2023-04-12

The National Science Foundation, an independent federal agency which provides research grants for science and engineering, is conducting a review of the University of Michigan’s Department of Computer Science and Engineering compliance with Title IX regulations. The CSE department has seen allegations of sexual misconduct against several of its faculty members since 2020. NSF began conducting interviews with CSE faculty and administrators from the Equity, Civil Rights and Title IX office Tuesday.

CSE professor Peter Chen was charged with criminal sexual conduct in the first degree in 2021 and stood trial in late 2022. Chen was found not guilty by a Washtenaw County jury and has since returned to teaching as a professor of electrical engineering and computer science. Former CSE professor Walter Lasecki resigned from his position in August 2021 after an investigation by The Michigan Daily exposed multiple allegations of sexual harassment against him. In 2020, CSE professor Jason Mars was accused of sexually inappropriate behavior by employees of Clinc, an AI start-up founded by Mars and Lingjia Tang, his wife and

fellow CSE professor.

NSF awards grants in various departments, supporting over 1,000 projects at the University. NSF provided over $112 million of the University’s $1.71 billion in research spending in 2022.

Gloria Hage, an attorney in the Office of General Counsel, sent an email notifying CSE faculty of the NSF’s review on March 1. The Daily has obtained a copy of this email.

“(NSF) will evaluate and assess the University’s nondiscrimination policies and procedures related to Title IX, grievance and discrimination complaint processes and the role of the Title IX Coordinator in implementing and enforcing Title IX requirements,” Hage wrote. “The review will also evaluate whether the University’s procedures provide for the prompt and equitable resolution of Title IX complaints, and whether there is compliance with the notification and dissemination requirements of Title IX.”

Hage provided a spreadsheet in the email for faculty members to sign up for interviews with NSF. The Daily obtained a copy of this spreadsheet, which indicated multiple ECRT administrators were to be interviewed, including ECRT Executive Director Tamiko Strickman.

The University of Michigan has not been granted a restraining order against the Graduate Employees’ Organization by the Washtenaw Circuit Court. Following an evidentiary hearing Monday afternoon, Judge Carol Kuhnke decided there is no

evidence of irreparable harm to the University. Members of University administration were in court seeking an injunction that would have claimed that GEO’s current strike is illegal because it constitutes a breach of contract.

GEO’s strike began at 10:24 a.m. on March 29, after months of activism during their contract negotiations with the University’s Academic Human Resources department. Ninety-five percent of GEO’s members

originally voted to authorize the strike, which is now entering its second week.

In an interview with The Michigan Daily following the decision, GEO President Jared Eno said he believes the court made the right call.

“The University was banking on resolving this entirely through the courts and not having to deal with us seriously at the bargaining table,” Eno said.

“I think the judge made the right call that that’s not

appropriate.”

In an email to The Daily, University spokesperson Kim Broekhuizen wrote that the University is disappointed in the judgment, but remains ready to negotiate with GEO.

“While we are disappointed in the decision, we appreciate Judge Kuhnke’s acknowledgement that our students are still being harmed,” Broekhuizen wrote. “We also understand the high legal standard of ‘irreparable harm’ we faced.”

Content warning: mentions of sexual violence.

About 100 sexual violence survivors and allies gathered in the Michigan Union’s Rogel Ballroom at the University of Michigan for the 45th annual Take Back the Night rally Wednesday evening. The event was organized by University Students Against Rape in collaboration with the Standing Tough Against Rape Society. After hearing from speakers and performers, attendees took to the streets of Ann Arbor, marching with signs, drums and tambourines while shouting chants such as, “We have the power, we have the right, the streets are ours, take back the night!”

In an interview with The Michigan Daily before the event, Courtney Banks, a student organizer for Take Back the Night, said the focus of this year’s rally was allyship for sexual violence survivors, with an emphasis on how men can support survivors of sexual assault.

“(This event is) a little bit more about allyship, specifically male allyship,” Banks said. “I know there’s a lot of student orgs on campus that protest policy and do different things … but our sort of big thing (at Take Back the Night) is raising the voices of survivors, empowering them by doing events like this.”

Banks said she thinks the annual rally gives survivors a chance to have their voices and stories heard by the Ann Arbor and U-M communities.

“There are many scenarios, where, as survivors, your voices are taken away from you,” Banks said. “So an event like this, where we can sort of get out there, shout, yell, make ourselves known to the world so that you can’t forget about us, is so important.”

The event featured presentations from a variety of student and Ann Arbor-based organizations. The rally opened with a performance by Groove, a U-M student percussion group. 13 other campus and Ann Arborbased organizations — including safeMD, Sexual Assault Prevention and Awareness Center and SafeHouse — hosted tables in the Union so that attendees could speak to representatives from each of organization. Following the energetic kick-off by Groove, Pam Swider, STARS executive director and founder, introduced the goals of this year’s Take Back the Night.

“One of our biggest hopes at Take Back the Night Ann Arbor, and even with our volunteer family, is that we have created a safe space — a space with no judgment, a space where we’re supported and listened to,” Swider said.

Nicole Denson, Detroit resident and an activist against sexual violence, introduced herself to the crowd and said she was excited about being able to attend and speak at the event.

“Take Back the Night is a worldwide movement dedicated to raising awareness about the prevalence of sexual violence and providing a forum to give survivors as we gather together tonight to demand recognition of the problem of sexual

violence,” Denson said. “We take a stand against the cycle of sexual violence, and empower those that are in dark spaces to speak out.”

Ann Arbor Mayor Christopher Taylor also spoke about his dedication to addressing and ending sexual violence in

governments across the country have declared April to be the month for advocacy in the area — with Taylor announcing that Ann Arbor would support that movement. It’s time to draw attention to the prevalence of sexual violence and to educate individuals and

communities across the country to prevent sexual violence and uplift survivors of this crime.”

USAR volunteers informed the audience about sexual assault risk factors and the definition of consent, which they said should be informed, sober and enthusiastic. Nursing

“According to the Department of Justice, 84.3% (of Native American women) will experience some form of violence — with 56.1% of Native American women experiencing sexual violence and 55.5% experiencing domestic violence — in their lifetime,” Sutherby said.

the city of Ann Arbor. Taylor noted that April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month in the state of Michigan. Though there is no federal month for sexual assault awareness, many individual state and city

communities and institutions about how to protect (others) and help those in need,” Taylor said. “I proclaim the month of April 2023 as Sexual Assault Awareness Month in Ann Arbor and join advocates and

freshman Amanda Sutherby was one of the volunteers at the event and she made a specific note about high levels of sexual violence perpetrated against Native American women in the United States.

The rally evolved into a march as volunteers handed out signs and megaphones, and attendees headed to the streets of Ann Arbor to make their voices heard throughout the night.

UMich undergraduates divided over GEO strike

The campus community shared their support for and concerns about GEO’s demands

When the Graduate Employees’ Organization began their ongoing strike on March 29, some classes were temporarily canceled or modified across the University of Michigan, leaving many undergraduate students feeling uncertain about how the final weeks of the semester will unfold. Many U-M students have voiced their support for GEO’s demands for wage increases, though others voiced concern over additional proposals from GEO.

In an interview with The Michigan Daily, LSA freshman Gabriella Carnevale said her discussion sections for the semester were canceled as a result of her GSI going on strike. She said her professor also canceled some assignments and ended class early so students could attend the walkout.

“Our discussions sections have been canceled for the rest of the semester, and we had some assignments canceled,” Carnevale said. “And our professor ended class (on Wednesday) at 10:24.”

Standing at the back of the crowd gathered on the Diag for the walkout last Wednesday, Carnevale said she has been supportive of the strike in spite of the disruption to her class.

“I think the strike is an important show of solidarity, and I think it’s an important and necessary part of advocating for a living,” Carnevale said.

In response to GEO’s demands of a 60% pay increase to $38,537 a year, the University has proposed to instead increase GSI pay by 11.5% from $24,053 to $26,819. In an email sent to the campus community on March 24, University President Santa Ono wrote that the University

PHOTO OF THE WEEK

was opposed to two other GEO proposals, including the creation of a non-police urgent response unit, which Ono said is outside the scope of current negotiations.

Ono also wrote the University opposed demands for GSIs to have the ability to shift to remote instruction.

Among the other students in support of the strike are Karthik Pasupula and Major Stevens, current LSA representatives in Central Student Government. In an interview with The Daily, Pasupula denounced the offer the University gave GEO in response to their original demands.

“I fully support (the strike),” Pasupula said. “They have the right to strike, especially given how abysmal the wage offer is from the University. There’s clearly some misunderstanding from the University administration that GSI working conditions are student living conditions. They need to pay them a living wage and negotiate

with fairness.”

Stevens agreed with Pasupula and expressed similar sentiments about the University’s offer to GEO.

“Most of the things that they’re asking for are completely within Michigan’s realm of possibility,” Stevens said. “Refusing to even acknowledge that they’re able to do that is simply downright stupid and frustrating.”

Other student organizations have also expressed their support for the GEO strike online. In an Instagram story, the University’s undergraduate chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union reposted GEO’s “Giving Blue Day” Instagram post, writing “@aclu_ umich stands with @geo_3550.”

The University’s chapter of the Young Democratic Socialists of America also posted on Instagram in support of the GEO strike, providing information on when and where undergraduate students can participate in protests.

Though some students have

voiced support for the GEO strike, others indicated a sense of frustration with the effects of the strike on the undergraduate student body. LSA freshman Braxton Orban told The Daily some students he has talked to expressed anxiety over the lack of GSI support, especially in math classes.

“I know for MATH 115 and 116, people are saying they’re having a lot of difficulties with those classes if their GSI is striking,” Orban said.

“I think that people are frustrated by it, not necessarily because they disagree with what the GSI’s are asking (for), but because it makes some learning a little more difficult.”

As the University enters its last month of instruction for winter 2023, Orban said he understands why some students feel more stressed with the lack of GSI assistance in class.

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BUSINESS

Ann Arbor’s Sweetwaters turns 30

After three decades of business, Sweetwaters’ founders and staff celebrate a legacy of community and coffee

In April 1993, a brand new tea and coffee business called Sweetwaters Coffee and Tea opened in a 100-year-old building at the corner of South Ashley and West Washington streets. The business was founded by Lisa Bee and Wei Bee, both thenrecent University of Michigan graduates and children of Chinese immigrants who had spent their childhoods working in restaurants to support their family. The original cafe is still a hotspot for coffee lovers as it celebrates its 30th birthday in 2023, though Sweetwaters has since expanded to 38 different locations across the U.S. — seven of which are in Ann Arbor.

In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Lisa Bee said entering the tea and coffee business after graduation seemed like both a natural next step and a leap of faith for her at the time.

She said the idea was inspired by the emerging coffee scene in Ann Arbor in the early ’90s and her and her husbands’ shared love of coffee as college students.

“My husband and I both love food and drink businesses,” Lisa Bee said. “You meet a lot of people and there is always something new. But being in our early 20s, a fullscale restaurant would be very expensive. We went to the coffee houses that were starting to pop up at that time, and we thought, ‘Wow! This is kind of like doing a restaurant, but not as intense,’ and we thought it would be a lot of fun for us to do.”

For Lisa Bee, Sweetwaters has always been a source of pride. Three decades later, college students and townies alike have come to recognize the iconic red Sweetwaters logo at a glance, which features two ancient Chinese ancient characters meaning “sweet” and “water.”

Though the menu has changed over time and hundreds of baristas have come and gone, Sweetwaters’

staff, owners and customers can all attest to the sense of community the cafe has continuously facilitated since the day it was founded 30 years ago.

A local business inspired by global flavors

Austin Green, a barista who works the morning shift at Sweetwaters and serves as a firefighter in Livingston County, told The Daily he first encountered Sweetwaters when he visited the cafe in the Michigan Union at the University of Michigan and ordered a mocha. He said when he first applied for a job as a Sweetwaters barista, he was unsure about the variety of products sold at the business. Instead, he said it shattered his expectations with the wide selection of beverages and working there broadened his knowledge about international coffee and tea culture.

“There’s a very big learning curve here,” Green said. “I first thought (the drinks were) mainly Chinese or Japanese, but I learned that we even have teas that

originated in Greece, because a lot of (instructions on packages and jars) just tell you where it’s from and where it originated. It is also pretty cool to see the story behind them.”

Lisa Bee said when she first started the business, both she and her husband were most familiar with Chinese tea beverages. As the couple traveled and immersed themselves in different cultures, however, Lisa Bee said they wanted Sweetwaters’ tea and coffee menu to reflect the refreshments being enjoyed in cafes all around the world.

“When we first started, we had the idea that we could bring in a lot of products that we personally and culturally know about,” Lisa Bee said. “Today, you see French Vietnamese coffee, milk tea and things that are not at a typical Italian-based coffee house. Many other cultures have tea and coffee, and we adapt operationally to bring them to our guests.”

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Julie Kouyate, a group healing circle facilitator, facilitates a healing circle for students at the School of Public Health Friday evening.

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Ann Arbor hotspots and UMich traditions to check out before graduation

The Daily’s Campus Life beat mapped out nine locations around the

Leaving campus soon as a graduating University of Michigan student or an Ann Arbor resident? Wait!

Before you go, make sure to revisit these campus traditions by clicking on each location below. Read about topics such as the history of the Diag’s block ‘M’ to which places you should visit before Ann Arbor becomes a part of your past.

The Michigan Daily’s Campus Life beat has found nine locations to visit around campus before you leave.

Farmers Market

Open all year long, community members flock to the Ann Arbor Farmers Market to buy local produce, baked goods, flowers, jams and other artisanal goods. Located in the Kerrytown neighborhood, the market is adjacent to Sweetwaters Coffee & Tea and Kerrytown Market & Shops, all you could need on a Saturday afternoon is right there.

Gracias’ Greenhouse is a familycentered business which sells flowers at the market every week. Gracias’ Greenhouse has been a vendor at the Market since the 1950s and also sells their florals at the Royal Oak Farmers Market, the Northville Farmers Market and the Eastern Market.

Crisler Center Michigan basketball sports its own dedicated and zealous student section — the Maize Rage. Though the Maize Rage also participates in various other sporting events, it’s primarily associated with Michigan basketball and is the only student section affiliated with the athletic department.

Zach Linfield, Kinesiology senior and designated Maize Rage “Superfan,” which is an official representative of the Maize Rage to U-M students, told The Daily his job is to coordinate

with the seven-person executive board to help lead the student section during games. Linfield said he helps begin chants and encourages students to be as loud as possible.

