Pride started as a riot. Nowadays, it’s more of a street fair.

Twin Cities Pride took place this weekend — nearly a month behind the rest of the country — celebrating the LGBTQ community with “BIPOC and LGBTQ+ vendors, food courts, a beer garden and music stages” in Loring Park.

Alongside local vendors, corporations like Amazon, Comcast/Xfinity, FedEx, Sun Country Airlines and U.S. Bank set up booths for the weekend. In a strange turn of events, one of the few corporations I was cool with being at pride was Amazon: in 2012, Jeff Bezos and now ex-wife MacKenzie made one of the largest donations ever to the campaign to legalize same-sex marriage.

Here’s the deal: most corporations couldn’t care less about the LGBTQ community until June rolls around. With the advent of Pride month, there’s an opportunity for businesses to turn a profit on rainbow-colored debit cards, household items and logos that will literally only be rainbow for a singular month. The FBI, with its incredible history of surveilling gay activists in the 1960s and literal ban on LGBTQ employees that was in place until the 1990s, made a cute little pride tweet. Even the NFL tweeted a video that, I kid you not, opened with “Football is gay.” It’s like when kids turn 12 and are fully aware Santa isn’t real but have to keep up the ruse to get their presents. None of these organizations actually care about the LGBTQ community. All they care about is cashing in. If you don’t believe me, just look at Comcast. Despite passing the Human Rights Campaign’s Corporate Equality Index with flying colors, Comcast donated over $2 million dollars to 154 anti-gay politicians in 2019. Cute, right?

I have nothing against making capitalism a little more gay, or at least a little more colorful. Celebrating how far we have come is important. But Pride should not just be a party. LGBTQ people across the world, and in the United States, are not yet out of the woods. In terms of legislative attacks at the state level, 2021 is set up to be one of the worst years for LGBTQ rights, and 27 states do not protect LGBTQ individuals from discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender identity. In North Dakota, university-funded student groups can reject LGBTQ potential members on the basis of free speech. Tennessee is still arguing about bathrooms. States all over the country don’t teach sex-ed or any form of LGBTQ history.

Visibility is important. Equality is more important. If these organizations actually cared about LGBTQ rights, they’d be doing more than rainbow marketing schemes and meaningless social media posts. Put that money toward supporting politicians and policies that lift up the LGBTQ community. Fund real visibility in the education system and stand up for the children and adults across this country who are stuck in cities and towns that do not love them for who they are. The result will be a more equitable country and a consumer base that recognizes the steps that have been taken.

Next June, I don’t want to walk around Pride thinking about how lucky I am to live in a state that protects and respects the LGBTQ community. I want to celebrate the real progress that was pushed for: freedom of choice, an education system that teaches students real history, the ability to marry and have a cake at that wedding. Then, and only then, will I consider opting for that rainbow debit card.

After a year of turmoil and upheaval, the citizens of Minneapolis will pick their next mayor on Tuesday, Nov. 2. The battle for mayor of Minneapolis is bound to be a contentious one. Incumbent Jacob Frey is running for reelection, but he faces two prominent challengers: Kate Knuth and Sheila Nezhad.

Minneapolis hasn’t put a Republican in the mayoral office since 1973. The Democratic-Farmer-Laborer Party (DFL) has a stronghold on Hennepin County, with 70% of voters going for Biden in the 2020 Presidential Election. While it may not be the most bipartisan to look only at Frey’s fellow DFL challengers, it certainly makes the most sense. The question going into this race is simple: What does Minneapolis need right now?

This is often, and incorrectly, reworded as “who” do we need now. The policies are more important than the person — though I think that’s a lesson many of us learned in 2020. Our political leaders are people. No matter who is put into office, they will make mistakes at some point. When considering who to rank as your number one (because Minneapolis is a beautiful utopia that uses ranked choice voting), it’s critical to look not just at the background of a candidate or how well spoken they are, but what change they have actually made and the concrete plans they have moving forward.

Current mayor Jacob Frey has the incumbency advantage, but his first term in office was rife with crisis: the COVID-19 pandemic, the murder of George Floyd and subsequent summer of racial reckoning kept the administration (and its public relations department) on its toes. Despite all this, an August 2020 poll conducted by the Minneapolis Star Tribune found that Frey held onto an approval rating of 50 percent. His tumultuous first term wasn’t enough to knock him out of the running, but it also hasn’t guaranteed him reelection.

