Baldposts

Lily Jiang – Fate, Follicles, and Friendships: A SoftSys Saga

There once was an Aditi Vinod.

She came to Olin to code.

On Discord she called

To tell me she was bald

And to that I said “I already know.”

By chance, in sophomore spring

We needed a SoftSys team.

As we looked around,

By fate (it seems) we found

Two others with domes that gleamed!

More follicle-challenged than Aditi and I,

Richard and Luke held their heads high.

A perfect addition

To our team’s composition,

And our knowledge – an abundance to apply.

Through segfaults and memleaks we’d fight,

But our bond kept our spirits alight.

Though others had hair,

We didn’t despair

Despite finding a load-bearing print statement that night.

wtf

Now seniors, the friendship remains strong.

In this group, we’ve found where we belong.

Through all of the years,

The laughter and tears,

The bond of baldness will be lifelong.


Richard Li – Baldpost A: the sad one

He lost everything so fast.

Well, it began slowly; he could almost delude himself that it wasn’t happening. It’s easy to ignore things when you’re a successful engineer raking in money. Indeed, it started very slowly. He started talking to his friends online more. She started to spend more time at work. His comb slipped slightly faster through his hair. Surely not. Surely it couldn’t be him. The Witten family wasn’t notorious for much, but their famed impeccable hairlines were considered the envy of the neighborhood.

He only gave her pecks now. When was the last time they had made out? Had sex? Even held hands? The corners of his hair line began to fall back. She still made him the soup the way he always liked. They still laughed together on occasion. Then it came out in clumps.  His shower drain seemed to be clogged with hairs every time he was done. He used to insist on communication in every altercation. Now, he yelled. Forcefully. Aggressively. Lovelessly. He began to find hair on every article of clothing he owned. Every time he scratched his head a few more strands would fall out. She slept in another bed. She used to turn down business trips, but now was in Seoul or Paris every other weekend. They fought when she came back — he knew she was sleeping with some guy in Paris. She turned her location off. Did she think he was stupid?

Before he knew it, nothing was left. He ran his fingers through his … there was nothing to run his fingers through. He woke up one morning to a note on the opposite nightstand and a still perfectly-made, icy-cold left side of the bed.


“I have to go. I’m sorry it had to be like this. I’m sorry I’m not strong enough to stand in front of you to tell you this…”


He sat up. The moonlight reflected off of his shiny scalp and practically blinded him in the vanity mirror opposite his bed.


“…I’ve met someone else in Paris, and I’m flying out tonight. Don’t come get me…”


He couldn’t even stop it. The tears began to well up in his eyes. He had been waiting for this day, even dreamed about it on some unfortunately bitter occasions. But now that it was happening, he really couldn’t believe it. She had actually let him go.

It took him a while to wake up that morning. Good riddance, he thought to himself. He was miserable in the relationship. He knew that. Yet his red-rimmed eyes betrayed a deep pain he could not explain. In his mid thirties, here he was, wealthy and successful by all accounts. He still was the pride of the Witten family. He saw this coming a mile away. If she didn’t do it, he would’ve in a couple of weeks. How could he possibly feel like this? He sat down on the curb, frustrated, with his head in his hands. His head… He rubbed his temples, then the back of his skull, and finally the top of his head. He still couldn’t help but feel…

He lost everything so fast.


Aditi Vinod – Baldpost α

Lily woke up on a normal day. A normal Tuesday. A normal hairful Tuesday. She patted the black mop upon her head and felt it spring back up. She could feel in her roots that today was going to be a great day. 

Lily took out her one wheel in a smooth maneuver, almost too smooth. You’d almost think she’d practiced this move in her free time (dear reader, that is because she did). She cruised down the streets, pulling out her phone to send a few messages.

Lily was so busy messaging n wheeling that she didn’t notice the large, white truck skidding to a stop as she ran through a red. 

Or at least that’s what she thought happened. 

Because the truck didn’t actually stop. It slammed into Lily right as she looked up, phone in hand, and uttered the glorious last words, “well, shit,” leaving a suspiciously Lily-shaped splat on the pavement. 

– – –

An alarm blared through the room shocking Lily Jiang out of her bed. She jumped up so fast that she almost hit her head on the ceiling before she realized that it was a n̴o̶r̸m̶a̶l̶ day. A n̴̡̪̼̝̜̙̰͍͚̲͓̼̖̟͎͇̓̌̆̃̍̈́̽̉̏̓͘͜͠͝ọ̵̢̲͍̹͙͙̒͋͐͆̊͗̓̕͜r̷̟͎̫͙̝̞̝͕͙̦̠̓̐̑͑̾̔̆̾́̀̈͒̈́̀͘̕͜ͅm̴̧̔͂̑̃ă̸͓͈̙͗̈͗̋̆̔͛̽͐̐͜͠͝l̷̙̠̦̺͓̥̥͍̦̮̂̃̓̐̎̑̋̑̌͛͂́͂̽̕͜͠͠ͅͅ Tuesday. A normal h̷̨̧͔͕̪̺͍͈̬͔̓̈̈͠ͅå̴̖͇̟̲̟͚̘͑̃̃̀̓͑͂͂̈́̽̓͋͝͝i̵̙̼͈̮̬̤̊̀̌͊̈́̓̑̑̎̉̔̆͛͠͝r̶͙̲̭̻̟̱̼̬̼̘͔̦͎̠͖̖̉̏̕ͅf̵̡̨̬̲̳̹̰̫̹̳̘͍̓̄̀̓̊̊͗͘u̸͈̫͉͌l̸̙̭̣͇͚͑͗̀̈́̉̾͑ Tuesday. 


