So when the offer arose yet again-
Through fate or whatever we’ve come to call it-
A spark flickered.
Spotty and weak,
But I fanned it.
What appeared was a burning bush-
A flame I intended to contain.

A car ride. Smug smiles. A well intended girl.
A girl with good intentions.
That’s what I felt like: a girl.
Nimble and clumsy. Small but obvious.
A clamoring of non sequiturs
thrown together to make a person of sorts-
A girl of sorts.

That’s what I felt like afterwards: a girl.

The halloween sodden air made everything simmer with suspense,
In ways it wouldn’t have otherwise.
It egged me on- told me to keep going-
As faux cobwebs and grinning jack-o-lanterns cheered all the while.

The burning bush took a tree with it.
I should have run.

The room was a flipbook,
Stills that come together to make motion.
A snake, a microphone, a bottle, a movie.
I should have run.

My body bent towards anything that radiated warmth.
Anything.
Because when you know nothing, you can hope for anything.
Imagine anything.
That’s what intrigued me. His nothingness.
An easygoing facade and his need of my anything. My nothing.

The burning tree took it’s neighbor,
who took its neighbor,
Who now is all orange and wavy and hot.

I should’ve run.

While writing this, the group’s fandom (myself included!) is currently celebrating their third Dream Week; a week of various events and content done to commemorate the anniversary of their debut. From special performance clips, fan meetings, limited edition merchandise and never before seen behind the scenes footage, Dream Week serves as a great insight into how and why TXT has become as popular as they have. As an only three year old group, they have created a welcoming community with its own etiquette, inside jokes, lore and art. They have also expertly crafted a diverse discography that deeply resonates with young people navigating the world today. Whether it’s through punchy pop punk lead singles, alternative R&B b-sides or somber ballads, the group’s hard work and versatility sets them apart from the rest.

It was impossible to restrain myself from swooning over TXT’s music while drafting what was initially supposed to be a simple breakdown of the group’s accomplishments, so I decided to fully lean into my fangirl tendencies. (Think of it as my contribution to Dream Week.) Though there are plenty of projects I could (and do) talk about for hours, there is one I feel epitomizes everything I love about TXT’s work: The Dream Chapter: Eternity. The six song EP, and its accompanying visuals, is a macabre but hauntingly beautiful painting of self discovery and the hardships of youth. It features a level of depth and angst while maintaining a polish that doesn’t take away from its authenticity. Released in May of 2020, the EP was a dark and risky follow up to their bubbly debut of the previous year. The result was a project that set the precedent for the caliber of Tomorrow X Together’s artistry, while birthing moments that would be referenced in their work to come.

About a month out from the EP’s initial release, a concept trailer was released. It gave insight to the thematic throughlines of the work and jump started the journey it would take us on. The trailer starts by showing us the five members sitting at a large circular table, reminiscent of a swirling galaxy. The camera remains in constant rotation around them. There are snapshots of joyous moments between the boys- Kai throwing a baseball, Yeonjun whispering a secret into another’s ear, Beomgyu listening to music while beaming at Taehyun- but there’s an eerie undertone. While they may seem bright and happy, the rest of the frame is engulfed in complete darkness. The acapella notes of the opening track, Drama, ominously echo with a piercing timbre. Then, Someone A by Yoon Sang begins to play delicately. Suddenly, we cut to Soobin who is now alone. The circular table has become bigger, putting a football field’s worth of distance between him and the others. Morse code beeps in the background spelling out “Save me” and “SOS”, while menacing synths intercept the heart sticken vocals of Yoon Sang. Soobin attempts to reach out to his friends, but comes to the realization that he is trapped in a glass box. He calls out desperately, hopelessly banging on the confines while tears stream down his face. Someone A continues to play over the silent cries of Soobin, the length of the moment becoming more and more excruciating as the song continues. Somberly, the trailer closes with a breathy voice pleading again, “Save me”.

