Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Meet Annie Rauwerda, the U-M student behind Depths of Wikipedia
Why I can’t (and won’t) shut up about season 2 of ‘Bridgerton’
MAYBE YOU’VE SCROLLED through
your timeline on your favorite social
media app and come across a post about
odd Canadian traditions, animal-shaped
breads or ancient Sumerian jokes — but
did you know that the creator of these
posts could’ve been in your discussion
section?
In April 2020, then-LSA sophomore
Annie Rauwerda was in the same place as
many Wolverines: stuck at home, bored
and chronically online. From the corner
of Ann Street and Glen Avenue, Rauw-
erda started her “quarantine project” and
posted for the first time on her new Insta-
gram account @depthsofwikipedia. Flash
forward to now, and that same account
has upwards of 800,000 followers split
across Instagram, TikTok and Twitter.
Since that first post, the essentials of the
account have remained the same: Rau-
werda curates snippets from the crowd-
sourced Wikipedia — whether they’re
silly, weird, outrageous or all of the above
— and shares them with the world.
Rauwerda’s post about recursive islands
and lakes includes the phrases “islands in
lakes on islands in lakes” and “lakes on
islands in lakes on islands.” There’s also
Diego the tortoise, whose Wikipedia page
boasts that “Diego has been said to have
‘had so much sex he saved his species.’”
My personal favorite is her spotlight on
Hanlon’s razor, the old adage stating
“never attribute to malice that which is
adequately explained by stupidity.” I think
about that one a lot.
Her success has been think-pieced into
the next dimension: The New York Times
calls it an “entry point to internet culture,”
Mashable praises Depths of Wikipedia for
its bizarre trivia lessons and Vice describes
its significance among Gen Z with fancy
words like “post-irony” and “meta-irony.”
Rauwerda sells merchandise too (with
the proceeds going to Wikipedia), hosts a
Depths of Wikipedia Discord channel and
regularly interacts with her ever-growing
community of Wiki-lovers.
But none of that is what we’re here for.
It’s finally time to address one glaring
truth: Rauwerda is a U-M Neuroscience
major, one whose celebrity seems largely
unknown among the student body. The
Michigan Daily is adding to Rauwerda’s
long roster of interviews to glean a sense
of what it’s like to get your degree in Ann
Arbor while navigating much bigger
things. The interview has been edited for
clarity and context.
The Michigan Daily: How do you
explain Depths of Wikipedia to someone
who hasn’t heard of it?
Annie Rauwerda: If I just need to say
something quick, I would probably just
call it a meme page. I don’t think it’s real-
ly memes, though — I’m not adding text
to images. So if people ask for an actual
explanation, I say it’s Wikipedia screen-
shots I find funny or interesting. Some-
times I feel like people that are older don’t
get it — they don’t seem to understand the
whole gimmick account concept.
TMD: You must get a lot of direct mes-
sages and suggestions for what to post.
How do you sort through them all?
AR: I get a lot of DMs lately. It used to
be very manageable; I used to either post
every Wikipedia page that someone sub-
mitted, or give a very thoughtful response
on why I wasn’t going to. But now I don’t.
I make an effort to read at least every mes-
sage, but sometimes I can’t even do that.
When I post a lot of stories and I start get-
ting story responses, then it gets to be a
lot. It’s so nice because all these people are
usually sending really sweet and thought-
ful things. I definitely try to acknowledge
them, maybe like the message, but unfor-
tunately, I just don’t have enough time
and diligence to send something heartfelt
back to everyone. The majority of DMs are
probably people saying, “Oh, you should
definitely post about this,” and you would
not believe how many repeats there are. At
this point, I’ve posted something like 700
different things, and so many of the things
people submit are things that I’ve already
posted. But then other times people will
send things that are really interesting, and
sometimes I’ll be like “Oh, I gotta save that
for later.”
TMD: You’re very accessible and
approachable despite having almost a mil-
lion followers. I see a lot of accounts that
are similar in popularity, but they don’t
have regular communication with their
followers like you do. How do you keep up
with that?
AR: The 800,000 of them have so
much to tell me that would improve the
account, and also give me ideas for writ-
ing. I’ll kind of subtly try to get inspira-
tion and ask questions like, “what’s a fun
website you’ve seen lately” or something.
