I often find it easy to be outspoken because I deliberately surround myself with people who have a similar worldview to me. It is comfortable and safe to spend time with people who come from similar circumstances, whether that has to do with socioeconomic status or ethnicity or geography. Historically, that is what people do for one reason or another—they self-segregate.

For marginalized groups, it is sometimes necessary for that communal safe space to exist. But students hopefully go to school with the intention of learning about other people too. On the one hand, it is really beautiful to develop close bonds with people I might have otherwise never met. On the other hand, my eyes are occasionally opened in a disturbing way.

Once in a while, I will hear friends say or condone something that I consider problematic. The actions range in frequency or severity, but they are all troubling on some level. It could be that they throw around a gendered slur—“ironically” of course. Or they will condone the racist behavior of one of their friends. Or they will buy from a store that I consider to be exceptionally unethical. Or they will say something that demeans my own personal experience. In all of these cases, I know that I need to speak up. The trouble is: how?

While I believe we should strive for political correctness, everyone is equipped with different tools and will achieve this goal in different ways. At the same time, I feel no obligation to coddle someone who is blatantly racist, sexist or homophobic. However, with my peers it is never that simple. 

Rarely do I find myself having a conversation with someone who is a clear bigot (not to say that bigots do not exist at Bowdoin). But it can be hard to try to have these conversations at a place like Bowdoin; it seems like wherever I turn someone is calling someone out for being dogmatic or overly PC or a closed-minded liberal. 

It hurts to try to talk out issues I care about with people I care about and be shrugged off or accused of making everything about race, called out for overanalyzing or taking things too seriously. But the thing is, the society we live in really is that complicated—all of the little things we do or say are imbued with a greater meaning, influenced by systems and hierarchies.

I find that the same people here who complain about there not being enough open dialogue are those who shut down when dialogue is made available. Whenever I am at a teach-in or a conversation or a lecture about a deeply pressing issue, the same people are always there (unless extra credit is involved). If you are a person of privilege, it is so easy to ignore these issues. It is so easy to cover yourself in a blanket of liberalism but not actually participate in the discussion or devote time to a cause.

A couple of weeks ago, when Deray McKesson '07 visited Bowdoin, he expressed the idea that people of privilege have to understand that the fight for justice involves them giving some of that privilege up. And one of those privileges is silence and non-participation. If you truly believe in justice and equality, you will show up and you will welcome dialogue and even criticism.

Some people don’t want to be bothered. They prioritize the comfort of their daily routine over learning and uncomfortable yet meaningful conversations. I don’t think that is an inevitable fact of human nature. I think that is something that has to change if we want to address real issues with a broad and diverse audience, because I care about my friends, and I care about deeply engaging them. If they don’t want to make that effort, are they really a friend?

Maybe I will lose a couple of friends because of these efforts. But if I am aware that something said is problematic or if it hurts me, I am going to call it out. We all should. But we should also be prepared and we should welcome the conversation that follows whatever criticism or position we may bring forward. If that makes you a “Social Justice Warrior,” so what? At least you are fighting for something.

Unfortunately, wages are still one of the many facets of society where inequality is present. And while bringing light to any form of inequality is a worthwhile endeavor, there is a wrong way to go about it, and Patricia Arquette did just that in her acceptance speech at the 87th Academy Awards last Sunday. While on stage, she said, “We have fought for everybody else’s equal rights. It’s our time to have wage equality once and for all and equal rights for women in the United States of America.” But to complicate things further, in the press room afterwards, (according to USA Today) she said, “It’s time for us all…the gay people and people of color that we’ve all fought for to fight for us now.” Arquette’s statements at the Oscars assume two very incorrect ideas. First that, people of color and LGBTQIA people have gained equal rights while women haven’t, and second, that the struggles of all of these groups are not interconnected.

To tackle the first misconception, you don’t need to look any further than the wage inequality that Arquette referenced. While the wage gap undoubtedly affects women, it affects some women more than others: according to the data from the last census, while white women make 78 cents to the white man’s dollar, black women make 64 cents, Native American women make 59 cents, and Latina women make 54 cents. Furthermore, to combat the idea that the wage gap only affects women, data from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reveals that Black and Hispanic men earn less weekly than White and Asian women ($664 and $594, as opposed to $819 and $722, respectively). The wage gap, and inequality in general, is bigger than gender.Arquette’s comments are not only ignorant of the difficulties many communities continue to face, but they also perpetuate the divisiveness of identity politics. In order to advance equality for all, we need to stop seeing our struggles as disconnected. 

