Crimson staff writer
Aisha Y. Bhoori
Latest Content
Communist Symbols and a Black Abyss at the MFA
“Those are Communist symbols!” the husband says of the butterflies floating in the scenery. “Those are lemons!” claims his wife.
On Writing
Ask me why I write and I’ll tell you that I write to find out what I’m thinking, to release and expunge feelings, to find what it is that I see in my head—what I want, what I fear.
A Little Racist Knife: The AAA Challenges the Pudding
As dusk descended on the Ides of March, 1980, Michael T. Hsieh ’80 distributed leaflets outside the neo-Georgian façade of the New College Theater, now known as Farkas Hall. He and other members of Harvard’s Asian-American Association gathered to protest the Hasty Pudding Theatricals’ use of a perceived racist character, Edgar Foo Yung, in their 1980 production, “A Little Knife Music.”
Gushing Meat
Every moment calls for me to be “made of such gushing meat / in the middle of the day on a quiet street.” Or at least, to live like I am.
A Night at... the Queen’s Head Pub
A young woman wearing a shaggy, red, tendril-adorned hat cradles a glass of beer next to us, nodding along to two men dressed in navy sweaters. Across from her, a blue-haired lady claps in earnest beneath orange streamers. A man wearing a neon green dinosaur onesie holds his costume’s accompanying hat while bopping along to the fading bass. Masks and carved pumpkins, empty mozzarella stick containers, and half-filled bottles lay strewn around the bar.
Seinfeld, Tamagotchi, and Suds: 3 Wackiest House Traditions
Though undergraduate houses are now assigned randomly, each has maintained idiosyncrasies from the good ole’, pre-90s days when students could self-select. Flyby asked around campus to find the top three wackiest house traditions—both well-known and otherwise—that have long endured.
Which Humanities Theses Are Fake and Which Are Real?
As hard as it is to research an obscure thesis topic for months and write it up in a meager 100 or so pages, titling said thesis is likely the hardest part of the whole endeavor. The more esoteric the topic, the more amusing the title (we assume). FM scoured Lamont’s shelves to find the most entertaining humanities thesis titles. We threw in a few of our own creations just to keep you on your toes. Happy guessing! And if you wrote one of these...Well, you’ve got at least one question right by default!
Historitas
But still, her heart lurches in a painful brag; “I am, I am,” she breathes. “I am not comfortable here.” She seeks solace by staring into the candlelight illuminating cracked and empty wine bottles.
Conversations with: Ian Reynolds
It’s rush hour on the Red Line, and space is at a premium. A woman casts a sideways glance at us and rises somewhat resentfully from her seat to move further down the packed subway car. Other passengers frown. It’s loud so we try talking loud, and then louder still. The train’s ringing and rumbling form the soundtrack to our interview.
Scene and Heard: Elizabeth Gilbert Cusses in Church
When I walk up the chipped steps of the First Parish Church toward the balcony, a host of women greets me at the top. Some seem to be in their late 20s—grad students, perhaps, who are beginning to realize that, at this point in their lives, they should probably forego Saturday morning hangovers in favor of Friday night motivational speakers.
A Strange Space
By the time I successfully sidestepped the growing swarm of customers, I’d found the 24-year-old entrepreneur I’d been looking for. And after we embraced, I saw that her shirt announced “The Time Is Meow.”
From 'Cliffe to Crimson
She is the daughter of a shoemaker and so knows enough to wear a sturdy pair of loafers for the long trek from Brockton to Cambridge, Mass. She knows, too, that her request to study intensive Latin, Greek, and English at Harvard may be rejected. But it is 1878, and Abby Leach knows, above all, that she and other women now deserve to know more.
Slow Down, Maurice
So when I stood on stage—fictitious but authentic—and proclaimed, “I am learning it’s untelling,” I wanted my dad to be there, sitting and listening.
This Eid, Lunch is on Mohammed
Later, while I sipped tomato soup alone for dinner in my dorm, I decided I was a gluttonous fraud. I blamed it on my hijab.
