Here’s an exciting life update: I broke my wrist. I’m not going to go into how it happened, except to state that it did not involve alcohol and that my cover story is that it involved a fight with zombie ninja pirates. Not a huge deal, but definitely a frustrating and unneeded at a stressful… Continue reading Broken Bones and Open Borders
Long before I came to Oxford, I had heard about Oxford’s notorious animal rights activists. They epitomized the absolute extreme to which the movement had come: “they” broke into labs, harassed professors, and even committed acts of bombing and arson. While there were many reason why my interviews for the Rhodes and Marshall were disasters,… Continue reading The Face of Terrorism (Oxford and elsewhere)
The ideas in this post were mostly bouncing around in my head at Christmastime, but with today being the one month anniversary of the quake in Haiti—and having just attended a panel on the international community’s response to said disaster—these things seemed suddenly relevant again. – – – – – The first proper summer job… Continue reading Giving Well
There are a few questions that seem to get asked at every single animal rights event I’ve ever been to, in spite of their complete inanity. At the end of any lecture by a vegan philosopher, it’s inevitably that some carnivore with raise their hand and smugly—as if they had come up with an idea… Continue reading On “Happy Meat”
I am used to being a spectacle. You can’t have a six inch, half-black half-white Mohawk and not expect stares. (Indeed, in retrospect, I am willing to admit that you can’t have a six-inch, half black half-white Mohawk and not want stares, at least to a degree.) Kids tend to be the most unfiltered in… Continue reading Mzungu!
Let’s play a game. It’s called the ULTIMATUM GAME. (Cue sinister music – but don’t get too excited). You have one-hundred dollars to divide between yourself and another person. You can divide it however you’d like. However, the other player will have a chance to accept or reject your offer. If they accept it, both… Continue reading The Project, Part III: Games!
So, last summer, I lived in the ghetto, and I wrote this about the experience: I’ve been waffling back and forth for the last couple of weeks about whether or not the term “ghetto” is appropriate. The moniker is certainly racialized and loaded enough that I use it cautiously. That said, to call my neighborhood… Continue reading Summer in the ‘hood