Recently, I acquired Joan Didion's posthumously published work, Notes to John, from the library. The book was subject to much controversy, raising questions about the ethicality of publishing letters or notes that may not have been intended for the public eye. I began reading with a sense of apprehension, guilt even. Discussing everything from her daughter's struggles with alcoholism to Didion's own struggles with mental health, the work consists of Didion's meticulously written notes to John detailing the sessions she had with a psychiatrist she saw in 1999.

It's possible that this book was never supposed to be published at all. Its contents were found lurking in a box near her desk after her death. As I read it, I wondered if I should be reading it at all, if my curiosity about an author I admired should really outweigh the semblance of privacy she might have wanted to maintain (if she'd wanted to keep these notes private at all).

But more than anything, reading these leftovers of another person's life reminded me of another memory. I had a very philosophical history teacher my freshman year of high school, and from a conversation with him emerged a discussion about how different the science and practice of history would be decades or centuries from now. Excavation and archaeological study would involve less digging through physical dirt and more digital: the archives we dig through might be hidden USBs, e-mail drafts and people's notes apps instead.

This very rambling train of thought brought me to the question that inspired my very rambling thoughts in this piece: What do my archives look like? What have I kept that I'd like to get rid of? What have I thrown away or deleted that I wish was still around?

It's a point in my archives' favor that I'm a chronic hoarder: they may be messy and unhinged, but they'll be comprehensive.

My self-collected histories go back at least 15 years, to a reusable plastic cup on my bookshelf from Olive Garden that I got on my fifth birthday with my childhood best friend. A "throwback" to a time where Olive Garden was a fancy restaurant and fettuccine alfredo was a rare delicacy, not a weeknight staple. From that same era of my life I have a painting of the Truffula trees from the Lorax - my sixth birthday, a day where there was a lot of laughter and pink paint splattered across my mom's dress.

My very first Build-A-Bears: Snowflake and Peanut Butter, dressed in baby onesies my mom bought from Costco. Age seven is marked with a dream jar. My second grade teacher had us all read The BFG, who used to collect good and bad dreams and store them on his shelf. I made up a silly little dream about my cousin and me, which sits on my bookshelf now.

Then there's my very first "letters" box, an old chocolate box that was covered in red wrapping paper. Originally it was for a "dress as your favorite author" day when 8-year old me dressed as Laura Ingalls Wilder and wanted her very own tin box to carry around. Now, it holds an amalgamation: birthday cards from friends I left in California 10 years ago, whose names I know by heart but faces I cannot remember. A friendship bracelet from a girl I was best friends with in the third grade who I didn't even know by the next year when I moved schools and we we were separated. A plastic frisbee, signed by everyone I knew in kindergarten and first grade when I first left Austin to move to California.

Eleven is when we turn digital: the first pictures in my phone are from a camping trip in Seattle with my Dad's college best friend; but pictures don't capture the silly song the kids made up when we lost the tea strainer and tried to distract our parents while we looked for it. Dance videos, Halloween costumes, scenic pictures that I thought were aesthetic at the time but in reality are just unintended Dutch tilts of pink and purple flowers. Hundreds of pictures of my mom and dad, because being the only daughter means being the designated couples photographer.

Ages 12 through 18 are more of the same: birthday cards, letters, gifts and broken collections of gifts. But what's more interesting is what's missing: there are so many things I've thrown or given away that I'd do anything to get back. The first polaroids I took freshman year at the freshman formal, an empty tin of Trader Joe's green tea mints filled with guitar picks. I've deleted hundreds of pictures of ex-friends who I once wanted to forget, but now I recall as key parts of my history, memories I wish I could maintain when my own mind fails me. I even gave away a beautiful scrapbook, inspired by Carl and Ellie's Adventure book, that I'd always wanted to fill with my own adventures.

A growing awareness of all the aspects of my life that I've deleted or lost has made me more conscious about preserving everything, good or bad. I've stopped deleting the bad pictures and started boxes for all my friends - I even keep my own box for my new design team, containing everything from sticky notes with our old ideas to a ratty blood pressure cuff all of us signed from the first time we reverse-engineered something together. I cannot get back the items I've lost, but I can be more diligent about chronicling my life. Hopefully, when some historian (or unpaid undergrad intern) looks through my things centuries from now, they'll find these relics of a girl who loves her friends and family. And who knows? Maybe, by some miracle, the letters on my iPad, my half-written poems in my notes app and my document of unsent texts, can be sent to the people for whom they were intended.

Shreya Tiwari is a junior from Austin, Texas, studying BME. She is a Managing Editor for The News-Letter. Her column, "Invisible Strings," shares stories about all the people, places, and feelings to which she has "invisible strings," intimate hidden connections that she hopes to reveal to readers with each piece.

A subtle bass line pulsates from inside my headphones, most likely loud enough to be heard by any passerby as I lace up my green and beige New Balances before heading to the Rec for an hour of pickup basketball. Despite my limited previous experience, which came from a brief tenure on the first-year high school basketball team, I have come to find 'hoops' as my go-to weeknight ritual over the last few months. Standing in stark contrast to the pastel Kobes, Kyries and KDs that are typically on display, my 'old-reliables' have sustained continually middling performances in five-on-five play.

On the court, one could loosely describe my role as a 'facilitator' - doing just about anything to get the ball into the hands of those capable enough to score (namely, anyone but myself). Instinctually, I stray away from creating plays or shooting out of fear of embarrassment. When I am given the ball at the top of the key, I'm usually waved off by familiar faces who know that I won't be taking a chance. The few shots that I do take are a mere foot away from the hoop, or the result of a rebound of someone else's missed shot. Consequently, I am generally perceived as a non-threat in most basketball contexts.

Yet recently, I have found those initially unfamiliar faces to be a comfort. Beyond the stereotypical freshman fears of not fitting in or finding a friend group, the bar to get into a pickup game is extraordinarily low. The general criteria is to rely on three simple words, "I got next." You don't have to be a superstar, and you certainly don't have to be six feet tall, but if you want to play, that's enough. It doesn't take long to find your people, even if you don't manage to get to sixteen points first.

Further, the common courtesy of pickup extends beyond a handshake at the conclusion of each game. You'd have to look very hard to find someone who doesn't admit if they last touched the ball before going out of bounds, or if they fouled you on the follow-through of a layup. I understand that for most people, I'm getting in the weeds with basketball jargon, but my point is that generally people won't cheat, lie or take special effort to cheapen the sacred nature of the sport. In fact, clever plays or flashy passes will generally result in clapping from the opposing team, or at worst generate a look of disbelief accompanied by an under-the-breath mumble of how did he make that?

With finals season upon us, I think it's important to give ourselves a little bit of grace, or, more importantly, a bit of fun. While I know many of us are tempted by the allure of a solitary day spent studying, it seems unbelievably essential to do things that are not tied to any measure of success, academic or otherwise. Thank goodness my effectiveness from the three-point range and my average of two rebounds aren't tied to my GPA, or else I would be on academic probation.

What that could look like for you might be baking, watching a movie with your friends or simply taking time to be. For me, it feels like squeaky hardwood floors accompanied by the standard Wilson ball beating a steady heartbeat into the ground.

I wouldn't call every person I've shared the court with a friend for life. Hell, I can't even remember half their names. But then again, I don't need to. Because each time I step on the court, the subtly upturned heads of familiar faces are all the greeting that I need. That's a feeling of family in and of itself. One that isn't contingent upon blood or similar interests, just a shared love of putting a ball in a hoop.

I have never been the most skilled player, but if you ever happen to be at the Rec at eight on a Tuesday night, look at the basketball court. You'll probably see a myriad of swishes, some lucky shots, a behind-the-back pass or two and a few people just running up and down the floor, enjoying themselves. For most of us, that's all we could ever ask for.

Bryce Leiberman is a freshman from Madison, Conn. studying Political Science and Philosophy. His column records a search for authenticity exploring the past, present and restless work of becoming oneself.

The University explicitly states their compliance with the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) and Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973. However, though it meets several legal requirements, the pathways available for individuals with temporary or permanent physical disabilities are long and convoluted. Journeys that are typically straightforward for able-bodied individuals can take significantly longer for individuals with disabilities on Homewood Campus. We argue that the University must improve the availability of SDS services for students with physical disabilities and emphasize physical accessibility as much as academic accessibility.

While SDS is designed to support all students, its initiatives often center on accommodations that suit those with mental disabilities, leaving physical accessibility underemphasized. Examples of accommodations listed on the SDS website primarily address cognitive or sensory disabilities over mobility-related disabilities. Though this list is not necessarily comprehensive, it reflects a lack of transparency about available resources for these individuals.

Even though the campus is officially ADA-compliant, meaning that an accessible pathway exists between all buildings or locations on campus, these paths are oftentimes inefficient and greatly increase travel time between locations. For example, the walk from Gilman Hall to Remsen Hall normally takes only a minute by walking through Keyser Quad. However, an ADA-compliant route from Gilman to Remsen requires taking the elevator down to the bottom floor, walking northeast on Bowman Drive and entering the bottom floor of Remsen Hall through an obscured entrance, which takes much longer. Navigating within buildings across floors is an additional barrier because the University is often delayed in fixing or maintaining elevators - notable examples include elevators in dorms such as Scott-Bates Commons and the elevator in Shaffer Hall, where the SDS office is located.

It is important to note that the University has made active efforts to improve accessibility on Homewood Campus, one of them being Milton S. Eisenhower (MSE) Library, one of the buildings that was formerly criticized as "insensitive to the needs of disabled students." According to the Sheridan Libraries, one of the key design priorities in the reimagining of the Milton S. Eisenhower library is the prioritization of universal design with enhanced usability and accessibility. The renovated library will meet all modern accessibility requirements in accordance with ADA, including upgrades on building systems, infrastructure and interior architecture.

