Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, from the United States where firearms are the leading cause of death among children and teens, bravely organized a hearing in March to protect the youth by trying to defund PBS Kids. To Republicans, PBS and NPR disseminated radical leftist propaganda and forced inappropriate content onto children. To Democrats, the hearing was a complete joke, with one representative asking questions about Elmo’s affiliation with the Communist Party and if Cookie Monster silenced “pro-cookie voters.” 

Greene is right, national broadcasting services are radical — but they must stay. 

Conservative politicians have long attacked PBS and NPR as pointless government spending. However, the original motivation for widespread funding of broadcasting services and infrastructure were quite purposeful — to democratize education. A vast majority of American families owned a radio by the end of World War II, and starting in the late 1940s, educational programs began to emerge and then control radio waves by the 1950s. Universities and colleges began sending tapes of their seminars to radio stations so anyone could be a student for an hour. School children could listen in on stations and learn a school’s day of content from anywhere in the country. 

The U.S. proudly proclaims a dream where anyone can achieve greatness regardless of their background, so it is unsurprising that a movement to provide equal access to education quickly took hold.. Making education accessible to everyone supported that dream, and uplifted people in parts of the nation that would not have otherwise had access to high-quality education or education at all. 

Radio, particularly educational radio, is a powerful tool, so to ensure that educational content did not fall to corporate interests, educational broadcasters stopped accepting money from business promoters. Since then, state and local governments became the sole funders of educational broadcasts. The radio empowered state governments to issue public announcements, report emergencies and keep their citizens politically informed. 

Broadcasters did not force or demand that states fund their programming — states did it because it served their interests. Throughout the country and world, researchers have found a strong relationship between education levels and poverty. Though education is not the only path to stability, it is a well-worn path, and it provides  people with a way to exit generational poverty. Bringing education to people who could not otherwise seek it out was not a handout — it was an investment in the future. 

President Lyndon B. Johnson signed the Public Broadcasting Act into law in 1967 to guarantee a stream of government funding for public programming. However, the federal government does not uniquely finance these programs; public media relies on donations from listeners, viewers and foundations. This allows PBS and NPR to operate as independent nonprofits, which protects them from becoming mouthpieces of the federal government. 

Should Greene’s mission to end federal funding to public broadcasts succeed, affiliated stations will lose their funding to repair and upgrade the tools needed to broadcast their content, from radio transmitters to websites. States will lose emergency programming in times of disaster. PBS and NPR will be forced to layoff employees and cancel shows. Most painfully, people will lose accessible educational content across the country. 

In the hearing, Greene pointed to a photo of drag queen Lil Miss Hot Mess who was featured in a production from the WNET Group, a company affiliated with New York’s public television stations, as evidence of radical leftism on television. The video featuring the drag queen was not funded, distributed or aired by PBS, though it was briefly put on the PBS website and then removed. The video in question was Lil Miss Hot Mess reading from her book “This Hips on the Drag Queen Go Swish, Swish, Swish,” which is marketed for children aged three to eight and published by a children’s book publisher. Though PBS did not air or fund the content, even if it had, it is not the place of the federal government to deem that inappropriate for children. As is the case with all media, it is up to parents, guardians and caregivers to regulate what their children watch. 

If what Greene feared was children’s safety, she would fight against what hurts children the most. At best, she is misinformed, and at worst, she is using public broadcasting as a scapegoat. The point of public broadcasting is that it informs people outside of political and corporate interests. Whether Greene is conscious of it or not, her fundamental disagreement with the existence of public broadcasting means she values political and corporate interests above the education of the people she is supposed to serve. 

In May, President Trump signed an executive order to end federal funding for public broadcasts. PBS sued to block the order, stating that it was unconstitutional. Though it is unclear how this battle will play out, perhaps everyone could take a note from Mr. Fred Rodgers, host of the PBS show “Mr. Rodger’s Neighborhood” from when in 1969, he testified in Congress to prevent halving federal funding for public broadcasting. 

He quoted one of his songs that he sang on his show, about how to manage big feelings. The song begins “What do you do with the mad that you feel?” and answers the question: “It’s great to be able to stop when you’ve planned a thing that’s wrong, and be able to do something else instead.”

The post In Defense of PBS appeared first on Technique.

Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, from the United States where firearms are the leading cause of death among children and teens, bravely organized a hearing in March to protect the youth by trying to defund PBS Kids. To Republicans, PBS and NPR disseminated radical leftist propaganda and forced inappropriate content onto children. To Democrats, the hearing was a complete joke, with one representative asking questions about Elmo’s affiliation with the Communist Party and if Cookie Monster silenced “pro-cookie voters.” 

Greene is right, national broadcasting services are radical — but they must stay. 

Conservative politicians have long attacked PBS and NPR as pointless government spending. However, the original motivation for widespread funding of broadcasting services and infrastructure were quite purposeful — to democratize education. A vast majority of American families owned a radio by the end of World War II, and starting in the late 1940s, educational programs began to emerge and then control radio waves by the 1950s. Universities and colleges began sending tapes of their seminars to radio stations so anyone could be a student for an hour. School children could listen in on stations and learn a school’s day of content from anywhere in the country. 