Frey’s focus for much of his original campaign and time in office was affordable housing. Candidate Kate Knuth is also honing in on this issue. In a state with remarkably brutal winters, providing residents with accessible housing is truly a matter of life or death. Frey’s website outlines his four pillars for affordable housing, including increasing pathways to housing, protecting renter’s rights, and creating more affordable housing units. He doesn’t outline how he plans to do those things. Knuth’s website sports fourteen bullet points of in-depth steps, many of which fall into one of Frey’s four categories — just with more detail. Knuth also ties in environmental and equity issues in her proposed pursuits. Our third potential candidate, Sheila Nezhad, outlines a few vision statements without actionable steps. Nezhad’s website also just screams “girlboss,” even if she’s focused on accessibility instead of gatekeeping.

While this is just a singular issue, it is representative of how the candidates would take on a term as mayor. Knuth is incredibly straightforward and in-depth, Nezhad is a big-picture thinker and Frey walks somewhere in the middle of the two. The question is, then, what do you want accomplished in Minneapolis over the next few years? What issues matter the most to you? And which candidate has the best plan to confront those exact issues?

We’ve still got time before the mayoral election, during which the candidates will likely try to differentiate themselves strongly enough to actually stand out. That’s easier said than done when they’re all part of the same party in an overwhelmingly liberal city, but I’m sure they’ll try anyway. As the race progresses, I have something to ask of you: Vote with your head, not with your heart.

Taylor Swift is an icon. Regardless of your opinion on her music, her impact on popular culture is hard to ignore. Now, she’s re-recording her first five studio albums made under the music label Big Machine, with the public reason being to reclaim rights over her previous work after it was sold to music executive Scooter Braun. But, these re-recordings are reflective of her growth, not only as an artist, but as a public and political figure.

Swift largely stayed out of politics early in her career, and white supremacist groups latched onto her silence as support for their cause. It wasn’t until 2018 that Swift began to come into her own in the political sphere. Now, in 2021, Swift is a prominent advocate for LGBTQIA+ rights, gun control and the freedom to choose. She’s an outspoken feminist, dropping tracks like “The Man” and “Mad Woman” which speak to the trials of misogyny in everyday life.

Re-recording her albums is more than just a f— you to Scooter Braun. By Swift’s account, Braun has repeatedly bullied her. He also closely associates with Kanye West, who Swift has a contentious relationship with following the 2009 MTV Music and Video Awards. In re-recording her albums, her goal is to override her previous work — keeping Braun from profiting off of her music. It’s a manifestation of how she has changed and grown as an artist, a reclamation of her identity and reputation. She exerts control over her music, releasing all of the songs she wants, not simply the ones deemed good enough for the album by producers.

In the era of cancel culture, proving personal growth by literally going back over your past is an influential move.

For a long time, Swift remade herself with each album. She didn’t just release songs, she changed her personal style, altered her public image and curated a musical theatre production for each world tour. As she grew from a teenage country singer to the 31 year old pop icon she is now, her sound grew with her.

Her last two albums, Folklore and Evermore, have been a departure from that. They tell the stories of other people, real and make-believe, and have none of the pomp and circumstance of her earlier work. Swift is no longer conforming to the music scene. She’s not a malleable teen girl listening to the whims of producers and agents trying to make her famous; she’s come into her own. That sense of self allows her to re-record all of these previous albums in a way that is true to who she truly is.

Swift’s actions do more than provide her fans with content to consume. Not only does she regain the rights to her previous songs, she’s able to alter her earlier music to accurately reflect who she has become — and leave behind who she is not. She is no longer a politically silent poster child for neo-Nazis and white supremacists, nor is she an innocent teenage girl singing country ballads about heartbreak. Taylor Swift is simply Taylor, without the perceptions and misconceptions of society.

I am looking forward to Taylor’s new tunes and seeing the path she continues to carve for herself, both politically and personally. And, as my roommate said, “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to write about Taylor Swift.”