This trailer establishes a few motifs of the EP. Firstly, the recurring image of darkness and stars is repeated in the music videos and lyrics, as well as the photobooks that come with the physical album (My favorite is the Starboard version!). It also alludes to a theme that would be present in the music itself: the loss of friends. At the surface, the theme may seem a bit broad, but as the release of Eternity coincided with the pandemic, it added another layer of meaning. While in lockdown, a generation that boasted an unprecedented level of connectivity had it all stripped away in a matter of two weeks. While coming to terms with true isolation, we also had to come to terms with internal battles like self doubt, impending chaos, self discovery, and trying to figure out who you are on your own. These struggles, or pillars of youth rather, are all explored in The Dream Chapter: Eternity with intensity and poise.

The opening track, Drama, is a deceptively upbeat and energetic song. It’s the perfect start to the emotional rollercoaster the EP takes us on. The production is reminiscent of an opening number to a musical: triumphant horns, rhythmic clapping, bright piano chords, tambourines and a steady drum… even the choreography is bouncy and conventionally boy group-ish. Yeonjun and Beomgyu emote with blazing charisma on stage, while Soobin and Kai jump around with expert fluidity. Taehyun blows you away with his melodic vibrato. All of these elements disguise the true sadness of the song’s lyrics. Drama references Someone A, the aforementioned song used in the concept trailer. In the lyrics, Yoon Sang compares his life to being on a lonely stage, in a play where he must play all the parts. There’s no dialogue or colorful lights, the lyrics say. He feels like an extra- merely a small part in the large drama that is life. TXT utilizes a similar metaphor, but in relation to a friendship. 

The first verse compares the attention and joy they receive from a friend to being the main character in a play. The first chorus says “This is my drama.” As the song progresses, the narrator realizes that the level of importance they place on the friendship isn’t reciprocated. This realization is devastating. The lyrics of the second verse roughly translate to, “I’m with you but my mind is strange. It’s like my body is in constant CG.” The lyrics in the second chorus then shift to “This is your drama… I’m none of your business.” The music video for the Japanese version of the song perfectly illustrates this. Beomgyu, who is the manifestation of the narrator in the lyrics, imagines himself at the center of a loving group of friends. He is showered in their love and affection in various dream sequences. In reality, he feels like the outsider, the “Extra #1”  in a play he’s not the star of. He conceals these feelings with a fake smile. This directly parallels the way the song’s bright sound conceals the true nature meaning. We’ve all felt like an outsider at some point, and the universality in TXT’s music is what continues to draw people in. 

We then transition into the lead single, Can’t You See Me? The mid tempo, rock inspired, glitchy track had mixed receptions at the time, but would ultimately be the precursor to the wildly successful The Chaos Chapter: FREEZE, that was dripping in rock tracks and radio hits. We open with a panning echo of the titular line, repeated like a plea. In the music video, the opening shot is a prophetic flipbook of Yeonjun’s belongings going up in flames. We’re thrown into the track with pensive guitar strikes and the anecdotal musings of Taehyun and Kai. The pre-chorus whisks you away with the gorgeous falsetto of Soobin, and a line from the trailer: “Save me”. It then catapults you back into the wrenching chorus. “Can’t you see me? Like on that magical day say, ‘Believe me’.” The melody is exclamatory, a loud cry, pulling at all of the right heartstrings as the collective voices of the group continue to blossom. 

The song’s lyrics portray a fading friendship as an incinerating heart. The narrator wishes, prays that it’s a bad dream, saying the only way to get rid of the heavy feeling is for the person to see them… to believe in them again. In the video we see a house the boys were once happy in blazing in the background. The orangey-red glow illuminates the members as they dance. The chorus blares again and the refrain echoes like a mantra. “Friends don’t understand me anymore,” is repeated over and over again. The menacing synths and jarring harmonies create a sense of unease, screeching notes and pitched down vocals adding to the darkness of the track. The intensity with which the song is performed mirrors that of the emotions it evokes. When we’re young, losing a friend can feel like the end of the world. You can place this feeling of wanting to go back, reminiscing and willing those memories find their way back to us, in every wavering tune. You can see it in Yeonjun’s furrowed brows. The song has empathy for this experience too. It doesn’t trivialize or belittle this experience. It’s part of what makes Can’t You See Me? so unique as a lead single.