The prioritization marks both a positive step in the direction of a more accessible campus and shows that the school is aware of the lacking accessibility at Homewood. While these construction efforts show institutional commitment to long-term accessibility in new buildings, they have also introduced immediate disruptions and barriers for students with physical disabilities, rerouting foot traffic through even longer and less navigable routes. Prioritizing future improvements should not jeopardize the current experiences of those with physical disabilities.

In order to truly demonstrate a commitment to accessibility, the University must show equal prioritization of cognitive and physical disabilities, and this starts by building an accessible campus and experience that expands beyond the classroom. Hopkins should seek better communication between SDS and affiliates, provide more structured alternate routes and implement clear accessibility plans during all construction projects. These initiatives will help create a campus and culture that is accessible and enjoyable for Hopkins students, faculty and staff.

If you're a regular reader of our beloved Arts and Entertainment Section, you'll remember the recent Throwback Thursday on the ancient cave paintings of the Chauvet Caves. In 2010, the Chauvet Caves featured in renowned German director Werner Herzog's 3D documentary Cave of the Forgotten Dreams, which is being released in 6k restoration this Friday. While it may be impossible for a great many of us to ever see the Chauvet Caves in person, this 6k restoration not only brings the images of its walls to you, but it promises 3D effect, highlighting every crevice and divot. Look for this movie that looks back at the beginnings of art in a theatre near you on April 24!

In the spirit of looking back, the end of the year prompts many of us to begin reflecting on the 2025-2026 school year. How have we transformed, freshmen into sophomores, and have we fashioned ourselves into something ready for the broader world, graduating seniors? Yongyu Chen's debut poem collection Perennial Counterpart, which explores themes of "memory, nostalgia, and identity," might be the perfect read for our reflective time. The collection "balances conceptual density with a yearning lyricism" and releases this Tuesday on April 21!

Following this bittersweet note, Noah Kahan's fourth album The Great Divide promises songs of old memories and summer days with track titles like "End of August" and "We Go Way Back." The album's title track, released at the end of January, sends out a raw, heartfelt message to an old friend many years after their relationship has faded. If the end of the school year promises some bittersweet things for you, check out The Great Divide when it releases this Friday on April 24.

But don't let all this reflecting get you down, because spring is also a time for celebration and living in the moment. As you might have seen all over Sidechat, Instagram or our very own The News-Letter, Gunna will be headlining our annual Spring Fair Concert this Saturday, April 25. Known for albums such as Drip or Drown 2 and DS4EVER, Gunna's rap music has topped Billboard charts since his debut in 2016. If he isn't in your rotation already, then tune in, because tickets drop this Monday at 12 p.m.!

To watch:

• American Youngboy, directed by Nico Ballesteros - April 22
• Nikki Glaser: Good Girl, directed by Hamish Hamilton - April 24
• Michael, directed by Antoine Fuqua - April 24
• Cave of Forgotten Dreams, directed by Werner Herzog - April 24
• Omaha, directed by Cole Webley - April 24

To read:

• Working Nature: A History of the Energy Economy, written by Daniela Russ - April 21
• Lidie: The Further Travels and Adventures of Lidie Newton: A Novel, written by Jane Smiley - April 21
• No Way Home, written by T. C. Boyle - April 21
• Afternoon Hours of the Hermet, written by Patrick Cottrell - April 21
• Perennial Counterpart, written by Yongyu Chen - April 21

To listen:

• Wishbone (Deluxe), by Conan Gray - April 24
• Kehlani, by Kehlani - April 24
• The Great Divide, by Noah Kahan - April 24
• Toy With Me, by Meghan Trainor - April 24
• Under My Umbrella, by Miss Grit - April 24

Live events:

• Love and Family in Palestinian Cinema screening: 'The Time That Remains' - April 20, 6-8 p.m. at Gilman 50
  • This event is free.
• Spring Fair Concert: Gunna - April 25, 8 p.m. at the Ralph S. O'Connor Recreation Center
  • This event is free and requires registration.
• The Joshua Ringel Memorial Reading: Cornelius Eady - April 26, 2-4 p.m. at the Baltimore Museum of Art
  • This event is free and requires registration.
• I'm Gonna Let It Shine: Praise, Power, and Protest in Black Musical Traditions - April 26, 3-5 p.m. at the St. James Episcopal Church
  • This event is free and requires registration.
• Shriver Hall Concert Series: Steven Isserlis, Cello and Connie Shih, Piano - April 26, 5:30-7:30 p.m. at the Shriver Hall Auditorium
  • This event is free and requires registration.

The 2026 NCAA Division I Women's Basketball Tournament was filled with excitement, fueled by a newfound hype over women's sports. Ever since the 2023 tournament where Caitlin Clark and Iowa faced Angel Reese and LSU in the national championship game, views have skyrocketed. At the time, Iowa was a no. 2 seed and LSU a no. 3 seed, meaning Iowa had at least 4 teams in the tournament that were ranked higher, while LSU had at least 8. The final two standing had one thing in common: they were the underdogs.

The 2026 tournament ended with a championship game of South Carolina vs UCLA. UCLA dominated, winning 79-51. Six foot seven UCLA senior Lauren Betts won Most Outstanding Player. She had a tournament average of 21 ppg, 9.8 rpg and field goal percentage of 68.8%.

There were many more stars who shined throughout the tournament. Notre Dame's Hannah Hidalgo is as versatile as they come, averaging 25.3 ppg, 5.6 steals and 6.9 rebounds at only five foot six. Earlier in the season, she broke the DI record with a 44 point and 16 steal game, making her known as one of the best defenders in the game. UConn stars also rose to the top as players like Azzi Fudd and Sarah Strong both averaged around 19 points per game and were tremendously efficient shooters. Strong was named the National Player of the Year and Hidalgo was awarded Defensive Player of the Year.

There has been a recent shift in the game, punctuated by an expanding skill gap. There has always been a big difference in the capabilities between the 1st and 16th seeds, but not only has this become more evident, it has become apparent even within the first 3 seeds. Since the LSU vs. Iowa championship game, there has not been a 3rd seeded team present in the Final Four.

There also has been a massive emphasis on the new 'it' teams in the league. In the last two years, the same four teams (Texas, UConn, South Carolina and UCLA) have appeared in the Final Four. This has created much underwhelm within the tournament; people who were excited to see the underdogs come through faced constant disappointment. This year is being dubbed a chalk heavy year, which highlights the trend of higher seeds outscoring their opponents. 6 of the 32 first-round games were decided by single digits. Of the 29 other games, the winning team advanced by an average margin of 25 points. No. 1 South Carolina took the crown with its 69-point blow-by of Southern.

There are many reasons that teams like UConn, South Carolina and LSU have become superteams, some including incredible coaches and massive fanbases. Additionally, there are two new developments that have readjusted the way talent and skill are dispersed throughout the league: the commercial concept of name, image and likeness (NIL) and the transfer portal.

NIL is a way for players to make money from their own personal brand. Certain teams as a whole are more well known than others and have higher exposure, so players are now choosing teams that might maximize their future NIL income. Generally, these are teams that have more TV time, larger fan bases, are sports-centered and have more connections to deals. As a result, the best players will all cluster at the best schools in order to optimize their earnings. For example, LSU player, Flau'jae Johnson, is the nation's most valuable women's basketball player with a $1.5M NIL valuation. She is partnered with brands like Puma, JBL, Amazon, Meta and Samsung, and is also signed to Jay-Z's music label.

The transfer portal, introduced in 2018, allows students to transfer to a school they feel better accommodates their athletic needs. Prior to this, players would have to sit out a whole season at their new college and receive permission from their school to transfer (unless the coach that recruited them was leaving). Now, the transfer portal is unrestricted -any player can enter it as many times as they'd like. If a player transfers schools more than once, a waiver is required to allow them to play immediately; this was done for Louisville star Hailey Van Lith, who transferred from Louisville to LSU to TCU in the span of three years (and started for all 3 teams). This year there have been over 1300 women's basketball players in the transfer portal, and teams, such as Tennessee, had 0 players on their roster at one point.

The portal definitely has many positives. For one, bench players don't have to feel stuck; instead, they can go to a place that values their game and respects them as players. However, the negatives are evident as well. Notably, the best players are no longer dispersed throughout the division. Instead, they flock to the same elite teams at unprecedented levels. Notable transfers include Iowa State's Audi Crooks, who shot 64.9% from the floor and averaged 25.8 points per game in the 2025-2026 season.

The NCAA DI Women's March Madness was more than just a tournament, it was a reflection of the evolution of women's college basketball. What has been adored for its Cinderella story-like comebacks is now defined by influence, resources and money. If the tournament proved anything, it's that dominance may in fact be the new norm, rather than the exception, for the future of the women's game.

On April 9th, the Baltimore Museum of Art hosted the sixth annual Donald V. Bentley Memorial Lecture: The Freedom Bell: An Evening with Frances Harper at the BMA. Tracey Beale, the director of public programs at the Baltimore Museum of Art, gave a brief introduction about the Billie Holiday Center for Liberation Arts and highlighted its collaboration with Hopkins and its memorial lectures. She also introduced Jackson, who set the tone for the lecture by opening with his poem, "The Flight of William Bowser." William Bowser was a Maryland native who led a slave revolt shortly after the birth of Harper. The poem echoed the ideas of perseverance and revolution that Harper's life embodied.

Historian Martha S. Jones, a professor at the SNF Agora Institution at Hopkins, gave a lecture detailing Harper's life. She has evoked Harper in all of her works. She detailed the creation of the Johns Hopkins Hospital's orphan asylum and Harper's eventual visitation that disrupted the pre-conceived, rigid notions of what Black orphaned girls were capable of, covered the breadth of Harper's activism and work and analyzed how her speeches and poetry were effective in challenging the suffocating racism and sexism of the 19th century.

