Bursting Harvard's Bubble

It is a week after Mather Lather and my skin has been soothed by the power of extra-intense lotion. My epidermis has willingly moved past the wrath of defective lather and is awaiting the summer sun.

Then my phone rings. My friend, visiting Atlanta for the weekend, is excitedly laughing: “They’re talking about Mather Lather on Atlanta radio!”

My skin crawls.

Apparently the fact that lather has caused Harvard students to develop rashes is of interest to more people than simply those within our Harvard bubble. In fact, the lives of Harvardians, for some reason, seem to perennially capture the national imagination. Harvard students learn by day and lather by night, and this is fascinating. There are two possible explanations for this Harvard allure: either people are interested in us because we are unique, or Harvard is unique because people are interested in us.

In many ways, the packs of tourists who survey the Yard have convinced me that we are a unique species. No one walks to class quite like a Harvard student. No one struggles under the weight of laundry quite like a Harvard student. No one sneezes quite like a Harvard student. With every small Asian camera that takes my picture, I am convinced that the best part of my DNA is captured for potential reproduction at a rival Ivy institution.

So, when the foam of Mather Lather causes rashes to develop, it makes sense that the world should be captivated. The Associated Press recently compiled a report on the scandal of Mather Lather, which was distributed to media throughout the world. This story made its way to the Boston Globe, ABC, and, apparently, Atlanta radio. A mere rash, because it happened at Harvard, became newsworthy.

Part of me wants to believe that this is because Harvard students are special. A Harvard rash is a prestigious rash. The AP report turned the common thefacebook.com group “I got a nasty rash, but Mather Lather Was Fun” into a seemingly more professional “online forum.” Or, perhaps it was the striking eloquence of the unnamed sophomore whose “nipples really hurt” that made Mather Lather so nationally appealing.

Yet the sobering reality is that Mather Lather was interesting not because Harvard is unique, but because anything with Harvard attached to it has additional sensational spin. For some reason, news plus Harvard equals scandal.

University President Lawrence H. Summers, I’m sure, could corroborate my argument. In point of fact, “Harvard President Larry Summers questions the natural scientific aptitude of women” is more eye-catching than “Some-other-University’s President makes controversial statement.”

I remember some wise words my proctor dispensed at the beginning of this year: “Anything you do or say while at Harvard is interesting simply because of where it takes place.” (She probably also told me not to go to Mather Lather, but for some reason that bit of advice, unlike the foam against which it presciently warned, did not stick). Whether it is breaking out in rashes or challenging female intelligence, Harvard possesses a mysterious, newsworthy allure. The skin of Harvard students reacts to foam just like the skin of any other individual. Yet, for some reason, we react in a particularly fascinating way.

Neesha M. Rao ’08, a Crimson editorial comper, lives in Canaday Hall.