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(10/28/21 10:00am)
Representatives from Middlebury College joined Green Mountain Power, state representatives, developer Encore Renewable Energy and the town of Middlebury at a groundbreaking event on Oct. 12 for the college’s new solar installation project on South Street Extension, which will supply 30% of its total electricity usage as part of the Energy2028 initiative for 100% renewable energy at the college by 2028.
(10/14/21 10:00am)
In January 2021, the Middlebury College Art Museum began an extensive rehang — installing a new organization concept that displays permanent collection art by theme rather than based on region and chronology, as is typical of most European and American museums. With this rehang, along with the implementation of related initiatives, museum organizers hoped to increase the museum’s accessibility and inclusivity to reach a wider audience and to showcase a more diverse range of artists.
Jason Vrooman ’03 serves as both the chief curator and director of engagement for the museum, roles that are separated into two distinct jobs at most museums. His experience connecting the responsibilities of each role helped him plan and conceptualize the rehang project. His role as director of engagement challenges him to consider how people connect with the works on display while he completes duties related to acquisition and exhibition organization in his role as curator.
“It’s very unusual to have a double curator and educator, but we like it because the two [roles] inform each other. As I curate, I try to keep in mind how the works will support the museum’s educational goals as a resource for Middlebury classes, local schools and adult community members,” Vrooman said.
Beginning in late 2019, Vrooman worked closely with Museum Director Richard Saunders, Associate Curator of Ancient Art Pieter Broucke, Museum Registrar Meg Wallace and Museum Designer Ken Pohlman to rethink how the permanent collection could be used to tell new stories. Sabarsky Graduate Fellow Sarah Briggs ’14.5 and Sarah Laursen — who served as the museum’s curator of Asian art before departing from the museum staff in summer 2020 — were also closely involved in the beginning stages of the process.
The committee also frequently sought student input from participants in the 2020 summer internship program and conducted a survey of professors who had historically used the museum in their courses to ensure changes would not disrupt existing teaching.
For about a year, the group met weekly to discuss how chronological and geographical approaches to displaying art contribute to Eurocentric biases and to strategize ways to remedy this narrow lens at Middlebury’s museum.
“Our museum has for decades been collecting a diverse array of artists, but the permanent collection has a particular focus on Mediterranean, American and European art while other stories were told in small ways,” said Vrooman. “We’ve been focusing on collecting more work from women, queer artists and artists of color for long before the rehang project began, and we wanted to find a way to highlight this diversity by having themes.”
Vrooman also mentioned that the museum plans to add more works from indigenous and disabled artists.
The group ultimately chose 12 themes to juxtapose works from across time periods and cultures. Some of the themes include Art and Activism, Portraiture, People and the Planet, Ritual and Devotion, Death and Remembrance, Intersecting Cultures and The Art of Storytelling. Under Death and Remembrance, for example, Han Dynasty funereal art shares a space with pieces from ancient Egyptian burial practice.
“We really hope people will look for similarities, but we also want to respect the difference between these works,” said Vrooman. “We want these spaces to open up dialogue and invite conversation about important social issues, as well as ask people to think about how the past influences how we engage with one another in the present.”
To supplement the rehang, the committee enlisted museum ambassadors and other students to help write new labels and edit existing text to bolster inclusivity. Claire Darrow ’22, a museum ambassador since fall 2019, described how the language used in museums can often uphold stereotypes and reify certain cultural biases.
“We used terms that might be easier to understand if you don’t have a specific art history educational background. I hope that something as small as a label or inclusive language can make people feel more comfortable in a museum setting and allow them to see their stories and perspectives reflected in the art,” Darrow said.
One example Darrow referenced as a common misleading use of language in museums is the use of the past tense when describing art from indigenous cultures of the Americas, which can imply that they no longer exist. “These cultures are still very active,” Darrow said.
Aside from descriptive labels, the museum also instituted what it calls its “Label Talk Initiative.” Through this project, three participants respond to each selected artwork from a personal, professional or academic perspective. Vrooman hopes that showcasing three separate viewpoints will show that there are multiple ways to view art and help make the museum a space where many voices are welcome.
“Part of our process was challenging the expectations of who gets to interpret art in a museum,” said Vrooman. “In most museums, you don’t know who wrote the labels, but you can presume they came through a very particular educational path.”
Pearl Akoto ’24, who grew up in Ghana before moving to New York, got involved with the Label Talk Initiative by writing a personal response to a piece called “Untitled (with red)” by the Ghanian artist El Anatsui. “I had never seen any form of representation of my culture, especially in Vermont,” she said.
While the piece is a commentary on the transatlantic slave trade, Akoto hopes her response will help visitors focus on the modern aspects of the work and its evocation of current day issues related to environmental justice.
“I actually tried to avoid referencing the transatlantic slave trade. Of course the struggles and pains of slavery are a part of our history and culture, but we are much more than that and are not allowing it to define us anymore,” she said. “We are emerging from that and creating a new narrative for the present.”
Museum visitors can continue the conversation by scanning a QR code next to the piece and adding their own response on a virtual blog.
In addition to the thematic reorganization, the new design instituted other components to increase accessibility. These changes included lowering the hanging height of most works by about two inches, which can make a substantial difference for visitors in a wheelchair, children or someone who chooses to sit to view a work. Staff also increased the font size on labels and chose to use black sans serif text against a white wall after researching the legibility of different type fonts.
There are fewer works on display in the new organization to open more space for tour groups and classes to visit without getting too close to the pieces. However, approximately 15 works from the permanent collection will rotate at the end of each semester because they are light sensitive. The pieces in rotation will specifically include works from diverse artists.
Vrooman hopes the rehang has been a positive step toward inclusivity but also acknowledged there is still a lot more work to do.
“We are open to responses that may reshape the way we think and invite members of the community to offer feedback directly or at bit.ly/MuseumComments,” said Vrooman.
Currently, the museum is open only to students, faculty and staff by appointment due to Covid-19 precautions. In addition to the permanent collection galleries, visitors can enjoy the special exhibitions “A New Lens: Contemporary Video & Animation” and “Art & Protest: Artists as Agents of Social Change,” both on display until Dec. 12.
(10/14/21 9:56am)
At this week’s Hirschfield International Film Series screening, audiences were transported back to the brink of the Covid-19 pandemic to relive its uncertainty. An anthology film of seven distinct shorts by seven global directors, “The Year of the Everlasting Storm” chronicles the human condition from all corners of the world in the face of an invisible enemy. The film is more than a recapitulation of events; it’s an intimate expression of emotions shown through masterful cinematography. Each director independently reminds their audience of the universal feelings of tension, yearning, fear, love, powerlessness, hope and the seemingly never-ending boredom of an unrelenting, everlasting storm: the Covid-19 pandemic.
The film opens with Jafar Panahi’s short film, “Life,” set in Tehran, Iran. The film was shot entirely on a cell phone inside an apartment. The audience joins a family and their pet iguana who is basking in the sun pouring through the window, enjoying the serenity of isolation and the distant song of sirens with his human companions. The peace does not last long, however, as a knock on the door presents a figure wearing a hazmat suit. Much to the shock of the family and the audience alike, the mask is lowered to present the warm, welcoming smile of an elderly woman: Mom! As the short continues, undertones of tension permeate scenes of pandemic normalcy, detailing the struggles of intergenerational differences and connecting safely with loved ones. Despite the constant, ever-present anxiety of early quarantine, Panahi manages to extend the warmth of love through the screen and provide audiences with an acute, yet powerful, sentiment of hope.
A collection of films depicting only positive outcomes would be untrue to the experience of the pandemic. Transitioning to Wuhan, China, director Anthony Chen shows a young family growing apart in his short, “The Break Away.” Viewers join a burnt-out mother, immature father and rowdy toddler stuck in a cramped apartment. With each scene, the bonds that hold the family are eroded by financial difficulty, misunderstanding and temper tantrums. The short closes with the couple chain-smoking cigarettes on the balcony. As the husband reaches for his wife’s hand, a final and failed attempt at affection, the characters and audience realize that the home is just as lonely as the empty city below.
“The Year of the Everlasting Storm” also captures the tension between citizens and their governments. Two short documentaries, “Little Measures” directed by Malik Vitthal, and “Terror Contagion” directed by Laura Poitras, depict the changing relationship between those in power and the ones they govern.
Vitthal enchants audiences with a story following California father Bobby Jones, who stops at nothing to regain custody of his three children, separated from him in different foster homes. An engaging monologue overlaid with fluid animations and intimate video calls, “Little Measures” shows a father overcoming the seemingly insurmountable obstacles of the legal system, urban violence and Covid-19 to be with his beloved children.
Poitras sheds light on the virtual and physical violence associated with international spyware companies. Accounts from all corners of the globe are compiled and analyzed by investigative reporters, connecting the dots between an Israeli tech firm, oppressive governments and global violence, including the murder of journalist Jamal Khashoggi. As the audience is presented with the terrifying capabilities and applications of spyware, images of local law enforcement militarizing in New York City set up a bone-chilling comparison between violent governments abroad and defenders of liberty at home.
The final short, “Night Colonies,” directed by Apichatpong Weerasethakul, is set in an empty bed illuminated with insect-attracting lights. For the entirety of the short, bugs buzz, crawl and fly among the bulbs and sheets to the pitter-patter of rain on the roof. The short is monotonous and devoid of plot, yet the interactions among insects are strangely alluring. The full exposure to restless bugs prompts the audience to contemplate their own lives, finding comparisons with the insignificance of the insects’ actions during pandemic lockdown.
While no two pandemic experiences were the same, humans globally put their lives on hold to isolate, enduring alone, together. As the lights raised at the end of the film, audiences were left to reflect on the emotional weight of the past year and a half and to wonder what comes after the year of the everlasting storm.
(09/30/21 9:58am)
“Cry Macho” opens on a truck driving down a country road. Inside, we see squinted eyes under a beaten cowboy hat glance into the rearview mirror. The truck pulls to a stop, and the camera drops to the ground to watch as two leather boots step out onto the pavement. It then cuts to the driver-side door shutting, and then we see him: Clint Eastwood, the sun at his back, still the archetypical American Western hero at 91 years of age that he was 60 years ago.
It is clear in just the first two minutes of the film that director and star Clint Eastwood understands the baggage that he carries with him into this role. Making his first appearance in a Western since his 1993 Best Picture Winner “Unforgiven,” he knows that his donning of a cowboy hat is all that audiences need to feel the years of rich cinematic history packed into this film. Eastwood plays with this connection between the audience and the icon, as silhouettes of his character Mike Milo against the sun setting over the desert erase his age. He could just as easily be the Man with No Name from Sergio Leone’s “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.” Herein lies one of the joys of “Cry Macho.” Though it is a film held back by a screenplay that is uneven in its storytelling and blunt in its dialogue, it is redeemed by an endearing Eastwood performance, the beautiful desert scenery and some of the sweetest moments in the director’s filmography.
Mike Milo is a former rodeo star living out the last years of his life alone following the death of his wife and son in a car accident. In return for the financial support he lent Mike following the loss of his family, Mike’s boss Howard (Dwight Yoakam) comes to him asking for a favor: travel from Texas to Mexico to retrieve Howard’s son from his affluent, alcoholic mother. Mike accepts, and after finding the boy in Mexico City, sets off on the road back to Texas. He is all too quickly pursued by Mexican federal police and private enforcers, both sent by the mother to take back her son.