“Our job is to make (the Crisler Center) an intimidating environment for the opponents to play in and to rally behind our guys,” Linfield said.

Aside from the typical songs and chants that characterize a U-M sporting event, Linfield said he enjoys traditions that involve both the team and the student section.

The Block M

There’s a place on campus that has seen the highs and lows of student life. Left untouched despite heavy traffic in the 10 minutes between classes, the block ‘M’ on the Diag has remained virtually unchanged since its installation. A pillar of the campus community, its bronze cover, now turning green with age, has seen candlelit vigils, countless protests and the roars of students coming together for Diag snowball fights. Despite all of this, students still avoid directly stepping on the block ‘M’, adhering to the superstition that stepping on it means failing your first blue book exam. The Michigan Daily set

out to ask the following question: Is there truth to the legend?

The block ‘M’ has only adorned the Diag for 70 years. Installed on May 8, 1953, to replace a previous brick design, the block ‘M’ was presented to former University President Harlan Hatcher on three days later as a gift to the University from the class of 1953. When presenting the block ‘M,’ John Flynn, chairman of the Senior Board, told The Daily freshmen were prohibited from stepping on it until they completed one full year of school. Just a few years later, 1958 orientation leaders were warning new students against ever stepping on the block ‘M’ before an exam.

visit

Gallup Park Just a 10-minute drive from Shinola is Gallup Park, one of Ann Arbor’s most popular recreational spots. The park, located along the Huron River and Geddes Pond, boasts breathtaking walkways that meander through small islands and connect via pedestrian bridges, forming a delightful loop for visitors to explore.At the boat rental office, visitors can find amenities like food and drinks, outdoor seating by the river, and complimentary wireless internet access. The park offers a range of recreational facilities, including playgrounds, rentals for water activities, picnic spots with grills throughout the area and over three miles of smooth trails that are wellliked by cyclists, rollerbladers, walkers and runners.

Engineering sophomore Sandy Chang shared her kayaking experience last summer. She said she knew about the park from people’s kayaking posts on Instagram and decided to go with friends before the fall semester and she likes the environment of the park as it is.

“I think the rates for kayaking were pretty reasonable,” Chang said. “The river was wide and well preserved. The water was pretty clean and there were a lot of ducks, butterflies, and all other sorts of natural creatures. I would definitely do it again during the summer or just visit in general for an afternoon stroll.”

The Rock On the corner of Washtenaw Avenue and Hill Streets sits the Michigan Rock. Covered in years of various types of paints, “The Rock” is a remnant of one of Michigan’s glacial periods, having originally been deposited by glaciers on the Pontiac Trail.

The Rock was moved to Ann Arbor in 1932 to become a memorial honoring George Washington’s 200th birthday.

Though it was originally painted gray, the Rock has since been continuously painted over

by students and community members looking to make their (temporary) mark.

The tradition of painting the Rock began in 1953 when a resident of Ann Arbor graffitied a Michigan State University logo on the Rock right before the week of a rivalry football game. To show their solidarity with the University of Michigan, some U-M students decided to paint over the logo, leading to the tradition of covering the Rock with different paintings significant to the Ann Arbor community.

Breaking

akdjhfkjahgkhg. (Am I the only one who pronounces keyboard spam differently depending on which letters it uses most? This would sound different if it had lots of Es and Hs.) The intro should be unconventional too, shouldn’t it? How do I do that?

I was told, “Just don’t write an intro. That’s unconventional.”

But that’s giving “this is daring” energy./ First of all: This may be my one opportunity to publish brackets. We should be allowed to use them more. In the name of unconventionality: [ ] / um. / Why did I decide to do this? / We are

GRACIELA BATLLE CESTERO Daily Arts Writer

Cecilia estaba en búsqueda de una comunidad que la aceptara.

“Cecilia was searching for a community that would accept her.”

The Puerto Rican lexicon is one many don’t take seriously. Cecilia knew this. She knew it because of the soul-shattering, side-eyed looks she got from strangers when traveling with her family, whenever they spoke Spanish in public.

“Mamá, ¿podemos ir al baño?”

Ceci would ask as a kid.

“Hija, habla en inglés,” her father would interject. Ceci’s father always made sure to make others comfortable, even if that meant sacrificing their cultural reality.

This public disapproval is all because they talk too fast. All because they abbreviate words. All because they don’t follow

Arts writers. Art cannot escape convention. Every film, book, song and designer coat collection is built on the dictations of those before it. Even works that break conventions can only do so because those conventions exist. / … But also. / We cannot escape convention. It surrounds us. We form society and smaller cultural sects that, while created by and malleable to individuals, turn back to instruct and categorize us. We follow conventions to avoid conflict, because we don’t know how to exist outside of them, or because they are so inherent to our daily lives that they have become invisible. / I asked these writers to find conventions and point them out.

Or to tell me about the times they broke conventions. Or tried to. Or thought we should get rid of a convention — even if it’s harmless, convention gets old. / And there’s one more part. My favorite part. / Language. / As writers, we are constrained to its conventions. These writers have taken language and moved it to other formats, molded it into fiction, paired different writing styles in a single piece, pulled it through their personal stories, used it to invite discourse from YOU, the reader, or looked a language convention in the eye. / Right, so here we examine and question the conventions of art, culture and language. / That’s it from me. Enjoy.

I sing when I talk

brown hair asked.

language conventions. Despite this, Ceci was comforted to know that once she went off to college, she would find her people, other Spanish speakers, who would respect her native tongue and the way she chose to speak it.

She knew that a lot of people moved far from home for college.

Ann Arbor was 2,111 miles from Puerto Rico, Ceci’s home. She believed that Ann Arbor would open doors to people who would provide her with a sense of community, a sense of belonging.

¡And this was true! Ceci met Spanish speakers from all around South and Central America and from the Caribbean region as well.

Once, Ceci was walking across campus with a friend from home, and two girls they’d never seen before approached them.

“¿Hablan español?” asked a tall girl with piercing blue eyes.

“¡Sí!” Ceci and her friend responded.

“¿De dónde son?” another girl with deep, brown eyes and long

“Somos de Puerto Rico,” Ceci explained.

“Va, ¡qué emoción! Yo soy de Guatemala,” the blue-eyed girl replied.

“Y yo, de la República Dominicana,” the girl with the long brown hair said.

But despite these genuine connections, the verdict remained.

Los boricuas hablan español malo. “Puerto Ricans speak bad Spanish.”

Ceci didn’t get it. She felt betrayed. How come she’d traveled 2,111 miles from home, secure in the fact that she would finally find community, just for this dreamy bubble of hers to burst? She thought that her Spanish-speaking counterparts would find her español triau’ cool. A representation of Puerto Rican culture. An intriguing semblance to the language they spoke themselves. But as she once again walked through campus with a friend from home a few days

later, another Spanish speaker approached them.

“¿Hablan español?” a short guy with a wide smile and bright green eyes asked them as he passed them by and overheard them talking.

“¡Sí!” Ceci and her friend responded.

“¿De dónde son?” he asked.

“Somos de Puerto Rico,” Ceci explained. “Perdona, no te entendí. Hablas muy rápido. ¿Puedes repetir?” the green-eyed boy inquired again.

“Somos de Puerto Rico,” Ceci’s friend replied this time.

“¿De Puerto Rico? Ya, pues, bueno conocerlas.” the guy said. He hadn’t bothered to tell them where he was from. He didn’t understand what they said at first, and once he correctly heard they were from Puerto Rico, it was like a code-red warning sign had lit up in his head, yelling at him to flee.

After this shocking interaction, Ceci asked other Spanish speakers repeatedly “¿what about us throws you off?” This happened in class,

walking around campus, at parties. They always responded the same way.

“You guys are so many. It’s overwhelming. You exclude us.”

This Ceci understood. In the same way Ceci felt alienated by strangers whenever she spoke Spanish in public when she traveled to faraway places with her family, they probably yearned for more familiarity with their home country than what was available to them in Ann Arbor. She had this in the strong, 40-ish Puerto Ricans that also went to school there.

She couldn’t help but feel like this aversion to hanging out with Puerto Ricans was coming from somewhere else, though. Somewhere largely associated with the way Puerto Ricans apparently “butchered” the Spanish language.

No one told them they spoke “bad Spanish” to their face. Ceci didn’t think they had the heart for that. But it was evident from the

Design by Phoebe Unwin

way they asked why Bad Bunny “mispronounced” words in his songs and how they always asked for them to repeat themselves when they spoke. There was something about the Puerto Rican way of speaking Spanish that put them off. Yo vivo en la sombra de los que me colonizan. “I live in the shadow of those that colonize me.” Ceci, like many Puerto Ricans, took great pride in her native language. That pride is funny, though — well, more ironic than funny — because the language that they adore comes from the long and intense colonial history of their island. The language that they claim as theirs was forcefully imposed upon them.

Ceci’s native language is Spanish, but that was brought upon her ancestors by Spanish colonizers. She was then forced to learn English in school because of Puerto Rico’s colonial status.

The ‘Brightside’ Transmission and the collapse of humanity

The intelligent inhabitants of the exoplanet Kepler-1084B — the only non-human intelligent beings in the universe, as they suspect — turn on their radio receivers and listen in on the signals originating from Earth, 193 lightyears away. For centuries, they have been searching for signs of life beyond their home planet. They want to believe that they aren’t alone in the universe. Their arduous, fruitless search for interplanetary life has not only crushed that hope but has also led them to question their own existence. Is their civilization capable of surviving for eons or is it only an ephemeral blip in the timeline of the universe?

By chance, they tune into the frequency for the signal from the inter-arena communication network for Crisler Arena, unintentionally transmitted deep into space from the edge of a mitten-shaped peninsula on the distant pale blue dot. They demodulate the radio wave and hear a brief pulse: 277.18 Hertz, the D sharp above middle C in human terminology. They hear the noise again. And again. The pulse repeats 104 times. The aliens frantically attempt to decipher the signal’s meaning. But mere seconds after the pulses begin to change pitch, they hear something horrifying: radio silence.

WHISPER

“What is the absolute worst question in the world? The one you don’t ask ~~~ Kevin, my neighbor”

“Don’t let yesterday use up too much of today.

Rogers”

Timeout in Ann Arbor — the Wolverines’ last one remaining. The coaches, with their March Madness hopes on the line following a string of disappointing losses, pull out their whiteboards and draw up a play that will seal victory for the University of Michigan. Conventionally, this is how timeouts operate: The players get a chance to breathe and plan their next play while the fans watching on television at home are subjected to a couple of minutes of advertisements.

In two minutes, a basketball game becomes more watchable by giving its players a breather and demonstrating its economic viability as a monolithic

institution of American culture, courtesy of Burger King or State Farm or The Home Depot. Timeout conventions are less defined for the thousands of fans inside the arena. In the absence of convention, tradition emerges: in-arena entertainment. This is meant to be a pastime, not a memorable focus of the game. Most basketball game attendees remember the key moments of the game but can’t vividly recall listening to “Heads Will Roll – A-Trak Remix” while the referees decide where to spot an out-of-bounds pass from a clumsy point guard intended for an inconsistent three-point shooter. This is how it is supposed to be.

This is not how it is supposed to be.

The aliens desperately scan as many frequencies as they can but fail to find any further transmissions from intelligent life forms. Unbeknownst to them, their alien numbering system is highly incompatible with the humans’ systems of mathematics. This adds an insurmountable layer of difficulty to detecting radio frequencies besides the one they discovered by chance.

The aliens, unable to pick up new signals, grapple with the notion that the silent inhabitants of Earth have met the worst fate.

The aliens are determined to prove the continuance of life on the distant planet. They resort to spectroscopy to examine the chemical vital signs of civilization on Earth. Their concern immediately intensifies. They detect extremely high amounts of heat-insulating carbon gases and trace amounts of heavy radioactive metals in Earth’s atmosphere. Any hope they had for Earth’s inhabitants sharply reduces; any hope they had for the long-term viability of intelligent lifeforms on the planet vanishes completely.

The aliens lament humans’ doomed existence.

The irritating sound of the distinctive guitar riff from “Mr. Brightside” fills Crisler Arena. Many humans lament their doomed existence.

WHISPER

the (un)convention(al) b-side

ERIN EVANS Senior Arts Editor

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

COLD OPEN INT. FAMILY ROOM –AFTERNOON

LITTLE SISTER (7) hurries into the room, out of breath. Her aquamarine “The Little Mermaid” backpack unceremoniously plops to the ground as she kicks off her shoes and makes a beeline for the couch, GoGurt in hand. BIG SISTER (10) is already lying across the opposite couch.

LITTLE SISTER

Did I miss it? Did it start yet?

Big Sister shakes her head NO in confirmation.

LITTLE SISTER (sighing, in relief)

Oh, good.

(then)

Can you turn the sound on?

Where’s the remote?

Big Sister shrugs. Little Sister begins to search the couch cushions, pulling out a few hair ties and some change before spotting the remote underneath the couch Big Sister is sitting on. She quickly dives for it, raises the volume, then jumps back to her seat.

TV ANNOUNCER (V.O.)

…from viewers like you. Thank you. Little Sister pops open her GoGurt and nods contentedly to the TV, gratified by her contribution.

As a kid, I used to follow the same routine almost every afternoon: I’d drop my bag, grab a snack and book it to the family room. I knew the after-

school PBS schedule by heart; my sister and I would watch half of “Cyberchase,” followed by “Arthur” and then “Fetch! with Ruff Ruffman.” If I was lucky, I’d catch a rerun of “Curious George” before the evening news.

I knew exactly what would play and when. I loved my little TV routine as a constant, fixed rhythm in my weekday. Most of all, I liked that the shows themselves followed their own resolute patterns, each episode varying little from the last. Even today, situational comedies remain a comforting, steadfast source of entertainment for me in an otherwise entropic world.

Any time I watch “Seinfeld” or “Everybody Loves Raymond,”

my mind drifts back to weekend mornings with my dad, the sound of his laughter reverberating through the room, mine instinctively chiming in to follow suit. I wasn’t quite able to grasp the jokes yet, but it didn’t really matter; that rhythmic humor absorbed me into the feeling all the same.

