Getting through “The Daily Grind” – Zanya Harriott’s Uncommon Knowledge Project

How do the material, cultural, intellectual, and social contributions of African Americans shape your day to day life?

This is a question that Zanya Harriott ’14 is asking members of the Haverford community to consider in her week-long project, “Uncommon Knowledge” in which students, faculty, and staff have been invited to make the attempt to live their day-to-day lives without crucial inventions by black people; you can follow the project by going to the OMA Facebook page, which you can get to from the button on www.haverford.edu/deans/oma

Zanya is offering nightly video updates on the challenges for the next day, along with histories of inventors such as Alice H. Parker, (whose patent # 1,325,905 is illustrated on the right) who in 1919 invented a heater with a mechanism that regulated the flow of heat to different rooms in a building (my household tried to do without this but when the interior hit 57 degrees, key constituencies staged a successful revolt).

For today, the theme is “The Daily Grind” — what are those common items that are ubiquitous and part of the fabric of our everyday lives?

Pakistan: Lessons in Story-Telling and Micro-Politics

I arrived in Pakistan about a week ago, but the stark realities of every day life here still leave me awe struck. I arrived last Saturday to find myself behind the Dutch field hockey team, all of us waiting for our foreign passports to get stamped for approval. While many others with a foreign passport were directed to a second line, for those not as privileged as a celebrity sports team, I used my American accent and the “I’m a US citizen” card to stick to the shorter, faster line. It’s unsettling to practice an authority that was won for you by others over years of political and economic success, providing you a power that you rarely use. But then again, I was on standing a line to get through customs, and maybe I’m overanalyzing theories on neo-imperialism.

The family that I stay with here is also very protective. They live in a well off neighborhood of Lahore, but still maintain a sense of fear and paranoia of Pakistan’s state of criminality. I’ve heard countless stories, sometimes as minor as maids stealing jewelry to worse, more deadly schemes staged by some house cooks. “Your uncle was at a wedding where the groom didn’t show up. He was kidnapped as he was walking out of the cake shop before his reception. God only knows how he managed to make it back from wherever he was left to die”, my Aunt told me. It’s good that I’m hearing these stories while I’m also reading The Black Swan, a book on human perception and probability. Essentially, what the book explains is that our sense of risk is distorted by sensationalism of “black swans”, events that we otherwise would never have expected but rationalize into our framework by ascribing illogical causes.

I think that sensationalism is an excellent way to describe Pakistani culture. With a developing media culture, Pakistanis are glued to their news channels to get the 24 hour coverage of bombs and guns, a new form of entertainment perpetuated by cohesion within social circles. What’s left are relationships that are developed through the entertainment of story telling, fear mongering, depression. Is it possible that the narratives spun through cohesion creates fixed roles for people to fill, some choosing to play the part of complacent bystanders, others that of the corrupt politician, and some the role of the criminal.

But this sad state of things is once again dependent on the structures that bind you. I’m here interning for an energy project finance law firm and a public policy research team. While in these environments, I’m free from the anxiety that’s ever present in my host family’s home. The people that I’m surrounded by at my internships seem much more relaxed and when conversations do dwell on Pakistan’s many crises, they leave a sense of rationalization, distance, and yet so much more depth.

I find the function of politically charged conversations interesting. I hold a strong belief in the impact that micro-politics have on social norms, all vague terms soon to be explained. I think that instead of finding ourselves frustrated with distant concepts like corruption and criminality, perhaps we should focus on the impact that the conversation has on our values. For example, a friend and I were having a conversation on Pakistan’s apparent corruption and I felt that my friend’s contextualization of the practice slightly legitimized it. I immediately felt obliged to voice my intolerance towards such “practicality”, demonstrating how such a personal conversation can turn into a vehicle for the development of social norms. Sometimes labeling our society into a government and the people makes us forget that we too are part of the public.

Winding Down At Oxford

It’s my second to last week at Oxford and the reflections are pouring in. I still remember the zero week, also known as Fresher’s week, where first year students and visiting students go through various orientation programs. The experience was much more independent compared to Customs week; you didn’t have a specific set of orienteers that showed you around, played games, and what not (not that I’m nostalgic for any of that or anything). Instead a group of four students had a College Mom and a College Dad, both of whom were expected to answer any of your questions and maybe meet up with all four at some point. I sense that my voice is beginning to sound whiny so I’ll stop my description, lest my bitterness over nothing comparing to Customs Week seep deeper into this post.