Lily Jiang went about her normal morning routine: she sat like a potato in her bed, she scrolled on Instagram Reels (becuase why would she use TikTok?), and she dropped her phone on her face. A truly u̸͇̹̦͒̓͛̀͠n̸͕̆͋̇é̵̡̿͐̿v̸̖̦̤̳̮̅e̸͓͗n̶̘͂͑t̵͓̪͉̓͆͋͒f̴̼̈́͐ǔ̴̮͗l̷͔͙̍̏̿̍ Tuesday morning.

Lily Jiang remembered that she’d had an interesting dream last night, but for the life of her, could not recall what happened. The events seemed intriguing, potentially traumatizing, based on the fact that she had woken up sweating, but surely, that was a fluke. Afterall, it was a n̸̢̮̤͑̎̂̽̽̅̈́̋̈́͂̇̈̾͑̃͘̚͝͝͠ǒ̸̡̨̢̥̱͎̘͙̮̝̯̝̟̔͆̀̉̾̆́̉̍͌̒̒̎̏̀͒͜͠r̶̨̛͉̰͔̳̩̘̪͖͕̘͐̌̀̓̓̿̑̿̍͑̕͝͝͠͝m̵̤͖͕̦̯̏̒̾̊̿͑͛̉͌́͒͒̊͑̕̕͝͠a̴̳̜̠̺̞̒͋̄̎̉̀̚l̸̡̡̡̬̠͉̠̭̗̞̖̔̿̒̎̈̽̓̎̽̊̕͘͜͜͠ Tuesday morning. 

Lily Jiang went to brush her teeth. She was so focused on applying the toothpaste to her brush and scrubbing all the dirt off her teeth that she lost track of time. Upon checking her watch, she realized that she needed to be out the door about five minutes prior. She stuffed her leg into her pants, and threw a hoodie smoothly over her head. 

Lily Jiang was halfway out the door when she glanced back and saw her reflection in her doorway mirror (she’d never seen that before, why was that there?). 

Lily Jiang froze in horror, mouth agape, she let out a bloodcurling scream. It’s not that there was something behind her, but rather there was a lack of something.

Lily Jiang patted the black mop upon her head and felt its spring back smoothness. A normal hairful hairless Tuesday.

Lily Jiang collapsed on the ground in front of her house, one wheel in hand, and sobbed. Who was she? Where did it go? Was this her karma for sending that text all those years ago? Did she even have follicles?

With tears streaming down her face, she smoothly maneuvered onto her one wheel (her practice apparently still applied to this bald creature), but it was not a smooth ride. At each turn, there were cars and in each car was a glaring, shiny forehead, like a field of brilliant lighthouses. SURELY this was a safety hazard in whatever cursed society she was in and dear god why did she forget her sunglasses. The worst part is that all the creatures she perceived looked FINE, arguably even pleased in their little bald lives. 

Lily Jiang was so busy looking at the lighthouses n wheeling that she didn’t notice herself crash into a large, white truck that was driving in the wrong direction. It slammed into Lily right as she processed this suddenly, much bigger lighthouse, barreling towards her, and uttered the glorious last words: “seriously?” 

It seems Lily Jiang had finally remembered the events of her interesting “dream,” yet here she was, a suspiciously Lily-Jiang-shaped splat on the pavement. Again.  

– – –

Lily Jiangster woke up in cold sweat. She jumped up so fast that she hit her head on the ceiling before she realized that it was a n̴o̶r̸m̶a̶l̶ day. A n̴̡̪̼̝̜̙̰͍͚̲͓̼̖̟͎͇̓̌̆̃̍̈́̽̉̏̓͘͜͠͝ọ̵̢̲͍̹͙͙̒͋͐͆̊͗̓̕͜r̷̟͎̫͙̝̞̝͕͙̦̠̓̐̑͑̾̔̆̾́̀̈͒̈́̀͘̕͜ͅm̴̧̔͂̑̃ă̸͓͈̙͗̈͗̋̆̔͛̽͐̐͜͠͝l̷̙̠̦̺͓̥̥͍̦̮̂̃̓̐̎̑̋̑̌͛͂́͂̽̕͜͠͠ͅͅ Tuesday. A normal h̸a̵i̶r̷f̸u̸l̶ Tuesday. She patted the black mop upon her head and felt it spring back up. She heaved out a sigh of relief. 

