2023-02-22

‘Spartan Strong’: UMich and MSU mourn together at candlelight vigil Thousands gathered

on the Diag following MSU shooting

There were 3,000 people standing side-by-side across the Diag on the University of Michigan’s campus Wednesday night. U-M students and community members gathered together in silence to mourn the mass shooting that took place on the Michigan State University’s campus Monday night which led to the death of three MSU students: Brian Fraser, Alexandria Verner and Arielle Anderson. The U-M Central Student Government organized the vigil as a way for Wolverines to stand in solidarity with Spartans and mourn the tragedy.

A similar vigil took place on MSU’s campus at 6 p.m. on Wednesday and was attended by thousands of students, according to The State News, MSU’s student-run newspaper. Both vigils honored the lives of those who were killed in the shooting and were intended to help students at both campuses heal together. Attendees in Ann Arbor held candles in a circle around the block ‘M,’ before moving toward the Hatcher Graduate Library

to listen to remarks by members of CSG.

LSA senior Noah Zimmerman, CSG president, spoke first, emphasizing that the U-M community is mourning alongside MSU.

“When one of (Michigan’s universities) is hurt, we all feel the pain,” Zimmerman said. “We feel for them.”

With a half-mast American flag behind them, CSG members only spoke for around ten minutes, but invited attendees to stay as long as they wanted to and asked students to sign or write messages on a banner sitting below the steps of the Graduate Library. According to LSA senior Jacklyn Hillman, CSG vice president, the banner was given to MSU’s student government following the vigil.

In an interview with The Michigan Daily at the vigil, LSA sophomore Kayla Wehner, a transfer student from MSU, said she has several loved ones at MSU. She said she couldn’t process the shooting while it was happening, and the impact of what had happened didn’t sink in until she saw it all over social media and in the news.

“My boyfriend, who’s a student at MSU, called me and told me about the shooting,” Wehner said. “All of my friends and my siblings go to MSU, and

so I was really shaken and I couldn’t even process what was going on.”

MSU junior Andy Nguyen said he lives off campus, so he was shocked to hear about the shooting Monday night and he immediately started sending texts to loved ones. Ngyuen said he left East Lansing the morning after the shooting and came to Ann Arbor to stay with his girlfriend who attends the University of Michigan. He decided to attend the vigil on the Diag to show support for his school.

“I just thought it was best to leave Lansing,” Nguyen said. “I feel like leaving may have helped a little bit, but I kind of wish I stayed just because … we’re all in this together. I was very surprised that Michigan had a vigil, so, very luckily I decided to come here.”

When asked if Nguyen wanted to share anything else with The Daily, he responded with two words.

“Spartan Strong,” Nguyen said.

LSA sophomore Gabriela Muniz said she was at home studying for an exam when she heard the news about an active shooter on MSU’s campus. Muniz said she was immediately shaken.

“It’s unbelievable that this is the reality of this country,” Muniz said. “(The victims) were just students,

living life, just going on about their life, and now they are gone. Nobody’s gonna reverse this senseless tragedy for this family. It’s just terrible.”

Sueann Caulfield, professor at the U-M Residential College, told The Daily at the vigil that she was inspired by the number of students who came out to the Diag to stand in silence in support of the MSU community.

“I was really struck by the silence when I arrived,” Caulfield said. “I arrived a few minutes early and already the crowd (had) gathered, and more were coming in. Everyone was just here to be here with each other.”

MSU is a mere 62-mile drive from Ann Arbor, and Caulfield said this proximity means that almost every U-M student knows at least one person at MSU.

“(MSU is) not just close to home, it is home,” Caulfield said. “It’s happened to so many other people, and now it’s happening to us.”

Nursing freshman Nicole Godfrey said she attended the vigil to show support for the MSU community, including for her friend who knew of one of the victims. Godfrey, who is from Rochester, Mich. said she is also very close with many people who survived the shooting at Oxford High School in November 2021.

“Justin Shilling was actually a friend of mine, and I lost him at Oxford,” Godfrey said. “I just wanted to give all my support, especially to the Oxford students who had to endure that and then went to Michigan State as well … no one deserves to go through this, especially (not) multiple times.”

Engineering sophomore Hunter Schrupp said he grew up in Ann Arbor and has been participating in the MSU and U-M rivalry for years, but right now he thinks it’s incredibly important that the U-M community shows their unwavering support for everyone in East Lansing.

“I’ve been to events like this after tragedies, but this one is definitely different,” Schrupp said. “I’m seeing people I knew from high school who have come back for the week from MSU. I see the look on their faces, and they’re sad and they’re scared and I get it.”

Several hundred students remained on the Diag late into the night, their faces solemn as the wind whipped back and forth. While some students hugged each other and offered support, others stood quietly around the block ‘M’ until their candles burned to the wick and eventually went out.

In an interview with The Daily at the event Peter Railton, a U-M philosophy professor, spoke about the prevalence of guns and gun violence in the U.S., which became the leading cause of death for children in 2022.

“With guns as widely present as they are in our society, every day, people are being shot in their homes quietly,” Railton said. “Not by necessarily criminals, but through domestic violence and suicide. (Gun violence is) an illness that (the U.S. doesn’t) seem to be willing to cure ourselves of.”

U-M leadership, including University President Santa Ono, have encouraged students to take care of their wellbeing over the next several days, highlighting the campus mental health resources available to students such as Counseling and Psychological Services, the Faculty and Staff Counseling and Consultation Office, Michigan Medicine Office of Counseling and Workplace Resilience and Wolverine Wellness.

The Michigan Daily would like to express our deepest condolences to our peers at Michigan State University and our colleagues at The State News. Our hearts go out to the families and friends of the victims as well as the entire East Lansing community.

ADMINISTRATION KATE HUA/Daily Students speak out at the vigil for the MSU shooting on the Diag Wednesday night RACHEL MINTZ & MADISON HAMMOND Daily News Editor & Daily News Reporter

Regents approve extended winter break for next year

Winter Break will be prolonged by a week. The final day of examinations has also been set back a week, from Apr. 25 to May 2. The fall 2023 semester will be unaffected.

The University of Michigan Board of Regents unanimously approved an updated calendar for the 2023-2024 academic year during their Feb. 16 meeting. This updated academic calendar will change the start of the winter 2024 term from Jan. 3 to Jan. 10 — meaning that the University’s

In a University Record article published Monday, University Provost Laurie McCauley said the change to the calendar was made after listening to feedback from the campus community, with several students expressing their desire for a longer Winter

Break. “The University of Michigan prides itself as offering a rigorous academic environment, but that also means that our students and faculty work hard throughout the term,” McCauley said. “The feedback we’ve heard from our campus community around well-being gave us pause and led us to wonder if there was more we could do with the academic calendar to address these concerns.”

The University of Michigan’s Counseling and Psychological Services faculty delivered a letter to the desk of Martino Harmon, vice president of student life, on Tuesday morning. In the letter, obtained by The Michigan Daily, CAPS staff described a perceived employee turnover crisis within the office, which the signed clinicians believe to be because of a lack of competitive salary.

The letter requested that Harmon responds by March 7.

Shortly after placing the letter on Harmon’s desk, Dr. Reena Sheth, an embedded psychologist at the Law School, spoke in an interview with The Michigan Daily about how the letter is an attempt to initiate conversations with the administration about instating a competitive salary. Sheth said she believes the lack of a competitive salary can negatively affect students because passionate mental health staff often leave for more lucrative opportunities.

“One of the ways they can

support us is by coming forward in dialogue,” Sheth said. “So the letter is an invitation to Dr. Martino Harmon and the administration to begin this dialogue with us about a competitive salary. Because if you don’t have passionate mental health staff that are really dedicated to the wellbeing of students, then it is a little bit of a struggle.”

According to the open letter, CAPS has lost 16 full-time licensed clinicians out of a staff of 37 in the past 18 months. The letter also stated that a report from the International Accreditation of Counseling Services’ visit last year mirrored their concerns about the turnover crisis. IACS stated that the salary of CAPS employees was inconsistent with that of similar positions at different institutions.

The letters emphasized the importance of CAPS’ purpose on campus and the need for CAPS to be able to continue functioning as an office to provide adequate mental health care to U-M students.

“(CAPS employees) are extremely passionate about the mental health of our Michigan students,” the letter read. “We are at the forefront

of creating and maintaining a thriving student community in alignment to University of Michigan’s Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion values. We request your immediate attention on this matter to ensure that Michigan students continue to have rapid access to mental health care services on campus.”

University spokesperson Kim Broehuizen wrote to The Daily in an email that the University continues to value the mental health of the campus community.

“The University of Michigan is committed to the health and well-being of our entire campus community — students, staff and faculty,” Broekhuizen wrote. “This includes providing a robust continuum of care that adapts to and supports the well-being and mental health of our entire community.”

Dr. Ashley Jacob, an embedded psychologist for LSA students, told The Daily she wants to retain the staff at CAPS and enable them to support themselves financially.

“With mental health demands continuing to rise, we really want to retain our staff,” Jacob said. “And we really want to also be able to take care of our own livable wage needs.”

Stanford Lipsey Student Publications Building 420 Maynard St. Ann Arbor, MI 48109-1327 734-418-4115 www.michigandaily.com

SHANNON STOCKING and KATE WEILAND Co-Editors in Chief eic@michigandaily.com

AARON SANTILLI Business Manager business@michigandaily.com

NEWS TIPS tipline@michigandaily.com

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR tothedaily@michigandaily.com

EDITORIAL PAGE opinion@michigandaily.com

PHOTOGRAPHY SECTION photo@michigandaily.com

NEWSROOM news@michigandaily.com CORRECTIONS corrections@michigandaily.com

UMich study reveals environmental impact of reusable carryout containers

Researchers examine environmental benefits and drawbacks of reusable carryout program in Ann Arbor

University of Michigan researchers published a sustainability-focused study in January 2023, comparing the environmental impacts of reusable plastic containers to single-use containers. The researchers studied a program launched by the nonprofit Live Zero Waste in Ann Arbor where customers can request a reusable carryout food container from a participating business. Customers then have to clean the container after use and return it back to the business whenever they have time. Several local restaurants such as Zingerman’s Next Door Café, El Harissa, Ginger Deli and Cinnaholic participate in the program. The researchers evaluated elements of the program such as cost, water use and consumer behavior to determine whether using a reusable container was more sustainable than single-use takeout boxes. Their results determined that on the surface, reusable containers have lower environmental impacts than their single-use counterparts. The study flagged that the emissions from the transportation required to return the reusable containers might make them less sustainable than they seem.

According to Samuel McMullen, the executive director and co-founder

of Live Zero Waste, Zingerman’s initially came up with the idea of offering reusable takeout containers in 2021 to support Ann Arbor’s commitment to carbon neutrality. Because of the city’s previous environmental and recycling initiatives, McMullen said he believed Ann Arbor was the perfect place to pioneer the program. The nonprofit Recycle Ann Arbor collects curbside recycling throughout the city and strongly encourages citizens to reuse materials when possible. McMullen said Live Zero Waste was able to work with Recycle Ann Arbor to pilot their program.

“We have a really unique opportunity in Ann Arbor to work with the recycler, which opens up just so many logistics opportunities,”

McMullen said. “They already have trucks. We could, in (the future), collect recycling and returnable containers on the same routes. It’s a huge opportunity that very few other places in the country have the ability to test.”

McMullen said businesses that have regular customers are ideal candidates for the program because if they make the switch to reusable containers once, they may be more likely to continue to use them when coming back for another meal.

“El Harrisa has been a really high performer,” McMullen said. “They do north of 50 containers a week. They also have good regulars which is something that really lends itself

to a restaurant with a sort of similar clientele coming back because they can make returning their containers part of their habit.”

The program has been around for two years, but until now there hasn’t been any research on how much it’s actually helping the environment.

The January study was co-written by Environment and Sustainability graduate student Christian Hitt and Engineering graduate student Jacob Douglas under the guidance of Gregory Keoleian, Engineering and SEAS professor. The researchers found that after just five — or in some cases, fewer than five — uses, the reusable containers had a net positive impact on the environment over disposable ones.

However, if customers started making additional trips to return the containers to restaurants, the program could harm the environment more than it helps. The researchers found that if even 5% of customers made an extra car trip to return their takeout containers, the program would contribute more greenhouse gasses to the atmosphere than single-use containers.

Douglas said he believes the program would work best in a walkable city where customers could return their containers without creating any additional emissions.

“If you’re in a rural area, and people are driving 10 miles just to return their container, (reusable takeout containers are) going to

be way worse than just having disposable containers,” Douglas said. “But if you’re in a city where people could walk and return the containers then the system can be a little bit more flexible.”

Douglas said the research team was not able to find out how many times containers can be reused before they break or become unusable.

“There’s the potential that they can be reused like hundreds of times, but in all likelihood, they’re not being reused that many times and people might steal them or they might break them,” Douglas said. “If the container gets reused many times, that’s sort of the best-case scenario.”

Going forward, Hitt said the team is looking into different types of materials that could be used to make reusable containers as durable and sustainable as possible.

“One of the big ones we’re looking at is bringing in different types of reusable materials such as stainless steel,” Hitt said.

LSA sophomore Melissa Oz, a student ambassador at Planet Blue, a campus organization focused on sustainability at the University, said though she hasn’t used the program yet, she thinks it could be an environmentally-friendly option for students who walk downtown to get takeout at the participating locations.

Wildwood Park community eliminates racially restrictive covenants

Over 120 communities in Ann Arbor still have racially exclusive language in deeds

When Ann Arbor resident Anne Hiller first moved to ‘Tree City’ from the San Francisco Bay Area in 2004, she was looking forward to settling in the Wildwood Park subdivision, a scenic suburban neighborhood surrounded by nature on the city’s west side. Before she was about to close the deal on her house, however, Hiller noticed that her deed contained an archaic clause — a racially restrictive covenant that read “No portion of the land herein described should be occupied by persons other than the Caucasian race, except as servants or guests.”

Though Hiller does not identify as a person of Color, she wrote in an email to The Michigan Daily that seeing the covenant appalled her. When she asked for the line to be removed from the deed, Hiller claimed she was told that wouldn’t be possible because it would require a large majority of homeowners across the neighborhood to vote to eliminate the covenant from all deeds in the subdivision. She would have to either sign the document as

it was or pass on the house.

“(I) asked to strike the sentence during the actual closing appointment,” Hiller wrote. “The title company officer explained the deed covenants and why it wasn’t possible, and then said ‘but it’s okay because the language isn’t enforceable.’ It was a stain on the day. I didn’t like signing my name to that language, but my only alternative was to walk away from the house.”

An effort led by a small but mighty coalition of advocates, “Welcoming Neighborhood,” has recently changed that. By the end of 2022, Welcoming Neighborhood helped Wildwood Park pass an amendment eliminating the racially restrictive covenants in their neighborhood. Hiller, who ended up joining the coalition, personally worked to collect and verify resident signatures so that the covenants could be permanently eliminated.

Hiller told The Daily that any changes to the Wildwood Park deed required approval from homeowners representing two-thirds of the property values comprising the entire neighborhood. Though collecting the signatures was a challenge,

Hiller said it paid off with the eventual repealment of the covenants.

“Right out of the gate, we attained 60% of the (signature) threshold during a 2-hour ‘cider and donuts kick-off,’” Hiller wrote. “(We) exceeded the two-thirds threshold in just 6 weeks.”

Wildwood Park was one of 13 neighborhoods developed in the 1910s and 1920s on the west side of Ann Arbor that instituted racially restrictive policies. During that time, Catherine Street and Miller Avenue became a demographic fault line separating predominantlywhite neighborhoods like Arborview and Wildwood from neighborhoods like Waterhill and Kerrytown, which were historically the heart of the Black community in Ann Arbor.

While restrictive policies were deemed unenforceable across the nation by the U.S. Supreme Court in 1948, the restrictive covenants and discrimination in home sales continued to plague the Ann Arbor housing market until the city passed a fair housing ordinance in 1963. While the ordinance barred new development from instituting racially restrictive

policies it did not provide a way to remove existing racially restrictive language from existing deeds. That’s why the covenants, though unenforceable, still exist in housing deeds like Hiller’s in more than 120 neighborhoods across Washtenaw County, according to research conducted by Justice InDeed, a University of Michigan-based collaborative project aiming to map where the covenants still exist in the county.

