Cydni Holloway, Professor Carol Anderson, and Chelby Sterling at Essence of Emory. April 2017. (from left to right)
Chelby Sterling and Professor Carol Anderson at MMUF Informational. September 2017. (from left to right)
“Do the thing that feeds your soul.” These are the words that sealed the deal on my matriculation to Emory University. The Essence of Emory program allowed black and latino accepted students to experience Emory before committing. This is where I met Professor Carol Anderson, Charles Howard Candler Professor, Chair of African American Studies, MMUF Coordinator, Author of multiple award winning books, and so much more. She advised my current roommate and I in so many aspects of life in the small amount of time we spent with her. We both mounted our decision to choose Emory over schools like Johns Hopkins, Vanderbilt, and Northwestern on words of wisdom from Professor Carol Anderson.
Carol Anderson came back into my life when I received an email from her regarding a nomination for the MMUF or Mellon Mays Undergraduate Fellowship Program. I was ecstatic, because that meant there was a possibility that I could receive funding for research in the humanities. The meeting was from 6:00 PM to 8:30 PM Thursday evening, so I rushed from my National Politics class that ended at 6:45 to Candler Library 207. When I walked in, Professor Anderson’s face lit up! I could not believe she had remembered me. She continued her presentation on MMUF and eventually opened the floor up for discussion and questions. When the initial rush of questions died down, she looked to me and mentioned to the room that I was an “essence baby” in April and kept saying how glad she was that I chose Emory.
The Mellon Mays Undergraduate Fellowship is a fellowship program for minority students that aims to reduce the under-representation on the faculties of colleges and universities throughout the country. It acts as a support system for minority students who plan to eventually pursue a Ph.D in core fields in the arts and science and join academia. The MMUF program has 48 American colleges and universities , 39 UNCF member institutions, and 3 South African universities on its roster. The program funds approved undergraduate research and GRE prep. There’s also an integral mentorship program and partnership program. People eligible to apply are rising seniors with a minimum GPA of 3.2, but if you are interested contact one of the three program coordinators as soon as possible.
Growing up, I always felt stuck between two worlds. My family has always observed Jewish rituals and commandments, and therefore, belonged to a traditional congregation. However, we also identify with the more modern Jewish community’s ideology and warmth, where observance is often less common. While I was partially drawn to Emory because of its active and vibrant Jewish life, I did not consider that, despite the large number of Jews, the observant population would be quite limited.
One of the most central aspects of Jewish observance is the Sabbath, or Shabbat. Friday to Saturday evening marks the Jewish day of rest. For this period of twenty-five hours, acts of creation and work, such as the use of electricity, writing, and driving, are prohibited. Disengaging from these activities can be isolating, and therefore, having a strong community to celebrate Shabbat with is integral to the experience. As my first Shabbat at college approached, I grew concerned about how I would sustain my observance without a community to support me.
I began my Shabbat by attending Hillel, the Foundation for Jewish Campus Life that hosts weekly Shabbat dinner and prayers. With tunes reminiscent of my summer camp and a traditional Friday night meal, this experience certainly gave me the familiar sense of community that I was striving to find. However, as I arrived at my dorm, I immediately returned to my apprehensive state. Twenty-four hours of Shabbat still remained, and I did not know who I would spend them with when everyone was busy binging on Netflix, doing homework, or exploring Atlanta while I was restricted to reading in my bed.
I frantically called my parents, willing to use my phone on Shabbat if it meant gaining some insights and support. “Be easy on yourself,” they told me, and this was not the first time I needed this reminder. “This is a period of adjustment, and you can only do what feels manageable. Give yourself time to find an arrangement that you feel comfortable with.” Until then, they encouraged me to strive to maintain the spirit of the day, even if I found it unsustainable to adhere to all of the legalities.
Frantically on the phone with my parents.
As my parents spoke, I began engaging in an internal dialogue about my thoughts on the matter. They had been so understanding, but was their approach too generous? I had been observing Shabbat my whole life, and I let it go so easily. Too easily? My failure to practice Shabbat alone must indicate a lack of commitment to Judaism, I judged. And what will my friends and teachers – who invested so much and were so confident in my religious connection – think about this sudden development? Even though I am using my phone, should I resist opening the Facebook app, so my friends do not see that I am active? No matter how much justification I could offer for my personal choices, I could not help feeling ashamed, blaming myself for taking the easy way out, even as I repeated the motto “be easy on yourself” in my head. The dialogue persisted, and I felt little relief.
Internal dialogue about my approach to Shabbat.
Even though I did not immediately arrive at a conclusion that I had full confidence in, there was nothing to do but compromise. I spent my day resting, taking a tranquil walk at Lullwater Preserve, and joining a community for a traditional Shabbat lunch. I also settled for a little Netflix watching. Of course, there were still holes in my day, but I felt fairly positive about my approach, despite its limitations.
My experience of this single day spoke to a larger truth about the college transition. I cannot expect it to be effortless, and there will be unforeseen challenges. It will take time to adjust and make choices I feel comfortable with as I gain independence. Sometimes I miss the comfort of spending Shabbat at home, but I know that as I find a way to sustain this practice in college, I will develop true ownership over it, and that will be incredibly meaningful. Isn’t that what college is about?
