Writer

Eleanor V. Wikstrom

Latest Content


Dissent: Harvard Should Never Close Its Gates

Our campus is at its most inclusive, most alive, and most beautiful when Harvard Yard and Harvard Square seem to bleed into one. After Oct. 11, unlike the rest of The Crimson’s Editorial Board, we look forward to seeing the gate restrictions disappear: Harvard University should never close its gates.


Colonialism, Course Offerings, and Continued Silence on the Philippines

The question of course offerings on Tagalog and the Philippines — or, more accurately, the lack thereof — is not whether Harvard has a duty to help its minority “ethnic” students learn about their own culture. It’s about what institutional silences signal about our reckoning with national history and complicity in the narratives that maintain oppression, a conversation that implicates us all.


The Future Is Mixed

What we need is to find a way to see the tension of difference not as a threat to be eliminated or avoided, but as a tool for revision and a source of creation. To do so, we must turn to those who have spent their entire lives learning to navigate and grow in the often-shunned space beyond rigid dichotomy. We must turn to the mixed community.


The Covid Redshift

We are attempting to take flight in a time that is defined by staying in place. We are attempting to enter the world while it practices isolation. In a year of crisis and profound societal loss, we need the milestones promised to us in childhood more than ever before — but it is a consequence of the very same crisis that we can never experience them entirely, that we may only ever watch as they recede beyond our reach.


This Semester, I Want To Get Good At Being Bad

It’s endemic to a society where young girls, especially girls of color, are taught that they should aspire to be likeable above all else, which includes not “causing problems” even in the face of direct threats to our well-being.


Watching the World Burn From My Harvard Dorm Room

When I left Oakland, the air quality was stifling; in Cambridge, there is no smoke that clouds my vision, no firestorm that keeps me constrained in visceral fear.