Ann Arbor’s Hannah subdivision became the first neighborhood in the state of Michigan to repeal the racially restrictive language in all of the deeds to properties in the neighborhood in February 2022. In an interview with The Daily, Tom Crawford, a resident of Wildwood Park, which is located right next to Hannah subdivision, said the work of Justice InDeed educated him about the remnants of racial discrimination in Wildwood deeds and motivated him to organize community events to advocate for the repealment of racially restrictive covenants in his neighborhood.

ARTS SECTION arts@michigandaily.com

SPORTS SECTION sports@michigandaily.com

ADVERTISING wmg-contact@umich.edu

Editorial Staff

JULIA VERKLAN Managing Editor jvmalo@umich.edu

ZOE STORER Digital Managing Editor zstorer@umich.edu

RONI KANE and VANESSA KIEFER

Managing News Editors news@michigandaily.com

Senior News Editors: Riley Hodder, Irena Li, Joey Lin, Rachel Mintz, Sejal Patil, Carlin Pendell, Samantha Rich

JULIAN BARNARD and QUIN ZAPOLI

Editorial Page Editors tothedaily@michigandaily.com

Deputy Editorial Page Editor: Olivia Mouradian

Senior Opinion Editors: Lindsey Spencer, Palak Srivastava, Evan Stern, Zhane Yamin, Alex Yee

CONNOR EAREGOOD and PAUL NASR Managing Sports Editors sports@michigandaily.com

Senior Sports Editors: Jack Glanville, Lily Israel, Noah Kingsley, Josh Taubman, Abbie Telgenhof, Spencer Raines

SARAH RAHMAN and LAINE BROTHERTON

Managing Arts Editors arts@michigandaily.com

Senior Arts Editors: Annabel Curran, Ava Burzycki, Erin Rose Evans, Hunter Bishop, Jack Christopher Moeser, Kaya Ginsky

ABBY SCHRECK and SOPHIE GRAND

Managing Design Editors design@michigandaily.com

Senior Layout Editor: Lys Goldman

ANNA FUDER and KATE HUA

Managing Photo Editors photo@michigandaily.com

Senior Photo Editors: Grace Beal, Sarah Boeke, Selena Sun, Jeremy Weine, Julianne Yoon

TAYLOR SCHOTT

Managing Statement Editor statement@michigandaily.com

Deputy Editors: Sarah R. Akaaboune and Reese Martin

Associate Editor: John Jackson

ABBIE GAIES and DANA ELOBAID

Managing Copy Editors copydesk@michigandaily.com

Senior Copy Editors: Tess Beiter, Leonor Brockey, Julia Brownell, Jackson Kobylarcz, Lizzie MacAdam, Sabrina Martell, Sofi Mincy, Chloe RangerRaimundi, Audrey Ruhana, Maya Segal, Jenna Weihs

DANIEL CHUANG and ANGELA VOIT

Managing Online Editors webteam@michigandaily.com

Data Editor: Matthew Bilik

Engineering Managers: Vishal Chandra and Melina O’Dell

Mobile Managers: Marie Yu and Frank Wang

Design Managers: Jenny Do and Jingyi Fu

Senior Software Engineer: Eric Lau

HANNAH ELLIOTT and MYLES MURPHY

Managing Video Editors video@michigandaily.com

DEVEN PARIKH and SAFURA SYED Michigan in Color Editors michiganincolor@michigandaily.com

Senior Michigan in Color Editors: Anchal Malh, Udoka Nwansi, Maya Kogulan, Claire Gallagher, Sarah Oguntomilade

CHRISTOPHER BROWN Managing Podcast Editor podeditors@michigandaily.com

Senior Podcast Editor: Martha Starkel

MARTINA ZACKER and CHRISTIAN JULIANO

Managing Audience Engagement Editors socialmedia@michigandaily.com

Senior Audience Engagement Editors: Avery Crystal, Matthew Eggers, Aishani Moradia, Tina Yu, Cristina Costin, Steven Tukel, Parvathi Nagappala, Emma Lefevre, Joey Goodsir, Cole Martin

AKSHARA KOOTTALA Chair of Culture, Training, and Inclusion accessandinclusion@michigandaily.com

Business Staff

IRENE CHUNG Creative Director

RILEY SULLIVAN Sales Manager

EMMA MATI/Daily

LSA senior Rayven Brantley serves food at “An Exploration of African American Cuisine” hosted by Organizational Studies and the Department of Sociology at the LSA Building Friday afternoon.

THEJAS VARMA Daily Arts Writer

The raven is a historically symbolic animal. Though it has served as an image of loss, ravens have also been represented as psychopomps, creatures that guide departed beings between the material world and the afterlife.

Kelela’s new album, Raven, hinges on mediating between worlds. Her music is always experienced at this mediation, as past projects operated at the nexus of digital and material, whisking together her gossamer vocals with electronics that sounded like trapped spirits trying to break free. It felt like both a testimony to her influences (most notably, Janet Jackson) while also covering new ground in both dance and R&B music. Her songs paint poignant portraits of vulnerability, weaving together stories of broken relationships, no-strings-attached sex and euphoric romance.

Kelela noted that Raven came about “from the feeling of isolation and alienation I’ve always had as a Black femme in dance music, despite its Black origins.” These are issues that she’s been outspoken about in numerous interviews, but on Raven, they are much more integrated into the fabric of the music itself. The result is a poised symbiosis of back-of-your-neck whispers and distanced atmospheres and an impassioned narrative of rejuvenation and reflection.

Raven begins with “Washed Away,” the first single on the album. It’s the perfect introduction; the effortlessly light synth instrumentation sounds like it’s just emerged from water, paral-

Kelela’s Raven is an impassioned narrative of rejuvenation and reflection

leling the assertions of the title’s namesake. The minimalism feels purposeful, as the non-lyrical vocal runs and drumless instrumentals convey the image that she’s begun anew. Every so often, Kelela strips her songs to their essentials. Take the song “Let It Go”: Instrumentally, there are piano chords, a creeping bassline, some percussion and extraterrestrial chirps that fade in and out at different parts of the song. Kelela’s singing sounds as tender as ever, but feels more subdued than in previous undertakings. There’s something so hauntingly beautiful about the instrumental gaps in her singing if almost to reckon with her past emotions — for just a moment, it feels like your mind disengages from your body This detachment becomes intimately embedded in the album’s soundscapes. Where Kelela’s 2017 album Take Me Apart was foregrounded in wintry atmospheres, an unforgiving onslaught underpinned by the delightfully scenic landscape, Raven is cold and barren. “Closure” has the ambiance of an empty alleyway at night, where the sound of pipes dripping and distant ambulances are substituted for hi-hats and reverberating metallic keys. Even Kelela, talking to a lover, sounds eerily distant from us as her vocals fade into the back during feature RahRah Gabor’s animated verse. Spread across our ears and slathered in reverb, the sounds of Raven feel like they’re playing from a speaker a mile away. Vocals sound haunted, instrumentals spectral — the songs reach out, the emotions sink deep into our skin. It conjures an atmosphere that is unsettling yet captivating.

Simultaneously, it functions as a tale of resilience, reflecting on her strength through these experiences. Of course, as an album inspired by her relationship with dance music, Raven is infused with the electric sounds of the club. Kelela’s collaborated with several prominent electronic producers — LSDXOXO, Asma Maroof, Bambii — who give Raven an edge, drawing from UK garage, techno and drum-and-bass, among other

genres. “Missed Call” gashes the listener from the first second, but when the drum break comes in, it transforms into a dynamic experience. Kelela muses on reconnecting with a past lover, her voice sounding defeated, but the variations in her tone also prop it up with a slight optimism, whether or not she’s successful. The breakbeat sounds disordered and fearful, which parallels her uncertainty well. On other songs, like the single “Contact,” they sound

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

comfortable and stable, almost as if Kelela herself is controlling them.

The centerpiece of Raven is the title track, a profound testament to her fortitude. Opening with an ominous, buzzing synth line, Kelela sings with grit: “Through all the labor / A raven is reborn.”

As the song progresses, the winding synth gets louder, harmonies flourish in the background and it reshapes itself into a grand, sweaty club anthem, as a barrage

of deep kicks pound away like they’re caught outside in a storm. The raven’s depiction as a psychopomp becomes one of rebirth, producing a reinvigorated energy that courses through the veins. The crossing of worlds positions the raven as a symbol of transformation; battles are not permanent, but simply one part of constantly shifting experiences. Raven offers affecting narratives of Kelela’s renewal and affirms the queer, Black legacy of dance music.

Netflix’s ‘Bill Russell: Legend’ documentary shoots and scores

DANIEL WISELY Daily Arts Contributor

“Bill Russell: Legend,” a twopart Netflix documentary directed by Sam Pollard (“MLK/FBI”) steps back for the 3-pointer and sure as hell lands with a splash. The film travels through Russell’s storied 13-season NBA career with grace and tender affection, citing his friends, enemies and current players who grew up striving to be like him.

Russell proposes that sports are an art form, a metaphor the documentary builds upon through its vivid descriptions and portrayal of basketball. As a kid, Russell spent hours in the library each day reading books about artistic techniques, studying paintings and understanding the importance of each individual brush stroke to the greater picture. Russell used this mindset while on the court and in his personal life.

The film often calls upon sketched animation with Jeffery Wright (“The Batman”) reading excerpts from Russell’s books to help construct a picture of Russell’s childhood and personal life. The use of actual art in the film pushes Russell’s grand thesis: Life is art. Russell suffered through many growing pains, but he pushed through, and this documentary demonstrates how each thoughtful brushstroke comes together to create a beautiful picture. Russell and the film both push that although we may be messy artists, we must never stop reinventing the way we create.

“Bill Russell: Legend” strives to live up to its name by calling on other basketball greats. The film, with its stories of Russell’s 11 NBA championships, his role in planning the March on Washington and his larger-than-life personality (and physicality), is clearly made for and by fans of the iconic baller. While this does help further the film’s assertion that Russell is a legend, it can come off as though he is placed on too high a pedestal. With interviewees like Magic Johnson and Steph Curry, heroes from all eras are called upon to speak to the significance Russell had in their careers. One common denomina-

tor was an infectious inspiration rooted in Russell’s dominance and character.

Russell is painted as a leader on and off the court. The film uses images of Russell’s position as a team captain and eventual playercoach to parallel his leadership role in the civil rights movement. Russell, after the African-American players for the Boston Celtics were denied service at a Kentucky hotel restaurant, organized a boycott of an upcoming game with the Black members of both teams. Russell openly supported Muhammad Ali’s ability to opt out of military service, and even served as the first Black head coach in the NBA in 1966. He was more than a player; he was helping to push the nation towards inclusivity and anti-racism.

The documentary weaves the story of Wilt Chamberlain, who battled with Russell for years as the other great big man in the NBA, throughout the piece. “Bill Russell: Legend” contrasts Russell’s ability to lead his team to victory with Chamberlain’s success as an individual player. Despite their career-long rivalry, the story of their unlikely friendship brings yet another tender perspective to Russell’s life. Even after battling each other on the court for 48 minutes, Russell would graciously invite Chamberlain to spend the night with his family when the two were playing in Boston. Chamberlain always made sure to return the favor.

While Pollard’s film often finds the things worth celebrating about Russell, it doesn’t shy away from his story’s painful trials and tribulations. Reading, Mass., the town outside of Boston where Russell and his family settled down, held a dinner to honor Russell’s achievements on the basketball court. What they didn’t appreciate, however, was his role as a civil rights activist. Weeks after this celebration, Russell tried to purchase a home on the wealthier side of the mostly white town, and within days, a petition barred the Russells from the “nice side” of Reading. Russell was appreciated for his artful skill with a basketball, but the people of Reading didn’t care for other parts of him.

“If you are

you are not alone.”

A love letter to Pinterest

HANNAH CARAPELLOTTI Daily Arts Writer

Dear Pinterest, I still remember the day that you and I first met. I couldn’t have been more than 12 years old. My aunt had told me all about you — “It’s like an online bulletin board,” she described — and showed me around her own profile. I had never seen so many pictures, appropriately dubbed “pins,” in one place before. I could save these pins to a board, or multiple boards, and organize them in whatever way I liked. I knew that I had just discovered something magical.

You were my first taste of social media. I wouldn’t be allowed to have Instagram or Snapchat accounts like most of the kids my age until many years later, but it didn’t matter. You filled that void for me. I created collaborative boards with my friends where we saved pictures and posts that reminded us of our inside jokes.

Through you, I first met and interacted with people I didn’t know, too. You know what they say — “don’t talk to strangers on the internet” — but everyone I talked with was so kind. I was a member of a collaborative board for a band I liked, and someone once posted a pin that said something along the lines of, “Repost this and see what nice things people say about you!”

The comments of that post were quickly filled with compliments, reminders to never give up and lyrics and inside jokes related to the fandom. I can’t say whether I would have found that level of kindness on other sites, especially since I was so young, but I found it there, with you.

You give me a space to celebrate

the things that I love. The boards on my first account (yes, I have several accounts) were dedicated to specific fandoms I was part of: Harry Potter, Disney, “Doctor Who,” different bands I listened to and YouTubers I watched.

Those fandoms have reappeared and evolved on my more recent accounts too, as I have gotten into shows like “Gilmore Girls” and artists like Taylor Swift. You’re like a time capsule of my life — no matter which account I am using, you allow me to reflect on my life thus far through the figures and

stories that shaped me. You have never made me feel embarrassed to show off these interests as parts of myself.

You have always encouraged me to be creative in countless ways. Whenever I have a new idea for a story, you are there with writing tips, character artwork and prompts to play around with. My profile is filled with storyboards, most of them abandoned before I even wrote a full page, but should I ever come back to those ideas, I have a virtual database to spark my motivation again. You’re a

great outlet for all other kinds of art as well. Whether it’s shots from movies I love, calligraphy styles I want to try, drawings and paintings I find pretty, tattoos I might get or outfits I’d like to recreate, you appreciate art in its many forms just as much as I do. We’re such a great fit for each other.

You help me take care of myself and plan for my future. The idea of planning a wedding on Pinterest has become a bit of a joke, but do I, like countless others, have a board dedicated to this special occasion?

You bet. There’s no telling whether I’ll actually use it — it will probably all be outdated by the time I get married — but you possess a wide array of knowledge and ideas that could someday serve me well.

You’re also the first place I go when I’m looking for new meals. My recipe board easily takes up most of my attention when I’m perusing your pages. It has sections based on mealtime and geographical location, although Christmas cookie recipes, in particular, have their own board. Any time I try something new that I’ve found

Sandy Liang brings stunning FW23 looks to NYFW

New York based designer Sandy Liang has a strong track record in successfully modernizing traditional feminine fashion; from ballet inspired footwear, to dramatic ruffled skirts to delicate corset tops, her past collections have given exciting new takes on classic womenswear. Her fall/ winter collection, which debuted last Friday at the beginning of New York Fashion Week, definitely lived up to this, showcasing dark feminine looks complemented by soft yet bold makeup and accessories.

Liang is no stranger to delivering gorgeous, unique looks at the semiannual event. Her latest spring/summer collection, which debuted at NYFW in the fall, reinvented the idea of the uniform, turning it into mature and powerful pieces. This year, her show matched this inventiveness.

The runway, decorated with wooden bookshelves and antique chandeliers, set the tone for the show with a dark, vintage energy suitable for a fall/winter collection. The bright windows and brass vent covers at the

venue added to this, creating an atmosphere that exuded New York City interior design — perfectly fitting of a collection showcasing the individual and authentic nature of New York fashion.

The collection uses bows as a central aspect of its looks. Many tiny pink and black bows adorned the models’ hair and were stuck onto the models’ midriffs, surrounded by small gems. Additionally, larger bows were used to tie another model’s hair back. Bows are also abundantly used in this collection’s clothing — covering the front of tops and dresses as well as puffer jackets, in a variation of sizes. These bows are a perfect example of Liang using traditionally feminine accessories in unexpected ways, giving them a new purpose in modern fashion.