Lily Jiangster remembered that she’d had a nightmare last night. The events involved her waking up in a bald world, but surely that was just a dream. Afteral, it was a n̸̢̮̤͑̎̂̽̽̅̈́̋̈́͂̇̈̾͑̃͘̚͝͝͠ǒ̸̡̨̢̥̱͎̘͙̮̝̯̝̟̔͆̀̉̾̆́̉̍͌̒̒̎̏̀͒͜͠r̶̨̛͉̰͔̳̩̘̪͖͕̘͐̌̀̓̓̿̑̿̍͑̕͝͝͠͝m̵̤͖͕̦̯̏̒̾̊̿͑͛̉͌́͒͒̊͑̕̕͝͠a̴̳̜̠̺̞̒͋̄̎̉̀̚l̸̡̡̡̬̠͉̠̭̗̞̖̔̿̒̎̈̽̓̎̽̊̕͘͜͜͠ Tuesday morning. She patted the black mop upon her head and felt it spring back up; checking twice is important. 

Lily Jiangster skipped most of her normal morning routine and started off her day in a suspiciously productive way. Something something motivation of being blessed with a head full of hair again. 

Lily Jiangster went to brush her teeth. She focused on applying the toothpaste to her brush and scrubbing all the dirt off her teeth. She combed her luscious locks out, marveling at how healthy and smooth it looked. She paroused through her closet until she found a pair of earthy, brown corduroy pants and a fluffy, mossy green sweater. 

Lily Jiangster took out her one wheel in a smooth maneuver, almost too smooth (still practiced). She cruised down the streets, focused on the road, for some unknown reason, looking for vehicles moving in the wrong direction.

Lily Jiangster was so busy focusing on the cars on the road that she didn’t notice when her one wheel hit a pot hole. Head on. 

Lily Jiangster flew through the air, landing in the middle of the road with a resounding smack that echoed through the intersection. She hit the ground so hard that she saw her wig go flying into the blue sky. 

Her wig. A wig. Lily Jiangster felt the breeze against her bare, bald forehead. Lily Jiang patted grasped at the black mop upon her head and felt its spring back smoothness. A normal hairful hairless Tuesday. Why was this becoming her normal? Hadn’t she checked after last night? How did combing through each strand not reveal the deception? 

Lily Jiangster saw her reflection in a nearby puddle and stared in shock. As she looked back up, she saw a blurry individual waving her wig around in a panic, but the words coming out of their mouth were too blurred for her to process. 

Blurred. Too blurred. Hazy. Fuzzy. White. White blur. 

A white truck rammed into Lily Jiangster in the intersection, leaving her ungloriously, without last words, but rather a last thought, “not fucking again,” leaving behind only a suspiciously Lily-Jiangster-shaped splat on the pavement.

Was Lily Jiangster doomed to stay within this hellmare forever?

Luke Witten – Baldpost 1

It is strange that we grow older.

Think about where you were a week ago, a month ago, 3 month, a year, 5 years, 10. Do you even remember? If you do, try to think not just about what happened but about why. Try to get in your own head. Say you were in a hotel room with your friends, playing BS with a deck of cards late into the night before the science olympiad or quizbowl or an out of state game. You might remember joy, laughter, a twinge of loss even for youth gone or innocence withered away. But do you remember why you were in that hotel room, do you remember why you had studied for weeks to get ready for it and why it was worth jeapardizing the whole thing by losing sleep for a few hours with your friends. Your best friends… at least then; You had felt so connected once. Why had you ever been friends? you can’t seem to remember but it just felt right. When was that last time you talked with them? when was the last time you thought of even one of them? The truth, you were never friends with them because you have not existed until this moment. your memory of them remains as vague as the memory of that person, so foreign, that you once were and can never be again. 

It is strange that we grow older.

This cannot be sad because in truth we have not lost. We can never experience loss because we can only experience the present. That is not to say we can do whatever we want: ethics exist and our actions have consequences. The actions of your past come to be in the present, and the decisions you make now will affect your future, a version of you. You will never meet them, they will never say their thanks, they may even curse your existence, but they are beholden to you. We hold the fate of this person, these people, in our hands and so our actions are real. Because we affect others there is an obligation put on ourselves. Who is this future person? Is it your best friend? your worst enemy? The ideal that pushes you forward or a prisoner trapped by your own mediocrity. We cannot know, it may not even be good to know, but we cannot help but wonder. 

It is strange that we grow older.

Will this person look back on you the same way you looked back on your past self, wistful and confused? Think about others. Think about how clear their futures are to you, but how cloudly your own remains. Think about how Aditi will graduate from Olin. Think about how she will get a job, rise through the ranks of a company, all the while maintaining her cheery demeanor and her love of video games, her love of life. She will get married one day, one day you might as well. She will live in Los Angeles or San Francisco or Chicago. One day she will move to the suburbs. It is so clear to you. She will have a child, the single greatest day of her life. A little bald bundle of joy who she will love so much. He grows, 6 months – first words, 1 year old, playing peekaboo – he makes friends with the local kids, his hair still hasn’t grown in, this is normal. Aditi forgets their anniversary – “I was buying baby clothes” – he doesn’t believe her. 3 years, doctors say it could be due to pneumonia or some epigenetic disease, still no hair, the kid loves riding around the block in his tricycle. Aditi drops her son off at preschool, he’s scared, but holding his mother’s hand he is able to brave his entry into this new world. Aditi and her husband plan a date night, its been far too long… it ends in a fight, of course it does.

