The Dartmouth Independent
Zoe Kim

Zoe Kim

Arts & Identity Reporter

Zoe Kim is a sophomore from Seattle, Washington, multiracial (Korean and White), with a Studio Art minor and active involvement in campus music. She brings a creative, emotive voice to her coverage of arts, music, and issues of identity. Her writing is experimental, personal, and rhythmic.

[email protected]

Covers: Art, Music, Identity, Creative

Articles by Zoe Kim (7)

Flight Plans Fractured: Logan Airport Feels the Weight of a Shutdown
Campus

Flight Plans Fractured: Logan Airport Feels the Weight of a Shutdown

The air feels thinner when systems strain. At Boston Logan International Airport, the pressure is no longer invisible. It’s written into the schedules, carved into the departures board. A 10% reduction in flights, announced quietly, but felt loudly. The Federal Aviation Administration, citing staffing shortages and safety risks, has named Logan among 40 airports across the country where air traffic will be scaled back. The decision, shaped by the ongoing government shutdown, lands like a weight on an already fatigued infrastructure. There’s no poetry in a grounded plane. No rhythm in a canceled itinerary. But the story unfolding at Logan

When the Card Stops Swiping: Hunger and Hesitation in a Shutdown Winter
Campus

When the Card Stops Swiping: Hunger and Hesitation in a Shutdown Winter

It’s the thirty-fourth day. The government is closed. The doors are locked. The lights flicker in offices that once processed food benefits, health subsidies, and the quiet paperwork of survival. In New Hampshire, the chill has settled early. November’s breath is sharp. And for nearly 75,000 households, the question is not political. It’s not rhetorical. It’s: will the card still work? SNAP, the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, is not a headline. It’s a pantry. A lunchbox. A breakfast bowl. It’s the hum of a refrigerator that still holds milk. It’s the quiet dignity of a parent who can say yes

Shutdown Threatens WIC Support Across New Hampshire
Campus

Shutdown Threatens WIC Support Across New Hampshire

There’s a silence in the pantry. Not the kind that comes from peace or fullness, but the kind that hums with absence. A low, aching quiet. The kind that settles in when the fridge light flickers out and the shelves hold more air than food. That’s the silence creeping into homes across New Hampshire as the federal shutdown drags on, and the funding cliff for food assistance programs inches closer. Not a metaphorical cliff. A real one. With numbers. With names. With children who don’t understand why the cereal box is empty again. In Concord, the Department of Health and

Echoes of Yes: A Dartmouth Stage Reawakened
Culture

Echoes of Yes: A Dartmouth Stage Reawakened

The lights at the Hop flickered back to life. Not just bulbs and beams, but something older. Something that had been waiting. A pulse. A breath. A memory. And into that glow stepped a figure whose stories have shaped the way millions see themselves. She walked in like she’d never left. Like the building had been holding its breath for her return. On October 16, the Hopkins Center for the Arts reopened its doors with a weekend of celebration, and at its heart was a conversation. Not a lecture. Not a performance. But a moment of shared language. Shonda Rhimes,

The Myth We Keep: Unwoke in the Granite State
Campus

The Myth We Keep: Unwoke in the Granite State

The air in Bedford was crisp, the kind that clings to your skin and makes you feel like something is about to happen. Not the kind of chill that bites, but the kind that stirs. On Columbus Day, a crowd gathered at Murphy’s Taproom and Carriage House, not for beer or football or the usual Monday lull. They came for something else. Something louder. Something called “unwoke.” A celebration, they said. Of history. Of tradition. Of Christopher Columbus. The word itself, unwoke, hung in the air like a challenge. A provocation. A signal. It wasn’t just about Columbus. It was

When the Forest Holds Its Breath: Drought Turns Vermont’s Autumn Into Fire Season
Campus

When the Forest Holds Its Breath: Drought Turns Vermont’s Autumn Into Fire Season

It started with the sound of dry leaves. That brittle hush underfoot. Like paper tearing. Like something forgotten. The forest was quiet, but not in a peaceful way. It felt paused. Held. Waiting for something to go wrong. Green Mountain National Forest, early October. The trees should be glowing. Reds, golds, the kind of color that makes you stop mid-step. But this year, the palette is muted. Brown edges. Dusty yellows. Leaves curling before they fall. The drought has drained the vibrancy. What’s left is a landscape that feels thirsty. And flammable. Fire risk isn’t new here. But this year,

How a Government Shutdown Would Affect New Hampshire
Campus

How a Government Shutdown Would Affect New Hampshire

The leaves are turning in New Hampshire. Gold, rust, and that deep red that feels like memory. Tourists drift through the White Mountains, chasing foliage like it’s a promise. But the promise is fraying. Somewhere between the trees and the Capitol, something has snapped. The government has shut down. Again. And this time, the silence feels heavier. Not dramatic. Just dull. Like a door that won’t open. Like a paycheck that doesn’t come. October began with a pause. Not the kind that invites reflection, but the kind that interrupts. At 12:01 a.m., the federal government stopped moving. Not entirely. Essential