2024-02-21 by The Michigan Daily

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Wednesday, February 21, 2024

Ann Arbor, Michigan

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‘So people can see someone that looks like me doing it’: Celebrating Black History Month with Ann Arbor businesses The Daily speaks with five Black business owners to understand their stories and connections to the community

Black-owned businesses remain underrepresented in both the Ann Arbor and national markets. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, there are 161,031 Black-owned businesses in the United States out of the 5.9 million total employer firms, though the number of Black-owned businesses has been increasing over the past few years. To celebrate Black History Month, The Michigan Daily’s Business beat sat down with five Black Ann Arbor business owners to hear about their stories and experiences.

Sheena McCullers — Della’s

Amalz Lessanework and Habtewold Dadi — The Blue Nile

TESS CROWLEY/Daily Della’s owner Sheena McCullers poses for a portrait inside the beauty supply store on the second floor of 313 S. State St. Wednesday afternoon.

JULIANNE YOON/Daily Habtewold Dadi and Amalz Lessanework, Blue Nile Ethiopian Restaurant owners, speak with The Michigan Daily about bringing traditional Ethiopian food and art to the Ann Arbor community Thursday afternoon.

ABBY HARRIS

Daily Staff Reporter

Tucked between Sweetgreen and Pitaya on State Street sits Della’s, a beauty supply store with the goal of cultivating a safe and welcoming space for the Ann Arbor community, according to owner Sheena McCullers. McCullers told The Michigan Daily that she moved to Ann Arbor from Brooklyn, N.Y. during the COVID-19 pandemic. Soon after arriving in Ann Arbor, McCullers said she struggled to find textured hair products, which motivated her to open Della’s and fill the product gap herself. According to

McCullers, the store’s mission is to curate an exciting selection of beauty products for people with textured hair that they may not be able to find elsewhere. “The closest store that sells these types of products is in Ypsilanti,” McCullers said. “I visited the store and didn’t find myself having the experience I wanted to have. I wanted to find a store that had a community vibe. I’ve lived in Atlanta, I’ve lived in Brooklyn, and stores like this are pretty common — spaces that are diverse and have a diverse product range.” McCullers said when she opened Della’s in March, she was unsure if people would

take advantage of what it has to offer, but has since received overwhelmingly positive feedback from customers. “I was like, ‘Oh, I wonder if people would be into something like that here,’ ” McCullers said. “So my husband said, ‘Why don’t you just try to create it and see. Let’s start small and test it out for a couple years and if it works, well, we’ll do something bigger.’ So we’re in the beginning phase of the first year and really testing this thing out, and we’ve had some really great responses from people in the community. All signs pointing to keep going basically.”

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MILES ANDERSON AND VIOLET BOYD Daily Staff Reporters

Decorated with vibrant paintings and frames, and a blue, red and gold-painted ceiling, Blue Nile Ethiopian Restaurant has offered an array of traditional Ethiopian fare to the Ann Arbor community since 1989. The original Detroit location, which was founded by Seifu Lessanework in 1984, moved to Ferndale and remains open to this day. The original Ann Arbor Blue Nile opened in 1989, and its current location opened in 1995.

Travis Weaver — One DNA

ELLIE VICE/Daily One DNA Founder Travis Weaver talks to The Michigan Daily about his business Friday afternoon.

REBECCA LEWIS Daily News Editor

Nestled within the walls of the historic Nickels Arcade sits One DNA. With a mission to provide gender-neutral and size-inclusive clothing, the shop’s sleek interior invites passersby to stop in and look around. Upon entering, customers are greeted by founder Travis Weaver and their 3-yearold Shiba Inu, Sydney. In an interview with The

Michigan Daily, Weaver said his dream to work in the fashion industry began while spending time at his aunt’s hair salon in Ypsilanti as a kid. On the weekends, he would sit and flip through fashion magazines with his mom while she got her hair done. Though his passion for fashion started young, Weaver said he only felt motivated to open a shop like One DNA in college after feeling unhappy with his shopping experiences in other stores.

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“I decided to start One DNA because I wanted to create an inclusive shopping experience,” Weaver said. “The hole in the market for me was when I was in college, I’d go shopping … and then always would be directed to the men’s department. So (as) someone who is gender fluid, I wanted to shop the whole store because I find shopping more about finding the piece that you like and then finding the size versus feeling limited to a gender section. … We really wanted to create a unique experience that’s open to all genders.” After graduating from the Art Institute of Chicago with a degree in fashion marketing management, Weaver moved to New York to pursue fashion. Weaver said One DNA originally began as a side gig while they worked full-time in the fashion industry. When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, Weaver moved back to Michigan to run One DNA full-time. Until June, the business was primarily an online shop and wholesaler appearing in stores including Urban Outfitters, Nordstrom and PacSun, and publications including American Vogue and Highsnobiety. Weaver said opening the storefront has given them the opportunity to engage with their customers in a new way. “The store has been really good in the sense of meeting our community,” Weaver said. “We’re really all about offering a unique experience as well as offering a high level of customer service, so it’s been really good to meet customers and engage them in that way as well as connecting them to the right piece and right size.” Weaver said since the start of the school year, the business has become more involved in the Ann Arbor and U-M communities.