Finally,” I thought “No more class. I can just relax before I have to drag myself to work.” Like any other college student, I had been anticipating the weekend. No more class, no more lectures, just me, my music, and my bed. Swiftly, I jumped onto my lofted bed, propped open my laptop and turned on Daniel Caesar. Next, I quickly pulled my throw blanket over me. Under my blanket, I closed my eyes and dissolved all my thoughts so I could focus on the music.
“What? Uh huh… yeah sure,” Ashleigh, my roommate, uttered into her phone as she slipped into the room.
The girls I went on the trip with
With each word she spoke, my barrier of placidity slowly dissolved until only I laid there desperately trying to regain my tranquility. Lying there made me think of the good ole days when I had my own room and could keep it as peaceful as I desired. I missed being nearly the only person with authority over what happened in my space. After a few minutes, she finally turned and looked at me. “Hey, did you want to go to the beach after you come back from work today? T’ambra’s boss gave her tickets for a club’s anniversary so we can go there on Saturday night too. I didn’t know if you wanted to come or not, but I am going to go,” Ashleigh questioned. A trip sounded amusing, and I needed more fun in my life. Since arriving, I had found myself complaining about not experiencing much and only staying in my room. Now was my chance to have a fun new experience. Quickly, I tried to think of all the reasons why I should not go. Homework came to mind, as well as sleep and the fact that I loathe beaches, but I could not really think of anything else. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Ashleigh offered.
“No, I want to. It’s not like I have anything better to do,” I admitted.
“Okay, great. We will leave when you come back from work” Ashleigh declared. As Ashleigh returned to her phone conversation I glanced at the time. Unfortunately, I had to leave for work. I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed and set out to the Telefund. Once I returned from work, I found Ashleigh packing for the trip and I began to pack too.
“Hey, did you want to text your mom that we were going to Florida?” Ashleigh asked. I stared at her baffled. Florida? I assumed we would be in another town in Georgia. “Oh, sorry. I keep forgetting you are not from here. Yeah, the beach is in Florida.” Ashleigh stated. Telling my mom sounded like the right thing to do, but I had a strong feeling that she would not approve. I could already see how the conversation would go.
Seashells I found
“Hey, mom. Can I go on a road trip to another state in a car full of strangers so I can go to the club tomorrow?”.
“Ha, oh lord Faith. Why would you want to do that? You have homework you should be doing. You do not know these people or their parents and neither do I. You have no phone. What if someone is trying to kill you? How are you going to call me? Are there going to be boys? And why do you want to go to the club? Remember Jesus and school come first,” my mom would blurt with her Congolese accent.
“So…I cant go?”.
“I don’t have time for this faith, tsk” she would retort before hanging up on me. I made a rational decision; my mom did not need to know.
“No, my mom’s probably really busy. I will just email her later,” I affirmed to Ashleighy. Part of my reasoning behind leaving the state for college was that I would have more autonomy. I wanted to make decisions for myself without the influence of my mom, and that is exactly what I did. After we finished packing we left the Plex to meet Ashleigh’s friends downstairs.
Once we finally squished our bags into the back of the tiny white Honda Accord, we disembarked on our journey. Three other people accompanied us on our trip: T’ambra, Ashleigh’s friend from high school, Jay, T’ambra’s godsister, and Trey, T’ambra’s younger brother. Previously I had met T’ambra, but I did not know anyone else in the car.
The car we went in
“You’re quiet Faith” Jay observed, “are we to ratchet for you?” They were not too ratchet for me, I just did not know them and had never been in this environment before. They seemed like genuinely nice people, but I could not relate to them. While I do admit that I have been in unusual situations before, they were not like the ones in what they described as their ratchet small town. Especially since I spent most of my life in towns with mostly upper-middle-class conservative Christians. Instead of talking, I laughed along at their stories and listened to the mix of gospel and hip-hop music blasting from the car stereo.
After five long hours squished in the tiny car, we arrived in Panama City. Immediately after we checked into the hotel, we went to Walmart to buy food.
Our food haul from Walmart
We purchased food that we never ended up cooking and eventually returned. Once we returned to the hotel, we spent the rest of the night having our own dance party until we all started falling asleep.
The next day, Ashleigh’s dad, who was in Destin, invited us to eat dinner with him and his family to celebrate Ashleigh’s little sister Aubrey’s birthday. Before we went to dinner, we decided to go to the mall. On the way there, I got a better view of the city. Panama City reminded me of Galveston, Texas.
Another view of the beach
The shops and the pier reminded me of all the cute shops and Pleasure Pier in Galveston. In fact, I even saw a Whataburger, a Texas fast food restaurant, and I nearly screamed. I gladly embraced the feeling of nostalgia and let my memories of home slowly drift into my head. Nights spent on the beach with my friends and my drill team came first. This reminded me of Friday night lights in the stadium. I smiled at the thought of doing my drill team officer strut and doing high kicks on the field. Whataburger was always the move after games and I could not help thinking of all the nights I spent there after games and when I was an employee. I never really appreciated those moments back in high school. Accustomed to them, they just seemed like a part of life, and once they were taken away I appreciated them more.
Later that day, we arrived at the seafood restaurant Ashleigh’s family chose for dinner. Seeing the adorable little kids run around immediately made me think of my own little sister. Even though she drove me insane I still missed her. When Ashleigh’s sister ran to hug her, it reminded me of all the days I came home to find my sister, who was two at the time, running to the door eager to see me and ready for my embrace. Following dinner, we rushed back to the hotel to get ready to go to the club.
