Disclosure: Jerrod Croley has no conflict of interest whatsoever, he is merely the captain of Garnet, one of the teams ready to rumble in the A-League this season.
Like many in Lexington, I have been less than impressed with the mighty Wildcats’ play this season (admittedly that’s coming from a salty Tennessee fan). Thankfully, the real show starts Monday night with the season opener of the Greatest Show on North Broadway: Transy intramural basketball.
Intramural hoops: perfect for out-of-season athletes and ex-high-school athletes who think to themselves, “I still got it”—only to find out they don’t still got it five minutes into the first half. I am a proud member of the latter camp. And I could not be more excited for the upcoming season.
The competition is divided between two leagues: The A-League, which features the most competitive squads, and the B-League, made up of good-vibes co-ed teams and sororities seeking intramural glory. Full props to the commissioner Jasmine Fletcher: This year, there’s a stellar assortment of talent on the court, with both leagues presenting top notch ball clubs.
The A-League
The A-League is anchored by storied programs seeking to hang another banner, like KA, Pike, and Phi Tau. It’s no secret fraternities take intramural sports seriously; on Transy’s campus, the games are like the SEC regular season: “It just means more.” Unlike the rivalries you see on TV, there won’t be any jersey swaps or off-season collabs—just good ole fashioned hate. Watch out for the annual matchup between KA Gold and Pike Gold that diehards call The Bid Day Brawl. KA says they aren’t scared of anyone, Pike says they have that match up circled in red.
But watch out for newer upstart teams like the Gooney Tunes and Lebron’s Disciples, both made up largely of soccer players, who faced off in last year’s Final. It was a familiar battle, far from the pitch, as once-teammates became bitter rivals on the hardwood. The matchup came as a shock to the historic titans of Transy intramurals—and represented a clear sign that the fraternity conditioning coaches had to adapt in order to keep up with the HCAC champs.
Under the guidance of esteemed coach Jacob Miller, Lebron’s Disciples easily took down their futbol brethren to take the crown. The on-court chemistry between the Gudorf brothers—Collen, known as “the General,” and Ethan, known as “Big-E”—helped the Disciples handily beat the Tunes for the franchise’s first ever championship. This year, will the high-flying Gudorf brothers, along with Coach Miller drawing the plays, cement themselves as a Transy dynasty? Or will the Gooney boys, or another contender in the A-league, deny the Disciples a history-making repeat? ?
The B-League
They may claim to be less competitive (at least until the whistle blows), but the B-league is on the come up, from sorority showdowns to a potential dynasty with the Delta Sig Ballers.
The boys from Sig battled in the A-League last year but decided their energy ran more to B this season after star John Buckle took his talents to Phi Tau A. How will the Chi Omega Hoopies—longtime B-League stalwarts—handle the new kids on the block? Already there has been some animosity between D SIG and CHI O. Standout D SIG sophomore Cash “Money” Doolin called out a few of the Hoopies starters by name (see card above for just how ruthless the trash talk is getting).
Meanwhile, no B team feels more urgency than the UNCs, a team full of seniors. These guys have one season, the last dance before graduation, the real world, J-O-B-S, and everything that comes with being a certified UNC. Will these guys bring that B-league championship home or mourn what might have been in the nursing home?
This Is Your Captain Speaking
Last year the intramural world was introduced to the ragtag soccer-team crew of the Gooney Tunes. Naysayers view them as nothing but wanna-be big timers, but some campus takesters see them as real-deal contenders. The Rambler spoke with team captain Gus “Killer Cameraman” Dickman to see how the Tunes are thinking about the season to come.
Asked about Dickman’s comments, LeBron’s Disciples star Collen “the General” Gudorf said he had a lot of respect for the Goon squad. “But they said the same thing after the first game last year,” he said. “And look what happened in the playoffs.”
“Ref, you suck!”
When you think of intramural play, your mind probably goes to the athletes. But this forgets a key component of the league: the student refs. An old saying goes, “a great referee is one you can’t see.” But the refs at intramural games seem to have mixed up the cliché. As far as I can tell, they can’t see at all.
The Rambler spoke with two referees to dig deep into the inexperience of our officials. They asked to remain anonymous, both to maintain the integrity of their role as officials and out of fear that if their names got out, their initials were going straight to YikYak—or worse.
“I’m not really sure what to expect,” said one referee, a newcomer this year. “I’m not gonna call anything unless I see blood.” I admire the honesty because the second referee, when asked what the price of bribery was, said he could be bought off with “a crisp 50 dollar bill.” While these confessions were telling, they weren’t surprising—intramural sports is like a night in Whitley County jail: a free-for-all that leaves you with great stories but sore the next morning.
For the Love of the Game
Great basketball needs one more element along with players and refs: The fans.
Sure, you could flip on an NBA game and see all-stars windmill dunk. You could walk down the street and see a historic D1 program.
Or you could swipe in at Beck any given Monday, Tuesday, or Thursday night and see guys and girls play with heart. No shoe deals, no NIL, no contract negotiations—pure basketball.
And let me tell you something, I have talked to a few team captains, and whether you like it or not they’re going for it all—they’ll shoot, score, foul, and claw to hold that trophy. One thing they all agree on: everything is going to be left on the court this season.
Power Rankings
Developing intramural basketball power rankings is the most ambitious project The Rambler has taken on in years. We consulted sports writers, coaches, oracles, adjuncts, and freelance pundits. We then used a complicated regression analysis developed by Dr. Michael “The Sabermetrician of Gratz Park” Kelly, then let the numbers cool in Rafinesque’s tomb.
A-League Preseason Power Rankings
1. LeBron’s Disciples
The soccer team boys are reigning champs, bringing back the Gudorf brothers, Coach Miller, and now they’ve added youngsters like Seth Hickerson in the off-season.
2. Garnet
This Pike & bros squad has got some DAWGS in the paint (a.k.a the writer of this article–bite me).
3. Gold Team
The Kappa Alpha crew is physical down low—an older team with experience to go around.
4. Phi Tau A
The addition of John Buckle significantly helps Phi Kappa Tau’s finest around the arc. Dangerous on runs.
5. Gooney Tunes
Another soccer squad, and last year’s runner-up. The loss of Shelton “Shoota” Smith was significant, but this championship-caliber team picked up five-star prospect Daniel Mullins in the off-season.
6. Pike Gold
The loss of seniors hurts Pike’s odds, but the acquisition of Shelton “Shoota” Smith and the development of other long-range bombers like Gavin Sheets helps their chances.
7. GOATS
Young team made up of Kappa Alpha freshmen that bring raw talent and size but lack experience in this league.
8. Crimson Team
Sleeper team, led by George “the King” Thacker—this Kappa Alpha team of sneaky athletic guys might shock the world.
B-League Preseason Power Rankings
1. Ball Ticklers
Bringing women’s soccer athleticism together with dominant track and field power—can beat you in the paint and in fast breaks.
2. One Finger Wonder
Young team of women’s soccer players that has all the facets of a championship team: depth, chemistry, and athleticism.
3. Delta Sig Ballerz
A collection of BALLERZ that bring with them A-League experience and guidance from upperclassmen John “Rage’n Cajun” Mantooth.
4. Team of Friendship and Dreams
Athletic squad from Phi Kappa Tau that brings size in the paint and years of veteran experience.
5. Hoopies
Energetic crew from Chi Omega that brings the vibes.
6. Delta Sig Hoopers
A crew of athletes that are well known around Transy Swim and Dive, but unclear if Cash “Money” Doolin and Cole “K-Swiz” Brannock can get the job done.
7. Cutie Pi’s
A crowd favorite, this group of athletes from Alpha Omicron Pi seem cute but will kill on the court.
8. The UNCs
A decrypted crew of Pike boomers; Robbie “Big Scary” Crady and Jackson “Prez” Holt try to make up for the lack of youth with experience.
Music has always been a source of solace in my times of worry. As a toddler, I hummed “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” alongside my mother’s words as she protected me from closet monsters. In my awkward, middle-school angst, I screamed “Complicated,” echoing Avril Lavigne’s anger towards my drama-filled friend group. After my first heartbreak, I bawled Olivia Rodrigo’s “Traitor,” wondering how I would ever recover from the new-found loneliness.
As I’ve grown older and childhood troubles have shifted to trepidation reading the headlines, I’ve realized the monsters to fear aren’t in my closet, but running wild in American streets. So, as fear and hopelessness overcame me a few months ago while following ICE’s surge of terror, I turned to my familiar comfort.
Scrolling through the news, Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna Come” has been an uplifting voice for me in a swarm of hatred and injustice. Cooke wrote the soulful song in response to the prejudices he experienced as an African-American man: “It’s been too hard livin’, but I’m afraid to die / ’Cause I don’t know what’s up there, beyond the sky.” Cooke’s painful words also resonate with the experiences of countless immigrants today, struggling with the cruelties and abuses of ICE.
In that sense, listening to Cooke is not a means of distraction, but a mechanism for deeper awareness of the horrors I read through every day. When I feel as though my opinions exist in a meaningless echo chamber, music acknowledges my fears and mirrors my worries through passionate lyrics. It consoles me and accompanies my solitary thoughts.
But it is not an escape. Sam Cooke’s voice doesn’t transport me to a utopian world away from Earth’s current inequities; rather, it gives me the endurance to face today’s calamitous truth. And the truth is terrifying.
The truth is that millions of dollars have been allocated to building the mass detention center Alligator Alcatraz. The truth is that Venezuelan and Salvadorian men have been sent to the mega-prison CECOT without due process. The truth is that ICE has been granted authority to enter homes without a judge’s warrant. The truth is that people living in America have been murdered at the hands of masked agents.
And the truth is that none of these things have occurred in secret. They have been publicly televised, and our so-called leaders have been shamelessly celebrating the perpetrators.