Continuing with an impressive use of references, is the next song: Fairy of Shampoo. The original song is sung by a group called Light and Salt, but the lyrics come from the 1987 poem The Shampoo Fairy by Jang Jung- Il (장정일). The poem, and song, are about a man who falls in love with a girl who appears in an ad for shampoo. The narrator sees her in his dreams and fantasizes about what loving her would be like. The Light and Salt song is straight out of the nineties: lulling and hypnotic, organic and airy at the top, but grumbly at the bottom. The first line of the chorus translates into, “When I see her, I’m not lonely anymore. Again appears the recurring theme of the EP: battling loneliness while longing for love and companionship. TXT’s rendition maintains the staples of the original song, but adds their own twinkle to it. The reverb drenched guitar, crooning layered harmonies, and almost conversational saxophones make way for a visual experience. You can picture the alluring woman with soap in her hair jumping out of the screen and embracing you. Yeonjun adds a scat-esque rap to the second verse. “I feel like I’m talking to you,” he says in a jazzy tone. “ [It’s] a feeling that can’t be explained. I thought you only existed in a fairytale.”  Fairy of Shampoo is a shimmery homage to the original and a notable addition to the boys’ discography.

The second half of the EP continues to intertwine the main motifs in unexpected ways. Maze in the Mirror, a guitar driven song, features lyrics written by the members themselves. Co-produced by Beomgyu, the song delves into the fears of not knowing who you are via the metaphor of looking at yourself in a broken mirror- navigating it like a maze. The first verse simply features the strums of the guitar and delicate opening verse. “I still feel like I am too small to fit in such a huge space.” As the song builds, so do the layers. A second guitar melody, bass and more backing vocals are introduced one by one, the structure like taking a stroll on a rain misted day. The bridge, sung by duo Kai and Taehyun, says “I want to fly now, like Peter Pan who flies for eternity…I want to be a star.” There’s such vulnerability and honesty in these lyrics.  You might not think it from a group of nineteen and twenty year olds, but TXT is no stranger to subverting expectations. The maturity in being able to recognize these emotions and relay them in such an artistic way is what I admire most vehemently. Maze in the Mirror, particularly, has been a great comfort to me. I find myself gravitating towards it, like a solemn lullaby, to validate and assuage my feelings of self doubt.

Emotional attachment aside, a huge highlight of the entire project for me is the promoted b-side: Puma. In the lyrics, the narrator is a puma who is escaping from a zoo.  It maintains a project-defining darkness, and warns of the harsh realities of going out into the world. In the opening verse of the lyrics, the puma can hear their friends being taken away, squinting in the thick fog and darkness. They hear the bangs of guns and the hunters closing in on them. Then, the first chorus says, “But for some reason I’m happy. In this moment I feel freedom for the first time.” Puma’s story features the dichotomy between feeling independent and untethered, and the realization that the world is unforgiving and cold. In the video, the set resembles a massive cave. We see the members in cages, chains, and even trapped in a ring of fire (No, seriously. Beomgyu was in a ring of fire. Like, a real ring of fire.). Yeonjun again elaborates on the theme of the song in my favorite rap of his, comparing questioning eyes and doubtful thoughts to gunshots and foes aiming at his throat. The delivery is passionate, and his unique tone contrasts against the other’s voices. Beomgyu and Soobin’s sweet tones pop in the pre-chorus, while Kai and Taehyun take the chorus with their beltier ones. Bright LEDs flicker over the members to reference the aiming of a scope, and their pupils narrow into glazed over feline eyes. The choreography is low to the ground and slinky, the five of them dancing around each with hardened cat like qualities. It’s gritty and edgy with the perfect amount of hip-hop influence. It’s unexpected for a group often thought to be a pop band at first glance. Puma is truly addictive and, anecdotally, is the music video that initially got me into TXT!