Lace and mesh also made small yet significant appearances in the models’ looks. Mesh eye coverings featuring roses embellished some of the models’ faces, creating a masquerade-like appearance that complimented their dresses. Similar mesh roses were also featured on a choker, a very ’90s accessory choice which made the more modern cropped cardigan that it was paired with feel more timeless. Mesh

tops and dresses composed of lace contributed to the vintage, angelic feeling of the collection.

The silhouettes of the pieces pointed towards vintage feminine styles as well. Long and mid-length ruffled skirts and dresses, Victorian necklines and puffy sleeves reminiscent of styles dating back to the 1800s somehow still felt modern and fresh paired with accessories like athletic leg warmers and sneakers. Tighter-fitting long sleeved tops and skirts mirroring more recent vintage fashion maintain the collection’s classic elegance while paired with high boots, ballet flats and large bows.

The rich, fresh color palette brought an edge to the softness of the collection as well. Scarlet, black and neutral gray/browns added a layer of harshness to the soft pieces. On the other hand, pastel pinks, light blues and white maintained the themes of styles associated with traditional youthful femininity. The colors create a perfect balance of youthfulness and maturity in the pieces.

Within all of the looks, the models’ makeup contributed greatly to the collection’s special feel. Light, bleached brows gave an otherworldly look to the models, paired with glowy

soft eye makeup and light-pink shimmery blush. This was often balanced by bold, dark lips in shades of purple, black and red. The balance of the dark lips and light, glowy eyes reflected the collection perfectly, complementing the dark and modernized takes on soft, established feminine clothing.

Overall, Liang succeeded in

from your recommendations, I’m reminded of just how well you have come to know me.

You offer my future self advice that is more relevant to me in this current moment than a perfect wedding or a recipe repertoire. From hours of scrolling through your subjects, I have found helpful tips, from apartment hunting checklists to how to boost my credit score to the best way to secure my graduation cap on my head. My ever-approaching entry into “the real world” is nerveracking, and while I’m lucky enough to have people in my life to help guide me, I know that others don’t have access to the kinds of knowledge that more experienced people have acquired. You have advice that people might not think to ask for, and you welcome us in to receive it.

Our relationship has had its ups and downs. Just as I have grown over the years, so have you. But despite all of this change, you are still known as the “positive platform” I always knew you to be — the one that “help(s) people connect with things that bring them inspiration…avoiding a lot of the toxicity that you would find elsewhere in social media.” There have been times when I have gone several months, even years, without typing your name in my search bar or clicking on your app icon. I don’t know how that makes you feel — I know that you can’t truly feel because you’re not actually aware or human, but your content is so representative of myself that it’s like I’m looking into a mirror. Every time I return, I rediscover just how organized, imaginative and inspiring you are. I hope you know that I have, and will, always come back to you.

creating a vintage-esque style that never felt dated. The team gave the looks a soft element through flowers and bows, flowing silhouettes and pastels, while maintaining their modern, unprecedented edge through darker colors, cropped styles and pieces such as puffer jackets which establish and hold their place in present-day fashion.

This collection points to the future of current styles rooted in ballet and dancewear, taking a step further into reinventing pre-existing styles and similar subsets of fashion. Sandy Liang’s New York Fashion Week show is a strong indicator of how today’s styles will evolve over the year, giving exciting insight into which trends are to come.

Design by Emma Sortor

study room

STATEMENT

Guff etymology

DANI CANAN Statement Correspondent

guff noun. Trivial or foolish talk or ideas. Synonyms include: nonsense, humbug, malarky. /g f/

“Tyra, having sat through hours of Zoom meetings, was completely disinterested in the guff coming out of Martin’s mouth.”

If you look in any official English dictionary and search the word “guff,” the above noun will appear with its condescending connotations and old-timey air. It’s not the most common word of the present day; I know I haven’t once in my entire life heard it used in this sense. But there it stands, asserting its seal of approval in all its official glory. Now, I don’t know where the general public stands on respecting the authority of published, mostly printed dictionaries, but I tend to take the royal lexicon of the English language as more of a suggestion. To me, the word “guff” is no exception.

For decades, this term has meant something much more meaningful to the students of Ann Arbor living in Cooperative Housing across campus. At some point between the establishment of the first housing co-op in 1932 and present day, “guff” was adopted by co-op housing and turned into an acronym. Then, as language tends to, it continued morphing to adopt new uses and meanings. First, an adjective, sometimes a verb and always a shorthand for the core philosophy a co-oper learns to adapt as they live in a community founded to uplift.

Ann Arbor is unique when it comes to student housing co-ops, which the Inter-Cooperative Council defines on its website as “organizations and businesses that are owned and operated collectively, for the mutual benefit of their members.” There are 16 individual housing co-ops under the ICC, an entirely studentfounded and student-run nonprofit organization, making it one of the largest student housing co-ops in the United States.

But I had no idea about any of this history when I first moved into a co-op during my second ever semester of college. The year was 2020, and I had just spent a handful of months getting accustomed to living alone in a dorm built for two and finally mustering up the courage to talk to my neighbors.

In November of the same year, the University sent out an email informing all undergraduates that their dorm contracts had been promptly canceled, and that if we wanted to continue staying on campus, we had to figure out what the hell to do about it — on our own.

It was exactly the type of situation I did not want to be navigating as a teenage quasi-adult. I heard a handful of my hall mates talking about moving to a building called Escher co-op. I had no idea where it was located or what a co-op was, but these hall mates were the only people around me I had grown semi-familiar with. I didn’t

know them very well, but I knew I wanted to get to know them better. So I decided to follow suit in taking the opportunity to get out of the dorms.

Nestled in a secluded corner of an already woodsy and isolated North Campus, right on the outskirts of the Baits-Bursley conglomerate, rests a building in the shape of a misshapen horseshoe: M.C. Escher Cooperative House. It wears trees like the sleeves of a turtleneck as it hugs a grassy hill with a campfire and picnic table. Once you walk up this small hill to get to the center of Escher’s courtyard, you’ll be surrounded by nine evenly spaced doors with their own individual mailboxes and set of stairs. Oh, and one other thing: Each entrance has its own elaborate mural, inspired by a uniquely given name, spanning the entire door. From left to right proudly stand the passages to Trantor Mir, Walden, Sinclair, Bag End (yes, this is after “The Lord of the Rings”), Zapata, Valhalla, Russell, Karma and Falstaff, like knights at the round table. Over the river and through the woods, to Escher house we go.

When I first arrived with my moving van of luggage to unload, I was greeted by Escher’s house president. His demeanor was immediately friendly, if a bit awkward. He sent his personal phone number out to contact when arriving to move in. There was no fanfare of a front desk or a checkin process, like when moving into Bursley. He just showed me to my room, helped me move my stuff, remembered he had a key to give me, and my co-op journey began.

All new members are given a comprehensive tour of Escher’s three floors and I quickly learned that the quirks of the building extended beyond the paintings on its doors. Here’s the general layout: The aforementioned nine doors belong to nine sections that an Escher co-oper can choose to move into. For example, I moved into a large single on the first floor of Walden, named after the book by Henry David Thoreau. Each section then has two floors of rooms and two common spaces, a lounge room on the upper floor and a kitchen on the lower floor. Every lounge room and kitchen come with their own unique appliances: Russell kitchen has a toaster oven and a wall of origami cranes, while Trantor Mir lounge has Settlers of Catan and a Nintendo Wii. Escher’s basement contains an even greater assortment of common spaces. There’s a large living room with couches, a projector, a pool table, two pianos, a functioning stripper pole and multicolored scribblings of general nonsense all over the walls. There’s also a music room with three more pianos of varying quality, three-fifths of a drum set, a handful of guitar amps, some microphones, and a ukulele. The biggest and probably most important room in Escher is the massive industrial kitchen connected to a bona fide cafeteria, affectionately named “O’Keeffe,” after the painter. Escher technically has two cafeterias for house dinners, O’Keeffe and Renaissance,

but Renaissance was put out of commission during COVID-19 while I lived there.

It’s in the O’Keeffe cafeteria that I first learned this term:

G.U.F.F. acronym. Generally Unrestricted Free Food.

I was standing in a group with the rest of the new members, masks and eyebrow raise of mild disbelief on all our faces, as the president of Escher spoke in a clear and practiced way about how we would be feeding ourselves. The three fridges and pantry are kept stocked with G.U.F.F. items like eggs, bagels, apples, sandwich bread, Eggo waffles, dairy and non-dairy milk, flour, cucumbers, cereal and many other basic food items that can be used for making meals. A portion of everyone’s rent goes toward the budget for stocking G.U.F.F. foods for every member. My favorites soon became the variety of G.U.F.F. coffee beans and the two barrels of G.U.F.F. ice cream diligently kept in the freezer.

I grew to realize during the first few weeks at Escher that I hadn’t just moved into a building on the grounds of my university, I had moved into a culture. A co-op, I came to learn, is a microcosm of democracy on campus, where policies are proposed and voted on every month, and members are elected to be in charge of planning events and taking minutes at meetings. It’s also a community where every member is meant to chip in, an attitude that’s embedded in the house culture and the system of the co-op itself. Within the first two weeks I lived at Escher, I was assigned three distinct chores: I had to clean the bathroom in my hallway once a week, vacuum the floors of Walden twice a week, and help the chef make dinner on Mondays. Oh yeah, Escher pays a private chef to cook dinner for the whole house every weekday.

I think what I miss most about Escher is the G.U.F.F. espresso. The machine they have down in O’Keeffe is top notch: A one stop shop for grinding coffee beans fresh, brewing one or two shots in your mug and stemming milk for the latte of your dreams. I made a cafe miel every day I lived there.

I only stayed in Escher for one semester, but in following some of the same friends that first brought me to the co-ops, I moved right to Michminnies co-op for my whole sophomore year. Located in Kerrytown and featuring a facade of bright blue and purple, Michminnies was an entirely different experience from the quiet often found at Escher. Living in Escher felt like being at summer camp. Michminnies felt like the Airbnb Ms. Frizzle would start running when she inevitably got bored after retirement. Michminies is the hoarder house of the oldest lesbian you know, whose only possessions come from yard sales and art fairs. Michminnies has the alternative, truly eccentric atmosphere that college town coffee shops try to go for but are scared to fully commit to because they don’t want to lose commercial value. Michminnies is the house

that the Property Brothers would design if their only creative direction was the Pinterest board of a stoned Beatles enthusiast and the word “maximalism.” Michminnies has the walls your parents kept you from painting when you were old enough to start having agency over your room but too young to put practicality over creative expression. It has more nooks than an Animal Crossing game and more crannies than a Crayola box. And I say all this with utmost pride and affection. There is nowhere else like it, besides maybe other co-ops. I arrived at Michminnies the same way I arrived at Escher, with boxes of stuff to unload and no idea what I was getting myself into. Living at Michminnies made me realize Escher is the odd one out when it comes to Ann Arbor student co-ops. Rather than being a large building made to house over 100 people, the average co-op is just a regular-looking house with space for around 25, give or take. Escher is also the only co-op on North Campus, and the only co-op with a hired chef to cook for so many people. Being in charge of making dinner is one of the chores at Michminnies and all other co-ops. The democracy remains the same in every co-op, but the policies and elected officials between can be as unique as the co-ops themselves. Michminnies has two presidents, three “Flight Attendants” (in charge of planning house events), an “Ordering Steward” (in charge of placing the food order), two “Maintenance Managers” (in charge of house upkeep), two “Work Managers” (in charge of delegating chores), two “Groundskeepers” (shovel snow in winter, take care of gardens in front of house, etc), two “Sin Stewards” (curate house alcohol) and more. Even Michminnies is different from most co-ops because it’s two houses in one, which is why many of the standard co-op positions are doubled. At Michminnes, I started to see the evolution of G.U.F.F. into more than just food: guff adjective. Denoting any food item, article of clothing, kitchen utensil, furniture item or object for giving away that ownership is relinquished on a first come first serve basis. Synonyms include: communal, free, up-for-grabs. /gǝf/ “Sarah was incredibly happy to come home to a plate of guff cookies.”

“Dalton asked if the stickers on the table were guff.”

“After not having worn it for months, Emily threw her sweater in the guff closet for others to take.”

With the introduction of more than just guff food came subsections of how things were shared, and to what degree they were shared:

partial-guff adjective. Denoting any food item, article of clothing, kitchen utensil, furniture item or object that the owner is willing to share but not indiscriminately. Usually used in reference to inorganic appliances, like a gaming computer or a coffee machine.

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

My friends have told me I don’t seem like I’m from Michigan. I was born and raised in a quiet town on Lake Michigan and both of my parents are natives of the western side of the state. I’m not sure what it even means to “seem like” I’m from Michigan, but there are a few things about me that are distinctly Midwestern.

The most obvious tell is how I say certain words. Bagel is baahg-el not bay-gul. Milk is melk. Bag, like bagel, also gets an eh sound inserted into it.

My boyfriend, who is from New York, takes particular issue with how I say bagel. Over and over he’ll instruct me to say “bay-gul, like the water feature and the bird.” I’ll entertain him and try to pronounce bagel “correctly,” but the truth is, I can’t even hear the difference between baahg-el and bay-gul. Linguists sometimes call

Midwestern accents, formally known as the Inland North accent, “general English” or the “neutral English” accent. But this notion is increasingly untrue. Since the 1950s, the Great Lakes Region of the Midwest has been experiencing what linguists have dubbed the “Northern Cities vowel shift,” giving rise to a new and distinct Midwestern accent. Before, it would’ve been difficult to hear someone speak and immediately identify that they were from Michigan or Wisconsin or Indiana.

But now, depending on the speaker, it can be quite obvious. If current trends continue, Midwest accents may no longer be the desired “neutral English.”

This isn’t the first time English speakers have shifted their pronunciation of vowels: between 1400 and 1700, the English language underwent what’s known as The Great Vowel Shift, a linguistic event that radically altered the way words were pronounced. The most distinct characteristic

of the Northern Cities vowel shift is the lengthening and lifting of certain sounds: the short A sound turns into a vaguely Canadian ah. Speakers with particularly strong Midwest accents will pronounce job like jab, for example. Californian and Canadian accents are also both the result of vowel shifts. In the California vowel shift, ‘u’ is moving towards a ‘y’ or ‘e’ sound, so that rude begins to sound like reed.

Canadian accents are also the result of lengthening and the eh and ah sounds becoming more prominent in speakers’ pronunciation. This is why Canadian accents sound very similar to the “Yooper Accent” found in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

But the Midwest accent may prove to be short-lived. Regional dialects as a whole are declining, demonstrative of a larger, inherently problematic, aim towards a “neutral’’ accent. In 1980, 80% of Texans had a Southern accent. In 2013, that number had declined to just one-third of Texas’ population. In cities across the country known

American, to lose its status as the “standard” American accent? And what do the speaker’s regional flourishes — or lack thereof — actually tell us about them?

and

STATEMENT

Snap judgements: Survival skill or perpetual flaw?

The real cost of energy

CHINWE ONWERE Statement Columnist

It’s a cold gloomy morning, the bright sun barely peeking through the mass of dark clouds that hang low in the sky. I want to get up but can’t. My body has become immobile as a result of the lack of sleep that pervades my body. As my alarm clangs in the background and makes its way into my dreams, my hand slams the snooze button for the fifth time, anticipating those five more precious minutes of sleep.

As I throw myself off my lofted dorm bed, there is one immediate stop I make before brushing my teeth, before removing the crusties out of my eyes, before my eyes even fully open. I go to the refrigerator, where there awaits for me the most glorious creation of all time: a cold, mango passionfruit Celsius. The clouds have finally parted, and now the sunshine appears, the birds are singing and I am energized to the maximum. Now, this might be a little bit of an exaggeration, but on days where my energy levels are at zero and I can barely function, there is nothing more that I want — that I need — than a cold, refreshing energy drink or iced coffee.

see it as “addicting.” In particular, caffeine withdrawal, or the absence of caffeine after drinking it for prolonged periods of time, can be debilitating and cause headaches, nausea and irritability. About 75% of those who drink caffeine are addicted, revealing the large dependence on the substance for day to day life.