Silverio Villegas González was a 38-year-old father. He was from Mexico and working as a cook in Chicago when he attempted to flee ICE agents at a traffic stop. He allegedly dragged an agent with his car, but eyewitnesses said they never saw this take place (the agent himself later said his injuries were “nothing serious”). Silverio was shot with a bullet through his neck that rested in his chest. He died at Loyola University Medical Center, where cocaine was found in his system. His funeral was later held in his childhood home in Mexico. His casket was adorned with red and white roses, yellow lilies, and green foliage.
The truth is that Silverio Villegas González did not deserve to die on September 12, 2025.
Isaias Sanchez Barboza was a 31-year-old Mexican man. He was wearing camouflage and walking with a group of people in Rio Grande City, Texas, about five miles from the Mexican-American border. Border Patrol encountered the group and attempted to detain Isaias. After participating in an “active struggle” for two minutes, an agent shot Isaias three times. He later died at Starr County Hospital.
The truth is that Isaias Sanchez Barboza did not deserve to die on December 11, 2025.
Keith Porter was a father of two daughters. He was living in Los Angeles and firing his rifle into the air in celebration of the new year. An off-duty ICE officer lived in the same apartment complex as Keith, and claimed to respond to an “active shooter situation.” It’s hard to know what happened next; there were no cameras and authorities have released very little information to the public. All we know for sure is that when LAPD officers arrived on the scene, Keith, 43 years old, was on the ground, shot dead. Friends and family of Keith have said they hope he is remembered for his “joyful attitude” and being a “proud girl dad” and “the life of the party.”
The truth is that Keith Porter did not deserve to die on December 31, 2025.
Renée Good was a mother and a writer. She was warmly bundled up in a beanie while driving her maroon Honda on Portland Avenue in Minneapolis, where ICE agents were operating and their vehicle got stuck in the snow. When Renée stopped driving, her partner, Becca, went and stood behind the Honda to question and record the agents. Renée started backing up, and an agent attempted to open the Honda’s driver door. Another agent moved to the front-left of Renée’s car before she drove forward and steered to the right, away from the agent. The agent to the front-left of the car then fired three shots as Renée was driving away. Bullets struck her left forearm, her right breast, and the left side of her head. Immediately afterward, an agent called Renée a “fucking bitch.” This incident happened within the span of less than three minutes.
Bystanders pleaded with agents to allow a physician to check on Renée’s condition, but ICE refused, claiming they had medics on the way. She was denied medical care for six minutes after she was shot. Renée was pronounced dead soon after.
The truth is that Renée Good did not deserve to die on January 7, 2026.
Alex Pretti was an intensive care unit nurse. He worked in a Veterans Affairs medical center. On Nicollet Avenue in Minneapolis, Alex began to record an ICE agent with his phone, in a reported attempt to document a nearby detention. He was wearing a concealed and registered gun on his waist. After directing traffic, Alex tried to help a woman up from the ground who had been knocked down by agents. Alex and others were pepper sprayed. Alex then fell to the ground, and was tugged by the hood of his coat into the street by an agent. Agents then began to pin Alex down and punch him repeatedly before one drew a gun and removed Alex’s from his waist. One agent shot Alex, then another. Ten shots were fired within five seconds. He passed away at the scene.
The truth is that Alex Pretti did not deserve to die on January 4, 2026.
Heber Sánchez Domínguez, Víctor Manuel Díaz, and Luis Gustavo Núñez Cáceres were all immigrants who died in ICE detention centers.
Heber, a Mexican immigrant, was found hanging by his neck in his detention room.
Víctor, a Nicaraguan immigrant, also died in his detention room. Agents claimed his death was a suicide, but Victor’s brother told ABC News, “I don’t believe he took his life. He was not a criminal. He was looking for a better life and he wanted to help our mother.”
Luis Gustavo, a Honduran immigrant, suffered from a heart-related death. His brother wrote, “Sadly, his life was cut short due to the lack of adequate medical care while he was in ICE custody.”
The truth is that these men did not deserve to die.
Reading these stories has been one of the most difficult and deflating things I’ve done in a long time. Scrolling through pictures of the men and women, now gone, who were once alive and well, left an excruciating pain in my chest.
Keith taking a selfie with his grandmother. Renee’s curly hair flowing at the beach. Alex crouching on a wilderness hike. Heber smiling in his orange hoodie. Each photo captured carefree moments, each subject tragically naive of what would happen next.
The photos are a reminder that each of these lives are a universe in themselves. They had an entire family and personality and history before their unjust demise. They once feared the monsters in their childhood closets and cried over juvenile relationships. They were human. They had joys and hardships. They endured. But now their existence has been reduced, in the headlines, to the label of yet another “ICE victim.”
But their lives were more than their victimhood. Something is wrong with us if we simply see them as a name in a list of those abused by ICE, without considering the previous worlds these people once woke up to every day. Like all of us, they were flawed. Like all of us, they tried to grow, and failed sometimes, and tried again. They had mothers and fathers and sons and daughters. They had reasons to continue searching for a better life. They were, each of them, their own universe.
Let us remember them, and their stories: Silverio Villegas González and Isaias Sanchez Barboza. Keith Porter and Renée Good. Alex Pretti and Heber Sánchez Domínguez. Víctor Manuel Díaz and Luis Gustavo Núñez Cáceres. Remember the totality of their identities and lives. Remember their names, and fight for a better world. For everyone.
Being alive today is a never-ending whirl of intimidation and distress, but we have the power to incite change, through protest and speech and care. My form of opposition is grounded in both writing and listening. I was inspired to compose this article by Sam Cooke and his steadfast words: “It’s been a long, / a long time comin’, / but I know / A change gon’ come / Oh yes it will.” Listening to Cooke’s voice, I am filled with the strength to endure and refuse to succumb to hopeless melancholy. I am fueled by the rage of generations who have suffered through injustice. I am empowered to speak out.
They surround me when I sleep on the blue corduroy couch in the half-finished basement back home where I go to migrate as the summer heat in my bedroom is no longer tolerable with a box fan on full blast. They stare at me with their multi-colored spines, titles ranging from infamous to utterly unknown.
I can’t tell you exactly when my personal DVD obsession began but I can tell you where the obsession came from: my Dad. He used to work at Suncoast, a now-defunct (as they all practically are) mall video store. It was a job I was meant for but born too late to have.
Dinosaurs and monsters were early subjects of my obsession. I became utterly fixated on toys, books, movies, etc., which featured dinos or monsters, no matter the quality. Jurassic Park III and Godzilla: Destroy All Monsters were ritualistic after-preschool viewings.
I was allowed to watch most things in our extensive collection. But despite David Bowie’s titular song being one of my first favorite songs, Paul Schrader’s remake of Cat People was off the table for its explicit eroticism. I could (and often did) watch the original film from the forties. But I was permitted to watch Kuroneko despite the brutal assault and murder scene within the first ten minutes. Turns out that scene was more brutal than I remembered (more than I care to describe; viewer discretion advised). I only discovered this when I rewatched the film while writing my First Year Research Seminar paper on another J-Horror childhood favorite, Hausu (a film where you too can witness a piano eat a woman!)
The most alluring of these forbidden films was John Carpenter’s The Thing. The DVD we had was really nothing special. SteelBooks and limited edition releases weren’t as big with the collector market as they are now. We just had a basic DVD with the classic, cold poster on the front cover. This was another case where I was allowed to watch the original (the 1951 The Thing From Another World), but not the eighties remake. My Mom was afraid that the visceral dog death would give me nightmares. Typical excuse.
My Mom was the warden at the Kentucky Correctional Institute for Women for most of my childhood, so she sometimes had to be out of town for correctional conferences. One of these trips came around when I was seven years old. The moment she stepped out of the house, dragging her black carry-on suitcase behind her, I began to plot my escape from the cell of not knowing what all the fuss was about this Thing.
I sat on the living room carpet in the middle of the three sunbeams coming through the front door. I was taught to pray to a similar trinity of light, so I interpreted this as a good sign. I turned to my Dad, who was sitting in his brown, pleather chair browsing Facebook.
“Can we watch The Thing?” I asked. I’m sure I plastered the sad eyes I often practiced in the mirror onto my face. He didn’t answer for a couple seconds. I thought he was for sure going to shoot me down. But then he stood up.
He walked over to the tall shelf closest to our old, heavy TV, and reached for the DVD. . “Do not tell your mother I let you watch this.”
~
I came out as asexual to my Dad in the Target dollar section.
I never had real crushes growing up. By “real,” I mean real people. I certainly have plenty of fictional crushes. Highlights include:
A triangle in a tophat (Gravity Falls)
A polygonal woman who only speaks in insults and business lingo (ƎNA: Dream BBQ)
An eldritch tree monster that sings opera (“Over the Garden Wall”)
The manifestation of a man’s desire for punishment donning a metal triangle (what is up with me and triangles?!) on its head (Silent Hill)
A shirtless freak with perfect teeth (No, I’m Not A Human)
Hate Pillar (“I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream”)
Incredible taste, I know.
But that’s all fiction. The closest I ever got to kissing anyone in real life was in the fourth grade. As it does in elementary school, some miscommunication culminated in my classmate Josh and I being surrounded by the rest of our class on the recess field. They spun around us in a layered circle with an almost choreographed dance, pleading for us to “KISS! KISS! KISS!”
Josh and I spent five minutes whispering through gritted teeth trying to figure out how to fake a kiss before everybody lost interest and disbanded, leaving us alone in our confusion and discomfort.
Painting by Allie Conover
I didn’t get why everybody cared so much. Sure, Josh was an acquaintance. We traded Five Nights At Freddy’s keychains a couple times. But I didn’t like like him.
I never like liked anyone.
Four years later, I discovered the term “asexual” by complete accident. I came across the term “demisexual” (a microlabel on the asexuality spectrum) as a search recommendation while looking up Demi Lovato. From there, I fell upwards into the arms of an angel cloaked in monochrome with a purple sash. And while holding me in their porcelain-smooth arms, they told me everything was going to be okay.
