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Wednesday, September 11, 2019

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UHS director addresses STI U-M student concerns at CSG meeting to challenge Robert Ernst discusses changes made to lab testing policy following backlash Rep. Dingell in 2020 race Solomon Rajput mounts bid for congressional seat in 12th district JULIA FANZERES Daily Staff Reporter

ASHA LEWIS/Daily Dr. Robert Ernst, Executive Director of University Health Services, speaks to Central Student Government about new UHS policies at Palmer Commons Tuesday evening.

ANGELINA LITTLE Daily Staff Reporter

Dr. Robert Ernst, University Health Services executive director and associate vice president for Health and Wellness, addressed student concerns about the University’s recent policy change to UHS coverage for sexually transmitted infection testing at Tuesday’s Central Student Government meeting.

Ernst explained the reasoning behind removing STI testing from the Health and Wellness fee was to allocate funding toward other priorities within UHS, like mental health resources. “There’s ongoing concern about student mental health, and we’ve made a number of initiatives at Health Services over the last year trying to elevate physician resources and have plans to grow that,” Ernst said. “There’s always a concern

about access to health service in a timely fashion and trying to reduce our wait times. It was really clear to make those investments while, at the same time, being respectful to the growing cost of attendance, many in leadership were expecting we try to tap into alternative revenue sources to try and fund those priorities.” Ernst addressed student backlash to the policy change by assuring the Assembly student

voices were heard. “I think the personal stories people have about their anxieties and experiences were sufficient for us to say we can make an amendment to what we’re doing,” Ernst said. “So, the plan would be to try and find some additional resources to address some of those pressing health and wellness issues for students, but we would carve out a not-bill for STIs and other potentially sensitive things.” See CSG, Page 3A

The Dingells have been a household name in Ann Arbor politics for more than 85 years since John Dingell Sr. began representing the 15th Congressional District in 1933, now known Michigan’s 12th Congressional District. Second-year medical student Solomon Rajput has decided to challenge this local political dynasty. Rajput announced his campaign against Rep. Debbie Dingell, D-Mich., on Thursday. He is running on a progressive platform with the slogan, “We’re done waiting.” “I care about a couple key progressive issues that a lot of other key progressives care about as well, like getting money out of politics, fighting climate change through an aggressive mobilization of our economy through the Green New Deal, making

GOVERNMENT

Mental Writer examines how businesses health make a profit from global warming proposal Journalists highlights how industry benefits from climate change rejected County Board votes not to increase monetary funding for programs BEN ROSENFELD Daily Staff Reporter

In light of the 2020 budget’s impending due date, Oct. 1, the Washtenaw County Board of Commissioners rejected a proposal for increased funding for the Community Mental Health program in Washtenaw County. The potential budget cut came last Wednesday, when the commission began reevaluating funding for several county programs. The program has continually received support from the county and provides mental health resources to adults and children with emotional disturbances and developmental disabilities. This year, the program requested additional funding to close the $10.3 million gap needed to continue providing services, county officials explained. Washtenaw County Commissioner Katie Scott, chair of the Ways and Means Committee, said that this shortfall is, in part, due to policies the state and federal governments have failed to implement for mental health treatment. See BUDGET, Page 3A

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ARJUN THAKKAR Daily Staff Reporter

As the threat of climate change continues to dominate national and political discourse, Wallace House hosted environmental journalist McKenzie Funk to discuss the political and economic ramifications of the issue. Funk shared his findings from his book “Windfall: The Booming Business of Global Warming,” addressing how businesses often take advantage of environmental issues

to generate a profit. The Knight-Wallace Fellowship, based in Wallace House, gives practicing journalists the opportunity to take a step back from their careers and take classes at the University to refine their craft. Funk, a 2012 Knight-Wallace Fellow, is this year’s featured journalist for the 34th annual Graham Hovey Lecture entitled “Seeing Green: The Business and Inequity of Climate Change.” The lecture, named after former journalist Graham Hovey who directed the fellowship from

1980 to 1986, is an annual event in which the fellowship welcomes its incoming class and highlights a former member whose work relates to issues prevalent in the national conversation. Director of Wallace House Lynette Clemetson opened the event, introducing University President Mark Schlissel and emphasizing the need for more public support for journalists. “We know that in (University) President (Mark) Schlissel we have someone who not only supports

our programs, but who supports the vital role of journalism in our society,” Clemetson said. “Having that support publicly is evermore important today at a time when the press has often been maligned, often been called ‘enemies of the people,’ and to know that we have a space here at the University where we uphold the role of journalism and we support the careers of journalists means so much to me personally and to everyone who passes through this program.” See WALLACE, Page 3A

college tuition free and eliminating student debt and Medicare for All as well,” Rajput said. “And for many issues, unfortunately, our current representation with Congresswoman Dingell is not. She is not a champion for these issues.” Students have varying levels of support for their current representative. Public Policy senior Noah Rothstein, who previously worked on Rajput’s campaign, said while Dingell represents some of his political views, he wishes she would take more radical action against climate change. “In some areas, I think she does well,” Rothstein said. “On local issues, such as PFAS, she has delivered. But, on the whole, I think Congresswoman Dingell has a lot of room to improve. Climate change, which is personally my most prioritized issue, has been one that she has not given enough serious attention to.” See CONGRESS, Page 3A

BUSINESS

Smoothie bar opens in Ross’s Siegle Cafe

Student-run startup offers healthy options, plays off U-M culture NIKKI KIM

Daily Staff Reporter

Soul Smoothie & Bowls, a student-run smoothie and açaí bowl company, opened in the Seigle Cafe in the Ross School of Business last Tuesday. The company was created last year by DJ Bailey, a 2019 graduate of the Business School, after he assessed the potential profitability and demand of the cafe using market research and surveys. Bailey said he got the idea when he and a group of Business School seniors found the market for smoothies and bowls in Ann Arbor lacked healthy options that offered fresh ingredients or convenient locations. According to Business junior Sabeen Khan, Soul’s director of marketing, the process behind the opening on Tuesday was extensive. Once the menu was set, the team had to figure out their suppliers, packaging, design, go-to-market strategy and operation analytics, which included answering questions like how many employees they needed or how many smoothies they could sell in an hour, as well as the technological aspects of the app.

CLAIRE MEINGAST/Daily Guests gather at the Wallace House to hear author McKenzie Funk speak about the business side of climate change Tuesday afternoon.

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INDEX

NEWS.........................2 OPINION.....................4 CLASSIFIEDS................6

See SMOOTHIE, Page 3A

SUDOKU.....................2 ARTS...................5 SPORTS.................7

News

2A — Wednesday, September 11, 2019

TUESDAY: By Design

MONDAY: Looking at the Numbers

WEDNESDAY: This Week in History

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THURSDAY: Twitter Talk

FRIDAY: Behind the Story

Trade Center collapses after attack September 12, 2001 Students were left stunned, saddened and frantic to reach friends and family yesterday morning after a pair of hijacked airliners slammed into and demolished both towers of New York City’s World Trade Center. The attack is the worst terrorist episode ever carried out in the United States. Television stations carried live footage of the buildings’ collapse, including pictures of a hijacked Boeing 757 slamming into the south tower. The attack began at about 8:45 a.m., and by 10:30 a.m. both buildings were absent from the city’s skyline. In Washington, about 100 people died when a plane crashed into the Pentagon.

“Our society changes as of today. This is a watershed event,” said Law Prof. Robert Precht, the attorney for one of the four men convicted of bombing the World Trade Center in 1993. “I’m overwhelmed. I kind of wish I was back in the city – I can’t reach my friends, the lines are down. I used to work down there, on the 82nd floor of the World Trade Center… I don’t know if any of my co-workers actually survived,” said Phillip Ng, an LSA sophomore from New York. Classes for the day were canceled around noon. About 15,000 students attended a vigil in the Diag last night, shortly after President George Bush made his first address

from the Oval Office. “I’m a former student from (New York University) and I’m still waiting to hear from people,” said LSA sophomore Anna Szymanski at the vigil. “One NYU dorm is a block away from the trade center - I’m praying every-one is safe.” At the Michigan Union shortly after the bombing, LSA freshman Aubair Simonson purchased a poster of the New York City skyline. “I’m going to hang it. I’m never going to forget this day,” he said. “All we have left now of the World Trade Center, which is almost the centerpiece of the New York skyline which I love, is just pictures.” In Ann Arbor, city and federal buildings also closed around noon.

So many people responded to a call to donate blood, hospitals were forced to turn them away. The events began to unfold early yesterday morning, when knife-wielding hijackers sent the two planes into the twin 110-story towers. The deadly calamity was witnessed on televisions across the world as another plane slammed into the Pentagon, and a fourth crashed outside Pittsburgh. Said Adm. Robert J. Natter, commander of the U.S. Atlantic Fleet: “We have been attacked like we haven’t since Pearl Harbor.” Establishing the U.S. death toll could take weeks. The four airliners alone had 266 people aboard and there were no known survivors.

At the Pentagon, about 100 people were believed dead. In addition, a firefighters union official said he feared an estimated 200 firefighters had died in rescue efforts at the trade center - where 50,000 people worked - and dozens of police officers were believed missing. “The number of casualties will be more than most of us can bear,” a visibly distraught Mayor Rudolph Giuliani said. No one took responsibility for the attacks that rocked the seats of finance and government. But federal authorities identified Osama bin Laden, who has been given asylum by Afghanistan’s Taliban rulers, as the prime suspect.

Aided by an intercept of communications between his supporters and harrowing cell phone calls from at least one flight attendant and two passengers aboard the jetliners before they crashed, U.S. officials began assembling a case linking bin Laden to the devastation. “I think Bush and the people around him really don’t understand what is going on in world politics,” said University political science Prof. Emeritus J. David Singer. “This might help because it’s a demonstration that America is so vulnerable to other kinds of attacks and weapons and that defense against missiles should be low priority.”

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ASHA LEWIS/Daily The Sirens, an all female identifying a cappella group, perform at Aca-Rush, a mass performance of a cappella groups on campus in Lorch Hall Tuesday evening

Local officials back proposed state laws to increase protections for immigrants

Washtenaw County Commissioners voice support for legislation to expand rights SAMANTHA SMALL Daily Staff Reporter

In the midst of an ongoing discussion over immigration policy, the Washtenaw County Board of Commissioners unanimously voted in favor of supporting a Michigan House of Representatives bill extending immigrants’ civil rights protection Wednesday. As one of the largest counties in the state of Michigan, state Rep. Yousef Rabhi, D-Ann Arbor, emphasized how significant it is that the county advocates in favor of the legislation in order to garner more support statewide. “Washtenaw is part of the broader discussion,” Rabhi said. “We’re one of the larger counties in the state of Michigan and having our voice at the table as (the) state government has this discussion is extremely important.” Sudoku Syndication State Rep. Abdullah Hammoud,

they break the trust and bond they have within communities — largely within communities of color and immigration communities.” Like Hammoud, LSA senior Leena Ghannam said they believe this legislation could be a step in the right direction to mending Washtenaw County’s already strained relationship with local law enforcement. Ghannam cited the death of Aura Rosser, an Ann Arbor resident who was fatally shot in 2014 by Ann Arbor Police Officer David Reid, as a catalyst for residents’ distrust with the local police force. “I think that the people in Washtenaw County have distrusted the police immensely,” Ghannam said. “(Rosser’s) death represented a fundamental problem with police, not only because of their abundant racial and gender profiling, but also their willingness to breach privacy and act violently. The greater Ann Arbor area will develop a better relationship with the police if the police show that they are actually here to protect the community.” EASYIn addition to the House bill, other prospective legislation include a bar on stop-and-search policies without reasonable suspicion, a bill that prevents immigration hold requests in county jails, a proposal to provide legal assistance to immigrants for deportation hearings and multiple proposals that would restrict state schools and universities from refusing admission due to immigration status. For Ghannam, allowing immigrants the equal opportunity to study at Michigan universities is essential, due to the state’s incredibly diverse population. With this education, she believes the state could help immigrants © sudokusolver.com. For personal use only. puzzle by sudokusyndication.com navigate the lengthy process of becoming a U.S. citizen. “The University of

