YourMagazine Volume 15 Issue 2: April 2021

Your Mag

VOLUME 15 | ISSUE 2 | APRIL 2021

Why can’t I Cum?

3 | ROMANCE

WRITTEN BY SOLEIL EASTON

for me, baby” is literally the last thing someone on antidepressants wants to

“Cum

hear while having sex. Yes, dirty talk is hot and makes sex all the better, but let’s skip this one. I don’t need the added pressure. I know I’ve been saying, “just a little longer! I am on the edge!” for the past hour now, but I simply don’t know if I am going to cum. I guess some nights, you just have to fake it.

I know I’m not the only girl on antidepressants who felt a little left out during the WAP trend last year. While on selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SS- RIs, commonly used to treat depression), I had zero sex drive. I couldn’t get wet. I couldn’t orgasm. I seriously thought something was wrong with me.

It’s safe to say that Prozac is the ultimate cockblocker.

“Whenever I was with a guy, I was like, ‘okay, this is for his pleasure, I don’t care about my own,’” says Taylor Elisius, 22, who was on 10 milligrams of Lexapro for three years.

Elisius isn’t alone. According to the National Institute of Health, 73 percent of SSRI-treated clients reported unfortunate sexual side effects, such as difficulties becoming aroused, sustaining arousal, and reaching orgasm. Some people aren’t able to have an orgasm at all.

Doctors haven’t figured out why antidepressants cause sexual dysfunction, but studies have been done that show Paxil, Lexapro, and Prozac tend to be the greatest buzzkills of them all.

“I used to be on Zoloft, and I never had a problem reaching orgasm until I switched over to Lexapro,” says Julia Flaherty ‘23, who has been on SSRIs since she has been sexually active. “It would feel like you were teetering on the edge for a long time, like your body is edging but not in a fun way.”

For those like me who love sex or are in a sexually active relationship, SSRI-induced sexual dysfunction can seriously negatively impact your love life. It has also caused sexual stress between my past partners and me. For Kathryn Smith ‘21, she and her girlfriend both take the same medication and frequently struggled to reach orgasm until they added bupropion, a sexual stimulant used to boost libido, to their regime.

“It definitely was causing problems. My girlfriend and I would literally have sex for like two hours trying to finish, and it just would not work,” Smith says.

ART BY REBEKAH CZUKOSKI

Similarly, Thomas Akiona ‘22 says it got to the point that he never wanted to have sex with his girlfriend at the time. He already knew it wasn’t going to feel that great, or as great as it used to. While his ex would orgasm multiple times per f*ck, he says he felt like he had just dipped his dick in numbing cream.

“She would always ask, ‘why is this taking you so long?’” Akiona says. “It’s my antidepressants; you can thank them for the two-hour f*ck.”

Before COVID-19, instead of talking dirty in the bedroom, Akiona’s go-to line was, “it’s not you, it’s me.” He says he wanted to limit feelings of insecurity on the girl’s end as much as possible.

“I am never not paranoid before having sex,” Akiona says.

Smith constantly wondered, why is this not working the way people say it does? But going through the experience with a supportive partner who also faces the same struggle made it easier, she says.

If you take SSRIs and are experiencing negative sexual symptoms, talk openly with your partners, doctors, and mental health providers. It can feel embarrassing, but it’s important to not let anyone make you feel guilty for struggling.

“When my psychiatrist would ask me how I am doing, I’d say I feel fine, the medication is working, but there’s just one little very annoying thing: it’s extremely difficult for me to orgasm, and when I do, it’s painful,” Akiona says. “He would always say, ‘is it really that big of a deal to not have orgasms?’ I am a college student, so yes.”

Lexapro seemed to be a worthwhile antidepressant for Elisius, but the sexual side effect started to drag her down over time. She says a lot of her anxiety and depression were a result of being in college. Now graduated from the University of Michigan, she felt ready to get off of the medication and has been off it for eight months.

“Getting off of Lexapro has been game-changing. I feel like a whole different person. The first month of being off of it, I was literally able to cum in like three minutes. It was the craziest thing ever,” Elisius says.

It’s relieving to know that you’re not alone. Reaching the Big O on SSRIs isn’t easy, and even impossible for some. Be patient with yourself, have fun, and enjoy the ride. YM

ROMANCE | 4

WRITTEN BY KATARINA MONDOR

PHOTOGRAPHED BY EMILY KING

On the corner of Shawmut and Oak Street W, up the big flight of stairs, there is a map. Big, colorful shapes

assemble themselves into a familiar diagram: the United States.

The first time I saw this map, I knew something important was going to happen here. It had to—there is nothing more poetic, more metaphorical than a map. My mind began racing with possibilities of map-related events, trying to write the future into existence. Was I going to meet a love interest from the West Coast, and we would both sit on our respective states on the map, laughing at how insignificant the distance seemed now? Was I going to take a road trip to reconnect with my childhood love, using this map as a guide, remembering the states we passed through by the color the concrete is covered in? This map, which I had seen countless times before, suddenly seemed to have a new meaning. I figured my story was ready for some exciting incident, and this map was part of it. So how would my story play out?

No young adult author enjoys metaphors more than John Green does. His characters love metaphors so much, they become them. Augustus Waters is a metaphor for taking advantage of life, holding death between the teeth. Margo Roth Spiegelman is a metaphor for our perceptions of the world, representing different things to different characters. Alaska Young is a metaphor for outward beauty, hiding secret complications beneath the surface. Growing up reading these books, I began believing everything secretly represented something else. It was almost too easy to forget these characters are polished, edited to be metaphors.

One of the biggest shocks was the clear disconnect between the male characters in John Green’s books and real boys in high school. While I’m sure some boys would fly their girlfriend to Amsterdam to meet her favorite author or read Rabelais for fun, I never encountered them. Why did all the boys I know only call me after 10 p.m. and not know the difference between “you’re” (contraction) and “your” (possessive)? Should I wait for this real-life fictional character, or should I settle for the first person who comes by? Were the boys I knew duds, or were my standards just too high? These standards weren’t my fault—it was John Green’s fault for introducing me to these unrealistic people.

When I read John Green’s books in middle school, it affected how I thought of high school. I know now that there were no people like Augustus Waters in my high school, but 14-year-old me had no idea. I had no reference to know these characters were at the maturity level of a middle-aged philosopher and nothing like real teenage boys. But this is how I was told things would go—a quirky girl (me) would attract the attention of an interesting (but odd) boy. There would be a meet-cute where he would say something so figurative I would be thinking about it for days. Eventually, adventures ensue—stargazing, road trips, nights spent on maps. John Green’s books typically end in tragedy, but my story would not because this is the point in my mind where I stop being a book character and return to the real world: when it best suits me.

Because of Green’s characters, I began to identify being philosophical with being mature, and vice versa. I believed the real people I knew weren’t philosophical because they weren’t mature enough to formulate Greenian thoughts. In the books, this “maturity” leads to an epic adventure with friends or a grand romantic gesture. These were things I couldn’t help but want, even though I knew they were purely romanticized. It is ingrained in our subconscious to search for these romantic, cliche characters—ultimately leading to disappointment when we realize just how fabricated they really are.

