Last week, the Classics Department hosted the Charles Beebe Martin Classical Lectures, presented by Argyropoulos Chair of Hellenic Studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara Helen Morales under the title “Art, Activism, and Ancient Fiction.”

Founded in 1927, the Martin Lectures honor former Professor of Classics Charles Beebe Martin, OC 1876. Occurring almost annually since then, they are regarded as one of the most prestigious Classical lecture series in the country. As Chair of Classics Kirk Ormand noted in his introduction to this year’s opening lecture, the series differs from most other endowed classical lectureships in that rather than being funded by a single large gift, it was funded by an extensive collection of small donations from alumni. Each year, the Martin Lectures are given by a guest lecturer on a single topic, serving as an example and learning experience for lecturers in the audience.

This year, Morales’ lectures were held Oct. 30, Oct. 31, Nov. 2, and Nov. 3. Each lecture had a distinct topic and title within the overarching theme and explored several ancient stories including some of Aesop’s fables, “Secundus the Silent Philosopher,” and “Apollonius of Tyre.” 

In the first of four lectures in the series, “Re-encountering Antiquity with Harmonia Rosales,” Morales discussed the art of contemporary Afro-Cuban, Los Angeles-based artist Harmonia Rosales. 

“[Her art] takes Renaissance artworks that feature Greek and Roman myths and history and reimagines them to tell the myths and history of the Yoruba people, who were abducted, enslaved, and trafficked from West Africa to Cuba during the Atlantic slave trade,” Morales said.

Rosales’ artworks include “White Lion,” a re-imagining of Jean François de Troy’s “The Abduction of Europa,” and “Garden of Eve,” a re-interpretation of Lawrence Alma-Tameda’s “The Roses of Heliogabalus.”

In subsequent lectures titled “Aesop, Slavery, and Queer Kinship,” “Riddles of Incest,” and “Heliodorus’ Blackness,” Morales focused on numerous literary, artistic, and political themes. It included  how both ancient and contemporary dehumanizing depictions of Aesop, who was  said to have been an enslaved Greek man in the medieval fictionalized biography The Life of Aesop. That book portrayed  conceptions of family beyond the traditional nuclear family, and images of Apollo — specifically the Apollo Belvedere — were used to support racism and white supremacy.

Morales also explored power imbalances and incest in the ancient story “Secundus the Silent Philosopher.” It’s about a young man who, in order to test whether all women can be bought, arranges to sleep with his own mother and takes a vow of silence so he can never again speak of it. These themes were also brought to light in “Appolonius of Tyre,” in which the King of Antioch rapes his daughter, leaving her only able to speak in riddles. Morales discussed other ideas as well, including ancient notions of race through the lens of Heliodorus’ “Ethiopian Tales.”

Ormand explained the considerations of the Classics department when seeking a Martin Lecturer.

“The Classics department looks for a scholar with an international reputation who is doing cutting-edge and relevant work,” Ormand wrote in an email to the Review. “In recent years we’ve also tended to look for scholars whose work is in some way interdisciplinary.”

For this year’s Classics faculty, it was Morales’ scholarship on an under-studied area of the field and her commitment to working through an activist lens that confirmed their decision.

“We were interested in Professor Morales for several reasons: her work on the ancient Greek novel, which is a genre often overlooked, as well as her general engagement with issues of equity and social justice as they relate to Classical scholarship,” Ormand wrote. 

Mildred C. Jay Professor of Medieval Art History Erik Inglis, OC ’89, who attended three of the lectures, noted the contemporary relevance of the series.

“Professor Morales’ lectures were remarkable to me in … her ability to take texts unfamiliar to me and make them urgent and interesting,” Inglis said. “I was particularly enthralled by her discussion of Heliodorus, which demonstrated that bringing contemporary questions to ancient texts is both historically responsible and intellectually generative. The enthusiastic response of the large audience confirmed Morales’ success.”

The dance used multiple actors to represent the people in the story, even having them represent different versions of the same character. It used spoken word as well as dance to tell the story of a child who is diagnosed with severe scoliosis and consequently spends their whole life facing the fallout of it. The piece opens with a row of people in lab coats surrounding a bed occupied by a single person. The “doctors” begin listing the conditions of the patient, speaking over each other until the words are unintelligible ­— a mess of medical jargon. Then the person on the bed uses their own voice to tell the audience “how fucked up I am.” This set the tone for the whole piece, and simultaneously made me sit up and pay attention.

