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Kelsey Klein
Kelsey Klein is an undergraduate women's studies major at Bowling Green State University.
Posts by Kelsey Klein
Reduce, Reuse, Rethink
12 years
by Kelsey Klein
in Water
By Kelsey Klein
Quick: what’s the most recent thing you’ve done for the environment? Chances are, you just thought that time two days ago when you tossed a plastic bottle or piece of paper into a recycling bin on your way out of class or after you were done eating. Recycling is incredibly visible at Bowling Green State University, so this isn’t surprising, but is recycling really the best thing BGSU can do to cut down on waste?
Recycling at BGSU started in the 1980s with a push from a few students in the environmental studies department, according to Gary Silverman, chair of the Department of the Environment and Sustainability at BGSU. These students recognized that recycling programs on BGSU’s campus could not only help the environment, but they could also save the university money.
Institutions must pay to leave waste at landfills. BGSU’s relationship with the Wood County Landfill is no exception. When materials are collected for recycling, less waste goes to the landfill, resulting in lower deposit fees for BGSU. As an added bonus, companies who break down and use BGSU’s recycled materials bay the university for its recycling. The university agreed to funnel some saved money from recycling back into the student run operation, and BGSU’s recycling program was born.
Today, BGSU’s recycling program is alive and well, with recycling bins in every campus building, according to Nicholas Hennessy, sustainability coordinator at BGSU. The university receives $100,00-$130,000 annually for recycling, Hennessy said.
Many buildings, such as residence halls, have multiple bins: for paper, plastic, and aluminum. One material is missing, though— glass.
Silverman explained recycling is driven by market factors—what materials are being used at the current time. At this time there is not a market for glass, leading BGSU to abandon glass recycling because the material is heavy and hard to manage, he said.
Hennessy disagreed with Silverman when asked about the recycled glass market. “I think that there is a demand for glass,” he said. “It’s just a matter of financials.”
Those financials include the high cost of transporting the heavy material in relation to the monetary value of the material. Administration at BGSU has not institutionalized glass recycling because the university would lose money, according to Hennessy.
Groups of students, however, are taking matters into their own hands. Volunteer students currently collect and take glass to the Bowling Green City Recycling Center, according to Hennessy, but this situation is not ideal. The volunteer system sometimes results in unfortunate situations, such as a story Hennessy told where he saw a group of students wheeling a recycling bin down the street in the rain. Because the volunteer system is not ideal, there is student movement to re-institute glass recycling at BGSU.
Janelle Horstman, who is leading a glass recycling effort through the BGSU student environmental group Net Impact, says she is working on finding glass recycling options that are cost efficient for the university. While the university is paid for recycled materials, BGSU can lose money from having to transport heavy glass to recycling sites, Horstman said. Institutionalization of glass recycling will require working out financial problems with the potential program.
Brooke Mason discusses glass recycling in the Kreischer-Batchelder lobby. Photo by Kelsey Klein
Brooke Mason, Sustainability Chair for Net Impact, spoke about the importance of options other than recycling. “Recycling is the last R and I would promote reducing what you use and reusing it before recycling,” she said. Recycling a glass bottle is better than throwing it away, she said, but it would be even better to use a reusable container instead of individual bottles or reuse the glass bottle.
Hennessy believes the three “Rs”—reduce, reuse, recycle –are “in order of importance” as well. Reduction of waste is much better than creating waste that is then recycled, although recycling is better than waste ending up in a landfill, he said.
Silverman used a stapler to illustrate the same point. If a stapler breaks, what can be done with the materials? “Where did that metal come from,” Silverman said. “We had to mine it, we had to refine it, we had to use a lot of energy to manufacture it and now all these resources are in the trash. If we should recycle it, that’s better because at least we could recover the metal. If we could fix it and use it again, better yet.”
BGSU’s reStore is aimed at just that—reusing products. At the reStore, students can trade for things they need instead of buying new items. A shirt could be turned into a book. Shoes could become a DVD. A desk lamp could be traded for a backpack.
Hennessy developed the concept for the reStore after he saw the program at a few other universities. He was intrigued by the idea and enlisted the help of two BGSU students to make the reStore a reality. The reStore is located on the Kreischer Compton-Darrow side of the SunDial dining hall on campus.
The current intern with the reStore, Andrew Myers, pointed out how the reStore involves all three “Rs.” It reduces consumption because it encourages students to trade for used goods instead of buying new goods, it helps students reuse products that other students no longer want or need, and it contributes to recycling through students’ donations to the store, Myers said.
While BGSU is making steps in waste reduction like the reStore, Silverman and Hennessy both believe the university should be doing more to reduce its waste footprint.
“An institution has to decide what its role should be as a citizen,” Silverman said. “An institution can be a good citizen or it can be a not-good citizen. A not-good citizen is consumptive.”