Sitcoms are perhaps the most generic form of seriously crafted television in the game. I don’t mean that as a dig, but an observation: They are structured to a tee. The laugh track tells you when to laugh. Audio sweetening tells you precisely which moments are meant to be heartfelt or hilarious or horrific. And most importantly,

the characters lead normal lives with mundane jobs and familiar conflicts, ever-relatable to the average viewer. The beauty of these shows is in the monotony itself, in their ability to work within the audience’s expectations and still tell a story in 22 minutes. A good sitcom knows not to color outside the lines of such a surefire formula to success. A great one knows how to draw a masterpiece within.

ACT ONE

EXT. BRADY BACKYARD –DAY

The Brady kids are playing in perfect harmony. An assortment of toys, bikes and hoola-hoops are strewn across the grass. PETER

and JAN push BOBBY and CINDY on a swing set. MARCIA and GREG toss a ball back and forth. They are the poster children of familial bliss. Everything is as it should be.

INT. BRADY KITCHEN – DAY

ALICE is hard at work, preparing breakfast for the family. CAROL is standing around looking motherly without actually doing anything. MIKE waltzes in, newspaper and briefcase in hand. The parents visibly relax, lulled into a false sense of security and peace. It’s only so long before –

A LOUD CRASH comes from outside.

BOBBY (pointing at Cindy)

She started it!

CINDY No, he did!

BOBBY

It’s not my fault you all moved in last week.

Cindy promptly bursts into tears. Mike and Carol wear appropriately concerned expressions.

CUT TO – ALICE

ALICE

Now, who wants breakfast?

The Brady Bunch are one of the most, if not the most, iconic families in American television to date. Everyone knows their story (and if you don’t, you can catch up in about 60 seconds): Two single parents meet, fall in love and merge their families into one.

Total “guy with three kids meets girl with three kids widower/divorcée to husband/ wife classic,” huh?

Beyond the Bradys’ squeakyclean, picture-perfect reputation, they were foremost a blended family — a fairly radical premise at the time. The notion of not only featuring a slightly unusual family set-up but normalizing it in a sitcom was groundbreaking to see. Sure, having the kids call their new step-parents “mom” and “dad” from the get-go was a bit much, and Carol’s ex-husband was never mentioned out of the network’s fear of controversy, but conforming to TV ideals is precisely what gave this nontraditional family its staying power and ingrained them in the popular cultural landscape.

Greeting cards are art. They are mass-produced, but are sent just to you; the sender is only “thinking of you.”

Greeting cards line my shelves and walls like artwork: a dog with a toilet joke from my sister, scoops of my favorite ice cream flavors falling from the sky from my parents, eight reasons my grandmother loves me (written by a copywriter), a joyful Yom Kippur message from a wellmeaning Christian relative, a “drink up, it’s ur bday” from my hometown friends. The people who gave me these little works of art were loved ones who knew how much I would enjoy them.

In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Aaron Ahuvia, a University of Michigan-Dearborn marketing and U-M-Ann Arbor Art & Design professor and leading expert in noninterpersonal love, described the impetus behind gift-giving and gift-loving.

“You’re dating somebody, and they give you some sort of a present, a nice decorative item, and you are happy to display it in your home and you really love this item,” Ahuvia said. “And the two

When I was nine years old, I took on my first role in live theater as Scuttle in “The Little Mermaid Jr.” I never could have imagined that nine years later I would prance around onstage in drag, complete with a child-size royal cape and a bright blue glitter beard as King Arthur in “Monty Python’s Spamalot.”

This is one of the many moments I look back on when I try to remember why I ever thought I was a cisgender woman. At the time, I thought the confidence I felt embodying King Arthur came from the ability to be silly in a show full of comedic bits and ridiculousness.

After all, I haven’t been in a show since “Spamalot,” where I’ve had the opportunity to slice someone’s obviously fake arms off with a wooden sword or gallop across the stage on an invisible horse voiced by a pair of coconuts. Now, I realize it was that ridiculousness that allowed me to express myself and my gender unabashedly, glitter beard and all. In my years at a private elementary school, I did everything I could to customize

of you break up … you are gonna like to get rid of it … the object really was a reflection of the kind of relationship you had with the person.”

A card that carries a message, even one not written by the giver, reflects the giver’s love. It’s a preservation of that love forever — a reminder, a preserver and a keepsake.

In Britain, Valentine’s Day cards have been a pure expression of love, adorned with lace, flowers and paper embellishments, since the early 19th century. These cards were far too expensive and time-consuming for the middle and lower classes to access, restricting these handcrafted expressions of love to the upper echelons.

Then, in 1849, love began its oddly beautiful commercialization when Massachusetts entrepreneur Esther Howland created a Valentine’s card assembly line. She made elaborate pieces from scratch pairing ornate illustrations with ribbons, silk and lace. The business soon expanded to New Year’s and birthday cards, as well as May baskets. Howland became a multi-thousandaire while spreading love and well wishes with beautiful handcrafting.

my uniform so I wouldn’t blend into the sea of red polos and khaki skirts, donning tights with the most garish patterns I could find and sunglasses that would put Elton John to shame. Looking back, I realize how much power that form of expression gave me.

Today, I embrace it wholeheartedly. Whether it’s a school uniform or the unwritten gender norms of society, I don’t let those restrictions stop me from being myself.

So, today, I want to share with you my secret to the perfect glitter beard and the maximum amount of gender euphoria.

Step One: Primer! Skincare is always essential, especially when applying heavy makeup like a glitter beard. This step is particularly important when wearing this look in front of a crowd. A show-stopping number can make you sweat, and we don’t want your fabulous glitter beard melting away!

Step Two: Outline your glitter beard with eyeliner pencil. This is your time to be precise and make sure your look is exactly how you want it. The shape I used is simply inspiration; you can add as much flair in your beard’s shape as you like.

Louis Prang, the so-called “father of the Christmas card,” also began selling cards in 1875, selling a reported five million yearly by 1881. Prang held design competitions for artists to share their work and Christmas wishes on a large scale (and receive a high payout for winning). Participants included artist John La Farge, architect Stanford White and designer Louis Comfort Tiffany. Designs varied in whimsy and fun, solitude and celebration. The cards of the early 20th century reflected each artist’s message but were personal to the card giver and receiver.

Ahuvia described the earliest conceptions of art as “the creation of something beautiful that exists purely for its decorative or beautiful effect.” Early cards were sold on the market but were certainly works of art. The new world of greeting cards allowed the American public to give something beautiful to their loved ones. No longer did they need delicate handcrafting skills or extreme wealth to spread love and happiness in a tiny envelope. The emerging world of greeting cards created a new art form with infinite possibilities — and put it into millions of hands.

In 1910, the Hall brothers, Joyce (J.C.), Rollie and William,

Step Three: Use a brush or sponge to fill in your outline with water-activated makeup (like the Mac Chromacake that I used) in the color of your choice. I chose my favorite shade of royal blue. Use more than one coat for maximum coverage.

Step Four: It’s time for glitter! For fine glitter, mix with a gel mixing medium or primer and apply with a flat foundation brush or fingers. Make sure you don’t miss any spots. You want to look as sparkly as possible.

Step Five: Setting spray is the key to making your glitter beard stick, especially as you proudly show off your beauty to the world, whether that’s onstage in a danceheavy number like the Act I finale of “Spamalot,” appropriately titled “Run Away!” or strolling through the aisles of your local convenience store.

Cindy races into the kitchen, Bobby a beat behind her.

began selling their greeting card designs out of two shoeboxes in Kansas City, Mo., and grew in size until their business caught fire in 1915. They reopened in 1917, intending to further the personal, intimate nature of letter writing. This meant selling cards held within envelopes and cards that folded, rather than the traditional open-faced cards. This allowed for surprise messages and longer love notes hidden behind a card’s cover.

During World War I and II, people turned to the card’s short, sweet letters to wish others well across the world. The business, later named Hallmark Cards Inc., took off. In “Hallmark: A Century of Caring,” J.C. Hall said, “Many more men became permanent buyers of cards than ever before. And I saw something else in the custom — a way of giving less articulate people, and those who tend to disguise their feelings, a voice to express their love and affection.” Anyone who could not express the extent of their love in their own words could do it through someone else’s art, whether for the holidays or an everyday occasion. Greeting cards had become art for the masses — which meant it was no longer considered art.

something was created not out of “inspired desire” but to “communicate something or create demand for the marketplace to make money, that disqualified it from being art.”

This has now begun to change, he said, as “that idea of art disqualified a lot of things that are important to non-elites.” This leads to populism, he said “not in the political sense,” but regarding popular music, art, sitcoms, greeting cards, “The Bachelor.”

“These could all be taken seriously,” Ahuvia said. “I like the democratic spirit of that.”

Be it “The Bachelor” or a cheesy valentine, populist art represents the popular conception of love. It expresses love through common, widespread imagery, humor and far more whimsy than a long love poem or romantic play. The art of the greeting card, while far from “elite,” is made more beautiful by the messages of love it can spread and the sheer volume of love and joy the “mass-produced” art can spread, regardless of class or taste.

In 1932, Disney and Hallmark united for one of the most subtly influential business deals ever, irreversibly corporatizing the somewhat personal greeting card industry while creating a new market for children. The Disney

cards now allowed parents to give cards their kids would love and cherish. With Mickey Mouses and Disney princesses, the cards connected to more than a moment in time or a simple message — they depicted kids’ favorite characters and stories of a single year. As technology progressed, cards became a new form of pop art. New, whimsical elements adorned cards for children and adults alike, including complex pop-ups, musical cards, light-up embellishments and mechanical cards.

Greeting cards also became a new form of comic, hiding humorous greetings and wishes in their new, joke-style Hallmark Shoebox Greetings line. While not the most advanced humor, this artful, subtle humor has reached millions of homes and hearts since its conception.

Corporations, like art, forever transform our beliefs, for better or worse. They shape our knowledge of holidays and form our emotional ties to them.

“If something is created by a corporation, for the purpose of making money, it doesn’t feel authentic,” Ahuvia said. But does that lack of authenticity stop us from loving something?

really make The unconventional art in greeting cards KAYA GINSKY Senior Arts Editor Design by Evelyn Mousigian

it your own. Find a glittery Read more at MichiganDaily.com

According to Ahuvia, if

that matches the color Read more at MichiganDaily.com

your

that completely clashes.

Design by Leah Hoogterp

One. Two. Three. I closed my eyes as each number echoed in my head and my anxiety grew. I focused on my internal counting, hoping to prevent a shut down. However, it couldn’t mask the sound of my family circling around me as they spoke about a deportation in our local Mexican store. I shielded myself from reality, forcing my warm hands over each ear. Individually, my toes curled on the staircase’s steps as my body formed into a ball, clenching every muscle.

“Tengan cuidado cuando vayan al supermercado. Están deportando a varios Hispanos,” someone had said.

Tears streamed down my face when I heard the word “deportación.” I was 8. I didn’t understand the true meaning of the word. All I knew was that deportation was our enemy, and we needed to run from it whenever it approached.

From then on, I lived with a constant feeling of anxiety. Each moment felt like a ticking time bomb, the threat of deportation looming over my family’s heads. It could happen any time, anywhere. As we innocently pushed a shopping cart through the store’s aisles, my heart raced at the thought of my mother being snatched away from us. I could already hear the border patrol officer’s harsh commands, tearing my mother’s arms away from me. I would cry and scream, but my plea would fall on deaf ears.

I wish things like that only happened in nightmares, but this was my reality. The United States has a history of border patrol ignoring

the anguished cries of little children as they’re ripped apart from their loved ones and thrown into the unknown. The pain and trauma inflicted on these families is unimaginable, yet the cycle of cruelty and separation persists, like a never-ending nightmare.

Mass migration into the United States has been a recurring phenomenon for centuries, but through the years, obtaining the ticket to the American Dream has become increasingly difficult. Since the 1700’s, laws have become more stringent, requiring immigrants to reside in the United States for many years prior to citizenship eligibility. During the Great Depression, racist arguments Nativists accused Mexican immigrants of being responsible for the economic crash. Most of the detestation stemmed from President Herbert Hoover’s campaign with the slogan, “American Jobs for Real Americans.” Hoover’s anti-Mexican views called for the Mexican Repatriation Act in 1929, forcibly deporting close to 400,000-2 million individuals with Mexican descent.

History only shows that the government has made the lives of immigrants harder. For instance, Immigration and Customs Enforcement was created after 9/11 to protect the United States border. After ICE’s formation, it has become harder for immigrants to enter the country with its advanced security and weapons, making it easier to be detained at the border. The fear, however, doesn’t end at the border. Those who settle illegally inside the United States live with the constant fear of ICE deporting them and separating them from their

families. During his two terms, President Barack Obama used ICE to deport about three million immigrants, the most of any U.S. president. My dad was a victim of the various anti-immigrant laws implemented in the United States. As I sat on the staircase, I recalled the stories he would tell me about crossing the Mexican border. He would describe in vivid detail how he hid in a tiny case inside a vehicle along with a few other people. They quietly concealed themselves in the trunk, packing together like sardines in a can, making sure they weren’t found by border control. Sweat dripped down his face from the lack of airflow. His tongue wouldn’t carry the English language or have financial stability at first, but the American Dream kept him hoping. In the process, these travelers, like my dad, are given a story. A story they can tell their kids as they grow old. A story that will open their children’s eyes and make them see that success is not given once the border is crossed; rather, it is achieved by working hard even when the laws go against you.

Crossing the United States border as a Mexican immigrant can be a harrowing experience. The journey is often filled with treacherous terrain, scorching heat and an endless sea of uncertainty. Every step taken is a step closer to the dream of a better life, but also a step closer to border control. For those who are caught, the experience can be traumatizing. They are stripped of their dignity and treated like mere objects, herded like cattle and shoved into cramped and dirty holding cells. The conditions are often inhumane, with little access

to basic necessities like food, water and medical care. Conditions do not seem to be improving due to the creation of stronger border protection with precise training and expensive equipment. Its strength has only caused terror in the minds of these families. This terror became familiar to my parents, then gradually it crawled into me. My parents moved to the United States in order to provide a better future for their children, following the footsteps of many other immigrants. They endure hardship and work tirelessly to build a new life in a completely unknown country. However, this can have a lasting impact on their children’s mental health as they feel the pressure to prove that their parents’ sacrifices were worth it. Children of immi-

grant parents have been shown to have double the amount of mental distress in comparison to their parents.

I remember sitting at the dinner table, my elbows stuck to the surface like glue, staring at the documents in front of me, which, in my mind, appeared to be written in a foreign language because of the sophisticated words. However, I refused to disappoint my parents with my lack of comprehension, so I recited the words with a shaky voice. I felt like the weight of our world was on my shoulders, and every mistake I made would cause the ground to crumble beneath us.