Despite what its plot may imply, “Cry Macho” is anything but a thriller. Much like its white-haired star, the film is gentle, methodical and earnest, which works brilliantly in some regards but fails in others. This earnestness shows up as a problem in the dialogue, much of the issue stemming from Eduardo Minett’s Rafo. The character’s lines are devoid of any subtlety and delivered with binary emotions. Rafo is either one hundred percent happy or one hundred percent sad, never a realistic, complex mix. His spoken words — he at one point says to Mike, “I don’t trust you anymore” — are borderline cringeworthy.
It is a great relief that Eastwood is not tainted by this problem. His portrayal of Mike is natural, filled with moments of sly humor, wisdom and a warm sensitivity that is miles away from the steely intensity of his William Munny in “Unforgiven.” Mike chokes up, recalling his deceased family, and as he lies down in the dark, his hat pulled down over his eyes, all we can see is a single tear rolling down his cheek. These quiet, human moments are what make “Cry Macho” tick, and they are never more bountiful than when Mike and Rafo spend time with a widow named Marta (Natalia Traven) and her family.
Mostly set in the restaurant Marta runs in a small Mexican town, this extended sequence finds the film forgetting about its plot momentarily to settle down and simply breathe with the characters. They eat meals together, they dance, they tend to sick animals and they laugh. It plays like a dream, and the rest of the narrative fades into the periphery. Not only is watching Mike and Rafo form a familial bond with Marta and her granddaughters the highlight of the film, but it is also possibly the most heartwarming sequence that Eastwood has ever shot.
The flimsiness of the screenplay doesn’t allow the film to maintain this emotional power once Mike and Rafo are forced to leave their new home behind. What is supposed to be the final confrontation between Mike and one of the men hunting him lasts no more than two minutes and is extremely anticlimactic. Then, in the most disappointing part of the film, the plot runs its course to reach an expected conclusion without the characters pushing the drama into new territory. Is this an intentional effort by screenwriter Nick Schenk to subvert audience expectations by ending the film and giving them an ending that is almost too obvious? Or is it simply a boring ending?
Thinking back, it doesn’t matter either way. The film was genuinely moving, and audiences got to see one of their favorite Hollywood stars step gracefully back into the role that he defined. You can’t ask for anything more than that.
(09/23/21 9:57am)
Have your Spotify playlists become stale? Is your weekly mix just not cutting it? Maybe it’s time to branch out and listen to something new. The Executive Board of WRMC, Middlebury College’s radio station, has selected a wonderfully wide range of albums, spanning time and genre, for your listening pleasure. Check out these recommendations and let them become the soundtrack to your semester.
*RIYL (recommended if you like)
Social Media Director’s Pick — Kai Velazquez ’23
Album: “Foreign Things” — Amber Mark
Genre: Soulful pop
RIYL: Remi Wolf, Austin Millz, Hope Tala, Smino
Blurb: Amber Mark has been said to create music that will make you dance and cry. I would add on top of that that her music will remind you of the light illuminating your path in dark times. The start of the semester has been tough, but my favorite track on this EP, “Worth It,” has kept me going. Mark sings about the moments when you feel like you don’t deserve the good in life and reminds you that “you’re so damn [worthy]” of joy. Through grief, regret and pain, the lyrics and beats will reverberate through your heart.
Co-Concert Manager’s Pick — Luke Robins ’23
Album: “An Overview on Phenomenal Nature” — Cassandra Jenkins
Genre: Indie Rock/Folk
RIYL: Big Thief, Slaughter Beach Dog, Indigo de Souza
Blurb: This first week of school, I have felt non-stop out of breath. From readjusting to the social scene to remembering homework exists, stressors can be overwhelming. Cassandra Jenkins’ babbling production and swirling lyrics reminds me to take the space I need to breathe.
Library Manager’s Pick — Kyle Hooker ’24
Album: “Seal” — Seal
Genre: Pop/ Neo R&B/Soul
RIYL: World Party, The Subdudes, also classic R&B
Blurb: This album is a few decades old, but I was told that’s alright. In any case, this album is the debut, self-titled album from Seal, which I own on cassette (courtesy of my mom). The album has a nice blend of higher energy songs with a good baseline and slower, more mellow songs. All of them are long, with nice groove, pacing and beautiful, passionate lyrics. The first track is called “The Beginning,” which I feel is fitting for transitional moments.
General Manager’s Pick — Maddie Van Beek ’22.5
Album: “If This Isn’t Nice, I Don’t Know What Is” — Still Woozy
Genre: Indie Rock
RIYL: Rex Orange County, Omar Apollo, Glass Animals
Blurb: After years of incredibly catchy singles and EPs, Sven Gamsky, better known as Still Woozy, has finally released his debut album. “If This Isn’t Nice, I Don’t Know What Is” was produced in Gamsky’s home studio garage, imbuing it with all of the character of his bedroom pop roots. The album takes us through Gamsky’s often chaotic mental state. “You wouldn’t last a day in my head” is the repeated warning of the opening track. These lyrics are balanced out by Gamsky’s strong command of sound and genre blending, making for an album that’s layered with emotional and sonic complexity.
Music Director’s Pick — Natalie Penna ’24
Album: “i’m so glad i feel this way about you” — Insignificant Other
Genre: Indie Punk/ Indie Pop Rock
RIYL: Remember Sports, Origami Angel, Diet Cig
Blurb: “i’m so glad i feel this way about you” is a catchy, bouncy and sometimes angry album about a lot of complex feelings. Each song is its own specific moment in time, and they feel personal while being easy to relate to. Above all else, this album is super fun whether you’re deeply listening or just looking for something to play while you study.
Music Director’s Pick — Pia Contreras ’22
Album: “Obviously” — Lake Street Drive
Genre: Alternative
RIYL: The California Honeydrops, Anderson East
Blurb: The song “Hypotheticals” has been stuck in my head since I first heard it in March, and I’m not upset about it at all. “Obviously” is a very fun album to sing along and dance to. Side note: if you ever find yourself with the aux on a car ride and don’t know what to play, pick this album — you won’t regret it.
(09/16/21 10:00am)
Miguel Sanchez-Tortoledo seemed to know everybody. On campus, he couldn’t help stopping to greet nearly everyone he passed, which often made those walking with him late. His family and friends remember him as an overwhelmingly positive presence and magnetic personality whose ambition never got in the way of his care for those around him.
Miguel died on Aug. 14 after a months-long battle with cancer. He was 19.
Miguel grew up in Bell Gardens, Calif. — a city just outside of Los Angeles. At Middlebury, he studied sociology and political science, served as first-year and sophomore Student Government Association (SGA) senator and as a representative on Community Council, worked at the Student Financial Services office and much more. He wanted to be involved in everything, and he gave his all to everything he did.
His mother, Juana Tortoledo, always knew that Miguel would be the first in their family to go to college. He came from a low-income, immigrant household, and he was determined to give his parents a better life. He told his mother, “When I get rich and have a good job, I’m going to buy you a house… I’m going to help all my family and my community.”
Miguel was always sure of himself. After joining the cheerleading squad in junior high, he refused to pay credence to those around him who teased him saying that cheerleading was for girls and that he should quit. His mother remembers him telling her, “I'm going to stay [on the team] because I know who I am, and I know what I want and I know I can do it.”
Miguel attended Bell Gardens Senior High School, where he served as the Associated Student Body (ASB) class president his first three years and ASB president as a senior. He received the presidential volunteer service award four times for completing 600 hours of community service each year. In addition to juggling multiple part time jobs, he led the marching band as a horn sergeant. During breaks in the long practices, he worked on his college applications under his tuba.
“He was never supposed to stay in Bell Gardens,” his friend since middle school, Emily Galdamez, said. “He was always made for much bigger things.”
After winning several scholarships, including a $20,000 Coca-Cola Scholarship, Miguel threw himself into life at Middlebury. He scored a job at the Student Financial Services office off of one conversation with Associate Vice President Kim Downs-Burns during orientation. She knew instantly that he would put students coming into the office for difficult conversations at ease. He went above and beyond his job description and took every opportunity to question the school’s policies and advocate for his peers.
His greatest passion at Middlebury was SGA, and he was committed to making the college better for all students. He tried to meet as many as he could so that he could best serve their needs. And once he set his mind to do something, he made it happen no matter what. After overhearing students complaining about having to fill their water bottles from the bathroom sink in Stewart Hall, his first-year dorm, he organized to get water bottle refilling stations installed soon after.
“He never did things for himself,” Melisa Gurkan ’23.5 said. “Anything that he did, he did it with a purpose, and he did it for other people.”
In class, Miguel was animated by questions of how he could practically improve his community and city, rather than abstract theories. His career ambitions changed often, but they were always oriented towards public service — he had recently settled on working in politics and law.
“He had a vision that he wanted to contribute to make things better,” Associate Professor of Sociology Linus Owens, Miguel’s advisor, said. “If we’re going to get anywhere, we’ll need people like him and people inspired by what he did in his life and the courage with which he faced such an unfathomable thing to happen to someone so young.”
Even after moving across the country, Miguel remained closely connected to his family and carried his pride and love for them wherever he went. His first year, he returned from winter break with carefully-wrapped packages of his mother’s tamales packed in his suitcase, which he proudly gave out to all his friends.
“Everything he did was to make his parents proud,” his high school friend, Joel Leyva, said. “I think that was what made him the proudest, and I think that's what allowed him to be at peace towards the end, knowing that he made his parents proud.”
As committed as Miguel was to his family, school and future, he never took life too seriously. His friends disagree about how his laugh sounded — Eric Burchill ’23 said it was a deep belly laugh and Gurkan remembers it as fast and high pitched — but they all say it rang out often.
He was deeply devoted to his friends. When Leyva was bedridden alone at home, recovering from a surgery, running out of money for food and too proud to tell his parents that he needed help, Miguel showed up at his doorstep unprompted with bags full of groceries. And when Miguel found out that Adam Maguire ’23 hadn’t celebrated his birthday much growing up, he tracked down Maguire’s friends from home to plan a party for him.
Miguel spent much of his time with friends, exploring Vermont and bringing them along on spontaneous visits to restaurants and spots he found online. He belted along to Adele, Taylor Swift and Olivia Rodrigo with unabashed enthusiasm, if not talent, and dominated the dance floor at parties when “Shake It Off” came over the speakers.
In his rare moments of free time, he liked to clean and reorganize the 150 knives he kept cloth-wrapped and stored in a black duffel bag in his closet to sell for his side job as a knife salesman where he set records for most sales in his first few months.
On quiet mornings, he sat in the back corner of Proctor lounge, facing the door to the dining hall so that he could greet people as they came through and pull them in to share a conversation or breakfast with him.
His friends remember him as unshakably positive, even after he was diagnosed with cancer in March and had to return to Los Angeles for treatment. While undergoing 52 rounds of chemotherapy, he was determined to finish the semester and keep up with his job.
Throughout his illness, Miguel never lost hope. He was elected junior SGA senator from his hospital bed. From there, he applied to scholarships, plotted his eventual run for SGA president and shared his excitement about returning to Middlebury in the fall and possibly studying abroad in Spain.
He also never lost his joy or his adventurous spirit. Whenever he got sick of hospital food, he would pull out his IV, tape down the needle to stop the bleeding and hit the road with his friends to visit his favorite restaurants, more often than not Dave’s Hot Chicken.
On June 12, Miguel fell into a coma, just two treatments shy of completing his chemotherapy. He died nine weeks later, on Aug. 14, less than two weeks before his 20th birthday.
Miguel is survived by his mother, Juana Tortoledo, father, Miguel Sanchez and brothers, Sebastian, 17, and Kevin, 31, but he touched many more people. A GoFundMe organized to cover his medical and funeral expenses gathered more than 1,200 donations.
