Wearing my food on my sleeve

I like to joke that The New York Times is my favorite brand of clothing. It isn’t really a joke, though — I’ve been proudly repping merch from the Cooking section of the Times for the last three years. But my collection of about two dozen pieces of food-themed clothing and accessories, from my Abercrombie & Fitch bagel shirt to my Beli app hat, goes back much further than that. It represents not only my love for cooking and eating, but also my journey as a student and professional in the world of food. 

When I first came to NYU, I initially hesitated to wear anything overly focused on food. Was a sweatshirt with garlic cloves on the front and a list of garlic-containing recipes on the back too quirky, even for a Food Studies major like myself? Toward the end of Project OutReach, a pre-orientation community service program I participated in alongside about 100 other NYU first-years, I decided to give it a chance. The ensuing wave of students that complimented the sweatshirt and asked where I got it from was shocking to me. “The New York Times, of course,” I would say.

While this wasn’t the first time I used fashion to show that food was my brand, I wasn’t used to receiving so much genuine interest in it from others. In middle and high school, I was known as the girl who loved food. I would show up to school in a cilantro T-shirt with my mom’s signature kale chiffonade salad for lunch, made with homemade breadcrumbs and thin slices of salami, ricotta salata and pepperoncinis. My final project in Advanced Placement U.S. History discussed how food shaped the course of American history as a commodity and tool of revolution. When I presented, I tactfully wore a Bon Appétit T-shirt with the words “taco nation” in fiery bold letters on the breast pocket and a sunglasses-wearing fish lounging in a taco shell on the back.

Despite these outward displays of foodie-ness, I struggled to get the sense that my community understood that food was more than just a passion. My courseload in high school focused heavily on STEM classes. So when I debuted my double major in journalism and food studies on my high school’s college decisions Instagram account, I was met with both pleasant surprise and a bit of confusion. Many friends, acquaintances and teachers were excited to see me pursue what I love — but it was undeniable that a career in food wasn’t what anyone expected from me.

I’ve had my fair share of comments from relatives joking that I had the audacity to stray from my family’s path. In reality, my pediatric-emergency-medicine-physician mother, urologist father and soon-to-be-physical-therapist sister are my biggest supporters. But those little moments of tension — the raised eyebrows implying that a career in food isn’t respectable, or the assumption that my time of academic achievement was a thing of the past — began to accumulate into self-doubt. 

As the pressure of traditional success weighed on me, my collection of food accessories and clothing began to grow. Last summer, one of my friends from high school knitted me a chartreuse-colored sweater vest with the word “kale” on it, a nod to my love for the unpopular vegetable. For my 19th birthday, my parents gifted me an egg long-sleeve shirt from Bon Appétit magazine and a Uniqlo T-shirt with yakitori, or Japanese skewers. On days with big exams or stressful presentations, I always opt for a food-themed outfit — like my Ni De Mama xiao long bao hat and green onion sweatshirt — for maximum comfort and confidence. 

These pieces of clothing are a fun representation of my foodie nature — but more importantly, they symbolize my interests, values and aspirations. In my nearly two years at NYU, what has stood out most to me are the food-oriented academic and professional communities I’ve become a part of. At the Department of Nutrition and Food Studies, I am surrounded by peers and professors who are fascinated by the interdisciplinary, complex nature of the food system. At WSN, where I was the Dining Editor last semester and currently serve as Culture Editor, I have the freedom to explore the intersections between food, culture and beyond. And no matter where I am in New York City, my unique pieces of clothing never fail to be a talking point with strangers and close friends alike.  

Wearing clothes that reflect my identity is a uniquely freeing experience, and has given me the courage to live nearly 3,000 miles away from home, pursue my biggest passion and build a career out of it. Like my parents and sister, I also might become a doctor one day — with a Ph.D. in food studies, that is — and if I’m lucky, I’ll still get to wear my dumpling hat to work. 

Contact Lauren Ng at lng@nyunews.com. 

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The forgotten history of NYC’s Black cowboys

The dominant image of the cowboy has always been that of a white man dashingly traversing the American West. However, the cowboy has strong ties to the African American community, and nearly a quarter of cowboys in the 19th century were Black. The New York City Federation of Black Cowboys, a nonprofit organization established in 1994, aims to educate people on the rich history of Black cowboys in New York City. 

While Black cowboys have played a major role in shaping cowboy culture, this reality has largely been sidelined in classrooms and popular media. For example, “The Lone Ranger” (2013) was a story that was largely inspired by a Black cowboy named Bass Reeves. The art of bulldogging, which is integral to rodeo culture, was started by Black cowboy Bill Pickett. 

Members of the Federation are dedicated to keeping the spirit of cowboy culture alive. “Give me a pair of cowboy boots and my spurs and a pair of jeans and I’m good to go,” Federation member Eddie Abraham told WSN.

“Don’t let the African heritage get lost,” Federation Vice President Raleigh “Curly” Hall said in an interview with WSN. 

