Thriving (Virtually) at Penn
Mehmed Can Özkan (C ‘24) may be spending his first semester of college at home in Istanbul, Turkey, but his body is living on Philadelphia time.
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Mehmed Can Özkan (C ‘24) may be spending his first semester of college at home in Istanbul, Turkey, but his body is living on Philadelphia time.
Street Eats: Embracing Homemade Meals in Quarantine
Few websites can claim to be the subject of all of the following: intense criticism on social media platforms, a Beyoncé lyric, privacy leaks and hacks, and a prolonged discussion on the treatment of sex workers.
Like most teenagers sent home early from college, I spent a vast majority of the quarantine period staring down the end of a barrel with the promise of never–ending boredom. In an effort to curtail those feelings, I decided to participate in the long–standing Generation Z tradition of putting off all impending work in favor of starting a new show. Critical acclaim and numerous over–enthusiastic tirades from my friends pushed me to start Nickelodeon’s Avatar: The Last Airbender.
Last August, during the thick of NSO, two white male students broke into another student’s apartment and refused to leave. The victim spoke on the condition of anonymity, but her story reveals a malignant societal truth that also infects campus life at Penn: white privilege exists unchecked.
Google “Professor Herman Beavers,” and you'll easily see all of the different roles Dr. Beavers plays at Penn: professor of English, Africana Studies, and Theatre Arts, faculty director of Civic House and the Civic Scholars Program, mentor, writer, and community leader, to name a few. Dr. Beavers specializes in American and African–American literature, poetry, jazz, and the study of writers such as August Wilson and Toni Morrison. He is a lifelong lover of literature and a thirty–one year faculty member at Penn. Street sat down with him in late July to discuss his upcoming course, “African–American Short Story in the 21st Century,” his experience teaching African–American literature at Penn, and where we can and should go from the moment of “anti–racism.”
Hector Cure (C ‘22) looked out over the Pacific Ocean from the pristine sand of Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. It was a clear afternoon in mid–March as waves crashed and friends chatted behind him, happy to get away from the slushy, grey winter that drags into spring in West Philadelphia. Like many undergraduates, Hector and a couple of friends were on a spring break trip for the week. At the time, coronavirus cases in the U.S. were slightly over 500 and Coachella had just been postponed. About a week earlier, the U.S. saw its first coronavirus death.
Justin Horn (C ‘20) was standing in the back of the room at Joe Biden's campaign headquarters in Philadelphia, suspense gripping him, as he watched the Vice President’s team receive some race–altering news. Philadelphia’s long winter was melting away on the early spring night, the office packed shoulder to shoulder with enthusiastic Biden staffers, eyes glued to the news. Beto O’Rourke just endorsed Joe Biden, as did Mayor Pete Buttigieg and Senator Amy Klobuchar, shortly after dropping out of the race for President. The once twenty–eight candidate Democratic primary field was narrowing down to just one, and Justin was watching it happen in real-time.
“This will pass over soon. We’ll be able to hang out like normal by July, and we’ll definitely come back to school in the fall.”
He had written that paper. In his own words, of course. No cheating involved. He was a diligent worker and a smart kid who never even needed to cheat. Why would he? He had made it to Penn on his own, after all. Nevertheless, as the young, doe-eyed Penn freshman, Rick Krajewski (E ‘13), stood in front of his professor, he was being accused of plagiarism. To make matters worse, Rick knew he was being singled out as a Black man. The professor just assumed Rick couldn’t have written a paper that good.
The phrase “we live in unprecedented times” has become both a cliche and an understatement to describe the COVID–19 pandemic. There have been more than 2.5 million cases in the U.S., and communities of color are particularly vulnerable: Black, Native, and Latinx Americans are at much greater risk to contract and die from the virus relative to their populations. But for Natalie Shibley, instructor for Penn Summer I course HIST 560: Race, Gender, and Medicine in U.S. History, the disproportionate impact of the virus on people of color is far from unexpected.
On Monday morning, June 1, Lexi Lewis (C '23) left the quiet cobblestone alleys of Penn’s campus, alone. The outdoor diners and open air store fronts that usually mark early June in Philadelphia were shuttered as she passed 30th Street Station, the glittering Schuylkill River, and Rittenhouse Square. Side–by–side with Lexi, Philadelphians streamed toward City Hall, breaking the city's eerie COVID–19–era silence for the first time in months.
In the event of nostalgia–related emergency, press play.
Annabelle Williams is a writer. But just about everyone else in her life came to realize that before she did. To Annabelle’s father, she was the “most adult child” he had ever met, constantly clinging to books and absorbing bits of new information. Annabelle’s mother wrote about her “unquenchable desire to read, at all times, in all circumstances.” (She also shared a picture of young Annabelle hula–hooping while reading The Iliad). It’s a mystery how she started out as a Wharton student, when Annabelle has been a writer since she was 12 years old.
The six hushed stories of Van Pelt watched over campus as Cynthia Dumizo (C ‘82) walked past College Hall and the ivy–lined fraternity houses that dotted Locust Walk. A seemingly mundane commute through Penn’s campus turned into a bitter memory in seconds as a student standing outside of a fraternity house caught Dumizo’s attention.
Laura Ng didn’t cry once during nursing school. No tears during her first year and a half of professional nursing, even in an emergency department. But on one of the first days COVID–19 cases started to ramp up, she worked a 16–hour shift: her ER was short–staffed. After getting home, she showered and used the bathroom.
Quarantined hundreds of miles away from Philadelphia, I meet Andrew Guo (C ‘21) in front of Van Pelt for a tour of Penn’s campus.
As many students have returned home following Penn’s decision to move all classes online for the semester, the Penn community can feel farther away than ever. But this hasn’t stopped groups of students from coming together to advocate for their peers and community members amidst the coronavirus pandemic.
The Tiger King series is undoubtedly the universal quarantine past–time, but watching con men with five teeth attempt to murder each other can get disheartening, at least for me.
Reality in the United States today is drastically different from the blissful ignorance of a few weeks ago when COVID—19 seemed—and was—an ocean away, a danger desensitized by distance. Now trapped in quarantine, people have inevitably been turning to screens to pass the time, oscillating between news—reading, binge—watching, FaceTiming, social—media—scrolling and even Tik—Toking. Life in the real world may be on pause, but the online world seems to be operating as usual, if not hyper—actively.
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