Zohran Mamdani’s inspiring campaign is a huge breath of fresh air

By CALEB SILVER —chsilver@ucdavis.edu 

The race for the next mayor of New York City, though the election isn’t until November of this year, has been unpredictable, hope-inspiring and sort of hilarious.

The short list of the important characters include the incumbent mayor, passionate liar and convicted criminal on charges of bribery and fraud, Eric Adams. He is rerunning — not as a Democrat, like he did the first time — but as an Independent, which he announced shortly after the Trump administration’s Department of Justice (DOJ) dropped Adams’ bribery and fraud convictions. There is also disgraced former New York Governor Andrew Cuomo, who currently leads all candidates by polling with 39%. In his decade in office, he oversaw some progressive marriage equality and gun control legislation; However, he also sexually harassed at least 13 women. 

Politico reports that “the Justice Department found Cuomo ‘repeatedly subjected’ women in his office to non-consensual sexual contact, ogling and gender-based nicknames. Top Cuomo staff ‘were aware of the conduct and retaliated against four of the women he harassed.’”

The last important person to consider in the race is Zohran Mamdani, who is currently polling behind Cuomo and is an openly socialist candidate who is staunchly pro-Palestine and is by far the most unique runner in the race. 

Mamdani feels like a breath of fresh air from the moderate, pro-Israel, criminally convicted Democrats like Adams and Cuomo. His campaign strategy is also unique. He is extremely technologically savvy and he appears to actually understand how social media, video editing and short-form content creation works. His videos are punchy, entertaining and to-the-point. Perhaps this is the case because he is further left than the other candidates, or more likely it’s the case because he is younger and not an institutionalized Democrat. His $8 million in donations come in small amounts from a large swath of New Yorkers across the city — further proving his appeal to actual people living in New York. His supporters are not politicians, corporations or the country of Turkey; He just feels like a real person. 

I truly believe that candidates like Mamdani are the answer to the existential question facing the Democratic party post Trump’s victory last November. Even if his politics don’t fully align with mine, his passion, frustration, hope and problem-solving are all conveyed very tangibly. In The Guardian’s profile of him, they discuss his hunger strike, which went on for a grueling 15 days, to protest the unjust loans that targeted cab drivers who need to purchase medallions. This marks one of two times he was arrested (the other instance was for protesting rent spikes of rent-stabilized tenants).

Mamdani might also be unique because he clearly lays out his plans as a prospective mayor of New York, and they seem to be pretty directly correlated to an increased well-being of the population. These plans include, but are not limited to, free and more-effective buses, freezing the rent for all stabilized tenants and lowering the cost of groceries by removing tax and rent requirements on a chain of city grocery stores. 

Mamdani is receiving more donations and support than expected. I’m not sure he’ll win, and, honestly, I am not very optimistic about it. What I do know is that his policies could work to address the real issues facing New Yorkers and Americans alike and that they are, unsurprisingly, popular. Governing with a left-leaning populist agenda is frowned upon by Democrats, who either have to admit to themselves that they won’t be able to make close ties, connections and receive donations from large corporations or that they sincerely believe it isn’t a winning strategy — Mamdani is clearly proving that it could be. 

Written by: Caleb Silver — chsilver@ucdavis.edu

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie.

Exploring how the art of longing for someone can make our lives better

By SABRINA FIGUEROA — sfigueroaavila@ucdavis.edu

I’ll admit it: I’m a hopeless romantic. It comes from years of watching romantic comedies and listening to love songs where stories of couples coming together play out — or don’t. No matter the end result, they usually explore the longing desire to be with someone or a genuine appreciation and care for someone. 

After reading and watching “Pride and Prejudice” and “Atonement” (nobody does period-drama better than Kiera Knightly) in high school, my life was forever changed. These stories raised my bar for romantic relationships, so imagine my frustration when I stepped into the modern dating scene. 

Maybe I’m around the wrong people, but I’ve noticed that a common reaction to anything surrounding dating — or caring about others in general — has been to completely detach yourself from any kind of feeling. Hook-up culture and the rise of horrid dating apps have reinforced this, and they may even be the cause of many college “situationships” (if you’re in one right now, STAND UP!). The flirtatious, sometimes tension-filled start of romantic relationships, genuine crushes that leave you feeling giddy or even the experiences of pining after someone are so rare now. Even worse, the bar for what makes those fun beginnings is so low that it’s in hell. 

