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The first time I was given a trigger warning was as an admitted student during the SHARE-sponsored “Not Anymore” module focused on sexual consent. Prior to this time, I had little notion of a trigger warning and no idea that in this harsh and obscene world there were ways to not be constantly reminded of such grief, both physically and psychologically.
As I sat down in front of the television and prepared to watch the start of the Democratic National Convention with my family, I was worried. I never imagined that this election would evolve into such a disconcerting excuse for a race. Recent mishaps like the resignation of Debbie Wasserman Schultz and conflict within the Democratic party meant that I was not a casual viewer. I needed to hear what party members had to say about our aspirations for the immediate and the distant future. And I needed a bit of reassurance from the only candidates and the only party in this election that I feel represent American values.
One of the most striking speeches at the Democratic National Convention was delivered by a group called the “Mothers of the Movement,” some of the mothers of black Americans killed at the hands of law enforcement, official or otherwise. They spoke powerfully about the tragedy they lived through, watching their children lowered into a grave well before their time. They spoke of the promise Hillary Clinton represents, an advocate for black lives who will “protect our children,” and urged voters to support “the one mother who can ensure [their] movement will succeed.”
It is one thing to take to the streets in protest of social inequality, but another to advocate for change using existing institutions. Looking back at the Democratic National Convention, there seemed to be a lot of unhappy people on the floor of the DNC and in the streets of Philadelphia after Bernie Sanders conceded the Democratic nomination to Hillary Clinton. In a recent New Republic article, Emmett Rensin wrote about how many of these Sanders supporters “valued something, and lost it. They believed in something, and have seen it frustrated. They now believe, and perhaps rightly so, that this loss will bring more pain to themselves and others, will make the world worse than it might have been.”
On the right wall in Courtney Banghart’s office is a framed article: Fortune Magazine’s 50 Greatest Leaders from 2015. There, her name and accomplishments are listed alongside people such as Apple CEO Tim Cook, Tesla and SpaceX CEO Elon Musk and Uber CEO Travis Kalanick. Banghart’s lead of the Princeton women’s basketball team to a 30-0 regular season, and the first NCAA win in the program’s history, earned her a continuous spotlight all season long.
As I stood in the middle of the Wilson School’s Fountain of Freedom after submitting my senior thesis, I could not help but feel, hidden beneath the watery surface and among the cold stone tiles, a lurking sense of self-doubt.
When I first stepped on Princeton’s campus four years ago, I could not imagine all the ways I would grow before walking out of FitzRandolph Gate again. My expectations were that of any incoming freshman: I would learn from professors who were experts in their field. I would become a better writer and critical thinker through my academic and extracurricular work. I would gain a new sense of direction concerning my professional interests and pursuits. I did not, however, want Princeton to change me fundamentally. Hundreds of miles away from my family, friends and the only home I had ever known, I feared what would happen if I let Old Nassau erode what had grounded my identity — my Louisiana roots, my Jamaican and Ethiopian culture and the people I had loved from all these places.
The Office of International Programs at Princeton University posts lots of post-graduate fellowships. 54 to be exact. The fellowships provide potential opportunities for Princeton students to continue their education in the US or abroad in a wide range of topics, from studying the Senegalese language of Wolof to atmospheric sciences, oceanography or hydrology.
Editor’s note: The author of this column was granted anonymity due to the intensely personal nature of the events described.
April’s referenda came and went with no great shock to the University community. Neither the appeal to divest from private prisons nor the call to create a taskforce to reevaluate disciplinary action around the Honor Code succeeded. However, controversy has arisen over the fact that, in both cases, there was a majority in favor of change among students who voted. The referenda failed because, in both cases, they did not achieve the required participation of a third of the student body.
This year, the University elected to make either Outdoor Action or Community Action mandatory components of pre-orientation for incoming freshmen – except for athletes. Athletes will participate in discussions and workshops on campus that mirror those taking place on OA and CA trips. This institutionalized division between athletes and non-athletes is of particular interest to me, because it seems to entrench an existing campus tension.
And when these walls in dust are laid,
Many seniors spend their time, especially during the glorious month of May that came too fast or not fast enough, reminiscing on what we did at Princeton. We put our favorite classes, late-night conversations and funny roommate stories in our pockets to take with us wherever we go next. There are a million ways to do Princeton. Here is how I did it.
By the time you read this column, the pastel-colored destruction wrought by Lawnparties will have been cleaned up, and the throbbing pulse of the bands will have already faded away. Amidst the fun of the concerts, it can be easy to overlook the actual lyrical content or the background of any of the performers, however, I argue that Lawnparties this year was particularly significant for its selection of CHVRCHES as its headliner, especially in light of Big Sean’s selection last spring.
By Kristin Brennan '96, as published in the "Daily Princetonian" on May 1, 1996
College students in the United States are involved in political activism now more than any other time in the last 50 years.According to a recent survey conducted by UCLA, more students are committed to social justice now than since the height of the Civil Rights Movement. There’s a growing sense among undergraduates that they have a responsibility to contribute, to leave their mark upon something during their brief undergraduate years, to call attention to some wrong, to raise their voice for those who cannot speak up for themselves.
What do modern evangelical Christians and animal cruelty groups have in common? They both pass out a great number of leaflets in hopes of persuading people to adopt a different way of thinking. The former tries to change people’s religious beliefs, while the latter aims to convince people that the existing methods of animal treatment are inhumane and detrimental to society.
Two of my girlfriends and I often tease our other friends in the economics and ORFE departments, letting them know that they may have to take us in in the future. Undoubtedly, their lucrative jobs would be enough to support us as we worked at our respective nonprofits and paid off debt from graduate school. Like all good jokes, this one has a modicum of truth to it. As my friends and I have begun to accept jobs and fellowships for the upcoming year, that hypothetical discrepancy of earnings has become a reality.