I was diagnosed with a rare bone condition when I was seven years old. As a result of that, I have spent most of my life in and out of hospitals. I was subsequently diagnosed with several other exciting things like Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome — as fun as it sounds — and scoliosis — though not as bad as that of the subject of the dance. At this point I am well and able-bodied, but that makes me a medical anomaly and a fascination of doctors. I remember being so proud that the medical student assisting with my care wrote a paper about me when I was eight. I thought that the fact that doctors had never seen a case like mine was cool. I was unusual. Little did I know how isolating and dehumanizing that kind of “unusual” actually is.

While I understand that people felt “Patient 6183” was too long a piece for a show like Fall Forward, I personally relish the fact that something highlighting an experience I know only too well was able to be placed in it for the general public to consume. My entire viewing experience was spent sitting on the edge of my seat, engrossed in the story and seeing myself represented for the first time ever. I was brought to tears multiple times as I watched these dancers recreate the exact feelings I’ve never found a way to express. 

There is one part of the dance that will stay with me as long as I live just for the sheer heartbreak of it. The scene begins with the main character lying on the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling. They describe the mural painted on the ceiling, most likely placed there to comfort children who are suffering. But they are not a child, so the mural is not meant for them. At the same time, unseen by them, the older version of themselves is sitting on the bed next to them, reflecting on the experience of that day and how their mother must have felt. The child begins to describe the pain they are feeling, their terror and sense of loneliness. The more they speak the more desperate they become, unable to hear their older self telling them it will be okay, desperately crying out, begging for God, someone, anyone, to be there — and then, like magic, they see their older self. They hear them say, “I am here. I am here. I am here.” The two lock in an embrace as the scene changes.

No description of this moment can accurately depict its earth-shattering grief. I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks as I watched my own young self with the same childish pride, upset about the stupid “kid” things that filled my hospital rooms, trying to be brave and grown-up as I felt the pain, terror, and loneliness threatening to take over. I found myself constantly wishing that I could go back and comfort my younger self, that she would hear me as I told her that I am here and that I will never leave her behind even as I grow and move forward.

I understand that people will have their critiques about this performance. I respect and welcome that, as there is always room to grow. That said, I will always be grateful to Liz Hawk for baring their soul with such raw honesty in “Patient 6183.” I saw myself on that stage for the first time in my life and experienced an emotional catharsis that nothing has ever given me before.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Can you talk about what you discussed in your lecture? 

The lecture today is based on the classroom talk I had earlier in the afternoon. The classroom was reading my book Philosophy and Hip-Hop: Ruminations on Postmodern Cultural Form. I talk about the United States and democracy by fusing a conversation of my hip-hop work with my political work. This was achieved through my goal today of speaking about the question of bad faith. My context for bad faith comes from the philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, a French existentialist in the early 20th century. His concept of bad faith had to do with the fact that individuals seem to be forced to deny themselves to be accepted and recognized by others. It’s this constant interplay of self-creation and others’ acceptance to a point where you get into this conflict of the self-being for others. And so I wanted to talk that out a little bit using the American political system. 

The United States itself, to continue to be seen as the city on the hill, the greatest country in the world, has to somehow deny aspects of itself — the ugly part of itself. And so it operates as a bad-faith actor. I wanted to see, how does hip-hop deal with this? So I said, hip-hop has always been a resistance movement. Resisting this idea that “I must be recognized.” In this war of recognition, hip-hop says, “I’m not gonna forget where I came from, which is blues tradition. But I won’t let the blues consume me.” It’s this idea of flipping the script of turning the table on itself. I try to use the example of hip-hop to show that it does have its problems, challenges, and conflicts. But at its best, what it attempts to do is create some reconciliation of bad faith by trying to keep it real, and by trying to understand what realness is, and authenticity, and be an example of what that can be through voice and music.

You use the painting “The Scream” by Edvard Munch to better understand hip-hop as a genre. Can you speak to that?

Well, in that piece, it forces us to think about sound, right? Because there’s no sound in that picture. But it’s clear anxiety, it’s clear frustration. And no matter what, you can almost hear the scream in the visual. And it makes you think about what it means to be de-voiced or what it means not to have a microphone. You scream. I think that’s what made me think about the beauty of what the Harlem Renaissance was about — let’s use our jazz, poetry, and politics as a way of screaming. And we kind of see that in the formation of hip-hop. But I think through the advances that Black folk have made politically, we lost a lot of that kind of intentional pushback against the United States. And I think modern hip-hop does a small part of pushing back until they start making a whole bunch of money. Because hip-hop becomes a part of the very thing that detracts from the humanity of others. When you talk about misogyny or preoccupation with sex, drugs, money, all that kind of stuff takes away from a sense of community and a sense of identity formulation. 

