ABOUT​
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"Sophomore year I asked you what the point of life was and you told me it was love. I objected: how like you. Love isn't enough to vindicate every long day, people mostly seem little deserving of such a thing; and plus, it's hard. You said no—you wanted to live for love.” – Yena Lee, Marina's first-year roommate and friend.
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So what about Marina? For me, Marina was a force of nature, a rushing river cascading and tumbling joyfully across the landscape of her life. Marina’s powerful vibration does not appear to have been silenced with her breath, on the contrary, her spirit undeterred by this small inconvenience, continues to resonate so beautifully out into the universe and into our hearts. Depending upon your currency, my daughter can be calculated by many measures and elsewhere on this site we have included her CV for those who are interested. The essential nature of these activities "these tiny circles we pull around ourselves" carried Marina along as she flowed steadily towards a larger and larger circle that wraps around us all.
With gratitude to everyone who shared a piece of their Marina with us.
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Marina's mom, Tracy
During her childhood, Marina's life revolved around her family in Wayland, Massachusetts, her friends and teachers at Buckingham Browne & Nichols School (BB&N), sailing, and camp. Oh, and Harry Potter. Lots of Harry Potter. Even (or especially) as a kid, Marina was starry-eyed, spunky, and hilarious. Marina's sixth grade teacher, who named her daughter after Marina, said it best:
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She stands out in my memory as one of the most remarkable students I have ever taught. She was the first "Marina" I had met, and I always felt that that name suited her with her blue flashing eyes with their dark lashes, her long hair, and her easy flowing way with words [...] I loved Marina's inquisitive mind, and her fearless way of challenging opinions and seeking knowledge.
Marina, solemnly sworn to being up to no good, once made a Hogwarts acceptance letter and slipped it in the mail slot of one of her fellow Harry Potter-obsessed friends. She printed it on parchment paper–and even burned the edges of the letter. Her friend was thrilled, a little shocked, and in disbelief. We're not sure if Marina ever fessed up...
Marina was resilient. Seriously. When she was thirteen, she entered a sailing race in gale force winds with people twice her age and size. In one of her first published essays, she wrote about the drama and rewards of the experience. Here's an excerpt from "The Laser Regatta."
For six hours and eight long races I stayed out there, refusing to give in to the waves. Each time I got smacked down into the sea my determination increased and I'd climb back into my boat, grip the mainsheet, and get ready for more. I was fighting something I had to beat. My drive to keep going overcame my bruised legs and blistered hands. I refused to give up.
For Marina, camp was a time for self-discovery, "especially discovering relationships," in the words of Rachel Hunter, "with herself, with friends, with authority, with love."
As an assistant counselor, Marina began to teach the classes she had mastered in sailing and art as well as to be a cabin counselor with younger campers. Here's what one of Marina's former campers, Lily Cohen, said about her Marina in her last summer at camp.
Everything about Marina was cool and unique. She had a big rainbow “PACE” (Peace in Italian) flag over her bed, countless pictures of all of her friends hanging up. She could make you laugh till you cried.- she definitely made soda come out of my nose several times that summer . I remember that when she sneezed she would sneeze like twenty times in a row- and I was jealous because I could only sneeze twice. At night during health checks, she would not only listen to me and give advice when I needed it, but she treated me like I was her friend and not just a little kid.
Journaling was a huge part of Marina's personal, intellectual, civic, and professional life, from her childhood onwards. The practice pushed Marina to be in constant interaction with the world around her. In turn, journaling helped Marina better understand her place as a human, writer, activist, and student. Marina used her journals to give space to her thoughts and to consciously live an examined life.
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Marina's journal was a place to acknowledge her feelings. Through honest dialogue, she identified what was truly important to her–not simply what she wanted to do, but who she wanted to be. Marina made it a practice to check her internal compass against her external behaviour, then recalibrate to ensure she stayed on course toward the destination of her ideals and beliefs.
As Marina grew up, she became an excellent student, but she remained fierce and dreamy as ever. Amy Selinger, her BB&N sophomore adviser, history teacher, and friend,
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The beginnings of Marina's political activism were founded in high school as well. She led the Model UN club–and in true Marina fashion, she co-wrote a manual for the group titled "How to Conquer the World." At campaign events, like Obama rallies and McCain town halls, Marina would sneak into press boxes to report on the events for her blog.
