Yoonie Yang is Crossing Borders to Find Her Identity
“I’d love to go back, I’d love to do more research, I’d love to delve more into what happens there.”
1000 items found for your search. If no results were found please broaden your search.
“I’d love to go back, I’d love to do more research, I’d love to delve more into what happens there.”
The first time I voted was in a home for elders five minutes from my childhood home. I was wearing blue jeans and an orange graphic tee that sported a drawing of a sun. My mom walked me to the polls.
Amanda Cui (W ‘25) lives deliberately. From Humans of Penn and Dear Penn Freshmen to the Anti–Resume Project and various art installations on campus, Amanda channels her creativity into projects that humanize people through storytelling and demystify the culture of failing at Penn. As I trot down the stairs into Stommons for our interview, I scan the beleaguered faces of college students in the thick of midterm season who, upon making eye contact with me, resecure their headphones and bury their noses in their laptops. When I spot Amanda, however, curled up on one of the sunlit couches with a paint–splattered jean leg tucked under her, her face brightens, and she waves me over like an old friend.
Fall brings brick–red foliage, an influx of new University City residents, and a lot of good movies to Philadelphia. The Philly Film Festival, running from Oct. 17 to Oct. 27, is an inexpensive and easily accessible way to watch some new and emerging films before their wide release. Overwhelmed by all that PFF has to offer? Never fear—those of us who got a chance to see some of these films over the summer at Cannes and in the early fall at New York Film Festival are here to help you decide what to skip class and spend $12 on seeing.
The City of Love has stolen the hearts of people across the world, but what makes it so great? From biking down the Seine to riding the metro everywhere and anywhere, Paris is an urban planner’s paradise that’s only getting better. On the other hand, the City of Brotherly Love could use some work.
It’s August before college move–in. This year you want your room to look perfect—with all the band posters, LED fairy lights, and colorful shag rugs you've dreamed of. Your new room will be far different from last year when you constantly felt embarrassed for not having all the dorm essentials. You turn to Pinterest to look for some inspiration in your “dream dorm” board, and, suddenly, you notice one hidden board among the esteemed collection you’ve spent so much creating. A small tear dribbles down your cheek as you realize how much you need to spend on useless minimalistic decor on Dormify instead of just taping your disposable film photos to the walls.
It’s 7:26 a.m. on a Monday. Normally, I’d still be fast asleep. But today, thanks to my early–riser roommate, I managed to make it to John McNamara’s 7:30 a.m. HIIT class. Stifling a few yawns, I glance around and notice everyone else is already energized and ready to get moving. From dumbbell raises to backward lunges, the rhythm of the class began to energize me, shaking off the grogginess and fueling a newfound motivation.
Parallel to the rushing traffic of Arch Street is a large stage. A crowd gathers on the sidewalks packed tighter than a tin of sardines. Perpendicular to Arch on 10th Street, which has been temporarily shut down, sits rows of folding chairs. Not a single one is empty. All heads are turned towards the scene unfolding onstage. A woman gracefully dances with two swords. The background music is nearly inaudible over the racket of city noise, but a hushed silence hangs over the engaged audience.
Like a shofar cry from the furthest end of the room, breath hits brass. Just one note, guttural, and the crowd falls quiet.
The young women file in one by one, a girlishly organized succession of hair–bumps, lace blouses and miniskirts; pale blue tights, kitten heels with bows and, of course, eyeliner. Thick, dark wings for watery marbles of gray or green and honey—a shock of young eyes in the black of the theater. Descending down the row, the young women exit off into seats, otherwise too far to see and lost in the blackout. Slowly but surely, the room is engulfed in a fog of girldom; a soft darkness abuzz with chatter, hushed giggles, and reverent utterances of "Coppola." Sofia Coppola.
