#uscroski

By Phoebe Zheng

a journal entry from me to you

By Tori Frank

When you have them pinned, that’s how you know it’s real. The anonymous owners of @usc.missedconnections on Instagram discussed zoom romance and the seductive mystery of having an admirer behind the screen.

Imagine Gossip Girl, but make it all horny college students deprived of casual touch. That is the drama of @usc.missedconnections. If you don’t avidly stalk their account, you either have an unheard of self-confidence that doesn’t require any external validation, you deleted your Instagram in a fit of quarantine frenzy, or you haven’t heard of them yet, and you’re very curious about the previously stated analogy.

See the bio of the @usc.missedconnections page: “Have a message for the person whose zoom you always pin or saw from 6 ft away? Anonymously send your missed connection below!” Below sits the google form where all the virtual action happens: the flirts, the cat calls, the compliments, and the subtle roasts. It really is a good time, somewhat making up for the lack of classroom banter that would normally occur.

I sat down with the students who began the account, and we chatted about the new sensation that is dominating everyone’s feed.

Tori: My roommates and I have been following your page pretty actively, as I think a lot of people have been recently.

@usc.missedconnections just surpassed 3000 followers in the few months since their origin on September 30th, 2020

T: It’s definitely very entertaining, especially with Zoom making everything a little bit more boring and separated. It’s been really fun to follow @usc.missedconnections and see what’s the tea! To begin, how did you come up with the idea of creating this account?

Connector 1: I was between USC and another school out on the East coast. Some good friends that I went out and visited there showed me the [Instagram] page at that school, and I was like, “Hey that's a cool idea, that looks like a lot of fun.’ I texted _(Connector 2)_. I was like, “Hey here’s some dumb idea, we’ll get 50 people, we’ll get 2 responses a day. It will be kind of fun to just post them,” and we just grew from there.

T: So how many posts do you guys get a day now?

Connector 2: It’s actually ticked up a lot in what, the past like 2 weeks-ish? For a long time we had a solid 100 just in the bank, and then we slowly [opened them], but it's been 200 plus starting just recently, which is weird. We started posting more frequently to catch up.

Connector 1: Yeah I presume we get about 30-ish on average a day.

Are you intrigued yet? About 30 lucky students across the online campus are being called out for some reason another, be it their sexy voice, their mustache, their wall decorations, or the way they eat their oranges. And on the flip side, about 30 people a day are shooting their anonymous shot through the account. With anonymity of course comes a certain audacity to get real freaky over the submission form. I wondered how freaky it could get.

T: Do you post all of the ones that come, or is there some sort of filtering process?

Connector 1: We’ve had a couple instances where people have been mentioned or certain organizations that have been mentioned have requested for us to take the post down, so we’ve always just respected that if we’re ever asked to take the post down for whatever reason.

Connector 2: I periodically will go through, and I’ll be like, “This one’s weird, I don't think we need to post that,” and then I'll delete it.

_(connector 1)_ idk if you know that I do that, but um…

Connector 1: Oh probably. I mean, I’ve deleted one before.

Connector 2: Yeah, when I’m doing them sometimes I’ll be like ‘this is a little weird how can we phrase this in a way that's not exactly… yeah.

T: Yeah, what’s like the line? Because I think a lot of the time some of the things can be kind of… creepy… I mean the whole thing is like…

Connector 1: (cuts in, chuckling) Kinda creepy 

T: (agreeing) Kinda creepy, right!

There have been submissions such as:

“To ____, Did you know if you rearrange the letters of Coronavirus you get “carnivorous”? Which makes sense because I want to spend the next 14 days of quarantine eating you”

and

“____ in BUAD 497, my only motivation for coming to class is being able to pin your video and look at your beautiful face for two hours”

Connector 1: It’s interesting, um, when we first started it, we talked, and the thing we were worried most about was like cyber bullying, and I personally haven't seen many posts. You get the offhand sarcastic comments, um, which are pretty funny sometimes, but I don’t know if we... we don't really have a set filter. If we feel like something’s over the bar, then we’ll kinda edit it out. Of course a lot of the time too if we’re iffy on something we’ll text the other person and be like ‘hey what do you think of this’ so, it's no distinct line, but our goal is never to make anyone uncomfortable.