At the club, I did not like most of the songs the DJ played. In addition to all the sweat dripping off people’s backs, vomit appeared on the floor in corner of the club. To make matters worse, some creepy Jamaican guy would not stop harassing Jay. Despite this, I am glad I went because I had wanted to experience what it was like to go to a club. After an hour, we decided to leave.
On Sunday morning, we finally made it to the beach.
Where we left our stuff on the beach
Unlike Galveston beach, this beach had blue water. Seagulls and butterfly flew around and seashells covered the sand. Unfortunately, trash also covered the sand. Dirty diapers, cigarette butts, and bottle caps were among my findings.
Trash I found on the beach
Despite the unsettling presence of trash, I did enjoy the beach. At one point a little girl swam up to us and asked if we had seen any mermaids. Before I could respond, her sister blurted, “mermaids aren’t real, stupid”. Although I am not a fan of beaches, I enjoyed taking the time to relax, something I was still struggling to do in my first few weeks of school.
Eventually, we had to leave so that I would get back to school in time for work.
“Only an hour and thirty minutes left,” T’ambra announced. This would leave me nearly two hours before I had to report to work. Satisfied, I stopped worrying.
“Clink, clink, clink,” screamed the car. Next one of the wheels started to wobble. We had to pull over.
“Really God? Not cool man, we were almost there,” I protested. On the outside, however, I maintained a sanguine façade. Unfortunately, we did not have a way to get off the road quickly. Internally, I prayed that someone would come help us so I could still make it to work. Suddenly an RV pulled up. “Finally! We are saved!” I thought. I thought wrong. It turns out the RV had a similar issue. After waiting for an hour, a man pulled up to help us. Once again, I was deceived. Sadly, the serviceman could not help us. As if I did not already have enough problems, my own body turned against me and kept complaining that it had to pee. Since we had exhausted all our options, we decided to wait for T’ambra’s parents to pick us up. While we waited for T’ambra’s parents to rescue us, we decide that we should try to get off the highway.
The tire from the car
Shortly after we left the highway, we spotted a gas station. To our dismay, the gas station was no longer in service. Trey decided to change the messed-up tire. As soon as he finished, he took off in the car without us. Fortunately, after a nice phone call from his parents, he returned. Once he returned, we decided that we should try to get back to Emory. After turning on some gospel music, we took off hoping that we would not die.
A boarded up gas pump
Thankfully we made it back to school safely. Even though I missed work and had to pee behind the old gas station, I am glad I went on the trip. Although the trip did not end the way I had hoped, I still had a wonderful time. The trip made me more appreciative of what I left behind in Texas: a loving family and many wonderful experiences that I cannot find anywhere else. The whole trip made me realize that to some extent I did miss my family, friends and my life in high school. Despite some setbacks, I am glad that I made the decision to go on my own. As I stated previously, my purpose for leaving the state for school was to be more self-reliant. While I do not think it is a problem to get advice from my mom, I think it is time that I learn to do things with as little help from her as possible. Too often I find myself stopping myself from doing things because my mom would not like them. The problem with that is that my mother and I are very different and some things she sees unnecessary are things I enjoy doing.
Me covered in sand on the beach
This whole process forced me to think harder about what I expect to get out of my college experience and how I am going to go about doing it. Hopefully, more opportunities for me to venture outside of the Emory bubble will surprise me soon.
You can find Emory’s Women’s Volleyball Schedule by clicking on the picture
This past Saturday, the Emory Women’s Volleyball team had an explosive 3-0 victory over Juniata at the Women’s Volleyball East/West Challenge. Set one was a hard fought and could have been anyone’s game, but the Emory Eagles came out on top in a close 27-25 victory. Emory had strong starts in both sets two and three and they had strong wins being 25-20 and 25-18 respectively. This blow-out brought Emory, which is ranked Number 4 in the NCAA Division III category, to an 8-1 win/loss record.
With all that being said, I know nothing about volleyball and a lot of other sports. During the game, and the writing of this blog post, I was constantly looking up rules and terminology because this was probably the first ever volleyball game I went to. As someone not familiar with the sport, it was a little
Emory Women’s Volleyball Team tries to save the ball
off-putting being surrounded by what seems to be mostly family and friends of the players. I had to look around to figure out when to clap and what was going on. In terms of the audience, it’s definitely a different vibe at a regular volleyball game compared to one that can be used for PACE requirements. The crowd was relatively small and was formed of mostly older people. Either way, Emory’s volleyball team loved every minute of it: doing different dances and cheers every time they scored, getting into huddles after every point for advice and support, and overall showing good sportsmanship.
Both teams huddling up after a point was scored
I will say that I most likely won’t be attending many more volleyball games in the future because I still don’t fully understand the game and it’s not that interesting to me. However, I highly encourage everyone to go to at least one sporting event over their undergraduate career. If, like me, you’re not a sports person, then it won’t be a highlight of your weekend or college experience but it’s still something to do and it feels nice to show that, despite popular belief, Emory does have some school spirit.