D-Dearborn, has partnered with numerous organizations across the state including Michigan United, American Civil Liberties Union and Emgage to introduce the House bill, which would prevent local governments from using their own resources to enforce federal immigration laws. According to Hammoud, the bill would not only make Michigan a more “welcoming state,” but it would also prevent distrust from brewing in the community and its local police force. “First and foremost, a local community police force does not receive any resources from the government to do the job of federal immigration officers,” Hammoud said. “So, we should not stretch an already stretched police force to take on new roles. Secondly, when police officers in the community start taking on the roles of immigration officials,

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Michigan is an institution that should give universal access to MAX MARCOVITCH and ETHAN SEARS deserving students,” Ghannam Managing Sports Editors sportseditors@michigandaily.com said. “Immigration policy Senior Sports Editors: Anna Marcus, Aria Gerson, Ben Katz, Mark Calcagno, Theo Mackie, Tien Le constantly shifts to what the nation Assistant Sports Editors: Bailey Johnson, Bennett Bramson, Connor Brennan, and federal administration fears Jacob Kopnick, Jorge Cazares, Rian Ratnavale most at any given moment. I believe ARYA NAIDU and VERITY STURM that undocumented students are Managing Arts Editors arts@michigandaily.com innocent — they are not criminals. Senior Arts Editors: Clara Scott, Emma Chang, Cassandra Mansuetti, Sam A safe pathway to citizenship can Della Fera, Trina Pal Arts Beat Editors: John Decker, Sayan Ghosh, Mike Watkins, Ally Owens, more easily occur if undocumented Stephen Satarino, Izzy Hasslund, Margaret Sheridan immigrants are allowed equal opportunity to study and work in ROSEANNE CHAO and JACK SILBERMAN Managing Design Editors design@michigandaily.com the United States.” Senior Design Editor: Sherry Chen According to the Office of Financial Aid, the University ALEC COHEN and ALEXIS RANKIN Managing Photo Editors photo@michigandaily.com “welcomes the application and Senior Photo Editors: Alexandria Pompei, Natalie Stephens, Alice Liu, Danyel enrollment of undocumented Tharakan, Allison Engkvist students” and offers a pathway for Assistant Photo Editors: Madeline Hinkley, Miles Macklin, Ryan Mcloughlin, undocumented students to receive Keemya Esmael in-state tuition. Additionally, ANDREA PÉREZ BALDERRAMA Statement Editor statement@michigandaily.com advocacy groups like Student Deputy Editors: Matthew Harmon, Shannon Ors Community of Progressive SILAS LEE and EMILY STILLMAN Empowerment work to promote Managing Copy Editors copydesk@michigandaily.com resources for undocumented http://sudokusyndication.com/sudoku/generator/print/ Senior Copy Editors: Sadia Jiban, Olivia Sedlacek, Reece Meyhoefer students and build a sense of community on campus. CASEY TIN and HASSAAN ALI WATTOO Managing Online Editors webteam@michigandaily.com Despite local support, House Senior Web Developers: Jonathon Liu, Abha Panda, Ryan Siu, David Talbot, and Senate Republicans have rolled Samantha Cohen out counter bills such as the “Local ELI SIDER Government Law Enforcement Managing Video Editor video@michigandaily.com Protection Act and the County Law NA’KIA CHANNEY and CARLY RYAN Enforcement Protection Act” that Michigan in Color Editors michiganincolor@michigandaily.com would ignore local laws preventing Senior Michigan in Color Editors: Lorna Brown, Samuel So, Ana Maria peace officers or local officials from Sanchez-Castillo, Efe Osagie, Danyel Tharakan Assistant Michigan in Color Editors: Harnoor Singh, Nada Eldawy, Maya working with federal authorities Mokh regarding an individual’s CATHERINE NOUHAN immigration status. Managing Podcast Editor One of the sponsors of the MADALASA CHAUDHARI and CAROL CHEN bill, state Rep. Beau LaFave, Managing Social Media Editors R-Iron Mountain, believes state officers have a duty to honor the federal government’s requests if an individual is wanted by the government. “The problem in our republic is if one state says they’re a sanctuary MOLLY WU Creative Director state and says ‘You want to come ZELJKO KOSPIC RYAN KELLY here, so we’re going to give you a Special Projects Manager Sales Manager driver’s license and be included in ANITA MICHAUD ROBERT WAGMAN all of the benefits of this state, then Brand Manager Marketing Consulting Manager the immigration laws of California are superseding that of Iowa, and that is not appropriate in a The Michigan Daily (ISSN 0745-967) is published Monday through Friday during republic,” LaFave said.

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Opinion

4A — Wednesday, September 11, 2019

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ALICE LIN | COLUMN

Yin and Yang: Restoring the order of politics

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CHLOE PLESCHER | COLUMN

Young, working and sexually harassed

hough it seems like it is in the news quite often, particularly because of the #MeToo movement, sexual harassment is an everyday concern. It is especially a concern for workers in restaurants, cafés and retail, where most employees are young adults. While this can be beneficial, it can also create a toxic environment for women and students – an environment that unfortunately includes sexual harassment. Since the Civil Rights Act of 1964, sexual harassment in the workplace is considered illegal. Companies have since created policies to prevent harassment, but this does not completely stop it. Rather, no-tolerance sexual harassment policies exist to encourage individuals to report. However, companies’ investigations can be as damaging as the harassment. Reporting and investigation processes need reform to eliminate victim-blaming and retaliation. Victims should not be on trial. I experienced a poor investigation first-hand. At a café job in the summer of 2018, a worker 10 years my senior took advantage of the freezer’s tight space, and he groped and rubbed my body against my will. I avoided him the rest of my shift and tried to ignore what happened. But once home, I obsessively recalled every detail. It was not the first time someone hurt me, so I convinced myself I deserved what he did. I mapped what I did wrong and what I should have done to escape his grip sooner. To escape further harm, I quit before my next shift and returned to my previous movie theater job. I was severely depressed and terrified to report. After all, I had been there for two weeks and my assailant had been there for a decade. However, the general manager at the café was suspicious and told a worker whoever harmed me would be fired. So, a week after quitting, I emailed a report to the manager. I assumed corporate would become involved, they would interview my assailant and the decision would be made without any drama. I assumed incorrectly. They investigated the abused instead of the abuser. Corporate talked about my mental well-being to workers uninvolved. They threatened write-ups if the situation was discussed, yet called staff repeatedly for questions. In the end, the environment became hostile and fearful, as my assailant was declared innocent. I resented myself for reporting.

Yet, I am not the only one who has felt this way or who has experienced retaliation after reporting. Sexual harassment is an epidemic in the United States, and it is not only a problem when the news deems it one. Fifty-four percent of women surveyed in a 2017 ABC News-Washington Post poll reported they had been sexually harassed, and 30 percent said they had been sexually harassed by a man in the workplace. Moreover, 23 percent said it was a superior who harassed them. Power dynamics already take control away from subordinates. Whether it be boss to employee or professor to student, the superior can abuse their power and attack young women and students without fearing consequences. Superiors keep their position without worry, while victims’ lives are dissected.

Workspaces should be positive environments spurring productivity, not trauma

Workers are then not only in danger of being sexually harassed but are in danger of physical and mental outcomes of harassment and retaliation. According to NBC News, sexual harassment victims can experience physical side effects including headaches, muscle pain and “chronic” high blood pressure and blood sugar issues. Furthermore, mental health issues such as depression, anxiety and posttraumatic stress disorder are prevalent among sexual harassment survivors. For me, I sank deeper into my selfharm. For some, it can result in suicide. Obviously, reform is needed, but change can happen only through proactive efforts. Thoughts and prayers will not solve the sexual harassment crisis. Companies must improve training and investigations. According to a study reported by the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, 75 percent of those who report harassment in the workplace face retaliation. The retaliation can vary from gossip, undeserving discipline, reassignment, demotions and being fired. A University of Massachusetts Amherst study found two-thirds of victims who press charges are fired.

Despite the fact that firing an employee for pressing charges is illegal in the United States, it is overwhelmingly common. Hence, only companies can change their behavior when they do not abide by the law. The BE HEARD Act is a great legal start, but if companies do not already follow laws, we cannot anticipate strong results. The sexual harassment reporting and investigative processes need to be analyzed and reformed to aid the victims, not further attack them further. Workers should not be at risk when on the job. For student workers, they already are at risk on campus for sexual harassment and retaliation. They deserve to be safe at their jobs. Workspaces should be positive environments spurring productivity, not trauma. Women and students can take action by starting the conversation, perhaps meeting with supervisors to discuss sexual harassment policies and prevention training. Students can be ambassadors to provide a testimonial perspective and be their own advocate. However, the extra effort is not solely the responsibility of women and students. It is not up to the oppressed to overthrow the oppressor when companies are a resourceful bystander. It is impossible to change workplace sexual harassment without company involvement. While many have training explaining the no-tolerance policy, it obviously does not do enough. When I worked at the café (a major chain), the only sexual harassment training was the scheduling manager saying it was a no-tolerance policy. In a place where most of the staff are teenagers and young adults, this is dangerous. Women and students are in peril when companies do not value employees. The training must focus on how sexual harassment harms people, not how it harms the company. People are more invested in learning when it directly involves them. In-depth workshops should discuss how sexual harassment affects the work environment, how it affects life outside the workplace and how it affects mental health. Each side effect impacts the other and can take years to heal from, if the survivor heals at all. Sexual harassment goes beyond causing a bad day – sexual harassment sabotages daily life and can even end one. Chloe Plescher can be reached at chloebp@umich.edu.

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t the first Democratic debate, he proposed giving $1,000 to every American over 18. This is an idea that few presidential candidates have advocated for as openly as Andrew Yang. At the second Democratic debate, he presented himself as the antithesis of President Donald Trump. “... an Asian man who likes math,” Yang said, drawing cheers from the crowd. Throughout the 2020 race, Andrew Yang has consistently distinguished himself from longestablished politicians currently dominating the field. With a kind of honesty hard to find in politics these days, he seems to genuinely care about putting the people first. As Yang explained in the second debate, politicians are getting caught up with what he called “political theater” and losing sight of what is important. At these debates, policy is neglected as those on stage are fighting to come up with the best comebacks for a few memorable seconds. It’s tiring to see candidates attacking each other when they should be trying to convince us to vote for them. Yang, however, stays focused on what he believes in — helping the people — and never wavers in reminding us through every response he gives. Amid the chaos of Joe Biden takedowns, Yang always manages to bring back the discussion to the central issue and educate people about it. While all of these candidates are running as the solution to replacing Trump, their success is contingent on what they have to offer and on what makes them stand out. At the end of this campaign cycle, the final nominee will have won their spot because they were able to convince the American people they can deliver what is best for the country. As voters, we should look for a candidate who cares about fixing our problems, and Yang is slowly convincing me he is the one. Throughout this race, Yang is slowly bringing change to the way we see politics and setting a standard for the kind

of political leader we need. From the start, he has been different from the others with his complete transparency in describing issues and how he plans to solve them. Despite being a political outsider, he manages to command respect, politely sharing what he has to offer without stepping on the other candidates. With Yang, it is refreshing to see someone up on the stage who is rising above party politics to bring a “Humanity First” campaign. His goal here is to fight for the people and solve problems that affect Americans, not to bring a political party back to power. This is the direction that politics should be moving in, away from partisanship and toward securing the future of the people that politicians represent. In addition to affecting political change, Yang is also a fighter. If his campaign journey shows us anything, it’s that he has potential to be an underdog. As a former entrepreneur with no political experience, he had less than three minutes to speak in the first debate. The lack of airtime is unfortunate; with the amount of proposals listed on his website, Yang could give fellow candidate Elizabeth Warren a run for her money for having a plan for everything. His proposed policies cover everything from family needs to federal reforms, and he even provides a section of miscellaneous ideas tailored to improving everyday lives. No other candidate has as many ideas as thorough and detailed as Yang’s. America needs a leader who is able to deliver what they are promising and is transparent with the people in how those plans will be achieved. Clearly, Yang’s leadership qualities have spoken to the people; he has been performing far better than anyone expected from a political novice and became the ninth candidate to qualify for the next debate. Despite his lack of political experience, Yang has proven himself to be an educated and eloquent speaker. He can tie everything from health care to climate change back to his

central point: lifting up the American people. While I think providing $1,000 to those over 18 would never work on a national scale, he has slowly led me to the realization that our economic problems are the root causes of all of our other issues. It really does seem simple from Yang’s point of view: If we work to improve American lives economically, we are a step closer to equality on so many levels. We can stop scapegoating immigrants for the loss of jobs, healthcare can be affordable, and we can actually address racial inequality beginning with the wealth gap. Yang is a forward-thinker and anticipates new issues, showing us, while he is aware of our present problems, he is already looking to fix upcoming ones like the implications of artificial intelligence. I know it is unlikely Yang will secure the Democratic nomination. America is still far from being ready for such a straightforward leader like Yang, much less an Asian-American president. But even if he falls flat in the primaries, he has shown himself to be the type of leader we need. Throughout this race, he has brought a new perspective to politics, challenging our current system with his honesty. At the very least, his foresight has made us more aware of the imminent problems and pointed us in the direction of finding a candidate who is focused on the bigger picture for the future. If we can learn anything from Yang’s platform, it is that we need to progress forward, and we need a leader who can lead that movement. American politics needs to move in the right direction, away from the last few years of hatred and divisiveness and towards acceptance and unity. As part of a generation finally able to vote, we should take Yang’s message to heart: “Not left, not right, but forward.” Alice Yin can be reached alicelin@umich.edu.

