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Earlier this month, at 72 years of age, my maternal grandmother became a citizen of the United States. This news surprised me. Why would someone who loves her home country of Ghana want to become a United States citizen? The reasons are plentiful, but the sentiment is straightforward.
I was first introduced to Elon University’s E-Rides program this fall. The transportation program — offered from 7 p.m. to 2 a.m. Monday-Thursdays, and from 7 p.m. to 12 a.m. on Fridays — takes students across campus and to locations within a one-and-a-half mile radius from the Moseley Student Center. It is an extension of the on-campus hospitality program promoted at Elon.
So far in college, I’ve learned it is impossible to view U.S. politics from only one perspective. Like the range of students at a liberal arts college, the combinations of viewpoints are endless. Notions of representation and freedoms become jumbled in rhetoric about identity politics in this era of globalization.
It is an awkward moment of transition in my life. I am no longer a child, but I don’t consider myself to be an independent adult either. And now, I feel an unspoken pressure to pursue something career-building in between — an internship.
When an event goes live, the audience turns instantly toward the performer or, in a sports arena, the athlete. In that moment, everyone is consumed by the activity at hand.
sunshine. Blooming flowers. Birds chirping. Spring Break.
On the first day of class, I read the course syllabus to search for the scheduled exam dates. I delayed my thoughts on the midterm until I realized that spring break is in a few short weeks. This fast-approaching date consumes me to a point where I wish time would stop.
Last week, for the first time, I visited the Maker Hub: a space at Elon University where students can program robot arms and make things such as digital designs on 3D printers.
Correction: The article on page 12 of the Feb. 22 edition of The Pendulum stated that the current number of undergraduate students who identify as a person of color is 1 percent lower than it was the year before. The number of students identifying as a racial or ethnic minority is actually 18 percent, an increase from 17.3 percent the year before. ENN regrets this error.
In elementary and middle school we celebrated Black History Month with a large-scale performance exhibition. It was a time-consuming project, in which we sang old gospel songs such as “We Shall Overcome” and performed speeches from notable figures in Black History. I remember my friends and I were not always eager to wake up early on Saturday mornings for run-throughs and dress rehearsals.
We cannot help the way we are. Our eccentricities might amuse some and — naturally — irritate others. But when all is said and done, we cannot change the integral parts that make us unique.
I have been to the King Center in Atlanta maybe once or twice. But I cannot recall from memory how it looks or how large the haunting mausoleums of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and his wife, Coretta Scott King, stand in the sea of buildings. I cannot describe the landscape of King's beloved home. I cannot even say when I last visited the national historic site.
When the clock strikes midnight, a sense of fear and angst is said to erupt. This common trope very much describes the events that transpired this week. On Wednesday, Nov. 9, the clock struck three hours past midnight when Donald Trump was elected to the presidency. No one could have predicted this outcome. The pollsters, mainstream media and even Republicans ruled him out. Today, we must come to the realization that Donald Trump is our president because half of America elected him to office — a telling indicator of disunity in our country.
“I go to fight for these old hills behind me, these old Red Hills of Home.” This chorus, sang throughout Elon University’s rendition of the 1998 musical Parade, describes the spirit of the antebellum South that extended beyond the old hills of Georgia. With an exceptional cast and crew, Parade was a landmark in our nation’s history. The musical, which was a dramatization of the 1913 hanging of Jewish pencil factory superintendent Leo Frank, nearly brought me to tears with its poignant reminder of injustices that still haunt our country. Each character symbolized 20th century Georgia, where traditions of the Confederate South were paramount. Each scene was laden with themes of fear, prejudice and deceit. Of all the performances I have watched at Elon (and the list is long), Parade is the most powerful as a retelling of prejudice in America with a glimpse of hope and redemption.
It is an intimidating challenge to be a young voter in this election. When I was in high school, I used to dread going to AP government because our political system seemed too complex and unpredictable.
For more than four centuries, African-Americans have been burdened with a life of toil. Their bodies have been bruised and beaten under discriminatory policies and practices. Today, racial tensions in Charlotte echo hardships of the past. The struggle to triumph over this social evil manifests through protests in Charleston, Ferguson and Charlotte.