When synagogues and grocery stores are sites of butchery: The vulnerable lives of Trump’s America
Hate is on the rise in the United States, and the last few weeks have made that undeniable.
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Hate is on the rise in the United States, and the last few weeks have made that undeniable.
Last month, pop artist Ariana Grande and “Saturday Night Live” comedian Pete Davidson ended their engagement and, in turn, their dreamlike, potently loving relationship. Their breakup came on the heels of the death of Grande’s ex-boyfriend, rapper Mac Miller, who died of a drug overdose this past September. Grande and Davidson’s short-lived relationship is an exhibition of our unsustainable desperation for love that heals and saves us from our debilitating pain and longings.
Brett Kavanaugh’s appointment to the Supreme Court cements a five-to-four conservative judicial majority, which could enable the overturn of Roe v. Wade, a 1973 Supreme Court ruling that affirmed a woman’s constitutional right to access abortion. The overturn of Roe would further systematize misogyny and gender discrimination in the United States. Likewise, it would compound the pain of countless American women who have been traumatized and angered by Christine Blasey Ford’s testimony, in which she alleged that Kavanaugh attempted to rape her at a 1982 high school party in Maryland.
On Sept. 27, Christine Blasey Ford, a psychology professor at Palo Alto University, testified before the Senate Judiciary Committee that Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh allegedly attempted to rape her at a 1982 high school party in suburban Maryland. Thereafter, Kavanaugh furiously denied the allegation in his own testimony before the committee. Kavanaugh has also been accused of sexual misconduct by two other women: Deborah Ramirez alleges the judge exposed himself to her at a college dorm party at Yale University without her consent, and Julie Swetnick claims Kavanaugh was involved in a scheme to gang rape women at multiple suburban-Maryland parties in the early 1980s (although Kavanaugh was allegedly at the party, Swetnick does not claim that Kavanaugh took part in her gang rape). Kavanaugh has denied these accusations as well.
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.”
During the summer, most of us enjoy a reprieve from our campus obligations. Unfortunately, that break often includes whatever level of political activism we might have engaged in during the academic year. Now, however, is not the time to take the summer off. In light of the continuously heinous misogyny of President Donald Trump, Princeton students and faculty — many of whom boast of a record of advocacy against gender-based violence and marginalization — have an obligation to speak up.
On June 20, President Trump signed an executive order that ended his administration’s migrant family separation policy. The order stated: “It is … the policy of this Administration to maintain family unity, including by detaining alien families together where appropriate and consistent with law and available resources.”
Wake up, Princetonians. Wake up, America. Wake up to the state terror that is happening every single day in the United States.
April marks the exciting — but also terrifying — time of year when fellow A.B. sophomores must declare their concentration. Some sophomores have known what they want to major in throughout their time at Princeton. But other sophomores have been, and still remain, unsure of what they should declare. Unfortunately, many of these sophomores will halfheartedly select majors based on what they consider to be the safest choice — that is, the discipline that will guarantee them a suitable post-graduation job.
On March 26, the Honor System Review Committee discussed its preliminary findings regarding the three suspended referenda — which were passed with overwhelming support by the student body — at a Council of the Princeton University Community meeting. The Committee took great issue with the first and third referenda, which would reduce the Honor Code’s standard penalty of a one-year suspension to academic probation and exonerate suspected students if their professor claimed they did not violate the Honor Code, respectively. The Committee “revised the wording” of the second referendum, which “originally required two pieces of evidence in order for a case to move forward.”
On March 4, 2018, The Daily Princetonian published a heartbreaking anonymous column by a student diagnosed with schizophrenia. The student alleges that the University disregarded their psychological and academic needs. In a disturbing anecdote, the student claims, “Two Public Safety officers barged into my room, assaulted me, pinned me down to my bed, handcuffed me, and dragged me out to the ambulance waiting outside my dorm building.” The larger context of this alleged incident is not entirely clear.