Like many children, I had dreams of joining theater or playing a sport. However, these dreams seemed out of reach because my parents’ priorities were different.

They worked long hours everyday to bring food to the table every night. As the oldest child, I strived to take on more responsibility; I helped my younger siblings with their homework or cleaned the house while my parents were at work. I knew that they were working hard to provide for us, but it still felt like a heavy burden to bear.

Translation, along with selflessly putting dreams on hold, is the life I continuously lived. It’s the life that millions of other children who live in immigrant households live, creating independence from a young age. Growing up, these adolescents strive towards stability that their parents may have lacked, often showing high signs of anxiety and stress.

Slowly but ever so surely, the paradise of the American refuge sold to my young, naïve parents has crumbled piece by piece. As I stare at my third anti-depressant of the day, the lottery that gave my family our visas feels more like we were selected for the Hunger Games. On campus, I avoid my room for weeks to escape the isolation ––my couch becoming my bed –– but all that I have accomplished is turning my house into my prison. Droplets of guilt trickle down my face, for I do not enjoy the sacrifice my parents have made for me. I blame their decision for traumatizing me with the perpetual sense of loneliness lodged within me. In my darkest moments, I’m flooded with memories of a much smaller me.

I still see myself hunched over on a playground bench, sobbing because I cannot understand why no one will talk to me, why I can’t seem to fit in, why I can’t afford anything anyone else can, why everyone acts as if I’m different or as if I don’t exist at all. I still see that crying child silently pleading for anyone, for even a teacher, to acknowledge him, only to see blank stares on white faces brush past, toward their

next game of handball. My parents left everything they had to escape the destitution of their home country, to try to give me a chance at a life that they were robbed of, so I cannot possibly tell them that the happiness they thought they could give me was never possible to begin with –– not in a place where we didn’t belong –– and certainly not with the pocket change they had. Immigrants are an especially vulnerable group in a medical and educational system designed to prioritize wealthy, white bodies and minds. Not only are immigrants three times more likely to be uninsured, but they are also 15% less likely to have a regular source of mental health care than native U.S. citizens. Studies have found that racial discrimination experienced in educational settings is a strong predictor of depressive symptoms among immigrant children. Additionally, the overall stress associated with assimilating into new cultures, known as acculturation stress, has been shown to predict depression and anxiety, especially for low-income immigrants. I was no exception to any of these structural inequalities. I don’t fault my parents for the things out of their control, and I am grateful for the security here that Sri Lanka could not have

provided, but a tinge of bitterness resides as I daydream of a life without the traumatic effects of my childhood isolation.

We immigrated from Sri Lanka to the United States in 2003, in the 20th year of a 26-year civil war. I was just about 11 months old and my brother was 5 years old, giving us both the distinction of being in the “1.5 generation”: first-generation immigrants that moved before our teens. Naturally, we were plunged into a world where no one’s heard of our country, everyone wants us to go back and our names butchered by our teachers became running jokes amongst our classmates.

My transition to American culture wasn’t seamless, not by a long shot, but my brother’s was especially challenging. He had developed the ability to speak and write in Sinhalese at 5, but after moving he had lost the progress made in those essential years of development and was forced to start learning English from scratch. At first, I was envious of how much more proficient he was at speaking and understanding our native tongue; I see it now as the genesis of his otherness.

He was extremely quiet in school, unable to articulate or communicate his thoughts with his peers, so his teachers raised concerns about the possibility of

a learning disability. A psychologist tasked with his diagnosis chalked up his antisocial behavior to acculturation stress, or as they put it, “culture shock,” which he would simply grow out of. As he got older, it became obvious that “he’ll grow out of it” really meant “you’re on your own.” Despite achieving English fluency, my brother continued to face difficulties in social situations and creating friendships. Without any assistance from medical professionals, my parents, especially my father, were painfully unprepared to provide support during these emotionally turbulent times. At 19 years old, my father worked 12-hour shifts in a dangerous rubber factory to provide for his family as the eldest son instead of going to school. Issues of mental health weren’t a concern in a life where food was never guaranteed, and every day was a chance to lose his hand to a piece of heavy machinery. So, it was only until late into my brother’s adolescence and through adulthood, that therapists and doctors attributed his behavioral issues to a myriad of conditions: bipolar disorder, ADHD, depression and anxiety. These conditions are inseparable from “culture shock,” for they manifest and develop in ways specific to the traumatic experience of assimilation.

Instead of bringing us together, our collective desire to feel accepted pitted my brother and me against each other. Hot elementary school summers were full of flared tempers, punches thrown and tears sizzling on pavement. My brother knew exactly how to push my buttons, much to the delight and glee of our neighborhood friends. Pent-up anger from years of shouting in the walls of the miniature bedroom that we shared, began to subside when someone who I had never met, towering above me, asked in the school bathroom, “[blank] is your brother right? You should’ve seen him today,” followed by laughter. I didn’t understand what he meant, but my brother’s dead silence told me not to ask. And I never did. I wonder now if that bullying was just another part of the “culture shock” that the psychologist had in mind. It was then that I understood his treatment of me was a way to gain the approval of our peers, and a chance for him to be on the other side of the abuse handed to him. I have long forgiven him, yet I only wish he could’ve known then, despite us being five years apart, we were looking for the same thing. We just wanted to feel included, but after my older brother turned me away, I had no one left.

ten older, my relationship with my brother and my family has improved tremendously, something that I have endless gratitude for. Years of therapy, medication and support from my family and friends have allowed me to unpack the isolating events from which my anxiety and depression originate. When my family and I talk now, our conversations are no longer clouded by American fantasies of grandeur and we speak fondly of the possibility of going to Sri Lanka, even for just a little while. I write this article at peace because I know that the isolation I experienced was not deserved, and those vestigial feelings of loneliness are not my reality when I come home and I am with people I love.

Thankfully, as I have got-

At the stygian blue, that demands I tell the truth.

Is there anything in your pockets.

No! The caramel brown puddles that weep for me, With me. That hold my gaze with enough warmth to incubate

You know what—

Still, while being in yet another educational setting where diversity is grossly insufficient, that alienation continues to pervade my consciousness, as it does for many of the marginalized students on campus. From being the only brown person in my classes to trying to connect with peers at a university where the median household income is $154,000, the constant state of déjà vu brings me to times I so desperately wish to put behind me. I sit on that same playground bench when I sit on the porch of my home, positioned across the street from frat row. Hives

How Dare You— How dare you chant my name, when you know I’m going to fail. How dare you— castigate. Make it seem that I carry the sin.

Now, Now I understand why my Brother dropped from the race, and swims in gin, and turns and hands off his problems, inherited by his ` Next-of-kin.

You, on the ground, Understand, it will be hard. There’s nothing like

JULIA VERKLAN AND ZOE STORER Managing Editors

Debates on the Diag

From the Editors: How do we decide whether to publish anonymous Letters to the Editor and Op-Eds?

survivors of sexual assault have told their stories with a frankness that would not have been feasible with their name attached.

For the foreseeable future, The Daily does not plan to publish anonymous Op-Eds or Letters to the Editor, with a few clear-cut exceptions.

In order for us to publish an anonymous Op-Ed or Letter to the Editor, three things must be true: The piece must be specifically relevant to those on campus, the story or argument can only be told or made by the writer requesting anonymity and there must be some reasonable expectation that publishing this piece with a name attached would directly endanger the writer.

Anonymous commentary has a long and storied history within American news publishing. The United States very likely would not exist in its current form without the rhetorical exertions of Publius — the pseudonym adopted by Founding Father Alexander Hamilton as he tried to get New Yorkers of the 1780s to buy into the new federal system.

The Michigan Daily has hosted anonymous writers as well; they have written on a variety of important topics:

Chinese students have criticized the Chinese government and

The Daily receives a great number of Op-Eds and Letters to the Editor. Every morning, we, the editorial page editors, wake up to about 30 Dailyrelated emails in our inboxes.

Some of these are mass-emailed to every college newspaper in the country, unspecific, serving as a tirade on the topic of the day; some are from University of Michigan students wanting to write a restaurant review or opine on international politics; and some — the ones we tend to publish — are from community members wanting to write about tense issues closer to home.

Some of those writing about U-M specific issues, such as antisemitism or Islamophobia on campus, request anonymity.

Given that fairness in coverage is one of our primary goals as an organization, we have generally preferred to grant anonymity rather than potentially risk the perception of favoritism on crucial local issues. These are the issues for which it is most necessary that our coverage be perceived as balanced, as students do not have access to a robust network of competing media on local issues like they do

for national issues. These decisions about anonymity are often difficult. While we do have a set process for deciding which submissions are selected for publication, The Daily does not have a robustly defined set of policies regarding granting anonymity to Letter writers and Op-Ed contributors who request it. Usually, it is at our discretion as the editorial page editors.

Our ability to utilize our discretion has, in the past, been affected by the decisions of previous editors who — in good judgment and in line with our practices at that time — decided to grant anonymity when we might not have. When we as editors have declined to publish a given piece anonymously, a common complaint is that previous writers, often arguing the opposite position of the prospective anonymous writer, have been afforded the opportunity to write within our pages without having their name published.

We are publishing this letter to fix this problem of competing precedents and define our institutional goals regarding anonymity.

If you are interested in writing a piece about an issue, and are not interested in being identified, we would encourage you to connect and collaborate with those on campus who are comfortable being named.

There is value to being named as an author of a piece — it encourages writers to be more honest and thoughtful when writing on contentious topics by adding accountability. We are hopeful that making this change publicly will only strengthen the quality of content being published from guest writers while helping to defuse tension on campus between nameless and faceless adversaries striking at each other through the curtain

On Wednesday morning, members of the Graduate Employees’ Organization and their allies gathered on the Diag in support of GEO’s demands for a fair contract and a living wage for all. The air was brimming with energy, and I felt proud to be joined by many other impassioned undergraduate students who showed up in solidarity with GEO. Alongside current and former Graduate Student Instructors, we marched and chanted for a more livable University of Michigan — it was a powerful and historical moment. Hundreds of undergraduate students were there in support because every single one of us has a stake in this fight. Here is why you should sign up to join us on the picket lines. Why should the GEO strike matter to undergraduate students? Simply put, graduate student working conditions are our learning conditions and their demands are in our best interest. Graduate workers are an essential part of our campus community, and without them, the University would not be able to provide such a high-quality and sought-after education. Graduate workers not only do the academic labor of grading papers, guiding class discussions and helping students with course material, but also the emotional labor of providing support when students are struggling in their personal lives. Think about the positive difference that GSIs have made in your lives. They work far more than the 20 hours stipulated in their contract, but they are treated like part-time workers for full-time work. We all deserve a campus that fosters a healthy quality of life for those who live and work on it.

GEO graduate workers are demanding a living wage of $38,500. The current wage of $24,000 is not enough to meet the rapidly increasing cost of living in Ann Arbor. In fact, 80% of graduate workers are rent-burdened, and many of them are forced to live in neighboring cities like Ypsilanti. They live paycheck to paycheck, struggling to afford groceries, child care and medical bills. They resort to rationing their medications, skipping meals and selling their plasma to keep their heads above water. These living

conditions are indefensible. Yet, the University is only offering a raise of around $100 per month in the first year and even less in the next two years, which is not enough to cover the yearly 6% inflation rate. In other words, this “raise” is actually a significant pay cut.

GEO’s demands also directly benefit undergraduate students on campus. For example, GEO is fighting for increased disability accommodations and the creation of a Disability Cultural Center. By providing basic training on disability accommodations, GSIs can better support undergraduate students with disabilities. Another key demand includes improving access to gender-affirming health care services. In the past, GEO’s wins on gender-affirming health care have led to better coverage for everyone across our campus community. At a time when transgender people are under assault across the country, every person on campus has a stake in GEO’s fight for trans rights. For both undergraduate and graduate students who are parents, GEO also hopes to abolish the discriminatory eligibility requirements for the child care subsidy and increase the subsidy to cover 75% of the cost of U-M child care centers.

Another central aim of their platform is public safety — something that will have a big impact on the entire campus community. Many students of Color, graduates and undergraduates alike, have experienced traumatizing encounters with campus police, making them feel alienated and unsafe. GEO is asking the University to fund the Coalition for Re-Envisioning Our Safety, which is developing a community-led non-police response program in Washtenaw County. An unarmed program was voted on unanimously by Ann Arbor City Council and received 93% support in a recent city of Ann Arbor poll. GEO’s proposal to codify the University’s sanctuary campus policy, which would limit the University’s cooperation with immigration enforcement authorities except as required by law, would also protect undocumented students at all levels of study. These commonsense proposals would make the University safer for everyone and should be supported by the entire campus community.

Last Thursday, the University

Op-Ed: Why undergraduates should be on the picket line Wrong party

filed an injunction against GEO and is suing the union for damages. The University claims that GEO is causing “irreparable injury” to undergraduates by going on strike. However, the University conveniently ignores the fact that Central Student Government, the largest organization that represents undergrads, endorsed GEO’s demands last fall. Furthermore, many of us will actually be graduate workers ourselves one day, meaning that the success of GEO’s demands would directly improve our lives in the near future. In reality, it is the University’s Board of Regents and University President Santa Ono who are responsible for the disruption of GEO’s strike, as they have permitted U-M representatives to refuse to negotiate in good faith.

The punitive course of action marked by the University’s injunction is an aggressive affront to the values that the university claims to champion: diversity, equity and inclusion. The University’s commitment to DEI seems hollow when U-M administration is refusing to give graduate workers a contract that protects their most marginalized members. The University of Michigan is one of the wealthiest public institutions in the world. Ono will receive $6 million in salaries and bonuses over the next five years. U-M administration has no trouble finding the money for multi-million dollar renovations of the President’s Mansion or millions of dollars for former University President Mark Schlissel’s retirement package. Yet, when it comes to the economic well-being of its grad workers, the money seems to run dry. The University needs to get its priorities straight and spend money on its students – not just vanity projects and exorbitant salaries for bosses.

I ask all undergraduate students to show some courage and join graduate workers on the picket lines. I ask them to not be complicit in or support scab labor — that is, labor that substitutes that of striking workers. Don’t attend your GSI sections if they are being replaced by scabs and don’t cross the picket line if there is one in front of your class building. Ask your professors to commit to not using scab labor, talk to your friends and classmates about GEO’s fight, and sign up for a picketing shift. If you are financially able, donate to GEO’s strike fund and share it widely.