I’m a part-time student right now taking
nine credits, so that helps too. I think of
Depths of Wikipedia as my social life in
some ways. When I go on Instagram live,
that’s just me being like, “Oh, haha! I’ll go
talk to this piece of glass that feels like my
friends.” I think it’s very fun. Also, people
are so nice to me; I know some people on
the internet have really toxic experiences,
but I think probably only one in 10,000
interactions I have aren’t positive.
TMD: In a lot of your interviews, you
mention editing for Wikipedia. Can you
explain how that works? If I wanted to
edit for Wikipedia, how would I do it?
AR: Overall, the process is very easy.
First, you would make an account, and
then press the little pencil icon on an
article. There are some pages for more
controversial issues, like the 2022 Rus-
sian invasion of Ukraine or abortion, that
are often vandalized. For those pages,
you would have to have an account for a
certain amount of time and have made a
certain number of good edits before you’re
allowed to edit them. I think that a lot of
new editors will go in feeling unsure of
what to edit, because that’s what I felt at
first; I fixed one typo at a time and felt like
there was nothing else to do.
In reality, though, there’s so many
pages that are just kind of “meh.” Right
now, a lot of obscure pages are just really
poorly written or have outdated sources,
WHEN THE FIRST season of
“Bridgerton” came out, I refused to
watch it. To me, it seemed like another
romantic period drama that would try
and fail to live up to “Pride and Preju-
dice.” After the initial hype died down,
I forgot about it. Until, of course, the
second season was released. The first
things I saw were the stills — and my
jaw dropped.
For the first time, I was seeing true
South Asian representation in a period
piece. I saw images of Kate (Simone
Ashley, “Sex Education”) and Edwina
Sharma (Charithra Chandran, “Alex
Rider”) decked out in some of the most
beautiful outfits I had ever seen. The
colors complimented them wonder-
fully, and the jewelry was a subtle
yet meaningful nod to the characters’
Indian heritage. Seeing Edwina Shar-
ma wearing her jhumka (classic bell-
shaped earrings) was enough to propel
me to hit play on the series.
In case you haven’t succumbed to
the whirlwind hype that is the second
season of “Bridgerton,” here’s a basic
rundown: Viscount Anthony Bridger-
ton (Jonathan Bailey, “Broadchurch”),
eldest of the eight Bridgerton siblings
and heir to the estate, has decided he
will finally settle down and marry.
Adamant on keeping love out of his
marriage and simply seeking a suitable
bride, Anthony sets his sights on the
diamond of the season: Miss Edwina
Sharma, who has arrived from India
with her older sister Kate and mother,
Mary (Shelley Conn, “Good Omens”).
Kate proves to be a formidable obsta-
cle in Anthony’s courtship of her sis-
ter, but it soon becomes clear that the
Kate and Anthony have a closer bond
than either of them could have imag-
ined.
The “enemies to lovers” trope is
no doubt perfectly executed, and it’s
something that viewers (including
myself) have been absolutely eating
up. But it wasn’t the story that made
this season so great to me. It was the
representation. I know the phrase
“representation is important” has
been thrown around often recently,
but I can’t stress how true it is. Think
about the South Asian representation
in most shows and movies. How are
we characterized? Weird. Nerdy. Awk-
ward. Ugly. While most of us can agree
that we’ve happily left the “Baljeet”
and “Ravi” stereotypes behind, it
hasn’t necessarily gotten much bet-
ter. Shows like “Never Have I Ever”
and “The Sex Lives of College Girls”
have South Asian girls at the forefront
yet somehow still manage to play into
those damaging stereotypes. Exhibit
A: Bela’s comment in “The Sex Lives of
College Girls” about how she used to be
an “Indian loser with sweaty armpits,
cystic acne and glasses,” but medically
fixing all of that made her “normal.”
I’m sorry, does “normalcy” not include
the Indian part? And don’t even get me
started on the general unlikeability of
Devi (Maitreyi Ramakrishnan, “Turn-
ing Red”) in “Never Have I Ever.”
“Bridgerton” blazed a new path
for good South Asian representation.
The Sharmas are Indian through and
through, but that’s not all they are.
Their ethnicity is an asset, not a liabil-
ity. Their culture was embraced in the
most graceful way possible. The first
words out of Kate Sharma’s mouth in
the entire season are “Oh baap re,” a
Hindi phrase roughly translated to
“oh my god.” It only gets better from
there.