In May of 2021, the Gopherwatch Monthly Safety Report recorded 11 aggravated assaults, 12 burglaries, 12 burglaries from a motor vehicle, 15 robberies, 15 motor vehicle thefts and 76 thefts for the Marcy-Holmes neighborhood (including Dinkytown). Prospect Park (including Stadium Village) experienced 24 thefts, among other crimes. And that was just in the month of May.

It took University of Minnesota students receiving nonfatal gunshot wounds while waiting to enter an off-campus bar for President Gabel to acknowledge the crime crisis around campus. Given that it took so long, I’d like to walk through her administration’s response to the extreme rise in crime faced by the campus community.

Immediate steps outlined in Gabel’s June 21 email include making Minneapolis Police Department officers more visible at night, with a greater number of officers assigned to the area and more cameras installed. Long-term solutions include increased patrols, cameras, “Blue Light” kiosks and a safety ambassador program.

When talking about these plans, Gabel’s email was carefully worded to avoid a guarantee of any of these long-term initiatives actually being implemented. At the risk of sounding like an overly analytical high school essay, the liberal usage of “evaluate,” “analyze” and “examine” in place of “complete,” “implement” or “fund” leave the impression that Gabel is leaving herself a little too much room to backtrack.

With that being said, there are more issues with the short- and long-term solutions than the verbiage. Blue light kiosks are essentially useless — I have never heard of a student actually using one, though I don’t doubt they promote a facade of increased security. They are expensive to implement and to maintain. Most students carry personal cell phones these days, many of which have technology to make emergency calls easily accessible.

Increasing police presence, on the other hand, is a double-edged sword, and not in the way you might think. It actually does deter violent crime, but it doesn’t lead to an increase in arrests for said crimes. Essentially, the threat of getting caught is often enough of a crime deterrent. However, these positive statistics also decrease in cities with large Black populations, playing into the narrative that communities of color are simultaneously over and under policed. The University has a prominent student activism community, with many whom have had negative experiences with the MPD. There was no acknowledgement of the violent and all too recent past of MPD, or of last year’s decision to separate UMPD from MPD, made in Gabel’s email.

Increasing police presence must be a placeholder for effective, long-term change. As it stands, the suggestions made by the Gabel administration rely on lessening the symptoms, not solving the root cause. Crime in our community is not the issue of the University alone, but it would be foolish to ignore the immense influence the administration has. Lobbying for increased gun control is one step towards prevention. Beyond the obvious gun usage in recent shootings, many students have been robbed while being threatened with a weapon. In 2020, Minnesota earned a C+ for gun control due to a lack of firearm licensing and registration, as well as no lost or stolen firearm reporting. Public institutions do actually have a decent amount of freedom when it comes to lobbying and are subject to fewer regulations than their private counterparts.

I’ve lived in Dinkytown for the duration of my college career. I can tell you first hand that the atmosphere has changed dramatically. As a first year student, my friends and I were rarely concerned about our safety during the day, and harbored the reasonable concern most young women are trained to have once night fell. This past year, living mere blocks from my freshman dorm, I witnessed a fatal shooting from my apartment window. My friends and peers have been robbed, assaulted, carjacked and more. President Gabel’s response to the dramatic change in the off-campus environment is inadequate. Accessible education is not just need-based scholarships and retrofitting buildings — it includes ensuring that students are not putting themselves in danger by living close to campus. Increasing police presence is not a long-term answer: Only prevention efforts will restore the campus environment to a semblance of its former self.

This January, Rep. Jeff Duncan, R-S.C., introduced the Old Glory Only Act for its third year on the House of Representatives floor. Currently, embassies and consular posts who wish to fly unofficial flags must seek approval from the State Department. Under this legislation, the Secretary of State would be tasked with ensuring embassies and consular posts only fly Old Glory — the official flag of the United States. If you’re confused, don’t worry: the State Department already has the authority to ensure embassies only fly the American flag. The Old Glory Only Act seeks to limit the flags the State Department could potentially approve.

In a world of Department of Justice subpoenas, infrastructure bills and China’s impending economic supremacy, it seems frivolous to devote the time and energy of our elected officials to flag regulations. But, Congressman Duncan is right on one account: flags, as symbolic as they may be, hold power. That does not mean we should limit the flags our embassies and consulates can fly. Instead, we should harness that symbolic power as a means of advancing policy goals.

