I have been many things throughout my tenure at Princeton—a human, a tiger, a journalist, drunk—but I have never been a lady. Through no fault of their own, approximately one half of mankind never experiences the triumphs and challenges of womanhood, and I am destined to remain among them.
Q: Can you say your name? A: Visala Tamara Alagappan Q: Where does that come from? A: It’s an Indian name from Chennai, which is in the south of India. More specifically it’s from this community which is south of … Read More
Amantia Muhedini, one of two Albanian students at Princeton—who expects that at a certain point in your friendship, you will start calling her Ama (or momma Ama) and whose grandfather began the first bookshop in Albania after communism—claiming to have little attachment to home while discussing her attachment to tea and jewelry, to her parents’ coffee-shop-library, and to language. She sits cross-legged in one of the ethnically decorated room’s many chairs, mug in hand.
The beach is at once a confusing and wonderful thing to behold. Like a sandbox for man children, the beach is full of all the earthly pleasures one would expect of such a place–one metric ton of white sand, an inflatable treasure chest cooler filled with Coronas, a leafy green palm tree and a speaker from which the country stylings of the Zac Brown Band can regularly be heard.
“Will Frost— “gods clown,” blue-grass harmonic player, certified mid-wife, UC Berkeley graduate and Abraham Lincoln look-alike—sits on the bench outside Small World Coffee eating a bagel with grape jelly.”