5 years, no hair, Aditi hasn’t spoken to her husband in 2 weeks, she doesn’t even want to anymore, she just got a promotion, overall she cannot complain of life. 7 years, no hair, they sleep in separate bedrooms; they only stay together for the child. 8 years, he comes in sobbing, “WHAT HAPPENED TO US?”, she doesn’t know, she used to be in love but now she can barely look at the man in front of her once beautiful, still beautiful she supposes. They try to fix the marriage, they both don’t think it will work, but they want to try… perhaps that will be enough. 9 years, still separated, the child, now entering adolescence, wants to know why his parents don’t love each other. Did they ever love each other? Aditi barely ever sees her husband, he stays late at the office, barely ever spends time at home – he will take any excuse to get out of there. Can you blame him? 10 years, she is pregnant again. They prepare another room for the baby, he still has no desire to be at home. He hides his phone, he skips the annual trip to the bay for Thanksgiving this year. 11 years, the baby is born. What Aditi had suspected was true, she didn’t need a test, the child couldn’t be hers. She looked at her 11 year old son with longing and wrath, his head still spotless and shiny like the hide of a leopard seal… the baldest motherfucker you’ve ever seen. The child in the cradle, the elephant in the room that no one dares speak of, already has a full head of hair. Aditi cannot be the mother.

It is strange that we grow older.

My Olin Mad Libs Adventure: My Greatest Spoon Assassin Kill

It was a ___(adjective)___and stormy night, and the safety was to stand on our ___(body part)___. I had everything I needed, including my great grandfather’s ___(noun)___. I knew my target: _(spoon assassin target’s last name)_, ___(target’s first name)___, ___(target’s last name)___. Now all I had to do was ___(verb)___ them. I planned to ___(verb)___in the classroom all night, ready to strike before their ___(time)___am class began. ___(exclamation)___! What’s this? Just as I pull out my ___(noun)___from my bag, ___(target)___ enters the room, no doubt intending on some late night (verb)ing. I tried to look ___(adjective)___ as I ___(past tense verb)___ under the table, but it was too late. They tried to get on their ___(aforementioned  part)___. Realizing it was too  ___(adjective)___ to sustain, they ___(past tense verb)___ away, and I ___(past tense verb)___ after them. “___(exclamation)___!” My target yelled. “They’re going to ___(verb)___ me!”. ___(name of Professor)___ looked at us with ___(emotion)___ on their face, as we ___(past tense verb)___ around campus for  ___(number)___ ___(plural unit)___. I finally ___(past tense verb)___ them in ___(location at Olin)___. The air was thick with ___(noun)___ & ___(noun)___. They begged me for ___(noun)___, with ___(emotion)___ in their eyes. I raised my ___(noun)___ in the air and took one ___(verb)___ forward. ___(sound effect)___! ___(target)___’s phone went off. ___(Name of Oliner)___ messaged in the chat: Another Oliner has been ___(past tense verb)___ from the game.

Drunk Horoscopes

  • Aries: March 21–April 19
    • Real eyes realize real lies. Something to think about.
  • Taurus: April 20–May 20
    • You’ve been through the 12 steps, you’ve been born again, good luck getting everyone to forget you’re a MechE. You can’t shed that kind of stigma.
  • Gemini: May 21–June 21
    • There is no other woman. He’s playing league of legends. six hours a day. League of Legends. SIX HOURS. You’re gonna wish he was cheating on you.
  • Waning Gibbous: June 22–July 22
    • The call is frantic. Your mother is trapped in an elevator with 50 blue men who each need to exit at different floors. If only you had paid more attention.
  • Leo: July 23–August 22:
    • Hey first year, yes that’s you. I’ve been in therapy for 3 years and still talk weekly about those god damn giraffes. Be careful.
  • Year of the Rat: August 23–September 22:
    • You’re on the phone with your grandma. She’s telling you how to check for lumps. She’s baking a cake. What are you doing?
  • Libra: September 23–October 23
    • You’re about to catch some shade for wearing your Skydio shirt. You caught shit for it yesterday too. The day before? Do you only own one shirt?
  • Scorpio: October 24–November 21
    • Do it. You know you want to. Print the card. 9/11 Hot wings. You know you want to
  • Sagittarius (the beyblade): November 22–December 21
    • Frankly Speaking has censored this horoscope for reasons of personal bias.
  • Capricorn: December 22–January 19
    • You didn’t break the six week rule. You didn’t break the seven, eight or nine week rule. Huh, is it ever going to happen?
  • Aquarius: January 20–February 18
    • Parcel B closes at dusk now. For pedestrians. You know what happens after 4:15 pm? You have to fly in…
  • #0155: Cyndaquil: February 19–March 20
    • The stars are telling you to venmo Oliver 400 dollars. It’s been a year. @Oilver (qr code at the bottom of the page)

Notice re: Volume 17, Issue 1

In response to the October article, “I Have Fucking Had It With This College’s Leadership”, the Frankly Speaking team acknowledges that the publication of this article breached our submission guidelines. We have amended the submission guidelines with regards to how articles are deemed suitable for submission, as well as how authors reserve the right to anonymity. 

These changes include:

  • Changing the language around “unpopular opinions” disqualifying someone from anonymity
  • Changing the language regarding “potential negative impact on the community” preventing an article from being published
  • Changing the language around anonymity

The updated submission guidelines can be found on our website at https://franklyspeakingnews.com/submit/.