Both teams congratulating each other on their hard work
After 45 minutes of wandering around campus, asking if anyone knew where some “FPF” lecture would be, I ended up somehow stumbling into the right building. Finally, I was in Bowden hall at around 4:00 PM, but this wasn’t any type of lecture hall I’d ever been to, it was just a series of classrooms. After another 10 minutes, I finally found my way to the right one, Bowden 216.
Unpacking the drinks and snacks
As I enter and take a seat at one of the outer chairs, I see a few people unloading a few 12 packs of Pabst Blue Ribbon bear beer along with some crackers, raisins, grapes, bread, chips, cheese and some wine. I began to wonder whether I was in the right place or not. However, looking up at the board in the center of the room, I saw in chalk writing “Canon Fodder: Exploring the Challenges of Decolonization and Canon Reform”
As I took my seat, one of the graduate students asked: ” Are you here from Lauren?” to which I said, “No, I’m just an undergraduate student here at Emory University, I’m here for a blog post for Professor Highsmith’s expository class”. At least a few people in the room laughed. At first, I didn’t understand why, but then it clicked Lauren=Professor Highsmith.
The topic up on the board
Before we begin with the lecture, let me introduce what this post is about. According to their website, the FPF, which stands for Friday Philosophy Forum, “facilitates philosophical research, discussion, and collaboration among Emory graduate students in philosophy and other disciplines.” So essentially, they provide graduate students to share current research and paper drafts for the purpose of provoking dialogue and eliciting feedback that might strengthen works intended for future publication. All this is also a part of a bigger organization called The Graduate Philosophy Society at Emory (GPSE) which is “the body for representation and self-organizing of the graduate students in the department of philosophy.”
Some of the members of the forum
I realized soon that this wouldn’t be a lecture, it would actually be just a weak presentation of the very first draft of a paper regarding diversity in philosophy. Andrea, one of the presenters soon pulled up her partner from Canada, Emily, on FaceTime so that they could begin their presentation. “We realize that we are going to say some stupid things here, but please give us as much feedback as you can” were the first words uttered by both partners. Before beginning on the actual reading out loud of their draft, they pointed out that it would only take a maximum of 25 minutes.
Emily on FaceTime as well as other members of the forum
What follows is essentially a direct flow of the presentation as it went: Andrea provided the introduction of the paper saying that Philosophy has a serious problem with diversity and that various different proposals had to be put in place to change that fact. Both Emily and Andrea, all throughout the paper would mention about 10-15 times that a major factor of change would be a transformation of the syllabus for philosophy as well as the diversification of the list of philosophers. They said that more indigenous philosophers have to be included in the syllabi all around the world. Emily took over right after saying that people fear change but that Philosophers having different perspectives is what the world needs. She said that white male supremacy had completely dominated Philosophy for years, starting from the belief that white male Greeks were the first Philosophers. After providing no evidence whatsoever to back it up, they said that just was not true and that it was only designed to amplify white supremacy. Emily said philosophy is just one tool they love that could be used for diversification, others included the recognition of indigenous sovereignty over lands, decolonizing mines, nations, and schools. That’s where I got lost, I no longer knew what the paper was about, was it about decolonization? Diversification of Philosophers? White male supremacy?. They both then began to talk about how it was wrong of white people to go down to local tribes in Hawaii trying to help them out because the only thing that did was force them to assimilate to white culture.
After providing little to no evidence to any of their claims, and throwing around quite a few authors, philosophers and hard philosophical terms with little to no context, they were finally done. It was now time for questions.
I realized that I wasn’t the only one confused by their paper when I only saw 5 hands fly up for questions with over 17 members of the forum. When asked about the some of the topics within their paper such as decolonization and the diversification of the syllabus as well as the evidence surrounding their claims, their answers were very subpar. They were either unable to answer some questions or were only able to answer them partially. Leaving me as well as the forum very underwhelmed.
Essentially, after an hour and thirty minutes of utter and pure confusion on my part, it was finally over, I got up and left as soon as I could. Since I’d recorded the whole presentation I gave it another listen in my room hoping to get something more out of it. Nothing.
Besides touching base on so many things with little to no evidence to support their claims, the overall first draft was pretty much torn apart by the members of the forum, the facetime called ended by Emily saying again that they knew many stupid things would be said but that was the point, to receive feedback and do it better the next time. Apart from being a completely un-engaging and very uncomfortable experience for me, both Andrea and Emily left with just what they needed, some awesome feedback to make their paper better and actually presentable. Oh, and I got to see some pretty sweet beards on 2 members of the forum and that’s always a plus.
Source:
Graduate Philosophy Society at Emory, scholarblogs.emory.edu/gpse/. Accessed 18 Sept. 2017.
This past Sunday, we decided to venture into the world of sports here at Emory. As we stepped onto the scorching hot metal bleachers, we initially noticed spectators holding sun umbrellas with iced cold drinks in-hand to cool down. We, on the other hand, were suffering tremendously. As we wiped rivulets of sweat off our dripping faces, we wondered: “How can these players be compensating so well in this heat?!” Both the Emory Soccer team, along with Birmingham-Southern College’s team, were dressed in their thick T-shirts, long shorts, and high knee socks – the sweat and pressure was on for these women. Yet, as temperatures had risen, our team only progressed more, persevering through the treacherous heat. Throughout the first half of the game, we began to recognize the mutual dedication between not only the players, but the fans watching the game as well. The juxtaposition between the players, field, and their communicative strategies was quite harmonious. During half-time, we decided to interview some fans of the team, in order to gain insight on their personal dedication for coming out to watch.