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It is now co-owned by Seifu’s sister, Amalz Lessanework, and her husband, Habtewold Dadi. In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Dadi said the early stages of the business were difficult, as they needed to adapt to the cultural differences of doing business in America. “Ethiopian culture is different from the West’s,” Dadi said. “We started the business from scratch. Eventually, we learned the Western or American style (of business). Now we serve Ann Arbor and the surrounding area. It was challenging, but then in practice (we were) successful.” Despite the challenges of

opening the business, Dadi said the support from the Ann Arbor community has led the restaurant to where it is today. “Running a business in Ann Arbor is fantastic,” Dadi said. “The people are extremely, extremely gorgeous people. They’re fantastic — very helpful. Without the help of Ann Arbor (community members), we would not have been successful now.” Dadi said the COVID-19 pandemic brought on a new set of obstacles for the business, which had to close for three months.

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Robert Campbell — Jamaican Jerk Pit

Jamaican Jerk Pit owner, Robert Campbell, smiles for the camera.

EMMA SPRING

Daily Staff Reporter

Robert Campbell, the owner of Ann Arbor’s Jamaican Jerk Pit, will be celebrating a milestone this March as his restaurant turns 15 years old. With brightly colored walls covered in polaroids of customers and a continuous Calypso soundtrack playing in the background, the Jerk Pit offers an authentic Caribbean menu, including Campbell’s favorite dish: curry goat. Campbell’s entrepreneurial journey traces back to his childhood in the parish of Westmoreland, Jamaica, where he developed a love for cooking. Campbell, the oldest of four children, said he grew up cooking for his family. “I didn’t grow up as a privileged kid,” Campbell said. “Both of my parents were always working. Everything my family worked for was to ensure we ate — chicken, seafood and lots of breadfruit. Nothing extravagant … Growing up we couldn’t afford oxtail, but it’s been on the menu ever since I started the Jerk Pit.” In 1993, at the age of 21, Campbell

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made the decision to relocate to the United States. The move was made possible through sponsorship by a Michigan-based family who often stayed at the resort in Jamaica where he worked. He earned a bachelor’s degree in hospitality at Macomb Community College and a master’s degree in hotel and restaurant management at Eastern Michigan University. “They saw something in me as a youth,” Campbell said. “I’m very consistent when it comes to greeting people, looking them in the eyes and smiling. It’s a mannerism of being able to have a connection with people and listening and understanding their needs which is what the service business is. They saw that in me, and of course they (knew) that I have some cooking skills so (they) put everything together. That’s how they saw what was in me before I saw what was in me. They’re like my second parents.” Campbell said it was difficult to transition to life in the United States, having to move away from his family and adjust to a new culture while also pursuing a degree. Despite these differences, Camp-

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bell remained determined to pass his classes and pursue his passion for cooking. While completing his master’s degree, Campbell waited tables and opened two restaurants — the now-closed Irie Caribbean Cuisine in Canton and Jamaican Jerk Pit. As the 15-year milestone approaches, Campbell said he hopes to expand his restaurant into a bigger space and perhaps even beyond Ann Arbor. “A lot of customers travel from Lansing, Jackson, Plymouth, even though it’s far to come here,” Campbell. “They always say to me, you need to put one in their area for more exposure for other people to see. The plan is to get a bigger place with more upscale service with a liquor license. That’s my dream.” During the early days of the Jamaican Jerk Pit, when business was slow and finances were tight, Campbell also worked with a catering company at four Olympic Games. Campbell drew parallels between his experience working at the Olympics and his limited space at the Jerk Pit.