"By the 1850s, Harper was already established as an educator and published poet. In that decade, she also broke new ground; she joined the anti-slavery lecture circuit, a rarity for a Black woman, and she immediately earned notice," said Jones. "One woman's magazine remarked how Harper tore down barriers. Mary Ann Shadd Cary, an American-Canadian anti-slavery activist who edited her own newspaper in the 1850s, described Harper's early speeches as fervent, eloquent and with almost superhuman force and power over the spellbound audience."

Jones discussed how Harper's successes, particularly through character and speech, manifested. Harper's demeanor was critical to audience engagement.

"She adopted a ladylike comportment, even as her ideas were sharp edged and highly political," said Jones. "Audiences admired her unassuming manner, graceful oratory, fervency, pathos and truthfulness. She delivered outbursts of eloquent indignation in a style of speaking, which was highly poetical, quite touching and effective. [...] Harper shared the podium with many of the era's best known anti-slavery speakers [...] men like H. Ward Douglas, Robert Purvis, Charles Remond, William Grant Still and William Howard Day - along with white women lecturers, such as Lucretia Mott and Josephine Griffin."

Despite her professional triumphs, Harper faced many personal and fraught dangers during her travels.

Jones discussed a moment where Harper recalls a specific dangerous encounter.

"I have been insulted on several railroad cars. The other day, in attempting to ride in one of the city cars, after I had entered, the conductor came to me, and wanted me to go out on the platform [...] As a matter of course, I did not," Harper said. "Some one interfered, and asked or requested that I might be permitted to sit in a corner. I did not move, but kept the same seat. When I was about to leave, he refused my money, and I threw it down on the car floor, and got out, after I had ridden as far as I wished."

Then, Jones covered Harper's far, thorough journey across the country.

Specifically, in detailing Harper's journey, Jones moved from the men Harper shared the stage with and focused on her talent as a female speaker.

"She headlined commemorations and celebrations. She shared the bill and the podium with illustrious men, including H. Ford Douglass, Robert Purvis and Charles Remond," said Jones. "Cary had remarked that Harper was the greatest female speaker ever. And in the post-war years, Harper proved her right. When she spoke before the American Equal Rights Association in 1866, she did not mince words about the rights of women [...] faced down figures no less formidable than Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan Anthony, and she was at her best, the only Black woman to speak in a gathering brimming with skilled orators."

Most often quoted is her admonition: "They are all bound up together in one great bundle of humanity." Jones elaborated on this quote.

"It was a fierce reframing of American politics that rejected differences of race and of sex. Harper did not dwell on property rights for the ballot," said Jones. "Instead, her grievances emanated from the everyday indignities that Black women endured on the nation's trains and streetcars, being roughed up, ridiculed and refused service. All this, while white women passengers watched."

According to Jones, she was one of America's first truly intersectional feminists, someone whose analysis rejected racism, and sexism, along with differences of class and origin; "Harper's concerns only continued to broaden in the post-Civil War years, and she turned her attention to orphan children, those uniquely sheltered in care."

"Theirs was a world shaped by slavery, anti-Black racism and, even among some Black leaders, skepticism about how far a young woman's aspirations should take her," Jones remarked. "Harper's young life was troubled and also fortunate. She made the most of the active fortune we know while building upon a foundation that few young Black girls, even those born free, would never know before the Civil War."

In her 1891 poem, "Out in the Cold," Harper reflects on justice.

Jones' analysis of the poem incorporated Harper's life.

"Harper knew herself to be more fortunate than most children left out in the dark and cold, and it is her humility that permits her to see herself in the face of the children who animate the poem," said Jones. "The poem reflects the circumstances that Harper saw as she traveled through her time with women and girls, many former enslaved people among them."

Jones' lecture then returns to Hopkins, and how Harper and the institution shaped one another.

Harper, through her work and character, seemed to work as a counterexample to the rigid expectations set by the Hopkins orphan asylum.

"When Harper visited the girls in the Hopkins orphan asylum in 1895, she had a critical message. The girls there were trained to go into domestic service in the homes of Baltimore's elite. They would not be trained as educators or poets," said Jones. "They would know too little about how a woman like Harper made for herself a private as well as a public life. The girls, instead, could expect to live lives of domestic service, expect to face women who might not honor their purity and men who sought to compromise it."

Near the end of her lecture, Jones reflected on the nature of Hopkins as an institution.

In specific, she analyzed the institution's influence on those like Harper, who were orphaned and expected to be subjugated.

"For those straining to remember the asylum and understand its meaning for the Hopkins of today," said Jones, "Harper reminds us that in contrast, its rigid structures were not enough to hold her, and the possibilities of reform, back. The asylum began to shut its doors in 1914, but not before a new campus was built [...] It was the start of a new ambitious research institution that for generations trained young men of privilege, expecting that they would themselves someday not only make the world, but that they would head the elite homes that relied on the services of girls, such as those trained in the asylum. Hopkins was erecting halls that would launch white boys into limitless futures."

Jones concludes the lecture by moving back to words from Harper.

She takes Harper's most famous quote to bring together why every one of us should pay close attention to Harper and her life.

"To borrow Frances Harper's most openly quoted refrain, they were all the girls of the asylum and the boys of the university, but they were, like us, 'all bound up together," said Jones at the end of her lecture.

After the lecture was over, African American spirituals in Harper's honor were performed by Baltimore's Jonathan Pettus Chorale, which includes many alumni of the celebrated Morgan State University Choir.

A post-performance reception was held that featured free food and drinks. Notably, this reception featured a pop-up exhibit designed by Dr. Raynetta Wiggins-Jackson. Jackson is the lead curator for Curating and Archiving Black Baltimore, an interdisciplinary position between the Billie Holiday Center for Liberation Arts and Johns Hopkins University's Sheridan Libraries.

Currently, Special Collections in the Sheridan Libraries is hosting a Frances Harper exhibit until May 14th. The Brody Learning Commons Frances Harper exhibit is viewable from the windows of the Special Collections. This exhibit, called "We Rise," displayed at the museum, features a map that will help Hopkins students understand how the institution itself is in spatial relation to Harper.

The Billie Holiday Center for the Liberation Arts was designed to foster restorative links between Johns Hopkins University and the historic African American communities of Baltimore, and this lecture about Harper was one of the several ways the Center invites participants to engage with significant historical events and its relations to Hopkins. The Center hosts other programs for students to attend. These events are all over Baltimore and outside of campus, actively encouraging students to grapple with the history around them.

Through art, particularly music and poetry, Harper's revolutionary heritage has been preserved, but it also invites reflection on hope and resilience and a continued future for progressive growth.

Editor's Note, Apr. 15, 2026: This article was updated to correctly attribute several direct quotes by Jones from her lecture and correct several historical names mentioned. The News-Letter regrets this error.

I've been listening to kids more lately. Maybe it's because I've been teaching, but I don't mean just listening to them literally - their higher-pitched voices and inflections of pop culture, which sound like a dead language to me. The content of their speech is what I'm hearing, perhaps for the first time. Have you ever met one of those not-so-rare elementary-aged philosophers? One of my students wrote, "happy is where the sun likes my future." I do not think I could write a line so poignant if you asked me to. In dark clouds of jealousy, I feel relieved that my extra years have at least gifted me the executive function to weld together a greater number of mediocre sentences, and then I feel embarrassed for competing with an elementary schooler.

Listening to kids comes with the fine print of listening to myself or who I was as a child. The other day I excavated a memory I had forgotten. During long car rides as a child, I recall having one mission besides measuring our travels by counting the milemarkers outside: I had to find something beyond the window along our journey to "own." But what does that even mean, and more interestingly why as an elementary schooler did I have such a capitalistic and enterprising motor ticking me forward?

I held weird concepts of ownership. On vacation in Texas, I vomited in the Gulf after swallowing too much saltwater playing "surfboard," a game I invented in which - you guessed it - I pretended to be a stiff surfboard as the waves wrecked me. For years after that vacation, I claimed to others that I "owned" part of the Gulf of Mexico by virtue of my vomit (which I certainly owned) polluting a portion of its surface. But vomit wasn't always so ready to be summoned, and I yearned to expand my empire beyond the scope of my spray. My new rules of ownership became: If I spied a snapshot that was so unique for no one else to notice it in particular for the rest of the universe's time, then it became mine.

So, I began owning smaller things. I was very realistic about what I thought could get away without ever being noticed by anyone else for all of time. As environments blurred by my backseat car window, the things I looked for to accrue were mostly single leaves on faraway trees. Sometimes falling branches in crowded bosks, which I reasoned would descend into obscurity soon. If I was greedy, then I could get away with larger branches out in the open but which I figured were commonplace enough to escape the specific attention my rules stipulated.

Is it conceited to treat my life as literature? Just this once, let me - take an IOU in exchange. Readers of this era in my life may equip various lenses. There is, of course, the Marxist lens, which may come to mind first. Look at how far capitalism has extended for a child to be initiated into its grip so early, literally inventing currency with which to buy himself the natural world! That's one possibility. To any psychologists or literary specialists reading, submit a tip answering what a psychoanalytic lens of this situation may reveal.

This is not a practice I have kept today. None of the fallen leaves or pieces of litter that you don't see fluttering on Keyser Quad secretly belong to me. I don't remember when it stopped, either. Did something replace it? I've received the advice to never respond to emotional problems with intellectual answers, but I'm going to anyway. I think everyone wants to be different. Or at least I do. Even the people who say they just want to blend right in with everyone else: If you want to be extraordinarily invisible, is that not just another form of superpower, an abject form of difference?

So, perhaps all along this quest for ownership was one to differentiate myself. I alone own these things because I saw them when no one else did. In elementary school, when your parents are still picking the clothes you buy and acting more or less as your managers, then there are few other ways to express yourself as an individual. If the theory is that, with the advent of accessible forms of self-expression as I got older, the need for this game of ownership became obsolete, then that too still isn't satisfying because of one key issue: I wasn't very self-expressive even when I had the chance to be. For most of high school I wore sweats and hoodies and had similar interests to enough other people. If I wanted to be an individual then as I do now, then I certainly did a poor job of it.

