Alongside nearly 1,000 other students, I attended Sun., Jan. 29’s candlelight vigil. The vigil was held as a show of support for refugees and foreign-born people affected by Trump’s recent executive order. For almost an hour we held our candles in the chilly, blustery weather, listening to impassioned responses to Trump’s Muslim Ban—a shadowy concept he mentioned on the campaign trail, which was initially denounced by most politicians, including Mike Pence.

I supported the vigil’s politics, but was unsure of its polite tactics: how much progress can really be made by standing around with candles on Cross Campus? With this quandary in mind, I recharged my portable electric candle (a Christmas gift from Mom and Dad), and joined the throng. The crowd was dense, with protesters young and old tightly packed along the length of Cross Campus. Vigil organizers handed out electronic candles in case protesters didn’t bring their own. Not just Yale students showed up—local families were in attendance too, some even pushing baby strollers. The centerpiece of the scene was a single word—SOLIDARITY—boldly projected onto the front wall of Sterling Memorial Library. As a procession of speakers rallied the crowd, solidarity became the unifying theme of the event.      

Solidarity proved a fitting word to frame Sunday night’s vigil, which fostered a budding support network of protesters and angry citizens. Trinh Truong, SY ’19, who spoke at the march as a political refugee from Vietnam, explained why “solidarity” is so fitting for the occasion: “To me, solidarity means uniting for the betterment of humanity. Solidarity transcends race, class, religion, gender, and any other dividing factor.… All of our struggles are connected. Solidarity is important because it’s the only way things change: humanity doesn’t comprise one individual.” Solidarity is a word that unifies the protester and the afflicted. That’s why, when we talk about solidarity, it is almost always followed by the word “fellow”—solidarity with our fellow students, with our fellow Americans, with our fellow humans. It’s a word that puts the burden on everyone.

The projection of the word “Solidarity” onto the front wall of Sterling was the idea of Dennis Wang, a first-year student at the School of Medicine, who was inspired by a similar image at the JFK protests last weekend. Outside the terminal, one “expression of defiance” stood out the most: the word “RESIST”, emblazoned across the wall of a parking garage. The source of the image was a “taller gentleman who was balancing a rather large projector on his head.” Wang suggested the organizers of Sunday’s vigil do something similar—but “RESIST” wasn’t suitable for our campus demonstration. Individuals directly affected by the executive order believed that “resisting was not… something that all non-citizens could safely do,” and so, “the team settled on ‘SOLIDARITY,’” a more inclusive call to action.  According to Sara A. Lulo, Assistant Dean of the Law School, who proposed the word, “‘Solidarity’ was meant as a unifying message of strength and community. It was a direct message of support to those endangered and isolated as a result of the executive order.  ‘Solidarity’ also serves as a reminder to all that we must each stand up for one another and for human dignity itself.”

Some protesters might have questioned the efficacy of holding a vigil, instead of a more typical protest against an executive order that sparked such widespread outrage. The word “vigil” is commonly associated with community response to tragedy. Truong remarks that, to her, a vigil is an appropriate response to the recent political developments: “After the executive orders were issued, I think the entire country needed to reflect and decide on what we wanted the word ‘American’ to mean…. This political moment is one of tragedy. It symbolizes a divergence from our commitments and the best of our values. Let’s hope––and also work––to make sure this divergence is temporary.”

At Sunday’s vigil, which heralded the beginning of an uncertain new era, we mourned the loss of compassion in our American policy towards refugees. But I was heartened by the spectacle of 1,000 fellow New Haveners ready to act up. This was an event that, as Wang said, was not about “grief, or powerlessness, but about the community coming together.” The vigil served as a powerful reminder that, despite the distress caused by the executive order, so many of us are willing to stand in solidarity with our fellow humans, especially the most vulnerable.

The daily routine of a refugee in New Haven doesn’t seem so different from that of any other New Haven resident—a mother sends her child off to school, a daughter is reluctant to finish her social studies assignment, a son is struggling with the school bully. In the evening, everyone gathers around the dinner table to unpack their day over a home-cooked meal.