However, there are some benefits as well when taken in the right amount, such as the ability to process glucose better, lessen the ability of developing chronic illness and increased concentration. Perhaps addiction to energy drinks reveals a larger problem within the scope of culture — our want for instantaneous gratification and the lessening importance of sleep within our society. In a world where a “busier” schedule is the more “accomplished” one, there has become an incessant need to prioritize ambition over health.

Hair pulled up in a haphazard ponytail, I tightened the drawstrings on my pink pullover and trekked through the wind up the stairs to the North Quad dining hall. Stomped, was more like it. I’d forgotten my headphones, and in no world was I walking back through this tumultuous wind on an empty stomach. Without my dining hall playlist, I had to provide myself with some sort of entertainment while eating 20 minutes away from my dorm. After grabbing a plate of questionably baked ziti, I plopped myself down at a seat beside two students, engaged in what appeared to be serious conversation. They were no Adele, but it would do.

“No, he’s definitely a chill guy. Probably in finance, a big gamer,” mused the guy with brown hair. He furrowed his brow all business-like, a stark contrast to his loose plaid pajama bottoms and disheveled hair. I imagined him trudging down the stairs from his room to grab a quick dinner with his friend before hunkering down for the night. His friend, sporting a buzz cut, looked at him incredulously, as though he had offered up the most absurd opinion.

“No, no, you’re confused. He’s one hundred percent Comp Sci. He totally thinks he’s gonna be the next Steve Jobs.”

Now it was my turn to furrow my brow. But alas, I kept my eyes on my baked ziti.

“Okay fine, whatever. How about that girl over there?”

Pajama Bottoms flicked his head nonchalantly toward his right. “The one with the fancy blue shirt and glasses.”

What was going on? Thoroughly puzzled, I allowed my eyes to casually roam until they landed on the person of interest: silk blue blouse and Ray Bans, check.

“Ah…” Buzz Cut considered the girl for maybe two seconds before stating, matter-of-factly, “Her dad owns a major corporation, like Expo marker or something. She’s got it all covered.”

“Yeah, she totally spring breaks in the Hamptons,” Pajama Bottoms nodded emphatically.

My eyes widened in realization. This was some game they were playing, skipping their gaze across the room and envisioning personas, backstories. It seemed like Pajama Bottoms and Buzz Cut did this every

day, putting their heads together and playing this loaded guessing game.

Upon an enthusiastic agreement, they let their eyes scan the room for another target. I very much hoped they wouldn’t start talking about the girl in the hot pink sweatshirt and the ratty, wind-agitated ponytail. I was content without knowing their opinion, so I finished off the ziti and excused myself.

Only after sitting in my bewilderment at the way Pajama Bottoms and Buzz Cut chose to spend their leisure time, listening to their outlandish topic of conversation mosey from person to person, did it hit me: I was doing the exact same thing. Pajama Bottoms and Buzz Cut were in-fact a product of my own appearance-based observations: two best friends who eat dinner together in North Quad and play a little assumptive guessing game every night. While I’d like to think I was doing it with a bit more decorum, I too was making the same unfounded generalizations about these two strangers.

I’m sure Buzz Cut and Pajama Bottoms were more than Buzz Cut and Pajama Bottoms: two odd friends who shared the same odd hobby. But that was all they were to me, and though this situation was nuanced, its realizations applied to more situations than I knew. By analyzing people at face value — without remaining open-minded to more information — we are doomed to the consequences of a misguided first impression. Whether we judge people in the brazen, almost ironic way that those two friends did, or in the more subconscious way that I allowed myself to do, we unintentionally (or intentionally) close ourselves off from seeing the bigger picture: which of our own insecurities we might be projecting, or how our social backdrop leads to the particular form our assumptions take on.

Sometimes, though, making snap judgements can be helpful. Perhaps there is an ominous figure heading your way at a 2:00 a.m. walk home from an impromptu Joe’s Pizza outing; I believe a snap-judgment and perhaps a quickening of pace would be appropriate here.

According to psychological development theorists, the subconscious manner in which people size up others is a key facet of survival and can definitely prevent people from getting stuck in a sticky situation. However, the unwarranted snap-judgment,

the kind that happens without the present fear of danger, often originates from a place of personal insecurity.

Psychologists have concluded that we, as people, take into account factors such as facial expressions, body language, composure, clothing and communication to create parallels based on how we perceive such things. We then make the judgment. Pajama Bottoms and Buzz Cut simply had the guts, and the free time, to do it more brazenly. I had no problem judging those two individuals for how they presented themselves and what they chose to spend their time doing at 6:00 p.m. on a Thursday, but the second it occurred to me that I could be their next target for judgment, my tail shot between my legs.

I too was judging Buzz Cut and Pajama Bottoms, not just by making assumptions about them, but by deciding that they were strange, and frankly a bit unhinged, for doing the same thing that I and countless others do subconsciously. Who was I to call them odd?

When forming first impressions, people tend to subconsciously assess others based on their own personal guidelines of acceptance or rejection. Analyses of the human psyche suggest that since we as humans are prone to consider our own judgment and perspective to be fact, we unintentionally create a divide between us and other people. If every person traipses around and considers their unsupported and oft-skewed perceptions as innately true, it makes the prospect of a true connection nearly impossible.

Our upbringing and experiences cause us to evaluate peoples’ potential roles in our lives based on superficial criteria and brief experiences that, often, don’t lend themselves to the full picture. Said criteria can stem from family values, childhood environment or level of education received. Regardless of what motivates people to draw conclusions about others (usually with a weak basis), the conclusion remains that our judgements ultimately deter us from seeing the reality beyond ourselves, realities that, metaphysically, we cannot fully know.

This phenomenon of viewing a person’s actions or the way they conduct themselves during a moment in time as a key indicator of who they are (rather than the circumstances they are in) is commonly referred to as the fundamental attribution

error. Based on the way we were raised to perceive things, we may attribute traits, positive or negative, to people who may not necessarily fit this mold. Since it is impossible to know the full extent of another person’s being, it is most convenient for people to take a brief glimpse into another’s personhood and consider it to be “indicative of who they really are” rather than merely circumstantial.

This is a pretty damning rut to be stuck in. Through this cycle of passive judgment that so many of us are condemned to, we lose sight of the multi-faceted nature of “truth” and are far less empathetic and open-minded to other people’s realities. Luckily, this nature of rapid-fire assumptions and evaluations is something that can be rectified.

Just as I feared others judging me based on a single moment or experience, it’s important to make conscious efforts to avoid placing this judgment onto others as well. A way to undermine this cyclical pattern is to replace assumptions about other people with the assumption that we do not have enough information about anyone else to assess them; the information that we think we have is not necessarily correct. In order to change the predispositions that we so naturally form about others, it’s vital that we “consider that a lot of what we perceive and assume is for the most part, wrong.”

With these ideas in mind, it seems as though my own mindset was worse than Pajama Bottoms and Buzz Cut; at least they were consciously aware that their assumptions were absurd and not factual (I hope).

I, on the other hand, was quick to judge and form presuppositions about these veritable strangers. My assumptions held no more weight than their farfetched guesses and musings.

In essence, try to avoid being alarmed if you see a student donning pajama bottoms engaged in fervent discourse with a guy fashioning a buzz-cut; just because I had an odd experience with these characters doesn’t mean I’ll have another. Buzz Cut and Pajama Bottoms aren’t always Buzz Cut and Pajama Bottoms; their hair will grow out, or perhaps they’ll invest in stylistic refinement. There is much more to them, and all of us, than a circumstantial first impression. Maybe next week they’ll be into Sudoku.

These products are everywhere: in vending machines, Blue Cafés in the residence halls and restaurants. There are entire vending machines dedicated to the variety of Monster drinks; lines of Bang and Celsius and Redbull are advertised as the cure-alls for the struggling, tired student. Whether going to the gym and in need of a quick pre-workout boost, sipping a drink after studying for three hours in the library or one right before sunrise, we use energy drinks for exactly what they are: quick energy in a matter of minutes. It’s artificial energy, but at what cost are we consuming it?

Energy drink companies primarily advertise to a young customer base — and these demographics reveal how the growing prioritization of work over sleep has virtually created a cultural need for caffeine. About 51% of college students report energy drink consumption, the Journal of Caffeine Research found, while 86% of those between the ages of 18 and 24 report general caffeine usage.

In an era where energy drinks such as Celsius are seeing an increase in sales due to their claims of “metabolism boosts” and “increased efficiency,” people now, more than ever, are using the drink for so-called “healthy” reasons in an attempt to increase their endurance in exercise and to accommodate their active lifestyles. The glamorization of energy drinks by these companies has led consumers to believe that such drinks are beneficial to their health and wellbeing, while more often than not, these drinks have just as much sugar and artificial preservatives in them as regular soda and sugary juices. There was an estimated 240% increase in sales throughout the globe in 2017 as a result of these energy drink campaigns, targeting a primarily adolescent audience.

Regardless, drinking large amounts of caffeine has a myriad of health problems associated with it. Increased blood pressure, irregular heartbeat, anxiety and digestive issues are just some of the risks that consistently large uptakes of caffeine may cause. Furthermore, the practice of mixing energy drinks with alcohol is alarmingly prevalent among college students, consumed together in order to increase the amount of alcohol that one may consume in one setting without “feeling” the effects — yet studies show that the impairment and lack of coordination is often even more pronounced. Caffeine addiction can be quickly developed, due to chemical changes within the brain and an increased tolerance.

Caffeine addiction is manifested through many ways, but is shown when one is unable to function without the presence of caffeinated beverages. While caffeine causes a surge of dopamine similar to other drugs, it is not a large enough one that unbalances the reward system, which in turn minimizes how we

Now, don’t get me wrong — after I write this article, I will probably open a fresh can and dump its entirety in my mouth without hesitation. Maybe I will go and run the best mile of my life, write the greatest essay of my life or be the happiest that I’ve ever been. But after I burn through this rented energy, I know that I will still feel fatigued and tired in the morning because, at the end of it all, four hours of sleep a night will not suffice. Artificial energy stimulants are like bandages; they may cover up and mask the problem, but they do not necessarily cure it.

Artificial energy drink companies consistently profit off a cultural incessant need to be busy. In turn, companies have no intention of making their consumers feel sustainably rested, as that would get rid of the need for such drinks. Consequently, there is a continuous cycle that occurs as a result of their marketability.

These companies use enticing marketing strategies to pull in customers, appealing to social media and other youth oriented-activities. Bang, a rising popular energy drink company, uses influencers to advertise their product on apps like TikTok to increase youth engagement and popularity. In 5-Hour Energy commercials, there is always the prototype of a busy person who magically becomes smiley and energetic once they have their first sip. It is estimated that by 2026, the global market for energy drinks will reach $86 billion. As advertising and marketing spend increases, especially for the younger demographic, this rise of consumption will continuously lead to long-term adverse health effects like increased risk of heart palpitations and even insomnia.

However, in recent years, many energy drink companies have come under negative light due to claims of harm from their products. Red Bull, one of the most popular energy drink brands, had to pay $13 million in refunds for false advertising allegations. One of the lawsuits mentioned that the company “misleads customers into thinking they’re getting a superior source of energy beyond caffeine.” Thus, it is evident that these products are portrayed in such a way that presents these products as the endall-be-all these products sell a new way in which you are not only able to stay up for prolonged periods of time, but also a new way to be ‘superhuman.’

Particularly in college, where there is a constant state of stress and underlying exhaustion that most students experience, it is odd to not be tired after a full day’s worth of classes, clubs, hours spent at the lab, working and studying. One cannot help but feel exhausted and as if their energy reserves are depleted. Because of this, the profitability of such drinks on college campuses is extremely high due to capitalization off of this exhaustion as profits for these companies. Energy is one of the most important things that we need in our day-to-day lives. We need to think more about where that source of energy comes from and whether it is helping or harming us.

Design by Francie Ahrens

ROSHNI MOHAN MiC Assistant Editor

Content warning: mentions of sexual assault.

Writer’s note: This is not about one person in particular, but a compilation of memories from different people I have met. I wrote this piece to both share my experiences and thoughts on dating and relationships as well as to use this piece to finally let go and free myself of the heavy memories I have hidden so deep inside of me for so long.

My bed feels a little emptier now that you left. The outline of your body is still pressed into the crumpled, untucked sheets. The smell of your neck and my favorite cologne is left behind and is only noticeable when I roll over onto your side and press my nose against your pillow, which I try to avoid as to not mess up the remnants of your outline.

I ask if I’ll see you tomorrow, but you don’t respond. I ask what you have planned for the rest of the day. You respond with nothing more than an “I’m pretty busy today.” It’s as if you’re just brushing me off, enough that I understand and don’t ask you to grab lunch later. As you leave, you peek outside to make sure my roommate isn’t there, so you can leave without a trace to ensure that the only people who knew about us were you and me.

My fingers tingle as the tips of them reach your warm skin. With-

is this love?

out much thought, I draw little hearts on your back and rub my thumb delicately against your soft lips while your eyes flutter closed. We lay, as vulnerable and open as we possibly can, on a twin bed too small for either of us, let alone us both. You hold the most fragile part of me broken from years of heartbreak and bruises as you put your arm around me, and yet you have no idea. No idea of all the pain that my arms have felt from being pinned down. No idea of the residual pain from the halfclosed seal left on my mouth from all the hands that pressed against my lips to muffle anything that came out. You have no idea that you are the first to see me and hold me after what happened. And I don’t know if you ever will.

You looked at me. You really looked at me. Past the smeared mascara deep into my eyes, which you always loved the dark color of since they were much darker than yours, and past the old dried contacts and the redness they have caused found underneath all those black layers of grief and worry, lies something open and bright. A space that no one has tainted yet, untouched by your hands or the hurt they will inevitably cause. And you smile at me. A smile at first filled with excitement and admiration. A smile of comfort and tenderness and purity. A smile that quickly turns into arrogance and control as you reach into that open space of hope and innocence and inject it with your dark essence. Yet I hold them open. I don’t shut

them closed.

I leave them open, for you.

You asked me if I have ever dreamt of you. “Once,” I said. I lied because I didn’t have the heart to tell you what it was about. Even though you deserved to hear every painful detail of the effect you have left on me, how could I have explained to you as you towered above me that the dream was a nightmare? And a recurring one for that matter. How I’d wake up in a panic at the thought of you still being a daily part of my life, panting, out of breath, quickly searching for the lights so I can turn to my side and make sure you weren’t actually there. How would you react? Would you get mad at me, or just be disappointed at the realization of what my dream said about you as a human being?

Innocence. It’s what I first thought when I met you. It was what I liked about you. Curly hair, curlier than mine. Sweaters and slacks and nerdy tennis shoes. A sweet smile and a comforting glance. Round eyes, bigger than mine. You’d listen to me talk for hours straight with nothing on your face but a look of interest mixed with nervousness from us being alone. A smile I read as affectionate. A touch flooded with romantic hesitation and awkwardness. I don’t know what happened. Why you suddenly became like everyone else, and then ultimately worse like your friends? Was it my fault? Am I the one who drained you of your innocence, or was it something bigger than me?

A box of galentine thoughts

My roommates weren’t home, all four of them. It was just you and me, nowhere to go. You knew that. You knew what that meant. But I ask you, do you know what you left me with? When you left hours after seeing the tears form in my eyes, pretending you never saw them. After hearing my voice crack and my body shiver the entire time you were over. Do you know what happened after? The second, I shut the door and locked every lock in case you just decided to turn back? How I sobbed in the shower while I scrubbed my skin red? How I couldn’t wear my favorite shirt for over a month? How I avoided anyone new for over half a year in fear they would be like you?

How I would walk every day on campus desperately searching for you in hopes that my eyes wouldn’t land on that black jacket of yours?

How I still almost cry when someone else reminds me of you and that day? How I can’t go even a couple of days without being reminded of you?

Does what happened ever slip into your mind? Do you convince yourself nothing happened and that I just stopped responding? Do you point me out to your friends when you see me walking? Or do you pretend I don’t exist the way I have tried so hard to do with you?