T: Yeah, I think generally it's been pretty positive, a lot of affirming things. Even sometimes not romantic, like just positive comments which is pretty cool, and it's good to see that that's been going on. 

Aw so sweet, fellow Trojans getting along so well. But this is a juicy topic. Playing the role as the reporter, I had to get the inside scoop.

T: Do you ever get messages about yourself?

Connector 1: I’ve had 2

Connecter 2: Yeah he’s had 2, I haven’t had any and I’m mad about it. I want one

Connector 1: I gave you one

Connector 2: You gave me one but I knew it was from you so it didn’t mean anything.

T: So you’re not only the owners of the account. You’re sort of participating in the game as well.

Connector 1: Oh, it’s always a blast when like you’re reading through and you know the person who it's getting written about and you’re just waiting. Yeah, that’s like my favorite part of it, and also the guessing games sometimes are a lot of fun too.

Connector 2: For a long time people were scared to tag people that it was about in the comments, but now there’s no hesitation. People will just tag everyone, which I think is really fun.

Its also fun that we don’t give the full last name because then its kinda funny when you get a really generic “Sam B” or “Lucy J” and 6 different Lucy’s get tagged and half the time we know who it really is because we saw the last name and then edited it out.

T: Why don’t you include the full name?

Connector 2: I think it’s more fun. (shyly shrugs) It’s about keeping the mystery, you know? Who could it possibly be about? 

Connector 1: We do get a lot of requests though because of that, where people are like, “Hey, is this me? Can you tell me who sent this in?” and we're like “I don't know.”

Connector 2: Yeah people DM us every day asking for things, and also sometimes people don't understand that we have a forum in our bio and they send it in thru DM, their missed connections, which sort of ruins the anonymity and its sort of embarrassing for them bc we have to be like, “please submit it in our bio,” and they have to be like “oh god now they know”

T: It’s almost like a masquerade. 

Again, I am imagining Jenny Humphrey wearing her golden mask at the Constance Billard School for Girls Masquerade Ball, prancing around Nate Archibald without him having the faintest idea of who he will be kissing. Maybe this is a little different, but the spirit is there!

T: Looking through your posts of course, a lot of them are, “Oh, I have your screen pinned, I watch you all the time in class” Do you guys do that? Do you think that that's like, Zoom behavior now, or is that still cringe?

Connector 2: Idk if I’d pin for a whole class, but I’ve been known to take a look, and based on all the things we’ve gotten sent it I guess people do. If you’re in a lecture thats boring, fair enough. I can't fault you for that. It’s so weird right now, so who knows?

Connector 1: I think it's really fun also, like, people get really creative too. A lot of them are really general but we just posted one today that had a Kanye reference. We get poetry sometimes. I love the poets. It’s a lot of fun for us and I think other people get to read the more fun posts then, like “hey I saw you”, when saying “hey I saw you” does make it, I guess, easier to match, but it’s less exciting for everybody else

T: To match... going off of that, have you heard of any success stores?

Connector 2: I have not but I desperately want to know. I think if people get married we legally have to officiate the wedding. We’ll go public to officiate the wedding. We’ll break anonymity for that.

T: Do a little daft punk moment

Connector 1: Yeah exactly. The [ones] behind the mask.

T: Do you think you want to continue it next year or post COVID in general?

Connector 1: Yeah, I mean I want to.

They talked about potential future: color schemes, contemplating a purple theme or the classic USC colors. I can tell that the account is only growing from here. It’s not like there is any shortage of desperate college students!

T: That’s exciting. I’m excited to see where the account goes!