Efforts to stem consumption can begin with university programs, or they can begin with students, but Hennessy believes sharing information about reduction is vital.
“It’s little by little,” he said. “One student learns about reuse and starts spreading the concept to a roommate, a friend… it spreads from person to person, one step at a time.”
I Believe In Impossible Things
12 years
by Kelsey Klein
in Air
By Kelsey Klein
Alice laughed. “There’s no use trying,” she said: “one can’t believe impossible things.”
“I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”
That’s from Through the Looking Glass, And What Alice Found There by Lewis Carroll.
I’ve always loved Lewis Carroll’s Alice stories. They’re about hope, dreaming, discovery, and impossibility—themes that appealed to me even when I was too young to understand what a theme is. It wasn’t until recently that I realized how much I had internalized lessons from Alice—especially belief in impossible things.
The author and her flute. Photo by Joyce Klein.
As a young musician, I believed I would make a mark in my world. Other musicians underestimated me until I made waves in high school, playing what older flutists at my school couldn’t. I was soon playing with an invitation-only flute ensemble and with a university band as a high school junior. Now, I teach young flutists during the summer.
As a granddaughter, I believed my Pappy would live. Nothing could defeat my hero, not even cancer. He never
The author and her grandfather, 2007. Photo by Joyce Klein.
really woke up after the surgery. Now, when I look in the mirror and see his curly hair and spirited personality, I know he’s still alive.
As a college freshman, I believed I would find love. The tall, tattooed guy with the Rage Against the Machine bag caught my attention, but he never really saw me. Then he showed up in my history class. Now, he kisses me on the forehead every day and tells me how I changed his life.
As a writer, I believed I would someday be published. I knew I was good, if only someone would notice my work. My first poem was published in a newsletter when I was 11 years old. I soon started writing more often and was published several more times. I took up journalism and worked for my high school paper. Now, a piece I wrote on a jewelry artist will be published in a magazine.
As a human being, I believed I could find my passion. So many people go through life doing things they don’t enjoy and living without a real purpose. I didn’t want to be like those people. I ended up in a women’s studies class my sophomore year because I needed a few extra credits. After the first class period, I knew I found where I belonged. I changed my major from journalism to women’s studies a week later. I have found purpose and passion.
As a feminist, I believe violence against women can end. Almost 22 million—that’s about one in five –women in the United States are raped in their lifetimes. About 39 million women experience physical violence from a partner. I believe we can work to end this. It hasn’t happened yet, but with my track record of impossible beliefs working out, I think it can.
Sometimes we want something so badly we have no choice but to believe.
I believe in impossible things. It’s a habit.
Local Feminist Bookstore More Than Books
12 years
by Kelsey Klein
in Earth
By Kelsey Klein
The first time I visited People Called Women, I met a woman with a lizard. It was Valentine’s Day and she had come in the shop looking for a lesbian love card; the lizard was incidental. The mohawked woman took it everywhere with her, she said.
Another woman, wearing a multicolored striped hat, was in the store that afternoon as well. She had stopped in while doing errands and found herself venting to the owner of the shop. The two women talked familiarly about politics as the patron browsed the store.
People Called Women, an independent, feminist multicultural bookstore in Toledo, Ohio, is a place owner Gina Mercurio strives to make an accepting atmosphere. From children’s books to “The Guy’s Guide to Feminism,” People Called Women has something to interest many different people. And that’s the way Mercurio wants it.
Gina Mercurio sits behind the counter at People Called Women. Photo by Kelsey Klein.
“To me, feminism includes all sorts of things,” she said. “That’s part of what feminism is.” Feminists should support all manner of social justice efforts, including multiculturalism and anti-poverty work, Mercurio said.
Patron Sharon Barnes thinks People Called Women truly supports her. “I know I can find material here that’s not racist, not sexist and not homophobic,” she said.
That diversity is what People Called Women aims for. When the store opened in 1993, Mercurio decided to keep books by women of color in the front window instead of letting white authors dominate the space. She still keeps that policy.
Not even the lizard—a bearded dragon, by the way –was looked at strangely at People Called Women. If anything, the unexpected pet was met with interest and curiosity, Mercurio and I both petting his spiny sides.
The idea of People Called Women first came to Mercurio as a senior at the University of Toledo. The first wave of feminist publishing was happening and Mercurio wanted a feminist bookstore in Toledo. At the time, however, she did not have the resources to open the store.
Years later, Mercurio was living in Boston. She had saved some money, her family contributed some money and she decided it was time to open the store in Toledo.
“Big cities have all these different kinds of cultural opportunities that smaller cities like Toledo don’t have,” she
said. “In terms of a feminist bookstore, I thought it would be perfect in Toledo… I know I would have appreciated it when I was growing up.”
People Called Women is now the only feminist bookstore in Ohio, according to Mercurio.
Great American Women. Photo by Kelsey Klein.