Of course, for a Syrian refugee, there’s an array of added obstacles to this routine. Most refugees have little experience with English, making it difficult to navigate public schools and the job market. There’s also the cultural barrier—though most New Haven residents don’t express outright hostility towards their newly arrived refugee neighbors, culture shock and language barriers make it difficult for refugees to thrive socially. Even for New Haveners with a positive outlook on the city’s refugee influx, it’s all too easy to give these new neighbors a lukewarm reception, leaving refugees feeling isolated. In the wake of Donald Trump’s election, with xenophobia sweeping the country, it is now more important than ever to make refugees feel at home.

A new student organization at Yale, Students of Salaam, is making an effort to bridge the intangible divide between refugee families and the New Haven community. The group takes its name from the Arabic word for peace, a word which is ubiquitous in the Arabic language’s colorful greeting conventions.  Instead of a simple “hello”, Arabic speakers often say the equivalent of Peace be upon you.  The response: And may peace be upon you, as well.  It is fitting, then, that Students of Salaam has incorporated this salutatory term into its name—the group’s mission is to forge interpersonal connections, and to facilitate the peaceful coexistence of refugees within their new community.    

***

In September 2015, Stella Shannon, BK ’18, and Aaminah Bhat, BR ’18, saw an opportunity for Yalies to make a positive contribution to New Haven’s growing refugee population on a micro scale. Both Shannon and Bhat have experience with the Middle East, the Arabic language, and work in immigrant communities, so involvement with New Haven’s refugees was immediately relevant to them. In describing the inception of Students of Salaam, Bhat says she was driven by a desire to “make a sustainable, lasting impact” in the New Haven community—to leave behind something valuable after her four short years here.

Since its founding last year, Students of Salaam has expanded to provide a wide array of services to the New Haven community. According to Shannon, there are two central focuses of the organization: tutoring and community-building. Both intend to break cultural barriers and foster inclusion in New Haven, according to the group’s mission statement. Tutoring takes place in New Haven public schools, but it doesn’t focus on the minutiae of English grammar—it’s all about making refugees feel confident and at home in their new city. As Shannon puts it, “We want to devote the time to engage in self-expression, and liberal arts and creative writing, because those are the things that have been really important to us [Aaminah and I] in personal growth, and we recognize that these students are very smart and they’re also experiencing lots of change…They need a way to express that.” This alternative approach to tutoring was at first greeted tepidly by teachers who were hesitant to give up class time, but it quickly gained popularity among pupils and teachers alike. For many of the K-8 students served by Students of Salaam’s “ambassadors” (the term Students of Salaam uses to refer to their community outreach volunteers), spending time on self-expression has led to noticeable positive results in the classroom.

Tutoring intends to alleviate some of the cultural and linguistic barriers faced by young refugees, but for Students of Salaam, refugee resettlement is not simply a process of assimilation—educating the host community is equally as important. The organization has hosted public library screenings of films that showcase Arab culture and put together a talk about democracy. In an upcoming Syrian cooking class, New Haven residents will be given the opportunity to take home a bit of their new neighbors’ tasty cuisine. According to Bhat, just as Students of Salaam aims to help refugee families with their transition, an integral part of the organization is to access community members “who don’t really understand what it means to be a refugee, and help them understand.”

***

During the year that Students of Salaam has been active in New Haven, the group has been warmly received both by refugees and native New Haveners. Though the group is new, its 30-or-so ambassadors have already made a splash around New Haven. After noting the success of Students of Salaam’s tutoring initiative, a local high school reached out to the organization to give a “peace talk.” The New Haven Register later contacted the group, interested in publishing an article highlighting Students of Salaam’s next public film screening.

But the slew of anti-refugee rhetoric accompanying the recent presidential election has raised fears that Students of Salaam will face new obstacles to fostering inclusion. Shannon surmises that most New Haveners currently have a neutral opinion of refugees; up to now, it’s been Students of Salaam’s goal to turn that neutral opinion into a favorable one. The protracted anti-refugee rhetoric could create much more resistance to attempts to change minds. Some of the younger refugees have also expressed concern and uncertainty about the election.

But Students of Salaam generally remains hopeful that America’s turbulent political year won’t pose major difficulties to their mission. According to ambassador Malak Nasr, many refugees and ambassadors have experienced comparatively “much worse” political upheaval: coups, dictatorships and civil war. From this perspective, New Haven remains a safe community where Students of Salaam can continue its interpersonal outreach, regardless of what’s happening in politics.