The word “cowboy” itself was, in part, a racist name given to newly freed African Americans after the Civil War who ventured westward in search of economic opportunity. It then evolved into the name for the job of cowhand, which involved rounding up and herding cattle across great distances. Cowboys have historically included Native Americans and Mexicans as well — the Spanish word “vaquero” led to the origin of the word “cowboy.” 

Similarly, the notion of cowboy culture being restricted to the American West is misguided. Deep Hollow Ranch in Montauk, New York, credits itself as the oldest cattle ranch in the U.S., established in 1658. The east coast is also home to several other prominent Black cowboy groups, such as the Fletcher Street Urban Riding Club in Philadelphia. Even the renowned Madison Square Garden holds an annual Bull Riding Challenge.

Although the collective image and history of the cowboy in America originated in the Southwest, Black cowboys — like Ben “Tex” Miller, also known as Uncle Ben — moved to the Northeast for more equal rights and played a key role in keeping the memory of American cowboy culture alive. Originally hailing from South Carolina, Uncle Ben, the oldest member of the Federation until his passing, moved to Harlem after visiting New York City for a rodeo tour show at Madison Square Garden. Hall, an archivist for the Federation, preserves his memory to this day.

“Uncle Ben was 99 years old, and he was still getting up on a horse,” Hall said.

Horseback riding is an integral part of cowboy culture, which the Federation honors by using horseback riding lessons to offer local youth something that the city can’t — where life skills such as patience and tolerance can be honed.

“When I see a horse, I don’t see a horse. I see a soul,” Abraham said. 

The practice of horseback riding also has a colorful history in New York City. Lynne’s Riding Center, established in 1947, was where Hall had his first horseback riding lesson at 8 years old. At that time, the center was located in The Hole neighborhood of Brooklyn but has since moved to Forest Hills in Queens. The essence of being on a horse and having command of it relinquishes a certain freedom in anyone, transcending even the constraints of the most bustling city in America. 

Around 2020, Hall built Curly’s Cowboy Center on Rockaway Boulevard in Jamaica, Queens. This hacienda and museum boasts a plethora of historical artifacts from Black cowboys, Native Americans and West African culture as well. Since the center is still in the process of completing the paperwork to be an official museum, potential visitors must call the building’s number to organize a tour with Hall. 

One of the items on display is a collection of newspapers about the Unity Ride, a 4,000-mile horseback ride organized and completed in 2013 by the Western Dakota Nation of Native Americans. The journey started in Albany and had a stop at the headquarters of the United Nations in New York City, where the Unity Riders called for the reaffirmation of the Two Row Wampum treaty — an agreement between the Dutch and the Haudenosaunee, a Native American confederacy of nations, ensuring that the two parties would not interfere in each other’s affairs. 

The cultural center is also a reflection of Hall himself, who was formerly a West African drummer and performed with celebrities such as James Brown and played in the orchestral ensemble for a Broadway show featuring Muhammad Ali. He is also a general contractor who surveyed the buildings of many public housing developments and founded a program that teaches horseback riding to students from Harlem and the Bronx — an initiative that helps to close the gap of underrepresentation of people of color in the sport. Even 10 years later, Hall still gets calls from his students telling him how much they enjoyed their lessons. 

Unfortunately, the Federation’s membership is dwindling, with only about 30 members left. To be fully enmeshed with the spirit of the cowboy, “your lifestyle has to be different and special,” Hall said. “[You don’t have] a lot of time for you to participate in the love of horsemanship.” 

According to Hall, the Federation reached out to several schools, some of which have expressed interest in making field trips to the Curly’s Cowboy Center museum. While the golden age of the American cowboy has passed, organizations like the Federation are keen on keeping its history — both the celebrated and the hidden — alive.

“It can never be relived,” Hall said. “We can only pass them on to the younger generations.”

Contact Aidan Levin at culture@nyunews.com.

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How NYU students celebrated Lunar New Year

On Jan. 29, millions of people around the world welcomed the Year of the Snake. While the holiday originated in China, many other countries celebrate Lunar New Year, especially those with a large Chinese diaspora or that were heavily influenced by Chinese culture in ancient times. However, celebrations in countries like Vietnam, Korea and Singapore have taken on their own unique flavor and have become integral holidays in both local and diasporic cultures. 

While Lunar New Year is traditionally celebrated with family, NYU does not offer time off for the holiday, making it difficult for students to travel home. However, many have found unique ways to engage in new methods of festivity and stay close to their heritage.

China

Steinhardt sophomore Sunny Liang is majoring in global public health and food studies. Liang moved abroad from her hometown of Chengdu, China, to attend high school in Massachusetts and has been in the United States since. 

Liang has been away from home for several years, and has grown used to spending the holiday without family. To celebrate this year, she made dumplings with her roommate and watched Chunwan — a Chinese New Year gala show with celebrity appearances, traditional dances, comedy shows and more. While being far from home has been difficult, Liang appreciates the small wins. 