The U.S. proudly proclaims a dream where anyone can achieve greatness regardless of their background, so it is unsurprising that a movement to provide equal access to education quickly took hold.. Making education accessible to everyone supported that dream, and uplifted people in parts of the nation that would not have otherwise had access to high-quality education or education at all. 

Radio, particularly educational radio, is a powerful tool, so to ensure that educational content did not fall to corporate interests, educational broadcasters stopped accepting money from business promoters. Since then, state and local governments became the sole funders of educational broadcasts. The radio empowered state governments to issue public announcements, report emergencies and keep their citizens politically informed. 

Broadcasters did not force or demand that states fund their programming — states did it because it served their interests. Throughout the country and world, researchers have found a strong relationship between education levels and poverty. Though education is not the only path to stability, it is a well-worn path, and it provides  people with a way to exit generational poverty. Bringing education to people who could not otherwise seek it out was not a handout — it was an investment in the future. 

President Lyndon B. Johnson signed the Public Broadcasting Act into law in 1967 to guarantee a stream of government funding for public programming. However, the federal government does not uniquely finance these programs; public media relies on donations from listeners, viewers and foundations. This allows PBS and NPR to operate as independent nonprofits, which protects them from becoming mouthpieces of the federal government. 

Should Greene’s mission to end federal funding to public broadcasts succeed, affiliated stations will lose their funding to repair and upgrade the tools needed to broadcast their content, from radio transmitters to websites. States will lose emergency programming in times of disaster. PBS and NPR will be forced to layoff employees and cancel shows. Most painfully, people will lose accessible educational content across the country. 

In the hearing, Greene pointed to a photo of drag queen Lil Miss Hot Mess who was featured in a production from the WNET Group, a company affiliated with New York’s public television stations, as evidence of radical leftism on television. The video featuring the drag queen was not funded, distributed or aired by PBS, though it was briefly put on the PBS website and then removed. The video in question was Lil Miss Hot Mess reading from her book “This Hips on the Drag Queen Go Swish, Swish, Swish,” which is marketed for children aged three to eight and published by a children’s book publisher. Though PBS did not air or fund the content, even if it had, it is not the place of the federal government to deem that inappropriate for children. As is the case with all media, it is up to parents, guardians and caregivers to regulate what their children watch. 

If what Greene feared was children’s safety, she would fight against what hurts children the most. At best, she is misinformed, and at worst, she is using public broadcasting as a scapegoat. The point of public broadcasting is that it informs people outside of political and corporate interests. Whether Greene is conscious of it or not, her fundamental disagreement with the existence of public broadcasting means she values political and corporate interests above the education of the people she is supposed to serve. 

In May, President Trump signed an executive order to end federal funding for public broadcasts. PBS sued to block the order, stating that it was unconstitutional. Though it is unclear how this battle will play out, perhaps everyone could take a note from Mr. Fred Rodgers, host of the PBS show “Mr. Rodger’s Neighborhood” from when in 1969, he testified in Congress to prevent halving federal funding for public broadcasting. 

He quoted one of his songs that he sang on his show, about how to manage big feelings. The song begins “What do you do with the mad that you feel?” and answers the question: “It’s great to be able to stop when you’ve planned a thing that’s wrong, and be able to do something else instead.”

The post In Defense of PBS appeared first on Technique.

From Alix Earle to Kombucha Girl, influencers suggest that their enviable lives are achievable through the perfect pair of gold hoops, an iron clad VPN and a Carl’s Jr. Hangover Burger. Therefore, the emergence of “recession-core,” which pushes frugality and minimizes consumption, is somewhat unusual when viewed through the lens of social media.

Recession-core joins Coastal Grandmother, Appalachian Gothic, Grocery Girl Fall and Lobotomy Chic as an (apparently) defined aesthetic. Regardless of what goes on in these bizarre hellscapes where buying groceries is somehow a defining quality, the strange specificity of these microtrends drives constant purchases to keep up with the latest adjective-noun-core. 

What makes recession-core different is that it encapsulates many of the social issues in the United States and world today, while also resolving the capitalism-driven culture of overconsumption and instant gratification. 

The United States has a consumption problem. If everyone in the world were to live life and consume at the rate of Americans, at least five Earths would be required to keep up with the demand for resources. The fashion industry itself is responsible for 10% of global carbon emissions, with 85% of textiles ending up in landfills annually. 

Unlike all of these internet aesthetics which serve the bottom line of fast fashion companies, recession-core revolves around plain, versatile silhouettes that evade the grip of the belligerent trend cycle. Rather than demanding consumers buy the next trendy item, recession-core breaks through the online sphere and acknowledges the social and economic times of the real world. 

In other words, the circumstances that led to the existence of recession-core and other microtrends, are the same circumstances that recession-core aims to reject. It’s like recession-core is the moody teenage child to hyper-capitalist parents, threatening to end the bloodline. But, recession-core is not just a phase — it has more holding power than the typical fast fashion moment because it not only relies on  online interest, but policy and economic trends, which are far less variable. 

