It’s time to reclaim what once haunted you. By Annie Muscat Staff Ballerina I am…
C’mon, ladies. Would you rather be a porcelain teacup or a red solo cup? My friend recounts the words of her high school health teacher and I shudder. I’m disappointed and appalled by the blatant slut-shaming young girls are being fed. Authority figures are supposed to educate with logic and reason, not through cheap scare tactics. But I can’t say I’m surprised by any of this. Since the dawn of time, female virginity has been socially constructed in a way that male virginity has not. Archaic cross-cultural thinking has persisted throughout centuries as women are generally expected to remain “pure” until they are married.
Between utilizing my every last brain cell to decipher Kantian philosophy and feverishly skimming outdated textbooks, I realized I had forgotten how to love reading. Just as the U.S. education system sucks the joy out of learning, forcing students to extrinsically memorize material over actually understanding it, reading became exhausting. In an effort to remind myself that reading isn’t a laborious task, but rather something to be enjoyed, I read a book per week this summer.
Everyone’s favorite pretentious cynic is back with yet another existential, dread-inducing masterpiece. On June 1, singer-songwriter Josh Tillman released his fourth album, God’s Favorite Customer, as his sardonic alias Father John Misty. Already, the album has garnered acclaim with Pitchfork labeling it Best New Music, and Rolling Stone calling it a “Lennon-esque Pleasure”.
On Monday, March 12 at 1 pm, a relatively small but impassioned group of Fordham students and faculty assembled in front of the Cunniffe fountain to stand against white supremacy at the university. Students held posters, chanted, and few expressed their frustration into a megaphone. Some signs read “Zero Tolerance for White Supremacy: Neo-Nazis Must Be Held Accountable” and “Racism is a Social Sin” in bold, confrontational letters.
A fantastic array of vibrant colors, glistening sequins, elaborate choreography, and eloquent politically-charged commentary. Where else could you be but Sasha Velour’s Nightgowns? Nestled in the heart of New York’s favorite gentrified neighborhood, Nightgowns appears monthly at National Sawdust in Williamsburg.
Anyone who has visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Fifth Avenue can attest to its grand monumentality and to the impressiveness of the extensive collection which spans globally over thousands of years.
Blazing a trail towards a green future for the Earth
You better paintbrush up on your knowledge of Van Gogh
Punk rock and teen angst lives on…