From talk show segments to New York Times columns, the alarm — no, fear — surrounding the rising number of people, particularly young people, who identify as BGLTQ has somehow spread everywhere. I can’t help thinking: “this is not going to end well,” because history is rather unkind to groups of “scared” people who frequently talk about the extinction of a majority group (in this case straight people) they belong to.
I don’t know what you see. Maybe it’s color; maybe it’s spirit. I see a violent history that has been reproduced in a camouflaged modern-day form.
And with that I salute you, classes of ’20 and ’21! Congratulations! Enjoy! Respect your elders! Seize the day! Take back the night! Go into the office! Vote! And one more thing, if I may be so candid: save the Harvard-Yale jokes for your 50th reunion. You can absolutely make them work. But they are best delivered bald.
It is finally your moment for gowns, mortarboards, speeches, bagpipers, marching bands, swing bands, last-chance dances, and champagne toasts. Harvard — and all of us — are all dressed up and waiting for you. Welcome back, Classes of 2020 and 2021! The time for our long-awaited reunion is finally here.
What time is it on the clock of the world? Your time. It is your time to chart the stars and fly hard and fast until you grab them, raining down light on this tainted ground that you will inherit. Congratulations on your graduation and all the goodness you will bring to our broken, yet beautiful, world.
We live in an era that tends to reward volume and certainty. Those who speak loudly often convey great passion. Passion is a powerful force: It has driven my commitment to access and opportunity in and beyond higher education. But it is not enough. In addition to passion, you need reason.
Here at Harvard, the call for Rubenstein is this: recuse or resign. Legal ethics 101 says he should have removed himself from votes within the Harvard Corporation that relate to the University’s response to the climate crisis years ago. If he can’t take this basic step now, he should immediately resign from the Harvard Corporation. It’s time for Harvard to do what it has promised: put people and the planet over profit.
Both white and Black Americans have been fighting for racial equality at least since the time of the American Revolution — which is why we no longer have slavery and legal segregation in the United States. Today’s popular one-sided view is effective propaganda, but terrible history.
If the institution would support a college-in-prison program, I would, along with other faculty and students, help to make it a reality. Could some of those $100 million dollars allocated towards reckoning with Harvard’s legacy of slavery be directed towards the liberation of people who are still not free?
Witnessing how people rise against Jewish communities in this generation has been a burden for many Jewish students, but they will remember the first verse of the Vehi Sheamda prayer: “It is this that has stood for our ancestors and for us,” this meaning the promise that God made to Abraham, that our ancestors would be redeemed from Egypt and make it safely to the biblical Land of Israel. It is this promise of a national homeland that we proudly sing at the end of the seder, “Next Year in Jerusalem.”
There are many things I can and should do with the platform my privilege affords me. Telling someone else’s story for them is not one of those things.
Aside from sacrificing honesty for the sake of provocation, these words alienate students who, like me, are genuinely upset about and disillusioned by Israel’s decades-long disenfranchisement, displacement, and oppression of the Palestinian people. I hate to get caught up in semantics, but with conversations that hit close to home, the words we use really do matter.
The original sin of this school comes with awkwardly fitting a fractured template for representative government from the outside world onto a community small enough to lead itself cooperatively. To absolve it, we must choose something different, better — a politics of direct democracy, of personality, and of action.
To many Asian Americans, racism has become a normalized fact of being. It’s not always — in fact, it’s usually not — as explicit as it was that night in Allston. It’s a less visible kind of racism than the hate crimes that make the news. It’s also a less terrifying kind of racism, but an exponentially more tiresome one. It adds a tiny weight to every aspect of your life; even though the added weight is usually unnoticeably small, when it’s aggregated over every day and every week, it becomes exhausting.
Being multiracial has only begun to show me my role in the movement toward equality, and I want to make sure that my self-reflection continues well after #StopAsianHate stops trending on social media. I may never feel comfortable in an entirely Asian space or a completely white one, but for now, I am proud to say that I am fully mixed.
This isn’t an optimistic op-ed about how if we all sober up, we can band together to solve the climate crisis. This isn’t even a deceivingly cynical op-ed meant to be proven wrong by do-gooders. This is, instead, a simple exposition of my personal opinion: that Harvard’s inability to recognize the gravity of the situation at hand only confirms Camus’ view of humanity’s disbelief in death.