EVAN STERN | COLUMN

The serious crisis nobody is talking about

t the end of July in downtown Detroit, the crowded Democratic field of presidential candidates took the stage at the Fox Theatre in the midst of what could be another severely divisive election cycle in America. Discussing some of the most pressing matters across our nation in an effort to ultimately take the White House from President Donald Trump in 2020, the candidates blasted each other, as well as the current and former presidents on a wide range of controversial issues, especially stressing immigration, climate change, healthcare, gun violence and criminal justice. But the truth is that virtually all American politicians are disregarding an issue that could be the most serious threat to this nation’s survival: our staggering national debt. Conservative or liberal, we should all be alarmed by this deepening crisis. Currently standing at over $22 trillion and growing with no end in sight, our debt is continuously forcing our country further into a hole that could one day be inescapable. Unfortunately, politicians for decades have determined that combating this financial catastrophe is not worth the political price of being voted out of office, deciding instead that their careers take precedence over our country’s future. The blame should not be placed on any one party. While our federal government did achieve a surplus during the Clinton administration when there was more support for measures aimed at cutting back the debt, we have since then experienced immense irresponsibility, making our nation more vulnerable with each passing year. Under President George W. Bush, the national debt rose $5.8 trillion, more than doubling. The problem continued under President Barack Obama, with the figure growing by a shocking $8.6 trillion during his two terms as he was forced to deal with the worst

economic crisis since the Great Depression, leading him to increase government spending to stop the economy from sinking further into recession. And, should President Trump remain in the Oval Office until 2025, he is expected to contribute a disturbing $9.1 trillion. The truth is that while these developments are dangerous for everybody, the future is looking the worst for young people who will have to bear the brunt of this economic crisis if politicians fail to act now. Without proper and effective bipartisan action on this issue, we are set on a course to economic and social unrest that will spell disaster, especially for millennials and Generation Z. As the debt continues on its alarming climb, the large figure will ultimately drive interest rates to high, unhealthy levels as other nations — which already own much of America’s debt — will require more persuasion to invest in our fiscally irresponsible nation. In response to rising rates — which will dramatically discourage business investment, slow our economy and lead to lower wages — the federal government will be forced to subsidize the heavy cost of the interest by cutting spending, especially through a reduction in social programs such as Social Security and Medicare. With a decrease in social aid programs, our country could be plagued by turmoil and riots as everyday citizens become unable to put food on the table for their families. Still, even after making these significant cuts, the government will also likely need to sharply raise taxes, which again will steer our country toward a severe economic downturn. That is not all. In a scenario that becomes more probable as this harsh reality worsens, our government, in the face of uncontrollable debt, could even fail to pay back some of its debt, precipitating a worldwide depression and calling into question the survival of this nation itself. Putting this aside, we have much to worry about. In the midst of such dangerous fiscal conditions, it is

only a matter of time before our government may become unable to borrow effectively in order to solve situations currently posing a threat to our nation, including war, public health crises and natural disasters. As the Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget states, “Governments often borrow to address unexpected events... This is relatively easy to do when the federal debt is small. However, with a large and growing federal debt, government has fewer options available.” The speed and efficiency with which our government is routinely able to respond to society’s needs, which is taken for granted now, will undoubtedly become challenging to maintain under these circumstances. Even our national security is threatened by our debt crisis. In February of this year, a bill was introduced in Congress to officially consider the debt a danger to our national security. “If we do not change our course, we will be responsible for one of the (worst) catastrophes this nation has ever experienced: the crash of the American economy and the demise of a superpower,” Congressman Andy Biggs, R-Ariz., a bill co-sponsor, said in a statement. Truthfully, we are in trouble. Our politicians have kicked the can down the road for years, passing this crisis on to the next generation. They have greatly feared the political price of attempting to address this issue, but we can no longer ignore this glaring problem. We must all, regardless of political affiliation, begin to make difficult choices that will require strength and compromise, resulting in a better future for generations to come. Whether we raise taxes, cut spending, or both, we must remember what is at stake, set aside our differences and act with a purpose. We owe it to ourselves, our children and our nation. We have an obligation to act immediately. Evan Stern can be reached at erstern@umich.edu.

Arts

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Wednesday, September 11, 2019 — 5A

FROM THE VAULT: NEW MEDIA NOTEBOOK

FILM NOTEBOOK

A love letter from your As time goes by, ‘Casablanca’ grateful Spotify stalker remains a classic for the ages JULIANNA MORANO Daily Arts Writer

When I find a song to share with my mom, I always wait until it’s the two of us in the car. It would be difficult to trace how many of our shared obsessions began with this exact scene, but I imagine the fugitivity of the moment and ourselves on the road — minds and bodies alike — are somehow linked. It’s something to do with not having to watch her face if I don’t want to, which is something to do with fear of finding disinterest in it, which is something to do with how absurdly high stakes these transactions feel to me. It doesn’t make me feel like I’m in the crosshairs; instead, it calls my understanding of the person sitting beside me into question. A folk cover of a Nirvana song played between those seats, as did my mom’s first contemporary hip-hop record, as did the song that initiated our (neverending) Solange phase. Once, on a night drive during my new wave spurt, I queued a sequence that started with The Replacements’ “I Will Dare,” probably included a Cars song I thought she might be able to pretend wasn’t the Cars (Dad loves, Mom hates), definitely included Echo & the Bunnymen and concluded with Iggy Pop. She told me she hadn’t listened to those songs since she was around my age, commuting to college at U-M Dearborn. Those moments, identifying, then translating across a synapse I hadn’t detected, are the ones I wait for. The ones that compensate for the face she made when, say, I tried to convince her Bob Dylan could sing. *** I don’t know if I should be writing about this. I wasn’t there to see how it began: with the artful labor of creating a mixtape. I’ve never had a cassette slipped into my hands, never consulted someone’s carefully printed, cryptic title to gather a hint as to what I might hear. I’ve come of age in the days of Spotify and other digital streaming services. I don’t tend to look at the past in a way that lends itself to longing, so I quickly adapted to an increasingly intangible experience with music. Even after admiring box after box of vinyl, I rarely make purchases at the record stores I visit, and I don’t miss the choreography of extracting a CD without leaving fingerprints on it. Does that mean that I have no taste of that old-school magic? I don’t think so. I think when I pull up the Spotify playlist I commissioned from a friend after hearing his favorite Kendrick Lamar song by chance and finally admitting that I had neglected a revolutionary genre for too long, I know something of its charms. I don’t think that because the songs on the digital counterpart of a mixtape were easier to compile that less attention and care were devoted to the act of compiling them. I don’t think that kind of transaction will ever depreciate if music is still part of it. *** I’ve begun to confuse the absence of a person with the absence of their music. I’ve begun to confuse the presence of a person with the sound of their music. I’ll give you an example: It’s not when I visit the house where my Pa once lived that I perceive his absence most clearly. That might proceed in part from my Nana’s refusal to move anywhere else and curator-like preservation of the home they once shared. Regardless, it’s when I listen to a song and think, I know exactly who would love this song, and that person is him, and the music sharing comes to a sad, jolting halt that I know what it means for him to be gone. It got worse when my Grandma Laura died. Unlike my Pa’s heart attack, her death was anticipated, slowly, painfully ambled toward. At one point, she gathered her grandchildren around her chair and presented us with paper butterflies, glued to adjustable clips so that we could attach it to something. It was supposed to be her way of being with us, even as her mobility slipped away. I cried in the bathroom: Because of what it meant, I both wanted and didn’t want it in the most severe way. Six years after her death, in the process of moving in and out of college dorms, I lost the butterfly. One of the most fragile, most important belongings I have ever had, and ever will have. Telling my mom was much more shameful, much more distressing than any Catholic sacrament I had ever been forced to participate in. How could my grandmother ever be present if I lost the object in which she vested that presence? I don’t know, but I can tell you that I turned to music. “Paper Butterfly,” I titled it. The caption adds, “favorite songs of and songs inspired by the favorite songs of my grandma, Laura Leigh Schmidt (1948-2012).” It’s a playlist on Spotify, with a foundation of Paul Simon and Queen (her favorites), a few songs of special significance interspersed (Elton John’s “Your Song”: the song my mom told me my uncle and Grandma Laura danced to at his wedding) and, of course, songs I wish I could play for her. Yusuf’s “If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out.” Paul Simon’s not the only one with the voice of an angel. Grace Potter & The Nocturnals’s “Stars.” I can’t look at the stars / They make me wonder where you are. Aretha Franklin’s “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman.” Tell me

what that feels like. That’s more than translating across a synapse. It’s the letter I’ll never send because I can’t. It’s a language for grief, a less painful iteration of the imagined conversation, where at least the silence, still impervious, is disturbed. *** So I’m confessing once and for all: I’m your Spotify stalker. I can’t tell you how many essays and sorrows and long nights your playlists and inadvertent recommendations have gotten me through, so what I should say next is thank you. Thank you for luring me into the worlds of dream pop and contemporary R&B, worlds I’m not sure I could have found the entrance to without you. Thank you for dismantling the concept of “guilty pleasure,” for listening publicly, so I can also listen publicly to songs I worshipped in ninth grade, when I need them to remind me of what that time felt like. And no, I’m not proud of this one, but thank you for showing me you’re alive when sometimes I wonder. When I haven’t heard from you in a few days, sometimes I stakeout the “Friend Activity” sidebar. Then I’ll see your name and your song and the speaker with the arcs representing sound, and I exhale. You’re okay. It’s post-punk, so you’re probably not happy. But the music is on, so you are alright. In adequate hands, for now. *** I’ve used playlists as the language of my grief, so, naturally, I’ve also used them to try to make legible fleeting, off-mark feelings that could have thickened into something like love. “Could have” because I should preface this with another confession, that I forgot how the story goes. It was the same promising, blinding boy-meets-girl, followed by the same violation of boundaries, the levying of power dynamics, for which boy expresses guilt and girl comforts boy. (Who comforts girl?) But between points A and B of course, there was music. There were songs that said, I’m trying to figure out my feelings for you. There were careful recommendations that said, You might understand this, even though no one else has. The songs added up in our minds and told us what we wanted to believe about one another. For me, that was that I found a man who wasn’t just luring me in with feigned respect for boundaries and limits, who wouldn’t take advantage. (I was wrong.) For him, it seemed something more like I was the antidote to some part of himself, with involuntary powers of healing. (He was wrong, too.) These song statements and misrepresentations were housed in Spotify’s collaborative playlist function. We had two of them; especially in the beginning, I would contemplate my contribution obsessively. I tried to calculate all the ways it could misfire, both in terms of whether he would actually like it and whether it would say what I wanted it to say. And I would wait for his response song, check the playlists obsessively, listen the moment he added something. One day, close to the end, at a time where I was somewhere between wanting to see him often and feeling like I was supposed to want to see him often, I was walking to work. It was cold and I’d forgotten the earmuffs he’d once complimented. To make matters worse, my hair was pulled back, so the wind gnawed mercilessly at both ears. I inserted an earbud in each, numbness still blossoming, and queued the most recent songs he added to one of the playlists. One was about finding a reason to live in another person, which he had promised I wasn’t, that he wouldn’t let one person be that, but the song still had warmth. Another was about a couple’s atypical, wonderfully awkward track to falling in love. I felt a flood of warmth, starting with my ears. His songs playing in them, their lyrics I figured might as well be his words, warmed me from the inside out, swirled around my head, dizzying, almost fashioning a pair of earmuffs out of thin air and a few well-sung notes. After the boundary violation, I grew resentful of his music. I didn’t look forward to adding songs to our playlists anymore; when I did, it was perfunctory and begrudging. I shuddered when I saw him listening to a song I’d recommended or whenever his name displayed on my “Friend Activity” (“friend,” the word I questioned). When I realized how not only permissible but also how simple it would be to escape this dimension of his lingering, it was ridiculously liberating. How unburdening it was to unfollow the playlists, to delete the one I made for him and lastly to unfollow him. It’s unnerving how still, when I listen to a song by an artist he liked and I once liked, it carries a new weight of having been part of a trust I developed with someone but deeply regret. Maybe it’s that we surrender pieces of ourselves to our songs, the transaction, the dialogue that they are. We must because the associations between a person and their music is wonderful sometimes, unbearable other times and always incontrovertible.

