There are few things worse than needing to change your tampon or pad in the middle of class or work. You do the awkward sliding of the product up your sleeve and head to the bathroom while nervously contemplating whether or not there is visible blood on your pants. It’s even worse when you dig through your backpack or purse and realize that you forgot to stock up. Scanning the room, you decide which woman seems approachable enough to ask for a tampon and steel yourself to do the deed.

Period stigma in the United States ferociously invades every facet of people’s lives. Not only do we feminize a genderless characteristic (don’t worry, transphobes, I didn’t say sex), we blanket everything surrounding periods in an oppressive quilt of shame.

Take the language we use to talk about periods. Most of us will go out of our way to avoid saying “menstrual cycle.” We opt for the more socially acceptable “period,” “time of the month,” “visit from Aunt Flo” and, disturbingly enough, “shark week.” There is shame in calling menstruation by its name.

Moreover, the overt feminization of menstrual cycles impacts the lives of transgender and nonbinary people. Not all women menstruate, and not all menstruators are women. And yet, tampons and pads are often found in the “feminine products” aisle. What exactly is feminine about some cardboard boxes full of cotton?

Stigmatization of periods is costly — and I mean that literally. The aptly named “pink tax” means that on average, products marketed to women cost more than those marketed to men. For example, personal hygiene products that are “for women” cost 13% more than comparable products for men. At least 30 states view pads and tampons as luxury goods. If I become a billionaire, I’m going to buy a mansion! And a plane! Oh, and some tampons.

To make matters worse, paid menstrual leave — or allowing people with chronic pain associated with their menstrual cycles to work from home or take time off without penalty — remains uncommon. I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t be the case if cisgender men experienced PMS.

Free menstrual products in bathrooms is also a deeply controversial topic, especially when it comes to the men’s room. Though pads and tampons are essential items, not to mention the cost barrier low-income individuals may face in acquiring this essential, many people remain opposed to providing them free of charge. In an article for The Texas Orator, Sydney Riordan argues against having menstrual products in men’s bathrooms because “It’s awkward, mostly because it’s a men’s bathroom.” She explains further that we should be considering the feelings of cisgender men and not just the needs of transgender individuals.

Sydney, if those men don’t want to deal with tampons in their bathrooms, then I don’t want bowls of free condoms on campus. If men really want condoms, they can go figure out where to buy them without disrupting my day-to-day existence. It’s just awkward, mostly because I don’t care about the public health of others.

In reality, public access to free menstrual products isn’t just about making sure you keep your white jeans white. Free pads and tampons in bathrooms mean that homeless people don’t have to risk toxic shock syndrome, that low-income individuals have access to a necessity and that transgender people can live a slightly more comfortable existence.

The menstrual cycle is just another part of life, like losing your baby teeth or shivering when it’s cold out. There’s not much that can be done to control it, just ways to mitigate the consequences. And yet, not only do we make it a shameful experience, we monetarily penalize people who experience menstruation.

We can’t expect cisgender men to advocate for people who menstruate if they don’t actually understand the process or its societal consequences. Legislative change takes time, and we won’t be seeing an end to period poverty or the pink tax anytime soon. But, we can start by changing the way we talk about menstruation.

To my fellow menstruators, drop the euphemisms. Hold your tampon in your hand instead of smuggling it up the inside of your sleeve. Carry an extra pad or two so you can offer it with a smile and get your friends — regardless of gender — to do the same. Get comfortable with who you are, and be confident in what your body is able to do for you. If it makes people uncomfortable, that’s okay. You do not have to placate the misogyny and sexism of others in the name of being agreeable.

Do you know what they say about a big digital footprint? That it will negatively affect your future and your job prospects.

Every time you upload to Instagram, Google that new slang word or make another late-night Amazon purchase, you leave behind breadcrumbs of data that can be followed. That is your digital footprint. Right now, it matters a lot more than most people realize.

Digital footprints are used by some employers as a way to screen potential employees. People often show one side of themselves in an interview, and a different side online and at home. But, in the digital age, our professional and personal lines have blurred — meaning that activities online that are potentially unsavory could cause you to lose out on a job opportunity. This is all well and good for people who had fully developed prefrontal cortexes (i.e., the decision-making part of the brain) as the phenomena of digital footprints became reality. But, how do we navigate these standards for those who have never known anything but the tech age?

