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The Orange Bubble is a pervasive topic for students at Princeton. We walk around campus amongst magnificent Gothic buildings and stroll down Nassau Street with affluent shops and restaurants at every corner. For the most part, this is what we see of Princeton; this is the edge of our bubble. Maybe you’ve walked all the way down to Hoagie Haven or even taken an Uber to the Walmart or Target nearby. But many of us don’t go beyond Nassau Street, let alone venture out into the other streets and neighborhoods that make up Princeton, New Jersey.
Walking through Princeton, we are surrounded by an almost inconceivable amount of history. That only begs the question: how should that history be displayed? The best, or at least the most effective, monuments or pieces of history are those that do not impose upon you how to think. Rather, they simply exist and allow viewers to reach their own conclusions.
A lot of us are lulled into such a sense of security that it seems implausible that Roe v. Wade could ever be overturned. Yet, I think we sometimes forget that the court decision that gave women the right to make decisions about their own bodies happened not too long ago; in 1973 in fact, just 43 years ago. Even Griswold v. Connecticut, which prohibited laws from controlling contraception, wasn’t decided until 1965. That means that our own grandmothers, or in some cases, our own mothers, were prohibited from taking the pill in certain states in our beloved America. We must remember that we are not so removed from an America that would dictate the state of our bodies and violate our rights to our own flesh. Even today, the issue of reproductive health keeps getting dragged into our news and, perhaps most dangerously, into our government. The private and the personal elements of the female self keep getting made political.
In today’s editorial, the Majority argues against a proposal that would require students to “take at least one course with international content and one course that explores the intersections of culture, identity, and power.”
I have always found interesting the Arabic word for human, “insān,” which comes from the word “nasyan” meaning “forgetful: It was a mystery to me how out of all the adjectives to describe human, the Arabs chose “forgetful.”
Since his unexpected victory in the election, President-elect Trump’s policy platform has been shifting erratically. It may be the case that Mr. Trump expertly adopted an effective façade during his campaign that he is now shedding in favour of a more realistic, presidential demeanour. Conversely, he may simply have had no understanding of the tangible restrictions and pressures that a president faces in office. Regardless of the forces behind the newfound malleability in Mr. Trump’s policy platform, some of the changes being made are welcomed.
María José Solórzano ’20 couldn’t go home for fall break and doesn’t plan to go home for Thanksgiving. She wanted to — especially because her grandmother was visiting from El Salvador — but tickets from Newark to Los Angeles are out of her family’s budget. “I’ve been pretty homesick since the summer,” she said. “Going back home would be a way to be around people who really love me.”
Over the weeks that Harvard's dining workers were on strike, some Princeton graduate students decided they wanted the opportunity to threaten to do so, too. A small group is seeking unionization, and it is the threat of strikes – the deployment of “economic weapons,” as labor law puts it – that gives them their negotiating power. But if Princeton graduate students were to strike, it could only be for a small portion of their time, and could only cover a small fraction of the financial support they receive from the University.
There is something we can do, but it is only within ourselves.
There was a time when progressive-minded people had the luxury of worrying that our leaders wouldn’t fulfill their promises. Now, we fear that the campaign promises may, and likely will, become a reality. Soon, the people who have continued to support a proto-fascist demagogue may realize their mistake, but it’ll be too late. Conservatives and Republicans who declined to support Trump may come to understand that he merely represents the logical outcome of their own xenophobia, homophobia, misogyny, and racism. Smug liberals may realize how truly far out of touch their self-assured assumptions were all along. Progressives might understand the damage that’s been done to the left’s credibility, having spent the final weeks of an unspeakably disturbing campaign season wasting their energy on building an opposition movement to a hypothetical Clinton administration, on the doorstep of a complete right-wing takeover.
I no longer feel safe in America. I’m terrified not only of the laws that a far-right Congress will pass, but also of our country’s widespread and powerful intolerance. The voters rejected Hillary Clinton’s message that we’re “stronger together” in favor of a platform of xenophobia, sexism, and not-too-subtle white supremacy. The central conflict of the election seems to have been between hatred of other groups and unity across differences, and the public chose hatred.
Miko Peled, a critic of Israeli policies, was scheduled to come to campus on September 20. He and I agree on little — we disagree on almost everything, actually — but I try to open myself to dialogue. Peled was advertised as a human rights activist, and I looked forward to attending his lecture until members of the Princeton community began to point out his anti-Semitic tweets. Facebook blew up, and Peled was disinvited.
My freshman year was generally a breeze — making new friends, experiencing Princeton — but for a single blight. The culprit? My writing seminar. To say I did not enjoy my seminar was a gross understatement — I contemplated shifting it to my sophomore year.
The question of what it means to be an American has rarely been of more importance than it is following an election that has divided so many Americans. When America elects a president who blatantly disregards many of the morals and values that Americans are supposed to stand for, we are left to wonder what the common threads that unite us are.
A monumental sporting event is taking place in New York City this month. No, dear reader, I refer not to the start of the season for my beloved New York Knicks (though who couldn’t fall in love with the lovable Latvian string bean known as Kristaps Porzingis?). I’m actually talking about the World Chess Championships, hosted in the Big Apple, and it features two of the brightest stars of this generation, Magnus Carlsen and Sergey Karjakin.
The University must take greater steps to obtain a clearer picture of sexual misconduct on campus because it is critical that we sort out what is really occurring. Currently, there are at least three published reports on this topic each year. But because of different definitions, different time periods covered, and different sources of information, comparing the data from these various reports is almost impossible.
It seems that I’m often writing about incidents on Facebook these days; perhaps this means that I’m spending too much time on Facebook, or it might just mean that more of our discourse has shifted out of the campus sphere and onto social media.
Before voting, I felt sick to my stomach. Why? Was I not supposed to exude pride as my ancestors’ wildest dreams became a reality for me? Rather, I not only casually contemplated my vote, but I wondered if I should vote at all. Nausea nearly took me hostage as I inserted my little card at the electronic voting booth. I looked across the room at my mother, her face stricken with urgency. I watched the beautiful faces of my people beam as they cast their votes and were rewarded with patriotic stickers for this so-called civic duty. Perhaps it was hot in that early voting room, but I could not stop sweating as I realized what I was about to do: cast my first presidential vote as green.
Newt Gingrich, when asked last month whether Donald Trump is mentally suited for the presidency, replied “sure” and followed up by likening Trump to Andrew Jackson. While Gingrich likely intended to praise Trump, his apt comparison should cause voters to be concerned.
In light of the recent controversy surrounding the decision of Director of the FBI James B. Comey to write to Congress revealing that the FBI has reopened its investigation into Hillary Clinton’s personal email scandal, I think it is crucial to remember that, not long ago, Comey was revered by Democrats and criticized by Republicans – exactly the opposite of the current climate.