Identities

By Elizabeth Moreno

The International House. This is the name that my roommates and I decided on while we sat on the floor of our two bedroom apartment, relieved that we have finally found a home for the next three months. Each one of us agreed that trying to find a home in Philadelphia was not an easy task, and it definitely wasn’t all fun and games. It was hard work, but in the end we were more than happy with the result. I remember searching all sections of the city with various people, but mostly with Namiko. Namiko is now my roommate, along with three other women. Between the five of us, we represent 5 nationalities and four countries. We are the International House because of how we each identify ourselves.

Interestingly enough, self and identity was the first topic that my Urban Political and Social Systems, Issues and Practices class discussed. We were asked how we identify ourselves, and to choose five major groups which we identify with. I thought this was a hard assignment, I did not really identify with more than three groups. Many other students also had problems filling out five as well. After the assignment I began to ponder. Why is it hard for us to think about ourselves and where we stand in a group and to go even further, to where we stand in today’s world?

Identity is a complex topic. Every day we are confronted by societal norms which construct an identity for us. Stereotypes hit us from every direction, whether you are from a different racial background, religious affiliation, skin color, gender, sex or culture. We have all been stereotyped and placed into a group at one point or another. And why are groups a way of identifying ourselves? Each and every student should have their own identity that is constructed with who they are in relation to the rest of the world. But many students have no idea.  I believe when students are placed in a group, they can never find themselves because they follow what researchers call “groupthink.” They all begin to think alike and it is difficult to break away.

As a result, many students struggle to find themselves. They are not constantly thinking about who they are, and when asked to openly share their identity they are blank in the face. Those who know who they are either found themselves or created themselves earlier in life, but still there are others who are still desperately searching for the answer. I have never had the time to stop and think about who I am, and being in Philadelphia, experiencing life in a whole new perspective, has helped me discover myself little by little. The rest is up to me to create.

To the Comfort Zone and Beyond!

By Katie Matresse

I am lucky to have known in advance that I wanted to live in West Philly. I live within walking distance of UPenn and the student life there, but I work and attend class in Center City and like to go out there as well. The small town girl in me was very nervous to navigate public transportation in a big city, but I hoped it would be a good learning experience.

In truth, it was one of my biggest fears when I got to Philadelphia. What if I get lost? If I get on the wrong train, how will I know where to go? Will it be too expensive? To my delight, SEPTA is easy to figure out — it only took me a couple of days to have it down.  I use the trolleys, buses, and subways all the time and have had only positive experiences with them.  I use trolleys to get between West Philly and Center City, buses to get around within Center City when I’m carrying a lot or on a short time-table (otherwise, Center City is totally walkable), and the subways for longer distances (to Northern Liberties, for example).

And guess what? It’s my favorite part of the day.  If you don’t make the effort, it’s easy to live and act like a student or a tourist rather than a resident of Philly.  Being a part of the commute makes me feel like I have become a part of the Philadelphia community.  In the mornings I can see people focusing and preparing for the day.  I see students cramming for a last-minute exam.  In the evenings I see people collapse into their trolley seats after a tiring day at work.  I see young people giving up their seats for older working people who seem to be more deeply tired than the rest of us.  I’ve had some human experiences and humbling epiphanies on the trolley.

So don’t be scared! If you need to use SEPTA only occasionally, tokens are $1.55 each. If you need to use public transportation during your interview week(s), you can buy a weekly pass; and if you’re like me and have a daily commute, you can purchase a monthly pass. All the schedules are online and google maps gives brilliant directions. If the idea of navigating a big city intimidates you, don’t let it keep you out of Philly. And regardless of where you live when you’re here, you should hop on SEPTA a few times before you go!

Tour de Kensington

By Dan McCormick

Friday I took a field trip with my Urban and Political Systems City Seminar into Kensington, a neighborhood in North Philadelphia.  Kensington is one of the poorest areas in Philadelphia, and one of the poorest areas in the country.  Our purpose for visiting was to see Cheri Honkala, a human right activist who lives and works in Kensington with the Poor People’s Economic Human Rights Campaign.  (Also, one of my roommates, Meaghan, is interning with Cheri at PPEHRC this semester.)