Think of every teacher you’ve ever had. Consider each of them, both your favorites and the ones you wish you could forget. Ponder all of the little moments that make up your childhood education, all the way up through high school, from the disappointed talks after the substitute teacher left a bad note to the oddly strict bathroom pass rules.

Now think of the first time you heard a teacher swear. The first time a teacher spoke to you like an adult. The times that you saw your teachers outside of school, maybe at the grocery store, and you were unsure of whether or not to say hello. Times when your teachers broke through the mold of “teacher” we’ve created in our minds. When that younger version of yourself was shocked into realizing that teachers are people — people with dreams, lives and limits, just like any other person.

Teachers have a monumental responsibility: shaping America’s youth. At a minimum, they must be able to maintain a clean and orderly classroom; create comprehensive multimedia lesson plans; provide individualized interactive learning; assess student progress and regularly communicate that progress to students and parents; collaborate with school faculty and pay close attention to students’ behavior and emotional well-being. Expectations for teachers even go beyond the classroom — because education is viewed as a mechanism for social mobility, teachers are considered the vanguard for America’s struggle to reduce inequality.

That’s quite a comprehensive list. With such burdensome tasks, it would make sense for teachers to be treated with respect and given proper compensation and benefits, right? Apparently not!

Teachers are more than just their occupation

During the 2015-2016 school year, about one-third of new teachers and 18% of regular, fulltime public school teachers had to work second jobs, just to make ends meet. One in five teachers in the United States have a second job, which magnifies the educator’s relative burden compared to other occupations.

The situation for teachers is only getting worse. Average teacher pay (when adjusted for inflation) has declined throughout the last decade.

According to the National Education Association, the average (nominal) salary of American teachers in 2021-2022 was about $66,000. In 2013 dollars, however, that’s only $54,225 — about $2,000 less than the average salary in 2013.

Compared to other professions with the same level of education, teachers’ wages were 23.5% less in 2021, a wage penalty that increased from 18.7% in 2017.

Simply put, there are high expectations and low wages for teachers. Most people already know that. That’s because headlines in recent years showcase our teachers’ fight for fair benefits and wages. Last week in Los Angeles, employees from support staff to teachers of the second-largest school district in the country were on strike, demanding higher wages.

Teachers in San Rafael, Calif., just authorized a strike after negotiating with the San Rafael City Schools since November. Earlier this month, teachers in Woodburn, Ore., threatened to strike, pointing out the many resignations in the district in the last few years.

Even those that are not formally considered educators have felt these burdens. Here at the University of Michigan, with the Graduate Employees’ Organization currently on strike for the second time in three years, we know about strikes impeding education all too well. They, too, are demanding higher wages.

These instructors, at the University for their own education rather than teaching as a profession, face similar challenges of being undervalued for their labor.

Another consequence of the high-stress and low-paying conditions set for teachers is the profession’s worsening retention rate. The turnover rate for teachers reached a new high this year, which has been attributed mostly to the pandemic.

According to a survey by the RAND Corporation, one in four teachers considered leaving their jobs during the 2020-21 school year, even if they didn’t actually go through with it. There is reportedly more job-related stress for school staff, specifically principals in this survey, who are people of Color, identify as female and are in high-poverty areas.

Obviously, this is bad for American education. How we treat our teachers has consequences: The U.S. education system lags behind other countries in terms of academic achievement. And when teachers are paid more, students do better. The work of teachers is crucial for society as a whole, but it is more so impactful at the individual level. The first part of this article asked you to think about your past teachers; whether good or bad, those

memories are vivid, proving the importance of the role that teachers play in our lives.

However, their impact on the nation shouldn’t be the reason that teachers should get equitable pay and benefits. They should get those things simply because they are people. We shouldn’t need to argue for teachers’ jobs to have greater importance or need to point out how the declining retention rate and frequency of labor strikes further harm education.

Instead of viewing the millions of teachers in the U.S. solely as their occupation, we should be seeing them first as

people with human limits and rights to a safe, healthy working environment. With 44% of schools reporting that they don’t have the capabilities to provide mental health services to students in need, teachers are forced to take on a larger role to compensate for that lack of care. These burdens are already taking their toll on teachers, with 79% of teachers reporting experiencing workrelated anxiousness and one in 10 teachers being prescribed antidepressant medication to combat job pressures. The mental health of teachers is deteriorating, to the point that

people are either leaving or never joining the profession at all.

Placing the burdensome weight of America’s entire education, social work and social justice system onto teachers and expecting them to do it with little support, and even less compensation, cannot continue. It has become quite obvious that teachers are willing to do what it takes to get the respect they deserve. Until there’s a change in the treatment of teachers, these strikes and bad retention rates are just going to continue. Then it’s the students paying the cost at the end of it all.

Trans people in sports: A non-issue

MADISON AUCHINCLOSS Opinion Contributor

On March 23, the World Athletics Council, which runs the World Athletics Championships and other sporting events, decided to ban transgender women athletes from competing in any of their events if they have gone through any stages of male puberty. While this didn’t exactly come as a shock to anybody, given that the Council proposed this back in January, it was still an unpleasant reminder of just how transphobic the sports world can often be.

So, let’s talk about trans athletes — particularly trans women, as trans men were not included in the WAC’s ruling — because there are pervasive misconceptions that contribute to the mass hysteria over trans people playing sports.

First, some basic definitions. A trans person is anyone who does not identify with the sex they were assigned at birth. Trans is a broad category that encompasses trans men and women, as well as non-binary and gender nonconforming people. A trans man is someone who was assigned female at birth and transitioned to a man. A trans woman is someone who was assigned male at birth and transitioned to a woman. I’m going to use trans people to refer to primarily trans men and women throughout the piece, but nonbinary and gender non-conforming people are very much a part of that community, and they are affected by this ruling as well.

Just to be very clear: Gender is not biological. Neither is sex. There are so many gene combinations that can cause someone to present as male or female that are not XX and XY. Genitals may not match up with someone’s external appearance, especially for intersex people. The World Athletics Council’s order hurts intersex individuals just as much as it hurts trans women because it prevents anyone who has gone through male puberty at all from participating — this applies to intersex people if their parents chose the male gender for them.

The process of transitioning varies wildly by person. Not all trans people choose to medically transition, but many do. For these two genders, this involves hormone replacement therapy — trans men take testosterone and trans women take estrogen. Trans women may undergo breast augmentation while trans men may undergo double mastectomies (commonly called top surgery), and both may undergo bottom surgery to change their genitals. Any medical solution may also require extensive mental health analysis, referrals from doctors and certainly money. It is not something that someone undergoes just because they felt like trying out another gender for the day.

So, trans women in sports: What’s the big deal? Short answer: There isn’t one. The only people making a big deal out of this are sore losers and transphobes.

The long answer is exactly the same: There isn’t a problem, except for the ones society creates. There is a belief, for example, that trans women are beginning to dominate women’s sports and win all of the awards. There is another, even dumber idea, that men would claim to be trans women and change in the girls’ locker rooms so they could see boobs.

Absolutely zero trans people are transitioning so that they can win sports events. However, there are trans people who happen to play sports, and the best thing we can do is allow them to compete in the categories of their identity. Unfortunately, many organizations do not allow that because of rules about testosterone and assigned gender.

One of the most famous examples of a trans person in sports is Lia Thomas, a swimmer at the University of Pennsylvania. She gained media attention in 2021 when she became one of the most successful transfeminine athletes in college sports, dominating her competitions and becoming the first trans woman to win an NCAA Division I championship. She came out during her junior year and began HRT for her gender dysphoria. NCAA rules at the time stated that trans female

athletes “may not compete on a women’s team until completing one calendar year of testosterone suppression treatment.” Those rules have since been updated to be more inclusive.

After Thomas had completed that requirement and deferred her eligibility a year due to COVID-19, she began to swim on the women’s team in 2021, dominating competitions and drawing massive amounts of hatred from right-wing news sources and many of her teammates and opponents. Many opponents cited that her ‘biology,’ such as her height and bone density, gave her unfair advantages, and backed this up with some scientific studies that supposedly show that advantage.

However, Dr. Joshua D. Safer, co-author of the Endocrine Society’s guidelines for treating trans people, stated, “A person’s genetic make-up and internal and external reproductive anatomy are not useful indicators of athletic performance,” and most medical experts agree.

Sometimes, when looking at how dominant Thomas was throughout her final season, it might be easy to believe that the transphobes are correct and that Thomas is simply too dominant to be allowed to swim with women.

But, she was previously one of the best swimmers on the Penn men’s team, and she was not even ranked No. 1 in the country in collegiate women’s swimming during her final season. If she was so good on the men’s team, what advantage would she have gained by transitioning? Maybe she’s just a good swimmer.

But transphobes don’t want to hear that. One of the girls that Thomas beat is still on Fox News whining about her loss nearly a year after the race. She and those who agree with her simply cannot accept that someone who is trans might be good at sports.

And, while they are comfortable speaking their hatred, they are often empowered by the shield of anonymity, as is evident in this quote from a teammate of Thomas’ who didn’t want her to swim on the team: “I’m not about to be labeled as transphobic.”

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Average pet owner

Are traditional college classes becoming obsolete?

professors. For example, in an astronomy lecture of mine, only 10 students showed up when more than 100 were registered.

Your indecision is holding you back

With the semester nearing its end and the standoff between the Graduate Employees’ Organization and the University of Michigan raging on, there’s no better time than now to reflect back on how this school year has gone academically. For some, this year was filled with packed schedules, long study nights and never-ending amounts of work; for others, classes may have been an afterthought. Personally, I tried to find a middle ground: balancing a moderate course load with time to socialize. Regardless of how the year played out for you, what unites many U-M students’ experiences is a general feeling that the traditional way we learn has changed.

It is important to first define the traditional way we learn at the University of Michigan. This idea refers to the lecture and discussion format that makes up the overwhelming majority of courses provided by the University. These are the classes where students have the opportunity to take part in both a large learning environment and a closer, conversational section. This structure is largely the norm.

The first major problem with this system has to do with attendance. While some courses make attendance in lecture compulsory, there are many where that is not the case. Scores of students skip their lectures, choosing to spend their time sleeping in or socializing rather than learning from their

It appears that as of late, students are not showing up to class in the same capacity they have in the past.

Why, you might be asking, has this become so widespread? The simplest answer is laziness. It’s much easier for a busy college student to stay in the comfort of their own home than to walk 10 minutes to a lecture hall.

Furthermore, with the rise in Lecture Capture spearheaded by the pandemic, there are many students who prefer to watch lectures on their own time rather than attending them in-person. But laziness cannot be the sole reason why students skip lectures, especially when our coursework and extracurriculars become more strenuous over time. There must be something greater at play here, something that can be better understood if we consider the changing ways U-M students complete their schoolwork.

The days when completing schoolwork was a strictly human process are over. When tasked with essays to write, worksheets to fill out or projects to work through, many students are not turning to their lecture notes, textbooks or even the internet for help. They are looking to their pal ChatGPT and other Artificial Intelligence softwares to get the work done for them. One in five college students have turned to AI tools in order to complete their assignments, and this figure will only be exacerbated if the traditional learning system remains stagnant while AI

continues to innovate.

It is the digital age that is leading traditional college classes down the path to antiquity. This explanation, though, is only half the story. The problem has much more to do with the way technology has impacted human behavior than it has to do with the technology itself.

For starters, convenience has become the name of the game. With just a few clicks on a screen, we can buy anything we want, talk to whoever we want and practically see or hear anything we want at a moment’s notice. Students will turn to ChatGPT to complete their assignments for the same reason millions of people use Amazon each day to shop: They want things to be quick and easy. If this is what people desire for practically every other facet of daily life, why should education be any different?

On a similar note, technology has led to a growing desire for personalization. We personalize our phones with applications that are tailored to our personal preferences and needs. We carefully watch videos on TikTok so that our For You pages are customized to our interests. More than 70% of consumers expect companies to deliver personalized interactions, and students want the same from their education. In the busy lives of college students, it is much more attractive to be able to customize learning by fitting lectures into their own schedule than it is for students to have to abide by a fixed learning environment.

Course scheduling time is one of my favorite parts of the year. Say what you will, but there’s something very exciting about finding out about new classes being offered or which course your favorite professor will be teaching next semester. Equipped with multiple spreadsheets as I comb through the course guide, I am simply way too thorough and way too over the top about the whole process, but what can I say — I enjoy it. What I do not enjoy are conflicts — when there are two or more classes happening at the same time and I have to pick just one. In those moments, not only am I disappointed, but I begin to spiral. Indecisiveness has been a trait that has plagued me for

as long as I can remember. You can try and put a good spin on it by saying things like, “It just means you are more cautious and pragmatic,” but the truth is, it’s a problem. Every time I am faced with making a choice, I will move heaven and earth to make it so that I don’t have to make that choice, and I believe that that is a very undesirable trait to have. If you do not think that you suffer from indecision, this column may not be your cup of tea. However, if you feel similar to how I do, then I would urge you to continue reading. It’s high time we are honest with ourselves and address the elephant in the room: our indecision is holding us back.

From personal experience, I find that anger is one of the first byproducts of indecision. Not only does the frustration from not being able to take a stand ruin your day, it takes up a lot more of your mental bandwidth than

it should. It can be extremely tiring to have to mull over the same thing over and over again, sometimes for days and weeks on end. This makes your decision even harder, it increases the chances of making the wrong one.

The Bhagavad Gita, a religious text of Hinduism, suggests that one of the most undesirable traits is indeed anger, mainly due to its ability to drive one further away from their normal self. In other words, when you are angry, you are a shadow of your true self — less able and less likely to make the right move.

But if a religious text written centuries ago isn’t convincing enough, let’s try Forbes magazine. According to Forbes, one of the most important traits for success is accountability, and the second thing indecisiveness breeds is a lack of accountability.

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SportsMonday: Michigan is a football school. Don’t forget it.

NICHOLAS STOLL Daily Sports Writer

About a month ago, I was sitting at Good Time Charley’s watching the Michigan men’s basketball team get thrashed by Rutgers in the Big Ten Tournament, the clock ticking down mercifully to end their NCAA Tournament hopes.

Before the ‘double zeroes’ even flashed across the screen, in a mix of jest and self-consolation, someone at my table chimed in:

“It doesn’t matter, we’re a hockey school anyway.”