June is a month to celebrate and honor the LGBTQ+ community in the United States. Secretary of State Anthony Biliken recently reversed the ban on LGBTQ+ pride flags at embassies and consulates that had been put in place by former Secretary of State Mike Pompeo. Not only does Congressman Duncan’s proposed legislation further politicize the role of the State Department, but also it prevents the United States from taking subtle, but clear stances on human rights issues like LGBTQ+ freedoms and protections. In March, the Vatican ruled that the Catholic Church could not bless same-sex marriage. This month, the U.S. Embassy in Vatican City flies the rainbow flag. In Namibia, colonial legislation criminalizing sodomy remains in place. On June 1, the U.S. Embassy in Namibia tweeted a video of the pride flag flying below the stars and stripes, with the caption #EqualityforAll. Small actions like these allow the United States to regain a shred of its former identity as a beacon of freedom and hope for all. Flying the pride flag in nations that seek to limit the freedoms of their citizens maintains our nation’s identity as a positive force for global democracy.

U.S. embassies under Secretary of State Mike Pompeo proved that there are ways around the LGBTQ+ flag gag rule. Embassies in Nepal, Mongolia, Tel Aviv, Seoul and Chennai found loopholes around the rule, hanging pride flags from the facades of buildings and tying them to fences. Essentially, Representative Duncan’s proposed legislation is pointless.

But, just as a pride flag waving below Old Glory outside of a U.S. embassy could inspire hope in some, ensuring that exact instance cannot occur sparks fear for others. It was only 52 years ago that the Stonewall Riots erupted in the streets of Greenwich Village, New York City. Already, 2021 has been labeled the worst year for LGBTQ+ rights in the United States by the Human Rights Campaign. As much as I would like to disregard the Old Glory Only Act as an ineffective waste of time, it is another attempt to chip away at the rights and freedoms of Americans who identify as LGBTQ+. Human rights are a slippery slope;if we allow this to slide under the radar, it paves the way for continued suppression and denial of basic rights.

At first glance, Congressman Duncan’s proposed Old Glory Only Act seems relatively harmless, if somewhat idiotic. Underneath, it is an insidious attempt to undermine the humanity of the LGBTQ+ community, not only in the United States, but across the world. As the classic saying goes, actions speak louder than words. Saying that the U.S. is a leader in human rights and supports LGBTQ+ communities is very different from publically allowing that imagery to be associated with our diplomatic missions abroad. Our nation is built on the ideal of freedom. It’s a convoluted and difficult goal to strive towards, but it is nonetheless important. Allowing embassies and consular outposts the option to fly or not fly the pride flag is inherently more democratic than ensuring that only the American flag can fly.

Free donuts from Krispy Kreme. Drinks from Anheuser-Busch, America’s largest brewery company. “Shot for Shots” programs, where you get a vaccine and chase it with a free drink. Or, you can kill two birds with one stone(r) with “Joints for Jabs.” These are just some of the incentives established by city and state governments across the United States to get people vaccinated against COVID-19. Gov. Mike DeWine of Ohio even announced a $1 million dollar lottery for vaccinated residents. To some, this may seem like an extravagant waste of money, but as Gov. DeWine explained in an interview with The Washington Post, “The real waste at this point in the pandemic is a life lost to COVID-19.”

It only took 15 months of masking up and staying inside for state governments and national corporations alike to agree that a price tag cannot be put on human lives. Actually, that’s not quite right. It took 15 months of economic stagnation, supply chain disruption, unemployment and civil unrest for governments and corporations to understand that they stand to profit significantly from mass vaccinations and a return to normalcy.

With the exception of anti-vaxxers, we are looking at a bipartisan solution to the current pandemic. According to a Pew Research survey from the summer of 2020, a majority of Democrats view the reduction of infection rates as key to economic recovery. Many Republicans believe we need to reopen regardless of infection rate in order to spur economic recovery. The more citizens who receive vaccinations, the more rapidly we can fully reopen. We can have our cake and eat it too, but only if people actually get vaccinated.