At Target, my Dad stood across from me as I picked up each miniature Pride flag in the dollar bin and explained what they meant. I went through them one by one until I found the four-striped, mostly monochrome flag with its singular purple stripe at the base. I held it up, took a breath, and said:
“This is the asexual flag. Which is what I am.”
My parents are both pretty open-minded, but I was still afraid they wouldn’t understand. By that point, I had been going back-and-forth about whether I even wanted to tell them for a few years. I figured it would be as good a time as any since I was about to start high school, supposedly a time for new beginnings. Maybe coming out would be the first step towards becoming more comfortable with carving the shape of my life ahead of me.
Still, I had been terribly anxious since eating my club sandwich at McAlister’s Deli an hour earlier, second-guessing my plan to come out (even hoping that I could avoid it if they were out of my flag in the dollar bin).
My Dad simply said, “Okay.”
And he bought me the flag. It’s still in my room at home, balanced in the crest of my antique secretary desk.
~
My Granny gave me a portable DVD player when I was five so I would stop hogging the TV watching Generation Three My Little Pony and Cats & Dogs: Revenge of Kitty Galore when we visited her house. I took that player home with me eventually and it lasted me a little under a decade. In 2015, I took it to Florida and performed a one-person show in the hotel of the final chapter of “Over The Garden Wall”while the episode played on the tiny screen behind me. The only other thing I remember about that trip is making my Mom buy me six Warrior Cats books at the Barnes & Noble in Destin. All of which I had to haul home in my red, blue, and yellow suitcase.
I’ve always had my little hyperfixations. Warrior Cats was nestled inside my frontal lobe from the fourth to seventh grade. I’d gather all my cat plushies into a basket and drag them outside to throw around under the big tree in my grandparents’ backyard, pretending they were at war.
Chucky, the slasher villain, was one of my imaginary friends in the third grade. Whenever my class was pulled down the hall to attend Mass every Tuesday, I would imagine that he was running around the altar and parkouring across the ceiling beams. I have to this day never seen any film in the Child’s Play franchise.
Despite my extensive list of specific obsessions (see above list of fictional crushes), I’ve had a more general interest in collecting since I was trusted with a debit card. First, there were long sprees at independent record stores. But once that became too expensive, I broke up with the wax for bound paper, and a different kind of disc.
Half Price loves to see me coming. I’m often called a book addict by my friends. I have no idea why. It’s not like I go twice a week. It’s only once! Usually…
Found in many shopping centers with shitty parking lots, Half Price has everything I want.. They’ve got books that aren’t actually at half price, especially if they’re Harlan Ellison paperbacks (I can’t believe I spent twenty bucks on a singular mass market paperback of Paingod once.) But I’ll give them a pass since they have cheap Blu-Rays and DVDs. (Ignore that I spent seventy dollars on my copy of Possession during one trip a couple years ago. They’re usually cheaper than that.)
I have followed in my father’s footsteps. I have about four-hundred films packed into my shelves. The collection keeps spreading, growing like a pretty mold across my dwindling shelf space. I have no plans of stopping the spread.
~
In such a sex-and-romance-obsessed society, it’s sometimes hard to explain that I have no personal interest in those subjects. For me, it’s like having a salisbury steak slid in front of me, and I cannot stand salisbury steak, but everybody around me is constantly talking about how delicious it is. I could never eat the meat.
I had been plagued by the question, “Do you have a boyfriend?” since I could hold a coherent conversation with another person. My Mom even used to joke about me having a boyfriend sometimes, especially around Valentine’s Day. It was a bit I never found funny.
Those kinds of jokes stopped after I came out.
I consider myself lucky for that.
My asexuality (and later realized aromanticism) has not prevented other people from developing crushes on me. One person even asked in writing for “JUST ONE CHANCE ALLIE I BEG!” But despite the Devil In Miss Jones poster nailed on my wall and the section of vintage pornos on DVD at the bottom of my bookshelf, I remain just as repulsed at the idea of getting just a peck on the cheek as I was in fourth grade. I guess whatever wire in my brain that was supposed to be attracted to other people decided that boutique Blu-Rays were far sexier.
~
When I was three, I found a small, orange-and-yellow dinosaur toy in my preschool’s parking lot. I believe it was meant to be an Allosaurus. The mold the company used made it look like a chunky chimera of carnivorous prehistoric beasts. I loved it for what it was. It only left my side when I placed it on the light wood bookshelf across from my converted crib to look over me while I slept. I took it to school in the front pocket of my blue overalls and let it go ahead of me on the slide. I brought it to the park in Brown County, Indiana where we rolled around in the bug-infested leaves after staring at the confectioners at the candy shop in town making Red Hots all afternoon. Though I already had the exact same dinosaur toy at my house, I had found this one. I fell in love with this little orphaned toy.
OBJECTS OF DESIRE: “Boutique Blu-Rays are far sexier than other people.”
When I love something, I like to keep it close. I like it within my grasp.
It’s probably why I have a giant, talking Bill Cipher plush at the foot of my bed. It’s why I sit across from my The Thing poster, the same art that was on the DVD my Dad sold a long time ago and I later found at Barnes and Noble for $9.99.
When I like a movie, why should I have to rely on what streaming has in stock for a limited time? You think physical media’s dead? Well, if the end of the world comes, don’t come crying to me when you can’t watch The Black Cauldron on Disney+. Me? I’ve got four copies.
When I’m home, I sleep not in the embrace of some romantic partner, but within the comforting, collective gaze of my favorite shitty slashers and A24 collector’s editions. Phantom of the Paradise sits below the entirety of Twin Peaks. The unknown Goatsucker under Lars Von Trier’s Antichrist. They all have a home on my shelf. The only thing “allo” about me remains the tire-scuffed Allosaurus watching me from beside my Fire Walk With Me themed lava lamp. I am content.
So I sit amongst the discs that reflect rainbows when angled just right. If I look closely, I can see my angel in the circular mirror. They have the same glasses as me.
This article, which was co-written by Katie Axon and Becca Orjala, is the first in a series on AI at Transy. In the coming weeks, The Rambler will explore student perspectives, environmental impacts, accessibility, ethics, and other issues.
Disclosure: Katie Axon is a member of the Human Intelligence (Hi!) faculty learning community, a working group taking a critical look at AI in higher education; David Ramsey, the advisor of The Rambler, is the co-founder of the Hi! FLC.
~
All Transy students, faculty, and staff found something new when they logged in to their MyTransy portals this fall: links to ChatGPT 5, Google Gemini, and Google NotebookLM. The university spent $120,000 to purchase this suite of “AI” consumer products for everyone on campus this year.
“I think of AI as a tool,” said Amanda Sarratore, the university’s Vice President for infrastructure & chief information officer, who directs IT on campus. “It is just like any other technology tool that we make available to our faculty, staff and students.”
But many on campus have questions and concerns about whether these “tools” undercut the values and mission of a liberal arts education: Do “generative AI” chatbots like ChatGPT enable shortcuts that undermine the learning process? Should an educational institution encourage the use of products prone to misinformation and plagiarism? What about the environmental impacts or broader harms to society and culture?
“A university should be a place that values learning and community more than efficiency, profit, or the next trendy hot topic,” said history professor Hannah Alms. “I feel that higher education as a whole has been too quick to embrace generative AI without protecting core values such as independent thought, individual development, and the exploration of what it means to be human.”
Some professors believe that the consumer products purchased by the university are actively harmful to students and to Transy’s mission.
“I think it was a capitulation to the technocrats, none of whom have our students’ interests at heart,” said Spanish professor and Humanities Division chair Jeremy Paden. Learning can be transformative, he said, but it takes time, practice, and attention.
“AI threatens everything we value in higher education,” English professor Kremena Todorova said. “It’s anti-creative and anti-critical thinking. It’s anti-meaning and anti-learning. It is anti-human. It’s terrible for the environment. Billionaires love it, and love the idea of marketing it to young people, because they want to crush labor costs.”
Health and exercise science professor JJ Wallace has a different perspective, seeing a need to embrace these products. “It’s everywhere, and it’s going to continue to be everywhere, so we can’t keep our head in the sand,” she said. “We need to be able to use it effectively, appropriately, and ethically, because it’s not going to go away. I’m sorry, it’s just not.”
Wallace, the co-director of Transy’s Digital Liberal Arts initiative, said that AI represented an opportunity for faculty to take a leadership role in guiding students on how to (and how not to) use systems like ChatGPT. “I would love to see them actively engaging in how and if this technology is appropriate for what they do in the classroom,” Wallace said.
But not everyone shares her enthusiasm for the chatbots now a click away in every MyTransy portal. “It makes me want to retire,” said physics professor Jamie Day.
J.J. Wallace discusses using AI chatbots as “study buddies” at an Academic Affairs presentation on Jan. 15
How AI came to Transy
“Artificial intelligence” can refer to any computational system that does tasks normally done by human beings. The current hype you’ve probably been reading about refers to “large language models,” or LLMs.
LLMs use vast quantities of data, typically gathered from the Internet, to generate text, images, or other content (often called “generative AI”). It’s a prediction system: If you ask it a question, it will provide an answer by predicting each bit of language that a human being—or a human being with instantaneous Internet searching—might use. If a student asks an LLM chatbot to write an essay or short homework response, it can do a passable job of producing something that sounds at least moderately like student writing. Or it can do the same with solving a complicated physics equation.
During the winter term last year, a Board-level ad-hoc working group began reviewing a “framework” document—general guidelines for AI at Transy. The bulk of the work on this document was done by Sarratore and then-Dean Rebecca Thomas, with all cabinet members providing input.
In addition to Sarratore and Thomas, the working group charged with evaluating the framework included Board members Michael Finley and Prakash Maggan, JJ Wallace (who served at the request of Thomas), and two professors nominated as faculty representatives: history professor Gregg Bocketti and computer science professor Jack Bandy. (Thomas and Bandy have since left Transy for academic jobs elsewhere.)