Connector 1: Us too

T: I’m also looking forward to hopefully getting a post about myself. I have not yet. I know you guys are hiding it

By Lily Riccio

I first discovered Fiona Apple about 2 years ago when I heard her 1996 hit song, Criminal. On the surface, her music seemed to be filled with overwhelming rage as her deep voice competed with idiosyncratic ballads, but after listening to her for some time, I began to appreciate her extraordinary view of the world. Amidst a snarl of prose carried by her baritone vocals, Apple delivers sensitive observations through symphonies of eccentric sound. These observations are uniquely self-aware and retrospective, ranging from insecurity and heartbreak to rage and eventual self-acceptance. Each line suggests intent, placed carefully among multilayers of noise— a rush of piano keys, a clang of an unidentifiable drum, or an unexpected choral interlude. This experimentation creates a collection of beautifully disheveled songs which are each unforgettable in their own right. To me, her unparalleled lyrical writing is best introduced through the following 4 songs:

EVERY SINGLE NIGHT (2012): In her characteristically poetic way, Apple tackles the overwhelming nature of anxiety. She illustrates this through sound, beginning with a delicate melody and then rising into a swell of desperate shouts.

WEREWOLF (2012): Perhaps Fiona Apple at her finest, ‘Werewolf’ speaks of an all-consuming relationship, ultimately built on denial and repressed rage.

WALTZ, BETTER THAN FINE (2005): Through an uncharacteristic melody of playful piano chords, Apple muses on being content with doing absolutely nothing.

By Ambika Nuggihalli

“Why don’t you start by telling me how you got into drag?” 

“This is a weird story. Lots and twists and turns. Not really. I was born in Chicago proper, specifically in what is essentially the West Hollywood of Chicago. It’s called Boystown,” Ren begins. 

I’m interviewing Ren Ye, a junior at USC. Ren grew up in one of the largest midwestern LGBTQ communities during the legalization of same-sex marriage and the commercialization of LGBTQ identity.

“I lived in an apartment on top of the queerest Target in Chicago,” they tell me.

“There are queer Targets?” I ask.

“Well, it’s ‘cause it’s right next to Boystown! It’s the only Target near there. By default there’s always just a rainbow section.” Ren’s apartment above Chicago’s Queerest Target was a different story. “My parents are pretty homophobic, which is ironic, because they chose to live half a block away from dyke central. I don’t know what they were trying to instill in their kids,” they joke.

Ren didn’t let their parents stop them from growing up alongside 30-year-old drag queens and sneaking out with their best friend Henry. 

“I would do my makeup with Henry in the room and then immediately have to scrub it off. Or if we were going out and meeting our friends half a block away, we’d have to take our makeup in our backpacks, say, ‘We’re going to a cafe to study,’ go to Target, and do our makeup downstairs. It was honestly really fun. Somehow I think of it as a teenage movie where we had to sneak away from the parents. It’s a queer thing to dramatize things into almost a theater play experience.” 

“It’s the inner theater kid in you,” I offer. There’s a long silence before Ren, ever the drama queen, utters back just one word:

“Die.” 

We laugh to ourselves. Suddenly, we remember this is supposed to be an interview. Ren looks sheepish. I say,

“You mentioned the commercialization of gay people and drag. Talk to me about that.” 

“This is my can. I’m opening it up. There are worms in there.” Ren makes a noise to show me just how many worms. It sounds like a lot of them. “I identify as a… I don’t even know what the right word for it is. But the for-now, kind of problematic term for it is ‘AFAB queen’ (assigned female at birth queen) or ‘Bio queen’ (biologically female queen). I like to consider myself just a drag queen, but a lot of gay men and people from the outside looking in like to categorize what drag is,” Ren explains. “There’s been another resurgence of categorizing people within queer spaces in the hopes that there will be some marketable identity out of it. That sounds very theoretical. Do you know what I mean?”

“I understand.” 

“Bitches like, keep trying to monetize us! Like, hop off my dick,” Ren rephrases. “Drag is an art form created by queer people to express something that wasn’t in the binary,” they lament. “Now that it’s in the binary, what do we have?”

“Do you find there are also divisions in drag as a person of color?” I ask.

