writing
my gap year through music
originally published in post- magazine
providence, rhode island. october 30, 2020.
snow crunches under my nikes, and frigid air bites my cheeks as i cross the main green for the first time since march. where is the fall foliage? where is… everyone? tomorrow is halloween. will people party in pods? how does covid college work? i’m finally home, but i’ve never felt more out of place…
media by joanne han
originally published in the college hill independent
letterboxd, a social networking app for sharing movies, allows users to rate, view, and write reviews of movies and share them with people all over the world. i began rating movies during quarantine. i logged films i’ve watched in the past and wrote reviews as i watched new movies, like recent releases from shiva baby (five stars) to malcom and marie (two and a half stars) and classics such as boogie nights (four and a half stars) and taxi driver (three and a half stars)…
illustration by sophie foulkes
street art in bogotá and beyond
originally published in post- magazine
my senses are overloaded as i attempt to soak in the vibrant hues that surround me the way a canvas soaks in paint. towering above me, lions, birds, migrant workers, and indigenous women live together on walls of businesses and homes. it feels as though any second they will peel off the brick and appear next to me to share their stories. every poster has a purpose, every mural has a message. welcome to las calles de bogotá…
illustration by meera singh
her body and mine
originally published in post- magazine
“i don’t get it,” i yelled into my sister’s ear through throngs of people and ear piercing screams. “me neither,” she said, as the crowd suffocating us sang along to the instrumental theme song from the office, the cue for the shadow of a 17-year-old girl in an oversized sweatsuit to float onstage. jaded and weary, at the end of my second day at the camp flog gnaw carnival in 2018, i was unimpressed by billie eilish’s shtick…
illustration by solveig asplund
politics & peoplehood amidst a pandemic
originally published in post- magazine
on february 10, 2021, one day after carole king turned 79, her legendary second studio album, tapestry, celebrated its 50th birthday. upon its release, her sophomore LP retained the #1 slot on the billboard 100 for 15 consecutive weeks, transforming an era of music and generations of listeners, myself included, into its own tapestry of heart, grit, and authenticity…
illustration by lucid clairvoyant
pornography and the MPAA rating system
originally published in the college hill independent
if my great-grandfather sherrill were alive today, i’d have a bone to pick with him. sherrill corwin was one of the founding members of the motion picture association of america (mpaa), the group that created the national film rating system in 1968, at the end of hollywood’s “golden age.” 52 years later, a single shot that includes full nudity still causes a film to automatically be rated r, which drives children under 17 away from theaters and onto the internet. there, they can illegally pirate r-rated films (or sometimes legally stream them for free) and access content as explicit as hardcore porn without parental permission…
illustration by yukti agarwal
originally published in the jewish journal
the moment my grandfather bruce corwin was born on june 11, 1940, he already had defied all odds. he and his twin sister, bonnie fuller, arrived eight weeks early and were not predicted to live long past birth, let alone lead the extraordinary lives they have for the past 80 years. none of us imagined celebrating this milestone birthday for bruce via zoom, but if any one of us has the power to remain resilient through the most difficult circumstances, it is my grandfather…
originally published in the brown daily herald
since the eighth grade, attending brown had been my biggest pipe dream. i was absolutely infatuated with its idiosyncratic and captivating community and was immediately able to envision myself within it. when it finally came time for me to pour my heart into my early decision application four years later, i was devastated to find that one of the supplemental essay questions had been significantly altered (since the 2015 admission cycle, it turned out). no longer would any applicant be asked, “why brown?”…
originally published in the ultraviolet
last june, i drove my friend to the mulholland scenic overlook to watch my favorite movie of all time in the backseat of my car. to my astonishment, he had never seen it before. as pastel hues washed the clouds out of the horizon line through my windshield, the opening credits rolled to reveal a familiar california christmas scene. i found myself on the edge of my seat – not because i had forgotten what was going to unfold next on screen, but because i was petrified that my friend would not cherish this film as i did. i’d really hyped this movie up to him, and at the time, i didn’t know the guy all that well. fortunately, he loved it. ten months later, he’s my best friend, and the film is even closer to my heart as i prepare to graduate from high school and embark on my next journey.
