Eryn Rhodes

Eryn Rhodes

Pronouns: she/her/hers

Eryn is a second year planning to study Political and Social Thought. She is interested in legal history and identity representation within media. When she’s not boring her STEM friends by passionately summarizing her latest feminst theory reading, Eryn rides her horse for the UVA Eventing Team (and makes horse girl jokes at her own expense) and keeps up with both the Washington Capitals and Formula 1 Racing.

two rats on a scattered plate of snacks

It is not lost on me, the irony of reading The Idiot as my clock reads midnight: I have work in 8 hours. But I am captivated.

Image of a hand holding a microphone

Journalism: the “4th pillar” of government. The watchdogs of politics (and other social institutions), they expose the unethical decisions of those in power.

image of a rose

In today’s Third Wave feminist movement, there’s a growing idea that any “choice” a woman makes, with the intention of doing so to empower herself or the women around her, is inherently “feminist.” Such ideology is referred to as “choice feminism,” and isn’t it a relief?

Image of pink marble pattern

She tells her friend she needs air, and on the patio of this popular college bar, her heart races. Her lungs feel on fire. Her hands can’t stop shaking.

land masses against blue water

As the ocean wind blew over the marsh, Brennan began to regret leaving his umbrella at home.

the shape of texas outlines in white against red and purple background

“So where are you from?”

That’s a loaded question.

a woman sits in two different relaxed poses, on a purple background with musical notes around her

When I listen to the radio, I can’t help but sing along, even when I know I shouldn’t—like when I hear a catchy tune littered with sexualized imagery and glittering misogyny.

figure walking

I am quite fond of living on a stage. Curating my thoughts for consumption, I love seeing myself in the reactions of others.

But now the awkward interaction with a barista, the stress of an upcoming exam, the slow-motion neon lights in a crowded bar are mine alone, no longer processed and packaged stories to liven someone else’s day.