You Should Join An Activist Organization: A Response To Last Month’s Article

To the person who wrote “I Have F***ing Had It With This College’s Leadership”,

You should join an organized activist group on campus.

Last month’s headlining story, reflected a sentiment that many of us have had at one point or another: Olin’s administration is prioritizing making money over student, faculty, and staff voices and values. This piece is not to debate the validity of the sentiment, nor to try to point to where it stems from. For now, I will leave those discussions to your personal experiences, thoughts, conversations, and opinions. This piece is not just addressed to the person who wrote last month’s article; it is written to anyone who has passionately disapproved of a decision that has been made at Olin, to anyone who has been subject to a change outside of their control, and to anyone who has tried making change within the school. It is written with the intent of providing some advice on how to channel whatever anger, tiredness, disillusionment, jadedness, sadness, or whatever other emotion has come out of it. So, with that established:

To the person who wrote last month’s article,

You should join an organized activist group on campus, and I will offer to you Olin Climate Justice. Let me expound. I know what you’re feeling and I’ve been there before. You came here expecting to be able to make change, to be able to have autonomy in shaping your experience at Olin. Heck, it might be the reason you came to Olin in the first place; we certainly market ourselves as a co-creation paradise. But when you got here, it seemed like that was false advertising, that the only control students have is performative at best because everything you try to do fails or falls upon deaf ears. Now I want to be fully clear: that anger comes from a power dynamic that exists between administration and the rest of the college. You’re feeling powerless because, as a single person, you have no formal power to make change, especially in contrast to the few at the top that make the final decision. Even as you talk with peers that are feeling the same thing, what can you do? I have been in this situation, and it makes you feel alone and powerless against a system that you can’t change.

And that is why I encourage you to join an activist organization. The goal of activism is to gather these voices and more importantly, to organize them. In organizing, you combine the experience and knowledge of others. Many voices are taken and empowered to speak out as one. Making change gets complicated fast. Thinking about what change needs to be made is the easy first step, but thinking about the strategy, goals, methods, motivations, and everything else involved in making that change will quickly become incredibly daunting. You need more knowledge. You need more time. Most importantly, you need more support. Luckily, it exists. 

You need more knowledge. Decades of activist philosophy and learning have been compiled specifically for higher education institutions within the United States. They include what has worked, what hasn’t, what strategies exist and how to use them, and everything else about structuring and organizing. It has all been picked apart and put together. It has been tried and refined. And it has been documented so that the rest of us can learn and think and act with them. Even at Olin, OCJ has in-depth resources and documentation of activist movements going back to 2016, along with alumni contacts. Since we began as an organization in 2022, we have intentionally noted changemaking strategies, processes of decision-making, and reflections on actions and their impacts. We have made changes to our structure and strategies as we’ve learned. We have noted what hasn’t worked, and more importantly, what has. This knowledge exists in countless documents and in the memories of leads of any activist organization; go ask them for it. You don’t have to figure it all out yourself.

You need more time. An activist group distributes the work of organizing and running a campaign, allowing people to utilize their strengths and not have to take on everything at once. Organizing takes work. Strategizing, drafting arguments, researching, attending meetings, and a thousand other things need to be done for a well-run campaign. The amount of time that it would take one person to do all of this – especially at the college that studies the most – would be nearly impossible. A campaign needs a graphic designer just as much as it needs a legal researcher. This division of effort means that a changemaking effort isn’t dependent on one person, but can be worked on by many at a time. You don’t have to do all the work yourself.

And you need more support. Challenging any power structure alone is terrifying. There is uncertainty. There is loneliness. Prominently, there is risk and its associated fear. You don’t know how your friends or community will react – if you will be ridiculed or ostracized – which leads to hesitation in expressing yourself. You don’t know if there will be formal retaliation in the power structure, leaving you isolated or even exiled from your community. You know so little about so much that could happen, and it feels like there is no safe place to express yourself. And while I hope you can find trust and confidence in your friends, almost all activist organizations will serve as this safe space. Organizing is stressful and emotionally draining. Trust me, I understand this. It is essential to the functioning of an activist group to be a safe place – there needs to be a solidarity that is only built with trust. These places are intentionally created. We understand that while it’s useful for knowledge to be shared and work to be delegated, it is necessary for the team to trust itself and be comfortable with each other. But you don’t have to be by yourself through it.

I find that we’re often tempted at Olin to fall into a “do it yourself” mentality – a mentality that we should have the spunk to be able to look at any problem and find its solution. But speaking from experience, that will only serve to burn you. Any community problem is incredibly complex. When it comes to making a change, you need to remember: you don’t have to figure it all out yourself, you don’t have to do all the work yourself, and most importantly, you don’t have to be by yourself through it.

I want to end by quoting something in your piece: “Maybe they came with some grand ideas of how to change this place for the better, and found out that real change is hard.” Reflecting on myself, I know that this is true. I came here with grand illusions of how easy it would be to make large-scale change and shape my community for the better. My rose-tinted lenses were promptly smashed off my face as I was repeatedly punched over and over again. It hurt. And while I can’t speak for the experience of others, you may be right, maybe the administration also had this experience. Maybe you did as well. 