The end of the journey lands us at a lore heavy and experimental song that stitches together two completely different sounds. This track, Eternally, references the previous songs while also alluding to the next chapters of their discography. Accompanying this song is a colossal piece of media, a nearly 20 minute long short film, with beautifully shot scenes and animated sequences that make my film major heart sing. The song begins with a soft and elegant section that whips into a rougher spoken section. It’s shocking on first listen, but years later is a fan favorite. Genre mixing is nothing new, but the concept itself encapsulates the twists and turns that the overall EP takes us on. A line says, “My heart sank into a maze of memories… Save me,” referencing Maze in the Mirror and Can’t You See Me. Then the darker section says “Fire rain… a nightmarish dance,” in reference to Puma. The end is a cathartic explosion of falsettos and honey drenched harmonies, bidding us farewell with a teary smile.

Even having lived with this EP for two years, I still discovered so many new things about The Dream Chapter: Eternity. It represents a very specific time in my life, and so seeing how my own ruminations of the work have changed was like stepping into a time machine. TXT’S music’s ability to do this is why I love coming back to it again and again. The energy and effort that is consistently poured into their projects has been so fun to be a part of. The group bears so many weights- as figureheads for youth around the world, their identity as artists and entertainers, or even just as young adults making a mark on society- but manage to do so in an impressive and admirable way. Tomorrow X Together celebrates their third anniversary on March 4th, 2022. Their growth has been exponential, and it’s easy to see why. I had a great time taking a look at  moments that have impacted me so deeply, and for however long I’m on this journey (for an “eternity” or anything less than that), I’m happy to have been on it at all.

Though the two subjects- incarceration and gentrification- may at first seem unrelated, the leveling of crime rates in general suggests that the reason for an increase in incarceration lies outside of the obvious answer of increased crime rates. A broader look at the issues within our society, namely the housing market and dispersion of particular demographics should be considered when analyzing the U.S. incarceration system. The history of migration patterns, economic disparities, and the optics of politics shrouding housing policies are all contributing factors that further link gentrification and incarceration to one another.

It can be argued that incarceration and gentrification are two different facets of society and though they may overlap, the two subjects still operate as separate entities. Both disproportionately affect a particular demographic, but the process by which gentrification occurs is different from that of mass incarceration. Gentrification deals with a specific neighborhood wherein investors and realtors don’t allocate resources towards the neighborhood until the location and attributes of said neighborhood slowly begins to fit the schema of a different demographic’s ideal (namely a white ideal).

Attributes may include its proximity to white collar jobs, a particular aesthetic, access to unique entertainment sources, or simply a lower rent price when compared to where they move from. Incarceration, in oversimplified terms, is a facet of the penal system. Punishment and housing patterns are two completely different things according to this perspective. However, the two can be said to be closely related in many ways in more nuanced perspectives.  

The history of migration patterns in the U.S. must be considered wholly when thinking about the phenomenon of gentrification as we know it now. America is a racist country that operates under a racist system, and that system influences nearly every facet of our everyday lives. “White flight has contributed to the concentration of poverty in specific areas because low-income residents are limited in mobility.”(Morenoff & Sampson, 1997)

In recent years, the desire of the middle-class to live in the suburbs has shifted to wanting to live in the downtown zones where minorities are concentrated. Historically, the poorer bracket would live in the center of the city, whereas the wealthy would live on the outer edges. (Freeman, 2006) But as this higher income demographic moves in, the increasing home and rental prices disproportionately and inevitably displace former residents. 

Due to the economic disparities between the demographics, the way in which black and brown people gather and live are completely different. Due to the institution of chattel slavery and the residual effects, African Americans have less economic mobility than their higher income counterparts. This is again because America was built upon a racist system, but this lack of mobility means that African Americans tend to live in concentrated urban areas where crime is consequently higher. This phenomenon can largely be blamed on housing policies and gentrification.

The disinvestment- a key characteristic of gentrification- of these densely populated neighborhoods relates to other contributing factors of incarceration as well. This “market withdrawal” (Wacquant 2001) from these neighborhoods leads to a more militarized conduction of education (which relates to the school to prison pipeline), the deindustrialization, and over-policing of these neighborhoods. These effects further contribute to the lack of economic mobility of minorities.