But time’s flown by, like I said, I’m wrapping up, with only two more essays to go before I’ve finished all my work related obligations. I do have some lectures to finish up with, but other than that, I’m twenty pages away from winter break, which lasts 6 weeks. Interestingly, in the past 6 weeks, I’ve written eleven 10-page pagers, along with a presentation as part of a symposium on social insurance. The amount of work that I’ve gotten through still surprises me, compared with the amount that I’ve written in the past two years. I find the Oxford tutorial system very effective at helping students develop not only a deep understanding of the material they read but also a voice to speak about it.

Speaking of developing a voice, I’ve decided to start writing a blog on energy and the environment. A few months ago, I would have been averse to the idea of researching a topic independently and then writing a post on my research, but because of my adjustment to Oxford’s emphasis on essay writing, I’ve found it much easier to explore a topic that I’m very passionate about. I became interested in energy over the summer while interning at De Lage Landen, a vendor finance firm, where I research the natural gas market. The experience was eye opening, bringing me to the realization that I really don’t know much about such pressing issues such as the energy industry or climate change. What I did realize, however, is that these are fields that I would like to participate in, contribute to, create solutions for.

I’ve been especially motivated by my time here, from taking a Public Economics course, which has taught me the potential that economics has to solve the challenges that governments face, as well as from the ambitious environment that surrounds me. For example, last week I saw Elon Musk, an innovative entrepreneur who’s pioneered in the industries of space travel and electric cars. Hearing Musk talk about the steps he took through his education, business experience, and fund raising to build a rocket is ridiculous, amazing. Hearing him say that he wants to retire to Mars, speaking about energy sustainability as not only a priority, but also a potential social norm, all of this isn’t part of an outlook that you’re used to and so when visionaries jar you into perspective, you appreciate it.

If you’d like to follow my other blog on energy and the environment, here’s a link: explainingenergy.blogspot.com

An Oxford Choice

It was a choice, I chose to sit in this café, inside an art museum, and I chose to write this post in the middle of the afternoon. On my way here, after having been inspired from the sight of the café’s storefront below my window, I had to walk three minutes in a roundabout way through Pembroke (my college at Oxford), the streets, and past my window again, to get to where I am now. I had many other locations to choose from on my way here, the first of which was the quad in my college, surrounded by seventeenth century, castle-like dining halls, churches, and dormitories. I could have taken a turn to the right, instead of going straight, and I would have ended up in Christ Church (another Oxford college), walking past its commanding clock tower (which, at night, adds an especially eerie tone to St. Aldate’s otherwise quiet street) and into its meadows, filled with cows, horses, and storks. I could have even continued straight, not taking the left past my window, and ended up on corn market street, a market as old as Oxford itself was established, full of the excitement that it attracted because of its many one legged and magical street performers.

I chose to sit in a relatively low-key café precisely because of the balance that it brought in the face of such an otherwise overwhelming experience. My day was exciting enough to tone it down, I thought, having spent my morning studying consulting cases, preparing for possible internship interviews, and then going to a lecture by one of the UK’s top labor economists on the difficulties that econometricians face when studying the labor supply. On my way back, listening to a podcast by Harvard’s Occupy Movement on the origins of the UK’s monetary system, I walked past High Street’s stunning medieval architecture, the very beauty that power built, the very power that my podcast chastised. I arrived in my room once again, exhausted, and once again, overwhelmed; being an economist, I naturally asked myself how I could optimize my five hour block of time before class started again. This race to occupy myself was motivated by what everyone has told me, and what I’ve experienced myself, that there’s always something interesting happening at Oxford. You could go to a talk (I signed up to see entrepreneur Elon Musk tomorrow night), you could get in touch with other ambitious students (I scheduled a coffee for Friday with a Rhodes Scholar), or you could go to career events (I already attended the recruiting events held by some of the world’s leading international banks). Not to say that I thought that I’d done it all, but peeling away my jacket and jumping into bed, I did feel that my choice to rest for a bit wouldn’t be undermining the incredible opportunity that studying at Oxford provided.