“I went to high school in a really small town,” she said. “Coming to New York has been great because now I have access to authentic Chinese food.” 

Vietnam

CAS senior Cindy Truong studies English with a specialization in creative writing and a minor in media, culture and communication. Truong is Vietnamese but was born and raised in the United States. Though she spent most of her childhood celebrating Lunar New Year — known as Tết in Vietnamese — in her home state of North Carolina, she recently started traveling to Vietnam for the holiday. This year, she was able to partake in the country’s unique cultural traditions. 

“On Tết, everything’s closed and you’re just with your family,” Truong said. “At night when we meet together and have dinner, we play cards for hours. The next day I went to a cafe with my friends and they were playing cards with their friends for like three, four hours, just never ending.” 

While not everyone can spend the holiday with loved ones, Truong recommends students still find ways to make the day special, such as cooking their favorite foods or finding others to celebrate with. 

Indonesia & Korea

CAS first-year Sua Han is studying economics. Born and raised in Indonesia, Han — who also has Korean heritage — was always immersed in Indonesian culture. Her upbringing resulted in a unique way of celebrating Lunar New Year with her family, where she partook in Korean traditions, such as bowing to elders to receive money in red packets, while eating Indonesian foods like nasi goreng, fried rice with meat and vegetables, and rendang, a spicy, slow-cooked beef dish.

Han said that since Lunar New Year is not an NYU holiday, “I just had a normal day, went to school, and Grubhubbed some food.” However, she made sure to reach out to her friends and family, wishing them well for the new year.

Singapore

Tisch and Steinhardt junior Megan Yi is double majoring in drama and media, culture and communication. As an international student from Singapore, Lunar New Year is the most important holiday for Yi, who always dreamt of holding her own gathering. 

“I told myself that the moment I got my own apartment, I would host my own celebration for Lunar New Year,” Yi said. 

To ring in the new year, Yi gathered her closest friends for a hot pot dinner in her apartment. One of her favorite Lunar New Year traditions is exchanging fruits for red packet money with elders. She recreated this with her friends, with each person bringing two fruits to exchange for a red envelope filled with chocolate coins instead of money. In place of traditional oranges, Yi told her friends to bring whichever fruit they wanted. 

“I’m grateful to have friends who, despite not being Asian, are interested in learning about the culture and participating in the traditions,” she said.

Contact Grace Tan and Sherry Chen at culture@nyunews.com.

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This Stern club highlights minority voices in the world of finance

Playing Family Feud to learn the fundamentals of finance and business is one of the many fun methods that the NYU chapter of BlackGen Capital uses to create community.

BlackGen Capital, a minority-owned student investment fund, aims to provide opportunities and resources for Black, Hispanic and Native American students who are often underrepresented in the finance and business industry. First founded at Cornell University in 2019, the student investment fund has expanded to nine different universities across the country, arriving at NYU in 2022. 

BlackGen Capital highlights the importance of having spaces where students of color can connect with their peers and share their unique struggles. The club’s mission is to equip members with the skills and knowledge to enter these industries and close the opportunity gap in the financial sector for underrepresented students. From 2018 to 2020, Black and Hispanic representation in the financial services industry hovered at 3% and 4% respectively, according to the United States Government Accountability Office.

“I went to a regular public high school — I didn’t come from a very advanced international school or anything like that, so I already felt like I was a few steps behind,” Stern senior Mopesola Elabanjo, one of the senior advisors of BlackGen Capital, said. “However, being in BlackGen, they really take the time to break things down step-by-step. They accept people, or they’re willing to teach people things who don’t already know everything.”  

Unlike many Stern clubs, BlackGen Capital opens its membership to students university-wide, regardless of their knowledge of finance and business. From launching educational programs — such as their intensive 10-week educational series on the fundamentals of finance and pitching new investment funds — to hosting panel discussions with firms such as JPMorgan, UBS and Bloomberg, BlackGen offers many opportunities for students to experience the world of business and finance firsthand. 

CAS senior Femi Oduntan, co-president of BlackGen, said that the club mentors students in building the confidence needed for job interviews — and eventually, to land their dream internship or job. BlackGen also strives to provide students of color with a found family, especially at a school where only 6% of the student body is Black and 12% are Hispanic or Latino — with less than 1% being of Native American heritage. 

“It’s important to have clubs like BlackGen on campus,” Oduntan said. “When you see a club that’s specifically for people of color, people feel like that’s where they want to be — they want to be with people that look like them, people that talk like them, people from the same background as them.” 

For Gallatin sophomore Selam Feleke, BlackGen has provided her with the necessary tools and ample space to explore her career in finance, boosting her confidence in her ability to make it in the industry as a person of color. In an environment as intense and competitive as Stern, Feleke struggled to find the opportunities that many of her peers were already aware of from their family background or past experiences. 

