The Scripps Voice

By Lauren Prince ’14
Editor-in-Chief

Interview with Lesley Bonds
Career Counselor and Student Employment Coordinator

Why did you decide to bring this program to Scripps?

Colleges and universities throughout the country celebrate the importance of the student work experience during National Student Employment Week (NSEW) each year in line with the National Student Employment Association (NSEA).  This year’s celebration will take place from April 8-12. Scripps began participating in 2010, but I am hoping to infuse new elements into the program this year.  Most notably, we are participating for the first time in the National Student Employee of the Year competition through NSEA by selecting one outstanding student employee from Scripps.

What do you hope it to accomplish?

My number one hope is that student employees feel truly appreciated for their unique contributions to the Scripps community by their supervisors, their coworkers and those they serve on a day-to-day basis. We want student employees to know that we, as an institution, simply could not operate without them.

How are students involved?

While National Student Employment Week provides a unique opportunity for faculty and staff at Scripps to recognize student employees, it is also my hope that students will recognize their peers and coworkers for helping to shape their experience. I also encourage students to use this week as an opportunity to reflect on their own employment experience here on campus. Not only do their jobs help them earn the money necessary to fund their college experiences, but they’re also earning valuable skills that will most certainly be applicable to any future career they pursue.

How many student employees does Scripps have?

We have over 600 student employment positions on campus each year. Students serve in various capacities to support the work of departments across campus and throughout the consortium. The responsibilities of our student employees are vast and the departments diverse, with students serving in academic departments, Student Affairs, the Office of Admission, Communications and Marketing, IT and more. Whether students are whipping up the perfect latte in The Motley, mentoring high school students through the Scripps College Academy, or maintaining a safe and inclusive environment in the Tiernan Field House, we are equally thankful for the many hours our student employees contribute to building the best experience for all who step foot on campus.

What should student employees expect for this week?

Student employees will receive a note of appreciation from President Bettison-Varga and supervisors will have the opportunity to recognize their students in a number of ways throughout the week. Students should be sure to drop by Scripps Tea on Wednesday, April 10 to see a Thank You Quilt that supervisors will have compiled. Departments around campus will also be competing in an Office Decoration Contest and students can vote for their favorite to help them earn a pizza party for their entire staff through CP&R’s Facebook page. Last, I hope to see everyone at a reception for the Scripps Student Employee of the Year on Friday, April 12 at 4 p.m. in Margaret Fowler Garden.

The finalists for Scripps Student Employee of the Year are Anna-Marie Wood (Office of Admission), LaThelma Armstrong (Scripps College Academy) and SuAnne Lee (Residential Life).

By Laurel Schwartz ’15
Politics Columnist

Step into the SCORE living room and you will find a variety of resources of empowerment with respect to class, ethnicity, gender, race, religion, sexuality and sexual orientation. However, for many students, this is not enough. As someone with a chronic autoimmune disease (I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease when I was nine years old), I have become increasingly aware of the lack of support for disabled students in the Scripps community.

With SCORE acting as a valuable resource for students who are members of many groups, I have outlined why it is imperative that SCORE recognize disability as well.

1. “Ableism” is defined as the following: a societal world-view that the able bodied are the norm in society and that disabled people must either strive to become that norm or keep their distance from able-bodied people. Failing to acknowledge disability at Scripps is inherently ableist because the community systematically ignores the disabled experience. Lack of acknowledgement and discussions surrounding disability presumes that disabled individuals must strive to become the norm of able-bodied people.

2. Upon organizing a panel discussion about disability at Scripps, it came to my attention that many members of our community are unaware of ableism on campus. Students are ignorant and unaware because disability is not officially recognized in a context outside of the Dean of Students Office. Publically acknowledging disability and ableism would not only help disabled students feel more welcome on campus but would also educate the Scripps community.

3. Disabled students would benefit greatly from the resources given to other student groups. Many groups have a physical space in SCORE, a faculty advisor and a budget for programming. Disabled students have none of these resources. With a physical space, disabled students would be able to gather for meetings, fostering a community of disabled students. With a faculty advisor, students would have better resources to communicate with professors and navigate receiving accommodations. With a budget, disabled students would be able to organize events to raise awareness and create a dialogue about disability.

Recognition of disability would send a strong message to the student body. This message would create a community of disabled students and a community of allies. There is currently a 5C club called Disability, Illness and Difference Alliance that allows students to gather to support each other, but it is clear to me that something more needs to be done on Scripps’ campus specifically. A panel discussion a few weeks ago revealed that many students are actively searching for disability resources, yet finding them either unavailable or inaccessible. As a small community that does so much to try to create open dialogues about race, gender and class, we can—and must—open a dialogue about disability on our campus.