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TEDxUofM hosts 15th annual conference Speakers presented to the crowd on the theme ‘Golden Ratio’ EILENE KOO

More than 1,300 University of Michigan students and community members gathered in the Power Center Friday evening for the 15th annual TEDxUofM conference. The conference also featured performances from band VUP, dance group FunKtion and student a capella group The Friars. The conference’s seven speakers all touched upon the event’s theme “Golden Ratio,” an irrational number that represents ideality in art and nature. In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Business junior Anna Ho, one of three TEDxUofM co-directors, said the team chose this year’s theme to encourage attendees to admire the beauty in the world around them. “It’s a very modern, fast-paced world we live in, so we wanted this theme to get people to slow down and live a little bit more in the present and be more aware of their surroundings,” Ho said. “The Golden Ratio is represented in all things beautiful in the world, nature, art (and) architecture, so we want to bring that sense of beauty into our conference this year.” In the first talk of the conference, U-M alum Richard Lui, a journalist, reflected on his career as an anchor for MSNBC and NBC News. He told the audience he realized through his reporting that he was living through a “selfish pandemic” where people were devaluing the lives and humanity of others. “I became one of the most experienced breaking news anchors because of mass killings,” Lui said. “Paris, Uvalde, Newtown, communities of Color, children, siblings, parents all shot and killed over and over again — the most ultimate view of selfishness. People were taking other people’s lives. … We were in a selfish pandemic.” Lui said after seeing people engage in selfless acts during the COVID-19 pandemic, he believed

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the world could usher in a new era of selflessness. “It showed me facing a selfish pandemic was an opening to do something cataclysmically different,” Lui said. “That brief pause in the selfish pandemic showed us who we could be: a dotted collection of others giving to each of us along the way.” Noha Beydoun, Comprehensive Studies Program lecturer, spoke on how systemic inequalities impact higher education. Beydoun said she believes the current standard model of higher education does not recognize the diverse experiences students bring to the classroom. “At the start of every class in higher education, regardless of the level of the subject, are people like you that enter from all walks of life,” Beydoun said. “But when we teach in uniform ways, when we don’t account for this richness (and) diversity, we are perpetuating the disadvantages of this education.” Beydoun said she believes schools must implement an educational model that uplifts students’ voices. “Simply put, if we want to solve the problems of miseducation, we have to know where our students come from,” Beydoun said. “We have to meet them where they are in order to help them get to where they want to go.” Following a talk from Ben Ewy, vice president of global product design at Carhartt, Robert Mankoff, former New Yorker cartoon editor, discussed the intersection of artificial intelligence and comedy in the context of his work for The New Yorker’s cartoon caption contest. Mankoff said although AI can be used as a tool for cartoonists, it cannot truly emulate humor. “But I would not go so far (as) to give AI a true human sense of humor,” Mankoff said. “A human sense of humor is not about making a joke. It’s rooted in our vulnerability. It’s the blessing we get for the curse of mortality.”

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News

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Wednesday, February 21, 2024 — 3

PHOTO OF THE WEEK

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University of Michigan students attend annual Winterfest to watch qualifying fraternities and sororities compete in a hockey style tournament.

NEWS

Pro-Palestine protestors call for divestment amid police presence outside Regents meeting ‘We’re not backing down’

SNEHA DHANDAPANI & MADISON HAMMOND Daily News Editor & Daily Staff Reporter

More than 150 University of Michigan students held Palestinian flags, makeshift babies and signs calling for divestment outside the Alexander G. Ruthven Building for three hours Thursday afternoon while the Board of Regents met inside. The protest was organized to demand the University pursue divestment from companies that support the Israeli military and cease the pursuit of criminal charges against the 40 students arrested at the Nov. 17 protests. The rally was organized by the TAHRIR Coalition, a coalition of more than 77 U-M student organizations including Students Allied for Freedom and Equality and the U-M chapter of Jewish Voice for Peace. The protest follows months of activism by the TAHRIR Coalition and other students at the University calling for divestment. In November, the University canceled two Central Student Government ballot initiatives about the Israel-

Hamas war. Last month, the Faculty Senate Assembly passed a resolution condemning the cancellation of the ballot initiatives and called for divestment. At the press conference before the protest, members of the TAHRIR Coalition announced the “Divest / Don’t Arrest People’s Referendum,” a tri-campus referendum for U-M students, staff and faculty to express their opinions regarding the University’s investment decisions and their pursuit of criminal charges against student protesters.