The truth is that I’m sick of it. I had a friend who told me she had to act nonchalant with people she had a crush on and people she wanted to be friends with; otherwise, it’d feel like she was chasing, not attracting. News flash: She did not feel great after those interactions because nobody got the hint that she wanted to form a connection with them. But if you don’t show you care — either in a big way or a small way — you can’t expect people to read your mind. 

Yearning is still around, we just don’t seem to show it. The point is to do just that, even if you get rejected or broken up with. It can manifest even after those things happen, but the key is to acknowledge and express it even so. It may come off as hatred, sorrow, adoration — any strong emotion — and that’s okay. 

To feel is inherent to our nature, and we shouldn’t have to act like it’s not. It’s scary and odd at times, but if you allow yourself to wallow or even act on it, it will pass. Maybe something good will even come out of it. 

We wouldn’t have gotten most songs on Jeff Buckley’s album “Grace” if it weren’t for his heartbreak or the feelings he had for someone. Thank God he was chalant. We also wouldn’t have “Bags” by Clairo if she had simply acted like she didn’t care after whatever happened with the person she wrote the song about. Some of the most relatable, soul-crushing art and life lessons can come from yearning, caring, love and romance — both past and present. 

Perhaps if more people brought this feeling back to the dating sphere, all of our bars would rise and some of our relationships would be more fulfilling. We could allow it to turn into real romance or love if we let it, instead of pushing it down. Wouldn’t it be better to genuinely feel and be wanted — both yearning for someone and someone yearning for you — than be in a “Will they, won’t they?” (they won’t) situation forever? It may be that I’m just too much of a hopeless romantic, or maybe it’s society that isn’t enough of one.

Written by: Sabrina Figueroa — sfigueroaavila@ucdavis.edu

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie.

The pros and cons of non-traditional schools

By MOLLY THOMPSON – mmtthompson@ucdavis.edu 

I grew up attending school on 14 acres of hilly, renovated farmland. I went to art and music classes in a repurposed dairy barn with one corner full of drums and recorders, one with long, stained wooden tables, wide rugs in the center and unicycles and stilts piled along the back wall. I learned algebra in “the math cabin” which was poised at the long, winding entrance to the “redwood grove” and I started each language arts class sitting cross-legged on the floor of the “rug room” in a brief, guided meditation. 

Each morning at 9 a.m., when the bell was rung by hand, myself and my 60 peers would gather at “the circle”: a ring of benches made by laying roughly cut wood slabs on top of stumps (we could take the slabs down and lean them against the stumps to make an arena in which to play “ga ga ga”). At recess, we’d run into “the willows” — a lush grove of trees and blackberry brambles in which we’d carry out the most elaborate scenarios of make-believe politics and scandal: no concrete, no physical education, no loudspeakers, no buses, no standardized curriculum, no hall passes and no computers. 

When I transferred to public school in sixth grade, I felt like a small-town girl in the big city for the first time (New York City? Never heard of it. My concrete jungle was Valencia Elementary School). I wasn’t used to an automated bell system, I’d never called my teachers “Mrs.” or “Mr.” before and I couldn’t touch-type. I ended up fitting in well (I wasn’t completely inept), but it was definitely a bit of a culture shock. Both types of education have their benefits, but they also have their drawbacks. So, as someone who’s experienced both sides of the coin, I feel qualified to compare them.

One thing that Orchard School (which I attended from kindergarten through fifth grade) got right is that they truly emphasized the facilitation of socialization. While we go to school with the primary goal of academic learning, equally important are the social lessons we inherently learn through the process of education itself. At Orchard, academics weren’t the priority. We had four classes each day, each one hour long and each with a short recess period in between. Yes, we had recess between every class. The priority was gaining independence, learning how to form and foster relationships, understanding nature and the environment, emotional development and teamwork. I learned how to read and write and do basic geometry, but I also learned how to be an effective leader, a good friend and to trust the natural world. 

Orchard also gave me some opportunities I never would have otherwise had. We had alpacas, chickens, a pig and a full garden on campus — grade levels would take turns caring for them, which instilled in us a pretty solid sense of responsibility and self-sufficiency. As students, we helped stage and rehearse our own plays in drama class. We had a small archery range, where the older students could take elective classes or go practice shooting during recess. 