If government institutions, large businesses and our political parties see the benefit of providing citizens with free and accessible vaccinations for this pandemic, this same logic can easily be applied to other illnesses and preventative care. The estimated annual cost of influenza in the U.S. ranges from $1 to $5 billion dollars a year — which does not include lost wages, childcare costs and other unforeseen expenses. Without insurance, a flu shot can cost between $40 and $70 dollars at your local pharmacy. That may not seem cost prohibitive, but fewer than 50% of Americans regularly get a flu shot.

Let’s do some quick math here: over the last few months, most of the nation has worked to establish easily accessible, sometimes unorthodox testing sites and vaccination centers. If we keep these centers and sites open and functioning — regardless of the state of the COVID-19 pandemic — with the goal of repurposing them for different illnesses depending on the season, we could reduce infection rates across the board. While free or low-cost healthcare is seen as an unnecessary expense by some, the COVID-19 pandemic has shown us that the economic repercussions of not listening to public health officials are far more severe. Maintaining and improving upon the infrastructure established during this pandemic may seem costly when we are not in the midst of a pandemic, but the human lives saved and long-term financial gain stand to outweigh the cost. I apologize if you thought I was going to actually do math here.

It is now clear as day that economic growth and stability are not just about the stock market, gross domestic product and other complicated economic ideas. At the end of the day, our economy functions because people are able to go out into the world and work. A healthy, capable workforce is the keystone species of the economic biome. Without it, the entire system is disrupted. With mobile, accessible locations, local public health departments will be able to cater effectively and efficiently to their community. Not only would overall quality of life be improved in a nation notorious for atrocious healthcare, but the workforce would be stronger than ever. If and when the next pandemic strikes, we will still have the healthcare infrastructure we need to fight back.

Americans should get more out of these past 15 months than anxiety about crowded spaces and a hatred of Zoom. We have the opportunity to fundamentally change the way healthcare works in this country and reap the economic benefits of doing so. By repurposing the infrastructure we’ve established to fight more than just the COVID-19 pandemic, we can keep people in the workforce, ensure children stay in school and cultivate a healthier nation.

Hey, remember the class of 2020? Two months of online school and the prospects of virtual graduation sent nearly the entire country into a spiral of altruism and empathy. News organizations like Minneapolis’ Kare 11 had special shoutouts for graduating students. When the Minnesota Department of Health released guidelines for 2020 commencement ceremonies, they acknowledged “how much the class of 2020 has sacrificed.” Former President Barack Obama even gave a commencement speech honoring the (high school) class of 2020.

As a member of the class of 2021, my graduation will take place on my laptop screen. John Coleman, dean of the College of Liberal Arts, did not even issue this year’s seniors an apology when he announced our commencement ceremony would occur virtually. I was upset — but I understood. We are living through a global pandemic, and not having graduation is just another sacrifice to add to the long list we have been cultivating over the last year.

Then, I learned that the Carlson School of Management would have an in-person ceremony (with guests!). The College of Design is going hybrid, with a virtual ceremony and an in-person chance to hear your name read and walk across the stage. The same goes for the College of Biological Sciences. The College of Science and Engineering is having in-person events for each department. The College of Education and Human Development will be virtual, but there is an opportunity for an in-person diploma cover pick-up and photos. The College of Food, Agriculture, and Natural Resource Sciences will have separate virtual ceremonies for graduate and undergraduate students. The College of Continuing Studies is hosting an in-person ceremony without guests.

Sounds equitable.

Last year, when virtual graduation occurred for all students across University of Minnesota colleges, Minnesota experienced roughly between 400 and 600 new cases a day. In April of 2021, as some students look forward to in-person ceremonies and celebrations, Minnesota is experiencing between 1 to 2,000 new cases each day. According to the New York Times, the University of Minnesota was connected with the state’s largest COVID-19 outbreak cluster. Not to mention, we now have two new variants to deal with — one of which, the B.1.351 or the South African variant, renders antibodies and vaccines significantly less effective at preventing illness.

So, we have more cases on our hands. We also have two variants to deal with, one that could not care less about whether or not you have been vaccinated. And, we are on a college campus. I can tell you for certain that there are quite a few students for whom social distancing is what happens when they see their ex at one of the campus bars, not a COVID-19 precaution.