Is this love? Is this what finding love is? Meeting all these people who will all end in the same man-

ner. Are these the mushy feelings you describe as the greatest feeling in the world? Must we destroy ourselves until there is nothing left but an outer shell and a puddle of who we once were, all in search to find someone who we created an image of in our heads? Something we painted them with as sweet and romantic and understanding: the perfect person to share your life with. We idolize them and at the end of the day, they are just people. They scar and they bruise, and you leave, before they get a chance to. They are just another memory that you try to escape from while sitting a couple of rows behind them in class. And if this is love, do I really want it?

Love Me Not

if I myself am not whole. I’ll always be in love with her, but I’ve grown afraid of losing myself in love since then.

SHANIA BAWEJA MiC Assistant Editor

I discovered my womanhood through Amy Dunne’s “cool girl” monologue from the movie “Gone Girl” (arguably pretty late in life). The “cool girl” monologue didn’t tell me I was a woman as such but instead taught me what it means to be a woman.

“She’s a Cool Girl. Cool Girl is hot. Cool Girl is game. Cool Girl is fun. Cool Girl never gets angry at her man. She only smiles in a chagrin-loving manner and then presents her mouth for fucking.” In many ways, this monologue is an implicit way of exploring womanhood through women’s internalized perceptions of femininity. While Amy Dunne addresses the “cool girl” as a manmade caricature, it isn’t purely a consequence of misogynistic cliches. Words like “cool girl” and “pick-me,” or even the phenomenon of not being like other girls, originate within female relationships. Words like “cool girl” intrinsically create a standard of womanhood because they conditionalize what is “uncool” for women to do. The monologue unexpectedly sheds light on what most truly helped me discover womanhood: female friendships. When we imply that desirability is a competition, we internalize the idea that friendships with women are superficial.

My media consumption reaffirmed this notion throughout much of my childhood and even my adulthood. Although the importance of female friendships has become more intuitive over the years, whenever I delve into media from the ‘90s and 2000s, I am reminded of the frivolous portrayals of female friendships.

Regina George’s Burn Book in “Mean Girls” or the “guy’s girl” trope of women preferring “drama-free” friendships with men perpetuated the idea that

befriending a woman was inherently perplexing.

The quintessential “complexity” of female friendships in media boils down to superficial interactions that are just another manifestation of misogyny. The mean girl friendships that rely on social clout and backstabbing behavior exist in a man-made fantasy land. In this fantasy land of “cool girls” and “uncool girls,” men continually visualize female friendships as a compilation of shopping sprees and pajama parties. Women are thought to only interact with other women as a means to compete for the attention of men. Portrayals of female friendships are limited to “mind games” and secret social cues, reducing such relationships to just another way women become puzzles to men.

Having gone to an all-girls high school, one would think I would be well-versed in female friendships. However, my high school experience was overtaken by that very unfortunate need to not be “like other girls.” I was the socially awkward brown girl freshly moved to LA, and I disguised the fact that I did not fit in by acting like I actively chose not to fit in. College redefined the importance of female friendships for me in more ways than I can count.

While all of my friendships in college have taught me a myriad of lessons, my friend Jinan is the one who taught me how to actualize all of those lessons. Jinan burst my self-important, agonizing bubble and showed me that the world was truly more than feeling sorry for myself. As a naive college freshman, she was my idol. Although just a few years older than me, it seemed that she was in control over every part of her life in ways I could only imagine for myself. I was fascinated with the way she did her hair, the way she spoke and the divine grace she carried herself with. In ways, I wanted to be her, in another sense

I just wanted to know her.

She became my brown girl safe space as I navigated various allwhite spaces. She taught me to never attach my worth to the way a white man sees me.

“He doesn’t look at you because you’re brown, not because you aren’t beautiful.”

I never knew how bonded my soul could be to someone until Jinan. Female friendships are the most intimate and soul-bearing human relationships. I can be at my most vulnerable, and the women in my life will lift me back up while celebrating me at my best. Every time I cry at parties, Jinan holds me in her arms and makes sure my mascara doesn’t run. I call her after class to tell her all about the dumb, ignorant thing someone said in a discussion. We lie in bed with facemasks on, discussing everything from our disagreements on philosophy to anime recommendations.

“I love being a cunt,” she says.

“So do I.”

She has healed me in ways a man never could.

Jinan broke down a lot of the misconceptions I held about befriending women. Beyond the comfort and beauty I found in our friendship, she showed me so much about growing into my womanhood. Instead of “blah blah blah” she would say “blasé blasé blah” so I started blasé-ing my way through life as well. I learned how to style myself, how to make my presence known and how to love things that other women loved as well.

Although Jinan helped me embrace my femininity through my bimbo-ish ways of talking, dressing and plainly existing, I am critical of the way I have been socialized ever since. I am often met with comments that place my interactions with certain women directly under the scope of male perception.

I thought I was in love with a boy I met the summer before starting high school. My teenage self recognized love as insecurity and misunderstanding and fighting the night before final exams because it felt so familiar to what I had grown up with. I was the manic pixie dream girl to his sad boy, and I tried my best to stay true to his idea of me. I talked him down many a ledge, and I resented him for it because I knew he would never be able to do the same. At 16, I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I never learned how to ask for help, and he never bothered to notice. He swore he loved me, but I don’t think he knew what that meant. I don’t say “I love you” as often anymore because too many people don’t know what it means. I’ve grown so sick of love ever since.

The first time, I think, I was truly in love was when I accidentally fell for my best friend. This kind of love wasn’t sickening, though. It was unspoken and honest and kind. When the voices in my head get too loud, she is my peace. She was my freshman-year roommate and the only person who would understand my inner turmoil the following summer. Because misery demands company, we were inseparable in our melancholia. Summer turned to winter, and I fell in love with the saddest version of us. I didn’t realize I was in love until I had extended myself too far. By no fault of anyone but my own, I had given far too much of myself to her, and I was left with nothing for me. That’s what you do when you’re in love with your best friend, I thought. I thought love traversed all boundaries. I learned the hard way that love cannot be boundless

I didn’t love myself when I poured love into everyone around me. From an early age, I was indoctrinated into convoluted ideas of love by the scars passed down to me from my mother, her mother and her mother. For all I knew, love was meant to hurt. So, I carry the wounds from my first and most persisting heartbreak in the palms of my hands. I force my calloused fingers together in prayer, begging religion to soften my cold and uninviting touch. But the closest thing I’ve come to faith is believing my mother when she told me her love was conditional. Afraid and languished, I desperately attempt to confess my own declarations of love, but I don’t have the best precedent for them.

My four years in college have been the antithesis of love. Every drunk kiss and swipe right was a frantic pursuit to temporarily pacify my emotional and sexual frustration, and I never dealt with it well the morning after. The sun would glare at me in disapproval, and the alarm in my head would ring loud to remind me that the body lying next to me was just another number in a masochistic game of dating app roulette. By noon, the hangover from the night’s capricious behavior would fade, and the sounds of my television would drown out any last bits of remorse. Around midnight, I’d hurl out another match to ease the nauseating waves of desperation and boredom.

I’d finally replaced love with indifference.

My 20s feel tainted with cynicism from my past experiences with love (or lack thereof). I’d play the cool girl because I could no longer afford to get emotionally invested. I resented my buckling

knees for not standing up on their own, but I decided I’d never kneel for love. I replaced piety with apathy, sacrificing myself to carnal temptation. But my exclusive fluency in physical touch pleads like a dead language that no one could be bothered to transcribe. My body had so much love to give to all the wrong people, so I stay sickened by and weary of whatever it is I hopelessly continue to pursue.

Months after another failed affair, I steal a kiss with someone behind a grimy bathroom stall, and I fear a familiar cycle of selfdestruction. The walls pulse to the bass of a song I catch myself singing along to, and we both stumble out to different sinks, laughing to each other in the mirror. The soft lighting catches her eyes, and I blush in colors of sapphic infatuation.

We hold our heads at coffee the next morning, but the hangover dissipates into flighty eye contact and toeing the line between playfulness and discomfort. I have to sit on my hands to stop myself from pulling her face into mine, worried that she’ll read the karma from my touch. After three short hours of oversharing and trauma bonding, we nod in agreement. Girls should always go to the bathroom together.

A few nights later, I pull up outside her house, and my body starts to panic. The sudden drops of rain tapping on my windshield match my elevated heart rate. My breathing shallows, and I hold my chest unsettled by the terror that washes over me. I close my eyes for a moment and revel in an all-toofamiliar sensation interrupting my dogmatic slumber of tortured numbness. The indifference had suffocated me. She opens the passenger door, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in.

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

Design by Roshni Mohan

EASHETA SHAH Former MiC Columnist

Design by Shania Baweja

Design by Evelyn Mousigian

Alas, the (socially constructed) season of love is here. I always question what love is and how to practice it. The conceptualization of love as a verb, instead of just a noun, is prominent in our everyday language. This is because love is an all-encompassing concept.

Like many, my first experiences with love came from family. It was at home that I learned to differentiate between what love felt like and what it didn’t. Love felt empowering. Everything not serving my emotional well-being felt disheartening. Love encompassed unconditional care, protection and a willingness to give. My immigrant parents always cared for me in the way they knew — no late nights out, no talking to strangers and no ignoring their calls.

I never questioned their authority because I understood their love language was — to an extent — shaped by generational trauma. I did, however, question what love was as I accessed the mass media, and relationships with my friends became more complicated. I recall seeing my friends and their parents interact like they were their best friends, sharing secrets and gossiping, and I wondered why my relationship with my parents wasn’t like that. Specifically, I recall when my friends judged me for having parents that didn’t let me sleep over. Those experiences forced me to reevaluate what I knew of love.

Too many times, I wanted to share my troubling thoughts about school and friends with my parents. However, the cultural barriers between my immigrant parents and

How to love

me forced me to look for another source of love and understanding.

I had to acknowledge that their conceptualization of love was influenced by a different time and place, foreign to modern American society’s standards. My parents showed me their love, but at times they could not understand my frustrations about my friendships or grades.

During those times of uncertainty and loneliness, I envied those with siblings. My friends complained about their siblings, but I never understood why they wouldn’t want someone close to their age to talk to. So — without realizing it — I went on a quest for other sources of love.

In high school, I learned to love friends, and I even found romance.

Quickly, I learned that love is not uniform. The platonic and romantic relationships I was in taught me that my loving habits were fundamentally different than others. At times, the love I poured into relationships was not reciprocated — convincing me that I was not worthy of love. People asked, “Why do you care so much?” forcing me to question if I knew how to love.

As children, we are never explicitly told what love is. We may have first encountered love at home with those who cared for us from birth. For others, that love may have been absent. What is often not said is that the current ways in which we show and receive love are due to our learned behavior throughout the years. Throughout our childhood, we are exposed to our parents’ habits, either healthy or unhealthy. Developmental psychology argues that parental behavior significantly influences our social, emotional and cognitive development. Because our parents are the first people we

Why I slept at 3

learn about love from, we are prone to mirror their habits. Hence, the million-dollar question of how I love forces me to consider how my childhood impacted my perceptions of love.

My quest on how to love is continuous. My experiences in college have made me reflect on how my parents showed me love and didn’t. For example, I never saw physical touch as a love language until I got to college. People would casually hug me, and I felt uneasy. Upon reflection, I realize that uneasiness stems from the lack of physical touch from my parents and other family members. I will never resent them for that as it is always important for me to acknowledge that they loved me in the way they knew best. So, as I reflect on how I show my love to others, I keep in mind that there are habits I need to learn and unlearn. Thankfully, I’ve had the privilege to develop friendships that revolutionized my conceptualization of love.

Joining a multicultural sorority was an experience I never thought I needed. As someone who did not experience the love of a sibling, I was eager to find out how a sisterhood would impact me. Since joining, I’ve found that the bonds I created with other women were necessary for my personal nourishment. The late-night runs to 7-Eleven, the spontaneous hangouts and talking in circles. The bonding experiences were foreign to me, but their emphasis on trust and love made my inner lonesome child feel the warmth. I was freely able to pour myself into my sorority sisters, fulfilling the emptiness I felt in those times when I needed someone else to love. They taught me how to be a woman who is able to receive and give love. Their

affirmations when I felt at my lowest reminded me that my love language should never be seen as “needy” or “too much.” Throughout my time in the sisterhood, I’ve learned two lessons about love: (1) the love you give to yourself is just as important as the love you give to others, and (2) unconditional love requires a commitment to constructive struggle and transformation.

Everyday encounters with my

KUVIN SATYADEV MiC Columnist

Reminders

To the Ocean, My deepest apologies for judging, you didn’t lash out at those helpless sailors, you were writhing.

a tide of cool

blue currents washes down my spine, as fingers dance a mindless waltz through my hair.

A transmitter relaying, across seas of hopeful stars, the universe’s message loud and clear.

But maybe I adjusted the frequency, and never felt that punch without a swing, feeling it bore through my chest, seeking out my soul.

The soul It once protected, It: the statue I used to stare at from the banister, wondering why Periamma had chosen it to guard her front door, a laughing Buddha buoyantly chiseled, warmth emanating from his smile. But broken out from the stone pedestal, It unfurls into a tower, casting shadows over town and mountain alike lunging forward to fill its maw, gorging on my innards, a feast of my flesh and bones, teeth gnashing, eyes a lustful green weighing down the scale weighing me down to the floor

Which I slip through, into midnight streets all that existed was you and me our laughs warmed the air

floating on frostbitten breeze that carried us in to the computer lab, watching shows on the board as I battled against the pain emanating from my sleeping legs, afraid it would disturb the warm gold vines that slowly encircled us, And when Joyce walked in to clean on her graveyard shift, that never prevented her from sitting with me for sitting with me for a few minutes, we jump apart, bashfully innocent, cheeks ablaze.

Cycles

When the wildflower peaks out its head, icy memories shudder, and melt in flames of Spring again.

Yet winter comes, and the only heat is from staring into the hearth, and the comforter on my bed.

It’s no easy feat, walking through the snow, while the ghost of the sun lingers in my chest— So I convince my mind Spring will never come.

Yet when I least expect it, I see a blossom. And my well-trodden road is worn once more oblivious the tempest will soon rage I avoid the chill in the solace of my bed, insulated by the heat of another.

Nonetheless, I ask myself, Why am I dreaming of the Wildflower?

Luz

love. A lot of people believe that love does not exist, but if you look closer at the way you interact with the world, you will notice that love is everywhere. Love is in how you choose to show up for yourself and in school. Love is in the warm smiles you get from your friends every day. Love is everywhere, and we must be willing to learn how to love.

Premarital eye contact and its consequences

SAFURA SYED MiC Managing Editor

My friend told me a few days ago that I look like someone who has never been in love. I stared at the straight line of her mouth and blinked because that was all I could do. She said it with the same tone she would use to tell me that I have two eyes and two lips and two nostrils. The facts of my life and my love are obvious to her, somehow, and as unsettled as I was by this, I knew that she had never been in love either. That truth was written somewhere in the space between her eyebrows, in the greenish veins underneath the thin skin of her face. My friend is a pale green, the color of a matcha latte with too much milk and sugar that tastes good anyway, which may be why she is my friend. My green is darker. Both of us are crisp and young, our inexperience fresh like kale and lettuce.

In the Hallmark movies my mother watches, love finds protagonists easily and predictably. The few sharp edges around a relationship are cured by a kiss in swirling styrofoam snow. For me, love is “Christmas in July.” It is performative, unreal, intangible. It exists on a screen, carefully constructed for two straight Midwestern WASPs who only wear ugly flannel and boots that never seem broken in. It will never be real for me.

In the old Bollywood movies I watch with my mother, people also fall in love simply. All they have to do is lock eyes before they decide they will die for each other. Their love is incongruous with what I grew up seeing in my Indian community, marred by arranged marriages and domestic strife. My mother spends hours on the phone talking to women her age, all com-

plaining about their husbands. Some of them have husbands that beat them and others have husbands that beat their kids and most of them have husbands that never put dirty plates in the sink. Having a husband is hell but they all ask when my eldest sister will get married so that she can suffer too. None of us know what a marriage is supposed to look like.