Surprisingly, it feels that way sometimes. There have been too many days that I would find myself short on time, wishing for the very five hour break that I had now, to finish an essay on the US’s trade deficit in 1970, to attend a lecture by the founder of the Oxford Martin School, to read up on South Asia’s energy crisis. Today, when my break suddenly appeared at an inopportune time, as they so often do, I found myself feeling guilty and paralyzed, scrambling to find a use for it. Having napped with the hope that I would wake up realizing that I had something important left on my to do list, and a metaphorically blank list in front of me, I finally came to terms with the relaxed trajectory that my day was taking, and chose to find myself in a café for the rest of the afternoon.

 

TEDx Haverford: from Shakespeare to Sun Tzu

I spent this afternoon at TEDx Haverford, which was organized by Isaac Anthony ’14, Sofia Athanassiadis ’14,  Tamar Hoffman ’15, Ellen Rienhart ’15, and Victoria Sobocinski ’13. My introduction to TED talks came via Bill Bragin ’89, Lincoln Center’s Director of Public Programming who serves as Music Advisor to TED;  TED started out back in 1984 as a conference designed to bring together folks from Technology, Entertainment, and Design — and which continues to do so in twice-yearly conferences for which registration runs to $7,500 for the four days of 18-minute talks.  TED now disseminates its talks through the web, an NPR show, and TEDx conferences in which local organizers adopt the TED format (one which works best for those who are both concise and charismatic) for locally-invited speakers who are interspersed with videos of TED and TEDx speakers whose talks address the themes chosen by the organizers.

The Haverford organizers selected three organizing themes for the day’s talks: “Past to Future,” “Hostility to Understanding,” and “Isolation to Interaction.”  Given the work of the OMA office, I was particularly interested in the second set of talks that featured Tim Wilson, whose work with Seeds of Peace brings affords people from conflict-ridden regions to meet the “enemy” face to face to work on peace-building, John Carlos, whose stance on the podium at the ’68 Olympics was an iconic moment that continues to speak to the power of resistance, as well as Lori Pompa, whose creation of the Inside-Out Prison Exchange Program has been transformative for Haverford students who have taken the CPGC-sponsored Inside-Out class taught by Barb Toews.  But I didn’t want to pass up the chance to hear Swarthmore’s president Rebecca Chopp and Lafayette’s president Dan Weiss (coming to a small liberal arts college near you in 2013!) speak about their vision for liberal arts colleges as we move deeper into the 21st century, or to listen to the presentation of Hayley O’Malley ’08, who currently teaches high school English and Social Studies at Notre Dame de Namur while pursuing graduate work in English at Bread Loaf.

So while my ticket was for the second session, I snuck into the first one as well.

The TEDx experience started when I ran into Alanna Phillips ’16, a first year student from Brooklyn who, like me, thought that the talks were taking place in Stokes;  as we walked across campus to Sharpless Auditorium, we spoke about her classes which range from a Perspectives in Biology course focusing on vaccines to an introductory Arabic class (for which she would be lauded by Tim Wilson who reminded the audience that English will not be the lingua franca of the world in the coming decades).  At Sharpless, I found a seat next to Chen-lei “Tom” Zhuang ’15, one of the heads of the International Students’ Organization who was nailing down details for the ISO’s first campus-wide dinner of the year, and behind Kelsey Owyang ’16, whom I first met in the Tri-College Multicultural Leadership Institute who was coming from practice for one of the two dance ensembles with which she performs.

The breadth, depth, and range of experiences, interests, and talents manifest in Alanna’s, Tom’s, and Kelsey’s investments in their Haverford educations and experiences were material manifestations of a key insight from Rebecca Chopp’s and Dan Weiss’ presentation — that at residential liberal arts institutions, students’ presence on campus 24/7 means that they are intimately involved with making and remaking the life of the community (even as Haverford students are famous for their forays into places ranging from Philadelphia to the Philippines).  As Massive Open Online Courses, or MOOCs work to make bodies of knowledge available to the masses, small liberal arts colleges focus on the practice of teaching students how to think creatively, critically, and in close collaboration with people who themselves bring a diversity of experiences, perspectives, and visions — thus enabling people to reconsider and recast bodies of knowledge and ways of knowing.

My sense is that each mode of exchange has its place and space:  I think a lot about Margaret Mead’s oft-quoted call to “never doubt that a small group of committed people can change the world.  Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” Such a group may in fact constitue itself through a discussion group engendered from a MOOC course enrolling a hundred thousand people and this is one of the miracles of modern technology.  At a place like Haverford, that group might come together in a common room in Barclay, Tritton, or HCA 42 (aka “HCA 38 in Base 9″), by virtue of a tutorial group for a writing seminar, in Superlab or on Swan Field, after a show in the Black Box or Drop Shot or James House, because of a common interest in food justice or a shared love for Korean pop music (may I recommend Eruption’s Pinoy take on Psy’s “Gangnam Style”?) or an obsession with Belgian bande dessinee.

