Nike Techs vs Quarter-Zips By Julian Rodriguez Illustration by Justin Chen Hanging in every Columbia student’s closet is their class sweatshirt, gifted to them by the Student Council. In recent memory, these have always been simple crew necks. However, in a March CCSC meeting, the Class of ’29 representatives announced that they would wear a new garment: the quarter-zip. This decision was made because a survey of the then-freshmen class revealed that an overwhelming majority

Michael Onwutalu — Houston, TX Illustration by Ines Alto I had been listening to a lot of Kelsey Lu in anticipation of their newest album, So Help Me God. Specifically, I had been hooked on the singer’s debut album, Blood, the music capturing a pre-Covid naïveté that I’ve grown fond of. “Due West,” the album’s 2018 lead single, is so 2019, and what was I doing then? I was completing the transition to high school, binging Game of Thrones, tuning in weekly to Euphoria, and prac

It’s a great summer to be in the city of New York. Specifically, it is a great summer for sports. Lifelong fans and recent converts alike held their breath (bit their nails, clenched their rectums) as they watched the Knicks take the lead in the fourth quarter of Game 5 of the NBA Championship, bringing the national title to NYC for the first time in over half a century. And while the blue-and-orange ticker tape was being swept from the streets, the city turned its attention

By Althea Downing-Sherer After Adrienne Rich I Chest burning Ascension from the riverbed The rain all at once Water makes curtains over the hips of scaffolding shielded by translucent sheets hinting at modesty The rain all at once the biblical comparison the voice saying that’s what I’ve been waiting for the sky to look like II They would test the tornado sirens mid-week until reality exceeded anticipation Tree limbs collapsed all at once Nature was more

Illustration by Vanessa Zhou April 27, 2026 Dear Snails of the Hudson Valley, I have two of your brethren living in a small pot in my small room, about 100 miles from their home. I would feel compelled to return them to your railroad siding, but they are enjoying a higher quality of life in my spider plant. Why, might you ask, did I kidnap your compatriots? It is a long, treacherous story of heartbreak, exhaustion, and human perseverance. Last fall, my dorm was bare; the drab

On taking yourself down the road. By Duda Kovarky Rotta Illustration by Iris Pope As it turns out, we need to take care of ourselves. We each have our ways to get by: journaling, a good-enough lover, a $28 salad, Korean skincare, confession, an IV-drip of self-pity, some lemon-ginger-hot-water-morning shot to wash down the Valium. Actually, no lemon in the water anymore—last week’s experts said it made you thin but now, turns out, it makes you shallow. Everybody needs a litt

A summer social where you can play yourself. By Selma White-Pascual Illustration by Ines Alto I had first seen the signs after I walked up the steps by Low Library. There, right by Maison Française, was a vertical banner with the letters MSM printed in blue, and below, a small QR code. I found the banner again, pinned up on the bulletin boards of Hamilton Hall. I was surprised at first—I thought public health outreach was getting very direct in its search for Men who have Sex

BOARD NATALIE BUTTNER, BC ’27, Editor-in-Chief DUDA KOVARSKY ROTTA, CC ’28, Managing Editor NNEMA ÉPÉE-BOUNYA, BC ’28, Deputy Editor LUCY SPENCER MASON, CC ’27, Publisher INES ALTO, CC ’28, Illustrations Editor IRIS POPE, CC ’28, Illustrations Editor JEREMIAH BARRON, CC ’28, Layout Editor AUDREY WANG, CC ’29, Web Editor ELIKA KHOSRAVANI, BC ’27, Literary Editor LUCIA DEC-PRAT, CC ’27, Crossword Editor HANNAH LUI, CC ’28, Crossword Editor Senior Editors JACK BRADNER, CC

It’s the end of the year now, and what do you have to show for it? Personally, I am always shocked by how much paper I have accumulated—readings, flashcards, religious and political flyers, and other things I put aside during the week to thoroughly examine during the weekend. Anyone who has stuck around on campus post-graduation knows the mayhem that follows our year of academic accumulation. Move-out exposes our material consumerism, one of many dark underbellies that is rev

A freshman’s first solo flight, a 48 hour journey back to NYC after spring break By Willow Bradford Illustration by Jiaying Geng As what feels like the only Type A person in my family, embarking on my first solo trip was a stroke of luck after years of waking up at 4 a.m. for flights from Newark Airport and bickering through hooded eyes and coffee-less hands. My spring break trip from New York to Montreal should have been relaxing and stress-free. Arriving at the airport thre