By Stephanie Steinbrecher ‘16
Staff Writer

In the past few weeks, the Scripps Communities of Resources and Empowerment (SCORE) office has asked students to consider what the concept of class means to them. In six words or less, Scripps students were invited to anonymously write their thoughts on a card that was delivered to every mailbox on March 5. These cards will eventually be compiled into an e-book that SCORE hopes will “start an honest conversation about how the Scripps community experiences and talks about their socioeconomic background,” according to information about the Class Project on the Inside Scripps website.

“Contributors are asked to restrict their feelings to a handful of words which, when combined anonymously, will help us all learn more about how we feel about class,” said SCORE Program Coordinator Yuka Ogino in an email to The Scripps Voice. “This semester SCORE wanted to shift some of the spotlight to less-explored topics that are as equally pervasive at Scripps. Listening to students’ stories, SCORE has learned that some students feel marginalized in every-day situations due to their socio-economic background.”

Submissions are accepted until April 7, and the e-book should be sent to the Scripps community soon after. Once faculty, staff, and students have had a chance to review the e-book, a community dialogue facilitated by Gender and Women’s Studies Professor Piya Chatterjee will take place to examine the feelings and issues that were brought up in the cards.

This project is based on the Race Card Project that NPR’s Michael Norris started in 2010. Seeking to begin a conversation about the topic of race, Norris invited people to submit cards containing their observations, personal stories, hopes, etc. regarding this “prickly topic” in six words or less. What began as a conversation starter turned into an “epilogue,” reports Norris on his project’s website. SCORE hopes that the Class Project will foster such necessary dialogues at Scripps.

The topic of class, like race or gender, is not one that SCORE has spent much time exploring but hopes to talk more about in the future.

“We’ve heard students express that Class is often silenced but definitely not hidden on this campus, lending to the importance of starting dialogue around this topic,” said Ogino.

SCORE hopes that the Class Project will be a great way to continue conversations about topics that really influence how all members of the community live and interact with one another.

By Megan Petersen ’15
Copy Editor

It’s been a proud couple of weeks for me, Scripps.

There’s a lot that’s been said—and more I could say—about all of those who got on board with our Scripps sister whose article was criticized by the CMC Forum earlier this month and stuck up for our school. I’ve never been prouder to call myself a Scripps woman than now.

But I have a funny feeling that’ll fade, and I’m dreading it.

Let’s remember back to last year, last semester, last month. Rarely did I hear someone say that Scripps empowered them. Instead, I felt like I was always hearing negativity. I’m not talking about baseless complaining, either—I’m talking about the prevalence of girl-on-girl hate on campus. I’m talking about how our sexual violence reports number in the single digits every year. I’m talking about the prevalence of racism and othering on campus.

Last semester at the Motley’s feminism teach-in, the panel’s general consensus was that feminism is not as strong on campus as it ought to and could be. But these past few weeks, I’ve seen a beautiful and powerful feminism gracing Scripps’ campus. We were sticking up for ourselves in the face of those who wanted to discredit us. We were defending our classmates, our friends, our sisters, in their endeavors to advocate for women’s rights and for equal rights. We were refusing to be silenced by anyone: our harshest critics or our closest friends.

People criticized that Forum article because, among other things, the author argued that women’s colleges exist to exclude men. While many of us agree that women’s colleges exist not as centers of exclusion but rather as centers of empowerment, I don’t think that that actually comes through at Scripps as often as it could.

In criticizing that Forum article, we were, I think, all harking back to a famous founding principle of our school—that a “paramount obligation of a college is to instill in its students the ability to think clearly and independently, and the ability to live confidently, courageously, and hopefully.” We saw that as our goal, and we defended not only our right to attain it, but also the effectiveness of our process of getting there.

In her response to the Forum column, Lizzy Pfeiffer calls for us all to continue a Claremont-wide dialogue on these issues. I think that’s incredibly important, and definitely one of the best ways we could respond to this controversy. I would, however, like to see us continue not only a consortium-wide dialogue, but also a more localized effort to continue cultivating the loving, supportive, radical self-love that I felt oozing from Scripps the past few weeks.

So I challenge myself, my classmates, the faculty, the administration, and our alumnae to continue pushing to make Scripps the empowered collective of women we deserve to be. I’m not saying that continually working to improve Scripps through critique isn’t important—only that we shouldn’t tear each other down in the process. I also don’t think we all need to think or behave the same way (this isn’t a cult, after all).