I’ll be straight with you: as a liberal arts student, I am bitter. Not only did I pay full tuition for a year of online school, I get to top it off by staring at my computer some more. My blue light glasses do not really go with traditional commencement regalia. Walking across the stage to accept my diploma in front of my peers seems like a right of passage into adulthood, a crucial piece of the transition to life beyond college. With CSE and Carlson being the two more popular undergraduate colleges with in-person events, I cannot help but feel as though we are playing into the rhetoric that liberal arts are less important. Carlson kids can bring guests to their graduation, but CLA students do not even get to pick up their diploma cover in person. Some liberal arts majors may choose to put on in-person events, but it is not universal across the college. Coupled with the University’s decision to temporarily end admission to certain Ph.D. programs in the liberal arts to save money, CLA’s decision seems a lot less like a COVID-conscious choice and more like an opportunity to cheat graduating students and save a bit of cash. Ironically enough, the University of Minnesota has more alumni who have made a name for themselves in law and politics (i.e., the humanities) than those who have risen to prominence in science and medicine. What you chose to major in should not dictate whether or not you are honored for your accomplishments.

If some form of in-person commencement happens for some students, it should be an opportunity for all. The College of Biological Science and College of Design show that it is not all or nothing; colleges can give students the opportunity to hear their name and walk across a stage without incurring major health risks or going to an entirely virtual platform. Zoom fatigue may have many of us in a fog, but it is still clear that the current state of graduation on our campus simply does not make sense. The very least the administration can do is issue a legitimate apology to students who are not given the opportunity to partake in any in-person component of graduation.

It has been roughly one academic year since people took to social media to call for sororities and fraternities across the country to be dramatically reformed, if not abolished entirely. A summer of racial reckoning caused many students at predominantly white universities to view their social organizations through a different lens. This week, I had hoped to explore the changes that have been made in Panhellenic sororities on our campus over the past year. I reached out to the Panhellenic Council to learn more but did not receive a response. 

A lack of transparency is just one of Greek life’s toxic characteristics. As a former member of a Panhellenic chapter on our campus, I know what it is like to want to implement positive change in these organizations. I also understand that if Panhellenic sororities on our campus were to actually rid themselves of the policies and practices that keep them from embracing diversity and inclusion, they would essentially cease to exist. 

For clarification, when I talk about sororities on our campus, I am referring to the organizations that fall under the Panhellenic Council’s umbrella. These are the predominantly white organizations that have existed across the United States since the late 1800s. Historically Black sororities and fraternities, as well as multicultural fraternities, were founded in defiance of racial inequities, not built on them.  

Sororities are built on exclusion. I’m not just talking about dues, which can range anywhere from several hundred to several thousand dollars a semester. Formal recruitment, colloquially known as “rush,” is the most common way to join a sorority. It takes roughly five days, with the process getting progressively more formal. There are a million different rules when it comes to recruitment, but legacy policies take the cake. Legacies are women whose mothers or grandmothers were in the same sorority, and most chapters have bylaws that make it incredibly difficult to release these women from the recruitment process. Some organizations guarantee invitations to the second round of recruitment for their legacies, and others automatically place legacies at the top of their list. Many sororities are still deeply segregated by race; many Black women did not have access to the colleges and universities their daughters now attend. Legacy policies mean that upper-middle-class white women are given a fast pass into a world of networking and status at the collegiate level. It also means that sororities that say they recruit based on “values” should generate some skepticism — unless intergenerational wealth and whiteness are the values being discussed. 

When Greek life is criticized, the brunt of the blame often falls on fraternities. Their female counterparts, however, are no more innocent. Sororities hide their lack of accessibility behind secrecy and tradition. They allow inequities to be perpetuated by maintaining legacy policies in the name of “values.” Worse still, many argue that they are philanthropic organizations first, social organizations second. I know you don’t actually have a choice about going to those fundraisers. 

If sororities on our campus actually want to reform, they’re going to have to try a little harder. Bringing in speakers to talk about not judging others is not enough. Get rid of legacy policies — that’s an easy step one. Step two? Drop the price. College is expensive, and four years in a Panhellenic chapter on our campus could set you back another $8,000 dollars (that’s after COVID-19 discounts, by the way). Step three, ditch the five B’s. The five B’s are a common rule regarding what is taboo to talk about during recruitment: boys (hey, heteronormativity!), booze, the Bible, Barack (because politics can be summed up in one man’s name), and bucks (because sororities are so affordable). It’s 2021 on a college campus in Minneapolis. Asking women to avoid “political” conversations is a poor choice. 