Do you believe that modern-day hip-hop can be truly radical? 

I don’t think so. But I think I’m the wrong person to ask because I don’t believe there’s much radicalness in the United States, period. I think about the ways in which the reality is, though, that Black folk are pacified people. And no music is gonna change that. No lyric is gonna change that. Maybe our parents or grandparents did when they had music like Black protest music because that intentionally got people in serious trouble. But now, we must ask, are there still true revolutionary voices in the United States? Sure there are. But are they gonna be put on an EP? Nah. Because it would be too disruptive. I think people often cite Kendrick Lamar as someone disruptive. In a sense, he’s face-level destructive. But he doesn’t have the FBI watching him. Because in the process of making music, there’s so much give and take for you to be accepted by the majority. There has to be some palatability. They have to feel comfortable with you. And sometimes comfortability yields specificity. I always say that if too many white folk like you, you aren’t doing the work. An example I gave earlier would fit this answer a little bit. When N.W.A. in ’89 said, “F**k the police,” that caused a lot of problems for them individually and for music in general. They were disruptive. But the song now plays every day on radio shows. So in order to start a dialogue on this you would have to show me an artist who’s doing something that hasn’t already been punished that now is palatable. 

What got you into this research? 

You know, I went to Howard University and I played for Bison Athletics. But I realized I wasn’t gonna make the League. At the time, I was student body president of Howard. I brought Cornel West to campus in ’93, and it changed my life. I mean, just talking to him. And quite frankly, I hadn’t even read much of his books. I had read Race Matters because it came out in ’93, and everybody was reading it. But then, talking to him and hearing his genuine concern about me as a student, he needed to ask around about me, and he wanted me to come to study with him. So, he forced me to take scholarship and academics seriously. I mean, I graduated with a 2.9 GPA. I wasn’t a scholar. I was always involved in activism, but I never considered myself a scholar. But under him, I learned to appreciate scholarship. Then, in my first year working in Cornel’s office, I met Tricia Rose. At that time in ’95, Tricia Rose had just written a book called Black Noise. She wrote this book as a part of her dissertation. I just spent time talking to her, and then, she introduced me to a student who at the time was a junior, and he wrote a senior thesis on creating a hip-hop class at Harvard. His name is Jon Caramanica. It was Jon that helped me realize I could do some work in hip-hop.

Because land acknowledgment is relevant to all branches of Oberlin, the enforcement of respect and visibility toward Indigenous people requires the effort of the entire College. To this end, the College formed the Working Group on Indigenous Matters, consisting of Business Coordinator for the Oberlin Student Cooperative Association Sundance (Muskogee), Director of Admissions Tom Abeyta (Tiwa Isleta Pueblo, Kanaka Hawai’i), me (Kanaka Hawai’i), as well as several other Oberlin students, faculty, and staff. 

Associate Professor of Anthropology and member of the Working Group Amy Margaris, OC ’96, revealed the efforts that individuals and groups at the College have taken to compensate for the institution’s lack of initiative.

“Many, many colleges in the U.S. have already coined land acknowledgments, often prominently displayed on the institution’s website and the bottom of employee emails,” Margaris wrote in an email to the Review. “Oberlin College hasn’t done this. So on one hand, we’re behind the curve. On the other hand, in recent years individuals, departments, programs, and offices have, quite organically, begun devising their own land acknowledgments — starting by researching the admittedly complex story of the Native communities who stewarded this area’s lands and waters before the founders of the Oberlin Institute.”

Although Oberlin has not yet formally included land acknowledgments, Margaris discussed the conversations and plans of action that have taken place within the College community regarding this issue.

“And now many of us have come together to form a working group whose most immediate charge is to thoughtfully research, discuss, debate, and devise a land acknowledgment for Oberlin College,” Margaris wrote. “The draft that we’ll be submitting for faculty approval is up-front about the continued arc of past dispossessions, but also acknowledges Oberlin’s present day Indigenous residents.”

Members involved in this movement have also raised questions about ways to better serve those who resided on this land before the College did.

“Indigenous students, employees, and community members — how do we make Oberlin a more welcoming space for them?” Margaris wrote. “What specific actions can ‘Oberlin’ (individuals, offices, the whole institution) take to make the future better than the past?”