“When I came to NYU, I thought coming to an accredited institution — a [top 30] university — was going to alleviate the racist and the gendered inequalities that I face throughout my life,” Feleke said. “But when I got here, it was almost the opposite, because I was around so many privileged kids. It kind of showed me how huge the wealth income is, how huge the inequalities are.” 

Joining BlackGen is what made the difference, Feleke said, guiding her in the right direction early on in her college years. Most recently, she’s proud to have participated in the UBS Exclusive Onsite Session held on campus, where she completed a Mergers and Acquisitions Finance Accelerator Simulation that gave her insight into and reaffirmed her confidence in pursuing a career in banking. 

Beyond learning about the finance and business world, BlackGen has created a friendly space where students can have fun as they grow professionally, with many members creating long-lasting friendships and connections. They find solace in relating to each other’s struggles as busy college students, while also uplifting each other in their professional careers. 

“BlackGen has definitely changed not only my professional life but also just my personal life,” Oduntan said. “[I’ve made] friends and connections that I hope will also be a benefit to me, and I can be a benefit to them as well in the future.”

Contact Mariana Arboleda at culture@nyunews.com.

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Welcoming Lunar New Year in a new home

Lunar New Year has always been the most important holiday in my family. Growing up in China, I would travel to the northern coastal province of Shandong to celebrate with my dad’s side of the family. It was a time for me to reunite with relatives I only get to see a few times every year.

When I moved to the United States at the age of 12, one of the largest adjustments I faced was accepting the fact that Lunar New Year didn’t hold as much significance as it did back home. While some parts of my county had larger Asian populations, I could count the number of students in my grade who celebrated Lunar New Year on one hand.

In Shandong, I spent most of the days leading up to Lunar New Year with my cousins — we would go outside and run errands while the parents were busy preparing the meal. Like many families, we ate traditional foods with rich, symbolic meaning during our New Year’s Eve dinner. Fish, for example, symbolizes prosperity and abundance. Dumplings, a common celebratory dish in northern China, represent wealth because they resemble the shape of a gold Chinese currency. After dinner, we would watch Lunar New Year programs like the “Spring Festival Gala” and kill time waiting for midnight by playing majiang, also known as mahjong.

To my dismay, I was greeted with none of that in Irvington, New York — a suburban town about 25 miles north of NYU. Unlike in Shandong, Lunar New Year was regarded as a foreign holiday to most. There were no children buzzing with excitement awaiting their red envelopes, no communal decorations and certainly not much Chinese food. Despite the lack of festivity in my new home, I found solace in being able to celebrate the holiday with my immediate family. The door to my house was decorated with traditional banners and posters expressing wishes and luck for the coming year, and I helped my mom make dumplings for our New Year’s and New Year’s Eve dinners.

I have always been accompanied by my immediate family for past celebrations — but this is my first year, like many other East and Southeast Asian students, celebrating New Year’s alone.

This year, Lunar New Year falls on Wednesday, Jan. 29. The holiday is not federally recognized, nor is it one that NYU recognizes in its academic schedule. That does not, however, stop students from finding their own ways of celebrating the holiday. Lunar New Year is a time for new beginnings, wishes for good luck and reuniting with family. While many students might be far away from home when the clock strikes midnight, celebrating the new year at college offers a unique opportunity to form connections that span oceans, and perhaps even to create new traditions.

After I began attending NYU last fall, my family moved back to China — so this year more than most, I will look to celebrate in new ways with the people around me. Although I will undoubtedly be swamped with coursework on Lunar New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day, I will still make time to go on a dumpling crawl in Chinatown and enjoy some hotpot. While this isn’t a food of northern Chinese origin nor traditionally tied to the holiday, socializing with friends over hotpot — thinly sliced meat, vegetables and other ingredients cooked in a boiling-hot soup broth — will be my new way of celebrating in a time and place without my family. I hope to walk around Chinatown to see the lanterns and the dragon dance, or even check out the Lunar New Year events held by NYU clubs for students like me. While this year will be different from those past, a new environment won’t stop me from enjoying my favorite holiday.

Contact Sherry Chen at culture@nyunews.com.

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What it means to take care of yourself across different cultures

As we enter winter and the trenches of finals week, it is important to carve out time to take care of yourself. While social media may inundate us with new, trendy practices weekly, the best ways to take care of ourselves are often the customs we grew up with or those passed down through our families.

Eye massages

Growing up, my Chinese teachers at language school made sure to give us ample break times to do eye massages. Using our fingers, we made circular motions on our temples, nose bridge and beneath our eye sockets. Inspired by the art of acupuncture, these massages target pressure points near the eyes to help increase blood flow and improve vision. Though the effectiveness of the latter has been debated, it’s still good practice to take frequent breaks from blue light monitors and 12-point fonts. So, when you have the chance to take a break from that research paper you procrastinated, try an eye massage and maybe you’ll be able to see that pesky sentence in a new light. 