Women cannot be truly free until all people of color and all LGBTIQA people are truly free. The colonization of the body will not be over until all facets of it are seen as equal. Why? Because feminism doesn’t stop at white women, anti-racism does not stop at men of color, and LGBTQIA rights do not stop at the white community or at men. Transgender women of color exist, disabled brown immigrants exist, gay male rape victims exist—people often experience oppression in different parts of their identities. We must continue to strive for the rights of all marginalized people so that these people will feel equal in our society. When Arquette says that it is time for people of color and gay people to fight for women now, she is suggesting that they are three isolated categories; she ignores intersectionality. As a woman of color, I feel that Arquette’s statement denies the multifaceted nature of my identity. Oppressions cannot be solved separately from each other.

On top of this, Arquette’s statement was offensive on the level that she suggests that she, along with all women, have fought for everybody else’s rights. Firstly, I was not aware that Patricia Arquette was an anti-racist and LGBTQIA activist. I was not aware that Patricia Arquette has been fighting so hard for my rights as a person of color. 

We are not done fighting for these rights. 

To suggest that is to undermine the very difficult struggles of millions of people. Arquette needs to look past her own experience as a white woman and recognize that just because a struggle does not exist for her personally, does not make it invalid.

There are ways to highlight injustice within one community without ignoring the injustices in other communities—evidenced by an earlier speech by John Legend and Common, where they touched on Dr. King’s activism as motivated by “a love for all human beings.” We must strive for this all-encompassing, inclusive love and fight for each other, instead of further alienating ourselves from each other. The recognition of intersectionality is how we will achieve true equality. 

Sometime in December, I was struck by a bulletin board covered with sheets of paper in David Saul Smith Union. On each paper was a poem, and I soon noticed that a black writer wrote each poem. Some of the poets featured were people I deeply admired, like Langston Hughes and Audre Lorde, and some of the poems were by writers I had never heard of. 

This display of black poetry was deeply touching and seemed especially timely. Members of the community had just sponsored a vigil and a die-in at the dining halls in response to the non-indictment of Darren Wilson, the police officer who killed Michael Brown.

Coming back to Bowdoin after Winter Break, I was excited to see what forms of activism and solidarity the new semester would bring—especially since February is Black History Month. And it has been inspiring to see all the work that organizations like the African American Society have put into recent events. Another poster in Smith Union, showing minority victims of police brutality, has stood out as especially captivating and upfront.   

While I am proud of the initiatives that Bowdoin has taken to confront racism, I was still disappointed to see what eventually happened to the poetry board in the Union. Walking by it several days ago, I noticed an assortment of posters for various events pinned over the poems. 

My purpose is not to call out the individual people or groups who put up these new posters, or even say that they did anything wrong. But the image of that board, and the thought of covering those powerful words, struck me as thoughtless—even disrespectful.

 The term microaggression has been increasingly brought up in progressive circles within the past couple of years. A microaggression refers to an action or statement that is unintentionally discriminatory. 

A clear example would be showing something written in Chinese to a Korean person and asking them what it means—simultaneously applying a sameness to very different East Asian cultures and assuming cultural knowledge based on a person’s appearance. 

This type of discrimination happens all the time. Microaggressions are often murky, and they can be a result of racism, ignorance or even good intentions.

I’m not trying to say definitively that putting posters over the poetry in the Union is a microaggression. But it does veer close to that. I think of all of the various ways this could make someone feel. I acknowledge that I am someone who appreciates and writes poetry, and I am very sensitive towards racial issues. But I am not advocating for an excessive sensitivity or atmosphere of extreme political correctness.

However, there is an indifference and self-centeredness required to cover up poetry by black writers right before and during Black History Month. It is completely possible that those who covered up the poetry did not even realize what it was or who the writers were. But it is also possible that they did. 

Either way, what does it say about our community when people ignore something as beautiful as poetry, provided free and in such a convenient space? What does it say when we are close enough to read it and choose to hang up our own posters?

I know Bowdoin students are busy. I am not exempt from occasionally ignoring the intellect and beauty and entertainment that we are endlessly supplied with. But I am not guilty of carelessly putting up posters. 

