Crimson staff writer

Christina M. Xiao

Latest Content

Freshmen, Only Do Things You Really Love

In your four years of college commitments, chase joy. In your vision of the future as extrapolated from your life now, chase joy. You can set yourself up for daily happiness, and it starts with dropping that activity you always wish you could skip.

You Are the Sun, the Moon, and All the Stars

Understanding yourself and your self-improvement journey as astrology does help you approach self-improvement with kindness, instead of harsh criticism and reproach of the past. Yes, you were once more awkward or less smart, your Moon overdeveloped and crowding out any sight of a Rising. But that was still you, and there’s nothing wrong with how you used to be.

Starry Night

Look up into the night sky. Even if one star is in the wrong place, there are still millions more that might tell you something meaningful about yourself. Suspend your disbelief. Ignore the over-rational voice in your mind that throws in the towel at the first inconsistency. And run away into the stars with me, into the lovely starry night of you.

Dissent: It’s Just a New Chaplain President

So while in our minds, Epstein’s election is merely a product of regular turnover of chaplains and other Harvard staff, we wake up to headlines morphing the new leadership of an organization into the latest wedge in our nation’s cultural war.

Turning Looks

As much as we claim to be above such superficiality, people will always be making snap judgments on each other based on appearances. Someone somewhere will always hate what you have on right now. If people everywhere are always judging your look in different directions, why do you care what they think? You can’t control how other people interpret your fits. You can only control how you feel in them.

Why I Won’t Shut Up About Being Queer

Being vocally, unabashedly, look-at-me-once-and-it’s-so-obvious queer is important to me. (Once a girl at a party asked me if I was, verbatim, “not straight,” and I rode that elation for a solid week afterward). It’s my way of saying I am here and I have gone through so much strife, internal and external, to be here and so conspicuously queer in front of you, and I’ll do it again.

Survivor’s Guilt

The concept of the dead viscerally disturbs me. I speed-walk past flowers on bridges and gated graveyards while others stop to pay their respects. When I think of the dead, I see myself among them. I would trade my life for my Asian American siblings, if given the chance. There are so many people who could do more with a life than I. But I am never given the chance. I keep living. It’s not fair.

No One Comes Out for Fun

No matter how coming out goes, it’s a big deal and not something to be taken lightly. It takes so much bravery to come out. To say to the world or maybe just the people you care about that this is who I am and how I love when large swathes of the world will hate you for that alone. If someone gathers the courage and strength to come out to you, they do not deserve to be met with skepticism. It could not have been easy for them to come to terms with their own identity, to war within themself over who to tell and how, and to finally say those words to you.

A Love Letter to Long Distance

If it hasn’t been made strikingly obvious yet, I am a hopeless romantic without much to back it up with. I am writing a series of love letters for the days leading up to Valentine’s Day in one of the saddest, most distant years for love. I am in a long-term long-distance relationship. Maybe I’m just naive, but I believe in love over everything threatening to pull it apart.