After reflecting on my romantic expectations, I realized nothing was going to happen on the map. There was no story, at least not with this map. So why did it still mean so much to me? This map only meant something to me because I convinced myself of its significance. It is a paradox in itself, a metaphor that not everything has a deeper meaning, that not everything is a John Green metaphor. Thoroughly disappointed by the real world, I find comfort in the fact that I can always return to these made-up boys that John Green has created for me. YM

5 | ROMANCE

“It’s a Metaphor”for Unrealistic Romantic Expectations

ROMANCE | 6

Being Funny Has Ruined My Dating Life

WRITTEN BY GRACE GUYART BY ANDREA MÉNDEZ

7 | ROMANCE

I

have a friend who believes that two funny people should never date, but what he really means is he doesn’t want to date a funny girl. It seems the most important thing to a man is to date someone who will laugh at all his jokes. And that’s how it usually plays out: you laugh at all his jokes, good or bad, and then he likes you. In my experience, men inherently believe that they are meant to be the funnier one in a relationship. When looking for a partner, a funny guy is attractive, but a funny girl is competition.

I once went on a date—granted, in hindsight, this was the worst date of my life—and the moment I told him I did comedy, he launched into his own standup set. And as I sat there for 15 minutes, listening to this unfunny male drone on about women and school and sex and money, he cracked himself up. I just kind of stared at him, not laughing, very confused on how I had provoked him to do this. He then said, “This killed,” and when I asked him “Where?” he said, “When I showed my ex.” He then of course asked me to show him some of my material and when I said, “I’m good,” he insisted I “show him in private.” Lucky for me, that day never came.

This is not an isolated experience—all of the women in comedy I know have also dealt with men and their intense desire to be the “funnier” one in a relationship. A lot of my friends have actually insinuated that having partners who believed themselves to be funnier than them slowed down their own work in comedy. One of my very talented friends in my comedy troupe says, “Dating and doing standup is really hard. I would self-filter and ask, ‘What do I not want my girlfriend to hear?,’” which is often the case. Comedy is inherently personal; you are putting yourself on the line for ridicule, but ridicule at the hands of someone you are intimate with is a whole other ball game. We are constantly walking this fine line between too funny and not funny enough, this grey area of figuring out what is appealing as a funny woman and what is pushing back against the standards men have set

into place.

I remember in elementary and middle school people would call me a “funny girl,” and I never felt like that was a compliment. Being a “funny girl” meant I was an ugly girl, and the boys would never like me. At the time, I really could not have cared less; I was preoccupied with playing “Tony Hawk Pro Skater 2,” but these things stick with you. I was basically a clown in the eyes of men, and last time I checked, being a clown is not a turn-on. I think people also use the word “funny” as a cop-out to not look at women any deeper. They can get away with just saying, “Oh, you’re funny,” when comedy is actually really complex, and good comedy is smart and well-rounded. My close friend said, “I asked my boyfriend what his favorite thing about me was, and he said that I was funny, and it felt like that’s such an easy thing to say, like he couldn’t come up with anything else.” While so many of the women I know have so much to offer, they are often just boiled down to being “funny” and disregarded due to that label.

My ex-boyfriend was very funny. He did great impressions that made me laugh, he loved all the same comedy movies I liked, and our senses of humor really seemed to mesh. But any time I would tell him about something I was working on for my comedy troupe or a project I wanted to do, he would accuse me of basing it off his ideas. His words suggested that I could never have a good comedic thought on my own because he was the funny one out of the two of us.

There is something deeply embedded in the male brain that fires off when a woman comes close to something that they feel tied to. And a lot of men are tied to the idea that they make the jokes, and the women they spend their time with laugh at them. The trouble is I’m funnier than the guys I’ve dated, but they never let me occupy that space in the relationship. So from here on out, I’m not laughing at jokes I don’t think are funny. This decision may have made me ugly in middle school, but that makes me hot today. YM

ROMANCE | 8

SexualMindfulness

WRITTEN BY MARIANNA POLETTI REYESART BY NATASHA ARNOWITZ

9 | ROMANCE

Are you sick of feeling stressed and unmotivated? Is your stress standing in the way of your orgasms and your sexual experience? Sexual mindfulness is a practice that could either be acted upon solo or with a partner. It focuses on sensuality, the current state of your body, feelings, and sensations without the pressure one might feel when having sex.

“In sexual meditation, you focus on sensuality and the current state of your body,” WebMD explains in an article. “Your goal is to let go of distractions and concentrate on touch and sensation. If you’re practicing sexual meditation with a partner, there’s an added goal: to heighten the link between you and become more aware of both your own body and your partner’s.”

The natural overlap between sex and mindfulness encourages the relief of stress through deep breathing and the release of overloaded thoughts.

Sexual mindfulness comes in three forms: sexual meditation, tantric meditation, and orgasmic meditation. Each of them are similar in their own ways, but each practice is different.

Sexual meditation promises to help a person or partners explore different kinds of orgasms. In fact, there are approximately 11 kinds of orgasms—the more Os, the better. Sexual meditation stems around sensual breathing, slow self- or partner-pleasuring, and cultivating your “energy.”

Tantric meditation focuses on transformation. You use breathing, concentration, movement, color, and visualization to transform the stress and difficult emotions into sexual mindfulness.

Orgasmic meditation is meant to take the pressure off finishing sex with an orgasm. Instead, it encourages an experience where one can feel the waves of pleasure by slowing down. It takes the focus away from penetration and allows people to stay present in sex without the intensity of having an end goal. Ironically, this increases the possibility of more intense and more frequent orgasms.

These practices ease stress, reduce levels of cortisol (a stress hormone), and allow for more frequent and intense orgasms.

According to Emily Fletcher, founder of the program Ziva Meditation, “Studies have found that cortisol levels that are too high can lead to erectile dysfunction for men and can cause women to become physically incapable of orgasm.”

There are also various apps that promote sexual mindfulness. These include Ferly, for mindful sex; Dipsea, audio erotica; Emjoy, sexual self-care; and Lover, for getting better at sex.

Keep in mind, sexual mindfulness is NOT foreplay. It’s a practice that takes the emphasis and pressure off the mind and takes you further into the deep sensations one is feeling. This practice is executed well with time, whether it be solo, with a partner, or with multiple partners.

Instead of asking yourself to cum or not to cum, focus on the sensations you are feeling and your breathing. Remember that just because you orgasm, doesn’t mean the sex was good. Take it slow, relieve that stress, take the pressure of the ending. Sexual mindfulness will get you right where you want to be and can bring a whole new world to your sex life. YM

ROMANCE | 10

WRITTEN BY CAMRYN CIANCIAPHOTO BY TALIA SMITH

19 | STYLE

NEVER CHANGEYOUR HAIR FOR A BOY

I

have platinum hair, 11 piercings, three tattoos, and I go to a liberal arts college—almost an embarrassing cliché. But I am from a suburb of Dallas, and my style was always judged by people who tried too hard to fit in.