Putting up these posters exemplifies desensitization towards art and a selfish privileging of one’s immediate needs. There is without a doubt plenty of space in the Union and other school buildings to put up a poster. I realize these poems cannot stay up forever, but I think it is a bit soon to start obscuring them. 

In a certain way, this is a Bowdoin version of the 5 Pointz building in Queens. 5 Pointz’s exterior was covered in intricate and stunning graffiti. It was completely demolished last year. 

The building had been covered in graffiti for decades and there was a substantial public outcry when the news spread that it would be demolished. The situation brings up the same question of how long unsanctioned art should be displayed, and what its destruction means.

On another level, this bulletin board exemplifies how quickly and callously some students at Bowdoin go about their daily lives here. 

There are so many presumptions and expectations that our lives are filled with—not to mention a seemingly endless list of responsibilities. This has created an atmosphere in which our decisions are not made as thoughtfully as they should be, where alternatives are not considered heavily enough. 

Many students drink for hours instead of attending lectures or music recitals, work for an A instead of trying to gain a new perspective in a class, or pass by walls of poetry and art without giving them a second glance. I think poetry, art and the creativity and intellect with which we are privileged enough to be surrounded deserve more than that. I strongly encourage Bowdoin students to take advantage of the resources provided to them and give a longer look at the efforts made by their fellow students to engage them.

Fraud, identity theft, false advertising, being switched at birth—as modern citizens who take pride in our individuality and dignity, we have much to be afraid of. We do not like to be fooled, or at least we don’t like to know that we are being fooled. Authenticity is a priceless quality to many. It is the essence of something, the root of it, the way we are able to understand something. 

The fear of inauthenticity pervades contemporary culture—from the highest to the lowest segments of it. Just last summer, billionaire Bill Koch settled a lawsuit against a wine retailer worth millions of dollars, for selling him counterfeit wines. 

One of the shows MTV currently produces, “Catfish,” reflects this same hostility towards being duped. “Catfish” follows people who meet romantic partners online, and appear on the show to find out whether these partners are actually who they say they are. 

With both Koch’s wine and Catfish, the problem is akin to false advertising; people are offended because they have been sold something different from what they set out to buy.On a trickier level, many take issue with the idea of people presenting themselves in a way that is not true to their self or their background. This is especially true in the music world. 

Hip-hop star Iggy Azalea has been heavily criticized for the voice she uses when she performs, as well as her overall expression. Although she is a white woman from Australia, she sounds like she is trying to imitate an African-American when she raps. Australian comedian Aamer Rahman (who visited Bowdoin last fall), has said on the subject: “A white rapper like Iggy Azalea acts out signifiers which the white majority associates with black culture—hypersexuality, senseless materialism, an obsession with drugs, money and alcohol, as well as adopting clothing, speech and music—as a costume that they can put on and discard at will. It’s a cheap circus act.” 

Her performance is definitely a form of appropriation, and it is certainly not authentic in the sense that she is selling a persona that is not true to her background or circumstances. But can it still be an allowable form of artistic expression?

Hip-hop stars like Drake have also been confronted about their authenticity. Can he really sing a song called “Started from the Bottom” if he grew up in an affluent suburb and acted on “Degrassi” as a teen? Does the song carry less meaning because of his stable background?

The ways that people can get riled up over the idea of a true identity are particularly interesting because they suggest we believe in an essential self. We believe that people, on a certain level, are permanently affected by their circumstances, and that these circumstances form our true selves. So if you deny your roots, or try to appropriate different ones, are you creating a self that is false? Are you presenting a lie? Are you trying to become somebody that you never will?Trans-exclusionary feminists have often made the argument that trans-women aren’t real women because they didn’t grow up as such. They weren’t treated as women growing up; they didn’t have the experience of women. But to make that argument is to say there is an essential woman’s experience—that there is something exclusive to women that brings us all together. I’d like to think an entire gender is more complicated than that.

There is something to be said for trying to grasp cultures and experiences beyond your own. But those who attempt to bridge the gap, those who try and adopt an experience outside of their own, must be ultra-sensitive to the way that certain people feel ownership of a culture. Perhaps being authentic isn’t the most important thing. Perhaps being comfortable with yourself and respectful of others is more fundamental.

As a society, I think we should give people leeway and creative license to reinvent themselves, especially if that lets them further explore their identities. It seems negative and authoritarian to tell people how authentic they are. And as individuals, I think we owe it to ourselves to be thoughtful about adopting new elements of expression and identity. Our origins and heritage will always be a part of us, even if we can fake an accent.

