Nicole is the Site Coordinator for this summer’s Moxie Project, working alongside Program Director, Ada Gregory.

It’s officially here….Moxie 2014!! We have an amazing group of women ready to hit the streets of NYC and create change! Though this isn’t MTV, and you might not be able to follow them on a reality TV show, you can check back here frequently for updates about their summer. Let’s be honest, an 8-week civic engagement summer immersion program that combines curricular, co-curricular and applied learning experiences to explore intersections of theory and practice in women’s rights work sounds AMAZING!!! – but also exhausting and can be overwhelming sometimes in the big apple. Our hope is that you will be able to experience the joys and challenges right here with us 🙂 Enjoy the pre-arrival entries below!

Katie is a rising sophomore interning at Sanctuary For Families this summer.  

The New York Times recently ran an “Ask A Pollster” column entitled “Women And The I Don’t Know Problem.” The article addresses the tendency of women to choose the “I don’t know” option when asked political opinion questions at a much higher rate than men do. Even if they have some knowledge about the topic, women often choose to respond with “I don’t know,” which can skew poll results.

There are several reasons why this might be the case. For example, female respondents might be lazy.  Maybe the “don’t know” response is so tempting because it relieves us of the burden of having to make a tough choice or argue a position.  Maybe it allows us to shrink back and be observers rather than active participants. In the case of polling, maybe we know that if we say “I don’t know,” we can hang up the phone and get on with our lives.

But maybe saying “I don’t know” isn’t an act of laziness. Maybe it’s an act of courage. Maybe women, in general, just hold ourselves to higher standards of expertise before claiming an opinion. It’s not that we’re not knowledgeable; we just don’t want to draw conclusions prematurely. We live in a society that is fixated on certainty and seeing things in black and white. Saying “I don’t know” means admitting that not all issues fit so simply into the boxes of right vs. wrong, Republican vs. Democrat, good vs. bad. It means realizing that, no matter how educated we feel, there’s always room to learn.

Certainly, we need to work to create a political arena where women feel free to express our opinions. If “I don’t know” responses come from women’s fear or lack of confidence in our abilities, we should definitely be worried. We have a responsibility to fight back against a society that encourages us to “be seen and not heard.”

However, “I don’t know” doesn’t have to be a sign of weakness. Publically admitting that we need more knowledge or education about something, not out of fear but out of a desire to learn more, takes a great deal of strength. Obviously, no one is qualified to give an opinion on every single topic, and admitting that isn’t necessarily a “problem.” It takes courage to admit our shortcomings and vulnerabilities, and the act of doing so should be lauded, not condemned. Gaps in our knowledge will never be as embarrassing as failure to recognize those gaps. If we were less afraid of saying, “I don’t know,” would more dangerous political decisions be avoided? More rash military plans stopped? More embarrassing gaffes sidestepped?

“Mansplaining” is a term that has recently entered the American lexicon. Mansplaining refers to the act of explaining something in a patronizing manner when the explainer is more knowledgeable about the topic or when the explainee actually knows more. Mansplaining can be politically dangerous, such as when men attempt to explain issues of reproductive health to women who are more knowledgeable than they are. (Does anyone remember that time Todd Akin told us all that rape victims can’t get pregnant? There’s one Congressional career ended, and rightfully so.) Of course, women can also be guilty of mansplaining, but it’s far more common to hear men lecturing us about abortion than it is to hear women preaching about Viagra. This phenomenon represents the extreme of our failure to say “I don’t know.”

One of my goals for this summer is to become more comfortable admitting when I don’t know something and asking for help when I need it, particularly in an academic or professional environment. Saying “I don’t know” is going to be a critical skill for me this summer. I’m one of the youngest Moxies. I’m also very aware that Sanctuary for Families, my internship site, provides services to people whose experiences are very foreign to my own. I’ll be the Development and Communications Intern and, to be honest, I’ve never raised money for a nonprofit before (I sold Girl Scout Cookies in elementary school…does that count?) There’s a lot I have yet to learn. What’s important is that I’m eager to do so.

This summer, I’m challenging myself to admit when I need guidance. I’m challenging myself to remember that I have more questions than answers. Most of all, I’m challenging myself to keep in mind that saying “I don’t know” isn’t necessarily a bad thing, particularly if it’s followed by “yet” or “let me get back to you on that.”