From a young age, I was perceived as a “bad girl,” despite my straight As. I convinced my mom to bleach a section of my dark Italian hair so I could play around with different colors. I thought I was the moment.

I was a chubby third-grader with a lisp, but I thought I was a rockstar. The PTA moms were enraged, but their daughters admired my style, since much of my inspiration came from Hannah Montana. I would walk into elementary school wearing leather pants, a sequined shirt with a matching scarf and fingerless gloves, and if my classmates were lucky, my knee-high Converse sneakers. Somehow, a group of moms coined me as the “bad girl,” and they feared I would influence their daughters, barring me from any group activity I once would’ve been a part of.

Once I exited my rocker-with-a-lisp phase, I entered what I like to call my “assimilate to middle school Bible culture” phase. I made friends with the heiress to the Oscar Mayer hot dog throne and managed to please the country club moms by pretending to like Fox News, country music, and church.

The Oscar Mayer heiress eventually left me behind, but freshman year, I met my best friend who introduced me to better music, and I morphed into a version of the girl I am today. I abandoned my skinny jeans and opted for what I wore for most of high school—platform Docs, baggy jeans, and whatever shirt I felt comfortable in that day. My best friend and I were the hipsters. We listened to Mac DeMarco and watched Lady Bird nearly every other day.

It wasn’t until my parents got divorced at the end of my junior year that I made the ballsy decision to bleach my hair to platinum, a style choice that has now become my identity. My hair was falling out as my home life was falling apart, but I was so invested

in getting my hair to a shade that a hairstylist probably would’ve refused to do.

Senior year, I met a boy who went to private school and presented himself as a preppy politician. I was almost 18 years old and hadn’t had my first kiss yet. So, I dedicated my time to making this boy like me, despite him not even being my type.

To get this boy to like me, I decided that I needed to abandon my “bad girl image” that had followed me since third grade and go back to being brunette. The day after we met, I stumbled into Sally Beauty Supply and within a few hours, I was back to the “regular” me. Two days after that, we had our first official date, and a week later, I had my first kiss. The boy became my boyfriend.

It wasn’t until my boyfriend showed up to winter formal wearing “Trump 2020” socks that I began to question why I was in the relationship in the first place. I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t and had literally changed my appearance for him.

To my benefit, he broke up with me a month later during my 18th birthday party (yeah, harsh). I later found out he had been cheating on me the whole time. Soon after the breakup, I rushed to the store, got bleach, and dyed my hair platinum again. No one was shocked.

The judgy suburban moms who stereotyped me when I was young affected me more than I gave them credit for. I concealed myself because I never thought my style was valid enough for my Texas town. Although I may have had to sacrifice invites from the big high school house parties, now as a liberal arts student studying in a big city, my identity has become my hair and fashion.

Maybe it is something having to do with control or maybe even a bit of rebellion, but for me, dictating a part of my appearance is liberating. It gives me the power to project an image of the person I want to be. And right now, that is a girl with platinum hair who will never—and I mean never—dye her hair for a boy again. YM

STYLE | 20

GAP HOODIES

WRITTEN BY MARYCATHERINE NEALART BY EMILY KING

Growing up as the youngest child in a neighborhood of close-knit families meant my closet

was full of hand-me-downs. My older sister also contributed extensively to my closet. As a 5-year-old, I was a true fashionista and always had my eye out for what my sister and older neighbors were wearing to snatch off them someday. Some of the most coveted pieces were GAP sweatshirts. You know the ones: fleece, solid-colored, perfect for an early 2000s fall day with jeans and tennis shoes. I was the envy of my first-grade class in my red GAP sweatshirt, and no one could tell me otherwise.

When I grew out of my last neighborhood GAP sweatshirt, my mom took me to GAP Kids to pick out a jacket for the upcoming school year. By this time, I was nine. I took the opportunity to branch out from the GAP hoodie and try something new, bold, and exciting. I settled on a brown zip-up with “GAP” written across the chest in pink, polka-dotted letters. I adored this jacket. I adored it so much that I took it to school nearly every day in case I got chilly.

One of my classmates pointed it out to me one day. “Is that the only jacket you have? It’s not even cool.” I was heartbroken. Since when did GAP sweatshirts become uncool? It wasn’t the only sweatshirt I had, but it was my favorite and softest. I reluctantly hung up the sweatshirt and moved on to wearing other jackets to spice things up. But I never forgot that trusty jacket. And I still wore it, just to spite that rude classmate.

Eleven years later, Champion became the new GAP, charging way too much for a cotton sweatshirt that will certainly go out of style soon. However, scrolling through Twitter the other day, I noticed GAP sweatshirts trending. This resurgence can be linked to GAP vowing to put more energy into their GAP apparel amid disappointing sales in previous years. Kanye West’s promised collaboration with the brand also made stock prices skyrocket.

People were ranting about online thrift stores and sellers charging $75 for “vintage GAP sweatshirts” from the ‘90s and early 2000s. Sellers posed in the same exact sweatshirts I wore and got made fun of for, zip-up and everything. I suddenly felt an extreme yearning for my fleece sweatshirts again. These sellers were exploiting my nostalgia for their gain. I’m sad to say it worked.

This type of thing happens in fashion frequently. After all, fashion is just a vicious cycle of styles throughout history. Ten years ago, if I would have worn high-waisted, baggy jeans, I would have certainly been scrutinized. Now, I adore mine and feel the most confident in them. The GAP sweatshirt phenomenon is no different. But seriously, $75? Even GAP stores are only charging $30 for their classic hoodies and zip-ups. I’ll take mine for free, for the emotional damage your taunting caused me all those years ago. YM

21 | STYLE

STYLE | 22

FASHION SHOWS: DO’S AND DON’TS

WRITTEN BY TALIA SMITHART BY REBEKAH CZUKOSKI

23 | STYLE

The first time I watched America’s Next Top Model, I was ten. My very moldable mind tucked away almost all memories of competition winners, meme-worthy fight scenes, and judges panels—but what I won’t forget is how ashamed I felt about my body in comparison to the contestants I saw through my screen.

The show was released in 2003, so the bar was set very low in the first place. Even though it debuted over 18 years ago, the harmful aspects of fashion shows similar to ANTM continue to perpetuate dangerous stereotypes, tokenism, and overt misrepresentation of queerness, racial identity, and positive body image.

The conversation around misrepresentation in the media is nothing new, and I’d be remiss to ignore progress made in the fashion industry to celebrate bodies, orientations, and identities of all sorts. But representation in shows like ANTM, Project Runway, and Netflix’s new fashion competition show Next In Fashion seems unfathomably performative and often very poorly executed.

