The independent news organization of Duke University
In one of my classes this semester, my professor handed us an advertisement and told us to “problematize” it—to point out any ethical flaws we might notice.
As November comes to an end, the leaves are done changing and the chilly air is here to stay.
It seems almost fitting that I applied for this column as a joke. After all, isn’t that what satire is? The joke that’s just a little too real, the one that makes people laugh uneasily and start looking for the exits.
If you listen to some Duke students, you would think the relationship between Duke and Durham is fraught at best, outright exploitative at worst.
Earlier this week my mother emailed me an article about the importance of sleep.
The midterm elections are over, and we’re left with what most expected: a Democratic House, a Republican Senate, and an overwhelmingly divided government.
The “last” of anything has a certain romantic quality to it.
Donald Trump’s recent proposal to end birthright citizenship was met with outrage and rejection from the left and right alike.
Whether through everyday conversations or discussions in the classroom, you’ve probably heard discussions on globalization: people today interact with others from many different cultures and backgrounds much more frequently than in decades past.
I was sitting in lecture the other day. Planning the route I would take on my run after class, I caught just a few words of my professor's lesson. As he repeated his conclusion, my professor muttered “not to beat a dead horse, but…” And that’s when I began to ponder: why, exactly, does our parlance stigmatize the beating of dead horses? What’s so wrong with that?
When it comes to identity, I can frame myself two radically different ways: I am a gay person of color on a large amount of financial aid, and I am a white male legacy student at Duke. Both descriptions are technically accurate, but fail to illustrate the nuances of my competing identities.
Before I came to college, I had midterms in high school. They happened during the middle of each semester and everyone spent about a week prepping for them.
Imagine a typical Wednesday night at Duke. As students filter out of classes and pack up to leave the library, they scroll through their phones—texting friends and catching up on missed GroupMe messages—to coordinate their plans for the night ahead.
As I laid in bed on a Monday mid-afternoon, I envisioned studying biology, doing my English homework, or even editing this column.
Answer: Just like healthcare.
This year’s midterm elections are gearing up to be one of the most followed election cycles in modern history.
As you very well know, it’s not all that difficult to spot me on any given autumnal day. Sit out on the West Campus quad for long enough and you will inevitably see a 5’10” lad strutting along in a vibrant Chanukah cardigan, my signature (and only) piece of seasonal outerwear.
Election day is in just a few days. On campus, I’ve seen parties, panels, and programming to promote student voting.
Banners in front of the Brodhead Center scream at passing students to “VOTE EARLY.”
Financial aid at Duke is under threat, and the regressive policies that administrators may institute in the coming weeks and months could trigger a crisis of affordability at Duke.