At the end of the day, Students of Salaam’s co-presidents are optimistic, too. Shannon explains, “We’re not pushing for policy…. Even the most averse to bringing in refugees, all we’re saying is we’re going to make life better for everybody involved once they get here…. We’re just trying to provide support.”

***

Students of Salaam isn’t just breaking barriers between New Haveners and their new refugee neighbors—it’s helping Yalies become active and integrated into the Elm City. Nasr leads Students of Salaam’s in-home tutoring program, through which a few Yale students pay home visits to newly arrived Syrian refugee families to tutor children and provide company. The families welcome the gesture, especially because many Students of Salaam ambassadors speak Arabic, Farsi, and other languages spoken by New Haven’s refugee population.

Nasr, an international Yalie from Egypt, points out how crucial it is that so many Students of Salaam ambassadors are fluent in refugees’ native languages. Shannon underscores the importance of matching refugees with ambassadors who can speak their language. “Most of them [the ambassadors] are refugees or immigrants themselves, or children of immigrants,” Shannon said. Yale’s diverse community, then, has a unique ability to make newly arrived refugees feel welcome in their Connecticut home. Many Yalies, like Nasr and other ambassadors, come from similar cultural backgrounds as the refugees. The fact that Students of Salaam ambassadors are so well-versed in the refugees’ culture, as well as the English-speaking American cultural sphere, gives the ambassadors a singular ability to make New Haven feel a lot more like home.

***

A new organization with big goals, Students of Salaam is recognizing the unique ways in which we, as a diverse community of Yale students, can make a meaningful impact in our home community. Students of Salaam acts on a small scale, but works toward long-term results. The operation— commissioning its ambassadors to work with just a few children at a time, or one family, or a small group of high school students—may seem unassuming. The community engagement activities are not calls for sweeping political change, but, rather, movie screenings and culture workshops open to any passersby.

But ambassadors and the two co-presidents firmly believe in the lasting positive effect of micro-level community engagement. Ambassadors like Nasr have noticed previously reticent students becoming increasingly confident and cheerful as the recent Americans navigate the beginning of their new lives. With regularity and attentiveness, ambassadors help the refugees navigate the peculiarities of American pronunciation, and the surprising pickiness of American eaters. Students of Salaam recognizes that Yalies, especially those with relevant cultural and linguistic experience, have a unique opportunity to welcome New Haven’s newest families.  

Beyond the language barrier, New Haven’s refugee families are “just like us”—and that’s the simple message that drives Shannon and Bhat. Refugees experience the same daily victories and setbacks as everyone else, alongside everyone else, but with superficial hindrances that get in the way. Bhat explains that she doesn’t even like to refer to our newest neighbors as “refugees.” “Because guess what? They’re immigrants. They’re Americans now, too.”               

Dear faithful readers,

I’m in a good mood—Halloween’s right around the corner. In my view, Halloween is the best B-list holiday.  It’s the only day I can get my hands on those tiny boxes of Milk Duds with only two Milk Duds in them. And I take great pride in my costume-making prowess; this year I’m a jellyfish.  

But my carefree adoration of Halloween is a privilege that others, people who are not white men like me, can’t always enjoy. After student protests last Halloween following Erika Christakis’s email, these deep troubles were finally publicized—even to unwitting Halloween fans like myself. Offensive costumes are too often a Halloween staple, informed by the type of feckless cultural ridicule showcased by Fox News in their recent segment on Chinese Americans. It’s timely, then, that Haewon Ma, SY ’19, has written a front that carefully examines the diversity of experiences within the Asian-American community, which is too often considered homogenous.

Yalies are truly a varied bunch, with diverse perspectives and opinions. Some of us are soldiers: Felicia Chang, MC ’20, gives us an eye into the world of Yalies who have to serve in the armed forces of their home countries. Some of us are foodies—like Emily Ge, BK ‘19, who offers us a taste of a two-star Michelin restaurant. Some of us prefer historical fiction—like Mariah Kreutter, BK ’20, who makes the case for a BBC programme called Poldark. And some of us are keener on comedy—like Liana Van Nostrand, TD ’20, who offers a positive take on the new Netflix show Haters Back Off. No matter what your story is, I’m sure you’ll appreciate this week’s issue. And I hope everyone has an enjoyable Halloween.