Recession-core fashion, while timeless, is not boring. These days, party-

goers are trading in their vibrant head-to-toe outfits reminiscent of Euphoria for plain outfits with pops of color from makeup, hair chalk or a neon tank top. The lean toward bold accessories is not just a stop on the path to the next cool style; it is a well-documented phenomenon that economists refer to as the “Lipstick index.,” During times of economic struggle, consumers purchase small luxury items like lipstick, while larger luxury item sales decrease. 

Gone are the days of “logomania” where visibly repping Louis Vuitton and Supreme was en vogue. Today, those who can afford it are turning towards so-called “quiet luxury,” a style defined by undetectably expensive clothes. In a nation where 60% of households do not earn enough to cover basic living expenses, dressing  like a professional athlete blowing their rookie contract cash is in poor taste. 

With that said, if commodifying an impending economic disaster seems strange, it is because it is. There is nothing glorious about the country’s return to destitution, no matter what Gen Z TikTok starlets may do to try to convince us of such.  

Of course, romanticizing dark periods of time is not foreign to the human species. Famously, Victorians romanticized tuberculosis, a disease which killed an estimated 4 million people during the period, yet shaped beauty standards for decades. In the 90s, the “heroin chic” style of undereye bags and extreme thinness associated with drug abuse consumed high (literally) fashion. It appears as though recession-core is a similar form of escapism. 

In the same way that gas prices dropped during the COVID-19 pandemic, the transition to more sustainable purchasing habits in an economic crisis is a positive side effect of a tremendous crisis. Low gas prices are not representative of 2020, and a step away from trends is not going to be representative of 2025. However, it is clear that recession-core embodies much of the social and economic deterioration of the United States. It is the product of an increasingly online world and a perilous job market. Though recession-core may get lumped in with microtrends, it is the consequence of poor policy and a world that can only interpret reality through short form videos.

The post Recession-core: the microtrend to end microtrends appeared first on Technique.

From Alix Earle to Kombucha Girl, influencers suggest that their enviable lives are achievable through the perfect pair of gold hoops, an iron clad VPN and a Carl’s Jr. Hangover Burger. Therefore, the emergence of “recession-core,” which pushes frugality and minimizes consumption, is somewhat unusual when viewed through the lens of social media.

Recession-core joins Coastal Grandmother, Appalachian Gothic, Grocery Girl Fall and Lobotomy Chic as an (apparently) defined aesthetic. Regardless of what goes on in these bizarre hellscapes where buying groceries is somehow a defining quality, the strange specificity of these microtrends drives constant purchases to keep up with the latest adjective-noun-core. 

What makes recession-core different is that it encapsulates many of the social issues in the United States and world today, while also resolving the capitalism-driven culture of overconsumption and instant gratification. 

The United States has a consumption problem. If everyone in the world were to live life and consume at the rate of Americans, at least five Earths would be required to keep up with the demand for resources. The fashion industry itself is responsible for 10% of global carbon emissions, with 85% of textiles ending up in landfills annually. 

Unlike all of these internet aesthetics which serve the bottom line of fast fashion companies, recession-core revolves around plain, versatile silhouettes that evade the grip of the belligerent trend cycle. Rather than demanding consumers buy the next trendy item, recession-core breaks through the online sphere and acknowledges the social and economic times of the real world. 

In other words, the circumstances that led to the existence of recession-core and other microtrends, are the same circumstances that recession-core aims to reject. It’s like recession-core is the moody teenage child to hyper-capitalist parents, threatening to end the bloodline. But, recession-core is not just a phase — it has more holding power than the typical fast fashion moment because it not only relies on  online interest, but policy and economic trends, which are far less variable. 

Recession-core fashion, while timeless, is not boring. These days, party-

goers are trading in their vibrant head-to-toe outfits reminiscent of Euphoria for plain outfits with pops of color from makeup, hair chalk or a neon tank top. The lean toward bold accessories is not just a stop on the path to the next cool style; it is a well-documented phenomenon that economists refer to as the “Lipstick index.,” During times of economic struggle, consumers purchase small luxury items like lipstick, while larger luxury item sales decrease. 

Gone are the days of “logomania” where visibly repping Louis Vuitton and Supreme was en vogue. Today, those who can afford it are turning towards so-called “quiet luxury,” a style defined by undetectably expensive clothes. In a nation where 60% of households do not earn enough to cover basic living expenses, dressing  like a professional athlete blowing their rookie contract cash is in poor taste. 

With that said, if commodifying an impending economic disaster seems strange, it is because it is. There is nothing glorious about the country’s return to destitution, no matter what Gen Z TikTok starlets may do to try to convince us of such.  

Of course, romanticizing dark periods of time is not foreign to the human species. Famously, Victorians romanticized tuberculosis, a disease which killed an estimated 4 million people during the period, yet shaped beauty standards for decades. In the 90s, the “heroin chic” style of undereye bags and extreme thinness associated with drug abuse consumed high (literally) fashion. It appears as though recession-core is a similar form of escapism. 