I don’t want anyone to have to go through that experience. I see the cure to it lying in more knowledge, time, and support. I humbly offer OCJ as a place that can hopefully fill those three in some capacity, but it doesn’t have to be us. There are plenty of other resources and people, on and off campus, trying to create change in a way that is informed by activist methodology and strategy. I mention OCJ because we are the only officially established activist organization on campus (so we get better snacks off that sweet CCO budget), but you have other options. You can take a Wellesley course on activism (shoutout to Laura Grattan)! You can get involved in an organization in Boston! You can find cool people and events to reach out and go to! And you can do umpteen other different things! (Although I will also mention that OCJ always starts our meetings with a share out on some aspect of activism and an exercise that teaches some organizing skill, typically unrelated to climate justice. If you want to just show up for the start, you’re welcome to do that as well!)

Changemaking is hard, and no one should have to do it alone. Find a place where you will have years of knowledge backing you. Where you will have the time and effort of others aiding you. And where you will have the support to be able to get through the rough days. We have a stronger voice together, and that’s what organizing is fundamentally about.

Find a place where your frustrations of powerlessness can be channeled into forces of power. 

In solidarity,

Ike

And just to complete the shameless plug: OCJ meets in the PARC 6:30 – 8 every Tuesday. All are welcome :) 

“Jaded Junior”: Apathy at Olin

This summer, I worked at Olin with Professor Sam Michalka and eight other Oliners on the CALL initiative. While our main objective was to find ways to integrate AI and emerging technologies with higher education, Sam pushed us to consider the real purpose of higher education. And more existentially, whether that purpose still matters.

Following one of these large discussions, Diana Garcia ‘25 and I were chatting after work when she asked me, “Swasti, what’s your perspective on Olin’s future?”

And without thinking about my answer I said, “I dunno man, I just want to get my degree and get out of here.”

“That’s so interesting… I didn’t expect you of all people to be so jaded”

I must have followed with a defensive quip of how all upperclassmen are jaded but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was unequivocally right to judge me. 

She was right because I’m not a laid-back, nonchalant person. I am so chalant! I be chalanting!! I get involved in situations that don’t particularly ask for my input. I meddle. I care. And it’s my, perhaps naive, belief that most Oliners chose to be here for that same reason: to be with other engineers who care about making an impact.

So what’s happening?

Well, it feels like nobody believes Olin is going to last. It feels like half my class is expediting their graduation date as quickly as they can. And I catch myself counting credits to see whether I can graduate early too. Where is this trend coming from?

I remember a conversation later on in the summer that I had with Ian Walsh ‘26 and Alex George ‘26. It was so heated that it bled into our lunch break. The topic of discussion was what defines an Oliner. We talked about how in the past*, it seemed like Oliners were more willing to take risks, no matter how frivolous. More willing to spend 20 hours exploring something just because “it seemed interesting and fun.” The average Oliner’s capacity for play and exploration has been depleted since then. Is it that the new Oliners just aren’t the same goofy risk-takers we supposedly used to be? I refuse to believe so. I fear it is that Olin no longer provides the safety net it once did. 

Leslie Bostwick ‘26 said it best in her recent resignation email: “[The old] system [was] based at a time where Olin’s student body was still 50% on full tuition scholarship. A student body who didn’t need to choose their extracurriculars by the opportunities that further their future career in order to buy back the student loans sooner.”

We’re looking for quicker, easier ways to become competitive professionals. Which is increasingly desirable when there’s a looming sense of instability, financial and otherwise. We cannot be the same “goofy risk-takers”. How can we? 

I don’t have a clear-cut answer to how we can adapt our system to these unprecedented constraints. All I know is that there must be a better-formed alliance between students and those making systemic decisions.

Olin’s conflicts have historically been students versus Big Bad Admin shrouded in smoke. But I want to believe that Admin is fighting hard to make a name for Olin. So why the constant inability to hear one another? Are we not supposed to be on the same team? Is it not Olin’s cardinal lesson to collaboratively design a better system?

I recognize that plenty of students have interacted with admin to enact change, only to return with frustration and less progress than before. And it’s wildly presumptuous of me to suggest that those people haven’t done their due diligence in their attempts at collaboration. I must clarify that I am criticizing myself and others like me who continue to let those small few burden the load of being the only points of contact. Today’s Oliners are chronically stretched thin, wearing several campus identities, constantly.

Echoing Leslie once again, “time is our most precious resource.” So I understand that none of us have the time or energy to expend on involving ourselves with Student Government. At no other institution would we have to plead with our students to cough up a Student Body President. And by no means am I prescribing you as the reader to suddenly stand up and sign up for a position that you have no bandwidth for. If I’m honest, I’d have never engaged with CALL if it weren’t for the fact that I was getting paid over the summer to do so. 

At the risk of appearing as a Leslie superfan, there was another incredibly important point I want to bring up. “Student engagement that’s for the future of Olin should compensate you in the form of academic credit, allotted time or monetary.” 

My high school had a for-credit course dedicated to student government. As it stands, Olin’s structure does not prioritize student opinion purely because there is no incentive for the average student to take on such a large initiative. We must find ways to value student time and effort if we also wish for students to be co-creators of their education. And if leadership isn’t aligned with that goal, well then, I see why the active few are so frustrated and the student body is so resigned. 