Sun umbrellas: a necessity
We commenced our interviews by asking a woman in-line at the vending machine of her reasoning for attending the game. We initially explained our blog post idea, as “trying to gain insight on players and spectators dedication to the game.” She seemed intrigued, and gladly obliged to assist us.
“Are you a parent here?” We began asking.
“Yes,” she replied. “I’m visiting my daughter this weekend, and it’s really cool to see her play in person. We usually have to watch her games on the computer, since we’re from Chicago. I’ve been watching her games ever since she was five – because that’s just what parents do!”
Susie, mother of a third-year student here at Emory, seemed to be tremendously committed to her daughter’s soccer, even throughout her duration of college. After speaking with her, we watched in the stands how she called out and cheered for her daughter immensely. It was clear how as a mother, she deems her daughter’s sports career to be of utmost importance. She exuded an intrinsic motivation to come out and support her kin, just as any loved one should.
We then noticed a twenty-something year old woman purchasing an iced cold water bottle. Again, introducing our idea, we started off by asking what her purpose for attending this game was. After we introduced ourselves, Jessie, amidst her mother Nancy, began to explain her prior experience with the sport:
“I actually played for the Women’s Soccer team at BSC all throughout college,” said Jessie. “I’m from Kennesaw and now live in Augusta, so I decided to come out and watch.”
“How did you feel your dedication to the sport interfered with your studies?” We then asked.
“I mean, D3 is a good balance between academics and sports,” she started, “but we usually had practice every day though – around 2 ½ hours. If you were just a runner, you’d only have to practice 1 ½ hours, the length of a game. We also played Emory every season… and I actually tore my ACL playing here. It’s my second year out of school and I try to watch the games every chance I get.”
As we stepped away from Jessie and her mother, we reminisced upon each individual’s similar yet contrasting motivation for being here: While we show a desire to gain perspective, others come to support their loved ones, while most come to give encouragement for their past teammates.
Feels like 90°F
After stepping inside to cool off, we entered the second half of the game. Just a few minutes in, our focus began to wander away from the soccer players to the conversations of the zealous relatives who sat behind.
“Go DeDe!” One man proclaimed as his daughter’s teammate finally scored a goal. “SHOOT!” He yelled out. “As much as she’s been working – she deserved that one [shot]. If she was old enough I’d buy her a drink!”
The comment elicited bountiful laughter from those nearby, and immediately our eyes fell upon the soccer player, DeDe, who continued to play with unabating enthusiasm despite the unrelenting Georgia heat. Perseverance was evident among all the lady Eagle soccer players, which got us thinking about how interconnectivity between dedication and perseverance applies to life here at Emory.
Just as injuries and weather conditions can serve as obstacles in a soccer game, the road to achieving our aspirations may lead to many hardships. Having a set goal in mind that one is passionate about makes obstructions that arise in our paths worthwhile, and the gratification received from achieving our dreams tenfold.
It would be hard to imagine the nosebleeds and torn ACLs these soccer players endure are to no avail. Even amidst the most crucial moments of the game, it was clear that women were willing to sacrifice themselves for the benefit of their team. Although such selfless and diligent behavior may put players at risk physically, having their family and friends there to provide support has ultimately assisted their drive to win.
Throughout the duration of the second half, we interviewed Kettly, a mother sitting next to us in the stands:
“Have you been a fan of the team for a while?” We asked.
She began by telling us: “I’ve been a fan of the team since my daughter, a junior, joined [the team] in her freshman year.”
We followed up with asking if she was from around here, and how often she has attended the games: “We are from Tampa,” Kettly followed up, “which is a seven hour drive away. I try to make it to as many home games as I can.”
“Has the team been doing well so far?” We concluded.
“A couple of seniors graduated from the team last year,” said Kettly, “and we have lost a few games. But the team has been doing well, and it is always good to watch.”
About five minutes after we interviewed Kettly, her daughter, Danielle, scored the fourth goal in what eventually lead to a 5-0 demolishment of BSC. We made sure to congratulate Danielle after the game. On the walk back to our respective dorms, we reflected upon the underlying theme that paralleled the lives of Emory athletes and students not committed to sports.
Emory wins 5-0
Whether you are a spectator or player, individuals congruently share some form of intrinsic motivation throughout their lives. As many students of Emory arrive with a drive to succeed academically, a vast majority of student athletes are forced to give up the development of other aspects of their lives. How much are you willing to sacrifice to achieve your goals? ⚽️
As the Uber driver, Secunda, pulled up in front of Complex Hall to take my friends and I to explore Underground Atlanta, I had no idea what to expect. Since I had only lived in Atlanta for less than a month, I had never heard of Underground Atlanta or known where it was located. So of course, I searched for it on Google to see what I was getting into, only to find a Wikipedia article that said, “Underground Atlanta was a shopping and entertainment district in the Five Points neighborhood of downtown Atlanta, Georgia, United States, near the Five Points MARTA station.” Cool, I thought to myself, shopping and entertainment sounds fun. But amidst my excitement, my brain seemed to scan right over the first part: “Underground Atlanta was a shopping and entertainment district…” However, hopping into Secunda’s Dodge Journey, I was unaware of this detail, and we were on our way to Underground Atlanta.