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ELISE GODFRYD Daily Arts Writer

“ With the whole world crumbling, we pick this time to fall in love.” So says Ing rid Berg ma n (“Gaslight ”) as Ilsa in “Casabla nca,” Michael Curtiz’s 1942 masterpiece of A merica n cinema. Tha nks to A nn A rbor ’s Michiga n Theater, I’ve had the good fort une of seeing the f ilm at the theater ’s Historic Auditorium t wice during my time as a st udent here. It ’s ha rd not to think about histor y when you step inside the venue, built in 1928. The decor ma kes you feel as though you’ve lef t the 21st cent ur y a nd entered the days of Old Holly wood, when ever y thing cinema would one day become was a head. For all I know, A nn A rborites in the 1940s probably saw “Casabla nca” for the f irst time in the sa me exact place I did. The world has undoubtedly gone through some major cha nges since 1942. A lthough we may not be in the middle of a major world wa r like our protagonists R ick (Humphrey Boga rt, “The Maltese Falcon”) a nd Ilsa, huma ns in 2019 ca rr y the weight of our own unique set of challenges —

With the whole world crumbling, we pick this time to fall in love

climate destruction, economic inequalit y, overpopulation, the list goes on. Our at tit udes about social justice have also cha nged tremendously, admit tedly ma king certain aspects of “Casabla nca” dif f icult to stomach, pa rticula rly its treatment of women a nd Sa m (Dooley Wilson, “Stormy Weather ”), a black musicia n at R ick’s nightclub. In ma ny respects, “Casabla nca” is ver y much of its time, for bet ter or for worse. Yet, there’s something about the movie that sepa rates it from the conventions of its era, accounting for its popula rit y worldwide, across all age g roups. Its central stor y, that of R ick a nd Ilsa’s complicated, whirlwind roma nce, feels timeless a nd widely releva nt, despite the World Wa r II-specif ic politics a nd cult ure it ’s steeped in. As Sa m sings time a nd time again throughout the f ilm, “It ’s still the sa me old stor y, a f ight for love a nd glor y.” “Casabla nca” tells a universal tale, one of love a nd death a nd wa r a nd the things we sacrif ice for what we know to be importa nt. It poses genuinely thought-provoking questions about responsibilit y a nd patriotism that a re as old as time itself. What do we owe to the g reater good? What must we sacrif ice for what ’s right? Did R ick ma ke the right decision in forcing Ilsa to get on that pla ne, even though it may have cost him his last cha nce at a g reat love? Or was this decision simply the best way he knew to express his love for her? As I asked myself these questions while watching the movie, I found myself wondering about the people I was watching it with. How ma ny had seen “Casabla nca” before? Why did they decide to come tonight? What were their relationships to

Yet, there’s something about the movie that separates it from the conventions of its era, accounting for its popularity worldwide, across all age groups

the movie? Was a nyone here even alive during World Wa r II? That f inal question is the one that sticks with me the most. Before we know it, there will be no one lef t to remember what life was truly like then. Yet, it ’s still a comfort to know that, in a world that ’s consta ntly cha ng ing a nd where people a re consta ntly dying, there a re some things that will never die, like “Casabla nca” itself, a nd the memor y of the way Ing rid Berg ma n looks at Humphrey Boga rt in that f inal scene. “Casabla nca” has stood a nd will continue to sta nd the test of time, to ser ve as a testa ment to what we valued, how we loved a nd the things we were willing to do for each other. In that sense, “Casabla nca” is immortal.

WARNER BROS. PICTURES

TV REVIEW

‘Wu-Tang’ is an American saga SAYAN GHOSH Daily Arts Writer

More than 25 years after the release of their debut album Enter the Wu-Tang: 36 Chambers, the Staten Island hip-hop group Wu-Tang Clan still occupies a prominent place in the genre’s (and popular culture’s) collective memory. Backed by RZA’s diverse, lo-fi production, the original members of the Wu-Tang Clan helped create the dark, gritty sound that would influence many East Coast records in the coming years. The Hulu miniseries “Wu-Tang: An American Saga,” produced by RZA himself and Alex Tse (whose writing credits include “Watchmen” and “Superfly”), explores the lives of the rappers around the time of the group’s inception, in and around backdrops such as Staten Island’s Stapleton Projects, stylized in the group’s music as the chaotic, dangerous Shaolin. The narrative centers around RZA (Ashton Sanders, “Moonlight”), introduced by his real name Bobby

Diggs. Disillusioned by the crime and violence surrounding him, his friends and family, he attempts to withdraw into his passion for music, bolstered by an eclectic taste in everything from old soul records to kung-fu films. Even for those familiar with the Wu-Tang Clan and its rather extensive mythology, the series can be difficult to track. While some characters such as Russel Jones (T.J. Atoms,

the clan are no less precociously talented in their own abilities, but are portrayed as much more cynical about the prospects of using hip-hop as an out from the reality of their lives. RZA is in many ways the main protagonist of the story simply because of his stubborn ambition and vision — since uniting the Wu-Tang Clan involved reaching across several types of dividing lines, mostly drawn up by the loosely organized crime rings the members were involved in. “Wu-Tang: An American Saga” is much less “Bohemian Rhapsody” and much more “The Wire,” with the first few episodes chugging along at a rather slow pace. This pacing does make it easier to eventually decipher the webs of alliances between the characters, but perhaps is not the simplistic biopic many fans were probably expecting. Ultimately, “Wu-Tang: An American Saga” is less about the music of the Wu-Tang Clan and more of a step back from the legend, letting the world know just how difficult and impressive the group’s meteoric rise was in every aspect, from financial to logistical to personal.

Wu-Tang: An American Saga Series Premiere Hulu Wednesdays

“Orange is the New Black”), eventually the infamous Ol’ Dirty Bastard, are instantly recognizable, other members of the Clan are much less so, complicated by the fact that there is also a wide set of supporting characters. RZA is the most sympathetic of the bunch, torn between the necessity to support his family by participating in the low-level street hustle like many of his friends are and the desire to escape it all through music. The other founding members of

Arts

6A — Wednesday, September 11, 2019

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

ALBUM REVIEW

American dreaming in Lana Del Rey’s latest album: The swings and sways of Norman Fucking Rockwell! MADELEINE VIRGINIA GANNON Daily Arts Writer

“God da mn, ma n-child,” pens La na Del Rey in her love let ter to A merica — f it ting, perhaps, within the contempora r y cult ure of “f uckbois,” casua l hookups a nd snea kerheads. Del Rey ’s latest a lbum, however, is no feminist rage aga inst the patria rchy. No, Norman Fucking Rockwell! is a ll at once a condemnation a nd celebration of A merica n cult ure; a n ode to the complex, bit tersweet histor y of the “A merica n Drea m.” Disrega rding layers of thematic sy mbolism a nd metaphor, the a lbum itself is a wa lk dow n memor y la ne. Del Rey ’s st yle has a lways held a n a v intage f la ir, f rom her slow, tra ipsing voca ls to the timeless qua lit y of her songs. Del Rey of ten appea rs to be old beyond her yea rs, as if a ghost f rom cent uries past inhabits her body, rather tha n a young woma n of the 21st cent ur y. Throughout the a lbum, Del Rey reca lls a r tists a nd genres f rom throughout the 20th a nd 21st cent uries. The opening of her f irst track, “Norma n f ucking Rockwell,” is reminiscent of classic Holly wood soundtracks with its f lowing orchestration. “Fuck It, I Love You” echoes the bigba nd era, borrowing f rom Doris Day ’s “Drea m a Lit tle Drea m of Me.” Del Rey ’s “Doin’ Time,” a cover of the Sublime’s 1996 song by the sa me na me, reca lls both the music f rom the end of the 1990s a nd the a r tistr y of George Gerswhin, whose piece “Summer time” is sa mpled in the song. “The Next Best A merica n Record” references Led Zeppelin’s “Houses of the Holy,” f ur ther reinforced by the track “The Greatest,” where Del Rey croons “Me a nd my f riends, we miss rock n’ roll.” By the end of the a lbum, Del Rey has g iven us a g ra nd tour on the

Lana Del Rey can stand confidently on her own two musical feet, no piggy-backing necessary

histor y of A merica n music a nd cult ure. But where the a lbum shines isn’t simply in its extensive na me-dropping of other prolif ic a r tists. No, La na Del Rey ca n sta nd conf idently on her ow n t wo musica l feet, no pigg ybacking necessa r y. Rather, this wa lk dow n memor y la ne prov ides moment um for a n overa rching, fa r more impor ta nt theme: the simulta neous oppression a nd empowerment of the A merica n Drea m. Del Rey sets the scene by evoking the legacy of Norma n Rock well, both in the title of the a lbum, the tit ula r song a nd by referencing his na me throughout the four teen tracks. Rock well, a popula r a r tist throughout the 20th cent ur y, made his ca reer through illustrations which depicted domestic scenes of A merica n ever yday life. Through his a r t, Rockwell capt ured the ver y essence of the A merica n Drea m. However, these works, unsurprisingly, focused on the g reener side of the g rass, roma nticizing much of the tr ue A merica n experience. In rea lit y, the A merica n Drea m excluded ma ny f rom its idea listic embrace. The da rk underbelly absent f rom much of Rockwell’s a r tist works was — a nd still is — cha racterized by ra mpa nt racism, pover t y, dr ug use, inequa lit y a nd more. In fact, it was Rockwell’s idea lism of A merica n da ily life which ea rned him va r y ing deg rees of condemnation f rom critics, despite his popula rit y a nd success. Thus, Rockwell’s legacy reca lls not only what is ev ident in his a r t work, but more so what is absent f rom his work. Wielding Rock well’s legacy as her ow n pa inter ’s br ush, Del Rey explores both the A merica n Drea m, a nd its ever-present shadow of nightmare. This comparison is consistent throughout her ever y song; Del Rey sings of dysf unctiona l, of ten toxic, relationships, echoing the dua lit y of the A merica n drea m a nd the A merica n people’s love-hate relationship with its my thic idea l. This is f ur ther emphasized through the a lbum’s striking ly rics. In “ Venice Bitch” Del Rey sings, “ You’re beautif ul a nd I’m insa ne / We’re A merica n-made,” referencing how the A merica n Drea m has been a sor t of ever-present torment: a lways just out of reach, but close enough

POLYDOR & INTERSCOPE RECORDS

to taste. The A merica n Drea m, while a g ra nd sta nda rd to strive for, has a lways been poisoned by its diminishing ta ng ibilit y. “Fuck It, I Love You” reaf f irms this. “Maybe the way that I’m liv ing is killing me” — whether it be back-brea king work for a livelihood af forded to only the luck y few, or the selfdestr uctive rebellion that followed post-’50s disa llusionment, the A merica n Drea m of ten has inspired more ha rm tha n good. Yet at the sa me time, Del Rey ’s emotiona l, provoking exploration of the A merica n Drea m in itself conf irms that she, like ever yone, ca nnot help but be hy pnotized by this dista nt shore. Even in her criticism, Del Rey simulta neously celebrates A merica in a ll its glor y a nd sha me. Just as love a nd hate a re sa id to wa lk the sa me thin line, so too does desire a nd rejection of the A merica n drea m exist on t wo sides of the sa me coin. As a conclusion hovers over the f ina l lines of this rev iew, one thing becomes sta rkly appa rent: Despite a ll these words str ung together in a n at tempt to express the pure, radiating power of La na Del Rey, there is so much more to say. With ever y replay of the a lbum, more a nd more is unpacked within Del Rey ’s masterf ul sing ing a nd imag inative ly rics. Complete comprehension of Norman Fucking Rockwell! may ver y well be just as unat ta inable as that beautif ul, cr uel A merica n drea m. But the thing about La na Del Rey is that understa nding is irreleva nt to enjoy the hy pnotic, spine-tingling power of her music. So, go ta ke a well-deser ved listen to Del Rey ’s new release. Ca ll it a ma ndator y exercise of patriotism, if this rev iew isn’t motivating enough. In tr ue A merica n spirit, bring your spea kers, f ind a law n cha ir somewhere sunny a nd g rab a n ice-cold Coke, because “baby, remember, I’m not drinking wine / But that Cherr y Coke you ser ve is f ine.”