I am and always have been let down by the obvious (and almost hard to watch) misrepresentation of plus-sized, queer, or non-white contestants on ANTM. In 2011, Isis King, a transgender model, was eliminated from season 10. Throughout the arguably short duration of King’s time, she was forced to withstand transphobic comments from judges, other models, and producers. Not only did the panel continually ask her invasive questions about her identity and past, but King endured a handful of blatantly transphobic comments, all grounded in the gut-wrenchingly common perception of her being “not a ‘real’ woman.”

Although the show has made strides in representation since—with Holland’s Next Top Model crowning the franchise’s first-ever trans model as its 2015 winner—the lack of understanding around an entity as important as gender identity leads me to see the show as nothing but a perpetuated misrepresentation of misunderstood marginalized groups.

On the same coin, although King’s androgynous style and physical attributes were frowned upon and dissected, bringing “masculinity” or “fluidity” into the photoshoots of her cishet counterparts was celebrated and highlighted, as it continues to be in the fashion industry. It’s as though representation sounds and looks good on paper, but is approached with little accuracy or genuine celebration of difference when put into practice.

Just a year after ANTM began, Project Runway aired, continuing the modeling contestants I’d seen before: thin, often white, tall, and overtly feminine. I’ll admit

that I was almost too quick to watch Tim and Heidi host the show’s reboot Making the Cut when it aired in early 2020, but unsurprised to say I was disappointed with the accuracy in which they used to portray the “diverse’”contestants or models that joined. Although the reboot includes plus-sized models—a stark comparison to the show’s lack of consistent body representation— and therefore has made some type of evolutionary progression towards betterness, the fact that more than 15 years had to pass for producers and casting agents to even consider using a “different” type of model leads me to believe that this “representation” is nothing but an answer to societal pressure and corporate performative wokeness.

Often, any model or contestant of televised fashion shows who presents other than the usual aforementioned archetype morphs into some sort of tokenism defined by those ‘different’ characteristics. Although Netflix’s newest competition Next In Fashion (NIF) does cast an array of contestants from different backgrounds, countries, orientations, and identities, the aura of celebrating differences, instead of beating them into the ground and allowing them to define everything about the individual, is what makes these issues worth mentioning.

NIF features a number of queer contestants, yet being queer seems to make up their entire character arc. Likewise, if a contestant is from a different country, that’s all the show frames their technique, creative characteristics, and storyline around. And although each challenge within the show features a variety of model sizes that the designers adapt to, the conversation around body expectations in the fashion industry is completely ignored and never elaborated upon—meaning that simply showing bigger bodies is representation enough for television networks.

The industry at large and its media depiction to the general public, even having evolved exponentially within the last 15 years, feels tired and inaccurate. We cannot continue to take “any type of representation as good representation” because of the dangerous perpetuation of misinformation and harmful ideals surrounding marginalized subgroups.

We find ourselves in this divide of being happy to see some sort of representation and being upset with the inaccuracies within our own identities that are being broadcasted. Until fashion shows begin effectively and accurately depicting and tackling real-life issues, we will find ourselves stuck in a cycle of misinformation and harm. YM

STYLE | 24

25 | STYLE

I BLEACHEDMY EYEBROWS

WRITTEN BY FRANCESCA POLISTINAART BY ELIZABETH APPLE

I

was particular growing up. My haircut was just a trim, my nails were one of four colors, my makeup was natural nudes, and my outfits were trendy and not eccentric. But after being in lockdown for so long, I realized how important expression is for me.

Being home, I felt the eyes of suburbia. Without the creative environment of Boston, I felt stuck inside myself. During quarantine, I decided to make my art into a business. It was a leap of faith, but it enabled me to explore the role between creativity and expression. My art, like my appearance, sought to be relatable, minimal, and Instagrammable. It wasn’t what my art was typically like, but I was concerned about people liking it.

I was enamored by my art, and I felt pretty bored of myself, too. I started experimenting with clothing pairings, nail art, and drastic hairstyles. I questioned why I was holding back in the first place.

One day I was creating editorial makeup for a shoot and thought, “This would look amazing with bleached eyebrows.” In a matter of days, mine were bleached, and I didn’t recognize myself.

When I asked my sisters to help me bleach them, one of them asked if I was having a mental breakdown, and the other said I was going to look like a freak. As they wiped the bleach off of my eyebrows, they shared their disbelief. My hair is brown and starkly contrasted with my fair skin and eyes. It was quite obvious. I was feeling out of my skin and uncomfortable, but I didn’t completely hate it.

I began playing with my brows by matching them to my outfits or how I was feeling, like accessories. As far from my typical look as I was, I felt deeply in touch with myself. My sisters never warmed up to my eyebrows, but my mom did! She loved the Harley Quinn brow look. Since the brow bleaching, I play around with my look a lot more. I’m loving feathered brows and brow lamination.

It humbled me to feel a bit uncomfortable in my skin. Being bold and out of character felt empowering. My newfound confidence surfaced when I stopped feeling restricted by what other people find attractive. I saw my appearance as something new, a vehicle for expression, rather than another way to blend in. What I ended up loving most about my brows was the fleeting nature of it. My eyebrows became so dynamic that I could do whatever I wanted with them, and when I was over it, I could change them again. I’d have one pink and one blue eyebrow one day, and the next, they were blonde.

Now that I dyed them back, I feel confident and fearless. I am not afraid of changing my appearance because appearance only matters if it reflects who you are. The experience of coming out of my skin made me more comfortable when I was back in it. It helped me learn to show who I am to the world unapologetically. YM

Style | 26

turning 21 as arecoveringalcoholic

WRITTEN BY SOLEIL EASTONART BY KAITLYN BECKMANN

The whispering hum of the rain put my father to

sleep on the sofa as I quietly played with my doll.

My eyes were drawn to the ice cubes floating in my father’s glass. The whiskey’s gold hue infatuated me—perhaps this potion speaks of sunshine and better days? Or does it dull pain and dumb down joy and self-control? One little sip can’t hurt.

I had no idea what an impact this curiosity would have on my life.

At 13 years old, I quickly fell in love with the warm, fuzzy feeling alcohol gave me. I no longer had to face my anxiety. The whiskey turned down the volume on my thoughts. It was the amber that brought purpose to my soul.

35 | LIVING

Alcohol continued to lure me in with empty promises throughout high school. My ruby red flask that read “not today” sat in my lunch pail as I strutted through the lackluster halls in a zombie-like state. Alcohol was the answer to my problems, my best friend, and my worst enemy.

Never sober and often drunk, I rippled toxic harm into the lives of my loved ones, abandoning friendships and burning bridges along the way. This codependency made me think I needed alcohol to have fun, be social, or handle my emotions. I thought without it, I wouldn’t be able to connect with others in college. All of my friendships were connected through booze. Why would I want to change?

The liquor slowly stopped working for me. There were no more good feelings. It got to the point of having to drink every few hours, disguising cocktails in my Hydroflask to get me through lectures. I drank away my money, leaving me with no way to pay my bills or put food in my belly. I never asked my parents for financial help. I couldn’t be honest with them.

I tried to blame everyone and everything I knew for my drinking: the emotional abuse from my parents, the constant sexual assault from my first love, the molestation from the “fashion designer” I briefly worked for. Everyone was responsible for my drinking except me.

