The Thrill is proud to feature personal narratives. Today’s is authored by Biz Berthy ’17. If you have a personal narrative you’d like to share with the Kenyon community, please submit to email@example.com.
The purpose of this editorial is not for me to recount to you my experiences with harassment and violence during my study abroad in Morocco. It has been exhausting to sort through the details of each event for myself, let alone sort through them with you as an audience in mind, too. As we continue to stumble forward in our collective discussions of sexual assault and harassment, I feel that it is much more important for me to discuss the overwhelmingly frustrating interactions I have had with my abroad institution throughout my semester. The institution’s neglectful responses and policies, I believe, point to larger issues of how we talk about violence against women, trauma, and the idea of “culture”. Read more…
Dear Thrill readers,
It’s Thanksgiving Break, so we are going to take a week break to do our annual cranberry facials and turkey deep-cleanse. Have a good break, and don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.
Annaliese, Carolyn, Natasha, and the rest of the Thrill editors and staff.
It’s Thanksgiving, go home. Hannah says go home.
Flashback to sixth grade at Catholic school on the first day of “Operation Keepsake” aka sex ed. A pregnant lady waltzes into our classroom and hands everyone a rubber house. They were little houses made of rubber. Why? It’s a metaphor; in order to have sex you need to have the foundation of knowing each other, the walls of friendship, and the roof of marriage. Then and only then can you have the fireplace. I’ll let you stew in what the fireplace could possibly be.
It’s the last week of school! That’s right, there’s no more school after today! No more pencils! No more books! No more teachers’ dirty looks! School is coming to an end. What’s that, we only get a week off? Seriously? But I was told there was no more class. Thanksgiving? More like Thanks-but-no-thanks-giving. It’s the Friday Ketchup. Read more…
For first-years going home for Thanksgiving Break, the first Thanksgiving home can be enormously exciting but also nerve-wracking. You haven’t been home since either August or October if you went home for fall break, and you likely haven’t seen your high school friends since you all left for college with teary eyes and packed cars. A lot changes in three months. Perhaps you got a new piercing, have a significant other, party more, or party less. College is a time of incredible growth, but with growth comes change, and there is no other time more poignant than the first Thanksgiving Break to realize and feel that change. We asked our upperclassmen writers a few questions about their first break home.
What were your expectations going into your first Thanksgiving home?
Literally all I cared about was hugging my mom. I don’t remember having any grand expectations or anything. I just wanted to hug my mom (and dad and sister) and have some time away from school.
The sweetest day of the year has come and gone, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t still thinking about it. The crushing and let’s admit it, suffocating after effects of Peircegiving are worth the unabashed bliss shared by all from the first forkful to the last. Today, we take you through a journey of long lines, eating marathons, and potatoes. Ladies and gentlemen, the five stages of Peircegiving.
Quiet yet Deadly Tension
The dining hall is full of hungry and excited individuals, ready for allegedly the best meal of their life. Spirits are high, but each and everyone is on full alert, waiting for the one brave soul to get in line. Heads turn when even a single person decides to stand up. The screech of a chair being pushed back is noticed by all. Waiting for that moment of pure blissful disaster.