Bocketti and Bandy, according to a letter sent to the Faculty Concerns Committee last May, were alarmed by the scope of AI implementation that the working group had been planning, including in ways that would impact pedagogy, research, and curriculum:
According to their letter, Bocketti and Bandy were able to convince Thomas and Sarratore to revise the framework in substantive ways that they believed would make it more acceptable to faculty.
However, their concern that the university was moving on an “unnecessarily condensed calendar for the development of such a wide-ranging policy framework” went unaddressed.
While Bocketti and Bandy had input on the framework, they were not involved in the university’s biggest policy decision: Contracting with for-profit companies to purchase access to AI systems for everyone on campus this year.
Sarratore said that determination was made by evaluating existing AI products already in use on campus, reviewing current spending with the university’s controller, and incorporating feedback from an IT survey she conducted. “The Bingham Center for Teaching Excellence also served as a key partner and provided valuable input,” she said.
But the decision was otherwise made without direct faculty input.
Faculty concerns
The $120,000 price tag of the new AI products had not been previously publicly reported when The Rambler learned these figures last semester. Paden said it raised questions about the university’s priorities.
“Ten years ago, we had a cafeteria in the student center, a sandwich and fry shop in the basement of MFA, a coffee shop where Gratz Perk is, and an honest-to-goodness late night food option in Thompson Hall,” Paden said. “Currently, the only real place to get food is the Cafeteria. It is open for dinner only for two hours and the late option closes at 9 pm. The constraints are economic, but we are choosing to spend our money on things like AI rather than food availability.”
Todorova said she was appalled when she learned of the cost of the AI suite from TheRambler.
“There has been little to no input from faculty or students,” she said. “Many of us believe they are antithetical to learning and have no place in the classroom. Why was this decision made without a discussion within the campus community? What about students who aren’t ethically comfortable using AI for legitimate reasons? It seems like we’re rushing in to latch on to the hype without any kind of plan or safeguards in place.”
Julie Perino, co-director of the Bingham Center for Teaching Excellence, said she thought “the school’s response has been pretty measured.”
Transy’s first action, Perino said, was establishing an AI integrity policy in 2022. “We made sure to put that into place pretty quickly. And we’ve been bringing in speakers to talk to faculty about teaching with AI since April of 2022.”
For some faculty, however, the workshops and training offered on AI have appeared to be one-sided, pushing for the implementation of AI in the classroom whether faculty (or students) like it or not.
David Ramsey, an adjunct professor of English and WRC and faculty advisor for The Rambler, said that the AI workshop he attended as part of the training for FYS this fall featured sixty slides on how to implement AI. Just one slide had any information for faculty who wished not to use AI in their classrooms at all, Ramsey said. It was a sample policy statement disallowing AI. The statement itself had been written by AI.
Kurt Gohde, professor of studio and digital arts, said that giving only one side in such trainings was a problem given the number of faculty eager for a very different approach.
“I think we should have equal resources and equal training and equal workshops for people who want to find ways to live without AI as we do for people who want to find ways to use AI,” he said.
Though he never found it useful himself, Gohde previously experimented with assignments that required AI because he thought students would need those skills after they graduated. The idea that students need AI training (or “AI literacy”) to compete in the job market is likely the most common argument advanced by proponents of AI in higher education. But Gohde ultimately concluded that products like ChatGPT were so easy to use that no training was necessary. Gohde said he was confident that someone with a good liberal arts education from Transy would have no trouble figuring out how to use an AI chatbot if a job required it.
For critics of AI in higher education, the problem is not just that products like ChatGPT typically don’t actually require specialized skills, but that reliance on AI may weaken other skills that Transy promises to offer students.
“The argument that we need to teach them to use this tech responsibly is malarkey,” Paden said. At least in the Humanities, he said, “the only way to use it responsibly is to know how to do the very things you are asking it to do.” But students have not yet read or written enough to have that mastery, he said. “Language is a life-long endeavor that changes over time, due to context and use,” he said. “We lose it, if we don’t use it.”
The faculty members most critical of AI said they aren’t avoiding the topic or denying its widespread use; they are actively trying to come up with innovative new approaches in their pedagogy to respond to the problems these products create.
“Of course we know ChatGPT is everywhere,” Todorova said. “That’s not an argument for paying to invite something harmful onto campus.”
“The process is the point”
University leaders said that their aim was not to replace human thinking or judgment, or to undercut deep learning experiences.
“The goal isn’t to take away the human element or creativity,” Sarratore said. “It’s about removing the repetitive, time-consuming tasks so we can focus on the work that really matters.”
But for art professor Grace Ramsey, LLMs are “the worst possible thing for any creative process.”
She expressed frustration with LLM marketing that promises to let students skip the slog and get the product. The value of going through the process is the whole point, she said. Even if the final product doesn’t turn out well, she added, the experience of making it helps the student grow: “The mistakes, the epiphanies, the slog, the hours of labor, the unexpected results, the hard-won revisions—you bring all that forward to the next thing you make and the next thing and the next.”
At a certain point, she said, students find pleasure and meaning in the process—including the parts that are challenging or may feel tedious at first:
The fact that this process can be difficult means that teaching it is difficult, she said. But she believes that labor pays off: “Students need the challenge of doing the thing not just to learn the subject, but most importantly to learn who they are and how they might face future challenges.”
AI in the classroom at Transy
One challenge for students with the advent of products like ChatGPT is that rules and expectations about the use of AI vary widely by professor.
Perino said she was “conflicted” on its use: “I think it is something that should be used sparingly because of the environmental impacts. I tend to think it should really only be used by people who know how to get to the end result they want and understand how to get there.”
Wallace said her approach was to establish “an overall course policy.”
“If you use AI, I have a really robust citation policy about how to treat it as if it is an expert source,” she said. “So when using quotations, if you’re taking it word for word, or if you’re doing paraphrasing—you still cite it, just like you would any other source.”
Wallace also sees the potential for much deeper integration of AI at Transy. In a recent Academic Affairs presentation, she shared research on creating a “custom study buddy with ChatGPT,” expressed an interest in incorporating AI products in the Writing Center, and suggested the possibility of a chatbot programmed to offer the students the virtual experience of communicating with William Shakespeare.
Other professors have experimented with AI-based assignments with limitations on what students are allowed to use it for; some have had students critique content generated by AI.
Alms said that her approach this semester was to involve her students in crafting their own classroom policy.
“From that point, they are accountable to themselves, each other, and to me,” she said. “The responsibility is on students, in those courses, to create their own community guidelines and to hold themselves responsible to them.”
Alms said that she was pleasantly surprised to learn many of her students were quite skeptical of AI and concerned that it would harm their learning experience and ability to think independently.
Other professors have completely shifted the way their classrooms function in part as a response to AI.
After realizing that some of his students’ self-reflection assignments were generated with AI, Gohde decided this semester to have his students handwrite them instead. “The worst thing to steal is the act of self reflection,” Gohde said.
Eventually he decided that all writing assignments in his courses should be handwritten. “I’m going to suffer through reading bad handwriting as a result because I think it’s better for everyone,” Gohde said.
Todorova has taken a similar approach, also initially inspired as a way to avoid generative AI. But it has become key to her teaching philosophy, she said.
“By the time last semester began, I saw these assignments as central to my pedagogy, which stresses learning as embodied, relational, and communal,” she said.
Her students seem to enjoy the change, she said. In one reflection, a student stated, “I barely write on paper anymore because of technology and it was nice to be able to do that again. I would recommend that you keep asking students to do this because I feel like it also leaves less room for distractions.”
Physics professor Mostafa Tanhayi Ahari allows his students to use AI, but he recognized there can be problems in an academic setting. “Mathematically AI is doing a good job, but physically, sometimes it gives you the wrong answers,” he said. Students without the experience to catch those mistakes should avoid using it, Ahari said.
Among professors who do not allow any use of AI, few are punishing students who break the rules or taking disciplinary action.
“I don’t have the interest or bandwidth to play cop,” David Ramsey said. “Even if I did, there’s too much potential for false positives and false negatives.”
If someone appears to have used AI, Ramsey said, he has a conversation with the student.
“These are addictive products that harm society and young people,” Ramsey said. “Students who use so-called AI are responding to societal and institutional pressures and incentives, including the fact that their university provided the products to them. So for me, if someone violates the rules to use AI in my class, it’s an opportunity. I want to know what led them to make that choice, and I want to share with them why I believe that reliance on these products is damaging to their education and their future. And for those willing to try a different approach—or nervous about their ability to do college work themselves—I’m there to help.”
“Appropriate guardrails”
Asked about the concerns from faculty and students about AI on campus, President Brien Lewis responded in a statement compiled for him by key cabinet members: “Those concerns are both valid and shared by the university. Transylvania’s framework begins from the premise that AI is a tool, one that must never replace human judgment, creativity, or the deep learning experiences that define a Transy education.” (For critics of AI, even the word “tool” can be controversial.)
Transy’s leadership does not see the AI products they purchased as something new. Many faculty, staff, and students were already using various AI products, Sarratore said. “Our goal was not to introduce new technology, but to put appropriate guardrails in place to protect institutional and student data,” she said.
These “guardrails” seem to be the university’s primary explanation for the purchase. Instead of the standard AI products, the university acquired custom versions that OpenAI and Google promise will protect users’ data and privacy.
“We were able to make sure that when using the tools, all this safety is in place,” Wallace said. “That ensures that when we are using the tool as a campus, we’re doing so with as many safeguards as we possibly can.”
It’s hard to know precisely how these additional privacy or security measures function, or how reliable they are. But Bocketti and Bandy got a look at two relevant agreements that Transy signed with OpenAI. These documents state that Transy can make a written request, no more than once per year, for OpenAI’s most recent independent audit report regarding privacy and security, as well as summary details of certain other audits or security reports, “upon reasonable request.”
