For most of American history, change was gradual, occurring over generations.
Now there’s new kids on the block, and they’re looking to progress (pun intended) at a break-neck pace.
The name alone would have made Ronald Reagan quiver: the Democratic Socialists of America. The DSA is among the oldest progressive organizations in the United States. Presently, it has two de facto leaders: Zohran Mamdani and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.
Mamdani’s success in the New York City mayoral election and AOC’s near-decade long tenure in Congress have generated mass speculation that the DSA may thrust its party members into the 2028 election. Mamdani is not eligible to run for president, but AOC is, and she has begun to hint at a potential run.
However, AOC’s track record is concerning at best. The Congresswoman from New York began her tenure in the House with a bang, attempting to pass the ambitious Green New Deal. At the time, AOC was the ideal progressive candidate, until her bill was shot down in the Senate in a landslide defeat of 0-57.
As time went on, she shifted to the center. In recent years, AOC has pushed for “building bridges” and working within the current political climate; in 2023, she voted in lock-step with the centrist Democratic President Joe Biden 94 percent of the time.
If AOC 1.0 was an expansive wind farm, AOC 2.0 is a natural gas plant with a pride flag painted over.
When the Green New Deal failed, it became clear to AOC that establishment Democrats like Hakeem Jeffries and Chuck Schumer would not support her progressive policies, thus leaving her socialist agenda dead in the water.
With the death of her socialist policies and capitulation to the status quo, AOC’s presidential nomination would fail to stick out in comparison to her establishment counterparts. If she were to become president, her term could be akin to those of Presidents Biden and Obama before her.
This leaves the DSA in a predicament: Run a bridge candidate and lose out on key policy goals, or don’t run at all and let the status quo continue.
Rolling dice and moving pawns as a medium of learning about suffrage may sound unusual, especially if the game has origins from an entirely different country. Yet one such game has found its place in the archives of Princeton University.
Pank-a-Squith, a table-top board game created in 1909 by the Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU), was named after Emmilene Pankhurst and Herbert Asquith, prominent figures in the suffragist movement in England during the early 1900s. The premise of the game: You do not win until you reach the last square, granting you the right to vote. To achieve this is nearly impossible. Only setbacks are guaranteed.
The WSPU was formed in the early 1900s in England and primarily focused on helping women win the right to vote. The union, solely run by women, created the board game as a fundraiser for their foundation, as well as a means of illustrating the common obstacles suffragists encountered in their fight for voting rights.
The combination of the names Pankhurst and Asquith represent a dichotomy between suffragists and opposing government bodies. Emmilene Pankhurst founded the WSPU in 1903 and played an element in the union and in the British suffrage movement. For his part, Herbert Asquith, England’s Prime Minister from 1908 to 1916, was a leader in the anti-suffrage movement. The two were such polar opposites that in 1910, a group of suffragettes attacked Herbert outside the House of Commons.
The rules of Pank-a-Squith are similar to those of Candyland or Snakes and Ladders: Roll the dice and move across the board accordingly. Pank-a-Squith comes with unique consequences, depicting prejudice in game board illustrations. Each square on Pank-a-Squith has a distinctive image of a barrier faced by suffragettes. Square 36, for example, depicts the government’s actions using an icon of a policeman in addition to jail bars and handcuffs, reminds players that the British government used incarceration as a tactic to silence women.
Out of the 50 total squares that compose Pank-a-Squith, 16 have an added consequence when a player lands on them, including missing a multitude of turns or having to return to a previous square. The final square makes you roll the dice again to cast the exact number needed. If not, you count back by what you are over by, adding another obstacle to winning. These repercussions make Pank-a-Squith a never-ending game.
Although some groups of women gained suffrage over a century ago, the Brennan Center for Justice suggests threats to women’s voting rights have not gone away. Just like Pank-a-Squith, the fight for women’s suffrage may never end.
Candidates run on multi-policy platforms, but “single-issue” voters cast their ballots for one. In Princeton, New Jersey, most voters base their decisions on the issues that affect them and their community the most.
“I think that, with the world, there are so many issues that we need to focus on that it’s really hard to narrow down a candidate on their single issue platforms,” said Gwynne Frischmann, 55, of Newtown, Pennsylvania.
Even so, as a mother who works alongside young women, Frischmann acknowledged that female-centered issues influence her vote.
“It’s hard not to get caught up on platforms of abortion and just all the rights that are being taken away from women, especially young women in today’s world,” Frischmann said, but she feels that single-issue voting misses the bigger picture.
“You have to step back and see what is best for the majority of people in the world, in your life, and your communities,” she said.
Kylie Gibson, 16, cares about other issues but will vote on what affects her the most: the economy. “Yeah, I mean it’s selfish, but [other issues] wouldn’t be my problem. I care more about my money,” she said.
The general consensus was that single-issue voting is ineffective in upholding democracy, but community members were conflicted about whether the problem is the single-issue ballot or the influence that sways it.