In the same way that gas prices dropped during the COVID-19 pandemic, the transition to more sustainable purchasing habits in an economic crisis is a positive side effect of a tremendous crisis. Low gas prices are not representative of 2020, and a step away from trends is not going to be representative of 2025. However, it is clear that recession-core embodies much of the social and economic deterioration of the United States. It is the product of an increasingly online world and a perilous job market. Though recession-core may get lumped in with microtrends, it is the consequence of poor policy and a world that can only interpret reality through short form videos.

The post Recession-core: the microtrend to end microtrends appeared first on Technique.

Blame it on the ‘08 Recession, climate change or Tumblr’s own Matty Healy, buta nihilism somehow became cool. There is a lot of social clout available to people who simply cannot be bothered to involve themselves with distractions and protests to the inevitable collapse of society. The choice not to care because it seems ultimately unproductive or illogical is misguided. People should be proud and vocal about what they care about, even if it is fleeting, from niche obsessions to broader social issues. 

Before people considered nihilism to be a variety of countercultural enlightenment, the coolest belief was that four square was the best game on the playground. This was not an opinion I held in my childhood. 

Though now I am an adult with strange interests, once upon a time, I was a child with strange interests. I read “Eyewitness” books with the attention to detail of a neurosurgeon mid-operation, and recited facts about Viking naming customs or obscure Japanese mythological creatures to anyone around, regardless of whether they listened. I made a worm graveyard with my friends, naming the fallen inverts in alphabetical order as if they were hurricanes, and held burial ceremonies for them. As the oldest of three, my special “big kid” treat on Friday nights was staying up until 10 p.m. to watch “Love It or List It” on HGTV. If nobody was around to play soccer or wiffle ball, I put on my dad’s old work shirt and pretended to be a mad scientist in the backyard, mixing red clay and water to concoct a groundbreaking antidote to rattlesnake bites or diphtheria. The examples of my childhood oddities are endless. 

The combination of my active imagination and lack of social awareness protected my profound uncoolness for years, and I am eternally grateful for it. I cared an awful lot about my home renovation shows and bizarre medicinal creations, and I did not stop for a moment to consider if people thought it was weird. While I spent my time memorizing trivia like I was preparing for “Jeopardy!,” my “cooler” peers played hide and seek or tag, neither of which were my strengths as a slow child who stood several inches taller than most kids my age. 

Of course, youthful joy fades over time and grows into a different powerful monster: teenage self-consciousness. 

Eventually, I did learn about social norms, and I soon became preoccupied with fitting in. I wore the skinny jeans 2017 fashion norms mandated, learned what Brandy Mellville was and also learned that I could not wear Brandy Mellville clothes because they were too small. Being “uncool” and pursuing the interests I enjoyed was a lot more fun than basking in self-pity because I could not wear the same pants Emma Chamberlain did. The problem was not the popular hobbies themselves, (though, Brandy Melville has its issues) the problem was that I would not care about what was popular if I did not care about fitting in. 

In recent years, I have grown to accept that superior pants do not make a superior person, though, at times I wish it were that simple. As life goes on, popularity becomes less contingent on pants and more reliant on personal beliefs. It is understandable to contemplate the purpose of life as adulthood responsibilities creep in, and we spend our days waiting in lines at the DMV and co-existing with our difficult co-workers, and wonder why we must deal with any of it. 

I forget when I heard someone say, “Nothing matters, the Earth is just a floating rock in space” for the first time, but I remember thinking that they were wrong. While it is technically true, the fact that Earth is a floating rock did not change my perspective on life. Tons of issues matter: hunger, homelessness, social justice, cancer and, yes, even my 10 p.m. viewing of “Love It or List It.” Clearly, some of these issues matter more than others, but the point remains: Just because an issue will not matter in a billion years, does not mean that it is insignificant now. 

Though the world is bleak, acceptance of the end and the choice not to care is not the “cool” take. The choice not to care about the people and issues in one’s life on the basis of the greater philosophical understanding that all life must come to an end is ultimately a tragic, fatal flaw. 

Caring about anything comes with the reality of painful moments. Participating in a political campaign or rooting for a sports team means confronting the potential for loss. However, it also opens one up to tremendous amounts of joy: winning the race, becoming the national champion or any other victory. 

Nihilism deprives people of experiencing the breadth of human emotion and connection. There is meaning to life, and to reject that notion is to reject the lived experiences of people all over the world. My life may be meaningless to someone else, but it is meaningful to me. The highest purpose of my life is whatever I want it to be. The choice to care in a world that is often difficult or unstable is the bravest and best choice one can make. In this world, all we have are the little moments that make us happy — embrace them.

The post Nihilism deprives people of joy appeared first on Technique.

In 1952, the first female undergraduates enrolled at Tech. In the 73 years since, 50,000 women have graduated from the Institute, comprising 25% of alumni.

