If Rutgers can provide intensive mental healthcare for students, so can Princeton
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The following is a guest contribution and reflects the author’s views alone. For information on how to submit an article to the Opinion Section, click here.
The following is a guest contribution and reflects the author’s views alone. For information on how to submit a letter to the editor to the Opinion Section, click here.
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We, the leadership of The Daily Princetonian, are disappointed in the Princeton Open Campus Coalition (POCC) and The Princeton Tory’s decision not to facilitate access to this evening’s event for ‘Prince’ reporters.
Princeton’s orientation programming is packed. First-years are sorted into various small group programs, participate in dozens of events, and attend several trainings designed to help them get their bearings as college students. This year featured a new addition to the traditional programming. First-years watched a recording of a virtual “roundtable” discussion which examined a gallery entitled “To Be Known and Be Heard: Systemic Racism and Princeton University.” In the recording, professors examined documents concerning racist moments in Princeton’s history.
I spent the past several weeks as a residential advisor for a government-sponsored summer program in my home state, Kentucky. When I attended the program as a high-school student, it changed me. At the close of this year’s program, I thought about how much I’ve changed since then.
July 3 was the day I, like many former theater kids across the globe, had been waiting for all summer.
The Washington Post recently published an article entitled “The problem with ‘OK, boomer,’” in which author Holly Scott argues that historically, using generational divides to gain solidarity for change distracts in important ways from the real issues at hand. Scott points out how the youth activism of the ’60s ran into largely insurmountable obstacles, as the media focused more on generational tensions emphasized by the activism than the real divides against which the activists wished to fight. The real divides in the ’60s, Scott claims, were about power — “who had it and who did not.”
Unbeknownst to me last Friday, as I went to take the train back from New York, I almost crossed paths with nearly 1,000 people protesting against recent instances of police brutality related to fare evasion on Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) subway lines across the city. Framed by conservative news outlets as “anti-cop,” individuals within the protests led with chants of “No NYPD on the MTA” and “How do you spell racist? N-Y-P-D” as they marched near the Barclays Center arena and jumped turnstiles en-mass.
A recent bout of listserv emails from the Princeton undergraduate chapter of Letters to Strangers (L2S) left me unsettled. When my friends questioned why I was so jarred, it took me awhile to be able to pinpoint exactly why. L2S is a cute and often harmless group. Its main shtick is organizing biannual, anonymous letter exchanges as a form of friendly support, often during important testing periods. The letter I received from them around Dean’s Date last spring fit the general perceptions I had of the group: it was cute, wholesome, and appropriately endearing.
As I walked a first-year friend up the numerous flights of stairs to her dorm room at the top of 1937, she made an offhand comment about a relatively mild inconvenience that stuck with me. The dorm room assignment gods had not looked kindly upon her floor, and somehow my friend had been stuck on a hall where there were “seven-plus girls using one bathroom that only had one stall, one shower, and two sinks.” The designated “men’s” bathroom on the hall, on the other hand, was shared by just two boys.
The myth and mystery surrounding our twinhood fascinated my brother, James Luke, and me as we grew up. It wasn’t the idea that we were twins (Mom always told us she sat out one night and prayed for us, and, of course, fertility drugs helped). It was the idea of twins themselves. Twins were special. The line between fact and fiction is very flimsy for children up to a certain age, and there was such a plethora of both to feed off of. We were the Wonder Twins. We were Luke and Leia Skywalker. We were Thing 1 and Thing 2. We were one person in two bodies. We could read each other’s minds. We were put together in the womb because God knew we couldn’t live without each other. To us, everything was true.