Valrya Vega, 28, from Mexico City, feels that single-issue voting has failed to promote democracy because of bribery in her country. The Mexican government faced backlash after they unveiled new “scholarship” cards in 2021 that provided 1.2 million preschool, elementary, and high school kids with up to $24 a month for meals and supplies. These “Claudia Cards” resulted in accusations that Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum has used welfare programs to illegally gain votes and get ahead of future presidential opponents.
“It’s like selling their votes for a little bit for scholarships,” said Vega. “They’re given money so [politicians] can buy their votes. So that’s a really bad issue.”
When it comes to deciding how to vote, interviewees said that political conversations don’t change the issues they vote on. But for Frischmann, discussing politics with her community is a way to share more about the issues she cares about.
“I don’t think [these conversations] have impacted my issues,” she said. “It’s just changed how you can either be open or not open about discussing what’s important to you as an individual.”
With midterm elections around the corner, single-issue voting on abortion, the economy, and corruption is not going away. The question is: Will it sway the balance of power this fall?
How much of one’s personal values can be sacrificed for the sake of their country? In today’s political climate, many voters find themselves having to choose between the lesser of two evils.
According to U.S. News & World Report, New Jersey is one of the most politically engaged states in the country. This is doubly true of Princeton, New Jersey, where residents spoke candidly about the influence of their values on their voting habits.
Several Princetonians rejected the philosophy of single-issue voting, keeping in mind the myriad of issues that affect not only our country, but the rest of the world, too.
“If the candidate’s gonna be in office, then their decisions will affect everything,” said Emma Cichone. “So you have to look at everything.”
This belief is held even among those who are not yet eligible to vote. “I’d have to look at the person’s values, not necessarily just their opinion on that one issue,” said Maddie Fowler, a local high school student.
However, there is some recognition that single-issue voting is a prevalent practice in current times. Andrew Guo, who does not single-issue vote, believes that it is important to understand others’ views, especially in politics. He approached the conversation with empathy, understanding that voting can be difficult.
“I think ideally you would judge a candidate’s worth based off of what he believes on all sorts of issues, not just one issue,” he said. Still, Guo could see why some people might gravitate towards single-issue voting.
During the 2024 presidential election, the conflict between Palestine and Israel divided voters, though both candidates held pro-Israel ideals. Some people felt so strongly about this issue that they chose not to vote at all.
For many Princetonians, voting is an important part of the civic responsibility they feel at the local and national level. While some people look at candidates holistically, others vote on the specific issues that are important to them.
Whatever the case may be, one vote comes down to one person’s values. Sometimes, it comes down to one of those values alone.
Sonder is the abstract feeling and realization that each person walks around with their own life just as complex and vivid as your own. Through Voices of Princeton, this abstract becomes real. Each story plays as a reminder of how deeply interconnected we really are even as we walk silently past each other.
The oral history initiative was a result of collaborations between the Princeton Public Library, the Historical Society of Princeton, the Arts Council of Princeton, and the Witherspoon-Jackson Historical and Cultural Society. The goal of the initiative is to collect, save, and store the stories of Princetonians. Princeton is a small town with a population of roughly 30,000, but it is made up of a diverse community with over 50 languages spoken. With the help of Voices of Princeton, all these different people are able to combine their experiences to create culture within the town, strengthening the community.
“When populations from really different backgrounds, different cultural histories, talk together, we become solidly supportive of each other,” said Pamela Wakefield, the inspiration behind Voices of Princeton. Wakefield went on to explain the importance of storytelling when it comes to building a more solid community by allowing people to see each other, not just for who they currently are, but also for who they’ve been and what they’ve experienced. Stories, she emphasized, help uncover the shared humanity beneath our differences, making space for empathy and deeper understanding. In a town like Princeton storytelling becomes not just a form of preservation, but a bridge that connects generations, cultures, and individuals who might otherwise remain strangers. Through Voices of Princeton, that bridge is being built one story at a time.
“I would say that if like in 20 years you have little kids and they say what would it have been like to live here, you can say, let’s listen,” Wakefield said. To her, storytelling is more than memory; it’s a gift we pass on.
Stephanie Schwartz, Curator of Collections and Research at the Historical Society of Princeton, also shared her thoughts on what oral history makes possible. “We’re collecting today for what will become the historic record tomorrow,” she said. Schwartz explained that these stories are valuable not just because of the content, but because of who is telling them and when: “It tells us as much about the person at the time they’re telling the story as it does about the stories they are telling.”
Not everyone feels their voice matters in the bigger picture. “Not everyone thinks their story belongs in history,” Schwartz added. “It’s our job to say: yes, it does.” Voices of Princeton makes that message clear. No one is too new, too quiet, or too ordinary to be remembered.
Cliff Robinson, Public Humanities Specialist at Princeton Public library, reflected that idea. “Just because you’ve been here for a short time doesn’t mean this isn’t your community or that you’re not responsible for it in some way,” he said. In a place like Princeton, where people move in and out often, that reminder matters. Everyone has a place. Everyone contributes to the larger story.
Robinson also spoke about how special it is that the stories are recorded in audio form. “I’ve always been enchanted by the fact that they’re just audio. It requires a different kind of attention—you can close your eyes and just listen.” That kind of listening, quiet and focused, builds a kind of connection.
