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Wednesday, April 21, 2021

Ann Arbor, Michigan

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Survivors Speak honors death of Hayner sanctioned George Floyd, Daunte Wright for homophobic slur

ANN ARBOR

Event draws crowd of more than 100 to stand up against police brutality Ward-1 Councilmember loses assignments LILY GOODING & IVY MUENCH Daily Staff Reporters

Nearly a year after the killing of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer, more than 100 protestors united April 17 to honor Floyd’s death at Glencoe Crossing in Ann Arbor. The event, organized by Value Black Lives and Survivors Speak, drew families and locals to either listen or share stories about the impact of police brutality on their lives and injustice that continues to ensue upon people of color. Floyd was killed in May 2020 when Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin knelt on his neck

for 9 minutes and 29 seconds while other officers were present. The murder sparked national outrage and initiated a racial reckoning over the summer when cities across the country protested against police brutality and called for racial justice and systemic change. Following the death of Floyd, the Minneapolis Police Department fired Chauvin, and he was charged with second-degree murder, thirddegree murder and manslaughter. The trial of Chauvin began on March 8, and on April 20 he was found guilty on all counts. Trische’ Duckworth, Survivors Speak founder and executive director, was one of the organizers of the protest. Since last May, Duckworth

has been an active voice in the community, leading a plethora of other marches and rallies calling out police brutality and racial injustice. Duckworth opened the protest by also paying tribute to Daunte Wright, a 20-year-old Black man who was fatally shot by Minnesota police after being pulled over for expired registration and an air freshener dangling from his mirror. “How many know we’re in a racial pandemic as well?” Duckworth told the crowd. “Not being here, not raising awareness, just wouldn’t be right because our Black blood is continuing to be spattered on the streets by police.” Other local groups also joined community members on the march,

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including Boober Tours, Street Medicine, Southeast Michigan Street Medics, the Bike Alliance of Washtenaw County and Detroit Black Syndicate Motorcycle Chapter. “Understand this: We want reparations,” Duckworth said. “For everyone that thinks, ‘Well, I had nothing to do with that,’ it’s OK. You didn’t have anything to do with it, that’s fine, but I wasn’t a slave and I’m still fighting because we are in bondage.” Protestors in attendance were instructed to practice social distancing and follow COVID-19 precautions during the event. After introductions from Duckworth, the crowd marched to the Washtenaw County Sheriff’s Office, where multiple guest speakers shared their personal stories of police brutality with the crowd. Along the way, chants like “No Justice, No Peace!” and “Get back, get back, we want freedom, freedom!” rang throughout the streets. Protester Spidey Dee was one of the many members of the Black Syndicate Motorcycle Chapter who led the marchers on their motorcycles. When asked why he thought the rally was important, Dee told The Michigan Daily he felt frustrated by the repeated acts of police violence against Black people. “We’re standing up for justice for Black people and things going on in the world besides just this pandemic,” Dee said. “I’m here to stop the police from doing what they’re doing to our Black people in the youth and young people.” Ypsilanti residents Sha’Teina

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Daily Staff Reporters

The Ann Arbor City Council met virtually April 19 to discuss a motion to remove Councilmember Jeff Hayner, D-Ward 1, from committee assignments, after he made a comment on a Facebook post that quoted a homophobic slur and demeaned journalists. The council also discussed affordable housing developments expected to progress in the near future. The council passed DC-5, a resolution to remove Hayner from his current appointments. As part of the resolution, Hayner would be removed from the boards and commissions he has served on until December 2021, though he will remain as a voting member on City Council. The resolution also requests that Hayner participate in sensitivity training. After over an hour of discussion and multiple failed amendments, the resolution passed 8-2. Councilmembers Ali Ramlawi, D-Ward 5, and Kathy Griswold, D-Ward 2 voted no, and Hayner was recused from the vote. During the discussion, Hayner repeated his apology, which he gave a day after defending his remarks in an interview with The Michigan Daily, for posting the slur and said he understands the harm the word caused to the LGBTQ+ community. However, Hayner also added that he believes being removed from his positions is “inappropriate” and overshadows the work he has done to support the LGBTQ+

community in the past, including marching with AIDS victims and supporting gay and transgender friends and family members. “I think (this resolution) is a dangerous thing,” Hayner said. “Words are dangerous, and the harm that they cause to the community is real, but I also feel that it’s an inappropriate solution. I don’t see how my quoting someone’s foul language that was repeated at infinitum on social media and councilmember’s websites makes me less able to steward our parks or read a liquor license report or read a Brownfield report.” Hayner emphasized the sincerity of his apology to the LGBTQ+ community, but added his comments did not break any City Council, state or federal laws. Councilmember Travis Radina, D-Ward 4, spoke on his personal experiences with homophobia and said he felt frustrated by Hayner’s lack of immediate acknowledgement of his wrongdoing. Radina posted the initial screenshot of Hayner’s comment as well as a copy of an email he sent to Hayner and other councilmembers condemning Hayner’s use of the slur and antipress sentiment. Radina said he believes Hayner’s “eventual apology was sincere,” but that as a governing body, the council has a responsibility to the community to call out harmful language, and that includes voting on this resolution.

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PUBLIC SAFETY

Schlissel: Fall semester “will feel like One person shot at Briarwood Mall a transition” to a normal Winter ‘22 Victim suffered non-life-threatening injuries

U-M President talks vaccination efforts, carbon neutrality, Regent Ron Weiser (R) CALDER LEWIS, JARED DOUGALL & JULIANNA MORANO Daily News Editor & Daily Staff Reporters

The Michigan Daily sat down with University President Mark Schlissel to discuss fall plans, vaccination, carbon neutrality and disinvestment, Regent Ron Weiser (R), public records, ongoing collective bargaining with U-M lecturers and more. This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. MS: It is really important for as many students as possible to get vaccinated, and if they can’t get it done before they leave town, get it done over the summer. The supply of vaccines is getting better, the age limit has now gone down to 16 years old so all of our students can get vaccinated, and the greater fraction of people who are vaccinated, the more likely we are to have a semester in the fall that feels as close to normal as possible. TMD: Since we last spoke, the University announced its intention for mostly in-person classes and mostly full residence halls in the fall. Can you give us your best and worst case scenarios for what campus life at the University might look like in the fall? MS: The best case scenario is that 95 or 98% of students are vaccinated and an overwhelming majority of faculty and staff are vaccinated. And then what’s likely to happen, is we’ll begin the semester with the masks at least indoors, but with greatly relaxed restrictions around density. So student clubs will be able to meet in-person, we’ll have sporting events … a growing percentage of your classes will be

in-person or more of their activities will be in-person. The campus will feel much more normal and, as the semester progresses, if our surveillance work on COVID indicates that things are safe, then we’ll start taking the mask off and getting back to our new normal. So that’s the optimistic view. Even though COVID is flaring all around the state, so is the rate of vaccination. The fall will feel like a transition, I think, between the really challenging year that we’ve had and then the calendar year ‘22, which should be pretty much a normal winter semester next year by all projections. Worst case scenario, oh gosh. If I was being Dr. Doom and Gloom, I’d say that one of the variants of the virus that occurs learns how to escape the vaccines, the effectiveness of the vaccines may be lower in these mutant viruses and we may have to continue in a mode where we’re really, really careful to prevent the spread using all these other methods — distancing, density, masks and the like. That’s the worst case, but… I think it’s more probable that we’ll be closer to the best case. TMD: Some colleges like Duke, Notre Dame and Rutgers have recently announced that they will require students to be vaccinated upon return to campus in the fall. How is the University evaluating whether the COVID-19 vaccine will be required for students and staff for the fall semester? When can the U-M community expect to know the University’s position? MS: We are actually discussing whether encouraging and incentivizing will work better than requiring or the other way around. Or maybe requiring in the dormitories and incentivizing elsewhere. We’re still far enough

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away that I don’t feel tremendous time pressure to make it mandatory today. Vaccines aren’t quite widely available enough today anyway, and you can’t just walk down the street, roll up your sleeve and get vaccinated. TMD: You’ve said the University’s public health experts have been instrumental in the state government’s pandemic response. Can you offer any insight into why state policy response to by far the most severe COVID-19 outbreak right now in the country has been limited to recommendations, when the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention Director Rochelle Walensky says Michigan needs to “really close things down?” MS: I’ve learned the hard way that it’s really difficult to second guess leaders with complicated jobs. So the governor has actually done quite well compared to many other governors. I don’t know the various pressures that she’s under. I can tell you that we’re still under a “work remotely if you can work remotely” rule. We’re still under a statewide masking mandate, and there’s still limits as to how many people can convene indoors and how many convene outdoors. I presume she’s striking a balance integrating all of the inputs that she’s getting from around our large and diverse state. So I won’t second guess her. I think it’s difficult for the director of the CDC to have that on-the-ground knowledge too, but I respect all their positions and the difficulty in making these decisions. TMD: Is it possible that the current plans for commencement could change if circumstances change? For example, more in-person if vaccinations keep increasing, or less in-person if cases

remain very high in the state? MS: I think it’s very, very unlikely that it would become more in-person. I could almost say it won’t. The facts haven’t changed since we made the decision, and anything that’s changed has been the wrong direction. It’s really hard to predict what’s going to happen two weeks from now, but the levels that we have around the state now are way higher than I predicted they would be the last time we spoke (in early March). I think it’s extremely unlikely that it would be safe to do more than we’re already planning on doing. I’m reasonably optimistic that we can still have this viewing in the Big House for students that want to experience graduation together with their friends, and the reasons why are the ones that I’ve spoken about before — big venue, relatively small numbers of people. TMD: The President’s Commission on Carbon Neutrality released their final recommendations to you in March. How is the process going for you in terms of reading through the document and deciding what to implement, and how would you respond to student groups like the Climate Action Movement who questioned if the recommendations went far enough, fast enough? MS: I think the commission did a great job. They satisfied the charge, they defined the scope of the issue, they defined a timeframe and they actually made 50 recommendations for how we can become carbon neutral. It’s very comprehensive. I’m really grateful. Another thing they did that I really appreciated is it was a very open and transparent process and involved lots of people.

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The Ann Arbor Police Department first received calls of multiple shots being fired inside the Von Maur store of Briarwood Mall around 3 p.m April 16, according to Ann Arbor Chief of Police Michael Cox. No suspects are in custody and their whereabouts are unknown, Cox told reporters April 16 around 5 p.m. “This does not appear to be a random event, however, it is an active scene currently and we are still trying to clear some of the stores, ” Cox said. Cox said there is one male victim with non-life-threatening injuries, who according to MLive was taken to Michigan Medicine in stable condition. When asked to confirm that a victim was transferred to the hospital, Beata Mostafavi, a spokesperson from Michigan Medicine, directed The Daily to AAPD. According to Eastern Michigan University student Matthew Katz, who was inside the mall at the time of the shooting, he was told by a mall security officer to hide, which he did for about 25 minutes before leaving the mall. At April 16 5 p.m, police were still working on exiting customers from the mall store-bystore. The mall remains closed, with state police guarding entry points with assault rifles. Those at the mall described confusion as the situation unfolded. EMU sophomore Tyler Burkhardt was visiting a friend working at the Van’s store when they said they heard

a noise that sounded like balloons popping. Burkhardt said they then saw numerous police officers rush into the building and tell them to evacuate the area. “My brain didn’t exactly register it at first and nobody around me really did until people were screaming and stuff, saying they needed help,” Burkhardt said. “Next thing I experienced were police pulling out rifles and stuff like that, the mall security pouring into the mall. Everybody just running, and then a security mall cop looked me in my eyes and told me to run, so I just ran.” University of Michigan LSA junior Cassandra Menzies was at the Forever 21 store in the mall at the time of the shooting with four friends. Though she didn’t see or hear any shots fired, she said she began to wonder if something had happened when employees started closing the storefront — even though the store was not expected to close — and ushering them to the check-out area. After being checked out, Menzies and her friends were brought outside through the back exit of the store, where they could then walk to their car and leave the mall. As they were waiting to leave, they began checking Reddit, but she said they could not find any information until she saw a post saying there was a shooting. Employees appeared to have as much information on the situation as they did, she said. “I kind of wasn’t super comfortable leaving because we all thought it was an active shooter or something,” Menzies said. “I was more just nervous because nobody knew what was going on. I wasn’t totally afraid, but I think anxious is a good way to describe it.” AAPD is asking anyone with additional information to call them at 734-794-6920 or contact the tip line at 734-996-3199.

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GRACE BEAL/Daily After my weekly COVID-19 test at the LSA building, I walk back with my camera and take pictures of my free button around campus with hope that the University and the rest of the country can continue to “Beat Covid”.

BRITTANY BOWMAN

GOVERNMENT

How U-M exerts varying levels of influence on local, state and national politics

University spent $410,000 lobbying members of Congress in 2020 BEN ROSENFELD Daily Staff Reporter

University of Michigan alum Ben Keller was a sophomore interning at the U-M office in Washington D.C. in the summer of 2016, responsible for lobbying members of Congress on policies largely pertaining to higher education. According to Keller, the experience taught him how much influence large research universities like the University hold in impacting policy. “I think Michigan has a ton of influence, unique influence, especially in the federal policymaking process because we’re such a large research institution,” Keller said. “We’re doing a lot of it, we’re so recognized for it. So we really hold a lot of sway.” Keller noted that as a public institution, the University has to rely greatly on federal support, and as such must do everything in its power to ensure funding remains stable. For example, much research funding specifically comes in the form of the $514 million the University received in 2020 from the National Institutes of Health. “We’re very dependent on those federal dollars to continue our research process going,” Keller said. “There’s every so often higher education bills that come through Congress and they have to get renewed. So we’re heavily involved in that and making sure that funding doesn’t get stripped away.” As a result, the University spends large sums of money each year lobbying members of Congress in Washington, D.C., and — as a registered lobbying entity — must disclose all lobbying activities. In 2020, the University spent $410,000 lobbying members of Congress. According to Keller, this spending manifested itself in the activities he was taking part in as a member of the team at the D.C. office. Keller recalled examples of this spending, such as golf outings with members of other university government relations offices and participation in events held by members of Congress attended by lobbyists. “Whenever a Congress member or constituent group was having any sort of event around research or change in federal

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research priorities or money, grants, anything like that, we would want to get involved in it,” Keller said. Sarah Niemann, a Public Policy junior studying education policy, echoed Keller’s assessment of public universities’ need to lobby members of Congress to ensure funding remains consistent. “The larger the university that you are, and the larger the endowment that you have, the larger role you are going to play in D.C. politics,” Niemann said. “Smaller universities might not have as large of a role and so large public universities like Michigan, as far as my knowledge goes, would have a larger influence.” The University’s endowment, valued at approximately $12 billion dollars, is the pool of assets given by the University donors. As of 2019, according to reports from the U.S. Department of Education, U-M had the ninth largest endowment in the country. Kristina Ko, the Director of the University’s D.C. office, said that recent lobbying efforts by the University have largely been based around the Pell Grant program. “This Congress, U-M is advocating for the higher education community-wide request to double the maximum Pell Grant award,” Ko said. “Currently, the maximum award is $6,495. Across all three U-M campuses, more than 11,600 U-M students benefited from the Pell Grant in the previous school year. The Pell Grant is the federal government’s foundational investment in higher education. However, the share of college costs covered by a Pell Grant is at an all-time low.” Some legislators have come to depend on funding from colleges and universities seeking to influence policy. In the case of U.S. Sen. Gary Peters, D-Mich., the University is his largest campaign donor and a source of frequent contact on policy and legislation. In a statement to The Daily, Peters referenced his office’s strong relationship with and support for the University. “The University of Michigan is a world class institution and a major economic driver for our state,” Peters wrote. “I’m proud to work with them on issues that help keep Michigan at the forefront of innovation, like autonomous vehicle technology,

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expanding STEM and updating research and science law. Earlier this year, I worked to secure COVID relief funding for higher education institutions and students, and I’ll continue to be a partner to Michigan schools as they work to overcome the impacts of this pandemic.” State officials have also said that recent policy, especially pertaining to the COVID19 pandemic, was influenced by the University — though not by university government relations staff, but rather by the University’s public health experts. According to Samantha Kennedy, the Deputy Press Secretary for Gov. Gretchen Whitmer, the governor’s office collaborated with U-M public health experts on combating the spread of COVID-19. “The governor is grateful to be able to closely consult with nationally-recognized public health experts at the University of Michigan, as well as other state universities,” Kennedy said. “This pandemic has shown us that it is vital to collaborate with the best and brightest to ensure that the most up-to-date information and practices are at the forefront of the administration’s efforts to eliminate COVID-19 once and for all.” U-M Vice President for Government Relations Chris Kolb also emphasized the frequent contact occurring between the University and state government. “(The government relations office) tracks legislation of interest to all state universities and U-M specifically,” Kolb said. “In a legislative session, our office will track nearly 350 bill proposals and communicate to university stakeholders to solicit their views and input.” On the local level, the University’s contribution to policy within the city of Ann Arbor is far different. In most regards, the relationship between the city and University could best be described as symbiotic, with minimal intervention of one entity on another. According to Ann Arbor Mayor Christopher Taylor, the University intervenes minimally in matters pertaining to the city of Ann Arbor, and vice versa. “The University is a great respecter of role,” Taylor said. “They don’t get involved in standard municipal matters, and they look for the same on the other side for us not to get involved in standard University matters. If the University has an interest in something the city is doing, adjacent properties, say or what have you, they’ll communicate it.” One reason for this, according to Taylor, is that legally speaking, the University is a state entity on par with the Michigan legislature, due to its being established by the state constitution. “The University has land, money and constitutional

superiority,” Taylor said. “The University is not obligated to follow our rules, and so our choice to zone this, that or the other thing this way or that way is not generally of driving importance to them. The University is a benevolent actor in the community, but they act on their own because they have the legal right to do it and the resources to do it.” However, this practice of general non-intervention is often not the case with large universities. In 2017 for instance, Michigan State University — with much public criticism — offered the city of East Lansing $20 million to not institute a local income tax. Though public universities are property tax-exempt, an income tax would’ve required MSU to pay which would be taken out of the employee payroll. Taylor said he does not believe the University would have taken such actions to infringe on the jurisdiction of the city of Ann Arbor, even if it were to consider a similar policy. “Michigan State (University) had a lot of commentary about whether East Lansing would institute an income tax,” Taylor said. “That was something that they engaged substantially. In order to have an income tax in Michigan, a city has to put that matter up to the voters. So Michigan State University was involved in negotiations and letters back and forth with the city, but they had a position and they advocated for that. The University of Michigan would never do that.” The division between the city of Ann Arbor and U-M also has limited the city’s ability to influence the University’s decisions. In Dec. 2020, after the University decided to only allow a small number of students to return to on-campus housing for the Winter 2021 semester, Ann Arbor officials urged administrators to provide emergency housing for the city’s homeless population. Despite Ann Arbor city council members pressing the University to agree to the partnership, no further action was taken by the University administration. Though the University may set a clear policy boundary between their institution and the city of Ann Arbor, they hold a significant role in lobbying at the federal level. According to Keller, however, this type of spending is par for the course in D.C. politics and manifests itself in the inf luence a university has. “All this stuff just comes down to relationship building, and that’s what lobbying is,” Keller said. “If you’re trying to influence what’s going on, you’ve got to have a relationship with who’s making it happen.” Daily Staff Reporter Ben Rosenfeld can be reached at bbrosenf@umich.edu.

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Wednesday, April 21, 2021 — 3

ANN ARBOR

State sends letter to EPA regarding Gelman plume

Federal cleanup process to begin for for decades-old 1,4-dioxane pollution after years of community demands KRISTINA ZHENG & JULIANNA MORANO Daily News Editor & Daily Staff Reporter

The state of Michigan sent a concurrence letter April 12 to the Environmental Protection Agency, officially setting in motion the federal cleanup process for the decades-old 1,4-dioxane plume contaminating Ann Arbor’s groundwater system. “As requested by the communities, please reinitiate assessment of the site for the (National Priorities List) listing process,” the letter reads. “The Michigan Department of Environment, Great Lakes, and Energy (EGLE) will work closely with the USEPA and will also ensure that the current remedy continues to protect human health and remains in compliance with Michigan law during the NPL process.” The plume, known as the Gelman plume, takes its moniker from the late Charles Gelman, a manufacturer of micro-porous filters in Ann Arbor in the 1950s. The chemical 1,4-dioxane — a likely carcinogen found to cause kidney and liver cancer as well as

respiratory complications — was used in the manufacturing process and seeped into the ground beneath the company’s Scio Township plant. The contamination has since spread through the Ann Arbor area toward West Park and branches off of the Allen Creek drain system that discharges into the Huron River. In December 2020, Ann Arbor, Washtenaw County, Scio Township and Ann Arbor Township all sent letters to Gov. Gretchen Whitmer, urging her to support EPA Superfund cleanup efforts. After four months, Whitmer approved EPA cleanup aid, prompting April 12’s concurrence letter sent by the Department of Environment, Great Lakes, and Energy. The concurrence letter comes one day before community members and local officials were planning to travel to Lansing to demand action from Whitmer on the steps of the Capitol. The rally has since been canceled. The EPA has previously specified that its involvement in the Gelman site cleanup will only move forward if the state approves. Whitmer’s support will begin the process of placing the Gelman site on the National Priorities List, which will then allow the EPA to step in and

begin the cleanup. To be eligible for the NPL, the EPA will continue local and state efforts to collect data and samples from the Gelman site before determining cleanup methods. The eligibility process would normally take two to three years, but local efforts to collect data and samples over years may shorten that time period, officials tell The Michigan Daily. “Thank you Governor Whitmer for sending the letter to the EPA,” Ann Arbor City Councilmember Kathy Griswold, D-Ward 2, wrote in a tweet April 12. Griswold has been active in organizing efforts around a more comprehensive cleanup of the site. “I see that the EPA path is more strategic,” Griswold told The Daily. “It is going to take a few years before there’s actual cleanup under the EPA. But during that time, we’ll continue to clean up under consent judgment three, and then we may have a ruling from Judge Connors, that will require greater cleanup and that’s what I’m hoping for.” U.S. Rep. Debbie Dingell, D-Mich., also released a statement April 12 in praise of the progress toward the Gelman plume being added to the National Priorities List. “For decades, the growing

dioxane plume has been spreading through Ann Arbor’s groundwater, posing a concerning threat to our families and the surrounding environment,” Dingell’s statement reads. “Our communities have worked together to get us to this point, and I will continue to work with all federal, state, and local officials, as well as all stakeholders involved, to ensure this contamination is properly remediated and our public health is protected long-term.” In 2016, the city of Ann Arbor filed a new lawsuit against Gelman and his company. A settlement was reached in September 2020, which detailed a thorough cleanup protocol, but residents were skeptical about the ability of local authorities to oversee and enforce this cleanup. Dan Bicknell, an environmental remediation professional who discovered the Gelman plume while completing research at the University of Michigan in 1984, called the idea that local government could compel a “resistant polluter” to conduct these cleanup efforts “not logical” in a September interview with The Daily. While local officials continue to play out litigation in court — and

are expected to present ideas for a new cleanup proposal in early May — the state is now also one step closer to receiving EPA Superfund cleanup. Ann Arbor resident Beth Collins, secretary of Coalition for Action on Remediation of Dioxane, told The Daily in an interview that April 12’s letter will be instrumental in bringing in the federal aid needed to strengthen cleanup efforts. “I’m excited and all of us that have been wanting this (letter) for many years are hoping that this (letter) is the start of a new partnership between the state, federal and local units of government are all stakeholders,” Collins said. Previous attempts to introduce EPA intervention began in 2017, when the EPA conducted a preliminary analysis of the Gelman site after increasing activism from local community members. The preliminary assessment found that the Gelman site qualified “for further investigation and evaluation in the NPL listing process — however, former Michigan Gov. Rick Snyder did not support Superfund intervention. “I have said before that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again,

expecting a different result,” Collins said. “Every time (officials) want to go back to court — I mean nothing different has happened, and the plume keeps moving so you just want something different. I feel like a lot of people (may be) apprehensive of the EPA because it is different, but in my mind, that’s good. Difference is going to be good on this site.” Jason Morgan, District 8 commissioner on the Washtenaw County Board of Commissioners, told The Daily the state’s letter is “monumental” given that it starts a bigger process with the federal government. Morgan also said the federal government will be able to finally hold the polluter accountable by requiring Gelman Sciences to pay for the adequate cleanup measures set by the EPA. “That’s something we weighed quite a bit as we were thinking about our essentially two routes that we could go to pursue cleanup,” Morgan said. “The benefit to the federal approach is that they have more tools at their disposal. With the state process, we have a limited regulatory framework of state law to work with.”

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CAMPUS LIFE

You can have the best plans, but sometimes you have to change”: VP of Student Life reflects on past year Martino Harmon talks fall semester plans, vaccinations JASMIN LEE, MARTHA LEWAND & DOMINICK SOKOTOFF

RESEARCH

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News

4 — Wednesday, April 21, 2021

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

ANN ARBOR

Downtown streets close for outdoor dining Initiative rebooted after help restaurants, seeing success last summer GEORGE WEYKAMP Daily Staff Reporter

Since April 1, several streets in Ann Arbor have been closed to make room for additional outdoor dining for local restaurants. The closure, which is similar in style to last summer’s street closures, will include the following streets: Street closures lasting from 4 p.m. on Thursday to 6 a.m. on Monday will be enacted on: • Main Street from William Street to Washington Street • East Liberty Street from Ashley Street to Fourth Avenue • Liberty Street from Maynard Street to State Street, • State Street from William Street to Washington Street Street closures lasting seven days a week will occur on: • Washington Street from Ashley Street to Main Street • East side of Maynard Street from Liberty Street to William Street Maura Thompson, interim director of the Ann Arbor Downtown Development Agency, said the change was made as part of the city’s COVID-19 response to improve social distancing in restaurants. Thompson also said the decision came after businesses reported widespread success in expanding outdoor dining and social distancing out onto the street this past summer. “For many businesses, the three (street) closures were really helpful in generating enough revenue to survive,” Thompson said. “(The closures) were just really imperative to business operations throughout the summer.” Councilmember Ali Ramlawi, D-Ward 5, who also runs the downtown restaurant Jerusalem Garden, said the City Council’s decision to close the streets again this spring came from overwhelming community support and increasing evidence that outdoor dining was safer than indoor dining.