almost famous (2000), written and directed by cameron crowe, is a semi-autobiographical comedy-drama that follows a teenage writer who lands the opportunity of a lifetime to travel with a rock band and document their tour for rolling stone. the film begins in 1969, focusing on child prodigy william miller (patrick fugit): a social outcast whose neurotic mother (frances mcdormand) has forbidden him from listening to rock music and indulging in most aspects of pop culture. william’s older sister, anita (zooey deschanel), leaves home to become a flight attendant as soon as she turns 18. when she kisses her brother goodbye, she informs him of some musical contraband that she left under his bed: “listen to tommy with a candle burning and you’ll see your entire future,” she whispers to him. flash forward to 1973, when william has been transformed by the who’s fourth album into a rock enthusiast. miraculously, he receives an assignment from a local music journalist to review a black sabbath concert where he befriends the lead singer of the opening band. the rest is history for william, who soon finds himself traveling across the country with the band and falling in love with mysterious “band-aids” like the infamous penny lane (kate hudson).
almost famous is the inspiration for this column and for the audacious lifestyle i’ve chosen to lead. just as william’s concerned mother demands that her son call home every day, my mother was hesitant to let me attend coachella as a freshman and was anxious every time she dropped me off at an indie concert in koreatown on a school night. “you promise you did all of your school work?” “yes, mom.” “and you’ll be home by midnight?” like elaine, my mother has come to embrace this hobby of mine, and has seen it blossom into something more substantial than a way to have fun. weeknight concerts got me through seemingly endless weeks of back-to-back assessments and let me out of my bubble, even if just for an evening, to witness the culture of my city and the art of live music. upon returning home, i’d immediately write down all of my thoughts. soon, i found myself publishing these pieces and sharing them with executives at goldenvoice, who were asking me for music recommendations and gifting me free artist passes to coachella. i wasn’t quite william miller, but i was pretty damn close.
william miller has always been one of my greatest role models. a fellow journalist and old soul, i will take all that i’ve learned from him about meeting new people and writing with truth and grit as i continue on to college and beyond. i’d like to think that there’s a little bit of penny in me: carefree and caring of those who surround her, and a little anita: fearlessly independent and slightly rebellious. the three each exemplify different approaches to their fleeting adolescence and innocence, which floods viewers of the film with the same nostalgic sensation.
at its core, almost famous is about embracing what scares us while caring for one another. it’s a film best watched surrounded by those who empower you, and the experience is different every time. it was new when i watched it with my friends at the hollywood forever cemetery, when hundreds of people stood up on their picnic blankets to join the cast in screaming “tiny dancer” together during an iconic stillwater tour bus scene. it was new when i watched it a month later in my car because i was witnessing the blossoming of a friendship.
high school, and life, are remembered by the moments in which you feel alive. as an ultraviolet columnist, it has been an honor to have a platform on which to share the experiences that have defined my adolescence. the soft chords of “america” by simon and garfunkel that play as william’s sister anita packs her belongings into the trunk of her boyfriend’s car are already flooding my brain as i think about leaving home in a few months. i recall that at the very end of the film, anita runs into a disheveled william in an airport and tells him she’ll take him anywhere in the world. he chooses home.
a piece of my heart will always be in los angeles, at marlborough, at the ultraviolet. i will be back! but until then, i’m over and out. and to quote the great penny lane, “it’s all happening.”
originally published in the edge 2019, “kaleidoscope”
when i applied to marlborough seven years ago, i was immediately captivated by the close-knit community present here. i saw girls collaborating in the classroom, friends lifting each other up, and teachers stitching the quilt together with their own special thread. i longed to wrap myself in that quilt, to explore every niche and fold of its comforting yet rugged terrain. somewhere around my junior year, i abandoned the quilt metaphor. i realized that inasmuch as marlborough is stitched together with unique fabric and fibers, it is also constantly evolving and transforming. this place has changed just as much as i have over the course of our six years together. we’re both almost unrecognizable. yet, there is an essence that has remained intrinsic to both of us, a curious core that has driven me far beyond the front bricks.
ultimately, my marlborough experience has been defined by perspectives—especially by learning to accept those that differ from my own and being open-minded to the possibility of mine changing over time. here, i’ve learned how to engage in civil discourse, how to challenge the status quo, and how to immerse entire communities in conversations that are born through mediums fueled by creativity—through journalism, through music, and through simply raising my hand. marlborough isn’t just about adding elements to an already existing entity; it’s about shaking things up and challenging our traditions, while keeping their integrity intact.