I don’t know what eros looks like, either, not in real life. My friends describe their partners and romantic encounters to me and I feel like I’m watching mating rituals in an aquarium. Bathed in blue light, I watch as they dance and cling to each other, my own face mirrored on the glass and disrupting my view. There is tenderness and care in their dance but also a sort of desperation. They’ll die if they stop dancing. Anything, even something awful, is better than loneliness. In her essay Bluets, Maggie Nelson writes, “Loneliness is solitude with a problem.” Everyone in this aquarium is lonely, crushed by hundreds of meters of water above us.

The worst loneliness I’ve ever experienced was on the third floor of East Quad, sequestered in a dorm room during the winter semester of 2021. We had not yet gotten vaccinated. The Diag was gray and empty and my cheeks were always cold. During the daytime, I slept on the bed reserved for napping, and when I couldn’t sleep, I stared at the ceiling with dry eyes. I went days without speaking to anyone. That time did something irrevocable to me, something I to this day can’t explain. It feels as if someone peeled back layers of my skin and stitched a hermit into me.

Another friend — this one is electric blue — had a recent and brief obsession with online tarot readings. We picked cards that told us our fortune on her screen,

the unrelenting fluorescent lights of the CCCB basement blurring moments into hours. Most of the quizzes involved picking six cards, and I always somehow ended up getting the hermit, a gray guy that looks like Gandalf. My electric blue friend always picked the magician, the talented face of Gandalf. The internet algorithms might have been looking at the lines in our faces through her laptop camera, understanding the truths that are written there. The online tarot told me that my current circumstances barred me from finding love. Not now, it seemed to say, not ever. Afterward, I opened Co-Star, which tells me that I’m having trouble with “love,” a fun fact that it tells me every day.

I’ve known my electric blue friend since middle school and we’ve oscillated between best friends and acquaintances ever since, depending on our schedules. She can take one look at me and know when I’m too tired to function, even though my eye bags always look the same. When I look at her, I think of the 12-year-old that used to help me with my prealgebra homework. In college, she told me about sleeping with the boy that she loves, and my head started buzzing as if she had just poured Pop Rocks in my ears. We are children, I thought through the crackle. We are barely 13.

When I was 6, I thought I would fall in love for the first time in high school. All I did was develop crushes on ugly libertarians. I know that it isn’t love that I want, but attention. I confessed to being a narcissist to my friend over the phone recently. “I just want someone to tie my shoelaces,” I said, because I had just seen a show where the man gets on his knees to tie his girlfriend’s shoes. He ties them and remains like that — at her feet, on his knees, head bowed — for a few seconds, crying because they are breaking up. It’s all very romantic and sad and blue-black. He notices her shoelaces even as he is leaving her. His attention to detail is unmatched because he is not a real person. He never will be.

The friend on the other line is a smooth slate gray in an unnerving and calming way. Last semester, we created a character named Mack and tried to convince our other friends he was real. Mack was Irish Catholic and had a poster of Jesus on the ceiling above his bed. He carried around a pocket Bible with sticky pages and whitish stains. He didn’t have an Instagram associated with his name because he wanted to seem unplugged and sexy, and

girls fell for it. Our friends believed Mack was real. Mack was Frankenstein’s monster, a collection of the worst traits we could think of in men stitched together into a single idiotic form. We loved Mack as all mothers love their awful, evil sons.

Time is moving so fast that I feel as though Mack was born years ago, even though my slate-gray friend and I birthed him in October, when I was just freshly 20. My body is aging faster than my mind, which is still sluggish like a child’s. I accidentally laughed at a couple cupping each other’s faces in the Fishbowl recently. They were grabbing each other like one of them was about to go off to war. Their passion seemed ridiculous at the time, but maybe it is revolutionary to love in a sea of monitors and student depression.

I’ve thought about love more in the past few months than I have in my entire life. Maybe it’s because of Valentine’s Day or maybe it’s because I’m getting older and my mom is telling me to join Muslim Students Association to find a partner or maybe it’s because I’m listening to too many love songs titled “Love Song.” Maybe it’s because all my classes surround love and divinity and conjugation; authors say that this is what gives life. This is far removed from my studies of science, where life boils down to four simple letters of A, T, C and G, where life-conferring elements are not a lover’s breath but carbon and oxygen.

In the lab where I work, we are trying to grow bacteria to kill and see how much virus it takes to make them die. The liquid bacterial culture is supposed to be a pale turbid green, close to the color of my friend who is a matcha latte. They don’t grow well unless they’re on a shaking plate, rocked like a baby in its mother’s arms. Those microorganisms are from the ocean and accustomed to the currents of the waves. They will grow asexually until we infect them and pray that they die. But that isn’t to say there’s no point.

When I get home every night, I wrap my arms around my honeypink roommate. For five seconds, she squeezes me back. She knows how important that temporary pressure on my ribs is for my soul. When I go to bed, I’ll dream about marrying someone I made eye contact with weeks ago and wake up in cold sweats. Eros is illusory, nightmarish, sinful. I won’t be able to go back to sleep, the red light of the rising sun already peeking through my blinds.

Rita Sayegh/MiC

Safura Syed/MiC

ASeptember article in The Michigan Daily called for the end of single-family zoning in Ann Arbor. The author, Lydia Storella, cites several reasons to end the zoning category. Her first reason is the racist origins of singlefamily zoning. Storella continues by saying that single-family zoning raises rent prices by forcing fewer residents to bear the high cost of land in Ann Arbor. Third, she points out that single-family zoning is single-use zoning, separating residents from the services that they frequent.

I echo Storella’s sentiments, but why stop there? The ills of singlefamily zoning also apply to other kinds of zoning. They prevent a wider array of housing types from providing for more people and creating a more dynamic community. I am not suggesting a rubber factory be built at the end of your street, or the end of industrial and residential separation, but it is time for a new approach to how we look at our cities, one that does not try to fit them within the bounds of zoning codes that span hundreds of pages. Ann Arbor has already made strides against single-family zoning. In 2021, Ann Arbor approved new regulations for accessory dwelling units in the city. Critics of the plan say that this measure constitutes an elimination of single-family zoning — in theory, the approximately 22,350 dwellings impacted under this new policy would no longer be restricted to one family per lot. In effect, however, this has not been the case. Since 2016, only 34 ADUs have been permitted in the city, according to Brett Lenart, planning manager for the city of Ann Arbor. Eliminating single-family zoning would be a significantly more drastic change, yet it would do little to get over the real-world difficulties of building multi-unit dwellings.

Minneapolis recently eliminated single-family zoning,

Debates on the Diag

permitting a triplex in all zones that previously only allowed one unit. But in the first two years without single-family zoning in the city, only 97 units were permitted that previously would have been prohibited. Storella points out that the artificial constriction of supply is what keeps an upward pressure on rents in Ann Arbor. Yet, in other cities, the elimination of singlefamily zoning has largely not appeared to help.

Storella also cites the end of single-family zoning in California in 2021. California’s bill was transformative, and a sign that housing policy reform has come a long way. But recent research from the University of California, Berkeley found that new construction activity in the first year after the bill’s passage was extremely minimal.

What comes after the elimination of single-family zoning is another big question that remains mostly unanswered. Some cities have rezoned the affected parcels to allow three or four units, but those numbers are ultimately arbitrary. In Ann Arbor, there is no guarantee that up-zoning a parcel from single-family zoning to a denser designation would even work to increase supply and put downward pressure on rents.

On top of that, Ann Arbor’s most common multifamily zoning code is plagued with issues that artificially restrict the supply of housing. City staff have referred to this code, R4C, as “broken.”

Ann Arbor underwent a four-year process to overhaul R4C, but that effort ultimately broke down due to disputes over several technicalities.

At the time of that process, 83% of structures zoned R4C were nonconforming. According to Lenart, only nine new structures were allowed under the theoretically denser R4C zoning code in the past 10 years. The issues with zoning are not relegated to the singlefamily flavor: they afflict all kinds of zoning.

In addition, getting rid of singlefamily zoning won’t get rid of the myriad of other rules that currently restrict the development of more types of housing in Ann Arbor.

Height limits, minimum setbacks, density limits, floor-area ratios and other requirements imposed on new construction further limit the ability of more “liberal” zoning ordinances to actually be more liberal.

In his book “Arbitrary Lines,” urban planning scholar M. Nolan Gray writes that zoning “works principally by what it prevents rather than by what it causes.” Why should planning limit itself to being a system that prohibits, instead of a system that creates and provides? Zoning definitely hasn’t been providing for Ann Arbor. All of Ann Arbor’s most lovable neighborhoods predate zoning, which has only been on the books since 1923. Zoning is the reason why City Place, a large, caroriented, suburban-style garden apartment complex on South Fifth Avenue, exists instead of the elegant Heritage Row proposal that would have blended the historic with the contemporary by adding new apartments behind nine meticulously preserved homes dating back to the 19th century.

The basis of zoning has been to exclude. Not to exclude safety or environmental hazards from residential neighborhoods, but to delineate class, separate race and force an inequitable system on the public.

Justice George Sutherland, authoring the 6-3 majority opinion in Village of Euclid v. Ambler Realty Company, the Supreme Court opinion that legalized zoning, writes that “the apartment house is a mere parasite.” Apartments, he explains, “take advantage” of the commons, ruining their residential surroundings. Ending the modern system of zoning as we know it does not mean the end of urban planning, nor the beginning of an era where factories get built next to elementary schools. Rather, the end of zoning is the hopeful beginning of a more intelligent era, one that is more egalitarian and one that is more focused on creating a built environment that allows people to live how they’d like

Since it was first founded, the University of Michigan’s Graduate Employees’ Organization has persistently pushed boundaries and moved the University forward. With its fierce advocacy for graduate student rights, the union has played a critical role in shaping campus conversations and leading cultural change. Unfortunately, however, the past three years have seen this once illustrious organization devolve into chaos.

After the University made an extreme effort to reduce learning loss by bringing undergraduates back to campus in 2020 during the COVID-19 pandemic, GEO launched a strike in favor of remote classes. Despite the University’s rigid safety measures and ready availability of testing, GEO made the decision to go on strike, putting them at odds with both U-M administration and concerned undergraduates hoping for an in-person classroom experience. Since then, GEO has continued to push unreasonable proposals that have damaged the credibility of the organization.

Most recently, GEO made headlines through its extreme demands during ongoing contract negotiations with the University. With the organization asking for a $14,500

raise to the minimum stipend for graduate student instructors and a cap on section sizes, and a caucus within it supporting the abolition of the Division of Public Safety and Security, GEO’s demands leave little room for compromise and risk starting another strike as the May 1 deadline for a new contract approaches.

Perhaps the most curious aspect of the current round of contract negotiations is GEO’s demand for a “living wage.” To date, this demand has been the focal point of the organization’s campaign, with GEO marketing that graduate students are paid only 62% Ann Arbor’s living wage of $38,537. This claim is misguided at best and deceitful at worst. With the typical graduate student working approximately 16-20 hours a week and being paid a median hourly wage of around $35 an hour, students are making almost double Ann Arbor’s living hourly wage of $18.67 an hour.

Furthermore, GSIs receive up to about $13,000 or $26,000 in tuition subsidies, depending on their in-state residency. These subsidies significantly lower the burden of student debt and combined with the typical GSI salary bring their total compensation from a part-time role above the full-time Ann Arbor living wage.

Despite their already high pay, GEO is demanding a $14,500 raise to their minimum stipend for 2,300 GSIs. This figure would cost the

University over $30 million per year. This demand seems both irrational and unnecessary. Ultimately, while GSIs play a critical role on campus through their positions as instructors, they are first and foremost students. Like any other degree, pursuing a graduate degree is a long-term investment in future earning — not a path meant to immediately maximize salary.

When asked for comment on this matter, GEO President Jared Eno responded that while subsidies and other benefits help lighten the load financially, “Tuition waivers don’t pay the bills.” Citing that “8 in 10 grad workers are rent-burdened, 1in 6 aren’t confident they could handle an unexpected $500 expense, and 1 in 10 worry that they can’t afford enough food to eat,” Eno summarized many of the real struggles graduate students face. Yet, rather than arbitrarily increasing salary for all students, a more worthwhile approach would be to provide needbased rent and food assistance. By expanding these targeted programs, the University could address the most pressing concerns of GEO without inflating already high salaries. Such an approach would ensure that GEO members could live comfortably without financial strain, yet still compensate them fairly for their positions as part-time student workers.

Stanford Lipsey

I’m scared of Tinder. I’m scared of dating apps in general, actually. My body count is more than one but I’ve never hooked up with someone random, I already knew them and had some sort of base relationship with them. I also just got out of a sort of situationship (but unfortunately my feelings aren’t gone) and my friends keep saying I just need to hook up with someone else to get over it. What do I do?? (For context, I’m a bisexual woman)-L

Dear L,

It’s totally chill to be scared of dating apps, and you really shouldn’t worry about meeting someone new to get over a previous relationship (I’m not sure that’s how feelings work).

If your friends are suggesting it and you’re interested in the idea enough to ask about it here, I think you should consider how relieved you may feel about my

advice. This is sort of like when you ask your roommate if you should get the cherry or green apple flavor of something, and when she recommends the cherry you instinctively think “NO!!!!”

I don’t think it’s worth finding out if you like hooking up with people you don’t have a relationship with until you actually feel you want to — not when your friends think it would be good for you. Don’t force yourself into something you don’t actually want to do, especially if you already have feelings for someone else. Write some poetry and cry a little. Go on long walks in the Arb. Only get on Tinder or hook up with someone if you — and only you — want to. Otherwise, you will only ever be comparing the new person to your old situationship.

Your recommended reading is:

“Modern romance is dead, and Tinder killed it” by Tate Moyer.

Hi, it’s J again. I found a new roommate to replace the one who ran off with the circus, but now my new roommate thinks he’s

better than me. He walks around the house like he owns the place!

I hate him. What do I do now?-J

Dear J,

It’s great to hear from you again! Have you ever considered that your attitude is the problem?

You are the only common denominator of two supposedly “bad” roommates. Try some selfreflection before anything else.

If you come to the realization that you are still perfectly tolerable (but really are just boring and have no future in the circus), I think now’s the time to introduce your new roommate to a new career. Does he have any special talents? Show him a video on juggling — maybe he’ll run off to the circus too. Considering the speed at which you got a new roommate, I doubt you’ll have any trouble getting another!

On the other hand, you could just tough it out. You are closer to the end of the semester than you know. Start sleeping in the living room or kitchen and claim your territory. Or maybe you should get out of the house and make

some new friends so you aren’t wasting your time worrying about your roommates.

Your song recommendation is: Tired of Being Alone by Al Green.

Dear Gilly,

I have a very early class twice a week with required (*sigh*) attendance. I haven’t gone to the class yet, and I really don’t want to go to it, especially since it’s going to be really awkward when I arrive for the first time and the professor asks who I am.

To be frank, I am running out of viable excuses. I started with personal emergency, then graduated to a pet emergency (I do not have a pet). I tried technical difficulties and I said I overslept once, but I fear that the professor is beginning to catch on to my little game.

Can you recommend some convincing excuses for missing an early morning class? I don’t want to hurt my attendance record, but at the same time, I just can’t bring myself to go to this class. I would really appreciate any advice you have to offer.

Thanks,Sleepless Student-F

Dear F,

Considering all of the effort you have put into lying to your professor, have you ever considered just dropping the class? If attendance is required you may be destroying your grade anyway. While I have no clue if you have done any of the work for the course, I think it would be best that you commit to an Irish goodbye. This way you will never have to worry about the morning class again.

It’s unfortunate, I know, but there don’t seem to be any other options. Drop it and move on.

Your song recommendation is: Disappointment by The Cranberries.

I AM HAVING SIGNIFICANT TROUBLE IN MY STUDIES DUE TO INTERPERSONAL ISSUES.

TO BE SPECIFIC, PEOPLE SEEM TO THINK THAT I AM BEING AGGRESSIVE IN MY INTERACTIONS WITH THEM WHEN WE ARE WORKING ON DOCS TOGETHER OR EXCHANGING EMAIL. DO

YOU HAVE ANY ADVICE FOR ME?

