Asian Americans, bite the hand that feeds
By Annie Yang | April 15, 2020What should Asian “Americans” do at this moment? The answer is not to reassert our “Americanness” or how much we deserve to have a slice of a bloody pie.
What should Asian “Americans” do at this moment? The answer is not to reassert our “Americanness” or how much we deserve to have a slice of a bloody pie.
What I want you to know, loves, is that when things are really bad–and sometimes they’re really bad–people can still make things. Things can still grow.
What will ultimately be an economic and public health disaster for many is merely an unanticipated bull market for investing and extended vacation for others.
Many—if not most—sexually active students have lost access to their usual partners and sexual networks during this time, meaning that the number of horny Duke students has increased exponentially, especially if the posts on the Gothicc Duke Confessions page are any indication.
The past couple of days have been a master class in how to take action without actually listening.
Postmodern and poststructuralist thinkers had a lot to say about education and how it should change, and I can’t stop thinking about how urgent their sometimes vicious critiques have become.
I would give so much to be able to share one more brownie sundae, to steal one more handful of French fries from someone else’s plate, to split one more chocolate chip cookie in half.
We don’t need business-as-usual Duke—we need more flexibility, more grace, more reminders that our academic productivity isn’t more important than our ability to survive.
I fear that Zoom will be added to the list of problems historically caused by overzealous administrative reform. I may as well attempt to send a signal of resistance now, rather than after the changes become part of some plan.
How do you mourn for a moment, a memory?
There’s a quote that I like from Luke Farrell’s Department Of Interview last year. Department Of asks him, “Fill in the blank: You know you’re a Duke student if...” He responds, “Uh, um, you pretend to be an extrovert.”
Sure, there were fleeting moments of personal gratification, but in the Duke environment I was fixated on external indicators of success. I wasn’t asking myself if what I was doing made me fulfilled.
I’ve always craved glory. My dream is to become a meme, or, better, to have someone make a hologram of me performing a duet with someone unspeakably famous. Like Tupac.
I’ve found myself feeling unfulfilled due to the fact that I no longer have anything concrete in the near future to look forward to. Now, I’m left to analyze how we, as a generation, think about the future.
Contrary to popular belief, eating disorders aren’t about vanity—they’re coping mechanisms. And this crisis has stripped us of much of the control we’re used to having.
It is easy to treat Duke as a brand, as a soulless entity devoid of any personal touch. But if this crisis has proven anything to us, it is that Duke is made up of individuals–wonderful, supportive, and caring people.
I think that no matter where you come from or are currently quarantined, there is benefit from more love, grace and acceptance. More active recognition of how small we are in an interconnected, beautifully broken world.
One minute we oppose a sexual predator, and the next moment we’re all supposed to direct our Twitter accounts and outrage against a private research university in Durham, North Carolina?
It is pretty hard to have sex with someone who's at least six feet away from you.
I haven’t watched her interview, but I know what she said. I believe Tara Reade.