Do I have parallel practices today? I do keep a running Notes app of observations, mostly with the intent to somehow write about them someday. Of course, that only receives half credit, because while it involves collecting my sights it also often leads to publicizing them via writing, which is anything but secret.

We all receive compliments that stick with us, especially the ones that are repeats, affirming a trait that we ingrain into our self-concepts. For me, I have always loved to be called observant, or a noticer of tiny details, but I can't tell if this resulted from or sparked my initial searching for hidden things to own. All the good that does me now is cue me in when small decorative or landscaping changes occur each time I return home. That house is a new color. They have a new birdbath in the lawn.

Call it anticlimax, but I myself truly do not have a read that I believe for why I was the way I was. I was not a greedy, possessive or territorial child in any other aspect of my life. I was not food insecure or strapped for belongings in any meaningful way. While I was not thirsty for ownership in action, perhaps I did always have some mental concept of needing something to belong to me: As I've written before, my dream job was nothing common like veterinarian, but rather hotel manager. Was this patchwork collection of leaves, branches of different sizes, and a measly puddle of the Gulf of Mexico the beginning of my very own Hilton au naturel?

Some things I think are better left packed. I do not believe any satisfying revelation lies at the bottom of why my childself narrowly escaped a track hurdling toward becoming America's next scummiest landlord. (Though, maybe there's still time…) To be honest, I believe that sometimes such exhumations of the past are only defilements of the present. We all have strange anecdotes. Are they better as just that: "anecdotes," ones we're meant to move past? In my hoarder days, I discovered some good things to own, the art of observation among them. But now - sue me for a sappy ending - I'm working on finding better things.

Riley Strait is a sophomore from Olathe, Kan. studying Writing Seminars and English. He is an Arts & Entertainment Editor for The News-Letter. His column, "In Medias Res," translates from Latin to "into the middle of things," shares narratives that bury occasional insights within fluffthat often leave the reader wondering, "Did I ask?"

When the summer heat has subsided, and the sun casts a liquid saffron in the rippling bank waters of the Loch Raven Reservoir, my father and I gather up hooks, lure and rods to set out fishing. After the back trunk of the car pops open with a metallic creak, we load up the equipment and begin a leisurely 9-minute drive from our house. My father is steering our beige 2008 Toyota Camry, proudly bearing a sunburnt bumper sticker of the Beijing Olympics, where our seatbelt buckles still radiate the heat of noon, and the entire interior smells of melting velour. He cranks on the radio to WEAA 89.9, my least favorite station, due to being young and not understanding the "allure of jazz," but my father insists it reminds him of the gate lounges of the Louis Armstrong Airport in New Orleans, waiting for flights home. We mainly drive along one monotonous, lazily winding road that escapes to the outskirts of Timonium, brushing past the whipping scenery of foliage in the reflection of the approaching basin.

Although I was the usual backseat passenger of my father's frequent journeys to the reservoir, I always made alternative preparations for spending my time. Sometimes I would choose my favorite stories from the Rainbow Magic Weather Fairies series to reread, undoing their worn, dog-eared pages. I also liked bringing a tight wad of multiple pieces of printer paper folded together with two Crayola coloring pencils - in case I was struck with the desire to trace over the book covers and reimagine their characters.

After parking the car on a flat gravel lot a little upfield of the fishing grounds, my father would swiftly change into his fishing garb, draping a faded blue and gray windbreaker over his polo shirt and spraying OFF! insect repellent in every direction, which invariably prickled the inside of my nostrils. "That's enough!" Rubbing out the oily droplets that would roll down my calves, I then helped him carry his red cooler. It functioned as both a storage container and a step he could use to heave his body up and lean his face far over the chainlink railing of the bridge, positioning him on the same altitude as the other more seasoned and more "American" fishers.

When my father fishes, you'd think he were some kind of monk. I sit a few paces away from him, watching his back poised and ready like the Roman statues I've seen in geography textbooks, and begin to read. Reading happens to sucks the time right out of a day, I've noticed, and I ensure each fishing trip that I have enough material to pass the time. Flipping to my lightly dog-eared page, I exit the realm of the reservoir, with its zipping dragonflies and itchy fountain grass, the landscape exhaling into silence as my mind enters the book in hand. I am still aware, of course, of my father's blurry figure recasting his line, the sound of the reel recoiling that gossamer thread and producing a high-pitched whir before the brass sinker breaks the surface of water with a plop.

It doesn't take me too many books before the sky breaks into a crabapple fuchsia, indicating the brink of night. A gaggle of geese makes their way across the inky water, their strokes leaving behind fine, dragging lines across the surface of the reservoir. When I squint again at my father, I realize he, too, has finished with the day, and his catch lay in an orderly row beneath his feet and spare rods. They ranged from small to large, a few Sunfish, six Crappies in ascending body length, and one glimmering Yellow Perchback at the top of this rank. I grin, putting down my books, and jump up to hug him fiercely.

"You did it! You did it again!"

As he smiles and squeezes my back with a gloved hand, I can smell the work of fishing on him, all the reel grease and saltiness from artificial lures and slimy tackle boxes.

In retrospect, I think he thought I must have really liked fish, or that I really liked going to the reservoir after school. Why else would I always volunteer to come with him, then, on these lengthy expeditions? The truth is, I actually liked the coming home part, him letting me sit in the passenger seat with the day's catch splashing around in the cooler on my lap, listening to the fuzzy radio together until I am lulled asleep by the familiar rhythm of the car tires running over the same speed bumps. The returning home tired, smelling like the rich earth and speckled with its dirt, opening the cooler and counting to ensure nothing had slipped away.

And then, waiting for the next sun to do it again.

Crystal Wang is a sophomore from Baltimore, Md., studying Molecular and Cellular Biology.

Founded in 2009 by Brandon Doman, The Strangers Project began as a simple yet powerful idea: to collect anonymous, handwritten stories from people around the world and share them in a space where anyone could read them. What started as a small project has grown into a global collection of human experiences stories filled with honesty, vulnerability and emotion. It creates a space where people can express themselves freely, without judgment, and where others are invited to simply listen.

When I visited the exhibit at the World Trade Center Oculus during spring break with the First Generation Low Income Networking program, I didn't expect it to affect me the way it did.

As soon as I walked in, I was surrounded by stories. Pages hung from the ceiling, clipped onto strings of light and covered the walls from corner to corner. The room felt quiet, but not empty; it felt alive, like every piece of paper held a voice waiting to be heard. I remember standing still for a moment, taking everything in, unsure of where to begin.

But once I started reading, I couldn't stop.

Reading those stories allowed me to feel people's raw emotions in a way I had never experienced before. The level of detail, the honesty and the vulnerability in their words made it impossible to stay detached. It didn't feel like I was just reading; it felt like I was being trusted with something deeply personal.

If I'm being honest, I cried.

Some stories carried joy. I remember reading one from someone excited about getting married, writing about love and the life they were about to begin. There was hope in their words, something light and beautiful that made me smile. Another story was written as a letter to a future self filled with uncertainty, but also determination, as if they were trying to remind themselves to keep going no matter what.

But not all of the stories were light.

Some were heavy in a way that stayed with me long after I walked away. I remember reading about someone being diagnosed with a terminal illness, writing about fear, acceptance and the reality of time slipping away. That story, and others like it, made everything feel more real, more immediate. These weren't just words, they were moments of people's lives, captured in a way that felt raw and unfiltered.

In that room, joy and pain existed side by side. Love, grief, hope and uncertainty were all hanging together, with each story just as important as the next.

What struck me the most was how connected I felt to complete strangers. These were people I would never meet, yet their emotions felt familiar. It made me realize how much we all carry, how many experiences go unseen and how often we move through life without truly understanding one another.

That space made me feel human, in the most honest and raw way possible.

One question written on the wall stood out to me: "What's your story?" It made me pause. In a room filled with vulnerability, I began to reflect on my own experiences and what I would share if I had the courage to leave a piece of myself behind.

Walking away, I realized how rare it is to truly listen to others, especially strangers. We live in a world where we are constantly moving, constantly distracted, often too focused on ourselves to notice the lives unfolding around us. But in that space, I was reminded that every person has a story worth hearing.

The Strangers Project is more than an art exhibit. It is a reminder that behind every face is a story, and behind every story is a human being navigating their own journey. And sometimes, all it takes is slowing down and listening to a stranger to remind you that you are not alone.

Alexandra Garcia Herrera is a freshman from Laurel, Md. majoring in Chemistry. Her column, "Letter from a Freshman," explores her reflections on what happens outside the syllabus: friendships, identity, grief and growth.

Two weeks ago, I had an incredible stroke of bad luck. Nothing was ever that serious, but minor inconveniences and unfortunate happenings followed me around like a fever I couldn't shake. The list of these inconveniences goes as follows:

I miss an email from my TA informing me that my 9 AM discussion section is online for the week, so I enter our empty classroom in confusion and have to join the Zoom call in said classroom and awkwardly apologize for being late;

I get a bad headache and take a nap to alleviate it, but it doesn't work and results in me being late to dance practice;

I'm in a rush to get home when it suddenly starts thundering and pouring rain-my friend offers to drive me home, but running to her car gets us both drenched;

I rush home to do a friend's vacation nails, but they end up being an hour late, so there was no reason to rush and get drenched;

My very irregular menstrual cycle decides to start two days before my very tropical, very beachy, very water-involved vacation to Cancun, even though I had just had my period 10 days ago;

At my internship, someone accuses me of lying about sending out the emails I was tasked with because they did not receive them, even though I most definitely did send those emails correctly;

My power goes out the same moment I'm supposed to have a meeting with with the same aforementioned TA, so I join her Zoom meeting late once again;

After joining this Zoom meeting, I quickly realize we were supposed to meet in person, not online, so I actually miss the meeting entirely;

I head to my next class shamefully, trudging through the heavy snowfall only to find out the professor decided to not come to class because of the snow, but neglected to tell us. She then gives us an assignment to make up for not having class, but makes it due 30 minutes after announcing it-with my bad luck regarding emails specifically, I don't see this until the deadline already passed;

I forget that I was supposed to have this article finished a week ago (sorry Kaitlin);

And finally, the night before my early morning flight, I get home at 11 p.m. and realize I lost my keys. My friend who lives 20 minutes away finds them on her floor, so I wait 30 minutes for a shuttle to retrieve them. On the shuttle back, it's past midnight and I'm the only passenger when my driver scares my soul right out of my body by muttering under his breath, "Why'd you get murdered?"

