conquering adversity Archives

UPenn: Took Back The Night

Posted on April 27, 2015

On a recent Thursday evening, as the sun started to set on Penn’s college green, students began to gather there in solidarity. The reason: Take Back The Night, a nationwide peaceful protest that focuses on eliminating sexual and domestic violence. A poster making session had been held the night before at the Penn Women’s Center, and numerous brightly colored signs were created for the cause. The signs were distributed to all of the students, faculty, and other protesters who joined the Take Back the Night rally and march. A small speaker series took place at six pm on the stairs of college hall. Despite the vivid neon posters that littered the grass around them, the atmosphere was surprisingly somber and thoughtful, as the partakers listened intently to the shocking statistics and stories of sexual assault.

Immediately following the speakers, the energy suddenly reversed from solemn to lively. Protesters quickly filled in the ranks and began to march behind the Take Back the Night leaders. The massive protest looped throughout the entire campus with the beat of drums, and sounds of shouting and chanting filling the air. It was remarkable to witness the passion of these students, teachers and others alike, standing up and speaking out against sexual violence. But up to this point, I had felt like an outsider to the event, walking on the peripheries and hiding behind the lens of my camera.

It wasn’t until I was forced to put my camera down that realized my true purpose of being there. Photography was not permitted at the final installment of Take Back the Night, so what is not pictured in this article is the beautiful candle light vigil that took place at the end of the walk. The steps of Wynn Commons were filled with supporters and survivors and candles and blankets were passed out to everyone. At the center of the small stage, a single microphone stood surrounded by a semi circle of flickering candles. Anyone was invited to go up and share his or her stories. The ambiance in that mini amphitheater was like nothing I had every experienced before. The stories that were shared evoked diverse emotions; unbelievable sadness for what these individuals had endured but also great inspiration because of the bravery it took to reveal their experiences.

As I sat there on the cold stone steps, listening to the stories, watching the delicate flame of my candle waver in the wind, I understood what a truly exceptional event this was. Not only does Take Back the Night advocate for the abolition of sexual abuse and assault, but it also provides a setting for those seeking solace and support, including myself.

April 13^th, 2012. That was the night I had the opportunity to take back because of this wonderful and empowering event. Although I was not able to find the strength within me to share my story at the vigil, I walked away from the event knowing that I am a survivor and not a victim. For too long I have blamed myself for my rape, for putting myself in a vulnerable position and allowing such an awful experience to happen to me. But after sitting on those steps of Wynne Commons, listening to other survivors break the silence to end the violence, I realized that what happened to me was not my fault and that I am, in no way, responsible for my assault. Attending Take Back The Night was one of the best experiences of my life. I had the chance to take back a night I never wanted to happen and replace it with the amazing memories I made at this peaceful protest.

Editor’s Note: The author elects to remain anonymous.

Jing Liu: Time Heals

Posted on March 20, 2015 by Jing Liu

Yang is a friend of mine. I met him in class in 2014 and my first impression of him was cold and unfriendly. He seldom talked and he was always by himself. We didn’t even say hello until we were assigned to the same study group half a year later, and that’s when we started to get familiar with each other. As we learned more about each other, he started to open his heart and tell me a story hidden deep inside his psyche.

Yang grew up in Beijing, and he met his girlfriend Chi when he was 17. It was his first love. They were still high school students then where they used to sneak out of school, drank beers while sitting on Tiananmen Square late at night. They talked about dreams and the future while lying on the grass in the park. They forged ID’s to get a hotel room. They went to an Art Museum and stared at one painting of Vincent van Gogh for a whole day without talking. They did all sorts of crazy things together. They were classmates, friends, soul mates, lovers and eventually went to college together. They were happy for four years. Yang thought they would get married, because he believed Chi was the one. Unfortunately, something bad happened. Chi passed away suddenly because of a car accident. It’s very painful for a young boy to accept this fact. He fell into a deep sorrow, felt lonely, helpless and desperate.

Beijing is a city full of good and bad memories for him and he couldn’t stay in the city anymore. He decided to go abroad to escape from the painful memories. That is why he came to Upenn, where he hoped a foreign environment and stressful graduate student life would occupy his mind. But the loneliness even made him worse and he turned to drugs and alcohol. He lost himself, and didn’t believe he’d have the ability to love anyone else, including himself.

He said he’s very thankful for my friendship, because of one unintentional word of mine. A long time ago when were not so close, I was talking about a scar on my knee and I said: “time will heal all of your pains.” I smiled and I looked into his eyes. He realized, yes, maybe time is the cure.

Is time the cure? He doubted, he waited, he struggled, he tried.

He tried so hard. He is better now, at least he no longer looks like the lonely and sad boy as before. He communicates more with others, he goes to parties and he meets more new friends.

But I can still feel his weakness inside. He’s like wearing a mask. Time cures him partially and gives him the ability to camouflage. There is still a long way to go for time to heal his heart. I believe the power of time and so does he.

About the Author: Jing Liu is a graduate student in Fine Arts at the University of Pennsylvania.

