Dead Wellesley Society
By Nabeela Zoss ‘23
CW: Unspecified student death
I wonder what happens to the students who die at Wellesley College.
Read MoreExceptions
By Dani Pergola ‘21
When I got to Wellesley, I planned to approach it just like high school. Do the right thing, do all my work, and get the good grades I deserved. It only took a month for me to realize I was totally fucked.
Read MoreThe Hidden Projection of Memory in Public Space
By Abby Schleichkorn ‘21
When you walk around campus, do you see the smiles shared, the friendships made, the tears shed, the place where the Peter used to pick us up, the exact place where you found out you got an A on THAT paper? I know I do. That is the unspoken language of place––I see my memories, and you see yours.
Read MoreThe Wellesley Experience
By Natalie Marshall ‘21
I’ve been sitting on my bed in my second-floor Sev room for hours, trying to make sense of my “Wellesley experience.” Or, more specifically, trying to put it down in a neat couple thousand words. My problem is that I want it to have a linear arc, a beginning, middle, and end.
Read MoreA Letter to My Past Self
By G.I. Titmouse
Dear Myself Four Years Ago Today,
Nope. We had no idea. Who knew? How could anyone know? The last four years have been insane. Here is a very incomplete list of 21 things to come between now and May—no, June—2021:
Read MoreMemories of Matriculation: A Wellesley Tribute
By Anonymous
When I reflect on my overall Wellesley experience, I find myself feeling mostly blessed, yet a little wanting.
Read MoreA Mourning Musing
By Jacqueline Roderick ‘23
CW: death of a parent
On a Saturday morning, three weeks after my estranged mother’s sudden death, I found myself walking in solitude along the shoreline.
Read MoreMy Lime Jell-O Marshmallow Cottage Cheese Surprise
by Eleanor Nash ‘21
“Jell-O salad is one thing I know!” exclaimed my mom. Growing up in eastern Kansas in the 1960s and ’70s, she was on the receiving end of many Jell-O-based culinary experiments. Since their invention, Jell-O salads have evolved from show-stopping dishes at dinner parties and potlucks to quaint regional concoctions, a chronology that obscures both the marketing influence of the Jell-O Company and the creativity of everyday women.
Read MoreTaglish.
by Samantha Elalto Cuneta ‘21
Language forms the basis of a culture, and Taglish, a combination of Tagalog and English, is a daily norm in the Philippines. Yet the concept of synonyms is almost nonexistent. “Nakakatuwa” translates into “funny” in English, and is interchangeable with “humorous” or “witty.” In my country, the word is almost never used in these contexts. To translate “nakakatuwa” from its native form—to strip it of connotations built up through three centuries of colonization—would dissolve the culture that invented this word and prevent its people from adopting a permanent culture of indignation.
Read MoreA Tribute to "Wild Geese"
by Emma Sullivan ‘24
CW: sexual assault
After I read Mary Oliver’s Wild Geese at the onset of quarantine, I thought, Yes, I just need to let my body “love what it loves.” I’d always brushed off the jokes about liking girls from the boys at my lunch table, or once from my father at Thanksgiving dinner. While I dodged the thought, I compiled a Straight-Girl-History for myself as refuting evidence. Now that I was in forced meditation, I had to address that, Yes, boys were fine, I guess. But girls made my breath hitch. I thought maybe, this is the thing I love and need to let myself love.
Read MoreThis Week in Social Anxiety Disorder
by Anonymous
CW: description of anxiety
Monday morning: I’m walking to the Career Education Center with a donut in my hand. I’m eating it in the Pendleton parking lot when I think: there's a professor in Founders who I haven’t spoken to in a while. She gave me an extension on a paper once—a couple of papers, actually. But I haven't visited her since then. I guess I would have felt awkward having us both know the favor she did for me. I wouldn’t know how to broach the topic, or if I should even broach it.
Read Morethe quest for the cool girl
by Stella Ho ‘22
The thing is, the cool girl I admire is a character. More often than not, she’s a character defined by men, whether they’re the writers that created her or the male characters that love her. This worshipful gaze turns her into the idealized version of woman that I saw onscreen and took as a representation of reality. Struck by her glamour, I applied that same male gaze to judge myself and all the girls I met.
Read MoreTwinkle Twinkle Little Star, Tell Me Who Your Makers Are
by Laura Chin ‘23
CW: implication of religious homophobia
I grew up on an interesting cocktail of religions. Every Sunday morning, my family would pack into our little blue car and drive to the San Marino Presbyterian Church. At night, my sisters and I would gather around my mother for bedtime stories from D'Aulaires Book of Greek Myths. At an annual family gathering in some glitteringly golden-red Chinese restaurant, I remember squinting at the jolly statue in the lobby. And, many miles across the sea, brushed with salt and a gentle island breeze, I listened, wide-eyed, to my grandmother’s tales of a whole new pantheon of gods: powerful commanders of the earth, wind, sea, and sky, beings as old as time and chaos and darkness themselves.
Read MorePeriod Pain
by Marie Tan ‘21
When I told my dad I got my period, he was excited. “You know in China, we give our neighbors red rice when a daughter has her period!” Please don’t do that, I told my dad.
Read MoreI Have Two Moms, But They Live in Different Languages
by Audrea Huang ‘22
CW: death of a parent
I grew up in a hospital.
Soft jazz fills the hallways as I hold my brother’s hand, searching for Mom’s new room.
Read More