*This article did not appear in the print edition of the Argus. It is entirely possible there was good reason for that decision. You have been warned.
Women’s Lacrosse Captain Bruce Duncan ‘12 Named NESCAC Player of the Month
In many respects, women’s lacrosse captain Bruce Duncan ’12 is no different from the rest of her teammates. But unlike them, Duncan spent the first 21 years of her life as a self-identified male. Now, after overcoming extraordinary odds, she is being honored as NESCAC’s female player of the month.
“Discovering I was a woman was, uh, pretty life-changing,” said Duncan, who sports a full beard. “It was just like, bam. Maybe the whole reason I’ve been staring at girls’ asses my whole life is because, like, I secretly wanted to have one.” Duncan, who had previously been a substitute on the men’s lacrosse team, eventually confided her gender confusion to men’s lacrosse coach Max Grillo, who strongly encouraged Duncan to embrace her identity.
“Bruce was never a great defender,” said Grillo, “but I knew he’d make a damn fine lady-defender.”
Wesleyan Athletics Director Jackson Danielson was at first hesitant to make an exception to the biological sex rule, after Ashley Greene’s tragic mishap on the 1992 men’s football team. “Greene died,” Danielson said. “But I saw that Bruce could really hold her own out there.”
As Duncan began the rocky transition into womanhood, the athletic community provided her with unquestioning support.
“My life changed a whole lot,” said Duncan. “Except I knew I wasn’t gonna be one of those girls who shave their pits and stuff. Also I’m a lesbian.” Duncan graciously declined any separate locker room accommodations.
From these humble beginnings, Duncan has built an illustrious career as a lacrosse star; she now leads the league in goals, yards, interceptions, and manglings. NESCAC’s board remarked upon her “extraordinary transition” in their commendation, praising her relatively quick adaptation to the rules of women’s lacrosse.
“Growing up I was always told not to hit girls,” said Duncan. “But now it’s okay because I am one. Groin shots don’t work as well as they used to.” Duncan has since been informed that no form of physical contact is permitted under the rules of women’s lacrosse.
At 6’3 and 200 pounds, Duncan is one of the biggest girls in the conference, but her teammates would never think to exclude her from Girls’ Night Out. Last Thursday was Cosmo night. Bruce thought they were tasty.
Bruce’s friends do not see him any differently.
“When he plays lacrosse, he’s a girl,” said Stieg Larsson ’12, “but when he’s hanging out with us, he’s just another dude.”
Bruce’s team is glad to have her. “People may give Bruce shit, but this is our best season yet,” said teammate Becca
Tompkins ’13. “We need more girls like Bruce.”
11/12/10
Experimental Theater Production Wows
Second Stage’s fiercely anticipated, plein-air production of “Wesleyan vs. Amherst” opened on Andrus Field this past weekend. What makes this play so compelling is its pervasive physicality, which is simple but philosophical. The characters, members of a bifurcated collective, all seem to be aware of the fact that they are tiny, inconsequential beings living fleeting lives; some are fine with this knowledge, while others are mystified, fascinated, or devastated.
Rather than character, the meat and potatoes of typical Second Stage productions, “Wesleyan vs. Amherst” submerges itself in a ruthless commitment to action. Easily the most ambitious Second Stage project since “Shoot the Duke,” the student body has embraced the play with near-ubiquity. The Saturday matinee drew an unprecedented contingent of alumni and parents.
A small-college play at heart, “Wesleyan vs. Amherst” does not quail in the face of big themes: homoerotic obsession, negation of self, identity and conformity, violence and submission, and humans reduced to numbers. Performed in the round, the actors were constricted to a white rectangular grid painted onto the grass, with abstract pronged/phallic structures at each end.
The action centered on the fraught exchange of a single object: a misshapen pigskin vessel that characters alternately
cradled like a small child or hurled like a live explosive. This dichotomy of violence and tenderness, a clear comment on social media in a post-oedipal society, prompted enthusiastic audience investment in the plight of the characters, most of whom were dressed in identical red, white, and black attire, with bulky shoulderpads and helmets. The line seemed blurred between the
actors and the raucous audience.
I would attempt to chronologize the events of the play, but this would defeat the sensual experience of the theatergoer. The director, who also acted in the play — dressed in black slacks and a white-and-black striped button- down — actually encouraged people to keep on their cell phones, cameras, or video cameras, which made way for a flurry of pictorial and video documentations of the performance, now available on YouTube. The internet does wonders for entertainment.
If there was one negative thing that could be said about the performance, it would be that it was terribly inaccessible. Not until halfway through the third act could I truly suspend myself, and even then, I still felt lost in the hubbub of everything. The
director, whose name I don’t have — I was unable to attain a playbill — seems to lack a sense of, or appreciation for, tone. Though it is an essential thing to pave the way for new, innovative, and experimental works such as “Wesleyan vs. Amherst,” the one-dimensionality of this play made me feel, at times, as though I were watching a sports match. The director manages traffic effectively, but the play’s scattered structure and lack of a strong focus on its central character deprive it of forward momentum.
Last year, “Shoot the Duke” taught us what “injury” means for the individual. This year, “Wesleyan vs. Amherst” teaches what “defeat” means for the collective.