SCHLISSEL From Page 1 I like the fact that it actually went beyond simply thinking about how to reduce the campus’ release of greenhouse gases. It talked about creating a culture of sustainability, promoting research and teaching around carbon neutrality and sustainability, and it had a very powerful focus on environmental justice. What I’ve been doing in the week since the report went final, and for the next several weeks, is working with various subgroups of executives and the folks actually responsible for the nuts-and-bolts of running our facilities and organizing the campus and trying to figure out what we can do. My aim is to talk about the game plan at the regents meeting in May. And by then the team will have digested and analyzed, and I’ll be able to talk about my initial response. I can easily see accepting a majority of the recommendations. There are some that we may need to do some more work or study, but overall I’m really pleased with the results and I’m very optimistic that we’ll be able to do a lot of this really starting now. In terms of various groups being happy or unhappy with the report, I think environmental sustainability, global climate change, greenhouse gases are amongst the most important targets of advocacy, all around the world, and certainly among student groups, and certainly here on campus. I predict the advocacy will continue, and there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just part of how change happens. TMD: The Board of Regents also recently voted in favor of disinvesting from fossil fuel companies and committing to a net-zero investment portfolio by 2050. In previous interviews, you’ve said changing investment policy is solely a financial decision. Regents Mark Bernstein (D) and Jordan Acker (D) thanked students and community members for their input when the new policy was approved. Was this disinvestment decision solely for financial reasons, or did activism and community input

“I believe the survey that the Main Street Association put out (showed) over 95% of the respondents had favorable opinions about it and wanted to see it come back,” Ramlawi said. “And this allows for greater social distancing. It’s scientifically proven that eating outdoors is safer than eating indoors.” Jeff More, the owner of Ashley’s on State Street, said even before the pandemic he had been advocating for the City to allow Ashley’s to install a seven-day-a-week parking lane to use for outdoor dining and more tables. Moore said being able to implement this change as well as the City allowing him to set up a 20-by-50-foot outdoor dining area has been incredibly beneficial in Ashley’s getting through the pandemic. “I don’t know many (restaurants) that really made money last year … so, there is a need to try to get back on solid footing,” More said. “I think the outdoor seating in that expanded space will help get back to that vibrancy of downtown Ann Arbor.” Engineering sophomore Sydney Anderson said though she had noticed an uptick in traffic since the streets closed on April 1, she thought the closures would force people to get out and walk more which would help local businesses and the environment. “I think it’s healthier for the person … It’s way better for the community and the businesses because if you’re walking, you’re more likely to step into a store, rather than if you’re driving by,” Anderson said. “Pedestrians already run Ann Arbor, let’s be honest.” Ann Arbor native Ann O’Brien moved back to Ann Arbor from New York this summer and said she thought the street closures were one of the best decisions the city had made in a long time. O’Brien said the closures created an increased sense of festival and community downtown. “Summertime is a good time to get out, walk around town, be on your bike, be a pedestrian,” O’Brien said. “It may cause extra traffic backups, a few days a week, but

also influence the decision? MS: For sure the activism focused our attention on this … and I give really a lot of credit to the folks who are the powerful advocates on this issue, it’s an important issue. You know my own positions evolved as I understand things better. The basis of the board moving forward is actually fiduciary. So what I mean by that is we came to understand that it’s inevitable that our society moves away from fossil fuels. We have to, and we think we have to do it quickly. It’s not going quickly enough, but the fact that we know that we’re going to end up not using oil and gas like we use it now means that investments in those assets are bad long-term investments — they’re going to go down in value. And we’re responsible not just for this year and next year for the endowment, but we’re responsible for your grandchildren if they get into Michigan, there’s still an endowment here to help subsidize their education. So companies that don’t come up with good plans to become carbon neutral, they’re going to become bad investments over time. Either the government’s going to start taxing carbon, or there’ll be other changes in society that make them bad investments. TMD: At the special Regents meeting April 2, several regents made statements condemning Regent Weiser’s recent remarks about women and allusions to assassination at the North Oakland Republic Club, with Regent Acker going so far as to call Regent Weiser’s comments “a betrayal” of the board’s work and “everything the University of Michigan stands for.” Regardless of the future of Regent Weiser’s relationship with the University, how do you and the board plan to rebuild the trust of the campus community as a collective decision-making body for the University and as an institution that purports to strive for DEI? MS: I hope that the board is able to rebuild some of the lost trust by focusing on our highest priorities and showing the public that this is what they work on. We work on access and affordability of a Michigan education,

I don’t think it’s going … to have much of an impact because it’s more happening on the weekends.” Ann Arbor City Council has previously discussed making the weekend street closures something Ann Arbor does every summer. Ramlawi said these conversations began even prior to COVID-19, but the pandemic has accelerated them. “There’s been talks before COVID about having pedestrian streets in areas of the town close to vehicular traffic,” Ramlawi said. “In a post-pandemic (world), we have a very beautiful downtown that people are envious of … and I think we should celebrate that.” Ramlawi said there were many factors, such as the opinions of Ann Arbor residents and the closure’s effect on retail commerce, that City Council would need to consider before making a permanent change. O’Brien said she hopes the closures become permanent as she believes the lack of cars in the area makes downtown a more desirable place for Ann Arbor residents to spend their time. “It just promotes more of a healthy atmosphere; people are more inclined to walk, sit outside, perhaps not bring their cars into that area,” O’Brien said. Justin Zhao, co-owner of Sharetea on State Street, said he had some reservations about the street closures continuing in a post-COVID-19 world. Zhao said Sharetea is planning on using the space for increased outdoor dining for their store, but he said he worries once students come back full-time, there will be increased traffic and congestion in other parts of the city. “I feel like other areas would be very congested around (State Street),” Zhao said. “When the students are here … those streets are pretty important (and) they need to be opened up for cars.” Street closures are currently slated to last until late August. Daily Staff Reporter George Weykamp can be reached at gweykamp@umich.edu. we work on academic excellence, we just spoke about work we’re doing in carbon neutrality and climate change, we work supporting our health system and life-saving research on many other topics. So I think the way to maintain trust and to grow trust is to focus on the things that are important to our community and do a really good job. TMD: At this time, do you agree with the Board of Regents that Regent Weiser should resign? If he doesn’t — and he’s repeatedly said he won’t — how do you think the board will be able to work with him over the next four years? Regent Mike Behm (D) has said Weiser has been a “Regent in name only” since January. MS: So as I mentioned a moment ago, the board works by majority vote. On the vast majority of issues that the board addresses, there’s unanimity of opinion. We all share the same set of goals. I presume that the board will have to work its way past our entire community’s unhappiness with the events from a few weeks ago and figure out how to work together for the sake of the University. As I said, one regent has one vote and there are eight regents on the board. This process has served us well for 200 years. Although I don’t know of another instance where there was a vote of the type that took place a couple weeks ago at a special meeting, there have been arguments amongst regents, disagreements of opinion. So it’ll be challenging, but I’m confident that the same mechanisms that have served the University for a couple hundred years will continue. TMD: To ask you directly, do you agree with the Board of Regents’ vote that Regent Weiser should resign? MS: I’m not a voting member of the board. I convene their meetings and I organize the discussions, but I don’t vote. TMD: The Washington Post reported that you wrote to Wisconsin’s chancellor last summer: “If you simply delete emails after sending, does that relieve you of FOIA obligations?” When she responded that permanently deleting them violates state law, you said, “that’s really interesting and difficult. Thanks for explaining.” Do you ever

ALEC COHEN/Daily

Dr. Robert Sellers to step down in December

ADMINISTRATION

U-M Chief Diversity Officer was at helm of five-year DEI strategic plan CHRISTIAN JULIANO & JULIANNA MORANO Daily Staff Reporters

Dr. Robert Sellers, the University of Michigan’s chief diversity officer, announced he will be stepping down from his position Dec. 31, according to The University Record. Sellers was at the helm of the University’s fiveyear strategic plan for diversity, equity and inclusion, referred to as DEI 1.0, which will come to a close this year. “As DEI 1.0 draws to a close after an initial five years and we move seamlessly toward DEI 2.0, Dr. Sellers believes this is the right time to allow new leadership to bring new ideas and new energy to the work that is absolutely essential to our success as an institution of higher education,” University President Mark Schlissel wrote in a message to the University community. “Yet, we would not be in a position to move forward on our goals without his leadership and the work he has done in this role over the last seven years.” As the University begins its search for his successor among

permanently delete your emails? And if so, in what circumstances? MS: Yeah, I say on a typical day, I get between 100 and several hundred emails. Every day. Maybe on Sundays a few less. So I’m always curating my emails, and I’m always discarding emails, and I think most people do. It’s to keep yourself organized, and not everything needs to be kept. The reason I was having that conversation with Chancellor (Rebecca) Blank is that Michigan Freedom of Information Act laws say nothing about an obligation to retain emails. So, in Wisconsin, their law requires they be retained. In Michigan, our law doesn’t speak to retaining emails. So I delete all kinds of emails every single day. I save some, I delete some — it just depends on what I’m working on. I should point out … since this has received a lot of attention, we were conducting a discussion amongst a group of presidents, batting around ideas about how we were planning on approaching the fall semester. I love getting advice from other people that are separate from us but in analogous conversations. There was nothing mysterious in the emails and they eventually responded to a FOIA in Wisconsin, (and now) they’re all out there. There was nothing nefarious in these emails — it’s just a matter of people wanting to know what people are talking about. TMD: In a broader sense, do concerns about public record requests ever discourage you from communicating candidly on official channels? MS: The most important thing to me is that I do my job 100% as best I can. And I communicate all different kinds of ways: sometimes by email, sometimes by telephone and now more and more this way, by Zoom. I do whatever suits the moment, and the idea is I’ve got to get the job done. I’ve got to talk to people, I’ve got to learn things, I have to compare notes. So we do what we’ve got to do. TMD: The Lecturers’ Employee Organization gathered and marched outside of your house last Saturday in protest against the administration’s recent counterproposal in a closed

current faculty members, Sellers will remain in his position until the end of the calendar year. In his announcement, Schlissel affirmed the University “will not let up” on DEI 1.0 in this period of transition. Sellers has served as chief diversity officer at the University since 2014. In an email to his colleagues prior to the announcement, Sellers expressed gratitude to the campus community members he has worked with and their “amazing commitment to making the university a better place for all.” “While there is still work to do, I am very proud of all that we have accomplished,” Sellers wrote. Schlissel provided well wishes to Sellers in his email to community members and outlined how important Sellers has been in the University’s commitment to DEI during his tenure. “While it truly takes each one of us to raise up the work of diversity, equity and inclusion at a place as big and dispersed as the University of Michigan, Dr. Robert Sellers has been outstanding in leading this critical work across our campus on a day-to-day basis for the past seven years, alongside his tremendous team,” Schlissel

wrote. Sellers plans to return to his post in the Department of Psychology as a tenured faculty member. In addition to being chief diversity officer, he has worked within the University for 28 years. Once the University finds his successor, Sellers said in his message he will work closely with administration to help with the transition process. As Sellers steps down, Schlissel reaffirmed his own commitment to DEI in his email to community members. “We cannot be excellent without being diverse in the broadest sense of the word,” Schlissel wrote. “And we must also ensure that our community allows all individuals an equal opportunity to thrive.” As chief diversity officer and a member of the provost’s cabinet, Sellers coordinated efforts such as faculty recruitment and retention, tenure and faculty development. The position also involved advising Schlissel on DEI-related issues and serving as University spokesperson for DEI matters.

bargaining session Friday, April 9. LEO has a history of voting to strike, and we’ve seen an even more recent strike from the Graduate Employees’ Organization at the beginning of the fall semester. With LEO’s contract set to expire in less than a week, what is the University prepared to do to prevent another strike from occurring? MS: We are strong believers in collective bargaining. We do our bargaining at the table. We don’t do it in the newspaper or something. But we’ve got multiple additional sessions scheduled with LEO. Our lecturers are very important to delivering our academic mission. They’re our colleagues. Many of them are neighbors or friends. And we’re committed to trying to find a mutually agreeable way to complete a contract negotiation. This happens every three years with every union — every two to three years, depending upon the union. TMD: Part of LEO’s platform emphasizes pay parity across the University’s campuses, but Public Affairs recently countered that the University does not have an obligation to bargain with LEO on where funds unrelated to lecturers’ contracts go. Where do you stand on this question of LEO’s demands regarding the Flint and Dearborn campuses? Do you think the bigger question of equitable funding truly lies outside the purview of a labor union’s collective action efforts? MS: As I mentioned earlier, I don’t negotiate in public or talk publicly about an active negotiation. I am comfortable saying that the three campuses of the University of Michigan are quite autonomous from one another. We share a Board of Regents and I supervise the chancellors on those campuses, but each campus gets a separate budget from the state — directly from the state, directly to that campus. Each campus makes its own decisions on admission (and) has its own standards. Each campus is accredited, independently of one another by a different accrediting agency. Each campus charges a different tuition. Flint and Dearborn are less (in tuition cost) than Ann

Arbor. And the chancellors on each campus, or the president here in Ann Arbor, is responsible for making decisions and allocating resources on each campus. So, and that’s been the case since the 1960s, when Flint and Dearborn joined under the University of Michigan umbrella. TMD: Have you considered extending the Go Blue Guarantee to Flint and Dearborn? Do you have any concrete plans in that area? MS: Yeah, I know that Flint and Dearborn themselves are considering whetherthey’dliketobeginaguarantee because it’s the responsibility of the chancellor and the leadership on each of those campuses to decide how best to spend their resources. At Flint and Dearborn, almost 80% of the students or more get financial aid, more than in Ann Arbor. If they decided to do a Go Blue Guarantee, they would take money away from somewhere else. So they’re making the balancing act or values judgment about what is best needed on each of the campuses. Here in Ann Arbor, the reason why we began a guarantee approach to this financial aid is we have a campus where very few people came from the bottom 50% of the socioeconomic strata around our state. So we wanted to invest in making sure that Michigan in Ann Arbor was accessible to people throughout the economic spectrum. TMD: What’s your favorite song from the rerecorded Taylor Swift album “Fearless” released Friday? MS: Usually I try my very best to answer all your questions. I had no idea that Taylor Swift just rereleased an album, and although I’m sure I’d recognize Taylor Swift if I heard her on the radio, I’m not sure I can name any of her songs. I’m embarrassed. You know, my musical experiences stopped in the 1970s. If you want to talk a little Bob Dylan and Paul McCartney or something, I’m with you.

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Daily News Editor Calder Lewis can be reached at calderll@umich.edu. Daily Staff Reporters Jared Dougall & Julianna Morano can be reached at jdougall@umich.edu & jucomora@ umich.edu. Managing Podcast Editor Gerald Sill contributed reporting.

Arts

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

The place where prosthetics and Republicans meet KATRINA STEBBINS Daily Arts Writer

My least favorite subgenre of film and television doesn’t have a name, and I don’t think I would be able to give it one if I had to. I have to use a lot of words to describe it, something like “movies or shows with famous white people in prosthetics playing Republicans.” The films “Vice” and “Bombshell,” along with the Showtime miniseries “The Loudest Voice,” all came out within one year. They epitomize this strange genre phenomenon through their depictions of former Vice President Dick Cheney, various former Fox News anchors including Megyn Kelly and former head of Fox News Roger Ailes respectively.

protagonists are usually Democrats, but no one really makes a big deal about their party affiliation. In “The West Wing,” President Jed Bartlet (Martin Sheen, “Judas and the Black Messiah”) and his successor are Democrats. In “The Ides of March,” George Clooney’s (“The Midnight Sky”) character is a Democratic nominee for president. Even in “Definitely, Maybe,” a romantic comedy, Ryan Reynolds’s (“Deadpool”) character is an enthusiastic volunteer for Bill Clinton’s presidential campaign. Democratic politics are so casual in Hollywood that whenever someone makes a movie about Republicans, it really has to be about Republicans. There has to be a spectacle — i.e. putting actors like Christian Bale, Charlize Theron and Russell Crowe into heavy prosthetics to make them look like carbon copies of the people they’re portraying.

Design by Brianna Manzor

The three projects were released as if they were on a schedule, with almost exactly six months between each of them. It’s like Hollywood had a Republican biopic quota and was trying to fill it as quickly as possible. It was quite the trend. I remember looking up at a massive billboard for “The Loudest Voice” in the summer of 2019 and thinking, “this is that Dick Cheney movie’s fault.” When I watched the first trailer for “Bombshell” later that year, I thought, “this is that Roger Ailes show’s fault.” It’s not that movies about Republicans hadn’t been made before (Oliver Stone’s “Nixon” and “W.” come to mind), but it was the first time that I’d seen them churned out so quickly. The entertainment industry is liberal: Everyone knows that. When a movie or TV show is about American politics, the

It has to be something gimmicky that will win awards and underscore the inherent “otherness” of movies about conservatives, which stand out in an industry that so obviously leans left. And Hollywood usually takes the bait — Bale won a Golden Globe for “Vice,” and “Bombshell” won an Oscar for makeup and hairstyling. It’s almost like movies about Republicans and conservative media are thought of as boundary-pushing. As far as turning politics into entertainment goes, I can understand why the Republican Party and the vast media empire that props it up might be more fun to write about than their Democratic counterparts. I’m pretty confident that no one is writing spec scripts about the lives of Al Gore, Rachel Maddow or whoever the head of MSNBC is. Republicans are just more

entertaining, even if it’s not for good reasons. But there’s something so insidious about making Republican politics seem subversive through film and TV. It’s not that “Vice,” “Bombshell” or “The Loudest Voice” are even particularly generous to their subjects — “Vice” blows up Cheney’s villainy into Shakespearean proportions at the end — but none of these attempted revelations actually reveal anything. Cheney’s warmongering and Ailes’s sexual misconduct are well-documented, and Kelly’s move from Fox News to NBC after Fox News’s #MeToo moment created a massive media stir. The people who care to see these stories fictionalized are most likely people who are already somewhat informed on the stories’ realities, not people who might be coming in as a blank slate. So what is the value of retelling these stories on screen? Is there any at all? The conservatives who might watch these movies will find that they’re perfect fodder for their perceived victimhood, something to point to and whine that they’re being oppressed by the liberal media. But they’re also great for feeding liberal superiority complexes, which thrive off all of the finger-wagging the movies do. They also allow a self-satisfied Adam McKay (“The Big Short”), the director of “Vice,” to comment directly on exactly how edgy and groundbreaking he thinks his movie is through an unnecessary, meta, mid-credit scene in which a focus group argues over the film’s political biases. The real purposes, then, of productions like “Vice,” “Bombshell” and “The Loudest Voice” are first to employ every white actor in Hollywood, and second to indulge their creators and the misguided creative instincts that tell them what they’re making is somehow valuable to political discourse. In practice, they just end up either preaching to the choir or to a congregation with predrawn conclusions, both of which render the sermon needless and empty. As far as I know, nothing else has come out that fits the very specific criteria of famous white people, prosthetics and Republicans, so I’m hopeful that Hollywood has learned something from the fact that both “Vice” and “Bombshell” underperformed at the box office, if nothing else. I’m crossing my fingers that they represent a bygone era, because if I ever see a billboard advertising a biopic about Mitch McConnell, I might try to rip it down myself.

Wednesday, April 21, 2021 — 5

The TV beat talks Nickelodeon: The lasting value of ‘Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius’ AIDAN HARRIS Daily Arts Writer

As a little kid, Jimmy Neutron was always one of my favorite characters, thanks to the 2001 cinematic experience “Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius.” At the age of four, I even recommended that my parents name my little brother, Sacha, “Jimmy.” Yes, the television show, “The Adventures of Jimmy Neutron, Boy Genius” was great, and I remember enjoying the reruns, but it finished airing when I wasn’t even old enough to read. Thus, episodes of the show were not easily accessible. On the other hand, the movie was readily available via DVD anytime I wanted it. The film follows Jimmy Neutron, a brilliant inventor, and his elementary school friends, as they attempt to rescue their abducted parents from a planet of gooey aliens. The parentnapping was made possible by Jimmy himself, as he sent the coordinates of Earth into space in hopes of making contact with friendly aliens. Before the kids find out why their parents are missing, they partake in a heinous darty and wake up with massive kid hangovers, which include tummy aches, boo-boos and a desperate need for lunch. They subsequently realize the value of quality parenting and, led by Jimmy, orchestrate a plan to fly to space to save their folks from the throes of the gooey aliens and their chicken monster-god, who has an appetite for humans. Before re-watching the movie, the moments that had stuck in my mind were the silliest ones, such as Jimmy’s friend Sheen peeing in the shower (and proclaiming it to no one in particular), and Jimmy’s accidental shrinking of the shrill teacher Mrs. Fowl. However, upon rewatching, I realized that the movie offers several valuable and wise lessons for kids that are still exceedingly relevant for children today. In the animated TV realm of the 2000s, most protagonists were extraordinary because of some sort of supernatural power. Whether it be Timmy Turner with his fairy godparents, Danny Phantom with his ghost powers or Aang with his bending powers, all of these characters benefit from otherworldly abilities. Conversely, “Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius” introduced a hero whose only superpower is his intellect and ambition. Many of Jimmy’s inventions fail, such as his bubble transportation device and jetpack. However, he never gives up and keeps working on new devices and strategies until his

goal of saving his parents is complete. Jimmy’s work ethic and self-made nature is inspiring for kids who are used to seeing characters with unreal powers. And during times of adversity, Jimmy demonstrates the value of perseverance and searching for a solution instead of sulking. In his lowest moments of the movie, Jimmy has the two most groundbreaking realizations of the film (the first being that all the kids’ parents have been abducted, the second being a strategy to escape an alien dungeon). This may be an overly simplistic way of looking at the world, but it is a usefully optimistic portrayal of struggle and redemption for kids, who will undoubtedly face misfortune at certain points in the future. Jimmy also exemplifies the adage “with great power, comes great responsibility.” He is a genius, but he does not let his greatness get to his head. He remains humble and treats his less intelligent friends, Carl and Sheen, with respect. Through his creation of silly inventions, such as burping soda, Jimmy maintains that he is not above his friends or audience. Several lessons from “Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius” feel ahead of their time. For example, the importance of privacy and not sharing personal information is made clear through Jimmy’s blunder of sending his coordinates to space. This lesson is pertinent to kids today, many of whom have smartphones and are on social media by the age of 11. Similarly, the issue of actively seeking out popularity, or clout chasing, has worsened with this increase in social media use by kids. One of Jimmy’s classmates, Cindy, originally falls into this trap by obsessing over the class’s cool guy, Nick, even though she and Jimmy share more in common, such as an adoration of space. By the end of the movie, Cindy becomes disinterested in Nick, and a future relationship with Jimmy is alluded to, which emphasizes the importance of finding a relationship based on the right fit as opposed to popularity. It may seem like this analysis is too in-depth for a kid’s movie. However, while I may not have been able to point out all of these hidden values at the age of four, it does not mean that I was not subconsciously absorbing them. You don’t always need to be aware of why you are drawn to great art. This is the beauty of good child entertainment in particular. Like “Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius,” it should impact its audience in ways they cannot even fully comprehend at the time of first viewing it.

‘MONTERO’ makes Lil Nas X one of the defining artists of our generation MEERA KUMAR & KAI BARTOL Daily Arts Writers

Lil Nas X’s latest single, “MONTERO (Call Me By Your Name),” is much more than a hollow pop song from an internet personality — it’s a statement. As the most musically and thematically complex song from the artist, whose given name is Montero Hill, “MONTERO” is a triumph in self-expression. The luscious production and danceable, Latin-inspired groove compliment Lil Nas X’s vocal performance, which ranges from lustful to pleading. Lil Nas X clearly sings from the heart as he meditates on codependency, sexuality and secrecy within relationships. The song has gained attention since it was released on March 26 in part due to its colorful, campy and controversial music video laden with riffs on biblical and literary allusions normally used to villainize queerness. Lil Nas X plays every single character in the video, and at one point, literally (lap) dances with the devil. In three tightly packed minutes, Lil Nas X plays a long-haired Adam in the garden of Eden. There, he is confronted by a snake, who seduces him with a third eye. After, a pinkhaired Adam is taken to a trial where

he’s stoned to death (alluding to Plato’s “Symposium”). Lil Nas X then poledances down to the deepest layer of hell, where he enters the devil’s palace, gives him a lap dance, snaps his neck, takes his horns and assumes his place on the dark throne. In a Twitter statement, Hill opened up about the inspiration for the song and video: mainly, his feelings of religious self-loathing while in the closet. He publicly discussed the bigotry he’s experienced, especially from the religious right, which has told him he’ll burn in hell for his sexuality. In the music video, Lil Nas X bravely decides to silence his inner devil and embrace his sexual orientation; if he must go to hell, so be it. Alongside the song, Lil Nas X partnered with art collective MSCHF to create a limited number of “Satan Shoes.” These shoes, which were modified Nike Air Max 97’s, featured a bronze pentagram, were inscribed with “Luke 10:18” (which states, “I watched Satan fall from heaven like lightning”), and contained a drop of human blood. Nike, who played no part in manufacturing these shoes, filed a restraining order against MSCHF in response to widespread confusion over their role in the stunt. The video and the accompanying shoes sent shockwaves through the internet. Many internet conservatives

took to Twitter to voice their concerns over the shoes and the video’s homoerotic and satanic content. Kaitlin Bennett — better known as the “Kent State gun girl” who became famous in 2018 for bringing an AR-10 to her graduation photoshoot — was very vocal about her outrage over the music video. A heated Twitter exchange broke out between Bennet and Hill which ended in Bennet’s bigoted tweet: “Do you still see your dad?” Lil Nas X responded: “yep and i might fuck yours.” Other right-wing commentators like Candace Owens, Gov. Kristi Loem, R-S.D., and Pastor Mark Burns were very outspoken with their condemnation of “MONTERO.” Celebrities like basketball player Nick Young and quarterback Trevor Lawrence publicly criticized the “Satan Shoes,” with Young stating, “My kids will never play Old Town road again.” Singer Joyner Lucas took issue with the influence Lil Nas X has on little kids, to which he responded, “i literally sing about lean & adultery in old town road. u decided to let your child listen. blame yourself.” The belief that Lil Nas X lost his kid-friendly appeal by embracing his sexuality has parallels to the public backlash over Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball.” However, while Cyrus took a full beating of hate in

2013, Lil Nas X has been clapping back with just as much shade as what’s been thrown at him. Even before “Old Town Road,” Lil Nas X has been an expert at playing the internet game — his internet persona is just as important as the music he has released. The success of his songs can partly be attributed to their virality on TikTok, where his extremely online presence allows him to engage with millions of fans. On TikTok, where Lil Nas X began his career, he reposts hilarious fan “MONTERO”-themed TikToks multiple times a day. He contributed to this content by starting a TikTok trend where people pretend to be stuck at the gates of heaven or hell, as Lil Nas X quickly slides past on his pole, causing them to confusedly hear a fraction of a second of “MONTERO.” Additionally, Lil Nas X used TikTok to promote his free browser game called “Twerk Hero,” which challenges the player to twerk along with the avatar on-screen. It’s clear that Lil Nas X understands how to game social media with a fresh sense of humor; his TikToks receive hundreds of thousands of likes and are often reposted to other social media platforms. Many people may not be familiar with “MONTERO” by name, but have tangential knowledge of the song from the explosion of memes, tweets and TikToks strewn about the internet.

This isn’t a happy coincidence — “MONTERO’s” publicity explosion on the internet is by design. It’s how “Old Town Road” went viral, and how so many people are familiar with “MONTERO.” In contrast to the genuine, raw nature of the song, Lil Nas X uses cheeky social media humor to publicize his work. In addition to his many social media exchanges, Lil Nas X posted a video titled “MONTERO but ur in the bathroom of hell while lil nas is giving Satan a lap dance in the other room,” following the popular YouTube meme format. In the comments, many noted they were surprised to see that Lil Nas X himself posted the video — many stated that much of the content that Lil Nas X posts aren’t reminiscent of an advertising campaign, but instead, that of a viral meme page. With his excellent marketing skills, Lil Nas X might be one of the few artists who understand the psychology behind Gen Z internet usage: make people laugh, and you have their attention. For Lil Nas X, who has yet to release a full album, the divisive release of “MONTERO” at this point in his career is a testament to his bravery. It’s worth noting that the backlash he has faced is disproportional to that of other artists who’ve used satanic imagery, like Madonna, AC/DC or literally any rock band. As a Black, gay

man who tells his story honestly, Lil Nas X is targeted by right-wing media for not staying within the “acceptable” boxes created by the music industry and beyond. A certified bop like “Old Town Road” appeals to everyone — many of Lil Nas X’s original fans come from across the world and political spectrum, even many who harbor hateful views towards the queer community. Lil Nas X is aware, yet doesn’t shy away from unapologetically celebrating his identity. He uses his wide platform for good by normalizing content that empowers queer people of color in a world that seems to despise both groups. Lil Nas X knew he would make a polarizing statement, but to him, it was worth others feeling less of the self-loathing he did growing up. Statements like the video of “MONTERO” spur important discussions about the acceptance of queerness. Through “MONTERO,” Lil Nas X displays boundary-breaking, society-shaping artistry in its truest form. Make no mistake: Lil Nas X isn’t a passive product of internet algorithms — he’s a social media master. With “MONTERO,” Lil Nas X uses his platform, artistic talent and playful nature to celebrate queerness with a video that’s sure to go down in internet history.

Lyon, artichokes and filthy boulangeries: Chef Bill Buford for ‘At Home with Literati’ CECILIA DURAN Daily Arts Writer

Reporting live from my balcony, yet again, for another literary event coverage. This time it’s chef and author Bill Buford’s appearance in the “At Home with Literati” series, presenting his latest book “Dirt: Adventures in Lyon as a Chef in Training, Father, and Sleuth Looking for the Secret of French Cooking.” Today I’m not drinking Roiboos tea but matcha! This was my first time trying it, and it will most probably be the last. Apologies for any grass-tasting milk lovers, but I will stick to my former choice of drink. Before tuning in on this April 5 evening to Literati’s Zoom webinar, I did a fair bit of research on the author in question. Before I realized it, I had spent almost an hour watching his cooking videos on The New Yorker’s YouTube channel, such as this one, where he cooks a delicious apple pie with the help

of his twin sons in his home kitchen. The event began with a brief introduction by John Ganiard, the event director for Literati, who gave the audience a bit of background into how Buford’s “Dirt” came to be and the unanticipated abandonment of the chef’s life in New York City for a five-year adventure in Lyon, “the gastronomical capital of the world.” Then it was Buford’s turn to elaborate on the marvel of that voyage, and how a filthy bakery run by a man named Bob, as well as his apprenticeship in a storied Michelin-starred restaurant, broadened his culinary skills (and his archive of great anecdotes). Buford’s book, which serves as a sequel to “Heat” (2006), a memoir of how he left his position as editor of The New Yorker to dive into Italian restaurant kitchens, was described by Ganiard as more “conversational storytelling” than the actual heavy reflection normally associated with memoirs. Buford read the opening

pages, and I could instantly tell what he had meant by that — it was written in a humorous conversational manner. I felt like I was at a dinner table and he was telling me an anecdote about his life — a vivid narrative situated in the heat and stress of a Michelin-starred kitchen, with smells and sounds accompanying his interactive way of depicting the scene. The anecdote was about artichokes — and I love artichokes — so I instantly drew my ear closer: Buford had botched the preparation of the green buds so badly that he had the whole staff in the kitchen buckle in laughter. All but the head chef, who was serious in the way French chefs are: “Arms crossed and frowning, because nobody smiles in kitchens.” Buford explained his experience in two very different workspaces, a Michelin-starred restaurant and an eccentric bakery, both of which taught him a great deal about French cuisine and the important role it plays in the

country’s culture. He emphasized his admiration for the farm-to-table custom that has proliferated in France and the emphasis on fresh, local and unprocessed food. The title of the book stems from this notion that it is the soil in which the food is growing — ingredients that haven’t been ruined by modern life — that makes it so special. Buford puts it beautifully: the marvel of the hundreds of different kinds of cheeses and the “poetry in every kind being tied to a place and not another.” The webinar turned into a Q&A and I posed two questions, although I could have asked him many more. I wanted to know what dish, out of the ones he had learned in Lyon, had been his favorite. “Chicken,” he laughed. He also mentioned mastering (and loving) making sauces. My second question, and the one which concluded the event, posed whether he ever thought of opening up his own restaurant and where he would locate it. Buford said he had a fantasy of

Design by Brianna Manzor

going back to France and then opening up a restaurant with fellow chef Michel Richard upon his return to New York. Or maybe a pop-up restaurant in Lyon. A potential location he mentioned was Piedmont, the region bordering France and Italy, as a place where he could put his “love for the way in which the French and Italians conversed” into work — a place where his genius and his apprenticeship could come together. Additionally, he did say he loved Spanish cuisine as another potential future project — a

completion of his Mediterranean trio. As a Spaniard, I would love to see that. My stomach rumbles at the thought of Bob’s bread, of my grandma’s artichokes (which I like to believe are well-cooked) and of Buford’s pastas. Now I log off for the day, happy to have hopped, once again, into an Ann Arborrun literary event and extending the list of book recommendations that I will read when I have more time in my hands. Hopefully alongside some delicious apple pie and Rooibos tea (not matcha).

Arts

6 — Wednesday, April 21, 2021

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Artist Retrospective: Animal Collective’s domination of 2000s indie DREW GADBOIS Daily Arts Writer

When you think of the word indie, what typically comes to mind? Is it a youthful aesthetic? Is it a culture defined by being ahead of the curve? Or is it maybe just a new sound? Whatever the interpretation is, it’s hard to argue that Animal Collective doesn’t embody it in some way. Yes, I know. An artist retrospective on Animal Collective? How original. However, when people talk about the band’s absurd run of albums in the 2000s, they tend to leave out some crucial records in their early years as well as smaller side projects. Hopefully, this will help shine some light on some of the more under-appreciated records. Regardless, the level of impact the band has had on both its contemporaries within the indie genre, as well as what the genre would become because of their influence, is undeniable. By looking back through their discography, we can see the way Animal Collective constantly evolved their sound and forged an uncomparable identity not only within their niche, but the musical landscape as a whole. Of course, this article won’t be covering every project from the group, but it will cover most of it. Let’s begin. Spirit They’re Gone, Spirit They’ve Vanished — Everything Animal Collective can be traced back to Baltimore, Md., where all four members — Dave Portner (Avey Tare), Noah Lennox (Panda Bear), Brian Weitz (Geologist) and Josh Dibb (Deakin) — grew up and met as teenagers. Once off at college, they would congregate every summer to make music. Around this time, Portner was already in the middle of writing a record. He then asked Lennox to participate in the recording process. Thus, Spirit They’re Gone, Spirit They’ve Vanished was released in August 2000. In every regard, this album is a miracle. Nothing at the time sounded remotely like it, and to this day, few

records can compare. Portner and Lennox tap into a side of the juvenile experience that rarely gets explored. The instrumentation can turn from sporadic folky acoustics to harsh unabashed noise in an instant. At the same time, they managed to craft long complex songs that demonstrate an affinity for experimental compositions far beyond their years. Tracks like “Penny Dreadfuls” and “Alvin Row” are perfect examples of this ability. What really sets this record apart from anything else at the time is that it never once feels like it’s trying to be experimental. It’s just the music Portner and Lennox wanted to make. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the track “Untitled,” which might be one of the most powerful songs Animal Collective has ever made. It could just have easily been titled “Staring Into the Face of God.” If you ever need to prove to someone that noise can be beautiful, this is all you need. Danse Manatee — At this point, the band was hitting a creative flow. They began discovering the experimental branch of music and fell in love. Around this time, they met with and became friends with experimental noise group Black Dice (a band that probably deserves a retrospective in their own right). While having included harsh textures to some degree on their prior project, this introduction opened their eyes to not only the limitless possibilities of noise but the different types of noise that can be implemented. With these interests in mind, Portner and Lennox brought along Weitz to work on their next album, Danse Manatee, released in July 2001. This album often gets overlooked in comparison to the enormity of the band’s full catalog, mostly because it is seen as more of a transitional work for them. In some ways, this is true. The trio definitely experimented more on this project. There are very few tracks, if any, that contain any sort of familiar song structure, or a structure at all for that matter. And yet, it never feels as though the album loses focus or purpose.