Curator of Academic Programs at the Allen Memorial Art Museum Hannah Wirta Kinney, another member of the Working Group, discussed why it is of specific interest to Oberlin to include a land acknowledgment. 

“I think it is particularly important for Oberlin to have a land acknowledgment because there are no federally recognized tribes in Ohio,” Kinney wrote in an email to the Review. “I think this has led to misinformation and confusion. When we started this project, we brought together many different land acknowledgments and discovered that they named many different tribes and nations. The new land acknowledgment will help clarify this and also allow members of the community to better understand the acts of dispossession that led to the founding of Oberlin.” 

Efforts to include a land acknowledgment reflect the College’s values of cultivating students’ sense of belonging and community, as Director of Admissions Tom Abeyta wrote in an email to the Review.

“Adopting a land acknowledgment aligns with Oberlin’s mission to create a diverse and inclusive learning environment for our students,” Abeyta wrote. “As the current steward of this land, we also see it as an expression of our commitment to a sustainable society.”

Campus Energy & Resource Manager Joel Baetens, who also participates in the Working Group, emphasized the importance of shifting perspectives surrounding land acquisition.

“What this means to Oberlin, like any other college or town on Turtle Island (North America), is that acknowledging that this land was never honestly acquired is the first step towards reconciliation that is long overdue,” Baetens wrote in an email to the Review.

Sundance expanded upon the initial steps that are necessary to creating positive change at Oberlin. 

“I think that land acknowledgments are, in general, important first steps,” Sundance wrote in an email to the Review. “I am mindful that restorative justice cannot occur unless Settlers are willing to take a long and uncomfortable look at the realities of the past and how those historical realities intersect with and define contemporary realities of privilege and oppression. As an educator and a leader of a national liberation organization, my role is to advocate for any mechanism which will ultimately result in the liberation of Indigenous peoples; I use land acknowledgments as a foray into those difficult issues.”

Each of the members on the Working Group comes from a different background, bringing their own perspective and expertise into the conversation over land acknowledgment. They demonstrate the aforementioned sentiment that the College’s land acknowledgment would be valued by many different groups at Oberlin. 

“The Admissions Office welcomes thousands of visitors each year,” Abeyta said. “When we open our events with a land acknowledgment, it demonstrates our willingness to engage in dialogue about our complex history and hopefully spur on tangible ways to reconcile with our past.” 

Kinney revealed the ways in which this initiative has impacted other areas of her life and career.

“Working on the land acknowledgment for Oberlin and learning through Indigenous people and other Oberlin colleagues has been transformative to my work as a museum professional,” Kinney wrote in an email to the Review. “It has allowed me to see with new eyes the way in which museums often reinforce settler colonial values and, importantly, envision ways of changing and challenging those systems.”

Although Oberlin boasts its image as a progressive institution, it has yet to officially acknowledge the historic significance of the land it dwells upon.

“For Oberlin College, a land acknowledgment presents an opportunity to refute the narrative of white supremacy that is rife throughout Ohio, namely that Native peoples consented in the transfer of Ohio into the hands of Americans through a ‘cooperative’ process … which naturally included coercion and capitulation,” Sundance wrote. “Until such time as the College adopts a land acknowledgment to illuminate these historic injustices, it is hypocritical for it to assert its stance as a supporter of a just society.”

Making the College a safer space for indigeneity starts with righting the wrongs of the past. Creating opportunities and support for Indigenous students, as well as enrolling more Indigenous students, all start with addressing the past. Moving forward is about leading with intention and trying to better understand Indigenous ways of thinking, especially about land. Mending relationships with indigeneity requires nurturing a different mindset than that of colonial figures. It is about respecting and giving visibility to Indigenous people and truly understanding what has been lost. That is why land acknowledgment is only the first step. The most important thing now is to ask what members of the College can do next for indigeneity at Oberlin.

The Free Store at Oberlin offers goods including clothes, kitchenware, and school supplies at no cost. It is open to both students and community members. Founded in 2007, it operates in the basement of Asia House and is run by the Resource Conservation Team, a student group focused on decreasing Oberlin’s ecological footprint through various initiatives.

“The mission of the Free Store is promoting a circular economy,” College fourth-year and RCT member Lanie Cheatham said. “It’s a nice way to support the community and serve as a resource for people who might not be able to buy clothes or kitchen supplies, or whatever else we have with the Free Store, and also taking things that would be discarded and providing them a new home.”

