Hurricane Sandy

           We’ve (if you live on the East Coast) been through something that’s tested our patience. Some of us felt it necessary to stock up on food and water at Fresh Grocer; some did not. Many of us checked Weather.com or our phones or the TV to find out if going outside would be safe. I too read the reports and was afraid at points. Then I went to get Hot Pockets and carrots at FroGro because that’s all a human being needs, really. Finally, I stocked up on water by taking all my largest water containers and filling them with filtered Brita water.

           8 million are without power as I write this. What an unimaginable number.

           This hurricane/superstorm has posed a paradox. On one hand, over 50 people have been killed in the Caribbean. Earlier this morning, I read reports stating that at least 16 people have perished in the United States because of the storm. First paradox: how can Penn students claim to have ‘experienced’ Hurricane Sandy when it has hardly affected us as students (my apologies to those who were related to any of the victims)? I mean, we got two days off of school. Our power and running water were never down. Yesterday, I went outside three times. It wasn’t bad, although the second time, winds were gusting heavily.

           Penn is an ivory tower when hundreds of people have had to flock to shelters in Philadelphia this past weekend, when dozens have died in the Caribbean, and when New Jersey and New York were flooded in multiple areas. Yes, I know one tree was downed on campus, ironically in front of Amy Gutman’s ‘house’ (hint underclassmen: no one lives there). And I know some of you live off-campus and you’ve had your power shut down or been flooded out in various ways. My highrise was hardly affected. Well, keep in mind Penn is the last place in Philadelphia to lose power because of our sleek power management and back-up generators. 

           We are an ivory tower because hundreds of janitors, housekeepers, cooks, and mailpeople (most of them black) work for several thousand students to preserve this notion that the undergraduate experience should be a pleasurable one. We are an ivory tower because of all the ladies who came to work during the hurricane to work at Commons. Those who drive 10-year-old Accords to put on a bib and serve fries to students who didn’t even bother to wake up before noon. We are an ivory tower because of every cashier, pharmacist and cleaner who showed up to work at CVS yesterday morning. So let me answer that question for you: we have no idea of what it feels like to be a Philadelphian outside of the context that Penn provides us. 

           This is not to make you feel guilty because if you have ever thought slightly about living on this planet and at Penn, you know this already. You know all the statistics, even better than I do. You know and sympathize with all the workers who work for us, making our food, handing us our mail, or keep this campus secure. And of course, the term ‘ivory tower’ does not make you uncomfortable because you know, towers always fall. If this storm did not convince you already, everything breaks. So what’s the solution? 

           Perhaps we’ll be able to appreciate those who don’t have days off because of hurricanes much more. Perhaps some of us will be spurned to start or join rebuilding efforts in the Caribbean or in the United States. Perhaps some of us will work to make West Philadelphia a more livable place—a place more like Penn—without resorting to gentrification. Perhaps some of us will volunteer our time at homeless shelters or soup kitchens or nonprofits serving the poor. Perhaps some of us already do this. Join us. We fight and fight a storm that has never subsided since the beginning of human civilization: poverty. And of course, this storm (Sandy) has affected the poor disproportionately. 

           In the words of Paradise Lost, I solicit thee, reader, to fight a more powerful storm, because the suffering is even more unimaginable.