Penn 10: You
Surprise! It’s you. Yes, you. Congratulations on making it; we know these past four years haven’t been easy, but now here you are, having achieved so much along the way.
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Surprise! It’s you. Yes, you. Congratulations on making it; we know these past four years haven’t been easy, but now here you are, having achieved so much along the way.
Rebecca Hennessy (C ‘23) begins every day the same way: with tea. Her mother was a religious tea drinker, and ever since middle school she’s made it a habit to start her mornings the same way. Breakfast is crucial too, a rarity among college students. “I like to pick up every morning with breakfast. I can't really get through a day without it,” she says.
What matters most to Elena Miller (C ‘23), in no particular order, are friends, family, and music.
Jane Lozada Foster doesn’t want to burn any bridges. She emphasizes this as we finish our conversation, which is chock full of the kindest and most generous evaluations of the times that Penn failed her or that she failed at Penn. When Jane’s roommates found out that Street wanted to profile stories of failure and successes this year, they both told her she was the ideal candidate. Most Penn students would be horrified to hear that their social circle sees failure as characteristic to them, but Jane just laughs when she tells this story. “I have failed a lot,” she says. “It doesn’t impact how I see myself.”
To Winston Peloso (C ’23), the world can be broken down to a mathematical equation. Sitting outside Houston Hall in the late afternoon, he easily switches between scientific jargon and the casual lingo of students as he talks about his time at Penn; emotions about senior year are carefully parsed, meanwhile the scientific process of creating purified crystal can be explained away as “super fucking specific.”
Benson Gao (C’ 22) has gained a new perspective on education over the last five years—literally. After switching his major in the middle of his junior year and graduating from Penn in the fall, he is now a teacher.
“I always joke with my friends that I’m obsessed with New Jersey,” giggles Ashna Yakoob (C’ 23) , seated at a metal table outside Saxbys. “I think it’s the crown jewel of the United States.” She does not appear to be joking. Her hands move expressively—they will continue to do so throughout the conversation.
Ben Moss-Horwitz (C’ 23) has been trying to escape his fate for the past four years—but to no avail.
One quick glance at her Twitter, and Niva Baniya’s love for Harry Styles is apparent. Her pinned tweet is developed film photos she took at his latest tour. After we’ve finished with the formalities of the interview, it’s the first thing I want to ask about.
By the time she became a senior, Lee Schwartz (C ‘23) had never spent a full school year on Penn’s campus.
Philadelphia’s housing market today is completely different from what it used to be decades ago. Today, neighborhoods that were considered undesirable 50 years ago by real estate investors see increased market values. Accordingly, developers try to take advantage of these rising prices and acquire property to build market rate housing complexes at a handsome profit. These developments normally do not keep with the architecture of the existing buildings and are above the average price of housing in the community: Think the boxy, colorful paneled row homes that are popping up all over Philadelphia. Often, new developments are inaccessible to low–and middle–income buyers and eventually result in raised property taxes that price out current residents. The potential housing development at 4601 Market Street is currently grappling with this narrative, with developers attempting to build market rate housing units. However, community members are fighting back, urging the developers to include affordable housing in the housing complex.
On a cloudy Thursday night in late March, the cozy, domestic interior of the Penn Women’s Center has been transformed into a hub of action. Harley Haas (C '24), the chair of Abuse and Sexual Assault Prevention, balances her laptop on her knees as she simultaneously sends out emails and welcomes in another volunteer. Leslie Lytle (E ‘23) yells over the organized chaos, “Has anyone heard from Liz Magill?” Two volunteers sit on the couch sorting through bags of chalk while sharing the run–down of their day. In just one week, these months of planning by the campus–wide organization, ASAP, will leave the living room of Women's Center and culminate as the campus’ largest anti–violence rally—Take Back the Night.
In late February of this year, Congress passed a bill that would block a bill proposed by Biden that allowed retirement funds to consider environmental, social and governance (ESG) investing. This would have allowed pension fund managers to take into account the effects of climate change when determining where to invest.
Around noon on a quiet, overcast Saturday, people started arriving at high rise field with folded blankets and suitcases in tow, just waiting to be unzipped. The unpacking process revealed piles upon piles of people’s clothing from moving carts, backpacks, and even trash bags. In just minutes, the quiet lawn had transformed into a bustling crowd of students. Music to the likes of Wallows, The 1975, and Vampire Weekend was blasting from a hefty Bluetooth speaker. Early April marked the return of a highly anticipated event for a small niche of Penn students: Tina Zhang's (C ‘25) and Jill Li’s (C ‘24) spring closet sale.
An A24 film is defined by two unmatched qualities: surrealist art and realist relationships. Grounded in these A24 principles, Beef reveals the underbelly of humanity, ascribing a certain proposition to the audience: “anger is just a transitory state of consciousness.” And moreover: it’s okay to be angry.
I have read two of Carmen Maria Machado’s works: her memoir In the Dream House and a short story from her forthcoming collection, The Tour. Both times her words almost brought me to tears. It’s not explicitly the content of her works that causes the swell of tears in my eyes, though their storylines are certainly powerful in and of themselves.
Pumpkin spice lattes, flannels, ombre highlights, Shane Dawson, Tana Mongeau, Drake, BuzzFeed Quizzes, and, of course, Coachella—only a few of the phrases that may be found in a time capsule of early–to–mid 2010s pop culture. If Drake was the King of Culture, and Beyoncé or Taylor Swift the Queen, then Coachella was pop culture’s palace, an event that took over social media and was attended by both up–and–coming influencers and YouTubers and traditional A–list celebrities. Coachella always seemed to be as undeniable of a cultural event as the Met Gala, and yet, this year’s Coachella seems like a non–event, suggesting that perhaps the 2010s are truly over.
The Black Panthers wore leather jackets, second–wave feminists wore miniskirts, and anti–Vietnam war protestors wore bell bottoms. Throughout history, fashion has been used by various social movements as forms of self–expression, resistance, and solidarity.
As tulips poke up along the banks of Boathouse Row, song birds return to telephone lines, and Penn students set up aesthetically pleasing picnics along the Schuylkill River, one thing is certain—it’s spring in West Philadelphia. What’s less obvious is that a burgeoning network of trails criss–crossing the city supports these bucolic celebrations of spring. These trails are critical for urban recreation and the health of wildlife, and they rely on public support to accomplish their goals.
It’s not an uncommon thought to dream of being famous. Strangers knowing your name, having an infinite amount of money to spend, taking luxurious vacations, and doing what you love for a living—all of these prospects seem quite enticing.
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