it’s like the sensation a child experiences when she looks through a mirrored tube filled with colored glass and watches the shapes morph into new patterns and images. she is mesmerized by the fast-moving fractals, each one different and unique, as her perspective shifts and horizons broaden. rotating this toy recalls the gears in my brain turning to generate ideas. the playfulness of childhood turned ingenuity of adolescence. our ruthless attempts to shatter glass ceilings and alter our patterns in the hopes of leaving something slightly more beautiful in our wake. such is marlborough—a kaleidoscope—and this year’s theme for the edge.
amongst these pages you will discover a vibrant collection of art and writing that piece together this diverse yet prismatic community of thinkers. just as the next time i return to this campus, the kaleidoscope will have blossomed into new shapes, my greatest hope is that each time you look at this book, you see something slightly different than you did before. immerse yourself in all its angles, and let your imagination run wild.
originally published in will work for apples, edited by jen mann
“if you can stomach his style, i might suggest a novel by henry james,” dr. long says, watching me scribble james’s name at the end of a reading list that includes icons from percy shelley to carmen maria machado. his ankles are crossed right over left, a mason jar in hand, as he thumbs through a pile of books he took off his shelf for me to consider. dr. david long prefers to be called “dl”; in his words, “the ‘d’ stands for ‘dave,’ not ‘doctor.’” dr. banner, similarly nicknamed “db,” whips her silky gray bob around and audibly groans, “oh dave. you can’t do that to her! don’t put her through the misery of reading henry james.”
such is a typical lunch conversation in room c213. i burst in unannounced to swoon over zadie smith’s essay on joni mitchell, and thirty minutes later walk out with a stack of stellar reads. “joni mitchell, huh?” dl pauses for a moment. he clearly hasn’t read her new collection of essays. he admits to it and does me one more: “why don’t you pick out your two favorite essays from the anthology, and i’ll have the class read and discuss them next week?” the gears in his brain are constantly turning. no syllabus is ever set in stone.
dl and db are my day parents. they critique my work, praise my successes, and bicker with each other over their takes on feminist psychoanalysis and who to hire to fill in for teachers on maternity leave. unlike with my real parents, i feel an inexplicable sense of exhilaration that stems from the simultaneous reverence and bewilderment that comes with being in their presence. i’m constantly searching for the right thing to say.
like with most parent/child relationships, a long and winding road has led us to where we are. i spent my first four years at my all-girls private school frightened of the striking woman who was the co-head of the english department with the funny little man who was known to dress up as hester prynne during his teaching of the scarlet letter. in direct contrast to dr. long, dr. banner’s aura was strict, critical, and intimidating. when she subbed one class for my 9th grade english teacher, i could feel her judgment piercing the silence of fifteen frightened freshmen. but as i would later learn from her, it’s all about word choice. dr. banner is rigorous, honest, and fierce. she exemplifies a tough love for the students in whom she identifies potential, which has altered the way i speak through writing just as much as it’s changed the way i listen.
during the spring of 10th grade when i was selecting my junior year courses, i specifically requested not to have dr. banner for ap english. i did not want to be discouraged by a notoriously harsh teacher during the year of high school that mattered most. after my first year of english with dr. long, which was nothing short of a dream, i begged him to teach a section of ap english the following year. in fact, i wrote him a three-paged “supplemental essay” confessing my love for his teaching style and seemingly endless knowledge, which ended with the sentence, “it’s in your hands now…” as a man of critical theory and postmodern novellas, dl retired from the rigorous selection of british literature present in the ap curriculum many years ago. i also now know that he secretly wanted to pass the baton of teaching me to dr. banner.
when i received my junior year schedule in the mail, i couldn’t believe my eyes. i immediately emailed dl to inform him of my deep worries about having dr. banner as my teacher. his response was short and sweet: “i have an inkling you two are going to get along just swimmingly.” to say his prediction proved accurate is an understatement.
in keeping with freud’s oedipus complex, i’ve found myself so deeply enthralled with my day mom’s eloquence and wisdom that my birth mother has developed deeply rooted feelings of inadequacy as a parent, who herself was an english major. when she met dr. banner, however, she completely understood where i was coming from. debbie banner captivates every room she walks into. people immediately stop what they’re doing and, enveloped in her beauty and strong presence, listen to all she has to say. her erudition, wit, and unparalleled expertise on everything from beowulf to high school social situations is admirable and appreciated by all who know her.
