Is Kanye West Jesus, a genius, or just a jackass? The rapper-turned-fashion designer-turned entrepreneur has a singular talent for polarizing popular opinion, which seems incapable of finding any sort of middle ground between idolatry and loathing.
On Friday, February 20, a group of students transformed the Mathey common room into a catwalk for Sankofa, Princeton’s 2nd annual African fashion show that highlights African clothing and many of Princeton’s performing arts groups, such as Black Arts Company: Dance, Ellipses, Hibir, Umqombothi, and more.
This isn’t an interview, but it feels like one. There are exactly 36 questions and I am stuck at the top of the list.
“It can be anyone,” he says. “Really.”
Sitting down to watch last week’s Super Bowl XLIX, I thought I knew what to expect from an event the 49th of its kind: footballs on the field, fantasies in the commercials. From advertisements aimed at male audiences, I was accustomed to
hot babes, racecars and rock stars. What I found, instead, unsettled me.
It was half past midnight. The snow was soft and crisp from the other side of the glass. The radiator spluttered, rousing from its hour-long slumber. Like adding cotton to an over- stuffed pillow, it seeped a heat into the tired room that stirred our restless desire to descend.
On Monday, December 7th, two seasoned reporters from the Nassau Weekly got the scoop on the Warwick Rowing Team of Warwick Rowers Calendar fame. The rowers release a naked calendar each year to raise money for the team. The proceeds … Read More
On Saturday December 6th, Chicago Bulls player Derrick Rose initiated a particular form of public protest and solidarity when he wore a shirt emblazoned with the phrase “I CAN’T BREATHE” before the Bulls’ game against the Golden State Warriors.
I joined LinkedIn the summer before sophomore year. I had just started my first “real” internship, a public relations gig at a radio station in Boston, and felt remarkably grown-up sitting in a cubicle in black pumps and a pencil skirt.
The first graffiti I ever saw were unremarkable messages etched into my middle school’s peeling wooden desks: people’s initials conjoined inside hearts, a mysterious pointy S shape, and invitations to “put an x if youre bored.”
I have started this piece many times. Each beginning featured a description of Professor Emeritus of African American Studies Cornel West and his entrance into McCosh 50.