Society divides protesters into a binary of good and bad. Good protesters are peaceful, nonviolent and non-threatening. Bad protestors are aggressive, threatening and rule-breaking. 

Since the Civil Rights era, the dominating rhetoric has privileged peaceful protests. The only reason that legislation in support of Civil Rights was passed was supposedly because the movement was largely nonviolent. Yet let us not forget that the champion of nonviolence within the Civil Rights movement, Martin Luther King Jr., was killed by the same system of oppression that claims to respect nonviolence. 

Good protestors do not loot—only thugs loot. This is the message fed to us by the white supremacist media, government and police force.

On Black Friday, I attended a peaceful protest in honor of Michael Brown in front of the Macy’s in Herald Square, the largest department store in the United States. The protest called on people to boycott Black Friday in an effort to not  exercise spending power in favor of corporations that profit off of marginalized communities around the world. 

The protest was not that large; there were at most a couple hundred people. Yet there were several dozen NYPD officers, all armed. And once protestors started walking into the Macy’s, almost every single officer followed, because although the police claim to protect and serve all people, including protesters, they clearly serve sources of power, including corporations.

 Marginalized people constantly have to defend themselves as peaceful in a culture that has violently created a system of domination that works against them. We may voice our grievances, but to take action—even with something as simple as a boycott or as intense as looting—is to go too far. Corporations may exploit us, and that is legal and alright, but the people may not exploit corporations. 

I don’t consider myself an explicit supporter of looting, but I am wary to criticize it. Companies like Walmart and Target are known to exploit workers here and abroad; top executives profit while factory and store workers barely scrape by. To loot companies like these is one method of civil disobedience against this system of exploitation. 

Furthermore, why shouldn’t impoverished communities take advantage of an opportunity to acquire free things? Private property only benefits those in power, so what is the point of abiding by rules that do not benefit us?

We live in a country where corporations own everything, and marginalized communities hardly own anything. It is no coincidence that the media vehemently opposes looting when they profit off of the same system these corporations do. It is no surprise that the police and government protect corporations when they are generously funded by them.

Not only does looting actively resist a system of capitalist repression, it is also a method of gaining attention and pushing those in power to listen. If you are a person of color, you don’t have a dominant voice, so if looting is what gets those in power to listen, so be it.

The media tries to portray looting as a violent, chaotic, selfish and apolitical act when it really is none of these things. It would be easier to not take a risk, to stay docile, to go by the terms of the dominant few. To loot is an act of aggression against the system of oppression that was founded on the domination of people of color. 

I support those who loot because I value human life over the life of a corporation, over the sale of a manufactured object, and I have no interest in preserving the racist system that thrives off of capitalism. 

A couple of weeks ago Netflix released the entire series of “Gilmore Girls”—a crowd-pleasing, Bechdel -test-passing dramedy infamous for its quick witticisms. The release was undoubtedly one of my (many) favorite moments in Netflix history. 

I am definitely not alone—at least half of the many people I’ve mentioned “Gilmore Girls” to recently have also confessed to binge watching it now that it is available to them.

There is something about this show that makes binging on it particularly concerning to me. The two protagonists, Lorelai and Rory, along with many of the supporting cast—even the seemingly malicious ones like Paris—are all relatable and heartwarming people. I do not doubt that people like them exist; in fact, I strive to surround myself with such good-natured people. Yet I am generally aware that not everyone is harmless and quirky. 

The entire town of Stars Hollow—the setting for “Gilmore Girls”—is completely unimaginable to me. Perhaps I am too much of a jaded New Yorker, but the existence of a simultaneously working class and cutesy neighborhood seems like a stretch. 

Stars Hollow is a place, where all of the people are loveable and funny, the most dangerous person is a rebellious teenager, and everyone gets your obscure Velvet Underground and David Lynch references, so why is it’s depiction so addicting? 

Aside from the picturesque snow scenes, even the tones of the show are warm. A theme song by Carole King lulls us into this sweet town and the music in between scenes is calm and friendly, too. 

So what does it say when students, as busy as we are, make time to binge on a show that depicts an ideal reality? “Gilmore Girls” is by no means thrilling—everything moves as slowly as one would expect in a small town. 