Or it might come through a love of Shakespeare:  Hayley O’Malley opened her talk by speaking of the ways in which she gets her students to get interested in reading Shakespeare, noting that for many of them, their first significant interaction with the Bard may come via Hilary Duff or Lindsay Lohan (understanding She’s the Man to be a free adaptation of Twelfth Night, and Mean Girls as a take on Julius Caesar). Hayley spoke about the process of adaptation itself to be a sign of cultural vitality and reinvigoration, and reminded us of the power of literature to create a common ground for people who come from radically different cultures and contexts by giving us a frame through which to view and revise the world.

In a TED video of a talk by John Hunter (www.ted.com/talks/john_hunter_on_the_world_peace_game.html), Hunter flips the script by speaking to his experiences teaching Sun Tzu’s Art of War to fourth graders who are tasked with saving the world through a World Peace Game that puts students into the role of policy makers, politicians, weather goddesses and agent provocateurs as a means of enabling them to think and work through crises and challenges ranging from global warming to arms escalation.  I’m sitting with a story that he told about a 9 year old girl who, as a defense minister for an impoverished country, singlehandedly forestalled a hostile takeover by an oil-rich neighboring nation by moving to surround that nation’s oil fields with her tanks (high on the list of quotable quotes from the afternoon “You never want to cross a nine-year-old girl armed with tanks”), thus cutting off their fuel supply.  Hunter speaks about how this led to a group discussion about the ethics of engaging in a small war to intervene against larger-scale violence;  as someone who has questioned whether any war can be seen as just, this moves me to reconsider my own world view.  Wondering what Rufus Jones might have to say about this concept so am returning to an account of his work with the American Friends Service Committee;  wondering what others took away from today’s talks, and what will come of the seeds planted this afternoon…..

From the local to the global…..

Thanks to The Beet Goes On, a very enterprising group of students who have partnered with Lancaster Farm Fresh Collective, Haverford now has its own CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) outpost at 50 Hannum Drive where members of the community who have signed up for a summer share (options include full or half shares of fruits and veggies and eggs, as well as a flower share) can pick up organic produce from family farms — primarily Old Order Amish — that belong to LFFC.

In the photo at the end of this entry, you can see a representative sample of the amazing veggies that came in my share (and my thanks to Hannah, Stu, Jamie, Chris B., and Rachel who helped me sort out a snafu in my order — indeed, it takes a village to support a CSA).  In addition to extremely photogenic produce, the benefits of joining  a CSA include becoming part of an extended community:  I ran into Laurie Allen from the library as we were picking up our shares and got to chat with her about her upcoming trip; when I carried my box into a meeting of folks who teach in the Writing Program, Danielle LaLonde from the Classics department gave me a seasoned CSAer’s perspective on how to contend with the abundance of particular kinds of produce at particular times of the year (turnip print cards for the holidays, anyone?);  Debora Sherman, from the English Department, shared stories of her mother’s preferred preparation for rhubarb, and Kristen Lindgren, Director of the Writing Center and noted Disability Studies theorist and activist noted that  garlic scape (and a shout out to Sam Shain for cluing me in on the nomenclature) could function as a minimalist centerpiece.

I think about the fact that while I grew up in the fertile farmlands of southwestern Pennsylvania, my close encounters with produce came in the aisles of the A&P where cellophane-wrapped heads of iceberg lettuce and shrink-wrapped packets of green beans were the norm.  My mother somehow managed to recreate intricate Filipino dishes from whatever she found in the bins – years later, I discovered that one of favorite dishes – pork with radishes, was actually traditionally a dish made with jicama, which used to be very difficult to get in Somerset, PA.

