Opinion

A plea for self-compassion

The philosophy that Princetonians need is one of self-compassion; to love and accept themselves, flaws and all, and to recognize that failure is an inevitable and necessary aspect of the Princeton experience. The difference may seem trivial, but these are two fundamentally different approaches to building resilience. 

Letter to the Editor: Resisting Trump's latest action against DREAMers

The government says that it wants to eliminate the incentives for immigrants to come to the United States. By turning out the light of hope and opportunity that draws people to our shores, the administration puts all of us in the shadows. 

I’m wearing whatever I want to the Street (and you should too)

There is no one way to dress like a feminist. Prescribing that you own your sexuality is no more liberated than recommending that you keep your body covered up. 

The dangers of the Orange Bubble

We refer to Princeton as the Orange Bubble, but it’s more than that. A bubble implies transparency, allowing its occupants to view, if not inhabit, the outside world. But Princeton is more pervasive and concrete than just a bubble.

The dinner table: Food for thought

In putting down our devices, not only can we prove to our parents we aren’t addicted, but we can also forge meaningful ties and traditional familial values that are timeless.

Paying tithes to the Second Amendment

A letter to the Princeton community

In our words of disagreement, we can at least choose to exercise a little human empathy for our neighbors and fellow community members to maintain cordiality.

Sweet Dreams

un chapeau

Reverting Title IX is a mistake

After the recent ad hominem attacks I received in response to my last column, I have decided to write on something less controversial: Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos’ recent revocation of part of the Obama administration’s Title IX guidance. Oh, wait, sorry: I meant more controversial.

No place for moderates in the DACA debate

"I don't remember much about the time we crossed the border," says Johana Leanos '21, "but my sister tells me there were about six people in each trunk."

Sobriety saves lives

The underage drinking law isn't perfect. It could use some simple reforms, like the reduction of punishments in favor of treatment. But it has saved lives. A lower drinking age has deadly consequences for young Americans.

Un chapeau

The Five Stages of Sleep Deprivation

The NFL protests were not pro-civil rights, they were anti-Trump

Stalling for Time

What’s the deal with college rankings?

Letter to the Editor: On President Eisgruber's Response

I hope that you, as a constitutional scholar, remember that you are placing confidence in the same constitutional framework that today legalizes slavery or involuntary servitude of people as punishment for a crime and that has led the United States to currently have the highest rate of incarceration of any country in the world. These laws have been designed to protect you and me, as white people. I ask you to think of people before you think of laws.

Bicker: Its problems and how to fix them

Another Bicker season has come and gone, leaving some students overjoyed and some crushed. For some of those students, bickering was a way to increase their social status, to be part of a club that everyone wants to get into. During the year, the thought of Bicker nags constantly in the recesses of their minds. Students actively try to hang out with members of clubs, even at the expense of their old friend groups. Every social interaction with a member of a selective club is just that more important, that more consequential. But I’m willing to wager that most students who bickered, like me, were just looking to be able to eat with their friends.

Don't let others be lonely

 On a campus like Princeton's, where we are all so concerned with grades, internships, and jobs, friendships are yet another source of stress. Who to talk to? How to talk to them? At what event? These questions ran through my mind all of last year. Every time I sat at a meal table with upperclassmen, I silently hoped that they would talk to me. They usually didn’t — they probably didn’t even think to do so — but had they asked me how I was or what I wanted to major in or even what my name was, I wouldn’t have felt that I was sitting at a table for one, full of other people.