Norman Fucking Rockwell! Lana Del Rey Polydor & Interscope Records

DEF JAM RECORDINGS / GETTY IMAGES

COX’S CORNER

Release Date: Wednesday, September 11, 2019

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

ACROSS 1 Braying beast 4 “Diamonds & Rust” folk singer Joan 8 Hop, skip and jump 14 Where lowers lie 15 Ready and willing partner 16 “Booksmart” director Wilde 17 Psychedelic decorative light 19 Beaus 20 Savory taste 21 Board game gadget 23 University of Nevada city 24 Not even a little high 27 Set up 29 Chinese “way” 30 Aqua in Aquitaine 31 Whoopi’s Oscar role in “Ghost” 34 Palm fruit 35 New York waterway 38 Leaning 40 OTC antacid brand 41 Possess 42 Notable time span 44 EPA mandates, taken together 48 Structure renamed for a president in 1947 52 Arp contemporary 53 Behind 54 Type, as data 55 Develop a liking for 57 Simon & Garfunkel hit, and hint to the starts of 17-, 24-, 48- ... and 35-Across, too! 59 Gobsmacked 60 Story of life after death? 61 Quaint “Tsk!” 62 Zealous crusades 63 Letters on Broadway-bound letters 64 Craze DOWN 1 Magnetism 2 Ship captains, e.g. 3 Eminent scholar

4 Lingerie brand 5 Justice league?: Abbr. 6 Nightmare loc. of film 7 Youngest Marx brother 8 Eye part 9 Mets slugger Pete who won the 2019 Home Run Derby 10 Video-sharing site 11 Dominate 12 Brazilian vacay destination 13 Prof’s helpers 18 Kissy-kissy 22 Doctor in training 24 Places for scrubs and wraps 25 “Mangia!” 26 Poe’s “The Murders in the __ Morgue” 28 Do the math 32 “Amadeus” subject 33 Actress Gasteyer 34 Unscrambling device 35 Jewish Festival of Lights

36 Checkout counter unit 37 Shark or Dyson, briefly 38 Short cut 39 __ Jima 42 Worked on text 43 Repairs, as infield grass 45 Fire 46 Pianist de Larrocha 47 Signaled slyly

49 Gibbons of TV talk 50 __ Sanders, only athlete to play in both the Super Bowl and World Series 51 Sheikdom of song 54 “Roar” singer Perry 55 __ Mahal 56 Mate, across the Channel 58 60 secs.

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

09/11/19

Cox’s Corner: On Midwestern emo RYAN COX

Daily DIY Columnist

Returning to Ann Arbor this past week for my senior year has caused me to ref lect upon my first fall in Ann Arbor. Coming from a small town in Florida, I knew I was about to be inserted into a very different environment, but I had no idea how different it was going to be. My town had a relatively small local music scene; cover bands played at bars every Friday and Saturday night but that was about all that I knew of. I was ready to get involved in a college music scene, but because I didn’t know a soul in the state of Michigan, I really didn’t know what to do in order to get involved. Then, someone that I met through some huge Facebook page, who would later go on to become one of my closest friends freshman year, invited me to go to a show for a local emo/pop-punk band, Seaholm. They sent me an address, and said that music was going to start around 8:00 p.m. or so. I showed up at around five after eight, terrified that I was going to be late and miss the concert, and was immediately terrified. There were so many faces I didn’t know, all dressed in shirts for bands I had never heard of. I was nervously anticipating someone to prompt me with the classic, “Who do you know here,” but luckily, I finally found my friend and we made our way to the basement where Christmas lights hung across the ceiling like a line of frozen firef lies.

We stood right in the front for the entire night, listening to loud chaotic guitars accompanying the moaning vocals that f looded the room. But somehow, it still felt inimiate. It felt unapologetically Midwestern to me. There’s a subgenre of emo music called “Midwestern emo” that’s known for open tuned, twinkly guitars and lyrics about growing up and melancholy. People often think this music sounds juvenile, but I don’t think that’s a negative thing. Standing in that basement listening to people I never knew sing about feelings, I felt myself coming into this strange, foreign place. As the crowd started to disperse after the final set of the night, my friend and I approached the current singer/ guitarist for Seaholm, and tried not to fangirl as we complimented them on their set. I had been to very few concerts outside of the realm of jazz, classical and the occasional big name rock band, so being able to just walk up to band members seemed like an insane concept. However, Jake and the rest of the band members were incredibly nice and told us to come to more shows, giving us some information on the scene and just making polite conversation with two wide-eyed freshman. As I walked out of the venue, I saw people sitting on the porch talking, joking and hanging out as the night started to emit the magical sort of presence it has in the fall. This was the first “DIY” event I had ever been to, and I can pretty confidently say that if I hadn’t gone to that event, I probably would have had a very different collegiate experience. As I

plunged into the local music scene more and more, I realized how creative Ann Arbor really is, and how many distinct and diverse ways there are to express yourself. So, if you’re a freshman and you’re reading this: Go to a show. Even if you don’t know anyone. Even if you have a 9:00 am the next day. Even if you don’t like the bands playing. Even if you don’t like music. Shows like these don’t happen anywhere else in the world, and they really are a special experience that I hope everyone can enjoy.

As I walked out of the venue, I saw people sitting on the porch talking, joking and hanging out as the night started to emit the magical sort of presence it has in the fall

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Sports

Wednesday, September 11, 2019 — 7A

With injuries in the past, Black How one yell changed the game hopes to key offensive progression MAX MARCOVITCH Managing Sports Editor

THEO MACKIE Daily Sports Editor

As soon as Tarik Black heard the question, a contagious smile took over his face. He had just been asked about his week one touchdown — his first since a nearly-identical one in his Michigan debut two years earlier. That was back when Black was the future of the Wolverines’ wide receiver corps, the promising freshman who tallied 149 yards in his first three games. Then, just as soon as his career had taken off, he broke his foot, sidelining him for the season. Less than a year later, it happened again — same thing, different foot. “I knew exactly what it was,” Black said of his second injury. “… I simply just ran a route and I guess the way I broke, the way I planted, my foot didn’t like it.” By now, Black’s injuryrelated struggles have been well-documented. He returned to play three games late last season, but was never 100 percent. He finished the year with just four receptions for 35 yards. In the meantime, conversations with his mom helped him get through it all. When a reporter asked him Tuesday whether he considered quitting football, an automatic “absolutely not” shut down the question. Because now — for the first time in two years — Black is ready to move on. “I’ve never been hurt playing football in my life,” Black said. “So it was kind of something new for me and I kind of got a little PTSD from it coming back. But now I think I’m out of that phase, just past that and ready to move forward.” With the injury behind

him, Michigan’s new offensive era was beginning, even with Donovan Peoples-Jones temporarily sidelined. Everything, it seemed, was falling into place. Then the Wolverines nearly lost to Army as that offensive promise floundered in a game that went to overtime tied at 14. “Our guys have made some plays and I wish we had some big plays that we’ve missed cause they’ve been big plays,” said offensive coordinator Josh Gattis. “But we’ve just got to continue to work on ... the timing, the speed of routes, releases. When we have guys wide open, we’ve got to cash in on those. So our kids understand it and we’ve gotta make those plays.” And Black, despite his seven receptions and 104 yards in two games, knows it. Through two games, Michigan has just nine self-described “explosive” plays — passes of 16-plus yards or rushes of 12-plus. The Wolverines have repeatedly been within inches of breaking games open with big plays. Instead, balls have bounced off receivers’ hands or just beyond their reach and the big-play potential of their receiving corps has only fleetingly come to fruition.

“I think we can go way up from here,” Black said. “If you watch the film, there’s a lot of plays that we can make going forward. And I think you guys will see — trust me, you’ll see — that this offense is going to be crazy.” Black stands at the center of the Wolverines’ offensive dichotomy. When Michigan’s offense was at its best in its 27-point first half against MTSU, he was its standout performer, notching 80 yards before halftime. Late in the second quarter, he missed a drive with cramps — a product of not having a full workload in two years. Since then, he has just 24 yards on three catches. Conditioning is one of the key areas that Black says the Wolverines’ current bye week will help with. Continued familiarity in Gattis’ offense is another, as is Peoples-Jones potential return to health. And maybe Michigan’s offensive promises won’t have to be promises anymore. “I want our play to do the talking for us,” Black said. “And I think moving forward, you guys will see that we are a really good group of receivers and we’re going to work our tails off to do whatever we can to have our team win.”

ALEXIS RANKIN/Daily

Junior wide receiver Tarik Black is fully healthy for the first time in two years.

Michigan’s defense had its back against the wall. It was one thing to fall a touchdown behind to an unranked foe in the first half. Three lost fumbles tend to produce such tenuous positions, and Army had done its best to capitalize. But a two-touchdown deficit in the second half against a ballcontrolling savant — in the midst of offensive woes — would’ve been another mountain to scale entirely. Perhaps even a death knell. The Black Knights completed a 29-yard pass to vault into the Wolverines’ territory, then slowly marched inside the 10 with under ALEC COHEN/Daily nine minutes to play in the third quarter. That’s when Don Brown’s Defensive coordinator Don Brown was pleased with Lavert Hill’s interception. defense toughened up and made its prematurely for a false start, it was — senior VIPER Khaleke game-changing sequence happen. sending the offense back five yards Hudson in the quarterback’s “Now, it’s 1st and goal at the 4. — turned out to be a shrewd tactic face, ball fluttering well short of an intended target, then falling We gave up two explosive plays by the Wolverines. — one run, one pass,” Brown It was all part of a plan the helplessly into the arms of an said Monday, gesticulating and defense had been practicing awaiting Lavert Hill. Perhaps unexpectedly, they’d enunciating in a professorial beforehand. manner. “We gave up the explosive “So, we come out and we’re chosen to throw the ball, and pass, now they’re 1st and goal at going to move the defense. We’re the defense was prepared. Hill the 4. They run speed option to the going to show them the three- made amends for his dropped right. Jordan Anthony goes in, he man front and we’re going to go interception a week prior, grabs one leg. Ben Mason’s trying ahead and step in the front two securing the pick, returning it to to get in, he grabs another. And to try to stop this fullback. So our the 22-yard line and breathing then Glasgow comes over the top call is “MOVE!” ’ Brown yelps, life into a team that had been and shoulders him, and then Uche his violent cadence re-enacting slowly succumbing to a relentless pulls him back to keep him out of that of his team. “So when we Army offense. The Wolverines’ offense made the move call, the fullback the end zone.” In the moment, the touchdown- went *stutter steps* and that marched right down the field, traversing 78 yards in 12 plays to saving play seemed to only delay moved them back five yards.” Senior cornerback Lavert tie the game up on a touchdown the inevitable. Army had the ball at the one-yard line. Giving a triple- Hill flashed a sly smile when from freshman running back option side three plays to get one that stunt comes up in media Zach Charbonnet. It was a 14-point swing in no more than yard is akin to baking a cake with availability three days later. “We had practiced it a couple a half-dozen minutes of game all the ingredients already poured. Placing it in the oven is nothing times and we decided to just call time. It’s hardly hyperbolic to say it in the game,” he said. more than a formality. Is he surprised it actually the play salvaged a game that “What do you think our shot is was rapidly extending beyond to stop 2nd and 1?” Brown asked, worked? “Yeah,” he chuckled, “a little the team’s grasp. It may have rhetorically. “Pretty hard, right? saved a season from crashing By the skin of its teeth, bit.” The off-schedule play before it could even take flight. Michigan’s defense lived to play “That’s probably the key of another down. That’s when it all subsequently forced Army into a play it almost never makes. The the game,” Brown said, “because turned. What first appeared to be Black Knights finished 129th (of if we don’t make that stop there, merely a boneheaded mistake 130 teams) in both interceptions who knows? You can’t predict by Army — the fullback moving and turnovers in 2018. But there it.”