When asked about privacy concerns at one AI workshop last August, Wallace said that Transy could sue if a company like OpenAI didn’t follow the agreement, but acknowledged that the university was ultimately trusting the companies to hold up their end of the deal.
But AI skeptics worry about the long history of tech companies breaking promises about privacy. Companies like Facebook, Youtube, and Google have paid out large settlements and fines for breaking privacy agreements with customers (none of which threatened their business models).
“Given that history, I wouldn’t trust their promises of privacy, even if they offer a third party audit,” Gohde said. “I couldn’t advise students to trust them either.”
David Ramsey said he viewed these promises as a marketing ploy to infiltrate college campuses with a large potential user base. “Even if I trusted these companies,” he added, “why do AI apps get a special deal? Many of our students use TikTok or Instagram or Snapchat or any number of other apps that collect their information.”
Transy’s licenses with OpenAI and Google are purchased on an annual basis, so university officials will have a decision to make on whether or not to renew the current suite of products for next academic year.
Sarratore said that the $120,000 investment in these products didn’t mean the university was pushing AI on campus. “What we’re doing is making it available for those who are interested,” she said. “For people who want to use it, it can be a real benefit.”
What about the students?
Sam Schultz and Alice Beatty present action ideas to the Human Intelligence FLC, Jan. 14.
The workshops provided to faculty have emphasized the need for safeguards for students using AI and careful instruction about how to use it in safe, ethical, and academically appropriate ways. But if the goal is to protect students, what did the university offer to help them navigate these new AI consumer products when they suddenly popped up in their MyTransy portals? Based on The Rambler’s reporting, it seems there was little plan in place to offer guidance on this transition to students last semester, other than relying on faculty to do so in their classrooms.
AI-critical faculty have generally disparaged the resources offered by Transy as unhelpful, but there have been workshops for faculty, and more offerings to come. The Bingham Center for Teaching Excellence and the Digital Liberal Arts Initiative, for example, are both expanding programming for faculty who choose to engage with AI. Last summer, Transy librarians Katrina Salley and Lori Bird created a microcourse that “provides information about what AI is, the capabilities and limitations of AI, and ethical ways to use AI,” Salley said. The microcourse was presented to faculty at a faculty retreat prior to the fall semester, with the hope that they would incorporate some of its lessons into their courses.
The microcourse was designed for a student audience, but fits the pattern of reliance on faculty to deliver the message. The university offered no similar direct outreach for students, but Salley said the library plans to launch a website on the topic for students this summer, which will cover similar ground as the microcourse.
There was also little to no opportunity for students to share their thoughts (or raise concerns or objections) before the AI products suddenly appeared.
According to the statement provided by President Lewis, “the [AI] framework and related investments were developed…with input from…SGA representatives.”
But SGA President Sean Gannon said that during their only meeting on the topic with Sarratore in February of 2025, the dialogue was vague—focusing on what tech they used as students and overall opinions about AI. “We, in general, opposed AI because of ethical and accuracy concerns,” Gannon said. “Nothing else much came of our conversation, and she never followed up about the specific topic.”
Last semester, Gohde and David Ramsey founded a faculty learning community (FLC), Human Intelligence (Hi!) in part to try to fill the gap on resources for AI-free pedagogy, resources for students who want to pursue AI-free education, and opportunities for students to express their opinions about AI at Transy. The group chose its name because, although most members are staunchly “anti-AI,” they wanted to emphasize promoting the liberal arts values they believe are under threat. Gohde and Ramsey said they wanted to start small (the FLC includes seven faculty members and eight students), but have been inspired to see students taking the initiative on plans to expand Human Intelligence to a campus-wide effort in the coming weeks.
During the FLC’s preliminary discussions, students have expressed frustration that the $120,000 purchase was made without regard for their input even though the products are in large part for their own use.
For her part, Wallace maintains that giving students these programs help them with “critical thinking and thinking about the ability to identify misinformation and the ability to verify information. If we can still continue to teach these foundational skills, we can apply that to anything, including AI.”
What about students who want no part of AI in their education? Ramsey said that anti-AI sentiment—including some more radical in their opposition than professors—was common among his students. One student in Ramsey’s current FYRS class made this comment in a recent assignment:
According to Perino, such students have options. “I know very few [professors] who are like, you have to use AI to do this,” she said.
If a student is uncomfortable with an assignment that does require AI, she said, they can opt out by communicating their concerns with their professor. At that point, she said, the professor should offer an alternative assignment..
But students should think carefully about opting out, Perino said. “Faculty who use AI in an assignment aren’t just doing it as an exercise. There’s some deeper goal there. So I’d ask the student to think about the goals of the assignment and make sure they’re not missing out on anything by skipping the assignment or by asking to do it in a different way.”
But there is no official university policy guaranteeing this option, Perino acknowledged. In practice, it’s hard to believe students would feel comfortable telling a professor they are refusing to do an assignment on principle.
While the debate over AI on campus continues at Transy, students in the Hi! FLC have begun planning workshops and activities to promote human intelligence and embodied learning, including a series of “Hi! DIY” events teaching handmade skills such as embroidery.
Students in the FLC said they are also planning to start a petition asking the university to end its investment in the suite of AI products next year and reinvest those funds in human-centered education.
Since taking office, President Trump has mobilized U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and Customs and Border Protection (CBP) to carry out an unprecedented mass deportation agenda, so far removing 230,000 people from the country. Countless others have been detained and incarcerated by ICE while awaiting the adjudication of their cases.
A heavy ICE presence in cities where many residents don’t want them has also led to tense clashes in the streets. On January 7, an ICE officer fatally shot U.S. citizen Renee Nicole Good in Minneapolis.
Immigrant families across the country have been living in a state of fear and high alert. The Rambler spoke with a number of immigrants in the Lexington community who asked to remain anonymous for fear of reprisal from federal immigration authorities.
One local green card holder said that it had become clear that nothing can guarantee safety, not even American citizenship. “Do we comply or not comply if ICE questions us, detains us, harasses us?” they asked. “What does complying even mean?” Another said they have stopped speaking Spanish in public and are now afraid to go to work.
Transy President Brien Lewis said that his administration is monitoring the situation closely and will “share updates with the campus community as appropriate.”
The university, he said, “complies with all applicable federal and state laws and is committed to protecting the privacy of our community.”
After the Good shooting, hundreds of anti-ICE protests took place nationwide, including in downtown Lexington. Immigration advocates in the city and members of the Transy community are now scrambling to answer the question: What’s next? Could the chaos in Minneapolis and other communities come here?
Tracking ICE
For immigrant families in Lexington, one of the most challenging aspects of Trump’s ICE surge is the uncertainty: It’s next to impossible to predict just when and where ICE agents might show up.
As with communities across the country, individuals and advocacy groups periodically post warnings on social media about the presence of ICE in certain neighborhoods or surrounding cities. In some cities, DIY social media accounts or new grassroots activists have led highly effective responses, and at times have been more nimble or deeply plugged into information on the ground than established immigrant-rights institutions.
But many of the social media warnings are unverified, and may turn out to be false. People desperate for answers are sometimes confronted with rabbit holes of potential misinformation, furthering anxieties.
“Sharing unconfirmed ICE sightings creates fear and causes real harm to people who miss work, school, medical appointments, and even appointments because of unconfirmed activity,” said Executive Director of Neighbors Immigration Clinic, Mizari Suárez. She said that the only two ICE hotlines that people should trust are Louisville SURJ (Showing Up for Racial Justice) and Neighbors Immigration Clinic. “We are actively sending trained volunteers to verify and respond,” she said.
Adding to the confusion, even the data about past ICE activities is extremely difficult for the average citizen to understand. ICE has field offices in Louisville and Bowling Green, so there is nothing unusual about the presence of ICE officers in Kentucky. Since Trump took office, their activities have increased: According to the Kentucky Center for Economic Policy, ICE has made 1,950 arrests between Jan. 20, 2025 to Oct. 15, 2025. In the same time frame in 2024, 1,475 arrests were made. But the concern now is an all-out surge of the kind imposed on Minneapolis, where around 2,000 agents suddenly arrived in a single city.
Kentucky represents a potentially attractive option for temporary ICE detainees. So far, 22 law enforcement agencies in the state (with more in process) have entered into special arrangements, known as Section 287(g) agreements, with federal immigration authorities. The terms of these arrangements vary. The most expansive version, known as the “task force model” and used by 18 agencies in the state, essentially deputizes state or local law enforcement agencies to make immigration arrests during routine policing. The Lexington Police Department is not currently participating in any 287(g) arrangement with ICE, but agencies in nearby cities like Georgetown, Stanton, and Winchester are.
Fear in local communities
“ICE has been in Elizabethtown, Paducah, and the South End of Louisville,” one local immigrant told us, adding that they feared a surge of agents would be in Lexington soon. Around two months ago, they said, ICE picked up and detained five people in the Cardinal Valley area in Lexington. These activities were not widely known, they said; very little information can be found about them online.
The panic in local communities has been palpable, regardless of immigration status. One naturalized citizen told us they now carry all their documentation every time they leave the house.
“My dad has his green card and had done the process, but he’s scared,” a U.S.-born citizen told us. “My parents are trying so hard to not seem worried but I can see it.”
“We have our daughter’s phone number written on our arms, just in case,” a recently naturalized mother told us.
As rumors abound, Suárez and the Neighbors Immigration Clinic work to sort between fact and fiction, responding immediately to investigate any reports, including sending volunteers to physically survey the area.
Concerned citizens can reach out to the clinic to verify whether or not a claim is true, as well as learning about rights and resources available to help keep them safe.
The clinic also has recommended guidelines for what to report if people do spot ICE in their communities, based on the acronym SALUTE (Size, Actions/Activity, Location/Direction, Uniform/Clothes, Time and Date of Observation, Equipment and Weapons). See below for a hypothetical example.
What if an ICE surge comes to Lexington?