Although predominantly frequented by students, the Free Store is open to community members as well. However, because the building requires tap-in access, those without an Oberlin ID have to call to be let in. According to Cheatham, the RCT is trying to address this barrier by seeking to move the Free Store to a more accessible location.

While the Free Store is a popular place to get free things, it is also an ideal place to drop off unwanted ones. Bins Day was prompted by an overabundance of clothes and other items.

“We had so many extra clothes from Big Swap last year, we were just actually swamped with clothes,” Double-degree second-year and RCT member Reyah Doshi said. “Our storage room [didn’t have] a clear pathway that we could walk through, so we had to organize the clothes and get rid of them the quickest way we could.” 

Bins Day drew a large crowd. Although there was no record of how many people attended, the previously overflowing bins were half empty by the end of the event.

College second-year Reed Wang arrived early with friends to find an already packed room.

“There were a lot of really cool finds,” Wang said. “I got some new sweaters and shirts that I love a lot, but it was hard to navigate around all the people and dig through the bins.” 

College third-year Sola Stacey, who also went to Bins Day, agreed. 

“This event was an awesome opportunity to go through items that other people aren’t loving anymore, take them home and try them on, and either keep them or bring them back without having to spend a ton of money or effort on returns,” Stacey said. “The event itself was hectic, with a ton of people crowded into a small, hot room, but after I got in the groove of it, I didn’t mind as much.”

           My ivy vine vertebrae mimicked a city loft’s metal staircase,

                    wrought-iron ribcage gnawing at imperfection from this spiral scoliosis.

                                 They said I’d need surgery — a spinal fusion. To me: a death sentence.

                                     Medical mishaps in mind, I begged for another choice where my rusted

                                 tears don’t succumb to anesthesia in less than a year, confess “time’s up.”

                     I wondered if I’d die in a sterile grave, each day closer to my last:

          last holidays, birthdays, last year of school, last breath of air.

Spending sleepless nights with WebMD questions left unanswered,

I learned I had little choice but to operate on my melodramatic tragedy.

    Prepare for my descent down the vertebrae stairs to the operating room,

                    haunted by the thought of shifting my spine from a spiral staircase

                                  to normal. Titanium hardware straightening my body, easing the climb,

                                  yet this looked like a straightaway running out of time.

                      Down a straight hallway, I was running out of time,

                                saying “I think it’s working now,” going cold a moment

                                  later. Several hours unconscious, doctors and technology

                                         worked to fix me. I awakened to ask, Where did everybody go?

                               Hospital beds, ICU, throbs of pain through my drugged brain,

                               x-rays, refusing opioids because what if I get addicted?

                   Walking felt better than sitting, or standing white-faced to greet

                      the rising sun of infirmary lights. Four days in hospital hellscapes,

                         read-aloud fairytales shook me with laughter, so hard the pain

                               was worth it. Woken up to factory reset walls by nightshift nurses;

                              Wondering “When can I leave?” I walked to pass the time.

                           The factory lineup: three IVs, bruises burning painkillers down my wrists,

               sleepless nights, yearning for freedom. I wondered when this world

              would let me go home, bedridden with a spinal staircase unfurled.

                    They let me go home, though bedridden with my spine unfurled.

                         I slept in the basement because it was closer to everything:

                  to the kitchen upstairs; the bathroom; my mom, whose home office

                        was an arm’s reach away. Fighting time and eagerly awaiting

                          a layoff from this job of reading just to forget another day.

                         I would write my way into a love for the craft, and I would

                              walk the same half-mile trail over and over and over,

                                   until I knew the birdsong like a favorite record,

                         and the path warped into a concrete aisle cutting through

                             the factory of recovery. I had little else to do but wait

                                 for school to start at break’s end, for the surgeon

                                     to say I was free to move again, for healing

                          to reach beyond the confines of “a summer well spent.”

                              I was spiraling before I knew what spiraling meant.

Kiley Flynn  is a College second-year from the Pocono Mountains, Pennsylvania.  She is majoring in Creative Writing with a minor in Theater. Her writing interests include fiction, poetry, playwriting, and everything in between. She wrote Spiral Fusion, a three-sonnet sequence, to reflect on her experience undergoing spinal fusion surgery for scoliosis. This sonnet sequence focuses on breaking some of the rules of a “traditional” sonnet and experimenting with how form can reflect the content of poetry.

