What about my friends who are disabled? Who are LGBT? Who are Muslim? Who are immigrants? Who are women? Who are minorities? The people falling through the cracks? The people who are denied equality?

I don't care what happens to me - what about my friends? You are all I can think about. Hang in there.


Four years ago in November of 2012, I was a freshman living in Harnwell. Amidst the crowd of viewers in the Rooftop Lounge, I witnessed the reelection of Barack Obama - we were on cloud NINE. Tears of joy, hugs, and best wishes to celebrate an honorable man continuing to serve this country to the highest ability.

Tonight, I sat in the very same room only to watch... this. The space felt vastly unfamiliar, choked by dead air. Tears of anguish. Blank faces staring off into blank space, unsure of this twisted, visceral reality. People legitimately fearful of what an imminent Trump presidency would bring. I virtually watched pure hatred consume a populous, deemed a higher priority than marginalized friends and loved ones, hiding behind fucking memes, reaching its culmination.

We'll grieve & pray & feel however we need to right now, we'll sleep tonight, and then we'll wake up with newfound resolve, to love and speak up for each other. Hang on to hope.


I am the proud son of two immigrants who came here from Haiti in the late 1980s. They busted their asses to not only support themselves AND family back home, but to also lay the foundation my sister and I now stand upon. They embody initative by continuing to contribute to society in any way possible. Mom and Papi became U.S. citizens long ago; here's to hoping that everyone else's Moms and Papis can make it too.


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