The first iPhone was launched in 2007. The class of 2020, our most recent May graduates, were likely between 8 and 9 years old at the time. Technology is an integral part of our lives in a way that no other generation has experienced before, and a larger portion of the average Generation Z-er’s life has been spent online.

I’m 20 years old. If we look at my digital footprint as starting around the same time as the launch of the first iPhone, more than 50% of my life has been tracked and stored online. Every phone call I’ve made has shown my location, every website I click on tells advertisers how to market to me specifically, and every social media post I’ve ever made can be recovered. In contrast, a 45-year-old working professional would have only spent about 28% of their lives on their phone. And yet, we are judged by the same standards.

Let’s look at it a different way: If a minor commits a crime, those files can be sealed once they turn 18. This ensures that young adults are not permanently impacted by mistakes made in their youth. But, there’s no way to “seal” a harmful social media post or poorly worded tweet. If we don’t allow employers access to the court records of minors, why do we accept that companies can and will use the online actions of minors as a screening tool?

This simple logical fallacy is why digital footprints are the new tattoos. Once taboo in the workplace, tattoos are becoming more accepted. Today, some employers are more likely to frown upon political conversations than a visible tattoo, body piercing or non-traditional hair color. Just like tattoos, digital footprints should be used to get an impression of who you are, not as a tool to determine who might get a job. And, like body modifications, it’s hard to legally justify telling another person what they can or cannot do in their personal life. The viewpoints people express online may be indicative of whether they will enjoy a certain work environment, but as long as those viewpoints aren’t directly endangering others, they shouldn’t be directly penalized for holding them.

I’m lucky enough to (currently) have a job where a digital footprint actually benefits me. If you Google my name, and one of my columns is the first result — that’s great. Many people are not so lucky. Normalizing having a digital footprint that isn’t perfectly curated for the professional world isn’t just about the shady legality of employment screening or being fair to Gen Z; it’s about maintaining the idea of a work-life balance. I don’t want to feel like I have to archive silly photos of my friends on Instagram just because they aren’t professional. I want those memories that I cherish to be on my profile for a reason, and I want to see other people being authentic on social media without concern. People are more than the web pages we click on and the phone calls we make.

In 2017, a new hashtag broke the internet. It was soon plastered everywhere: spread on social media sites, reported on by news organizations and even analyzed by my high school U.S. history class. That’s how big it was — Mrs. Tootell didn’t let just any old hashtag waltz through her classroom door. The #MeToo movement rose like a phoenix from the ashes, giving voice to the women and men everywhere who had long kept quiet about their experiences.

And then, the phoenix went straight back into the ashes. What became of #MeToo beyond a momentary topping of the Twitter trending list and pink pussy hats gathering dust in closets across America? Tarana Burke, the founder of the movement, claims it is not over. But, it is no longer at the forefront of our minds. #MeToo became a caricature of itself in 2020, as prominent supporters stumbled over their reasoning for why “Believe all women” had suddenly turned into “Believe all women … except those who accuse Joe Biden.” Early on in his campaign, President Joe Biden faced several sexual assault allegations. Where other prominent political figures, like Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh, immediately faced vitriol and hatred for the accusations against them, President Biden received calls for due process. The hypocrisy — and partisanship — of the movement was stark.

Black Lives Matter tempts the same fate.

On Feb. 1, a University of Minnesota student made an Instagram post detailing a concerning run-in with the University of Minnesota Police Department. Claims of being racially profiled, of being relentlessly questioned and not believed and eventually being left without even an apology were followed up by a call for students to contact the Board of Regents. The student’s story spread quickly through the community, generating outrage and disgust.

That outrage was soon turned back on the student. In response to the allegations, the University of Minnesota’s Department of Public Safety released dashcam footage of the event in question. For once, the police were not in the wrong. The officer was polite — reluctant to even make the stop — and quickly accepted the student’s story. After it became clear that the student was not in any legal trouble, the student requested a ride home from the officers. All of this is in sharp contrast to the tense, racially-charged scenario described on the student’s social media.