What will this summer hold for me?

I don’t know…yet.

Rebecca is a rising junior interning with Hollaback! this summer.

It may seem ironic to some that Catholic school inspired me to join the Moxie Project. Let’s be honest, between doctrines that stifle sexuality (especially women’s), demonize homosexuality, and limit reproductive rights…it’s a wonder I didn’t come out of that place a Republican closed-minded puritan. Tired political jokes aside, nothing could have motivated me to work for Hollaback! like having to wear a Catholic schoolgirl uniform on the streets of Atlanta. It was pretty much impossible to go anywhere after school without experiencing some form of unwanted hootin’ and hollerin’, largely from the older crowd I might add, and it always made me just downright uncomfortable. Alas, I was but a reluctant, timid high schooler with no idea how to react to these creepy, unwanted advances…

Enter Hollaback!…a nonprofit that aims to combat this harassment that women face every day. If you’re female, then you know all too well that you don’t have to be wearing a stereotypically fetishized blouse/plaid skort/knee sock combo to be a target (although believe me, it does help). Street harassment is all too common for women everywhere, and while most of us choose to respond with a simple roll of the eyes, this quiet acceptance is sending a message…and it may not be the message we’re hoping for. Not speaking out against street harassment maintains that women should passively accept unwanted advances, perpetuating objectification and rape culture. Men have zero entitlement to women’s bodies, and if we empower ourselves against street harassment, we can begin to send that message loud and clear.

I began to feel that street harassment was at least a somewhat obvious problem—something any rational individual could support—until I visited a good friend last weekend. I was giving my typical spiel about the Moxie Project and street harassment (see above), feeling like Emily May and the rest of the Hollaback! staff would have been beaming with pride. However, my friend, a perfectly rational and very intelligent individual, albeit male, responded completely unexpectedly. He not only said that street harassment should be viewed as complimentary and desired, but he basically suggested that the only reason women experience catcalling more than men is because women are better to look at. Now I can’t say I disagree with his opinion on the differential aesthetic appeal between men and women, but the rest of his words caught me entirely off guard. The worst part was that I just couldn’t seem to convince him otherwise. In that moment I realized anticlimactically that (1) men really just don’t understand what women experience every day and (2) they make excuses for their actions. These probably don’t exactly classify as earth-shattering, but they have given me some direction for what I want to accomplish this summer…like figuring out the best way to respond to downright ignorance.

So here’s to a summer of progress and discovery for Rebecca – this Catholic schoolgirl is ready to delve into the Moxie Project head-on. I’m attacking this summer to figure out my own relationship with feminism. This summer won’t always be easy or fun—but it’ll sure as hell be worth it.

Dani is a rising junior interning with Legal Momentum this summer.

Between DukeEngage Academy and today, I have been especially shaken by the mass shootings at UCSB, by a man who specifically targeted women to avenge them for not paying him sexual attention. Personally, this occurrence felt especially close to home, considering that two of the UCSB victims were members of Tri Delta, my sorority, and that the shooting occurred in one of my best friend’s neighborhoods. However, the sole bright spot has been the public’s reaction—I love the #YesAllWoman hashtag, which is meant to demonstrate to men the often not-so-obvious harassment all women face daily. This has made me even more proud of being a feminist.

 But it’d be naïve to think that because the overwhelming majority of the public sphere supports  #YesAllWomen, feminism is magically squeaky-clean. Even with public support of feminism from  celebrities such as Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and Lena Dunham, feminism is still a loaded and  stigmatized term, and is seen as belittling by many men and women alike.

For example, I received the text pictured in this post from a girl friend earlier today (note: the text my  friend received was from a boy—both of their names are blurred out). As you can see, I was with my  grandparents when I got it, so I didn’t have time to write a response then and there—but it was initially  something along the lines of “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Especially after reading a lot about UCSB and  gender issues in the past week, I was perplexed and angered that even one person out there didn’t see  all of the good the feminist movement was promoting.

