You roll up your mom jeans to show off your Birkenstocks. Your men’s Bernie t-shirt is perfectly tucked in, and your undercut is perfectly arranged. As the 1 train pulls away from the station, you head up the stairs and use the exit on the west side of the station. You’re not going to Days on Campus; you’re a Barnard Babe.

You tear up a little as you watch the blue and white balloons dance in the wind (but your concerns about them getting loose and negatively impacting the environment inhibit your tears). You walk through the gates and get that real community feel—for the first time ever, you see other people with bad posture and Kanken backpacks. They’re holding giant posters; one reads “Time’s Up Prezbo!” You don’t know what a Prezbo is, but you are already feeling riled up. You consider going to protest with them, but decide instead to go meet other prospies.

You again find yourself smiling at the welcome lunch. Around you are women of different demographics, all who have faced some sort of oppression because of their race, religion, sexuality, and/or gender. Your heart flutters excitement as you imagine the protests they will want to have. You introduce yourself with your PGPs and give a trigger warning before mentioning your cat’s recent passing. Because you don’t have an iPhone (capitalism kills!), you write everyone’s name down in your moleskin and promise to write letters over summer to stay in touch. You are shocked as you mingle with students who say they’re still deciding between other schools—you knew that Barnard was your top choice two days after your conception.

As the day comes to a close, you find yourself wandering around the Diana Center. You are appalled, not because of how heavy the doors are, but because of how much energy they generate for the building. As you shop around the student store, you discover how cute of a crop top the Barnard Babe toddler shirt would be, but instead choose to buy a Barnard Dad baseball cap. You look in the mirror and can’t help but smile before rolling up your sleeve, flexing your bicep, and whispering to yourself “we can do it.”

Captialism Kills! via Bwog Staff