Even with the overwhelming evidence of at least some correlation between incarceration and gentrification and the deliberate ways in which this system is imposed on minority communities, the political contribution to gentrification is alarming. Under the guise of bettering a community, local (and federal) governments and developmental professionals continue to push residential segregation despite understanding the effects it has on the imposed communities. One big example of this is redlining. Again, the optics may suggest that the tactic is being used to make the community a better place, but in practice it is just another form of systematic oppression.

Redlining, the process of drawing discriminatory boundaries in which people are allowed to receive (home owner) loans, is done entirely for the sake of financial gain (Terry, 2017). Another path that minorities could take to increase their chances of economic mobility is taken away, thus yet again creating a cycle of crime and incarceration. Other politically driven practices such as gerrymandering, stop and frisk mandates, and the ‘War on Drugs’ contribute to this relationship between gentrification and incarceration as well. 

Though the refutation of the relationship between the two phenomena would reflect an idealized world, its denial also erases the existence of a deliberate disenfranchisement of minorities. Gentrification and incarceration are related in many ways. Taking into account the history of  migration patterns, the economic disparities between particular demographics, and the politics of housing policies, it is reasonable to say that gentrification and incarceration are closely related. Not only are they related, but both actively put minorities into an undesirable position, and this disparity must be eradicated completely.

Freeman, L. (2006). There goes the hood: Views of gentrification from the ground
up. Philadelphia: Temple University Press.
“Gentrification Explained.” Gentrification Explained | Urban Displacement
Project, www.urbandisplacement.org/gentrification-explained.
Gross, Terry. “A ‘Forgotten History’ Of How The U.S. Government Segregated
America.” NPR, NPR, 3 May 2017,
www.npr.org/2017/05/03/526655831/a-forgotten-history-of-how-the-u-s-government-seg
regated-america.
Kellogg, Casey. “There Goes the Neighborhood: Exposing the Relationship
Between Gentrification and Incarceration .” Https://Scholarworks.sjsu.edu/, vol. 3, 2015,
scholarworks.sjsu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1031&context=themis.
Morenoff, J. D. & Sampson, R. J. (1997). Violent crime and the special dynamics
of neighborhood transition: Chicago, 1970-1990. Social Forces 76(1), 31-64.

I had been angry before, but never in this way. My anger seemed to only heighten the confusing intersection of guilt, embarrassment, and resentment I felt. I could barely quantify my feelings, let alone articulate them to an unassuming classroom full of White kids. This wouldn’t be the last experience of its kind, nor would it be one of few. Our country was built on systemic racism, and permeates every aspect of our lives- including the education system.

Earlier textbooks portrayed Black people as uncivilized and lazy. According to the analysis of a 1934 textbook by Lawrence Reddick,  Black people were even said to be content as slaves, the book saying they liked to “sing, dance, crack jokes, and laugh; admired bright colors, never in a hurry, and [were] always ready to let things go until the morrow.” It wasn’t until the twentieth century that mainstream textbooks were changed to omit explicitly racist content. In 1961, for example, efforts were made in California to integrate Black history into the educational mainstream. Inspired by the Civil Rights movement, a california law passed by seven states included “laws requiring or recommending that the contributions and achievements of minority groups be included in school curricula.” This led also to the implementation of some of the earliest Black Studies programs that included their own textbooks and resources. Still, the access to these programs and resources was not universal, and this lack of universality fueled what later would be the multicultural education movement. 

However, most standardized curriculums in public schools today begin with the enslavement of Black people- disregarding the hundreds of years of astute innovation and societal advancements that Black people flourished in before they were pillaged. The places from which Black people were stolen were “communities in Africa with large scale civilizations that had tax systems, that had irrigation systems, that had universities — they came from civilized nations that were advanced,” says Dr. Daina Ramey Berry, an American history professor at the University of Texas at Austin.