Though relatively small in number, female students, staff and faculty have left their mark on Tech.

The Pathway of Progress mosaic joins the countless contributions by women to Tech’s campus. Located outside of John Lewis Student Center and completed this year, the installation is inscribed with women’s unwavering efforts and accomplishments throughout Tech’s history — and left room for future achievements.

Andrea Laliberte, M.S. ISyE 84, the donor and visionary of the project, and Merica May Jensen, M.S. ARCH ‘11), the architect who brought the mosaic to life, sat down with the Technique.

“Part of my inspiration was the fact that there are not many places on campus that tell the stories. The story about how successful women from Georgia Tech have been,” said Laliberte. “Women got to choose what they wanted to describe themselves. The focus is not on the person’s name, it’s on, like, ‘How do they describe themselves?’ and, ‘What is their message?’”

Before women were students at the Institute, they were employees, serving the Tech community. Dorothy M. Crosland, who served as librarian from 1927 to 1971, and Ella Van Leer, Tech’s first lady from 1944 to 1956, campaigned for the admission of women to the Institute and supported Tech’s first female students.

The admission of women into the Institute faced resistance for many years. In 1947, 50 Atlanta-area high school girls went to the registrar’s office to demand admission to Tech but were turned away. Five years later, in 1952, the Board of Regents voted to admit white women but limited them to architecture, engineering, and applied math majors.

Though the first female undergraduate students at Tech had support from women around them, like Crosland and Van Leer, they still faced hardships.

“They had dress codes, and their skirts had to be a certain length and they could be walking around campus and, like, the dress code patrol would come up and measure their skirt lengths,” said Laliberte. “And that just stayed with me.”

Such barriers did not stop women from achieving excellence on campus.

In her 44-year tenure, Crosland expanded Tech’s one-room library into two buildings, and 60 years after Crosland began working at the Institute, the Institute renamed the Graduate Addition to the library in her honor.

As for the first female undergraduates, self-named “Early Girls,” they established the first networks of women on campus while overcoming adversity and doubt.

The first two female graduates of Tech were Diane Michel, ISyE ‘56, and Shirley Clements Mewborn, EE ‘56.

Michel worked alongside four other women and founded the first sorority at Tech, Alpha Xi Delta, in 1954. It was the first national sorority chapter at an engineering school.

Once, a professor told Mewborn that he did not want any women in his class, and he forced her to find a different class. Mewborn became the Alumni Association’s first, and thus far, only female president.

Despite the strides made during this time, it was not until over 10 years after the first women enrolled at Tech that the first women of color enrolled.

“I was enlightened by so many women who provided feedback,” said Jensen. “Our outreach summary document, found on the project website, holds the community’s wishes. Weaving in each perspective made the design stronger and more resilient. I feel like a lucky conduit.”

Sally Lam Woo, CHEM ‘66, became the first minority woman graduate of the College of Engineering. She was one of 30 female undergraduates at the time and the only woman of color on campus.

In 1961, Tech began permitting enrollment of Black students, and the first Black women enrolled at Tech in 1967. One of Tech’s first Black female graduates, Brenda Gullatt Joseph, EES ‘76, found data quantifying the need to establish the Office of Minority Educational Development (OMED), which was founded in 1979 and continues to serve students today.

Though some of Tech’s history is well-documented, incomplete records and archival information reveal gaps and untold stories of many women at Tech.

Alexandra Rodriguez Dalmau, ENVE ‘24, examined international student records to find the first woman from Latin America to attend Tech. Though records suggest the first Latina students did not enroll until 1976, historians believe Rocio Rangel Lancaster to be the first woman from Latin America to attend Tech, enrolling in 1954.

Women remain a minority on campus, comprising 33% of all students and 31% of faculty.

Life for women at Tech has changed since women first enrolled, and it will continue to change. On March 1, Tech dissolved the Women’s Resource Center and several other resources in anticipation of legislation barring DEI programs.

“One of our tiles is the [Women’s] Resource Center. It was initiated by students, women students, who wanted a place that did not exist,” said Jensen. “They worked within the system, they found faculty to sponsor it, they got the administration to agree. It was this huge effort.”

Hopes for the following classes of Tech women are included on the interactive website accompanying the Pathways to Progress.

“Go out and be even more successful than the current generation and the past. And to be able to do something you want to do. I truly believe you have to be excited about what you are doing in life to achieve the highest level of success,” said Laliberte.

The legacy of women at the Institute is continuous, growing with time. While many of the efforts and successes of women at Tech throughout history went undocumented, their work echoes through campus today.

“There are really great women out there. We haven’t told their stories. And guess what? The women students need to hear these stories,” said Laliberte.

The post Women’s storied history at the Institute appeared first on Technique.

When I was younger, I lived in the fantastical worlds I invented. I told anyone who would listen tales of my family going on adventures to faraway lands and traveling by camel or about my triumphant victories against snakes in my backyard. My penchant for the pretend was so well-known that everyone doubted everything I said, even if it was true. 