In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Alex Sepulveda, JVP chair for activism, spoke about the goals of the referendum. “The goal will be for all members of the community, from the workers in the dining hall to faculty members to both graduate and undergraduate students on all three campuses … to call the UM (to) immediately divest from any and all companies presently or in the future profiting off of human rights violations committed by Israel and/or aiding in the apartheid system maintained against Palestinians, and that the U-M Board of Regents request that the Washtenaw County Prosecutor

NEWS

Students react to U-M Board of Regents newlyadopted free speech

New principles come after studentled protests against the Israeli military violence in Gaza NOOR KHANAFER Daily News Reporter

The University of Michigan Board of Regents unanimously adopted a new set of Principles on Diversity of Thought and Freedom of Expression on Jan. 16. The principles, which follow numerous student-led protests against the Israeli military violence in Gaza, reiterated the University’s commitment to open dialogue and free speech on campus. The principles were originally drafted in October 2023 to build upon prior policies approved by the Board of Regents, including the 1977 Freedom of Speech Guidelines and the 1988 Freedom of Speech and Artistic Expression policy. The principles highlight that protection of speech does not extend to appropriate or civil conduct or speech that breaches any law or U-M policy. The approval of the principles comes after the cancellation of Central Student Government

elections for ballot initiatives AR 13-025 and AR 13-026. After the U-M administration authorized and approved an email encouraging students to vote yes on AR 13-025 and no on AR 13-026, two students were doxxed and accused of stealing the student body’s emails to send the email.

The American Civil Liberties Union of Michigan addressed a letter to University President Santa Ono and Timothy Lynch, the University’s vice president and general counsel in December. In the letter, the ACLU expressed concerns over the suppression of student speech and advocacy regarding the crisis in Palestine and Israel. The letter specifically highlights the canceled elections, the shutting down of student email listservs, the removal of posters showing support for Palestine from graduate students’ office windows and the University’s response to a campus sit-in and protest as examples of this pattern.

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Eli Savit drop all charges against student protesters.” In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Shubh Agrawal, SAFE external committee member, said SAFE’s goal for the referendum is to represent the views of all three U-M campuses and push the University toward divestment. “We want this to be all of U of M,” Agrawal said. “We want students who are faculty, staff (at) all three campuses. Everyone wants to show the Regents that U of M does not stand for genocide, does not stand for money being used for that.” In a message to The Daily following the protest, Sepulveda said he hopes to see the University prioritize ethical investment over popularity with the U-M community when making a decision about investment. “Ask anybody in upper level administration of this university what their thoughts on divestment,” Sepulveda wrote. “I guarantee you will get the same answer. They say ‘divestment is too divisive.’ They say ‘we don’t want to tear the campus community apart.’ But we don’t care, how could we

JEREMY WEINE/Daily SAFE education chair Zainab Hakim (left) and SAFE president Salma Hamamy (right) lead chants outside the Ruthven Building during a protest opposing the University of Michigan’s investment in Israel Thursday afternoon.

care? All of us here understand the basic premise that justice is supposed to be divisive. And if you spend so much as one protest organizing with us you will come to understand that the administration does not have a commitment to

justice or morality, they have commitment to popularity.” Following the board meeting, protesters stood around the only exit of the Ruthven parking lot to block board members from leaving. The group stretched out

into the street, forcing cars and buses to divert their routes as several Division of Public Safety & Security cars blocked off the street to direct traffic. Read more at MichiganDaily.com

NEWS

The stories of Michigan residents who plan to vote ‘uncommitted’ in upcoming Democratic primary ‘We will make our voices heard.’

MARY COREY

Daily News Editor

As the 2024 election year beginso pick up, primary elections are taking place across the country. With President Joe Biden and former President Donald Trump winning each of their respective primaries so far, they will likely face each other once again in the general election this November. Michigan’s primaries will take place on Feb. 27. Ahead of the Democratic primary, a group of Michigan voters launched the Listen to Michigan campaign encouraging people to vote “uncommitted” instead of for any of the candidates listed on the ballot in protest of Biden’s support of the Israeli military and hesitance to call for a cease-fire in Gaza. Voting “uncommitted” is an option on Michigan’s primary ballot that signifies a general allegiance with the Democratic party but not an endorsement of a specific candidate. The more progressive wing of the Democratic party has expressed discontent with Biden’s response to the ongoing Israel-Hamas war. Although the Biden administration

is currently pushing for a six-week pause in the fighting, Biden has previously been reluctant to call for a cease-fire in Gaza. Critics have also objected to the U.S. military aid to Israel that has continued under the Biden administration and throughout the Israel-Hamas war. Layla Elabed, campaign manager of Listen to Michigan, said in an interview with The Michigan Daily that voting “uncommitted” in the Democratic primary is a way for voters to send a message to Biden about his handling of the conflict in the Middle East. “It’s our way of telling Biden to listen to Michigan and that we’re uncommitted to his reelection if he continues funding Israel’s war and genocide in Gaza,” Elabed said. Elabed said a similar campaign during the 2008 Michigan Democratic primary was able to galvanize support in the state for former President Barack Obama. When Obama did not qualify for the Democratic primary, his supporters urged people to vote “uncommitted” in protest. “The (idea) came out of the Obama campaign in 2008, when he didn’t make the ballot in the Michigan primaries,” Elabed said.