If you’re “lucky” as a Black student, you might get a teacher who chooses to deviate from the curriculum. For instance, before going to a primarily White high school, I attended a mostly Black elementary school. My teachers went out of their way to teach students about notable figures outside of Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks. They sought to expand our understanding of our history and origins outside of the four words “I have a dream.” Here I learned about Ida B. Wells and Queen Nzinga. Here I learned about Basquiat and Duke Ellington, and Prince, and Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston. This is how I knew that saying “slavery was moreso an economic issue” was a fallacy to begin with. And had I not been so lucky, I might not have come across that information until I was in college. Knowing about my true origins as a Black, being represented in the material I learn as a student should not be a matter of luck. I shouldn’t pray for empathetic teachers, or have to rebuild the fundamental understanding of myself as an eighteen year old. What is historically important to White people is not historically important to Black people, or any other people of color for that matter.

Nonetheless, there are many other ways, community organizations and projects that have continuously helped  compensate for our lacking education system here in America.  Black History museums are becoming increasingly popular due to their ability to help provide educational opportunities. The National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington D.C. s an indication of the national importance of examining Black history  Black history enrichment for students and teachers through activities such as Black history summer camps, lecture series, historical reenactments, and storytelling. Even mainstream movies such as The Help, 12 Years a Slave,  and Selma have all been developed into some K-12 curriculums and have been made available across the country.

As we continue to navigate these unprecedented times- not only regarding the pandemic, but to the race towards the peak of political and social unrest as well- we must remember to be empathetic to the histories of others. Black history is American history, and in order to combat systemic racism we must change the systems in which we operate from the inside out. We must continue to learn in order to grow. As James Baldwin said, “Not everything can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

To this day I don’t think I’ve ever felt more genuinely confident than in that moment- full of  unadulterated poise (mixed with a tinge of arrogance, of course). I truly thought I was the “It Girl”. I go to school and plop down at my desk in homeroom and turn to make eye contact with a mousy girl. “I like your outfit,” she says. I beam. “Where’d you get it from?” This is the moment. This is how I impress her. I puff my chest up. “The thrift store!” Her smile falters, and her face contorts into a crinkled expression of disgust as she snaps her head back to the front. The girl is suddenly engrossed in whatever the teacher was saying the entire time. She never spoke to me again.

In the past, those who were dependent on thrifting were made fun of for being poor and having to wear used clothes. Now, due to platforms like Youtube and TikTok,  thrifting is seen as a trendy pastime. Take, for instance, if you search the term “thrift haul” into Youtube, a slew of young white teens pop up, adorned by colorful thumbnails and heaps of clothes in the background.  On TikTok, expertly edited videos of preppy teens flaunting their thrifted finds  are among the most popular categories on the app. Collectively, this genre of videos have garnered millions and millions of views. Well, what exactly makes such a replicable video format so engaging? Is it the ability to live vicariously through these shoppers? Maybe it’s the unpredictability of what goods the person might snag. Either way, thrifting becoming trendy seems fairly harmless, correct? In theory, sure. But how exactly did thrifting become trendy in the first place?

With fast fashion’s exponential growth and Generation Z’s ever growing concerns with climate change, many were seeking a safer way to participate in the fleeting clothing trends our peers had to offer. Stores like Forever 21, Shein, AliExpress and Fashion Nova (some of the biggest fast fashion conglomerates globally) have had drastic impacts on our environment. The industry alone accounts for 10% of all carbon emissions, is the second largest consumer of our water supply, and pollutes the ocean with microplastics.

What exactly makes a company a fast fashion business? For starters, there is an extremely short turnaround between when a trend is seen in celebrity media and when it hits the shelves (or websites) of these brands. The clothing is made with cheap labor and cheap materials that degrade after a few wears, then is sold for unethically low prices. Offshore manufacturing and complex supply chains that don’t aid in customer visibility and transparency is also another facet of these fast fashion companies. These brands tend to make a limited quantity of a garment as well so that customers are more likely to buy impulsively, and won’t likely occur again. The main pull, however, is that the prices and convenience of shopping online makes these brands incredibly accessible to those of us who may not make a lot of money (namely high-schoolers and college students). 