Sobriety has been an uphill battle. Sometimes I can go weeks without a drink. Other times I pop open a bottle of chardonnay for breakfast. After waking up from a week-long bender snuggled up next to an empty tequila bottle, cigarette butts, and fly-infested pizza, I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself. Mascara-stained cheeks, bloodshot eyes, matted hair: who have I become? This isn’t me.

I would like to tell you that I stopped there, but I didn’t. After six months of sobriety, I decided I could still be a social drinker. Leaving a Christmas party one night in 2019, I met the man of my dreams (or so I thought) and quickly fell in love with the lifestyle he lived: exotic sports cars, spraying $1,000 champagne as if it was water, doing lines off Rolexes, and taking shots for breakfast as if it were liquid Advil to cure our hangover. I was f*cked up the majority of the time. Our motto was: eat, party, sleep, repeat.

When the pandemic hit, I got sent home from studying abroad in the Netherlands. I moved back in with my dysfunctional alcoholic parents. I had to adapt to online learning as a dyslexic. Failing my classes and

turning in little to no assignments, I sat alone in my messy room and drank to pass the time—every single day for six months.

As the days of isolation continued, my hatred toward alcohol grew. I hated that I couldn’t just enjoy a glass of wine without wanting to finish the entire bottle. I hated that I couldn’t have a fun night out without my heart racing. I hated that even in a relaxed situation, I couldn’t focus around alcohol. I had never been so sick, mentally and physically.

I took a leave of absence from Emerson last fall to detox. I learned that even my worst day sober was better than my best day drunk. I went to therapy twice a week. I received acupuncture on a regular basis to help relieve cravings. I attended weekly Adult Children of Alcoholic and Dysfunctional Families (ACA) meetings. I began peeling back layers to heal the hurt that was buried beneath.

June is usually my favorite month of the year. The trees sway gracefully in the warm breeze, the music is turned up on people’s porches, the sky blazes blue, and the sun is a celebration of yellow. But this year, June is going to be different. The thought of turning 21 terrifies me. Will I go back to abusing alcohol? How will I tell my parents that I am an alcoholic? How will I tell my friends that I can’t go to the bars and take 21 shots? Will my friends still want to celebrate with me? Will I even have any friends?

For most Americans, the idea of a less-than-boozy 21st birthday is disappointing. We are finally free from the law that has loomed over us. Being able to walk into a grocery store and buy alcohol whenever you want may be a dream for some, but knowing that I am able to succumb to my addiction at any time now has opened up new and old anxieties in my brain.

Humans are amazing, though: we adapt, we heal, we are capable of growing stronger. When we acknowledge that changes, challenges, and hardships are there to deepen us, to remind us that we do get second chances and that we are each made up of love, compassion, and healing, something remarkable happens.

I can’t say that I am currently sober, but admitting to myself that I am an alcoholic is the first step. With this new awareness, I start 2021 with the promise to live differently, to not let my alcoholism define me the way it has since I was 13. YM

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WRITTEN BY MARY GRACE PURSERPHOTO BY LILY WALSH

37 | LIVING

A LOVE LETTER TOJIMMY CARTER

Anyone in my life knows of my deep, unabashed

obsession with fellow Georgian and former

President Jimmy Carter. In fact, I even managed to convince a few Emerson students that he was my grandfather. His genial face smiles upon me each day on a poster next to my dorm room bed. I have a Funko POP! of him and a picture of Carter at The Allman Brothers Band concert as my lockscreen—the devotion is real.

In spite of my admiration of him, I will be the first to admit he was not a perfect president. However, he remained steadfast to his virtuous principles of compassion and an intrinsic value for human decency. He never dropped a missile or a bomb or started a war in his four years in office. He is a humanitarian through and through.

His commitment to his faith and family has been regarded with such high esteem from people of all backgrounds and ideologies. Carter’s requirement for anyone who wants to meet him is simply that they attend one of his sermons—a man who abides by his promise to spread his faith however he can. I was so fortunate to have had the opportunity to sit in on one of these sermons at Maranatha Baptist Church in Plains, Georgia, a small Southern town just three hours south of my home. It’s a fairly dilapidated, musty, antiquated building of humble origins, just like Carter. And yet a former United States President preaches there twice a month.

Arriving at the church, I was incredibly humbled by, well, the humility of it all. From the modest nature of the church community who invited everyone to a potluck afterwards, to his niece frantically apologizing for the plumbing issues in the building, I couldn’t help but be touched by how genuine this man and his community were. There was no charade of perfection, or display of wealth and status. Aside from the Secret Service agents who accompanied him and his wife Rosalynn, there was no indication that this gentle, feeble man was once the person who held one of the highest political positions in the country.

There was this buzz and clamor all throughout the sanctuary as guests eagerly awaited Carter’s arrival, until

a little door creaked open and, following two Secret Service agents, out walked President Carter himself. His small, frail frame was supported by his walker as he shuffled his way to the podium with a grin on his face and his signature bolo tie around his neck. Everyone was silently in awe until he cheerfully said, “Howdy, folks!” to welcome the crowd. Then, everyone erupted into greetings and laughter in a warm moment of unison where we marvelled over how extraordinary this opportunity was.

At one point in Carter’s sermon, a woman asked about his thoughts on the LGBTQ+ community, to which he gleefully replied that he was an ardent supporter of all types of love. The woman and her wife began to tear up and it dawned on me right then just how valuable that validation is from a global superpower, specifically when it comes from a peanut farmer from South Georgia.

What’s interesting to me is that on paper, Carter deviates from the typical role model most Gen Z, left-leaning college students would have: he is a straight, cisgender, white, southern, Christian man who has served in politics. And yet, the man is globally adored and cherished by people of all ages, even Gen Zs. Jimmy Carter serves as a reminder to lots of folks that goodness may come in the most unassuming, unexpected forms, a quality of his that I find to be his secret weapon. An authentic congeniality such as Carter’s is a rare treasure to behold in this hellish landscape we call life, but particularly in politics. For me, it has provided a much-needed sense of hope and faith in mankind that I find myself continually leaning on.

While I dream of one day sipping some sweet tea with Jimmy and Rosalynn as we build their (probably) 10,000th Habitat For Humanity home, I recognize that time is fleeting and his legacy is coming to a close. The day he leaves will be one of deep mourning for a man who embodies goodness with such ease that is hard to come by. But quietly and sorrowfully, I will still celebrate him because his imprint will continue to live on within every individual who has been touched by his acts ofcharity and benevolence. YM

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Your Not-S0-Scary Guide to

Donating Blood

WRITTEN BY MADELYN MULREANEYART BY MADELYN MULREANEY

39 | LIVING

About once a week, a picture of bare medical shelves featuring the words OUR SHELVES ARE NEARLY EMPTY shows up on my Instagram feed. It’s a post from my local blood donation center explaining their dire need of donations because they currently don’t have enough blood to meet even one day’s worth of supply.