Our class drove into Kensington on a yellow school bus, and we picked up Cheri at the PPEHRC headquarters.  Cheri then took us on a short tour of Kensington, pointing out the factories that had been shut down long ago, the homeless shelters and soup kitchens, the welfare offices surrounded by barbed wire, pawn shops and drug corners, and the many, many abandoned houses, churches, and buildings that served as temporary homes for some of Kensington’s homeless.  She discussed with us the systemic causes of poverty in America, and the reasons why those in power do so little to stop it.  She explained to us that, right now, the Pennsylvania state government is moving towards ending all general assistance programs for impoverished citizens.  The level of poverty in Kensington is inhumane, Cheri said.

Cheri has been working to end poverty and homelessness in Kensington for a very long time.  Part of her campaign was described in the book Myth of the Welfare Queen, which we just finished reading in class.  It was both disheartening and reassuring to travel through Kensington with her and see that, although there is a long history of poverty in Philadelphia, there is also a long history of struggle against that poverty.

After we dropped Cheri back off at PPEHRC headquarters, we traveled around Kensington and Germantown a bit longer, and we came across a small example of the spirit that still lives in the neighborhood, despite the poor conditions.  A local artist, my teacher Deborah explained, had created several murals and sculptures in a few small parks that the community can use and enjoy.  Against the dirty brick buildings and gray sky, they were really something to see.

On a different note, my dad came to visit me last night.  He was traveling through Philadelphia on business, and we had a chance to get together for dinner.  He visited me at my apartment, and he and two of my roommates and I went out to eat at the Field House, next to Reading Terminal Market.  We had hamburgers and Philly steaks; I would highly recommend it for anyone looking for a decently inexpensive sports bar atmosphere.

It was good to see my dad, but it was also strange.  It reminded me of how different living in Philadelphia is compared to living in the Midwest.  I’m living on my own, I work during the day, I walk everywhere—I feel like an adult!  And my dad seemed to feel something similar.  I suppose I miss home a little bit, but not enough to trade living there for living here.

Slam Dunk, Part II

By Emily Kirschbaum

Last week, I wrote about getting up the nerve to enter myself at my first poetry slam.  This week, part 2.  

The room was tiny.  There was a row of old thrift-store velvet sofas in the front, and mismatched folding chairs and bar stools in the rows behind it.  The lights were off except for two spotlights on the stage, and dimmed red lights surrounding it.  It felt like a Prohibition-era bar.  I sat right in front of a space heater, blowing warm air on my back as everyone else in the room shivered with their coats on.  Outside the velvet curtains that separated the venue from the waiting area, was a young guy standing behind a scratched wooden bar with a gallon of cheap Chardonnay and Sangria that he was selling by the clear plastic cup for $4.  As the host asked for all of those who were chosen to slam tonight to meet outside, I threw away my empty cup with traces of Sangria in the cracks.  I had bought it immediately after getting there, to calm the nerves.  

“Ok, so here’s the deal.  For those of you who know me, tonight I’m going to be an a**hole, I’m sorry, it’s my job.  Here’s the rules.  Each poem has to be maximum 3 minutes long.  I will let you continue talking until 3 minutes and 10 seconds, but you will get ¼ of a point knocked off for every 10 seconds you go over.  Once you get to 3 minutes and 25 seconds, I will literally steal the mic out from under you and hit you with it.  You understand?  You have to learn to edit your poems!  Also, don’t come in here with some poem about flowers and daisies that you wrote in your first poetry class and stand up and compete here.  This is a competition, this is not an open mic.  So…just know that.  Alright, here’s the order of the slammers, remember your place on the list and correct me if I say your name wrong.”

I let my mind wander as he read off the names on the list.  The poem I was about to read in front of this room full of people was a poem I had written in my first creative writing class.  Sh*t.  

“Emily Kur-tch-bum?”

“Kursh-bom.”

“Alright, thank you.  Number 9.”  

When he finished, we all put our hands in the center like the high school basketball team and bounced the mass of palms.  “1 – 2 – 3 – PIGEON!”  One tiny voice in the back screamed, “POETRY!  No?  Didn’t work?  Alright….”