most notably, dr. banner embodies the core values and spirit of our tightly knit community. she is a fearless feminist who puts others before herself and holds herself and her students to impeccable standards. she transforms her students into inquisitive learners and conscientious people by teaching with precision, humor, and genuine care. i admitted to my friend and fellow “slut for the english department,” as we call ourselves, that i simply must have a crush on dr. banner. there is no other way to describe the feeling i get every time i see her.
it has become a tradition that each year, a senior who had dr. banner her junior year will pass the million dollar question on to a current junior: “ask dr. banner to tell your class the story of her engagement.” and she will. she will sacrifice an entire 55-minute class period to regale her students with the beautiful story about meeting her husband as a freshman at yale. many of them cry, and not a single one forgets it.
i would most accurately compare dr. banner to a bottle of fine whiskey: classy, sophisticated, and audacious… strong, yet smooth. my real parents purchased a bottle for me to give to her as a parting gift at the end of our glorious year together. in her thank you note, she told me she would think of me every time she toasted to a glass, and she kindly extended an invitation to join her in an “intro to dark spirits” when i turn 21.
this year, i’m back with dr. long, and better than ever. he has guided fifteen chosen future english majors through the complex origins of literary theory, all the way through contemporary applications from critical race theory to the neurohumanities. “this is a pretentious-safe space,” dl told us on the first day of class. by the end of the year, we are each responsible for crafting a 30-paged academic article on a topic of our choice. while i assumed the infamous “seniorits” would’ve hit me like a truck by the springtime, i’m still wholeheartedly devoted to giving dl a good read. we miss dr. banner dearly, but i see her every time i pop my head into their shared classroom. she’s always there to chat – about everything from books to college to boys.
after six years at my school, i’ve discovered what sets the legends apart. it isn’t the phd from harvard or the resume peppered with prep schools that earn them the respect they deserve here. it’s the teachers who understand what their students go through on a daily basis, the ones who teach their students the curriculum not through powerpoint presentations and prepared activities, but through personal anecdotes that leave them with a feeling rather than pages of notes to memorize. it’s the teachers who help their students improve by working with them, rather than against them. it’s the ones who care—not only about the subjects they teach, but also about the girls to whom they teach. “it’s not how widely you’re loved, but rather, how deeply,” i once told dr. long.
parting with my day parents in may will be one of the most difficult transitions i’ve yet to overcome. but they’ve given me a second home like nothing i could’ve ever imagined. they’ve provided me with the tools to become not only the scholar i’ve always dreamed of being, but more importantly, a person of depth and empathy. as the late michel foucault once said, “i don't feel that it is necessary to know exactly what i am. the main interest in life and work is to become someone else that you were not in the beginning.” thank you both for taking me under your wings and transforming me into someone completely different than who i once was, in the best way possible.
originally published in the ultraviolet
you’re probably well-aware that lady gaga made her silver screen debut in bradley cooper’s 2018 remake of a star is born (1937), a classic tale of love, loss, and fame. you also likely know that cooper co-wrote, directed, and starred in the film. he spent hours learning to sing and play the guitar. you may be wondering why he went through all this trouble to mimic a love story that has already been told three times… and why no one will shut up about it…
illustration by jess lane
originally published in the jewish women’s archive. also published in lilith magazine and the new york jewish week
over the years, i’ve been to countless bar and bat mitzvah ceremonies. while each one has been unique to the specific teen being honored, all of the services have been catered to the typical jewish kid: one who can read english and some hebrew, memorize prayers, and stand at the bimah and speak about about his or her jewish education and life experiences. in february, i had the honor of being part of a bar mitzvah that was unlike any of the others i had previously attended. my family friend max became a bar mitzvah without speaking a single word…
originally published in smith college voices & visions journal, “transitions.” scholastic gold key 2018 winner
where charlie stevens came from it was always fall or summer. in autumn he would rake leaves from the rigid southern roots of the oak out front, and in summer he would watch them wallow in heavy wind until dusk swept them out of sight. sometimes he would walk the dog or ride his bike into town with music of foreign places and better times filling the void through small holes in the sides of his ovular skull and replacing the church bells he could never hear…
originally published in the jewish women’s archive
the holiday season doesn’t truly begin until the glimmering menorah ornament is carefully placed on my family’s christmas tree. it isn’t a hanukkah bush; it’s a christmas tree. i’ve been raised following jewish tradition while also acknowledging catholic customs, and i’m lucky enough to have grown up in an environment that has encouraged my complex jewish identity and built me a versatile and sturdy religious foundation…