A lot of industries have taken a hit this year, and blood banks are no exception. Blood banks everywhere have been unable to keep up with their communities’ constant need for blood, which poses a concerning risk. When lockdown began last March, many donors cancelled their appointments and never rescheduled because they were staying home and socially distancing, and more would-be donors were lost because blood centers could no longer accept walk-in donations. A year into the pandemic, most blood centers are still struggling, and the blood supply is critically low internationally.

Donating blood is literally the difference between life or death. That sounds dramatic, but it’s true. Thankfully, giving blood is a relatively simple and easy process, and it barely takes 30 minutes from your arrival at the donation center to your departure.

Whole blood donations go towards helping treat accident victims, premature babies, sickle cell and cancer patients, and organ/bone marrow transplant patients. Which is a ton of people who need blood every day. And when blood banks can’t supply enough blood, it’s the patients who suffer; hence, why giving blood is so important.

For me, donating blood is personal; my older sisters were born ten weeks premature and needed blood transfusions. Without someone donating their blood, my sisters would not be alive. A lot of people would not be alive if it weren’t for someone choosing to give blood to help others. And, right now, we all need to be that someone.

With all this talk about giving blood, I’m sure most of you are probably thinking: But what if I’m scared of needles?

Here’s the big blood donor secret: most donors are afraid of needles—or were before they started donating. If I’m being honest, I still can’t look at the needle before it goes in my arm, and I get squeamish just thinking about my blood getting filtered out through a tube. On the bright side, the needle is only in your arm for

about eight minutes, and you can decide to stop at any point before then if you really find it unbearable. However, once you’ve had the initial stick, the needle doesn’t hurt, and you can barely feel it.

All this to be said, it would be inappropriate for me to get on my soapbox and advocate for donating blood without addressing the complicated history between blood donation restrictions and the gay community.

Among eligibility requirements, the FDA requires donation centers to screen men* who have sex with men (MSM) (and women* who have sex with MSM). This question was put in place—and remains in place—because MSM continues to be the community most impacted by HIV/AIDS. Initially, this restriction barred MSM from donating for life, but over the years this restriction was relaxed to its current limit: MSM are eligible to donate three months after the most recent sexual contact with a man. While it’s still not a perfect rule, it’s exciting to see progress moving in the right direction, and hopefully one day this restriction can be lifted entirely.

It’s also important to note that MSM aren’t the only people who are restricted from donating blood. People who get tattoos and piercings also have to wait three months before giving blood; people who weigh under 110 pounds cannot donate (for safety reasons); people currently taking antibiotics or are being treated for certain STIs have to wait until they finish treatment; and so on. If you want to know if you’re eligible to donate, you can check out the full list on the American Red Cross website.

I don’t say all of this to freak you out and make you think that donating blood is full of gatekeeping and judgment. I say it because I want to emphasize that there are communities who can’t donate blood, so it’s essential for the people who are eligible to step up and give blood when they can.

Donating blood can be scary if you’ve never done it before—and it might be even more daunting in the age of corona—but I’m hoping that maybe this article will offer you the courage you need to give it a try. (I recommend the American Red Cross center on Tremont St.!) YM

*The FDA uses very binary language that refer to men as people with penises and women as people with vaginas.

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41 | LIVING

Pets are gettingus through this

WRITTEN BY MARIANNA POLETTI REYESART BY NATASHA ARNOWITZ

Last September, I regularly searched for puppies in shelters that needed a home. I knew this was a ridiculous waste of time because I was living in a dorm and it would be difficult to take care of a dog, especially a puppy. Unsurprisingly, I continued my search and the begging process for my parents to let me get one began to intensify. The pandemic hit, isolation began to get lonely, and I knew deep inside I needed something to get my mind off of things.

I went home for Thanksgiving, and my mom finally gave in. She told me that if I got a job, I could get a dog. I got a job the following week. Good thing my birthday was coming up, and my mom was going on a work trip.

The same day my mom left for her work trip, I snuck to the shelter to find my forever friend. I waited for hours to get in after driving an hour just to get there. Seeing all the little dogs was saddening. Walking through the gated rooms where each dog was held was rough. After looking around for a bit, I came across a little black puppy with big eyes and immediately knew she was the one. Her name is Sol, meaning sun in Spanish.

Flash forward to today, not only is she my best friend, but she’s attached to my mom now (the one who didn’t want a dog in the first place).

A few months after the pandemic hit, shelters began to empty quickly, as people were using this time to adopt, knowing that they would be home most of the time. According to data collected by PLOS One, 87 percent of people stated that their animals help them cope emotionally during the pandemic.

People coping with depression and anxiety are benefiting from having pets at home. The National Alliance on Mental Illness says, “Dogs can contribute to your happiness. Studies show that dogs reduce stress, anxiety and depression, ease loneliness, encourage exercise and improve your all-around health.”

As someone who struggles with anxiety and depression, getting a dog was a life-changer. Sol was an actual ray of sunshine that brightened up my life. Even just coming home to a dog elevates people’s levels of oxytocin and dopamine, both of which create positive feelings for someone. Dogs are the only creatures on earth that love their owners more than they love themselves.

Unfortunately, there are many families struggling financially during this time and have been unable to care for their animals. Because of this, the number of pets in shelters at the beginning of the pandemic increased. This is why it is so important not to shop from breeders, but to adopt. Many dogs are waiting for their forever homes, and for people with depression, anxiety, or any other mental illnesses, it is a great investment in your happiness.

So, send your parents on a business trip, and make your way to the nearest animal shelter, where I’m sure you will find your forever best friend. YM

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Princess Diaries:

The Quintessential Comfort Movie

Every girl who grew up in the early 2000s is probably familiar with the wondrous work that is

The Princess Diaries film franchise. With charming lead Anne Hathaway and a continuously quotable screenplay, The Princess Diaries series has continued to be a staple rom-com that families adore. Many girls found solace in Mia’s portrayal of teenage girlhood before we even knew what it was like to be one. And while millions of girls have consistently turned to it for its nostalgia and sentimentality, many still label the series as childish and inconsequential simply because it is marketed for girls. But that does not make it any less worthy of reverence and love. It has spunk, wit, and a breadth of fond displays of womanhood that have made it such a beloved movie.

Perhaps the majority of The Princess Diaries’ charm lies in its cast and characters. Hathaway was fairly unknown at the time, but her perfect depiction of Mia quickly made her a household name. Part of what differentiated Mia from other female leads was her authentic awkwardness and likability. Often, female protagonists are written to be obnoxiously quirky or perfect, so much so that we end up despising the character as a whole. In fact, part of why Hathaway was chosen for the role was her clumsy nature in her audition that producer Gary Marshall found endearing. Viewers could both idolize and relate to Mia because Hathaway’s portrayal was so delightfully real. She followed her heart and tried to do what she felt was right, which is all any of us can really do when we’re young and inexperienced. To see that on-screen was a warm affirmation for young girls that we are all confused—both princess and commoner.