ALSO, UNRELATED, HOW DO I TURN OFF CAPS LOCK?-N

Hey N, I’m not surprised that your classmates are off-put — I am receiving some truly weird vibes from you right now. I don’t think that I am the one to help with your caps lock problem, but that may fix a lot of your perceived aggressiveness. If it’s more than that (and I assume it is) then remember that it’s not like you have to sugarcoat everything. Just try to be friendly: crack a joke, leave a smiley face, say something positive in a Google Doc comment. It will make a huge difference and you might even make some class friends! Maybe try drinking some tea and doing yoga, too — it seems like you need it.

Your song recommendation is: Green Noise For A Quiet Mind (1 Hour) by Green Noise Therapeutics.

Read

on gun violence

Just this week, a horrific mass shooting at Michigan State University shocked the nation and rocked our campus, as many have friends and relatives attending the nearby university. Its close proximity and the hourslong “shelter-in-place” order had many feeling anxious, confused and angry. But most significantly, the feeling of loss was overwhelming: the lives of Brian Fraser, Alexandria Verner and Arielle Anderson were taken in the shooting and will forever be memorialized by the community of East Lansing and our own. Such events also remind us of the constant threat of gun violence, and should be considered yet another instance of why we must overcome the mental, ideological and political barriers preventing this nation from working towards a solution.

In 2022, there were 648 mass shootings. Just a month and a half into 2023, there have been 66 mass shootings. This constitutes an unfathomable rate of more than one and a half mass shootings per day on average. At this rate, the U.S. is on pace for a catastrophic 577 mass shootings by the end of the year. The Gun Violence Archive defines a mass shooting as an event in which a shooter kills or injures a minimum of four people, not including any shooter who may have also been killed or injured in the event. Even more worrying than this

data, however, is the fact that it seems we, both the general public and its lawmakers, are growing numb to the everrising tide of gun violence deaths in the United States.

Columbine, Sandy Hook, Orlando, Las Vegas, Texas First Baptist Church, Robb Elementary in Uvalde and, most recently, Monterey Park. These are names ingrained in the American consciousness for their brutality and tragedy, and are among the 25 mass shootings since 1982 with 10 or more fatalities. But of all of these events, who –– besides those directly affected by the tragedy –– can name a single victim? As we are constantly confronted with news of yet more shootings, it becomes increasingly difficult to separate the raw numbers from the humanity of the victims.

It wasn’t until Nov. 30, 2021 that the horror of such an event became tangible to me, something beyond simply national news. I was in school 40 minutes away from Oxford High School on the day that a student murdered four of his fellow students and injured seven others. The fact that something had occurred so close to my home sent the entire school, including myself, into a state of shock. For those less close — both physically and emotionally — to the event, it was yet another tragic mass shooting, but to the high school students just a county away, it felt infinitely more visceral and horrifying. Yet, many months later, the event faded into memory, just like all of the rest.

Indeed, how could it not,

in a nation which has seen hundreds of mass shootings on a yearly basis since 2010? With gun violence inflicting so much trauma and pain on the public on practically a weekly basis, it has been difficult to avoid the risk of desensitization coupled with such repeated events. In a 24-hour news cycle that thrives on constantly churning out stories and generating clicks, it is difficult to consume so much content without blurring out individual events and instead subscribing to less personal overarching narratives or statistics. We cannot allow such a vicious cycle to continue. We must begin to remind ourselves, and Congress, that this level of tragedy cannot be the norm. We must oppose a reality in which we dehumanize victims of tragedy as simply a statistic, and instead seek to remember the victims as human beings.

Last year, Congress passed its first significant gun reform law after 30 years of continuous gun violence. Having received bipartisan support, the bill seeks to impose tougher restrictions on buyers younger than 21, allocate $15 billion in funding for mental health programs and school security upgrades, funding to implement red flag laws and denying gun ownership to those convicted of violent acts such as domestic violence. Even still, twothirds of the Republican party opposed the bill, with Sen. Ted Cruz, R-Texas stating it wouldn’t curb gun violence, but instead disarm law-abiding citizens. Across the aisle, Democrats believed much more needed to be done, and they

were right. Yet another mass shooting made headlines on July 4, 2022, just a week and a half after the decades-overdue bill was passed into law. The United States has remained a worldwide anomaly regarding gun culture, with firearm ownership entrenched in our Bill of Rights and embedded in American society. For many conservatives, the right to own a firearm is as inalienable as your right to free speech, and in the framework of the Constitution, it is. Any proposed restrictions, even for the sake of protecting the general public from those who intend to misuse their right to bear arms, is deemed a direct attack on personal liberties by conservatives. Therefore, for many Americans, there is no way to address the causes of mass shootings and simultaneously retain the same rights and freedoms guaranteed by the Bill of Rights. In a nation with more guns than people, it is unsurprising that the United States also has the unenviable title of most mass shootings in the world. When considering the advent of horrific mass shootings in other countries, the immediacy and ruthlessness of legislative action immediately following such events is something sorely lacking in our legislative bodies. On March 15, 2019, a radical gunman opened fire on worshippers at prayer in two separate mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand, killing 50 people and injuring dozens more. Three days later, the nation’s Cabinet developed a massive overhaul of their

existing gun laws, which had been unchanged for more than two decades — just like the laws of the United States at the time. The legislation included a complete ban on “militarystyle” weapons and was met with nationwide support, sentiments echoed even by gun retailers.

In my once native Germany, there have been 27 mass shootings over the past 110 years. This is due to far stricter gun laws than the United States. These laws aren’t perfect, and mass shootings have happened — the worst of which at a high school in 2002 in the city of Erfurt, resulting in the death of 17 people and the suicide of the 19-year-old shooter. Even with strict gun laws already in place, the local and federal government sought reform to hopefully prevent such an event from happening again. The age at which one may legally obtain large-caliber firearms for sport shooting, such as a shotgun, was raised to 21. In addition, all prospective gun owners below the age of 25 would be subject to a psychological evaluation. Police reform was also enacted, so that they may more effectively respond to such events in the future.

Following just one catastrophic mass shooting, the governments of Germany and New Zealand acted swiftly and decisively to curb the possibility of such an event happening again, by reviewing and greatly strengthening their gun control legislation. The United States is far beyond the point of one catastrophic shooting. With dozens of

such shootings in its history, it is clear that lawmakers and the public are becoming dangerously apathetic to the tragedy of such events, and are unwilling to exercise their power as a lawmaking body to readily craft decisive solutions which may curb the swelling tide of gun violence in our country. The fact that thousands of people died over a 20 year period without Congress passing any significant gun reform legislation is absolutely shameful. It represents a phenomenon of inaction and apathy towards gun violence which rightfully has no representation in any other legislature in the world, and should cease to have a place in the United States. What these stories of New Zealand and Germany tell us is that reform is not only possible, but that shootings should never be considered part of our reality. Simply put, there is no other country on earth which has suffered so greatly from gun violence while doing so little to combat its prevalence than the United States. As a society, we must look inward and evaluate the fact that initial shock followed by inaction can only lead to acceptance and apathy. Reform can only begin when we refuse to accept our reality of mass shootings. Without such a reckoning, the victims of ceaseless gun violence are forgotten — replaced by a statistic, and their deaths become meaningless. In a nation fraught with epidemics, we cannot allow gun violence to persist as yet another systemic illness which ails the public.

Ilike to think of my phone as one of the many organs that make up my body. I realize that this sounds pretty pathetic, but I swear I’ve tried to establish boundaries with my phone. No matter how hard I try, it just doesn’t listen. Or, maybe, I’m the one who doesn’t listen. Whatever the case is, my phone has me in a chokehold I can’t seem to break free of, no matter how hard I try. In fact, as I was watching cyborg anthropologist Amber Case’s TED Talk, I picked up my phone a total of five times, even though the talk is only seven minutes and 37 seconds long.

Case opens her TED Talk by telling the audience, “you are all actually cyborgs.” She goes on to explain that every time we look at a computer screen or use our cellular devices, we’re acting like cyborgs. According to Case, cyborgs themselves are “a new form of homo sapiens” — a new species of human that clicks on things and stares at screens. She insists that, as cyborgs, we have developed a second self that we are now responsible for.

Despite her insistence on the human transformation into cyborgs, Case makes sure to end her talk on a positive note, explaining that, although technology is unconsciously forcing us to develop this second self, “the most successful technology … lets us live our lives.” She commends technology for allowing humans to collaborate and transcend geographical limitations to communicate with each other.

While I do agree that technology contributes to the development of more accessible and easier communication, I sometimes become so overwhelmed by it that I feel like the cons outweigh the pros. Sure, it provides for great and effective communication platforms, but there are multiple issues that it brings, like the fact that for every 10 minutes of studying I get through, I feel the need to reward myself with half an hour of screen time. Or, that every time my phone vibrates, signaling the arrival of a notification, I glitch. These issues and more point to a more pressing problem. They signal to the increasingly preprogrammed nature that is negatively affecting our mental

health and intelligence, and how it has become curiously challenging to detach from these habits due to our destructive dependence on technology.

Although I do think that the modern reliance on technology arrived with the digital revolution in the 1980s, the COVID-19 pandemic has unarguably heightened that reliance to the point where it has become a negative dependence. It isn’t to say that before the pandemic we didn’t use smartphones to text and call people, nor that we didn’t use social media. It is to say, however, that the pandemic brought a global shutdown, which resulted in a mindnumbing perpetuation of technology. Everything, from work to social events and live entertainment, relocated to the digital realm indefinitely, making our reliance on technology even more acute.

The pandemic also had severe effects on the global population’s mental health. According to the National Institutes of Health, a 2021 study demonstrated that “nearly half of Americans surveyed reported recent symptoms of an anxiety or depressive disorder.”

To worsen the issue, 10% of respondents mentioned feeling like their mental health needs were not being met.

This decline in mental health was paired with an increase in technology use in children, as documented in another 2021 study by Pierpaolo Limone and Giusi Antonia Toto. The study mentions that child technology use increased by 15% during the pandemic. Not only did this pose a threat to mental health, but it puts physical health at risk as well, with the radiofrequency radiations emitted by smartphones posing possible brain tumor risks for children.

Outside of the pandemic, technology in and of itself is known for having immense negative effects on mental health. It can aggravate a person’s mood, and spending too much time online has been tied to developing depression, anxiety and feelings of loneliness. Particularly, a 2017 study found that adults who engaged with online media for more than six hours a day faced a higher risk of falling into depression. Even if technology allows us to communicate with people, the main mechanism to avoid loneliness is to foster

genuine, intimate connections that make us feel close to others.

These connections, as Dr. Gail Saltz, a professor of psychiatry at the New York Presbyterian Hospital, explains, are only possible to a certain degree when done through a screen.

In addition to having negative effects on mental health, the question of whether technology is making society dumb is prevalent in modernday discourse. Our reliance on digital technology has led us to become more and more automated, implementing restrictions on our ability to think critically and pushing us into echo chambers — that is, environments that expose us to information biased to our own opinions while shielding data that may challenge our preconceived notions. The introduction of Artificial Intelligence has only exacerbated our progressively automated nature, given that its increased capabilities worsen our reliance on technology, weakening our ability to think and act in the absence of it.

Echo chambers have specifically led to the development of a “chronically online” culture that proves that technology is, in some ways,

tarnishing our ability to truly educate ourselves on pertinent topics and issues. Surfing the web through a “chronically online” lens has impacted the way we communicate our opinions to others. Many have begun to employ buzzwords to sound smarter, not knowing what they truly mean, which has taken a toll on clear communication driven by knowledge and accuracy.

All the aforementioned information sounds very scary, and that’s because it is. Nevertheless, it still doesn’t convince me to limit the time I spend online. I definitely don’t want technology to negatively impact the way I educate myself, but it makes me anxious to lose connections I can only maintain digitally, and it frightens many others as well. I constantly wonder why I feel like every day becomes more monotonous, and most of the conversations I have seem repetitive. The answer lies in the increasingly programmed nature of our modern-day routines. And as much as I, and many others, need a detox from our digital routines, it feels impossible to do so without resorting to our newly bionic nature.

Even in the age of mass media, we can’t get the message straight

‘We are all cyborgs now’ — A look at our inescapable technology dependance

MILLS Advice Columnist

MAXIMILIAN SCHENKE Opinion Columnist

GRACIELA BATLLE CESTERO Opinion Columnist

Lack of support hangs Leigha Brown’s performance out to dry in 74-61 loss to Ohio State

LIZA CUSHNIR

Daily Sports Writer

Facing an early 3-point onslaught from No. 16 Ohio State, the No. 12 Michigan women’s basketball team desperately needed a response. And by halftime, it appeared that the Wolverines might have found that answer in the form of fifth-year wing Leigha Brown.

But without support from the rest of the team, Brown’s careerhigh performance drifted away as the Wolverines (20-7 overall, 10-6 Big Ten) fell to the Buckeyes (235, 12-5), 74-61.

“Leigha is on the top of everyone’s scout,” Michigan coach Kim Barnes Arico said postgame. “…

When we want to be successful, we need more contributions whether that’s the offensive or defensive end. So that’ll be, obviously, something that we work on. But I think when we are successful, we definitely have more contributions than we did tonight.”

After the Wolverines built a rapid eight-point lead, Ohio State took a timeout. Coming out of

ICE HOCKEY

that break, the Buckeyes went on a tear of their own. They connected on each of their next eight 3-point attempts to turn their initial deficit into a 10-point lead, leaving Michigan scrambling for an answer. That was the moment when Leigha Brown seemingly could provide one on her own.

Scoring Michigan’s first 10 points of the second quarter, Brown — who was honored pregame for reaching 1,000 points as a Wolverine against Minnesota — willed her team back into contention, single-handedly cutting the deficit to as few as three points before any of her teammates found the basket in the quarter.

But Ohio State also had an answer. Each time Brown and the Wolverines threatened to retake the lead, Buckeyes guard Rikki Harris had a response. Harris’s 12 second-quarter points nearly matched Brown’s and ensured that Ohio State never relinquished its lead.

Still, Michigan entered the locker room down just four points, 41-37.

Brown’s 21 first-half points

were doing all they could to keep the Wolverines afloat, yet they desperately needed someone else to step up to prevent them from sinking. Sophomore guard Jordan Hobbs chipped in with two 3-pointers but was the only scorer besides Brown during the second quarter. The key contributors that

Michigan dominated by Ohio State special teams in 4-2 Faceoff on the Lake loss

NOAH KINGSLEY Daily Sports Editor

CLEVELAND — As a scarletand-maize mob filled the stands of FirstEnergy Stadium, fireworks rocketed into the crisp February air, signaling the start of the Faceoff on the Lake.

But for the No. 4 Michigan hockey team, those were the only fireworks of the night.

Dominated on special teams, the Wolverines (20-10-2 overall, 12-9-1 Big Ten) fell to No. 10 Ohio State (1811-3, 11-9-2), 4-2, in the Faceoff on the Lake. The Buckeyes killed off all seven Michigan power plays while adding two power play goals and a shorthanded goal of their own.

“We had some chances, their goalie made some saves, maybe we didn’t execute as much as we wanted,” Michigan coach Brandon Naurato said. “Credit to their (penalty kill). We can’t go 0-for-7 and expect to win. That was probably the difference in the game.”

Opening the game with two power plays in the first period alone, the Wolverines got the opportunity to take hold of the contest immediately. But in a preview for the rest of the night, they managed just three shots on goal across the two advantages.

And when Ohio State drew two back-to-back power plays of its own soon after, it served as a warning sign for what was to come to Michigan. For six straight minutes, the Buckeyes hemmed the Wolverines in their own end, firing off eight unanswered shots.

While junior goaltender Erik Portillo turned each of those away to keep the game tied, the Buckeyes already controlled the special teams battle — with seven more combined opportunities still to come.

“On the PK, you’ve got to be ready to compete,” Ohio State defenseman Tyler Duke said.

“There’s gonna be loose pucks, and you’ve got to be ready to get it down and get it 200 feet. I think we just all bought in tonight.”

Even outside the penalty kill, the Buckeyes applied that mindset of competing for every loose puck.

So when an errant pass with six minutes left in the second period skittered out of Michigan’s offense zone, Ohio State pushed forward to grab it. Creating a 2-on-1 breakaway, that set up defenseman Cole McWard to score the go-ahead goal.