I sat back down on my bar stool and obsessively read over my poem.  A definition poem I wrote in my class last year.  I was planning on reading my favorite poem, the one that made me want to read at a slam in the first place, but it was too long.  Five minutes when I practiced.  

The lights dimmed further, and the guest poet, Shira Erlichman, an up-and-coming poet from Brooklyn, took the stage.  I was blown away, mesmerized, and in love.  Her poems gave me the goosebumps, and her cool personality made me wish I was her friend.  She reminded me of my poetry teacher at Hope College, my quirky writing partner from Texas, and the queen herself, Andrea Gibson.  I could just picture Heather Sellers clapping me on the back, grasping my shoulders, and leaning her mouth to my ear with a whisper, “Poet, you are fabulous.  You better get up there.”  

Finally, it came to be my turn.  I almost tripped over the mic cord before I got onstage.  I stepped up onto the black-painted plywood stage and adjusted the microphone to my mouth.  The faceless middle row of my fellow students screamed, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”  I smiled and nodded, so as not to add to my time.  Then I began with a loud and confident voice that I haven’t felt in a long time, “Her.  Pronoun.  Number 1.  A Person You Couldn’t Look At Or Touch, As in….”  

I continued and saw in my peripheral vision, Shira Erlichman, sprawled out on one of the velvet couches gasping at just the right moments, snapping along with each stanza, mouthing “wow” every once in a while.  I heard other people “mmhmm” and “yeah, you know, girl!” as I shared this poem, this gut-wrenching poem, with this room.  It was exhilirating.  I felt the adrenaline rushing up my spine long after I had sat back down and gotten my losing scores which brought a clamor of “boos” from the crowd.  It didn’t matter.  I had missed the stage, the writing, the story-telling, the beauty for years; and now I knew how to get back on it.  It was life-giving.

The Week in Review

By Dan McCormick
2/17/12

I’m sitting in The Bean Café on South Street as I write today, drinking some coffee, even though it’s nearly sweltering hot (for February, at least).

I just finished having class in my apartment.  It’s something that some of the Center’s faculty like to do once the semester gets underway—have class in different students’ apartments. It gives everyone a chance to explore the city a bit more, see where other people live, that sort of thing. Luckily for my housemates and me, we are all taking the same Urban and Political Systems city seminar, so it made perfect sense for us to host the seminar’s first off-campus meeting. (It wasn’t the first class meeting our apartment has hosted, however; on Tuesday we hosted the Exploring Relationships in Fiction and Film elective.) We met at 9:30, people brought some breakfast food, and we spent the morning discussing cultural divisions in America, touching on topics like homelessness, racism, and individualism.

Work this week has been good. I’m starting to settle into my internship and get the hang of going to work four days a week. Yesterday I had a chance to get out of the office and do a little bit of field reporting (a rare occurrence for a legal reporter—usually it’s court documents and phone interviews). I took a train out to Chester County, southwest of the city, to conduct some interviews and observe a legal clinic at a Hispanic community center. Chester County has a large mushroom farming community, and there are many low wage workers who have immigrated from Mexico or other Latin American countries.  The lawyer who runs this particular clinic helps the community handle problems with wages and labor, disability, leases, immigration, or any other issues they might have. I’d never heard of anything like it before. Soon I’ll be putting together the information I gathered into an article that will be published in the Legal.

Also in this past week, I attended “open studio” at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts.  My roommate and I have a friend who is a graduate student there studying visual art, and we visited her and some of her friends as they showed off the work they’ve been doing this semester. We had a chance to chat with some of the artists and ask them questions. I don’t know very much about visual art, but I do enjoy walking around at events like that, talking to people, seeing what people are working on. I can’t make any judgments about what’s good or not, but I have fun. 

I have a long weekend, since I’m off work Monday for President’s Day.  I’m hoping to explore the city a bit, so look for more adventures soon!

Batman and Balance

By Katie Matresse

 Each week by Friday night, I am already in awe of how much I’ve had the opportunity to learn.

