Hereâs my issue with this election cycle. It isnât that Clinton seems to be surpassing Bernie in the amount of delegates she has won, or that Donald Trump now seems to be the leading contender for the Republican nomination. What truly troubles me is that politicians in this country have finally ...
When Sarah Silverman used the word “meshugaas” in her speech at the Oscars Feb. 28, I knew what it meant.
This year, as a part of the Isabella Cannon Leadership Fellows program, I went on a trip studying the Civil Rights Movement through the deep south. On the trip, I learned more about the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the fight for voting rights in our country. It breaks my heart that voter registration is a fight many people in our country struggled to win and many other countries still fight for every day. Despite winning this fight though, so many young people decide not tovote. It is such a privilege to be citizens of a country that wants to hear our voices yet we decide not to use them. It really frustrates me, and frankly, drives me a little crazy.
It was the sixth grade student government election. I prepared my speech to convince my peers that I was the perfect presidential candidate.
Too overwhelmed with work to focus, I looked through social media to feed my procrastination. I then progressed to reading various articles in hopes of finding inspiration to do my work. Ironically, I came across The Energy Project, a company that works with organizations, professional coaches and individuals to improve workplace morale and in turn increase productivity. It has helped many big-name companies in various fields increase their success, including Google, Apple and Coca-Cola.
For as long as I can remember, I have identified as a feminist. I have never seen being a woman as being different from being a feminist.
“I’m so scared I want to cry.” Those are the words that I wrote to my best friend just hours before I would don the hijab for a day to stand in solidarity against Islamophobia. This year was my fourth year wearing the hijab for a day and each year was just as nerve wracking as the previous. I can’t really explain why I get so nervous and scared.
I recently reported on a speech about campus racism given by Lawrence Ross, author of “Blackballed: The Black and White Politics of Race on America’s Campuses.” It was a fairly routine assignment. I showed up in LaRose Digital Theatre with plenty of time to scope out some students to interview and a good seat for taking photos. It was only when I’d settled in that I realized this event was being attended, unlike most events at Elon University, by mostly African-American students and faculty. It was then that the discomfort settled in, along with the feeling that, however unwelcome that discomfort might be, it was absolutely necessary.
Just one month into the new semester, we’re naturally inclined to consider not how far we’ve come, but how far we still have to go. Nevertheless, some professors are already starting to drop the dreaded warning: “Pay attention — this could be on the midterm.” It’s scary but true. Midterms will be here before we know it, and it’s our responsibility to be ready for them. But how much stress is too much?
The trees outside the Sacred Space at the Numen Lumen Pavilion are beginning to bud. I spend a lot of time there as a Truitt Center intern.
Last Monday, I was driving into Elon thinking about my first meeting of the morning, wondering about food for Shabbat dinner, and trying to remember a couple ideas for the Multi-Faith Spring Break trip, when I stopped at a red light.
Nowadays, not one commercial break goes by without featuring an ad for a weight-loss program, machine or miracle pill, so it’s hard not to think about your own eating and fitness habits while sitting on the couch watching TV.
It is the beginning of a new semester. Well, a week or two in — close enough. We are still mostly excited about going to class, still reading a little bit ahead and working toward the growth and learning that is promised. And how well I remember those moments at the beginning, when it is overwhelmingly apparent how much there is to learn, how much is beyond our capacity and understanding, and how far the goal is. But by the end of the term, we will all be amazed.
The archetype of the good, wholesome “all-American” man is central to American culture. This character is often white, clean-cut and fits a “good guy” persona.
If you had asked me about a year ago for my opinions on America’s political climate, I might have scoffed and shook my head. While I’ve never been entirely apathetic when it comes to politics — there have always been prominent social issues that I have followed the political responses to — I could never bring myself to take an active interest.
Before taking my Winter Term class this year, IDS224: “Non-Violence and Civil Rights," my classmates and I dreaded learning more about the historic Civil Rights Movement. I didn’t believe that I would gain anything new from the class and saw learning the material as an obligation. However, I am happy to say that I was proved wrong: that as I read and engaged, I found there was so much I still had to learn. Contrary to my prior belief, the Civil Rights Movement was far more than a bus boycott and a few marches. Most importantly, the Civil Rights Movement was about more than just civil rights. At its core, the movement was truly about human rights.
There’s a very real phenomenon called imposter syndrome, coined in 1978 by U.S. psychologists Pauline Clance and Suzanne Imes. According to the New York Times, for them it meant a feeling of falseness “in people who believe that they are not intelligent, capable or creative despite evidence of high achievement.” For me, it means constantly fearing that I’m not as intelligent as my grades and test scores say.
Fifteen years ago, my family moved from Caracas, Venezuela, to Cary, North Carolina. I am now 18 and have spent the entirety of my life navigating my way between two different cultures.
This is an exciting time to be in the field of college mental health. The work is challenging and deeply rewarding on many levels.
You never think it can happen to you. But when it does, it hurts.