— Grace Tan, Identity & Equity Editor 

Hair oiling

 A huge aspect of South Asian culture is our long, thick black hair, which represents our strength and perseverance through difficult times. For many Bengali people, hair oiling is part of a weekly ritual to keep our hair shiny and strong. Often, older family members — mothers, aunts and grandmas — will do this by sectioning off layers of your hair and massaging cold, thick oil into it. It may hurt if your hair is tangled, so be sure to brush your hair before to limit pain and your grandma yelling at you to hold still. 

This is a time to connect with your family members who have had the same long, black hair that needed tending to. Coconut oil is the most commonly used oil for hair oiling, and it works wonders for all types of hair. Not only does hair oiling help me maintain healthy hair, it is also a self-care ritual that connects me with my ancestors, one strand of hair at a time. 

— Pritheva Zakaria, Staff Writer 

Menstrual care

Both staples in traditional Chinese medicine, goji berry and jujube tea are especially beneficial for women during menstruation, as they nourish the blood and tonify the liver and kidney. Scientifically, goji berries and jujubes are packed with antioxidants, vitamins and minerals. They also protect eye health, support the immune system, remedy anxiety and promote better sleep. On a further dietary note, according to traditional Chinese medicine, cold food and drinks should always be avoided — this means no chocolate ice cream! I also highly recommend using heating pads on your lower abdomen. Both reusable water pads and Japanese adhesive pads work well, although I prefer the latter due to convenience and mobility.

— Katie Liao, Staff Writer

Yoga

It is commonly said that we must do one thing each for our physical, mental and spiritual health everyday. Yoga is a way to show ourselves care in each of these areas. My first introduction to this culturally Indian practice was through watching my grandmother practice “asanas,” or yoga poses, such as headstands and backbends daily. 

Though yoga is often viewed as a slower, meditative practice, its benefits to the physical body cannot be undermined. As somebody who exercises at the gym regularly, I find that incorporating yoga into my weekly workout routine creates a great balance, because the flexibility that this practice offers complements strength training. I also find the challenge of the asanas exciting because there is always a more advanced version of a pose to strive towards with improved mobility.

— Zara Surti, Staff Writer

Going grocery shopping in Chinatown

As an Asian American, grocery shopping on Sundays became a ritual for my family after Chinese school. We went to the same Asian supermarket and ate at the same pho place so many times that the staff knew our order by heart. 

Now, as a Broome Street resident, I’ve adapted this tradition into a brain break, which proves especially useful with the stress from finals season looming on the horizon. I find peace in studying the faces of the street vendors, realizing how similar the apartments are to those in Shanghai (which I miss dearly), and in practicing my fading Mandarin with the cashier who’s pushing me to buy discounted food. While taking care of yourself looks different for everyone, I highly recommend the simple act of leaving your dorm when the pressure gets to be too much.

— Mia Shou, Contributing Writer

Turmeric face masks

Turmeric face masks have always been a staple in my Pakistani American household. One of the most vivid memories of my early childhood is the feeling of my mother’s hands spreading a mixture of turmeric powder, honey and a bit of milk or yogurt across my cheeks. Whether my skin is breaking out from stress, looking dull or feeling dry, my go-to remedy is a turmeric mask. Even if I am alone, it brings me back to those family moments and calms me down when the world seems too fast. So, if you feel like finals week is starting to take a toll on your skin, take a break and find solace in turmeric face masks. 

— Noor Maahin, Staff Writer

Jjimjilbang (Korean bathhouses)

 During my adolescence, going on vacation to my motherland meant months of relaxation and immersing myself in traditional Korean customs. One such practice was going to a jjimjilbang with my family. Jjimjilbangs, also known as Korean bathhouses, are an important part of social culture in South Korea. While they are generally separated by gender, they also have clothed common areas where people can eat and hang out. After hours of soaking in hot tubs and sweating our stress away, my family and I would share Korean sauna eggs, hard-boiled eggs with a distinct nutty flavor, and drink sikhye, a refreshingly sweet fermented rice drink. 

Regardless of ethnicity, jjimjilbangs are a great way to unwind and socialize with family and close friends. There are many in the New York City area, specifically in Koreatown and Flushing. Helping scrub each other’s backs and wearing yangmeori (Korean lamb’s head towel) together can serve as unconventional ways for you and your loved ones to get closer. 

— Joanne Lee, Contributing Writer

Χύμα στο κύμα (carefree living)

I am from a Greek island in the Aegean Sea, called Icaria. To my fellow Icarians: Don’t hate me for sharing our secrets — the public needs to know. Our jovial way of life is because we value our time and don’t rush. We talk and walk. We swim. We laugh. We dance. We eat well, and drink well — sometimes too much. Most importantly, we surround ourselves with our loved ones, like brothers and sisters.

For myself, self-care is about nursing your mind, body and soul. My reset ritual in New York City is this: going outside and taking a walk, finding a nice bench for a read (perhaps a smoke as well), and then working out to blow off steam. Following my exercise, I have dinner and drinks with my significant other or roommates. This is how I prefer to live. Balance is essential. It’s what I’ve learned from my time in Icaria — try it sometime. Στην υγειά σας!