A “hockey school.”

That phrase — some sport with “school” tacked on the end — has cracked me up since Kentucky’s John Calipari and Mark Stoops got in a petty debate over the Wildcats’ athletic identity last year.

In most scenarios, it seems equally as arbitrary as it is obvious. Kentucky is a basketball school (get over it, Mark), Alabama is football, Duke is basketball, Georgia is football and Michigan State is basketball.

See? Easy.

And regardless of whether the Crimson Tide have an up year in

SOFTBALL

basketball or the Spartans have a down year under Tom Izzo, the label remains the same.

So, while in my friends’ case they were simply signaling their shift in focus to the then-on-a-roll Michigan hockey team and away from the anemic state of both Wolverine basketball programs, they weren’t correct in their assertion.

Michigan is not a “hockey school.” Nor is it a basketball school.

Say it with me:

It’s a football school.

And I don’t think it’s ever been more clear. No, the Wolverines haven’t won a national championship in over 25 years. And while they’re built to win a title now, they still might not in the next few years either (but that feels like a column for a different day). Yet that’s not what makes it so painstakingly clear to me that this is a football school.

Sure, the history helps, but when most living people have only witnessed one Michigan national championship and not a single current undergraduate student was alive the last time the Wolverines lifted the banner, that history loses its oomph.

What makes it clear is that Michigan football is back.

Because it’s not just back from a down year or two — it’s back from the grave.

In my 22 years of life, the Wolverines have only beaten Ohio State four times, two of which came in the last two years. They’re also 11-11 against their second biggest rival, Michigan State, in the same time period. Not to mention a measly four wins in bowl games in my lifetime. A 15-29 record against its rivals and just four postseason

Defense translates to offense in Michigan’s 2-1 walk-off win over Illinois

ZACH EDWARDS Daily Sports Writer

In the Michigan softball team’s series finale, more than just a series win against Illinois was at stake. A chance to build momentum toward the rest of Big Ten play was at hand as well. And the Wolverines capitalized on the opportunity by translating strong defensive performance into offensive chances — culminating in a walk-off double from junior catcher Keke Tholl to win the game.

With Tholl’s walkoff hit, Michigan (19-15 overall, 5-4 Big Ten) won the final game in the series against Illinois (23-17, 2-8), 2-1, turning what was a struggle all weekend — translating defensive success into offense — into its ticket to victory.

That defensive success stemmed from sophomore right-hander Lauren Derkowski on the mound with her dominance continuing to prevail.

“It starts in the circle and then it has to go into defense and then it finally gets to hitting,” Michigan coach Bonnie Tholl said. “Hitting is always the last to catch up in that maturity curve but they’re being exactly what they want to be in a team and what I want to see out of the team, which is still being feisty right now. Sometimes we’re winning ugly, but it doesn’t matter.

Right now, we’re just getting better.”

Those improvements showed almost immediately with the Wolverines preventing a hit in the top of the first inning for the first time

all weekend. For Michigan, building momentum early has been instrumental to its success, and Derkowski began to provide the momentum.

But that momentum came to a screeching halt in the second inning.

Illinois first baseman Sydney Malott hit a solo home run to left field to open the scoring. This could have been detrimental for Michigan’s defense, but the Wolverines retired three of the next four batters to get out of the inning without too much damage from the Fighting Illini.

Starting the top of the third, Derkowsk built off that success by facing the top of Illinois’ lineup — which includes two of its top three hitters — and retiring them in order.

“Derkowski was a rockstar once again,” Bonnie said. “She got out of some really big jams. And so you got to credit your defense and pitching, keeping us in the game until you can make something happen offensively.”

All season long, the Wolverines’ offense has fed on the energy and success of their defense, and it did exactly that in the third inning.

Sophomore shortstop Ella McVey tallied Michigan’s first hit of the afternoon and her third of the weekend. After McVey advanced to third on a fielder’s choice, graduate center fielder Lexie Blair hit a single to right-center field that brought Sieler home and tied the game at one.

When the Wolverines’ defense excels and prevents potential momentum-shifting hits, it translates to the offense and allows them to get moving. And they continued their excellent fielding throughout the remainder of the game, including a key double play in the fourth.

The Wolverines

found their stride on defense and just needed a breakthrough on offense to take the lead.

With the game on the line in the seventh inning, both teams placed runners in scoring positions with hits, but neither team took the edge.

“We’re hitting .300 with runners in scoring position,” Bonnie said. “It hasn’t always equated to victories, but I felt pretty good about getting somebody in scoring position. And we had definite momentum the last couple of weeks, and it just speaks to momentum.”

And in the eighth inning, using the momentum it built from the previous inning, the Wolverines finally had their breakthrough.

Sieler opened up the inning with a hit over second base for a single. A sacrifice bunt from Blair moved her to second and a walk from graduate right fielder Ellie Mataya put baserunners at first and second.

Keke stepped up to the plate with the entire game and weekend series on the line — and she delivered. Her walk-off double brought Sieler home, capping off the weekend with a narrow win for Michigan.

“Every emotion was flowing through me,” Keke said. “That was just amazing. And to see my teammates fight out of that, I ran over to the dugout after I saw Sieler go home. I don’t think I have words to say how great that feeling was.”

After winning the final game in dramatic fashion, the Wolverines get a much needed victory to also win the series and potentially propel it through the rest of the Big Ten season. The Wolverines built defensive momentum to score the walk-off hit and win the game on Sunday, but they’ll look to find better ways to accumulate scores, without a nail-biting walk-off being necessary to win games.

wins in 22 years? That’s not “Michigan football” — that’s not the sign of a strong football program.

From the end of the Lloyd Carr era, to Rich Rod, to Brady Hoke, the Wolverines have been in the mud. Even the beginning of Jim Harbaugh’s tenure ushered in mixed feelings. Michigan might technically have been winning more, but not the important games.

But after two consecutive wins over Ohio State, two consecutive Big Ten Championships and two consecutive College Football Play-

off berths — not to mention a 2024 recruiting class currently ranked No. 2 while still picking up steam — the Wolverines have been resurrected.

It shows when Heisman-caliber and draft-eligible players like running back Blake Corum come back. It shows when five-star quarterback Jadyn Davis committed to Michigan and vowed to bring more players with him, just three years after star quarterback J.J. McCarthy did the same. And it shows when the Wolverines have set their sights on winning it all, from the coach down to the players.

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to win it all,” Corum said on the “In the Trenches” podcast Jan. 9. “I hope Team 144 is ready. I’m going to make sure they’re ready.”

Before him, McCarthy’s “job’s not finished” statements after beating the Buckeyes and winning the Big Ten Championship implied it.

Before him, Harbaugh put it simply:

“We could win college football’s greatest trophy,” Harbaugh said in March of 2022. “We could win the national championship.”

The Michigan football program

TESS CROWLEY/Daily

is not just alive again — its heart is beating, its stomach is hungry and its eyes are filled with fire. Just a few years ago, these Wolverines were nowhere to be seen, and they haven’t been seen for a long, long time.

And this Lazarushian story arc is what solidifies Michigan as a football school. Because that’s what “football school” or “basketball school” means.

It means a program that can’t truly die, no matter how lifeless it might look.

That’s Michigan football.

On any given year, the basketball teams, the ice hockey team, the gymnastics teams, the baseball team, the softball team or any other team that dons the maize and blue might be better than the football team in their respective sport. That doesn’t change the label.

That success, even when sustained, remains temporary and fragile. The elite level could slip, and any one of those programs could fall off completely.

But Michigan football can’t be felled.

Michigan is, Michigan was, and Michigan always will be: A football school.

Poor pitching piles up for Michigan in loss to Nebraska

don’t kill them.

Sunday games for the Michigan baseball team have not been its sweet spot. The Wolverines have slogged their way through Sundays by conjuring together a hodgepodge of leftover pitchers.

On Sunday, those remaining arms tasked with winning the weekend series against Nebraska were a far cry from the quality outings of the prior two days. The poor pitching performances compounded throughout the game and let any hope of a win slip away.

And in this box-of-chocolates day, where unpredictability loomed at every pitch, Michigan (17-14 overall, 6-3 Big Ten) fell victim once again to its Achilles heel of pitching depth in an 11-3 loss to the Cornhuskers (18-10-1, 4-2).

“(Nebraska) came out and beat us in every facet today,” Michigan coach Tracy Smith said. “Not a lot to comment on with regard to today, but (we) played hard and we just got to get better and better, and (recognize) that every 90 feet matters offensively, defensively.”

Early on, those 90 feet between each base produced good results for the Wolverines coming off their strong hitting throughout the lineup on Saturday. After a scoreless first frame by senior left-hander Jacob Denner, senior first baseman Jack Van Remortel pounced on his first opportunity with a two-RBI single off Cornhuskers left-hander Will Walsh to give his squad an early 2-0 advantage.

For a moment, the Sunday curse seemed to be lifted.

But after this promising first inning, Nebraska delivered a combination of devastating long shots at the plate, blowing up Michigan’s strategy to nurse its arms throughout the game. Smith has repeatedly told his team that solo home runs

But Sunday, solo shots delivered the early dagger, as a pair of bombs by Cornhuskers catcher Josh Caron and second baseman Max Anderson, with a three-run homer by shortstop Brice Matthews sandwiched in between, chased Denner after just 2.1 innings and six runs allowed.

“If we’re not getting length on the starter — it’s problematic,” Smith said. “Six runs, two-and-athird (innings), so kind of forced our hand a little bit to make the move earlier than we certainly wanted to, but not sure we had a choice.”

The Wolverines’ inability to get additional innings out of Denner with an already-thin pitching staff was then further complicated when senior right-hander Cam Hart was only able to record one out before being pulled due to an apparent injury.

This forced junior right-hander Ryan Zimmer to anchor the long relief role. Zimmer couldn’t fully stem the bleeding though, allowing three earned runs in three innings pitched. Two of those were let in by senior right-hander John Torroella after replacing Zimmer with runners on, however. As the game unraveled from the mound for Michigan, it found itself down 10-3 by the sixth inning.

Despite these compounding challenges from the mound, Michi-

gan also wilted in opportunities with runners in scoring position.

Freshman third baseman Mitch Voit lined out to Walsh with the bases loaded in the bottom of the third inning, and the Wolverines left runners on first and second in the fourth after a solo home run by senior left fielder Jake Marti. Following these missed opportunities, the batting lineup failed to produce any more runs.

While the hits and scoring opportunities did not convert into many runs — it scored a mere three runs off 11 hits — Michigan’s fate was sealed on the mound, yielding 11 runs, all earned, in a fashion similar to last Sunday’s 11-1 loss to Illinois. And it does not seem like quick fixes are imminent to solve the issue.

“It’s not like Major League Baseball when you call guys up from triple-A,” Smith said. “This is who we are at this point. Just guys are going to have to get better.”

After winning their first two Big Ten series, the Wolverines’ blowout loss brought them back down to earth in this Sunday rubber match against Nebraska, serving as a sobering reminder of their nagging pitching weakness that has plagued them in games across the season.

Ondrej Styler shows endurance in singles despite team

against No. 3 Ohio State

junior Jacob Bickersteth saw difficulty breaking against the Buckeyes and were plagued by miscommunication, dropping the set 6-2.

lot since my freshman year,” Styler said. “We both came at the same time and since I kind of won in two sets last time, I tried to do a similar thing, just the same strategy.”

Following a doubles match loss to Cannon Kingsley and JJ Tracey, senior Ondrej Styler entered the court determined to edge out Kingsley on a solo court. After trading holds in the first set, they pushed the set to a tiebreak.

On the 32nd point, Styler approached the net and slammed the ball into the court. He threw his hands up in the air in triumph, conducting the crowd as they roared, finally taking the set, 7-6 (15).

Styler’s performance against No. 3 Ohio State was a true test of endurance as he battled long games and sets in a singles victory over Kingsley on Sunday at the Varsity Tennis Center 7-6 (15), 6-4. Styler went on to win his match, but his endurance was not enough for the Michigan men’s tennis team in a 4-2 loss.

In doubles play, Styler and

“I think we need to figure out our patterns a little bit more and get a little bit more on the same page,” Styler said. “I’ve switched partners throughout the season and we are still trying to figure out the best fit.”

In singles play at the No. 2 court, Styler opened the match with strong serves to take the first game, but Kingsley promptly followed up to take the next. After continuing their back-and-forth game, Kingsley began to read Styler’s play and forced him into net returns, winning three consecutive games, with the score 5-3.

Still determined to outlast Kingsley, Styler fought back. He forced Kingsley to run the baseline with crafty line shots and slice volleys, eventually forcing a tiebreak, sixall.

“(Kingsley and I have) played a

loss

In their past two singles meetings, Kingsley and Styler similarly pushed the match to a tiebreak with Styler ultimately taking the set, and with it both matches. Again, Styler had to find the strength and endurance to clench the win, but on Sunday for several more points.

Styler was able to capitalize on Kingsley’s forced net errors, returning drop volleys and multiple saved set points, taking the set on his 17th point.

“I just tried to stay in the moment and keep going for my shots and eventually go for the win,” Styler said.

“Not just hoping for the win, not hoping for other misses,

but going for the win.”

In the second set, Styler faced some net errors but quickly followed up with a service winner and strong backhand to take the first game. Kingsley, also eager to take control, fought back to trade the hold with Styler, taking a game to make it 3-3. Eventually Styler’s discipline endured, Styler won the final game without dropping a point, taking the set and with it the match, 6-4.

JOSHUA BROWN Daily Sports Writer

BASEBALL

MEN’S TENNIS ANNA FUDER/Daily

JEREMY WEINE/Daily

KENDALL MCCASKILL Daily Sports Writer

IN PLACE FROZEN

Michigan stymied by Quinnipiac, 5-2, for second straight Frozen Four loss

JOHN TONDORA Daily Sports Writer

TAMPA, Fla. — There was no telling when the No. 2 Michigan hockey team would be back.

After a puck jumped over the stick of then-freshman defenseman Luke Hughes, the ensuing year was anything but predictable for the Wolverines. In just 364 days, a head coach, innumerable NHL talent and an established regime departed, leaving a return to the Frozen Four seemingly improbable.

Michigan was left to wonder when another moment would come.

Yet 364 days later, Michigan got that moment — but it wasn’t enough. Against a Quinnipiac team hungry to avenge a lopsided loss that kept the Bobcats out of the Frozen Four last season, the Wolverines (2612-3 overall) regressed to issues of old, falling to Quinnipiac (33-4-3), 5-2, after 60 minutes of insufficient defensive effort coupled with bad bounces.

