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At times, I want to look away from the violence, the hatred, the darkness. But even having that choice is a testament to my privilege.
Being poor was part of my identity for most of my life, but it’s not anymore. It is the best, strangest, most isolating thing to have ever happened to me.
Especially at a time like this, as we witness marginalized populations suffering the most in times of crisis, we need to take action in our own community in a more informed way.
While these small businesses wait and ponder their next steps, we should all consider what flash of hope we might be able to provide to the people who run them.
In coming to terms with my own hypocrisy, I realized that I am a living, breathing example of why it is so difficult for Duke students to have vulnerable conversations about mental health.
We were all calling to demand respect and dignity for all of Duke’s workers, for everyone that the university relies on to function: including contract workers, adjunct faculty and graduate workers.
Duke should encourage students to explore opportunities not provided by the university, and not go out of their way to isolate students who want to diversify their background.
We owe our community so much more than 12 lighthearted photos—we need to take mental health more seriously than that.
All that I’m asking is for us as today’s voters and tomorrow’s leaders to help put the substance and the facts back into our political discussions.
I take solace in the knowledge that we're all sort of figuring it out together. The collective suffering through all we've lost is but another way that Duke has bonded us together.
Duke was a leader in making pass/fail grading widely available during this crisis. That should just be the start of reevaluating how we grade.
“I just think part-timers should get the same type of benefit(s) as full-timers since we do the same work as them, you know?” Angel said.
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.
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.
Why are graduate students treated as an afterthought when their contributions are key to Duke’s everyday function?
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.
More importantly, we can learn from the love others have shown, the sacrifices others have made, the struggles we are all going through together.
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.
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.