ACROSS

1. “Solitude” poet*

12. Float

13. Pubescent woe

14. Popular 2018 Netflix show

16. Charon’s fee

17. Strong electric battery charge, abbr.

18. Split ___

20. Length x width x height, for short

21. It might be baked on Thanksgiving

22. Firmly ___

24. C’est la ___

26. A director might shout this

28. Star Road character

29. Not truths

31. Berries used to flavor gin

32. Second-largest U.S. city

33. What’s missing from the byline… or, what connects all the starred clues

35. Charlotte, Emily, or Anne

37. Urinary or digestive, for example

40. Grp. that might have rules for your lawn, for example

41. ____ Lumpur

42. Therefore

43. When repeated, a famous Lady

44. Not second

45. “TTYL!”

47. Not a woman or a man, abbr.

49. Leftovers

51. Schindler’s List actor

53. A long, long way to run?

54. A Man Called ____

55. Feminine title

56. Here or there, in German

57. An Indigenous person of the Arctic

59. Gentleman 

61. Identity housing opt. on South Campus

64. Real name of “Royals” singer*

DOWN

1. How the Grinch Stole Christmas town

2. “Peach Scone” Johnson

3. Develop 

4. It might be electric

5. Adobe editing feature, abbr.

6. Aspect of some music festivals

7. British abbr. for toilet

8. Newton’s first law of motion

9. Former Tonight Show host Jay

10. Shellfish delicacy

11. Hugs and kisses

15. Ctrl + Z

17. Opposite of bye

19. Mark a page

21. Where little kids run, abbr.

23. French preposition

25. “It ___ what it ___”

27. What most gasoline is these days

30. Some add it after LGBTQ

31. The First Lady of the Children’s Folk Song*

34. @

35. Comedian Burnham

36. Many live in the New York subway

37. Of the walking or street variety

38. ___ the World Turns

39. Perplexed, in Spanish

40. Legal name of La Casa Hispánica

43. Fool

46. Village Housing option on North Campus

48. Grassroots leader in the civil rights movement*

50. Prefix with phone or gram

52. Oberlin College athlete grp.

55. “Boo’d Up” singer*

58. Female counterpart of a monk

60. Spanish “y” sound

63. When repeated three times, Santa’s catchphrase

Because of time constraints, only half the film was shown, but students were then encouraged to buy the film in order to support the filmmakers. Although Flee is animated, it is shot as a traditional documentary, including  confessionals by Amin intercut along with B-rolls of his daily life, flashbacks from his childhood, and real footage of the events covered in the film.

The event was on the smaller side with a turnout of around 15 people, but it was an overall success. The film’s reception was overwhelmingly positive, leading to an engaging discussion on its animated medium, compared to more traditional formats.

Media Night and other events included in Undocuweek are a way for OUI to offer a space where students can connect over shared interests. 

“It brings in a supportive community where we all get to converse and connect,” College first-year Jasmine Gonzalez said. 

Flee was not just moving, but also an educational experience. The educational aspect of Media Night is especially important because, despite hosting fascinating and meaningful events, OUI does not have a large presence on campus. The matter of OUI’s small reach goes deeper than just awareness. According to College third-year Angelina Martinez, an OUI board member, Oberlin’s administration has historically not been adequately supportive of undocumented students.

“A big issue is with financial aid,” Martinez said. Sometimes people will miscatalog people, … and then people in the [Office of] Financial Aid themselves aren’t very educated on certain terms.”

Although OUI has been able to make tremendous strides in getting support from the administration and creating a safe space for undocumented students, what they really need in order to achieve their goals is support from the student body. 

“I hope to see more people at our meetings, just coming to our events, showing support in our events, and just being there for our community members,” Martinez said. 

With events such as Media Night, OUI hopes to draw in more people in order to educate students about issues faced by undocumented students at Oberlin and in general, as well as to garner support for their causes. So far, OUI has made efforts to get the word out about their meetings and events through flyers or their Instagram, but Martinez says they still are not receiving the support they need in order to accomplish their goals. 

“Oberlin … claims to be activists and big on social change, but that’s not very evident for marginalized groups who push for change,” Martinez said. “You can see that in who attends these meetings. … It’s usually only those who have [a] direct stake, and that’s not what it should be.”

OUI has been doing everything it can to try to educate and gain support from the student body. The responsibility lies with students to support them.

“Obiewood is the name of the alumni group that is ‘Obies in Hollywood,’” Kyle Farris, assistant director for career readiness, said. “It’s a loose kind of alumni association for folks who are involved in or looking to break into the entertainment industry.”