The college is planning an event to celebrate Miguel’s life early this fall.
Editor’s note: Eric Burchill ’23 is a copy editor for The Campus.
(09/16/21 9:57am)
When Roni Lezama ’22 first stepped onto campus, he “looked around, wanting to hear Spanish in a place where most have spent their whole lives breathing and living English.” Though he was unsure whether Middlebury was the kind of place where he — an only child of Mexican immigrants and one of many students from New York City — would have the opportunity to make a difference, that changed quickly.
Lezama did not come to Middlebury planning to run for president of the Student Government Association (SGA), but he has wanted to create change at Middlebury since his first year, animated by the drive to make white-oriented places more inviting and supportive for those traditionally excluded.
He went on to win the Spencer Prize in his first year, using his speech to describe the fear of not being accepted at Middlebury because of his heritage and bilingualism. Later, the work of SGA presidents like Nia Robinson ’19 and Varsha Vijayakumar ’20 and seeing women of color in the role early on in his time here set the tone for his image of SGA leadership.
“It gave me an initial impression of what SGA can do,” Lezama said. “It made me think, ‘there is a place here where I can make change.’”
He first became involved with SGA through the Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI) committee during Robinson’s presidency, and was mentored by the committee’s chair Kahari Blue ’19. It was his close friend John Schurer ’21, who would later become SGA president himself, who nudged Lezama to take on another leadership role.
“I still remember that day,” Lezama said. “John got all serious and clapped his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘I think you should run for Community Council Co-Chair.’” Lezama did run, won, and led the group of students, faculty, staff and administrators his sophomore year. Schurer then took on Lezama as one of his vice presidents after he was elected SGA president in spring 2020.
While inspired by the work of previous presidents and conscious of the continued challenges posed by Covid-19, Lezama is focused on the future.
“[Past presidents] showed me that it was more than OK to challenge and push the administration,” Lezama said. “They are our gateway, but in the end it is our job to advocate for students.”
Lezama said this balance is emblematic of his leadership style: being effective in his term will be about combining disruption and cooperation, needing the administration to listen and knowing when to make them. He admits to having sworn at the administration — on the record — in SGA meetings before. At the same time, a key goal on his senior bucket list is to have a coffee with each member of the Senior Leadership Group individually.
As president, he hopes to take the lessons learned from the pandemic and use them to set up systems of support for years to come. Though the pandemic revealed that the need for such support was far deeper and broader than was previously realized, to Lezama, these are not pandemic-specific issues.
“So much of what I have done with SGA in the past has been reactive,” Lezama said. “It had to be. But I want to be proactive.”
His first priority is to create a permanent substitute for the Student Emergency Fund established in 2020 to help with unexpected financial burdens of the Covid-19 pandemic.
“It was unbelievable to see how immense, and palpable, the need was for emergency funds once they were available,” Lezama said.
He also wants to improve the accessibility and availability of on-campus mental health resources, and bolster the services tailored towards BIPOC and LGBTQIA+ students.
Lezama is ready for his administration to be a disruptive one, working to reshape Middlebury in deep but tangible ways to support the students who often do not get a seat at the table. DEI will be at the “front lines” of his administration, the lens through which every SGA department does its work, he said.
Sophia Lundberg ’21.5, this semester’s Community Council co-chair and a vice-president last year, describes Lezama as someone with both immense drive and humility, who values vulnerability in leadership and has a tireless work ethic.
“His determination to pursue justice and equity is informed by his own life circumstances,” Lundberg said. He works constantly “in the hopes that it allows those who have been traditionally barred from comfortably enjoying their time here to access institutional resources and support with more ease.”
President Laurie Patton expressed similar admiration.
“Roni Lezama is the real deal,” Patton said in an email to The Campus. “He is relentless, as we all should be, about making Middlebury better. Because he also possesses an accurate sense of what it takes to build an institution, he begins by being open, and invites you to be on his team to get it done. This combination of traits is the source of his effectiveness as a leader.”
Though Lezama jokes that he will have to apologize to his professors because “SGA is [his] life now,” he has other hopes for his senior year. He wants to go out for coffee in town more (his order is an americano, black), and finally go to the Woodchuck Cidery. He also wants to take someone on the perfect date off campus that he has been planning for years.
(06/10/21 2:03pm)
The college has appointed Smita Ruzicka as the new vice president for student affairs (VPSA). The position has remained vacant since the previous VPSA, Baishakhi Taylor, left in April 2020.Along with overseeing the student affairs division, Health and Wellness and Public Safety, Ruzicka will be responsible for “removing systemic barriers and building new structures that will enable all of Middlebury's students to thrive.” “At the end of the day, my biggest goal is for each and every student to feel like they belong and are valued,” Ruzicka said. A core part of her job as vice president for student affairs will be to improve diversity, equity and inclusion on campus and incorporate restorative practices into student affairs. Ruzicka’s own experiences as an Indian immigrant have left her committed to championing racial justice efforts in higher education.Coming to the U.S. for the first time as an international college student, Ruzicka often found herself alone as the only South Asian woman in the room. She took on the added burden of having to teach those around her about racism while simultaneously dealing with the “emotional trauma” of its effects. “College shouldn't be something that you just sort of survive. You should thrive,” she said. “And so many times, especially our underrepresented students are coming to institutions of higher education and don't feel safe on those campuses. [They] barely survive and leave those institutions with additional trauma.”Ruzicka plans to spend the fall semester getting to know as many students as possible, attending sporting events, performances and hanging out in residential and dining halls. She hopes to form a bridge between administrators and students to address students’ needs and help them mold Middlebury into the institution they want. “I try not to speak for students, but with students,” Ruzicka said. “ And part of that has been really thinking about how to bring students to the table for important institutional decisions in whatever space I've been in.”Ruzicka comes to Middlebury with 18 years of experience in student-life administration. She previously served as dean of student life at Johns Hopkins University, where she was responsible for “a wide portfolio of services and programs aimed to enhance the overall student experience,… [including] student leadership and involvement, diversity and inclusion, health and wellness, residential life, crisis management and support services.” Prior to that, she was assistant vice president for campus life at Tulane University. There, she oversaw new student orientations, student organization management, sorority and fraternity life, student government, campus-wide programming and leadership development among other responsibilities. While serving in various leadership positions within the student dean’s office, Ruzicka earned her PhD in higher education administration at the University of Texas at Austin.Ruzicka earned masters in counseling psychology from Texas State University and worked as a therapist for YEARS, Her experience in mental health continues to inform her work as an administrator, work that is animated by her desire to form relationships with the students around her. Ruzicka chose to come to Middlebury after pandemic isolation inspired her to reflect on her life and career. She recalled her own experiences as an undergraduate at Trinity University, a small liberal arts college in Texas. The school president at the time knew many of the students by name and frequently invited students over to her house for meals. Ruzicka realized she too wanted to work at a college small enough for such intimacy to be possible, and Middlebury seemed the perfect fit. “I want it to be in a place where I could really have the opportunity to truly get to know as many students as possible not just by name, but by their stories, by their experiences,” Ruzicka said.Ruzicka describes herself as an optimist, a huge foodie who can’t cook, a practical joker, and a lover of the theater. She often bursts into song when the mood strikes her; these days she and her four-year-old son enjoy belting out Beyonce’s “Who Run the World” or U2’s “It’s a beautiful day.” She smiles often and widely. Ruzicka has never visited Vermont and has yet to taste a maple creemee, but she hopes to put down roots and make Middlebury a home for her and her family.
(05/20/21 10:00am)
The Faculty and Staff section focuses on increasing hiring equity, training new and existing faculty and staff in DEI practices, and building community among new hires to increase retention. Many view it as an important first step in an ongoing process that requires much deeper and continual institutional change.
Of the 11 strategies included in the section, 10 have been completed or involve ongoing programs that are underway, although two programs have been temporarily put on hold because of the pandemic. Only one strategy, the term for which begins this year, is still in development.
HIRING
One of the major pillars of the section is hiring more BIPOC faculty and staff and those from other “historically underrepresented groups.”
The college has historically struggled to hire a more diverse staff because most are recruited from the overwhelmingly white communities surrounding Middlebury, according to Chief Diversity Officer Miguel Fernández. Almost 93% of Addison County residents are white.
Resistance to diversifying the faculty body often comes from the perception of diversity and qualifications being opposing qualities, according to Associate Professor of Political Science Kemi Fuentes-George.
“You tend to see a lot of language about [how] what we need are the most qualified people, and that usually gets taken to be an argument against seeking diversity,” he said. “There's this kind of equation of, if you're orienting around a diversity hire, by definition, you're not seeking qualified people.”
Of the 329 current faculty members, 57, or 17%, identify as belonging to a minority ethnic or racial group, according to Dean of Faculty Sujata Moorti.
While there is a formal hiring freeze for faculty and staff, the college is filling limited positions that were planned before the pandemic or are needed on an urgent basis. Faculty and staff search committees now receive DEI training (Strategy #3 and #4), and job candidates are asked to include their own experience with inclusive practices in their application as a measure to assess their “multicultural competence” (Strategy #5).
New employee orientations now include workshops on diversity, equity and inclusion, though the college has not offered staff orientations — which normally happen periodically as opposed to the the once-a-year faculty orientation — during the hiring freeze (Strategy #6), according to Director of Education for Equity and Inclusion Renee Wells.
The college has also approved a staff position to help with partner inclusion, and Moorti is currently working with the Educational Affairs Committee to see if an institution-wide policy is possible (Strategy #2).
RETENTION
A second large part of the section is an attempt to improve conditions for faculty and staff from historically marginalized communities. As part of Strategy #11, the college has developed exit interview questions “related to campus climate… to identify and address barriers to retention.” Moorti hopes that, over time, these interviews can inform the administration on how to improve the climate for remaining faculty.
Faculty and staff say that some of the current barriers to retention are not feeling supported by the college and academia as a whole, the extra — often uncompensated — burden of advocating for students and not feeling a sense of belonging in the community. The plan addresses some of these areas, but critically does not include provisions for others.
Measures to support incoming faculty hires have been put on pause because of the pandemic. The OEIDI has not been able to host social networking opportunities for faculty from historically underrepresented communities (Strategy #10) or DEI workshops in departments expecting new hires (Strategy #8) but are looking forward to bringing those back next year.
The college has been able to expand mentoring opportunities for new and junior faculty from historically underrepresented groups. In addition to regular departmental mentoring, the college has purchased membership with the National Center for Faculty Development and Diversity (Strategy #9), which provides resources for development, training and mentorship. The college will also be expanding mentorship and development opportunities available through the Center for the Comparative Study of Race and Ethnicity this summer. Moorti hopes that junior faculty will be able to avail themselves of this resource for more support and networking opportunities.
Measures like these have been crucial for retaining current BIPOC faculty despite the struggles they face.
“One of the primary reasons that I stayed at Middlebury … was that I found my community,” Fuentes-George said. “I found people who were supportive and who mentored me, some of whom had tenure, some of whom didn't, some of whom were in my department, some of whom weren't, and it pretty clearly underlined to me how important those kinds of social networks can be.”
Still, these measures are designed primarily to build support for incoming faculty and staff members and do little to address the underlying conditions current faculty members face.
Assistant Professor of Writing and Rhetoric James Chase Sanchez views academia as a whole as a white space within which people of color can struggle to feel welcomed or valued, and Middlebury is no exception. That fact became abundantly clear to Fuentes-George after hearing his colleagues defend the invitation of Charles Murray to campus in 2017. Fuentes-George recalls other faculty members insisting that Murray was not racist, despite his claims that Black people — like Fuentes-George — and Latinos are genetically less intelligent.
