answering the call of the wild: in defense of convocation

I apologize again for the lack of consistent posting, but my beloved Albright's internet is still shaky. I write this in Neilson Library, perky but mildly hungover from the celebrations of my last convocation.

Convocation is a decidedly Smith tradition that involves, as professor Floyd Chung said last night, "so much energy and so little clothing." Originally, Smith's convocation was much like that of other prestigious New England liberal arts colleges: formal wear, boring speeches about academic success, and nothing terribly inspiring. Rumor has it that all that changed when a few daring Albrighters unbuttoned their shirts and convocation has gotten farther from that stuffy ritual ever since. Each house has a theme ("Albright's Next Top Model" being the best, obviously) and dresses appropriately with ridiculous costumes, and sometimes, very little clothing. We yell, scream, and generally behave poorly. We answer the call of the wild.

It. Is. Amazing.

My first year, convocation was decidedly more wild than it is now. I remember being slightly wide-eyed, for all my worldly experience as a young buck from Pennsyltucky, as women paraded around in pasties and little else, screaming like banshees. It was a somewhat crude introduction to a very polished college, but I loved it. Nowhere else had I ever felt such energy, such intensity, such a desire to claim one's space and be seen and heard (something women are all too often discouraged from doing).

But this little ritual came under serious fire from the administration. Many students felt pressured to go naked and culturally, for international students from conservative places, it was horrifying. And nudity and screaming may just not be everyone's scene. We got emails informing us that, should a person be so inclined, a Northampton resident could call the police on us if we were wearing anything less than what would legally hold up in court as "clothed." Last year, a professor from the English department gave us all a scathing talk about how we were here to learn, and should focus on our studies more. The celebratory nature of convocation was dampened a little.

But I think, so long as you embrace this tradition for the silliness and bonding experience it is and wear as much clothing as you need to feel comfortable, convocation is an incredible thing, truly, and a wonder to behold. As a women's college, there's no performative or exploitative aspect to this: when I wear body glitter all over and parade around in a leopard print fedora and bikini top, I'm not aiming to please anyone but myself, and I dress without a male gaze in mind in perhaps one of the few unmolested spaces of my life as a young woman. I rep my house, my love of Smith, and claim an opportunity to bond with my fellow Smithies in a huge hurrah before the pressures of academia bear down upon us. As a senior, I was especially thrilled to sing "Gaudemus Igitur" and to chant about Albright's superiority and dress silly for one last time in this very female space that has so empowered me to be able to speak articulately about my passions and issues I care about. It was one of my last chances to truly answer the call of the wild before the real world beckons, and I adored it.

Much love,
The Sheriff