“Storytime! My stage name is Lil Baby Bokchoy, and that came from my drag mom back in the day being piss drunk coming up to me like, ‘Your name,” and I was like, ‘What?’ and she was like, ‘Little. Baby. Bok. Choy.’ and I was like, ‘What??’ And she was like, ‘That’s your name now!’ and I like it. I think it’s a cute name.” 

Ren exchanges a smile for a grimace. “But once, I had a straight man come up to me and ask me, ‘What’s your name?’ and I was like, ‘Lil Baby Bokchoy,’ and he was like, ‘I would like to eat you up, like… I love Chinese food.’” 

What was cute and familial when spoken by a fellow Asian drag queen became fetishizing, even degrading in that man’s mouth. “I was so mad. I was so mad,” Ren frowns. 

They continue, “Being Asian within drag, it’s hard. If you come from a first-generation or very traditional background, most Asian practices don’t necessarily (a) support queer culture or (b) the arts. And it’s harder for people of color to get their own spots. Luckily, there’s also performance spots that specifically target the API community. There’s Miss Shu Mai--” “Yes! I follow her on Instagram!” I interrupt impolitely. Ren doesn’t seem to mind. “YES! I want her to be my drag mom so bad,” 

“Explain to me the whole drag mom thing.”

“Drag parents aren’t necessarily the age of your mom or your dad or anything like that. My drag mom, she’s 21. I’m 20. When I met her, I was 15 and she was 16. She’s a trans woman, she was kicked out of her house at a younger age. It wasn’t that sad of a story. She got up on her feet, she’s doing amazing things right now.

“She saw the struggle I was in and was like, let me help you. So I stayed with her for a while. She’s amazing. She used to do drag. She doesn’t really do drag anymore. A lot of trans women have problems with drag because of the categorizations within it now. It used to not be like this. It’s only within these last couple years trans people have had visceral responses to the drag community. It used to be a lot to do with race, but now it has a lot to do with gender. I’m not saying it has a lot to do with RuPaul’s Drag Race, buuuuuuuuuut… Yeah.”

I’m about to delve into the image of drag created by media like RuPaul’s Drag Race; an image that overwhelmingly depicts white cisgender gay men at the expense of other identities--especially transgender women of color--when Ren sees someone familiar in the cafe, Claire.

“I call Claire one of my sisters,” Ren says. “I hang out with her outside of drag. She helps me style my wigs because I don’t know how to style my wigs for SHIT,”

“Your wigs?” 

“Wigs. I have three wigs in the back of my closest. Fire hazard. Three of them clumped in a corner.”

“That hurts me, as someone who…” my voice drops and I look around the cafe, hoping no one else I know is in here. “I used to do cosplay,” I cough. Any effort I made to keep the rest of Cafe 84 from knowing about my middle school hobby is wasted as Ren practically screams, 

“YOU DID COSPLAY??” They jump out of their seat. “You never told me!!” “Because I don't do it anymore,” I choke, cheeks pink.

“So you’re a weeb.”

“Not anymore! Ex. Rehabilitated.” 

“You’re a weeb!”

“No I am not! I haven’t seen an anime in 5 years!”

“The fact that you know and you’ve counted how long it’s been means that you have a problem. It’s like when cigarette smokers are really into how long they’ve been off for because they keep thinking every day how long it’s been.” It is around now I realize I will be walking out at the end of this interview without any semblance of my dignity. 

“The point is. I know the wig struggle,” I assert weakly. I am grateful that Ren takes pity on me and lets me change the subject.

“I hate that in order to get volume...” they start, but halfway through, we finish the sentence in unison: 

“...you have to tease the wig!” 

“And it kills the wig! It kills it!” I feel my scalp tingle. 

“The glue has killed the wig. Everything has killed the wig. The last thing it has to kill is me,” they say, before slumping back into their chair with a smile. In my mind, I paint one last picture of an electric green wig strangling Ren in their sleep. It wouldn’t be the worst thing they have had to put up with in drag, not by a long shot.