These students won’t have the opportunity to become what they should have become, and it isn’t their fault — it’s ours. We haven’t taken responsibility for the well-being of our friends.
One of the greatest aspects of joining a fraternity or sorority is the sense of camaraderie between people who accept and trust each other.
By joining a sorority, I’ve found women who support me in my feminism, not who diminish it.
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The constant feeling like you’re alone inside your head and helpless is a very scary thing to deal with, but it’s important to know that you are certainly not alone and — with time and help — it will get better. Madison didn’t have the benefit of time. Please make sure that you do.
I care because Pope Francis has made no effort to correct the lie that condom use increases AIDS transmission — a falsehood propagated in Africa by the previous pontiff.
We are not able to want, desire, take pleasure in accidental beauties passing in front of our bodies each day.
We are not able to want, desire, take pleasure in accidental beauties passing in front of our bodies each day.
One of the greatest aspects of joining a fraternity or sorority is the sense of camaraderie between people who accept and trust each other.
By joining a sorority, I’ve found women who support me in my feminism, not who diminish it.
We should continue to make fraternities and sororities safer for queer and trans people, but ultimately, these places are built around a binary that alienates an entire segment of the Penn population.
I’ve learned what kind of friendships I need and how it feels to find a group of girls that will share even your lowest moments — and sometimes even laugh at your worst jokes.
Issues associated with frats and sororities run deeper than letters on a jacket.
Dr. King undeniably was an extraordinary man who accomplished many great things over the course of his life. But rather than celebrate this, we have transformed him into a larger-than-life figure and given him the magical ability to serve as justification for virtually any policy position imaginable and act as a sort of litmus test to gauge contemporary race-relations.
We are pleased that so many of Penn’s Greek chapters are known for cultivating open-minded, supportive environments where diversity is welcomed and celebrated.
One requirement that significantly bothered us was that all sisters straighten their hair. This not only reinforces ethnocentric beauty standards, but also promotes conformity by mandating that all sisters wear the same hairstyle. In general, we were disappointed that we were told to promote the sorority with our appearances more than with our individuality.
If you’re careful about it, you can take a six-class semester of ordinary or even moderately difficult courses and walk away with an easier semester.
People have asked me, “Does it get better?” In a way, it does. You heal. Memories that once hurt become sad, then cherished. But it definitely doesn’t happen overnight. The hurt becomes healing. But even then, some days it’ll just hit you like it was yesterday.
Many — I’m inclined to say most — Penn students know little to nothing about queer and trans identities and the struggles we face. For those who do, the stories that are told are mostly representative of the G and the L in LGBTQIA, while little is known about bisexual, trans, intersex and asexual individuals.
Anything that veers too far from “normal” suddenly raises eyebrows. Having a thing for thigh-highs screams sexy, but having a thing for cheese signals perversion.
The groupwhine has become so pervasive on campus that we confuse it with true camaraderie, as if we were actually revealing deep insecurities to our friends.
I’m fairly certain if I met my celebrity idol Robert Downey Jr., he would shake my hand, sign the lunchbox I have with his face on it and then ask me, “So, Sara, what are your post-graduation plans?”
I understand people like the Wolf should not be idolized because it could encourage bad behavior, but there is no harm in admiring them for the entertainment value.
In this case, however, I didn’t have to. I photographed Jews, Christians and Muslims; tourists, citizens and people in between; Zionists and Pro-Palestinians; young students and grandparents.People wrote in Hebrew, English, Arabic, French, Farsi, Spanish, Romanian and Russian. All helped me convey a narrative, one that we called “An Israeli Collective.”