Everything flows in a very organic way, despite the sound being more synthetic than anything they had done up to that point. However, the most impressive part is how the band utilizes noise. Spirit They’re Gone is loud, but Danse Manatee is noisier. The band uses quiet, high-pitch frequency as a background for the music they put in front of it. This creates the sensation of something itching at the back of your brain. It’s infectious in that way. Campfire Songs — Not long after Danse Manatee was released, the band started working on material again. They had been enticed for years by the idea of creating something warm and inviting. Naturally, this pushed them toward an acoustic sound, and their next release Campfire Songs certainly embraces it. With five tracks, two over ten minutes long, Campfire Songs captures Animal Collective at their most hypnotic and ambient. The band piles several layers of guitar chords strumming on top of each other to create a full psychotomimetic soundscape, a technique they would use many times in the future. This is one of those LPs where the music and the title work in harmony. Campfire Songs feels like the apotheosis of all late summer evenings around a fire with friends. There is a comfortable atmosphere established by the repetitiveness of the strumming but also a sense of adventure in the way the music glides smoothly along. Each song transitions perfectly so that the tracks are seamless and indistinguishable without checking to see if the title has changed. The album is one whole experience that really doesn’t get enough praise. It should be noted that — although they weren’t improvised — all five tracks were recorded in one take on a porch. How aesthetically perfect. Ark — Technically, this is the first official Animal Collective LP. Everything before was retroactively included by both the fans and the band themselves. Originally titled Here Comes The Indian, the project released in 2003 was later renamed Ark due to the disrespectful nature of the initial name.

Design by Caitlin Martens

In many ways, this project feels like the evolved form of Danse Manatee. It contains many of the same experiments with noise; this time, everything is mixed so that this experimentation is front and center. The band comes closer to traditional song structure than ever before (which isn’t saying much). They play with a tight intensity that feels in your face but they do not lose complete sight of the psychedelic and hypnotic atmospheres they worked with on Campfire Songs. The track “Infant Dressing Table” is a delicate sound representation of infancy that builds slowly until all the different textures coalesce into one sound. It balances chaos and beauty in a way that should not work as well as it does. Ark as a whole feels like a summation of what the band has worked on before, but with slightly more refinement. Sung Tongs — For fans, Animal Collective has a golden era in their career, and most would agree that this is where it begins. After the dense collages of Ark, the band felt it necessary to strip things back. And if they’ve learned anything, it’s hard to get much more stripped back than acoustic. Thus, Sung Tongs was born. But to expect this to be similar to

Campfire Songs would be a mistake. They tighten up their focus even more, emphasizing as much organic instrumentation as possible. The result ends up sounding halfway between alien folk songs and indie Captain Beefheart. Percussion becomes an important element of the record as a way to accentuate the complex rhythms introduced throughout. The percussive feel of the LP even finds its way into the guitar-playing, with sharp strumming carving out rhythms of their own. It’s the perfect music to try and fail to dance to. Somehow, they manage to sound even more playful than usual while also achieving some of their most meditative works to date. This is the album where Animal Collective establishes that they are very much accomplished songwriters. Each track has more of a thematic presence. “Kids on Holiday” depicts the conflict of trying to make the most of constant travel despite its depressing monotony. “Visiting Friends,” perhaps the track most similar to Campfire Songs, presents a wordless long-form expression of the beauty of being with new friends as well as the anxiety of hanging out with people you still don’t know too

well. “College” is less than a minute long and consists of Lennox and Portner layering vocal harmonies on top of each other in a way that sounds similar to what Robin Pecknold would do years later. The song has only one line: “You don’t have to go to college.” Sung Tongs truly is a triumphant moment for the band as well as an indicator to everyone of how unrestricted their creativity was then. Prospect Hummer — After Sung Tongs, Animal Collective had the attention of nearly every music critic under the sun. While they were touring in the United Kingdom, they happened to meet legendary folk artist Vashti Bunyan. This meeting seemed to have been fruitful because the band immediately started reworking some unreleased cuts off Sung Tongs for Bunyan to sing on. The final product would be the Prospect Hummer EP, released in early 2005. Thinking about the sound Bunyan was known for and the sound Animal Collective was working with at the time, it is absurd how well this EP turned out. .

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Preaching to posterity: Spike Lee and Terence Blanchard give change-maker lecture

SUDOKU 2

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Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

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Daily Arts Writer

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

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Release Date: Wednesday, April 21, 2021

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GIGI GUIDA

puzzle by sudokusnydictation.com

ACROSS 1 Formal ties 7 Corp. homes 10 Govt. farming monitor 14 Symphony type pioneered by Beethoven 15 Agreement that sounds like fun? 16 Clogging is one of its two st. dances 17 *Lamb Chop, e.g. 19 Laura with an Oscar 20 Holiday aide 21 Back 22 Decisiveness 24 Hunk 26 DJIA listings 29 Candy cup creator 31 *Start a number 35 Forbes competitor 36 Legal encumbrance 37 Holiday drink 38 Lions and tigers and ... not bears 42 Swap with, as in a player-forplayer deal 44 Busy-bee link 45 “Très __” 47 GPS info 48 *Sheriff Woody’s sidekick 52 “Silas Marner” child 53 Plaza de toros cry 54 Lily pad squatter 57 Sap 59 Erode, with “away” 62 Team’s lack, in a cliché 63 Scot’s swimming spot 64 *Spoken language, in semiotics 68 Tennis great who wrote “Days of Grace” 69 First lady not married to a president? 70 1996 slasher film 71 “To __ not ... ” 72 Lunch bread 73 Pasta unit DOWN 1 Workout aftermath 2 Word of intent

3 Chitchat 4 O’Hare, on tix 5 Chorizo snack 6 Belt 7 Word with hip or bunny 8 Hernando’s “Huh?” 9 Has a capacity of, as a diner 10 Briefs 11 33-Down start, usually 12 Wouldn’t dream of it 13 Valiant’s son or 18 Indented blemish 23 Rotate so the d palm faces down or backward 25 __-a-brac ill 27 Kind of lamp 28 Tizzy reen 30 French Toaster p Sticks brand 32 Provides with the means 33 Intermission follower, perhaps 34 Towel material d 38 Ruth on a diamond 39 “Sure, probably”

40 Andalusian vegetable soup served cold 41 Bell-shaped lily 43 Ignoring, with “to” 46 Org. with Jets and Flyers 49 Instrument laid flat during play 50 Many a freshman 51 Like 70-Across 55 “Paper Moon” Oscar winner

56 Tot’s sassy demand ... or a hint to the start of the answers to starred clues 58 River of Flanders 60 YWCA part: Abbr. 61 1997 Mattel acquisition 63 Chem class part 65 Climbing greenery 66 “Wow!” 67 Sellout letters

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

04/14/21 04/21/21

04/21/21

WHISPER “My Fair Lady!”

“Are we part of the family?”

Film director Spike Lee and jazz trumpeter Terence Blanchard have been working together for 30 years. Lee makes the films; Blanchard makes the music. “We’ve developed a shorthand,” Lee explained in a virtual panel discussion last week. “A mental telepathy terminology.” It seems the two have nailed down a process of collaboration, one that some in the film industry might consider unconventional. Typically, a composer writes the score after the film is shot and edited. Lee and Blanchard operate differently. “Terence gets the script at the same time as the actors get the script,” Lee said. He added, “It’s a great disrespect to the composer to be the last one hired.” Using this system, Blanchard has composed the score for many of Lee’s joints — “Malcom X” (1992), “Black KkKlansman” (2018) and most recently “Da 5 Bloods” (2020), which earned Blanchard an Oscar nomination for Best Original Score. In Lee’s films, composition happens as the movie is being made, without Blanchard on set. This is where the telepathy kicks in. Throughout the production process, Lee sends Blanchard the script, stills and clips of the film in progress. This keeps Blanchard in the loop — he’s gotten into the habit of making the stills the screensaver to his computer so that the film is a part of his daily life. This way, by the time the film is complete, Blanchard is already engrossed in it; he can already see it, feel it, even smell it. On Wednesday, both Lee and Blanchard virtually addressed the University of Michigan as part of the centennial celebration of the School of Social Work. In a panel discussion, Lee and Blanchard were joined by Daphne Watkins and Robin Means Coleman. Dr. Watkins is a professor at the University’s Social of Social Work and Dr. Coleman is film producer and professor of communications (among other titles) at Northwestern University. Due to some unfortunate and unexplained technical difficulties, the program began 30 minutes behind schedule. While approximately 1,400 viewers were waiting at the scheduled start time, only 700 stuck it out for the show and just 471 lasted to the end. This didn’t stop the duo from bringing playful energy; later on, during some

brief audio issues with a student question, Lee cracked, “You gotta get someone from Ohio State to do the —,” intentionally pausing to make a joking commentary on the audio situation. The panel roared. Lee spoke to his virtual audience live from the headquarters of his film company, Forty Acres and a Mule Filmworks, in Brooklyn, N.Y. He sat in a fabulous high-backed chair I would’ve described as maroon and silky, but that he made sure to classify as “purple crushed velvet.” His voice sounded echoey, like he was speaking in a large room; I sensed the grandeur of high ceilings and wide-open studios. Behind him was a portrait of Billie Holiday, Duke Ellington and Fats Waller. “This is like a museum,” Lee commented, wide-eyed, on the space. “This building is a testament to our Black artistry.” The space is filled with the presence of greats, mainly in the form of honorific portraits. “I’m looking at Denzel right now!” Spike cried. “Harry Belafonte is downstairs.” On another wall, there’s an African National Congress flag signed by Nelson Mandela and Winnie Madikizela-Mandela during Apartheid. Lee repeated this last part for emphasis: “During Apartheid!” He leaned back in his velvet chair with awe. “Every day I come to the office, I see that!” Throughout the panel discussion, Lee and Blanchard stressed the importance of honoring the stories of people who have come before. “There was some great shit done before you were born,” Lee said. Lee, who also works as a professor and artistic director of the Graduate Film Program at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, tells his students this all the time. To him, young creators can only benefit from doing their homework on their predecessors, “whose shoulders you could be hoisted from, if you know who they are!” A set of shoulders like those is especially important for creatives who come from marginalized backgrounds. Blanchard remarked, “You know how frustrating it is to teach kids who have talent and have interests in a whole lot of areas? And then the reality of it is, you don’t want to tell them how tough it’s going to be to make a career in this business, not based on your talent, but just on who you are.”

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Arts

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Artist Profile: U-M alum Gisela McDaniel and the language of art

Rina Sawayama and Elton John shine light on the beauty of chosen families NORA LEWIS

Daily Arts Writer

Last week, Elton John and British-Japanese musician Rina Sawayama collaborated on a remix of the track “Chosen Family,” a queer anthem released in April of last year on Sawayama’s debut album, SAWAYAMA. The two pop powerhouses became unlikely friends following Sawayama’s album release last spring, when John named the project his “favorite of the year” on his Apple Music radio show, “Elton John’s Rocket Hour.” Since then, John has been supportive of Sawayama’s efforts to broaden the participation of non-British citizens in the Brit Awards and Mercury Prize competition, so it’s unsurprising that the two have finally collaborated musically. The pairing may seem unexpected, yet despite their existence in two different eras of pop, Sawayama and John mesh surprisingly well. Both have taken on a chameleon-like role in the pop industry, successfully fusing elements of R&B and rock into their work, and earning critical acclaim. Most importantly on “Chosen Family,” both artists also share a passion for supporting LGBTQ+ causes. Sawayama, who identifies as both bisexual and pansexual, and John, who is openly gay and often been labeled a “queer icon,” both have a considerable following in the LGBTQ+ community. The track’s focus on the topic of “chosen families” feels especially intimate given their tightly-knit queer fanbases. The term “chosen family” signifies a group of friends and non-blood relatives who act as a makeshift family for those with unaccepting biological families. It’s a concept prevalent in the queer community and highlighted on TV shows like “Pose,” which centers on drag ball culture among the Black and Latinx LGBTQ+ communities in 1980s New York. In essence, the idea of a chosen family pivots on the notion that, while traditional family members may not always be supportive of their queer relatives, the queer community is more than willing to step into the role if need be. With the constant passage of anti-trans and anti-gay legislation in the United States — in particular, a bill allowing schools to inspect

ARIES

Focusing on what you value will be productive this week, Aries – and not only material values, either. Move beyond money and give your attention to the things that truly matter.

TAURUS

This is quite a powerhouse of a week for you, with the Sun and Mercury both moving into your sign on Monday. You can now showcase the very best of Taurus, with your hard work, dependability and loyalty on full display.

SIERRA ÉLISE HANSEN Daily Arts Writer

the genitalia of student-athletes in Florida last week — it’s clear that just existing as a queer person is an emotionally taxing experience. When describing the purpose of “Chosen Family,” Sawayama states, “The concept of chosen family has been long-standing in the queer community because a lot of people get kicked out of their homes and get ostracized from their family for coming out or just living true to themselves. I wanted to write a song literally for them, and it’s just a message and this idea of a safe space — an actual physical space.” The track does just that, promising the listener that they “don’t need to share genes or a surname” or “be related to relate.” It’s sincere and uplifting, giving the overall effect of a warm hug in a world that is consistently hostile toward queer people. “Chosen Family” sounds like it could be on a Disney soundtrack, something I wouldn’t usually consider merit. Yet Sawayama and John are so genuine on the track, it’s hard to bear any ill will toward it. In fact, the new recording feels just as heartfelt as the original. Instead of the spare techno pulses of the album version, soft piano accompaniment comes to the forefront on the new release. John’s vocals never rival Sawayama’s in clarity and strength, but the pair’s voices blend in such triumphant harmony by the track’s conclusion. It’s not a revolutionary reimagining of the song, but with emotional violin swells and tender lyricism, “Chosen Family” is an important life mantra wrapped in a honeyed pop exterior. “Chosen Family” doesn’t feel gimmicky or cloying, likely because it’s the collaboration of two artists that actually belong to the queer community (I love Taylor, but “You Need to Calm Down” felt a little selfserving). In a New York Times interview last week, Sawayama stated, “… queering a space, that’s kind of what I’m trying to do with music by injecting a bit of an interest in areas other than heterosexual love.” There’s a sense of queer autonomy on the track, which makes it all the more empowering. Sawayama and John bridge two generations of queer pop on “Chosen Family,” while reminding us to surround ourselves with people willing to give us unconditional love and support no matter our identity.

Content Warning: sexual assault Gisela McDaniel grew up in predominantly white spaces: She was born on a military base in Bellevue, Neb., to a Chamorro mother who was a sociology professor teaching race and ethnicity and a white father enlisted in the Navy. On a recent Monday afternoon, the Art & Design alum spoke about how being raised with a pervasive awareness of her Indigenous heritage transformed her approach to painting. Rather than becoming fixated on the crosscurrents of the art world and its western preference for flattening its subjects into fetishized objects of beauty, McDaniel said she has always seen her artistic process as an opportunity to break the silence and amplify marginalized stories. McDaniel said that from the moment she started creating, she reformulated color as a place where a body in exile could emerge while talking back to the viewer. “I really don’t like to focus on the violence in these stories because I think that’s done enough,” she said in an interview with The Daily. “Especially in art, we see these violent moments painted but it’s not about that. What I’m so interested in is how people move forward and how people are resilient through these events.”

Gisela McDaniel and Pilar Corrias, London

McDaniel says she first used the language of art to articulate and anatomize her life experiences. This extends all the way back to her girlhood in Cleveland, Ohio, where she says she “struggled with language growing up.” “The words would kind of get stuck,” she told me. And yet, from the first moment that McDaniel began tracing her own form as a child — she described this seminal self-portrait as “strangely accurate” — her mother perceived a shimmering talent. Art, she told me, was her first form of communication. McDaniel took studio art classes in high school, initially focusing on figure drawing. She said she chose the University of Michigan for a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Art & Design in 2014 because she preferred the idea of a research university setting. More than

YOUR WEEKLY

LEO Career matters are on your mind as the working week begins, Leo, especially with both the Sun and Mercury moving into your career zone. Ambitions are running high, and why not? This is a good time for interviews or job search activities.

Keep your mind busy and active this week. Boredom is a real risk, especially with the Sun and Mercury both arriving in your intelligence zone on Monday. Learn, research, do puzzles and quizzes, debate with friends – anything to keep your mind sharp.

AQUARIUS

WHISPER

Exploring your past holds great appeal this week, especially with the Sun and Mercury arriving in your past zone on Monday. Links with your ancestors can be both fascinating and spiritually nourishing.

“Avoid the bustiers!”

CAPRICORN Get set for a loving and largely light-hearted week. The Sun and Mercury both move into your joy zone on Monday, encouraging you to indulge your creative streak and to enjoy your hobbies and past-times.

“Class of 2021?” “Class of 2021.”

CANCER You can expect to feel quite sociable early on this week, with the Sun and Mercury both moving into your friendships zone. It’s a good period for finding your ‘tribe’ and for getting close to people who share your interests and values.

anything, she said, she yearned for the intellectual space to examine what she was making her work about. McDaniel’s examination of herself through her work would eventually serve to transform a pivotal, painful point in her life in a different direction — when she was a sophomore studying abroad, she was sexually assaulted and, in the aftermath of the event, she struggled to paint. “It was the first time I couldn’t paint for months after it happened. (It) took my form of communication away,” she told me. Gradually, however, her work became a mode through which she could make unspeakable stories legible again. She says that it was the artistic process that emerged from the event, and not the event itself, that was pivotal. *** Speaking through the paint — McDaniel says her current process arose from social interactions within the Detroit community, where she moved shortly after her assault. She began making figure drawings of friends and acquaintances who chose to share their own stories of sexual assault. She also started maintaining the audio footage of her subjects’ stories. “I’m really interested in creating these portals where (my subjects) can speak through,” McDaniel said. “I had a sensor embedded in the surface of the painting. And when you stepped within like three feet, (the painting) would talk to you. So the story would start to speak. You can’t enter the personal space of the painting without hearing that sound, or hearing that person’s voice or their story.” In this, she seemed to say that healing defies codification and 2D spaces. “You go in your cocoon, and you become something else,” she said, referring to the forms of personal growth that can emerge from wrenching experiences. From there, we talked about how the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women campaign has raised awareness of elevated rates of sexual violence against Indigenous Women and how much more prevention is needed. On the island of Guam, where McDaniel’s family is from, the problem has reached astonishingly high levels: There are 62.4 reported sexual assaults for every 100,000 people, while the national average hovers around 25.2 per 100,000. “To be able to talk about these things, and for it to not be scary or sad or for it to be trauma porn but, for it to just be (about how) this happens to so many of us,” she explained. “It’s almost not even our responsibility anymore, and that’s why I put the audio in.” She said that rather than prioritizing personal achievements, she chooses to

PISCES

GEMINI Take a quiet few days at the beginning of the week, Gemini. The Sun and Mercury move into your spiritual zone and encourage rest, downtime and quiet contemplation, so withdraw from the hustle and bustle if you can.

Wednesday, April 21, 2021 — 7

SAGITTARIUS The Sun and Mercury join Venus in your everyday work zone on Monday, making this a good week for simply “getting stuff done”. Catch up on your to-do list while these helpful energies are in play.

“Just paddle that here.”

VIRGO Fair play of all kinds is high up your agenda this week. From sorting out personal scores to campaigning against injustice of some kind, you are boosted early in the week by the arrival of the Sun and Mercury in your justice zone.

LIBRA This looks set to be an emotional and quite sensitive week for you, Libra. The Sun and Mercury shift into your intimacy zone – on the one hand, this bodes well for your relationship, but these emotions are strong and swirling, and there could be conflict on the horizon.

SCORPIO With the Sun and Mercury joining Venus in your love zone on Monday, the first part of the week looks to be enjoyable, loving and relatively calm – although the Venus-Uranus conjunction on Tuesday could bring an interlude of drama.

Read your weekly horoscopes from astrology.tv

put her community first by recording intergenerational stories and starting conversations. For example, she described the process of painting a friend whose family is Navajo. The friend had grown up with her mother and grandmother on the reservation but had recently left to work with a Catholic missionary in Cleveland, Ohio.

protest comes from objects selected by her subjects that clue us in to their life’s story. McDaniel told me that the objects are often pieces of jewelry passed down through matrilineal lines, even sometimes coming from other subjects who have donated jewelry to her studio in Detroit. These objects and the stories they represent infiltrate her paintings.

Gisela McDaniel and Pilar Corrias, London

“The grandmother, the daughter and the granddaughter came up and we had a three-generation conversation because they wanted to record their story,” she said. “I guess that’s a really clear example of … how urgent it is to make sure we don’t lose our histories.” *** Reclaiming the palette — When McDaniel was at the University, a professor compared the palette she uses to Paul Gauguin, a French PostImpressionist painter. This inspired her to delve into the history behind his work, and after learning more about the problematic and sometimes nonconsensual ways he interacted with his oftentimes female subjects, Gauguin’s memory did not sit right with her. “(Knowing) how he interacted with women and Tahiti, and that he had married a 13-year-old girl, and like gave all these people diseases and all these things. There’s so much lack of consent in his process,” she said. “People are attracted to the colors … but it doesn’t feel like they were his to paint.” Seeing Gauguin’s fetishization of Pacific Islanders inspired McDaniel to turn the process and portrayal of painting portraits on its head. She told me that this is in large part a response to how colonialism has inflicted ongoing damage on her family’s home country of Guam. “In Guam right now, there is a military base on the north of the island, and they’re currently trying to build this firing range over all of our sacred lands that used to be our family’s land,” she said. In response to this, her art becomes her protest. For McDaniel, part of this

“There’s always something in the work that is giving you hints about who this person is,” she said. “And that person might be the only person who knows that story too … But it means something for them, to be able to look at it and be able to recall that memory because that’s in history now.” In a way, the voices of subjects who are portrayed in McDaniel’s work fuse with paint on the canvas to become an enduring hybrid language. As I looked at McDaniel’s paintings, and the objects in them, I felt her subjects were transported into my apartment through another language running between the avenues of my heart. I became enraptured by the object’s rivulets of color and texture. It felt like heat seeping into my room. It felt electric. I estimate that I received the equivalent of several college lectures in no less than one afternoon from McDaniel. As a riveting, unequivocal intellectual in her own right, her approach to language, history and violence leave me feeling as if she is a gift from the future — spilling over with what will be possible tomorrow. McDaniel is currently in a group exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art Detroit called “Dual Visions,” and will soon be presenting work in another Midwest exhibition titled “The Regional,” opening at MOCA Cleveland and the Contemporary Art Space in Cincinnati. Finally, she will be having a solo exhibition with Pilar Corrias in London in the fall, with a date to be confirmed later this week. Author’s note: The fight for Indigenous land and water in Guam, referred to by McDaniel in this article, is known as Prutehi Litekyan.

Easha: A responsible TikTok creative to watch ROSA SOFIA KAMINSKI Daily Arts Writer

Responsibility is not a trait I typically associate with creativity, but to Easha, a 20-year-old singersongwriter, it is everything. “It’s definitely a discipline thing,” she said in an interview with The Daily. “I think as soon as you name yourself anything, like, as soon as you name yourself, like, I’m an artist, or like, I’m a writer, it comes with the responsibility of … literally just doing it.” Every day, she writes songs. Whether these come from a quick flash of inspiration, or her building it from the melody up, she works to keep at it. “Creativity … people say it’s like a muscle,” she told me, one of those classic truisms that seem trite — except for the fact that it’s an accurate and difficult rule to keep. People who stick to a creative regimen deserve a little cliché now and then. Easha has found an audience for her creativity largely through social media. Her sound is dreamy and nostalgic, starting out mostly on guitar but taking on a bedroom pop sound in production. Her top song, “Dying Is a Beautiful Thing to Do,” has over a million hits, after gaining popularity on TikTok and Instagram. Among her fans are wellknown artists like Jacob Collier and Lizzy McAlpine — their attention was something she admitted to freaking out about when it first happened, especially since they both followed her Instagram on the same day. “I was like, ‘What the fuck?’” she said. The moment of being able to tell her friends that someone famous followed her was a landmark memory for the Stanford University student. Easha returns to the theme of responsibility while discussing her audience. “I think that you have a

responsibility to yourself as an artist to, you know, bring your ideas to life,” she reflected. “Especially now that I kind of have an audience, I do want to, like, feed them,” she said, giggling slightly. However, she maintained that she did not keep her fans in mind when writing songs. “I think it’s almost a disservice to them as well, because … they put their trust in me.” This is certainly a point worth considering as she grows in popularity: Staying true to the music she made before the fans started to accumulate is another cliché that is also true, and more difficult than it sounds. One particular question I had was about the title of her breakout single, “Dying Is a Beautiful Thing to Do.” At first glance, it seems controversial from a mental health standpoint. It was popularized on platforms like TikTok, where many go to openly discuss their mental diagnoses. However, upon listening to the lyrics, one hears “Dying is a beautiful thing to do / By your side.” Her breathy delivery draws out the romance intended when writing the song. Easha talked about how she learned from other writers about “a hook” — the twist that catches you off guard, something clearly used in this song. While a love tune is not what you expect after reading the title, the dreamy style of the popular piece integrates the romance throughout. It’s easy to forget with all of her success that Easha is still in her freshman year of college. She spent a gap year in Nashville gigging, performing and making connections until it was cut short by the pandemic. The transition from the Nashville audience to the online one was abrupt.