While we cannot police the way anyone feels following a run-in with law enforcement, we can ensure that truth takes precedence. Everyone is entitled to their own fear. No one is entitled to spreading misinformation without repercussions. A disservice has been done to our community. As it was with the #MeToo movement, we want to believe these stories. It’s hard to understand why pain would be publicly hyperbolized. Now that it has, the inherent trust we have in these stories has started to fracture.

It is easy to be rash when you are angry. In the moment, it might make sense to spin a situation to further an ideological agenda. And, initially, the student reaped the benefits of their falsifications. People rallied behind the cause, eager to add to the list of offenses committed by the police. Communities of color have faced so much persecution, and it is deeply unfair to them that someone falsely emulated that experience.

In 2017, millions of people took to the streets in what became the largest single-day protest in U.S. history. The #MeToo movement seemed like a force to be reckoned with, the hammer that cracked the glass ceiling. One year later, a poll by the Morning Consult showed that 57% of U.S. adults were equally concerned with the possibility of false accusations for young men, as they were with the chances of a young woman being harassed. Progress does not mean opening doors for some, just to slam the door shut in the faces of others.

This past summer, people all over the world marched in the name of George Floyd. The fight for police reform is not over. Do not let the Black Lives Matter movement suffer the fate of the #MeToo movement. When it comes down to it, cooperation and community engagement can create effective change in our communities. It is tempting to throw away the system entirely, to villainize law enforcement, to put pain before progress. Truth must come first: We cannot take our Instagram stories and trending Tweets at face value.

Find part one of this column here.

The day President Joe Biden took office, he canceled the Keystone XL pipeline, a controversial pipeline extension. Roughly 22 days later, construction on the Enbridge Line 3 barrels forward, with no sign of stopping.

Line 3’s path will travel through Ojibwe treaty grounds and Fond Du Lac tribal lands. For professor Michael Dockry, a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, a professor in the Department of American Indian Studies and assistant faculty member of Forest Resources at the University of Minnesota, tribal sovereignty is a complicated and important issue. Federal law and state regulations require governments to consult with Indigenous groups before making environmental decisions. But state and federal governments are not legally required to adhere to what tribal governments want. Recently, the Red Lake and White Earth Bands of Ojibwe have asked for construction on Line 3 to be paused until challenging lawsuits can be heard. A U.S. District Court judge denied the request.

As Dockry explains, tribes think about the natural world and its resources in a much different light than westernized society. Natural resources aren’t commodities for consumption, they are family. Indigenous activists and tribal members refer to the United States by a name with strong ties to the natural world: Turtle Island. A pipeline spill that damages a bed of wild rice would not only violate treaty rights, but it would also damage an important part of Indigenous culture. For Dockry, the construction of Line 3 sits at a complicated nexus of ideals. Much of his work is devoted to tribal sovereignty, pushing him to defer to the decisions of tribal governments. But, he said, “Our tribal leaders are saying we need to start healing our relationship to the planet” — that includes phasing out the use of fossil fuels.

Changing the way we look at tribal nations isn’t just about considering another point of view. For Tara Houska, it’s about going back to her roots. Houska is a prominent voice in Indigenous advocacy and the fight against Line 3. She’s a Couchiching First Nation Anishinaabe, a former tribal attorney, advisor to Bernie Sanders and creator of this TEDTalk, among many other accomplishments. When I called her, however, she was on her way to buy a new skinning knife.

After fighting inequities and mistreatment of indigenous populations at the federal level, Houska recognized the need for a strong frontline fight against tribal erasure. In response, she founded the Giniw Collective, a group led entirely by Indigenous women and two-spirit individuals. The organization focuses on land protection and defense. Protesting Line 3 is a piece of that, but so is mutual aid work, spreading traditional knowledge, wild ricing, hunting and fishing. In essence, the Collective works to restore the native way of living in balance with the natural world. The name itself pays homage to the generations past who have fought for the Indigenous lifestyle. Giniw is the golden eagle, believed to live between the human and the spirit world, a messenger who connects the past and present. The Giniw Collective creates a space that honors history and allows young people to grow and learn.

