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Tuesday, November 24, 2020

Culture Shock

Culture Shock is a column for underrepresented and marginalized UConn students to anonymously discuss their stories and experiences as members of those groups at UConn. This includes, but is not limited to: students of color, women, persons with disabilities and the LGBTQIA+ community. Culture Shock was created in collaboration with UConn Collaborative Organizing (UCCO) and the NAACP UConn Chapter.

Culture Shock: To Thomas Katsouleas,

When you first arrived at the University of Connecticut, I always said you were dealt a bad deck of cards. You walked into a series of events that were unprecedented. I told others I felt bad for you and that hopefully, this would all blow over soon.

The Jewish Experience

My heart is torn as I write this. As a Jewish person I’m struggling between having white privilege and also belonging to a group of marginalized and oppressed people.

Culture Shock: ‘Happy Easter!’

I’ve been wishing all my friends a happy Easter through text. I don’t celebrate, but I’ll take any excuse to wish happiness on anyone for any reason right now. Well, almost everyone.

Culture Shock: It couldn’t possibly get worse…

It was Tuesday before spring break. I was in line for Dunkin like the dozens of other UConn students every morning, supposedly just another normal day. "It's not racist if it's true. It's a Chinese virus. It’s their fault for eating bats. Why don't we seal off all the Chinatowns? That would stop the spread."

Culture Shock: Anxiety 1

Sometimes I refer to myself as just a ball of anxiety, because honestly sometimes I feel like no matter what is going on that is just what my entire being is, just a ton of nervous energy. Even when I’m happy that does not mean the anxiety goes away, it just makes it seem more exciting rather than completely overwhelming.

Culture Shock: Untitled

Whore. That’s what he called me. He didn’t speak the word Out loud But he didn’t have to

Culture Shock: Empower yourself through self-definition

I grew up in a mainly white school fifteen minutes from the Connecticut shoreline, in sleepy towns whose grocery stores only recently started selling “ethnic food” (meaning only plantains). I was mainly defined by the people around me, and the labels I used were their best guess at identifying me-not my own way of identifying myself. However, I just don’t fit those labels.

I Promise I’m Grateful, But —

I Promise I’m Grateful, But —