Back Yard Politics
Come at Me, Bro
Harvard College’s crusade to make final clubs go co-ed must seem a remarkable success in its eyes. This year two of the all-male clubs accepted their first female members. And despite indignation from some, if the College continues to “force hands,” it appears that the eventual compliance of all eight male clubs might be inevitable, whether that’s five, ten, or 25 years down the line.
But within this grand solution lies a larger problem for Harvard—and that’s fraternities. Full disclosure: I’m part of an all-male fraternity on campus myself.
Royall Must Live
Isaac Royall Jr., in the words of one Harvard Law professor, was “a brutal slaveholder.” He was born into a colonial-era family of wealthy Triangle Trade merchants and owned about sixty slaves by our best estimates. At one point, Royall and his father brokered the sale of 121 human beings in one day. Another time, they had 77 slaves burned alive at the stake following a failed rebellion.
In his 1779 will, Royall left land for Harvard College to establish its first professorship in law. The donation grew into the founding of Harvard Law School, whose seal to this day includes three sheaves of wheat—the Royall family’s coat of arms.
Is This CS50?
“It’s time to take back one of Harvard’s few large quiet spaces from our CS50 overlords.”
That was the rallying cry of the student plan to disrupt the office hours of Harvard’s most popular course this past Monday. Students prepared to pack Widener Library’s Loker Reading Room at night and prevent CS50’s office hours from happening as retribution for the course’s growth into the space.
Toward a Better Housing System
I live in a small Quad double. I have a hallway bathroom, no common room, and a thirteen-minute walk every time I need to get to the Yard.
My friend, also a sophomore, lives in DeWolfe. His single is the size of my double. It’s right off of a spacious common room, with a private bathroom and a full-kitchen. (Not to mention air-conditioning.)
Harvard’s Homelessness Dilemma
Harvard Square has a homelessness problem.
On the benches of Widener Gate, along Mass. Ave.’s storefronts, and at the T’s main entrance. There are the same recognizable faces, like the goateed man always in front of Qdoba or the woman with the brutally honest “Need Money for Weed” sign. It’s easy to grow desensitized but near impossible to completely tune out, each walk through the Square raising the to-give-or-not-to-give question.