What is lost and what is found. By Iris Eisenman In 1915, poet Ezra Pound published Cathay, a slim volume of English translations from Classical Chinese poetry. He did not speak a lick of Chinese. On paper, Pound was in no way qualified to tackle the works of Li Bai, often considered the greatest poet in Chinese history. Pound disregarded Chinese poetry’s key formal features like tonal prosody, used secondhand translations, and lacked in-depth historical knowledge of the Tan

By Duda Kovarsky Rotta Carlos Drummond de Andrade is a name every Brazilian child at least vaguely recognizes—most major cities have invariably named a street or a square after him. Some say he was our greatest poet; others, that he just was another rich intellectual brandishing communism and art as sword and shield. Either way, there is a stark contrast between his towering influence and the terribly insufficient translations of his work into English. The poem I chose to tra

By Ava Lattimore I left in the morning with a stain under my skin. You left in the morning to wash it all off. I sat with my legs straddling your hips. Can you feel it now? You asked me if you were my friend. I said you were my friend and I wanted to have sex with you. I don’t think I got it right. Is it under your skin? Let me try again. I sat with my skin pressed against yours, but only the part where I could feel it. I said you were my friend and I am in love with you. I

On today’s agenda: Coming back to the beginning, reiterating that I love making fun of people, and taking something sincere or reflective and ultimately corrupting it. By Rocky Rūb Illustration by Isabelle Oh I bet no one thought they’d see the day that I shut my computer and stop emphatically punching away at the keyboard whenever a Columbia College Student Council member mentioned their shoe size or said a slur—OFF THE RECORD, of course. To be honest, I’ve outgrown student

By Lucia Dec-Prat and Maccabee Armstrong Across 1. Minecraft villager sound 4. Breath rate measurement 7. Pop Up bread 10. Strait of Hormuz resource 11. Philosophical shaver 13. Song pace 14. “Don’t ___ my yum” 15. Fun-shaped crisps or acrobatics implements 19. Collector’s candy 20. A gentleman’s request at the ball 21. Tolstoy 22. Shirt fastener 23. Star Trek’s Nyota 26. Drawn-out green policy, abbr. 27. God’s role for the first six days 28. Sensitive young man 31. Neutral

The story of the student movement, from Columbia JVP’s biggest diva. By Maya Lerman Illustration by Selin Ho If you’ve been tuned in to Columbia’s activism scene the past two years, you’ve probably seen Cameron Jones. Maybe in person, wearing a brightly colored crop-top and keffiyeh, wielding a megaphone at protests outside the campus gates. Maybe on the news—NBC, Al Jazeera, Democracy Now!—or speaking confidently to the camera on your Instagram feed. Or maybe you’ve seen his

How one of Columbia’s oldest student resources lost the battle for its future. By Chris Brown Illustration by Em Bennett Hello, Nightline, Barnard/Columbia Peer Listening. For four decades, Columbia students have heard those words in hours of need. But for the last four semesters, Nightline has been mostly unavailable, engaged in a fight for its future with the Columbia administration. At the end of this year, its phones will likely go silent forever. Nightline is Columbia

On the oral histories of a Harlem haberdasher. By Magda Lena Griffel Illustration by Iris Pope Tweed, silk, single-breasted, double-breasted, pin-striped, paisley, heather, jewel-toned—each day, Gentleman Jim dons a different hand-made waistcoat. Some days, he’ll have a neat little kerchief tied around his neck, and others, a classic epcot tie. My favorite is a blue-and-silver damask number, layered over a white button-down. He tops it off with a red scarf. He should be this

Quintessential works from a graduating senior. By Cecilia Zuniga Illustration by Ines Alto Why do you think there are no men enrolled in this class? It is a Thursday at 10:10 a.m., and my professor splays this question across on the board as our weekly writing prompt. The class, titled Crime, Race, Sex, and the Politics of Purity, is a graduate level seminar in Barnard’s American Studies department. My classmates trickle into the room, each one pausing in the doorway to rea

By losing your headphones By Marvin Cho Illustration by Selin Ho Take a stroll down Broadway. What do you hear? A conversation among friends walking to lunch, whose precise words escape you, but not the ring of joy they contain? The wail of an ambulance heralding the crisis of a life, a turning point in one person’s story? Birds? The rustle of trees? The earthly tapping of your own shoes against the pavement? Or, do you hear, instead, a curated list of your favorite titles,