Author: Camille Goering

The Greek system at the Claremont Colleges, though hardly an overwhelming presence on campus, has elicited both praise and criticism throughout the years. The leverage of existing fraternities, which include Kappa Delta (KD), Sigma Tau, and Nu Alpha Phi (of which KD and Sigma Tau are limited to male-only membership),

“Globalization” is a buzzword. We often hear about how it will unite citizens of far-flung nations, how it will bring aid to those in need, and how it will allow corporations to create and deliver the highest quality of products anywhere, at any time. But we forget that globalization is

According to U.S. Code 700, “Whoever knowingly mutilates, defaces, physically defiles, burns, maintains on the floor or ground or tramples upon any U.S. flag shall be fined or imprisoned for no more than a year or both.” In other words, desecrating an emblem representative of the United States is analogous

Throughout our time here in Claremont, we are spoon-fed the maxims of a liberal arts education on a daily basis: leadership, tolerance, agency, and community engagement. We are encouraged to develop our own moral and ethical code, to “bear our added riches in trust to mankind,” as it is written

Feminism has never appealed to me for the sole reason that I have never heard its origins, ideology, and intentions clearly articulated. I recently attended a talk on the subject by Don McPherson, the former NFL player and current activist, but before that my contact with feminism, on both an

Though guided by light, I have always been more drawn to the allure of shadow. As a child, I spent hours gingerly untangling the frosted wings of blue moths from the spaces between our porch screens. My mother once told me that they’d come to flit between the tongues of

I believe in the practice of prayer. In instances of unfathomable awe, of humble prostration before the incomprehensible, the abundant wealth of this universe demands to be recognized. I have long sought out temples to better shelter my practice. Working in the cracked leather planes of Tanzania, gilded and burnt

There is an insoluble quality of warmth and tranquility in returning to a space that is yours. I’ve been at Pomona College a year now. It is this feeling—of ambling through the brush and tangle of the backcountry or cruising through the lunar landscape of the California desert only to

It almost always seems, in hindsight, as though there was once an omen, overlooked by the blind eye of a loving parent or an oblivious school teacher. A mother finds a drawing tucked into the windowpane of her son’s bedroom, crumpled and moist with early December frost. There are scabs

Although it was not so long ago, my memory of that early morning in May is pale and muted. I suspect that this is due to the hollow lyricism of quite forgettable graduation speeches, or perhaps to the film of champagne and euphoria that kept me from reading my high