“Quinnipiac’s a great team and we have respect for them,” Michigan coach Brandon Naurato said. “They did a great job tonight. … Two goals from behind the net and one from the top of the circles near the boards, it is what it is. That’s why it’s so hard to win a National Championship.

“It’s one game.”

The Wolverines’ ‘one game’ certainly didn’t start the way they had hoped. Plagued by defensive lapses, their play often left junior goaltender Erik Portillo hung out to dry. Unfortunate errors, lackadaisical play and a general lack of effort seemed reminiscent of Michigan’s early season struggles — not the team coming off of a Big Ten Championship and searching for its seventh

consecutive win.

The Bobcats logged nine total shots on goal in the first period, but a torrent of chances left little solace as the Wolverines went into the first intermission down 2-1. Though Michigan faced unfortunate puck luck at times, odd-man rushes and missed defensive assignments often facilitated quality chances for Quinnipiac.

“It’s a big credit to them,” junior defenseman Ethan Edwards said of Quinnipiac’s structural game play. “They’re a very disciplined team over there and they were locking it down pretty well. Kudos to them.”

Such discipline proved hard to summit. While the second period had flashes of a return to form for the Wolverines as an equalizing goal by freshman forward Adam Fantilli 10 minutes into the period brought new life, Michigan struggled to consistently execute and rarely took full command.

Across a rollercoaster period that often narrowly went the Wolverines’ way, it took heroic efforts from Portillo and near misses on the part of Quinnipiac’s rush chances to keep the score level going into the third period and stop the Bobcats from “(breaking) it open”, as Quinnipiac coach Rand Pecknold put it.

But early in the final frame, the Bobcats found more puck luck — and with that, the lead. After a Wolverine defensive lapse let up a 2-on-1 opportunity, Quinnipiac forward Sam Lipkin chipped a backhand from behind the net off of the skate of Portillo. Initially unbeknownst to the goaltender amidst the chaos, the puck had found the back of the net for a 3-2 lead.

“Just a bad bounce,” Naurato lamented.

After the Bobcats took the lead, Michigan couldn’t mount a response.

While Portillo’s heroics kept the Wolverines in striking distance, the offense couldn’t break through.

Stymied by Quinnipiac’s trap, the Bobcats seemed one step ahead at all times, blocking passing lanes and turning routine schemes into offensive nightmares.

And as Michigan woke up to the consequences of its offensive stagnation, puck watching and missed assignments made hope for an equalizer a distant possibility as the Wolverines fell onto their backfoot. Offensive lapses became defensive punishments as Michigan’s season started slipping away.

“It’s something we knew they were going to do,” Quinnipiac defenseman Zach Metsa said. “They’re run and gun, they love to try and make plays one on one and create offense. When we can turn that around and bring it right back down their throats — we always talk about playing north, playing with pace and that’s the result of that.”

While chance after chance proved insufficient for the Bobcats, Metsa finally delivered the dagger. Floating an unconventional shot, an absentminded Wolverine defense watched as it landed into the net for a 4-2 Bobcat advantage. Without much time to even react to the dire situation, the empty net goal just minutes later left no doubt.

364 days after an overtime goal vanquished its last Frozen Four chances, Michigan got its moment once more. A year of trials, tribulations and uncertainties made it somewhat surprising that the Wolverines were even able to claw their way back to the event that had spurned them just a year before. But 364 days later, Michigan exited with the same result.

Leaving the Wolverines to wonder once again when they will get another chance.

graduation edition

Illustration by Abby Schreck

Design by Leyla Dumke

Merit scholarships sent me to college. Now, I think we need to abolish them

HALEY JOHNSON Statement Correspondent

There’s something strange other students will do that I’ve begun to notice. Occasionally, I’ll mention my merit scholarship. This isn’t a frequent occurrence — while I believe financial transparency is important, I generally think it’s in poor taste to go out of my way to mention my scholarship to other students. Still, it will come up from time to time in conversation.

I can’t, I have to go to an event for my scholarship tonight.

Oh, we know each other through my scholarship.

Strangely, people will assume what I really mean is need-based financial aid. One time, I worked up the courage to call someone out on this: No, it’s not financial aid, I retorted. I have a merit scholarship. The acquaintance I was speaking to was immediately apologetic and explained that they thought I was really talking about financial aid

because they knew I had grown up low-income — and because so few students receive scholarships from the University of Michigan.

I don’t think people have any malicious intent when they subconsciously swap the terms “scholarship” and “financial aid.” Nevertheless, it points towards broader issues with merit scholarships; to many of my peers, and especially those who know about my family background, I just don’t seem like the type of person who would get a merit scholarship. In fact, it seemed like my financial need was almost antithetical to the idea that I could receive a scholarship—a tacit acknowledgment that merit, as we commonly understand it, is really just a proxy for wealth.

My merit scholarship sent me to college; I doubt I would be at the University of Michigan without it. While I’m incredibly grateful for the donors who have supported my education, I’ve begun to see my scholarship as a symptom of a

broken system. More often than not, scholarships are awarded to students who need them the least: Research at New America, a think tank based in Washington, D.C., found that “about two out of every five dollars these schools provided in institutional aid went to students the government deemed able to afford college without need-based aid.” Harold Levy, former New York City schools chancellor, argued in an op-ed for CNN that this current system of “taking scarce financial aid dollars from low-income students to give to students who don’t need it amounts to Robin Hood in reverse – robbing from the poor to give to the rich.”

So then why do schools still offer merit scholarships when they know they aren’t really working? This nonsensical approach to financial aid, in my view, stems from a narrow idea of what merit really is — flashy awards, a lengthy resume of internships and volunteer experiences, near-perfect standard-

ized test scores — and the way that it ultimately benefits wealthy and privileged students at the expense of their less affluent peers. In a time where college is increasingly unaffordable and socioeconomic mobility is declining, the implications are clear: It’s time to abolish merit scholarships.

***

In March of my senior year of high school, I received an email from the University’s admissions office. Initially, I thought it was a scam. The email was short, my first name was misspelled and it was offering something that seemed too good to be true. But it wasn’t. I was awarded the Stamps Scholarship, a full-ride award named after the same wealthy donors who fund the Art & Design program at the University. All admitted freshmen are automatically considered for the Stamps Scholarship; the admissions office passes along information about students who may

be a good fit and that pool is then narrowed down to a final list of recipients.

I don’t think I fit the profile of a typical full-ride recipient. I don’t say this to be humble — I think I worked hard in high school and earned my spot at the University. But nothing about me was truly exceptional compared to my peers. I had good grades, but only in the context of my low-performing rural high school. I did well on standardized tests, but was far from a perfect score. I did plenty of extracurriculars, but didn’t achieve any sort of national recognition for them.

Merit is a floating signifier, something that can point to whatever combination of attributes is convenient at a given moment. GPA and test scores, although deeply flawed, can provide some objective benchmark of achievement, although merit scholarships typically take a more holistic view of students, considering their extracurricular activities, leadership positions and volunteer experience. It’s been widely researched that affluent students score higher on standardized tests. What’s more difficult to articulate is the relationship between essays, extracurriculars and wealth. Researchers at Stanford University found that the content and quality of applicants’ essays had a stronger correlation with household income than SAT scores.

Although this connection is subtle, once you see it, it’s hard not to notice it. The kinds of flashy extracurriculars, moving personal essays or prestigious national awards that put students on the track to merit scholarships are all a function of access: who goes to a school that can offer those opportunities, who can afford to travel to national competitions, who can take a leadership position because they don’t need to work, who has adults in their life that can help them with their essays (or worse, who can hire an admissions consultant).

Design by Iris Ding

JOHN JACKSON Statement Associate Editor

Author’s note: This piece is adapted from and inspired by Lydia Davis’ seminal short story, “Break It Down.” The story appears in, “The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis.”

A senior in college is reclining on his front porch in the gray spring light of Ann Arbor. He’s trying to make sense of it all. He says:

The tuition was $50,000 a year, frontloading on classes to wrap it up in three years, that’s $150,000. Plus food and housing, which totaled about $900 a month, that’s $180,000, but I’d have needed to eat regardless, so maybe only $170,000.

Eighteen hours a week of classes, assuming I’d attended them all, for 90 weeks, costs $105 an hour, which is expensive, but not too expensive, because my whole college life hadn’t been squeezed into just those 18 hours a week.

Bursley Residence Hall had those long, tunnel-like hallways — hallways with no windows that made me lose track of time — and the little convenience store with sushi that was always picked clean, minus the Philadelphia rolls. I remember I had this tree, growing outside my window, in the dorm, that changed color day by day that first fall. I’d never watched anything the way I watched that tree turn colors, which maybe speaks to my dependency on the room, but people visited me there, visited and laughed and slept on the floor and threw up on the carpet and listened patiently while I played them songs that, frankly, didn’t possess the sort of liveliness found in music that ought to be played around new friends, but they listened anyway, nodded and faked smiles and decided, after only a month or so, that they’d like to live with me once our class was kicked out of the dorms.

You sign a contract to become this little odd family, promise to nag each other about the dishes in the sink, the stains on the tile and oh, my god, why are there squirrels in the walls and mice in the basement, but it’s all okay because your housemate has a fighting spirit, just

The art of farewell

running in circles with a broom and a plastic tub, going to teach those squirrels a lesson. Your schedule picks up. Everything moves faster. Walk to class; no, run to catch the bus; no, skip class and write your thesis and hole up in your room while the dishes pile higher and higher. See the housemates less, yes, but when you do, it’s a real outpouring, because just today, I heard Truth House is throwing, and just today, I have a coupon at Domino’s, and for just one more song, we can dance, please, let’s just keep dancing. And everything kind of crescendos, faster than you know it, and all of a sudden, there’s less can you believe our house has a front porch? and more by the time the next season of this show comes out, we’ll be living in different cities.

So 18 hours a week would really be selling it short. More like 120 hours a week, spent just absorbing the strangeness of it all. Say it’s only $16 per hour then, which isn’t too unreasonable.

Though it’s not just 120 hours because it doesn’t stop when you’re sleeping. I keep having this dream about a bowl of cereal, and I don’t

know, maybe everyone has this dream, or some version of it, but the bowl feels warm to the touch, as if I’d just taken it from the dishwasher and the milk inside is cool. I’m eating heaping spoonfuls of Lucky Charms, all those alluring bright colors, eating, wondering what’s at the bottom, like I can’t wait to find out, but I’m terrified to find out, and at the bottom, it’s just an emptiness, lonely, like I’d never had any cereal at all. It’s easy to decide, then, to stay in the dream — to keep splashing around in the cool milk, stained with all the bright colors — but you move on because you have no choice, and I’m starting to realize, just now, as I’m coming to the end of it, that there is no end, no hard, fast line drawn in the sand to say, okay, it’s over, you’re an adult already, just pack it up and move on. No, instead it all bleeds over, smearing like a child’s watercolor after you told them to let it dry, and the memories well up, just as everything else starts to go, and they leave you exhausted, gasping for air, washed up on a rocky shore, confronted by the images that keep appearing in your mind:

You’re soaked to the bone in the pouring rain, grinning from ear to ear, walking quickly down South University Avenue, back when it was under construction; or you’re kneeling on Palmer Field, kneeling in the grass with a blank stare, like an idiot, because oh god, her ankle isn’t supposed to bend that way, but maybe it’s alright because your pre-med friend looks confident; or you’re trudging through the snow, then drumming your fingers on 7-Eleven’s plastic countertop, making a joke to the man ringing you up, but he doesn’t laugh. The images flash past, too quick, really, to catch them all, so you’re stuck with just the brightest ones, chastising yourself for forgetting the details and replacing them with questions, unanswerable questions like, why did my English professor wear a mask some days and not others? or why had a photo editor worn bike shoes to a meeting?

The little images start to haunt you: not constantly, but in uneven increments, so one day you’ll be working away, laser-focused on some peculiar comma placement, and the next day you hear someone

accidentally use a specific word, like barn or implication, that takes you back to a place where the images well up, and for hours afterward the memories feel fresh again. So it only cost maybe $8 an hour, taking all that time into account.

I have to factor in the bad memories, though, and it’s hard to conjure them up now, in the warmth of spring, but I know times weren’t perfect. The everyday sort of bad occurrences have largely faded to the background, but one memory stuck around: when I had to say goodbye. The pressure started during a weekly meeting with some columnists — our last meeting — when a thought popped into my head, and I suddenly wondered which of them I’d ever see again. The question didn’t spark a panic so much as an odd fascination — an urge to hold onto all of life’s little guest stars, people I loved, but not enough to keep in touch with — and so I learned to say a permanent goodbye, not out loud, but quietly in my head whenever someone left a room.

Design by Leah Hoogterp

Embracing the sound of change

BATLLE CESTERO Statement Contributor

Snip, snip, snip.

I’ve always hated the sound of scissors snipping. The metallic snip, snip, snip reminds me of imminent change, and it terrifies me.

Ironically, though, as I sat on a spinning beauty salon chair last June and longingly stared back at my reflection, the sound of scissors snipping through my long, brown hair thrilled me. The thick brown locks that defined my identity for the past two years were about to be chopped off. In a matter of minutes, with the snip of a slim pair of scissors, I would be an entirely new person. And I was so excited.

I observed as locks of long, brown hair fell fearlessly from my head to the floor, signaling at the new self I was about to become. But when the hairdresser removed the large, black, bib-like cloth from around my neck, announcing that she had finished, I became paralyzed, unable to elicit any reaction except for a shy, nearly inaudible, gasp.

I hated the haircut. I’d been so sure that this was just the change I needed right before I left for college, one that would render me an entirely different person. I had thought it would make me look mature and beautiful. How had it managed to do exactly the opposite?

I lied straight through my teeth. I told the hairdresser I loved the cut and thanked her for a job well done. But as soon as I flipped my car on, ready to drive home, I burst into tears. I kept pulling at the edges of my hair, as if tugging at them would make my long-gone

tion of my own beauty to my long brown hair — convincing myself that without it, I was unattractive. Without it, I wasn’t pretty. Snip, snip, snip.

brown locks grow back. The first thing I did when I got home was tell my mom how much I hated my hair. I incessantly repeated just how much I despised it. She, on the other hand, thought I looked lovely — like an adult. She insisted that I looked different, but in a good way. Unfortunately, her motherly insistence that it was exactly the change I needed did little to change my mind.