By this point, I am sick and tired of the games the universe has decided to play on me. But even more than that, I'm dreading that this bad luck is going to follow me onto my flight and stick with me through my vacation. Something almost always goes wrong for me when traveling is involved-either I forget something, or I lose something, or something is cancelled, or a horrible natural disaster overtakes my destination days before I go (last year, Palisades fire; I wish I were joking). My worries were only worsened when the BWI Airport completely shut down (the day before I lost my keys!) due to a chemical smell. But I tried to minimize any potential bad luck as much as I could - I religiously checked my bags to make sure I didn't forget anything, checked to make sure BWI was running again and that my flight wasn't cancelled, knocked on every piece of wood I came across and tried to manifest better luck by thinking of my unlucky streak as a way to get the bad vibes out of my system before I left.

In the end, whether it be the wood-knocking or the mindset change, something worked. The trip went entirely smoothly for me - nothing lost, nothing cancelled, nothing bad. It was nothing but a fun time filled with laughter, good food and beautiful scenery. Unfortunately for my friends, they encountered some back luck in the form of $60 water shoes, $70 swim trunks and some ill-timed lactose intolerance symptoms; I suppose they weren't able to get the bad luck out of the way in time.

From now on, I'm going to stick with the concept that luck is like a video game health bar, and to replenish it I have to endure a bit of misfortune. It makes it easier to bear, knowing that luckier times will come soon.

Harmony Liu is a junior from Queens, N.Y. studying English. Her column shares moments in her life that feel significant and profound enough to be written out and cast to sea for any to find.

The Tuesday before the Neuroscience: Cellular and Systems I (Cells) exam, war officially begins. My body is constantly in fight or flight mode, running on too much caffeine. In every interaction with my friends, I love to complain about how cooked I am. My whiteboard is filled with scribbles of every molecular and signaling pathway and half-erased reminders that somehow make perfect sense only to me. My days blur into a loop of studying, contemplating my overall intelligence to be a neuroscience major. It might seem dramatic and a little exhausting, but by this point, I'm completely on autopilot. My phone is on grayscale. I'm hopping from the Annex to Gilman on my study crawls, barely noticing the world around me, consumed entirely by memorizing every single detail I've been taught. The days feel faster, the stakes feel much higher and every second is dedicated to active recall.

Every day, I dedicate all of my brain cells (no pun intended) to memorizing every single concept from the lecture slides. I read the lecture notes, eyebrows furrowing to memorize every single word at least twice to make sure I am not missing anything. I double check my Anki cards to make sure that every single piece of information mentioned in the course content is included. Every move I make is with a single-minded purpose, testing myself relentlessly and pushing every concept into memory until it basically becomes tattooed into my brain.

For all of freshman year, I've always had the intention of becoming a neuroscience major. However, after enduring Foundations of Brain, Behavior, and Cognition (FBBC), I had to face a significant learning curve. Despite being allowed a cheat sheet, I had to think of an entire way to think and adapt to fast-paced material. After struggling, adapting and pushing through the frustration that I wasn't scoring as exceedingly high as my peers, I found myself questioning if I was even smart enough for the major. I would hear countless accounts on Cells on how it was basically FBBC on steroids and without a cheat sheet. There was a period that lasted a few months during freshman year where I was switching between multiple major combinations as I was sure that I wasn't going to be a neuroscience major and that it was best to switch to an easier major for the premed route.

As it was time to officially declare a major, I ultimately decided to commit to what I originally came in as. Part of it was stubbornness, but most of it was something deeper. Even after the frustration, the late nights and the constant feeling that everyone around me understood the material faster than I did, I still couldn't imagine studying anything else. The questions that originally drew me to neuroscience (e.g. how something as intangible as emotion can arise from electrical signals, how memory works, the beauty of neuroplasticity on how that changes us as a person) never really left my mind. Even when the coursework felt overwhelming, I truly did not believe I belonged in any other subject.

The night before a Cells exam never fails to remind me of how little I feel like I know. No matter how many hours I have spent reviewing, tracing pathways, being able to recall the text on the slides by just looking at the title, the moment I start working through the backtests and study questions, everything seems to fall apart. Questions that should feel straightforward suddenly look unfamiliar, and the answers end up being completely different from what I was thinking. Each mistake sends me back to the lecture slides' speaker notes, highlighting a small detail I have missed.

By the time midnight passes, the realization that the exam is only hours away makes the panic set in a little more. I keep telling myself that I've spent days studying this material, but at that moment it's hard not to focus on the many things I'm still getting wrong. The uncertainty feels heavier because I already know what it feels like to walk out of a Cells exam disappointed. Having scored lower than I hoped on the last one, this exam starts to feel like it carries more weight than it probably should.

Every mistake on a practice question suddenly feels like evidence that I haven't done enough, that maybe I still don't understand the material the way I'm supposed to. It becomes this familiar cycle: studying intensely for days, convincing myself that I finally understand the material, and then reaching the night before the exam and feeling like none of it has stuck. I'm sorry neuro gods! I promise I'll lock in! I can totally get a perfect score if I study! If I just remember what this one slide said, I can gain back a good amount of points. Cells is just a grind after all.

By that point in the night when I hear birds starting to chirp, there's not much left to do except trust the process that got me there. The whiteboard is full, my brain is overloaded with so much information and the exam is only a few hours away. I could cope by telling myself that I am worth so much more than a test score. I could come up with a hundred different explanations for why I still don't feel one-hundred percent ready. All that's left is to try to get a few hours of sleep for my memories to reconsolidate, and hope that when I sit in the exam room later that morning, my brain remembers more than it feels like right now and my abilities reflect so much more than my confidence.

Grace Wang is a sophomore from Tuscaloosa, Ala. majoring in Neuroscience. Her column chronicles life's unpredictable, beautiful mess - never neat, always honest and willing to show the chaos, contradictions and awkward truths we usually try to hide.

Sergio Giavanni Kitchens, going by the stage name "Gunna," is an Atlanta-based American rapper who has millions of streams on platforms like SoundCloud, YouTube and Spotify. Gunna signed to the Young Stoner Life Records in 2017; since then, he has collaborated with stars like Lil Baby, Don Toliver and Travis Scott in numerous mixtapes and albums. His most recent album, the Last Wun, peaked at number three on the Billboard 200.

In an interview with The News-Letter, freshman Adria Terpis, studying Applied Mathematics and Statistics, was inspired by other universities across the country when she offered her first choice for the artist before the announcement.

"Honestly, I really [want] Zara Larsson, because a lot of schools have her right now, and I got really excited."

Additionally, in expressing her hopes for the concert, Terpis was optimistic that the University would be able put on a good show and said that she would attend the event no matter who was revealed.

"The fall concert [featuring Khalid] was pretty good. I don't think Hopkins is not able to attain good artists," Terpis said. "No matter what, it's a free concert. I'm gonna go."

Sophomore Dawson Fontenot, studying Public Health, was somewhat more hesitant about attending the event before the reveal when asked if he would go to the then-unrevealed artist's concert in an interview with The News-Letter.

"It depends," said Fontenot, "If it's someone good, I'll pull up."

At 8:30 p.m. the artist was announced when a video made by HOP played at the event. After a ten-second countdown, Gunna was revealed to be this year's Spring Fair artist. Upon Gunna's announcement, the event's crowd erupted into cheers.

After the artist was made public, students responded positively. Freshman Emir Bombaci was pleasantly surprised, saying that he didn't think he would be familiar with the artist who was announced in an interview with The News-Letter.

"I was not expecting someone that I even recognized that much. Gunna is definitely a name that I know, a pretty big name, so I'm very happy that they managed to get an artist like Gunna," Bombaci stated. "In recent years, Gunna is definitely the biggest name that they've had… They had Kehlani, who was the biggest name I could think of, but way back they had Eminem or The Chainsmokers -it's closer to that level of grandeur," Bombaci said.

In an interview with The News-Letter, Junior Roseanne Duenas, studying Public Health, is a member of HOP and admits that, while she hasn't listened to that much of his music in the past, she was happy about the announcement.

"I don't really listen to his music, but I'm happy we got someone, so [I] can't be ungrateful there. I'm not really a rap person. I know some of his songs, but they're mostly features, so hopefully we'll see that at the concert," Duenas said.

Duenas was still hopeful about the event and confirmed that she would be in attendance. As a member of HOP, she is also proud of the work the organization has put into securing such a popular artist. Duenas commented that the concert tends to be a fun event, regardless of being a fan of the artist or not.

"I feel like, this year [because I'm part of the HOP], we actually got into planning… and we have a lot of good stuff coming up, so [it's been] better than other years." Duenas continued, "[HOP] always gets a good DJ. So I feel like, even if you don't know the artist, the DJ before the show is always so good."

This excitement marks a shift from last year's Spring Fair Concert, where Leadership, Engagement and Experiential Development Office's selection of The Beaches and Toosii was met with criticism.

Gunna will perform at the annual Spring Fair Concert on Saturday, April 25, at 8 PM in the Recreation Center.

Students who need to request accommodations for their disabilities work with the Student Disability Services (SDS) office. The process entails completing an online application, submitting appropriate medical documentation and scheduling a meeting with a staff member.

