1000 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
This past summer I had an innocent conversation with one of my relatives who happened to be struggling with connecting to the internet on her newly purchased iPhone. When I told her she needed to either use data or to connect to WiFi in order to do so, I was met with the response, “Isn’t WiFi how they hack your information?”
The Violence Against Women Act of 1994 was intended to support victims of domestic violence legally, financially, and culturally by raising awareness of the issue and strengthening the judicial response to violent crimes against women. Current amendments attempt to limit gun access to abusers, increase funding to rape-prevention programs, and offer eviction protection to victims of domestic abuse. Despite its myriad benefits, Republicans don’t want to reauthorize the bill.
Despite reports of bikes and jackets being stolen on campus and the occasional flashing event on the towpath, Princeton feels like the safest place on earth. So safe that laptops and phones are left alone at Frist Campus Center for hours, and 5-foot-2-inch girls like me don’t even think twice about going for a run at night. But should we?
Legal and accessible birth control has been a perennial topic of debate between the feminist movement and its opponents. Reproductive health access is often treated as a binary — you either can access it, or you can’t. In reality, each woman’s experience navigating an insurance and medical system that demonstrates anywhere from casual disregard to active hatred of women falls along a dramatic spectrum. In some cases, access is circumstantial, stressful, or unduly expensive. Yet, this variation in birth control accessibility is ignored in most discussions of women’s reproductive rights.
If someone asked you, off the top of your head, to describe the wildlife you see at our University, you would undoubtedly think of the seemingly ever-increasing squirrel population. From day to day we tend to pay them little mind, unless of course you happen to spot a black squirrel on your way to class. You may be surprised, however, to learn that our little neighbors are quite literally living in trash. The culprit of their dangerous and unsanitary housing predicament is clear: uncovered trash cans around campus.
Princeton students are infamous for meticulously structured free time — get coffee with Amanda 10–10:30 p.m., call a friend from home 4–4:15 p.m., hang out in Carly’s room 9–9:50 p.m. With demanding schedules as well as academic, extracurricular, and career pressures, students often feel anxious about wasted time or un-optimized schedules. But in the first few days on campus before our workload escalated, we let ourselves reunite with friends and settle in slowly. Without a routine, we let our days fill up — or not — without the commanding Google Calendar notifications dictating our every minute. And we need to do this more often. Princeton students need to let themselves be spontaneous.
This year, for the eighth in a row, the University has put up an exhibit in the Friend Center on the “Art of Science.” These exhibits display images of scientific phenomena — cells, computer simulations, chemical reactions, the like — and assign them the magnificent and ambitious classification of “art.” In a proverbial pat on the back, the curators — all scientists, no artists — claim these exhibits form a new “synergy” between art and science.
Every year, when Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, rolls around, I find myself staring at a list of people I’ve offended. It takes me hours to put it together; I go through my phone contacts, Facebook, and even class rosters to mark everyone I’ve annoyed, hurt, or disappointed. The process has become automatic at this point, but it’s nonetheless unpleasant. I don’t enjoy being reminded of all the times I’ve screwed up.
Being at Princeton can feel like a race to the bottom. If you slept three hours last night, the person next to you hasn’t slept in two days. If you have two finals, someone else has four and a paper.
When I arrived at Princeton as a wide-eyed freshman, joining a sorority was the last thing on my mind. This was especially true given the broad negative stereotypes that surround Greek life organizations, including that they are entirely focused on social life or that their membership is based on superficial characteristics. During freshman year, however, I realized that many of the upperclassmen whom I most admired were all a part of Greek life, so I decided to go through recruitment on a whim — despite some of those negative stereotypes. Little did I know that joining a sorority would be one of the most integral of my experiences at Princeton.
There is likely no more contentious sociopolitical issue on college campuses today than free speech, and Princeton is no exception. In terms of institutional policy, at least, the University is decidedly free speech absolutist; accordingly, President Christopher Eisgruber ’83 selected the book “Speak Freely: Why Universities Must Defend Free Speech” by politics professor Keith Whittington as the 2018–19 Pre-read. According to the University, “Speak Freely” “presents a thoughtful examination of free speech and its essential role in the truth-seeking mission of colleges and universities.”