There is so much going on in Philly…my life has been completely different here than it was at Whitman.  I am taking two classes focused on writing (something I’ve always been nervous about), and the art and craft of critique.  These classes make it impossible to ignore some of the little fictions I’ve told myself throughout the years—you really have the chance to examine those things through the classes offered at TPC.  Recently, I’ve been working on a critique of my own romantic life for my elective (Exploring Relationships in Fiction and Film: Sex, Gender, and Sexuality) and it might be the most invested I’ve ever been in an ongoing academic project.  I’m learning about myself and getting academic credit for it! 

My internship has also already provided me with a constant stream of learning opportunities, and it’s only been two weeks.  I’ve already seen preliminary hearings, a jury selection, an entire jury trial, and a sentencing.  After two weeks I can picture what life is like as an attorney more clearly than ever and while I don’t want to jinx it, I will say that I’m surprised how much I like it.  I’m pretty convinced that the Assistant Chief of my unit is Batman.  This is not a joke. 

The incredible attorney and community organizer that I volunteer with has let me sit in on three meetings so far and I’m working on developing a more specific project to devote my time to this the semester.  She is so fantastic—I wish everyone had a chance to hear her talk about the importance of organizing at the grassroots level.  Smartest woman in the room, hands down.

Meanwhile, my amazing housemates and I are exploring University City! I’ve reserved every weekend to try new restaurants around Philly.  We went to the Poetry Slam that the illustrious Emily blogged about  and we’re looking for a comedy club to visit within the next couple weeks! 

We constantly compare notes on our crazy trolley rides (more on SEPTA in my next post) and our strange encounters on the streets of Philly.  I am so happy to have found such genuine people with such diverse interests to live with! I have found the perfect people to share my West Philly life with.

I never thought I would be so at home in a big city on the east coast, but it turns out I really belong in a place that always has something going on as long as I learn the art of balance. Class, Internship, Volunteering, Read/Study/Write, EXPLORE.  I want to throw myself into absolutely everything here.  There is simply so much to take in! Let’s just say I’m not ruling this place out as my next destination…

Slam Dunk

By Emily Kirschbaum

I’ve been wanting to read at a poetry slam since two events happened in my life during my college “career.”

1.  Ever since I saw Andrea Gibson perform at the Park Theatre in Holland, Michigan.  (She is still high on my list of poet crushes).  
2.  Ever since I wrote the one poem that truly felt like was already written inside of me, I just needed to put pen to page.  

Last semester I took a creative writing course by Heather Sellers at the strong urging of my closest friends and mentors. I needed a few extra credits to continue as a full-time student and continue to receive my financial aid.  Plus I had always been curious, so I took it.  It became a practice that is as organic to me as remembering to drink adequate amounts of water.  I fell in love with writing, and realized I had a lot to say.  It was about halfway through the semester that I wrote a poem titled Rocking Chair Churches and Pond-Water Bibles.  That was the peak of my semester, and that was when I knew that I had a talent, a voice, and I would have to keep writing.  Weeks after writing it, I started memorizing this poem, envisioning myself as a young Andrea Gibson.  An up-and-coming slam artist.  I made a promise to myself to enter an open mic or slam within the year.  

My first weekend here, after the utter insanity of the housing search was over (another story, another day) I had overheard a few other students say that they were going to a slam in the Northern Liberties, and one of the other students was entering.  That was all the support I needed.  I sided up with the girl who was planning to perform and asked if I could come over and practice before the slam.  Not only that, but it was my birthday.  A perfect day to fulfill this promise to myself.

My friends and I arrived at the paint-chipped red door on 4th street 15 minutes late for the “entering period” and I ran up the stairs into the tiny loft space where the host was collecting cover charges.  I shoved my way past the others in line, “I want to enter.”  He smiled and gave me a thinner-than-the-others slip of paper.  “Wonderful!  For you, cover is half price, $5.”  I happily handed over my $5, signed my name to the slip of paper and did my token trick to help my odds of getting picked.  I folded it up like everyone else, but then I folded one of the corners so it would poke up.  People can’t resist the curiosity.  

They started drawing names before the guest artist started her performance, a poet from Brooklyn, Shira Erlichman who’s poems and music still give me goosebumps.  They kept picking slips that were not thin like mine, and I started to worry that after all that, I wouldn’t even get to go.  Then, on the 9th draw, I saw a tiny slip with a folded corner, mine.  “Emily Kirschbaum will be our 9th slammer!!!”  I mumbled my mantra my mother taught me, the universe will bring it to you.  