All my best,

Nolan Phillips

Opinions Editor

My favorite site on which to follow the presidential race is FiveThirtyEight.com, which provides an array of colorful maps and statistical models based on every new update to presidential polls. Within the past few weeks, as Trump’s numbers have improved, I’ve been making a visit to FiveThirtyEight every day. It’s safe to say that I’ve spent much time obsessing over this election. Donald Trump’s meteoric ascent in American politics has made me uneasy for at least a year, but as Election Day draws tangibly closer, I’m feeling a more acute sense of dread. For many Americans, Donald Trump’s white nationalist remarks have been a cause for deep, unshakeable worry. I check the polls religiously—each bump for Hillary is a small personal victory, each gain for Trump a small defeat. I find myself thinking about Donald Trump all the time. In fact, I’m terrified. Many of my peers are, too. We need to talk about the psychological toll that Donald Trump’s candidacy has on so many of us.

“This election isn’t like other elections” has become a cliché—it’s true that everyone, regardless of political affiliation, has been astonished by Election 2016. The bizarreness of the primaries, the unconventionality of the candidates, and the brutishness of the discourse are universally acknowledged. But the genuine fear instilled by Trump’s candidacy is rarely addressed. It is not enough to characterize this election as merely unusual. Trump has proudly proposed major civil rights violations, he has suggested apartheid-style measures to segregate Muslims, and he has threatened millions with deportation. That’s not just unusual—it’s unprecedented. Trump showers us with a numbing barrage of anti-immigrant, anti-Muslim, anti-everyone hate speech. And with Trump’s bombast on full display, it’s easy to ignore his quiet running mate, Mike Pence. But Pence’s famous Indiana anti-LBGT legislation is no less troublesome. For decades Pence has fought the gay rights movement, and he calls homosexuality “the types of behaviors that facilitate the spreading of the HIV virus.” For Muslim Americans, for Latinx Americans, for LGBT+ Americans, and for other groups singled out by the Trump machine, this election has the potential outcome of personal persecution. Deportation, stop-and-frisk, a Muslim ban—to many, Donald Trump poses an immediate risk. That’s why I’m so nervous all the time.

You don’t have to be a threatened minority to be uneasy about Donald Trump, though. Maybe you’re afraid of his ties with Putin, or perhaps you first recognized the threat he poses in his authoritarian speech at the RNC—the speech in which he bellowed “I alone can fix it,” as his name stood in letters thirty feet tall. I’m worried about Donald Trump for all of these reasons, too. And I must confess that I find myself thinking about him too often. I try to imagine what it would be like if he were elected president. I try to tell myself that it would be okay, that he can’t mess up everything too terribly, that maybe he would be merely an embarrassment. It couldn’t be all that bad, could it? But as the election nears, and the polls tighten, I’m worrying about him more than ever. Sometimes I feel ashamed for thinking about him so much—I know he’s an egomaniac, and I know he wants me to think about him. As my worries compound, I’ve realized that I can’t be alone in this. Lately, I’ve examined my peers for signs that I’m not the only one with 2016 Election Anxiety—and I’ve discovered plenty of others who have similarly deep concerns about the election.

When Donald Trump comes up in conversation, he elicits a wide variety of potential reactions. Some people ridicule him, attempting to appear unfazed by the prospect of a Trump presidency. Many people express exasperation not with Trump, but with the election. And occasionally people expose feelings of genuine worry. Whatever the reaction, it’s often evident that a more serious anxiety about Donald Trump runs deep—but no one is willing to truly express it. Usually we treat Trump with mockery and humor. Given his wild appearance and over-the-top persona, this isn’t too hard to do. But our humor often disguises more serious concerns. I, too, am guilty of making jokes about this election. However, our collective tendency to treat Election 2016 with sardonic humor makes it difficult to detect whether others are as deeply bothered by the Trump campaign as I am. So I’ve recently ditched the jokes in an effort to become more honest when discussing 2016 Election Anxiety. As I began to approach Trump conversations with a more serious bent, I soon noticed just how many of my peers shared my same profound worries about Trump’s wild rise to the top. Some have family members with shaky immigration status, some feel threatened by his anti-Muslim rhetoric, and some, who are less directly targeted, are afraid of what he will do to others.