As the two sides headed to the locker room for an early second intermission as ice crews dealt with divots in the sheet 40 seconds after the goal, the Wolverines got a chance to figure out what plagued them on special teams.

But instead, after the early break, their special teams woes only grew. Because on three of the next four power plays in the game, Michigan conceded a goal.

It started just two minutes after the teams returned to the ice, as sophomore forward Mackie Samoskevich earned himself a two minute minor for cross-checking. Within 30 seconds, Buckeyes forward Jake Wise collected a crosscrease pass and fired it blocker-side past Portillo to stretch the lead to two.

A minute later though, freshman

forward Gavin Brindley responded with a wrister of his own from above the left dot. And when the Wolverines drew a penalty on the following shift, their power play got a shot at redemption.

But it crumbled again instead.

“I think I was just skating up the ice, we were trying to get a clear,” Duke said. “Wise got the puck behind the net. … I saw a lane and I hopped in there and did my best to put it in.”

Taking that lane, Duke blasted a goal past a falling Portillo for the eventual game-winner while shorthanded.

Still, Michigan hung around for a while. With 11 minutes left in the game, senior forward Eric Ciccolini potted a rebound to trim the deficit to one once again. But within 20 seconds of his goal, graduate forward Nolan Moyle took an interference penalty.

Again, the Wolverines needed their special teams to step up to stay in it. And again, they failed to deliver.

This time, sophomore defenseman Ethan Edwards tipped Ohio State forward Stephen Halliday’s pass into his own net — marking the final nail in Michigan’s coffin. Failing to convert on a seventhstraight power play chance three minutes later only rubbed salt in the wound.

“Usually, the team that wins the special teams wins the game,” Ohio State coach Steve Rohlik said. “Both teams had their chances on the power play. We scored two, and our PK was fantastic.”

So as the Wolverines watched fireworks shoot into the air again as the final horn sounded, there was no excitement, no hopeful anticipation like earlier. Because despite having seven chances to do so, their special teams couldn’t create any fireworks of their own.

normally helped steer the ship couldn’t deliver.

And in the second half, no first mate appeared, with only two players besides Brown finding the scoring column in the final 20 minutes of play.

“I definitely feel like we have the pieces to be successful, we

just all need to play well at the same time,” Hobbs said. “… The three games prior to (Thursday’s loss to Indiana) we were playing great together and just playing some team basketball, which was really successful. So if we can just find a way to get back to that.”

Michigan only mustered 11 points in the third quarter, from just three players. But the Wolverines still kept themselves in the game by holding Ohio State to 14 points.

With Brown lacking a supporting cast, Harris’s 23-point performance ensured that Brown’s career-high 36 points would be nothing more than a silver lining in a deflating loss. Harris had three steals in the third quarter alone as the Buckeyes began to pull away in the low-scoring period. She hit a clutch 3-pointer early in the fourth frame to bring Ohio State’s lead back up to double digits for the first time all half, pushing Michigan’s comeback attempt firmly off course.

“(Harris) was huge for them for sure,” Barnes Arico said. “I thought we were undisciplined, we fouled her shooting a three.

She does a great job of drawing fouls. And she made big plays for them as the shot clock was running out, she made a big three. I just thought she stayed within herself and did a really good job.”

Michigan couldn’t pull close again. With 15 second-half turnovers and just nine points scored by players other than Brown, the Wolverines couldn’t run their offense.

Brown’s 11-for-11 performance from the free throw line was juxtaposed against an abysmal and uncharacteristic 5-for-12 showing from the rest of the team, alongside zero bench points. There was nobody there to help Brown right the ship.

And try as she might to find ways to keep Michigan adrift, whether that was by getting to the charity stripe eight times in the final frame or gathering nine rebounds throughout the contest, the Wolverines only plunged deeper into the hole.

And that failure to step up and create secondary production around Brown doomed Michigan to sink in yet another ranked conference bout.

In Faceoff on the Lake, Michigan doomed by inability to win faceoffs

CHARLIE PAPPALARDO

Daily Sports Writer

CLEVELAND — With less than four minutes to play in the outdoor Faceoff on The Lake against No. 10 Ohio State, the No. 4 Michigan hockey team finally started doing something it hadn’t for the previous 56 minutes. The Wolverines started winning faceoffs.

Trailing by two goals with its net empty, Michigan retained possession on six of the last eight draws and kept pressure on the Buckeyes until the game ended. But while the last three minutes of faceoff success gave the Wolverines a chance in the game’s waning moments, their floundering start in the circles was a large part of the reason why they found themselves trailing.

“We talk about it a lot, I know our centers are probably sick of me getting on ‘em, but it’s such a big part of the game,” Ohio State coach Steve Rohlik said. “When you think about 50, 60, 70 times a game somebody’s gonna fight for possession, and it’s such a key right to the end.”

And in those fights for possession — 82 of them to be exact — the Buckeyes were dominant. Winning 53 draws to Michigan’s 29, Ohio State outpaced the Wolverines and none of the seven Buckeyes who took draws finished the night with a win rate of less than 50 percent. Conversely, only two of the Wolverines’ 10 skaters who took draws finished over 50 percent in the circles, and it hampered them all night.

Losing draw after draw, Michigan consistently started on the back foot by handing the Buckeyes possession. Before any offense could be created, the Wolverines usually had to first pry the puck away from Ohio State, and then break past their stout neutral zone

trap. That proved to be an incredibly difficult task for Michigan, and the Buckeyes controlled possession for the vast majority of the game in large part because they controlled faceoffs.

“I mean, it’s a difference in the game,” Rohlik said. “Lots of credit to the centers, but there’s a lot of other guys in there fighting to get the puck back. It’s a big part of it.”

The Wolverines just couldn’t outdraw Ohio State. But the issue wasn’t just that Michigan’s lackluster performance at the dots gave the Buckeyes chances. It was also that it took chances away from the Wolverines. What Michigan lost in being outdrawn by 24 is best highlighted by the few successes they had.

Late in the second period, freshman forward Adam Fantilli won a clean offensive zone draw back to freshman forward Gavin Brindley, who immediately wired a wrister into the back of the net. And late in the game when the Wolverines finally built momentum in draws, they also pressured the Buckeyes harder than they had all night.

“It’s a possession game, and (faceoffs are) field position,” Michigan coach Brandon Naurato

said. “So you win the draw, it definitely puts you in the driver’s seat.”

But for the vast majority of the night, Michigan found itself riding passenger. For example Brindley and Fantilli — despite their one moment of production — were otherwise uncharacteristically silent. And in large part, that was due to their combining for a paltry 6-for-22 success rate in the circles.

Throughout the entire night, the Wolverines couldn’t seem to find a foothold on the game. Ohio State stymied their offense, broke down their special teams and controlled the pace of the game. But those issues started with Michigan’s inability to find a foothold in the faceoff dots. The Buckeyes held possession off of draws and made plays happen. The Wolverines consistently started on the back foot by giving possession away, and plays happened to them.

At the final buzzer, Michigan fell 4-2 in an aptly named event. The Wolverines lost the Faceoff on the Lake in large part because they couldn’t win faceoffs to begin with.

Dickinson and Reed Jr. will Michigan to victory over Michigan State, 84-72

Earlier this season, freshman forward Tarris Reed Jr. gave the Michigan men’s basketball teams’ two-big lineup a nickname: Thump and Bump.

Comprised of junior center Hunter Dickinson and Reed, the lineup hasn’t been showcased much throughout the later half of the season. But in Saturday’s matchup against Michigan State, the two bigs thumped and bumped their way to a win down the stretch.

In the Wolverines’ (15-12 overall, 9-7 Big Ten) tilt with the Spartans (16-10, 8-7), Reed and Dickinson were instrumental in sneaking out the 84-72 win, successfully avoiding getting swept by their in-state rival in the process.

“They’re a threat for sure, when you’ve got two (six and seven footers) out there,” sophomore guard Kobe Bufkin said. “I’m glad to see it and glad they’re able to work

together.”

Getting out to a hot start — all at the hand of freshman guard Dug McDaniel — it seemed as if Michigan’s bigs were going to have a relatively quiet night.

But as the Spartans’ quick transition offense turned their early deficit into a lead just over five minutes into the matchup, the Wolverines were left scratching their heads, desperately looking for an answer.

Typically, Michigan can turn to Dickinson to get crafty and find some points. But with the Spartans playing lock-down defense in the paint with a two-big lineup of their own, Dickinson was held to just five points in the first half. Reed fared even worse against Michigan State’s defense in the first half, going scoreless while picking up two personal fouls.

Failing to regain the lead in the first half, the Wolverines miraculously entered the locker room down by just three after a few key 3-pointers kept the Spartans lead from growing insurmountably.

But at the start of the second half, it looked like the trends would continue.

Michigan’s offense struggled to produce without a dominant presence in the paint, and Michigan State continued to capitalize on defensive miscommunications. The Wolverines managed to keep the Spartans in check, notching key buckets and keeping the deficit from getting out of hand, but were never able to fully regain a lead for most of the second half.

And when freshman guard Jett

Howard went down with an injury with 14 minutes left to play, Michigan could’ve rolled over.

But at the eight minute mark, a spark flickered.

As Michigan coach Juwan Howard put Dickinson back into the game while leaving Reed in, thump and bump was ready to do what it does best. A quick assist from Dickinson to graduate guard Joey Baker led to a drained 3-pointer — cutting the once six-point lead the Spartans had taken after Jett’s injury to only one. “We started playing small ball against their biggest lineup,” Michigan State coach Tom Izzo said. “That’s the biggest lineup in the Big 10 and they played both together.” Trading a few more buckets,

Michigan State had ample chances to pull away. But with Dickinson and Reed locking down the paint on defense, the Spartans’ offense faltered.

“I play off him,” Reed said. “He shoots, I’m wedging, I’m getting that rebound and putting it back up. He catches it and they come to double, I’m cutting right there I’m getting a dunk or an and-one layup. Just playing off him and knowing that he’s our guy on the offensive side.”

And with just under six minutes left, Dickinson and Reed officially took the game into their own hands. An offensive putback from Reed found the bottom of the net, and a Spartan foul sent Dickinson to the line. As Dickinson sunk both free throws, Crisler Center erupted. Because the Wolverines had just overtaken Michigan State.

Clinging to their two point lead after a block and another made bucket from Dickinson, Michigan entered the final media timeout just as it had entered the first — with the

lead in hand.

Despite attempts from the Spartans to contain Michigan’s momentum swing, nothing could be done to stop Dickinson and Reed’s charge.

“On the offensive end, (Tarris) was aggressive, being able to take advantage of how the defender was playing him and attacking the paint,” Juwan said. “… I see the confidence is increasing. He’s getting better.”

And as Dickinson sunk a 3-pointer from the wing with only a minute left, he sent Michigan State packing, officially putting the game out of reach for the Spartans.

Dickinson finished the game with 14 points, seven rebounds and three assists, alongside Reed’s eight points and 10 rebounds. While those stats aren’t career highs for either, they came at a crucial moment down the stretch when the Wolverines needed them most.

Because in the end, Dickinson and Reed did what they do best to lead Michigan past Michigan State. They thumped and bumped.

SOPHIA AFENDOULIS/Daily

ICE HOCKEY

Don’t let the world move on from Michigan State

Content warning: This story contains references to gun violence.

The typical news cycle lasts one week.

After seven days, old stories are filtered out and replaced with the new ones. As that fresh content takes hold of headlines, fills pages and occupies our news feed, we start to forget. The information from last week fades in order to make room for this week’s information. Seven days later, it happens all over again.

But Monday marked a week since the tragic shooting on Michigan State’s campus. A week since a shooter stole the lives of Arielle Anderson, Brian Fraser and Alexandria Verner.

A week since five other victims had their lives changed forever.

A week since every Spartan lost any sense of security in the place they call home.

How, then, could we turn the page and forget?

It would be disrespectful, irresponsible and heartless. It should be impossible.

Unfortunately, though, we quickly turn that page far too often. In a world — in a country — that simply replaces one tragedy with the next, we manage to

regularly sweep inhumane horrors under the rug in a matter of seven days.

In just the first six weeks of 2023, there’s been over 70 mass shootings in the United States — an average of nearly two a day. The numbers aren’t just staggering, they’re unbelievable. This amount of gun violence and death can’t be accepted.

Yet here we are, going about our lives like it’s normal.

Meanwhile, in the wake of tragedy, we emphasize a return to “normalcy.”

I do not want to go back to a normal where people have to fear going to class — where deciding to go study could be a life or death decision. I do not want to go back to a normal that involves texting my friends on a Monday night praying that they’re alive. I do not want to go back to a normal where a girl I shared halls and classrooms with in high school is now dead.

I do not want to go back to our current normal.

Last week was a moving display of unity. Every day, it was markedly obvious how little the rivalry between Michigan and Michigan State mattered. We all had our friends, our family and every student in East Lansing in our thoughts. Spartan gear adorned the Wolverine campus, images of support were shared

on social media and it was clear that people mattered, not their affiliation.

Everybody in the state of Michigan was on the side of healing.

And for some, sports was part of that healing journey.

On Wednesday, Michigan State coach Tom Izzo spoke at a vigil to honor the victims.

“Our hearts are heavy,” Izzo said. “Our loss has been great.

of the buildings two nights ago about 10 minutes after things happened,” Izzo said. “So sometimes we don’t understand because we haven’t been through it. That little moment brought me a little closer to understanding.”

Then, the week built toward a fatefully scheduled moment of togetherness. The Michigan and Michigan State men’s basketball teams were set to play Saturday.

After everything, it’s what

many people needed.

Our lives have been permanently changed. With a shared commitment to help each other and a promise to remember those we have lost, we will find joy again.”

To many, his words meant a lot. Sports is their place of comfort, of escape, and Izzo is a living legend. And to all the parents of Spartans, Izzo offered empathy.

“(My son) Steven was at one

“We can’t do anything about what’s happened,” Izzo told reporters Thursday. “Except hopefully do a better job of making sure it doesn’t happen again. But we can do something about moving forward. Because there’s probably a brother or sister of one of those three that has to live. There’s a mom, and a dad, and hopefully a smile on your face — whether it’s a

Michigan fan being mad at me, or a Michigan State fan being happy, hopefully — it just brings everybody together.”

The game succeeded in that. It offered a moment of silence, ‘Michigan Basketball stands with MSU’ shirts, ‘Spartan Strong’ banners in the Maize Rage, green lights and LED wristbands and a general outpouring of support.

The game between the two in-state rivals was the culmination of a week of promoted togetherness. From Monday to Saturday, news showed communities coming together and condemning the horrid act of violence. We offered support, gave our prayers and said that this should never happen again.

But then it was Monday. And a new cycle began.

Michigan State students returned to class. Headlines returned to normal. And we returned to our lives.

But there are kids who couldn’t do that Monday morning. Arielle Anderson, Brian Fraser and Alexandria Verner could not do that Monday. Think about that and read their names again.

Arielle Anderson.

Brian Fraser.

Alexandria Verner.

They are not just names. They are people. People who lost their lives, people with family, people

with friends and people who had a future stolen from them.

They are people that we cannot forget, and people we cannot let the never-ending churn of the news cycle forget. We must say these people’s names louder. Really hear them.

Remind everyone again this week that you stand ‘Spartan Strong.’ Remind them that the tragedy that occurred is unacceptable. Remind them that we need a change.

Columbine. Virginia Tech. Sandy Hook. Parkland. Uvalde. Oxford. Michigan State. Each time, we watch children die. Then we move on until the next child is killed. Then we move on again, until the cycle restarts. It cannot continue.

If you need this time to heal, heal. But if you can bear it, now is the time for rage. Speak their names, condemn violence, stand up against the weapons that can do this. Do not let new stories take the place of the people whose lives were forever changed due to inaction.

Do not let the ferocious tide of “normalcy” convince you that we can go back to normal. This is not normal.

We can’t let it be

Writer

Remind everyone again this week that you stand ‘Spartan Strong.’ Remind them that the tragedy that occurred is unacceptable. Remind them that we need a change.