In an interview with The News-Letter, sophomore Kathryn Prather, majoring in Materials Science & Engineering and Economics, shared her experiences navigating accessibility resources. Prather has Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS), which causes varied symptoms, such as dizziness, fatigue and rapid heart rate, upon standing up from lying down. As such, this year, Prather has relied more on wheelchairs and avoids staircases when possible. Prather first mentioned her experience with SDS and her impressions of their role as tailored to preventing lawsuits.

"[SDS's] main job is to get the University to not get sued over accessibility. That is why it exists. So the way they approach student accessibility and their individual problems is interpreted through that lens," Prather explained. "A lot of individual advisors in the office really do want to help you. It's just that their legal framework is 'what will I do to not get the University sued?'"

As a freshman, Prather shared that the documentation she provided to SDS for accessibility services was in a different format than what was accepted. Only upon contacting a Hopkins doctor specializing in POTS was Prather able to get SDS resources.

"I come from a more rural area, and so there aren't that many primary care doctors, and they're very overworked. [SDS] wanted a really long questionnaire from my doctor about all my needs... which is great if you have a doctor that has the time or resources," Prather said. "[After] I got into the [Hopkins POTS] clinic... [SDS] were really willing to work with me and give me my accommodations. [But] it took having a doctor that knew the correct language and had the resources, and it took me having the resources to get that doctor in order for my accommodations to be approved."

SDS's guidelines for physical disability forms fall under "all disabilities," where paperwork is expected to encompass the history of the disability, functional limitations, expected progression and potential accommodations. The exact documentation form provided by SDS entails seven short response questions regarding these details.

Prather also explained that a lot of the burden falls on the student and professors with accommodation execution.

"I have some extended time on assignments if I have a flare... [SDS] wanted me to go through [with] all my professors this long document agreement thing, which just puts a ton of burden on me and my professors," Prather stated. "[For exams,] you basically have to email all your professors, be like, 'Hey, can you set up my exam to take it at SDS?' And then most of your professors will be fine... [For] some professors who are on the older side, perhaps or not used to the systemm I've had to go back and forth [them], and if professors aren't responsive over email, that's a big problem."

In terms of accessible resources, some students have noted how SDS' website page of accommodations tends to focus more on intellectual disabilities than physical ones. Specifically, some students have pointed out that while non-stair routes exist, they are highly impractical for regular use. For example, a seemingly straightforward route between Remsen and Gilman Hall can take up to 10 minutes when taking the accessible route, including using the Remsen Hall elevator to get to the basement, going around Decker gardens through the tunnel between Gilman Hall, and entering to use the Gilman elevator.

"If it's possible to avoid stairs, it literally just takes me so much longer to get to my classes, sometimes, because I have to go all the way around," Prather added. "They do have a shuttle service, like there's an on-demand ride thing you can get as an accommodation, which is helpful, but it takes forever. You can eventually find ways around campus, but it just is so time-intensive."

In an email to The News-Letter, one campus tour guide, choosing to comment under the pseudonym "Pat," shared how their accessible, non-stair route can take far longer than the typical route.

"It's not harder to give the tour [with accessible accommodations]; it is a different route, though. And it definitely takes longer to get around campus. Of course, you can get anywhere stairless, but you just have to take longer detours." Pat added, "There are some buildings where I still don't know where the stairless route would be without having a super long detour."

Specifically, Pat shared how some University ramps are unnecessarily long and difficult to locate, such as the Breezeway to Wyman Quad (which does not accessibly connect to Keyser Quad), Gilman Hall to Keyser Quad and Brody Learning Commons to Maryland Hall.

"I feel like most ramps are covered (like Shriver or Gilman) with bushes so it's hard to find," Pat noted.

Pat also noted the effects of the long routes on prospective students requiring physical accommodations, including frustration.

"Just seeing routes with stairs that are inaccessible but clearly faster and easier would diminish morale," Pat wrote.

Prather, in particular, noted issues with the lack of signage and maintenance updates with elevators, such as the one in Krieger Hall. Prather also expressed that many elevators are old, which scares her from using them frequently.

"The Krieger elevator went down earlier this semester... A lot of elevators seem to go out of order randomly on campus, or they even get tested without notice... [The University] will have elevators just be down without really telling you why. I actually missed class once, because it was on the third floor of Krieger, and I came into the basement entrance, which has no stairs, because I was using my wheelchair that day, and the elevator wasn't working," Prather shared.

Pat corroborated Prather's claim, mentioning how the stair-less campus tour route sometimes relies on dysfunctional elevators. The Shaffer Hall elevator, for example, was also out of order for some time this semester.

"The stairless route is very reliant on the 2-3 elevators per building, some of which don't work occasionally," Pat wrote.

SDS currently does not publicize its elevator outages; instead, students can request maintenance through a provided form and number. In an email to The News-Letter, the University encouraged students to report outages and provide feedback through the maintenance form and explained the protocols for marking dysfunctional elevators.

"Hopkinsmaintainsitselevatorsin accordancewithall applicable safety, building, and accessibility requirements.When an unplannedelevatorissueoccurs,our facilitiesteamlocks out the elevatorand places an "Out of Service" sign," a University spokesperson wrote. "Elevator outages are prioritizedforimmediate response dueto theimpact on individuals whorely on elevators for access.The facilities teammaintainsanelevator service log to documentinspections, maintenance activity, and operationalstatus."

SDS also promotes a quarterly-updated map with all accessible routes on their website; however, the map requires individuals to chart their own route and interpret the legend. Moreover, the University has released a Wayfinding app, which reflects updated paths on campus due to construction. According to a University spokesperson, the University had developed these resource with student input. On their website, the University outlines future plans for greater interaction.

"The university is researching mobile app capabilities that would provide an accessible experience for blind or nonvisual users, offer a more interactive experience, and be easier to update with changes," the University writes on the SDS website.

The University has highlighted the Bloomberg Student Center (BSC) as a building with an elevator and physical accessibility resources. However, Prather shared that some features are more varied in efficiency; for example, in Prather's experience, the automatic doors haven't worked consistently, and many locations are only accessible through stairs.

"The whole [BSC] is a giant staircase of a design," she said. "There are tons of spaces that are just inaccessible, and that's fine if you want that kind of architecture, but it's very insulting when, also on the wall, you're talking about accessibility."

With the BSC's development, Prather shared how the garden area in front of the courtyard was now blocked off with shrubs; prior to the BSC's construction, that was one of the only accessible routes to get on campus from North Charles Street. Other paths, including through the Baltimore Museum of Art sculpture gardens and the Beach, are not ADA-compliant due to their steep gradient. The Alumni Memorial Residence (AMR) II parking lot provided a path, but it has mostly been under construction this semester until two weeks ago.

As such, students requiring accessible routes to campus have mostly relied on the BSC with its ramp and elevators. If the BSC is closed, students who cannot use stairs would have no reliable access. Prather expressed that the University should make an accessible route on campus without relying on entering a building.

Throughout the construction projects on campus, Prather has shared that many paths have been blocked off without prior notice and some construction vehicles have parked in disabled spots.

"Behind Hodson, there's a bunch of disabled spots. It's sort of a comical number of disabled spots in a row, but I do park there, and they just had construction vehicles there -construction equipment taking up all six spots," Prather said. "[And] it's such a burden [to complain about this], I'm literally a disabled student trying to keep up with my coursework, like I don't have time to run around campus yelling at people."

Notably, Prather's physical accessibility needs vary from day to day. Prather criticized the system for lacking clarity towards uncommon and varied disabilities and medical issues.

"And so with such a wide range of disabilities, and [with] a more nebulous disability, then it's just so hard to define, and there aren't really systems in place to help you define it either. You really do just have to find it yourself and advocate for yourself," Prather noted.

Prather expressed that the University should be more proactive in finding issues with physical accessibility. Prather recommended the Disabled Student Community Outreach (DiSCO) for students seeking guidance on navigating physical disabilities on campus.

"I think [the University should] invest more into actually finding the problems. Be more proactive as a university, versus waiting for students to have problems or for faculty to have problems [...]," Prather said. "[DiSCO is] a really good starting place for any disabled student who doesn't know what they're doing or if they're not even sure if they're disabled."

In an email to The News-Letter, a University spokesperson reaffirmed the University's stance to ensuring campus life stays accessible and expressed openness to ongoing feedback. For example, in recent years, the University has noted how they have updated building signage at accessible entrances, replaced eroded accessible pathways, evaluated building handrails, installed curb cuts and added interior wheelchair lifts in Shriver Hall. The University has also focused on accessibility for upcoming renovation of the Milton S. Eisenhower Library, including the lowering of the eastern entrance to remove stairs.

"Informed by student feedback, the library will feature a variety of seating options and adjustable-height tables, allowing individuals to choose what best suits their needs. New bookstacks will be appropriately spaced, with materials placed at easier-to-reach levels to support independent use. Movement throughout the building will also be improved through a comprehensive, ADA‑compliant signage system that incorporates clear visual and spatial cues for wayfinding." A University spokesperson continued, "Hopkinsunderstands that accessibility is essential to the full experience of campus life andworks to ensure that everyone can move through our campus as smoothly,safelyand efficiently as possible."

In Fall 2024, the University established the "Hopkins Accessibility Working Group" (HAWG), which seeks to maximize campus accessibility and amplify the voices of disabled campus members. According to a University spokesperson, HAWG has provided guidance on construction projects, held community forums (regarding signage and construction notices) and met with the Disability inclusion Advisory Committee, the Disability Employee Resource Group, Resident Advisors and DiSCO.

"These collaborations help the universityidentifyopportunities to improve accessibilitybyrespondingto needs promptlyand trackingprogress over time.They alsoensure partners share best practices for including people with disabilities. To reach out to the group to report a concern or advocate for increased accessibility, email HAWG@jh.edu," a University spokesperson wrote.