In the current political climate, it’s difficult to communicate this fear. Many people are equally disgusted with both Clinton and Trump, to the extent that any complaint about Trump is met with a reflexive dig at Clinton. And when I speak to Trump supporters, my fear of Trump is politely dismissed as a partisan opinion. This is why it’s challenging to properly convey the seriousness of my 2016 Election Anxiety. It’s hard to express that the unease I feel due to Donald Trump’s campaign is not just political disagreement; it’s personal. It’s a profound fear of his authoritarianism and bigoted statements, which really are neither liberal nor conservative.

It’s true, there are multitudes of Americans who are not particularly stressed out by the Trump campaign—many people intend to vote for him, and others see him merely as a nuisance or a buffoon. But it’s important for everyone to acknowledge that many people, like me, feel a deeper, personal anxiety about Donald Trump. This is rarely acknowledged. Sometimes I feel like I’m taking the election too seriously. But just this morning, in lecture, I noticed a laptop screen in front of me refreshing FiveThirtyEight’s newest election map—and I was reminded that I’m not alone. If everyone acknowledged the unusually profound character of 2016 Election Anxiety, perhaps more safe spaces will open up in which people can speak honestly about the pervasive unease caused by Trump. With a bit more openness, many of us will be able to better express our sincere worries. If we can candidly talk about 2016 Election Anxiety, our compulsive joking about Donald Trump can turn into a more truthful and meaningful discourse.

Oh—and vote for Hillary Clinton.

Does Yale have some perks? Of course. I recall with fondness my first few weeks as a freshman. My college dean was tirelessly available to answer all my questions, even the sex ones. The ornateness of the architecture really boosted my self-esteem. And the friends I made during those formative early days have become my closest companions. But I’m writing today to unpack this idyllic image, to warn incoming students of the potential pitfalls one might experience at this world-renowned institution. In fact, you may find that the cons outweigh the pros. And that’s the hard truth: they do. Yale is a scam.

The first aspect of Yale that truly left me awestruck was the vaulted nave of Sterling Memorial Library. But Sterling is not all it’s cracked up to be. As a freshman I imagined myself writing a brilliant essay under glowing whale-oil lamps, surrounded by Sterling’s gothic splendor. But you can’t really do that, because the library closes at the early hour of 11:45 p.m. And on the weekends they’re basically just open for brunch, so don’t even try. My friends insist: “After it closes you can go to Bass.” Excuse me? How do you expect me to concentrate on this essay without a stained glass triptych? Scam.

You may have heard about a raucous dance called Freshman Screw. This also scammed me. Don’t go. Here’s the deal: Freshman Screw is an annual gala held at The Schwarzman Center for the Gifted & Talented, formerly known as “Commons.” It’s a blind date. My suitemates set me up with a squash player named Siberius. Alicia Silverstone was his sister. Before the dance, Siberius invited me to a pregame at his Greenwich mansion. Alicia Silverstone wasn’t even fucking there.

And the dining scene isn’t much better. As an incoming freshman, I was thrilled by the idea that each Residential College™ has its own snack bar, called the Buttery™. But this, too, is a big scam. Have any dietary restrictions? Forget it. Example: literally no buttery has baby food. Unfortunately, I’m on an all baby food diet. So every time I wish to purchase baby food I have to steal a Lexus and drive to Whole Foods. Please fix this.

Evidently, there’s a lot of scamming done by Yale University. But, from my experience, the biggest scam of them all is Skull and Bones. Maybe you’ve heard of it. Skull and Bones is a Secret Society™, most notably referenced in an acclaimed CW series called Gossip Girl. The moment I arrived at this prestigious university, I knew I had to be in Skull and Bones. So I’ve spent all my time convincing everyone I’m the illustrious granddaughter of Calvin Coolidge. I have not broken character one goddamn time. When my suitemates watched The Great Gatsby, I said I had to leave the room because it made me feel “too nostalgic.” I did Directed Studies to mimic an antique New England colonial education. I even gave a Geology presentation dressed as a flapper. Yet I remain untapped.