My friends and I were talking and laughing the whole way there, excited to be off campus for the first time all week. Once we reached about the halfway mark of the ride, I see the Uber driver’s eyes look at me through the rearview mirror.
“You’re not trying to go to Underground Atlanta are you?”
Hesitantly, I nodded and told her yes.
“Underground Atlanta has been closed for over a month now.”
Not saying anything, my friends and I looked at each other confused. Apparently, UA was sold to a new owner and closed on August 13th of this year for construction. The sale announcement was released in 2014 for revitalization, and the developer plans to provide more retail options and above ground apartments.
Secunda thought UA was in desperate need of renovations because it was becoming a bit of an unsafe area. She offered to take us to a similar place, and said she would show us a few different options. So, the woman who began as our Uber driver soon became our tour guide.
She first took us to Little Five Points, where there were many different restaurants, boutiques, and tattoo parlors. With a bit of a more grungy and vintage vibe, the little town radiated spunk. While the area looked fun, we were on the lookout for more shopping options. Secunda said she would take us to Atlantic Station, and she said she thought we would really like it.
Little Five Points is a retail center with a unique and edgy twist. Photo courtesy of www.atlanta.net
Atlantic Station, a retail and living neighborhood on the northwestern edge of Midtown Atlanta, began to provide retail options in 2005, and since then has been home to a wide variety of shops and restaurants. As we pulled in, I was impressed with its urbanity and freshness.
Atlantic Station’s movie theater, Regal Cinemas 16A view from the middle of Atlantic Station.
Secunda dropped us off right in front of the movie theater, which seemed to be right in the heart of the shopping center. I wasn’t sure whether it was because it was 1:30 on a Saturday or because the popular music festival Music Midtown was happening at the very same time, but it wasn’t the least bit crowded. We looked around at our options, and I jumped when I saw my most favorite dessert place in the world, Great American Cookies. After everyone said they could go for a cookie, we headed into the store.
My iced cookie cake and Diet Coke at Great American Cookies.
I ordered my usual: a slice of cookie cake with icing and a Diet Coke. It tasted incredible, just like it does at home. We finished eating, and decided on our first shopping stop: Old Navy, which was right across the street.
The Old Navy in Atlantic Station was very big and held lots of options.
Although I didn’t find anything I needed in Old Navy, there were so many options at great prices for college students. From workout clothes to casual clothes to wear to class, the store was great for snagging a few extra clothing items. My friends made their purchases, and we moved on to H&M.
H&M had a similar concept: affordable prices, but the clothes were more suitable for going out to dinner or for a night downtown. I had already left campus more than I thought I would in college, so I knew I would need a couple of new outfits. I tried on four shirts, and ended up buying two. As a college student on a budget, I scored with those two shirts.
Dillard’s was the biggest store that we saw in all of Atlantic Station, occupying almost its own block of the shopping center.Dillard’s had separate floors for women’s clothing, men’s clothing, shoes, and other departments.
Our final stop was Dillard’s, if you don’t count each department as its own stop. The store was huge, with each floor dedicated to its own section–women’s clothing, men’s clothing, kid’s, shoes, and more. Obviously, we headed straight for the women’s clothing. As I had expected, the options there were a bit more pricey than desired. I found piles of clothes that I loved, but I knew I had to think logically. I ended up buying two shirts that were on sale. Then, I swore myself off of shopping for the rest of the month.
After browsing through the shoe department and resisting the urge to try anything on, we decided it was time to head back to campus and get some homework done.
Overall, I enjoyed Atlantic Station a lot because of its cleanliness, variety, and small crowds. I felt as if I was in one of my nicer hometown shopping centers, as the area didn’t give off any sense of tourism. Everyone we passed seemed as if they were locals, so we tried our best to blend in. Unfortunately, since we came at 1:30 and left at 3:30, we didn’t get a chance to try any of the restaurants that were scattered around the area. From California Pizza Kitchen to Rosa Mexicano, all types of food were provided. My friends and I agreed that we would be returning for dinner and a movie one night within the coming weeks.
However, if I were to leave campus solely for the purpose of shopping, Atlantic Station wouldn’t be my first choice, simply because other shopping centers, such as Lenox Mall, are the same distance away and have more options. For dinner, light shopping, and a movie though, Atlantic Station couldn’t be a better destination.
My friends and me after our fun excursion to Atlantic Station.
Wikipedia contributors. “Underground Atlanta.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 8 Aug. 2017. Web. 17 Sep. 2017
Emory University is located in Atlanta, GA and has a created a reputation for itself of being a top tier progressive institution. Sometimes referred to as the ivy league of the South, it often draws a comparison to the Ivy Leagues or other top universities such as Duke or Georgetown. Current students of The Laney Graduate School at Emory, however, have taken it upon themselves to draw those comparisons themselves in the past year. According to an article by The Nation, graduate students across the country are experiencing “plummeting wages, meager health care benefits and overwhelming workloads,” and as a result have launched campaigns to unionize.
Laney Graduate School
I recently sat in on a meeting for the Emory Graduate Union Organizing Committee. I was both shocked and puzzled listening in on their interactions.