For the first time in months, I felt ugly. I had attached the percep-

The summer before my first year of college consisted of one too many orientation sessions and an endless process of packing up my entire life into two large suitcases. It was already a very stressful time, so blaming everything that went wrong on a collection of dead cells on my head that were accidentally cut too short didn’t do me any good. But I was in a vicious cycle of anxious self-loathing, and I saw no way out.

I wasn’t able to enroll in one of the classes I most wanted to take, and instead of attributing the event to the fact that I was simply a freshman looking at class options months after every other student at the University of Michigan had already done so, I blamed it on my short hair. I lost my favorite pair of leggings the week before leaving for college, and although I eventually found them, I blamed

their loss on my ugly, chopped hair. My long-haired self would’ve been able to enroll in that class I so coveted. My long-haired self would never have lost my favorite pair of leggings. In this twisted reality, she was perfect — and I was the mess she left behind.

As I autopiloted my way through my last summer at home in Puerto Rico, I became my own villain, blaming every little thing that happened to me on an arbitrary belief that the strands of hair on my head were responsible for every unprecedented mishap in my life. But

18 years of my life in their entirety. Change loomed inevitably over me, and although I initially thought that chopping off an entire head of hair would help with this dreadful transition, it only made it worse.

In my mind, long-haired me would’ve been able to valiantly bid her friends adieu without bursting into tears and feeling like her life was ending. She would’ve empathetically smiled and said, “See you in a few months! This isn’t a goodbye, but a see you later,” but the actual moment was too emotional not to cause me to come undone in my friends’ arms as we hugged goodbye.

Trekking the 2,111 miles from home with my parents by my side, I believed my long-haired self would’ve felt prepared for what was to come and excited for her new life in college. I, in comparison, felt a permanent pit in my stomach that deepened by the minute. What if my short-haired self was too insecure, too boring or too awkward to make friends? What if she wasn’t smart enough to excel in her classes like she had in high school? What if everything she did went wrong?

Snip, snip, snip.

My first week of college consisted of awkward and repetitive icebreakers that led me into further self-deprecation. When I opened my mouth to introduce myself, I would have to clear my throat every single time I spoke a single word because the voice that kept creeping out of my throat wasn’t mine. I knew it wasn’t my long-haired self’s voice, at least.

what I didn’t understand was that under that layer of short hair, the same being still lived on, and while she was connected to that longhaired girl from the past, she wasn’t attached to her. She just wasn’t allowing herself to grow.

Snip, snip, snip.

As late August neared, my days and nights filled with tearyeyed goodbyes to friends and family, and draining last-minute arrangements before putting the lock on the luggage that secured the past

My long-haired self had been secure in the track she came to college to pursue. With an intended double major in english and political science, she felt like she would garner just the necessary skills to thrive at the University, and go on to apply to law school after four years of undergraduate education. Now, my short hair and I were lost. With so many programs and majors to choose from, I didn’t know exactly what I was searching for anymore.

GRACIELA

Design by Hailey Kim

We put a little desk on the Diag. Here’s what we found

STEVE LIU Statement Correspondent

Canopy Magazine, a U-M student organization, will be publishing a book-length anthology of the tiny desk and its contents. There are hundreds and hundreds of anonymous entries. This piece was written in collaboration with other members of the Canopy team.

The project started with an idea: include everyone. Since the beginning of this semester, when the weather was pleasant, we’d randomly pick a day to bring the small desk and chair out on the Diag, arranging it with a selection of colorful books and a mug filled with pens and crayons. We’d provide a prompt and a journal. The only instructions we’d attach were “write: a short paragraph or poem” and “draw: a doodle.”

Except to check up on the desk every few hours, we didn’t monitor it. Each time, the journal had miraculously begun to fill. There was always something happening: an artist sitting in the chair, a student leafing idly through the pages, two strangers in conversation. Some would spend a good chunk of time there, while others just stopped in for a second to look, to lean in.

When we first set up the desk in January, we were worried someone would vandalize something, or steal or tell us to stop. But these things never happened. The generosity of students on campus was its moving force. “Love” was the most-written word, by far.

Prompt #1: the place that I love

At first, our team was only five or six members large, so we couldn’t watch the desk all the time. Left alone, however, the desk seemed to automatically generate care and compassion.

Some writers addressed the prompt directly, others only partly. Most writers ignored the prompt altogether, choosing in-

stead to pen something from the heart. People began talking to each other on the page, improvising as the day went on.

“I love you,” somebody wrote.

“I love you more!” someone wrote in response.

People had written in different languages, coming from different places or walks of life.

“The place that I love was never a place. It was an infinitesimally small moment, one of warmth, comfort, and security, one with you,” penned one person. “It was the travels we made and will make. It’s the feeling I get hearing your laugh. The saddest moment was realizing I loved the place that I left.”

Prompt #2. feels like a person I’ve

met, or a strange animal

On an especially windy day on North Campus, by Pierpont Commons, we noticed the first interactions between the book and the environment. One page, streaked with mud from having fallen to the ground, bore a heartwarming message:

“This notebook fell down + got picked up. So will you.”

Flipping further, the reader discovers a collage of strange animals: an eyeball with butterfly-wing makeup, adjacent to a bird out of a Wes Anderson movie. A paper plane flies over a paper crane.

Leaning against these creatures, an entry reads, “not committing might be less scary, giving up might be easier, but if you never put down roots, you will never grow.”

Prompt #3. something I want to remember

We learned many things throughout the process — like to only set up the tiny desk when it’s not insanely windy. Inevitably, even on quiet days, a gust will flutter the pages, flipping them, threatening to pull them apart.

Between pages of crayondrawn flowers, caricatures, and a hand-turkey, a written entry

stands alone, the letters swirling together in red ink. The bittersweet reflection is concluded with a small heart, drawn underneath two previous attempts that were subsequently scribbled over:

“I want to remember your words. The way you smiled, the way you laughed at my jokes. The way you were happy when we were together. But with every day that goes by, I slowly forget, but I hope I’ll always remember you.”

Prompt #4. something part of who I am

Occasionally, people would band together to complete a page of group artwork: mural-like.

“Keep your head held high,” one student wrote below a series of tiny animals: a turtle, a singing chicken. On one such page, an assortment of drawings interweaves between blocks of brief poetry.

“When it gets dark enough, you will finally be able to see the stars,” someone wrote below that.

Above this, beside a coollooking cat, reads, “Life sometimes sucks but that’s okay!”

To which another voice responded: “I agree, but we keep moving forward.”

Prompt #5. I see a glimpse of it every day

Something about the little desk seems to bring out what people are really feeling.

This article is continued from page 6 of this insert, “We put a little desk on the Diag. Here’s what we found”.

Prompt #5. I see a glimpse of it every day

Something about the little desk seems to bring out what people are really feeling. An ear to listen. The words come earnest, open and big-hearted when there’s no one watching.

Gathered together in the literary space of the page, people share their responses to the prompt:

“I see a glimpse of a smile and a future and a feeling I always strive for but haven’t quite arrived.”

“I see a glimpse of it every day. It’s a small spark barely bright enough but it’s enough.

“I see glimpses of futures that are or could be or will not and you are somehow part of them all.”

Prompt #6. how I’ve grown and changed

Some passersby wrote about the view from the desk — flowers, strangers sitting — and others wrote about the people they love. “I wish that I could tear my ribcage open so that our hearts could touch,” reads one.

“I have grown to be so much happier,” said another, beside them, inside a drawing of an owl.

Prompt #7. I see it differently now

While setting up the desk, we’d include some cozy decorations, like an itty-bitty ceramic brown bear (until it disappeared) and a small green candle (until it fell off the table and broke).

“Sorry about the candle!” reads one entry, above a sketch of a small tombstone. “R.I.P. 2023-2023.”

And above that: “you are a ray of sunshine.”

For this prompt, a page filled with illustrations of giddy animals and a happy person in a hat, presumably written by a very young person, in the handwriting of someone learning how to write — who would like to be a park ranger.

Prompt #8. something worth being brave for Other times, a person will fill up a whole page with the energy of their words, inspiring others toward bravery:

“Love is worth being brave for,” or “YOU are worth being brave for!! Take the risk if it will do good! Sending love ur way!”

And on separate pages, more encouragement appears:

“It’s worth being brave for yourself and your dreams. Stay true and try your hardest.”

Or someone’s proudest moments:

“Call it bravery when I ask you to stay,” a writer begins. “Call it bravery when, at the end of the night, I let you put your arms around me, and we go to sleep together, and in the morning we open the blinds and let the light come in. This, itself, is a heroic feat.”

Prompt #9. which can only exist in this moment

For this prompt, the journal and its contents, were an answer in itself. Every entry, written in response to another, was something that could only exist then — in its own way.

In this moment: overflowing love.

“Things never really belong to us BUT that’s okay. I loved getting to hold that piece of time.”

“I’ve seen you around,” came a response. “I love admiring you.”

“The strongest trees still sway,” another said.

“Sometimes, you’re tired and hungry and sad,” someone chimed in. “Then you see your friend’s face at the door. Find your people. They make life brighter.”

Prompt #10. which I hope to witness again

We learned a lot from the little desk. Managing the journals and providing this space showed how caring — and deserving of care — everyone and everything is. Here I am, the journal seems to say. Here we are. You are loved. I love you.

For an ending note, we’ll let the words speak for themselves: “I hope to witness a world where we are one, where love can flourish and the earth can heal. Although unfortunately I can’t say that I’d witness this again … I believe that I’ve seen glimpses of it in the smiles and actions of many around me. It is a beautiful thing.”

Photos courtesy of Canopy Magazine

A beginner’s guide to coping with change

VALERIJA MALASHEVICH Statement Contributor

I have a confession to make: Despite my seemingly positive travel posts and a frenzied roulette of indulgent Instagram stories, I can find no other words to describe the last five months of my life beyond “utterly taxing.” The easy-going charade I like to do isn’t something that can withstand the more stressful periods of my life — it’s a seam that frays and unravels in the presence of “real-world” responsibilities: Pressing papers and peer reviews, finding the right job or not the right job, or even finding any job at all. And that was the standard philosophy for the majority of my life.

For better or for worse, my hyper-independence and determination to prove myself to others, to make something of myself while I still have the breath in me, to show everyone that I was here and that I — like everybody else — have loved and have lost, feels like a choking hazard. I can’t recall the last time I called something other than my suitcase “home,” nor do I remember the last time I bought a full-size cosmetic product over the conventional travel-size bottle. As with everything, there are upsides and downsides to such a nomadic lifestyle; while it’s quite simple to enjoy this kind of life for a week or two at a time, it’s another thing entirely to live in it, to bask in the temporariness of every particle that surrounds me in a way where you don’t find yourself sobbing all alone at night in a cramped studio apartment in Berlin.

It’s no secret that everyone wants to go out into the grandiose world of teeming possibilities and accomplish great feats for your own namesake, but how do you begin to trust yourself to do just that? How do I become as soft and adaptable as the tree branches that can withstand the brutish hailstorms and racing winds of darker times, while still remaining as firm and grounded as the roots hanging on deep under the Earth? If I wanted to pretend like I knew the answer to this, I’d write a self-help book — but if I wanted to

spit out my amalgamation of odd experiences in the hopes of stumbling upon one phrase or sentence that could help someone, I’d write an article for The Michigan Daily.

The first series of stitches began to give way in October of last year, when my lighthearted essence was shoved out in favor of more pragmatic responsibilities, like the various application cycles that ate up my evenings and weekends, bouncing from short answer to short answer while still attempting to find the time to show up to class and make it seem like I had, in fact, completed the required readings for that day. Between that, my commitment to a short-term stint as a communications intern with the Department of Earth and Environment, and the ever lingering presence of financial, familial and flirtatious woes, I had sort of delved into a state of psychosis by December.

Actually, the term “sort of” would be inaccurate — I had developed full-blown spiritual psychosis just a few days before Christmas, a period that would precede another four long weeks of something akin

to asceticism. I don’t remember anything from that awkward limbo of a month, just the fact that I would wake up and spend my entire day reading theological and metaphysical theory for hours on end — not eating, not drinking and barely sleeping — for I had been convinced that I was on the precipice of some divine revelation. I read Dante’s “Divine Comedy” in its entirety, as well as a few books about Carl Jung, the “Book of Revelations” and — for some reason — my high school yearbook.

To pretend that I was sane before I had left for Europe would be an absurdity. But, believe me or not, my pseudo-obsession with some undefinable holistic truth proved to be essential during my time abroad. Leaving behind everything from a few pairs of pants to the vanity of my ego, I had shoved my belongings into my bags a few hours prior to my flight, nearly missing my plane from Las Vegas to Copenhagen. I sprinted across the Harry Reid International Airport with my checked baggage in hand as I prayed and prayed to get there before the boarding

gate closed, losing my two most valuable pocket knives in the security check process. Before I knew it, I had jetted off to another continent with no semblance — no proof — of my former self. My leaving for Europe was a sort of self-instigated christening, you could say, as the only thing I had left to do was put on my big red headphones, stare outside of the plane window and think about all of the things I needed to finally leave behind me.

I’m not quite sure how I survived that period of my life — and the last thing I want to do is romanticize psychosis — but it was the constant yearning for something new, the trials and tribulations I underwent to find my “self,” as overused as that word may be, it was perhaps the key to surviving my time abroad. There are several essential lessons I gathered during my quasi-conscious reading sessions of various intellectual works. ***

I like to think that airport runways are as short as they are for a reason. Had we been born immortal, I am not sure that there would

be any incentive to do things that scare us — and I don’t mean the butterflies you get from asking your crush out, I’m talking about an otherworldly fear that bleeds into every other area of your life and has you doubting your every step.

At one point in my life (and for legal reasons, happened in Europe when I was older than 18), I had a one too many glasses of a shitty, high ABV wine — I can’t quite remember if it was white or rosé, nor does it matter all that much now — and having just purchased a stick-and-poke kit, I decided to experiment that night by awkwardly stamping the words “be here now” into the medial side of my right middle finger. Classy, I know.

I’ve been meaning to get the words reworked professionally for almost two years now, but I just haven’t had the guts to think about what should be there instead. What kind of lettering would suit it best?

Serif or sans-serif? Times New Roman? A timeless Helvetica? I’d say I’m more a fan of Helvetica Neue.

Design by Grace Filbin

Design by Abby Schreck