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(05/29/19 6:05am)
I was raised under the sun, yet I wasn’t really supposed to be. My skin takes after my mother’s, who grew up in northern China, where the sun hides for a large part of the year. When my mother was younger, her skin was pale and spotless like porcelain. After living in California for over 20 years, her skin is now adorned with a lovely arrangement of spots and freckles that bear witness to her strength and adaptability.
(09/12/18 1:00pm)
At the time that I am writing this, I am in Rio de Janeiro — far away from Dartmouth, both physically and mentally. I’m living in Tabajaras, a favela in Copacabana that is run by a cartel with just three golden rules: do not rape, do not steal, do not kill. Break one, and the last remnants of you will be your ashes scattered over a mountaintop.
(10/31/17 4:30am)
In high school, I mostly listened to rap music. It was a part of my daily life, and it was what my friends and I played on the way to school and back home, while doing our homework and in every kind of social setting. It was just another language that we heard and spoke.
(10/06/17 5:05am)
This column was featured in the 2017 Homecoming Issue.
(09/26/17 5:00am)
I’m sure most of us at Dartmouth have heard of the Stanford Duck Syndrome — it’s frequently mentioned around campus, although rarely actually discussed. For those of you who may need a refresher, the Duck Syndrome gets its name from the fact that ducks appear to wade calmly through water, but underneath the surface they’re frantically paddling to stay afloat. When referring to people, we’re talking about those divine humans who seem to be flawlessly succeeding in every aspect of their lives, from looking well-dressed to getting 4.0’s to being a charismatic and talented leader all at the same time, while internally trying not to drown just to meet the demands of life.
(07/21/17 3:15am)
While studying abroad in Barcelona last term, I had a dinner conversation with my host mom, Lídia, about feminism. Up until this conversation, she and I had touched on feminist issues — negative encounters on the streets with cat-calling, overly aggressive men in dance clubs, her experiences growing up as a woman during Francisco Franco’s dictatorship — but we never directly brought up the word “feminism.” When this word was finally stated during dinner, she responded, “I am not a feminist.”
(02/28/17 5:30am)
In my government classes at Dartmouth, there is always “That Guy.” He speaks too loudly, he leans so far back in his chair you wish he would just tip over, he thinks he speaks God’s word and his monologues are long enough to make the professor cut him off.
(01/24/17 5:22am)
At Dartmouth, Greek letters float across Tuck Drive and through Baker lobby on t-shirts and sweatshirts. Our affiliation has practically become a suffix to our names. Most Wednesday evenings call for a flood of text messages across campus with the words, “Are you going to meetings?” We speak Greek, we engage in Greek politics and we breathe Greek each time we enter a fraternity basement and inhale the sickly-sweet aroma of stale beer and other fluids I’d like to forget. That most of us hardly notice the stench anymore is proof of the pervasiveness of Greek culture.
(01/13/17 5:20am)
One of my best friends has a Donald Trump sticker on her laptop. When I saw it, I was so appalled by this shameless show of support for the president-elect that I proceeded to scratch angrily at the corners of the sticker, trying to rip it off, while she wrestled her computer away from me and yelled something like “That’s my sticker!”
(10/25/16 4:15am)
There are so many different ways to lie. We may convey false information, withhold the truth or tell white lies, saying what we want people to hear. Other times, we only tell half the story, convolute the story or make a new one. When it comes to telling the truth, however, there’s only one way to do it, and that is to express what you want and what you mean as accurately as your words and body language allow you to.
(10/11/16 4:15am)
I have never before spoken as much as I did during rush. Not even during Trips, Orientation or the first few weeks of freshman fall, when I was bombarded by a whirlpool of new stimuli and hundreds of eager fellow freshmen, did I speak that much. By the end of each day of rush, my mouth was dry, my throat hurt and my brain felt fried. Yet, I never would have thought it could actually be fun, especially considering my introverted tendencies and legitimate fear of small talk. Dartmouth is filled to the brim with outstanding, intelligent and bold women who each carry her own unique set of passions and interests. It was an incredible experience to finally meet them — after, unfortunately, an entire year at Dartmouth.
(05/20/16 12:11am)
Despite its 247-year history as an institution, Dartmouth opened its doors to women 44 years ago, and since then we have had some incredible alumnae who have made their mark in a patriarchal world. These are women who are working to improve the lives of other women, who have seen firsthand the kind of inequality that women around the world face, who have had to work harder to make a career in a male-dominated industry and who have gone through trauma that they hope to save other women from ever experiencing.