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LSA COLLEGIATE LECTURE SERIES

Monday, March 11, 2024 4:00 p.m.–5:30 p.m. Palmer Commons, Forum Hall

On Listening and Language Peeves ANNE CURZAN

Geneva Smitherman Collegiate Professor of English Language and Literature, Linguistics, and Education

On the Performative Power of Taboo Words in Fictional Television and Film ROBIN QUEEN

Sarah G. Thomason Collegiate Professor of Linguistics

On the Ugly 80s:

Rethinking Contemporary Police Violence, White Vigilantism, and their Contested Reckonings HEATHER ANN THOMPSON

Frank W. Thompson Collegiate Professor of History and African American Studies

A public lecture and reception; you may attend in person or virtually. For more information, including the Zoom link, visit https://events. umich.edu/event/ 117822 or call 734.516.1027.

Arts

4 — Wednesday, Februrary 21, 2024

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Sundance 2024: A fun-sized recap RAMI MAHDI, MAYA RUDER AND LOLA D’ONOFRIO Senior Arts Editor and Daily Arts Writers We watched a lot of movies this year in Utah. Arguably, too many movies. To create one location to see what we thought of them all, we’ve come together to compile capsules of every single film The Michigan Daily got to see in Park City, sorted chronologically in order of viewing. — Senior Arts Editor Rami Mahdi, Daily Arts Writer Maya Ruder and Daily Arts Writer Lola D’Onofrio Day One: “Gaucho Gaucho” When I signed on to cover an independent film festival, I expected beauty and intensity. “Gaucho Gaucho” exceeded those expectations in every way. It’s pretty much the most indie thing ever — a black-andwhite documentary celebrating Argentinian cowboy culture. It’s also more than that. “Gaucho Gaucho” is the latest production from directors Michael Dweck and Gregory Kershaw. They’ve made a career out of engaging with life on the edges of society. “Gaucho Gaucho” continues that trend, immersing viewers in the lives of “gauchos” — skilled horsemen celebrated across South America for their colorful, adventurous lives. “Gaucho Gaucho” strips away the romanticism of the gaucho lifestyle. Instead, it follows several real-life gauchos as they navigate life, death and survival in the high deserts of northwestern Argentina. It is a beautiful, kinetic film

segmented into brief vignettes: A boy learns to ride horses with his father, a young woman struggles to break into the local rodeo scene and a seasoned gaucho worries over the health of his livestock. Unlike traditional documentaries, there are no interviews or talking heads. All the dialogue comes from conversations conducted between the gauchos themselves. We’re offered windows into their world, snippets of their fears, hopes and ideas. The result is a slow, visually stunning examination of life on the verge of extinction. The black-andwhite color scheme gives the entire film an air of mythology, eulogizing their world even as it lives on. If you want something slow, stunning and decidedly indie, you need to watch “Gaucho Gaucho.” “Thelma” Physical comedy has been dead for a while. The once-revered films of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and Lucille Ball are lying motionless in six feet of dirt, replaced by soulless Saturday Night Live spoken-word comedies that spread like a phantom over the theater. With the genre at a low point, a 93-year-old grandmother took it upon herself to breathe new life into the zombie subgenre. “Thelma” is an instant physical comedy classic with Tom Cruise’s skeleton and Betty White’s face. 94-year-old June Squibb (“Nebraska”) stars as the titular Thelma, a grandmother of paper spine and iron will, determined to get back at a phone scammer who’s wronged her — at all costs. In doing so, director Josh Margolin frames Thelma with the full reverence of a golden-age action hero. Margolin’s cowboy shots, slow-mos and montage use would make even actor

Liam Neeson jealous. If at any point Margolin were to deviate from the premise and enter a state of selfawareness, “Thelma’s” curious spell would be broken. Luckily, Margolin knows what he has — a killer idea — and understands not to meddle with it. “Thelma” weaves Squibb’s fantastic performance together with supporting roles from Richard Roundtree (“Shaft”), Fred Hechinger (“The Pale Blue Eye”) and Parker Posey (“Beau is Afraid”) to create a timeless comedy that has its fair share of heartfelt moments. “Sujo” Directors Astrid Rondero (“The Darkest Days of Us”) and Fernanda Valadez (“Identifying Features”) deliver their imaginative interpretation of the pervasive impact of crime on youth in “Sujo.” This collaborative film follows Sujo (Juan Jesús Varela, “Identifying Features”) from a boy, raised by his aunt Nemesia (Yadira Pérez Esteban, debut) after being orphaned by the cartel, to a man, exiled from the Mexican countryside as the fate that befell his father looms. Alone in Mexico City, Sujo struggles to escape the cycle of violence that assumes his shadow. Like other dramatic Mexican filmmakers — Guillermo del Toro (“The Shape of Water”), Alfonso Cuarón (“Y Tu Mamá También”) and Alejandro González Iñárritu (“Birdman”) — Rondero and Valadez include a distinct dimension of fantasy in their films. “Sujo” often wanders into a dream state during its first three parts, submerging the audience into a space that is just as hazy and difficult to emerge from as Sujo’s home. A kind of telepathy exists between Sujo and Nemesia,