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Michigan in Color

8 — Wednesday, April 21, 2021

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Hope within borders: The impending movement of the North Korean People JESSICA KWON Senior MiC Editor

Content warning: This piece discusses North Korea, and subsequently details of (at times graphic) physical violence and trauma. “Freedom,” to Joseph Kim, a 31-year-old human rights activist and North Korean defector, “is like air. You can’t touch it or see it. We don’t think about it or appreciate it when we have it. But we notice it when we don’t have it, just like we notice when we don’t have oxygen.” When the Western world thinks of North Korea, people’s minds often go to Kim Jong Un and his nuclear missiles or propaganda images of vast military parades rather than the diverse groups of individuals who call it home. This is why LiNK’s mission is to stress “people over politics” and thereby fight for the rights of average North Korean civilians. On April 1, Joseph, author of “Under the Same Sky: From Starvation in North Korea to Salvation in America,” and Hannah Song, president and CEO of Liberty in North Korea, spoke over Zoom with students at the University of Michigan. Liberty in North Korea, or LiNK, is a non-profit organization dedicated to aiding North Korean people in the struggle against their totalitarian government and to rescuing and rehabilitating North Korean refugees who have crossed the border into China. However, these defectors’ journeys, once they’ve arrived in China, are still harrowing. Unlike the rest of the international council, the Chinese government does not recognize North Korean defectors as refugees; in fact, it has a longstanding agreement with North Korea to send any caught defectors back to their home country. If deported back to the country, the defectors often face harsh punishments such as beatings, forced labor, torture and internment. Additionally, it is estimated that 60% of North Korean women who escape to China are trafficked, sold as brides by their brokers to the highest bidder. To avoid such persecution, LiNK guides defectors through a rescue route

that stretches the roughly 3,000-mile span from the North Korean border in China to Southeast Asia. To put that into perspective, it is nearly 300 miles longer than the distance from New York to Los Angeles. Eventually, refugees are rehabilitated through job training, stipends, resources and housing. LiNK has thus far rescued 1,201 North Korean refugees. Since his ascent to power in 2011, Kim Jong Un’s harsh crackdowns on border security have cut the amount of North Korean refugees who manage to escape to South Korea in half. But four years preceding the Supreme Leader’s rise, Joseph arrived in the United States of America, at 17 years old. He and Hannah, whom he calls “noona” (meaning older sister in Korean), are powerful, commanding presences, even through Zoom. Hannah is extremely charismatic and her voice brims with passion. I get the impression that nearly everything she says to the U-M students she has said many, many times before — not in a performatively rehearsed way, but out of her dedication to sharing these stories as often as she can, with whoever will listen to her. In colloquial conversation, Hannah is vibrant and fun — she refers to Joseph as “Jo Bro” and calls him her “brother from another mother” — and when she is speaking about the plight of the North Korean people, her vigor seems inexhaustible. Joseph, on the other hand, possesses an air of quiet dignity. His voice is soft and gentle, but some quality about him commands respect — perhaps it’s his pensiveness and apparent careful consideration of his words as he gathers his thoughts to speak. His and Hannah’s collaboration feels natural and moving, and despite the heavy subject matter they have to impart, the two try to joke around whenever they can. At one point, Joseph commends Hannah for her dedication to LiNK and she tells him to keep complimenting her. Later, Joseph also jokingly accuses Hannah of embarrassing him for putting him on the spot with a question. In response, she simply smiles and says, “Then my job is done.” *** Hannah and Joseph have dedicated their

lives to providing aid to the North Korean people until the people can eventually free themselves from their regime. The suffering which millions of average North Korean citizens endure today, as a result of Draconian rule, is entirely too vast to summarize in a single article. In 2014, the United Nations Commission of Inquiry conducted an investigation into human rights violations in North Korea and concluded that “in many instances, the violations of human rights found by the commission constitute crimes against humanity. … The gravity, scale and nature of these violations reveal a State that does not have any parallel in the contemporary world.” To combat these issues, activist and thenstudent Adrian Hong and comedian Paul “PK” Kim co-founded the organization Liberty in North Korea, at Yale University in March of 2004, originally under the name “Liberation in North Korea.” (The two co-founders eventually moved on to different projects.) Hannah said she has not always been cognizant of the suffering which plagues North Koreans: She claims that before the advent of Google, very few Americans knew about the human rights violations by the regime. It wasn’t until she read defector Kang Chol-Hwan’s memoir, co-authored by historian Pierre Rigoulot, “The Aquariums of Pyongyang: Ten Years in the North Korean Gulag,” that she started to grow educated about the humanitarian crisis. In 2006, she quit her corporate advertising job to devote herself full-time to aiding North Korean refugees, and two years later Hong selected her for the position of LiNK’s CEO. Today, LiNK, whose headquarters are now based in Long Beach, Calif. (with an office in Seoul), has more than 100 global chapters, and its U-M chapter was founded in 2009. LSA junior Joyce Jeong was recently announced to be the next president of the U-M chapter for the 2021-2022 academic year. “One of my biggest frustrations (about life under the regime) is there’s just no access to be intellectually curious,” Jeong said. “If

Your introduction to lady rap UDOKA NWANSI MiC Columnist

If you asked a rap fan in 2010 who their favorite female rapper was, chances are that list would begin and end at “Nicki Minaj.” While the 90s and early 2000s brought lots of talent to the table for female rap with trailblazers like Lil’ Kim and Missy Elliot, the decline of their careers in mainstream rap left a hole in the industry that only Minaj seemed to be able to fill. However, in recent years, several new female rappers have emerged, making a name for themselves in the rap game. Stars like Megan Thee Stallion and Cardi B have climbed the charts to be at the forefront of the genre. From conscious rap to party anthems, these women’s distinct styles and flows command the attention of hip-hop heads who otherwise may not have explored past their favorite male rappers. After taking a deep dive into female rap myself, I’ve found a plethora of female emcees, or “femcees” as I like to call them, that have empowered me through song, whether that be through providing intellectual stimulation or just giving me a song to dance to in the mirror while doing my makeup. Because of this, I’d like to spread my love for lady rappers by sharing a few of my personal favorite tracks as an introduction to their wildly diverse sounds. 1. “Countin’ Up” – Rico Nasty “Countin’ Up” was the very first track I thought of when creating this list because it was the song that really got me into listening to female rappers. Rico Nasty is a rapper based in the DMV area. She stepped into the limelight after making the 2019 Freshman XXL Class, which has helped launch the careers of other rappers like Lil Uzi Vert, 21 Savage and the late Juice Wrld. When I first listened to this song, I was immediately impressed by Rico’s effortless flow. My favorite lyrics from this song are “Who you frontin’ on? Come on girl, I know you a rookie / You got some followers, so what? Do you want you a cookie?” As seen in her performance, her sense of humor shines through her lyricism and lively tone. What I really love and find truly innovative about Rico is her ability to incorporate elements of punk rock into a lot of her music. Her confident, carefree lyrics and unique song production make her discography one of my favorites to keep diving back into. 2. “Saggy Denim” – Princess Nokia ft. Wiki Princess Nokia, most known for her 2020 hit single “I Like Him,” is a rapper who has only kept ascending into the limelight in recent months. “Saggy Denim” is my personal favorite track by Nokia, from her sophomore album 1992 Deluxe. The New York rapper effortlessly glides over this

90s-inspired instrumental, rapping about her home city and Puerto Rican heritage. She even incorporates a bit of Spanglish into her verses, rapping “I speak that ‘mira, mira,’ that ‘mira, oye linda’ / That ‘ven aqui mi’jita, tu eres mi chiquita.’” This verse translates to “ I speak that ‘Look, look,’ that ‘look, hey pretty girl’ / That ‘Come here, my little daughter, you are my little girl.’” I’ve always interpreted these lines as a reference to words spoken by her Puerto Rican grandmother, who she lived with throughout her teen years. As a whole, his song encompasses New York City as Princess Nokia sees it, and her love for her hometown and culture is clear in every verse. 3. “Roaring 20s” – Flo Milli Flo Milli first blew up with her viral hit “Beef Flo Mix”, which gained lots of popularity on the social media app TikTok. She is well known for her boastful lyrics and animated rap style. For me, listening to a Flo Milli song is the quickest way to get an instant confidence boost. “Roaring 20s” is the rapper’s latest single, released in January 2021. The song, produced by Kenny Beats (who has also produced much of Rico Nasty’s discography), samples classic song “If I Were A Rich Man” by placing the distinguishable melody over a trap instrumental. The music video also incorporates outfits and visuals that are reminiscent of the historical Roaring 20’s. At only 21, Flo Milli is already en route to being a consistent hitmaker. 4. “Rainforest” – Noname Noname, another Chicago native, first entered the mainstream rap world when she was featured on Chance The Rapper’s song “Lost” from his 2013 mixtape Acid Rap. Today, she is most known for her 2016 mixtape Telefone and is closely associated with other Chicago-based rappers like Smino and Saba. On “Rainforest,” Noname calls out the irony of glorifying billionaires and capitalism with lines like, “How you make excuses for billionaires, you broke on the bus?” Noname falls more heavily into the category of conscious rap than other rappers. She typically uses her songs to address social issues and share her own self-criticisms. This song is particularly exciting to me because it’s the first track she has released since her diss track from last summer, “Song 33,” where she addressed criticism from rapper J. Cole about the tone of her activism. In addition to dropping “Rainforest,” she also announced that she’ll be releasing another studio album called Factory Baby later this year. Long-term Noname fans like myself will be eagerly waiting for this drop. Hopefully these songs allow for a small glimpse into the vast, everexanding world of female rap. You can find these tracks and more on my Spotify playlist called “femcees”.

Design by Grace Aretakis

you have the smallest curiosity, you have no outlet to explore that… No music, no media and … North Korea has so many fearmongering tactics where it’s like you can’t even think about things without having some sort of consequence.” As an underclassman, Jeong had deliberated over whether or not to fully devote herself to LiNK. One reason she ultimately committed to the cause, in her words, is that “you don’t hear about North Korea in the news because … they don’t have the right to join assembly, they don’t have the right to religion, they don’t have the right to media… The fact that we know so little about (North Korea) should raise a sense of urgency.” Pre-pandemic, LiNK at the University could be seen periodically at Mason Hall, a plastic table set up adjacent to one of the wood-paneled walls, and on it, a poster with “Liberty in North Korea” spelled out in large, red letters, alongside the various snacks they were selling to raise funds. In this past academic year, the U-M chapter has had to adjust to the COVID-19 pandemic by taking its meetings to Zoom and drumming up innovative new fundraising ideas, like a talent auction and virtual dating game show. The LiNK headquarters requires roughly $3,000 to rescue and rehabilitate one North Korean refugee, and Jeong states that, despite the challenges that the two virtual semesters presented, the U-M chapter has managed to raise an impressive $6,000 in the past year alone. *** Despite the U-M chapter’s fundraising success, the COVID-19 pandemic has effectively severed communication and financial support between many defectors and their family members who remain in the country. The pandemic has also severely hurt North Koreans’ chances of defecting from the country and resettling

in South Korea because the regime quickly capitalized on the threat of the novel coronavirus by enforcing tighter controls at the state’s borders. According to Hannah, the most recent people whom LiNK was able to help to defect from the country escaped North Korea over a year ago, in January 2020. Even in China and Southeast Asia, with heightened movement controls and checkpoints, the underground pathway that leads to asylum in South Korea is much more difficult to navigate than it was in prepandemic times. Li lle Despite these he c i by M challenges — whose effects, Design according to Hannah, may linger for the next decade — it is as vital as ever that North Korean defectors continue to reach safety in other nations because if discovered, their attempted escapes often have dire consequences. In Hannah’s talk at the University, she recounts one woman’s failed effort to escape to China: After she and her 5-year-old daughter were apprehended for attempting to cross the river, she was beaten by a guard and then forced to watch as her own child was beaten and kicked until blood spilled from her mouth. Hannah shared another woman’s story of defecting from North Korea and attempting to meet with LiNK for aid in crossing into Southeast Asia: The woman’s husband and elder child were found by Chinese plainclothes officers and eventually repatriated. While she tried to hide with her two-year-old child to avoid capture, she covered her baby’s mouth to conceal any cries, and after she finally emerged, she realized she had accidentally suffocated her baby. The woman had to dig a shallow grave for her child and eventually make her way into Southeast Asia, alone.

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In honor of Black Maternal Health Week KAYLA THOMAS MiC Columnist

My mother often describes the births of my siblings and I with an unmatched sense of happiness. Her testimony of how she was able to bring new life into the world four different times quickly turns into a sentimental recount of what it felt like to hold each of her babies for the first time, all while in the presence of loved ones. When it comes to my birth specifically, she says it was an “easy birth” with minimal pain. As far as her experiences with my three siblings, it was not as smooth sailing and pain-free (as you can see, I am the good child). However, she never fails to mention that whatever physical and emotional pain she experienced was soon overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of joy. Those days go down as arguably the best days of her — and my father’s — life. As standard as this may sound, this isn’t every mother’s birth story. For some mothers, the tears cried on this day aren’t tears of joy, but of pain and loss. And this day, which is supposed to be the best day of their lives, ends up being their last. Given that the United States is riddled with over-medicalized births and an inequitable health care system, it is not surprising that we have the highest rates of maternal mortality amongst developed nations. This is a problem that is endured by women of all backgrounds. However, in a society that is still characterized by institutionalized racism, it would be naive not to acknowledge that minority women — specifically Black women — bear the brunt of this burden. In fact, Black women are more than three to four times more likely to experience pregnancyrelated mortality or morbidity in comparison to white women, as well as more than twice as likely to experience maternal mortality compared to non-Black women of color. To make matters worse, the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic has widened this gap. Continued racial discrimination, as well as a lack of space in Black hospitals to service both COVID-19 patients and laboring mothers, has worsened the state of Black maternal health. While others used to try and explain away this disparity by blaming it on a lack of education and financial stability in Black communities, the discovery that a wealthy, college-educated Black woman is more likely to experience a pregnancy-related death than a poor white woman who did not graduate high school has since disproved this. There are many theories that explain racial differences in maternal

mortality, one of the most prominent being Arline Geronimus’s Weathering Hypothesis. This theory states that biological consequences of the stress resulting from racism that Black women face can be linked to negative maternal health outcomes. Racism, which is inherently stress-inducing, can cause cells to divide and die at an abnormally rapid rate, resulting in the body’s premature aging. This can then cause an increased risk of chronic conditions such as diabetes and high blood pressure, both of which can lead to pregnancy complications and maternal mortality. Essentially, the body lacks the ability to promote a healthy pregnancy when the mother is faced with chronic stress, such as that from racism and other unquantifiable systems. While this theory can be applied to all stress regardless of cause, the ways in which anti-Black racism is embedded into the very structure of the U.S. makes stress a much more chronic issue for Black women than anyone else. This theory, paired with the history of unnecessarily high rates of cesarean sections done on Black women and lack of health care access in predominantly Black areas provides ample explanation for this maternal health disparity. With this plethora of information, it has become increasingly clear over time that Black women’s right to life is under attack. This ongoing threat to Black motherhood presents an undeniable threat to the quality of life that is available to Black women and families. Black women — like everyone else — should never have to fear that their delivery bed will also be their deathbed. The ability to leave the delivery room alive and with the physical and emotional capacity to care for their newborn child should be a reality that women of all races can be guaranteed to experience. Currently, this is not the case. Not only is the disparity in maternal mortality severe in its magnitude, but it is also two-tiered in its nature. The Black maternal health crisis is undeniably a result of the racism experienced both in the health care system and in everyday life. The physiological stress that is produced, as well as the lack of medical support in urgent medical situations experienced by Black people, has detrimental impacts to all aspects of health. However, given the lack of agency and autonomy during childbirth among women of all races, disparities in maternal mortality and mortality are also perpetuated by gender-based discrimination. Ultimately, the ways in which medical racism and gender-based discrimination work intersectionally to harm Black mothers at a disparate

rate shows the double jeopardy that Black women experience due to the consequences of both. Because of this, the eradication of this disparity will require initiatives that cater to the specific needs of Black women. This is why Black Maternal Health Week exists. Created by the Black Mamas Matter Alliance, it is a week in April (every April 11-17 to be exact) devoted to advocating for solutions to the Black maternal health crisis. The initiative also provides a platform for Black mothers’ and families’ stories to be heard in a space where they will be valued. Additionally, Black Maternal Health Week takes place during National Minority Health Month in April and contributes to the larger conversation of making health experiences and outcomes equitable for people of color. For the past three years, the Black Mamas Matter Alliance has hosted the Black Maternal Health Conference, in which participants are able to build their capacity in shaping Black maternal health policy, programs and advocacy, while also learning how to address maternal health disparities in different career sectors and building community among Black women. Through these events and the other resources they offer, Black Maternal Health week has created room for the issue of Black maternal health and mortality, as well as possible solutions for the Black women and families who will benefit from it the most. Another victory of the Black Mamas Matter Alliance is its success of getting maternal health inequities prioritized by those with the political power to enact progress. The Congressional Black Maternal Health Caucus, established by U.S. Rep. Alma Adams, N.C.-12, and U.S. Rep. Lauren Underwood, D-Ill., in April 2019, is a manifestation of the political and societal change that Black Maternal Health Week has been advocating for. Just like the Black Mamas Matter Alliance, the Congressional Black Maternal Health Caucus aims to diminish the disparities in maternal mortality rates between Black women and white women. In June 2019, the caucus approved multiple priority initiatives including funding for research on maternal health disparity, the promotion of breastfeeding in hospitals (another maternal health disparity), funding for more midwife education in order to diversify the field, funding for community-based organizations that are dedicated to improving Black maternal health, the provision of support for incarcerated mothers (given that Black women make up a majority of the female prison population) and more.

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Mother tongue YASMINE SLIMANI MiC Columnist

Despite being surrounded by it for my entire life, I am not entirely fluent in Arabic. There has always been a twinge of shame underlying that fact, breeding a strange sense of inadequacy in me. No Design by Janice Lin matter how much I’d like for it to be different, my proficiency in the language is capricious at best. I grew up immersed in my family’s colorful Algerian dialect, utilizing it to communicate with my grandparents or decipher the occasional scolding I received from my mother. Beyond that, I’d always felt that what was supposed to be my “mother tongue” sat awkwardly in my mouth like dead weight. It fumbled the pronunciation of Arabic words, distinctly marking me as an imposter when communicating with my friends who spoke the language with ease. They watched as I struggled with the complex inflections that the language demands, unable to muster the skillful “-kh” sound or achieve the masterful rolling of “r”s with any believable intensity. A red flush crept across my face every time someone discovered my descent and asked “Inti bthakee Arabi?” (Do you speak Arabic?), as I knew that my response would have to be a feeble shrug or a lackluster “kind of.” That ambiguous “kind of” was qualified by a sizable inventory of words and phrases I’d collected throughout my life, furtively stowed away in my mind and ready to be wielded at any moment that required me to prove my validity. I’d learned enough Arabic to navigate family situations or conversations with strangers, but never enough to gossip about a teacher with my classmates. Just enough to get to claim the identity, but never enough to claim the language. Despite the looming presence it had in my life, Arabic remained largely foreign; any interaction I had with it left me feeling like a tourist in what was supposed to be my own home. For a long time, I felt such a strong disconnect between myself and my identity — one that I was convinced only fluency in the language could bridge. I hated the way I sounded “American” every time I attempted to slip into Arabic pronunciations or the way that words clashed in my throat in frenzied discordance. As I grew older, I gained the ability to understand most of what I was hearing but could never respond with the same ease. I coveted the beauty of the language, the way it melted in mouths like butter, effortless like silk or honey or true belonging. But with each syllable and stressed note dying in my mouth, I settled for the silence and languished in the listening. While I viewed my lack of fluency in Arabic as a deficit in the later years of my life, this was never the case when I was a child. Rather, I was enamored by the mystical nature of the language, deeming it a world of opportunity and never considering myself to be condemned from its gates. I was particularly enraptured by watching members of my family perform the five daily Islamic prayers, a beautiful language in their own right. When I was old enough to begin praying, I learned by mirroring my mother’s movements; I followed each graceful bow of her unwavering frame, eagerly awaiting the next cue: a triumphant rise, a humble bend, an imperceptible yet controlled sway. When it came time to attach holy words to those movements, I had to resort to learning the sounds of each Surah (prayer). Unable to understand the words, I internalized the way they rose and collided against each other like waves, committing their dynamic movements to memory. I prayed through mimicry, reciting a series of noises that had yet to have any perceivable definition underlying them. Everything about these daily prayers was steeped in an indescribable divinity, a sacredness that was just out of reach despite its warmth feeling unmistakably close. I continued to pray, reciting the sounds from memory, moving through the motions with a learned knowingness that was tinged with a shadow of doubt about the efficacy of my performance. Beyond that doubt sat an even darker fear: Does this count? If I’m just repeating from memory without knowing the weight of the words I’m uttering… am I truly praying? Being a stranger to Quranic vocabulary, there seemed to be an insurmountable cleft between the words I was whispering and the sanctity of the meaning they held. I feared that I would fall into that dark chasm separating practice and understanding — a fate that no amount of mimicry could save me from if I didn’t possess an inherent grasp of the language — dooming me to remain suspended in my own muddied sense of self. I knew that this fear felt traitorous and undeserved; Arabic itself had never made me feel scared, only safe. It was the language that wafted through my home, perfumed with the wisdom of my grandmother and tenderness of my mother. Knowing this helped diffuse any trepidation that may have tainted such a meaningful part of my life. I convinced myself that praying meant trying — it was having faith in the words I didn’t know and trusting that they would still be heard and understood. Through reconfiguring what prayer meant to me, I began to fill the gaps left by language on my own; I didn’t know what my hums and recited whispers meant, but I knew that they meant something. Kneeling at a prayer rug, the language stopped feeling foreign. While there was still a gnawing sense of yearning for the concealed meaning tucked between the unfamiliar words, there was also a whisper of satisfaction in the fact that I did know them — that I could conjure them with my own breath and make them come alive on my tongue. They did not have to be inaccessible or arcane; they could still be mine. As I’ve gotten older and gained comprehension and ability in Arabic through experience, the language gap still remains. However, I’ve learned that I can fill that language gap the same way I did during my daily prayers as an 8-year-old, constructing my own meaning from the pieces I’ve collected. I am not yet fluent in the Arabic language, but the grasp it has on me is unequivocal, inspiring a familiarity that could only be felt by someone who has known it their whole life and in all their lives past.

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Michigan in Color

Wednesday, April 21, 2021 — 9

Disability in the time of climate crisis GABRIJELA SKOKO & ANCHAL MALH

Managing MiC Editor & MiC Columnist

The student-organized symposium, “Loving Our Planet Like We Should Love Each Other: Disability in the time of climate crisis” took place on March 9. The symposium, which offered live captioning and American Sign Language-English interpreting for panelists and attendees, was organized and hosted by the students of the Linguistics 102 course, shedding light on the resources and passions that can be mobilized amongst the University of Michigan’s student body. Though the focus was on the climate crisis, the conversation was particularly special in that it was mindful of the intersectional effects of racism, classism and ableism, and the panelists were well-equipped to speak on each matter. The event opened with a land acknowledgement, noting that the broadcast took place from unceded Anishinaabe territories of Osawa, Bodéwadmi (Potawatomi) and Meskwahki-asa-hina (Fox) peoples. Additionally, the event was in memoriam of the many disabled people, Black and Indigenous community members and people of color who have died preventable deaths in the disaster that has been the COVID-19 pandemic and in honor of the students’ class member Steven Halland.The symposium featured four panelists: Rafi Darrow, Izzy Laderman, Teddy Dorsette III and Sarah Young BearBrown. Rafi explained that their experience with chronic migraines while living in a fire-prone area, amid climate chaos and bad air quality, has limited their access to the outside world, and has forced them to be strategic about when and how to go outside and engage. Rafi has set an intention to nurture solidarity between the chronically ill, neurodivergent, mobility-disabled and sensory-disabled communities through the Bay Area Disabled Dance Collective, of which they are a founding member. As well, they facilitate informative dialogue about disability justice and dance through

the Sins Invalid Podcast, “Into the Crip Universe.” Izzy, who described her personality as one of fairy lights and potted plants, spoke to her relationship with EhlersDanlos Syndrome. She attested to the fact that many disabled or ill people deal with more than just one disability, and her experience with EhlersDanlos Syndrome is accompanied by over 10 additional diagnoses. Izzy has embraced this indubitable pain to mobilize a community and is now the founder and director of Disability Awareness Around the Climate Crisis at only 17 years old. Through this platform, she informs the public on the intersections of disability and the climate crisis, as well as sex education. Teddy immediately acknowledged his being Black and deaf are two inseparable identities in his life, as they are inseparable for all disabled people of color who have been limited by society and political authority. Like Izzy and Rafi, Teddy has dedicated his work to uplifting people who have been provided similar limitations as he. He is a social justice advocate, an entrepreneur and a filmmaker. As co-founder of Teddyboy Entertainment and Def Lens Media, he helps provide resources for others to nurture their creative skills and realize their dreams. For hard of hearing and deaf youth, he established Reel Def Entertainment, which is a non-profit that helps the youth pursue their creative arts interests. He is also the communications manager and an organizer at Detroit Disability Power. Sarah is a member of the Fox Tribe of the Meskwahki nation in Iowa. Sarah is a social justice advocate, a political figure and a businesswoman. She has been an activist for the Indigenous Deaf community since 2014 and advocated for the No Dakota Access Pipeline organization at Standing Rock alongside 20,000 other advocates. Sarah has taken her platform into the political realm as the Vice-Chair for the Native American Caucus for the Iowa Democratic Party, and she is the founder of Gathering of Deafatives, an organization for the Indigenous deaf community. And, as a businesswoman, she creates and sells beadwork through her small business SAYBB Creations

Beadwork. Each panelist is active in their respective communities, fostering awareness and creating resources for the issues enforced unto them and their environments. Community activism has long been an essential part of safety and survival amid lowerincome and disabled populations. This is largely because political and authoritative figures have failed to address disparities across all aspects of life and have often been the root of the matter. Though the plights presented to the disabled community vary, climate chaos is a frequent inhibition for those with disabilities when it comes to having access to day-to-day pleasures or when it comes down to survival. It has become apparent that the climate crisis serves both as a genesis for disability and as a worsening factor of pre-existing conditions. Rafi spoke to their friends’ experiences with tickborne Lyme disease, which they note has been on the rise across the country and is a result of climate change. Ticks would normally be killed off in lower temperatures; however, because of global warming, ticks now thrive in certain areas they didn’t used to inhabit. Rafi further explained that this is not new information, but that disabled people are publicly responding to what is happening around us all. Similarly, though Izzy’s condition is genetic and was not caused by the climate crisis, she has many peers whose conditions do lead back to the climate. She reiterated the necessity of recognizing the intersections of environmental racism, ableism and classism, noting that the people most oppressed by such systems often reside in close proximity to toxic pipelines, plants and other damaging infrastructures and meanwhile have less access to medical care. To reiterate this, Izzy described her friend, who lived near a trash-burning plant and had highly active asthma. When this woman moved to a middle-class white neighborhood, her asthma went away. People facing ableist conditions deal with more dire impacts of the climate crisis because of their proximity to the infrastructures causing the climate crisis, and because disabled people are two times more likely to be in poverty, this cyclic proximity to environmental

danger is inarguably biased against their livelihood. When these environmental threats are compounded with racism and ableism, there is often a lack of information distributed to those living amid the consequences of such systems. Teddy addressed the Flint water crisis as an example. He reflected on his time as the president of Detroit Black Deaf Advocates — during which the advocates sought access to clean water and other scarcely provided resources — noting that the deaf and disabled communities in Flint had less access to information and were more drastically impacted. Teddy said that people did not even know where or how to access safe supplies. In this case, deafness and Black-ness are simultaneously weaponized against individuals, limiting access to survival necessities. Sarah added that Indigenous people were struggling similarly amid the Flint water crisis and that this is not new; Indigenous communities across the country, such as in the Navajo Nation, have been suffering from water scarcity for years. Within the reservation, Sarah said there are 100,000 people living in extreme poverty without access to clean water, which further perpetuates disabilities. People have to walk far distances to get water bottles, and there are no cars, so as illnesses increase, the lack of accessibility to medical attention factors into an exacerbating death toll. Rafi affirmed that in their hometown of Buffalo, N.Y., communities are gravely affected by poor air and water quality and that this is an apparent trend amongst majority Black, Indigenous or otherwise systemically oppressed communities, including lower-income populations. They went on to reference multiple environmental determinants that have caused harm to their community such as old factories causing asthma and other respiratory illnesses. Teddy notes that the impact of this air pollution has caused particular harm to Black women when considered alongside the neglect of Black maternal, physical and mental well-being.

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

The Instagram face and its implications ZOE ZHANG MiC Columnist

Do you remember the Kylie Jenner lip challenge in 2015? The internet went under her spell as countless teens took to social media to share videos of themselves suctioning their lips inside a shot glass, hoping to recreate Kylie’s voluptuous (and artificial) lips. The results of the challenge were grotesque: Participants would end up with bloodshot, bruised and swollen lips, and some teens were sent to the ER for their injuries. Looking back on the challenge six years later, I have come to realize that a trend I initially found hilarious as a child was, is in fact, a symptom of a much larger issue: the mindless replication of the Instagram look. What is the Instagram face? Go on the Instagram Explore Page, and you will soon find out. Most women able to garner fame and praise through their appearance on social media have very similar faces; it is as if their features follow a specific template. Based on my observations as an avid social media user, the “look” often includes: 1.) A youthful, heart-shaped face; 2.) A small button nose with an upturned tip; 3.) Full lips with a defined philtrum; 4.) Full, but wellgroomed brows; 5.) Upturned, cat-like eyes; 6.) A defined, forward-pointing chin and a chiseled jawline to match; 7.) High cheekbones; 8.) Defined lashes sometimes achieved through extensions; 9.) Tan, dewy skin; 10.) The length of the nose perfectly trisects the rest of the face; 11.) Distance between the eyes being equal the width of one eye; 12.) Natural-looking makeup; 13.) Voluptuous bust and buttocks; 14.) A tiny waist with defined abdominals; 15.) Long, shiny hair; 16.) Never repeating an outfit and always trendy. The Instagram look is racially ambiguous, as it includes many features commonly found in Black women, Indigenous women and other women of color. However, BIPOC women who naturally have these features, compared to rich white and white-adjacent women who have gone through cosmetic procedures to achieve the same features for aesthetic’s sake, are rarely given the same level of acclaim or endorsements for their natural beauty. The Kardashians are known for going under the knife and appropriating ethnic styles to achieve a racially ambiguous look, all the while

denying they have gotten cosmetic popularization of sneaker styles such procedures, thus further raising as the Jordan Mids, resell prices then beauty standards for women. Kylie skyrocketed to maximize profit, Jenner underwent a lip-enhancing thus excluding the communities that procedure in her teen years that popularized the style in the first place. The majority of society are viewing broke the internet, making her the pioneer of the Instagram face. She has these flawlessly posed and edited been able to market and create a lip images of Instagram models. Upon product line so successful it elevated being bombarded by these images her to the status of a “self-made” of beautiful women online, people multi-millionaire. Through excessive will subconsciously raise and isolate tanning, getting procedures to plump the standard for what it means to their lips and creating a more curvy be feminine and attractive. While figure, the Kardashians are effectively cis-gendered, heterosexual men are appropriating Black and brown viewing these influencers for their features as their own. By becoming own enjoyment, as they are likely the trademarked beauty standard in attracted to the models’ physicality, the 2010s, the famous family did erase women and female-presenting people and is still actively erasing BIPOC are almost always viewing these beauty and encouraging more white models for inspiration, in pursuit and white-adjacent women to follow of their beauty, which then turns into critical self-deprecation. We suit in appropriating these features. Consider how we take naturally full are socialized to view each other as competition. The patriarchy lips on Black girls for granted, encourages us to center our but Kylie Jenner’s surgically physical attractiveness altered ones are admired at the core of our and emulated. White identities, and as a models routinely use result we often view fake or spray tan to ourselves critically appear darker and and take actions, more exotic, while such as putting darker-skinned on makeup or women are rarely getting cosmetic praised for their procedures, natural skin tone. in hopes of BIPOC women becoming more often face colorism “beautiful.” and even sometimes Instagram pressure to become models prey on other lighter. Also consider women’s insecurities. how East Asians have While following and always been mocked De s ig n your favorite through the racist gesture of by Zoe Zhang viewing influencers can start out pulling one’s eyes back, but when white models are doing said gesture in innocently, it almost always leads to the name of fashion or a more “lifted” some kind of comparative self-esteem issue. The majority of women and girls look, they are deemed as beautiful. The appropriation doesn’t end at do not have the same access to makeup BIPOC features — Instagrammers and artists, trainers or nutritionists as celebrities alike are also appropriating these models. Therefore, women who BIPOC styles and creativity. A lot of do not have these resources may feel the styles popularized by social media, bad about themselves when compared such as bandannas and streetwear, to the highly manufactured images were worn almost exclusively by Black of Instagram models. Young women, and brown people before the age of and especially teens, without a fully social media. Through appropriating developed identity and body image, Black and brown creativity, white can easily develop self-image issues influencers and celebrities have and even eating disorders in pursuit of commodified styles that used to the elusive ideal. This beauty standard is so elusive be more accessible to the general public. For instance, certain Nike that the small fraction of girls who do fit sneakers used to be much cheaper into it are getting brand endorsement when they were much more popular deals, which used to be unthinkable within minority groups. After the before the age of social media. These

opportunities naturally invoke some level of insecurity in other women. Like the name “influencer” entails, the influencers take advantage of their followers’ insecurities and influence them to purchase more makeup or trendy clothes that often come from unethical fast fashion brands. Some women have gotten multiple forms of cosmetic procedures to replicate the Instagram look. Procedures such as breast lifts and buttock lifts have increased exponentially since the beginning of the century, coinciding with the rise of social media. At “best,” men dismiss women they find unattractive. At their worst, men abuse women they find unattractive, especially in romantic partnerships. Because of how society treats beauty as an integral part of a woman’s identity, and if their beauty does not meet a certain standard, they could face professional and societal limitations, in comparison to women who do fit that standard. As beauty standards become more particular and less attainable, society as a whole becomes more accustomed to the aesthetic expectation of these women online, and in real life, there will be a larger bracket of women who they might deem unattractive. To some extent, this will lead to the mistreatment of women who are deemed as conventionally unattractive. On most social media platforms, once you interact with influencers, the algorithm takes notice and pushes more posts of the same genre to you. Thus, Instagram models are gradually becoming omnipresent on most people’s timelines and explore pages. While viewing these carefully curated images can be exhausting and make us insecure, consider that nobody is perfect in the way these images are. The pictures you see on social media are posed and edited: Sometimes even with a team behind the model, helping her create the best image of herself. Knowing how harmful these beauty standards are to young girls, there are now influencers who are actively defying them by posting untouched images of their faces and bodies, showing their authentic selves. To whom this may concern: Please do take social media breaks if you need it! Unfollow the influencers and delete the apps if that helps, and always keep in mind that pictures posted by celebrities are often as manufactured as can be.

statement

10 — Wednesday, April 21, 2021

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Another year, another pandemic graduation

ILLUSTRATION BY KATHERINE LEE

BY TRINA PAL, STATEMENT CONTRIBUTOR

wasn’t surprised when the University of Michigan announced a virtual graduation commencement in February. How could I be? After over a year of the COVID-19 pandemic, it seemed almost routine to keep delaying expectations of normality. While COVID-19 cases in Michigan were in a lull at the time, given the predicted spikes in daily cases around the winter holiday season, it was clear that celebrations could result in an upward trend. Today, with Michigan seeing the highest number of COVID-19 cases in the country, it seems risky to host a mega-graduation ceremony in the Big House. At the time of the announcement, however, University President Mark Schlissel faced considerable backlash from the University’s graduating seniors. Almost immediately, Public Policy senior Tal Lipkin started a petition for an in-person graduation ceremony. The petition currently has over 5,800 signatures from seniors, parents and alumni. In the weeks following, it was hard to ignore the blue signs adorned with “HONK to support UMich Class of 2021 IN-PERSON, SAFE OPT-IN Grad Ceremony” placed around campus. “I deserve a graduation,” LSA senior Riley McMahon publicly commented on the petition two months ago. On March 15, Lipkin updated the petition with a call to action. She urged parents and students to call and email Schlissel and the University’s Board of Regents all day to push for a compromise. Eventually, their efforts did partially pay off. On March 25, Schlissel announced the opening of Michigan Stadium for a live viewing of the virtual graduation commencement. Even so, it’s hard to ignore the disappointment of the class of 2021. We were the only year to miss out on the end of junior and senior year, a time usually marked by milestones and celebrations. On top of that, job prospects look bleak — the U.S. unemployment rate is at 6.0%, which is still 2.5% higher than the prepandemic levels of February 2020. Enrollment in post-graduate programs increased significantly last year: Medical schools saw an 18% increase and law schools saw a whopping 32% increase for the 2020-2021 application cycle. Many graduates see more schooling as their only option in a sparse job market. Yet, as warmer weather washes over Ann Arbor, the city is teeming with life. I see cap and gown-clad students every time I pass through Law Quadrangle. Student photographers are still advertising their rates on social media platforms, and nearly all my friends have someone taking pictures for them. Despite the disappointments, the class of 2021 isn’t shying away from graduation celebrations. So, how do seniors really feel about graduating during a pandemic? A subdued graduation “I actually don’t even know what day graduation is,” Sarah Minnis confessed to me in a Zoom interview with a laugh. Minnis is a first-generation college student and a LSA senior majoring in Biopsychology, Cognition, and Neuroscience. While she’s proud to be the first of her family to graduate in May, Minnis doesn’t put too much stake in the ceremony itself. “I know that I’m getting my degree and I know I worked hard. I don’t need a crowd watching me,” Minnis told me. “It’s important that I’m the first person in my family. But it’s the act of going through school and completing the degree. It’s not the graduation ceremony itself that’s important.” As I talked to more graduating seniors, I realized that this viewpoint wasn’t unique. “I’m not super bummed about this whole literal graduation,” Timmy Li, a LSA senior majoring in Biomolecular Science, said in a Zoom interview. “Graduating is not the biggest deal to me. It’s more about ending senior year overall.”

