The time is upon us: Whether you are a senior searching

for a way to sustain a living after graduation, or a

freshman looking to build that resume, career fair brings

feelings of pain and fear to us all. We came up with five

types you are guaranteed to find at every career event

— this is what they are thinking, though they probably

won’t be saying it.

3B

THE LIST

THE GO-GET TER
“I’ve already taken another job offer, I just came here
to watch other people squirm.”

THE HONEST ONE
“I know nothing about your company — I just live in
constant fear of living in my parent’s basement after
graduation.”

THE FUN ONE
“I’m incredibly hungover from Skeeps last night.
After I give you my resume I’m going to go vomit in
the Union restroom.”

TO FAIR OR NOT TO FAIR

THE DREAMER
“I’m woefully under-qualified for this position, but if I
act confident enough maybe you won’t notice.”

THE LEGACY
“This conversation is just a formality, as my uncle
is a VP at your company and I’m a shoo-in for this
position.”

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ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHERYLL VICTUELLES

Don’t look at my Spotify

I

’ve heard from my friends —
an alarming number of times
— that if they’re ever in need

of a good laugh, they go and look at
my Spotify account. It’s not even
the names of the playlists, they say
— it’s what’s in them.

I’ve always been known to have

an eclectic taste in music, to say
the least. The sight of an Indian-
American kid from the Bay Area
with an amateur beard listening
to Jagged Edge must be jarring
for anyone, but it’s apparently
provided ample comedic fodder
for my friends. Prompted to
answer the question, “What kind
of music do you listen to?” I always
accompany my response with
an, “It’s kind of weird, but…” or
“Actually, I don’t like EDM, but
instead…” It’s not a fun addition
to a conversation, but one I feel
is necessary to prevent an early
departure from the other camp.

I
watched
“Straight
Outta

Compton” this summer. The scene
in which a crowd full of white kids
reciting violent, racially charged
lyrics word-for-word made me
think. For Black people, this music

was revolutionary. For white kids,
this music was just hella cool. I
began to wonder if I was guilty of
the same appropriation.

I love listening to R. Kelly

and Chris Brown (questionable
people,
unquestionably
great

music). I can quote lyrics off the
dome from Boyz II Men’s II (“On
Bended Knee” is probably the
best track). And I also know the
unfortunate fact that Keith Sweat
hosts a festival called SweatFest
(dates for 2016 haven’t been
announced yet). R&B, however,
is just as rooted in African-
American culture as is hip-hop,
just as important to Black identity
as is gangsta rap, but with a
different intent.

Nineties R&B is more sensual

than
modern
music,
more

interested in vocal range and
ability than dance-friendly beats.
Jazz, funk, and blues are the
backbone of the style. The lyrics
are often full of cheesy, on-the-
nose wordplay about genitals
instead of the profundity that is
“I wanna be like Kanye.” It’s also
very awkward when I

play this kind of stuff aloud in my
apartment. Is it wrong for me to
like this? Am I allowed to?

There’s an inherent weirdness,

I know, to the concept of an Indian
kid playing Marvin Gaye aloud in
his dorm room. Race and music
have always been inextricably
linked, and the conversation is
still ongoing. But most of this
conversation
is
about
those

creating the music, and not the
ones listening to it.

After watching Dr. Dre say,

“Aftermath” to Suge Knight’s
face, and while I was staring at
the credits rolling, questioning
my entire Spotify profile, I tried to
placate myself by saying, At least
I don’t use the n-word. But that’s
superficial. I realize it’s more
than that — it’s recognizing and
respecting what this aspect of a
long-suppressed culture means,
what its history is, what I’m
really listening to when I listen to
D’Angelo’s Black Messiah. I think,
at least, that I can like it. And I do.

And Mariah Carey is the best

recording artist of all time.

B Y N A B E E L C H O L L A M PAT

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Wednesday, October 7, 2015 // The Statement


Magazine Editor:

Ian Dillingham

Deputy Editor:

Natalie Gadbois

Design Editor:

Jake Wellins

Photo Editor:

Luna Anna Archey

Creative Director:

Cheryll Victuelles

Editor in Chief:

Jennifer Calfas

Managing Editor:

Lev Facher

Copy Editors:

Hannah Bates

Laura Schinagle

Emma Sutherland

THE statement