Houska understands first hand what it’s like to care deeply about a cause and feel as though no one is listening. Though she still participates in traditional advocacy (for example, The Giniw Collective recently hosted Rep. Ilhan Omar), Houska passionately believes that “direct action … standing with the land in a real way, in a physical way, is one of the most under-resourced, undersupported forms of advocacy.” Advocacy is empowering, she explained to me, but only when people take risks and see the impact that can be had.

When asked what she would like to say to people who are passionate about Line 3, but can’t seem to make the leap to protesting on the frontlines, Houska replied. “There were 68,000 comments submitted by concerned community members against the Line 3 pipeline,” she began. “There were thousands of hours put into hearings, … and there was a unanimous decision made to approve the pipeline. Our system is broken. It is heavily skewed towards industry. We aren’t going to make change comfortably. I don’t think we’re going to stop Line 3 by sitting behind a computer screen. It takes bravery and it takes action to effect change.”

On Jan. 29, I attended a protest against Line 3. I listened as people spoke of the native belief of water as the grandmother, the giver of life and ultimate healer. I was reminded of my conversation with Dockry in that moment, and how he spoke of nature, and of the world around us, as family.

As we marched, chants of “stop line three” echoed between the historic buildings of downtown St. Paul. The crowd was not large, but a feeling of generational pain hung heavily in the air. After weeks of reading and writing about Line 3, it was empowering to see the community in action and to be surrounded by people who understood my frustration and anger.

Building Line 3 poses incredible environmental risks and bureaucratic challenges. But, in a time of deep partisanship, it has united people from all walks of life in protest. It has turned attorneys into community organizers, pulled college students away from their textbooks and pushed them up north, and made opinion columnists go rogue.

I spoke to an older gentleman working solo on the Stone Arch Bridge to spread awareness. It was a quieter form of advocacy: him, his sign and the mission to speak to everyone who passed by. When I asked what motivated him to be out there on that bridge in the middle of January, he explained very simply: “I do this for my grandkids.”

For those looking to learn more about Line 3, check out the following resources:

To learn more about Line 3 and Enbridge, look into Stop Line 3. To get involved, resources and information can be found through Honor the Earth, Welcome Water Protectors and UMN Climate Strike, among many others.

This past summer, I sat across from my father at our dining room table. For weeks, our dinnertime conversation seemed to cycle back to the same topic again and again: police brutality and what to do about it. I argued for abolishing the institution, while he insisted progress could be made via reform. There was one area that we agreed upon: the term “ACAB,” or “All Cops Are Bastards,” is inadequate. Vilifying every law enforcement officer without specifying that the root of the problem is a bastardized system provides only half the story, only half the context. And, in these politically fraught times, half the context is never enough.

Defunding and/or abolishing police forces across the country has surged as a hot topic for conversation and consideration in recent months. But, what does defunding actually look like? Does it mean police officers will have to confront dangerous people like active shooters without any weaponry? Does it mean that you will never again feel that deep chest-pounding fear when you barely make it through an intersection on a yellow light and realize that familiar blue and black emblem is right behind you? Or, does it mean communities will police themselves?

These are all good and valid questions. Well, maybe not the second one. But, I’d like to take a moment to consider the other two. While some activists are calling for dismantling or removing the police from society entirely, many are instead focused on defunding the institution. This means reducing the resources allocated to police and redistributing those funds, often to social services like housing, education and employment — aspects of the social safety net that can help reduce crime and recidivism. Commonly, this takes the form of disarming officers. To the everyday American, this idea sounds radical. The average Minneapolis Police Department officer carries one to two fully loaded handguns, an impact weapon (otherwise known as a baton), a Taser and a chemical agent (tear gas) and must have a riot stick readily available whenever on duty. Meanwhile, the United Kingdom, New Zealand and Norway, among other countries, do not arm law enforcement at all.

Police in the United States have become a catchall support system for many problems communities face. Burglary, vandalism, car-jacking? Call the police. Your elderly neighbor hasn’t answered the door in a couple days? You’ll likely call the police. A stop light is out on a busy road or the bar in your neighborhood is blasting music too loudly? Once again, your local police department will be answering the phone. Most of these crimes are nonviolent and do not necessitate police carrying firearms to effectively handle the situation. In fact, many police departments spend only about 4% of their time addressing violent crimes. We can create a community that is safer for everyone by ensuring that police have access to firearms when the situation necessitates them while still lowering the risk of police violence in otherwise nonviolent scenarios.

