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No one ever asks for it. Rape is not a gift. It is never invited by virtue of dress, actions, words, relationships, gender, sexuality, beliefs or behavior. Rape is torture. Sexual assault is a form of mental, emotional and physical trauma that can never be healed. Unlike Ebola, or the myriad other epidemics that invade our lives every two or so years, there is no cure for sexual assault. There is no medication, miracle shot or antibiotic that can erase a survivor’s pain. The only comfort that these brave people get is the knowledge that they can prevent rape from happening to others.
If you haven’t seen the “Humans of New York” website or
Facebook page I suggest you take a look. It is an artistic outlet that works to
illustrate the diversity of human life through “daily glimpses into the lives
of strangers,” as described by Brandon Stanton, the website’s creator. Stanton
posts photographic portraits of strangers he encounters and includes quotes and
short stories next to their pictures. Entries range from the lighthearted to
the deeply moving and inspirational. All are eye opening.
“No more by-standing. No more ignorance. No more excuses. No
It’s an easy decision to call the police when someone is bleeding out in front of you, or after you witness a car crash. But what about when the couple next door is screaming at each other, or when you see someone completely wasted being dragged up a flight of stairs? At what point do you step in?
Twitter. Facebook. Instagram. Tumblr. Pinterest. These are just a few examples of the social media platforms that exist today.
Germs and diseases are on everybody’s mind these days as the Ebola outbreak has us running for pharmaceutical facemasks.
I have not ordered a pumpkin spice latte in years. Every time fall arrives and Starbucks releases one of its most popular drinks, I make sure to never order it. I don’t avoid pumpkin spice lattes because I think I won’t enjoy the warm drink filled with fall spices, creamy milk and happiness; nor do I even object to the nearly $4 price tag. I have not had a pumpkin spice latte since I learned that the drink was associated with being “basic.”
In their 1990 hit song, “Let’s Talk About Sex,” classic rap duo Salt-N-Pepa implored hip hop fans and others to openly discuss a topic that many people go to great lengths to avoid. And though we live in a country in which the presence of sex is virtually unavoidable, it appears that only now, in 2014, we are finally ready to have "the talk." Unfortunately, as is the case with many important conversations, our nation’s sex talk comes on the heels of tragedy.
Sexual assault has led to a man-hating mission. Society has grown to view men as the perpetrators and women as the victims, which results in a very strict labeling system that does not accurately depict reality and does not help ameliorate this grave societal issue.
This past summer, I volunteered to drive a group of middle-schoolers to a trampoline gym on a church-sponsored outing. Before departing with five seventh-grade girls and one eighth-grade boy, I recalled my own prepubescent crew of comrades. I remembered our incessant shenanigans and relentless jockeying for female attention, and began to question my original motivation to volunteer.
Today as I walked from the business school to grab lunch in the Commons, I overheard an unusual insult. “What are you, a momma’s boy?” one young Richmond man asked another. In my opinion, the only acceptable reply would have been, “You’re goddamn right I’m a momma’s boy.” Unfortunately, the opposing party had a few choice words to say at this affront, and, in an attempt to remain cordial, I will spare you the details.
The U.S. government’s decision to engage in military action is always emotionally charged. A variety of factors contribute to the tension that surrounds the high-level meetings in which such deliberations occur. Even in an age in which old norms relating to the making of war fade away, we need not look further than the lost American lives in Afghanistan and Iraq in order to understand the complexity of such decisions.
Aug. 29 marked the death of yet another group of martyrs in the crusade against nutritious eating. Our beloved buffalo chicken dip will be mourned, as will his comrades who followed suit: chicken wings and cheesy bread. No proper funeral was held for these brave soldiers, so I will attempt to serve them justice in this eulogy.
Surprise! Princeton, Harvard, Williams and Amherst are the best universities and liberal arts colleges in the nation. Once again.
Some come for the beer, others come for the food, and others come to mingle. No matter the reason people choose to come, no one leaves Hardywood Park Craft Brewery's food truck night disappointed.
After ten long months since the closing of the third season, Game of Thrones fans were finally able to satisfy their hunger last night with the airing of the season four premiere. Along with the usual blend of gruesome violence and pale naked people, several new plot lines and characters are introduced into what is sure to be a game-changing season.
Happy almost Pig Roast! It seems as if every conversation we've had this week revolves around the "percentage of rain" that the iPhone weather app is reporting. Either way, everyone is planning on dressing up, rain or shine, and celebrating all day long.
Recently, Barack Obama and Benjamin Netanyahu met to discuss a peace process between Israel and Palestine. From the perspectives of most leaders involved in the negotiations, "peace" should take the form of a two-state solution.
President Ayers announced his resignation that will take effect in 2015. Trustee Paul Queally made controversial comments at a secret society meeting in New York City. Greek life has been restricted more than ever, with at least two fraternities on probation. The apartment buildings are being dwarfed by new high-rises. This is the last print edition of The Collegian. And I am the new Opinions Editor.