As I walked into the meeting, I was drenched in sweat from my track practice just minutes beforehand, and met with eight graduate students staring at me; the situation was intimidating, to say the least. The meeting began to unfold and I slowly was introduced to their strategies for unionizing and their (many) grievances with the University. They explained that their ultimate goal was to improve the situation for all graduate students and felt as though creating a union was the only logical course of action, pointing to Yale and Duke as examples of success. One graduate student even said that it was only fair that they are allowed to unionize since all the other employees at Emory have one. This is not true, however, as only the shuttle service drivers have successfully unionized at Emory. As the conversation moved more toward the logistics of unionization, they began to discuss how Emory hired a multi million legal unions busting law firm, which one student described as “cynical” and “hypocritical” since the University rather pays for that than giving the graduate students better healthcare. When speaking about their social media presence it was honestly tragic to listen to, because it was virtually nonexistent. The group of students in their mid-twenties and early thirties only had a Facebook page to promote their movement and none of them knew how to use Twitter, revealing to me their understanding of social media was Rudimental at best.
Emory Shuttle Services
The grievances expressed by this group of eight are entirely valid; if they feel as though Emory has mistreated them in any way, then they have the right to voice those grievances and work towards a solution. The fact is though, this is a group of eight who wish to speak on behalf of all graduate students. Towards the end of the meeting they held a vote to decide the name of the unionization movement, but by that time three people had already left, leaving only five people to vote. According to the Laney Graduate School site, there were 1,758 degree-seeking students during the 2016 fall semester, which means that 0.004% of the graduate student population was speaking for the entirety of it. In my humble opinion that is insane. After the end of the meeting I inquired whether these meetings were open to all graduate students, and they told me the meetings were. Could this mean that creating a union is not a top priority to a large number of students? Unionizing is a tricky process of back and forth negotiations, and some students may not wish to bite to start waves with the University.
The Black Studies Collective meets on select Fridays in Candler Library Room 120. More information can be found on their OrgSync Page
After getting off work late, I rushed over Candler Library expecting to be that one person who awkwardly walks in ten minutes late. To my surprise, I walked into a warm environment discussing SZA and Bryson Tiller. I’m greeted by the 2017-2018 President of the Black Studies Collective (BSC), Taryn Jordan, and encouraged to grab a plate. Settling down while we watched music videos for Rake it Up and Bodak Yellow, I knew that this wouldn’t be a traditional general body meeting. The official meeting started with introductions, a brief history of the BSC, and an overview of the BSC.
The Black Studies Collective originally was formed as the African-American
The logo of the Black Studies Collective
Studies Collective (AASC). The AASC was defunded a few years ago, but later revived and transformed into the BSC. Now, the BSC serves a place for many graduate students interested meet, discuss blackness and current events regarding blackness, read works of black theory, and even go out and watch films/tv about blackness. Despite the informality of meetings, the BSC thinks critically about blackness and questions the parameters around blackness. An example of this comes from one of their inside jokes “I don’t know, Paris Jackson.” This arose from their conversation on Paris Jackson considering herself black despite her skin color and other physical features. This brings up the idea that there’s more to blackness that skin tone, but also experiences and other factors. The informality of the meetings allows for members to share their experience and create a dynamic dialogue. It also allows members to discuss their own work and provide assistance to each other. Many members of the Black Studies Collective are graduate students with work surrounding black issues and African diaspora despite Emory not having a graduate African-American Studies program. The BSC allows grad students to have a space to continue their interest in black studies. Currently, the BSC is also looking to expand their outreach by getting undergraduate involvement through Saturday Readings/Teachings.
This brings me to my message to Emory University: create a graduate degree program for African-American Studies. Students from all across different programs are doing research on black issues ranging from Comparative Language to Philosophy and Women, Gender, & Sexuality Studies, to English. Furthermore, Emory has amazing resources for African-American history in the Rose Library that would be instrumental to much research in the field of African-American studies. Also, Emory already has a great undergraduate program in African-American Studies. Emory was the first school in the Southeast to offer an undergraduate degree in black studies. Emory also has award winning research and publications from faculty in the Department of
Benjamin Mays who is is one of the namesakes of the Mellon-Mays Undergraduate Fellowship
African-American Studies, as well as representation in many public news and media forums. Lastly, Emory is a Mellon-Mays Fellow school which helps fund Ph.D. research in fields like African-American Studies. With all this history and excellence, why is it that graduate students seem to be limited to a space like the Black Studies Collective to really immerse themselves in African-American Studies?
If you want to learn more about the Black Studies collective or are an undergrad interested in Saturday Teachings, you can visit their OrgSync website or you can email the president, Taryn Jordan at t [dot] d [dot] jordan [at] emory [dot] edu. You can also find more about the undergraduate Department of African-American Studies here.
Close your eyes and think back to home. Is home in Georgia? Is it far away from Georgia? Is it on the West Coast or East Coast? Is it in the Midwest? Is it out of the country? Now imagine a law has passed stating that you can never live anywhere outside of your home state. How would that affect your enrollment at Emory? In what ways would you be limited? As horrible as this sounds, this scenario was reality for many Jews between the years 1791 to 1917, during which the Pale of Settlement was established.