In the wake of Murray’s visit, Fuentes-George strongly considered leaving Middlebury.
Both Fuentes-George and Chase Sanchez credit their luck in finding their own small communities at Middlebury as one of the major reasons they have stayed here, something they say can be difficult for many faculty of color. They both discussed how easy it is to feel isolated on a predominantly white campus in a predominantly white area.
Chase Sanchez recalled visiting a restaurant in Bristol with a Black colleague. At one point, he looked up from his plate and idly scanned the room. To his surprise, he realized he was making eye contact with nearly everyone around him. They had been staring at him, and he felt suddenly acutely aware of how much he stood out as a Latino in an overwhelmingly white space.
“There’s a little bit more of that uncomfortable nature of being a minority living within the community that is very, very white,” Chase Sanchez said. “All these variables can just build up pressure.”
Admissions Counselor Maria Del Sol Nava ’18 has also struggled to feel completely welcome in the local community.
“Middlebury has become a home for me because I have now been here for seven years (four as a student and three as a staff member), [but] I am keenly aware that I am a brown woman in a very white town,” she said in an email to The Campus. “There are many times when I don’t feel safe.”
The reaction of other faculty and academia as a whole to the scholarship of BIPOC faculty also make some feel unsupported or valued at Middlebury. BIPOC faculty who do race-based research often see their work devalued in academia, where it is viewed more as activism than empirical inquiry and seen as contributing less to their fields than the development of theory, according to Chase Sanchez.
In the wake of the Jan. 6 capitol riots, Fuentes-George led a class discussion about the racial motivations behind them. He was taken aback when one of his colleagues accused him of engaging in advocacy rather than real scholarship.
He views that interaction as emblematic of “a number of practices, discourses and comments about personal relations and about how departments and institutions function that make it difficult for people of color to feel supported.”
While faculty and staff from historically marginalized communities often do not feel valued or supported by Middlebury as an institution, they contribute significantly to the college — well beyond the scope of their positions. Many shoulder the extra burden of pushing for institutional change and advocating for marginalized students who turn to them for support, labor that is often uncompensated or not rewarded in performance reviews.
“[I feel] a social responsibility for the other first-gen and underrepresented students that I meet and worked with,” Del Sol Nava said in an email to the Campus. “[I take] on additional emotional labor that my white colleagues do not take on, or do not to the same extent.”
Fuentes-George serves on the Committee on Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (CDEI) and is also a Posse mentor. He also frequently provides informal mentoring and support for BIPOC students who turn to him for advice in navigating through Middlebury and has worked to spearhead change within his department — labor that is uncompensated.
“These are things that I do feel passionate about doing,” Fuentes-George said. “But the reality is that it takes a lot of time and energy, and it's also emotionally taxing.”
Del Sol Nava hopes that the school works toward being a place where such sacrifices don’t need to be made. “I think we can imagine more for ourselves as an institution so that our BIPOC staff and faculty don’t feel burdened with being the ones who have to create change or be the only ones who support the students who want to make change,” she said.
At the same time that the extra, uncompensated advocacy work drains faculty and staff of color, it’s also a major reason why some stay despite the institutional challenges they face.
“There are a lot of students I didn’t want to leave alone,” said Fuentes-George “I didn’t want them to just be here with one less voice to advocate. There’s few enough for them already, so [I decided] to stay here and advocate for them.”
Supporting BIPOC students also animates Chase Sanchez’s work, especially in light of his own experiences trying to navigate through a predominantly white college as a Latino student.
When Chase Sanchez told his advisor — who was white — that he wanted to become a professor, Chase Sanchez recalls him replying, “Someone like you wanting to be a professor is what makes someone like me laugh.”
Chase Sanchez turned his advisor’s doubt into motivation and worked triply hard to prove that he belonged in academia despite what his advisor thought. But he knows this kind of experience can set other students back or discourage them from pursuing their original goals altogether. This year’s Zeitgeist survey found that BIPOC students reported feeling imposter syndrome — “the experience of doubting one’s abilities and feeling like a fraud” — at a significantly higher rate than their white peers.
“I remember what it feels like to have no one believe in you,” Chase Sanchez said. “I always want to help other people going through that, because it's a very tough space to navigate.”
TRAINING
While the advocacy of BIPOC faculty and staff and the promise to increase institutional diversity are crucial to students from underrepresented groups feeling supported, Del Sol Nava emphasized that the practices of the entire staff and faculty body must shift.
“I think more students at Middlebury would feel more supported if they saw more people who looked like them, but that doesn’t mean that is the only step we take,” she said in an email to The Campus. “It also means teaching our current faculty and staff to learn and unlearn how to make students feel more comfortable.”
Wells hopes that the Inclusive Practitioners Program (Strategy #7) will help usher in the culture change necessary to shift people’s practices and reform the institution in the long run. The program, launched in the fall of 2019, consists of a series of workshops within which faculty and staff “engage in critical conversations and skill building related to diversity equity and inclusion.”
“It is about creating the kind of critical awareness that builds people’s skills and capacity to actually change their practices,” Wells said. “It's about developing your ability to actually change what you're doing and how you're doing it in ways that create more access, and opportunity, and equity and inclusion.”
While many of the workshops have focused specifically on race in the wake of the murder of George Floyd and the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement, Wells has begun reincorporating other workshops in the series with topics that range from “Designing Accessible Course Syllabi” to “Knowing and Respecting Who's in the Room: A Guide to Using Gender Pronouns.”
“They were really valuable,” Food and Garden Educator Megan Brakeley, who has attended eight workshops, said. “I think that part of the power of doing this work is the power of it being done in community. There's so much that can happen when we are literally sitting in the same room.”
Partly inspired by the lessons she’s learned in those workshops as well as through the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement, Brakeley has worked to make antiracism a cornerstone of her job at the Knoll, including reevaluating the organic farm’s mission statement, learning to identify and address harm as it happens and holding BIPOC affinity gardening hours.
Assistant Professor of Environmental Studies Mez Baker-Médard has attended 10 Inclusive Practitioners workshops and incorporated the lessons they have learned, including redesigning their course material to include more diverse voices and “bringing a lens of power onto the work” they are doing.
“I think it's opened my eyes to a variety of ways in which I can really work on this in the classroom, and there are just so many ways that I can be thoughtful and more nuanced,” they said. “Engaging in that way, it's kind of an act of appreciation and respect for my students, and myself, as well as my own ignorances.”
The workshops are optional to ensure that those who attend want to be there and are willing to put in the work. But it does mean that participants are self-selecting and the staff and faculty who might benefit the most from this education often never show up, according to Wells.
While the Inclusive Practitioner Program aims to increase awareness and proper practices in and beyond the classroom, the DEI plan does not address the curriculum or broad pedagogical reform at an institution-wide level, steps Associate Professor of Education Studies and CDEI Chair Tara Affolter views as crucial for the next action plan.
In the meantime, the initiatives in the plan are supplemented by the work of the Committee on Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (CDEI), a body for faculty governance on DEI issues formed this year. They created a grant program for academic programs and departments to “find structural ways to engage in anti-racist work” and awarded grants to three departments — Luso-Hispanic Studies, Educations Studies and Economics — this year, according to Affolter.
MOVING FORWARD
All those interviewed for this article emphasized that, while they were optimistic about the potential for the DEI strategies and other current initiatives, they are only the start in a long road towards reforming the college.
“This is a marathon, not a sprint,” Baker-Médard said. “The landscape of learning and teaching needs to shift as society shifts.”
Despite the uphill and prolonged battle ahead of them, most expressed a feeling of hope for the future of Middlebury.
“I’m definitely hopeful,” Fuentes-George said. “If I thought that there was no hope I probably would have left.”
(05/13/21 9:59am)
For one night a year, Middlebury’s lights don’t shut off at 8 p.m.; its doors don’t close, leaving students without late-night meals or public hangout spots. Instead, each May, when night descends on campus, Middlebury becomes home to a new set of sounds and sights: projectors whirring, arms and legs flowing gracefully in improvisational dance, electric guitars roaring from their amps, neon spotlights casting shadows on the sides of dorms. For one night a year, Nocturne lays claim to campus.
Now, in its fourth-ish iteration — ‘ish’ because last year’s festival was canceled — Nocturne’s arts festival hosted nearly a hundred projects spread across campus. Exhibitions ranged from screen printing T-shirts and interpretive dances to films projected against the walls of Painter Hall and Mead Chapel and poems hung from tree limbs. Yet Nocturne’s most inventive projects are often its most difficult to describe. Walking around campus, students were greeted by an oceanscape of crocheted marine life, a bulletin board filled with glow-in-the-dark tacks marking “Places We’ve Cried on Campus” and a collection of cowboys playing country music beside a fire.
This year, it was the live performances that drew the largest crowds. What felt like well over a hundred students gathered around the Gifford Hall Gampitheatre to hear Will Koch ’21 and Jordan Ramos ’22.5 blast covers of Jimmy Hendrix and The Beatles, as well as an array of original songs. “I was genuinely so surprised,” Ramos said. “We were still setting up and people I’ve never seen before were sitting down.”
Equally large crowds formed around performances by student band BevCo and the a cappella group The Bobolinks, as well as the nearby paint-infused dance performance “Making Purple.” The night’s climactic final performance on the Mead Chapel hill also drew an audience; spectators gathered at the base of the hill to watch red-clad dancers improvise behind the band Croc Tears.
The air crackled with an unmistakable intensity, both from the music blaring from the speakers but also from the energy of the audience. “The mood that Nocturne brought to Middlebury was the ultimate light at the end of the tunnel,” Ramos said. “There’s an appreciation that wasn’t there before.”
“It’s people living, experiencing normalcy and reveling in it,” Justin Celebi ’22 wrote in his Nocturne project “My Writing, Your Catharsis.” “These people, the ones making the music and the ones taking it in, are coming back to something they’ve been missing for a long time.”
Nocturne felt for many like the first glimpse of normalcy in a year that was anything but. “I love that people were saying that,” said Nocturne President Maia Sauer ’22. “In any other year, Nocturne is the strangest, most abnormal night of people’s semester.”
The festival had an unprecedented capacity to draw students out of their dorms and into the open air. Because of Covid-19 regulations, Nocturne took place solely outside, making use of lawns, patios, sidewalks and tents due to the necessity to spread out gatherings.
While traditionally much of the festival’s layout is dependent on the availability and usage of multiple locations, this year’s Nocturne had the added burden of Covid safety precautions. “Thinking about future years, I’m curious about the mostly outdoor format because you encounter the festival whether you plan on going or not. There’s something beautiful about that,” Sauer said.
Nocturne organizers were especially wary of the crowds that gathered around live performances, being certain to ask performers about their setlist ahead of time. “[We had to ask] questions like ‘What kind of music are you going to play? Is it going to make people dance?’” founding Nocturne organizer Sam Kann ’21 said. “We can’t have people dance.”
And while so much of this year’s Nocturne felt unusual, some moments struck a familiar chord. “Two things felt like a return to normal: a feeling of having so much to do — so much to see — and also seeing so many people I don’t know,” Kann said.
Saturday night was a reaffirmation of the club’s origin. Founded in the fall of 2017 by Miguel Castillo ’18, Nocturne is a place for unification. “Nocturne was founded in a time where we were very much feeling the impact of Charles Murray’s spring 2017 visit on campus and Donald Trump’s election, a time of campus and national feelings of separation and division, a sense of lack of mutual care,” Kann said in her recent Spring Student Symposium presentation “Nocturne: Community Through Loose Organization, Reimagined Space, and Joyful Experimentation.”
Nocturne continues to be one of the most memorable and magical traditions Middlebury holds. Perhaps it is its intentional spontaneity, how the festival is designed to promote waywardness and exploration; perhaps it is their acceptance of all projects, which allows for students who wouldn’t normally consider themselves artists to be uniquely creative; or perhaps it is their identity as a markedly non-administrative organization that is made by and for students.
No matter the reason, Nocturne has solidified its position as Middlebury’s premiere arts event and has brought back energy to a campus that desperately misses it.
(05/13/21 9:58am)
This year, Middlebury College officially instituted a land acknowledgement to be read during all official college ceremonies. The statement recognizes that the college sits on land that belonged to the Western Abenaki and calls for the remembrance of the Indigenous community’s “connection to [the] region and the hardships they continue to endure.”
Chief Don Stevens (DS) of the Nulhegan Band of the Coosuk Abenaki Nation sat down for an interview with The Middlebury Campus (MC) to discuss the land acknowledgment and the next steps toward justice.
MC: Could talk a little bit about your perspective on Middlebury College’s land acknowledgment and what is the significance of that statement to you?
DS: I think it's great, and it shows how forward-thinking Middlebury College really is when it comes to not only land acknowledgment but also working with our community by going beyond just acknowledging land. I tell people land acknowledgement is meaningless and hollow if you do a land acknowledgement but then don’t allow Native people access to the lands you hold. Right? Because you’re acknowledging you’re on unseated land or whatever that was the Abenaki but oh — by the way — you can’t access it.
So that's why I'm working with Middlebury College to have access to the lands that they hold to use for collecting Native foods, medicines and maybe interpretive science, or finding other ways to support our food security programs. We do have bison and cattle, so maybe [there is] hay that could come off some of the lands to feed our animals. So the acknowledgement itself is pretty historic because I think that's one of the first colleges that have actually openly made a commitment to not only a land acknowledgement but also actually putting programs in place to work with Indigenous people. I think it's very important that Middlebury is showing that leadership and commitment.
MC: What do you think the land acknowledgement accomplishes, if anything, and what steps does it take toward justice, if any?
DS: Anything that you either apologize for or acknowledge, you can’t build upon something that you haven’t acknowledged as either an issue or something that needs to be corrected. You have to acknowledge a situation to logically and confidently discuss, “What does this really mean?” and, “What does it really mean to do a land acknowledgment?” Is it just words on the paper, or is there something substantially meaningful behind it — knowing that we were oppressed people and others have benefited from the land that we once owned? What kind of position does it put us in, by acknowledging the fact that Midd is on our lands that were taken from us and that we never gave them up willingly? [Acknowledging] the fact that that happened says, “Okay, how do we then build equity? How do we work in partnership?”
European governance is not going away. But neither are Indigenous people. So if you want to right the past, how do you equally share the land for the benefit of both — instead of one using the land at the expense of someone else? So, by Middlebury acknowledging the fact of the land and working toward uplifting our people — like through the language program, through land access, through food security — then you're actually living out what you're talking about in the acknowledgement. I think that's what that means. It means that it's a beginning point to work toward partnering to provide equity.
MC: What are some ways that the land acknowledgement could be improved?
DS: I think that carrying out the spirit of that land acknowledgement can be more. In other words, it's already good that [the college is] working on these programs, and I think having a full-time position at Middlebury College to be able to work on education of the students [could] be a resource — being there to create a Native American student body club for other Native students that may not know other Native students that exist in the college, to create a safe place to practice your culture when you're away from home and be able to build that bond between Native people that might be on campus. And having someone be that mentor to that club, and building a curriculum around Native studies. So, I think there are ways to improve upon the spirit of the acknowledgement that we're working on, because you can't do everything overnight.
MC: What are some of the major challenges you and your communities are facing right now?
DS: We fall into lateral violence. We're the only race that can self-declare. We had to go through a physical legislative process to even be a legal Indian in the United States, and nobody can just say, “I'm Indian” and be covered, you have to be a citizen of a state or federally recognized tribe. So if you're not a citizen of one of those tribes, you're not technically legally an Indian, even though you really are based on the laws of the United States. If you're Indian, you have to have a card in your wallet that declares that you are legally a status-Indian in order to really be protected under the law, which is a shame. That is shameful. But then it creates different statuses. You have federal-status Indians, state-status Indians, and then no-status, who don't have recognition. And then, it puts you in a different class, so some people may think federally recognized is a higher class.
So you have different lateral violence between Native communities, because they set you up in a segregated manner to separate people by class. That to me defies everything the United Nations Declaration on Indigenous Rights have set up. Part of that is that you should be able to self-declare who you are, just like every other race. But the U.S. has adopted that method, so we have to live within the means that have been given to us, so we have a lot of disparities on many fronts.
MC: Have there been any specific challenges relating to Covid-19?
DS: Well, I think the Covid situation has really put collaboration on hold on a personal face-to-face basis. Also, the Covid situation has hit the college hard financially, so it's hard to be able to do new programs and open up new avenues when you've been hit financially.
Overall, it really shows our food insecurities when we have people standing in food lines trying to get food, and that's why I work on our food security programs. People are afraid of the [Covid-19 vaccination] shots [due to] misinformation, or it could be transportation, [or it] could be fear of getting shots [while] other people really want them. So, there's a whole mixed bag, but there's nobody concentrating on educating people on what's causing those disparities. Why are there [fewer] people in our communities being vaccinated than others? We don't know. And that's what really hindered us as well, and it exacerbated the problem.
MC: Is there anything else you are thinking of that might be relevant?
DS: I challenge the students and the faculty to find out what Native pieces are in their world or their circle. [Were] there Native things on the land that Middlebury sits on? Are there gardens that have medicinal and Native spirituality connected to [them]? Are there things in your archives that could help with our historical information on Native people in Vermont or elsewhere? How do we find that information? And how do we get it to paint a bigger picture of actually what involvement Middlebury College has had with Native people over the years?”
I think, overall, I need to say that Middlebury College is doing a great job feeling their way through something they have never had to deal with before and actually being genuine and trying to work with our population — so we have to give kudos to Middlebury for doing that. I also want to say that we should make sure or ensure that we continue this partnership moving forward because it is so important to the diversity of not only the students but also the education piece of it. But there's always work to be done and we don't really know [what that looks like], but I have to say that Middlebury has been on the right path. It takes a lot to turn a big ship right.
Editor's Note: This interview was edited by Local Editor Kenzo Okazaki for brevity and clarity.
(05/13/21 9:56am)
MiddKids have long been known for swinging their Nalgene bottles, sporting Patagonia and engaging with the outdoors — all characteristic of what is considered “crunchy.” And while this outdoors- and environment-centric culture permeates campus life, many also find it to be exclusive and inaccessible.
“At Middlebury, there’s a lot of people who are really interested in outdoor recreation and the environment, which is labeled as crunchy on this campus and seems like a large body. Febs often are characterized as crunchy,” Kamryn You Mak ’23.5 said.
After taking the past semester off, You Mak described her experience participating in Feb “crunchy” culture.
“It’s eye-opening seeing how tight-knit this [Feb] community is, where going on a hike is a typical ‘Feb’ activity,” You Mak said. Many students say that there is a stereotype that Febs are more “crunchy,” given that some choose to spend their Feb-mester traveling, working or participating in programs related to exploring the outdoors.
For others, crunchy culture takes on additional cultural and political significance.
“I think typically activities and traits associated with crunch culture are eating alternative diets, hiking and other outdoor activities, a dedication to reducing one’s waste, and wearing brands that claim to be environmentally conscious like Patagonia,” said Elijah Willig ’21.
Jackson Hawkins ’21.5 agreed.
“To me, crunchy culture is rooted in a shared love of the outdoors, but has sort of expanded to more superficial things like the sort of music you listen to or the clothes you wear,” Hawkins said.
According to Hannah Gellert ’22, crunchy culture at Middlebury has different segments.
“There's a vein of it that’s truly engaging with the outdoors and recreating in the outdoors. And then there's a vein that's more performative,” Gellert said, noting that performative crunchy culture involves only wearing typical crunchy brands, like Patagonia or North Face. She said that a third segment of crunchy culture involves environmental activism and sustainable living practices.
Crunchy culture has manifested in tangible ways on campus, from the existence of clubs such as Middlebury Mountain Club to the food options people prefer at the dining hall.
“I have felt more self conscious about what I eat since coming to Middlebury. Upon arriving and interacting with people, I actually learned about the concept of ethical consumption,” Willig said. I never thought there would be environmental benefits to being vegetarian or vegan. I just assumed people either wanted to lose weight or just love animals too much to eat them.”
Willig also noted that there are differences between the ways that certain groups of people on campus eat.
“[I noticed] little things in diet between groups, [like] most white people at Midd don’t touch soda ever,” Willig said.
There are a variety of on-campus groups — with the potential to influence the perception and inclusivity of crunchy culture — that attract students with an appreciation for the outdoors, such as Brooker, the outdoor interest house, or the Middlebury Mountain Club (MMC).
Founded in 1931, MMC is one of Middlebury’s oldest student organizations and offers a variety of outdoor activities year-round, including hiking, boating and climbing trips throughout Vermont and beyond. MMC offers these activities to Middlebury students free of cost.
Historically, their trips have been immensely popular, promoting engagement with and appreciation for the outdoors among the student body. Additionally, MMC hosts social events, provides educational programming and workshops, and runs the first-year outdoor orientation programs.
Current President of MMC Molly Arndt ’23, who hails from Colorado and spent time outdoors growing up, said that she didn’t embrace her “crunchy” side until she came to Middlebury and became involved with the Mountain Club.
“The idea of going out on trips to explore Vermont, an incredible place, has allowed me to get more involved with things like canoeing and climbing,” she said.
Although many students spoke highly of their memories of enjoying these spaces, inclusivity within outdoor spaces was a critical concern for Arndt, who described MMC’s policy of ensuring that all students can participate in the club’s activities regardless of barriers of cost and access to gear. However, Arndt noted the lingering challenges of expanding accessibility.
“This still doesn’t take away the fact that it is an intimidating space to get into,” Ardnt said.
Willig said that conversations about inclusivity and the outdoors should not occur in a vacuum.
“Once, I overheard a hiking group in the Adirondack house talking about how to diversify their group and have more people of color feel comfortable doing outdoor activities — all of which is great,” Willig said. “The meeting was 100% white though. There was no outreach to connect with any cultural organization. No person from the AFC sitting at the meeting. Just white people reflecting on the whiteness of their group”.
In efforts to make outdoor spaces more accessible to all students, MMC has created the Diversity, Equity and Inclusion Officer position, currently held by You Mak. Since the creation of this position, MCC has led several trips that cater specifically to BIPOC students. Although current initiatives have a limited scope with Covid-19 restrictions, the club plans to increase awareness and availability of activities particularly for students underrepresented in outdoor recreation spaces.
You Mak has also spearheaded the creation of Midd FIRE (Fostering Inclusive Recreation Experiences), a student organization aimed at creating a safe, supportive community of and for BIPOC outdoor recreationists.
“It’s a wider issue of people not represented or being able to access the outdoors...Being able to get more people outside is my main goal,” she said.
You Mak also noted the importance of making outdoor recreation equitable at a college like Middlebury, which is known both for its predominantly white and wealthy population and its close ties to the environment.
You Mak’s primary goal is to increase the visibility of a BIPOC outdoor affinity group within largely white-dominated outdoor organizations and spaces through the increased representation and availability of trips to students of color.