I don’t want to be resigned and jaded. I care about this place and the people who make it Olin to me. Despite grappling with some existential questions over the summer, our CALL group has formed a pretty formidable bond with one another. It’s so adorably human, the desire to create a community wherever you go. If higher education has a role beyond the academic material, it has to be the space to define yourself relative to the community you are surrounded by. And in the special case of Olin, the ability to define your community relative to yourself.

*The view of ‘past olin’ represented here is extremely romanticized. I urge everyone to be critical of their biases and be critical of my thoughts as well. We all stand to gain from holding each other in mutual disagreement and respect.

A Review of The Wild Robot

Disclaimer: Spoilers ahead.

The Wild Robot is perhaps the most transformative movie I have ever watched. I was talking to my good friend, Al Gore, and he told me something very interesting: “Family isn’t an obligation, but instead a choice.” I think that the 2000 election changed him. Afterwards, he never smiled and he never wept; he simply stood. He no longer thought that the people of America were his family. He no longer championed the climate for which he had fought so hard to protect or the people of the country that betrayed him.

Much like a hanging chad, his life was perpetually suspended in limbo, an uneasy balance between the death of his soul and the very alive body which so indignantly propelled him through time. I tell you about Al not to paint a tragedy but to make a point. I spent years trying to pull him out of that slump and I couldn’t do it. It took something bigger, it took someone better; we needed The Wild Robot.

The Wild Robot starts with a simple premise: what if a robot was taken out of its environment? 2000 pounds of steel and wiring is dumped in the forest in the form of Roz, and immediately the entire woodland community hates her. This cleverly references the reaction of Glen Falls, Vermont when I dumped 2000 pounds of steel and wiring there. The Wild Robot gears you up in the first couple minutes for a heartwarming story about living in a community, examining your biases, and environmentalism above all. That is not what this movie is about.

The Wild Robot delivers a series of sucker punches. The first of which is that unlike WALL-E and The Terminator, there is no sci-fi eco-fable happening; this is a movie about the struggles of parenting. Perhaps this is only shocking if you haven’t seen the trailer. When Al and I walked into the theater that Saturday afternoon, we certainly had not. It’s jarring, but it isn’t bad. You’re going to spend the next 2 hours watching a robot raise a goose. You watch Roz and the goosling grow to form a family. By the end, the payoff of Brightbill leaving the nest is earned (in a way that Bush’s presidency certainly was not).

A lesser movie would end here – not The Wild Robot. In the last half hour, The Wild Robot has no less than 3 movie-ending emotional payoffs. Al’s reaction was something to see. The first payoff hits when Brightbill migrates south, leaving Roz behind. Looking right for but a moment, I see a single tear roll down Mr. Gore’s face, the first hint of emotion he’s betrayed since November 7th, 24 years ago. 

And before you can recover… BAM!! Payoff number 2: every carnivore and herbivore in the forest has been stuffed together into a little room and they’re all attacking each other. Roz, perhaps powering down for good, makes a speech with the last morsel of energy she can muster from her fuel cells. The fighting stops, the animals lay quiet, and Al Gore texts his children for the first time in 14 years. He’s smiling – he’s actually smiling! Roz has succeeded not only in stopping the conflict in the forest but also the conflict in our beloved 45th Vice President’s heart.

BAM!! Not even 5 minutes later, they do it again. At this point I must admit that I lied earlier; this is an eco-fable after all. The Rozzum corporation attacks the forest and nearly burns it to the ground. Fighting back, the community of animals bands together against this ALeGOREy for consumerism, rampant exploitant of the environment through industrial processes, and unenlightened technocentrism. It is then that Roz says the line: “I am a Wild Robot”.

Upon hearing this, Al, who was now bouncing with excitement in his seat, simply died. The EMTs who arrived on the scene could not help as they were too transfixed by Dreamwork’s newest release in IMAX 3D. I am told that his carotid artery burst, the tragic downside of his heart growing three sizes that day.

I tried to weep but could not. Al had lived more in those twenty minutes than I had seen him live in twenty years. This is how he would want to be remembered. He would want you to know what he’d seen. He would want you to know, even if only for a moment, that he was alive.

Tropes in The Wild Robot Ranked By My Personal Opinion

A-Tier: Despite my personal opinion, I can’t help but adore these tropes; they made this movie so much more than I expected it to be.

B-Tier: I’m not usually a fan of these tropes in most movies, but their inclusion in this one was to its benefit.

  • Title Drop – Usually cringe-worthy; in this instance, however, the title drop was the funniest part of the movie.
  • Grew Beyond Their Programming – Ok, I’m a bit sappy.
  • Crippling Overspecialization – Has unparalleled ability to learn and extensive databanks but teaches a goose to do the front crawl like a human person.
  • No Kill Like Overkill – From tube arms to railguns real quick.
  • But Now I Must Go – A very realistic decision to surrender and return; no power source:  no robot.

C-Tier: I’m neutral toward these tropes.

D-Tier: I usually like these tropes, but this movie did not do them well and suffers for it.