I found myself in agreement with Minnis and Li. I’ve never been one to seek out the limelight, and the thought of random strangers clapping for me always felt strange. Perhaps I had set my expectations low — ever since the start of the pandemic, I had never thought an in-person commencement would be possible. So when virtual commencement was announced, I didn’t feel let down. On top of that, many degree programs are having their own virtual graduation ceremonies apart from the main commencement. The Ross School of Business is holding a studentonly event on April 29, commencement on April 30 and a separate name-reading ceremony as well. The School of Nursing is filming their graduates walking and receiving a diploma in person, and then streaming the video during their virtual commencement. The University’s LSA Program in Biology, the umbrella branch that my Ecology and Evolutionary Biology major falls under, asked their graduates for pictures and contributions to be compiled into a short video. It’s not much, but there are ways to personalize the graduation experience without a live commencement. But I have a clear bias. I’ll be attending medical school in July, and that feels like a bigger cause for celebration than my undergraduate graduation. I’ve already equated my white coat ceremony, which marks the start of a medical career, as my pseudo undergraduate graduation. Close one chapter, start another. In my mind, it kills two birds with one stone. However, not everyone is planning on more school immediately after graduation, or at all. For many, this Winter 2021 commencement can symbolize the end of being a student, at least for a while. While some are excited about the prospect of a job, others feel differently. “Once you’re done with school, you lose structure,” Li told me. “I’d rather have that school stress and know that college is happening. In that sense, I don’t want to graduate.” I’ve found that the disappointment of graduating seniors may not surround the physical commencement, but rather a sense of lost opportunities and experiences. How do we find ways to celebrate graduation so we actually feel like we’re graduating? Closure in an unusual Ann Arbor Graduation often implies a sense of closure. Graduates want a chance to see their friends, visit their favorite bars one last time, round out their summer with a trip around the world. I know I do. I think of closure as a well-rounded ending, a way to mark the end of a life chapter. Without it, leaving your college town, a home away from home, can seem abrupt and sudden. Completing our last classes, saying goodbyes to friends and experiencing our last moments in Ann Arbor are all ways that we create endings for ourselves. For the class of 2021, finding closure in Ann Arbor is less celebratory than usual. Most undergraduate classes have been taught online this winter. Most graduating seniors’ last class will be over Zoom, a weak substitute for a bustling lecture hall. Michigan restaurants and bars must operate at 50% capacity for indoor dining and close before 11 p.m., per Gov. Whitmer’s March 5 executive order. For those comfortable venturing out, it won’t be quite the bar-hopping adventure we expected. And many seniors may not feel safe doing this at all — the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention still defines indoor dining as a high-risk activity. “The real thing I’m disappointed about is that the pandemic affected our senior year,” Li told me. Li was upset that he wouldn’t be able to celebrate his last weeks in Ann Arbor with his friends. “We want to do some fun things we haven’t

done before, but it’s hard with all these rules and restrictions. It feels like everything is closed or closes early,” Li said. Rachel Quigley, a School of Nursing senior, agreed with Li. “I’m sad that I’m missing out on a normal commencement, going to bars and just doing stuff that seniors do,” Quigley said in a Zoom interview. “It’s not the same and it makes me feel like we got cheated out of a huge part of our lives.” We often hear that our college years are the best of our lives. In this light, Quigley’s feeling of being “cheated out” of a significant experience makes sense, especially at the University of Michigan. The dominant narrative about the University is one of pride and school spirit. In my early years of college, upperclassmen often told me that Ann Arbor was a “magical” city. I vividly remember taking a late-night Uber two years ago with a close friend who at the time was set to graduate in a month. “Enjoy every minute of it,” she told me. “The years will fly by before you know it.” Yet, Ann Arbor rarely felt magical for me. I struggled to find a community in such a large student body my first two years of college. Once I felt like I’d finally found my place at the University, the pandemic hit and classes went online soon after. I had less than a year of living in an Ann Arbor I loved and enjoyed before everything looked different. I do love this little town, but I’m also ready to move on and start fresh in a different part of the world. I’ve always found it hard to establish myself in a city that I’ll eventually leave. I know the next few years of my life will be spent moving from city to city, never quite settling down in one place before moving on to the next. Ann Arbor sometimes felt transitory for me, a temporary place to live before I moved somewhere else. When the city’s landscape changed with closures and restrictions, it made it even harder to solidify any connection I had before I graduated. For some graduates, a changed Ann Arbor can be disappointing. But others disagree. Minnis told me that she’d always had to keep a job in college to pay bills. Ann Arbor doesn’t look very different for her. “Ann Arbor is the same for me. I go to school during the week and go to my job on the weekend,” Minnis said. Creating a satisfactory ending in Ann Arbor is difficult enough for the class of 2021, but closure isn’t always synonymous with a geographical location. Samantha Kao graduated from the School of Music, Theatre & Dance in Fall 2020 with a degree in multidisciplinary studies and a concentration in piano. Kao was disappointed with the University’s fall graduation activities, which consisted of videos and social media posts. “It felt very anticlimactic,” Kao told me over Zoom. “I had a cocktail of feelings. I felt scared, disappointed, left out.” Kao expressed frustration with SMTD’s response to the pandemic last summer. She wasn’t able to access the School of Music building or its practice rooms until late August. Insistent on doing a senior recital, Kao managed to get an electric keyboard from one of her friends and do a video recording of her performance. But compared to a live piano recital, a recording on an electric keyboard was a poor substitute. “I had all these plans to fulfill and round out my music career … and it just didn’t happen,” Kao said. Kao’s sense of closure came less from Ann Arbor and more from a sense of lost musical opportunities, a problem that many music and art graduates are facing across the country. Kao has since been taking a break from school and searching for jobs. After suffering from severe tendonitis that affected her piano

playing, she isn’t sure where to turn next. For Kao, an atypical graduation celebration felt like adding insult to injury. “I felt like it wasn’t much (for others), but for me, it was a lot,” Kao said. Downplaying achievements The U.S. has suffered over 500,000 deaths from the COVID-19 pandemic. The state of Michigan has a death toll of over 17,000. In this climate, celebrating anything can seem cruel and out of touch. I feel the need to keep my celebrations private and mellow. Eating a meal outside, spending time with my family, saying my goodbyes to Ann Arbor — that feels like the type of celebration I deserve. At the same time, graduating from the University of Michigan does feel like a large accomplishment. As one of the country’s top public schools with a 23% acceptance rate, graduating from this university is something to be proud of. Growing up in Metro Detroit, the University was often branded as the school to attend, so much so that I barely thought twice before accepting my admissions offer. It seemed like the natural thing to do. Graduating in the middle of a pandemic means reconciling your achievements with the current social climate. Celebrate, but not too much. Keep your celebrations private, but still enjoy your time with close family and friends. Don’t rub salt in the wounds of those suffering. This mind game can be exhausting for graduating seniors who feel like they deserve more recognition. After graduating, Kao struggled with this same feeling. Kao managed to graduate a semester early after changing her major a few times. She told me that she was dealing with personal issues at the time but still worked hard to keep her grades up and save on an extra semester of tuition. Instead of a celebration, she turned to a search for jobs, which seemed like an abrupt end to her school years. “I was really proud of myself but felt like I didn’t have a way to celebrate that,” Kao said. “The most celebratory thing I did was I got a tiramisu from Costco and ate it with my roommates.” This feeling of invisibility is common for those graduating during a global crisis. Michelle Obama addressed this in her virtual commencement speech to 2020 graduates last year. “For those of you who feel invisible: Please know that your story matters. Your ideas matter. Your experiences matter. Your vision for what our world can and should be matters,” Obama said. Gaby Aguirre, an international student from Ecuador graduating from the Business School in May, understands this sentiment. However, Aguirre is trying her best to stay positive and appreciate her accomplishments in her own way. “It has been my dream to graduate from a U.S. college since I was in high school,” Aguirre told me over Zoom. “Just the idea of being able to go outside and take my pictures with a cap and gown from the University of Michigan is enough for me.” After four years, Aguirre still finds it hard to believe that she is attending a U.S. university and one of the top business schools in the country. Aguirre’s parents worked hard to get her where she is today, and her family plans on flying to Michigan in a few weeks to celebrate together. Aguirre is grateful for that. “(International students) don’t take graduation from a U.S. college as granted,” Aguirre said. “Sometimes when I talk to classmates, I wish they would appreciate it better.” Aguirre insists that there are ways to celebrate graduation this year without disregarding one’sachievements. She points to social media as a way to spread the news and boost confidence for graduates. “Of course it would be more emotional to

go in and walk and be there,” Aguirre said. “But it’s still a huge achievement for all of us. So I think I’m just happy and excited.” Celebrations in a pandemic We may have a mostly virtual commencement, but that isn’t stopping us from celebrating graduation. Several students I spoke to had made arrangements for family day trips to Ann Arbor to celebrate on a smaller scale. Ann Arbor restaurants are already filling their reservations for graduation weekend. Popular Italian joint Mani Osteria has opened a waitlist for outdoor seating, The Earle has created a special menu for celebrating families, and reservations at Asian restaurant Pacific Rim are going fast. Aguirre looks forward to celebrating her achievement with her family. She doesn’t mind that her celebration will be more intimate without the crowd at the Big House. “If you want the real feeling of making someone proud, you can just look at your parents’ eyes. And that’s it, you know?” Aguirre said. Aguirre’s family plans to watch the virtual commencement in their hotel room while Aguirre views it at the Big House. Afterward, they’ll leave for a road trip around Michigan. Aguirre looks forward to celebrating with a mini-vacation while still following COVID safety protocols. “They’re making my graduation an excuse to travel,” Aguirre told me with a laugh. Other seniors are trying their hand at small gatherings with just their close friends and family. Quigley plans to throw a small ceremony at her house in Ann Arbor, as all her roommates and their families are vaccinated already. “We’re going to have food catered to our house and have our own mini graduation,” Quigley said. “We’re all going to give a speech too.” Kao is also waiting until her friends get vaccinated to hold her outdoor graduation celebration. “I’m super close to feeling comfortable being around more people than my bubble,” Kao told me. “I think that would be the closure that I would have wanted.” Regardless of celebrations, nearly everyone I spoke to wanted to soak in the city of Ann Arbor before they moved out. Many students took advantage of remote learning as a chance to leave their apartment and explore different parts of Michigan as well. “It opened the door for me to do different activities that I don’t normally do,” Aguirre said. “We’ll drive up to Port Huron, or play sand volleyball in Elbel field, or go study in a coffee shop. In my four years, I had never gone to a coffee shop to study.” I’ve been trying to do the same. I go for a hike in Ann Arbor’s parks a couple of times a week, usually in the middle of a workday to avoid the crowd. I stash my phone deep in my drawstring bag and hike in silence through Barton Nature Center, Bird Hills Nature Area, remote parts of Nichols Arboretum. It feels like closure for me — a way to say a private, silent goodbye to the city I’ve called home the last four years. I’ll be leaving my Ann Arbor studio apartment at the end of April to make space for my summer subletter. Two weeks before commencement, my parents have asked me if I have a plan for graduation at least five times. Truthfully, I still don’t know. If this year has taught me anything, agendas and itineraries are meaningless. I’m tired of making them. At the end of the day, I have no idea how to feel about graduating during such an unconventional year. But I’m okay with waiting until May 1 to find out. For now, I think I’ll go where the wind takes me, drift in this city until I no longer can. Breathe it in before packing up for my next adventure.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

statement

Wednesday, April 21, 2021 — 11

ILLUSTRATION BY EILEEN KELLY

Closure

BY RACHEL MCKIMMY, STATEMENT COLUMNIST

raduation looms on the horizon. For every college student, the idea of graduating college holds a bittersweet flavor, caught between the satisfaction of accomplishment and the sadness of goodbyes. For some, it holds more of one than the other. It is sometimes hard to tell which is stronger. Sometimes, the bitterness wins. At 21 years old, I’ve been a college student for five years and have been at the University of Michigan for three of them. I took courses at a community college for two years in my childhood state of California before transferring to the University. My mom encouraged me to apply since her and my stepfather’s resident status would transfer to me. One acceptance letter and months later, I was living much closer to my mom and my sister Sydney’s family, which I liked because I could visit them any time I wanted. I look back on the clueless 18-year-old from the middle of nowhere in Northern California, who was overwhelmed by the University’s size and the sheer number of people during her first few weeks of class. I remember how excited she was to wake up to snow on the ground. That girl could never have imagined that her path would bring her this far or to this particular place. That her senior year would be spent shut away in an apartment off-campus. That by now she would have accomplished and lost so much. It was only three weeks into this winter semester that I received a phone call from my sister that our mom had passed away. She lived only 25 minutes away from me, but I hadn’t risked hugging her in over a month because of the risk of coronavirus contagion. She lived alone, having separated from my stepfather a couple of years ago. The only hint I got that something was wrong was that she wasn’t responding to my texts. I didn’t know she was gone until almost 24 hours after it happened. She was only 57 years old. Her funeral was simple. We wore masks and social distanced. We ordered a bouquet of flowers in her favorite color, purple, looking as much like a bouquet of wildflowers she would have

picked herself as we could make it. I played her favorite music and put together a long slideshow of photos of her, even though she never liked having her picture taken. We felt we needed some event to celebrate her life, to mark the fact that she was gone even though we couldn’t believe it, couldn’t accept it. Closure was the idea, but we felt and still feel no closure. I mark every accomplishment now in my mind on a calendar of months since she was alive. My first column in The Michigan Daily this semester was spread out on her coffee table when we went to her house to begin packing her things. She had said she planned to frame it. Since then, I published my first article in a nonstudent publication and I won a Hopwood Undergraduate Nonfiction Award: the outcome of efforts she witnessed but of which never got to see the rewards. On the one hand, I can’t imagine having done any more or better in my undergraduate career. But on the other side of that, I thought that I would be taking graduation pictures with her now. She would be telling me how proud of me she was. I still haven’t taken any graduation pictures. This chapter has a bitter ending for a lot of people, with not a lot of closure. I know this is not the senior year any of us imagined, distanced from friends and family and normal life. I know the loss that millions of people are experiencing from losing their family members and friends to this deadly pandemic. I know I did not imagine having to lose my mom so soon nor not being able to say goodbye. I pushed through to graduation because I knew she would want me to. But the bitter, bone-deep ache of loss is much more powerful than any shallow closure I feel from finishing my undergraduate studies. That’s something I’ve been grappling with a lot. It’s natural to ask, “What if?” What if I had taken a different course that semester, or had done a different program or a different internship? What if this pandemic hadn’t happened and I’d had a normal senior year? What if my mom was still here? These questions have no an-

swers. We’ll never know what might have been. The word “closure” seems to refer to the concept of a definitive conclusion. With it comes a sense of acceptance. Oh, sweet closure. There is an implication of tying up loose ends, of understanding what happened and why. It’s what happens at the end of fiction books. You turn to the last page, you read the last lines, you see the words “the end” printed on paper. You shut the book and you feel satisfied. Everything happened for a reason and everything had its own meaning. But whether closure is ever achievable in an ever-changing world where nothing can be controlled or predicted, I don’t know. We work and sometimes we succeed at the goals we set, but do we ever feel that we have reached a conclusion? Real-life is messy. Real-life doesn’t tie up loose ends, or always offer a chance for goodbye. We don’t know the reason that things happen or what they mean. We have ideas, but no explanations upon which we agree. y mom brought me into the world and raised me. She taught me to be passionate and to fight for what I care about — the environment, animals, people — and encouraged me to utilize my strengths to those ends, to follow my dreams. She took me traveling and showed me to love the world and all of the adventures it holds. She encouraged me to apply to the University and she’s the reason I studied environmental studies. Her encouragement is why I write. In many ways, her dreams for a better world live on in me. The truth is, I didn’t come to the University for the graduation ceremony. I came for the years spent hunched uncomfortably over my desk struggling to learn and write and grow. You didn’t love someone just to go to their funeral. You loved them for the impact they made upon you. At the end of this long, hard year, and standing at the crossroads of pathways into the future, it is okay not to feel closure because this is not the final page. There is too much left to do in this world to feel that way.

statement

12 — Wednesday, April 21, 2021

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

ILLUSTRATION BY KATHERINE LEE

Saying the G word BY ARIA GERSON, STATEMENT CONTRIBUTOR

alking through the Law Quadrangle and waiting for my photographer, I couldn’t help but notice them: the group of girls doing their graduation photoshoot at the same time, clad in white dresses, caps and gowns. I, too, had purchased a white dress and a new pair of heels for the occasion, but there was a key difference: I was alone. I booked the session in January with a photographer I knew. We booked my session for the first week of April. Then came the question that made my stomach lurch: “How many people?” Long before it was time to book, I knew what was coming. Girls at the University of Michigan don’t take their graduation photos alone. The more girlfriends surrounding you in pastel dresses and nude pumps, the better. And taking my photos alone felt pathetic, like I was sending a message to the world that I didn’t have any friends. I didn’t have a choice. The friends I had made at this school had largely graduated, including my boyfriend, a member of the class of 2019 with whom I’ve been long-distance for nearly two years. Others were younger than me or doing their photos with others. The women I consider my closest friends all go to different universities. So, that Friday afternoon in the Law Quad, I set aside my embarrassment and took the photos. A few days later, I plastered them over social media, captioning them with an ironic song lyric from Taylor Swift’s Daylight: “Maybe I’ve stormed out of every single room in this town.” That’s the duality of being that person who’s wanted to graduate for two-and-a-half years. My grad photos embarrassed me, yes, but I still felt the need to display them and tell everyone I was graduating. Finally, I was less than a month from getting out of here. *** There are a lot of clichés I heard entering college and starting as a sports writer at The Michigan Daily: “The best four years of your life!” or, “The best job you’ll ever have!” I hadn’t liked high school much, so these phrases assured me that college would be better. Michigan is huge, I thought; here, I’d find my people. Spoiler alert: I didn’t. It’s been four years and while I have a few close friends, I never found a place where I felt I truly fit in. I wasn’t necessarily hated, but I wasn’t liked, either. Most times, I felt, I was just there. During my freshman year in South Quad Residence Hall, all the girls in my hall were joining sororities and studying for organic chemistry, while I stayed far away from STEM and spent my weekends at field hockey games. Freshman year, the one year I attended football games as a fan, I went to every game alone because most of

the people I knew only cared about the tailgates. Then, between sophomore and junior years, I fell out with three people I considered close friends in the span of eight months. As I posted on Instagram about all the basketball games I’d covered, I spent many late nights crying in my single residence hall room. I was alone. I tried to run from my status as a lonely girl. I stopped posting much on my Instagram, only showing photos of games I covered or places I visited. Deep down inside, I constantly wondered if it was too late for me, or if I’d ever find a space where I was truly wanted. When the pandemic hit and took away the majority of things I was looking forward to in 2020 — summer in Washington D.C., my sister’s high school graduation, a football trip to Seattle — I began clinging to graduation even more than I had been before. Without anything in person, suddenly, the clock had run out on chances to join new clubs or meet new people. Following COVID-19 restrictions was easy for me because there was barely anyone in Ann Arbor I regularly saw anyway. Every new restriction was just a further reminder that nothing had changed for me and nothing would: I was still alone, and I would continue to be. This time, it was just governmentmandated. The one thing I knew I still had going for me was that with each passing day, graduation ticked closer and closer. I counted down the months until I could get out of here, get a real job, go somewhere I wasn’t constantly reminded of my loneliness. I never had a lot of spending money in college. I turned down getting food with people because I was so budget-conscious. And yet, I went all out for graduation in a way I hadn’t for anything before. Dress. Heels. A haircut. Makeup. Regalia. Photos. I spent hundreds of dollars on the occasion. Sometimes I questioned why I was even doing it. Did I really need grad photos? Did I need a new dress when I didn’t even wear the dresses I already had because I never got invited to the right occasions? But I decided to go forward with the purchases because, after four years of feeling like I wasn’t enough and could never be enough for anyone, I needed something to feel good about. At least I liked the way I looked. At least the photos were a tangible reminder that I was so close to getting out of here. t was just my luck that the pandemic forced graduation online. There was nothing I wanted more than to graduate in Michigan Stadium, with my loving family and boyfriend beside me. At graduation, I would be celebrated. It’s even more ironic that the University decided to allow graduates into Michigan Stadium to watch the virtual commencement, but just the students. No family. No friends. I knew from the

moment they announced it that I wanted to go, but it wasn’t lost on me that I’d be finishing college as I spent it: alone. *** Every December, The Daily lets its graduating seniors write goodbye columns. I’d read previous ones, and they made me cry. Not because they were sentimental, but because they were largely filled with seniors reminiscing on the number of friends they’d made and how they’d never have a job as good as this. Who has it better than us, after all? For me, it seemed like the answer to that question was everyone but me. The Daily sent me a lot of places and gave me a lot of opportunities. But I never found a home there in the way everyone always talked about, and if it’s the best job I’ll ever have, I’d leave the journalism industry tomorrow. So I summed it up in 800 words: how it feels to want to leave a space where everyone is begging for extra time, how to sit there wondering if it will ever be worth it. I wrote about being alone. That was when the direct messages started to flow in. I got multiple messages that day from people who’d graduated before me, people I looked up to, telling me that my experience wasn’t unique. They’d been in my shoes before. They were glad I’d spoken my truth. For once, I wasn’t alone. “We don’t say the G word here,” one of my professors said while we were discussing commencement plans last week. It was another example of the cliche that nobody graduating college wants to come to terms with leaving. But I say it. I fixate on it. It’s the one thing in my life I can hold tight to with everything I have. And I’m not the only one — it’s just that those of us with graduation circled on our calendars for months or years tend to stay in the shadows. I know this because I was finally willing to open up. I was willing to write about my experience, I was willing to do my grad photos alone. Only then did I realize how many shared my experience. When I finally toss my cap up in the air, the moment I’ve anticipated for years, it’ll be dedicated to everyone who didn’t have the experience they wanted in college. For people like us, this is an accomplishment, a door opening to a fresh start and a life we get to make. Knowing that, I don’t think taking pictures alone should be embarrassing. It should be a sign of resilience and of reclaiming the narrative. It’s a constant reminder that while all good things come to an end, all bad things — whether that be a suboptimal college experience or a pandemic that torpedoed a senior year — do too. In a few weeks, it will all be over, and no one can take that away from me.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

statement

Wednesday, April 21, 2021 — 13

ILLUSTRATION BY MAGGIE WIEBE

Rewriting college

BY MAGDALENA MIHAYLOVA, STATEMENT CORRESPONDENT

s someone who was born and raised in Ann Arbor, people always ask, “Do you regret staying home for college?” Maybe they are shocked that I would elect to live so close to my parents, high school friends or the familiar streets of my childhood. Maybe they aren’t surprised at all, picturing every Ann Arborite as born with maize-and-blue streaks in their hair, prophesied as a future Wolverine. Maybe they envision college as the time to leave the nest, and that true growth comes from the discomfort of change. In reality, when I stepped onto campus in 2017, I was happy to be close to my parents. I made it a point to meet new people and it was then that I went to my first ever Michigan football game. So while I didn’t quite leave the nest by coming to the University of Michigan, my experiences here have taught me that you can still grow even if you physically stay in the same place. Consider this: A brown building with grey scaffolding and green ivies slithering up its side. If I told you only of this image, you might be picturing many different locations, and most likely, none would evoke deep feelings of community, stress, inspiration or love. You’d just be imagining a building. But if I asked you to consider the Hatcher Graduate Library, with its quiet marble steps and a labyrinth of stacks; or the Law Quadrangle, with the daunting gaze of stained glass over sunbathing students; or even the Shapiro Undergraduate Library, with its suspicious smells and people taking phone calls in the stairwell, then they become more than places or structures. They become breathing, living things, full of memories and relationships and emotions because it’s not the places that shape us, it’s the people and experiences inside of them that do. I didn’t grow any more or less because I stayed in Ann Arbor, I just grew in different ways. It’s a theme that I’ve explored more and more as my senior year at the University comes to a close: Who would I be if I made different decisions? If I could go back, would I have done things the same? What are my regrets? For a while, I lamented over the classes I took or didn’t take, the places I lived, the programs I applied to. I thought about the times I stayed in instead of going out, the sports games I never attended, the friendships I turned away from and the ones I maintained. In those moments of intense introspection and regret, I have felt the urge to reach out to the younger people in my life,

to help them avoid the mistakes I made, to curate their college lives into the most fun, diverse and educational experience possible. But while the media might try to tell us differently, there is no formula for a perfect college experience. It arguably does not exist at all. There is only your college experience, and assigning it objective values of success — like if you had a close-knit group of friends, met the love of your life or got a prestigious internship — or values of failure — like if you didn’t get honors, had trouble finding your people or spent a semester depressed — will leave you permanently unfulfilled, suspended in air, reaching for the preconceived notions and examples that would validate your experience. Indeed, if you spend all of college trying to curate the “best four years of your life,” you will only end up relying on other people and their experiences as indicators of the merit of your own. And the best way to go through college is in your own organic, unique and personal way. I’m reminded of a piece I wrote at the end of my freshman year when I was a columnist for The Michigan Daily’s Opinion section. When I pulled up the old document to compare it to this one, I found myself laughing endearingly, if not a little critically, at the memory of myself at the time, a self reflected in that prose. I was 18 years old and freshly heartbroken; I didn’t have many friends nor plans for the summer. That anxiety, sadness and resentment are palpable in my words: “A lesson I’ve learned in college is that vulnerability usually comes with hurt. To show real emotion, to allow yourself that honesty, will lead to pain.” And while in that column I ultimately argue that being vulnerable is what gives life its meaning, the passage communicates a loss of innocence, an introduction into adulthood. That’s a big part of college, one that is discussed less than the more tangible introductions to adulthood, like cooking for yourself or paying your own bills. To be sure, not all of us arrive at college with bright-eyed naivety and idealism, but for many, this campus is where we experience our first blows of loneliness, betrayal and insecurity. It’s where we start realizing the uglier aspects of the world and humanity, adjusting and maturing in the process. nd yet, college is also where we often experience the euphoria of an awakened mind and stimulating coursework, feel first love and touch or meet the people who inspire and shape us. It’s where

you can walk into any classroom and almost hear the humming of eager minds at work, enter a campus bar and be met with sticky, tipsy smiles or just simply be studying for class when you realize, Whoa, this is my passion, this gives me life. This dichotomy of highs and lows is one I began understanding even in my first few months at Michigan, and I wrote about it in the same freshman-year column: “I often experienced isolation and togetherness within the same day. I felt impassioned in one class and resigned in another. I balanced finding myself with finding someone for me.” Indeed, at an age and in a setting that is so unpredictable, so charged with energy and hormones and curiosity, we never quite know what we want, what we’ll feel, what we should do. To me, though, that’s the beauty of college, and one of the things I’ve enjoyed the most during my time at the University. With so many opportunities and people, each new experience has been like the tap of a tiny chisel, each one slowly shaping me into the person I am today as I type at my desk, my cap and gown hanging proudly next to me. Some of those taps are gentle, leaving a smooth, soft finish. Some of those taps are painful; they break off too much, stinging even in memory. But what I’ve learned is to not scrutinize the small cracks in the sculpture, but to rather step back and appreciate the art as a whole. Of course, this is easier said than done. I have by no means reached the pinnacle of maturity and understanding when it comes to college or even adulthood. I’m still often reckless with the chisel, and at times I have trouble seeing the value in the blemishes that have inevitably occurred over the last four years. I can also imagine that one day I will look back on this column, just as I did with my freshman year one, and chuckle at how little I had yet to discover, how much I claimed to understand with these words. But that’s exactly what growth is, and just as I used writing to understand the passage from childhood to adulthood back in freshman year, I am using it now to try to put words to the feeling I get when someone asks me, “Do you regret?” I can now confidently respond with a no, because I find it a privilege to have had these four years at the University of Michigan, and I am grateful for every little imprint it has left on me, from the classes that added layers to how I see the world, to the nights I scream-cried in the shower and all the way to this newspaper, that let me, in streaming, chaotic sentences, write about it all.