But I just think we can love each other a hell of a lot more. We’ve proved that we can do it, so let’s keep it up.

By Lily Foss ‘13
Feminism Columnist

Okay, I know we’re all sick of that CMC Forum article by now. I was sick of it by the end of the day it came out. But among the points that Ms. Miller made in her article, there’s one that particularly irked me. Well, they all irked me, but I was especially frustrated by the tired argument that women who apply to a women’s college are doing so because they’re afraid to be “challenged” by a co-ed school. Ugh. Anyone who says that has no idea how challenging a women’s college actually is.

President Bettison-Varga replies to the question, “Why Scripps?”
Photo courtesy of SAS

For one thing, an environment that’s almost entirely female is a new experience for a lot of students. I know that some of you went to all-girls schools in the past, but for the rest of us, this is completely new. I’m the only girl in my family; before coming to Scripps, my experience living entirely with women was limited to a few summers at camp when I was in middle school (and I hated camp—I think I’m the least outdoorsy person in the entire state of New Hampshire). It wasn’t until the summer before college that I realized that Scripps would be unlike anywhere I had ever been. I had grown up with two brothers and no sisters. I had primarily male friends. To be honest, I was nervous about coming here.

You know what else is challenging? Being at a school that doesn’t expect less from me because I’m a woman. I’m certainly not saying that all coed school are inherently sexist. Before college, I had only attended co-ed public schools, and I encountered very little sexism. But statistically speaking, graduates of women’s colleges are twice as likely to earn a Ph.D, twice as likely to go on to medical school, and, “Are more likely to engage in higher order thinking activities and integrative activities that lead to deep learning” (stats and quote from the Scripps website). That’s a lot to live up to. If I was really afraid of a ‘challenge,’ why would I go to a school that expects so much from me?

But the most challenging thing? People who insult my school. People who tell me that I’m here because I’m too scared to go to a coed school. Screw you, people. How would you have any idea what going to a women’s college is like? Do you know how upsetting it is to have people tell you that you aren’t brave enough to go to a co-ed college? Do you know how frustrating it is to have to defend your school from people who attack it just because it’s a women’s college? Do you have any idea how demeaning it is to have people call you a man-hater, a slut, and a “Saturday night nightmare” just because of the school you chose? I went to a panel in the Hampton Room once about the future of single-sex education, and one of the women there, the headmaster of an all-girls high school, said that, “Nothing draws misogyny like a women’s institution.” She couldn’t be more right.

These are just a few challenges. I’m sure everyone here had struggles of their own when they decided to apply here. But I doubt that anyone chose to apply to a women’s college because they were afraid of a co-ed school. If I know Scripps students, there’s no way that any of us would back away from a challenge. After all, we’re confident, courageous, and hopeful.

By Anonymous

After reading the “Walk of Shame” editorial published in the previous issue of The Scripps Voice, I felt compelled to address some of the issues raised about slut shaming and, more specifically, about the conduct of a Claremont sports team. A story like this, in which a young woman walking home in the previous night’s dress is ridiculed by a group of people chanting “WALK OF SHAME,” should not be such an unusual thing to read about in a women’s college newspaper. Women’s colleges are seen as overly critical of men and overreactive when it comes to issues of sexual violence. Yet it isn’t a part of our everyday dialogue. Often when I read stories like this, I agree with the editorial’s critique, but then I move on. But that editorial spoke to my own personal experience of sexual assault and subsequent ridicule at the hands of a sports team. This time I spoke up.

I feel compelled to write because when we tolerate the verbal harassment of young women for their conduct—when we make concessions, when we support the “groupthink” of sexual dominance and submission, when we remain silent to any degree—we are silently consenting to the non-consensual.

While the details of my personal experience do not need to be graphically hashed out for public entertainment, it is specifically those details I cannot remember which make my experience so bewildering and hard to explain. I had slept with him before, and several times we had been drunk. But this time was different. I don’t remember much but falling and being pulled. I don’t even remember the sex itself, but I remember the aftermath and the confusion. For weeks afterwards the bruises and scrapes on my body from being unable to walk home unassisted would painfully remind me of what I still can’t remember.

It’s easy for me to blame myself. It’s easy for me to justify it by explaining I was younger and more irresponsible and am the only one responsible for personally drinking myself into near unconsciousness. After talking to friends, who told me that I was raped, I still can’t blame it all on him. I never reported the incident because I could never fully take the blame off myself.