Kevin Lu: Blank Space

Posted on March 18, 2015 by Kevin Lu

Everyone has his or her own space. It’s often bottled up deep inside of oneself where few outsiders have ever seen, much less have access to. It is in this space where our deepest emotions truly lay: happiness when we recall a distant memory, silly random thoughts, our greatest frustrations, our worst moments, and our deepest fears. This space, if opened to the world, could put oneself in an uncomfortable position. Therefore, oftentimes when people attempt to initially find or interact with this space they see it in a different way: blank.

Allowing someone into this space is truly a courageous endeavor. It requires peeling back the outer layer of nothingness and diving deep into the confines of another human. What one encounters is never predictable as you are greeted with new discoveries at every turn. Yet, with each new finding, it somehow all begins to seem familiar. A worried face or an angry tick is suddenly reminiscent of your own and what you begin to discover is that everyone is not as different as they seem.

Oftentimes when met with the journey of entering such a space, I am filled with apprehension — What if I see something that scares me? What if I don’t find what I had hoped to? Can I handle this responsibility? Once the walls come down it is a frighteningly vulnerable moment that you must close your eyes for — but then you open them. Everything that once was empty and blank is filled. The walls are colored with fears and frustrations; the floors are lined with precious memories and each turn brings both joy and sadness. It is here where you truly begin to understand a person and it is in this space, when it is no longer blank, that defines who you are.

About the Author: Kevin Lu is a senior enrolled in the Wharton School of Business, University of Pennsylvania, Class of 2015.

Maryrose Croddick: Teen Vogue

Posted on March 14, 2015 by Maryrose Croddick

Over the past few years I’ve watched my sister Bridget transform from a shy little girl into an engaging young woman. Not only did she grow about a foot taller and have her braces taken off just this past year, but she has also matured emotionally, becoming a more confident and outgoing individual.

This fall Bridget and her field hockey team won a gold medal in a national showcase tournament. In a just a short time she has developed into an exceptional athlete who impresses everyone watching from the sidelines with her speed and agility on the field. She is a force to be reckoned with when there is a stick in her hand, a tough and determined competitor.

Nevertheless, while she excels in sports she unfortunately suffers through school. A few years ago Bridget was diagnosed with ADD. She struggles significantly with her academics and school is a constant source of stress in her life. Despite this set back however, she is learning ways to better handle her studies in order to succeed in the classroom.

These photographs capture not only who Bridget is as both a student and an athlete, but also as an adolescent. The teenage years can take such an emotional toll on a young woman. Her battle to fit in but also be herself is very painful and confusing at times.

Life is propelling her forward on this journey to adulthood, yet Bridget still clings to her childish innocence. She possesses such youthful virtue and spritely energy and her happiest moments come when she is being her silly immature self. However, there is simultaneously a curiosity in her that compels her to explore her new maturity, her forming figure, and her developing sexuality.

And although Bridget has matured quite a bit recently, she is still only thirteen and has a lot more growing up to do. Very soon she will be graduating from middle school and going off to high school as a freshman in the fall, an exciting but also daunting thought for any eighth grader. She is thinking about pursuing a career in fashion, potentially as a model. It is definitely hard for me to see her growing up so fast because in my eyes she will always be my baby sister, but I’m excited to see what an exceptional young woman she will become in the future.

About The Author: Maryrose Croddick is a senior enrolled in the College of the University of Pennsylvania, Class of 2015.

Allison Denenberg: Perspective

Posted on March 12, 2015 by Allison Denenberg

About a month before my sister started high school and I began my freshman year of college, we found out that our mom had cancer. We were heartbroken and afraid, but also shocked and confused. How could something like this happen to our mom? She was so healthy. So alive. So kind. So undeserving of such a diagnosis. We feared that we were going to lose her, and we didn’t know what to do.

For months, we watched her undergo intensive chemotherapy treatments. She became frail and fatigued, but never stopped smiling. She constantly reassured us that she was fine, and that everything would be okay. Our mom was a ray of positivity and hope through one of the darkest times of our lives.

My sister and I learned a lot as a result of our mom’s illness. For one, it taught us not to sweat the small stuff. Failing a test, not getting the lead role in the play, being rejected from your top choice internship – these disappointments barely scratch the surface of the sadness and hopelessness that you feel when someone you love is sick and there is nothing you can do to heal them.

It has also taught us to be more appreciative of the good things in life, both big and small. A sunrise, the excitement of a first date, spending time with those you love – these are the things worth focusing on. It isn’t healthy to dwell on the negatives, because in doing so, you might overlook something wonderful.

While I never would have wished our mom to go through such an ordeal, there was definitely value in the experience. Watching her take on her illness with such positivity and grace was inspiring – and I was astonished at how her strength influenced my sister’s (and my own).

Now that our mom is better, we have all gained some peace of mind. But in her illness, we gained perspective.

About the Author: Allison Denenberg is a senior enrolled in the College of the University of Pennsylvania, Class of 2015.