Design by Evelyn Mousigian

who communicate through their dreams when sleeping just feet from each other. Dead figures deliver messages to the living through Nemesia, a woman who is as haunting as she is haunted. “Sujo” is a fantasy tale grounded in blistering truth — a ghost story in which children are born to inherit the generational devastation of drugs and violence on civilization. Day Two “Little Death” Have you ever listened to Frank Ocean? OK, obviously you have; I’m writing to college students. I’ll be more specific: Have you listened to Frank Ocean’s “Nights?” The one with the awesome beat switch, where halfway through it just becomes a completely different song? Man. I fucking love that song.

On an unrelated note, Jack Begert’s feature directorial debut “Little Death” is wonderfully entertaining. The Aronofskyproduced joint has a more formal range than anything I have seen in the past year. High-tempo experimental editing, absurdist moments and Artificial Intelligence art-driven dreamscapes of questionable morals make way for marauding scenes that revel in the on-screen world. David Schwimmer (“Friends”), Dominic Fike (“Euphoria”) and Talia Ryder (“The Sweet East”) each give milestone performances. Fike’s performance in particular is so entrancing it manages to wash his “Euphoria” performance out of my mouth. I know this seems lazy for a blurb, but that’s genuinely all I

think I should say. It’s darkly funny, unique and should be seen with no preconceived notions. Shout out to bowling balls. “Brief History of a Family” Class-conscious films have become the new it-girl of the indie world. Since “Parasite” exploded into the world in 2019, everyone’s rolled up their sleeves and taken a crack at it. Unfortunately, not everyone is director Bong Joon-ho, and nobody seems to know it. Most of these class examinations (if you can even call them that) are surfacelevel nothings like “Saltburn.” Yet sometimes, when the moon is right and the planets align, we get one, a gift from the celestial bodies. “Brief History of a Family” is one of those gifts.

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On Ann Arbor Folk Festival’s first night, the folk came First OSCAR NOLLETTEPATULSKI Daily Arts Writer

The Ann Arbor Folk Festival, now in its 47th year, returned to Hill Auditorium last weekend. How close the festival keeps to its namesake is up for debate, though midway through the night’s performance, The Ark volunteer Jeff Reece defined the festival as a collection of artists the venue would normally host, albeit adding a clarifying “mostly.” Even though the festival is set up as a much bigger version of The Ark, the quaint downtown hall that has become a mainstay for touring folk artists, organizers do a thorough job of translating the venue’s charms to the University of Michigan’s largest performance space. Friendly volunteers abound the lobby, assisting at artist merch tables or guiding patrons to their seats with a side of small talk. Buzzing swarms of attendees eventually snaked into the lobby as the lights dimmed, and emcee Jeff Daniels, a Chelsea, Michigan native, began his first of many comical songs that wove their way between the night’s sets. Though Daniels is best known for his acting roles, he sang excellent musical interludes between sets, which appropriately balanced

personal stories with current events, all in self-accompanied original songs. His introductory tune, which dove into political polarization, had the refrain “Detroit 31, Tampa Bay 23”, which yielded huge applause from the still-filling auditorium. It seems nothing unites better than football. But the first group, Florida violin duo Sons of Mystro, still tried. The brothers, backed by a drummer and a sound engineer, opened with a cover of Montell Jordan’s “This is How We Do It.” This set the stage for various commands from the group toward the crowd, whether it be clapping, waving hands side to side or repeatafter-me songs. While temporarily successful in getting a sedentary Hill Auditorium on its feet, the effect felt more like an exercise class than an organic showcase of collective unity. Sons of Mystro’s original songs furthered this unintended effect, using violin riffs baked with the same dough as the 2010s pop songs they covered. Lyrics were repetitive and trite, like in “I am Invincible,” which demanded the audience to repeat the titular line until its positive message became a watery cliche. The next act, Darren Kiely, continued Mystro’s pop sensibilities but leaned away from the orchestral slant and more toward roots and folk. Kiely brought just himself, a

Arushi Sanghi/DAILY Old Crow Medicine Show performs at Folk Fest at the Hill Auditorium January 26.