As much as I appreciate the quick dialogue, I expect it to be alienating to some people who don’t get the weirdly specific and often outdated references. Yet I haven’t met one person who had any strong feelings against the show. Hell, as much as I critique it, you can bet I’m looking forward to an episode as soon as I finish writing this. 

There are surely more risky escape mechanisms than “Gilmore Girls”—our parents should be thankful we aren’t doing bath salts or anything, right? However, that doesn’t change the idea that when we watch this show set in an ideal world we are escaping from a not so ideal one. That is perhaps why binging on it can feel so de-stressing. 

It isn’t constructive to escape, and not everyone has the privilege to do it with the quick act of watching a TV show. I don’t reserve the right to tell anyone whether they should escape for a little bit. But I will say that perhaps it might be constructive to confront those things that we wish to escape, without the aid of Netflix. Perhaps there will be no need to escape into a falsely idealistic world if we concentrate more on crafting a real one. 

This past weekend, I was one of 500 student activists who attended the National Students for Justice in Palestine conference at Tufts. I attended a workshop on Black Liberation, which introduced the following quotation to us: “Caring for myself is not self indulgence, it is an act of self preservation and that is an act of political warfare.” 

These are the words of Audre Lorde, the renowned black, feminist and queer poet. These are words that are important for any woman, person of color or anyone else who has ever been marginalized in any capacity, to hear.

We exist in a society that marks idleness and lack of activity as laziness, acts of self-care as selfish. Marx argues that conscious labor is essential to our humanity. I propose that in addition, conscious acts of meditation and peace, as opposed to unthoughtful ones, are just as essential. Too often my breaks from work consist of scrolling through a social media feed, or going to a party I feel an underwhelming desire to go to.

In our action-oriented lives, there is too much time spent doing and not enough time spent thinking. We are always expected to define who we are and what we want to do, but not allotted enough time to really think about these things in an independent way. We tire ourselves out trying to do everything we can fit on our plate, and so we are not able to give ourselves over fully to those things and people we really care about.

The system we are a part of privileges a very specific type of person. We all know him well: the straight, white, upper class, cisgendered man. As a believer in the whole “gender/sexuality are a spectrum” thing, I’m unsure if this elusive man really exists. The important thing is, however, he exists as an ideal. Not an ideal in the way Beyoncé is an ideal because she seems perfect, but an ideal in the way that it is easiest to succeed when you are that aforementioned person. People who do not fit that ideal often feel the weight of the system working against them, consciously or not. So to care for ourselves, in a society that has, in some respects, failed to care for us, is like Lorde said. It is an act of political warfare.

Preserving ourselves, caring for ourselves, spending time thinking about ourselves—these actions, when done consciously, make us better fit to serve others. There are endless ways to actively engage in a healing process, whether it is through reconnecting with nature, taking a yoga class, going for a run, or just being alone and thinking about who we are. The important thing is that we attempt to feel some sort of renewal and introspection and resist a society that tells us we must be productive at all times.

We often partake in processes that have the potential to be healing, but unless we go in with the intention of trying to revive something within ourselves, they won’t fulfill their healing potential. As I attempt to approach life in a manner of “self-preservation,” I encourage readers to do the same. We can’t be agents of change or resistors of oppression unless we enable ourselves to be resilient, and caring for ourselves in a conscious manner is essential to that. 

Since my freshman year, I have worked at the Upward Bound office at Bowdoin. Upward Bound is a federally funded program that provides college preparation services, summer programs and academic counseling to low-income students. Every year, I help out with sending fee waiver requests to colleges on behalf of students in the program.

During the college application process, these students, are lucky enough to have a support system and to know that they can apply for fee waivers. An application fee for Bowdoin is $60; Stanford ranks highest in application fees with a $90 price tag. Applying to around 10 schools could cost you upwards of $500, maybe even more.

Imagine being a low-income student faced with this prospect. What would you do in that situation? When I was applying to colleges, I knew I couldn’t afford to pay application fees, and there were two college counselors for a class of almost 1,000 students at my high school—getting one of them to help me with this was next to impossible. 

It took a frustrating amount of research and explaining for me to figure out ways to apply to the schools I wanted to without placing a burden on my family.

But what if a student is too ashamed to ask? That situation is hardly out of the question. Having to say you can’t afford something, especially as a teenager, is not an easy thing to do. Applying to college, trying to give yourself a fighting chance at intellectual development, or at least a career, shouldn’t be something you have to pay for.

