INTO THE WOODS -- ADDING TO DARTMOUTH TRADITION. I figure since this is my last article for a while before sophomore summer, I'd end the term off with a bang. I saw "Into the Woods" a week or two ago, and since it was so great (go see it if it's still playing if not, well then, too bad), anyway, since it was so great, I've decided to share a fairy tale with y'all.
Exciting, no?
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, a little girl set out from her little cottage to buy milk for her morning porridge. Lost in thought, thinking of the ball she was going to attend later that night, she made her merry way into the woods (hence the title). Unfortunately, in her excitement, the little girl had forgotten to heed the advice of her mother. "Be wary of the band of giants that roam these very woods late at night," her mother said, "you can never be too sure what will anger the giants, so it's better to be safe than sorry."
Like all good children, the girl had faithfully promised to be cautious and keep safely out of sight, but forgetting the dangers, she took a path that crossed a narrow bridge. There would be no place to hide if someone, particularly a giant, came along. Lo and behold! Just as she stepped onto the bridge, a group of giants lumbered into sight. Praying that she wouldn't be seen, the girl edged her way forward but to her dismay, she caught the eye of one of the giants, who immediately stepped in her way. "Going to buy milk?" he growled evilly. Lifting her head back and back and back, the girl gazed into the giant's rolling and red-rimmed eyes and
(Here's where it gets interactive! You, the reader, get to decide what happens next.)
a) taking her shiny ax from her milk basket, she felled the Giant with one mighty stroke. His friends fled in a cloud of dust and the little girl picked the Giant's pockets, finding enough gold pieces to buy a herd of cows. She sold some of the cows at a high profit, kept the rest so she and her family could have milk every morning, and lived happily ever after.
b) whipping out her AK47, she riddled the Giant with bullets until he toppled over in a lifeless heap. Laughing maniacally, the girl retorted, "Keep the change, you filthy animal," disappeared into the foggy night and lived happily ever after.
c) with a clash of adamantium, metal claws leapt from her knuckles. With a tremendous bound and an agile swipe, she tore through the Giant's belly and chuckled (giggled?) as his intestines fell to the ground in immense, looping cords. Rendezvousing with the rest of the X-Men, she lived happily ever after.
d) all of the above.
But as we all know, not all stories end so happily. Here is what actually transpired:
Once upon a time, in a land of bitter cold, well-known for its tremendously successful import-export business (importing alcoholic beverages and exporting future i-bankers), there lived a girl who had mistaken the land for another land called, "Oh Liberal Paradise of Wesleyan." (For convenience sake, we'll randomly refer to the girl as, umm "Nancy".) One night (this past Saturday at approximately 9 p.m.), this "Nancy" was going to a place we'll call "Topside" to buy some milk with her "I.D." (owing to a bizarre exchange system instituted throughout the kingdom).
As "Nancy" was making her way up the "stairs" to "Topside," a group of "big white guys" was making their way down. Inching her way slowly up the right side of the stairs, "Nancy" assumed the group of men would eventually take the right of way and pass by undisturbed. As she proceeded a few steps up, she stopped because one "man" (hereafter, referred to as the "Minotaur," due to his build and size in comparison with "Nancy") had stopped in front of her. To her immense surprise, the Minotaur, instead of merely pausing and then moving to his right (her left) to make his way down the stairs, instead of all this, he leered down at her and sardonically asked "Going up?"
His friends waiting at the bottom of the flight, the Minotaur, in a tremendous and breathtaking display of masculinity and phallic dominance over a female measuring 5'2" tall, continued for several seconds to stare "Nancy" down. Confused, several thoughts ran through "Nancy's" mind: Is it because I don't have locks of gold? Skin as white as snow? Am I overreacting? Need I slow my roll? Is this all a result of my having spent too much time in Stanford, California? Unable to react in a manner befitting her personality, instead of unleashing a flurry of profanityshe lowered her head and walked around the Minotaur.
Reaching the top of the flight, realizing the implications of what happened, "Nancy" turned back around. Whether the (single sided) confrontation occurred because she was female, or Asian and female, or whether it had nothing to do with being female or Asian (perhaps the Minotaur was merely being an ass(hole)), she was disgusted with the fact that a) she performed the stereotypical role of the docile Asian woman, failing only to murmur, "Yes, massa" and b) she could do nothing about it. One of the Minotaur's friends looked back and with a rueful look tossed back a "sorry."
And while "Nancy" had to try to hold back "tears" of rage/self-disgust/hatred towards all beings of a certain gender, race, and body-type the Minotaur lived happily ever after.
Dartmouth rocks!