At all stages of undergraduate life, Princeton is challenging. Freshmen take on the difficulty of first-year adjustments to campus life, and the rigorous independent work demands of junior and senior year are well documented. But, strangely, the struggles of sophomores often go under the radar. Many Princeton students who are (unsurprisingly) not sophomores say that sophomore year is the “best” year at Princeton, since there are no formal independent-research requirements, the first-year adjustment period is over, and graduation is far enough away to be out of mind.
On Feb. 8, Princeton Pro-Life penned a letter in The Daily Princetonian after marching in the 45th annual March for Life in Washington, D.C. In the letter, the group promoted its anti-abortion, pro-life stance through the misleading rhetoric of “love.” Although I genuinely appreciate PPL’s attempt to support its pro-life perspective with empathy (rather than with misogyny or reactionary conservatism), the PPL letter’s rhetoric of love dangerously oversimplifies the complexity of the abortion debate.
On a campus like Princeton’s, which teems with tranquility, socioeconomic insulation, and seclusion, it is often too easy to lose sight of the profound troubles facing the outside world. Over winter break, the isolating impact of Princeton’s campus became all too clear as I began to fully reengage with the political, social, and cultural crises that are plaguing American society. I realized through this reengagement that the isolation of Princeton life inadvertently limits the off-campus sociopolitical activism of Princetonians, which prevents Princeton students from making a more substantive difference in the outside world.
Princeton is a place of hustle and bustle. The University teems with a palpable, unstoppable energy that knows no bedtime. Dangerously, the cultural pace of Princeton allows one to easily look past the everyday, micro-level emotional experiences of the University’s student body. But if one did look past Princeton’s superficial “never-stop-grinding,” always-moving-forward intensity, one would find a campus that holistically struggles with loneliness.
In the cultural imagination of many Americans, Thanksgiving conjures feelings of family togetherness, community, and gratitude. According to this mentality, Thanksgiving is a peaceful and reflective holiday that allows us to give thanks to the people who make our lives special and filled with love. For Princetonians, specifically, Thanksgiving evokes unfettered relaxation, Netflix-binging, and a general break from the intense pressures of academic life.
While walking to Firestone in the late hours of a recent November night, I was interrupted by a friend who remarked that I looked incredibly fatigued. My friend tried to persuade me to get a good night’s sleep and start fresh the next morning, in lieu of a late night in the bookshelves. After some hesitation, I agreed, and returned to my dorm for a rarely satisfying sleep. The next day I found myself feeling incredibly well-rested and able to tackle my work more efficiently. This whole experience got me thinking: in the pursuit of success at Princeton, is it really necessary to incessantly deprioritize sleep, as countless Princetonians claim to do? I argue that sleep deprivation absolutely does not have to be the norm on campus.
During midterms week, Firestone Library often feels like my second home. Between preparing for exams, writing papers, and staying on top of normal coursework, this time of year offers few, if any, opportunities to take a breath. Consumed by academic obligation and stress, it is often easy to forget what we miss out on. While taking a quick break from work in the Trustee Reading Room this week, I looked out of the window to see a bustling campus, with seas of backpacks rushing across Firestone Plaza to get to the next destination. In that moment, I realized that, all too often, Princetonians take “the moment,” that is, the everyday experience of being present, for granted.
Life at Princeton is stressful, often feeling like both a marathon and a sprint. The pressure to achieve impressive grades, form meaningful friendships and networks, gain admission to clubs, plan for a prosperous professional life, and seem happy can be incredibly overwhelming, if not frustratingly impossible. This is especially so for the many students who suffer from anxiety, depression, and other mental health conditions. Princeton is aware of this culture and promotes self-care and recognition of the fact that “you are not alone.” But this is not sufficient. The philosophy that Princetonians need is one of self-compassion: learning to love and accept themselves, flaws and all, and recognizing that failure is an inevitable and necessary aspect of the Princeton experience. The difference between this and typical self-care may seem trivial, but these are two fundamentally different approaches to building resilience.