Asked about enforcement activity in the region, a spokesperson from the ICE field office in Chicago—responsible for overseeing activities in Kentucky and five other states—replied by email: “ICE does not share mission information for security reasons.” (Prior to receiving the email response, The Rambler had also attempted to reach the field office by telephone dozens of times; each time, the line was busy.)
Sergeant Bige Towery said the Lexington Police Department was not aware of any specific ongoing or future ICE operations in Lexington.
And if an ICE surge does arrive in Lexington? “When requested, the Lexington Police Department assists all federal enforcement partners to ensure the safety of all those involved,” Towery said. “The Lexington Police Department enforces state and local laws. Any federal laws are the jurisdiction of federal agencies.”
President Lewis focused on protecting the privacy rights of campus community members when possible under the law:
DPS Chief Steven Herold was unable to comment in detail before press time, but said the department has contacted Transy’s Justice and Safety Cabinet for clarification.
Because Transy is a private institution, ICE would be required to obtain a signed judicial warrant to enter the campus center or any academic or residential buildings. But nothing is stopping ICE from approaching people in public spaces. Outdoor spaces, even on Transy’s private property, may not necessarily offer constitutional protection from warrantless searches—there would typically not be a legal expectation of privacy on campus green spaces. If ICE agents are spotted on campus, advocates suggest that anyone concerned should stay inside a university building.
Legal advocates also emphasize that the important thing people can do to prepare is to know their constitutionally protected rights. Here are the basics from the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), all of which apply to citizens and non-citizens residing in the U.S. alike:
My sex education consisted of my mom silently leaving The Care and Keeping of You 2:The Body Book for Older Girls on my bed one random Tuesday, a singular line from “Parks and Rec” from the fictitious pornstar Brandi Maxxx about“penis in vagina,” an online health course in 9th grade, and the iconic 2000s television show “The L Word.”
Over the past five years, I’ve asked nearly every Gen-Z sapphic I know if they’ve seen “The L Word.” Out of probably at least fifty people, only like three said yes.
“The L Word,” created by Ilene Chaken, aired on Showtime from 2004 to 2009 (there’s also a reboot that we don’t talk about), depicting a group of lesbians in L.A. The show had a profound impact on queer culture and made huge strides in lesbian representation, especially in the early 2000s. As far as I know, there has never been a piece of media before or after “The L Word” that has as much concentrated lesbianism as this one, to my intense chagrin. I’ve heard rumors of dykes gathering in bars when it was on the air to watch with bated breath if Dana would die or mass-sigh with disappointment when Shane left Carmen at the altar (I imagine it was something like the scene in Midsommar when the girls are all crying in unison).
I found out about this show when I started heavily questioning my sexuality, which was during quarantine. I was 14 or 15 or 16. I was spending a lot of time living like the main character in a coming-of-age movie. I remember lots of long, contemplative walks and bike rides where I would listen to “Lights Up” by Harry Styles on repeat.
Being in quarantine also meant I had a lot of time to sit on the internet and learn about gay people. “The L Word” came up pretty soon into my research, and I began watching it on Hulu before I knew what I was. I would lay in bed and watch with the volume as low as possible in case my family could somehow hear the salacious noises of people doing things to each other that I didn’t really understand. I had to avert my eyes at times, as well as delete the show from my watch history after every session. The possible embarrassment was too much to bear.
I was very grateful I could hide under a blanket and watch it on a portable device instead of rapidly switching the channel on a living room TV like the millennial lesbians had to do. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I was born earlier. Would I have remained the self-sheltered “straight” girl who gave kids dirty looks for cursing in middle school? Or would I have entered my “rebellious” phase earlier than twenty years old?
~
There aren’t a lot of shows about a group of gays navigating life and love. “The L Word” is the only one I knew about, at least. That made it my field book for social expectations for queer people. These expectations came most of all from a fan-favorite character, Shane McCutcheon. She is the only main character who is left-of-femme, as well as the resident “cool girl.” She’s also white and very thin (for as progressive as the show was, it hasn’t aged well: mostly white and femme and thin characters, very little—and at times offensive—bisexual and transgender representation, and other cringe-inducing aspects make up a good portion of the show).
A lot of sapphics, including myself, want to be her, be with her, or both. A lot of us look up to her. She also canonically has a body count of over 900 (with no STDs!), poor communication skills, and is a serial cheater (actually, all of the characters on this show are serial cheaters). In the pilot, a protagonist named Bette says, “Have you noticed that every time Shane walks into a room, someone leaves crying?” If this was said about a male character, we’d probably hate him. But Shane wasn’t a male. We wanna make girls cry, too, even if we can’t fully admit it.
Now, how do we think this affected impressionable 15-year-old Scarlett, the same Scarlett who wasn’t even gay yet, the same Scarlett who had gotten all of her social cues from TV and the preppy girls at her childhood dance studio? It turns out, pretty poorly.
This show taught me that to be a cool gay, you have to dress differently than the straight girls, be really skinny, and fuck as many girls as you possibly can (there was no such thing as protection in that show, by the way).
In high school, I wore sweatpants every day and had exclusively unrequited crushes. I was also recovering from an eating disorder, so being really skinny was out of the picture for me for the sake of my health and happiness and my relationships with my family or whatever.
My senior year, I walked into my dance studio and read the cast list for our “Beauty in the Beast” Recital, wondering what role I was going to get for my final year, a question I’ve been asking myself since I was four years old. I scanned the list for my name. My gaze lowered until I found out: I was the dog/footstool.
~
Going to college, I knew this could change. It took a lot of bumbling around, though. My style was not fully formed my freshman year, unlike these aliens from Fashion Planet that call themselves the class of 2029. Nor were my social skills, which took manymanymanymany failed conversations and two years of putting in effort on the dating apps like I do my schoolwork—I have a 4.0 GPA—to get anywhere. I also didn’t drink or do drugs my first year. (Which I don’t regret! Be sober children! And adults!)
Things finally changed in October of my sophomore year, when a girl with mutual friends asked me out at a party. Earlier that week, the first time I’d ever met her, she showed off her skimpy bra in front of me and a couple friends when explaining some anecdote about accidentally flashing a frat brother. At the party, she was drunk off Pink Whitney and wearing white face paint and goth makeup. Not my normal type, but they were too intriguing and too gay to say no. This experienced queer—who was also a stripper and college dropout—was nervous to talk to me?
The next morning, we went to a coffee shop and talked for four hours. On our second date, let’s just say Scarlett had a lot of firsts that night. On our third date, I threw up next to her car in a parking lot.
She answered my texts quickly, called me “pretty girl,” and told me I reminded her of a song called “Jackie Onassis.” Before we could go on a fourth date, I found out she was racist. Like shockingly racist. Like even my frat boy brother who just recently called my friends “insufferable libs” agreed it was way past problematic. I was reliably told that at a late Waffle House run, she told the waitress: “Calm down, Rosa Parks.” I stopped seeing her after that.
~
A few weeks later, I hung out with this other girl a few times. Those times also lined up with my first experiences binge-drinking. She introduced me to Lauryn Hill, which is really ironic, because she’s the exact type of person Hill warns about in “Doo Wop (That Thing).” She just wanted to show off her voice. Don’t be a hard rock when you really are a gem. Well, she didn’t seem to listen to the song. (We may have randomly celebrated our “anniversary” this past October. Frankly, no regrets.)
Nearly a year and many painful anecdotes later, I’m a little more like Shane, but I don’t really have the control and power and charisma she seems to have. Deep down, she must feel pretty out of control, since she can’t commit to a relationship.
I’d like to think I could. I’d like to think I’d do great. I’d save my money to buy her flowers and learn how to write poems for her. I’d make her a playlist and learn her favorite color and tell her good morning and good night. I’d pay for her food even though I don’t have a job. I’d trace hearts on her hand with my thumb. I’d pay attention to the stuff she wanted but didn’t buy at Target and get it for her later. We’d have a shared Pinterest board. I’d introduce her to my family, maybe even come out to my aunts and uncles.
But in my lower moments I feel afraid sometimes. Afraid that I’ll never stop feeling like the dog-slash-footstool I’ve always been.
Or if we’re in a really dark timeline, there’s a different movie I see playing out. First, I meet someone off the apps. Or better yet, organically. Something corny and amazing like I drop my books and she picks them up, or we happen to have the same coffee order. Maybe she has princess blonde hair or Aubrey Plaza dark brown hair; I don’t really care. She asks for my number. We start texting (and she texts me back quickly!), then that turns to meeting. Then that turns into meeting multiple times. Then one day she hands me a bouquet of flowers similar to one I’ve saved on Pinterest (she’s stalked my account, of course). On the tag, it says “Will you be my girlfriend?” I say “Yes!” and we embrace and then it starts raining and we recreate the one scene from “The Notebook.” A month or so passes and it’s going great. I have a partner! I’m living my dream. Sixteen-year-old me would be so happy.
Then a familiar feeling creeps into my stomach and scurries to my brain. I suddenly hate myself for no reason. I feel out of control and insecure. So I smoke and drink in my room. Then I walk to a bar by myself in the dark and drink more. I buy a drink for a girl there. A different girl. Maybe she has the same hair as my partner, maybe completely different; I don’t really care. I pretend I’m nice. I pretend I’m a good, secure person. Jackie Onassis. We go back to her place. And in a few moments I’ll have started something that inflicts unimaginable pain onto the partner I love.
Over the summer, I watched “The L Word” with this girl on a first date in her apartment. She was 21 or 22 and watching the series for the first time. She was a baker. She drank Soju. She rented her own apartment in downtown Louisville. She wore these colorful waist beads she believed would fall off when the universe needed them to (and made her Snaps more memorable). Anyway, we picked up at the episode she was on. Lo and behold, it was the episode where Dana Fairbanks fucking dies from breast cancer. I’ve actually always purposely avoided this episode, since I haven’t wanted to watch something so sad. But I thought it would be cool to share the experience with someone else, especially a cute girl whose head was in my lap. It was a pretty good episode.
