Amanda Reid | Intervention
As a misanthrope, there’s a truth I’m beginning to accept, and that is that my day is made better by the kindness of strangers.
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As a misanthrope, there’s a truth I’m beginning to accept, and that is that my day is made better by the kindness of strangers.
With the racist GroupMe messages targeted towards black students, with the fear and mistrust that certain minority groups have felt over the election and with the deepening of rhetorical divisions between political factions, it feels like the time to reform, rise and react has come upon us. The rallying cry demands healing.
When I first came to Penn, one of the first questions I was asked about my home country was: “Isn’t Vietnam a democracy?” At first, it seemed like a harmless question, but after rethinking it, I saw the damaging knowledge gaps behind the query — the same lack of knowledge about the Vietnam War directly informs humanitarian disasters like in Iraq. So, to answer the question above, since the North Vietnamese Army won the war that America escalated, Vietnam is not a democracy.
This year, two of the least favorable candidates in American history are in line to be the next President. Both are candidates with questionable records and the public has not been particularly supportive of either. In other words, voters are faced with candidates they don’t really want.
Public space is always around, which is maybe why we forget its potential for discourse. With larger growth in online spaces — social networking sites specifically — physical public space no longer holds tangible influence over us.
GROUP THINK is the DP’s round table section, where we throw a question at the columnists and see what answers stick. Read your favorite columnist, or read them all.
I’ve never doubted who I was. Asian, White, Mixed, Girl, Young — any of these could apply, but none of these mattered. So, more precisely, I was never aware of what I was.
GROUP THINK is the DP’s round table section, where we throw a question at the columnists and see what answers stick. Read your favorite columnist, or read them all.
The daily news updates of police shootings against black men and women have led to much hashtagged outrage: solidarity nowadays means expressing communal dissatisfaction. In response to years of repeated brutality, the #BlackLivesMatter movement rose to public attention, garnering strong support from many different communities. It has united a vast range of communities together in the same vein of hurt and anger.
College acceptance has always been tied to pride, whether it be personal or school- oriented. The acceptance email for Penn is delivered in an unshakably triumphant Quaker fight song, heralding the shedding of new skin, ushering in a community that will soon be yours. It formed the ethos of what Penn meant for me as a high school senior: fighting through hard times and eventually being where you were meant to be. The trumpets’ melody signals pride for a school that is, fundamentally, akin to you.
In today’s racial climate, which has seen a lot of division, tension and revolt, it always seems difficult to insert the “Asian” voice in the dialogue — partly because Asian is an umbrella term. Sometimes, racial issues seem like isolated incidents when they happen to a segment of the Asian community. Yet, this fact also raises the question for me of why Penn’s Asian community finds difficulty in creating a cohesion out of its diverse cultural groups, especially during times of high tension.
In a written piece published on The Tab, George Beall details his experience of taking a leave of absence from Penn to pursue his business career. Similarly, in a Daily Pennsylvanian article called A Tale of Two Startups, the idea of “leaving Penn to outsmart Apple” was highlighted as being a key narrative in the success stories of the many dropouts here at Penn.
I still get sweaty palms when I enter into a lecture hall, especially when I’m told participation counts. A cold fear passes over me when I think about how loud my tiny voice will have to grow in order to be heard by the professor, who seems to stand miles away from me. When you need to command the attention of upwards of a hundred people at a time, speaking out loud is a daunting, if not painful, experience.
My first experience with the cultural houses was during a meet and greet hosted by the Pan-Asian American Community House. I came alone, stood in line to get food and after quickly surveying the room, began to feel it: I was surrounded by a room where everyone knew someone.
As an international student, I’ve grown progressively better at fitting in with cultural groups. Growing up at a British international school in Vietnam, I know what being a cultural outsider means. Every time I come back from wherever I was, my senses towards the relative “other” culture are heightened. I would become more aware of the standard direction of the grain, and I would mold myself to it.
Imagine yourself meeting someone new. And you see yourself in someone else’s eyes for the first time. And maybe you get that feeling when their face immediately tries to analyze you.
On a frigid Thursday in November, Penn students gathered in a mass outside of President Amy Gutmann’s house. They were gathered in a showcase of solidarity for Yale and Missouri students who faced cases of racism. In a different, recent protest that united students from Penn and Drexel, protesters listed their demands for greater awareness of minority issues, promotion of diversity in faculty departments and much more. These were two in a series of protests that have been occurring across the country in response to an amalgam of racial incidents, snowballing into a collective sentiment of frustration against the status quo.