However, I thought back to when this girl friend told me earlier how she and a few other girls had  “attacked” this same boy about his views on gender, 3-on-1, and how he resisted any of their points. I  used that story in helping to construct my response to him. If I responded with my initial expletive-laced reaction to his statement, he would probably send back a similar expletive-laced statement to me. It was okay for me to feel angry, but I needed to be practical and know my audience if I was going to gain any ground with him. Using angry, strong language with him wouldn’t exactly invalidate my points, but it would set me at a disadvantage and decrease the maturity level of our conversation by a few degrees. In addition, this boy viewed feminists as aggressive, belligerent woman—although that stereotype is untrue, it would be unwise for me to take this approach to best communicate my point.

An hour or so later, once I left my grandparents’ house and got in the car, I was able to write a more composed response. I wrote a pithy message clarifying to him that feminism’s definition was simply believing in and advocating for men and women having equal rights and opportunities—that’s it. I then told him that therefore any “intellectually” sound woman should be a feminist.

#YesAllWomen have been told something along those lines from a guy before—denouncing, condemning, and even insulting feminism. That’s why one of my goals this summer is to continue to discuss feminism with him and other guy friends, to clarify and destigmatize the term in a 15-20 minute, calm conversation. It’s easy to get riled up about gender issues, which should definitely be the case—there’s some messed up stuff going on out there. But in order to have an influence on those around us, especially those who are initially averse to our ideas, we must engage in practical feminism: knowing our audience and effectively communicating our ideas, without sacrificing any of our passion and “intellectualism” along the way. I look forward to striking a balance this summer during the Moxie Project.

Jessica is a rising senior interning with Hollaback! this summer.

I was born in the era in which some of the greatest jazz singers passed away. This isn’t some grand coincidence since each generation is birthed in the ashes of another. However, New York is fast approaching and with off rhythm beats of excitement and trepidation, this thought hasn’t left my mind. The legacies of these women are embedded in the very essence of New York City because under the bright lights of the famed city that never sleeps, these women found their fame and most importantly, their voices in these hideaway, smoke-filled little bars and clubs. I thought about going to these places, to see where Ella Fitzgerald learned her scatting ways or where Billie Holiday first sang to a hushed crowd the haunting lyrics of “Strange Fruit”, but the overwhelming thought that plagued my mind was that these places didn’t exist anymore. They had been converted into restaurants and shops, and that the history that was made there existed only in somebody else’s memory.

During one of my history classes, a fellow student said that our environment is a “museum of forgetting,” that we pass by buildings and streets not knowing their historical significance while at the same time passing by memorials and statues of commemoration, celebrating a legacy that we don’t always know the whole history behind. I’m from Texas, and after the much-lauded slogan of ‘Everything is Bigger in Texas,’ the slogan we’ve embraced in much Texas spirited pride is ‘Remember the Alamo,’ but what exactly are we remembering with this expression? That Mexico invited American settlers to colonize Texas, and when Mexico in turn told them that they couldn’t own slaves, they went to war against Mexico in order to maintain this supposed right? Yet, this fact is usually brushed aside, and we tend to focus on the bravery of the men who fought so valiantly against the Mexican Army, knowing full well that they were going to lose. But what does a romanticized version of the past say about our present, and more importantly, how does it mold our future?

Dr. Maya Angelou passed away a few days ago, and while most people are celebrating her life as a writer, a professor, an activist, most people are ignoring the fact that she was also a prostitute and a young mother trying to claw her way out of poverty. While I understand that in death the dead are always perceived in a pristine light, it’s in this remembrance that we tend to romanticized the legacy of the dead, without taking a close inspection at the hardships that made the person who they were to the world. They’re no longer just humans but idols, and for most of them, I don’t think that’s what they wanted.

As I prepare to go to New York, I still want to try to find these clubs where Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, Sarah Vaughan, and others made a name for themselves singing jazz, but I also want to scratch beneath the surface, to understand what the fame they found did for them and for women, and how they helped shape the trajectory of American music. But this little project is focusing on just a slice of the legacy of New York City, and while I’ll experience the more idealized version of New York of Broadway signs and a proud Statue of Liberty, I want to be conscious of the workers who clean up after shows and what the structures that represent New York actually represent. I want to see underneath the legacy of New York and see the everydayness of it, the things people don’t usually see because like Holliday once sang, “New York, why does it seem so inviting?”

Mina is a rising sophomore interning at Girls for Gender Equity.

This summer, I will be interning with Girls for Gender Equity (GGE), an organization that works with young women to develop them as leaders through community organizing and leadership development. GGE also advocates against gender-based violence, sexual harassment in public schools, and other educational, economic, and physical barriers against gender equality.