The ever-so-elegant Julie Andrews was equally noteworthy. She possessed all the makings of a perfect grandma and was so utterly cool. After all, she was a literal queen! Lilly Moscovitz was undeniably quirky and eccentric, and still, the most loyal friend. Her comedic relief and lack of self-awareness made her so memorable. Her socially conscious radio show “Shut Up and Listen?” Iconic. And of course, who could forget Michael and Nicholas?

Michael was Lily’s cool older brother who was in a band—the boy of our dreams. However, his time in

the series was cut short after the first film. That was just fine, however, because newcomer Chris Pine entered the picture, and his portrayal of Nicholas was absolutely swoonworthy. In The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement, Nicholas and Mia’s contentious, yet magnetic, relationship practically birthed our dear “enemies to lovers” trope. Their progression from a mere romantic encounter to extreme loathing to blissful love was a rollercoaster from beginning to end, the kind of chaos you can’t resist.

Ultimately, the screenplay made this movie so irresistible. It was hilariously written and romantic, and more than anything, its narrative was so evidently female-centered. You could easily detect the female influence of creators Whitney Houston and Shonda Rhimes because its women conveyed such nuance and complexity.

I am not blind to the reality that this is not an Oscar-nominated film, but frankly, so what? Should we not allow ourselves to relish in the simple pleasure of enjoying a movie just because it’s a little cheesy? A movie can still be powerful, even if it’s labeled a “comfort movie” or “rom-com,” because movies like these are the ones that raise generations of girls and provide them a sort of catharsis they so desperately need in this world of institutionalized misogyny. The harsh reality is that Hollywood will always scorn and mock these kinds of female coming-of-age films because it is a sexist industry that doesn’t think a young girl’s interpersonal growth is a plot worthy of attention. Just because a movie is predictable or immature, does not mean it doesn’t warrant some recognition for its widespread impression on American girlhood. Its box office success speaks for itself: $165.3 million means that it’s resonating with someone, and that “someone” just happens to be adolescent girls. Until a young girl’s narrative is seen as important in the eyes of Hollywood, movies like these will always be brushed aside. I am not asking for a stellar Roger Ebert review, but simply that we treat movies of this nature with the affection they gave us. The Princess Diaries is a treasure, and its popularity 20 years later shows us that will never change. YM

53 | ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT

WRITTEN BY MARY GRACE PURSERART BY OLIVIA CIGLIANO

ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT | 54

Period pieces are fan favorites for their aesthetics, nostalgia, and ability to transport us to another time. Emerson College Visual and Media Arts professor Tom Cooper says they also feed into humans’ innate curiosity.

“People are interested in their ancestors and their roots,” he says. “Period pieces are part of finding out about ourselves, not just about others. It’s part of human curiosity to wonder about the past.”

But for films revered for their grandiosity and extravagance, there is often one thing missing: diversity, especially when it comes to race.

A common excuse for a lack of diversity in period pieces is its “historical inaccuracy.” White people were the royalty, the political leaders—not Black, Indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC). But why should we let that dictate how we cast films and TV series?

There is more to accurately representing an era than race, such as set design, costuming, makeup, and language. With countless talented BIPOC actors and actresses, there is no excuse to exclude them from these pieces simply because that’s not how the story originally was. As we’ve seen in shows like Bridgerton and musicals like Hamilton, it is possible to seamlessly weave BIPOC into these roles without any question of accuracy or suitability.

This should be the norm going forward. Films like 2019’s Little Women—which notably had no people of color on the main cast or crew—may be great films, and even great representations of women, but we should hold Greta Gerwig and other filmmakers accountable for continuously creating all-white casts, or only introducing BIPOC as servants or enslaved characters.

In Bridgerton, for example, the 2021 Netflix series that caught viewers’ attention for its regency era aesthetic—and for Regé-Jean Page’s looks—the queen is Black, and they don’t make a big deal out of it. You could certainly argue that the show doesn’t do enough to talk about race relations at the time; however, it’s a solid start for how we should approach these types of media.

Cooper believes that this type of seamless integration should become the norm because it pushes back on outdated standards, and “shak[ing] up our expectations” can have a large impact on the audience’s belief systems. If viewers are surprised or upset about a casting choice that seems inaccurate, they should reflect

on why they may feel that way and where they can change that line of thinking.

“It’s important not only for people to be shocked occasionally, but to be shocked perpetually,” he says. “So if all-Black casting, or all-female casting, helps us to see an area where we had a preconceived expectation, that’s part of learning. It shows us that we have racial expectations, gender expectations, that we need to look at.”

Many period pieces take creative liberties in other areas, such as the costumes in Little Women or Pride and Prejudice. So why are creators willing to bend the rules in some cases, but not others? As long as prominent elements—like speech patterns, architecture, and societal structure—remain intact, the audience will still follow along. In fact, Cooper says that as long as viewers understand the general expectations of what is and isn’t real, we’re still able to enjoy the piece without being confused.

“We as audience members have been taught to accept a sort of quasi-reality from the media that isn’t entirely realistic,” he says. “For example, you almost never see a lot of insects, or you don’t see people going to the outhouse—all kinds of things that would’ve been normal, daily activities for them at the time.”

Some Disney fans were outraged to discover that Halle Bailey, from the R&B duo Chloe X Halle, was cast in the live action remake of The Little Mermaid because she is a Black woman, compared to the original, where Ariel is portrayed as and voiced by a white woman. However, race is not a central theme of the piece, and the more important part—the singing—is something the Grammy-nominated musician has proven she can do. In fact, original voice actress Jodi Benson welcomed the casting in 2019.

“I think that the spirit of a character is what really matters,” she said.

The more we continue this type of diverse casting, the more normalized it will become. What’s important is that we continue holding filmmakers accountable for their inadequacies and lack of inclusion so these issues don’t get swept under the rug. Slowly, we will see the dynamics of these pieces of media shift.

“The pushback is only increasing over time,” Cooper says. “Breakthroughs are happening more frequently lately. But we’re still far behind.” YM

55 | ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT

Goodbye to“Historically

Inaccurate”

WRITTEN BY JESS FERGUSONART BY NATASHA ARNOWITZ

ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT | 56

The EFFY

Effect

WRITTEN BY AMANDA HAMPTONART BY FRANCESCA POLISTINA

57 | ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT

For angsty, wannabe-alt girls in their early teens, it’s pretty much a rite of passage to accept Effy Stonem of Skins as a patron saint. Since its genesis in 2009, the popular British TV show became a hallmark of adolescent hedonism, and even now, you can’t walk five feet down a middle or high school hallway without tripping over someone attempting to replicate its it girl’s slept-in-my-makeup brand of cool. Those indoctrinated into the cult of Effy Stonem would pile on black eyeliner, work up the nerve to wear fishnets to school, steal a cigarette from their parents if they were lucky, and wait for everyone else to recognize that they were deep, mysterious, and worthy of obsession.

Alexandra Dudley ‘22 started watching Skins her sophomore year of high school and immediately felt a connection to the character.