Editor's Note: A previous version of this article was published without including the comment provided from University administration. The News-Letter regrets this error.

I despise small talk. And it's all over social media, too. When did it become necessary for "friends" I haven't spoken to in years to flood my comments section with "gorgggg," or "you're so adorable" or "marry me pls." I don't really want to marry you, random stranger whose Instagram handle I barely recognize.

Was small talk really always so blasé? I sound cynical, but it's not the length of these conversations that bothers me. It's the lack of personalization. There's something sickly about the sweetness of artificial platitudes, of the awkward smile and wave when you run into someone in the halls or on campus. Who decided that "Hi" and "How are you" must be responded to with "Fine"?

I am deeply introverted and I struggle with talking to new people. But most of my fear originates from my anxiety about the dreaded small talk. Even some of my closest friends default to humor as a shield during small talk because talking about how they're really doing is too difficult.

But what if it wasn't small talk, anymore? What if we spoke with our hearts open and earnestness to learn about each other? What if we avoided the desire to hide behind a silly little coping mechanism?

What if I were to respond to "How are you"s with "Having the worst day of my life, actually," instead?

The most memorable encounters I've had aren't resume swaps or bland commentary on the weather; they're short and sweet but filled with meaning. It's the girl I talked to during Orientation Week and bonded with about our brown parents and fears about college. It's the person who texted me about how much they loved Gracie Abram's newest album and how much it connected with them. It's the very first set of DMs with the girl who became my roommate and best friend, where we talked about NIKI; it was the other incoming students who reached out to me three years ago and confessed their fears about graduating and their excitement for this new chapter. There was no "slay, queen!!!" in those moments, only raw, unpolished truths. It was just humans, coexisting with each other, short conversations dripping with vulnerability.

These interactions are what give me faith in our capacity to move away from predetermined conversations, from rehearsed dialogue. Small talk is a dead end - both me and you, reader, will be left standing there, waiting for our little back-and-forth to reach its intended end. But if you told me you were having the worst day of your life or told me about that terrible test you had, the end of the road disappears. There's infinite conversation to be had, there's relatability and empathy to share.

Of course, there's probably some safety in the shallow end and there's risk involved in being so open. I'm guilty of it, just as much as anyone else. Telling someone you're not doing well is terrifying; letting someone into your own complicated life is almost like throwing a fishing line into piranha-infested waters. It's crossed my mind that my introversion is a defense mechanism, a way to keep people at arm's length so I can curate the parts of my personality that they actually see.

I want to end with a guide to what "big talk" looks like, for people who find themselves lost navigating past surface-level conversations.

1. Don't ask me a question I can answer in just one word. Not "How are you?" or "How was your weekend?" Ask me, "What was the best part of your week?" instead.
2. Ask "why." Why did your weekend suck? Why do you feel like your test didn't go well? Why do you like boba so much?
3. The most important rule: know when to shut up. Above all, sometimes the best small talk is no talk at all. Just sit with me in silence. We don't need to talk all the time. Sometimes it's enough to just sit together and be in the same room, doing your own thing.

The next time we run into each other, don't just compliment me and ask "how it's going." Tell me more about your weekend than whether it was good or bad. Rewrite our small talk script. And who knows? We might end up learning something about one another that brings us closer together.

Shreya Tiwari is a junior from Austin, Texas, studying Biomedical Engineering. She is a Managing Editor for The News-Letter. Her column, "Invisible Strings," shares stories about all the people, places, and feelings to which she has "invisible strings," intimate hidden connections that she hopes to reveal to readers with each piece.

What is Dayli? How can it be used?

From a purely functional standpoint, Dayli users are notified by the app at a random time each day, similar to the social media platform BeReal. However, instead of taking a photo, Dayli users start a one-minute phone call with one of their friends on the app. In signing up, users are prompted to share their contact list with Dayli and connect with friends by suggesting contacts that are already users on the app. Additionally, both parties to the call have a one-time option to add another minute to the call, resulting in a total possible length of three minutes. Users are also not locked into a 60-second call and can hang up at any time.

Park says that Dayli, at its core, is an easier way to help its users maintain friendships, especially with people users may not be able to see very often.

"We see Dayli as being the easiest way for you to keep in contact with people who you might not be able to see every single day. It mainly came from us being international students." said Park. "Sometimes you just forget to keep in touch with the people who matter, and we wanted to build a solution to that exact problem."

How does Dayli help facilitate social connection for its users?

Park highlighted an epidemic of loneliness, at least among Generations Z and Alpha, and offered social media as a potential cause.

"A large part of this is because you see modern day social media, Goliaths, like Instagram Tiktok. They're all like, really moving towards short form entertainment, and their main goal is to keep you stuck on the screen and for as long as possible," offered Park.

He framed Dayli as a solution to this growing problem. By encouraging its users to connect with a friend for at least one minute a day, Park thinks Dayli offers an alternative to social media and all of its strings attached.

"'We kind of wanted to be the antithesis to that exact issue, because all of that time that you're spending scrolling on [Instagram] Reels, it's time that you could have been spending with a real friend, with an actual person that you care about, with a family member. So the solution that we provide is very, very simple. You can't really scroll on our application. It's one call a day, and it's just for 60 seconds. It's really that simple," said Park.

In terms of analytics, Park said that Dayli has grown to 500 users since the launch of its platform this semester and experienced a weekly growth rate of over 100% in addition to a user retention rate around 45%.

How have your social media campaigns helped in gaining new users for the app?

Dayli has been maintaining an active presence on social media and according to Park, the team behind Dayli believes that this is an important tool to spread awareness about the platform.

"Obviously we're meeting people where they're already at. They're on social media. They want to scroll into things. They want to see what's happening on campus and whatnot," said Park.

Park thinks that this is just one step in the process of developing a user base. Many of their videos do not necessarily aim to convince watchers to download their app but simply try to establish a presence on social media.

"Y​​ou need to have that first layer of awareness before you're really able to hit them with the reason why they should be using this application. Nobody likes to be sold things on the very first try. They want to first understand the emotion that you're trying to provide, the mission that you have. The fact that everyone knows about you makes that conversion process later down the line a lot easier," said Park.

How has Dayli expanded into the event-planning space?

Dayli branched out into the event-planning space with an event co-hosted by the Beta fraternity on Saturday, April 11.

According to Marczali, Dayli's events work similar to their social media presence, in that they aim to build up an on-campus presence.

"I think some of the things we've known in the past were smaller things, like hosting small challenges for short videos where people could call their friends up and play a little game to win a prize, or handing out free pizza during midterms to help out students and making it a little like fun thing for everyone," said Marczali.

Marczali mentioned that Dayli's biggest event so far would be the party with Beta (the interview was conducted before the event took place), but the team also has plans to expand and host more events, both larger and on the smaller side.

"We're planning a lot of year-end get-togethers that we're sponsoring in smaller or bigger student clubs and organizations, as well as maybe a couple other parties," said Marczali. "Another thing we're thinking we have planned is a partnership with one of the one of the restaurants and boba shops on St Paul. So that's another thing that we're very excited about."

How has Dayli changed over the course of its founding?

Early snapshots of Dayli's website call the platform an "AI-powered scheduling assistant," but the function of the app has changed drastically.

According to Marczali, the original idea behind Dayli was to create an AI tool that makes scheduling time with your friends easier.

Marczali said "The initial thought was 'Hey, let's build something around planning or scheduling, because that seems to be something people struggle with.'"

However, Dayli has since evolved, most notably in its shift away from artificial intelligence.

"We actually are trying to go against the whole AI trend, because it just seems like completely unnecessary hype," said Marczali. "We don't have any AI built into the app."

Additionally Marczali remarked that during the launch of the app's first concept, people were not as receptive to the planning features as the team thought they would be. Instead of using the existing scheduling features, many users would instead solely use the app to try to initiate new plans.

"While building the initial version of what Dayli was, we realized that the users didn't use it for what we thought they would use it for. They had the whole planning functionality and a lot of cool features that made planning very easy and very fast between friends or even friend groups. But what we saw is, instead of using it regularly for planning, people would just go on daily to try and initiate," said Marczali.

Do you have any comments about the wider startup culture at Hopkins?

In light of a piece published by The News-Letter about What2Do, another Hopkins startup, Marczali made some brief comments hopeful about the future of the two platforms.

"Some of those people [at What2Do] are not only my friends, but also my fraternity brothers. So there really is nothing in between us, and hopefully we can even do some collaborations in the future."

For the team, the moment they qualified did not feel entirely real at first. In an email to The News-Letter, sophomore neuroscience major Arjit Singh, a captain of the team, described his initial reaction to qualifying for the tournament.

"My immediate reaction was honestly just shock. It was a moment where I just thought of all the hard work, time, and effort that we were putting into the team to succeed, and it all just felt like it was coming to fruition at that moment," he wrote.

Another dancer, junior Neuroscience major Anshu Sharda, described the experience of celebrating after the competition.

"Everyone was hugging each other, laughing, crying - there were so many tears and smiles; it was such a bittersweet moment, and I was overwhelmed with emotion," Sharda wrote of their Blowout performance. "We danced for each other, for our family we've built."

This year marks the first time in 26 years that the team has qualified for nationals, making their performance not only a personal milestone, but a historical moment for the team and the University.

Bhangra is a traditional folk dance that originated in Punjab, historically performed in celebration of the harvest festival Vaisakhi. Known for its high energy and expressive movements, bhangra is performed to the beat of the dhol, a double-sided drum, often accompanied by lyrics that tell stories of love, strength and celebration.

Dancers wear clothing rooted in Punjabi culture with men performing in a kurta (long shirt), pagh (turban) and chaddar (loose pants), while the women wear a salwar kameez and dupatta. These outfits are often adorned with intricate embroidery, jewelry and glitter, designed to enhance the energy and visual impact of performance. Accessories extend beyond clothing, including the Rumaalan, a handkerchief tied around a dancer's wrist to accentuate fast, expressive hand movements.

