bottle. I said it would help me describe the flavor more accurately. The real reason I wanted to
The Opposite of Love Is? CARAMIA PUTMAN, BF ’22
buy more blk. Water was because it’s good. blk. Water is a 0/10 on the water scale, because it’s not water. But it’s a 9/10 on the drink scale. Eli Mennerick: There is something alluring about drinking from cardboard. Think of milk. Picture the carton. You carefully unfold the top, peel the cardboard apart, and discover a hidden well of drinkable liquid inside. Did you feel that? The wonderful tension between the cold, wet milk and the papery box? Drinking milk from a carton feels miraculous, like digging a hole in the desert and watching water well up through the sand. It feels rustic and nourishing, like sipping from a waterskin filled in a clear mountain stream. Except with milk instead of water. Now imagine all that with water instead of milk. That’s what drinking Boxed Water feels like. The water tastes vaguely like a cardboard box, which is nice because it reminds me that I’m drinking water from a cardboard box. blk. Water doesn’t taste like a cardboard box. blk. Water is basically regular water with some minerals mixed in to make it black. You can convince yourself that blk. Water is more hydrating or pH-balancing or even that it tastes like “a mild tea,” but at the end of the day it’s basically water with dye in it. And it comes in a plastic bottle. I’ll let Boxed Water’s Box speak for itself: “Boxed Water is Better than blk. Water because Boxed Water comes in a box.”
Gold Contributor Abra Metz Dworkin Molly Ball Christopher Burke Silver Contributor Dan Feder Brian Bowen David Applegate Fabian Rosado Donors C. Morales Ervolino Sam Lee Joshua Benton George E. Harris Laura Yao Ted Lee Michael Gerber Brendan Cottington Marisol Ryu Natasha Sarin Emily Barasch Marci McCoy Julia Dahl Maureen Miller
OUR KIND SPONSORS
Patron T. Spielberg
The Black List
things we hate
things we hate
Eczema.
The flag.
The Rumpus.
Networking events at Barcelona.
Former TFs.
Responsibilities.
Old TFs..
Mid-September Sunday darties.
We are the silent, scaly majority. Stop it!!!
Should we say hi? Even weirder when you run into them at Partners.
You know which one. Barcelonely :-(
They’re creepy.
Make a newspaper instead.
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