— Constantine Moore, Contributing Writer

Contact Grace Tan, Pritheva Zakaria, Katie Liao, Zara Surti, Mia Shou, Noor Maahin and Constantine Moore at culture@nyunews.com.

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How multicultural sororities foster community at NYU

In an overwhelmingly bustling atmosphere like New York City, it is easy to feel lost in the crowd –– and disconnected from others –– especially as a college student navigating identity and seeking belonging. For many at NYU, multicultural sororities offer a solution: a place to build close bonds, reconnect with their culture and find others who share similar experiences. 

Traditional Greek life, especially sororities, have long been criticized for their lack of diversity. Multicultural sororities find their roots in the pioneering work of historically Black sororities, which create spaces for Black college students amid the overwhelmingly homogenous Greek life across the nation and wider racial segregation. 

While diversity at NYU is declining, multicultural Greek life at NYU is growing. With 14 fraternities and sororities currently on campus, these groups incorporate cultural traditions with the community element that defines Greek life.

Ashley Luo, a senior at the Gallatin School of Individualized Study, is the vice president of the Multicultural Greek Council at NYU and president of Kappa Phi Lambda’s Epsilon associate chapter, an Asian-interest sorority. Luo had a difficult time adjusting to her new environment but found respite in multicultural Greek life, something she was not aware of before attending NYU. 

“My first semester at NYU was a little bit on the lonely side,” Luo said. “When I went to the first rush event, I felt such a genuine connection with the sisters and the other rushees, which prompted me to keep coming back.”

Elena Wu, a Steinhardt senior, serves as vice president of internal affairs at another Asian-interest sorority, Alpha Kappa Delta Phi. Wu was seeking a stronger connection to her Asian heritage at NYU and she found it through the sorority. 

“I honestly just loved the sisters and the atmosphere,” Wu said. “I felt like I was really welcomed, and I think that [being part of a] multicultural sorority was for me, because it helps me be in touch with my Asian culture and share my culture with those similar to me.” 

Multicultural sororities also create a space for conversations that are not present in traditional Greek life. Morgan Garrett, an SPS senior, is the second vice president and membership chairman of the historically African American Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Incorporated’s Lambda chapter at NYU. In an interview with WSN, she spoke about the variety of issues that her sorority is interested in, such as social justice and politics. 

“Our sorority was founded on the basis of helping Black, college-educated women,” Garrett said. “We had a round table last semester called Unity for Change, and we spoke about the political climate and things that our universities were going through at the time.”

Multicultural sororities also help members advance their careers. Garrett attributes the Educational Advancement Foundation — a research scholarship specifically for her sorority — for teaching her grant writing, as well as running the sorority’s Instagram for teaching her marketing and project management skills. Luo similarly noted that her leadership role in Kappa Phi Lambda has made her a better leader, which she says is important in fostering a supportive community.

“You gain a lot of skills being able to serve as a communicator between two people or two different types of entities,” Luo said. “Especially in times of conflict, making sure that you are unbiased, and you’re able to mediate these kinds of conflicts and help different people get to understand where they’re each coming from.”

In line with their mission of promoting diversity, multicultural sororities are not exclusive to specific racial or ethnic groups. Delta Kappa Delta — a South Asian service sorority — includes members from diverse backgrounds such as India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and the Middle East, and also includes those in the LGBTQ+ community. Ambika Polavarapu, a junior majoring in neural science at College of Arts & Science, is the co-fundraising chair and parliamentarian. 

“We allow anybody to come and join as long as they’re interested in doing service and learning about South Asian heritage and history,” Polavarapu said. 

The interviewees expressed a shared hope for the further growth of multicultural sororities at NYU as well as gratitude for the friendships and experiences these communities provided to 

them. 

“I can’t imagine my college experience without my sisters,” Polavarapu said. “I hope to stay in touch with all the girls in my sorority. I have made great friends in that group, and they’ll definitely stay a big part in my life.”

Contact Joanne Lee at culture@nyunews.com.

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Finding community from Manila to Manhattan

Three months ago, New York City felt like a world away from home. Coming from Manila, the capital city of the Philippines, I thought I was used to a vast, fast-paced metropolis. But New York City has its own rhythm — one I couldn’t keep up with at first. I quickly learned that homesickness would be an inevitable part of my journey as an international student. After all, a 17-hour flight back to Manila just isn’t practical for a weekend trip every time I miss home. 

But now, after settling into my first semester at NYU, I’ve come to realize that instead of waiting for home to feel closer, there are ways for international students to uncover pieces of home right here on campus. This cultural melting pot of a university is reflected in its wide range of cultural clubs — one of which is the International Filipino Association, which I am proud to be a part of.