Michigan bounces back from loss ‘M’ glides to 3-0 victory over Cornell to Stanford, dispatches California DREW COX

Daily Sports Writer

PHILIP CALDWELL Daily Sports Writer

With less than a minute remaining, the No. 7 Michigan women’s field hockey team (2-2) was in a pinch. Defending a one-score lead, the Wolverines defense watched a California player bring the ball just outside the Wolverines’ goal in a last-ditch effort to score. But after an errant pass led to a scramble for the ball, Michigan senior Guadalupe Fernandez Lacort managed to scoop up the ball and take it out from the goal, capping off the team’s road weekend with a win. “I was proud of our team, at how hard they fought, especially in the second half,” said Michigan coach Marcia Pankratz. “… I think ( junior back) Halle O’Neill’s been playing amazing defense; she’s really been our field general and just the foundation of the backfield, and really proud of her play. She’s been playing

really inspired field hockey.” But the Wolverines faced a heartbreaker of their own on Friday in Palo Alto against No. 21 Stanford. Michigan started with a two-score lead following a goal by sophomore forward Tina D’Angolell early in the second half. That advantage soon collapsed, though, when Stanford’s Corinne Zanolli scored twice in just five minutes to tie the game. The score remained tied through two overtime periods, eventually going to a shootout competition. The Wolverines looked to have the game in the bag after the Cardinal failed to score on their first three out of five attempts, while Michigan had scored on its first two. But the Wolverines fell apart thereafter, failing on their next three attempts while Stanford rallied to tie the shootout. In the next round, Michigan again was denied, and Zanolli scored to win the upset for the Cardinal. “It was a long, hard-fought

game,” Pankratz said. “I think our team’s really resilient, so they’re positive and supportive of each other and just moving forward to learn and grow and get better.” Sunday’s win over the Bears brought a gratifying end to a weekend that was bitter at first for the Wolverines. Michigan was able to protect its lead, O’Neill was a standout on defense and freshman Sarah Pyrtek secured the win late in the game by scoring off a rebound for her first collegiate goal. Pankratz indicated that going forward the team would look to improve one-on-one defense and find combinations with good chemistry on the field, as well as focus on recovery following a demanding road trip — one that tested the resolve of her team. “We’re still growing, it’s a process,” Pankratz said. “We’re getting better every day. I think we can always get better at everything, like any team.”

With 11 minutes remaining in the first half, Michigan senior forward Jack Hallahan sped down the right side of the field, lofting a pass over the head of a bystanding Cornell defender into the box to graduate student forward Nebojas Popovic. Popovic instantly redirected the ball towards junior forward Mohammed Zakyi, who fired a point-blank shot past the arms of diving Big Red goalkeeper Brady McSwain to give the Wolverines (2-1-0) the lead, 1-0. Michigan never looked back on Friday night, scoring two additional goals to shut out Cornell (0-1-0) 3-0, in a match highlighted by a suffocating Wolverines defensive unit and opportunistic forward play. Prior to Zakyi’s goal, each team held the other to brief possessions in the middle of the field and struggled to CARTER FOX/Daily advanceinto their opponent’s Senior forward Jack Hallahan got the assist on Michigan’s first goal of the game. territory. But Michigan’s defense, up with his dribbling and his starting position. “(Verdi’s) done great. After anchored by veteran junior eye,” Michigan coach Chaka defender Jackson Ragen, soon Daley said. “(The forwards) not playing for a little while, clamped down on Cornell’s are all benefitting because it’s definitely hard to adjust,” forwards and disbanded their of the attention put on Jack. Ragen said. “I will bet that he efforts, giving its offense We are fortunate to have him will be even more comfortable now.” the necessary possessions facilitating for the others.” Just like their defense, the to produce goal-scoring Three minutes into the second half, Wolverines’ offense refused to opportunities. the Wolverines let up on the gas pedal at any “The defense capitalized on a point throughout the rest of kept shutting them out and free kick from the game. With two minutes junior midfielder remaining in the contest, getting us the Marc Ybarra. Popovic tapped a goal past ball. And that just put more Ybarra rocketed McSwain to ice the game for pressure on the ball deep Michigan. Despite a slow start in which their defense,” into Cornell’s Popovic said. box towards neither team could seem to hold Ragen, who then onto possession, the Wolverines “Because of launched a tight- eventually clicked into the right that, we got more space in angled shot from gears to generate a dominating the back post behind McSwain performance on both sides of the middle of the park.” the ball. As the pendulum swung in to extend their lead, 2-0. “We talk a lot about getting their favor, the Wolverines As the game progressed, were able to spread out the Big Michigan only intensified momentum. If we win the first Red’s defense, allowing their its stifling defensive play, ball, let’s get the second ball. forwards to open up the field limiting the Big Red to only And then connect the first with long passes and run their three shots in the second half. pass,” said Daley. “If we can do offense through Hallahan’s Senior goalkeeper Andrew those things, we think we have swift ball-handling on the right Verdi tallied all four of his enough in the locker to unlock saves during the half in his first teams or keep going until they side. “(Hallahan) opens teams shutout since returning to the make a mistake.”

We are fortunate to have him facilitating...

CARTER FOX/Daily

Junior back Halle O’Neill helped guide the Wolverines over California on Sunday after a heartbreaking loss to No. 21 Stanford on Friday in Palo Alto.

Sports

8A — Wednesday, September 11, 2019

Mel Pearson plans to leave last season in the past

BAILEY JOHNSON Daily Sports Writer

The cavernous arena in Minneapolis was nearly empty. Few were there to witness Michigan, a team that began the season with so many expectations, limp off the ice one last time. It was early March, just the first round of the Big Ten Tournament, and the season was over. When it ended, it felt sudden, though the writing had been on the wall long before. A year after coming within six seconds of playing for a national title, the Wolverines were going home prematurely. Six months to the day later, Michigan coach Mel Pearson strode into the media room at Yost Ice Arena on Monday, fresh from the team’s first practice and ready to get going on a new season. “Fire away,” Pearson said. “I’ve got all sorts of (answers).” Within moments, Pearson was asked about how he’s approaching this season given what happened last year. A record of 13-16-7 — the same number of wins as Red Berenson’s final year, when it became clear it was time for a change — is not what Pearson was hired to produce. He knows that. Everyone in the program knows that. But Pearson has been in hockey for his entire life. He’s been coaching hockey since 1982 — before some members of his staff were even born. “I think one of the worst things you can do is to overreact one way or the other,” Pearson said. “When you look at the year, I think we were disappointed in the end result, but when you realize (if) you win one more game you finish second place in the Big Ten, you’re not that far off of a really good league. You don’t overreact.” Over the course of the conversation, it became clear that the coaching staff would

be all but the same this fall if former Michigan assistant Brian Wiseman hadn’t taken a job with the Edmonton Oilers. Part of not overreacting is not making sweeping changes based off of one year, and that was the group that took the Wolverines to the Frozen Four in 2018. But the staff isn’t the same. Wiseman did leave for the NHL, and Pearson suddenly had an opportunity to reevaluate some things. He didn’t go looking for things to change after last year, but all of a sudden, he was forced to. “It just gave myself and our staff a chance to reevaluate our program and what we needed to help make us better,” Pearson said. “That’s what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to make the program better.” Pearson knows this program better than just about anyone not named Red Berenson. He spent 23 years at Berenson’s side as an assistant, building Michigan into the program that made an unprecedented 22 straight NCAA tournaments. But since 2013, when the streak was broken and Pearson was two years into his tenure as head coach at Michigan Tech, things have been different in Ann Arbor. The Wolverines have fallen into a pattern of a couple of bad years, followed by a good year, and then another down year after that. Michigan hasn’t made the NCAA Tournament in back-to-back years since the streak ended. A down year in 2017 was followed by a Frozen Four run in 2018. If the pattern holds, a down year in the 2018-19 season could well be followed by another strong season. And now, Pearson has new perspectives inside the program. Mayotte was brought in to run the penalty kill and is the first full-time goaltenders’ coach at Michigan in Pearson’s memory. “As much as you hate to see a guy like Brian leave — he was great

for our staff, great in the transition, you really hate to see him go,” Pearson said. “But it’s a great opportunity for him and it gave us an opportunity to do some things we maybe couldn’t if he was here.” While Pearson isn’t overreacting to last year, he took the chance presented by Wiseman’s departure to mix some things up. With Mayotte’s hiring, associate head coach Bill Muckalt moves from running the penalty kill to running the power play. Volunteer assistant Steve Shields, previously the Wolverines’ only goaltender coach, is now part of coaching team with Mayotte. Fresh voices and fresh perspectives can always be useful to a coach. Overreacting to last season would be a mistake, but not changing anything would be equally incorrect. Pearson was forced into making changes with Wiseman’s departure, and it may well be the best thing that could’ve happened to Michigan this season. In the last weekend of the regular season this year, the Wolverines return to that cavernous arena in Minneapolis. Maybe there will be a few more fans, and maybe, if Pearson’s changes work, the team slowly skating off the ice will be different this time.

C O M M E M O R AT I N G

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 2019 University of Michigan Law School, 1225 Jeffries Hall 4:10–5:30 p.m.