Now, I have abandoned these dreamscapes for a crushing, cold reality. I spend most of my days navigating young adulthood and college life with the prowess of an explorer with a broken compass, doing loops trying to understand myself and those around me. Though people are constantly changing and personal growth never stops, we do not have to exclusively contextualize who we are in the real world. 

We must return to these inner lives lost to our childhoods to truly understand ourselves. 

Practically speaking, we are confined to the constraints of our present reality. Time, money and location limit our ability to discover different facets of our minds and selves. We cannot instantaneously evolve into Italian aristocrats or star athletes, nor can we rewind the clock and change what we have done. In our minds, however, the possibilities are endless, and there are no consequences for our actions. 

These visions can be realistic or completely impossible — either way, they are valuable in deciphering life. 

I often imagine myself in the future, running into various old friends at the airport. I think about what they are doing in their life, who they are with and if they would even stop to talk to me. I ask where they are flying to and if it is for work or leisure. I imagine their reaction when they see me. Do they smile? Do they look surprised? Do they try to look away? I wonder what my updates will be for them if they ask. Am I a hotshot city woman wearing mostly black? Do I have two little kids and a bag full of picture books? Where am I traveling to? Who am I with? 

Though this scenario is entirely realistic, it has yet to happen. At the moment, it only exists in my mind. But, it allows me to explore what I want in life and who I want in my life in a less overwhelming way than just asking those questions outright. In ten years, what do I want to be able to tell an old friend at the airport? 

Perhaps an even greater test of character is pondering who we are outside the world we know today. If presented with an issue we know as injustice today, whether we are in 1940s Europe or 1960s Alabama, would we stand up for what is right? Do we have the capacity to distinguish what is right from what is wrong without historical hindsight? If we were met with resistance to fighting for justice, would we keep fighting? Taking the time to honestly ask ourselves what we would do in completely hypothetical scenarios is a tremendous test of our actual character. In the real world, we can choose to make these decisions, having already thought about whether honoring our beliefs outweighs the consequences we may face. 

Developing a rich inner life is not an escape from societal perils — it is a manner to think critically and come to understand problems and our place in them. Imagination is just an extended thought experiment we can carry with us as we encounter unbearably real problems. No matter how abstract our fictitious lands are, they are effectively an allegory of our own life experiences, even ones that have not happened yet. 

To calibrate our inner compasses, we must allow our minds to drift away from reality and consider the improbable and impossible — it is in this space we can find satisfaction because we can truly honor how we feel in the real world. 

The people who we want to be in our minds, the kind of people who destroy snakes and traverse faraway lands, exist within us. We can be the people we want to be and surround ourselves with our passions, but we must dream of them first.

The post The Importance of a Rich Inner Life appeared first on Technique.

President Donald Trump’s first week in office painted a picture of his vision for the next four years — a performance of governance that looks more like an episode of “The Apprentice” than a stable system of checks and balances. 

Though this past week was not Trump’s first introduction to the nation, it has been eight years since Trump was first elected — or one pandemic, two impeachments, one attempted insurrection and 34 felony convictions, for those keeping track. Needless to say, the country has changed, and so has the polarizing criminal reality show host turned political candidate — but not in his policy, but rather in his persona. 

Trump spent his first day in office signing a slew of executive orders including one to withdraw from the Paris climate agreement and another to leave the World Health Organization (WHO). He also signed orders to crack down on the border, expand the use of fossil fuels and take aim at the amorphous “woke agenda” by terminating the federal agencies working on diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) and declaring that there are only two biological sexes.  

While these brazen and sweeping orders are shocking in quantity and speed, they are quite typical of past Trump White House objectives. In 2020, the U.S. formally withdrew from the Paris Climate Agreement, and, that same year, Trump wrote to the Secretary-General of the UN threatening to withdraw from the WHO. While U.S. funding ceased, the country never formally left the organization. 

Trump may attempt to realize these objectives more radically and tangibly this term, but overall, he has remained rather stagnant in his views for the duration of his political career. Much like his hit show, the only constantly evolving aspect of the Trump administration is its revolving door of yes-men and close personal friends who execute the Trump dream for America. 

It is no secret that the ultra-rich grew richer in Trump’s first term in office, and if the president follows through on his proposed tax cuts in office, that will be the case once again. It makes sense that the Mark Zuckerberg and Jeff Bezos types would align themselves with the current White House — they stand to benefit tremendously from a Trump presidency. 

Plutocrats sitting in front of Republican policymakers at the inauguration cemented their importance in this administration. In his second term, Trump is not hiding behind a fake populist narrative — he is quite literally putting the rich first. 

Perhaps there is no greater example of Trump putting the opulent on a pedestal than the initiation of the bureaucratic agency to end all bureaucratic agencies, the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) led by Elon Musk. It is not normal for the richest living man in the world to get a senior spot in the U.S. Government in an agency named after his favorite memecoin. It would be far-fetched for a “Veep” plotline, and it is even out there for Trump, a man who embarks on policy decisions as unserious as renaming mountains and gulfs in the name of nationalism. But who doesn’t love a celebrity cameo? 