I wanted to share more moments like this with her, but deep down I knew I wouldn’t. Deep down, I knew she was going to ghost me a week later. I would give her the benefit of the doubt. I would say, “she just lost her job.” But then I would see Snapchat stories of her having fun at the bar. Deep down, as we lay down together and watched the clock on screen count down to Dana’s death, I knew this moment would crumble into dust so rapidly it was like there was no point in watching this episode with her altogether.
For most of my life up to this point, my heart has been whole—not broken, not fractured—but buried beneath a pile of dust such as that. Dust made of first and last dates. Of texting me until you get tired of pretending that you’re interested in me. Of postulating our own definitions of queerness never to explore what they look like in tandem. Of explaining why I love “Community” and you pretending to be a nerd about something, too to hide the fact that you’re going to be a bitch to me. Of saying that we’re “meant to be” on Hinge but not asking me out. Of “forgetting” we had plans. Of sharing why we go to therapy five minutes into meeting each other and never seeing each other again. Of me paying for my own Lyfts home. Of pathetically waiting for you to finish your round of Fortnite before we talk. Of sending me a long paragraph of why I’m special, then not realizing you weren’t stable enough to pursue me until our second kiss, followed by a cinematically teary-eyed Uber home in the night. Of taking another melatonin gummy due to the heart-racing anxiety of fearing I’m going to be flaked on again. Of texting me asking to read over your three-page poem of why you wanna fuck your shitty cowboy Kroger boss that you would play Apple Arcade Games with while I was in bed, right before asking me if we can just be friends. Of constantly annoying my friends about this stuff. Of telling me what songs I remind you of and then giving she/they strippers a bad name at Waffle House.Of teaching another girl why they’re “not ready to date me.” Of being told by the girls that say yes at first that I “deserve better.” Including the ones who asked me out on a Crumbl Cookie box and almost taught me what love was. Of redownloading Tinder. Of giving my energy, my time, my charm, my body, myself, unappreciated.
Can someone please blow all this dust off and give my heart a hug? A hug that lasts? A hug they’ll bury us in?
~
This semester, my “Jane Austen and Film” professor told us, “Remember, literature and film are representations of life, not models of them.” Everyone chuckled, but I knew I sincerely needed that advice. I am learning and relearning that through my English major. When I write notes about Shakespeare or Jane Austen, I am not just marking anaphora or acute characterization, but also—with a 5-subject notebook, a sprained wrist, and a blue pen—breaking and rebuilding my ideas of what life, relationships, and queerness entail.
Then I go home and brush my teeth and see a picture of Shane taped on my mirror with a sticky note that reads “U R HER.”
Jerry Craft’s New Kid offers a fresh perspective that speaks to Transylvania’s campus culture and to the values of a liberal arts education. The graphic novel is emotionally sharp, introspective, and fun.
New Kid follows Jordan Banks, an artistic and thoughtful seventh grader, as he navigates being a Black student at a new, mostly white private school. Jordan faces microaggressions, assumptions, and social hierarchies that may seem distant from college life. That is, until you realise that the “Transy Bubble” can feel like you’re in grade school again. Everyone knows everyone. There is inevitable gossip. We give each other unfounded labels. Many students, especially those from marginalized backgrounds, carry a kind of burden that makes them feel different from the get-go. Reading New Kid asks us to reflect: What do we assume about others before we actually talk with them? Who might feel left out of our community and why?
The cover of “New Kid” by Jerry Craft
The talent of a graphic novel is that it can touch on serious topics without feeling heavy. New Kid is a breath of fresh air compared to the academic reading that saturates our day-to-day life. Craft’s illustrations create a rich sensory experience where humor lands more quickly, awkward moments are more awkward, and Jordan’s emotional journey is visible. This format serves as a reminder that we don’t have to read dense, four-hundred-page novels to gain meaning. The protagonist’s love for art through sketching, along with Craft’s award-winning illustration, makes this book a prime example of creative expression. As a college that values interdisciplinary thinking, New Kid exemplifies how storytelling, art, and social consciousness can become an impactful, action-guiding narrative.
Transylvania’s mission statement highlights independent thinking, open-mindedness, lifelong learning, and social responsibility in a diverse world. New Kid embodies these values as Jordan takes charge of his new life at Riverdale Academy Day School, stands up to the school bully, makes unlikely friendships, and confides in his parents his desire to attend art school.
The initial culture shock Jordan feels upon transitioning to a private school resembles what many students experience when being on their own in the college environment for the first time. We are exploring our interests through student organizations and social groups. We are finding and making a home away from home. Jordan’s journey is similar to what many Transylvania students experience every school year. New Kid is about finding community.
If we want to maintain a welcoming, self-aware, and value-aligned student body, this book is essential. Everyone at Transylvania should check it out, and return to the library as soon as you finish so the next person can pick it up!
I’m not going to generalize the demographic of Transy, but I have a sneaking suspicion most of you used character.ai at some point, likely during quarantine. It was an infectious disease; I knew many different people who used c.ai, including myself.
Now that the smoke has cleared, we need to look back on what c.ai actually was and how it, along with other AI chatbot sites, impacted our culture.
Character.ai is an AI chatbot website that lets you create and speak with chatbots modeled after whoever or whatever you want. It can be a fictional character, a real person, your original character, or the entire Wikipedia website. At first, it seemed to open up new possibilities for fan fiction, roleplay, and alternative modes of storytelling. But some of these bots are somewhat questionable and usually steer roleplays toward a more romantic direction, despite user input advising against it. A lot of people tried to get freaky with the chatbots, to the point that c.ai has banned anyone under 18 from using the site and implemented ID checks.
The early 2020s were a time when AI was lagging behind. It was hardly the powerhouse it is today; the things it generated were sloppy, scary, and generally terrible. Yet in the midst of ChatGPT and DALL-E was c.ai, sitting there all by its lonesome, skating by. C.ai, along with Chai, dominated the chatbot industry; everywhere you turned on TikTok, someone was posting a video of some conversation they were having with Bakugo from My Hero Academia. Sexual role play with virtual partners started to become commonplace like never before. More and more people were seeking to break the filter, or not to have a filter at all. At the time, this was seen as normal, because why wouldn’t it be? What else was there to do?
Even now, people are still chatting—among other things—with c.ai. The backlash against AI is growing, yet we still see numerous people forgetting that, yes, the AI ZeroTwo chatbot is using up water, too. Not only that, but c.ai has summoned hundreds of copycats, all promising the same thing: “Talk to your favorite characters with no filter and a good memory.” Going into any of these websites, you’re met with an endless feedback loop of AI images and eroticism. Big-breasted “MILF” types and bad boy roleplays fill the homepages of websites like Janitor AI, where the filter is nonexistent. On character.ai, it’s not much different: My Hero Academia roleplays, Ghost from Call of Duty is your boyfriend, go on a date with Elvis Presley, let’s date the entirety of Stray Kids. The list is endless, and the deeper you go down the rabbit hole, the more bizarre stuff you’ll find.
Of course, you also can’t forget the amount of lolicon and incestuous fetish content present on these sites. The issue with no filter is that so many things can slip through the cracks; no filter, no judgment, no questions, as long as it’s appropriately tagged. It’s like the AO3 of AI; anything goes. The consequence of this is chatbots encouraging you to sexualize a child character, or have sexual relations with your roleplay family members—or even, in some cases, get erotic with animals. It’s absolutely horrendous. Perhaps it’s a good thing that c.ai has child-locked their site—except that many worse sites haven’t. Many no-filter chatbot apps allow anyone through their doors, potentially exposing children to this kind of content. It should go without saying that exposing children to websites with pornographic material is dangerous, even if the material is in a more written form. You wouldn’t let your young child read Fifty Shades of Grey; why would you let them on an app where the chatbots they’re talking to are, for the most part, actively encouraging erotic roleplay?
Even putting this aside, the idea of chatbots can be detrimental to someone’s ability to form relationships. I have personally known several people who felt agonized by their AI chatbot partner leaving them. Others have said that c.ai killed their relationships with friends, family, or partners. It’s easy to form unhealthy attachments to these chatbots in the same way you’d form attachments to the characters in general; this time, however, it’s easier to believe that they’re actually talking to you.
I enjoy reading fanfiction. When I read an X Reader fanfiction on Wattpad, Tumblr, or AO3, it’s common to feel disconnected from the portrayal of “Y/N” (“your name,” used as a stand-in so that readers can feel like they’re part of the story). With AI chatbots, however, they’re personal to you; they go along with you, they say they’re in love with you, they use your name, and they mention specific details about you. All of it makes it much easier to believe that you’re actually in some sort of relationship with this chatbot, especially if you are someone who has previously struggled with relationships in the past.
Take Satoru Gojo, for example. A popular character from the anime Jujutsu Kaisen, Gojo has been a prominent subject for many AI chatbots because of how many people desire a relationship with him. Him saying, “Y/N… I love you…” feels a lot different than him saying, “Lucid… I love you…”
Many of these character chatbot sites—including c.ai—have AI-generating software built into them. But I think “AI characters” have made users inherently more lax toward the harms of AI itself. Many have abandoned fanfiction writers in favor of c.ai, craving the customized attention that programmers have designed. Some people are even using generative AI software to create their own fanfiction. People are strangely comfortable with utilizing AI, despite its pernicious impacts on society, culture, and the environment.
So, what’s the move now? Simple: no more AI chatbots. Whether it’s c.ai, Chai, Janitor AI, ChatGPT, or anything at all, it needs to end, and it needs to end now. Hopefully, for all our sakes, the AI bubble pops soon. When it pops, I hope it takes c.ai with it.
First things first, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee (Spelling Bee) is not your average play. It is a whimsical, chaos-infused, borderline-fever-dream production that will leave you with jaunty tunes and incredible memories.