A CONVERSATION WITH

U.S. REPRESENTATIVE JUSTIN AMASH Sponsored by U-M Office of the Provost

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Design by Jack Silberman

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statement T H E M I CH I GA N DAI LY | S E P T E M B E R 11 , 2019

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PHOTO BY DANYEL THARAKAN

2B Wednesday, September 11, 2019 // The Statement

statement T H E M I CH I GA N DAI LY | S E P T E M B E R 11 , 2019

Managing Statement Editor Andrea Pérez Balderrama

Designers Liz Bigham Kate Glad

Editor in Chief Maya Goldman

Deputy Editors Matthew Harmon Shannon Ors

Copy Editors Silas Lee

Managing Editor Finntan Storer

Associate Editor Eli Rallo

Photo Editor Danyel Tharakan

Modern Love: Should I buy a mattress for my future husband?

he mattress section of Art Van Furniture looks like an upscale prison — long rows of stripped beds, designated strips of plastic to place your feet, employees meandering through the aisles as guards. I visited the store in Canton for the first time while mattress shopping with my mother a week before moving into my new college apartment. That’s when I met Jeffrey, Mattress Salesman Extraordinaire. Jeffrey was a little too excited about mattresses. His face lit up when he explained the difference between foam and springs, how the foam is actually sturdier than the coils I’d been sleeping on for years. But being just over 100 pounds, it was natural that I couldn’t feel a difference in the two mattresses he had me try out. Jeffrey, in his “I-wentto-business-school” voice, had me try out at least three more. “Okay, but this one…,” “You know, the price of this queen mattress is unparalleled…,” “Actually, I know this is the one you’re looking for. …” I still didn’t have a preference. Jeffrey sighed as he sat down next to me, sweaty, and asked, “Well, then can I ask a personal question?” Without waiting for an answer, he asked it anyway. “What type of men are you interested in?” Shocked, I didn’t respond. Jeffery continued to compare my body type to his wife’s and pointed out their foam mattress doesn’t move her side of the bed when he gets up for work, despite their 200-pound weight difference. He explained if I didn’t have a preference between mattresses, I should “think about what would work best for my future husband’s body type” — and if I knew what that would be, I could “accurately choose to fit his needs.” I think about this day a lot. As a femme woman, people often assume that I’m straight and looking for a partner. Family members often ask whether or not I

BY HANNAH BRAUER, STATEMENT COLUMNIST have found a new boyfriend yet, thinking it’s been enough time since my last long-term relationship that I’d be in the market for someone new. What if they knew I’m bisexual and not looking for a relationship at all? My last boyfriend — whose middle name was Jeffrey, ironically enough — is to thank for getting me to this point. When I told him I might be attracted to women during my junior year of high school, he felt threatened and assumed I was going to cheat on him with my college roommate. For the entire three years we were together, I pushed the thought out of my head and assumed I had “chosen a side” by being with him. For a while, I really thought we were going to get married — until I realized I’d given up all of my independence for him. I took the bus to his college and ended it before I could change my mind. And afterward, I felt like the most powerful person in the world. I joined new clubs, wrote music, spent more time with my friends and went on trips with the money I would’ve spent on bus tickets to see him. I started going on dates with women for the first time. The thought of tying myself down to a man again felt ridiculous. But according to the rest of the world, I was supposed to want to do it all over again. Women are supposed to thrive in the Art Van Furniture Store, eyes lingering over curated showrooms that seem to represent the perfect life. We should want the living room with navy leather chairs and a rustic coffee table, ready to hold a conversation that never develops past small talk;

the burgundy loveseat where a married couple may share a glass of wine after work; the kitchen table for a family of four. I saw how my mother looked while walking through the showrooms, surely making mental

notes about which pieces would match our living room. When I walk through the mattress section at Art Van it feels exactly the same way it looks: a prison. Buying furniture for a hypothetical self would be like locking myself up for life because I might one day commit a crime. Buying a mattress for my future partner means I’ll be sleeping next to an empty void for the next decade or so, just waiting for someone to fill the spot next to me. But maybe I don’t want to get married — and, if I do, there’s a fair chance it will be to a woman and not until long after my college mattress will have worn out. I never answered Jeffrey’s question. Instead, I bought a double bed rather than the queen size he had recommended. I left through the sliding doors with my mother, receipt in hand, feeling like Princess Leia escaping from Jabba’s Palace. I even had my hair tied into space buns to match. When the delivery men dropped off my mattress a week later, it was the first time I was alone in my new apartment. I watched their truck struggle to pull out of my tiny driveway and waited until they were out of sight to test out the new bed. I stretched out my body so it took up the entire mattress, fingertips reaching towards the edges and toes touching the corners. I let myself sink into the foam. This bed is my double for a single, and it’s all mine. ILLUSTRATION BY MAGGIE HUANG

Wednesday, September 11, 2019 // The Statement 3B 3B

Into the chaos: Facing gun violence as a student reporter

BY ELIZABETH LAWRENCE, MANAGING NEWS EDITOR

woke up Sunday morning with faint images of a happy dream lingering in my brain. I couldn’t remember exactly what it was about, but I knew it had involved flying motorcycles. And being at peace. “Good morning, love,” Finn said. “Good morning!” I responded, grinning and stretching out my arms to hug him. “You ready for work today?” “I guess so. Gotta love the Sunday to Thursday schedule,” he said. I was not ready for work. The day before I’d followed along as the details of the horrific shooting at a Walmart in El Paso unfolded in news coverage and press briefings. The night of the shooting, as Finn and I rode the New York City Metro to see Once Upon A Time...in Hollywood at the theater, I looked out the window and wondered if this movie would be my last. I was interning at USA TODAY, and, as Sunday’s only breaking news intern, I knew my day would be filled with the shooting’s aftermath — with the livestreamed press conferences, the terrifying footage of shots fired, the endless “thoughts and prayers” tweets. “I have to tell you something,” Finn said. “There was another mass shooting last night. In Dayton. Nine people died.” I turned away and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and tried to will myself back to sleep. I didn’t want to face the world and I especially didn’t want to report on it. Finn put his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “I know, love. I know.” He understood. We all do. We’re part of a generation where mass shootings are the norm in our country, a fact of life that every few weeks or so will pop up in our push notifications. Sometimes, I’ve felt almost numb to it — until it hits close to home. March 16, 2019 started out as an ordinary day in Ann Arbor. Well, not totally ordinary. It was St. Patrick’s weekend, everyone was wildly drunk at frat parties, and rumor had it that Sasha Obama was visiting. For the most part, though, it was a typical college Saturday. I went out with some friends during the day, ate a muchneeded quesadilla at BTB and went home for a refreshing nap. Nada texted our group chat, reminding everyone to come to the vigil in the Diag for the victims of the recent shooting at the mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand. When I woke up, Finn and I met and headed over with our backpacks, planning to study for our upcoming midterms after. When we got there, I found my friends standing together holding plastic candles. I hugged Nada, and then squeezed into

the crowd next to Soraya, who promptly grabbed my hand. In front of me, I saw Amara. We smiled at each other. The vigil was powerful. I stood there silently, still grasping Soraya’s hand. As people got up to speak, sharing poems, terrorism statistics and the list of those killed, I imagined the pain and terror of the mosque-goers in Christchurch. I imagined that whatever grief and fear I feel, the Muslim community on campus felt it even more. Then, all of a sudden, I was running for my life. I heard campus police officers shouting “MOVE! MOVE!” and I saw people scatter. Soraya’s hand was ripped from mine, and I saw Finn standing ahead of me. He grabbed my arm and yelled at me to run. It clicked in my head that someone probably had a gun and I ran. I accidentally bumped into another girl and whispered “I’m so sorry, I have to keep moving.” We ran two blocks, then three, as an ambulance whizzed past. My mind jumped to blood and death and injury, and I felt my heart sink and a desire to scream. Finn kept dragging me along, but I told him, my throat raw, that I couldn’t run anymore. At that moment, I saw Annika walking in our direction. She was late to the vigil, and she looked at our horrified faces with bemusement. “What happened?” she asked. I could barely get the words out. There may be a shooter, people might be hurt and we don’t know where the rest of our friends are. Annika still looked confused, and pulled out her phone to see if any of our friends had texted. “We can’t just stand out here, let’s go! Right now!” Finn yelled, bringing us back to reality. So, we ran all the way down State Street and into the Ford School. As soon as we entered the building, the reporter in me kicked in. I checked my phone and saw dozens of text messages from people in my clubs and my roommates. People on campus were confused and terrified, and alerts from the University weren’t coming fast enough. I knew I had to do something. Finn, Annika and I piled into a classroom with a bunch of other people who had been having some conference in the building, people who at first were confused by our frantic faces and then heard the reports of a possible active shooter. We sat in the back, listening to the police scanner and whispering. Mostly to keep my terrified thoughts at bay, I dove into action. Editor in Chief Maya, my co-Managing News Editor Grace, the Senior News Editors and I

texted frantically, trying to find out what had happened, praying no one was hurt. We split up tasks and people to call, we started a Google Doc, but frankly, we didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t some abstract event we were covering as student journalists. This concerned our friends’ lives and our own. Eventually, it became clear that this was a false alarm, and that everyone was, at least physically, okay. About three hours after the initial scare, police declared an all-clear. I holed up in my room and wrote the story as quickly as I could, scanning social media and conducting phone interviews. I stayed in the thick of it, reliving every second of the afternoon, until Maya published the story online. It was only later that night when the reality of the day fully hit me. I laid in bed, and when I closed my eyes, I imagined what would have happened if someone had shot into the crowd. What if I had lost someone I loved forever? What if someone I didn’t know, someone full of youth and promise, had been killed? And what if I had had to report on it, asking their closest friends to tell me about an unthinkable loss? The journalist adrenaline keeping me afloat dissipated and I broke down. How does anyone do this work without feeling crippled by the horror around them? I didn’t want to be a journalist — I wanted to curl into a ball and sink further into my bed. In the aftermath of the scare, The Daily dealt with the consequences of sending out tweets with unconfirmed information, ultimately writing an apology letter

and refining our news emergency protocol. The News Section wrote a follow-up story on the particular terror felt by the Muslim community. I helped a team of reporters write about the University’s emergency alert system. For the rest of the week I felt off, shaking at loud noises and suspicious figures. But then I grew angry. News broke about mass shootings almost daily, and with each death toll, I felt my helplessness slowly turn into resolve. If no one reported on the violence, reminding people in power of every tragic death, nothing was going to change. Without persistent conversations on campus and push from students, the University felt pressure to improve its emergency notifications. Someday, maybe, this could finally register with national leaders. So that summer Sunday morning, I pulled myself together and got myself to work. I faced the grueling details of the weekend’s shootings. After work, I distracted myself with the second season of Fleabag. Later that week, I watched from home as my coworkers were evacuated from USA TODAY headquarters after an active shooter scare. I thought about how scheduling a doctor’s appointment that day might have saved my life. And I felt a massive wave of relief when everyone was safe. Every once in a while, even at the start of this school year, I glance at The Diag and remember the screams as people sprinted in all directions. I remember the sinking terror and adrenaline that consumed me. I hope that no one has to experience that fear again. But I know for the foreseeable future, that fear isn’t going anywhere.

ILLUSTRATION BY SHERRY CHEN

4B Wednesday, September 11, 2019 // The Statement

Wednesday, September 11, 2019 // The Statement 5B

The sisterhood of carnage century BY EMILY RUSSELL, STATEMENT CONTRIBUTOR

PHOTO S BY DANYEL THARAKAN

he century is young, but not naive. Ask any person you know, who inherited its turn, about its carnage. They might recall for you mass shootings and gun violence, or catalogues of assaulted women around the world who are forced to hide, or mounting xenophobia worldwide. They might tell you about genocides and civil wars, naming Syria and Sudan on a long list of their griefs. Make no mistake that promises made in the 2000s are tied to guns, wrapped in disrepair, and stacked alongside economic hardship and nationalist violence. Make no mistake that the century has been one of carnage. Millennials have survivor’s guilt just by being alive. But be alive we must. I moved to Delhi for a summer at 20 and was welcomed by triple-digit temperatures that held me like the swaddle of a woolenblanket. The cab ride from the airport north was a long journey, with traffic in a dozen lanes at a near standstill for hours. I was not bothered by the delay, enraptured instead by the breadth of movement on the streets — busses and trucks, motorcycles filled beyond capacity, cows and their herders, open-air rickshaws, and sellers of fruits all sharing the lanes. I felt charmed by the functioning of a system which moved with a set of rules I had yet to understand. “This is why we have bad air in Delhi,” the driver said, “too much traffic.” Still, I found the roads miraculous, density and all. As we passed through the city, he informed me of the sight on my right, which without affection he called “trash mountain.” The Ghazipur landfill, I would learn, was rivaling the Taj Mahal in height. I remember June for its late dinners of paneer paratha and steaming chai at the local dhaba, where a sisterhood was born among women with immeasurable dignity, strength, and certainty — each woman an opus of her own. Among the sisters was Aditi, who always saw things as they were, and graced every conversation with a quiet knowingness only she had. Tanya was bold and unafraid and brought out others’ truths by admitting to her own. Vishi could impose levity at any moment, conjurable only by a quick and pointed