These friends and advisors are a far cry from Trump’s first presidential campaign, when he promised to surround himself with the smartest, most qualified people. Whether or not he followed through on that promise in his first term, it is now clear that Trump is no longer even pretending to prioritize qualified candidates. 

Look no further than Trump’s other picks for top officials, which consist of more than one disgraced TV show host and many billionaires. From the outside, it seems like he selected some of these people in his own likeness: people who are wealthy, people who are not career politicians and people who value optics above the needs of the country. After all, Trump has many shortcomings, but excessive humility is not one of them. 

If Trump continues the trend from his first term in office, as soon as he grows tired of his employees or feels they no longer serve him, he will throw them out with a simple: “You’re fired.” 

This Trump is perhaps even more himself than he was in 2016 — he has shed the costume of a politician and now displays his true self: an entertainer. Our phones once again feel warm from the explosion of news notifications at all hours of the day, and even if we do not agree with Trump’s vision for America, we are consumed by it. That is an entertainer’s dream. 

These are the types of changes that run deeper than policy and pervade the fabric of democracy — creating a new government position for the unpredictable son of an emerald tycoon is not in line with the meritocracy Trump claims to strive for, nor does it align with the ideals for the U.S. found in the Constitution. Signing executive orders in Capital One Arena and tossing the pens into the stands of doting fans like game-worn jerseys is self-indulgent and not in the interest of progressing as a country. 

This Trump, is fully and completely drowning in the spectacle of the presidency. It is America’s biggest stage for him to flex his authority, brand and persona. We can only hope that Trump pushes his head far enough above the surface to see the impact his choices have on everyday people, not just himself and his inner circle.

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To understand Ellen is to understand that Ellen DeGeneres is not Ellen. Ellen is a brand.  

“Ellen” is an ABC sitcom that aired from 1994 to 1998. Ellen is the voice of Dory in the hit film “Finding Nemo.” Ellen is a stand-up comic, cracking jokes about her cancellation to a sold-out audience. “The Ellen DeGeneres Show” is a daytime talk show that aired from 2003 to 2022. Ellen is a one-time judge on the ninth season of “American Idol.” ED by Ellen is a line of apparel, home, baby and pet products on QVC.

None of these programs, characters and yet-to-be-regifted products are DeGeneres, but they are certainly Ellen. Yet, the Ellen brand is inextricably tied to DeGeneres, such that the two have become inseparable in the public eye. 

Ellen is your aunt’s gay best friend and the only channel on at every dentist’s office across the country. She is a unisex premium sweatshirt available for purchase on ellenshop.com. Shewhy your grandpa can talk to his estranged sister, who “mysteriously left the family and moved in with her best friend.” She is a pantsuit and cool dance moves and, yes, profiting from children with unique or comical talents. 

Ellen is important to many people, yet she is not a person. She is merely a persona— a brand with a life. DeGeneres is a person, who has complexities that a cotton crew neck or even a minimally scripted interview can’t capture. However, the blurred lines between Ellen, the brand, and DeGeneres, the person, make it nearly impossible to separate one from the other. 

Look no further than DeGeneres’ sitcom, Ellen, where she played the role of Ellen Morgan, a character based on DeGeneres. Morgan was a reflection of DeGeneres— her thoughts, feelings, failures but most famously, her queerness. Morgan’s coming out as lesbian on the show was, in essence, DeGeneres coming out as lesbian in real life.

DeGeneres paid for the cost of Ellen’s queerness.  Following the episode, many sponsors pulled their advertisements, and the network canceled the show shortly afterward. In the ensuing years, DeGeneres did not see the same commercial success  she had before coming out. By sharing a name with her character, Ellen functioned as the spokesperson for DeGeneres—a character that was true to herself with regard to her sexuality, but a character that may have not been true to DeGeneres. Ellen is purely an image of DeGeneres, yet any critiques of Ellen applies to DeGeneres. She learned this lesson, and took note of what it meant for her career— an artistic risk was, in turn, a personal risk. 

As such, the parasocial relationship between Ellen and her audience is unusually perilous— it relies on the smooth interaction of person, persona and the public. If the person falters, so does the persona, and vice versa. 

Perhaps the greatest example of misalignment between persona and person came in 2020, when several former employees of The Ellen DeGeneres Show came forward detailing the toxic work environment on set. Several former staff members alleged that senior managers fired them after taking medical leave or days off to attend family funerals. One former employee left after facing racist comments and microaggressions from higher-level employees. 

It is reprehensible to permit such a poor workplace culture. DeGeneres should have ensured that the people who worked to keep her career afloat did so in a safe, inclusive environment. 

Many noted DeGeneres’ hypocrisy in forming a brand centered around a “be kind” slogan while simultaneously allowing her executive producers to mistreat junior employees of the show. Ellen, the persona, would have stood up for her employees and cheered them up with a mediocre punchline and a $200 VISA gift card hidden under their chairs. DeGeneres, the person, turned a blind eye to any misconduct by her senior staff. As soon as Ellen did not perfectly project onto DeGeneres, her empire came crumbling down. 