While studying in Frist Campus Center one night, I overheard a conversation at a nearby table. A student was considering whether to take POL 315: Constitutional Interpretation. Ultimately, he decided against it. The reason? He disagreed with the political views of its professor — famed conservative Robert George — and thought that his work was “unscholarly” because of them.
Today, the largest wildfire in California’s history is burning at over 459,000 acres and counting. The previous record holder raged only eight months before. Just as the world is being struck with harsher fires, stronger storms, more crop-eating pests, and other devastating consequences of climate change, we risk becoming cripplingly inured to these warning signs. It will fall to our generation to take the action against climate change that we sorely need.
Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh is trying to convince Democrats that he would not be an anti-women judge. But his opening statement to the confirmation hearings should do little to assuage anyone.
“Crazy Rich Asians” has opened up conversation within the Asian-American community about important topics surrounding racial identity, including media representation. Senior columnist Hayley Siegel ’20 recently contributed to this discourse in her latest article, criticizing the movie for being “too Asian.” Siegel suggested that instead of having race play a central role in a character, a racially blind approach would signify real progress for the Asian-American community.
At the moment, hundreds of students from U.S. universities dot the globe knee-deep in development projects. I am in Accra, Ghana, on a research project, and this city is awash with interns from Princeton, Harvard, and the like determined to transform the world. The stints come with good perks: dining and drinking with Accra’s high society, living in posh upscale neighborhoods, and for the really lucky ones, being chauffeured around the city in diplomatic vehicles.
White Americans can finally congratulate themselves on being not racist — at least towards Asians as the non-threatening “model minority” — by going to see Jon M. Chu’s new film, “Crazy Rich Asians.” They can celebrate that they, unprompted by a token Asian friend or family member, chose to spend 15 hard-earned dollars to sit through a feature-length film that boasts an exclusively Asian cast in an Asian setting. What’s more, white Americans can now consider themselves informed viewers, thanks to the film’s secondary role as a millennial idiot’s guide to pan-Asian culture. In an effort to pander to expectations, the film is peppered with self-referential reminders — such as lessons in dumpling making, panoramic shots of jewel-toned chinoiserie, and romantic strolls in lotus flower gardens — that it is, above all, “Asian.”
Guest contributor Max Parsons (no relation) recently responded to a column I wrote outlining the U.S. government’s attacks on the legal immigration system and the consequences faced by international University students and skilled immigrants. I appreciate Parsons’s response, which seems a genuine attempt at constructive discourse with my “partisan diatribe.” But Parsons’s reply, which focuses on a loophole in the H-1B visa program and advocates for a “deservingness”-based immigration system, reflects a lack of engagement with several of the key points I made in the original column, and contains misinformed ideas about the history of legal immigration in America.
Managing editor and migrant student Sam Parsons (no relation) recently offered his perspective on the state of America’s immigration system in a looming 2,100-word column titled “Defending Princeton’s 12 percent: The unseen side of the anti-immigration movement.” In what quickly morphs from an insightful remark on the often untold vocational difficulties faced by international students to a partisan diatribe, Parsons lurches into a clumsy yet familiar attack on Trump and his not-so-recent failure to pass immigration reform. However, besides the conflation of the F-1 visa, which Parsons presumably uses, and the H-1B, which he clearly does not, what I found particularly problematic was his framing of American identity as merely an arbitrary construct. To me, like millions of other Americans who support key elements of Trump’s immigration proposals, the question of who is admitted to our country for work, travel, and citizenship is a weighty question that requires continued scrutiny.
Twelve percent of students in Princeton’s incoming Class of 2022 are not U.S. citizens, on par with the proportion in recent years. Instead they hail from 77 countries around the world, united by an educational pilgrimage to the United States to become Princetonians. In their four years of college, these students will make some of their strongest lifelong friendships. They will build their professional networks, get their first jobs, fall in love with America, and, perhaps, with an American. They will be as much a part of Princeton as their American peers. But at some point in their four years they will be harshly reminded that no matter how much they love America, America does not love them back. At least not those who presently hold power.