Story By: Lilly Patterson
What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word ‘burnout’? I’d venture you have a general concept of what it is, but perhaps you don’t believe it applies to you. College students, particularly at UVA, not only take in but also perpetuate the stereotype that as young 20-somethings, we can afford to be running on all cylinders at all times. Time and time again, whether we read it on the ubiquitous Stall Seat Journals or hear it from our variety of advisors, we’re told that along with school, family, friends, and extracurriculars, we need to ensure good sleep, nutrition, exercise, and perhaps read a novel or throw in a transcendental meditation session. (While remaining entirely casual about it, no doubt.) Despite these encouragements, it’s safe to say that most of us are lacking in more than one of these areas.
Here’s the kicker: I’d argue that students here are in a veritable burnout competition. Yep, that’s right. Think about the number of times someone has started a conversation with talking about how little sleep they got. 3 hours, you say? Suddenly, an interloper follows up with cries of their two-hour sleep. Another, perhaps, interjects with the home run: an all-nighter.
How about another example? You have two interviews this week, one with J.P. Morgan and the other with Capital One. But alas! Your classmate Cooper has six and three midterms.
Article By: Pinky Hossain
There’s a sort of formula to it, a series of decisions you have to make. First, decide whether or not you want to give the kid a traditional name. Say you’re thinking of naming your baby girl either Alex or Khadija. You have two routes from here.
- Choose the less traditional, Western option because you want to cushion your child from the malice of the world – Alex is safer than Khadija. There are three other Alexes in her third grade class, and the other children won’t struggle with her name. Substitute teachers won’t trip over her what to call her, and when it’s time for her to find jobs, her resume won’t invoke any stereotypical image in her employer’s head. Keep in mind that you will have to worry about whether not Alex will lose her culture. Her aunties and uncles might not be able to pronounce her name because the short “a” doesn’t come easily to their tongues. She might begin to act like an “Alex,” an American. Maybe she’ll stop speaking her native language and she’ll hang exclusively with Jacobs and Madisons and Emmas because she’ll identify so strongly with her name. Or maybe she’ll fight Alex and struggle to remind every Jacob, Madison, and Emma that she is part of a beautiful culture. You’ll wonder where her loyalties lie. Will Alex struggle to prove to her heritage that she hasn’t assimilated or will her allegiance fall towards the dominant culture?
- Choose the more traditional, Islamic route and your girl might have to correct her name every time someone says it. It’s a soft k not a hard k, she’ll say for the umpteenth time that week. Eventually she’ll stop because she’ll get tired of telling everyone their pronunciation of her name is too harsh. She’ll figure that jobs won’t hire her in a country that fears anything too Muslim. Maybe she’ll wish that her name was Jacob or Madison or Emma. She’ll tire of Khadija and shorten it altogether for convenience. She’ll go by “Kay,” belittling her parents, her background, and the prophet’s (pbuh) first wife.
Posted by Kimia Nikseresht on Nov 2, 2016 in Voices | 0 comments
Story By: Madeline Baker
On any given Saturday morning you can catch me at Bodo’s. I like to get up early and start the day off with a good old egg, avocado, and tomato on an everything wheat bagel. Judge me for my boring Bodo’s order if you must, but it never fails to satisfy me. On one particular Saturday morning I was standing in line, anxiously waiting for my turn to order, when I overheard a conversation between two guys enjoying their bagels. Based on the dialogue that followed, I assumed they were first years:
Guy A: “Well, do you think she is DTF? You know, like, down to fuck?”
Guy B: “I don’t know man, that’s, like, the most important thing you should know about a girl. Is she down to fuck or not?”
As I stood there listening to this conversation, I was both completely surprised and not surprised at all. Of course young, hormonal 19-year-old boys are going to have sex on their minds, even at 8:30am on a Saturday. What I really wondered, though, was how being “down to fuck” was the most valuable thing these guys thought you could know about a girl. Don’t get me wrong, sex between consenting adults is great, and by no means am I opposed to anyone’s sexual curiosity, but I’m not someone who wants to be known among my friends or peers as “the chick who is down to fuck.” Ask any of my friends, and they would tell you that being down to fuck is neither my best, nor my most redeeming quality. In fact, I could think of almost a million things I would rather people remember me for than being “DTF”. Of course, a million things won’t fit into one article, so I’ve compiled a list of eight things I’m down for that don’t involve fucking. These things are the most important and relevant to who I am.
Posted by Kimia Nikseresht on Oct 31, 2016 in Arts | 0 comments
Story By: Lily Patterson
For this installment I took to the streets (metaphorically speaking) to interview a few friends about their hair and the intrinsic and imposed identities those little bundles of keratin confer. Settle in and hear their stories.
Amanda Diamond, Fourth-Year
How does your hair play into your personal identity, both tangible and intangible?
I think my hair says a lot about me. I think it has defined me within my race, the larger community I am surrounded by, and is a tool I use to express myself.
Are you afraid to make drastic changes to your hair, or do you enjoy that sort of risk taking, or fall somewhere in between?
I’m open to hair changes; however, I still think I’m nervous about them. I have thought about getting dreadlocks in the past because it’s a hairstyle that is so bold, and also has a connection to my culture and identity. As an actor, however, I think I should be careful what I do with myself because I can be put into a proverbial ‘box’ quickly, speaking to the types of roles I’d be able to play. That’s just reflective of society and the way the general public uses hairstyles to draw conclusions and assume things about someone and their identity.
Posted by Kimia Nikseresht on Oct 19, 2016 in Arts | 0 comments
Story By: Taylor Lamb
Sometimes I feel as though I need to start referring to myself as a “blackwoman,” one word, so people will stop trying to separate those two parts of my identity. This is a sentiment that has been heavy on my mind these past few months since news of Nate Parker’s old rape case came into the forefront. It was upsetting to see another black male creative, who is making supposedly important media for black people, have a history of mistreating women. The news left me disappointed. However, the online reaction I saw after was what truly devastated me. My timeline was flooded with black men and women (but mostly men) saying the news was false, just another attempt to take the black man down; saying, “bitches lie about rape all the time.” Even worse were the ones who said things such as, “Maybe it’s true, but it doesn’t matter. It was 19 years ago. White men in the entertainment industry do this all the time and no one cares. This movie is more important than that. You need to support your fellow black man!”
Yes. I am black. But ain’t I a woman too?
According to a study conducted by the Black Women’s Blueprint, sixty percent of black girls are sexually assaulted at the hands of black men by the age of 18. That is 3 out of 5 black girls. That is clearly an issue occurring within the black community, deeply affecting black girls. Occurring at the hands of black men, and yet so many people ignore these facts. They say sexual assault is a “women’s issue,” and things such as police brutality are “black issues,” and no one seems to care about the black women standing at the intersection of both. This separation idea makes it easy for black men to brush off Nate Parker’s rape allegations, Bill Cosby’s rape allegations, R. Kelly’s rape allegations. They don’t see rape or sexual assault as something they need to fight against. And their sisters, cousins, mothers, friends– black girls they don’t know but express solidarity with on the Internet when it benefits them– are left to defend themselves, alone in the battle.