Through IFA, I have met other Filipinos who share similar experiences and backgrounds. Through bonding over our mutual stories of being away from home and our shared love for Jollibee fried chicken, I felt completely welcomed by this community. I look forward to being actively involved throughout my college experience. 

Last November, I attended the annual Mr. Philippines competition, a cross-university event where Filipino student organizations from across New York and New Jersey come together to showcase their talents and share their personal stories. As I sat in the packed auditorium, cheering for NYU’s candidate alongside other Filipino students, I felt a strong sense of unity within our community here in New York. Even so far from home, the Filipino spirit of connection and support remained palpable.  

Off campus, there are other ways that I’ve been able to connect with my Filipino heritage. Last October, I attended the Filipino Comedy Festival which took place in honor of Filipino American History Month. It felt refreshing to laugh at the over-the-top and slightly outrageous Pinoy humor that I’ve been missing. The comedians’ self-deprecating jokes about disappointing their parents by not pursuing nursing careers, the exchange of “f” sounds with “p” due to the thick Filipino accent and other takes on Filipino stereotypes made me feel like I was back in my living room joking around with friends and family.  

Although it may not be exactly the same as back in the Philippines, Filipino food from restaurants like Mama Fina’s and Grill 21, along with the plethora of Filipino food markets and pop-ups dispersed throughout the city, have been a comforting reminder of the flavors and warmth of home.

An ambitious item on my personal New York City bucket list is to try every single Filipino food restaurant in the area. I started this expedition with the Philippines Fest in October. Held in NoHo, the street food fair’s vendors sell Filipino food with their own unique twist. Among the perfectly crispy lechon and saucy kare-kare, my favorite was Daniel Corpuz’s ube cookies — a sweet taste of home that brought me back to my youth. With every bite from a sizzling plate of sisig or a refreshing cup of halo-halo, I’m reminded that no matter how far I am, a piece of my culture will always be within reach. 

Learning about other students’ cultures and experiences is a vital part of life at NYU, especially for international students like myself. But while immersing yourself in such diversity, I believe there is no better way to contribute to the city’s richness and chase away homesickness than by embracing your own heritage. Amid all the excitement and opportunities this city has to offer, I’ve realized that my favorite part of settling in is finding my own corner of Manila in the heart of Manhattan.

Contact Katrina Lorenzana at culture@nyunews.com.

This story Finding community from Manila to Manhattan appeared first on Washington Square News.

The letters in my NetID differ from the name I go by. Here’s why.

During my first year, in an introductory computer science class with over a hundred students, my professor handed out exam papers by calling out names. As he tried his best to pronounce the overwhelming amount of East Asian names on his list, correcting himself several times, he realized that it was slowing down the process. Eventually, students were addressed by their NetIDs only.

Considering that the English translation of names in other languages seldom instructs accurate pronunciations, mispronunciations are common. In fact, I’ve always thought the English translation of my Taiwanese name sounded funny — “Ching-Han.” Once, a customer service agent on the phone took “Ching” as my first name and “Han” as my middle name and proceeded to address me as “Ching” throughout the conversation. This made me laugh a little because of how little it sounded like my actual name and how much it sounded like a slur. 

“Just call me Katie,” I ended up saying, like I usually do.

I have been Katie for almost as long as I have been “靚涵”. My dad thought “Catherine the Great” was a savage title but perhaps overly dramatic for a kid, so he landed on “Katie” because his celebrity crush was Katie Holmes. Having a Westernized name isn’t uncommon. Growing up in a bilingual elementary school in Taiwan, half of my classes were taught by native English speakers — usually from the United States — and every kid had a Westernized name the teachers could easily pronounce. 

In establishing myself as “Katie,” “靚涵” became a more intimate identity. My name was chosen keeping in mind my Chinese zodiac sign, my “bazi” — also known as the “eight characters,” a form of Chinese astrology that looks into the unique set of characteristics surrounding the date and hour of one’s birth to interpret people, situations and objects in one’s life — its total strokes and many more mysterious rules of fortune telling. According to the Five Elements Theory of Chinese philosophy, water, wood, fire, earth and metal are believed to be the fundamental elements of everything in the universe. For instance, according to my bazi, my life lacks the water element out of the five elements. In Chinese culture, a name should not be given lightly, as any minor difference is believed to have a major impact on a person’s life. This name thus becomes a relatively private detail of my identity that I do not expect anyone other than my family and closest friends to know. 

As I try to find my footing alone in a foreign country, the once no-brainer choice of signing off as “Katie” has raised the guilt of abandoning my culture. My first confrontation came at the end of my first year when I decided to submit a letter addressed to my grandparents to an online anthology. The letter was a heart-wrenching account of the immense weight the American Dream carries in my Taiwanese family, written not long after the Fourth Taiwan Strait Crisis. 

“If learning English is an achievement in your American Dream, I hope you never understand this letter,” I wrote at the end of the letter. “I wish you never had to have an American Dream.”