The Pale of Settlement was an area apart of Russian territory that allowed Jews permanent residency, but forbade them from taking up residency anywhere else, which crushed the dreams of many young people who wanted to pursue a higher education outside the borders of the Pale of Settlement. However a loophole was found with the issuing of yellow tickets: a nickname for the identification cards that were given to Russian prostitutes that allowed them to live outside the borders. Many Jewish women took on the titles of prostitutes in order to expand their rights and live or go to school wherever they wanted, and The Yellow Ticket is a 1918 film that depicts such a scenario.
When one of our group members, Rachel, first rushed in, trying to find where the movie was located with only two minutes left before it started, a girl walking behind her stated that one of her friends told her the movie was filled with prostitution, which immediately had Rachel questioning Emory University’s taste in film. But we were pleased to find The Yellow Ticket was an engaging film about the struggles of a young woman who loses everything and must take on a double life as a prostitute and university student in order to have a chance at a better life.
Leaning back in our seats in the Emerson Concert Hall at Schwartz Performing Arts Center, we had no idea what to expect. We had just bought tickets to see the silent film The Yellow Ticket accompanied by a live score. Having never attended an event like this before, we had no idea what to expect.
The show began at 8:00 P.M. in Emerson Concert Hall in the Schwartz Performing Arts Center.
The lights went dim, and the three performers were introduced: composer Alicia Svigals, pianist Marilyn Lerner, and clarinetist Laura DeLuca. It was easy to tell who was the star of the show: Alicia’s long red dress immediately captured the spotlight.
The performers, Alicia Svigals, Marilyn Lerner, and Laura DeLuca are introduced.
Svigals, the world’s leading klezmer fiddler, founded the Grammy-winning Klezmatics and has collaborated with many renowned musical artists. She has also made appearances on shows such as David Letterman, MTV, and more. She is the recipient of the Foundation for Jewish Culture’s 2013 New Jewish Music Network Commission for her score of the Yellow Ticket.
Lerner’s musical style is seasoned with multiple different cultures, performing internationally from Montreal to Havana to Jerusalem. She is a recording artist, and has also toured with other groups of performers.
DeLuca started playing in the Seattle symphony in 1986 and is one of the founders of Seattle Chamber Players. Aside from performing in concert halls all around the world, she has been featured in more than one hundred recordings and has collaborated with distinguished composers and performers.
Beautiful music filled the concert hall the very second the film began, and the tone perfectly matched the mood of each scene. Alicia’s singing voice perfectly complimented the strings she played, matching with her partners beside her. We watched as the music got louder and darker during the dramatic scenes and soft during the comedic ones. The audience, consisting mostly of older adults and a few college students here and there, was captivated by the abilities of the performers and the emotions they evoked from the film.
The performers used reading lights on their podiums to read their sheet music as the film played.
One student in our group, Michael, was able to meet Alicia Svigals as she came to speak to his Music in Film class. Svigals stressed the effort and thought she put into every second of the film as she essentially lived in her studio for two whole months. With The Yellow Ticket being a silent film, Svigals said that she wanted to “make the narrative more clear and bring out the emotion” of the film. Though looking back at it, Svigals said that scoring the film from second to second was a “rookie move”, she is constantly fascinated with how such precision in the score makes each performance slightly different and unique. She explained that playing in complete unison with the score and film was essentially impossible with the amount of detail she put into every scene. Though at first this seemed like a detriment to her work, Svigals came to realize that each performance acted as a snowflake, patterned differently and completely unique from the others.
Svigals also stressed how the film is filled with unknowns. From the very beginning, the director gives little background information or hints about the setting or main character, Sofia. Instead of trying to make sense of these unknowns, Svigals took advantage of this and layered the score with music from multiple cultures. This melting pot of different sounds emphasized this unknown as Sofia takes us on her journey to St. Petersburg. When viewing the film with Svigals’ score, one might notice that some melodies repeat themselves throughout the movie. Svigals created these specific melodies to represent different emotions and gestures. As Sofia makes the final decision to become a prostitute Svigals plays a melody of shame with a diminished harmony and a strong sense of darkness. This melody appears every time Sofia is seen working her night job in her alternate life. Along with shame, Svigals composed a waltz melody to symbolize romance as Sofia’s classmate quickly fall in love with her. The melody is layered with the three instruments and composed perfectly to bring out the growing feeling of love that falls within Sofia’s story.
Following the performance was a twenty minute Q&A with the artists. Audience members asked about the creation of the score, how they keep up with timing and precision, and the personal lives of the artists in general.
The trio sat down for a twenty minute Q&A with the audience members.
This performance of The Yellow Ticket was a very interesting and unique experience. We enjoyed observing the passion and excitement of the performers which was shared by the audience. The show brought to our attention the effects that music has on the emotions that a film portrays. We left the concert hall impressed, enlightened, and inspired.
By Rachel McNeil, Kate Monger, and Michael Malenfant
Green, David B. “1791: Catherine the Great tells Jews where they can live.” Haaretz.com, 26 Dec. 2016, www.haaretz.com/jewish/features/.premium-1.564905. Accessed 11 Sept. 2017.
“JewishEncyclopedia.com.” PALE OF SETTLEMENT – JewishEncyclopedia.Com, www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/11862-pale-of-settlement. Accessed 11 Sept. 2017
“Pale of Settlement.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 27 Aug. 2017, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pale_of_Settlement#Jewish_life_in_the_Pale. Accessed 11 Sept. 2017.