You can probably find it there now, flown in from the warmer climes where jicama thrives, and what one might gain in “authenticity” one probably loses in terms of an expanded carbon footprint;  thus, my contribution to cross-cultural cuisine is to chop a stalk of garlic scape on the diagonal, saute it in a dollop of olive oil, add a medium zucchini sliced in half moons (there were two zucchinis in my share, one of which is hiding behind the kale in the picture since it realizes that its partner has gone to a hot skillet) and cook it until it is all crunchy-tender. If you are me, you then add a couple of teaspoons of bagoong (ask your local native Filipino informant what this is) or you could also try some patis — the fish sauce that Vietnamese know as nuoc mam, or perhaps even chop up a couple of anchovies and throw it in before you let it all simmer down. I’m sure that there is a good vegan version of this – maybe using fermented tofu or fermented black beans? – and will try it next time.  All I can say is, that other zucchini is not long for this world…..

clockwise from the bottom: broccoli, red chard, red lettuce, rhubarb, purple kale, and in the middle, my new best friend, garlic scape!

All But Thesis

I sat down to work on my thesis introduction at 1:00pm. Two and a half hours later, I have reviewed the feedback from my last thesis meeting, typed a table of contents, and listed some points I want to make in the intro. My other two hours were spent updating my profile on airbnb.com, coordinating a trip to Chipotle, and finishing an episode of American Dad.

Why can’t I work on this?! Never before has a project felt so daunting that I cannot start. It’s not even a matter of not knowing how or where to begin, but the fear that when I resume, I’ll realize how much work I have left to do.

A professor was telling our class that Ph.D candidates experience something similar – they do not finish because they either feel their work will never be done or…I forget the second reason. When the option is officially available, the standing is ‘Ph.D (ABD)’ – All But Dissertation. Does Haverford have B.A. (ABT) – All But Thesis?

Have you ever felt paralyzed by a project? What strategies do you have for beginning (and persisting)?

*When the introduction revision is due tomorrow, I’ll be back with a more triumphant post, and some strategies, if any, that I use to get me there.

Today I lost my thesis draft

You hear about it happening every year, and each year you think, “That will never happen to me.” You think lots of other things, too, like, “I bet s/he started the draft the night before and conveniently lost it.” Or, “How can you still be stupid enough not to back up your work!” And, when it happens to your friend, you may even tease him for not backing up his draft. Sorry, Bertram…

Then you realize why people sometimes call Karma by that ugly name of hers. You lose your thesis draft the day it is due. You also sit in the library and curse and cry, running from computer to computer trying to find one that will open your document. Each one mocks you with the same message, “Windows is unable to open your file because it is corrupted.” Corrupted? CORRUPTED! You pass from desperation to becoming irate because a computer-generated message is making you feel incompetent. You laugh to keep from crying. You cry anyway. People may begin to stare…

Today, I lost my thesis draft. I saved it every three seconds to my computer, my flash drive, and, when I finished, my email. Only the initial version was saved, and I lost hours of work. My computer didn’t crash; I didn’t forget to save it in several places; I started well in advance I didn’t save it all for the day it was due. And there it went…

After I stopped dry heaving (I kid), I realized that I was most upset that I’d never get back what I wrote. (Um, duh!) The content was still fresh on my brain, but do you know how sometimes when you’re writing there are moments  when you convey the information in a really fine way? Where the words and ideas are perfectly ordered? I lost the product of when mechanical academic writing becomes fun! Playing with ideas, playing with words, making work into play! That is what thesis has been, at least some of the time. (I’ve been learning a lot about this in an aesthetics seminar with Professor Kathleen Wright, rolling my eyes on the inside whenever she tried to get us to see how writing essays can be play. I get it, now.)

Although I am bitter that I lost my work, I am also grateful that I have time to explore a topic that I enjoy. I am also curiously pleased that I have been initiated into the scores of lowly seniors who have lost theses. I may have lost my draft, but I have gained imagined solidarity and a funny story… (Thesis – 1, Candace – 0)

Have any of you ever lost portions of your thesis or other important work?

Setting up for Dakshina and new rites of spring….

I just told a friend that in addition to literary exegesis and the ability to bake a decent scone (thank you, The Cheeseboard Collective Cookbook), I can now add “installing a dance floor” to my skill set: in preparation for Dakshina’s performance this past weekend, the estimable Dom Chacon (a stage manager and tech director who was introduced to the OMA courtesy of Emily Cronin, Associate Director of the Hurford Center for the Arts and Humanities, who has a deep theater background) oversaw the installation of a dance floor borrowed from Drexel University with labor contributed by Ani Leonhart, Aaron Madow, and yours truly.