During my last year, I taught my own baking elective (under supervision) to a sizable cohort of my peers. I was able to switch between classes and grade levels on my own schedule (we had combined classes with two grades each, so I ended up doing my second-grade work in first grade and formally skipping second grade, then completing sixth grade a year early and repeating it at Valencia — it’s complicated). Essentially, Orchard allowed for much more flexibility and adventure than public schools offered. 

What can be difficult, though, is that the rest of the world doesn’t operate with those same priorities as the specific environment you’ve grown accustomed to. The work day never starts late because the principal lost track of time and forgot to ring the bell. You don’t always get a combined hour of break for only four hours of work or class. In high school and college, you receive objective grades rather than annual qualitative evaluations. While the kind of alternative education at Orchard can yield a lot of benefits that are often overlooked by conventional schools, it can also fall short when it comes to preparing kids for later schooling and the working world.

That became evident when I switched to Valencia Elementary for sixth grade. In the end, I did just fine. I acclimated quickly, settled into a group of friends and passed all of my classes without too much turmoil. But I was definitely in for a rude awakening when I was suddenly faced with homework every day, online assignments and the Accelerated Reader (AR) test. I’ll never forget being asked to stand up and say the Pledge of Allegiance on the first day (nobody told me about that!), I had to sort of lip sync it and mumble the words — I had no idea how it went and it was embarrassing. 

While Valencia was much more detached, strict and rigorous than Orchard, it had its own advantages. I learned how to succeed in a system that was much more synonymous with most of the world — organized schedules, hard deadlines, assigned seats, objective grades and more general rules of conduct. I finally memorized my times tables, learned to type on a computer, opened my first Google Doc (it took a few tries; I typed my first assignment in my Notes app on my iPad mini) and learned how to navigate Google Classroom. I got used to the specific genre of authority that elementary school teachers command, took the bus every day and found my place in the playground hierarchy. The experience, as a whole, definitely helped me assimilate to life as most of America knows it. 

Before Valencia, I had never been subjected to most of the classic American elementary school experience. That means I’d never had to run the mile, and I really took umbrage with that when I finally had to face it. It’s honestly a wonder that I even survived — at Orchard, we didn’t have physical education. Instead, we had circus arts. Yes, instead of running, we learned how to juggle, walk on stilts and ride unicycles. So if nothing else, Orchard gave me that skill (I can still ride a unicycle). Maybe it didn’t teach me how to write an essay or do regular multiplication (I can still only do the lattice method), but, at the very least, I have a fun fact that will serve me in every ice breaker for the rest of my life. 

At the end of the day, both systems have benefits and drawbacks. I’m lucky because I got to have both, and I can definitely thank both experiences for the skills I have to this day. Orchard School taught me who I was and how to exist as a prominent member of a very diverse community; Valencia Elementary taught me how, as that person, to succeed in the conventional academic scene. I truly am who I am because of both, and I wouldn’t change that for anything.

Written by: Molly Thompson — mmtthompson@ucdavis.edu 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie 

Coachella isn’t that fun when you don’t have the money for it 

By JHANA RHODES—jsrho@ucdavis.edu

Coachella 2025 has officially wrapped after two weeks of iconic performances featuring some of the most talented artists in the world. Lisa and Jennie from Blackpink, Lady Gaga, Megan Thee Stallion, Charli XCX and Green Day were some of the many talented artists that performed at Coachella this year. Amidst the absurdly overpriced refreshments, dust devils and a surprise guest appearance from Bernie Sanders, what really made this year’s festival truly unforgettable were the glaring disparities in social and economic dynamics amongst the VIPs and everyone else.

The rift was clear: While the wealthy, celebrities and influencers ate $1,000 dinners at Nobu and enjoyed the privileges of non-existent wait times, the rest of us common folk spent what felt like an eternity in lines for everything from entry to the campsites to the showers and even to the stinky porta-potties. This great divide in the Coachella experience shows us that the status symbol the music festival claims to be remains unattainable for many. In fact, it shows us that universal access to hedonistic pleasure is, unfortunately, a myth.

Hedonism is a philosophical concept that defines the pursuit of pleasure as the most important goal in life. In other words, this means seeking out experiences (physical or mental) that you enjoy while avoiding what causes worry or pain. Because we are talking about Coachella, this could mean seeking out a wide range of experiences, such as paying for a $649 general admission (GA) ticket to experience sensory pleasures such as good music and delicious and diverse food options, to more emotional pleasures like seeking social connections, excitement or joy. Since 1999, Coachella has had various vibrant art installations, interactive activities and musical performances. It has marketed itself as the golden standard for a good period of time.