Obiewood primarily functions in Los Angeles, where panels, mixers, and other events allow alumni of all years to create connections and foster relationships that can lead to job opportunities.

“The whole idea of it is to provide graduates with a community that could provide support and connect people to other resources,” Farris said. “It’s primarily focused on the alumni side of things, which is why I’m really happy that they were kind enough to come in and talk to the current students. But I know that folks out there will sometimes try to arrange mixers, or networking events, or just help each other out one-on-one.”

Farris, who also serves as an advisor to the arts, communications, and creative professions career community at Oberlin, is the driving force behind the panel. They said that when students looking to go into entertainment come to him, he follows a less traditional route to prepare them for the job hunt.

“I make sure that they are very well educated about the industry, because it is a very difficult industry,” they said. “It’s very rare that someone graduates college and goes straight into a job, to be honest. There’s usually a period where you’re hitting the pavement, looking for work, doing freelance, assembling some gigs.”

Farris said he tried to represent a diversity of experiences in the panel, because there are so many ways in which careers in entertainment can manifest.

“We’re lucky because we have folks coming in from a variety of different spaces,” they said. “We’ve got someone who has experiences as a writer, that’s Liam Oznowich; Kendra James has been more on the journalism/reporting side for a lot of entertainment stuff; Fiona Brennan has documentary experience and other kinds of pieces of production experience, and Sarah Goodstein has got production experience as a camera assistant. We tried to assemble folks who weren’t just from one portion of the industry but who can speak to what it’s like in a variety of different areas.”

Oznowich, a panelist who currently works as the personal assistant to Ed Helms, OC ’96, met Helms multiple times through Obiewood networking events before coming to work for him.

“It wouldn’t have happened if Obiewood didn’t exist, so I’m very thankful to that group for putting on these events and creating spaces — not only for recent graduates moving out to LA or New York for the first time, but also providing a space for people who have already been out there,” Oznowich said. “I’m so thankful to Obiewood, and there’s hopefully going to be more movement to create more resources for current students, graduates, and people who’ve lived out here for a while to create a real community. I’m really excited for what Obiewood is doing and how they will expand in the future.”

Farris notes that the most difficult obstacle in getting into film and television can be the industry’s emphasis on connections and networking, a hurdle Obiewood hopes to help bridge for Oberlin alumni.

“More than any other field that I have encountered so far, film and entertainment is a who-you-know industry,” Farris said. “You know, they’ll post internships and jobs, but to be honest, it’s a connections-based kind of thing. That’s where a lot of the workforce is moving, but it’s much more intense with film. You need a resume, but it’s all networking. That’s a big reason why I wanted to do this — so a lot of people could meet some folks.”

Sarah Goodstein, OC ’21, another panelist who works in various positions on camera departments on sets in Los Angeles, agrees with the sentiment that lack of connections and competition can make success in the industry difficult.

“The main thing about the industry is, it’s about who you know,” she said. “The other thing is the sheer number of people trying to do what I’m trying to do. There are maybe a million people right now, who are in exactly the same place, doing the exact same job, and there are not a million jobs. It’s been very difficult, and I’ve had to do quite a bit of my own research, marketing, and networking, and absolutely nothing I did at Oberlin prepared me for this.”

Oznowich noted that Obiewood can help bridge the gap in connections for Oberlin alumni struggling to find work in the industry, as established older alumni can give newer graduates a leg up.

“Because this is a business that’s so focused on relationships, who you know, and personal recommendations, just having the Oberlin label is a huge boon to knowing someone — knowing that they’re capable and smart,” Oznowich said. “The virtues of a liberal arts education are really noticeable now, especially as I get older, because I feel like Oberlin students know how to write. They know how to be creative, and they have out-of-the-box ideas and interesting things to say.”

Oznowich is hopeful about the opportunities of connection and community Obiewood and Oberlin career communities can offer.

“I didn’t really know about Obiewood when I first moved out here, and I think that’s because it was nascent,” he said. “When I graduated there, we didn’t have career communities; We didn’t have any of the resources that they have now; they were just starting an early version of Oberlink. To see those services expand and more alumni connections that can be built will be really exciting, because ultimately we want to give back and help people get jobs. Every single job I’ve had except for the agency was through word of mouth. To create those kinds of networks amongst Oberlin alumni, older Oberlin alumni, younger Oberlin alumni, students — that’s the real takeaway — cross-generational connections and networking opportunities that are so crucial to this business. I think Oberlink makes that easier, and also future Obiewood events, just a place for people to gather and meet people.”