For a long time I didn’t understand that what happened was something that I could or should report. Given the feelings I had for him and our previous sexual history, I became the last person in my life able to call it “rape.” I also decided that no matter how angry I was, I didn’t want to potentially ruin his life. Somehow, no matter how angry, hurt, or shamed I felt, being a survivor of rape just didn’t seem as tragic as potentially ending someone’s college career or future opportunities.

The reason I feel so compelled to share these past events now is that, to me, the worst part is the branding. I hate being called a survivor. I hate being one of the 1 in 4 college-age women to experience sexual assault. But even worse I hate being called a whore.

I knew him. I thought maybe everything would go back to normal and we’d be cordial again. Instead he avoids me and members of his sports team have spoken for him—and it is nothing close to an apology.

I don’t necessarily mean to group every member of the team together, but there has been some group action. During game season, his team has dinner every Thursday in the same room in the same dining hall. They arrive sometime around six. It’s now a place I have to avoid. Pub is out of the question. The Muddhole any time after Pub is another place I am pointed out and observed. Men from the team turn to look at me before turning back into each other and discussing me. There’s no denying the cruelty, sexism, and arrogance in this kind of groupthink.

I know not all of them are guilty, I’m sure not all of them know anything about me, but there are specific members who seem to haunt me wherever I go. I’ve had to block complete strangers on Facebook and fortify my privacy settings because of harassment by members of the team.

I can’t go to a party and meet new people without at least one girl coming up to me and explaining how cool I am and how surprised she is because she’s heard that I’m a great person, but she’s also heard all these horrible things about how I’m such a slut and a bitch which is so weird because they only came from one place but she’s not sure she trusts them anymore and could she be friends with me instead?

Why are we accepting and fostering this kind of behavior by a group of people on their bully pulpit? Is it that we are allowing athletes some sort of social high ground above their peers? It should be noted that it would be outrageous for any group of people—men or women—to conduct themselves in the way our fellow players have.

If this were any other group, especially a group of women or mixed gender, this behavior would not be tolerated. What makes it worse is their identity as a cohesive unit who apparently chooses to act rashly and crassly while being identifiable representatives of prestigious institutions. It’s hypocritical that the same group that is perpetrating this cruelty also parades around campus in their jerseys, seen as emblematic representatives of prestigious institutions. It is unacceptable for anyone to make anyone else feel singled out or ridiculed, even more so when that group is masking itself under the privilege and protection of a school-sanctioned team.

I appreciate the opportunity for me and persons involved to remain anonymous. While I am “calling out” this group of people, it is to call into question their conduct as human beings and as an entity that represents prestigious colleges. While we are a consortium of friends and peers, we must not forget the responsibility that comes with adulthood, and the bullying of this team to the women of our campuses is no longer something I or anyone should remain silent about.

I encourage other victims/survivors/people in need to seek help if they have been through a similar experience. For women who are survivors of sexual assault or abuse, there is a survivor’s group that meets at Monsour on Thursdays from 3:00-4:30 pm headed by Fiona Vajk, Ph.D., and Katy Dorsheimer, Ph.D. If you’re interested, please contact Katy Dorsheimer at katyd@cuc.claremont.edu or (909)621-8202

By Anonymous

Sexual assault. Rape. Ugly words, words no one wants to associate with themselves. Yet they happen all the time, even within the “Claremont bubble” that gives off such a friendly, safe vibe.

About two years ago, I was sexually assaulted by another 5C student. And no, he was not a shady creep that pulled me into the bushes on my way back from a party. He was someone I loved and was in a committed, long-term relationship with. At the time, I was so shocked and confused by what had happened that the words “sexual assault” didn’t even cross my mind. All I knew was that it was the first time I was ever afraid of him.

There were so many excuses: He was just too drunk and didn’t realize what he was doing. I shouldn’t have let him come over that night. We were a couple, and couples can explore sex freely. He never forced penetration, so that’s not rape, right?

Because of this confusion, I immediately forgave him and blocked the event from my mind. He did not sexually assault me again. After dating for another six months, we eventually went through a drawn-out, messy breakup that ended in cutting off all contact. Avoiding him for the rest of the school year was difficult and painful, but I managed to get through it.

Summer break was the best thing that could have happened at that point. I immersed myself in my passions, spent time with friends, and explored life away from the 5Cs. Separated from that environment, I finally was able to accept that what had happened to me was sexual assault. I recognized that it was not my fault; it was something my attacker chose to do to me on his own, and I did everything in my power to physically and emotionally survive the experience (including the long period of denial). In this separation from school, I thought I had made peace with this fact.

But as the new school year approached, flutters of anxiety began creeping into my stomach. What would happen when I encountered him? And if he was drunk? What would he say about me? That I was his “crazy” ex-girlfriend and a liar who wanted to ruin his reputation?

