Advikaa Anand is a Trinity sophomore and an opinion managing editor of The Chronicle's 119th volume.
When a majority-white institution, such as a student living group (SLG), organizes a cultural event (as Wayne made explicit through their Holi banner) that is primarily celebrated by people of color, they incur the risk of diminishing the event’s cultural significance.
As someone consumed by the desire to keep everyone in her life as happy as possible, I often perceive disappointments by the most important people in my life as a personal failure. In an attempt to juggle all of my glass balls, I often end up with wounds in my own hands when they fracture. These wounds take a toll on my mental health and weigh heavy on my heart.
The mark of a capable leader is not one who exults in their power over those who are socially and systemically weaker than them but one who works actively to lift such individuals up through policies that chip away at biased institutions.
When we venture out of our insulated college bubble into the gallows of the real world, each day will not hold the promise of adventure but instead the regularity of routine.
I am not sure when I crossed that grand precipice of wounds and injuries ceasing to serve as emblems of thrill and excitement and instead, causes of fear and worry. I look back to my childish naivete of thinking all physical consequences of my adventures were irrelevant if I had a good story to tell, and I am shocked at my obliviousness.
I searched the multitude of people scattered around the quad on the first day of class, hoping for a glimpse of recognition. All I saw, however, was a sea of strangers, and a hollow emptiness developed in the pit of my stomach. Where was I? Who were these people? What had happened to the place I’d called home for the last two years?
We fear ever diving into the dreaded phase that lies on the other side of childhood: adulthood.
Like human nature, history is not black and white. Each player is complex, saddled with nuances worthy of both condemnation and redemption.
I’ve always been disturbed by how casually people will say “I love you.”
As I delve deeper and deeper into adulthood, it seems to me that our self-identities and perceptions are increasingly contingent on our relationships with others.