“She doesn’t care what anyone thinks or says about her, and she does what she wants, and I think that’s why a lot of people love her,” Dudley says. “And then obviously, 15-year-old me wanted to be out partying and doing drugs like her because I thought she was so cool.”

Lex Garcia-Ruiz ‘21 feels similarly, stating, “I think that Effy was the epitome of the Tumblr girl that we all wanted to be. Mental illness was romanticized all over Tumblr the same way it was in Skins, so you wanted to be her; you wanted people to think you were like her, especially if you were a bit of an outcast or a loner. You wanted to be that different, ‘not like other girls’ cool girl that Effy was.”

This represents the core of the Effy obsession, and also the crux of the problem with it. She was the ultimate Cool Girl—enigmatic, beautiful, and always down for a good time. However, the traits that made her so memorable are what make her problematic as an ideal: she became an aesthetic more than a three-dimensional character, and her host of very real issues (addiction, depression, and bipolar disorder) became a part of that image rather than being depicted as legitimate problems to be fleshed out and overcome.

This becomes especially evident when shown through the lens of Skins’s male protagonists, Cook and Freddie. Effy’s mental illness was essentially boiled down to two things: a convenient addition to her characterization

as a beautiful mess, and something to put her in a position where she needed to be saved by a love interest.

While it’s unlikely that making depression and substance abuse seem cool and sexy was the ultimate aim of Skins, this portrayal points to a worrisome correlation between mental illness and romantic attention. Effy does not present as a mentally ill teenager in need of compassion and help, but as a symbol of sex appeal and anarchy—the driving force behind her status as an idol lies squarely in her desirability.

Tiffany Carbon ‘22, another Skins fan, says that creating characters like this leads to viewers “trying to emulate them and almost forcing yourself to be sad, and trying to make yourself believe you were going through the same things and then putting yourself in that mindset.”

Garcia-Ruiz agrees, stating, “They initiated habits, and once you build a habit, it’s very hard to break. It kind of grows beyond the show and wanting to be them—it’s just a habit that you have now that you picked up from these characters.”

Because of the increased awareness of mental health in recent years, it’s becoming less of a norm to glamorize mental illness and substance use by painting them in the shape of a smoky-eyed, fishnet-clad hottie. Shows like Euphoria could be accused of taking its UK ancestor to new heights by packaging similar issues into a glittering, technicolor, suburban dreamscape; however, the difference here is that Euphoria, while not entirely based in reality, portrays the low lows of addiction and mental illness in devastating detail. Euphoria’s teens aren’t just on a drug-fueled romp from party to party—we get to see the day after the bender, the hangover, the consequence of the shitty thing they did while drunk. This is an important contrast that Skins never bothered to explore.

Skins was revolutionary in its full-steam approach to taboo subjects like sex, teen drug use, and mental illness, but it often failed to avoid glamorizing the topics it attempted to call attention to. I’ll always love Skins for its nostalgia factor and unreasonable Y2K fashion sense, but as a show aimed at teenagers, I wish it had tackled serious issues more responsibly. YM

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WRITTEN BY DERIN YILMAZPHOTO BY EMILY KING

59 | ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT

Guilty as charged:I stIll watch riverdale

An organ-stealing cult, a 17-year-old running a

speakeasy and a diner, and the “epic highs and lows of high school football”—look it up on TikTok, and you’ll thank me later. That is the rollercoaster that is Riverdale. It has also been my guilty pleasure since I was a junior in high school.

Riverdale is the love child of Archie Comics and David Lynch’s Twin Peaks, which initially attracted me to the show. I remember getting out of physical education with terrible excuses and watching the first season of Riverdale in the corner of the high school gym with my friends. The show was addicting with its dramatic love triangles, the spooky Blossom twins, mysterious murders, and of course, Cole Sprouse—flashback to The Suite Life of Zack & Cody.

Sadly, as the show progressed, Riverdale lost its creative direction and some of its audience when the writing became comically absurd, and the whole thing began to feel more and more like a fever dream. Just when I thought it couldn’t possibly get any crazier, Archie Andrews fought an actual bear—and he won. Riverdale invented its own breed of teenagers with a vocabulary that only exists in Riverdale. For example, “I will never sell you my maple groves, you Vulgarian’’ or “I’m cuckoo bananas for you, obvi’’—typical Cheryl Blossom dialogue. The hard-to-sit-through lines of Veronica Lodge only got worse as she constantly referred to her boyfriend Archie as “lover boy” or “Archiekins.”

If I’m so well-aware of the ridiculous aspects of the show and completely agree with compilation videos making fun of it on YouTube, why am I still so loyal to the show? Honestly, the small-town aesthetic with a murder mystery plot happens to be my weakness, and Riverdale is a master at conveying that eerie but cozy theme.

The best part about the show is still, without a doubt, Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe—open 24/7. The retro diner is one of those aspects of the show that feels like a nostalgic home, both to the characters and the audience, representing an homage to classics like Twin Peaks (1990- 1991), Grease (1978), and Diner (1982). One episode at a time, I became used to seeing Archie, Betty, Veronica, Jughead, and Cheryl sitting in a booth at Pop’s, discussing that week’s murder mystery (and somehow solving

it). It became addictively comforting to watch these characters and actors—especially my cast favorite, Lili Reinhart, who plays girl-next-door detective Betty Cooper— in each new season.

So, once again, a few weeks ago, I started the fifth season of Riverdale with inexplicable excitement mixed with low expectations for the highly-anticipated seven-year time jump. In the fourth episode of the latest season, with a new murderer on the loose and the town of Riverdale on the verge of disappearing, the beloved characters are back in a booth at Pop’s as adults for the first time in seven years to save their hometown.

Veronica is the “she-wolf ” of Wall Street. Jughead is a successful author struggling with writer’s block. Betty is no longer solving crimes as a minor with her FBI agent half brother but is an actual FBI agent in Quantico, eating Chinese takeout while solving crimes in her apartment.

I was caught off-guard because now, I can’t wait for a new episode to come out every week. Do I feel like screaming every time 25-year-old Veronica calls her dad “Daddykins?” Yes. But, I also think the new season is creatively fresh and promising after introducing a mysterious and possibly paranormal case that seems to involve extraterrestrials in Riverdale. The addition of the UFO mystery, while perfectly aligning with Riverdale’s love for absurdity, also resembles my all-time favorite FBI drama, The X-Files (1993), where two detectives—one of them being a believer of aliens and government conspiracies—try to find explanations to unexplainable cases.

Former Riverdale fan Natalie Daniels ‘21 says, ‘I honestly think the time jump has made the show better, and at this point, the extreme plot lines make it more entertaining.”

Milkshakes, friends, and a comfort show that is as odd and entertaining as Riverdale is a combination that promises a fun night filled with laughter, because of how cuckoo bananas the show is.

Jughead once told his girlfriend Betty, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m weird. I’m a weirdo,’’ a line that quickly became a meme. Like Betty, who stood by her “weirdo” boyfriend, I will stand by this weirdo show, Riverdale. YM

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