My role this summer at GGE will be helping to plan the Urban Leaders’ Academy, GGE’s after school programming in three middle schools that continues GGE’s overall mission to instill social justice principles and develop leadership skills of young people. While there, I will also have opportunities to meet and talk to some of the young women involved in the GGE’s programming.

I love everything about Girls for Gender Equity, both their advocacy and campaign work and their work developing young leaders. I’ve actually had a lot of experience working with young women between the ages of the 12 and 16, particularly young women of color.

Adolescent and preadolescent girls are a fun group, full of energy, young and ready to take on the world. But what I’ve noticed through the years is that they are also a group that easily counts themselves out, easily downplays their own abilities and potential. Especially as women of color and/or as women that occupy a lower socioeconomic class, they’ve been told by many sources – parents, teachers, the media – that they are not good enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough to achieve the things they want to. While they may have big dreams (“I want to be a cardiothoracic surgeon!”), they often lack the resources, access to information, and just plain confidence to realize these big dreams. That’s where I come in. I hope by what I do and the example I set, I can show them that they can reach their goals in life, that they matter just as much as the next person, and they should never expect any less out of life just because of who they are or where they may come from.

However, I find myself grappling with many of the same difficulties that I want the girls I work with to overcome. After finishing my first year of college, I still have no idea what I want to do with my life, if I am good enough, smart enough, or pretty enough to be able to reach all my goals in life. I still struggle with feeling counted out and underestimated because of my gender, my race, and where people perceive that I come from. I, too, am still coming of age and learning how to navigate through this world as a young woman of color and how to develop this new womanist/feminist consciousness I’ve adopted. How can I help others realize their full potential when I have yet to reach mine?

I’m starting to realize that the process of mentoring and of being mentored is a life long process, and that you don’t have to have all the answers or all the life experiences to inspire others. It’s also a two-way street. As much as I’d like to imagine that I’ve helped  all the girls I’ve worked with, honestly, through their stories they’ve shared with me, they’ve taught me so much more about life than I’m sure I’ve taught them. Mentoring isn’t about telling someone what to do or being the ultimate example of how to do life right (sometimes you can be the example of what not do to). It’s about forming a relationship, where each person validates the experiences of another and affirms their thoughts, opinions, and dreams. While as a mentor I can do this for someone else, she can also do this for me. When she comes to me with her questions and concerns, listens to what I have to say, and takes my advice, she is validating my experiences and affirming my thoughts. As we continue to grow and seek mentorship as well as giving it to others, we create a community of women who affirm one another, a network of women who have each other’s backs and recognize each other’s full potentials – which is so necessary in a world that often tries to count us out.

Amari is a rising junior interning at Sanctuary for Families this summer.

Throughout my life I have been fascinated by mythology and science fiction. My favorite  literary and television heroines have run the gamut from Aphrodite to Buffy the Vampire  Slayer. Despite their years of separation, both the goddess and the slayer have been  characterized as “femme fatales” due to the extraordinary powers they possess and  cunning they exhibit. As my own sorority line name is Femme Fatale, I have developed a  keen interest in the origins of this archetype and its presence in contemporary society.  Why must a female stock character who possesses any variety of agency or power over  men be branded as fatal?

In Helen of Troy: Beauty, Myth, Devastation, Ruby Blondell discusses the origins of modern society’s relationship to female beauty. Through a review of Greek mythology, Blondell explains how beauty and other forms of female agency, like intelligence, have been tied to negative attributes, such as deceit and devastation. Today, I believe that our society ascribes these same negative characteristics to female beauty, intelligence and sexuality.

Perhaps this is why today we see terrorist groups, like the Boko Haram militants, targeting educated girls, such as the students of Nigeria’s Government Girls Secondary School. Or perhaps this is why most sex workers and sex slaves are treated as criminals. Or maybe this explains the phenomenon of slut-shaming.

This summer I hope to learn more about the cultural mechanisms behind the censure and criminalization of women in all spheres of society. Be it in the corporate workplace or the high school hallway, many women find their ideas ignored, their skills suppressed and their confidence stymied. The cultural expectations that discourage female leadership and empowerment may also be tied to those that encourage slut-shaming and female circumcision. I am excited to work with Sanctuary for Families, an organization that empowers women to move forward from the problems that society’s expectations have cast upon them.