Coachella’s promise of hedonistic pleasure is quickly debunked when you realize that to truly enjoy your experience, you need to be rich, a celebrity or an influencer. If you’re not any of those, you better hope to be on a first-name basis with one of the artists. While a few of the privileged attendees stay in palm spring villas and are invited to various air-conditioned brand events and star-studded pre-parties, the remaining 60% of ticket holders who purchased a GA ticket by using a payment plan (nothing wrong with that!), were sleeping in makeshift tents, packed in like sardines in a crowded GA standing area.

Of course, anyone looking for a little more luxury can purchase a VIP festival pass for the small price of $1,399. And, if you don’t want to wait over four hours in traffic to enter the campgrounds, you can always stay in an Airbnb or hotel, with prices ranging upwards of $300 (depending on the accommodation). And don’t even get me started on how much you have to pay when you get hungry.

With all of the astronomically inflated costs, it’s become apparent that attendees on a budget are forced to pick which experiences they value more: food, shelter or music. The more money and influence you have, the better your experience will be at Coachella, whether it’s access to exclusive opportunities, improved amenities or a better viewing experience. In cases like this, money really does buy happiness.

Coachella’s cultural prominence comes from its star-studded line-up, abundant celebrity attendance and its virality on social media. However, this air of exclusivity only adds to the economic exclusion we see year after year at Coachella. While Coachella is a great festival to experience at least once, if you don’t have the money for it, you’ll have a different experience than those in the VIP sections.

Written by: Jhana Rhodes— jsrho@ucdavis.edu 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie.

Since when was there so much protein in the ice cream aisle?

By MOLLY THOMPSON – mmtthompson@ucdavis.edu

“Try our new protein donuts!” proclaims the advertisement on my Instagram feed, followed by another showcasing protein-packed cereal, protein-fortified lattes, protein-filled Pop-Tarts and protein-enhanced tortilla chips. Nowadays, grocery stores are filled with protein-forward products — the social media landscape has become overrun with innovative snacks aimed at helping people meet their daily protein goals and protein has become the focal point of every healthy recipe on TikTok.

Needless to say, increasing protein intake is the current diet trend. This cultural hyperfixation is no different than any other fad diet we’ve seen over the past century (or more) — it’s another way to glorify thinness and feed into diet culture. It’s no better than the Special K diet of the early 2000s or the low-fat fad of the 1990s.

But like many other health trends in the era of body positivity and size inclusivity, it’s disguised. It’s unacceptable to outright state that smaller bodies are more desirable than larger bodies or that people should change the way they look to appeal to the norm in our current zeitgeist. So instead, the regimens are repackaged as “wellness” techniques.

Protein is important for our health — that’s indisputable. Along with fats and carbohydrates, protein is one of the essential macronutrients our bodies need to survive. Of course, we should make sure we’re eating enough of it, just as we should with fats, carbohydrates and micronutrients like vitamins and minerals. The issue only comes into play when we glamorize protein as the only acceptable macronutrient and, in doing so, continue to demonize the others. Fat and carbs have both historically been regarded as “unhealthy” at various points, especially within the fitness industry. But protein, which plays an especially important role in muscle development (along with many other areas of the body) is valued above the others.

The obsession with protein is just another way to control food intake and body size. The idea that a “protein pastry” is better than a regular Pop-Tart just continues to reinforce the idea that certain foods are morally superior to others because of how they supposedly make you look. Protein products are marketed as “better” than their conventional counterparts when, in reality, they simply serve a different purpose. They play a different role in your diet, but that doesn’t mean the traditional versions of the foods are inherently bad because they lack protein.

But the existence and prevalence of these protein products make us feel like we should choose these alternatives. It’s diet culture, once again. Protein is no longer just a macronutrient — to many, it’s become equated with weight loss or muscle growth, both of which are longtime pillars of the diet and fitness industry.

It’s important to focus on ensuring we get enough protein in our diets; I’m not denying that protein is important for daily bodily functions, but it’s become an obsession. Experts say that most Americans get enough protein from their regular diets without having to consume protein-fortified foods — if it is unnecessary for basic health, it’s diet culture, which is no more than yet another way to control and glorify a specific physique. Just like every other body trend, the focus on protein-fortified foods will be replaced just as easily as it came.

Written by: Molly Thompson — mmtthompson@ucdavis.edu 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie