opinion: columns

Being half-Dominican, sometimes I feel guilty for not getting a concentration in Hispanic studies—I thought I was going to, honestly; my mom definitely wanted me to. But, after getting a C in Hispanic Cultures I my first semester here, I decided to explore other options. Now, whenever I tell someone that I’m studying modern Russian history and Slavic studies, they ask me if I’m Slavic—I’m not, though it should be noted that the vast majority of those studying this subject are not people of color. However, I now plan to continue studying this at the graduate level.

Since arriving on campus, I have been involved with many conversations with my peers similar to the following:

Last Saturday, I was crying in Butler as I spent five hours trying to fit a sigmoidal curve in Python to data points that indicated how much of the world’s fastest growing species of bacteria were killed by specific concentrations of antibiotic. I was crying because I’m an emotional mess all the time. But I was trying to fit a sigmoidal curve to data about bacterial death for reasons that are slightly more complicated.

A few days ago, amidst all the “I’m baby” memes on Twitter, I came across the Forbes article that applauded Kylie Jenner for being the “Youngest Self-Made Billionaire Ever.” I HAD TO SCREAM! There is absolutely nothing “self-made” about her, a statement that even Dictionary.com agrees with. While any opportunity to drag the Kardashians is guaranteed to be entertaining, I noticed that this controversy, in particular, emphasizes the problems with meritocracy—and the debate surrounding it, which pervades Columbia and its culture.

Picture this: You’re at lunch with some friends who are talking about music. Someone mentions how much “thank u, next” slaps. “I don’t listen to Ariana Grande,” you say. “She’s super problematic.” Everybody thinks for a second. You all quietly agree with this point, so you move on to the next topic. No big deal, right?

Unequivocally, one of the most frustrating experiences in college is financial aid. Not only is it a stressful entity in itself, but paperwork is also due during the height of midterms. This is especially an issue for first-generation students, low-income students, and students without parental support. I fall under all three of these categories. Students like me not only have a very personal stake in getting financial aid, but we also often have to submit nontraditional documentation in addition to the FAFSA and CSS profile. Perhaps the most common, yet least known, example of this is the dependency override.

Conservatives fondly recall an anecdote from Ronald Reagan’s time as governor of California. As his limo crawled through a crowd of boisterous student protesters on the campus of UC Santa Cruz, a bearded activist put his face by the window of the governor’s car. “We are the future,” he yelled. Reagan asked an aide for a sheet of paper, wrote something on it, and pressed it to the glass.

On a pretty uneventful day a couple of weeks ago, I commented to my mother about my vague desire to get AirPods. Much to my surprise, upon asking me how much a pair cost (too much, mom!), she told me she’d transfer me the money so I could go buy them. I did not ask twice. When Monday afternoon came, I was on the subway down to the Upper West Side Apple Store.

My purest love since I was a little kid has always been chemistry—mostly because it seemed out of my reach for a long time. This perceived distance existed for two reasons: One, my favorite way of consuming science was through things like comics and cartoons, so I idolized it but had no real stake in it. Two, I’ve quite frankly never been particularly good at chemistry, so it never really felt like I could actually be one of “those people” who knew what they were doing with those Erlenmeyer flasks.