statement

14 — Wednesday, April 21, 2021

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Lost at Michigan: a reflection of my transition from rural to university life BY ELAYNA SWIFT, STATEMENT CONTRIBUTOR

n the evening of Wednesday, Dec. 16, 2016, I lounged in my old bedroom, exhausted from a particularly grueling competitive cheer practice, mindlessly scrolling through my phone after yet another day of going through the motions. Just after 8 p.m., I refreshed my Gmail, only expecting to delete more emails from various stores — hello, Victoria’s Secret and Forever21 — who flooded my inbox with promotions each day. Then, suddenly, there it was. An email with the subject line: “Your University of Michigan Admissions Decision.” Without even opening the email, I glanced at the first few words, written just under the subject line, that read: “CONGRATULATIONS Elayna — You’re IN!” Startled and in utter shock, I jumped out of bed, sprinted out of my room and down the stairs to the living room — slipping multiple times in my socks on our wood floors — and ran up to my older sister. Wordlessly, I shoved my phone in her face as I stood in front of her, speechless and in tears, attempting to catch my breath. My parents looked at us in bewilderment, wondering what could possibly be on that phone screen. My sister, realizing I was at a loss for words, filled them in: “She got in!” I got in. I was quite apathetic throughout the entire college application process. My sister had matriculated to the University as well, but generally, attending a large, four-year university was an exception to the rule in our little 2,000-person hometown. For the most part, members of our tiny graduating classes found themselves attending local community colleges or small state schools, going to trade school or entering full-time work on family farms, in factories or local real estate. Many would stay in the town, or at least the county, for the rest of their lives, finding success and happiness in their homes, families and work. The academics at our high school were tailored for this. A squat, one-story building shaped like a square with two small wings, Bronson Jr./Sr. High School did its very best to breed success for its students. Housing grades six through 12, with a generous estimate of 475 total students, the school was chronically underfunded. Our textbooks dated back to the early ‘90s and monstrous box televisions still hung from the ceilings in the corner of the classrooms, most of which still had chalkboards. We didn’t have any official

International Baccalaureate or Advanced Placement programs; our sole AP class — AP U.S. History — couldn’t even be listed as an AP course on our transcripts, reputedly due to financial reasons, and we didn’t have calculus or biochemistry either. Seniors spent half the year taking a class on U.S. government and the other taking what was meant to be economics, but our teacher chose to focus on personal finance instead. This was a reasonable choice given that these skills are much more practical — therefore more likely to be used by most students after graduation — as compared to a high school-level understanding of macroeconomic concepts. Many of my friends and family members, along with my entire community back in Bronson, found happiness and success by utilizing this education, finding work that they enjoyed and that allowed them to support their families. They not only embrace but thrive in their small-town, humble lifestyles, building friendships and tight-knit community bonds that last for generations. My community loves living in a place that feels familiar and intimate — where everybody literally knows everybody. But, deep down, I always knew the small-town life wasn’t meant for me. I wanted to do something more. I didn’t know what “more” was, but I knew I had the potential to do it, and I knew I couldn’t find it in Bronson, Mich. This has always been a source of guilt — the idea that the lives my family and community members lived somehow weren’t good enough for me. After announcing that I would be attending the University, I knew some members of the community would immediately label me as pretentious and arrogant — but it wasn’t about them. They found their own versions of success, and I am immensely proud of them for that. But my imagination was big, my desire to learn was bigger, and my feelings of being trapped inside such a small box were suffocating. As I started to think about attending college, I had little hope that I would achieve my ever-lofty goals. I was aware that my education hardly compared to that of students from even the neighboring towns, let alone that of students from fancy private schools. My standardized test scores were in the top tier of my high school but in the bottom tier of the University’s average admissions. If it hadn’t been for the handful of Bronson graduates who had successfully matriculated

to highly-ranked universities before me, including my sister, and the support I received from my parents and a few key family members, I probably never would have applied. But I did. And I got in. I truly never could have predicted what the next four years had in store for me. Despite my general awareness of how far behind I’d be in comparison to my future peers, I thought the dual enrollment courses I took at a local community college would help prepare me for the increased academic rigor. I thought that it would be easy to find friends and a community on such a large campus, given that there were literally tens of thousands of students to meet. I genuinely believed that after leaving the town that I never felt I belonged in for a place like Ann Arbor, I would find myself, my people and my passion quickly. I was incredibly naive. he very first hurdle I faced was the realization that all of the dual enrollment credits I had taken during high school were worthless — the credits couldn’t transfer because the classes I took at the community college weren’t on the University’s “approved” list. In order to appeal this decision, I was expected to obtain the syllabi from those courses and independently petition the professors of the congruent classes at the University to approve them. This is an outrageous and intimidating ask of a young, terrified freshman facing such a drastic transition, already aware of the gaps in her academic preparation. Anxious and intimidated, I didn’t even bother to try, knowing that the outcome was less than likely to be fruitful. Instead, I accepted my fate and surrendered nearly an entire semester’s worth of credits. I was reminded of this every semester as I tried to enroll for courses, always last in line due to having fewer credits under my belt than my peers in the same year as me. With this happening in just the first few weeks of college, my feelings of inadequacy were underscored and came to define my freshman year at the University. My first semester was a blur of social anxiety, academic hardship and imposter syndrome. From the moment I opened my acceptance email, some part of me truly felt that my admission to the University was a fluke. I thought I wasn’t smart enough to be here and that all of my peers were far more enlightened and

intelligent than I was. I felt that I could never succeed in a place like this. These feelings made the thought of opening up to my peers terrifying. At home, I was always one of the “smart ones.” But suddenly, everyone around me at the University was talking about their IB diplomas and listing the entry-level courses they would skip because of their academic backgrounds. At the same time, I was struggling to keep up in those entrylevel courses, as the professors frequently skipped over material they assumed I learned in high school. I was so insecure about whether I even deserved my place at this university that I thought that if I talked to my new classmates and dorm neighbors, they’d figure out that I wasn’t actually smart at all. Between unawareness and a simple lack of resources, the University didn’t help much with this transition. I didn’t technically qualify as a first-generation student because my mom and stepdad earned their degrees online during my childhood, so the community and the resources for first-generation students weren’t available to me. There’s no program on campus that specifically seeks to aid students who are expected to teach themselves class material that professors assumed I had learned. I was too embarrassed to admit what I felt was my stupidity during office hours, so I had two options: seek out tutoring or deal with it. I couldn’t afford tutoring, so I was left to fend for myself. Eventually, I started to adjust. During the second semester of my freshman year, I finally found a small, like-minded group of friends with similar academic experiences who made the transition a bit easier. Slowly but surely, I taught myself how to study, how to write papers and how to teach myself all of the material that professors skipped over. I really started to wish my high school economics teacher had placed more of an emphasis on those macroeconomic concepts. Still, I pushed through, even when I spent countless hours in the UgLi studying for an exam that I ultimately performed poorly on despite my best efforts and great desire to understand the material. I later learned that my lack of academic preparedness wasn’t the only factor contributing to the hardship I’ve faced at the University. Just two months ago, as a second-semester senior, I was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder — meaning that I endured nearly the entirety of my undergraduate

career undiagnosed and untreated for something that makes learning so much more difficult. Those times that I barely even managed to finish timed exams that I spent countless hours studying for, and that everyone else finished much more quickly, suddenly made a lot more sense. I applied and chose to attend this university because I wanted to learn and I wanted to be challenged. I thought that the hardship I was facing was exactly what I had asked for. To an extent, it was. But I wasn’t supposed to face it alone. And it wasn’t supposed to be as hard as it was. y acceptance into the School of Public Health saved me from giving up on my academic goals. As soon as I was able to dive into a field of study that I was deeply passionate about, I finally found myself performing better academically. The support I’ve received in this program from my advisors, professors and peers is invaluable. As my undergraduate career comes to a close, I’ve managed to earn University Honors and obtained my first 4.0 semester grade point average in Fall 2020. These accomplishments feel so small to students who came in prepared, but for me and my family, I may as well have won an Olympic gold medal. Still, looking back, I can’t help but wonder how my academic experience would have been different had there been resources available for students like me. It was hard to find people with similar backgrounds because I was too embarrassed to talk about my struggles — and they probably were, too. For those of us who don’t technically fall into those firstgeneration college student categories, or who attended a high school like mine, it’s incredibly intimidating to talk about our experiences without having feelings of inadequacy take over. I felt all of those feelings, in addition to pure loneliness, for so much of my undergraduate career. It took until my senior year to truly feel that I belong here. Nobody should have to feel that way. If you’re reading this and my story resonates with you in any way: you’re not alone. I wish that there was some cohesive community on campus for students like us, but unfortunately, there isn’t. Until there is, please remember: You belong here. You were admitted because you deserve to be here. You’re intelligent, competent, powerful and worthy. Go to office hours and don’t be afraid to ask for help. And, most of all, please don’t give up.

ILLUSTRATION BY EILEEN KELLY

Opinion

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Wednesday, April 21, 2021 — 15

EMILY LAWSIN & SCOTT KURASHIGE | OP-ED CONTRIBUTORS

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From The Daily: Governor Whitmer, take action

ichigan’s COVID-19 surge is the worst in the country. In the past week, we have had more cases and deaths per capita than any other state. In response, Gov. Gretchen Whitmer has issued a set of suggestions to curb the spread, such as limiting in-person dining capacity and switching to virtual learning for the next two weeks, but she has not issued any new mandates or restrictions. Instead, she has turned to the federal government, asking for more allocation of vaccines to navigate the crisis. But the federal government has denied her request, stating that the solution is to curb the spread through social measures rather than medical ones. And that makes sense. Despite Michigan’s hesitancy to enforce new COVID-19 restrictions, it is clear that abandoning common sense measures in favor of vaccines will result in more unnecessary deaths. We call on Gov. Whitmer to mandate the necessary public health restrictions immediately, as called for by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Then we can ask for more doses. Whitmer’s recent request for more vaccines from the federal government goes against the guidance of the director of the CDC, who has asked Michigan to “shut things down” as of April 12. Even if the requested vaccines all got here tomorrow, were distributed quickly and injected into Michiganders’ arms, full immunity still takes five weeks to take effect with the Pfizer/ BioNTech vaccine and six weeks to take effect with the Moderna vaccine because both require two doses. In other words, additional vaccines, if distributed now, will not create immunity fast enough to slow the surge. The spike in Michigan could be a harbinger of things to come for other states, so increasing vaccine allocation to any state experiencing a spike would unlikely prove to be an effective long-term strategy in the months to come. Instead, policymakers should focus on implementing and enforcing effective restrictions and directing available vaccines to the most vulnerable communities. Whitmer’s job is to make the decisions that will protect Michigan residents, even when they are unpopular. As an elected leader, she is uniquely situated to influence the state’s safety measures and decide the trajectory of this outbreak. Even in the face of

JULIAN BARNARD | COLUMNIST

ecently I time-traveled 100 years in the past. I didn’t go to a historical house to find out what life was like on the frontier, I didn’t churn my own butter or read the Farmers’ Almanac by candlelight, but I did witness an internal party primary for New Mexico’s 1st Congressional District. This arcane process was the norm prior to the early 20th century, with party insiders — or in this case, members of the State Central Committee — choosing their preferred candidate instead of the huddled masses. Climate scientist and state Rep. Melanie Stansbury, D-Albuquerque, triumphed in the State Central Committee runoff over state Sen. Antoinette Sedillo López, D-Albuquerque, who was also the first Latina law professor at the University of New Mexico. Sedillo López placed third in the 2018 primary for this district; Stansbury did not run. Stansbury, being one of the only white candidates, was an underwhelming choice for some

fierce political opposition or strong community pushback, she must mandate safety measures that will save lives. Her legacy will be shaped by COVID-19’s impact on Michigan and beyond, so shying away from long-term well-being to avoid shortterm political pushback would be betraying her responsibility and commitment to the state. Moreover, these mandates are only effective if a critical mass of the population follows them, so Whitmer should make clear how important safety measures are to the state’s long term health. As the weather gets warmer and more people get vaccinated, it’s easy to feel that the pandemic must be over. However, the spike in cases and deaths makes clear that this pandemic is not over, and the more we pretend it is, the longer it will go on. Michigan residents, including University of Michigan students, should be following suggestions from both the state and the University. All should practice the same social distancing measures they have throughout the pandemic, including avoiding unnecessary travel, wearing masks and keeping social gatherings small and outdoors whenever possible. But it is unreasonable to ask residents to follow instructions it seems their governor doesn’t even support. This is why Whitmer needs to take decisive action and use her voter-given power to enact these measures. It is critical to consider the number of citizens in Michigan who are hesitant to get vaccinated when discussing this current outbreak. If a significant proportion of Michiganders avoid vaccination, outbreaks will continue, and the risk of variants will increase.

Some individuals may not have the information necessary to make that decision, and a state- or nation-wide information campaign could sway initially hesitant people to get the vaccine. Some communities don’t trust the health care system because it discriminates against people of color, specifically Black people, and Black Michiganders are underrepresented in the vaccine rollout, even after the federal government set up a mass site at Ford Field in Detroit. According to an MLive article, Black people made up less than 10% of people who got vaccinated at Ford Field, despite making up almost 80% of Detroit’s population. Therefore, any vaccination campaign must acknowledge vaccine hesitancy in different communities and focusing on addressing both the symptoms and sources of that mistrust. Education, outreach and accessibility are crucial to ensuring people get the shots and stay safe. This is one aspect of the vaccine rollout the governor can prioritize along with the necessary mandates. It is clear that more mandates are unpopular and tiresome. After more than a year of living in this pandemic, Michiganders want nothing more than to finally enjoy the benefits of loosened restrictions. However, the current COVID-19 spike in our state shows that, while the end seems in sight, we are still in the midst of a global pandemic. Vaccines are just one weapon in defeating the virus, and they won’t work unless accompanied by public health mandates. Michigan’s leaders must respond to this crisis and residents should listen, no matter how unpopular those measures may be.

Support for Asian Americans Must Go Beyond Performative Statements

n the aftermath of the Atlantaarea spa shootings and a continued upsurge in antiAsian violence, leaders of colleges and universities across the country have issued statements denouncing anti-Asian racism and extending support to members of the Asian American community. Anyone who has been around academe for even a moderate amount of time has come to expect such statements in the wake of national tragedies, such as the death of George Floyd in police custody, the white supremacist mob violence in Charlottesville, Va., and the mass murders at Charleston, S.C.’s Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church and Pittsburgh’s Tree of Life Synagogue. Such statements can help to reassure members of historically marginalized communities that their concerns register with decisionmakers and remind them of their commitment to inclusion. However, we have also come to expect that these statements will sadly be received by many as performative acts unless they are followed by transformative measures to redress long-standing problems of structural racism and other forms of inequity. The breadth and scope of statements in the past few weeks addressed to Asian Americans seems unprecedented, signaling a possible watershed moment. A quick internet search turns up well over one hundred statements connected to institutions of higher education. The American Historical Association released the “Statement on Violence against Asians and Asian Americans” co-signed by 44 scholarly organizations. Over the next few years, we will see how much that sentiment translates into action. For instance, institutions with Asian American Studies departments, majors and doctorate programs are few and far between. Students and scholars in the field generally need to find space for their work within traditional disciplines or interdisciplinary units. This usually means relying on non-specialists to recognize the significance of their work, which can often involve more interpersonal and emotional negotiation than cerebral academic pursuit. Expanded course offerings and tenured faculty hires in Asian American Studies would help to remedy that problem. Indeed, many colleges and universities still have no more than a token number of Asian American Studies courses or, even more commonly, none at all. Dedicated cultural centers or counseling staffed by full-time experts in Asian American student affairs are also the exceptions rather than the norm. As such, for decades, Asian American students and advocates have been pushing for more resources and investments by their schools, including at some of the most prominent and wealthy institutions in the world. We may also see a wave of new hires at all levels of Asians and Asian Americans within not only higher education but also within media, government and corporations. Some of these openings will provide opportunities for exceptional talents that have long been overlooked. History, however, cautions us to

be wary of cynical and token hires. Arguably the most notorious Asian American hire in history was the appointment of S.I. Hayakawa, endorsed by then-California Gov. Ronald Reagan, as president of San Francisco State College during the Third World Liberation Front strike for Ethnic Studies in 1968-69. The conservative Hayakawa became the “model minority” symbol of state repression to end the strike with a brutal police crackdown that left hundreds of students beaten, bloodied and jailed — though not defeated. The editors of the acclaimed 2012 anthology, “Presumed Incompetent: The Intersections of Race and Class for Women in Academia,” warned to watch for the use of a woman of color “pet” or “mascot” whose purpose is to reinforce structures of oppression. The book says, “The pet may be a key administrator’s personal favorite, who serves as the official spokesperson for all faculty of color. She may be the ‘exceptional’ woman of color whose accomplishments (real or imagined) or compliant attitude put other faculty of color in a negative light. In public, the pet makes a dramatic display of her selfless efforts to support colleagues of color. In private, the pet is harshly critical of the teaching and scholarship of these same colleagues, thereby reinforcing the race- and gender-based presumption of incompetence.” One of the immediate tests of sensitivity toward the concerns of Asian American workers and students is whether employers and schools will require in-person labor and instruction. Echoing concerns expressed by Black and Latinx parents, Asian Americans have been reluctant to send their K-12 children back to school in person, and these concerns cut across geography, class and ethnicity. It is not hard to see how many of the same factors identified in an eye-opening Washington Post article may also apply to college-level instruction, as well as employment more broadly. First and foremost, Asian American parents and students have expressed alarm at the racial harassment and assault they and others have faced. The fear of such incidents extends from the classroom and playground to walking or taking public transportation to and from campus. In our mentoring of Asian American students, we have repeatedly heard reports of Asian American women being subjected to harassment and abuse especially when drinking and partying take place. Even college students who studiously avoid parties can be subjected to such attacks while walking home from the library or study group meetings. Second, Asian Americans harbor fears of COVID-19 spread not only to themselves but also to vulnerable members of their families and communities. Nearly 30% of Asian Americans live in multigenerational households. Society often thinks of Asian Americans as the stereotypical “model minority” student going to an elite university. The reality is that most Asian Americans attend community colleges or state schools like those we have previously taught at, where students routinely

commute to campus from homes with parents and grandparents. The concern is escalated at the colleges and universities that are not requiring students to be vaccinated, even as it becomes widely available. Third, Asian Americans share the concerns of other groups who live with dependents or household members who are immunocompromised. For example, we are parents of a kindergartner with Down syndrome and one study has found that individuals with this condition are ten times more likely to die of COVID-19 than the general population. Further, assuming test trials go well, young children are not likely to be eligible for a vaccine prior to 2022. And even if K-12 children have the option of virtual learning, this won’t mean much if their parents and guardians are required to work in person and can’t be at home. Vaccinated adults may have a low risk of hospitalization, death and reduced risk of transmission, but new strains are challenging that. How much risk should be tolerable in a deadly pandemic? This is a decision that parents should have the right to determine in consultation with their medical providers. Finally, Asian American employees and students deserve the option of virtual work and instruction on a full-time basis to alleviate mental illness. Otherwise, being forced to choose between undesirable options will only heighten the stress and anxiety that have already escalated for Asian Americans during the pandemic. Asian Americans have reported a higher level of concern for COVID19 than the general U.S. population and heightened anxiety about racist harassment and attacks. As Dr. Tung Nguyen, director of the Asian American Research Center on Health at the University of California – San Francisco, has noted, Asian American mental health issues “tend to be under-diagnosed and underdiscussed.” Through the pandemic, many of us have normalized grocery shopping, dining out, watching movies and even attending parties and weddings through the internet. Instructors have gone to extraordinary lengths to develop pedagogical techniques over Zoom and through asynchronous learning. Why should anyone be forced to assume unnecessary risks when effective and viable forms of work and teaching can occur online? The message to leaders of higher education and corporate employers should be clear. Asian Americans have heard your statements. Now it’s time to listen to us in shaping the policies and priorities that will exemplify your true values. Emily P. Lawsin is Lecturer IV in the Department of Women’s and Gender Studies, Department of American Culture, and Asian/Pacific Islander American Studies Program at the University of Michigan-Ann Arbor. She can be contacted at elawsin@umich.edu. Scott Kurashige is Professor and Chair in the Department of Comparative Race and Ethnic Studies at Texas Christian University and PastPresident of the American Studies Association. He can be contacted on Twitter: @scottkurashige. Institutions are listed for identification only.

A political masquerade in the Mountain West to succeed Deb Haaland, one of the first (alongside Rep. Sharice Davids, D-Kan.) Native American women in Congress. Stansbury would arguably have a slim chance of winning the Democratic primary without the current rush to select a representative. The congressional seat needs a replacement because the incumbent, Haaland, was recently confirmed by the Senate to her new position, Secretary of the Interior. The election was a scramble that eventually went to a runoff. Throughout the race there were multiple calls to replace Haaland with another woman of color, claiming this would honor Haaland. I’d like to unravel what it means when someone says they want to honor their predecessor. The presidency of Lyndon B. Johnson was overshadowed by the tenure of his predecessor, the assassinated former President John F. Kennedy. Likewise, the tenure of Melanie Stansbury will likely be overshadowed by her historic

predecessor. But what will Stansbury owe to Secretary Haaland and her legacy if — most likely, when — she takes office? Some people’s first response will be “nothing.” If you asked a bundle of Joe Biden voters what they think the current president owes to former President Donald Trump, they would probably laugh in your face. Many would say that Biden’s only responsibility is to the people, not to his predecessor. In a winner-take-all system, the losing politicians don’t govern at all and former politicians govern even less. In terms of political differences between the two women, there is not much to discuss. Both are progressives with an emphasis on the environment and Native American issues. Stansbury has made solving the crisis of missing and murdered Indigenous women a notable part of her platform, which is something Haaland has prioritized both in her new job and her old one.

Many responses to the question of what is owed will have nuance because most politicians have nuanced responsibilities. There is a responsibility to execute policy, and more broadly to represent your community. I would love it if Stansbury could be a carbon copy of Haaland, but unfortunately, she is not. As I noted before, Secretary Haaland was the first Native American woman in Congress. Neither Stansbury nor her unlikelyto-win Republican rival — Sen. Mark Moores, R-Albuquerque — can succeed her in this way. In one of her first releases after receiving the nomination, Stansbury tweeted, “The fight to defend Deb Haaland’s seat starts now.” This is an understandable political maneuver, invoking the name of an extremely popular politician. It does complicate how we think of politicians as distinct figures, with distinct experiences and policy positions. Stansbury wanting to honor Haaland is admirable but concerning.

On the issue of representation, Haaland brought an irreplaceable perspective to Congress. Stansbury can honor that, and continue the work Haaland did in uplifting Native communities nationwide, without passing herself off to be some sort of anointed heir. This problem of branding would not be so bothersome if Stansbury were not a remarkable and compelling candidate in her own right. Running explicitly as a replacement to a person, as opposed to a proponent of an idea, does not allow a politician to flourish as an honest legislator. Stansbury should run as Stansbury because to run as Haaland 2.0 is dishonest. This may be a niche observation about one congressional race in one of the most sparsely populated states in the nation. But this sort of thing happens often, most recently with a vice president, one politician running as the spiritual successor to another. I don’t care for it, and neither should you. In an age of political compass tests,

vote analyses and other desperate attempts to differentiate nondifferentiable candidates based on ideology, marketing yourself as “I’m like this person!” may seem to be a silver bullet for lackluster candidates, but it is never accurate. Politicians, especially those wanting to have a real effect on the national dialogue or public policy, should not strive to be indifferent from their predecessors. Back to our fundamental question of what a candidate owes to their predecessor — they owe what they owe to any constituent: honesty. Stansbury can carry forth Haaland’s bold climate initiatives, kind spirit and fierce advocacy without using her shadow as cover from potential attacks. The primary debt, I will remind you, is to the voters. Voters deserve an honest candidate who is not beholden to politicians of the past, no matter how popular they are. Julian Barnard is an Opinion Columnist and can be reached at jcbarn@umich.edu.

Opinion

16 — Wednesday, April 21, 2021

SIERRA ÉLISE HANSEN | COLUMNIST

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Post-pandemic, we must value libraries more

ccording to the bipartisan standards by which political “truths” are measured and spoon-fed to us, truth has come to sound more like something to aspire to rather than a lived, tangible reality. If you are like the average person, surfing the internet feels like a part of being alive. You might feel as if you’re always consuming a lot of information (primarily tweets and scandals rather than Dostoyevsky), but nevertheless, reading is a part of your day. Especially given the ubiquity of the internet amid the ongoing pandemic, one can assume that many Americans have spent even more time with their thoughts hovering in virtual space than they did before. And, that’s in a world which unapologetically centered the internet during pre-pandemic times. As someone who relied on libraries as sanctuaries of focus before quarantine, I had to implement huge adjustments in order to focus at home. More than that, I simply yearned for the feeling of holiness that would pass over me as I opened a hard-bound book from a time period that lapsed before I was born. I worried that I wouldn’t be able to reproduce anything close to it in quarantine, and indeed I have not. In direct opposition to a work of writing that is developed over many weeks, months and sometimes years, social media, like advertising, is constantly being run through a machine of algorithms and analytics. So, what are we missing? Reading “for pleasure” is more than a pastime — the slow simmering of processing what we read can become a catalyst for the mind’s steady growth. It is also a portal through which knowledge can be tested; that is, if we are granted access to that knowledge in the first place.

I’d like to make an abrupt suggestion, which is that we make a cultural shift toward an idea that isn’t so new after all: We should center the library as a mainstay of public life. Libraries are so much more than spaces filled with materials for personal consumption. Even in today’s era of rampant dis- and misinformation, libraries are still considered to be trusted, boasted public institutions. During an extremely scary, uncertain fall semester when no one knew with any degree of certainty that America’s democracy would remain intact, it felt as if a constant swarm of information was flowing through my brain each day. It happened regardless of whether I wanted it to or not. Like many of you, I was confined to my apartment, which I often resented. I continuously engaged in what has been referred to as “doomscrolling” (or, in an extension of that same modern parlance, “doomsurfing”). Doomscrolling felt like the only form of control I was able to exercise over the entrapment of those circumstances; I engaged in it more so as a mechanism for distraction. As we are all aware now as we were back then, there was no control to be exercised at all, by any one of us, over anything. Well, outside of the act of stepping into the voting booth — maybe even waiting in impossibly long lines to exercise our right to vote. But then I remembered something else that has stuck with me throughout the pandemicinduced lockdown. Despite how the shuttering of libraries feels neutral, I realized that the continuous pang of absence resulting from my inability to step foot in a campus library was more than a deeply personal experience — it was the revelation of wanting to salvage the social purposes of the public library. More

specifically, I remembered an op-ed in the New York Times penned by Eric Klinenberg, a sociology professor at New York University professor, titled, “How Libraries Can Save the 2020 Election.” I recall being struck immediately by the content of the article at the time that I happened across it. While citing Postmaster General Louis DeJoy’s decision to remove or cripple key components of America’s mail system right before the election, Klinenberg posits the importance of libraries for collective use and remedy. He writes that “there is a largely overlooked part of the civic infrastructure that is ready and able to help Americans exercise the franchise (of voting), even under these troubling circumstances: libraries.” Immediately after reading that sentence, I pondered my own experience with the libraries of my youth — one of living inside the articulations of time-worn fonts within the concrete walls of my elementary school’s library. I recalled nostalgically that this childhood library had shelves lining the middle of the school building, and that students would walk past the bindings when going anywhere. I remembered that sometimes, when I was bored in class, I would steal away to these shelves while “going to the bathroom” so that I could read. I also recalled James Baldwin discussing the fact that he read in his local libraries not out of a sense of boredom, but as an avenue for fighting against the limitations imposed upon him by the outside world — a world that certainly did not want him to succeed or flourish. Due to how Baldwin was a young Black man in Harlem during the 1960s, an era when the white status quo politicians aimed to viciously and purposefully oppress Black intellectuals,

Design by Madison Grosvenor

his life circumstances seemed to foreclose the possibility of the success he would so memorably achieve. However, while in conversation with the anthropologist Margaret Mead, Baldwin revealed that he’d read himself out of two Harlem libraries by the time he was thirteen. Baldwin also explained to Mead that what he “had to do then was bring the two things together: the possibilities the books suggested and the impossibilities of the life around (him).” As far as the latter goes, I see many disturbing holdovers from the 60s when Baldwin was honing his craft. Predominantly Black schools in Detroit, Mich., are grossly underfunded due to, among other things, neglect resulting from demographic shifts related to white flight. What this ultimately means is that students from underfunded school districts have less overall opportunity to capitalize on something as intellectually essential as access to literature — a dearth of money translates easily in this case to a dearth of access.

JOHN TUMPOSKY | COLUMNIST

The “vaccination passport” debate is more nuanced than it appears

or those currently unaware, in the state of Michigan, everyone — and yes that means everyone — above the age of 16 is eligible to receive a COVID-19 vaccine as of April 5. This is the case countrywide, for the most part, with the exception of a few states that are expanding their eligibility soon. In other words, the time to get vaccinated is upon us. The University of Michigan has already vaccinated over 40,000 individuals and that number is likely to increase soon, particularly among our now eligible student population. As I wrote not long ago, it is imperative that students get vaccinated as soon as possible; doing so is not only vital for the betterment of the community’s public health, but also for increasing the possibilities for various gatherings and related activities during the upcoming fall semester. On a national scale, around 35% of the United States’s population has received at least the first dose of a vaccine. If we remain at the current pace of vaccination, we can expect that number to reach at least 75% by the end of June, if not higher. Slowly but surely, normal is in sight — so again, go get vaccinated. Now that my biweekly plea to my peers to get vaccinated has been made, it’s important to also think about what happens after the U.S. has reached the target vaccination level. After all, for many, including myself, normalcy includes the freedom to travel internationally. On either end — traveling outside of the U.S. or returning home — proof of vaccination is likely going to be a requirement for entry at some point. Vaccination passports, which are essentially digitized proofs of vaccination, are beginning to be tested by a handful of companies and institutions here in the U.S. While the topic remains relatively controversial amongst some politicians, a vaccination mandate of some sort could possibly be a smart idea (and a legal one, for those worried) for maintaining safety within some contexts. But the argument against these “passports” is more nuanced than the blanket statement of “I don’t like the restrictions a mandate like this imposes on my freedoms,” although that certainly is a stance for those also against vaccination in the first place. To those individuals, I urge you to read the Centers for Disease Control and

Prevention’s article detailing the benefits of vaccination. Now, back to my main point. To illustrate it best, let’s consider a hypothetical. You are looking to attend a Detroit Pistons game with some friends next winter and the NBA, or even simply the Pistons themselves, have an application or system that requires you to sign in and verify your vaccination status. While for some it won’t be an issue, there are many who will be concerned about the fact that the Detroit Pistons organization now has access to part of their health-related information — your vaccination records and maybe more. That is just one possible scenario.