Let’s say we’ve all agreed that reallocating police funding is in our best interest. Unfortunately, the situation is still tricky. While neighborhoods like Stadium Village, Dinkytown and Marcy-Holmes are policed by the Minneapolis Police Department, the campus itself is covered by the University of Minnesota Police Department. So, who do we even defund? Looking at the City of Minneapolis crime locations map, significantly more crime occurs off campus than on. Disarming UMPD is theoretically easier as it is under the jurisdiction of University governance, meaning that we as a community would also have greater control over how funds are redistributed. However, disarming UMPD does little to solve the greater problem at hand. It is but a small drop in a very, very large bucket.

The reality is that disarming UMPD is a symbolic gesture. It is not meaningless, but the legitimate effect it will have on the surrounding community will not be obvious or hugely transformative. Crime will still be an issue on and off campus. Police brutality toward minorities will not disappear. But, disarming UMPD is a crucial step in distancing ourselves from the racialized, militarized policing tactics of the past. More importantly, it allows us to accept that disarming and defunding police departments is not just another insane, unachievable idea of the radical left. ACAB may strike fear in the hearts of moderates everywhere, but the core idea is one we can all agree on: We, as a society, cannot sustain this level of violence. Creating a society that is more equitable, peaceful and compassionate starts with change in our own communities.

If you’re anything like me, entering Minnesota’s second lockdown doesn’t change a whole lot about how you live your everyday pandemic life. Except, it does. I don’t go out to eat or see people regularly or go to bars, but I do hit the gym nearly every day. Whether it’s my apartment gym or a journey to the Rec, I rely on those exercise endorphins as a way to keep my stress levels low and my mental health in check.

But, I’ve encountered an obstacle much bigger than gym closures. During the warmer months, getting my heart rate up outside was an easy alternative to lifting heavy indoors. But according to my weather app, it felt like 12 degrees this morning. I got my workout in just trying to layer up enough to stay warm before heading out. While running may have filled gym closure-induced gaps in my workout routine during the summer, it’s certainly not the path of least resistance come winter. So, I have engaged in some very serious and intensive research and found limited equipment, accessible, free home workouts to get your heart pumping (and get the people who live below you wondering what the heck is going on). Here are my recommendations:

My absolute favorite fitness guru with free, no equipment workouts is Sydney Cummings. A National Academy of Sports Medicine certified personal trainer, she offers a wide range of videos, from strength training to tabata and even stretching guides. Though some of her workouts use weights, she always offers a body weight modification. Best of all, the focus is always on how you feel, not how you look. Too often, trainers use physical appearance and image as motivation for pushing through a difficult workout. That’s not an issue with Sydney — her encouragement is all based on growing your strength, speed, endurance and overall health.

If you’re looking for something a little more out of the ordinary, check out the Nate Bower Fitness channel. A boxing instructor and personal trainer, Nate’s workouts are fast-paced and fun. Best of all, you don’t need any equipment. Personally, boxing is one of my favorite ways to get my heart rate up. Putting my mind and body into every move not only results in an amazing workout but provides a mental break from the crazy world we live in.

After long days of sitting at your desk, it’s important to give your brain (and body) a break. Yoga with Adriene has become my absolute go-to whenever I’m feeling bleh. Adriene has a broad variety of videos, from long vinyasa flows to get you in the zone to quick and easy stretches for your study break. She also offers videos specifically catered to people with disabilities and chronic pain. Yoga uniquely combines mindfulness, breathing techniques and poses to leave you less stressed and more relaxed. Adriene’s calming presence and emphasis on tuning in to your body only adds to this. Bonus points: her dog, Benji, often joins the yoga party.

That’s only a small sampling of the multitude of online workouts available out on the internet. Personally, I like lower impact, faster paced workouts, so I can sweat without disrupting my neighbours or my roommates. But, everyone is different, especially when it comes to movement. Listen to your body and choose what makes you feel good. Keeping your body active is key to mitigating the negative mental health effects of social isolation and the winter blues. Exercise has been shown to reduce symptoms of anxiety and depression and improve cognitive functioning and self-esteem. While I can’t guarantee that a yoga video a day will keep the failing of your finals away, it might put you in a better position to succeed academically and professionally.