Props also play a central role in performance, most notably sapp and khunde, which dancers manipulate to add rhythm, texture and visual intensity to the set.

Today, bhangra has evolved into a global performance event, particularly within collegiate circuits, where teams blend traditional elements with modern choreography.

Sami Muhammad, a senior physics major and dancer on the team, talked about the range of bhangra dance styles in an email to The News-Letter.

"Bhangra is incredibly rich both in the depth of its form and also the breadth of styles," he wrote. "When we perform a set on campus, it's not just one bhangra performance. It's really an amalgamation of different sub-genres like jhummar or dhamaal, each of which have unique histories in Punjab region."

For members of Blue Jay Bhangra, this balance between tradition and individuality is part of what defines the team's identity. In an interview with The News-Letter, neuroscience sophomore Agalya Ramkumar explained the importance of expression among the members.

"What makes BJB truly unique is the concept of nakhra: the individual flair and confidence each dancer brings to the stage," she wrote. "Rather than being completely uniform, our team is a blend of distinct personalities and styles, and I think that's what makes watching us so exciting."

Behind the energy of competition lies months of preparation, and behind every performance is a level of planning and precision that often goes unseen. For Blue Jay Bhangra, much of that responsibility falls on captains Samhith Bhrugubanda, Milun Jain, Avani Daga and Arjit Singh.

In the weeks leading up to major competitions like Blowout, practices can stretch to three to four hours a day, on top of regular weekly rehearsals. Dancers spend this time refining synchronization, adjusting choreography and building stamina.

Forming a top 10 bhangra team is no easy feat. While designing the set and refining moves, the captains are involved in nearly every aspect of the team's performance. They lead practices, teach choreography and ensure that each dancer is aligned, not just in steps but also in timing, energy and expression.

In an interview with The News-Letter, senior biomedical engineering major and a captain on the team, Samhith Bhrugubanda explained the responsibilities that come with leading the team.

"The biggest challenge about being a captain is balance," he wrote. "Duties involve making choreography, creating formations, building a mix, leading practice... organizing schedules, handling logistics, and so much more."

For dancers like Tanvi Ranade, a senior majoring in Biomedical Engineering and Computer Science, that effort is visible in the final performance, as she described in an email to The News-Letter.

"After all the grit and dedication every single team member poured into the season, performing on that stage felt like the final piece clicking into place," she wrote.

This year's success did not come from a single performance or a single person, but from steady growth throughout the season from the whole team.

"I'd give a lot of credit to our four amazing captains for designing such a strong set and really believing in the dancers on this team," Ranade wrote. "At the same time, it was the collective commitment from everyone on the team... [that] made this season so successful."

For many members, the most meaningful experiences happened offstage. In response to a question about his favorite memory on the team, Muhammad recalled a moment of team bonding after a competition in Miami.

"We all spontaneously went to the beach right before our 6 a.m. flight. Between the immediate feeling after placing at the competition, and also the immense closeness we all felt over that weekend, it was a surreal moment at a pretty crazy time in the night that felt very special," he wrote.

Singh also described how those interested in joining the team can get involved by following BJB on social media (@bluejaybhangra) for information about tryouts.

"We're looking for things like energy, willingness to learn and understanding of the fundamentals. There is NO prior experience necessary, so anyone and everyone interested should definitely try out," he wrote.

The APL receives around 67% of its federal funding from the Department of Defense (DOD). Some of the APL's projects are released, but the vast majority of information about the APL's work is classified due to its mission.

Due to its involvement in US military conflicts, the APL has generated controversy among some students and faculty in light of modern military conflicts, especially due to the APL's affiliation with a University centered on health research. For example, in 1987, Lucille Ann Mostello, a School of Medicine alumna, wrote a letter to the former president of Hopkins, Steven Muller. Mostello claimed that the APL blemished Muller's claim that Hopkins was "a major world university" and "not exclusively as a major American university." Mostello described an alleged contradiction in Hopkins' reputation as a leading health research institution and contributor to the creation of nuclear weapons through the APL.

Even today, the language of "nation" in the APL's mission contrasts the University's mention of "world" in their general mission. Hopkins' broader mission statement outlines the goals of educating students, encouraging research and bringing "the benefits of discovery to the world."

A History of Protests

The APL has long been a student-criticized institution at Hopkins. In the 1970s, at the peak of the anti-war movement due to U.S. involvement in Vietnam, Hopkins students demanded the University to end its contribution to the U.S.'s "military industrial complex." These demands included the dissolution of the Reserve Officers' Training Corps program, responsible for training college students for a military career, and banning military recruiters from campus.

Students also advocated banning classified research and converting the APL into an institution invested in civilian research. Specifically, students called for diverting APL's funding to "socially benevolent research" in public health. The University banned military recruitment following protests outside Levering Hall, but the demands for changes to the APL were not met.

Similar movements occurred across college campuses. In 1973, the Charles Stark Draper Laboratory divested from MIT after students demanded non-involvement. At Stanford University, the Stanford Research Institute shifted from military research to civil-oriented projects following student protests.

There were several protests against the APL from September 1986 to early 1987. An APL demonstration summary describes protests from November of 1986 to January 1987. Demonstrations occurred on November 11, November 26, December 22, January 6 and January 14. The November 11 and January 14 protests resulted in arrests for trespassing.

In February of 1988, another letter describes a 40-person protest where "APL personnel applied limited physical restraints" to demonstrators to prevent them from locking a gate. Sixteen protestors were arrested, several of whom chose to "go limp" and were carried into police cars.

Recent Controversies

On February 28, a U.S. military Tomahawk missile hit a school in Iran, with US officials stating their intention to hit a nearby naval base. The attack resulted in the deaths of 175 people, most of whom were children. Since then, it is estimated that the US has used over 850 of these missiles throughout the conflict. This has raised concerns about the possible depletion of the U.S.'s remaining weapon supplies. Other outcries point to the effects of the quantity of strikes as an indicator of humanitarian crises in attacked nations.

The development of the Tomahawk missile began at the APL in the 1970s. The missile was tested from 1976 to 1978, during the peak of the Cold War. The U.S. developed the missile, intending to counter rising Soviet military power. The weapon was designed to make precise and flexible strikes and was part of the U.S.'s larger movement to lower the risk of long-range missiles by eliminating the need for pilots. The Tomahawk was developed with terrain-following radar, GPS guidance and targeting updates.

In 2002, the APL announced that they "played a key role" in developing a new generation of Tomahawk missiles: the Navy's Tactical Tomahawk. The APL reiterated that they "played a major role" in developing software that characterized the missile's guidance, navigation, aerodynamics and communications systems. News of Tomahawk is not featured on the impact page of the APL's website.

Due to the APL's contribution in the Tomahawk missile development, a group of University community members (faculty, staff and students) has formally called on the University to start an investigation, with experts in international humanitarian law, into APL's role in the February 28 attack. These individuals seek to understand if the APL's research and technical support violates the principles of distinction, proportionality and precaution under humanitarian law conventions. The findings of this investigation are requested to be made public.

RTX Corporation, formerly known as Raytheon, is the current manufacturer of Tomahawk missiles. As one of the five biggest defense contractors in the US, RTX Corporation supports 90% of DOD and commercial space launches. In October of 2024, when the company faced charges for fraud and bribery, for inflating prices of weapons for sale to the U.S. and bribing sales in Qatar, they chose a deferred prosecution agreement. RTX Corporation paid the U.S. government a total of $950 million, avoiding a formal indictment. While the APL frequently works with the RTX, citing them as their primary contracting agency in several announcements, the extent of their involvement in RTX corporation affairs is not well-documented.

Upon asking University administration about recent controversies regarding APL's contribution to the Tomahawk missile's development, a spokesperson reiterated APL's mission, as listed on the website, and directed attention towards previous public statements on the Tomahawk missile.

Some students have shared their unawareness of APL's controversy, stating their primary knowledge comes from the University itself. A sophomore Mechanical Engineering major, choosing to comment under the pseudonym "Lindsey," described their limited knowledge of the APL in an interview with The News-Letter.

"I know the APL is research-based and involved with defense and aerospace," Lindsey said. "[Hopkins] markets the APL through the Life and Design Lab."

In an interview with The News-Letter, another student, a freshman Chemical and Biomolecular Engineering major, choosing to comment under the pseudonym "Alex," shared their knowledge based on being on APL's mailing list.

"It's really good for internships for engineers. We need to try to get the internships because it's really competitive," Alex said. "It also gets a lot of funding from the government."

The student did not know any connection between the APL and the US' current war in Iran.

Approximately half of Whiting engineering students on the professional track go into aerospace or defense after graduation. According to the Imagine Center's "first destination" survey, the top employers for these Whiting graduates are BAE Systems Inc., Boeing, Collins Aerospace, the DOD, the APL, Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, Raytheon Technologies, RTX Corporation and the U.S. Navy. The APL's recruitment of Hopkins students operates within the context of broader patterns of University and national defense collaborations. APL's recruitment methods promise innovative opportunities and experience with technical projects with "real-world impact."

Janvi Madhani, a PhD candidate in astrophysics and community organizer, spoke at an "Extractive Histories of Johns Hopkins" panel at the Homewood Friends Meeting House. Madhani spoke about how APL has furthered imperial ambitions and how University students must understand APL's connection to the broader institution.

"I think it's really important for people to research what the APL has been complicit in, and not even complicit, but what the APL has manufactured. I think the story is really clear that Hopkins has been a primary manufacturer of U.S. imperialism - I think that's a really important narrative for students to know before they join Hopkins, when they join Hopkins, while they work at Hopkins," Madhani said. "It is to know that what you are contributing to is a very explicit relationship with U.S. imperialism. These warfare technologies have been used everywhere. These are very active contributions to this project of empire."