To directly mitigate this, a push towards thrifting was made. The attraction of thrifting was that people could now participate in new trends at a lower price, but help reduce clothing waste as well. To make thrifting more convenient, online second hand sellers like Depop, Poshmark, and ThreadUp were created and have exponentially grown in popularity. This is where the “gentrification” begins. These platforms allow users to sell whatever they want at any price they want. Naturally, those with an already sizable online following migrated to these platforms and began selling their clothing at marked up prices. Individuals now thrift exclusively for the purpose of reselling the items at higher prices, effectively now serving a more privileged demographic since they often want to acquire a large range of clothing rather than buying what actually fits themselves.

To compensate for this phenomenon, traditional thrift stores are raising their prices, yet again ostracizing the demographic for whom thrifting was originally for: lower income people who need clothing and other household necessities. In addition to thrifting and reselling being seen as trendy and profitable, the act of DIY-ing and upcycling clothing is also very popular. To relate this back to “gentrification” these upcycling projects almost always rely on buying oversized garments so that there is enough fabric to work with. The depletion of the stock of locally sourced thrift stores also disproportionately impacts the lower class.

The “gentrification” of thrifting is an intersectional issue that affects many overlapping groups of people in multiple ways. There is no black and white answer or solution, nor is there a “bad guy” in this situation. As a person who frequents thrift stores, it is interesting to see the patterns and effects of these new phonemes. The delicate balance between supply and demand, environmental impact, and independent entrepreneurial pursuits is definitely something to keep and eye out for and think about as we shop in the future.

As the Hip Hop President of Dillard University, Mr. Walter M. Kimbrough, put it, we are most definitely living in a different world. Of course, he was referring to the 1987 American Sitcom spinoff of “The Cosby Show”, “A Different World”, which followed Denise Huxtable (Lisa Bonet) and her misadventures at an HBCU. Despite the era of its release, the show remains a staple in black media, and in my own experience, heavily contributed to the idyllic expectations I had for college. The naivete of buying into a perfectly progressive, bombtastic, academically breezy, and party filled fantasy isn’t lost on me, but I couldn’t help it. The billion dollar industry of higher education has an illustrious reputation that  precedes it, even in knowing I’ll probably be in debt when I graduate. Especially in America, university is heavily romanticized as a way to discover yourself and jet set your career, even though job security after college is no longer definite. Regardless, everything I could have ever predicted or hoped for wouldn’t have prepared me for going to school during a pandemic.

I had a specific move-in appointment time, where I was only allowed the assistance of two family members, and of course, wearing a mask is absolutely mandatory. My schedule consists of a hybrid of socially distanced in person classes, and classes that are online. Some teachers have even opted to have their classes outside to mitigate the risks even further. There are no classes on Fridays to allow the campus to be thoroughly cleaned, and we have staggered meal times, designed to help avoid high traffic in the cafeteria. Amidst an already difficult transition, the social aspect of university has also been adapted.

What would’ve been a week of close knit events called SOAR Week (which stands for Scholarships, Opportunity, Accountability, and Responsibility) has been transformed into a schedule of socially distanced events- The Welcome Bash to learn new chants, The Trap Spelling Bee featuring Louisiana slang, and my personal favorite: Arts and Crafts night. The events took place across the entire campus, and if possible, outside so that there was plenty of room to socially-distance ourselves and get a grip on navigating our new home.

Additionally, the more informational aspect of SOAR Week was almost entirely virtual. We were given a group number based on our majors (mine is Film if you’re wondering), then presented with lectures via Zoom regarding varying topics. These topics included not only Covid safety precautions but dove into the culture of being at an HBCU, managing our diets, mental health, the proper way to regard LGBTQ+ students, and networking advice from upperclassmen.

These changes were quite successful, having now already seen how much it’s helped me in my first week alone, but I was still quite nervous to officially dive into my adulthood. Well, as I’m not one to usually look for signs, mother nature (or maybe God herself) still found a way to tell me everything was going to be okay: I was taking a morning stroll in The Avenue of the Oaks, summer sun still piercing through the mist of rain sprinkling over the campus. The sidewalk reflected the most beautiful golden light, filtering through the translucency of my umbrella like a painting. As I continued to walk, grateful for the solace, I knew that this new normal was just that: a new normal. And the navigation of my future will be an experience that is uniquely my own.