As a South Indian myself, I have
always referred to my mom and dad
as “Amma” and “Appa” — something
I used to feel uncomfortable doing
in elementary school growing up
with peers who used the more famil-
iar English terms. So it goes without
saying that I couldn’t help but smile
when Kate referred to her parents as
“Amma” and “Appa.” When I watched
Kate apply oil to her younger sister’s
hair, I know I don’t just speak for
myself when I say that I thought about
my own mother and grandmother lov-
ingly doing the same for me. Every
time Edwina affectionately calls Kate
“Didi” (‘elder sister’ in Hindi) or Kate
calls Edwina “Bon” (‘sister’ in Benga-
li), viewers are reminded of who these
characters are at their core and where
their love for each other comes from.
It was certainly the little things,
like the instrumental version of the
Bollywood song “Kabhi Khushi Kab-
hie Gham” playing in the background
of the Sharmas’ pre-wedding haldi
ceremony that made me and my room-
mates smile ear to ear. Looking back
now, however, I can pinpoint with
much more accuracy the deeper rea-
son I enjoyed the representation in
“Bridgerton.” In not addressing the
stereotypes that have previously sur-
rounded Indian characters in media,
Shonda Rhimes actually did address
them. Kate and Edwina’s beauty was
never seen as surprising. Their culture
was never odd or exotic. Their Indian
accents were realistic and charming.
Neither of them were beautiful “for an
Indian girl” — a phrase I have heard
far too many times. They were simply
beautiful and deserving of the same
passionate love that everyone else
was. When Anthony called Kate by her
full, ethnic name, my heart absolutely
melted. In calling her “Kathani Shar-
ma,” Anthony acknowledged who Kate
was, and showed her that he loved
every part of her.
Did “Bridgerton” make me miss
my Amma’s oil head massages? Yes.
Did it have me contemplating how to
wear jhumka with every outfit? Also
yes. But as I sit here writing this piece
while listening to the instrumental
“Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham,” I real-
ize that it did so much more for me and
for every South Asian girl that was left
breathless after this season. It showed
me that people like me have a place
everywhere, that everyone deserves a
“Kanthony” type of love.
LAINE BROTHERTON
Digital Culture Beat Editor
SWARA RAMASWAMY
Daily Arts Writer
Student Filmmakers: Cassidy Caulkins, Victoria Huang and Monica Iyer
The Daily Arts film beat offers insightful
analysis of films of all genres. Nevertheless,
there has been a lack of attention given to
the many talented and passionate filmmak-
ers who surround us here, at the University
of Michigan. I started this series to high-
light their work, their unique visions of film
and the obstacles they face as student film-
makers.
“LET’S IMPROV.”
“YOU just start talking and I’ll type.”
This is what LSA seniors Cassidy
Caulkins and Monica Iyer do when the
words aren’t flowing. Sometimes a real
exchange between them will generate
better dialogue than thinking about it
could. Even the dialogue that the screen-
writing pair don’t find through speaking
is often tested this way, each taking the
role of a character and seeing if the lines
they’ve written work. They write togeth-
er, sometimes taking turns to type, in cof-
fee shops around the U-M campus or in
one of their bedrooms in the apartment
they share with six roommates.
In an interview with The Michigan
Daily, Caulkins described their writing
process of meeting for several-hour ses-
sions to draft and edit their scripts.
“There has been a time or two when it
might be a later night and it might involve
some wine,” she said. “Not every time, but
that is a part of the process.”
Since summer 2021, Caulkins and Iyer
have collaborated to write a pilot for
a sitcom titled “More Than a Degree”
and a short film, “Disparate.” They have
joined forces with other students to take
their words to the screen, among them
“Disparate”’s
co-producer
and
Ross
senior Victoria Huang, who was also pres-
ent for the interview.
Of the three, only Caulkins is a film
major. Involved in theatre costume design
in high school, she tried to transition to
costuming for film upon reaching college,
but was faced with the disappointment
that most student film productions don’t
focus much on costumes. She has since
become more open to other parts of film
production, “opening my perspective on
what I would enjoy” — but costuming will
always be considered in her own projects.
“You can tell a lot about a character by
(what they wear),” she said.
Iyer is a biopsychology major, but she
took up acting in college and joined writ-
ing forces with Caulkins to take the advice
to write her own material. Her excitement
over their projects is infectious. She keeps
a running list of funny things that happen
in her and Caulkins’s apartment for use
in future “More Than a Degree” episodes
and, with post-college plans that veer
away from the film world, regularly men-
tions how sad it is that this might be the
last time they work together.