Brooker, the outdoor interest house and another hub for crunchy culture on campus, is also grappling with questions related to the outdoors and exclusivity.
“Within Brooker, we’ve realized that this sort of monolithic “crunchy culture” is really quite exclusive and can make people feel distinctly unwelcome, so we’re trying to change that, but it’s hard. When Brooker is seen as a space where “crunchy” people are, that helps set the vibe for what that looks like on campus,” Hawkins said.
Hannah Gellert ’22 shared that Brooker has made some efforts to become more inclusive this year after informally meeting with the SGA Diversity, Equity and Inclusion Committee, including holding more open houses and changing the working on their application. However, she admits that there is more to be done to combat the whiteness of outdoor spaces and “crunchy culture.”
“[Brooker being a majority-white space] is a good example of the overlapping of Midd being a historically white space and the outdoors being a white space. And then, you see that representative who the house has inside of it. Part of that is that you don't want to tokenize people and be like, you’re a person of color, so we're going to automatically take you into the house. Because that's also not productive.”
To challenge and subvert stereotypes associated with “crunchy culture,” You Mak encourages students to reflect on “what [we] grew up thinking, what mainstream environmental culture teaches people and [how to look] critically at spaces at Middlebury and see what can be improved.”
(04/29/21 9:58am)
Have your Spotify playlists become stale? Is your weekly mix just not cutting it? Maybe it’s time to branch out and listen to something new. The Executive Board of WRMC, Middlebury College’s radio station, has selected a wonderfully wide range of albums, spanning time and genre, for your listening pleasure. Check back each week for a new set of recommendations.
*RIYL (recommended if you like)
Business Manager’s Pick - Maia Sauer ’22
Album: “Anika” - Anika
Genre: Post-Punk, Dub, Electronic
RIYL: John Maus, Ariel Pink, Molly Nilsson
Blurb: For her 2010 self-titled project, Anika worked with Geoff Barrow of Portishead, a fun mix of ’60s pop and folk covers. I just rediscovered “Anika” on my Spotify and have been enjoying its moments of punky heaviness interspersed with those of greater mellowness. Anika’s echoey speak-singing carries throughout the album. Give this one a listen if you’re looking for a lowkey energy boost this week.
Tech Director’s Pick - Maddie Van Beek ’22.5
Album: “tape 001” and “tape 002” - BETWEEN FRIENDS
Genre: Alternative Pop
RIYL: Dayglow, Gus Dapperton, Remi Wolf, Ryan Beatty, Kid Bloom
Blurb: Alt-pop sibling duo BETWEEN FRIENDS is in the process of releasing three short mixtapes about the past year, with “tape 001” and “tape 002” already out and “tape 003” on the horizon. After a two-year hiatus, their work has matured and become much more daring. While “tape 001” sticks to their pop roots and evokes artists like MIA or Crystal Castles, “tape 002” takes more risks, leaning into hyperpop in a self-described “ode to nightlife.” The mixtapes are short, fun listens — keep your eyes peeled for “tape 003!”
Creative Director’s Pick - Chad Kim ’23.5
Album: “The Future’s Still Ringing In My Ears” - Sam Cohen
Genre: Ethereal, Psychedelia
RIYL: Sam Evian, MGMT, Post Animal
Blurb: Striking a delicate balance between the nightmarish and the blissful, “The Future’s Still Ringing In My Ears” embodies acoustic and electric overtones complemented by psychedelic undertones that can really get you amped for the nightmare zone. You don’t have to worry about being a poser, as two of Cohen’s most popular songs come from this album; I believe this is a testament to the album’s allure. If you’re looking for an album to narrate actions of metaphorical arson or a drunken stupor whilst in a playground, then this album is for you.
Creative Director’s Pick - Pia Contreras ’22
Album: “Good Thing” - Leon Bridges
Genre: R&B,Soul
RIYL: John Mayer, Sam Cook, Otis Redding, Ray Charles
Blurb: This album masterfully plays with old-school tropes and new sounds to create what I think is a very cool album. While of course I am a fan of “Beyond,” I recommend listening to “Bet Ain’t Worth the Hand” and “If It Feels Good (Then It Must Be)” to understand just how versatile Bridges can be. Give these a listen if you’re interested in a fun blend of new music that leans toward retro.
Social Media Manager’s Pick - Jose Morales ’22
Single: “Star” - Yella Beezy ft. Erica Banks
Genre: Rap, Hip-Hop
RIYL: Key Glock, Megan Thee Stallion, Boosie Badazz
Blurb: Yella Beezy and Erica Banks have both made a name for themselves this year in Texas with singles like “That’s on Me” and “Buss It.” Banks’ “Buss It” became a Tik-Tok phenomenon, and she has been on a couple features since that record. These two up-and-coming artists have now collaborated on the fairly recent single “Star,” that dropped in late January. The beat is a throwback to glamorous 2010’s Hip-Hop productions with its use of background vocals, a drum introduction and light bells. The artists also bring an aggressive rap flow with their usual brand of braggadocious lyrics, and Erica Banks’s feature is the highlight of the track. Her delivery is punchy, fun and creative, and I am looking forward to her upcoming projects.
(03/18/21 9:58am)
Have your Spotify playlists become stale? Is your weekly mix just not cutting it? Maybe it’s time to branch out and listen to something new. The Executive Board of WRMC, Middlebury College’s radio station, has selected a wonderfully wide range of albums, spanning time and genre, for your listening pleasure. Check back each week for a new set of recommendations.
*RIYL: recommended if you like
Tech Director’s Pick – Maddie Van Beek ’22.5
Album: “Hey u x” – BENEE
Genre: Indie Pop
RIYL: Mallrat, Gus Dapperton, Still Woozy, Lorde
Blurb: New Zealander BENEE followed up her TikTok-famous single “Supalonely” with a full-length album, “Hey u x,” in late 2020. It’s sincere, fun and star-studded, with features from Mallrat, Gus Dapperton, Grimes, Lily Allen, Flo Milli, Kenny Beats, Bakar and Muroki.
Creative Director’s Pick – Pia Contreras ’22
Podcast: “How to Save a Planet” - Gimlet
Genre: Society, Environment, Science
RIYL: Drilled, Timber Wars
Blurb: Hosted by Alex Blumberg and Dr. Ayana Elizabeth Johnson, “How to Save a Planet” is great for anyone who is even remotely curious about climate change. In each episode, the hosts explore a new topic related to the climate crisis — from the truth about recycling to kelp farming to electric cars. Even if you don’t like podcasts and hate the planet, the theme song alone (original music by Peter Leonard and Emma Mungard) makes the show worth listening to and earns it a spot on this roundup.
Music Director’s Pick – George Werner ’21
Album: “Roses” – The Paper Kites
Genre: Indie, Folk Rock, Atmospheric
RIYL: Fleet Foxes, Grizzly Bear, Iron & Wine, Bon Iver
Blurb: For whom are the “Roses” in the Paper Kites’ newest album’s title meant? Perhaps it is a reference to the wistful love songs that dominate the album, but I suspect the album is above all else meant to honor the concept of the vocal duet. Every track has a different guest singer, each of whom shines in their own right. As a whole, the album reminds me of driving on an empty highway at 2 a.m. as you grow tired and feel the world around you start to blur. It is certainly worth a listen if you are in the mood for a slower, quieter album.
General Manager’s Pick – Rayn Bumstead ’21
Single: “Materialistic” – Remember Sports
Genre: Indie Rock, Pop Punk
RIYL: Bully, Forth Wanders, Diet Cig
Blurb: SINGLE ALERT! Get excited for a new Remember Sports album by listening to this single! “Like a Stone,” the band’s fourth album, is set to be released April 23.
Creative Director’s Pick – Chad Kim ’23.5
Single: “Trophy” – Crumb
Genre: Ethereal, Indie, Dream Pop
RIYL: Mild High Club, Drugdealer, Post Animal
Blurb: Maybe it’s been a minute since you last gave Crumb’s EP “Locket” a listen, but fret not! Crumb has returned with its new single, “Trophy,” a pleasant reprise of a familiar dream sequence that will facilitate your self-dissolution goals. Their fully-realized sound pairs well with late night walks and sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool.
Social Media Manager’s Pick – Jose Morales ’22
Single: “Leave the Door Open” – Silk Sonic (Bruno Mars & Anderson .Paak)
Genre: Soul, Pop
RIYL: Kali Uchis, Bruno Mars, Anderson .Paak
Blurb: “Leave the Door Open” isn’t necessarily underground, but this new collaboration from Bruno and Anderson hits hard! Their vocals mold beautifully under a grand and smooth production that has me excited for future projects. They go by the name Silk Sonic, which is fitting given their delivery on this track.
(01/28/21 10:57am)
The first time I saw Asher, I was at that little cafe on Logie’s Lane — you know, the one right off Market Street by Pizza Express — and was sorely in the mood to not meet anyone.
In the past 48 hours, I had cried all the way through JFK Airport’s security (nevertheless, TSA showed no mercy), spent my flight to Scotland cooped up on a Boeing 737-700 next to a middle-aged man who asked me what type of wine I liked to put in movie theater Slushies (no comment) and gone to lunch with my roommate and her parents — the latter of whom thought I was 17 years old instead of the ripe almost-20 I boasted (my mom says I have a youthful face).
And so, it’s rather rude that the universe conspired against me, allowing me to fall in love when I was vulnerable, especially when such a feeling had so often been unrequited —a hopeless combination of emotions that routinely went unrewarded, unacknowledged, dismissed.
Nevertheless, Asher struck me — not in that way of unadulterated admiration, not at first. It was quite the opposite actually.
He had the coldest face I had ever seen, his skin nearly translucent. Green eyes that should have been animated were dull and vacant. Had I not been fascinated by him, that gaze would’ve deadened the nerve endings in my body.
When his server brought him his coffee, Asher barely glanced up from his laptop, a silver Macbook Pro outfitted with a singular sticker, a depressing black-and-white outline of Australia. He poured an embarrassing quantity of milk into his cup (coffee is the only sweet thing in life, he’d later say to me). Had I felt fun-’n’-flirty, I would have been inclined to make the joke “how ‘bout some coffee with that milk?” But I too was in my own head.
I silently returned to the cafe each day for upwards of a week.
Sometimes, we were the only ones there. I blatantly scanned my eyes over his body, starting from his black Vans to his bony ankles, his tightish olive-green pants to his broad chest rigged out in an oversized black t-shirt with a dolphin logo. Truthfully, I was unconcerned he would ever notice me; that would require some sort of concession, and this boy was unyielding, drenched in indifference.
Guilty about taking up a table for hours, I’d order three or four coffees at a time — Americanos for the American — and write positive Yelp reviews for restaurants I had never heard of in cities I had never been to. I was aimlessly homesick in the way that everything relating to the US — even places like Tuscaloosa, AL, Salt Lake City, UT, and Muncie, IN — felt meaningful.
Nine days into my cafe stakeout, I bought him a coffee and introduced myself.
It was the biggest romantic mistake I’ve ever made.
So began my intense infatuation with a boy four years my senior (he made sure to remind me of that) who, to this day, is my biggest heartbreak.
The most haunting thing about Asher was his inconsistency.
He was hard to pinpoint, unable to sit still unless he was glued to his single-stickered computer. Canceling on me often, changing plans rashly and then apologizing profusely were all in his job description. On two occasions, he disappeared for two days — out of touch without a warning — and then, when he came back, he gave me a massive hug and said in his Australian accent, “I was just taking care of business, mate!” as if he ran some sort of secret, on-foot postal delivery service that had been passed on for generations.