It takes a village to prepare for a dance performance: Dom pulled many strings to borrow this floor from Drexel, since the floor that we would usually borrow from Bryn Mawr was already in service for a weekend series of performances there; Joe Hudgins from Housekeeping arranged a pick up of the floor with folks from his staff who delivered the 8 rolls to Marshall Auditorium in Roberts Hall. Following orchestra rehearsal, Aaron and I broke down the stage set up and helped Dom and Ani install the floor, which consisted of us unrolling these huge panels and then sort of shimmying over them (Ani favored a kind of cadenced hop, Aaron did an Electric Slide, and I basically shuffled) to stretch out the panels and smooth over the bubbles as Dom and Ani taped the panels down and covered the seams.  We left Roberts Hall just a little before midnight and left the panels to “breathe” and settle in overnight. From pick up to basic installation, the process took about five hours for something that was literally invisible to the audience’s eye but absolutely necessary for the dancers, given the intricate footwork that is part of the basic idiom of Bharata Natyam dance that informs Daniel Phoenix Singh’s choreography.

On Friday, Kai Xin Chen and Danny Bedrossian from Blast (the student-run tech group that makes magic for student concerts and performances on campus) devoted most of their day to working with Lisa and Todd Mion, the stage manager and lighting director for the company.   How hard can this be?  It is, as I learned, an extraordinary feat of choreography in and of itself:  one part of the process included the activity of sending Dom up in the aptly-named “Genie,” a lift that works when you rub the side of a lantern (no, actually, you have to get the key from Facilities) and enables you — that would be, Dom — to adjust the lights and install the gels that literally as well as figuratively color the atmosphere for the performance. Nancy Merriam, who coordinates performances for the Music department, mentioned that their budget line for lights for the stage is $1,500 a year, which made me very grateful for the instructions that orchestra conductor Heidi Jacobs had given us the night before on how to turn off all of the stage lights, and which newly emboldens me in imparting this message to the resident 7 and 10 year old in my household who believe that lights should be left on in any room that you may enter at some point over the course of any 24 hour period.

All this work for what? A phenomenal performance by an extraordinary dance troupe that includes a computer scientist-turned-choreographer and a world class biochemist. But more on this later….

“Recovering the Sacred: Religion, Faith, and the Land from a Native Perspective”

Greetings, everyone,

Those of you on campus may have seen the posters re. this upcoming series of events with Native American feminist and environmentalist Winona La Duke – folks who are interested in a conversation with her over dinner, or in taking part in a workshop with her, can apply by responding to the series of questions at the end of this blurb, to be sent to the good people in the Women’s Center.

The Women’s Center, CPGC, KINSC, Gender and Sexuality Studies Program, Student Activities Office, OMA, and Quaker Affairs Office are proud to present Winona LaDuke’s visit to Haverford’s campus! She will be speaking publically on Friday, March 30th, at 7:30 p.m. in Stokes Auditorium, on the topic “Recovering the Sacred: Religion, Faith and the Land from a Native Perspective.”

Ms. LaDuke is an internationally acclaimed author, orator and activist. A graduate of Harvard and Antioch Universities, with advanced degrees in rural economic development, she has devoted her life to protecting the lands and life ways of Native communities.

Ms. LaDuke is the founder and co-Director of Honor the Earth, a national advocacy group encouraging public support and funding for Native environmental groups. She is also the founder of the White Earth Land Recovery Project, one of the largest reservation based non-profit organizations in the country. Ms. LaDuke served as Ralph Nader’s vice-presidential running mate on the Green Party ticket in the 1996 and 2000 presidential elections. In 2007, she was inducted into the National Women’s Hall of Fame.

Before Ms. LaDuke’s public talk, we are offering two opportunities to get to meet her in person! Any Haverford student, faculty, or staff member can apply to engage in a workshop or to enjoy a catered meal with Ms. LaDuke. There are twenty spots open for each activity.

The workshop will take place from 4:30-6:00 p.m. at the Multicultural Center in Stokes and will center on the topic of women and leadership, and the potential for women leaders to enact meaningful social change.

The dinner will be held from 6:15-7:15 in the Swarthmore room of the Dining Center, and will provide the opportunity to get to know Ms. LaDuke personally!
Applicants can apply for one or both of the activities. To apply, simply answer the questions below and email your answers to womenctr@haverford.edu. Please make sure to specify the activity or activities for which you are applying. The application deadline is Friday, March 23rd at 11:59 p.m.
1. Why are you interested in meeting Winona LaDuke?

2. If you could discuss any topic with her, what would it be?

We look forward to reading your applications!