Say It Louder
Art by Kirsten Hemrich
September 25, 2018
My body wasn't always my worst enemy. Growing up, I didn't love my body, but I also didn't hate it. I was learning to understand it, as much as a young teenager can try to understand her body. In seventh grade, I started getting my period, and things were as they should be. My body was doing what it was supposed to be doing.
At some point, things changed.
Photo taken by Chandler Collins, originally published in the Cavalier Daily.
April 24, 2018
When I was in elementary school, I would anxiously wait for the letter that would decide my fate for the next 9 months: which teacher I would have. Throughout anything that could happen in a year, my teachers remained a constant and defining presence. In third grade, I had a brand new teacher, fresh out of college, who wore Abercrombie chinos and carried the same pattern of Vera Bradley lunchbox as me. I obsessed--I wanted to be just like
Art by Kirsten Hemrich
November 15, 2017
I’m not one to hide the fact that I’m on my period. “Feminine hygiene products,” in all their shrouded mystery, are really just a necessity. This isn’t always the mode of thinking. The start of menstruation is classically hailed as the day a girl becomes a woman; it is also the day she starts to hide this womanhood. From the moment we are labeled women, we learn that the supposed “essence” of womanhood is a taboo for everyday conversation. We discreetly slip tampons or pads into shoes
Art by Kirsten Hemrich
November 03, 2017
I played basketball throughout high school and middle school, and before that I played on travel teams and in intramural leagues, and before that I played in my cul de sac with my two older brothers and dad. Basketball was a big part of my identity, something that shaped me and helped me grow.
Unfortunately, the sad fact in my life is that boy’s basketball is
Art by Kirsten Hemrich
November 03, 2017
I’ll admit it: I bought a comfort colors Bicentennial shirt. I took one of those free clear bags with the "200" logo emblazoned on the side. I like the idea of being a part of something that’s been around for so long, in a place of education and discovery, with peers who are as interested in knowledge as I am. It’s easy to buy into the huge celebrations UVA is hosting. The Bicentennial launch ceremony was obviously a success, with the huge turnout, and the
September 27, 2017
At 3:30 in the morning, my head resting on the toilet, I decided to give the whole vegetarianism thing a try. Food poisoning is a bitch that tends to change how you see things--in this case, my juicy cheeseburger from the night before looked much less tantalizing on the way out than on the way in.
Finals were looming and I was soon going to be home, with the comfort of an oven and
September 27, 2017
We’ve all heard the stories about the dangerous frat parties. We know that one in five college women will experience sexual assault by the time she graduates. We’ve seen the stories about party rape and the use of alcohol in sexual assault. We’ve tried to make bystander intervention a part of the college culture, tried giving courses on sexual assault to fraternities, and
September 14, 2017
When neo-Nazis marched at UVA on August 11th, they didn’t come in the KKK head-to-toe white garb that history textbooks showcase in black and white. They didn’t come with cloaked heads and hidden identities. They came as themselves, wearing costumes of “normalcy,” which made them all the more frightening.
September 14, 2017
Why was anyone surprised?
Our university: adorned with shrines to the Confederacy, built on top of graves where slaves were buried after their backs were broken building its white columns. Where our president and deans speak of incredible diversity as they stand in front of the Confederate plaques at the Rotunda. Where we black students try to push back that little voice in our heads asking:
“Do they really mean it?”
“Why is OAAA confined to former slave houses
May 01, 2017
Well, the time has come. Classes are ending. Libraries are filling up. The days are getting longer and the hours spent asleep are getting shorter. This academic year is coming to an end, which means, The Black Column is coming to an end too. The end of an era.
You’re probably thinking, “An era, Taylor? Really? It’s only had 5 updates.” But I poured my heart and soul into those updates. In my attempt to write about blackness and black issues, I