The few times he gave me his undivided attention, however, he made me feel valued, appreciated and respected.
Recovering from an eating disorder and a severe bout of depression, I sought out encouragement from any sources that weren’t obligated to love me, unlike my family and close friends. To earn his affection was a victory, a privilege that indicated, perhaps, I was lovable despite my wounds.
The joy was ephemeral. Most times, he was novocaine, leaving me visibly intact but numb on the inside. Nothing more than a checkerboard of insecurity.
When his words would turn into blunt weapons, I’d say: “Asher. This isn’t you.”
But it was him.
At nearly every point in our relationship, Asher had proven he was unreliable and unstable. It should have been unsurprising, really, when he made plans and broke them or misdirected his anger at me. These habits were part of his personality — a big part of it, actually — and were predictable, likely, even inevitable. Past behavior is the best predictor of future behavior.
And yet, every time it happened, I had some perfect explanation for his actions. He means well, I’d say to my friends. Prior obligation. Forgot to let me know he couldn’t make it. It’s no big deal, really. In my mind, I was dating a totally different person, one I had constructed in the early days of our connection. He was my ideal guy, I was sure. I mean, yeah, he had some cracks and breaks and bruises, but they were in all the right places, right?
While Asher probably meant well, it was my prerogative to draw boundaries, and… I didn’t. I was so in love with the idea of him loving me that I couldn’t acknowledge that I had exaggerated his positive qualities and ascribed to him those he did not even possess. The onus, then, fell on me more than anyone.
Part of me is embarrassed to share this story. Usually, my anecdotes revolve around the ways I uphold my principles, not compromise them.
And yet, when I reread my journal entries from abroad, I can tell I was in so much pain from the months before I met Asher — some of my most challenging days — that I couldn’t tell fact from fiction when it came to romance. With this, I also came to terms with the need for grace.
The image I had of Asher was statuesque. There he stood, proud on my pedestal, regal on the outside but hollow on the inside.
MASK OFF, MIDD: A hollow statue will always crumble.
Maria Kaouris is a member of the class of 2021.
(11/12/20 10:59am)
I wish that I were here to tell you a success story. But two months after declaring myself vegetarian, I found myself happily devouring a plate of Korean fried chicken with friends.
I’ve moved away from the culture of perfectionism that is often associated with being an environmentalist, reflecting on my dedication to the movement and what it looks like. Though I continue to reduce meat in my diet, I allow myself more flexibility during social events.
Despite my admiration for friends who are flawlessly vegan and plastic-free, their lifestyle is intimidating for someone just starting out. The list of boxes to check feels overwhelming: buy a metal straw, take public transportation, turn vegan, watch your carbon footprint, shop responsibly…
The current sustainability culture needs a reframing to be more “beginner-friendly.” Environmental perfectionism can turn average individuals away from the movement, especially given the binary options of either being with or against hardcore environmentalism. The guilt and pressure associated with never doing enough threaten to turn environmentalism into an exclusive club for pious devotees.
Perhaps it is better to frame the lifestyle of environmentally conscious consumption as a spectrum: it is OK if you are not ready to completely give up plastic products, but perhaps you can start with buying a metal straw or taking shorter showers. We should all feel motivated to lighten our carbon footprint, but we shouldn’t feel required to re-orient our lives all at once.
Too often, the concentration on grand, ambitious goals overshadows the effects our daily habits can have. “Look, what we ordinary people do is not gonna matter as long as those big corporations don’t stop polluting,” is one of the most common reasons I’ve heard for individual inaction.
The pessimism is understandable, given the domination of multinational corporations in our world. Yet the assertion is also dependent on what you consider to “matter.” If the only things that “matter” are stopping global warming and achieving complete carbon neutrality, then we as individuals will look insignificant.
But these are not the only stakes at hand.
While those goals are important, it is also helpful to anchor environmentalism down in what is close, intimate and personal to us. It can be something as small as fostering a connection with the land that you are currently standing on or cutting the elastic strings off your discarded masks so that a few birds may be saved from strangling. When you displace the climate crisis and the doomsday rhetoric with local, personal objectives, sustainability becomes an issue of marginal improvements — every action matters because every additional life reached, plant or animal, matters.
Florence Wu is a member of the class of 2022.
(10/29/20 9:58am)
During a commercial break for a 1982 interview with Pat Buchanan, Richard Nixon once gave a succinct review of “The Path to Power,” the first installment in Robert Caro’s “The Years of Lyndon Johnson” series. “You know, there’s this terrible book out on [Lyndon Johnson], the Caro book.... Sh*t, it makes him appear like a goddamn animal,” Nixon said.
The ex-president — no stranger to the fouler side of human nature himself — pauses. “’Cause he was,” Nixon softly adds, grinning. “Means of Ascent” (1990) — the second volume in Robert Caro’s masterfully researched, still unfinished “Years of Lyndon Johnson” — is not only one of the most stylishly written accounts of a modern U.S. election but is also an electrifying thriller.
The book, which takes place from 1941 to 1948, first tells the story of how future president of the United States Lyndon Baines Johnson spent his “wilderness years” after losing the Democratic primary for one of Texas’ U.S. Senate seats in 1941. (In the 1940s, Texas was a Southern Democratic state — whoever won the Democratic primary was almost assured a win in the general election). The book’s last half recounts Johnson’s inglorious — and likely fraudulent — 87-vote victory in the 1948 primary against the state’s popular former governor, Coke Stevenson. “Means of Ascent” is also an unexpectedly hilarious biography because Caro — who has, somehow, spent half of his life writing about Lyndon Johnson — loathes Johnson.
The series’ two later volumes, “Master of the Senate” (2002) and “The Passage of Power” (2012), show us Johnson’s slow shift to becoming a champion of the civil rights movement. However, the earlier “Path to Power” (1984) and “Means of Ascent” paint a bleaker picture of the politician, a side of Johnson’s personality that Caro suggests resurfaced in the 1960s when Johnson escalated U.S. military involvement in the Vietnam War. As we watch Johnson lie copiously, abuse his staff and bribe South Texas political machine employees (“pistoleros”) to stuff ballots for him, it becomes almost impossible to believe that the protagonist of “Means of Ascent” is the same man whose 1965 “We Shall Overcome” speech on the Voting Rights Act marked the sole occasion when Martin Luther King, Jr. wept in front of his friends, visibly moved by Johnson’s compassion.
Caro constructs the 1948 Senate race as a contest between two larger-than-life characters: Stevenson, 60, a libertarian cowboy, and Johnson, 40, a strikingly tall, crude political genius with a flair for showmanship. It's a great dramatic device because Johnson and Stevenson had few substantive issues when it came to actual policy. Stevenson was an avowed segregationist and bigot, for instance, while Johnson openly condemned Harry Truman's 1948 civil rights plan, dismissing it as a “a farce and a sham — an effort to set up a police state.”
But whereas the candidates’ politics converged, their campaigns strongly differed. Caro suggests that Stevenson’s campaign was the last of its kind: the former governor and a limited staff drove to an assortment of towns each day and delivered stump speeches at local courthouses. Stevenson never offered his stance on any major issues, instead relying on his stellar reputation as a laissez-faire governor. One campaign issue was Stevenson’s silence on the new anti-labor Taft-Hartley Act — which the uber-conservative Stevenson supported, of course, although Johnson tried to suggest that his self-proclaimed “Jeffersonian Democrat” opponent was in fact a pro-union socialist.
In contrast, Lyndon Johnson’s campaign was a wild grab for power that embodied the hectic style of political campaigning that became the norm in post-war America. Falling behind Stevenson, Johnson decided to invest in (then) modern campaign tools: his use of scientific polling, radio advertisements and millions of dollars in Big Oil fundraising were all unprecedented in statewide American politics.
The book’s most incredible passages recount how Lyndon Johnson’s campaign introduced another innovation to modern campaigning: helicopters. If Caro portrays Johnson as a villain in “Means of Ascent,” the book’s helicopter scenes turn Johnson into a full-on supervillain. “And then people would hear the hum in the sky,” writes Caro. “They would generally hear it some minutes before they could actually see the helicopter, but finally someone would shout, ‘There it is! Over yonder!’ and someone else would say ‘Look, it’s coming!’ — and people would begin pointing to the dot in the sky that was growing rapidly larger. As it drew closer, the hum became the distinctive, rhythmic, beating, chopping sounds…The helicopter would settle the ground with a last roar…a swirl of dust and pebbles swept into the air by its blades…And out into the silence stepped Lyndon Johnson.”
Johnson beat Stevenson in the Texas Senate Democratic primary by 87 votes, but in a merciless coda to “Means of Ascent,” Caro proves that Johnson probably lost the popular vote to Stevenson by thousands of uncounted votes. In what reads like an “Onion” article, Caro recounts the most egregious case of the many instances of voter fraud that the Johnson campaign likely committed. He writes, “The figure for Johnson which had been reported [in the ballot box for Texas’s 13th precinct] as 765 on Election Night, was now 965 — because, according to testimony that would later be given, someone had, since Election Night, added a loop to the ‘7’ to change it into a ‘9.’ Johnson had 200 more votes". To add insult to injury, we later learn that the 200 extra voters apparently “cast” their ballots in alphabetical order, because that is what was recorded on the 13th precinct’s registration sheet.
Later in his career, Johnson would brag with colleagues about how he stole the election, wanting his peers to not only know that he cheated, but that he cheated well. After his induction into the Senate thanks to an “87-vote” victory, the politician would even introduce himself to other Senators as “Landslide Lyndon.”
Unlike our 45th president, Johnson certainly had a sense of irony.
(10/29/20 9:55am)
Most Americans have heard the expression “the melting pot” used to describe the diversity of our country. Most have also heard the commander in chief refer to immigrants as “animals” and talk about “sh*thole countries” when referring to nations like Haiti. This juxtaposition poses an important question: What would the re-election of this president mean for the future of immigration in America?
Immigration was a central issue in the 2016 campaign as Trump turned the notion of a border wall into a ubiquitous catchphrase and joked about deporting his opponent. This year, however, the pandemic and subsequent recession have forced immigration to take a backseat in the national consciousness. There is only one word to describe the actions and sentiment of this administration towards immigrants: xenophobic.
While his base celebrates the border wall, the president is busy finding additional ways to keep people from other countries from entering America. Forbes Magazine reported that by 2021, Trump will have reduced legal immigration by almost 50% since arriving in the Oval. We saw a glimpse of this within the first months of his administration when he signed the executive order that banned citizens from Muslim-majority countries like Iraq and Libya from entering the U.S. In the name of American safety, the “Muslim ban” established clear prejudice against foreign nationals, an ideology apparent throughout his term. Another legacy of Trump’s tenure is his most unpardonable policy: children in cages. Pictures of young migrants forced to live in horrible conditions, wrapped in meager tinfoil blankets were all over the news and social media, yet it seemed like the people writing policy at 1600 Pennsylvania were unperturbed.
Since then, the Trump administration has quietly created more policies to slow and stop forms of legal immigration, the most recent being his proclamation to temporarily suspend work-based immigration to the United States. The wording of this policy is consistent with the administration’s attack on anything foreign: they claim their aim is to protect American jobs, yet simultaneously alienate the immigrant base that makes up for 17% of the labor force and 10% of the electorate. Saying immigrants “present risk” to the American labor force is inherently counterproductive to the country’s economic growth. Trump brags that he gave life to the best economy of any modern president, but his policies may stifle U.S. GDP growth for years to come.