As Minnesota enters a new era of COVID-19 restrictions, I can’t help but reflect on the last nine or so months during which many of our lives have changed dramatically. If you told me a year ago that I would be completing the first semester of my final year of college entirely online via Zoom, I probably would have laughed in your face (and then asked what “Zoom” was). Now, I often dread the thought of staring at my computer screen all day instead of attending in-person lectures. I even miss the awkward silence of having a professor ask a question and not receive an answer — it’s somehow worse over Zoom. But most of all, I crave the time when my eyes didn’t ache at the end of the day, and my screen time report at the end of the week regularly stayed below a few hours.

The COVID-19 pandemic has upset the balance of our lives. Too much screen time, too little social time. We get college classes without the opportunity to easily form connections with our peers and professors and work meetings without the chance to maintain coworker relationships through small talk. But, we are resilient. As the world slowed to a halt mid-March of 2020, there was one area of the world that didn’t pump the breaks: podcasts. Podcast consumption across the world significantly increased in March, though the United States saw a decline. Many U.S. consumers listened to podcasts during morning commutes, but the shutdown caused listener numbers to drop when that morning routine was interrupted. But by June of 2020, consumption numbers increased back to where they started, though the listening locations had changed dramatically.

I used to be an avid consumer of online news publications. Now, after a day of online readings, lectures, quizzes and homework assignments, the last thing I want to do is stare at my screen just to learn what’s going on in the world. And so enters the podcast. Podcasts are, arguably, the perfect medium and news platform for a pandemic world. They’re flexible, ranging dramatically in length and topic, so there’s truly something for everyone. And as you listen to a podcast over time, the host becomes more than a disembodied voice. You form a connection and come to understand their personality and tendencies. To an extent, it helps with the absence of social interaction that many of us have been struggling to fill.

Best of all, you don’t have to look at yet another screen. Personally, I like to listen to my podcasts while I’m working out or on a walk. The variety of podcasts available to choose from vastly supersedes the amount of content available on video streaming sites like Netflix, and they range in time from a quick five- or 10-minute catch-up to two-hour-long productions.

In this uber-visual world, it can be hard to find time to go screenless. And now, when social interaction comes at a potentially high cost, sometimes screens are our only tie to the friends, family and coworkers we used to see every day. Try listening to a podcast, and give your eyes (and mind) a break from the hectic, stressful world we live in.

Never listened to a podcast before and don’t know where to begin? The Opinions Desk has you covered.

I recommend “Crime Junkie” for a dose of personality and some bone-chilling stories or Code Switch” to learn about how race impacts every facet of the world we know (it sounds heavy, but it’s amazing).

Other recommendations include “My Favorite Murder” for more true crime, “The Daily” for a deep dive into the news story of the day, “Revisionist History” (because who doesn’t love Malcolm Gladwell?) and “Where Should We Begin?” for human vulnerabilities at their finest.

And, of course, the Minnesota Daily’s podcasts, “In the Know” and “The Weekly Rundown.”

As someone who was crammed into an expanded triple (otherwise known as four college students living in a room barely meant to hold three) as a first-year student, housing is a touchy subject. On-campus living certainly has its downsides and tends to be more expensive than off-campus options. While dorm life isn’t ideal, at least students know who to hold accountable for their living conditions and reduce the risk of dealing with a landlord who wants little more than to pick up the rent check at the end of the month.

The average college student doesn’t know a whole lot about housing law or regulations. I mean, why would we? Many students transition from living at home to living in a dorm freshman year. Moving into an off-campus apartment or house after freshman year is a popular choice for many students, but it is not always as simple as finding a place in your price range and signing a lease. Students commonly live in neighborhoods like Dinkytown and Stadium Village, located conveniently within walking distance of campus. We often look for the easiest, cheapest option that fits our needs, giving little thought to the legal terms of the agreements we sign. The geographic restrictions, lack of knowledge and desire for cheap and easy housing all provide landlords with the perfect opportunity to take advantage of students.

One example of this? Bedrooms without windows. In most cases, a room cannot be considered a legitimate bedroom unless it has two areas of egress. Normally, this takes the form of a door and a window. I toured Northstar Apartments last fall and was shocked to be shown several so-called bedrooms that lacked windows entirely. While not necessarily illegal, as some older buildings can be grandfathered into current housing regulations without compliance, Northstar is not the only building to engage in this practice. The Marshall also lists properties as having multiple bedrooms, with at least one such “bedroom” lacking a window.

Emily Astfalk, a third-year at the University of Minnesota, volunteered with the tenants’ rights organization HOME Line after her own negative leasing experience. After moving into a subleased room for the second semester of her first year, she quickly discovered that the room she had agreed to live in was less than ideal. The furnace didn’t work reliably, and her room lacked a heating vent, meaning that she and her roommates were left without heat during the polar vortex. They ended up suing their landlord and were able to recover three months of rent for the winter months they endured without proper heat. However, students with less knowledge of tenant rights or willingness to pursue the matter might have suffered through those deadly conditions without compensation.

According to Astfalk, some of the most common issues students face are illegal clauses in leases. “The only reason landlords take so much advantage of students is because they know students don’t know the law, students are too poor to hire lawyers and that students are only going to be living there for one or two years, so they don’t have the motivation to stand up for themselves. … A lot of these problems are easily solvable if students learn their rights as tenants,” she explained.

There are many resources available to help students through the complicated and confusing process of leasing. If you have issues with your housing situation and your landlord isn’t being responsive, Student Legal Services is a great resource to begin with. HOME Line, the hotline that Emily worked for, can provide free counseling services to help you understand your rights and how to utilize them. Emily also recommends “How to be the Smartest Renter on Your Block,” a tenants’ rights guide that even provides example forms to help students sound more official.

Many see college students as being in a gray area between childhood and adulthood. College may be a transitory period in many of our lives, but students still deserve the same treatment and respect as any other renters. Know your rights, use your resources and read that fine print at the bottom of your lease, no matter how tiny and annoying and unnecessary it may seem.

Six days after the police killing of George Floyd, peaceful protesters gathered on the I-35W bridge. While kneeling for a moment of silence, a semitruck barreled down the southbound lane, interrupting and traumatizing the crowd of roughly 6,000 people.

On Oct. 22, Bogdan Vechirko, the driver of the semitruck, was charged with a felony count of threats of violence as well as a gross misdemeanor count of criminal vehicular operation. I sat down with Tess Mueske, a recent graduate, to catch a glimpse of what that day on the bridge meant to protesters and how she feels about the charges Vechirko faces.

So, can you talk to me about your personal motivations for attending protests this summer? How did you find yourself on 35W when all of this went down?

I’ve been going to protests for a really long time. I think the value for me is in showing up physically, as a white person especially. That [protest] I thought was important to go to because it was such a grand gesture, and we were blocking such an important interstate.

In 2016, when Black Lives Matter was first forming, I was an employee at the Mall of America. They had been blocking 94, and then they were occupying the train station below, I think. I remember not being super on board with the movement because … they were blocking life.

I think over the last four years, I’ve really been radicalized, and I’m now very much on board with blocking roads, especially … during a global pandemic [in] which people have been fearing for their lives in a way that they haven’t before. A lot of people woke up through that.

Obviously you were on 35W when the truck driver drove through the crowd. … What was that experience like? What was going through your mind during that time?

We’d been doing a moment of silence or prayer, and they’d asked everybody to sit down, I think. Suddenly the truck started coming towards us. … [It] would have hit us. I think he was honking his horn. The crowd obviously ran out of the way. It was like when you’re at a concert, … and everyone pushes forward, and there’s that moment of panic, and you’re like, “I can’t move my body or breathe.” I was pushed up against a cement median — I have a scar on my arm from it. I remember just, like, clawing at the ankles of the person standing on the median being like “Please, pull me up, I will get trampled by the crowd”.

I think the fear that I felt in that moment was unparalleled to anything I’ve ever felt. I think of it as a terror attack. People started yelling that [the truck] was going to blow up, so we had to get off the bridge. Police came on … and formed a massive barricade so we couldn’t go anywhere … and then came down the exit ramp and pepper sprayed and tear gassed us from the back.

Did being there change your perspective on the Black Lives Matter movement or your understanding of public opinion towards it?

I was already on board with Black Lives Matter, but that is where I realized that we aren’t just fighting the police. People of color, specifically Black folx and Indigenous folx, have been experiencing this kind of brutality literally since the United States … was formed. I’d never been involved in something that was that traumatic because of my presence somewhere.

The whole system is flawed. … And we like to look at places such as the Middle East as these violent terror states, and we live in one. That’s a really controversial opinion, but I think that the police let in the semitruck driver.

So basically, what you’re saying is that this was the first time that you had been put in danger purely for existing in a space, more or less?

Yeah, and I already understood that that violence is the lived experience of some people and it’s not mine, but that was, like, … I think of it as being a terrorist attack.

The driver of the semitruck is now facing a felony count of threats of violence and a gross misdemeanor count of criminal vehicular operation. What was your reaction to that — how does it make you feel?

My initial reaction was incredible relief. I felt a little bit vindictive almost. Now that I’ve had a little bit of time to process, I struggle with it in the sense that if I do say that I’m an abolitionist, that includes prisons. I’m very happy that he’s been charged, and I want him to rot in jail for the rest of his life. But, if I say that I want to abolish prisons, how can those two truths exist at the same time?

It’s no secret that our climate is changing. As the Earth warms, it’s important to live life conscientiously and understand the environmental impact of your actions. With that being said, I despise the majority of “zero-waste-sustainable-vegan-no-plastic-ever” Instagram influencers for many, many reasons. The American Psychological Association produced a 69-page climate change guide to help mental health care providers navigate the growing numbers of young adults suffering from anxiety over climate change, so it’s clear that we don’t need anyone in our faces or our feeds telling us that we’re not doing enough.

Before you trade your morning bacon for an acai bowl, let’s look at the facts.

Exxon Mobil, an oil and gas company, was informed by its own researchers of the damages of climate change as early as the 1980s. That’s almost 40 years ago. You might be asking yourself, “Why didn’t they do something about it?” Well, they did. The company turned around, invested in climate denial and ensured that the research wouldn’t be easily discoverable. Capitalism, baby!

According to a 2017 Carbon Majors Database, 71% of global greenhouse gas emissions can be traced back to a mere 100 companies. Biking to work instead of driving is going to cut down on your carbon footprint, but it won’t stop the fossil fuel industry. The quotidian citizen is not the primary perpetrator of climate change.

The trendy environmentalism of today still struggles to accurately represent the intersectionality of racial, environmental and economic inequalities. Many of the practices espoused by social media influencers have been gentrified and greenwashed. Sustainability has become trendy, and, with its trendiness, it has grown elitist. There is a growing connection between environmentalism and wealth. As sustainability grows as an industry, demand inflates prices for eco-friendly clothing, furniture and accessories, pushing this lifestyle further out of range for most. A study by the Scarborough Research Center found that people earning above $150,000 a year were far more likely to engage in environmentally friendly practices.

The reality is that many of us simply do not have the time or resources to devote ourselves fully to an environmentally conscious lifestyle. Eating healthy, organic foods is significantly more expensive than buying frozen vegetables in bulk from the grocery store. Sustainable clothing brands are often double or triple the price of fast fashion. Even energy efficient light bulbs, though they may save money in the long run, have a higher initial cost than regular light bulbs.

This is not to say that making environmentally conscious choices is a fruitless endeavor. If you have the time and the resources, reducing your personal carbon footprint is important. But, don’t feel ashamed or intimidated if you don’t turn into a vegan, recycling queen overnight. Small changes, like composting, bringing reusable grocery bags to the store or picking one day a week to go “meatless,” can reduce the amount of greenhouse gases produced by your lifestyle.

At the end of the day, it is the people in power who determine whether or not we allow our planet to heal. Consider using your spare resources to donate to intersectional environmental justice campaigns, like the Sunrise Movement. Vote for politicians who support the Green New Deal, and vote out those who continue to take money from the fossil fuel industry. It’s time to reduce the number of climate change deniers in power, (re)use our voices and recycle!

No, seriously. Please recycle.