In the blank space below “Name” in the submission form, my first instinct was to type “Ching-Han Liao” — it is the only name my grandparents know me by. How could I ever register as “Katie,” a name so foreign to them, when the letter itself protests that? Yet, the first thing my mother did after reading the letter was make me promise to never publicize the letter, especially not in my legal name. 

“It’s not safe,” she said. “It’s too political.”

That night, going against my own promise, I pressed the submit button with my Westernized name in that tiny abyss of blank space. The name that once used to compromise my cultural identity became a shield for my political identity. 

Beyond assimilation and convenience, my Westernized name offers a safety that my birth name sometimes can not. The intricate relationship between two names often stems from the struggle to pin down an exact answer in personal identity when it is inherently multifaceted. In signing off as “Katie Liao” to this piece, I have made a decision, like I have countless times before and will continue to do. No one should be subjected to others’ moral judgement of the name they decide to put down when they are the only person who understands its full meaning. 

Contact Katie Liao at culture@nyunews.com.

This story The letters in my NetID differ from the name I go by. Here’s why. appeared first on Washington Square News.

Home is where the heart finds its place

On Nov. 9, 2023, two weeks before Thanksgiving break in my first year in college, I wrote in my journal, “I am at NYU, but I just wanna go home.” While I was usually able to fill up my blank pages with paragraphs, I could only get this one sentence down on paper. As mid-November was approaching, my mind was beginning to slow down, and I was surprised to feel the city of New York dragging its feet a bit too. 

While the city supposedly never sleeps, it certainly felt like it was taking a little bit of a snooze. Countless taxi drivers had their vacancy lights lit up, restaurant after restaurant had no line and bars had a surplus amount of room on the dance floor. The constant ringing in my ears seemed to simmer down — it even felt like there were fewer ambulance sirens.

While I was born in the United States, I was only in the country for two years before I moved to New Delhi and then to London, where my family and most of my friends are now. Though Thanksgiving is not celebrated in either of my two home countries, I knew that it was a time dedicated to celebrating the blessings in your life and giving thanks for family, food, good health and home. But the spirit of Thanksgiving wasn’t resonating with me because I was neither at home nor did I feel like I was in good health. I was plagued with homesickness, and being stuck in the city added to my disillusionment with my first year of college. 

Naturally, going to college is a new chapter in all of our lives, as many of us are living away from our parents for the first time and are out in the world on our own. Before move-in day, I was constantly watching YouTube videos of people’s NYU Welcome Week experiences, which included making lots of new friends, exploring the city and going to parties. It seemed like the ultimate college experience tied up in a silk bow. Before my eight-hour flight from London to New York, my body was jittering so much out of nervous excitement — I was soon going to be one of those girls I had been watching from afar. 

But New York City felt a little more claustrophobic and limiting for me than expected. Even though I was meeting so many people every day, I didn’t seem to connect with anyone the way I did with my friends from home. Luckily, I had my randomly assigned roommate, but she was the only person out of hundreds I felt at home with. Despite being an extrovert, I was exhausted. I felt like I was the problem. I was in the greatest city in the world, at my dream college, but all I wanted to do was go back to London.

I missed going to Primrose Hill and sitting in the park with my friends until sunset. I missed walking around Marylebone High Street, going to my favorite bookstore, Daunt Books, and buying an endless pile of books to add to my to-be-read list. The pubs, the free museums, the antique store on Flask Walk in Hampstead –– the list goes on. But most of all, I missed my friends, the majority of whom ended up staying in the United Kingdom for university. 

The exception was one of my best friends, Ben, who attends school only a two-hour flight away from New York City and came to visit me for the break. Finally, a part of my home was coming to me. I used his visit as an opportunity to explore uptown by walking around Central Park and doing some Black Friday shopping on Fifth Avenue. I even almost spent $60 to ride one of the horse carriages that takes you around the park, but Ben talked me out of it. Although we usually opt for a fun night out, we decided to stay in on Thanksgiving day, ordering Chinese food and binge-watching the first season of “Community” until we fell asleep. For the first time in a long time, I remembered what home felt like. 

I realized that home is not made in a month, or even two. My first home was New Delhi, and I spent 12 years there, growing and evolving with my classmates whom I had known since I was 4 years old. When I moved to London, it didn’t truly feel like home until 6 months in, despite visiting there all my life to see my mother’s family. I met Ben in my senior year of high school, a full year after moving to London, showing that even through my first year in London, my home was still being assembled, piece by piece. 

Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither is a home. It takes months and months of trial and error to meet the right people, and as an international student who is so far away from home, it’s easy to forget that. 

Fast forward to one year later, and I have decided to stay in New York City for Thanksgiving again –– not only because Ben is coming to visit me, but also because I want to stay. It wasn’t an easy or quick road to find my home here in the city, but along the way I found the people I always thought I would meet on day one. It’s just that I met them on day 71 or day 105, and perhaps I will meet them tomorrow.

Contact Aryana Arora at culture@nyunews.com.

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