And then there is Huang, who is study-
ing business with a global media studies
minor and appears to be the organized
one. She has found her place in the arts
as a coordinator, not filming or acting,
but bringing people together where their
visions can become something real. She
worked as head of costuming at her high
school theatre company and as a produc-
tion assistant for Musket, the University’s
student acting organization, her sopho-
more year, where Iyer was also an actor.
She is the first to admit that her business
classes lack the creativity she craves,
which she has tried to find in these film
productions.
From disparate backgrounds, the three
have found each other from chance friend-
ships founded on this shared need for a
creative outlet and love of film, despite
the different forms it takes for each. All
seniors with vastly different paths ahead
of them, their time as a filmmaking trio is
short — a momentary merging of inspira-
tion and creativity.
Their year of working together began
at the end of the summer when Caulkins
and Iyer wrote the pilot for “More Than
a Degree,” inspired by their own house:
five friends live together, close-knit but
not without their differences, and drama
and hilarity ensue. Iyer compares it to
“New Girl,” but rather than centering on
a quirky and awkward 31-year-old, it aims
to capture “that transition from college
to post-graduate life.” They asked Huang
to join them as producer and began cast-
ing and crew calls in September for the
pilot episode about a birthday party gone
wrong, which quickly overtook their
semesters with long days of shooting
nearly every weekend through November.
Their goal to finish the episode by Feb-
ruary has not been realized. At the time
of the interview, it was nearly April and
Huang had just received the rough cut
from their editor.
As they entered their final semester of
college, Caulkins and Iyer’s regular meet-
ings to discuss their pilot morphed into
meetings about the possibility of a new
project: one final film together before
graduation. With little time, the planning
of this film, now “Disparate,” was shaped
by its limitations: What story could they
tell effectively in 10 minutes, with a small
cast and which they could feasibly com-
plete in a single semester? The script for
the story of two high school friends enter-
ing college and discovering they are no
longer compatible was still going through
final revisions at the time of the interview,
even as they planned to start shooting the
following weekend. Huang joined them
again as co-producer, Caulkins is direct-
ing and Iyer is co-producing and acting as
one of the main two roles.
The group’s stories typically reach for
relatability with their audience and are
often influenced, if not inspired by per-
sonal experiences.
Of “Disparate,” Caulkins said, “I
couldn’t say (the experience is) univer-
sal,” but by the end of high school, many
friends “realize they’re going in separate
directions.”
Their director of photography, LSA
sophomore Adela Papiez, as well as many
people who auditioned, told them they
experienced this, which encouraged them
to believe they were creating something
that could touch many viewers.
Besides Caulkins, Iyer, Huang and
Papiez, their crew includes sound opera-
tor (“slash anything else we need,” Iyer
laughed) and LSA senior Jacob Gutting,
actor and SMTD junior Olivia Sinnott
and Caulkins’s mother, who is playing the
“adult” the film requires. It is more dif-
ficult to find people for the crew, accord-
ing to Huang, so they kept their numbers
small and worked with members of the
crew from “More Than a Degree.” Iyer
believes the number of student produc-
tions happening this semester is partly
responsible for the lack of available people
interested in joining a film crew — they
are already part of different films. Find-
ing people for the cast was easier. Huang
emailed their casting call to various Uni-
versity listservs, including that of the
Film, Television and Media department.
Casting was easier in some ways, as
many people auditioned. On the other
hand, while the crew had already bonded
from their previous production, the actors
posed the difficulty of choosing a stranger
with whom they could work well. Accord-
ing to Caulkins, they learned when cast-
ing their TV pilot how important it is for
actors to be able to take direction well.
“They could deliver exactly what we
were looking for within the first couple
lines we gave them,” she said, but then
wouldn’t do anything different with the
performance, which lead to material they
didn’t want to use.
During auditions for “Disparate,” they
asked actors to change their performance
in some way, even if it wasn’t in a way they
planned to ask for during production,
“just to see that they can exercise that
muscle and are willing to try something
new,” said Caulkins. Besides this ability,
they looked, of course, to see which actors
reflected the characters in a believable
way and brought the necessary emotion
to their auditions.
They chose Sinnott to star opposite Iyer
in part because of her ability to hold the
“duality” of the character she played, who
is meant to be “bubbly and nonchalant” at
first, but becomes more emotional toward
the end of the film. They held auditions
for both leading roles, despite knowing
Iyer would be cast in one of them, before
ultimately deciding she had to be a spe-
cific character.
Design by Grace Aretakis
Design by Tamara Turner
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
ERIN EVANS
Daily Arts Writer
Wednesday, April 20, 2022 — 5