Candice is a rising junior interning with Legal Momentum this summer.

“So, I think your brother is finally starting to understand feminism and women’s rights.”

After my dad said this during our Sunday breakfast, my immediate reaction was to laugh. I have been the Nelson household’s resident Angry Feminist™ since my junior year of high school at an all girls Catholic school. While my family has been fairly receptive whenever I start talking about feminism, I was surprised that my brother had started to actually listen. As much as I love and admire my big brother, him being an athletic trainer for football teams for the past 6 years has made him incredibly sexist. But I think the combination of him no longer viewing me as an irritating younger sibling but as a person with actual thoughts, as well as him listening to how his football players talk about women (he told me that he’ll never even introduce me to any of them), has allowed him to reevaluate his initial beliefs and look at the importance of feminism.

Thinking about my brother’s realization brought me to thinking about this summer and what I hope to learn while working at Legal Momentum. This lead me to thinking about education, or more specifically, Title IX. One of my greatest passions is education policy in America and last summer I started looking into Title IX because I realized how little I knew about it. Given that 55 colleges and universities are under review for violating the Title IX rights of their female students, I have a suspicion that I am not the only one. While Title IX has done great work in making sure that female athletic teams are actually given funds to operate, it seems that before the list of 55 was released, sports is the only thing anyone, including myself, knew Title IX was good for. Who knew that high schools have to adjust their absence policies for pregnant and parenting students so that they aren’t unfairly penalized when they have to take their kid to the doctor? Or that there needs to be someone who is well versed in Title IX policies at every university so that students can ask when their rights have been violated? Who knew that schools shouldn’t grossly mishandle sexual assault cases and treat the few women that report their assaults like children who are speaking out of line? Who knew that rapists can graduate without so much as a slap on the wrist?

Given how little I knew, and how much I still have to learn, I’m excited to do more research on Title IX and the presence of gender inequality in American education systems. I also plan to look at legislation regarding gender inequality in other areas, like the workforce, immigration, and poverty. It’ll be interesting to see if this summer will impact what I plan to do after graduation. Hopefully I can take a page from my brother’s playbook and by the end of the Moxie Project, I will emerge much more conscious.

Rachel is a rising junior interning at the National Domestic Workers Alliance this summer.

When I was younger, I read constantly and my mother used to joke that I was one of the few children she knew who had to be told to be put a book down. This love for literature has lasted through the years; though I rarely have time to read for pleasure at Duke, the first thing I do upon arriving home for vacation is make a trip to the local library. One of my selections for this summer was Nickel and Dimed by Barbara Ehrenreich, which tells the story of a journalist’s attempt to see what it would be like to survive on $6 or $7 an hour. Of all of Ehrenreich’s jobs, it was during her stint as a house cleaner that she felt the most invisible and cast out of society.

While some of Ehrenreich’s middle- and upper-class clients are retired or have one partner stay at home, many of the women for whom she works hold steady jobs. Largely wealthy and white, they are the type of women towards whom Sheryl Sandberg directs Lean In when she focuses on strategies for female workplace success without addressing race, socioeconomic status, or a host of other factors that influence women’s workplace experience. Reading these two books back to back, I couldn’t help but notice the stark differences between the lives that Sandberg and Ehrenreich described – while Sandberg suggested that working women hire private domestic help, Ehrenreich was that help – and had to work a second job just to pay her rent.

Sandberg encourages solidarity among women, but that solidarity does not seem to extend beyond the corporate sphere to the domestic workers that she and her colleagues employ. If “leaning in” as defined by Sandberg often involves hiring domestic help, does it involve rendering human beings invisible? If this country and the world need more women in positions of leadership, does that merit other women earning less than living wage so top female executives can devote time to climbing the corporate ladder instead of cleaning their homes? National Domestic Workers Alliance, a non-profit where I will be interning, advocates for millions of domestic workers like Ehrenreich’s colleagues who struggle to buy food and pay the rent – often in the service of families and women who have chosen to “lean in.”