After her graduation from BB&N, she became one of the youngest staffers on the Obama 2008 campaign. She would go on to advocate for progressive change as a part of the Yale College Democrats. Eventually, she became the President of the organization.
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I met Marina Keegan when she was a freshman in my history class. Strike that – she was an instigator in my history class. She would throw these bombs into discussion and we'd be off to the races, with one panicked teacher trailing behind. [...] We had many discussions over those four years and beyond, as she returned often to check in–on me, my children, her school, our advisor group, and the goofy picture she had given the two of us and Ruth at prom. "Marina Keegan, 2044" she had signed it–the year she hoped to run for president.
And here's the thing–I was certain she would. I banked on it. After all, here was a brilliant kaleidoscope of a young woman with a steady moral compass and an intense sense of responsibility. I wanted my two daughters to look forward to the United States of Marina.
What some people who have read The Opposite of Loneliness don't know is that, for a long time, Marina was torn between art and activism. She wrote about her dual interests in an application for a teaching job:
For a while, I was caught. Caught between impulses to create and to improve. At Yale, I'm an artist and an activist - perpetually questioning the morality of writing stories and making theatre in a city where students suffer from massive achievement gaps and workers struggle to secure a just living wage. Yet four years after moving to New Haven, this quandary of passion has
shaped me, pushed me and expanded me beyond viewing art and activism as mutually exclusive. As President of my school's largest activist organization. The Yale College Democrats, I've lobbied and campaigned for social justice issues across the country - leading over 200 active members to fight for change. Yet I've also acted in over nine student productions, had a story aired on NPR and written a play performed in a New York City theatre festival. I used to believe I had to choose between my creative and political convictions - but I know now that I'm most effective when I combine my passions.
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At Yale, Marina the Artist and Marina the Activist flourished. Over four years, she wrote for The Yale Daily News, the Yale Herald, The Yale Globalist International Relations Magazine and the Yale Daily News Magazine. The piece of writing that Marina was most proud of was "Even Artichokes Have Doubts," a long-form piece written for The Yale Daily News on Yale students who cast their dreams aside to take financial consulting jobs. Now in The Opposite of Loneliness, the essay was picked up by Kevin Roose. He asked Marina to write another version of the essay for publication in The New York Times Dealbook series. Marina wrote about the piece in retrospect:
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The work I’m most proud of is with regard to the topic of consulting and finance recruitment at universities. I was absolutely shocked and horrified by the number of my peers entering these fields and felt like something needed to be said: so last fall I set about interviewing more than 30 students, professors and administrators, (an actual 30, not a Mike Daisy 30), learning everything I could about the phenomenon and writing a 4000 word cover story for the school paper. I had no idea that the piece would garner so much attention – and I was thrilled to be asked to write a similar piece for The New York Times and to speak on the topic with All Things Considered. I began to receive hundreds of emails from students (and bankers) around the country and started to realize the potential for affecting change through this kind of journalism. As a political activist and organizer, I was often frustrated by the small impacts of phone-banks and (too small) rallies and it was interesting for me to begin to view journalism as a similar, and not separate, avenue for real social change.
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But​ Marina's writing extends far beyond what you can read in The Opposite of Loneliness.
Marina also wrote and performed original poetry with a spoken word poetry group called WORD. She furthered her passion for the performing arts from high school by performing in nine student productions throughout her four years as an undergrad. She wrote two plays, Fast Pass and Utility Monster, and one musical called Independents. She wrote an op-ed about decriminalizing marijuana. When she didn't get into a senior society at Yale, instead of sulking, Marina wrote an article about it (read it here >).
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Anne Fadiman, who taught Marina in "Writing About Oneself, "a class in which Marina produced much of her now-published writing, spoke at Marina's memorial service:
More than a million people have read “The Opposite of Loneliness” and stared at the photograph, now iconic, of Marina in her yellow coat. In the version of that picture on our program, Marina looks elegant and ladylike, ready to have tea, perhaps, with the president of Yale. But if you saw the full frame, you’d see she’s wearing, as was her custom, a really short miniskirt and boots. Let us not forget either of those Marinas. It is wonderful that strangers are reading her work.
That’s whom writers write for, after all – not for their friends, not for their family. But her fame is blurring her outline and sanding off her sharp edges and making her into an angel instead of a strong, fierce, brave woman. Let us therefore work hard to remember both the Marina with the blindingly bright résumé and the Marina who said I’ll flaunt my great legs, I won’t take any shit, I won’t say what you want to hear – UNLESS I BELIEVE IT.