Design by Megan Young

Imagine how many leisure or non-essential activities one does within a week, such as dining at a restaurant or going to the gym. Depending on how something like a vaccination passport is implemented, all of these organizations could theoretically have data about parts of your vaccination history. While that concern could likely be mitigated if a standardized means of checking vaccination status can be established, we are far from that point. The companies and institutions experimenting with such a system are not using the same means of checking vaccination status; each is using their own technologies and that variation in technology is where the heart of the privacy concern comes into play. If every company across the U.S. were to use the same methods for checking, privacy concerns could likely be quelled. There is also the concern of the false sense of security

that implementing a standardized vaccination passport might bring. There will be many that will likely interpret such proof of vaccination as equivalent to not having the disease, or being safe from getting it. Indeed, the approved COVID-19 vaccines have shown to be effective in trials thus far, but one should not equate vaccination with guaranteed immunity. And, of course, there are various equity-related concerns. Both domestically and especially internationally, many have not or are not going to be able to receive a vaccine for some time. In that regard, there has to be a push and pull between mandating vaccination and making sure the white and wealthy do not have an unfair “immuno-privilege” because of how access to vaccines has unfolded on a global scale. At the same time, vaccination passports have the ability to establish an efficient and possibly more reliable means of keeping the virus from entering certain establishments, or even the country as a whole. In other words, the passport idea is not all bad. Proof of vaccination, at the end of the day, is the most likely way of providing assurance that one does not have COVID-19. The implications for hospitals, care facilities, etc., who have been restricting loved ones from connecting while sick with other conditions are considerable. With all of that being said, in no way should these criticisms of passports persuade anyone from getting vaccinated. They are the most effective way to protect oneself from the virus and to ensure a return to some degree of normalcy soon, at least domestically. Still, as more of us get vaccinated, there will need to be some thorough policy considerations from our governments and the private sector. Prioritizing privacy, equity and public health all at the same time is not an easy thing to do — but it needs to be done. Until we reach that point, the message remains the same: Go get vaccinated. For U-M students, there are only about two weeks left in the semester; make it happen so the fall can be enjoyed alongside others.

BRANDON COWIT | COLUMNIST

Biden’s failures on Iran

they were surprising in a time where many of the opinions held by Americans seem to be based on cultural division rather than political ideology or philosophy. Republicans have abandoned their adherence to small government and traditional values and have fallen victim to culture wars. Rather than focusing on crafting quality policy, Republican politicians and citizens are focused on opposing any action taken by the Democrats and defending the so-called victims of cancel culture. Republicans are bound to no ideology other than providing an outlet for people disillusioned with the Democratic Party. They have abandoned the political and religious conservatism that has guided the party for most of its history. While there are likely still Republicans in office that abhor the policies and actions of their party, they refuse to speak out against them. This could be because they fear their voters and colleagues who fully agree with the party’s recent initiatives, or because they know staying silent is the best way to further their careers. Parties are allowed to grow and change as time passes; changing party platforms is what has allowed for social progress and the changing role of government. But the Republican Party isn’t adapting to current society. The party is claiming to be conservative when its actions prove otherwise, and it is advocating for things that true conservatives would never want. If the Republican Party were truly dedicated to conservatism, it would try to apply the founding documents of the United States to the current state of politics and society. Lydia Storella is an Opinion Columnist and can be reached at storella@umich.edu.

Brandon Cowit is an Opinion Columnist and can be reached at cowitb@umich.edu.

John Tumpowsky is an Opinion Columnist and can be reached at jgtump@umich.edu.

Republicans aren’t conservative anymore storming of the Capitol. The actions of the rioters in Washington, D.C., on Jan. 6 were contrary to everything conservatives should stand for. Violently attacking an American institution neither upholds the Constitution nor promotes incremental change — it, in fact, is the opposite of both of those things. If Republican politicians vehemently denounced this event as soon as it occurred and continually held this position, this wouldn’t represent how the Republican Party has abandoned conservatism. But many Republicans refuse to accept what this event means for the party and the country. In the immediate aftermath of the insurrection on Jan. 6, one in five Republicans approved of the mob. Prominent Republicans have spread the baseless conspiracy theory that the rioters were actually so-called antifa sympathizers, rather than supporters of former President Donald Trump. There is no proof that this is true, but that didn’t stop Rep. Matt Gaetz, R-Fla., from saying on the House floor that there was “pretty compelling evidence” that the people who stormed the Capitol were involved with antifa. Of course, there are examples of Republicans who retain conservative principles. The Republican state and local officials who spoke out against the false claims of voter fraud did so because they believe in the integrity of American democracy and in protecting the Constitution. Further,onApril5,Gov.AsaHutchinson,R-Ark.,vetoed a bill that would have restricted the ability of transgender people to access health care because “the state should not presume to jump into the middle of every medical, human and ethical issue.” Still, these events became news because

Sierra Élise Hansen is an Opinion Columnist and can be reached at hsierra@umich.edu.

’ve talked a great deal about the ongoing sanctions campaign by the United States against Iran — arguably more than anyone should. Nevertheless, I believe there is a good reason for talking about the sanctions so much: They are one of the longest sustained campaigns of immiseration against any country, outside of wartime, in the last century. As I stated in my column in January, they have wreaked havoc on Iran’s economy and severely hampered its ability to fight the COVID-19 pandemic. Now, in April, as the academic semester draws to a close, I’d like to turn away from the humanitarian devastation these sanctions have wrought and instead turn to the diplomatic devastation. Specifically, I would like to examine how President Joe Biden’s refusal to rejoin the Iran nuclear deal unless Iran’s government meets ridiculous preconditions is a massive error that could haunt him for the rest of his presidency. First, a little background. The current sanctions on Iran were put into place in 2018 as part of former President Donald Trump’s decision to leave the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action, colloquially referred to as the “Iran nuclear deal.” Our side of that deal was agreeing not to re-impose sanctions in exchange for Iran not developing nuclear weapons. Since the Iran nuclear deal was widely seen as one of former President Barack Obama’s key foreign policy achievements, it was natural that then-candidate Biden would support rejoining it. And, to his credit, he technically hasn’t broken that promise. That is because, even during the campaign, he stated that the U.S. would only rejoin the deal “if Iran returns to strict compliance,” which they have not done yet. However, Iran has a good reason not to make the first step toward compliance. We broke compliance first, not them. In fact, not only did they not resume building nuclear weapons until after we abandoned the deal, they did not resume building nuclear weapons until last November, two and a half years later. And they only did so after their top nuclear scientist, Mohsen Fakhrizadeh, was assassinated in an ambush that Iran alleges was coordinated by the Israeli government. By any reasonable standards of deal-making, it is incumbent on the party that originally broke the deal to take the first steps toward restoring it — therefore, the U.S. should initiate the return to compliance. Even if Biden were to reverse course today and repeal sanctions, it may be too late. Iran has a presidential election this summer, and incumbent President Hassan Rouhani — the moderate who signed the Iran nuclear deal in 2015 — cannot run again because he is term-limited. Meanwhile, the U.S.’s breaking of the Iran deal is widely perceived to have given an advantage to the conservative, or “principlist” side, which has always opposed the nuclear deal. After all, the principlists’ position in 2015 — that the U.S. was not trustworthy — has been well borne-out by our breaking of the deal. So, even if we were to return to the deal, it is not likely that the next Iranian government will trust us to maintain that compliance between administrations. Additionally, while Trump is largely to blame for breaking the deal in the first place and creating that mistrust, Biden’s refusal to drop his preconditions sends an even worse message: that neither U.S. party can be trusted to honestly and fairly maintain the deal. Biden could have earned the reputation as the president that at least tried to repair our broken relationship with Iran. Instead, he will likely go down as the president that solidified our diplomacy’s ruinous fate. Moreover, regardless of if Iran chooses to go back to upholding its end of the deal, we should go back to upholding ours. First, it’s the right thing to do from a humanitarian standpoint. Even if Iranians choose to elect a government that wants to build nuclear weapons, that is still not a just reason to continue to starve their people. Think tanks funded by large defense corporations, which benefit from presenting Iran as a threat, do not believe that Iran would use these weapons offensively, so essentially we are causing immense pain to the Iranian people to deny them the capacity to defend themselves. But, more relevantly to our diplomatic interests, returning to compliance with no immediate reward would show Iranians that the principlist view of America is wrong and that we have the potential to be an honest and trustworthy deal maker. And while it is highly unlikely that the next Republican president would maintain compliance with the deal, especially if Iran doesn’t immediately stop building weapons, being an honest actor half the time still sends a better message to Iran, and to the world, than never being one at all.

LYDIA STORELLA | COLUMNIST

onservatism, as a political philosophy, espouses a commitment to liberty, the market economy and existing traditions and institutions. In the United States, conservatives adhere to the traditionalist principles in the Constitution and the values that the Founding Fathers included in the documents that created our nation. Essentially, conservatives want to conserve. Incremental change should always be preferred to radical change. Government involvement in our citizens’ lives is overreach. In the United States, the Republican Party is ostensibly the party of conservatism. But recent action by Republicans — politicians and citizens alike — contradict many of the values they claim to stand for as conservatives. For example, many businesses are considering requiring that customers show proof of a COVID-19 vaccine before using their services. This is the free market at work — privately-owned businesses implementing guidelines that allow for access to their goods and services should customers choose to adhere to them. But Gov. Ron DeSantis, R-Fla., signed an executive order banning businesses from requiring vaccine “passports.” As a Republican, DeSantis should believe in the independence of businesses and oppose government intervention into their practices. But forbidding businesses to do what they believe is best for them constitutes interference. Additionally, the state of Florida requires vaccinations to send children to school, both public and private, showing that DeSantis’s actions are a political ploy, rather than meaningful policy, as the polarization of COVID-19 and its policies continues. Another much, much more extreme example is the

One conspicuous connection that can be made here is that one known tool for remedying a particular social malady — that of the problem of access to reading material in schools with Black, Indigenous and other students of color — can be used to remedy another urgent problem of access. Public libraries are the systems by which knowledge and opportunities to exercise civil rights can be fairly distributed. We must commit to maintaining and expanding access through the stacks and shelves outside of the University of Michigan community. Libraries are clearly an ideal starting point for improving access to both civicminded activities and high-quality literature for historically underfunded, neglected communities. They always have been, and always will be.

Opinion

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Wednesday, April 21, 2021 — 17

KATHERINE KIESSLING | COLUMNIST

Designer babies may lead to further class division

y first introduction to the possible future of genomic editing came while reading Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World.” The novel begins in the year 2540 at an embryo factory called the Central London Hatching and Conditioning Centre. The director of the facility describes to a group of male students how eggs are modified during the gestation period of development to fit into five distinct castes: Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta or Epsilon. Beginning with Alphas as the predestined leaders of the World State, each subsequent class decreases in intelligence, rank and, by consequence, contribution to the government. As predesignated vocations become more mundane and insignificant, intelligence must be lowered so there will never be resistance to the regimented class system. Under the guise of creating a perfect society, the facility had created a heavily regulated and dystopian world. In 2021, the sophisticated reproductive technologies illustrated in “Brave New World” do not seem as fanciful as they did when the book was published in 1932. The test tube embryos portrayed in the novel parallel the relatively common process of in vitro fertilization, which manually produces an

embryo by combining mature eggs and sperm in a lab. Yet, a key difference remains, given that there is no genetic manipulation of the human genome during IVF. In pre-implantation genetic screening, none of the DNA in embryos is artificially manipulated, but certain embryos can be chosen for implantation based on criteria such as not carrying a specific disease trait. This could soon change with Clustered Regularly Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats gene therapy, or CRISPR. CRISPR technology is a fairly new genome editing method which allows specific locations in the human genome to be targeted using guide RNA and a Cas9 protein. Together, RNA and the Cas9 protein cleave a specific portion of DNA which is then repaired by the cell using a donor DNA template containing the sequence of choice. While the manipulation of genetic traits has had enormous societal and economical benefits — as can be seen in the Green Revolution — the altering of human germ cells has numerous ethical and moral concerns. To start, patient consent is impossible and any mistakes made will be hereditary, which may have a detrimental effect following cell specialization. The ethical limitations of CRISPR gene editing were recently tested by

TREVOR MCCARTY | OP-ED CONTRIBUTOR

The University should change the status quo in our food system

n its final recommendations, the University of Michigan’s President’s Commission on Carbon Neutrality heavily focuses, as expected, on carbon offsets, university infrastructure changes and sustainable housing. But it also addresses a crucial yet often-ignored piece of the puzzle: food. Importantly, our community is increasingly recognizing animal agriculture as a significant contributor to greenhouse gas emissions, global pandemics and environmental injustice. To address food’s impact on our carbon footprint, the PCCN’s recommendations include encouraging more plant-based options and changes in choice architecture at dining facilities. Students, faculty and administrators should support these changes because they are a key first step in challenging the unsustainable status quo in America: cheap meat from factory farms. The vast majority of the meat that any person (or institution) purchases comes from industrial animal agriculture, rather than a local or regenerative farm, which exacts an enormous toll on our environment. According to Science, around 57% of food’s greenhouse gas emissions are attributable to this industry, yet animal products only provide 18% of our calories. And if cows were a country, they’d be the third-largest global greenhouse gas emitter. But the University has the opportunity to kickstart a sustainable new default. The subtle shifts in dining hall structures, menu options and food defaults recommended in the PCCN can nudge students to eat more sustainably while still preserving their ability to choose the food they want. According to case studies, simply setting plant-based foods as the default (while giving students the choice to opt in to animal products) can lead to an over 80% increase in diners eating these options. This strategy — which subverts our current destructive food norms — aligns with a new, dynamic food initiative known as DefaultVeg. If the University adopts these food policies, it would significantly reduce our carbon footprint — the primary goal of the PCCN. The University’s current dining policy, Sustainable Mondays, has already shown itself to be an effective tool at curbing food-related emissions. The PCCN provides an opportunity to amplify the impact of these strategies with an ambitious yet simple, scientifically verified approach that is compatible with different dietary preferences and is more inclusive in general. An added benefit of defaults and choice architecture is preserving food choice for students every day of the week. Food has long been left out of the climate conversation, including in many climate neutrality plans. However, food is rightly gaining momentum as one of the most pressing social challenges of our time, including issues of food justice and access to more sustainable procurement policies and the rise of plant-based products. Locally, consider how the City of Ann Arbor’s carbon neutrality plan, A2Zero, contains a call for more plant-forward food policies. Institutions like the City and the University are now in a unique position to spearhead crucial transformations in food policy. This straightforward idea — making plant-based foods the default to encourage more sustainable choices — is about more than reducing carbon emissions. It’s also about reframing what we think of as “normal food” and embracing an array of healthful, resilient and versatile plant-based foods at the center of our plates. As students of one of the country’s most prominent research universities, we should encourage U-M to be a trailblazer in food policy. If our leadership wants to seriously address the deep, systemic flaws in our food system, they will begin by changing the status quo and move toward a more just and sustainable approach. Trevor McCarty is pursuing an MS in Environment and Sustainability at U-M and is the Program Associate at the Better Food Foundation. He can be reached at tmccarty@umich.edu.

AMBIKA TRIPATHI | CARTOONIST CAN BE REACHED AT AMBIKAT@UMICH.EDU

Chinese researcher He Jiankui in 2018. He “manufactured” the first CRISPR-edited babies through two twin girls, Lulu and Nana. The experiment is now known as the Lulu and Nana controversy — the global scientific community has criticized He, claiming he took advantage of the parents’ situation. Lulu and Nana’s father was HIV-positive, so He decided to target the CCR5 gene, which HIV can use as an entrance into cells — despite Lulu and Nana having virtually no risk of contracting HIV. Moreover, the edits made on Lulu were incorrect and incomplete, and the implications will not be known until later in her life. He blatantly disregarded worldwide standards for genomic editing by operating under a shroud of secrecy, not properly obtaining informed consent and miscategorizing the experiment as an “AIDS-vaccine development project.” Despite the amoral grounds of He’s CRISPR-editing attempt, his partial success in manipulating the human genome foreshadows what is to come. While experimenting with CRISPRediting techniques is complicated, the possibilities of its development include increased athleticism, intelligence and overall health, which are alluring to many people. Even still, public opinion often draws the line

between lessening the prevalence of diseases and picking out traits; after all, ridding the world of muscular dystrophy sounds much better than simply wanting blue-eyed babies. But even when it comes to tackling lifelong diseases, it needs to be acknowledged that only a minuscule fraction of global society will have access to these specialized genetic treatments, let alone be able to afford them. As methods for gene editing are further explored and made accessible, the possibility of particular portions of society carrying the greatest amount of disease prevalence increases. The monetary cost of healthy embryos is already a barrier for Americans wanting to use IVF, considering each attempt can cost anywhere between $10,000 and $15,000 depending on parents’ insurance and servicing clinic. About 1.7% of births in the United States are a product of IVF, compared to 4% and 5.9% in Belgium and Denmark, respectively, where reproductive assistance is publicly funded. Consequently, Americans without disposable income may not be able to access this method. Now consider the cost of personally designing a baby. How much would it cost to increase intelligence or decrease heart disease? Many people will not be able to afford these individualized services when taking into

account that IVF itself is currently a luxury. Alongside cost, numerous racial and ethnic groups hold a stigma against infertility and genetic disorders which further decreases discussion and awareness of possible options. In addition to cost and social acceptance, an equally important issue is where the treatment clinics offering these services are placed. Embryo-processing facilities require expensive laboratories and a welltrained staff, meaning they will not likely be found in low-income areas or in most developing countries. The repercussions will cause the carriers of disease to be decided based on location, cultural background and socioeconomic status. Almost 90 years ago, Huxley clearly warned of the multiple dangers to society that can come with sophisticated technologies like those he described in “Brave New World.” While we are still far from the bleak dystopian life found in Huxley’s novel, we risk the same class characterization by genetics if we do not provide the proper universal regulations and equitable access as designer babies become more of a reality. Katherine Kiessling is an Opinion Columnist and can be reached at katkiess@umich.edu.

SHUBHUM GIROTI | COLUMNIST

Gun violence: Let’s actually do something about it

ast week’s shooting near Indianapolis marked the sixth straight week containing a mass shooting. We see the same cycle after every one. Thoughts and prayers are followed by Democrats generally calling for reform and Republicans generally accusing the former of politicizing personal injury. Then a few weeks later, we all stop talking about it and move on to something else we try and care about for a bit. It seems as though everyone you talk to these days has their story of a shooting scare, or someone they know has such a story, ranging from the scare on campus a few years back to any number of mass shootings that have occurred — totaling 417 just in the year of 2019. What is even more disturbing is the racial breakdown of shooting victims, which is all too often left out of the discourse on mass shootings. We have said it for years, but I will say it again: Enough is enough. With talk of removing the filibuster still kicking around, Democrats must force Republicans to vote against commonsense gun reform, which around 80% of Americans support in one form or another. Following the Parkland, Fla., shooting, I saw this cycle take place in my own backyard. Politicians from both sides swore such a shooting would never happen again, but as we all know, that was not the case. President Joe Biden has fought for years to

MEERA KUMAR | COLUMNIST

ontent Warning: Sexual harassment and assault. My hands start shaking when I think of going back to campus. Shaking out of fear and anger. I can’t help but feel furious when I realize how naive and underprepared we all are as freshmen trying to grapple with the so-called “college experience.” It all started with the staring. I was desperate to make new friends after a conspicuous lack of Welcome Week, the series of parties and formal incoming student events scattered across campus at the beginning of every school year, due to COVID-19. When a student asked to sit with me at dinner after I felt his eyes boring into my midriff in the dining hall line, I hesitantly said yes — I needed to start meeting people and making friends. It’s no secret that sexual harassment and assault are widespread on college campuses. The documentary “The Hunting Ground” explored two former students’ experiences with sexual assault and their university’s failure to help them. Many reports are released every year from the University of Michigan that highlight disturbing statistics about this issue — from July of 2019 to June of 2020, there were 157 reports of sexual assault and 135 other acts of harassment, misconduct or stalking. While these statistics are illuminating, they are incomplete — only 20% of female student victims report their experience to law enforcement. Still, I always thought with certainty I’d be able to tell if I was in an inappropriate situation … right? After the staring came the inappropriate questions within only an hour of knowing each other, seeming so innocuous at the time. Wow, I thought, I’m finally making grown-up college friends! So I talked to him again. You’re probably thinking, “Why

implement gun control measures, but one of the only substantive things he has done was include $5 billion in his infrastructure plan for community violence prevention programs. It is a start, but it is in no way enough. What we need is a comprehensive — and popular — gun control bill that would leave the more ardent Republicans with no choice but to cast a nay vote and face their constituents who would be in favor of implementing such legislation. Moreover, if Democrats remove the filibuster, they would be less able to use gun control just as a voting issue and doing next to nothing once they are in power. H.R. 1446 is on the docket for the Senate, but it is expected to be filibustered by Republicans. This bill focuses on background checks for gun purchases, which is a step in the right direction, but it is missing more aggressive forms of gun control. I propose a complete assault weapons ban and regulations on ghost guns. The Assault Weapons Ban, which lasted from 1994 to 2004, was found to have decreased incidents of mass shootings by 25% and fatalities by 40%. This was a great piece of legislation while it lasted because it prevented people from purchasing military style assault rifles, which are the commonly used weapon for mass shootings in this country. Incidents including, but not limited to, the Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando, Fla., the Las Vegas concert

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shooting and the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School shooting involved assault weapons. These weapons must be banned for the sake of saving lives, and almost 70% of Americans agree with this sentiment. A new and huge loophole to circumvent a lot of these regulations is ghost guns. Ghost guns are weapons that are assembled personally through kits, meaning not by a corporate gun manufacturer. This process has always been legal; law enforcement never deemed them to be too dangerous, since they thought individuals usually lacked the expertise to assemble such a device. However, the actual ease and efficacy of these ghost guns have troubled many. Critically, these guns lack serial numbers or any other tracking mechanisms that law enforcement could use to regulate them. The solution to this problem is not an easy one, but we can begin by placing the same restrictions on buying ghost guns as are

placed on regular guns. California did this and has had success in mandating serial numbers and background checks when applicable. New Jersey also criminalized the 3D printing of guns, another form of ghost guns. These regulations are incredibly important for preserving safety and reducing the amount of unregulated guns and subsequent violence in the United States. These two states’ measures will not end the gun crisis in the U.S., but they will certainly save lives. The cycle of American gun violence always spikes right after a shooting and quickly subsides, but the problems do not go away for the communities affected. Mass shootings and gun violence have long wakes, filled with withspread harm and fear. Democrats should take initiative and finally accomplish a goal they continuously run on. Shubhum Giroti is an Opinion Columnist and can be reached at sgiroti@umich.edu.

I’m scared of Ann Arbor would you put yourself in that situation?” I ask myself that question too. All I can tell you is that I was isolated. I didn’t have a roommate and, due to COVID-19 housing restrictions, the only souls I saw were dining hall workers and the cluster of silverfish that scuttled across the floor of my room at 4 a.m. Then, the more I hung out with him, the more I noticed the jokes. I saw the smirks he traded around the group of our mutual friends after he asked me, “Tampons or pads?” Everyone laughed. The guy who I thought was my friend started making remarks to my face about my chest, and eventually, he started forcing “hugs” on me, trying to feel me up while I stood still with shock. I finally realized what was happening. Once or twice a week, I would have to choose: Should I continue living in total isolation or get harassed? People act like harassment is something you immediately notice. That’s not always true. In your desperation to understand what happened, you try — and sometimes succeed — to convince yourself it wasn’t that bad. Our parents’ generation went through this stuff all the time, right? Confused, I made myself speak about the issue with mutual friends; they were eager to excuse him, telling me that “the guys just didn’t know how to act around girls.” Whatever. Upset, I confided in a close friend whom I believed would support me. “Oh,” she responded. “That’s not that bad. Like it’s kinda bad, but not terrible.” I suppose what my friend was trying to say was, “I’ve heard worse,” or “You’ll get over it.” She wasn’t shocked or concerned because she had heard of so many similar experiences. I shut up. If nobody believed that what I experienced was worth talking about, what was the point in making a fuss? I didn’t have the energy to make a fuss. I

receded further into myself, only leaving my bed in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. My ever-present anxiety increased ten-fold every time those people I thought were my friends called me in the middle of the night or knocked forcefully on my door. Classes seemed distant; I couldn’t convince myself to work in between my multiple teary anxiety attacks every day. While the silverfish swarmed on the floor, I fell further and further down a spiral that never seemed to end. Embarrassed by my terrible grades and disillusioned with my classes, I floundered. I went home after the fall semester. When I was younger, I didn’t get along with my family — our opinions clash on everything under the sun. I couldn’t wait to go to college and leave the lonely suburb where I lived. But for now, I’m just grateful to be in my childhood bedroom, living with people I feel safe being around. Ultimately, what helped me move on was the critically acclaimed episode of the TV series “Sex Education” where Aimee’s friends help her come to terms with her assault. Her friends insist on taking the incident seriously. When I rewatched the episode, I started crying. Our peers can break us, but I won’t ever stop believing they can build us up, too. Still, that doesn’t change what happened this year. I’m sick of college. I know it may sound ridiculous that the freshman who hasn’t even been here a year has complaints. But I’m sick of trusting the University of Michigan and believing things will be okay. The fact that countless professors and administrators at the University have been accused of sexual misconduct or the fact that the director of the Office of Institutional Equity, which handles sexual assault cases, is facing multiple lawsuits for mishandling cases doesn’t surprise me. Stories of assault among the few people I’ve met at the University are

common. In the short online seminar required of all freshmen, incoming students are “warned” against the dangers of drinking, burnout and toxic relationships, but the topic of sexual assault is barely featured. When things fell apart for me, I had no concept of where to begin — I wasn’t sure if I wanted to report the incident, and even if I did, I had no idea of where to go. My head spun when I looked at the endless forms on the University’s website — I had no idea where to start, or what each option entailed. Overwhelmed, I stopped looking. There must be a better system of outreach for those affected by sexual assault, but this would require the University to accept the pervasive culture of sexual misconduct throughout campus, which seems unlikely. With the University’s desperation to preserve their reputation, they ignore issues that plague their student body. Before my residence hall experience, I used to define myself as a risk-taker — now, I don’t fully know who I am anymore. I just want to feel safe again. I want to be able to get a breath of fresh air without being approached with comments about my body. I want to be able to fall asleep without being worried if people who touch me without my consent are going to knock on my door. I want to feel supported. I worry that I won’t find this support at the University of Michigan. Residents of Ann Arbor, I’m sorry that I can’t love your beautiful city. Because of the University’s harmful decisions affecting the student body and their allowance of a prevalent sexual assault culture, quite frankly, it’s hard to believe that I could ever feel safe in Ann Arbor. Meera Kumar is an Opinion Columnist and can be reached at kmeera@umich.edu.

Sports

18 — Wednesday, April 21, 2021

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

SportsMonday: Walls, memories and what The Daily means Last October, Theo Mackie and I got invited to the newsroom one Friday morning to unpack boxes. It was great to get back in the building, but felt a little wrong that we needed someone to open a locked door to access a place that we spent most of college. That compounded once we got inside. By some awful ETHAN coincidence, The Daily SEARS redid its roof last summer, which meant that as we all sat locked in our homes, the newsroom had to be stripped bare of its personality. The posters and random odes to inside jokes long forgotten were packed in boxes, to avoid anything getting ruined by falling dust and debris. We were supposed to be there to do our best to put it back together. I stressed about the cork boards next to the sports desk and the posters that went nearby. I wanted it to look and feel the same, but I could just draw from my memory. I taped Kevin Santo’s old ID to the cork board, next to Jake Lourim’s notebook and the Santa hat Tien Le took from Madison Square Garden. No one who returns there in the fall will have any real connection with those items, but part of me still worries they’re in the wrong place, next to the wrong thing. I’d try to explain the significance of that, but

that would require explaining the significance of The Daily. And despite having spent the last three years daydreaming about what I’d write in this column while bored in class or in the car, I’m still really struggling to do that. It’s less something I can articulate, but rather than a flood of memories crashing down. Nervous emails to Kevin and Betelhem Ashame and Max Marcovitch about joining months before school started, quickly fastforwarded to two years later, dropping everything to meet Max at Hunter House in the middle of the day to piece together an atom bomb dropped in the middle of our first month as Managing Sports Editors. A 3 a.m. phone call from Tien — “come play basketball” — then migrating to West Quad to hang out with Lily until the sun came up. Drives through the night that bleed together, with Max and Mike Persak, with Theo and Aria Gerson. Waiting for the building to clear out as production wound down so we could sit and play euchre until Paige set her timer to go home. Tapping idiots on the shoulder at a party and telling them to come to The Daily so maybe they’d eventually understand this place the way I do. Coming out of the closet and having my worst fears dissolve. I never expected The Daily to be any of that for me. It was supposed to be a way to advance my career, to do sports journalism. The Daily would help get me there, and in the meantime I’d stay holed up in my room watching games.

That was my plan for college. A standing 4 p.m. Sunday meeting was, at best, an inconvenience to be worked around. If I walked quickly, I could get back for kickoff of the next window of football games. Then something funny happened. I started skipping NFL Sundays — and if you knew me at all at that age, you’d know that wasn’t a thing I ever did. I once made my

not caring about what I was missing. When they ran for MSE, Mike and Orion Sang said they wanted The Daily to be a place people went when they didn’t need to be there, to do homework or just hang out. I took that to the greatest extent I could and started showing up every night. It was one of the best decisions I ever made, because the best memories originated from when I didn’t have to be there.

Photo courtesy of the Sears Family.

poor mother drive an eight hour round trip in one day instead of staying the night because the place we were going didn’t have access to watch Monday Night Football. But here I was, at 5 p.m. on a Sunday, sitting at the sports desk with my back to the television,

It was a little bit tempting to write this column about the pandemic, and I think there’s a part of every kid in college right now (or at least those among us with the extreme privilege that COVID-19 hasn’t touched our lives in a more direct way) that will always

feel bitter over losing some percentage of the best time in our lives. But my overwhelming emotion from the last 13 months is a deep appreciation for everything I had in college beforehand, the memories I’ll always hang onto and those I made this year because of friends I met at The Daily. One of my fears is that, post-COVID-19, The Daily will change into a place people don’t go unless needed. Zoom is convenient. So is cutting down on print, doing less work and staying in so you can watch football or catch up on school. Caring about the minute details of the items surrounding the sports desk feels like a manifestation of that fear. I want people to get out of The Daily what I got out of The Daily, and that’s at least a small part of it I can control. But that fear is, of course, completely irrational. The Daily works because people who come into it get more than just a place to build a resume, and nothing will change that. Whether the sports desk looks right to me or not doesn’t matter, because when people come back to the building and make their own memories, it will look right to them. And it will always look like home. Sears can be reached at searseth@umich.edu or on Twitter @ethan_sears. He’s so grateful to everyone who made this such a rewarding experience. You can find his work this summer at the Los Angeles Times.