The idea that we have to pay to go to school is questionable in the first place, but paying a fee so that you can be told whether or not you are worth attending and paying even more money? How is that in any way fair to people who dread the cost of paying for college in the first place? Imposing an application fee is basically a warning to low-income people: education isn’t cheap. 

A couple of weeks ago, as I was finalizing my study abroad application, I was once again confronted by an application fee. Since I am privileged enough to have the knowledge that application fees are somewhat bypassable, I sent an email the day the application was due, explaining why I couldn’t pay the fee. 

I was relieved to find out, around a week later, that the program was fine with this. But for that week, I was anxious that I wouldn’t get into the program because I hadn’t paid the fee. People in economically needy situations have enough on their plate regarding finances—worrying about whether they will be able to pursue an opportunity shouldn’t be one of them.

Removing an application fee is a legitimate effort to increase economic diversity. If colleges really cared about promoting diversity, they would try to make it as stress-free as possible for anyone from any economic situation to apply. Application fees filter out students who are either unaware of how to get around paying them, or are too embarrassed to express their need.

As students living in a time of relative crisis regarding the economy and employment, we are constantly reminded of how hopeless our post-college lives are bound to be. In fact, one of my professors basically told my classmates and me that we were better off taking online classes. 

Those of us who don’t major in STEM (science, technology, engineering, mathematics) subjects are even further ridiculed for our “foolish” attitude regarding education. “You need to be more practical!” online blogs and our parents shout simultaneously.  And sometimes, it’s hard to explain or even justify our majors when they don’t seem to lead to a specific career path.  

We need to question what we even mean by practical. Is majoring in economics practical because it might lead to a lucrative career in finance, or because you will be able to learn from and question economic processes? Is a major in computer science practical because you want to list coding skills on your resumé, or because you want to learn a new way of understanding and organizing information? To value practicality in the first way is to take a liberal arts education for granted. 

We are not lacking in intelligence or work ethic here at Bowdoin. What we lack is a sense of curiosity, enthusiasm and openness. You shouldn’t come to Bowdoin with a fixed idea of what you want to study. Arguably, the reason schools like Bowdoin exist is to offer alternatives to a rigid approach to education. 

We are lucky enough to have mobility in our studies. In my two and a half years here, I’ve taken classes in subjects ranging from oceanography to museum studies. While my parents seemed concerned that I didn’t have a major until recently, I learned to revel in the confusion of seeing the world in different ways. 

We have four years here to explore anything that piques our interest, and we are privileged enough to have amazing professors, facilities and peers to help us do just that. We shouldn’t treat our education as just a means to a job or as just another section on our LinkedIn profile. 

What makes us human are our abilities to consciously create and to think independently. When we prioritize doing what is expected of us and qualifying for a certain position, we aren’t using our full potential at all. 

Working hard and memorizing facts won’t help us explore our intellectual capacities or think deeply.

On a different note, while students should feel encouraged to explore their options, educational institutions should be more accepting of those who don’t fit the well-rounded mold. To expect someone to be a committed athlete, an excellent student, a musician and biology expert is asking too much. Perhaps some students fit this mold, but what about people who are just passionate about one thing? Why is it that schools want so badly for their students to be everything? 

Once again, I must stress how unique our situation is at Bowdoin. Think of how few people in the world get to go to college, and out of them, how few go to liberal arts schools. 

If you came to college to learn a skill and leave with a job offer, you came to the wrong school. There are plenty of technical schools that will do that for you for a lot less money. 

If I’m not mistaken, we’re here for something beyond that, which Bowdoin kindly outlines for us in the “Offer of the College:” “To be at home in all lands and all ages”. That is an offer that means a lot, and you won’t take advantage of it by sticking to a comfort zone of practicality and stressing out over a B+. 

The advent of social media makes anonymous activity exceedingly easy. It is no secret that people will often say things under the veil of anonymity that they would never say under their own name. College “confessions” pages like Bowdoin Confess and Words from the Bubble are just the latest means of providing anonymous commentary on campus.  

One might think that providing an anonymous outlet increases and improves dialogue on campus. Finally, a place where students can say whatever they want with no consequences or judgment! I’d argue this is not the case. Anonymity, when coupled with a lack of accountability, does not improve dialogue in any real way. 