Marina wanted to be a writer AND activist AND a teacher. Her desire to teach was confirmed by a summer spent on a fellowship in India, where she researched the rise of humanism in Inidia and wrote about her experience in the Harvard Humanist Blog.
The summer before my Junior year I traveled to India and fell in love. Never in my life had I seen a place full of such diverse and open people. I was invited into strangers' homes for chai, toured through cities by befriended rickshaw drivers and taught Hindi phrases from dozens of children in the streets. But when I lived and taught at an Indian school for two weeks, I felt like I was truly part of the community for the first time. I knew almost immediately that I wanted to come back - to teach in India for a longer period of time and truly immerse myself in the language and culture.
Marina was also drawn to theatre. While in high school Marina acted in productions like Hair and Metamorphosis, and she sang in chorale. At Yale, in addition to writing her own plays and musicals, she performed in nine student productions, among them Pippin, Dog Sees God and Picasso at the Lapin Agile. Marina even spent the summer of her first year at The British American Drama Academy at Oxford University," and it culminated in a whole new kind of spectacle. Here's the story, as told by Marina in an email sent to a classmate titled "The Most Sadly Ever."
The summer after my freshman year of college I was the absolute worst actress admitted to The British American Drama Academy at Oxford University. When I arrived in June I wanted desperately to be an actress (but wouldn't admit it) and when I left in August I wanted desperately to be anything but (and could admit it.) I realized my relative inferiority fairly quickly and began compensating in the form of nonchalance: I made sure everyone I met knew acting was "just a hobby"; and that I wasn't actually "pursuing this for real."
Anyway, it's the end of the summer and they announce this big talent show thing that everyone wants to be a part of. I'm laying in bed one night when I come up with this absolutely brilliant idea: rather than attempt to actually sing a song or perform an act, I'll solve my Rubik's cube really fast on stage while I play "One Song Glory" from the musical Rent For some reason I find this idea absolutely hilarious. Like the most hilarious thing I've ever thought of. Everyone else will be taking the whole thing so seriously and then there I'll be: solving my cube to the theme of this musical theatre classic. Hahaha. (I suppose this merits a quick interjection to say that, yes, at some point in my middle school life I decided learning how to solve a Rubik's cube in under three minutes was a productive use of my time.)
So the next day I go to sign up for an audition and I come up with an even more hilarious idea: I'll make the whole Rubik's cube part a SURPRISE! I'll just write that I'm singing "One Song Glory" from Rent and then BAM I'll whip out the cube and start solving. Hahaha. So I sign up and go back to my room to practice. Things are looking good.
The following morning, I arrive at my audition a little bit early. Everyone is sort of warming up or stretching or doing actor kind of exercises. Also, people are talking about how intimidating"the panel" is. I had heard of no such "panel" and so I kind of casually asked someone what they were talking about I figured that the auditions would be held by one of the acting coaches, but I realized at that moment that of course this was some kind of big final showcase; the Audition Committee Panel consisted of James Bundy, the Dean of the Yale Drama School, Andrew Wade, the head of voice at The Royal Shakespeare Company, the old head of The Globe Theatre and two or three other old British men whose names and titles I can't remember. So I'm kind of freaking out but I try to stay calm. I think a big part of me still thinks this will be a hit.
When I get inside, James Bundy tells me I can give my sheet music to Edward, who will be my accompanist and I kindly inform them that, well, actually I have brought an I-pod and I-Pod speakers, which I plug into the wall. I put on "One Song Glory" and whip out my cube (BAM!) and begin to solve. I look up. No one is laughing. In fact, I think everyone is extremely confused. I also realize that "One Song Glory" is about AIDS. I realize I may or may not be making fun of fighting AIDS, and I realize that I really, really don't know what I was possibly thinking with this plan. So I get nervous and I mess up. Now anyone who knows how to solve a Rubik's cube really fast knows that the end is the hardest part and if you mess up you basically have to start over. Now at this point it's already been about 3 minutes (of silence while the panel stares at me) but I take a deep breath and I think, okay, it’s fine, I'l just start over.