I want my life back.

You’ve finished the Freshman Issue.
Read it again here.

I vividly remember the day I first saw a raven in the wild. A raven can’t be compared to a hawk, because it doesn’t have a hooked beak or talons—it is better described as a menacing, regal, eagle-sized crow. Ravens are strange and otherworldly. John James Audubon’s raven portrait, one of many prints on temporary display at the Peabody Museum of Natural History until July, perfectly replicates this bizarre majesty. Audubon wasn’t purely an artist, or purely a scientist: he combined the two disciplines in fascinating ways.

At the centerpiece of the Peabody exhibit are two books on loan from the Beinecke: rare early prints of The Birds of America, Audubon’s masterwork. In fact, Yale’s copy is one of only 110 intact sets that remain. The book, published in four huge volumes (it’s called the “elephant” folio because seemingly no other adjective could conceive of its gigantic size) is a testament to Audubon’s limitless passion, bordering on obsession. The Birds of America contains 1,055 life-sized illustrations of birds—including every species known to exist in America, plus 37 species and subspecies that Audubon discovered himself.

What’s immediately intriguing about the Peabody’s exhibit is the prints’ unshakeable emotional resonance. Although every bird is a scientific specimen, these prints are not pure visual documentation. The birds are dynamic figures; even when they’re standing still they are contorted, opening their wings, craning their necks. The graceful, vibrant creatures are often fighting and swooping in for prey, positioned against sharply bristling greenery and stark, expansive landscapes. Not only is Audubon portraying the birds with a naturalist’s eye for realism, but he also conveys their raw beauty.

Audubon’s adult life was defined by his passion for birds. Born the illegitimate child of a French slave-owner in Haiti, Audubon grew up in France amidst the chaos of the French Revolution. As a young businessman he resettled in America, where he was immediately and inexplicably enchanted with America’s rich variety of birds. Audubon soon devoted himself to naturalism, living a pioneer lifestyle and crossing the country to document new species. The Peabody’s exhibit effectively portrays this long and arduous livelihood. Because Audubon ensured that his paintings depicted perfect anatomical accuracy, it was crucial for him to see each bird (dead) in the flesh. Audubon travelled extensively to observe birds in their natural habitat. But, if he got word of a new species in a far-off territory that he couldn’t feasibly visit, he always found a way to obtain the bird’s carcass. As we learn in the exhibit, the anatomical accuracy in Audubon’s prints is stunning.

According to Richard Kissel, Director of Public Programs (Exhibitions and Education) at the Peabody Museum, the intersection of art and science in Audubon’s work makes it truly fascinating. In fact, Kissel argues, The Birds of America not only shows an intersection of art and science—it exemplifies how the two disciplines are inextricably intertwined. Kissel writes in an email: “Humanity is a part of nature, so I view all art as falling within the realm of natural history; you can’t remove a species or its product from its broader context.” As Kissel explains, central to Audubon’s paintings are “certain elements of dramatic flair, eliciting emotion from viewers as he captured the beauty and (sometimes) brutality of nature.” After viewing the prints at the Peabody, I find this scientific artistry is evident. Audubon was profoundly skilled at portraying the harsh beauty of nature.

Though Audubon’s work is artistic, many view Audubon’s scientific contributions as paramount to his legacy. Michael Anderson, the Museum Preparator for the Peabody, explains Audubon’s lasting significance as attributable to the paintings’ unprecedented realism. Even today, “[one] can still go to an Audubon print and accurately count the primary feathers and find the exact shape, length and contour of any bird’s feathers.” Anderson likens Audubon’s innovations to today’s revolutions in 3-D printing.  As one closely examines the perfect attention to detail in these elephant folios, it is difficult to conceive of Audubon’s profound devotion to his project.  The Birds of America is no less than the product of an entire life of fieldwork.  As I examined Audubon’s life-sized raven print, which meticulously replicates not only every physical detail but the true essence of this strange and majestic bird, I began to understand why Audubon has secured such a prominent place in the American imagination.