foot drum and his guitar to the Hill stage, but his contagious excitement rose to the challenge of reaching the audience of over 3,000. Besides Kiely’s dynamic voice and smooth songwriting, he seemed plucked from the streets of South Campus, wearing an all-black athleisure ensemble and white high tops. By deftly weaving anecdotes from his own life between each tune, he told the story of how he ended up in Nashville from Ireland, by way of

New York City. Standout song “Blood Red” featured some of Kiely’s most visual lyricism in the verses, which depict a fall color trip to Upstate New York: “You said blood red and asked me what I’d choose / I said dead brown because long ago I fell for you.” During the chorus, however, Kiely goes for typical, broad statements that undermine the story’s intimacy. Performing solo worked to his advantage in these moments;

his singular stage presence drew attention from the song’s weaker moments. The last band before intermission, New York sibling trio BAILEN stood awkwardly, chuckling in their primary-color dresses as they waited for Daniels to finish his latest ditty: a song about being handcuffed à la Fifty Shades of Grey. The awkwardness was luckily absolved by BAILEN’s meticulous, near-constant three-part harmony, as they warmly filled Hill with tracks from their recent album Tired Hearts. Their calculated, hooky setlist ended up being the most bold and original music of the night, like “Something Tells Me,” which starts out sparse and cutting, before evolving into a full, glowing chorus. Though BAILEN’s deliberate approach worked most of the time, the band sometimes felt self-restrained, as if there were more emotion waiting to be let out. At the end of the set, drummer David Bailen reasoned that, since they were at a Folk Festival, “we thought we should do a folk song.” The siblings gathered around a single microphone, Daniel providing guitar for “These Bones,” a lush, soothing number. So, is this what folk music is supposed to be? Devon Gilfillian couldn’t answer, as his backing band steered the post-intermission concert into the

realm of retro-styled R&B, with some forays into funk rock and noise. Gilfillian has a voice, and a small cohort in front was inspired enough to dance right from the getgo. (Plus, he and bassist Matthew Chancey easily win best dressed of the night, the former in a matching tie dye-esque shirt-pant set and the latter in a cropped shirt and a jortskirt.) Opening with “Better Broken,” Gilfillian brought everyone’s hands together for another round of enthusiastic clapping. Later on, political polarization was again addressed, leading into a crowdpleasing cover of Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On.” Gilfillian then went into his own song inspired by Gaye, the title track off of the recent album. This charmingly altruistic song about loving thy neighbor no matter what led to another audience standup moment and, of course, more clapping on the beat. The audience was then asked if the band was allowed to “get funky” (answer: a resounding yes), and so Gilfillian went into the noisiest stuff of the entire night. Middle-aged hands that were once holding binoculars now covered ears, but at the end, most of the audience was still smiling, and Gilfillian was given the longest applause thus far.

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You are allowed to criticize Percy Jackson MAURICE TOBIANO Daily Arts Writer

You should be able to criticize “Percy Jackson and the Olympians,” even if you are a lifelong fan of the

franchise. There’s a loyal fan base online defending the show, asserting that it’s everything they could’ve asked for. I was like them for a while. I’ve been waiting my whole life for some sort of grand-scale Percy Jackson attention. I wanted it

to be a success. I wanted it to be the next Harry Potter with blockbuster movies, theme parks and Broadway shows. I wanted it to bring back my childhood memories. But there came a point where I had to stop lying to myself. As much as I wanted it, I

Design by Natasha Eliya

had to accept the fact that the Percy Jackson show just wasn’t that good. The series has so much going on, yet somehow still manages to feel empty. The Lotus Casino looked delightful, but it didn’t have any substance that made it feel magical. The demigods fight monsters, but they don’t last long enough to feel any stress or tension. I could go on for hours with my nitpicks, but my main issue with the show is the lack of depth in the characters, the lack of tension and the lack of consistent quality. The chemistry between Percy (Walker Scobell, “The Adam Project”), Annabeth (Leah Jeffries, “Beast”) and Grover (Aryan Simhadri, “Cheaper by the Dozen”) is undeniable. It is a delight watching a group of kids mess around while they live their (and my) childhood dreams. But as much as I love Scobell, Jeffries and Simhadri as actors, they weren’t given enough to work with. Their characters have little to no personality because a majority of their lines are used simply for exposition. Rather than showing character development through