Rather than character, the meat and potatoes of typical Second Stage productions, “Wesleyan vs. Amherst” submerges itself in a ruthless commitment to action. Easily the most ambitious Second Stage project since “Shoot the Duke,” the student body has embraced the play with near-ubiquity. The Saturday matinee drew an unprecedented contingent of alumni and parents.
A small-college play at heart, “Wesleyan vs. Amherst” does not quail in the face of big themes: homoerotic obsession, negation of self, identity and conformity, violence and submission, and humans reduced to numbers. Performed in the round, the actors were constricted to a white rectangular grid painted onto the grass, with abstract pronged/phallic structures at each end.
The action centered on the fraught exchange of a single object: a misshapen pigskin vessel that characters alternately
cradled like a small child or hurled like a live explosive. This dichotomy of violence and tenderness, a clear comment on social media in a post-oedipal society, prompted enthusiastic audience investment in the plight of the characters, most of whom were dressed in identical red, white, and black attire, with bulky shoulderpads and helmets. The line seemed blurred between the
actors and the raucous audience.
I would attempt to chronologize the events of the play, but this would defeat the sensual experience of the theatergoer. The director, who also acted in the play — dressed in black slacks and a white-and-black striped button- down — actually encouraged people to keep on their cell phones, cameras, or video cameras, which made way for a flurry of pictorial and video documentations of the performance, now available on YouTube. The internet does wonders for entertainment.
If there was one negative thing that could be said about the performance, it would be that it was terribly inaccessible. Not until halfway through the third act could I truly suspend myself, and even then, I still felt lost in the hubbub of everything. The
director, whose name I don’t have — I was unable to attain a playbill — seems to lack a sense of, or appreciation for, tone. Though it is an essential thing to pave the way for new, innovative, and experimental works such as “Wesleyan vs. Amherst,” the one-dimensionality of this play made me feel, at times, as though I were watching a sports match. The director manages traffic effectively, but the play’s scattered structure and lack of a strong focus on its central character deprive it of forward momentum.
Last year, “Shoot the Duke” taught us what “injury” means for the individual. This year, “Wesleyan vs. Amherst” teaches what “defeat” means for the collective.
Star Fencer Reveals Ulterior Motives
Adam Trachtenberg ’12 has long been the heart and soul of Wesleyan’s fencing club. In leading them to victory after many a passionate bout, he finally admitted his true motivation for fencing.
“It’s all about the love,” he said. “Girls just love the way I wield a foil or a 33-inch sabre.”
Girls across campus concurred.
“There’s something so erotic about men in fencing gear,” said Marsha Cooley ’11. “You feel so safe because they can defend you.”
Although they are not as brolic or imposing as actual recruited athletes, the fencers are largely known as the biggest ladykillers on campus.
“You’d assume that they’d be really nice, but if you really think about it, they’re trained to locate your heart and stab it,” said Sarah Mills ’14. “Ten times out of ten, that’s exactly what they’ll do.”
They may not qualify for NCAA Fencing, but it seems that WesFencers joust a mean bout of love.
“It’s all about the love,” he said. “Girls just love the way I wield a foil or a 33-inch sabre.”
Girls across campus concurred.
“There’s something so erotic about men in fencing gear,” said Marsha Cooley ’11. “You feel so safe because they can defend you.”
Although they are not as brolic or imposing as actual recruited athletes, the fencers are largely known as the biggest ladykillers on campus.
“You’d assume that they’d be really nice, but if you really think about it, they’re trained to locate your heart and stab it,” said Sarah Mills ’14. “Ten times out of ten, that’s exactly what they’ll do.”
They may not qualify for NCAA Fencing, but it seems that WesFencers joust a mean bout of love.
Sport Event Happens
Last Saturday at some athletic field somewhere on campus, an athletic situation arose, the nature of which there is some controversy about. According to student reports, an athletic team affiliated with the university did something athletic somewhere, which might be a good thing or, at the very least, an athletic thing.
“The University is proud to announce this athletic accomplishment to the entire Wesleyan community, and that we think it is unquestionably athletic in nature,” commented Director of Media Relations David Pezzi. “We think it involves balls or pucks or maybe something else.”
“Go Wes,” Pezzi added, shrugging.
“We’re proud to have sports at Wesleyan, because it shows that we have sports and we’re proud,” concurred Vice President of Student Affairs Mitch Whale. “Also, did anyone else see those weird sticks with the nets at the end?”
Popular New York Times film critic A. O. Scott reportedly witnessed the unidentified athletic event, which he praised for its subtle ambiguity.
“The University is proud to announce this athletic accomplishment to the entire Wesleyan community, and that we think it is unquestionably athletic in nature,” commented Director of Media Relations David Pezzi. “We think it involves balls or pucks or maybe something else.”
“Go Wes,” Pezzi added, shrugging.
“We’re proud to have sports at Wesleyan, because it shows that we have sports and we’re proud,” concurred Vice President of Student Affairs Mitch Whale. “Also, did anyone else see those weird sticks with the nets at the end?”
Popular New York Times film critic A. O. Scott reportedly witnessed the unidentified athletic event, which he praised for its subtle ambiguity.
Ampersand Moved To Friday; In Spite of This, Ampersand Gets Even Funnier
The &mpersand will now print in the Argus on Fridays. It will be available to read online 9am - 2pm Tuesday through Thursday (excluding national and religious holidays).
In other Sports news, check out this beautiful header.
& those t&&th.
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