Final clubs were made for white men. Now, people of color — who were never supposed to step through their gates at all — are carving out communities inside them. They’re drinking their alcohol and smoking their cigars. They’re reveling in these spaces, instrumentalizing the white men’s mansions for pure fun.
Now a New York Times-bestselling author, Yang’s numerous “about me” blurbs online simply say she gave up law to pursue writing, but they don’t tell the whole story. Yang herself experienced sexual assault when she was a first-year student at HLS. She lost faith in the legal system after the Law School, which she had viewed as a symbol of justice, declared her assaulter not guilty and investigated her instead. “Parachutes” is the culmination of the 17 years she spent rebuilding her identity and courage after the assault, she says.
In many ways, I am still living the Pokémon dream, which caught me at a formative time in my life and shaped a significant part of my childhood. To say that I empathized with the characters in the TV show and the video games would be an understatement: I aimed to embody what it meant to be a Pokémon trainer.
“Thank you, but it wasn’t that great. I fell off pointe here, lost my core in that last pirouette, and barely pointed my foot in the last jump.” He rolled his eyes, but he didn’t seem surprised that I failed to accept his praise. In the ballet world, no one can take a compliment.
Should a 60 second video — especially one that privileges athletes and outgoing personalities — determine who deserves one fewer semester of student loan debt?
Amidst the frenzy on GroupMe to impress each other with our sophisticated opinions on obscure topics, I was struck by how frequently I saw mentions of the infamous ~impostor syndrome~, frequently written exactly that way, in the cutesy tilde that deliberately suggests a demure air of self-deprecation.