My first few weeks back were a nightmare. I had thought that coming to terms with my assault would be empowering, but it instead brought up all the bottled-up anxiety I had ignored. After my first sighting of him that nearly sent me into a panic attack, I lived constantly on edge. What was worse, he began to spend time with another student in my dorm, leaving me hyper alert and anxious even in my own living spaces. A moderate level of anxiety surrounded me from day to day, spiking unexpectedly and leaving me panicked for hours when reminders of him managed to work their way into my consciousness. I couldn’t fall asleep at night, yet slept excessively during the day. My appetite fluctuated wildly and was sometimes accompanied by nausea. I was afraid to walk on his school’s campus without friends.

These feelings might seem like an overreaction, paranoid, and unnecessary. I kept telling myself that I was being silly, yet my body and mind reacted in this way. Whether I wanted them to or not, my feelings of safety on the 5Cs had been shattered.

I began the process of finding a therapist, and in the meantime went to several staff members from my school to discuss my options. This is what we are taught to do, right? If you are sexually assaulted or raped, our progressive systems will protect you…

While I was listened to and comforted, I could see the reasons to not attempt a formal investigation clicking together as these staff members spoke. A formal investigation would include hearing both sides and gathering evidence to determine whether a rape or assault actually happened. I was asked if there was a witness to the assault. When I said no, I could hear the disappointment, as witnesses would “simplify this process.” As if I could choose where, when, and around whom the attack occurred.

Details about the investigation process were also unclear, as each school has its own way of dealing with sexual assault reports, and the investigation takes place on the campus of the accused student. I was promised information when my attacker’s school got back to the staff member.

It took over a month for me to receive this information.

By this time the anxiety had begun to slowly fade and I was regularly seeing a therapist. Not wanting to relive the pain and undo a month of emotional healing for the stressful process of reporting, I declined to meet with the school.

The healing process is long, complex, and non-linear. It took me over a year to accept what had happened to me, as well as experience the full emotional effects of the attack. I am not the only one who is a survivor of sexual assault or rape at the 5Cs. As much as we like to believe it could never happen to us, it is less a matter of protecting yourself, and much more a matter of circumstance and luck. No one chooses for this to happen to them, and no one wants to accept that they were a victim of this degrading crime.

I hope that the 5C community will work towards fully realizing the sensitive and complex factors that play into sexual assault, and how the rules and regulations in place affect the safety and comfort of victims. While these measures and responses are far better than some at other schools (such as the reactions to the woman who recently wrote about reporting her rape to Amherst College), their attempts to balance the support of survivors with preventing false reports led to me personally feeling distrusted, alienated, and with fewer rights than my attacker. He violated me, yet reestablishing safety and comfort at my own school would require a long and emotionally painful process. Even simply being banned from a single dorm (a compromise that still involved the same amount of investigation) would affect him very little, while his continued allowed presence constantly affects me. Even more frightening is that even if I suffered through the report, there is no guarantee that my story would be believed. On top of the humiliation of the assault, there would be an added one of being labeled a liar.

So I ask you all to think about how we can change this. Why do we live in a community where action is immediately taken against bias related incidents without question, yet a sexual predator can move freely within living spaces of their victim simply from lack of proof? My story is one of hundreds within our community, and through telling it I hope to help break the pattern of silence. We need to get away from the idea that we can “slapgrabtwistpull” ourselves out of every sexual assault situation, and start realizing that most of them are instigated by people we wouldn’t fight back against because we know them, have been involved with them previously, or even love them at the time. As much as we can try to pretend rape and sexual assault don’t happen on campus, this view only serves to punish survivors and silence their voices. Instead, we need to accept it as reality and begin offering genuine support to those who have been through these horrific experiences.

Going to college, I had certain visions of what college parties would entail. I remember chanting, “Toga! Toga!” with my friends as we watched the Delta Tau Chi fraternity boys throw a party in Animal House. What struck me most about Animal House’s portrayal of college was the sense of community. Alcohol may have been the main event, but the sense of community grew around the parties. However, at Scripps, dorm community suffers due to the reinforcement of the closed door policy. For those who are not familiar with the alcohol policy, the Scripps Handbook states: “Possession and/or consumption of alcoholic beverages by those persons 21 years of age or older is permitted in individual student rooms as long as a) the door is closed b) there are eight or less people in the room c) the individual serving the alcohol does not consume alcohol.” The first question I asked myself after reading this policy was: why would Scripps provide alcohol for SARLO-