I don’t dress for men. I dress for the occasion, my mood, or just, the weather. And so, interning in the Philly heat last summer, I wore dresses and skirts, which warranted attention from, SEPTA riders, party goers, sidewalk walkers. Really, anyone. Because I am a journalist, I made it a habit to write these unwanted comments into a journal. Here they are, organized by hemline, for you to understand—to understand that I didn't wear this for you.
Saturday is the 150th anniversary of the Thirteenth Amendment. Sunday marks the start of Black History Month. Despite the days and weeks dedicated to remembering, Penn's Department of Criminology forgets—or refuses to acknowledge—the violent, inhumane treatment of black Americans throughout history. This week, Word on the Street brings you a story of a class that didn’t count and the implications of a seemingly harmless administrative decision.
We all know that, during the year, you have to go to your roommate’s a Capella performance. But right now it's summer, you're obligation-free, and there are so many things you could be seeing that have nothing to do with the Performing Arts Council. Who says live entertainment is dead?