How do we reconcile these two needs – one for increased female leadership in the corporate sphere, which may require domestic help, and one for increased rights for domestic workers? Domestic help provides crucial jobs to men and women across the nation, but I shudder at the idea of an experience as dehumanizing as the one that Ehrenreich describes. There must be a way to create a humane and sustainable experience for the people who work to clean or maintain others’ homes, but often struggle to pay the rent on their own. As men and women move forward in corporate careers, they all too often forget the humanity of those who do the tasks they can now afford to outsource. This summer, I look forward to working with an organization that serves to remind the nation of that humanity – along with the rights, needs, and desires that come with it.

Recently I re-explored one of the most famous and one of my favorite museums in my small country of the Netherlands. The Rijksmuseum contains famous artworks of the 18^th and 19^th century, initially opened in 1808 envisioning to become one of the nation’s main accessible places to view and discuss art produced by the great masters. Unlike the Parisian art scene where the salon culture strictly determined what people considered aesthetically beautiful enough to display, the Rijksmuseum intended to showcase all Dutch art to the people of its country. Every time I visit the museum I discover new things, both in the art and in my experience of viewing art. Among the overwhelming abundance of famous Rembrandt and Van Gogh works, a portrait of a young girl stands out to me most. She looks about half my age, covered in jewelry and dressed like a young lady or a princess. While other visitors blindly walk past her, she holds my gaze.

Portrait of a Girl Dressed in Blue

Why does this portrait intrigue me?

Her simplicity and ability to appeal to all ages transcends her beauty for me in confounding ways. Even though she lived in another time period, she grew up in the same country, experienced similar customs, and experienced life through a close relative of the language I speak currently. She has the capability of making me feel young and old at the same time. In some moments, she seems like she could jump out of the picture and start playing tag. Simultaneously, she looks serious and can captivate and inspire you with her all-knowing gaze. This girl has engaged countless visitors of all ages in a way that humbles the spectator, even when they know nothing about her.

She brings up questions for me that I can relate to my upcoming experience as part of the Moxie Project in New York City. I will intern at the Bronx Family Justice Center for eight weeks, where I will meet children of all ages. BXFJC offers legal services for victims of sexual assault and domestic violence, and their children affected by the experiences of their parents. Not only do they fight for the justice of victims while offering a safe space for children, but they also further the ultimate goal of preventing these crimes from occurring in the future. My goal for this summer involves connecting in a meaningful way to victims and children of all ages, similar to how I have connected to Portrait of a Girl Dressed in Blue in every stage of my life. I would like to transcend age barriers to offer productive help by sustaining relationships with people from all walks of life.

Although accessibility to paintings such as Portrait of a Girl Dressed in Blue has never completely formed an issue for me, art has evolved through the centuries from functioning as a visual assistance to those seeking spiritual guidance into something perceived as a pleasure only appreciated by the upper classes. Thus I do not wish to take on all properties of the painting, and recognize that I cannot connect with every person I will meet this summer. My goal involves forming a point of accessibility for people, while remaining unassuming and open-minded about the stories I will hear and the people I will meet.

I hope to overcome my shortcomings in experiences with children, this neighborhood, and this city, but not let the dearth of relevant knowledge hinder me in my interactions with people. Yes. I am a Dutch girl. I grew up in a homogenous society, and sometimes fail to realize what offends people. I forged my identity in a society where people define themselves less and less by what they believe in, but rather by who they are and what they do. In the Netherlands people generally construct a sense of self based on how well they fit in, instead of the degree to which they stand out, a crucial component to survival in a pluralistic society. I may not have experienced the same traumas or witnessed discrimination happen in my life. I do, however, show compassion, empathy, and a desire to listen to people’s stories in an unassuming way. I can learn so many life-changing lessons from my placement, but I will also give back in many different ways.

I am Julia Dunn. You will see me obsessively post pictures this summer of the Moxie Project, life in New York City, and everything else that comes my way. I am twenty years old, and a rising junior at Duke. My academic interests include Psychology and Global Health, and I love  documentary photography. I have photographed for the Breaking Out Project, a photography project that gives voice to sexual assault victims on Duke’s campus. When I’m not photographing or reading great psychology and sociology books, I love to play ultimate frisbee, a sport that has in many ways shaped who I am today. I am interested to explore how I can incorporate my academic and non-academic experiences into my internship this summer. I hope to eventually develop into more of a person that can relate to any age group, demographic, and story. I hope to become The Girl Dressed in Blue, but transcend her stoic smile in a more engaged, active, and empathetic fashion.