SportsMonday: What we have The last picture I have on my phone from inside The Michigan Daily newsroom is of a computer screen. I was laying out the last newspaper I ever made there. The headline on the top banner of the sports section reads, “THE END.” In a normal place, with normal people, exporting that sports section at 1:05 a.m. would’ve been the end for me too. I would have shut down the computer, gone home and THEO retreated into months of MACKIE quarantine. But because The Daily is The Daily, that day — the day the world stopped — became one of my favorite college memories. For hours, long after the paper had been sent to the printer, we danced on tables, played cards and belted out Electric Love. One kid, who I’ll only name as Chunks, spent the evening eating cardboard and wearing an empty case of Bud Light over his head. The seniors hugged and cried, and I did too, because I knew it would be my last time seeing any of them as college students. If I had been a little more prescient, I would have known to soak up the memories and take a picture or two for myself. Back then, though, we all assumed we’d be in the newsroom by September. So this week, when I went back to remember that night, I found my camera roll barren. The next photo after that last picture of InDesign is of an empty campus the next day,

our new reality having already set in. And yet, a year later, I’m not particularly upset I don’t have any pictures from that night. The memories and the friendships don’t need to be immortalized on a phone screen. I’ll remember them forever regardless. As I searched for manufactured memories for this column, that’s the lesson I realized. None of the group pictures and planned events are what I’ll remember from college a decade from now. What I’ll remember is jumping in the Huron River in the middle of the night, soaked, shivering and laughing with my best friends. I’ll remember stuffing 11 people in a sedan on the way back from Denny’s because we didn’t want to pay for an Uber. I’ll remember going sledding in kayaks long after production had ended, even though I had an 8:30 the next day. None of those moments fill up my camera roll or social media feeds. Just as importantly, none were planned more than a few minutes in advance. As much as anything, that befits the last four years. For just about every freshman, going off to college is accompanied by some big dream manifested throughout their high school years. For me, that dream was to major in statistics andworkinanMLBfrontoffice.AmajorreasonI chose to go to Michigan was its extracurriculars, but I was more focused on the sports analytics club than the student newspaper. Fortunately, my freshman year roommate joined the section, so I followed his lead and

went to a mass meeting. But even when I started writing regularly as a freshman, eventually covering the baseball team, I never envisioned this. That summer, I had a conversation with Rian, a friend I’d met at The Daily, predicting our futures at the paper. I told him I was hopeful for a spot on the hockey beat, but that after sophomore year, I’d have to devote my attention to pursuits beyond journalism. He wanted to cover men’s basketball as a junior and football as a senior. Three years later, we’re still good friends. He’s been a fantastic editor but decided to pursue a career outside of journalism and didn’t do a beat after sophomore year. Instead, over the next few months, I was the one who fell headfirst into the career he had ordained for himself. By my second semester, I was spending every moment I could at The Daily. I learned this strange “euchre” game I had never heard of. Even if it usually ended with Paige sticking a pair of 5s on her forehead in celebration, I played because it was an excuse to hang out with my new friends until the sun came up. That spring will forever be the time I most associate with college. If, 70 years from now, I look back on it as the best time of my life, I won’t regret a thing. But, like everyone in my grade, my college years will forever be inextricably tied to COVID-19. It’s easy now, with two weeks until graduation, to think about what the pandemic

Photo courtesy of Theo Mackie.

took from us. The Rick’s pushes we didn’t have, the stories we never told, the nights of production forced onto Zoom. Instead, though, I find myself thinking about what The Michigan Daily gave me over the past year. When online school felt meaningless, this job gave me a purpose. As a writer, I was able to tell the stories that gave Michigan fans an escape. As a leader of the best goddamn student sports section in the country, I was able to provide an outlet for freshmen entering an overwhelming campus with no in-person means of making friends. On a personal level, The Daily gave me the group of eight friends that we turned into a social bubble from September to April. It may not have been the year anyone envisioned, but we laughed at Love It or List It, withstood some earth-shaking back cracks and got to watch Jared shotgun a Truly in Joe Pleasant’s name.

And together, we got through it. As of this week, all nine of us are at least partially vaccinated. The end is finally in sight. Equally close is the end of my college career. It would be easy to focus on that instead. The future is a scary thing. I’d be lying if I said I knew everything it holds. It’d be easy, too, to focus on the year we didn’t have. When I look back on my camera roll, there won’t be photos from senior year inside 420 Maynard or at my last State News game. But I’ll always have the NYPD runs and the kayaking trips, the empty stadiums and the packed rental cars. And that’s even better. Mackie can be reached at tmackie@umich. edu or on Twitter @theo_mackie. He wants to thank every person who’s made the last four years so special. That includes anyone who’s ever read one of his stories.

Michigan plays assertively in win streak

‘M’ wins Big Ten title

unanswered runs in the final three innings, and a 10-inning, 3-2 defeat at Penn State on Mar. 26. Michigan has long been aware of these tendencies, but initially struggled to make a change. “We can’t wait around to the ninth inning,” senior designated hitter Danny Zimmerman said on Apr. 5. The day before, the Wolverines trailed Northwestern 4-1 in the ninth but then loaded the bases for Zimmerman, who represented the winning run. He struck out.

During the stretches of time between those two scores, the Wolverines continued to dominate Daily Sports Writer the Hoosiers with possession but struggled to find the back of the net from scoring range. In physical On Saturday, the No. 3 Michigan field hockey matchups that leave many bodies in the scoring cirteam celebrated a senior class that had notched cle with more loose officiating on the field, frustraone postseason and three regular-season Big Ten tions can mount. The Wolverines, however, stayed titles, in addition to a Final Four appearance in patient to eventually find both goals. 2017. With such a decorated class being honored, “Indiana’s goalie played a great game,” senior the Wolverines were determined to send their fullback Halle O’Neill said. “I mean, we had 29 seniors off with a win. shots on goal and we only put in three, so I think They did just that. Michigan (10-2 overall, 6-0 she played out of her mind. When you’re getting Big Ten) defeated Indiana (1-13, 4-3 Big Ten) 3-0, in opportunities like that, eventually a couple of a season-ending matchup designated as non-con- them will go in and it doesn’t have to be pretty — ference due to COVID-19. but pulling out three goals While the team’s final when they played like that game at Phyllis Ocker Field I think is still a good accomwas a celebration of the plishment.” Wolverines’ departing vetMichigan extended its erans, the younger players lead with a third goal in the impacted the match early. fourth quarter, notching a Freshman midfielder score off of a tip from the Pilar Oliveros scored the first penalty corner by senior ALLISON ENGKVIST/Daily goal of her Michigan career Michigan’s senior class has celebrated three regularmidfielder Kayla Reed. season Big Ten titles during its four years in Ann Arbor, with about a minute remain- the last of which was clinched on Saturday night. With an urgency to preing in the first quarter. Redshirt junior forward pare for bigger things ahead, the Wolverines Kate Burney extended the lead later on, netting her sought to continue cleaning up their finishes on first of the season. Once again, the Wolverines were the attacking end in the closing minutes. While buoyed by the performance of its depth pieces. junior goalkeeper Anna Spieker never had to “The Big Ten is a very difficult conference touch the ball, occasional chances to sharpen up with some extraordinary teams, so being able to on defense also emerged. win the (regular season) championship has a lot As the clock hit all zeros, Michigan sent its to do with our depth,” Michigan coach Marcia seniors off celebrating with the best parting gift Pankratz said. “We can really run two full lines of possible: a Big Ten regular-season title. And in a players and keep everybody fresh, so that versa- hard-fought battle to find the scoring column, its tility has meant a lot and you can see it today with tendency to stiff-arm adversity was at the center Pili and Burney getting those first goals.” of it all.

scoring early, pitching well and keeping its opponent out of contention from the start. Daily Sports Writer Its starters combined for a commanding 2.15 ERA during that stretch. The bullpen never The No. 25 Michigan baseball team is let the opponent back into any game. On riding a five-game winning streak, which defense, the Wolverines committed just four includes a series win over archrival Ohio State errors and turned 10 double plays. They also and a sweep at Minnesota. But the Wolverines scored early and often, whether adding to a still feel there’s room for improvement. double-digit onslaught or sealing a win with “I still don’t think we’re playing our very a few insurance runs. best baseball yet,” Michigan coach Erik In the second game of last weekend’s series, Bakich said. “I still think there’s plenty of when Michigan traded zeros with Minnesota opportunity to get hot.” for the first eight innings Their best could still lie before breaking the scoreless ahead, but by playing more tie with a four-run ninth, that assertively, Michigan has complacency seemed to be back. undisputedly heated up over But sophomore right-hander the past five games. Cameron Weston contributed Bakich saw a glaring an assertive seven innings of weakness earlier in the season: shutout ball and junior rightcomplacency. Michigan hander Willie Weiss earned the often mirrored its opponents, win with 1.2 innings in relief, trading scoreless innings and striking out every batter he only scoring when trailing. It’s faced. easy to overlook instances of “It’s not always based on GRACE BEAL/Daily this complacency because the While early in the season, the Wolverines relied on strong late-game hitting,” Bakich said. “What result is usually a dramatic, performances, they’ve been scoring early and often in the past two series. Cam Weston and Willie Weiss late-inning victory. Consider the 10-inning “We can’t always win in the ninth; we’ve did yesterday from the pitching side of things win against Penn State on Mar. 27 — in which got to do it earlier.” was very loud as well.” the Wolverines came back from a five-run Added Bakich on Mar. 22, after a The Wolverines are becoming assertive deficit — or the 6-5 win against Maryland on comeback against Michigan State fell short: at the right time; they’ll need to play that Apr. 4, when the two teams traded runs and “You still have to have a sense of urgency way in upcoming matchups against Indiana Michigan was simply the last to score. each inning. You can’t just wait and expect and Nebraska, their two toughest opponents But sometimes, the strategy backfires and that (a ninth-inning comeback) is always of the season, to keep their Big Ten the Wolverines’ opponent is last to score. going to happen.” championship hopes alive. Such was the case in an 8-3 loss to Iowa Over the past five games, though, “That’s what’s needed to be a successful on Mar. 7, when the Hawkeyes scored six Michigan has played more assertively, team,” Bakich said. JACK WHITTEN

JOEY GOODSIR

Sports

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Championship for ‘M’ comes after season of sacrifices and setbacks KENT SCHWARTZ

Managing Sports Editor

Thirteen months ago, Michigan ended its season with a loss to No. 1 Oklahoma. At the time, the fifthranked Wolverines expected to face the Sooners again in the NCAA Championships. A week later, those expectations disappeared, along with the rest of their season. “Our whole theme or motto for this season is ‘unfinished business,’ ” Michigan coach Bev Plocki told The Daily on Jan. 16. “We had a really good team and season last year that was pulled out right from under us.” Saturday, No. 4 Michigan ended its season with a win over No. 1 Oklahoma. And No. 6 Utah and No. 1 Florida. And the rest of the country. The team became national champions, the first in the program’s history and first for Michigan athletics since men’s gymnastics won in 2014. This championship came in a year mired in conflict and obstacles. A sport that already requires impeccable discipline asked for more — off the mats and on them. That was part of the bargain made for this season, and this team followed it to a tee. “It is incredibly difficult to take away an 18 to 21-year-old’s social life, and that’s essentially what has happened,” Plocki said Jan. 16. “They have handled it, they have dealt with it because this team and this season is a priority to us. Every single person is all in terms of doing what we need to do to reduce the possibility of this season ending prematurely again.” A two-week pause, though, wasn’t a part of that bargain. Two meets into the season and it already appeared it could end before ever really beginning. The hard work and discipline, the win over No. 4 Minnesota so early in the season, would amount to nothing.

But the season returned, and with it an ascendant Wolverine squad. After its first loss at the Big Five Meet, Michigan scored 198.025 in a dominant performance that broke its record score. The next week, a new record took its place at 198.100. The Wolverines’ vault performance reached a new level with every score over 9.9 in a victory against Maryland. Its season high reached a shocking 49.800, and it became the best team in the country on the vault. “At the beginning of the year we were doing big vaults, but we couldn’t get the landings, and it was just a process,” Plocki said after winning the championship. “We absolutely peaked at the right time this year. We started right before the championship part of the season, we started being able to nail those 1.5s and that’s when people started taking notice of us too.” The week after setting the new program high against the Terrapins, another low point appeared. For the first time since 2013, Michigan didn’t win the Big Ten Championship. A score of 197.425 fell three tenths short of No. 8 Minnesota’s mark, a poor floor score that doomed the Wolverines. It wasn’t the first time floor brought the score down — in their only other loss in the season, Michigan scored a 47.500 on floor. But the disappointment of losing its iron-clad grip on the conference didn’t last long. “When we did not win the Big Tens, I said to my team right then and there, ‘We’re gonna trade in a Big Ten Championship ring for a National Championship ring this year,’ ” Plocki said. “And I think that that’s when it really got serious.” Michigan didn’t lose a meet through the rest of the NCAA Tournament, matching its program high once again in the Regional Final. Its vault led the way, naturally. And

throughout the run, the floor held its own. In the National Championship, Michigan — ranked twelfth nationally on floor — beat out the No. 1, No. 4 and No. 6 floor teams in the country with a score of 49.625. Going into the final rotation, the Wolverines held a lead of 0.1375 over Oklahoma. One last obstacle lay in between them and euphoria: the beam, an event they struggled on in the NCAA Second Round. The high-stakes event often sees low scores because every misstep and wobble may end up with a fall. First, sophomore Gabby Wilson, who averages a 9.809 on beam, wobbled — her final score a 9.75. Next in the lineup, senior Lauren Farley, who grew up an hour from the arena, also wobbled. Her final score of 9.7625 was kept. Just like that, Michigan lost their edge. From here on out, every routine would mean victory or loss. And then, excellence. “I think I knew those routines were semi off, but I also trusted myself and the rest of the lineup, so I was (thinking), ‘Get out there, do my thing,’ ” sophomore Sierra Brooks said. “I got on the beam and I just honestly approached it with as much confidence as I could ever have.” A 9.9625 from Brooks and a 9.9875 from junior Natalie Wojcik put the title back in reach. All eyes in the arena then fell on junior Abby Heiskell. A season riddled with conflict, detours and sacrifice was now one routine away from glory, one routine away from despair. And as Oklahoma watched on, hoping for one last wobble, Heiskell executed. Determined and disciplined, as this team has been all season, the 2021 National Championship was secured.

Wednesday, April 21, 2021 — 19

Wolverines come second in national tournament debut GRAYSON BUNING

Daily Sports Writer

ORLANDO — As Michigan sophomore Caiden Baxter battled it out against Alabama’s Lauren Haneke-Hopps, suspense filled the air. The crowd reacted to each point emphatically, with the two sets of fans taking turns bellowing out chants of school pride. Baxter’s normally cheerful on-court persona became gradually replaced with a fixated, stoic expression. This was by far the biggest match of Baxter’s young career so far — the finals of the team competition at Wheelchair Tennis Nationals. He had been thrown into this position, selected to fill the shoes of the spectating graduate student Spencer Heslop, who set the tournament alight with an undefeated record but sat out the team final for religious reasons. Competing against a player with a far superior rank, winning this match would forever solidify the Baxter name in Michigan Adaptive Sports and Fitness lore. Quickly, however, the match became meaningless. Baxter and partner Chris Kelley had already lost the doubles match against Alabama’s Thomas Venos and Jeremy Boyd, despite getting out to a hot start. While this result wasn’t unexpected, it meant the pair would have to win both of their singles matches against Alabama to secure the title. Kelley’s chances were high, but Baxter would have to play to the very best of his abilities for the entire match in order to have a chance. For much of the match, Baxter did just that. He served expertly, flustering Haneke-Hopps early on with a number of aces. Crucially, Baxter reeled in his inconsistency, leaving it to Haneke-Hopps to make the first mistake. Defying expectations, Baxter took the first set 6-4. But at that point, the title was already Alabama’s. Putting his strength on full display, Venos had quickly overpowered Kelley. From start to finish, Venos dictated the pace of the match, smashing return after return past the exhausted Kelley. In dominant fashion, Venos won, 6-1, 6-2,

securing Alabama’s fourth consecutive wheelchair tennis trophy. Despite the most significant set win of his career, Baxter quickly learned that the outcome of his match would mean nothing for Michigan’s title aspirations. But for the team, regardless of the outcome, this match mattered for far more. “We started this program within the past year,” Dr. Feranmi Okanlami, the director of Michigan’s Adaptive Sports and Fitness program, said. “Being here at all was step one. And look at everything we came away with: Three academic all-Americans, a sportsmanship award, two secondplace finishes — you can’t really ask for more than that.”

to take notice of the waves the program made in Orlando. Throughout the tournament, a number of spectators, coaches and players stopped by the Michigan section to compliment the team and express how impressed they were with the speed at which Michigan’s program had grown. The program’s social media engagements ballooned, receiving engagements from numerous Michigan alumni, members of Michigan’s Varsity Tennis team and, crucially, Michigan Athletics. Michigan’s Adaptive Sports and Fitness program was building something special, and people were beginning to catch on.

PHOTO COURTESY JAI NARAIN Michigan Adaptive Sports and Fitness came second in its national competition over the weekend.

At the tournament, Michigan was very much the new kid on the block. The team had only recently gained enough facility access to begin practicing with each other regularly. A number of the team’s athletes had never participated in a competitive event before, and many had chalked Michigan off before the play even began. Countless hours of meetings, planning, training and negotiating had gone into making the establishment of this program and this team a reality. “For these athletes, to be (at Nationals) after being asked to be student-athletes, development officers, strategic planners, business moguls — they’ve had to do everything to run this program,” Okanlami said. “I have no words to truly say how proud I am of this group and of all the supporting staff that have allowed us to become what we are right now and what we hope to be in the future.” Even before Michigan advanced to the finals, people were beginning

“I think that this (weekend) will provide some context and some inspiration for the institution to see what this group has been able to accomplish,” Okanlami said. “We don’t want recognition just because we want to be able to pat ourselves on the back, but because we want to be able to get access for the next group of students who want to compete alongside us at a University of Michigan that is supportive for students with disabilities.” Despite a truly valiant effort, Baxter would go on to lose his match in a tiebreaker. Okanlami, too, fell just short in his Tier 3 final, narrowly bested by Arizona’s Owen Anketell in a thrilling third set tiebreaker. For now, Michigan would have to settle for runner-up. But along the way, the team had accomplished far more than a trophy — or a “shiny tennis dinner plate,” as Spencer Heslop dubbed it — could ever give them.

Michigan’s offense powers its way past Minnesota in weekend sweep STEEL HURLEY

Daily Sports Writer

MADELINE HINKLEY/Daily

Michigan women’s gymnastics won the first national championship in program history Saturday.

Penn State’s 4th quarter surge too much for Michigan MARK PATRICK

Daily Sports Writer

For the Michigan men’s lacrosse team, it came down to the last three seconds. After a 14-12 victory against Penn State on March 20, the Wolverines (2-7 Big Ten) looked to repeat its performance against the Nittany Lions (3-6) on Friday in Happy Valley, Pa. Penn State, however, managed to pull off a fourth-quarter comeback and send the game to overtime, where it eventually scored with just three seconds left to win, 14-13. The first quarter was evenly matched, as each team notched three goals. Thanks to strong defensive efforts and excellent goaltending, it was very difficult for either to create separation on the scoreboard. In the second quarter, Michigan forced 11 turnovers compared to Penn State’s two, which provided offensive opportunities. Junior defenseman Andrew Darby forced a turnover late in the second quarter,

allowing the Wolverines to clear the ball and to set up a scoring play. The Wolverines led 7-6 at halftime. Penn State switched goalkeepers during the second half which initially gave Michigan another opening. The Wolverines proceeded to go on a 5-1 scoring run in the third quarter to make it a 12-8 Wolverine lead. “Penn State went with a different direction for their goaltender, and when you put a guy in who has not played yet and it is cold, it is hard for him to get into rhythm,” Michigan coach Kevin Conry said. “We exploited him with good shots in good spots.” The Wolverines, however, were unable to keep up the momentum heading into the fourth quarter, as Penn State scored five unanswered goals to take the lead with under five minutes left in the game. The Nittany Lions picked up the pace defensively by playing in a tight zone, which allowed for minimal shooting opportunities. “They dropped into a zone and really packed it in which had our

BECCA MAHON/ Daily Despite holding a three-goal lead heading into the fourth quarter, Michigan fell to Penn State in overtime.

guys take some outside shots, and we were fortunate (sophomore midfielder) Jacob (Jackson) scored one at the end,” Conry said. “But for a lot of them, Penn State was able to get bodies on us, and we were not putting them to the pipes which allowed them to take a better position which really cut down a lot of our opportunities.” Michigan scored with just under three minutes left in regulation to force overtime. While in overtime, the Wolverines were in the offensive zone twice and created many scoring chances, but Penn State goalkeeper Aleric Fyock made arguably two of the best saves of the game, allowing the team to clear the ball and set up offensive plays. Key contributors to the Wolverines’ offensive included sophomore attackman Josh Zawada, who tallied a goal and three assists, and freshman attackman Michael Boehm who knotted a hat trick. With just three seconds left in overtime, Nittany Lions’ senior attackman Mac O’Keefe scored the game-winning goal, finishing with six tallies on the day. O’Keefe was able to create separation against the Michigan defenders allowing him to take an easy shot with no traffic in front of the net. Penn State squeaked out a one-point win, but even more impressive was O’Keefe breaking the NCAA’s all-time goal-scoring record in this game against Michigan. “Making good decisions down the stretch is a part of our maturation process,” Conry said. “So, every time that we are out there, we are learning and growing. It is certainly disappointing to lose a lead, but at the end of it, we had our opportunities to win the game.”

Danny Zimmerman stepped up to the plate with the bases loaded during the Michigan baseball team’s game against Minnesota on Friday. The redshirt junior outfielder launched his second home run of the game, this one over the fence in deep left field to make the score 14-2, as the Wolverines broke open the game and went on to win 21-5. Thanks in large part to a plethora of home runs, Michigan (18-7 Big Ten) swept Minnesota (4-20) this weekend, winning 4-0 on Saturday and 9-5 on Sunday after its rout to open the series on Friday. Following its weekend performance, the Wolverines sit just a half-game behind Nebraska in the race for the Big Ten title and lead the Big Ten in home runs with 33. Michigan used the long ball several times this weekend, racking up eight home runs in three games. Especially on Friday, the home run ball was a theme throughout the game.

played key roles in the wins this weekend. Sophomore infielder Ted Burton launched a huge two-run blast in the ninth inning of Saturday’s game to put the Wolverines up 2-0, and they added two more runs to ultimately take the game, 4-0. Fifth-year transfer Benjamin Sems launched an important two-run shot to push the score to 5-2 en route to Michigan’s Sunday win. Sems was one of several Michigan players who had a strong series offensively, leading the way for the Wolverines with five hits and a walk. Burton collected four hits and eight RBI in the series, including his big two-run homer Saturday. Redshirt sophomore outfielder Jordon Rogers also collected four hits and three walks, while sophomore outfielder Clark Elliott chipped in with four hits and four walks. “(What made us effective was) eliminating their pitches, just sitting off, laying off the off-speed and hitting the fastball,” Rogers said. “We’re a good hitting team when we are all locked in and I think this weekend we were. It was a good example of that.”

LUKE HALES/Daily

Michigan fifth-year outfielder Christan Bullock played a part in the monstrous offensive display against Minnesota.

“We just did a good job of swinging at good pitches and the wind was blowing out, so we hit five home runs,” Michigan coach Erik Bakich said. “Everything was going well for us offensively.” Several of these home runs

On the mound, Michigan got several strong starts out of its rotation. Redshirt sophomore left-hander Steven Hajjar allowed two runs over five innings in the opener and left the Wolverines well in control. Sophomore

right-hander Cameron Weston had a very strong outing in Michigan’s second game, tossing seven scoreless innings to give his offense a chance to get going after a slow start. In the finale on Sunday, sophomore left-hander Jacob Denner went a solid five innings and gave up two runs. “Our starting pitchers are pitching amazing this year,” junior right handerWillie Weiss said. “They’ve all been going deep into games, doing everything that we can ask for. I’m super proud of all the pitchers, all the starting pitchers and I am looking forward to watching them keep showing out.” Out of the bullpen, junior right-hander Willie Weiss was lights-out for the Wolverines. The Michigan closer came into the game on Saturday with Minnesota threatening. With the score knotted at zero, the Golden Gophers had the bases loaded and just one out. But Weiss came in and shut the door, striking out all five batters he faced to end the threat in the eighth and close out the ninth. In Sunday’s finale, Weiss was again excellent, tossing the last four outs out of the bullpen. “It’s a very good feeling, knowing that we have a consistent guy who can come in and close the door, even in close games,” Rogers said of Weiss. “It’s just an amazing feeling on defense, just knowing that he’s going to get outs.” The Wolverines were expected to do well against a Minnesota team that sits in last place in the Big Ten. But winning on the road is always difficult, and Michigan was without the services of sophomore infielder Jimmy Obertop, who hits out of the cleanup spot. Despite missing a key piece, the Wolverines took care of business and swept the Golden Gophers. “It was a huge sweep coming off taking two of three, getting the series win against Ohio State,” Weiss said. “It was nice to see us stay hot, keep the bats going and keep the momentum going into this weekend.”

SAMI RUDD

Daily Sports Writer

The 2021 gymnastics National Championship came down to the very last routine of the meet. Junior Abby Heiskell stared down the beam as she mounted it. As she performed her routine, she completed each skill with an intention to do it perfectly, a lesson Michigan coach Bev Plocki has drilled into the mind of her gymnasts all season. Heiskell showed no ounce of doubt in any of her skills, and when she finished the routine with a stuck dismount, she proved that she was capable of being there for her team in the moment it needed it most. Heiskell, joined by her teammates, could not peel their eyes from the scoreboard, and neither could Oklahoma. Waiting for only junior Olivia Trautman’s score on floor and Heiskell’s score on beam, the teams sat tied at 198.0750. Trautman’s score came in at a 9.9375, leaving Heiskell’s routine to need a score of 9.8500 or better to win the meet for the Wolverines. When the number came in on the scoreboard, a 9.9250, the team, the coaches and the fans erupted. Michigan would be the 2021 National Champion, the first Michigan women’s gymnastics team to ever win a National Championship. The team clinched a program record 198.2500 in the competition of its life. “We’ve talked about this for so long, and we were like, ‘Oh my gosh, this is actually happening. Oh my gosh, the meet is over, and we’re national champions,’ ” sophomore Sierra Brooks said. “So much went into this, it’s so amazing seeing our hard work pay off.” Michigan clinched the win, in the end, by securing the lead they held onto the entire meet. Coming into the Finals, Oklahoma was ranked first and Michigan second, based on the semifinal scores, but the Sooners were never given a chance to shine. Michigan started the meet on floor with six strong routines, all counted scores at a 9.9125 or higher. Junior Natalie Wojcik led the pack, scoring a 9.9500, landing all of her tumbling passes smoothly and without fault. Sophomore Gabby Wilson also post-

ed an impressive score of 9.9375, and the solid performance from the rest of her teammates landed the Wolverines at a 49.6250, only 0.0250 points short of their record floor score yesterday. Oklahoma’s start on vault left them trailing by 0.0500 to start the meet, a deficit they never overcame. Utah had a solid bars rotation as well, scoring a 49.4250. Florida, who, prior to the weekend, was seeded to place first, had two falls on the beam, forcing the team to count one extremely low score that they would never recover from. Michigan carried their energy to the vault for the second rotation, where it was not only seeded first in the country, but had the highest team start value of any team in the competition, all vaults starting with a 10.0 start value. Heiskell began the event, sticking her one and a half Yurchenko, forcing the judges to search for any deduction. Her vault, and its score of a 9.9750 started the consistency of the event, which was followed up by another stuck vault from Wojcik, earning herself a 9.9375 and Brooks, who notched a 9.9750. The team’s vault performance extended their lead over the rest of the field even further, gaining a 0.1375 lead over Oklahoma at the halfway mark. “(Vault’s) just been amazing,” Michigan coach Bev Plocki said. “At the beginning of the year, we were doing big vaults, but we couldn’t get the landings, and it was a process. We absolutely peaked at the right time this year. … Right before the championship part of the season, we started being able to nail those 1.5s.” Heiskell started off Michigan’s next rotation on bars with a stuck dismount. The Wolverines’ top scores of the rotation came from Brooks and junior Abby Brenner in her first competitive routine in months since hurting her ankle at the Big Five meet on

Feb. 27. Their clutch performances earned both gymnasts a 9.9250, and kept Michigan with the same lead over Oklahoma as they had going into the event. This lead, though, was deceptively large. The Wolverines had to move to the beam, a nerve racking event to conclude a meet on, while the Sooners ended on floor, whose scores were the highest of any event throughout the whole meet. Utah also trailed closely behind as they wrapped their meet up on the vault, another typically high scoring event. “I just said to them: ‘Take a deep breath, exhale out all of the nervous energy and let’s just go do what we do, one routine at a time for six routines,’ ” Plocki said “We got this, breath in the confidence, be aggressive. That’s what we wanted them to do, was just go do confident, aggressive balance beam.” Michigan’s rotation did not start as strong as they would have liked, with the highest of the first three routines coming from freshman Carly Bauman’s 9.8500. Wilson showed some wobbles, earning the lowest of the scores, a 9.7500. Meanwhile, Oklahoma scored highly on the floor, all of which coming in at high 9.8s. However, Brooks turned the rotation around for the Wolverines. “Before I even went, I was on the verge of tears because I wanted it so bad for this team,” Brooks said. “I knew those routines were semi off, but I also trusted myself and the rest of the lineup, so I wanted to get out there and do my

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thing. I got on the beam and I just honestly approached it with as much confidence as I could ever have.” Brooks performed her beam series perfectly, as well as the rest of her skills, all the way up to the stuck dismount to score a 9.9625. The incredibly high score made up for some of the points her former teammates had lost, but Wojcik and Heiskell still had to nail their routines for Michigan to have a shot at the win. Wojcik one-upped her teammate, sticking every skill just as solidly and scoring a 9.9875, the highest beam score of the day. Her score, along with the scores of the Sooners on floor, brought the meet to a tie before the very last routine of the competition. Heiskell handled the pressure with ease, flowing through each skill, punctuating her landings. Her skills on the beam, as well as her perfectly stuck dismount off earned her a 9.9250, well over the score the Wolverines needed to win the National Championship. “It’s very hard to describe how it feels,” Plocki said. “This is 32 years I’ve been waiting for this feeling … It’s just an unbelievable pride and just an admiration for what our team has been through and the sacrifices that they’ve made. I knew this was possible because, for the first time, they have belief in themselves.”