While it is true that confessions pages can uncover real, problematic issues on campus like race and sexual assault, anonymity dilutes these issues. Real arguments should be brought up by people who care enough about them to stand by them. Submitting an anonymous confession allows people to make public whatever is on their mind, and then forget that it was ever said. Sure, the experience might be cathartic, but it does more damage than good. 

Anonymity takes away the biggest leverage we have when we speak up for ourselves—our humanity. Talking about an issue face to face does so much more than an anonymous complaint. It’s hard to care about an issue made public by an anonymous website when I can’t put a face on that person. How can there be dialogue with a faceless entity? When you remove your personhood from your opinion, you remove any possibility for understanding. There is no means for your opinion to be clarified, defended, altered, or put into any context. Sure, other commenters can come to your defense, but they are not on any realistic level a spokesperson for an anonymous confession. 

When important dialogues at Bowdoin are not trivial, the same voices are always represented. This community cannot afford to lose important arguments and opinions to petty confessions pages. Bowdoin students should be comfortable creating a space for their opinions, politically correct or not. The only way to understand each other and our environment is through meaningful dialogue. That doesn’t happen when we hide behind our computer screens. 

Furthermore, anonymity gives people the means to say things that should not be said in public—things that hurt and insult individual people. These types of statements do not create dialogue, and anonymous message boards should provide the filter that these submitters did not have. Well thought out and earnest opinions should be encouraged. Purposefully insensitive and demeaning language does not have a place in this community. 

It is not the easiest thing in the world to state an opinion, especially a controversial one. Society makes many people feel as if their thoughts are invalid or inconsequential, and the potential for backlash is frightening. I am wary and self-conscious about what I write in this column, and the feedback has not always been pleasant. But the sacrificial nature of speaking up for what we believe in, and the willingness to face opposition, is what gives our words power. 

When you first come to college, the transition period is endlessly discussed. It’s normal to feel homesick or culturally shocked during the beginning of your freshman year. A similar sort of process is also acceptable for those who come back from study abroad. Yet, during Spring Break, it occurred to me that for those of us who go home often for break, no one talks about how difficult it can be to constantly readjust from Bowdoin to home and vice versa. 

My Spring Break was considerably relaxed; I spent most of my time eating Chinese take out and watching “Scandal.” However, towards the end of my break I started to feel unusually stressed and irritable. I realized that what was stressing me out were the differences between my life at Bowdoin and my life at home. I had never understood why going home never sat well with me considering I loved spending time with my family and friends. But there is something to be said for the toll that continuously adjusting to different environments takes on many people at Bowdoin. 

The adjustment that affects me personally at Bowdoin is the ease of life here. When I’m at school, all I have to do for meal times is swipe my OneCard at the dining hall and there is an array of food available to me.

I don’t have to walk to the supermarket, worry about how much money is in my bank account, or make sure that I make dinner before my parents get home. If I want to hang out with my friends late at night, I only have to walk a couple of minutes to their dorm room. I don’t need to take the subway and worry about being a young girl alone in New York City. I don’t need to worry about constantly entertaining myself—there is enough work, events and extracurricular life to do that. At Bowdoin, I am often able to forget that I am vulnerable, poor and unsure of myself. 

But this attitude is sometimes hard to preserve. And for the times when I am not able to forget some of these things, it is not easy to talk about them. For some reason, I don’t feel as comfortable tackling economic privilege in a conversation with my friends as I do with other heavy topics like race and gender. I almost feel like I’m at the dinner table in Downton Abbey, and it would be out of the question to talk about wealth. It shouldn’t be that way. There should be a space for students to express their feelings on economic privilege. 

Living in a place with so much wealth can be difficult when you know that at a certain point, you have to go back to a very different situation. The more comfortable people feel to talk about an issue that is important to them, the less it will strain them. 

Bowdoin should try to tackle this by educating more students about the reality of economic privilege, to show students who deal with this issue that their troubles are important, and to make students attuned to these issues so that they can better understand their fellow students. Adjusting to a new home is a great deal easier when you don’t feel like you have to hide certain parts of yourself to get by. 

Biddie. I had never uttered the term before arriving at Bowdoin, nor did I hear it all that much. Nevertheless, the term has become part of my daily vocabulary, even though I’ve never learned what it actually means. 