Kim Dorman, Community Engagement Coordinator at the Princeton Public Library, added that accessibility is an important part of the project’s mission. “As a public library, we’re making these stories publicly available in a way that’s much more accessible than most oral history projects,” she said. That means anyone in the community or even outside of it can listen to it, learn and reflect.
Through Voices of Princeton, stories are no longer just something people keep to themselves untold, they become part of something stronger. The initiative is a reminder that history is not made only by the powerful and famous. It’s made by the same people we see everyday. Every person carries a story that matters.
In a town where diversity lives on every block, storytelling becomes not just a form of preservation but a bridge that connects generations, cultures and individuals who might otherwise remain strangers. Through Voices of Princeton, that bridge is built one story at a time.
Princeton Mayor Mark Freda has officiated weddings, shaken hands at hundreds of community events, and spent decades fighting fires for his hometown, but these past few months have proven some of the most difficult of his career. Not a blaze in a building, but a firestorm of public outcry.
The mayor, who joined Princeton’s volunteer fire department at just 15 years old, grew up in a Catholic household rooted in community service. That foundation shaped him into a leader who takes pride in public service, but the present political climate has tested even his strongest foundational principles.
At last week’s town council meeting, nearly 70 attendees packed the room, demanding answers after a disturbing encounter between community members and the United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE).
According to Freda, ICE agents stopped a van carrying 15 people to work. The organization was reportedly looking for one individual, but detained everyone onboard, regardless of legal status or criminal history.
“It seems to me that ICE is concentrating on anybody that appears to be Latino,” Freda told the Princeton Summer Journal. He said he was “90-some-percent” sure that at least one person arrested had work authorization. “None of them are criminals,” he said.
Freda noted that many who attended the council meeting were not Princetonians, but outsiders who were not focused on useful outcomes. “They were more concerned with how they were going to look on those film clips,” Freda said.
At the heart of the debate is the New Jersey Immigrant Trust Act, a proposed law to protect undocumented residents from deportation by restricting cooperation between local law enforcement and ICE. The Princeton town council is considering a resolution to support the act.
“People are concerned that if we pass the resolution, ICE and others will pay more attention to Princeton,” Freda said. “I don’t know if that’s actually true.”
The New Jersey State Legislature has the final call. Despite this tension, Freda remains steadfast in his love for the community that raised him.
“I’ve been here forever,” Freda said. He went on to share that what he wants is for his critics to say: “That guy was okay. I didn’t agree with him all the time, but you know what? He was okay.”
For Freda, the goal isn’t perfection, it’s presence. In a town that often demands both, “okay” might just be the most human standard of all.
Pam Wakefield, a longtime community member of Princeton, describes what the moments following the devastating terrorist attack on September 11, 2001 felt like. “Everyone gravitated towards Princeton University,” says Wakefield. “Hearing the church bells, funeral after funeral after funeral of people who had died.”
In that moment, people felt isolated; families were torn apart, businesses closed, and community morale was at an all-time low. Then, more than ever, people needed a means to share how they felt. This feeling of isolation and uncertainty loomed over the busy streets of Princeton, filled with citizens going in and out from work.
Many years later, an initiative was born to capture stories from the community like what unfolded after 9/11. Voices of Princeton stands as a medium for people to share the intimate details to the world that they were too afraid to share with their family.
The journey of creating Voices of Princeton was not a linear one. Wakefield previously proposed the idea to the staff of the Princeton Public Library in 2004, when the library was just being built; however, it did not work out. Still, Wakefield is considered the inspiration: “a part of the Voices of Princeton since before it was born,” says Cliff Robinson, the Princeton Public Library’s Public Humanities Specialist. Originally, Wakefield suggested the idea as a means of expression amongst the various individuals who lived and worked in Princeton. She was previously heavily involved in religious organizations, including as a member of her church community, along with contributing to churches surrounding hers.
It is apparent that Wakefield cares deeply about the program. She cares about her community, the people living in it, and the progress it has made over the years. But she also has a relationship with the city’s main attraction. When asked how the community has affected her life, Wakefield first lists the fact that she “[worked] for the university” and says that her former employer changed her life.
Voices of Princeton is one thing that Wakefield is proud about. She sees how much it’s impacted the lives of the many people around her. Even as the interview was coming to a close, Wakefield urged us to explore the library and the many resources available for us throughout it.
But Wakefield isn’t the only one who cares deeply. Library staff, including the program’s organizers, were interviewed: Cliff Robinson; Kim Dorman, the library’s community engagement coordinator; and Stephanie Schwartz, the Historical Society of Princeton’s curator of collections and research.
Over the years, each organizer contributed to the project in different ways. Their expertise ranged from areas of history to human connection. Schwartz talked about why she appreciated Voices of Princeton so much, stating that she was “really fascinated by the creation of history and what we choose to remember, and how the historical narrative is written.” She also says that “it tells us as much about the person at the time they’re telling the story as it does about the stories they are telling.”
Even though Voices of Princeton is a relatively new program, its effects are still being felt by those sharing their stories, those listening to stories, or those doing the work behind the scenes to ensure that the legacy of the people last.
The Princeton Summer Journal 