Panhellenic, your website proclaims you to be “leaders.” It is beyond time for you to prove it. Making change in these organizations is difficult. Sororities are incredibly bureaucratic, and significant changes often require approval from headquarters and advisers. I have a solution for you: disaffiliate from the national organization. You can be a student group like any other, without being forced to comply with out-of-touch regulations. Pick autonomy and accessibility over obedience.

Editor’s note: This column contains references to sexual assault. If you or someone you know is a survivor of sexual assault, you can seek help at the Aurora Center at (612) 626-9111 or at RAINN at (800) 656-4673.

Let’s play a game.

What judicial body punishes the possession of 42.5 grams of marijuana more seriously than the rape of a voluntarily intoxicated person?

If you answered, “What is the Minnesota Supreme Court?” you’d be correct.

On March 24, 2021, the Minnesota Supreme Court ruled that a man cannot be charged with felony rape when the victim chose to drink beforehand. Read that again. The Minnesota Supreme Court has equated voluntary intoxication with consent. Don’t just cover your drinks at the bar, ladies. It’s safer to set them down entirely, lest you experience a traumatic event and have your pain go unrecognized and the perpetrator unpunished because you chose to order a rum and Coke at Sally’s.

Sexual assault is rampant in higher education: At least 26.4% of undergraduate women across the country will report being raped or assaulted during their time on campus, according to the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network (RAINN). The blurry line between voluntary and involuntary intoxication doesn’t help. Should women avoid tailgates and fraternity parties for fear of being called on to play beer pong or boom cup, or God forbid, someone ask them to take part in a shotski? Drinking is a component of college culture, whether we like it or not. Blackout or backout is an unhealthy mindset, but choosing to do so shouldn’t mean that a perpetrator walks free.

The Supreme Court decision is only enforcement of an already cataclysmic law. A bill was put forth in 2019 to make voluntary drunkenness grounds for felony rape charges, but all that came from it was a study group. The result of the study is a new bipartisan bill in the Minnesota House of Representatives that modifies and clarifies criminal sexual conduct.

Still, the Minnesota Supreme Court’s interpretation of what mental incapacitation entails will only shrink the already low numbers of victims who actually turn to the authorities for support. The odds are against rape survivors from the beginning. According to RAINN, 70% of rape victims experience moderate to severe psychological distress in the aftermath — a higher percentage than for any other violent crime. Victims of rape are 13 times more likely to commit suicide than noncrime victims, like sex workers and recreational drug users. And, only 4.6 out of every 1,000 perpetrators of sexual assault are incarcerated. In fact, more robbers go to jail than rapists. We would rather punish those who steal our belongings than those who take our autonomy, safety and peace of mind.

The decision came down to the definition of mental incapacitation in the law. The Supreme Court argued that the lower court that convicted the perpetrator, Francois Momolu Khalil, previously had stretched the definition too far. The new ruling defines “mental incapacitation” in Minnesota as only referring to intoxication against one’s will or knowledge. Justice Paul Thissen explained that decisions cannot be made based on “what we may wish the law was” and must rely on the law as it is written.

The solution here is clear: Minnesota legislators must amend the law to protect those unable to give consent. Perpetrators of sexual violence on intoxicated victims must be held accountable to the fullest extent — an individual’s decision to drink does not lessen the gravity of their crime. Through this decision, the Minnesota Supreme Court has excused perpetrators preying on young, drunk women. Enacting legislation, like the aforementioned bill sponsored by Rep. Kelly Moller DFL-Shoreview, would reverse that. By closing the voluntary intoxication loophole, Minnesota would empower survivors to tell their stories and ensure that perpetrators face the consequences of their actions.

We teach women to suffer in silence. When they have the strength to come forward, the law needs to be there to support them. There is so much about this decision that angers me, from the gray areas to the victim-blaming and grammar discussions in the case notes. However, what upsets me the most is knowing that a young woman had to sit and watch her alleged rapist get let off easy.