  • Nature is Not Nice – Had more realistic prey/predator relationships at the beginning, but they backed out of it halfway through.
  • The Power of Love – Where is the love physically kept??? It’s a robot?
  • Animal Talk / Translation Convention – We could’ve had more variety in how the animals sounded; there is no difference in grammar despite a broad range of species.

F-Tier: I might appreciate these tropes in other media, but they are so poorly executed in this movie that it does the whole film a massive disservice.

  • Spock Speak – They attempt this convention at first, but it is so quickly discarded that it only serves as a mild distraction at best and a nuisance at worst.

Ways to Meet Eachother

Recently, I’ve heard people complaining about different groups of people on campus not being reachable. I realized my experience has been quite different. I am the student who emails admin invitations to the dining hall and introduces herself to as many dining hall staff as she can. Here are some ideas so that you can start your own conversations.

To Meet Dining Hall and Facilities Staff

  • Say hi to them in the hallways and introduce yourself! 
  • When they help you out on campus, thank them and go from there!

To Meet Students

  • Sit with them in the dining hall. Really just sit down if there is an empty seat next to them and introduce yourself. Oliners like to talk!
  • Email them! Even if it is a stranger.
  • Email our CORe representatives! There are elected members who run events, meet with admin, and much more. Feel free to reach out to Kenneth Xiong… he’s happy to talk CORe or about parking spots in Boston…
  • Reach out to a fellow student who you want to get to know better! You know you have that person; send them a random text or email about meeting up!

To Meet the President’s Cabinet (if you are wondering who they are, try a google search)

  • Email them! 
  • Sit down with them in the dining hall. Al Sacco and various members of the cabinet have lunch in the dining hall on Thursdays from 12-1. They are there to meet everyone!
  • Show up to their office. If the door is open, go in and say hi!

To Meet Staff and Faculty

  • Email them! Most of them have informational pages on the Olin website. See what they do and reach out about it.
  • Sit with them in the dining hall, schedule a meeting with them, or go to events that they advertise!
  • Ask them about their research or what they studied in college!

To Meet Babson Police

  • Say hi to the officers when they do their rounds through campus. They like to hear about our projects!

To Meet President Barabino and the Board of Trustees

These might all feel awkward at first and that’s okay. To help, I have added a few tips below:

  • People want to talk with other people! That means you!
  • Some conversation starts: Favorite hobby? Favorite sports team? If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life what would it be? 
  • To send an email: Start with “Hi my name is ___!” and maybe follow that up with something like “I do XYZ at Olin. I would like to learn about XYZ things you do. Could we find a time to meet this week?” 
  • My favorite thing to do when I meet up with someone: Get some ice cream! Suggestions of places: Trim for soft serve, Olin dining hall when we have it, Truleys in Wellesley.

I challenge you to do one of these things listed above and meet someone new this month! I am looking forward to meeting more of you! 

The Issue of HeForSWE

SWE was founded in 1950 with the mission of empowering women engineers. Women were (and still are) a gender minority in engineering. Nowadays, this mission can extend to the transgender community because they are also gender minorities who are more likely to get fewer job offers and lower pay than cisgender men. This is why the SWE conference exists: for gender minorities to make connections with each other and have space to pitch themselves to companies for jobs. For us, it is a way to increase opportunities. For exhibitors, it is a way to expand diversity within a company. It’s a corporate win-win.

In 2020, HeForSWE was created as a diversity affinity partner. It’s a group for men to support the mission of SWE and to “grow inclusion and advocacy efforts”. If a man is a HeForSWE member, he can attend the SWE conference and career fair. He can pitch himself for jobs at the fair and interview with companies, just like a regular SWE member.

I can see how this can be helpful for the trans community. If someone can’t out themselves as transgender, they can enlist as a HeForSWE member to access the conference. This is not what I have an issue with.

What I do have an issue with is cisgender men seeing HeForSWE as another way to scope out jobs without recognizing that this space is not meant for them. They who within the engineering field are set for success as they are perceived by society as the “higher being” and the “moneymaker” while women are only ever set for housewarming and, at most, a marketing position. They who, when entering a space such as the SWE conference, are not only actively attempting to take away opportunities for gender minorities but are also being absolute dicks while doing so.

I could not count the number of times I and other SWE members would get dirty looks from men at the SWE conference for just standing in line behind them. As if I was invading their space when, in fact, it was the other way around. Why would you attend a conference meant to give gender minorities opportunities for engineering internships and jobs? Why would you greedily see the SWE conference as another way for you to get a job under the guise of being supportive of SWE’s mission?

In my eyes, allyship means stepping aside and letting gender minorities have the spotlight. It means extending a hand when society hinders gender minorities from having a successful engineering career. It means recognizing your current place in society in comparison to gender minorities. It means understanding why a conference like SWE needs to exist in the first place. With all these in mind, it creates a valid argument for imploring one very simple thing:

Don’t look for jobs at the SWE career fair if you’re a cisgender man. 

Want to attend the talks? Sure, they’re pretty cool and valuable. But please, don’t look at the career fair sign and think, I can get a job from this. Even just standing in line to try to get a job at the conference means you’re just adding to the barrier that gender minorities face in a place that is meant to aid in dismantling that barrier. 

By choosing not to go, you actually prove yourself as an ally of SWE, regardless of whether you’re registered in HeForSWE.