humor like hers. Nivedita used historical fact to invoke in us a contemplation of our ethics, reminding us of our situation in the broader arc of humankind. Meghna gave us anecdotes laden with a deep sincerity, and Garuika’s habitual thoughtfulness combined with her embrace of freedom made her a fast friend to any lucky enough to know her. My worthiness for sitting at the table could be contested, and my frequent inability to fulfill its social graces goes undisputed, but the chorus which resounded from our coming together grew only louder, clearer and more melodious with each passing day. Many breezeless nights we spent on the dhaba’s lawn, sometimes in shared quiet contemplation and others loud laughter. We joined together in the way sisters often come to unite: by exchanging stories of our liberation. Praises we sung for our independent journeys toward self-fulfillment, consensual intimacy and political freedom. “What a queen!” someone would say, and the rest of us would coo in support. Bound in these stories of small victories we’ve accumulated toward our autonomy were the harsh anecdotes of assault that we, too, have accumulated. But a bruised sister in a sisterhood heals, and their company made Delhi a home without fear. This isn’t to say the city was entirely free of danger. Heavily armed officials and being alone in night alleys brought their risks. It seems that no matter what corner of the world we sit in, the unlikelihood of our survival against the forces-that-be seems something worth celebrating. To be 20 in this era is to ask, “why did the gunman skip my school, and the movie theatre I attended? Why must it be my democracy, and these borders? By what accident was I born inland? By what accident born at all?” Each of us has a fragile body that somehow makes it out alive every day, damaged as we are, by similar forces of patriarchy or poverty or grief. None of us is spared, but some of us, it seems, entirely by accident, have dodged the worst of it. I know the world is unequal in its distribution of pain, and that my share has been comparatively small. But no matter

what size slice of the ache we’ve been dished, we’ve all been dished it and — if you’re reading this — been spared some of it. And yet, despite our perseverance thus far, some forces will not spare a single one of us. The grief which looms, casting its shadow on the unfolding 21st century, is climate change. Not a day passed in Delhi without reference to some climate-induced ailment. For those living through the Carnage Century in an air-conditioned, Western home with plentiful water and clean air, the conversation may seem confined to the dystopia of late-night news. But in India, where a single summer bred witnesses to a deadly month-long heat wave, an outbreak of Encephalitis claiming over 200 childrens’ lives in Bihar, Chennai’s fatal water shortage, and unbreathable air suffocating the capital, the conversation is a staple. India’s complexity mimics that of the new century, riddled with paradoxes and imposing on us a cognitive dissonance we must perpetually untangle. The century knows both heat waves and the polar vortex; India itself fends off floods and droughts simultaneously. Paradox is written into millennials’ way of life. In every corner of the world, insufferable pain and unimaginable beauty walk hand in hand. Yes, alongside Carnage Century’s aches are its gifts, too numerous to count and too frequent to forget. Take for instance Tanya’s 20th birthday. She danced through the night, friends in tow, glowing with a joy unparalleled. How beauty pervades! That night, she blocked all climate change tags from her social media. “My gift to myself,” she said proudly, “is to pretend for a single day that it isn’t happening.” (The next morning, she said grimly, “Back to reality,” and the tagged news flooded back in.) Another afternoon, Gauri and I were sharing ice creams, the sweetness of mango rivaling all other modes of refreshment, when she laughed and said, “At least I don’t have to plan for 60. I mean have you ever even pictured it? Being so old?” I hadn’t. “It’s only going to get worse, you know,” she said morosely,

slurping sweet pulp from her cup. “More violent. I didn’t sign up for going through what we’ll have to go through.” How pain pervades. An undying sense of entitlement in the generation before mine makes it hard to believe that young people can remark about their short, climate-bound lifespans. Gen-Xers assume they will have long lives, actively plan for them, and feel slighted by any mention of potential ruin. “I’ve always wanted to live there,” Vishi said about the islands near the country’s southern coast. It was another dhaba lunch, the paneer gloriously thick and the chutney miraculously spicy. This was my classic order at the neighborhood hut, and I ate it with such focus that I often lost my sense of time in conversation around me. “Then no Ph.D. for you,” Gaurika retorted. “I give them five years before they go under.” Suddenly swallowing was a challenge. I pried about the question of choosing a place to live. “It’s just a choice we make,” Tanya said. “If I’m not asthmatic,

perhaps I’ll pick Delhi, and willingly give up that decade I thought I’d have, had the air quality not prematurely destroyed my lungs.” I nodded. “But, maybe, instead I risk it on Bombay, which gives me at least a decade before the sea takes it back. Not enough time for children, but who wanted those anyway?” No matter which way you spin it, we’re running a race against time and circumstance that’s stacked against us, and stacked unfavorably for those in places dense with careless multinational corporations, coastal cities and unbalanced ratios of populations and resources. Weeks later, I traveled south to Mumbai where monsoon season was in full force. Refreshing, hot rains soaked me to my bones. We played, laughed, danced. Strolling by the ocean was an untamable joy, though momentary, for the dangers were pronounced. See SISTERHOOD, Page 6B

Wednesday, September 11, 2019 // The Statement

From Page 5B Stopped railways, canceled flights, pollutants lurking in deep street water and innumerable car crashes dotted the city. Before I was to travel farther, Vishi called to warn me of the floods and wish me safety. My dance turned to a tiptoe. I’m still learning how to understand my experience in a world bent into paradoxes. Am I allowed to love it? Am I allowed to mourn it? Cities made unlivable by the forces of the century are stacked, too, with breathtaking landscapes and a heritage so rich, ancient and particular that all other parts of the world pale in comparison. Must beauty and pain walk hand-in-hand? At the end of July, I went to a posh concert hall tucked in the city’s southside with Garui and Nivedita. On the way there, we piled onto each other on the rickshaw—some rules I was beginning to understand. Ditty, a spoken-word poet and musician extraordinaire, sang gorgeous melodies with captivating lyrics about the slow dying of the planet. We drank sweet, red wine and listened to her Eulogy of a Sparrow. My heart felt full, and laden with the ache of awareness. If I report to you the world beautiful, will you think me naive? If, instead, I paint the world with its ails, will you blame me for not looking hard enough? I don’t know how we will greet our existential crisis as it knocks on the door. I don’t know whose door it will come to first, or if it has been knocking and we have been telling it we aren’t home. I only know the knocks will get louder as well as more persistent with time, and we’ll need to hold one another close when they come to stay. On my last Saturday in Delhi, Tanya squeezed my hand while I added three piercings to my already-decorated ears. I am always afraid of how it will hurt. I imagine it unbearable, asking the piercer repeatedly to tell me the length of time I will experience pain. (He always exaggerates.) And I emerge smiling, ears anew, friends close. I know that being loved and heard in Carnage Century does not make pain obsolete, but does make it bearable. The decade has made each of us witness to emerging recklessness and greed, as well as unquantifiable technological advances for connectivity and meaning. Neither the ills nor joys of the era can be totaled (though those of us in empirics keep trying). Many days, the aches grip us, sometimes prompting awareness and action, and sometimes only apathy. Still other days remind us how much goodness persists without our asking it to. Luckily for us, alongside destruction and grief have emerged sisterhoods, thick enough to withstand the melting century.

If instead I paint the world with its ails, will you blame me for not looking hard enough? PHOTO S BY DANYEL THARAKAN, TAKEN IN COLOMBIA & KERALA, INDIA

7B Wednesday, 2019////The The Statement 7B Wednesday,September January 16,11,2019 Statement

Finding emotion at the stroke of a pen BY ALEXANDER COTIGNOLA, STATEMENT COLUMNIST

or me, reading someone else’s words, or formulating thoughts in my own mind, was never enough; I always had to write it down on paper. Writing my own stories made the simple descriptions come alive, placing me in a different world of my own choosing. Microsoft Word became my escape hatch from the doldrums of my humdrum life in suburban New Jersey. Finding my own life to be too boring, I put myself in the place of people I wanted to be, even for a day. Using various movies and television shows as inspiration, I created new worlds filled with fascinating characters, either by reaching back into the past or extending into the future. I dovetailed my desire to write with my budding interest in history, attempting to see what life was like in a different era by recreating it on paper. I would base stories off of Sherlock Holmes in order to understand life in Victorian England. I would write a murder mystery based off real events in 1940s Los Angeles to recreate the Noir Era. I would put myself in the shoes of an American soldier in Afghanistan (mixed with some futuristic Frankenstein-like technology) to try and see the conflict that has been raging nearly all my life. And, by putting myself in a different place, I tried to discover the underlying emotions in things I did not experience much in everyday life: grief, tragedy, loss. Despite my escapist desires, however, the one story that sticks out in my mind actually became a reflection of my own life, allowing me to connect more deeply with the experiences I had in this world. One day, my teacher gave us an assignment to write a story from the perspective of an inanimate object. I ended up writing from the perspective of a baseball, since baseball was my favorite sport growing up. I played baseball from kindergarten up until seventh grade. Some of my fondest and earliest memories recount me posing in a high school gym with my bat in hand and crisp yellow tee-ball uniform on. My dad and I bonded in our shared devotion to the New York Mets, even though they constantly disappointed us with stunning collapses or outright bad play. We would watch every game, whether they were in the cellar or on their way to the World Series. The minute spring came, my dad and I would try out my new glove in the backyard, prepping for my own season. Even though I quit playing in eighth grade (and I often regret that I didn’t put enough effort towards the game), it still holds a special place in my heart. Ironically, a baseball

ILLUSTRATION BY SHERRY CHEN

was the perfect vehicle to express feelings of tragedy and loss, since I was most familiar with that object, and it held meaning far beyond the red laces for my own childhood. Though a baseball is just any old object, I tried to inject as much feeling as I could into its own thoughts. I recounted the trepidation the baseball had sitting in a bin with hundreds of other similar looking baseballs, worried that no one would ever buy it. I recalled how nervousness filled the entirety of its sphere as the new owner held it, unsure whether he would treat him better than the salespeople. I described how panic consumed it as it wondered whether it would be relegated to another dustbin. In the bin, it was just another object, faceless and meaningless. In a kid’s baseball glove, it brought joy to the boy’s face, nurturing his love of the game. The boy would recognize and appreciate it, understanding how much joy it brought to him. These feelings were my way of expressing my own trepidation about growing up. I was painfully shy and reserved in social interaction, loathe to reveal any personal reservations I had

about myself. My constant worry about meaning something to another person, to not just be another soul walking the earth, were encapsulated in this baseball. Though seemingly a minor object, this one baseball alone had significant events in its existence, which I tried to convey in the grandest terms possible. It faced a winding journey from the bottom of a sporting goods store bin, to a boy’s shelf in his room, to the dustbin many years later. It faced many threats to its survival, from its spot in the bottom in the bin, to the boy growing up and cleaning out his room of childhood objects. However, the baseball withstood it all. Why? Well, it wasn’t just any baseball. It was the last object the father got for his son before he died in the Twin Towers on 9/11. (Admittedly, I got some of the ideas from the trailer for “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close,” with the key switched out for a baseball.) Looking back, this story presented a tragic version of what-could-have-been for my own life. My own father was in New York City on 9/11, sitting on the

train as he watched the towers burn. He, somehow, made it on the last train back to New Jersey, even after he took the time to go to Virgin Records for a new Bob Dylan CD (which earned a stern reprimand from my mother). This story was my way of being thankful for having my father be there all those years, nurturing my love for baseball. Instead of having a baseball stand in for my father, he was always there, ready to catch my throws. I never had to throw pop ups to myself, or always run after the ball; my dad was there to do it for me. Especially since there were not many kids in my neighborhood, having my father was a lifesaver. Just saying “thank you” to my dad for being there would have never been adequate; writing allowed me to express that gratitude. By writing from the perspective of another boy who had the same childhood in nearly every way save one, I was able to fully appreciate the impact my own father had on my development, and why baseball is such an important facet of my own character.

Wednesday, September 11, 2019 // The Statement

VISUAL STATEMENT IGUAZU FALLS, ARGENTINA

SURROUNDING HUNDREDS OF CASCADING WATERFALLS WAS A LUSH, WILDLIFE-RICH RAINFOREST WHICH SEEMED TO STRETCH FOR MILES ON END. LOCATED JUST SOUTHEAST OF WHERE THE BORDERS OF ARGENTINA, PARAGUAY AND BRAZIL MEET, THIS LUSCIOUS AREA ISN’T ALL TOO FAR FROM THE FIRES THAT HAVE BEEN RAGING ACROSS THE AMAZON, THE WORLD’S LARGEST TROPICAL RAINFOREST.

BY KELSEY PEASE