When I tell people I’m a STEM major, they don’t immediately assume I interned at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. At first glance, the two seem completely unrelated. What could a neuroscience major possibly gain from planning painting lessons and spending days helping kids explore the European Sculpture and Decorative Arts collection? Yet, working at the MET has been one of my most valuable experiences to date. And it’s not just because I became enamored by the two–million–square–foot space bursting with artifacts and artworks spanning over 5,000 years of human history—the 640 ton Temple of Dendur, which had to be flown into the museum via helicopter, or the original Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh during the 2023 Van Gogh's Cypresses exhibition, to name a few. My most important takeaway was the practical skills I gained. As a high school student, I learned to cold email, network, hold hour–long conversations with professionals, problem–solve, and collaborate effectively with a team. My time at the MET was transformative, and fortunately, Penn’s art scene offers several opportunities for students interested in these spaces. And I’m not alone in this sentiment. Many Penn students have done incredible work at similar institutions on campus.
If you’re a Penn student (especially if you’re a corporate baddie in the summer), chances are you’re a slop bowl enthusiast. It’s hard not to become obsessed with them when they’re everywhere.
Dr. Ivona Percec picks up my call from San Diego, where she is attending a series of medical conferences, carving out time between sessions to discuss the evolving science and artistry of plastic surgery, as well as her commitment to education. Percec is a plastic surgeon at Penn Medicine whose work has remained rooted in academia as she continues to research and train residents. She is often found consulting back and forth between Philadelphia and her office at Bryn Mawr.
Nurses rank as the No.1–most–trusted profession consistently from year to year—above doctors, grade school teachers, and even members of the clergy. The work they do is multifaceted. It’s more than just delivering medications and performing assessments—it’s wholeheartedly devoting themselves to the care of their patients and the advancement of the profession. The job title of a nurse is hard to define because nurses are never just a nurse; they are therapists, friends, leaders, experts, and voices. Despite being a complex profession with a wealth of clinical knowledge and experience, nurses’ representation in the public space is limited.
There are 197,115 enrolled students in the School District of Philadelphia. 28% of their schools—63 buildings in total—currently don’t have adequate air conditioning. Reading and math proficiency scores vary greatly based on race and socioeconomic status, and teachers are bearing the brunt of these issues. Most of them are doing work far beyond the initial expectations of the job, and they’re overwhelmed.
For years, pictures of Yayoi Kusama’s iconic Repetitive Vision flooded my Instagram timeline with striking red polka dots and never–ending mirrored reflections. My understanding of the piece and the Mattress Factory museum existed only within the context of these images. It wasn’t until I went home over fall break that I finally took the initiative to check the iconic Pittsburgh museum off my bucket list. Hopping in the car with my twelve–year–old sister in tow, we made our way to the North Side, anticipating an abundance of artsy photo–ops.
As midterms come and go, Penn students will be grateful to make an escape from the hustle of school with Thanksgiving and winter breaks. This year, however, call your Uber an hour earlier than usual and allow yourself a few extra minutes at the Philadelphia International Airport (PHL) to check out the incredible art installations that grace its walls. According to Time Out magazine, PHL ranks third in the United States’ top airports for art.
As blissful July memories fade into seemingly endless gray–sky mornings, my longing for a listless drive down the Pacific Coast Highway only increases. Already anticipating the chill of Philadelphia winter weather, I know that twenty–degree mornings will make me dream of trading my thick puffer for the cushioned seat and blaring heater of my 2016 Honda Civic.
Confabulation has appeared as part of a wave of new work—perhaps most popularly crystalized this year with Jane Schoenbrun’s I Saw the TV Glow, a parable of the horror of never coming out—which has finally gained the courage to treat queerness with a greater degree of allusion and allegory. After a long and sometimes grating infancy of obviousness, exposition, and simplistic narratives, this nascent subtlety could perhaps be taken to represent a welcome maturation of queer theater and film, which at long last feels equipped to go beyond the basic representation of our reality toward a deeper, more provocative territory.
In the world of horror manga, few characters resonate as grotesquely as Tomie. The titular character is no ordinary femme fatale, and it would be an oversimplification to view her only as an object of sexual fantasy. Tomie ensnares men, and they respond with disturbing violence—chopping, burning, and murdering—only for her to return again and again. Ultimately, Ito’s goal is not to vilify her but to reveal the paradox in human desire: the simultaneous fetishization and fear of beauty.