But pretty soon the song ends. And in that next moment that I realize, to my horror, that I've selected "One Song Glory" from the "recently played" playlist on my I-Pod and the song that comes on next is "I'm Black" from the musical Hair –which apparently I was listening to in my room earlier that day(??) If you don't know the song, its lyrics exist entirely of "I'm black, I'm black.-.l'm black, I'm black." I'm not I look up and of course, I'm right, one of the judges is black and now I'm offending the gay people and the black people (which is like everyone in the room) and they're clearly not sure whether I'm doing some kind of experimental theatre piece or what. So, of course, I get nervous and flustered again and have to start over for a second time. Why I didn't just stop at this point is beyond me. Now the song "I'm Black" is only about thirty seconds long and so the I-pod changes to the next one pretty quickly which is–I swear to God–"Jesus Walks" by Kane West. (Which I was also apparently listening to in my room earlier that day (??)) Now this I deem too inappropriate and I stop and say that I'm sorry, this song was not supposed to turn on, and I go over to click next song before running back to resume solving - where I start over for a third time. But what comes on next and what I immediately know will play next and next and next for probably over two hours is Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows on tape. Which I was listening to in my room that summer. (I know.) So I'm standing there - and at this point if s been like 8 minutes (my audition slot was for 3 minutes)- while this British voice is saying like "Then Narcissa Malfoy made the unbreakable vow with Professor Snape" and these guys are just looking at me, absolutely dumbfounded. Like I planned the whole thing. Now, finally, I put my cube down and say: you know what, thank you so much for your time. I am just going to leave. But James Bundy just looks at me with a completely straight face and just says: No, finish it. So I stand there as Harry Potter on tape plays and I finish the thing. In silence. For three more minutes. And then I leave. This story doesn't really have a great ending...other than the fact that while it’s funny now, at the time it was absolutely horrifying, and when I left the building, I started crying. I think I realized in that moment how badly I actually did want to be in the talent show and just how jealous I actually was of all those kids stretching and singing scales out in the hallway. In my attempt to act too cool to care I'd forgotten that I really did -- and my irony came back to slam me in the face. I'd been trying not to try so I wouldn't have to fail. But I couldn't really kid myself anymore. I had tried. And I had failed. I guess that's sort of the point and problem with trying too hard not to try. Needless to say, I did not get into the talent show (Though I did go to check the acceptance list that next morning…)
Marina was terrifyingly well-rounded with an every scarier capacity to accomplish things she set out to do. While she was writing, acting, performing poetry (and not to mention getting a college degree!), she was doing A LOT for the Yale College Democrats. Upgrading over time from events coordinator to elections coordinator to President of
the largest activist organization on campus, Marina maintained an impressive balance between a dreamy why-not attitude and a relentless tackling of tasks. Tyler Blackmon, who succeeded Marina as President of the Yale Dems, wrote about her duality in an article for The Yale Daily News:
From the documents she’s left behind with us, I’ve also learned that Marina very much understood the value of getting things done. In “action plans” passed down with each new leadership cycle, future presidents will see Marina’s obsession over the details of everything from how to run a successful political event to how to get out the vote on Election Day. They’ll see her detailing her plans for “a more sophisticated car service” to aggressive demands that the Dems develop “effective canvassing and phone-banking workshops.”
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In the pages of her book, Marina is a dreamer. But in the manuals she left with me, she is a ruthless pragmatist.
Above ALL, Marina thrived at Yale because of the people she found there–the little communities that showed her comraderie, passion, and belonging. "The Opposite of Loneliness" says it better than we ever could:
It’s not quite love and it’s not quite community; it’s just this feeling that there are people, an abundance of people, who are in this together. Who are on your team. When the check is paid and you stay at the table. When it’s four a.m. and no one goes to bed. That night with the guitar. That night we can’t remember. That time we did, we went, we saw, we laughed, we felt. The hats.
I’m realizing how much I love Yale. . . . I WANT TO TAKE EVERY CLASS IN THE CATALOGUE. I WANT TO SEE EVERY BUILDING. I WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH ALL MY FRIENDS.
From an email Marina wrote to Anne Fadiman
During our junior year, Marina painted a mural on the wall of her room. She had big aesthetic plans for this room. It was her first room off campus, and therefore the first room on which she could fully impose her personality and taste without fear of University or parental limitations. Because she was sharing] the second-floor bedroom with our friend David, she had only two walls for a canvas instead of four, so she made every square inch count. This mural was an epic multimedia undertaking. Marina lined a large section of wall with New Yorker covers laid end to end. She bought paints and swirled sunsets and patterns up towards the ceiling. She bought tinfoil and cupcake wrappers and dotted her new landscape with metallic stars and shapes.
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– Chloe Sarbib
