Opinion

It is easy to view individuals as numbers or as a collection of attributes, as a walking set of probabilities that can predict certain behaviors instead of humans with agency. We would do well to not fall into this trap, especially these days, when we’re already too often represented as pixels on a screen.

Now, with a presidential election looming on a significantly larger stage with a much louder microphone, this frustrating ambiguity makes electoral predictions that much more onerous. 

With their mix of multiple cultures, I am constantly reminded of the disconnect I have with my ethnic Chinese and Taiwanese heritage — and I remember this every time I think about their decision to legally name me Emily.

The Good Wine is not just about good wine — it is the savoring of decadence and long baths. It is slow dancing at a wedding, cinnamon rolls and the warmth of the sun. It is bliss, it is pleasure — it is that “Champagne Shit” as Janelle Monáe has recently put it. My Good Wine is as simple as your craft beer, your aperol spritz, your various kinds of martini or your French 75. 

Our culture puts so much hopeful-romantic emphasis on the “life-changing” lover, but I think that we can pull the curtain back on that — yes, our romantic partners can give us new experiences, but where do the newfound perceptions on life and love we procure from them really come from? 

But as this column has demonstrated, picture books are not the only thing from our childhoods that stick with us; there are so many little things that do as well.

Mexico has been known as a country of suffering and song and has even been romanticized for it. My family’s history is a reflection of the nation from which they stem — our stories are of pain and sacrifice. 

The movies are about personal struggles. Struggles that no one else can seemingly relate to, but that others face. It’s about those facades that we put up, and how others relate to them.

The more students a department teaches, the more unrestricted funds need to be allocated to supporting TAs and lecturers. This, in turn, poses a significant financial burden for those departments actually performing the university’s stated mission. Financially, departments want — and need — to teach less.

I wonder where Black people can live in the United States that allows us to prosper, make change, feel safe and connect with a grounded community and culture. More importantly, can Black people explore a life that is not defined by the oppression that we’ve endured and continue to suffer from?