At age 11, I had only dealt with death once before: my grandfather. The one thing I remembered from his funeral was watching my grandmother cry as the creaky organ played at the beginning of the service. By the next day, I was back in class laughing with my friends, and that haunting music had been forgotten.
New Saint Andrews only has 14 faculty members. All are white and only one is female. Many are alumni of the college, and three are related. Less than half hold a doctoral degree, though, at times in the college’s 23-year history, that number has dropped to under a third.
This is not the nudity of Game of Thrones or Californication. We are witnessing something else, something new. It’s hard to divorce nudity from pornography. Once we said we couldn’t define porn, but we knew it when we saw it. I don’t know if that’s true anymore.
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