This is not to say that DeGeneres did not earn her cancellation— she did make a living off of making celebrities uncomfortable on daytime television for guffaws from older ladies and a small nasal exhale from everyone else— simply that it is impossible to ignore the role of her public image. 

Most recently, DeGeneres appeared in her final Netflix comedy special “Ellen DeGeneres: For Your Approval,” in which she primarily reflects on the controversy surrounding her show, her persona and herself. She concludes the hour by saying that she is happy not to be a brand,boss or billboard. Nevertheless, the title of the special ties her name to her need for Hollywood and an audience to admire her. Ellen is an icon, but no matter how hard DeGeneres tries to dismantle the wall between the image of herself and her persona, they will never be the same. 

She cannot take the glory of persona without also bearing the consequences of personhood. It is easier to be a slogan or the titular character on a sitcom than to accept the breadth of humanity— its pain, its wonders,  but most of all, its persistence. Life goes on even as the image deteriorates— if DeGeneres learned that, maybe she would be better able to cope with the death of the Ellen brand.

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Ozempic has made it easier than ever to comment on people’s appearance, and it is a threat to the body inclusivity movement.

The popular medication originally prescribed for type 2 diabetes mimics the GLP-1 hormone, which stimulates insulin production and reduces appetite. 

Ozempic’s application for rapid weight loss is somewhat of an open secret, particularly in celebrity circles, where there are instances of its use for cosmetic weight loss. Media figures, including Oprah Winfrey, Amy Schumer and Tracy Morgan, have spoken about their experiences with the drug. The growing awareness of Ozempic came with increasing speculation in Instagram comments. Take a scroll through any of the Kardashians’ social media posts from the last few months, and you will likely find a comment section filled with suggestions that they are on Ozempic. 

The obsession with celebrity weight loss and Ozempic has gone as far as the development of new terminology like “Ozempic face,” used to describe fat loss in the face leading to a gaunt appearance. 

Focusng on changes in people’s bodies is a step in the wrong direction. It is a step away from inclusivity and acceptance, and it threatens the recent progress of the body positivity movement.

To be clear, Ozempic itself is not the issue. Studies have shown time and time again to have benefits for those who struggle with type 2 diabetes or obesity. If Ozempic addresses an individual’s health concerns, that conversation can remain between them, their doctor and whomever they choose to share their experience with. 

At its core, the problem with Ozempic is not its use but the conjecture surrounding its use. Since the diet culture of the 2000s, young people have re-written the rules about bodies in popular culture. From radical acceptance to body neutrality, there are endless ways to reject the cultural dogma of the perfect body type. Yet, trends on social media suggest strides in the wrong direction. 

For example, the rise of the term “big back” in Gen Z slang, which people use to describe someone who is overweight, has solidified fatphobic language on social media. Similarly, consider the “good luck finding my waist” trend, where users post ironic statements about looking thinner by abstaining from sugary sodas or getting a salad instead of fries. In both instances, people make bodies the butt of the joke.

Since the rise of social media, the world has learned that what can start as a fun trend can have dire consequences. If it continues, internet culture will bleed into real life as the lines between the two worlds become progressively blurred. Based on these interactions on social media, it is clear that slowly but surely, the body positivity movement has lost momentum. 

Until we live in a world where the adjectives “thin” and “fat” do not carry with them the impossible weight of decades of diet culture, it is imperative that people do not comment at all. 

People’s bodies change. Their bodies may change because of Ozempic, or they might change for another reason. Regardless, commenting on someone else’s body is unnecessary and unkind. 

The sensationalization of Ozempic as some miracle drug makes it so that any celebrity weight loss is the result of the medicine while also suggesting that any weight loss as a result of the drug is lesser than some other form of weight loss. 

There is this idea that Ozempic is a cheat code to losing weight and therefore acts as an invitation to comment on people’s bodies.  

We learned the lesson not to comment on changes in celebrity bodies four years ago when “Black Panther” actor Chadwick Boseman lost his battle with cancer shortly after an image of a visibly thin Boseman circulated with the caption “crack panther.” 

We learned this lesson when Selena Gomez’s weight gain was not a secret pregnancy but instead a side effect of medication to treat Lupus, an autoimmune disorder.

While discussions about the misuse of appetite suppressants for cosmetic weight loss are certainly necessary, any significant conversations about this issue will not take place in a social media comment section. 

The deeper problem is not Ozempic, just as it was not the lemon water, intermittent fasting or any other weight loss tactic thinly guised as a way to boost health. The true issue that underlies this all is the impressionable people on social media who think that they need to take extreme measures to look like their internet idols. If not them, then the children who think the only way to get attention is by whittling their bodies down to nothing. Fear of alienation and desire for acceptance keep users clicking and make people think that buying collagen powder will also buy unconditional love.

These body-positive movements, as superfluous and superficial as they may seem, remind people that their bodies are not wrong. Do not comment on people’s bodies. Full stop. 

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