Dear Tal Fortgang and the Princeton University Community: Welcome to the fun house world of American mainstream media’s obsession with caricatured versions of campus identity politics.
A recent piecepublished in Nassau Weekly detailed the lack of female officers in the eating clubs.
I sat to write this column, my final in this paper, and drew blank after blank. There is simultaneously so much to say about my time at the University and no good way of saying it.
“Rapists are here! Stop protecting them!” There were a lot of words written on The Surface, an interactive art project for class VIS 439: Art as Interaction where students could write anything on four panels over the past few weeks, but few phrases lasted very long before the next person came along and painted over them.
It’s surprisingly easy nottobe a jerk. All it takes is a shred of self-consciousness and a degree of shame and humility.
Editor’s note: The author of this column was granted anonymity due to the intensely personal nature of the events described. Preface: The brave columnist who wrote on April 30 inspired me to be courageous.
Around the time when sophomores were supposed to begin declaring their majors, I was talking to a female student at dinner about a friend of mine who was seriously considering Classics as his department of choice.
“You look terrible! How much sleep did you get last night?” This is a weird question to entertain for two reasons.
On April 29, the White House Task Force to Protect Students From Sexual Assault released its inaugural report on sexual assault on college campuses.
“So what exactly did you do on your year off?” I always pause before answering this question.
The beginning and end of the academic year bring one of Princeton’s most cherished traditions: the biannual Lawnparties concert.
In an April 14 article from The Atlantic, Katty Kay and Claire Shipman explored the well documented “confidencegap” between men and women.
Editor’s note: The author of this column was granted anonymity due to the intensely personal nature of the events described. I never intended to write an op-ed or share my story of sexual assault.
At dinner parties, family gatherings, and impromptu meetings with old teachers, there are always the standard questions.
The end of the academic year is a beautiful and terrible time. I woke up the other day, dreading the load of work and studying I have to accomplish by May 22.
