Where we all live
By Liddy Grantland | March 24, 2020Look. You live here. You’re breathing.
Look. You live here. You’re breathing.
Campus is immaculate in a way that is only possible in human places devoid of people.
Although COVID-19 has brought death and exacerbated societal inequities and increased feelings of isolation and loneliness, this virus has united humanity in our shared vulnerability.
Perhaps the hardest part of this pandemic is surviving in quarantine. Toilet Paper is at an all-time low. Please consider using both Tar Heel Shirts and your old midterms to wipe your ass.
It was beautiful that I missed Duke this much, that I connected to people enough that I found it wrenching to leave them. I try to focus on this now.
I minored in political science, and it’s a subject I’ve been heavily involved with, but all those political science classes and grand strategy talks hardly take into consideration the lives of ordinary people.
So while I could never pretend to understand exactly what it is like to be in your position—being afforded even less time to enjoy what was left of college before what was already sure to be a very bittersweet May afternoon—I’d be remiss if I didn’t remind you that your friends aren’t going anywhere that you can’t follow them, virtually or physically.
Why are graduate students treated as an afterthought when their contributions are key to Duke’s everyday function?
I knew my first year in college would be full of surprises, but I don’t remember the FAC chat on what to do in the case of a global pandemic. I must’ve slept through that one.
Nothing is cliched during a pandemic.
More importantly, we can learn from the love others have shown, the sacrifices others have made, the struggles we are all going through together.
While we, the class of 2020, will have infinite responses to answer where we were when senior year was canceled, there is one that is unanimous and sadly fitting: we were apart.
The Chronicle wants to clear up any confusion, push administration to take equitable and just actions, and provide an outlet for anyone in the community—students, faculty, staff, parents, Durhamites—to express themselves.
I understand that none of this is part of the plan. But the comfort the university provides can be detrimental to masking underlying issues with a thick layer of security.
They are happy to claim us when touting their status as #1 “Best Colleges for Food in America.”
Our last class period, our last Old Duke, our last a cappella rehearsal, our last student performance, our last dreaded walk from Blue Zone, our last LDOC, our last glance at the iconic Chapel, our last… All these final moments have already happened, and I can only look back wishing that I had soaked in each one just a little bit more.
While the university adapts to rapidly changing conditions, Duke has a responsibility to minimize the financial uncertainty for all members of our community and ensure that all individuals have the support and resources to follow appropriate public health measures.
What should be established as a low hanging and accessible fruit has been selfishly turned into a high-hanging potential source of disparity.
In the age of COVID-19, before you blast someone for their words or actions, remember to empathize with the Blue Devil who’s behind the horns.
Of course I’m an outsider. And I do feel privileged to attend a university that respects my rights. But the force of a critique cannot be deflected just by pointing out that its origins are external to the subject’s immediate context.