The Barb Trenches: An Unspoken War
Sophia Willard ‘29
Graphic by Chloe Hild ‘26
Picture this. You arise early one morning in the middle of conference week with one thing on your mind: a picturesque, productive breakfast, a vision that can only be accomplished if your trusty whole wheat bagel with extra cream cheese and iced chai latte are consumed at the perfect place—the green swivel chairs in the Barb living room, the best of the best that campus has to offer. The dark side of obtaining this holy grail, however, and the everyday reality of Sarah Lawrence College (SLC) students is what it takes to get there first.
The line for the Barb cafe is mutually acknowledged as a safe zone by all Barb warriors. Ordering and securing your food generally presents no issues, but the second you step outside of those retractable barriers and the warm light of the pastry case, you have entered no man’s land, and everything you have ever held dear is now on the line.
Though it may have been sunny when you entered the Barb, the sky will immediately turn overcast as you scan your surroundings. Adrenaline pumps through your veins. Your heartbeat will pound in your ears, and your hands, slick with sweat, will struggle to keep ahold of your whole wheat bagel and iced chai latte. Regardless, losing your grip on your food is out of the question as it is all you have to defend yourself against the war raging in the living room. Panic will engulf you as you watch other students—fellow peers now turned foes—do the unspeakable as they vie for the lush upholstery lining the windows.
You lock eyes with the enemy, a random girl who you’ve seen a total of three times around campus, but your unfamiliarity doesn’t matter at this moment. Nothing does except reaching the last set of green swivel chairs before her and her watered-down coffee. A single ray of light will break through the atrium’s glass and halo the prize. Determined, you’ll swallow your fear and move in, speedwalking as nonchalantly as possible towards the chair. You dodge various dirty looks cast your way—at Sarah Lawrence, they actually have the power to kill. The aggressive clink of bangles and the click-clack of high heels alerts you to the enemy falling in pursuit behind you. You’re terrified, but you can’t stop now. You mustn't. The chairs are so close, and for a moment, you think that the open spot is yours.
Just as you’re about to throw your backpack onto the coveted cushion, one half of a peanut butter and jelly bagel slaps you square in the chest, taking you down to the ground with one hit. You look up as you fall to see a tote bag plop onto your rightful place, the spot you had fought so hard for. You begin to army crawl in one final, desperate attempt to reach the chairs; you refuse to have woken up this early for nothing! The sting of a high-heeled boot planted firmly on your back halts your movement. The enemy looks down upon you with cold pity and wags a finger at your crumpled form. She spares your life, but the shame you feel over your defeat is painful enough; you’ve officially lost your chance at a green swivel chair for the day, and succumbed to the Barb trenches.
Best of luck to the Barb living room warriors this conference season, and Godspeed.