The numbers provide a compelling argument on their own, but the administration’s rhetoric raises even more concerns. It first alarmed me in early 2017, when I heard a radio conversation on Breitbart between former Trump campaign strategist Steve Bannon and senior advisor Stephen Miller. They addressed the “scary” realities of legal immigration in the country and demeaned foreign workers. My parents are first-generation immigrants who came over legally and have been here for over 20 years, so I’ve had my eyes opened to the colossal amounts of red tape within the naturalization process for a while. It is the deliberate deceleration of this process that is perhaps the biggest “silent killer.” The Trump administration has made it harder for people to obtain work visas by adding harsher guidelines for businesses that make it harder to sponsor foreign workers. Here’s the bottom line: even the thought of immigrants working and improving business in this country makes the White House uncomfortable.
“Aliens.” It’s been the official nomenclature painfully attached to foreign nationals for years. The term is all over tax forms, immigration documents and even the news. We see it just enough to remember that there has always been the slightest bit of distaste towards immigrants in this country. The Trump administration has amplified this “slight distaste” into an explicit bias, yet that hasn’t discouraged immigrants from expressing their love for this country. Even though they can’t vote, my parents have been constantly reminding me to spread the word about voting.
Whether it’s passion, hope or just anger that gets them moving, immigrant communities are more active in our democracy now than ever, and that is proof that they are no different from the “Americans” that the White House explicitly favors. We cannot pinpoint why exactly the Trump Administration loves to make this distinction, but if it is allowed to continue, the principles of diversity and progress that have made this country so attractive to the outside world will become obsolete.
(10/01/20 9:59am)
Known for their notable alumni and hand-picked selections, the annual Sundance Film Festival has long established itself as a place to discover up-and-coming filmmakers. This year, the festival’s self-assembled short film tour was virtually presented to Middlebury students by the Hirschfield International Film Series. Going into the tour, I wasn’t sure what to expect, especially with my limited knowledge of short films. Apprehension aside, I sat down, shut off the lights to simulate a theatre experience, and pressed play.
‘Benevolent Ba’
The first of six, “Benevolent Ba” opened up with Michael Jackson’s disclaimer for his “Thriller” music video: “Due to my strong personal convictions, I wish to stress that this film in no way endorses a belief in the occult.” Including the disclaimer was fitting, too: the next shots introduce us to the deeply spiritual and haunting story set on a verdant hillside in Malaysia. The sky is overcast and a family pulls their car to a halt, arguing about sacrificing a goat. Director Diffan Norman creates a film rich with dark humor as the group descends into frenzied discussion, arguing about who will carry out the slaughter. Smooth camera pans expertly utilize the environment’s gloom. In many ways, the film pays homage to “Thriller.” With bated breath and hoarse screams, “Benevolent Ba” creates a sense of sorrow and fear. But where the film hits its stride is precisely where it lost me. In the hodgepodge of offbeat humor, horrific elements and biblical references, I became confused by its direction. While nicely shot and indeed thrilling, “Benevolent Ba” hit the right notes emotionally but left my thoughts overloaded.
‘Hot Flash’
Following the horror piece was the animated short “Hot Flash,” directed by Thea Hollatz. Gorgeously done, this short film jumps from one pastel palette to another, cleverly using minimal, cute figures. We’re following Ace, a weather reporter, who from the start is struck by a sudden and aggressive hot flash. She soon finds herself in the bathroom, airing her privates over a fan. There aren’t many films that show that type of scene, and even fewer animated shorts that do. But I felt that animation was the best medium for its witty and fun elements. For a short, quippy film like “Hot Flash,” watching Ace’s troubles with hot flashes are odd yet fun to see play out.
‘The Deepest Hole’
“The Deepest Hole” is third on the setlist, showing us the lesser-known aspect of a political race between the U.S. and Soviet Union. Can you guess what the race was about? That’s right, diggin’ the deepest hole! Hearing the voice-overs and seeing the animations of drilling, I very much felt as if the era were completely contrived. Voiced by Rosalind Fell, the film chronicles the descent into the race through flashing lights and a theory of discovering hell itself. “The Deepest Hole” is every part as wild as it sounds, so I’d suggest you come prepared.
‘Meats’
Fourth on the list is “Meats.” I’m not going to lie — I spent the first minute trying to figure out where I knew the lead actress from. It turned out to be Ashley Williams, a familiar face from the 2000s sitcom “How I Met Your Mother.” This observation made watching the film all the more interesting. With a different character in mind, I was pleasantly surprised to see Williams, who both directs and stars in the piece, in her own realm. “Meats” focuses on the tumultuous dynamic between a butcher and a pregnant vegan craving meat. The short is honest, not shying away from depicting the reality of butchering in an angry, conflicted monologue presented by Williams. I wasn’t sure if it was trying to be particularly self-aware or satirical, given the stereotypical vegan jokes sprinkled throughout. On the rollercoaster of somber to aggravated, I think the film’s ride does raise a lot of questions and moral dilemmas.
‘T’
“T,” our fifth film, follows several designers and models as they prepare for their annual T Ball in Miami, where costumes are created and worn to honor their dead. This was probably the most emotional film of the lot: topical and beautiful. We see the careful process of creating designs, with one artist recycling numerous chip bags into a beautiful outfit. The viewer is given an artistic glimpse into this world, but the film also jumps into the political rationale behind these events. In a gorgeous transition, a shot of LED lights on a helmet design fades into the glow of cop cars, linking the depth of creation. With personal anecdotes and individual features, we see dimensions of grief felt by the ball’s participants. Shot from within homes, in backyards and even in special display rooms, “T” gives us an authentic look at the experience of honoring the dead through costume.
‘So What If The Goats Die’
This festival closes with “So What If The Goats Die,” a short directed by Sofia Alaoui. This film is on the longer side for a short, but it’s worth every minute. Watching a shepherd struggling with his spirituality while trying to make sense of an extraterrestrial event, we hop into a pretty tumultuous story. The film is set on a mountainside, and the cinematography is gorgeous; we jump from rural to desolate areas that frame the characters in golden hues. Shots of the goats are my favorite — within a mottled sea of fur wades our lead, Abdellah. Light is one of the film’s greatest assets. Whether their faces are aglow in the sunset, the fireside or even by eerie green supernatural light, the images we are left with are immaculate. This film is breathtaking to the point that I’d sometimes forget about the overarching questions of religion and human relationships with which it presents us.
The way I see it, short films have the best of both worlds. They can utilize either a high or low budget, use a variety of mediums and still achieve the stories they seek to tell. Each of these films demonstrates that, in spite of shorter runtimes, short films can still have it all.
(09/17/20 10:00am)
This semester, the dining halls look very different. Instead of clattering metal cutlery and conveyor belts of dishes stacked waiting to be washed, students spent the first week back on campus stuffing compostable containers and leftovers into overflowing recycling bins outside. The bench outside Proctor, empty of the usual groups of students chatting and eating side by side, is now filled with stacked boxes, empty sandwich containers and soda cans. Now, a couple of weeks into the semester, students discard their trash in dumpsters outside of each of the dining halls, careful to avoid the bees and wasps flitting in and out of the accumulating waste.
As an institution, Middlebury prides itself on its sustainability efforts, pointing to its Energy2028 plan and divestment efforts, amongst other initiatives. However, during a global pandemic, sustainability has taken a backseat to employee and student health and safety. The college has had to make difficult decisions, such as sacrificing years of effort put into sustainable waste management. according to Eva Fillion, the sustainability communication and outreach coordinator for the Office of Sustainability Integration.
Following Middlebury and Vermont health guidelines, the dining halls have worked to eliminate the possibilities of surface transmission of Covid-19 between students and staff. Dining Services has replaced dishes, silverware and reusable to-go containers with compostable and recyclable single-use alternatives. In place of condiments, soda, cereal and milk dispensers, the dining halls now provide pre-packaged, single-serving alternatives.
The college is spending more than seven times as much on food packaging and flatware as in the past. In September alone, the cost was $60,141, as opposed to $8,361 for the same month last year. The college purchased 271,372 individually packaged foods for August and September, including 33,840 plastic water bottles and 37,000 ketchup packets.
Under normal circumstances, all waste collected at Middlebury goes to the Material Recovery Facility (MRF). There, staff sort through it, often physically opening and hand-sorting bags intended for recycling or compost. Before students were sent home last spring, Middlebury was diverting 69% of waste from the landfill, largely due to the efforts at the MRF, according to Supervisor of Waste Management Kimberly Bickham.
However, the MRF staff can no longer open bags of waste, which could contain tissues or other material possibly carrying the virus. Instead, they now only examine bags from the outside, throwing away anything that does not appear properly sorted. Bickham estimates that the diversion rate has now fallen below 30%.
“My staff works really hard to keep the diversion rate high, and we really pride ourselves on that,” said Bickham. “It breaks my heart to be throwing stuff away. I absolutely hate it.”
Compostable containers are arriving at Middlebury’s composting facility in such large quantities that they cannot all be composted. The containers require longer periods and higher temperatures to biodegrade and are designed for commercial composting facilities, not smaller-scale operations like Middlebury’s.
During normal years, Bickham said that the ratio of compostable containers to food scraps almost never exceeds 30% — a percentage that still allows for the decomposition of the tougher material. She estimates that it is now 70% and said MRF staff now must throw out bags filled with the containers, composting only those filled mostly with food scraps.
No one has communicated the new waste policies to students, many of whom were under the mistaken impression that they should compost their food containers, according to Will Anderson ’20.5 who also works as a kitchen staff helper in Proctor.
A shortage of staff and supplies poses challenges to an effective waste collection setup. Compost bins cannot be left unattended overnight because animals could get to them. However, facilities — already short-staffed and working additional hours — does not have the manpower to place and replace compost bins around the campus every day, according to Fillion. Instead, she encourages students to bring their food waste back to their residence halls, each of which has a compost bin.
Demand for the compostable containers and flatware exceeds the available supply as Middlebury and other institutions seek them out as sustainable alternatives, according to Dan Detora, executive director of food service operations. Middlebury’s primary purveyor, Reinhart Foodservice, has repeatedly run out of the college’s preferred compostable packaging, forcing them to purchase less sustainable alternatives at times, according to Ross Commons Chef Chris Laframboise, who played a major role in designing how the dining halls would operate under Covid-19 guidelines.
Facilities, Dining, the MRF and the Office of Sustainability Integration have faced logistical challenges when trying to resolve some of the waste management issues. Each department plays a role in waste management and has already taken on additional responsibilities and undergone a reshuffling of roles around health management, making coordination difficult, according to Fillion.
With the state of the pandemic constantly shifting, no one knew exactly what the new semester would look like and what new challenges would arise prior to students’ arrival, making planning almost impossible. Instead, most of the waste management efforts have been reactionary, according to Fillion.
“Everyone is stretched so thin and reacting so quickly to things that we haven’t had as much of a chance as we’d like to really sit down and examine the best ways to reduce waste through dining,” Fillion said.
While the college will continue to prioritize health and safety above sustainability, Dining Services is looking to reduce waste as restrictions ease in Phase Two, which begins today, Sept. 17. They will replace the compostable food containers with reusable ones and the individually packaged soda and gatorade with a dispenser. Still, state guidelines limit what the college can do. Vermont still prohibits restaurants and food service locations from having high-touch services, such as condiment dispensers or self-operated drink dispensers, according to Detora.
“Middlebury does an amazing job prioritizing sustainability and the environment during a typical semester,” said Fillion. “This semester is not typical, and, when the rubber hits the road, health and safety has to come first.”
