Items

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  2020-10-08

  2020 Election

  The picture above is a photo that I took of myself after mailing my absentee ballot for the 2020 election. This was something that was especially exciting amidst the difficulties that Covid-19 had caused in the United States and around the world. Due to the pandemic, most in-person voting was not happening that year. Instead, most people mailed in ballots. As a college student, I needed to register for an absentee ballot in order for me to vote in my home state of New Jersey. I remember that I did this while I was stuck at home over the summer. For me, during the summer of 2020, I did not feel as though I was accomplishing anything. Registering for my absentee ballot was one of the only things that I actually accomplished during this time. In addition, there was much unrest in the country, as well as on social media, that motivated me to register as well. As a 20 year old, this was the first Presidential election that I could vote in, which made it especially important for me. During the summer, with all of the unrest in the country, I was interested to see the areas in which I agreed with my parents, and the areas in which we disagreed. In such a disaster of a year, I wanted to be able to say that I had voted in the election, at the very least. It is my civic duty after all. I think that this photo is extremely interesting because it is a true time capsule. I am wearing a mask, which characterizes the Covid pandemic. The filter proudly states, “Just Voted!!!” and “Elections 2020”. There is a joy that is evident on my face; there is something exciting about being able to vote in your first presidential election. Throughout my life, I have learned about elections and have always wanted to take part. In the 2016 election, my high-school peers and I, who were nearly competent citizens, were forced to watch from the sidelines. There is also something particularly interesting about an election in an extremely difficult time. It felt important in a way that regular years might not.
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  2020-09-16

  Vanderbilt Covid Testing

  This photo is a screenshot of an email that I received during the Fall 2020 semester at Vanderbilt University. Throughout the semester, I received many emails that looked exactly like that one. The email is proof of a negative Covid test result, which every Vanderbilt student had to receive each week during the fall semester in order to remain living in their dorm. If a student tested positive, they would be taken from their dorm into quarantine housing. For some context, in March of 2020, all Vanderbilt students were sent home early due to the coronavirus. From March onward through the summer, Vanderbilt students worried about their fate as students. Would we be allowed to return to Nashville in the fall? Would we be subjected to more online “college”, trapped in our childhood bedrooms? This anxiety physically ate away at me, keeping me in a constant state of unease. When we finally heard that we would be coming back to campus, it felt as though an immense, invisible weight had been released from my shoulders. We were told, however, that there would be restrictions to college life. At that moment, I did not care an ounce. I would happily take any variation of college, as long as I would be able to live on campus. One of my major stressors entering that year was that we would be kicked off campus a second time. Callous students loudly proclaimed that this was inevitable, there would be no way that we would last this upcoming year. Comments like this brought the anxiety right back to the pit of my stomach. As a student who was going to be living on campus, what would I do if I was kicked off? Where would I go? I did not even want to think about that as a possibility. But that was the energy that charged the air at Vanderbilt that year: there was a fear and a deep distrust that Vanderbilt would stay open. One of the key differences between this year and other years at Vanderbilt was the weekly Covid testing (In the spring semester, the Covid testing was twice weekly). Students were required to enroll in times in their schedule when they would trek over to the Rec, or the large gym on campus, to spit in a tube. At the beginning of the year, I would go with my friends during our allotted time. We soon learned, however, that it did not really matter when you went, as long as went sometime during the week. While this was in some ways comical, to walk into the Rec center, with pop music blaring, and spit alongside your college peers, there was something stressful about it as well. It was like constantly turning yourself in; if you did have the misfortune of having Covid, you had willingly given yourself over for the school to come and take you away. Especially at the beginning, fear of Covid was rampant. Even if you felt fine, a scratchy throat may seem like your doom. At the beginning of the semester especially, waiting for the emailed results felt like eternity. And we all knew what would happen to people who tested positive, or those unfortunate enough to be contact traced: they were shipped off in a golf cart for everyone to see, and were banished from the rest of campus. But this was worth it, all of it was worth it for us. The stress of getting tested and the fear of being quarantined was a miniscule price to pay for being able to be on campus, with our friends. It was an escape from our summers of restriction. Or at least, it was for me. And for that, I give Vanderbilt tremendous credit for opening and following through successfully with the covid-testing of all the students each week.
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  2020-03-11

  The Vanderbilt University COVID Shutdown

  This is a photo of an ABC news segment that was aired on March 11th, 2020, at the very beginning of the pandemic in the United States. The photo shows an interview of a Vanderbilt student (me!). The caption reads “Undergrad Students Must Move out by Sunday”. The interview was taken on a Wednesday, which had been the day that the students were notified that they would need to vacate the campus. The Monday of that week, March 9th, had been our first day after spring break. That same day, we received the first email about the Coronavirus. It stated that classes would be cancelled for the next two weeks. At that time, some students and parents began to panic. Some students decided to leave campus for those two weeks, and believed that they would simply return after those two weeks. These students only took the belongings that they would need for those two weeks, and many of them left the majority of their things in their rooms. Two days later, on the Wednesday of that week, the students received a second email that we would all need to leave campus, and that we had until that Sunday to move all of things out entirely. Naturally, mass chaos ensued as students struggled to figure out how to move all of their things. Most students did not have any help from parents or family, as many people were afraid to travel. This time was a blur of stress, fear, and sadness as students mourned the year that was left unfinished. It was a charged frenzy of packing and moving, but despite this, all around the Vanderbilt’s campus, friends could be seen hugging and crying, particularly the graduating seniors. It was truly surreal in the worst way possible. For me, this picture represents that entire, horrific, move-out experience. On the day that I found out that we would need to leave for the remainder of the year, I was in a practice room in my dorm with one of my friends. He had just been telling me how he had been fighting with his father over whether or not to leave during the two weeks without class. He, of course, wanted to stay on campus, but his father was convinced that he needed to come home. I had already conceded to my parents on that battle, and had plane tickets to come home for the Friday of that week. I, like everyone else, thought that I would only be going home for two weeks like the email had explained. I also was willing to be home for the two weeks to see my family, as I had been in the UK over spring break, which had caused major tensions with my parents. Wednesday’s email confirmed our worst fears: we would all be forced to leave for the rest of the year. I remember feeling completely numb. I walked out of the room to call my parents, while my friend called his. As I spoke to my mom, I realized that I would need to pack up all of my things extremely quickly. She advised me to go to the UPS store to get boxes; as soon as my friend and I were both off the phone, we went straight there, buying up many boxes each to begin packing. While we tried to smile and be upbeat, both of us were still in utter shock. With every ounce of my being, I did not want to leave. It was my sophomore year, and college finally seemed to be mine; I had a phenomenal group of friends who I loved deeply, I was involved on campus, and I loved my classes and professors. The tragedy of it all reverberated through me in waves. As devastated as I was, I had a more imminent task to focus on: moving out. Once we had bought our boxes, we realized that we could not carry them back to campus, and ordered an Uber. As I struggled to carry my boxes from the Uber, I noticed a news crew stationed outside of my dorm. “Could we ask you a few questions?” they called to the pair of us as we labored with our boxes. My insides swirled with anger and frustration about the whole situation, about the unfairness of it all. “Yeah, for sure!” I responded. Maybe someone would actually listen to us, and understand the insanity that we were experiencing. While I don’t remember the exact questions asked, I remember telling them that we had just picked up boxes as we were required to leave campus later that week. I attempted to communicate how upsetting this was to the entire student body. While I have never actually seen this news clip, a friend of mine sent me this picture of me being interviewed. For me, this picture captures how surreal the move out was. I was on the news, and I forgot all about it. It honestly meant nothing to me in that moment, as my world was pulled out from beneath me.