After Googling the phrase “Bowdoin Biddie” with no real success, I searched for “College Biddie” and found a blog called “Biddie Lifestyle” which described to me the commonalities of biddies everywhere. Apparently, biddies wear leggings as pants, have iPhones, love glitter, pretend to know about sports when guys are around, and listen to Jason Derulo and Nicki Minaj. I am guilty of 3 of the above, yet never in my worst nightmares could I imagine anyone referring to me as a biddie. Unthinkable. Further research was needed. 

I then found “biddie” in the Microsoft Word dictionary. After correcting my spelling to biddie (I will continue to use this spelling out of respect for Amherst President, Biddy Martin), Microsoft kindly explained to me that the term biddie (noun) is 1. “Same as chicken,” or 2. “an offensive term for a woman whose behavior is regarded as fussing or interfering.” 

Pink, Nicki Minaj, glitter—the loud things, the bright things. These are the things that society condemns women for embracing, yet simultaneously conditions them to adore. For a woman to enjoy these things is to interfere with our social standards, but if she does not comply with these interests, she fusses with social norms. Unsurprisingly, there is no way out. 

Urban Dictionary says that a Biddie is “gullible/easily tricked,” “does not remember the last weekend that did not involve a hangover,” and “dreams of being a woman from Desperate Housewives.” It is audacious to me that this term could involve so many intricately offensive assumptions, yet in reality is applied to so many women. I can’t remember the last time I looked at a girl wearing a sequined tank top at a college house party without “biddie” being the first thing that came to mind. 

Where does one draw the line between biddie and non-biddie? It’s unclear, if not  impossible. Because I listen to Bright Eyes and shamelessly detest football, does this make me a non-biddie? But I wear leggings as pants on occasion and I have an iPhone. Does this make me a biddie? This shouldn’t concern me. It shouldn’t concern anyone. We need to stop classifying women and pitting them against each other. 

The term biddie separates women in a society where women should be finding their commonalities in order to fight against the oppression that is prolonged by the use of gendered and derogatory terms. Women are constantly mocked for what they are and what they aren’t. Instead of ridiculing women for having certain tastes, we should work towards a society in which women are comfortable to explore their interests. 

Last weekend, the Latin American Student Organization (LASO) hosted a Valentine’s Day Auction, during which, according to the student Digest, LASO would “auction off dates with more than 15 lovely Bowdoin students.” LASO is to be applauded for its effort to raise money for a very deserving organization, Safe Passage. Nevertheless, I think there is something inherently immoral about a date auction in general. This isn’t an attack specifically geared towards LASO. It is a critique of the date auction. 

What does the term “date” invoke? Most people associate a date with free time, a fun experience, an activity over which one has autonomy. Now think of the word “auction.” What comes to mind? Sadly, because of this country’s history, we are often reminded of phenomena such as slavery and prostitution when we hear the word “auction.”  We also think of objects. In an auction, the idea of obligation is involved. After an item is bought at an auction, it is required to be given to the highest bidder. Already, there is a contradiction in this term. A date that is sold in the context of a date auction is not really a date, because there is an element of obligation involved. There are definitely social pressures at play, as with all sorts of agreements. A date resulting from a date auction is more like a debt than a date. 

At a date auction, people are bid on in exchange for money. When you buy a certain amount of time with someone, you are effectively putting monetary value on them. In a date auction, you are not only paying for a date, you are payng for a specific person. If you were just paying for a date, then the auction would be anonymous. 

The different types of student employment trouble me. For many students at Bowdoin, working here is their first job experience. So when the College places an inexperienced student at a desk job so undemanding that they are able to study the entire time—what is Bowdoin teaching that student about work? We are—truthfully—still at a quite impressionable age; the jobs that students are placed in should attempt to reflect the reality of work life. 

There are students who work and there are those who do not work. For some students, real life budget problems creep into the bubble of campus life. And while it is false to assume that everyone who works is busier than everyone who doesn’t, and that everyone who works is low income and vice versa, it is true that those who do not work are separated from a reality of life. Here’s a shocker: when people ask you what you want to do for a living in the future, they are referring to your job, because you need to work to live. 

Students who do not work are privileged in not having to realize that reality until they graduate, and divisive privileges are not something we need more of at this school, or in this world in general. However, avoiding a job until graduation is not solely advantageous. Students who graduate from Bowdoin without having been employed are missing out on valuable work experience, time management improvement and development of essential life skills. There is not only a distinction between the unemployed and the employed at Bowdoin; there is also a distinction between students with busy, sometimes strenuous jobs and these with conspicuously relaxed jobs.