I warn you not to write off Spelling Bee as some cheesy play. Beyond the fast-paced comedy, Spelling Bee is ultimately a commentary on the impact of home life on students, academic pressure, rebellion against the unfair and mundane, ethics, young love, and freedom of choice, all presented in a light yet meaningful way. From upbeat “Pandemonium” and “Magic Foot” to heartfelt “I’m Not That Smart” and “The I Love You Song,” the soundtrack of Spelling Bee explores these deep themes in an accessible way as we, the audience, get to know the contestants and their stories. You won’t want to miss a beat as characters confront nuances of their relationships with friends and family (and members of the audience) as well as the struggles of academia.
The cast gathers on stage for mic checks in full costume
Spelling Bee follows the story of six middle schoolers from Putnam County, and three others called from the audience. Competition is steep as these students spell their hearts out for the first-place prize. While only one will take home the trophy, each competitor walks away with a greater sense of self (in addition to a consolation juice box). From the moment the lights go down until the final bow, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee will have you giggling, chuckling, and laughing out loud.
As an audience member, it was energizing to witness how the actors brought the stage to life through these spunky spellers. From the artistry of the set to that of the costumes, all of Little Theatre came together to embody the mix of creativity and chaos that makes Spelling Bee the show that it is, not to mention the incredible vocal performances and choreographies that illustrated the story of the Spelling Bee.
From the perspective of the stage, senior Samantha Farr, who plays the character of Olive Ostrovsky, discusses how this play “shows how human these little kids are and how much reality is held within these little people.” She shares how heartfelt interactions between characters are and lets the audience know to be ready for “a lot of singing, a lot of dancing, a lot of spelling. There is also a lot of improv involved with the audience.” Ultimately, Farr describes Spelling Bee as “a culmination of people who love what they’re doing,” and from the audience, we can absolutely see their efforts come together in this heartfelt show.
The trophy for the Spelling Bee winner displayed on stage
As for behind the scenes, freshman Savannah Soeder, who takes up the role of Assistant Stage Manager, shares her experience working on her first show at Transylvania: “It made me step out of my comfort zone,” and “It was super fun. I loved every minute of it.” Soeder says that she is excited to see “the overall child look of the show” come to life through the Spelling Bee and for the audience to be looking forward to “little inside jokes and the reactions of the spellers on stage.”
I want to give a shout-out to the amazing actors and actresses, on-set musicians, and tech crew! They produced a ‘very nice, very nice, very very very nice show’ which is sure to bring you smiles and a good time.
Alongside our production of Spelling Bee, Transy Theatre Guild hosted The Mighty Pigeons Drama Club Bake Sale, starting before each production and continuing through intermission. For sale was an array of brownies, cupcakes, cookies, and muffins in allusion to Chip’s post-intermission song. Proceeds will go towards this year’s student-led Mayterm production to help cover the costs of costumes, sets, and other expenses.
Be sure to keep an eye out for more amazing productions and events from our Theater Department!
The writer of this article wishes to remain anonymous in order to be candid about the happenings she witnessed.
It was raining. Not pouring but coming down hard enough to ruin the buzz my friends had been building before setting out for our destinations. For our single-girls night out, the pregame was necessary for planning our night. We had four stops to make and wanted to be in bed by 1:30. My drink of choice was a mini Cherry Slush Alani and a sparkling water to-go. I was sober (I had to keep my wits about me for this article).
The first stop was Sig. The building was deemed historically significant by the Blue Grass Trust, but to those walking up its pot-hole driveway, the house was most famous for its social significance. The place looks like it might just topple over if someone hit the brick hard enough.
We walked through the wooden gate into the back yard and were welcomed with a candy bowl of snack-pack Haribos and Starbursts. Instant hospitality. After grabbing a treat, we went in the back door to the kitchen.
I found my friend who dates a guy in the frat and then a few other familiar faces. People seem to really enjoy hugging when they’re drunk. As we were chatting about our cold-and-rainy four-minute trek, a guy I hadn’t met before came up to us. He was pretty out-of-the-way. Slurred words, slow (but fast?) movements, deadpan zoning out mid-sentence. All in a long black hair wig. I think he was Slash from Guns N’ Roses?
He seemed nice enough but it was only 10:45. In my experience, these parties don’t start to die down until 2 in the morning. Slash had quite a night ahead of him. Was someone gonna stop him from grabbing another drink?
My friends wanted drinks and I wanted to find more characters. Here’s the lay of the land: the basement—drinks and dancing, first floor—kitchen and pong, second floor—bathroom and peace, third floor—balcony and “the green room” (IYKYK). The basement was really a cave. The door from there to the backyard stayed open to vent all the body heat from the dance floor. It was packed tighter than the spandex pants I was wearing. (Sorry, can’t tell you what my costume was or else this wouldn’t be anonymous.)
Later I heard about a near-fight between a couple brothers. Some minor choking, totally unprovoked. It was broken up pretty quickly. Word on the street is the guy who started it was suspended until further notice. I’m glad we left Sig before things got too real.
On the way to the PIKE house, we passed a trio of short-skirted, corseted blondes who gave us a “have a good night guys” as we split into single file on the sidewalk behind the old soccer field. I wondered if they were just getting started. It was almost midnight.
Shivering, my friends and I questioned whether this was worth the cold-to-come.
“I mean, it’s part of the experience. Right?”
The minutes spent at PIKE were like our walk there—not short enough to complain about but long enough to be uncomfortable. Going into the house to dance, we were met with immediate heat. It radiated from the spray-sparkled, barely covered bodies wiggling around on the dancefloor. The floor was covered in the mud everyone had to trudge through to get there. With no welcome mat to wipe my shoes on, I felt sorry for contributing to it before filtering in.
I thought, I wonder what this would be like without music. And laughed out loud, to myself.
The line for the bathroom was unbearably long for those who had already “broken the seal.” I bet I could have walked back to my own dorm 300 yards away, relieved myself, and walked back before it was my turn. Deciding to do just that, we headed out. They weren’t playing bangers anyway.
A sticky-note-drawing by the author depicting Phi Tau’s house that night
Replenished by a clean, sanitary bathroom break at the dorms, we decided to go to the remaining two frats. It was 12:30. The rain had let up and we decided to hit Phi Tau next. I think Phi Tau gets a bad rap for having mid parties but, what can they do? Their close proximity to campus means they’re an easy target for campus police, so they can only get so wild. And is there any such thing as a “good” frat party? Hold that thought.
Getting down to the dance floor was the safety hazard of the century. Access to the basement was a literal hole in the floor, opened by a cellar-type door. If you misstep on the macbook-wide stairs, you’re done. It wasn’t very busy down there, maybe because people didn’t want to hassle with the whole life-flashing-before-your-eyes bit. After exploring the living room, sans furniture, my friend and I looked at each other.
“We came, we saw, we left?”
“Yeah.”
The finale of the night was KA. We were let in another wooden fence gate after the guys gauged us to be fellow students. We made our way to the half-converted garage known as “The Chapel.” The mucky walkway of stepping stones scattered about—in no particular order—was made worse by the darkness. My friends and I mourned our heels but reminded each other, again, it was part of the experience.
The lack of visibility somehow got worse once we got inside. The black lights made everyone’s teeth glow and their eyes look like they belonged to a mythical creature. Is that who I think it is?
My friends were at least findable in the crowd since their costumes were partly white. I was wearing all black.
The spray painted banner that read “CHAPEL” was hung behind the makeshift DJ post, reminding you where you were. A group of four guys were on some kind of stage beside the speaker, singing along and doing their frat flicks. They were living for the attention. And there I was, giving it.
Same as every house we visited, it was sweltering: the heat was blasting to combat the outside cold and the body-to-body crowd only made it worse. KA had the best music, I can’t lie. While my friends and I danced to fan favorites by Pitbull, Waka Flocka Flame, and, yes, Taylor Swift, we found other girls we had seen at previous houses. We mouthed the lyrics to each other—“You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess / It’s a love story baby just say yes”—as if we would never get to hear the song again.
But there was something about our final stop that made my stomach turn, and I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol.
Waiting for the bathroom in another concert-level line, overhearing intoxicated conversations—it just made me sad. After seeing about five girls stumble out of the bathroom, slurring their apologies for taking so long, I thought back to the guy from Sig. How is he doing right now?
I checked the time, it was 1:30. After the bathroom, I had to use my elbows as if I was moshing to get through the crowd. It was uncomfortable and frustrating and sort of gross. I wasn’t having fun anymore. I was ready to go home.
On the way back to my friends, I kept catching flash-scenes of people: Do they really think this is as good as it gets? Wouldn’t the couples who “really love each other” prefer to show their affection behind closed doors? Is that girl okay? Does she know the guy she’s hanging off of right now?
My own past party experiences reminded me of how familiar these feelings were. To make me feel better, I made a mental rundown of the costumes I’d seen: Walter White from “Breaking Bad,” Megamind, Jinu from KPop Demon Hunters, Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, Dale Gribble from “King of the Hill,” assorted Spongebobs.
I did have fun singing to Taylor Swift with the girlies. But I had serious pause when I considered dancing like nobody was watching. Is that just because I am a woman who has been objectified before? Is that because I myself had been judging some girls for their costumes being too revealing? Am I just not woke enough? HELP.
I get why people drink at parties; they are nearly unbearable when you’re sober. People yelling in your ear and you still don’t hear all they say. Uncomfortable moments of couples being too heavy with PDA. Would these people act like this if they weren’t wasted? Most of them probably wouldn’t. So, it’s weird. The only thing to do at a party is get a drink. But then the drinking is what makes the party horrible at the same time. It’s a sick, sick cycle.
This isn’t a diss on fraternities but, yeah, it’s a surefire diss on party culture. It encourages excessive drinking, which presents sincere safety concerns. If the only place your classmates talk to you is at a party–-while you’re under the influence–-are those relationships worthwhile?
When you are out with friends make sure they actually are friends. People who you can trust. People who make smart decisions about alcohol intake. People that will be there for you if something goes wrong.