When I wandered in to People Called Women, I was greeted by a blanket depicting “Great American Women of the 20th Century.”
To the right inside the door I found a small children’s section. The room opened up into a space lined with bookshelves. I found a rack of t-shirts with feminist slogans and handmade jewelry hanging on small racks throughout the store. Bumper stickers with slogans like “Come Out” and “Stop Blaming the Victim” caught my eye.
The main room of People Called Women, as viewed from the back of the store. Photo by Kelsey Klein.
Toward the back of the store I discovered a small hall full of literature from the Ohio Domestic Violence Network, pamphlets of women’s health information and event flyers. I was stunned by the mass of information vying for my attention.
A community room, which also houses the store’s used books, has a deep couch, comfortable chairs and cookies on the coffee table. It feels homey and comfortable, a place to meet and catch up with friends.
The bookstore has become a meeting place for organizations like Toledo’s chapter of the National Organization for Women, the Toledo Take Back the Night collective, and the Agnes Reynolds Jackson Fund, a fund that assists women seeking abortions.
“It’s a resource beyond what’s on the shelves here,” Anita Rios, president of Toledo NOW said. It is a meeting
A NOW sign sits on a case full of used books. Photo by Kelsey Klein.
place, a safe space, and a place for education, she said.
Mercurio agreed. “I’d have to say it’s as much of a community center as it’s a bookstore, and I think that’s what feminist bookstores do very well,” she said.
“It’s a place to meet. It’s a place for people to organize around social justices issues and where else can you do that? At universities. But this is an actual place in the community where people can come together and do important things.”
During a Toledo NOW meeting, Barnes sprawled out on the couch. Rios, across from her, sat in a cushioned chair with a pillow. Another woman sat with her legs curled under her. Mercurio was present, sitting in sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt with the line “Hey Mister Keep Your Hands Off My Sister” printed on it.
The women were discussing a recent NOW protest of the Catholic Church’s birth control stance. They passed around a newspaper article about the protest outside of Toledo’s Mercy St. Anne Hospital. A photo of Rios holding a sign with the slogan “Birth Control is a Human Right” garnered excitement.
The group threw themselves into planning a second protest. The energy and feminist ideology in the store that
day was as thick as some of the books.
Members of Toledo NOW in the community room of People Called Women. Photo by Kelsey Klein.
The ideology in People Called Women is almost palpable. I feel surrounded by feminism in the store and encouraged to take a stand for what I believe. Sitting in the room with the members of NOW, I was ready to jump into the meeting.
Barnes and Mercurio jumped during the NOW meeting when Sarah Balser came into People Called Women unexpectedly.
A Toledo area native now living in Akron, Balser makes a point to visit People Called Women whenever she’s in the area. When living in Toledo, Balser volunteered at People Called Women.
“PCW is home,” she said. “I can’t imagine Toledo without it.”
The feeling of home is something repeated by the women I spoke to.
“It’s kind of like coming to your friends’ house in some ways,” patron Stacy Jurich said. “I came in the door and started venting to Gina, like I think a lot of women do.”
I felt like I was at a friend’s house when Mercurio left the counter for a moment and asked me to answer the phone if it rang.
“Stall them if someone calls,” she shouted as she walked through a doorway.
With no choice in the matter, I lamented my lack of reason to refuse. Lucky for me, the phone never rang and I didn’t have to test my stalling skills.
As our interview was winding down, Mercurio suggested we step outside for a smoke. Lighting her cigarette, she blew smoke into the bitter wind. We talked for a few minutes about the impact of young feminists and feminist organizations at Bowling Green State University before the cold became too much for us and we parted—Mercurio into People Called Women and me to my car, to blast Riot Grrrl music the whole way home, empowered and feeling quite feminist.
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Dreams of Jewelry
12 years
by Kelsey Klein
in Fire
By Kelsey Klein
The silence of the art gallery was interrupted when a woman, rushing, bounced into the room. Spotting an acquaintance sketching, she called cheerily across the empty space between them. Her black and white polka dot jacket, blue and green checkered shirt, bright green bag, and heavy boots contrasted sharply with the polished floor and sparkling glass walls surrounding her. She sat down and began to spread her work on the table in front of her. She picked up a necklace and laid it on a display. Another necklace was carefully placed on the table beside the first one. The woman unwrapped a ring from a soft cloth, placing both the ring and cloth down. Soon came several more necklaces, two bracelets, and a curved vessel depicting a shark-mouth silhouette. The woman smiled at the things she had made and began explaining their meanings.
Jessica Baker, a 19-year-old sophomore at Bowling Green State University, has known her career path since she was a small child. Many people’s dreams shift as they grow. Instead of astronauts, they become bankers. Instead of dancers, they become teachers. Some swear they will be artists and become baristas at coffee shops. Baker, however, has not let go of her dreams.
