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