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

This month you played the role of adult Addie at Dobama Theatre in the regional premiere of Make Believe. What was this experience like? 

The writing was fantastic. It’s really layered. It’s really nuanced. It rolls off the tongue. With contemporary theater, it’s pretty clear when the writing is solid because it’s easy, if that makes sense. I feel like Wohl took some risks with the play. The first half is about the kids, and it’s acted by kids. It’s unique in that we’re not watching something meant for children; we’re watching an adult play with adult themes. As you move into the second half of the play, it’s the children as adults and what happened to them. Usually what you’re doing as an actor is you’re building a character’s history based on the text, but you don’t get to see it. In Make Believe, you get to see it at rehearsal every day — the mannerisms of who you are going to become or the circumstances of what happened to these kids. 

We split the rehearsal process up for various reasons, one of those reasons being the content of the play. The trauma of childhood comes to light in the second half. We were very protective of the kids because they were 10, 11, and 12 years old. The director, Nathan Motta, worked closely with their parents, giving them lots of conversations, time, and resources to be able to decide for themselves what they wanted to share with their kids about the themes of the play. As they left and the adults began, the kids would talk about what they may have discovered that day in rehearsal. We had this hand thing where we’d go whoosh, and it was a metaphorical way to clean the space from all that was there and start anew. It’s a little ritual to cross the threshold and to step out, because the themes were pretty heavy. It was important that we did that kind of safe work. 

 Can you describe your process for preparing roles that require conjuring up strong emotions and a character’s past history? How did you prepare for your role in Make Believe, specifically? 

That’s what I like to teach my students — that there’s a process to this thing. It does vary depending on the role and the character, but I always go back to circumstance and relationships, no matter the role. For the role of Addie, we’re exploring her childhood and everything in between until this moment, so I did a lot of crafting of her history. I think about where her relationships are now with these siblings and how they’ve changed or grown or been stilted. With Addie in particular, she blocked out a lot of stuff, so it was figuring out those things. I also did a lot of personalization. I myself have three older siblings and a younger sibling, so it’s finding those parallels. 

How do you balance teaching theater at Oberlin and being involved in the world of theater and acting yourself? Which takes a priority in your life, if either of them do? 

I’ve been lucky enough to be a professional actor and be able to teach it for many years now. I’m also always trying to maintain an acting career. It’s part of me keeping up with my own artistry, and keeping myself alive in it is important. I feel really supported at Oberlin to continue working as an actor, and I’m so grateful for that. I also have a family, and that’s another huge — if not the biggest — part of my life. There’s still times when I’m like, “Anjanette, you should have said no.” You can’t just say yes to everything, you know? I lived so long as a hungry actor who just wanted to do everything, and I wasn’t as good at balancing. I don’t take on more than three projects a year. It has to do with juggling and balancing and figuring out, what can we handle? What can we not? When one thing starts to overtake something else, I check myself. It’s very important that, for example, being in this production doesn’t affect my teaching. It’s going to affect it a little bit. I’m going to be a little more tired and drink a third cup of coffee in the morning and things like that. But if we get into a danger zone with that, I have to really check myself. 

How do you see your career progressing as you continue to move forward in terms of acting and teaching? 

I’d love to continue to grow as an educator here in particular, because I do feel like this institution is the right fit. In terms of my acting career, I think I’m at an interesting place with it. I’ve been in this area for long enough now that I’ve developed a lot of relationships, and I have the ability to seek out projects and have conversations with people I’d love to work with. That was always a dream of mine as a younger actor. I just wanted to do good work with good people. I spent many years in New York acting in regional theater, but I’ve never felt like I had to be on Broadway or get the lead in a film. More importantly to me is doing good material and well-written work, whether it be film or theater. 

What advice do you have for young actors at Oberlin right now?

Some of it’s thinking every day about what kind of actor I want to be — defining that for yourself all the time. It’s going to start to translate into: who do I want to be? What do I want? You start to manifest that, and you start to set goals — real goals for yourself that you start to achieve. Don’t think that your fantastic ideal of a life has to be like anybody else’s. How do you define success for yourself? That requires digging deep inside yourself and finding out what that is, and even allowing it to change. What I wanted out of my career and my life has shifted and changed, but I’ve always tried to keep tabs on it and ask myself, am I happy? If not, then how do I start to move more toward what I want? Sometimes we get stuck in this idea of fame or what a successful actor is. Go a little deeper. What does that mean? What does that fulfill? What is success to you?