I never write my columns from home. Quite frankly, I do very little work from home, preferring instead to seek out abandoned classrooms across campus or hide away in those dark caves Wilson Library calls study rooms. But I got a late start on this one. By the time I was ready to sit down and crank it out, the sun had already set. I considered my options: I could stay home and write my column very, very slowly, or I could step outside, keys between my fingers and pepper spray in my pocket, and pray that no one felt like plucking a young woman off the streets.

I stayed home.

Women have an unspoken curfew. Once the sun goes down and the streetlights flicker on, the illusion of safety dissipates. Sarah Everard knew that. She had 33 years of tricks and techniques to stay alive, 33 years of living in a world that is not just unfriendly to women but actively hunts them down. It wasn’t enough.

She tried to do something that no man would think twice about: She walked home after dark. She told her boyfriend she was leaving, and she took the well-lit path, even though it was the longer route. She even passed up heels in favor of flats, in case she had to run. Everard was found dead a week later. She followed every rule, and — despite her diligence — she was killed.

As much as I wish it were, Everard’s story is not unique.

Women are not safe. Women are not safe because of the society men have created. And yes, you’re right; not all men murder women. Men are also the victims of societal violence. But it isn’t a competition. When women are murdered, it is uniquely entrenched in societal oppression. Men are murdered primarily by gang violence or random crimes and generally at the hands of other men. Women are murdered by their husbands, partners, family and friends. Men pay their way through the world with money, intelligence and connections. Women are forced to pay with their looks and what they can do for men and must hope that they do not end up paying with their lives for it. Femicide is an epidemic that goes largely unnoticed in the Western world. We seem to think that just because women can go to college, vote and open bank accounts, we have ended sexism for all eternity.

In the U.K., 97% of women have experienced sexual harassment. In 2019, a survey found that one in four undergraduate women at the University of Minnesota said they had been sexually assaulted on campus. Yet, women who speak up on behalf of themselves are often punished for it, told feminism is dead or even labeled “feminazis” and “man-haters.” I could write an entire column on how disgusting it is that pushing for equal treatment gets women grouped with the orchestrators of the Holocaust.

But sexism is not without consequence. Misogyny is systemic; we are born into a society that tells women we are to be dainty, timid and grateful for every opportunity we receive, no matter how unequal. Women are to be kept and taken care of, like pets. Misogyny exists in every facet of our society. Misandry, however, is cultivated. Our society frames men as strong and capable. Not only does that marketing strategy negatively impact the mental health of men, but it also blinds them to the sexism of everyday life. Misandry — the dislike or contempt for men — is not generally a conscious choice but a response cultivated by years of suppression and mistreatment. Men create misandry among women, steeping us in resentment and anger until we no longer have room for complacency. If men choose not to address misogyny, women become entitled to misandry. Who among the oppressed remains sympathetic to the oppressor?

Misogyny is only amplified for women of color and trans women, who are left to navigate the intersections of sexism, racism and homophobia with little support. Black and Indigenous women experience the highest homicide rates among all women, and 55.3% of women who are murder victims die due to intimate partner violence. In 2020, at least 44 trans or gender non-conforming people were murder victims in the U.S. and Puerto Rico. We cannot properly discuss this issue without acknowledging that though it impacts all women, even violence is not experienced equally.

You want an easy way to put some cracks in the walls of misogyny? Stop calling women “bitches.” Bitch is a gendered slur, and I’m telling you right now that it carries a different weight when it comes from a man’s mouth. Associating femininity with a derogatory and offensive word reinforces sexism, even in casual use. If women can wake up every day and devote significant energy to navigating a world meant to break them down, you can eliminate one word from your vocabulary.

What more must a woman do to stay alive? Walking outside is one of the few COVID-19-safe activities we can engage in these days. Sarah Everard’s story shows us that while we might not catch COVID-19, simple freedom is not without its consequences.

If you think I’m taking this to the extreme, please, call your sister. Call your daughter. Call your mother or your aunt or your wife. Ask her if she feels safe walking alone at night. Ask her how old she was the first time she got catcalled. Ask her if she checks her back seat before climbing into her car and if she’s ever had a stranger get angry with her because she turned them down. Ask her if she knows women who have experienced violence at the hands of a man. This isn’t one woman out of every thousand. This is happening to every woman that you care about, too.