Baker began making jewelry on a road trip in fourth grade. She and her cousin made bracelets in the
Baker explains a concept for a new piece of jewelry she is working on. Photo by Kelsey Klein.
car and Baker, hooked, asked her mom for more beads. Soon, Baker was hooked on working with wire as well, making and selling bracelets on her Minister, Ohio, elementary school playground. Her playground business continued, even during the winter months, until Baker was making custom bracelets for peers—an elementary school version of artistic commissions.
Baker continued to make jewelry throughout high school. Her free time was a process of discovery, vision and new ideas for her work. When it was time for college, Baker knew she wanted to attend BGSU.
“This was… the only destination I had in mind,” she said. “It was the only place I applied to. I didn’t do any tour here. I just knew I was coming here.”
Kim Zeigler, Baker’s cousin from the fourth-grade trip, was instrumental in Baker’s assurance that she was attending BGSU. Zeigler graduated from BGSU in 2008 with a Bachelor’s degree in art education and is currently a full-time jewelry artist. Baker and Zeigler have always had a strong relationship centered around art, Zeigler said in an email.
Baker was equally certain about her degree path: 3D fine art with a focus in jewelry and metalwork.
“I didn’t really think of anything else. I was just like, oh, I’m in college, I like making things, so I’ll major in making jewelry,” she said, shaking her long, dark hair. “It was that thing that I was destined, I guess you could say. The thing that I would always go back to.”
Baker was not sure, however, about how she would work with metal. Since materials and machinery for metalwork are extremely expensive, Baker did not have an opportunity to try making art with metal before she came to college.
Baker explains the process of working metal into a vessel shape. Photo by Kelsey Klein.
Last semester was a process of figuring out how to work with metal, according to Baker. Now that, as she puts it, she is friends with metal, she is more focused on using metal.
Baker’s relationship with metal is more than a friendship, according to Tom Muir, head of the Jewelry and Metalsmithing Department at BGSU and a mentor of Baker.
“She has a real sensitivity for the material,” Muir said. “You can see if someone really cares and nurtures something, and I think that was really evident in her work, too.”
Baker, according to Muir, respects the metal to the point of reverence for what it can become under an artist’s hand. She treats the material with love. Baker finishes her work properly, fixing errors she makes until her work is perfect.
Working to finish her art properly, however, involves much trial and error for Baker. Her first idea, she said, isn’t always her best idea. She experiments, changes her work and starts over in her quest to translate her artistic vision.
“When I decide I’m going to make something, I put my heart into it and I set my mind.” she reflected. “It becomes almost like a puzzle that I have to break and solve… I can’t stop until I figure it out.”
Life is art for Baker. She finds inspiration in the details of life.
“Jessica is constantly abstracting the everyday real world and turning it into jewelry,” Zeigler wrote in an email.
Baker once saw a brick wall that inspired some necklaces. She also finds inspiration in colors and in trees she sees.
One of Baker’s necklaces depicts brightly colored hand shapes laced with chain. The necklace, she says, was inspired by her feeling that time sometimes chokes her.
Techno-whale-shark. Photo by Kelsey Klein.
Another of Baker’s necklaces, one she refers to as techno-whale-shark, was inspired by techno music and the patterns on whale sharks‘ skin.
A necklace of Baker's, inspired by the way she occasionally feels choked by time constraints. Photo by Kelsey Klein.
Baker’s biggest dream is to open her own jewelry and metal business, much like Zeigler, though the two have distinctly different styles.
“Her jewelry reflects her positive attitude because it is very bright and funky,” Zeigler wrote. “Jessica’s jewelry is jewelry you would want to wear to fun events and around happy people.”
Kelsey Klein
12 years
Hello, World. I am a junior Women’s Studies major at BGSU, with minors in Journalism and Sociology. I currently work as a writing tutor at the BGSU Learning Commons. I am also treasurer of the BGSU Organization for Women’s Issues, event coordinator for the BGSU chapter of Triota (a national women’s studies honorary), and a volunteer with Victims Services of Behavioral Connections.
As you can see from the things I do, women’s studies and women’s issues are my true passions. I love the written word as it applies to social activism and the lives of people. Thus, feature writing is my favorite journalistic style, though I am much more of an academic, research-orienented writer than a journalist. Nothing makes me happier than churning out a 20 page paper on something like the politics of bisexual female representation and community at BGSU (which was an actual project of mine last semester).
Professionally, it is my goal to earn a Ph.D in Sexology or Social Work (or both!) and work with community-based sex education programs and research, and with interpersonal violence victims.
In my spare time, which is difficult to find, I am a rabid BGSU hockey and Pittsburgh Penguins fan, an Alice in Wonderland aficionado, and a lover of warm, fuzzy things like bunny slippers.
(Photo credit to Breanna Ridgeway/Bree Lea Photography)