More next week on my experience performing at my first poetry slam!

Bylines and the PMA

By Dan McCormick
February 9, 2012 

I’ve had a long week, or rather, a short week, or rather, a long week that went by very quickly.  I started working at my internship on Tuesday, which already seems like ages ago, although I’ve been so busy that time seems to just disappear.  My internship supervisor got me writing the very first morning, and by the end of the day I had my first story completely finished and ready for publication next week.  On Wednesday I finished another story, and today I finished, believe it or not, two stories that will both go to print tomorrow.

I’m so excited to actually have my own writing in print!  Most of my writing experience up to this point has been for school publications, which has been fun, but it’s a much different feeling to know that you’ve written something for a professional news organization.  I’ve been warned by other reporters that it’s only a matter of time until somebody calls me up to complain about something I’ve written.  I suppose then I’ll know I’m in the big leagues!  Until then, I look forward to having a whole pile of clips to show other potential employers.

I guess I should admit that I haven’t spent all my time working.  This weekend I went to the Philadelphia Museum of Art with my housemates to check out a special exhibit of photographs by Zoe Strauss, who happens to be the daughter of TPC staffer Ilene Baker.  Strauss is an internationally known photographer who specializes in street portraits.  This exhibit showcased photographs of people and places around the city taken in the last ten years.

Also, because it was the first Sunday of the month, admission for the museum was “pay what you want.”  I paid two dollars, and I was able to see, in addition to the Strauss exhibit, paintings by Picasso, Monet, and Duchamp that I’d studied in art history textbooks, but never thought I’d have a chance to view myself.  Talk about a good deal!

Plus, we stopped at a park along the way and played on the swings.  What an afternoon.

More adventures next week.  Until then, peace and love.

The Definition of “Settled”

By Katie Matresse
This post first appeared on February 4 (Week 3 of TPC’s Spring 2012 Semester) on Katies’s blog, allthoseheavydream

That’s right, I’m finally 99% settled. In the last three weeks, I have:

1) Found 7 amazing people to live with in an amazing apartment in an amazing neighborhood

2) Searched and searched and searched for an internship that I can really contribute to and learn from 

3) Started the never-ending hustle of my course load—I am an essay-writing machine again

4) Acquainted myself with this beautiful city and its surprising residents

5) Taken a full-time internship at the District Attorney’s office and taken a part-time volunteering position as a political organizer. I start on Monday.

6) Fallen in love with almost every guy who works at my Trader Joe’s

Needless to say….I LOVE PHILADELPHIA. The last three weeks of my life rival the 2.5 years total I spent at Whitman.  Don’t get me wrong, though, I miss Whitman and my friends immensely. I keep trying to convince my family to visit me here, and hopefully calling them out in this blog post will be the pressure they really need in order to agree!!

For the record, I LOVE Skype dates, but ya’ll will need to be flexible with me since my schedule is about to get FULL.

Working!

By Dan McCormick
Written 2/3/12 — Week 3, Spring 2012 Semester

And suddenly I am placed!  Shortly after interviewing with the Legal Intelligencer, I decided that this was the publication I wanted to write for. 

It was weird to make such a quick decision after waiting so long to finish my interviews, but once I had made up my mind I felt very relieved, like I had finally settled completely into the semester.

The Legal Intelligencer is the oldest law journal in the United States and operates right in the middle of Center City, on JFK Blvd.  I’ll be working as a writer and copy editor, doing assignments about verdicts, settlements, and opinions, as well as other, more interesting feature stuff.  I’m really excited to work with everyone there.  They’re very committed to helping me learn as much as can and gain as much experience as I can.  This internship offers me the most opportunity for putting my writing in print, which is one of the reasons I knew so confidently that I wanted to work there.

I’m thankful that The Philadelphia Center staff encouraged me to interview for this placement, because I was originally much more interested in an alt weekly A&E kind of publication.  With the Legal Intelligencer, however, I’ll have a chance to gain a better understanding of the legal system, and the challenge of writing about this kind of material will make me a better writer.

All this makes me very excited for the rest of the semester.  Things seem to be coming together nicely!