Consider This: Opinion, Autonomy and the Reproductive Landscape

There is an undeniable truth in the notion that acceptance increasingly hinges upon ideological alignment — a phenomenon I must, albeit reluctantly, admit to not being immune to. Indeed, I hold steadfast to my preferences: a proud liberal, champion for Uris over Olin, not at all a Swiftie and a firm believer in George Harrison reigning as the best Beatle. Nonetheless, I hesitate to brand myself as judgmental. Opinionated? Undeniably.

Manicured Nails, My Right to Abortion and a Damn Good Iced Coffee

Girlhood. It’s a terrain as complex as it is universal marked by its commodification, demonization and idolization. In its essence lies a social and biological experience more fraught than any other. Recently, my reflections explored the politics of girlhood — essays laden with dense jargon, lamenting the systems that uphold its persistent scrutiny and sexualization. And while not dismissing the relevance of this discourse, in the midst of it, I found myself losing sight of its fundamentals.

On ‘Poor Things’: Her Own Means of Production

“Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power.” While the attribution of this quote to Oscar Wilde remains debatable, Yorgos Lanthimos’ Poor Things embodies its essence flawlessly. A masterpiece of fiction, Poor Things continues to stir a maelstrom of contrasting reactions: Some adore it, others find it disconcerting; it exudes opulence yet leaves an unsettling impression. The bizarre brilliance of Bella Baxter (portrayed by Emma Stone) has prompted some to exit the theater within the first 30 minutes, while others, myself included, found themselves ravenous for seconds.

Pardon My Perspective: On ‘I’m Sorry’

In the landscape of language, the ubiquitous phrase “I’m sorry” reveals itself as a peculiar taste enjoyed by picky and indiscriminate palates alike. It has woven itself into our daily conversations, transforming genuine remorse into a linguistic reflex. Upon considering my own tendency to apologize, a nuanced pattern unfolds, blurring the line between selflessness and compensation for a self-perceived selfishness. Over the course of my youth, “I’m sorry” was a common courtesy, a nod to the etiquette that framed my social dispositions. Politeness, embellished with the overuse of these “magic” words, shaped my verbal cadence.

The Ugly Truth: Lessons In Perfectionism

Upon viewing the rather uncensored Saltburn, as Rosamund Pike proclaimed her “complete and utter horror of ugliness,” I couldn’t help but reflect on my own musings of perfectionism. Though rooted in external aesthetics, Pike’s aversion served as a gateway into a broader, more insidious struggle — one that transcends the surface and subsists across various aspects of our lives. Beyond the glitz of Hollywood, this pervasive dilemma infiltrates the minutiae of daily routines, casts a shadow over academic pursuits and propels us into the relentless pursuit of a self-constructed ideal of success. As I grapple with my journey as a recovering perfectionist, Pike’s revelation resonates deeply. It speaks to the relentless pursuit of unattainable standards — chasing straight A’s, maintaining a buzzing social life, fitting into size two jeans and securing an impressive work position for my age.

Persona non Grata: Actually, You do Belong

Imposter syndrome has come to occupy an insidious space in academia, casting a shadow that conceals a genuine sense of belonging among students. It functions as a silent oppressor and gives rise to internal dialogues of self-doubt and criticism, often kept unspoken due to the fear that these doubts might be externalized, branding one as a sham. Standing among the vibrant tapestry of Cornell’s campus, I find myself amidst 15,000 students, each with unique backgrounds, experiences and stories to tell. Nonetheless, what connects our discrepancies is the common thread of our reputable and rightfully deserved education. 

So why the cognitive dissonance? It’s all too easy to dismiss my previous statement as deceit, to project it onto those who surround you, all while maintaining an incredulous stance that you — yes, you — warrant the recognition as someone who belongs.