small habits or casual conversions, it’s a large dump of telling that they hate this and love that. The show relies on fans knowing the fleshed-out characters through the books, rather than doing the work themselves. The trio also knows everything that is going to happen, and they know everyone they are going to fight. “You’re the Chimera, the mother of monsters!” “You’re Medusa, you’re a monster!” “We’re in the Lotus Hotel, we know it’s a trap!” It’s like the characters had their own copy of “The Lightning Thief” and decided to read it before going on the quest. Where is the mystery if they somehow know exactly what to do and how to do it? The lack of stakes on top of the lack of character development created a barren plot, void of any adventure or excitement. However, there are a lot of redeeming qualities that could’ve made this show great. As much as I despise Disney, I’m glad that they put their ridiculously big budgets into something outside of Marvel CGI. The set and costume designs

might as well have been plucked right off the page and pasted onto the screen. And I don’t care that the series wasn’t a carbon copy of the books — it means the writers are taking creative liberties to make it their own. But that isn’t enough for me to defend this show. What bothers me the most about this show is the fact that it was good, but it could’ve been great. I thought the first two episodes and the finale were incredibly well done — the fights had stakes, the characters felt like kids instead of adults pretending to be kids and there was still an exciting mystery. Maybe I was blinded by anticipation at the beginning and extremely low expectations by the end, but these episodes were well done. So what happened in the middle? Why put in so much love and effort for the pilot and finale just to completely throw away the heart of the story? Despite the poor writing and the character neglect, “Percy Jackson and the Olympians” still had an okay first season, but it wasted the potential to make the show into something better.

Arts

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Wednesday, February 21, 2024 — 5

Odes to internet friends KATELYN SLIWINSKI Daily Arts Writer

Lately, I have been thinking about online spaces as real, tangible places. Of course, this is not the reality of the internet but I have made such vivid memories in these spaces that it’s hard not to see it this way. I can’t help but visualize them as real; I picture myself plugged into a Matrix-esque digital world in which the friends I have made are wandering the halls as if we’re in a high school comedy. The internet has shaped all of us in many ways; for me, the people I meet there play a more essential role than the channels themselves. Amid all of the negative discourse about the internet, I want to share some joy; I have made true friends through platforms like Instagram and Discord, and I want to give my flowers to those friendships and explain how they have inspired my journey. These are a few of my stories. 1. Baby’s First Internet Friend I used to message you on bus rides to school. At the bleak hour

of 6:30 a.m., my mom drove me to the parking lot of a Busch’s grocery store where the bus would be waiting for us. The Michigan cold made sweatpants a necessity underneath my uniform’s fancy pleated skirt, a tip I learned from a kind upperclassman. I would hastily have to take them off after the half-hour ride there so I wouldn’t get detention. Once I found my seat, alone in the front of the bus, I’d cocoon my legs into a ball against the seat in front of me. My mind raced with thoughts of inadequacy; I feared I didn’t fit in at my new school, that I wouldn’t be able to find happiness there. Everyone seemed so put together and adultlike, while I was still obsessed with anime and video games with no sign of those interests letting up. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to hide my nerdy attributes or embrace them; sometimes, I’d hold off drawing at school so that I could do it without scrutiny from my peers. Oh, well. At least I had the internet. The people there understood my drawings and loved them despite their 14-yearold creator’s lack of technical skill. I can’t remember who reached

Courtesy of Katelyn Sliwinski

out first, but at some point, you became a regular part of my mornings. Because you lived in Europe, you were the only person up when I was on the bus. I remember being intimidated by you, thinking your art was better than mine. But you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you liked my work. Despite my insecurity, we ended up bonding over a YouTuber we both liked at the time (who, in horrific irony, has now been run off the internet for

preying on minors). Though our initial conversations were about him and the games he played, the bulk of our conversations ended up being about ourselves — about how our lives were different and the same. We drew pictures of each other, which is cute considering we never saw each other’s faces, just how we drew ourselves. I think we were both just insecure kids who needed a friend. I only talked to you for around six months before

we lost touch, but I cherish that time. You helped me feel secure in myself. Recently, I did a double take while scrolling through my Instagram suggestions; I saw your old username attached to some amazing artwork, only to realize it was you. I was in awe of how much you had improved, and your audience had grown exponentially, too. I thought momentarily about reaching out, telling you who I was and asking how you had been, but perhaps you wouldn’t remember me. I hope you’re doing well; thank you for being a friend. 2. A Lifelong Friend I met you when I was 14. You hopped into my Instagram DMs with joy, eager to introduce me to even more of your friends. We instantly clicked, even though our interests were different. You first reached out to me to compliment my art style — which was crazy because look at your own — so we spent much of our initial conversations gushing about each other’s work. We did art trades often; I asked you to tell me about your favorite character at the moment and you did the same to

me. We drew each other’s interests with love. I still have a folder filled with every drawing you made for me. Later into high school, we started calling each other. Our friendship was so primitive that we used Skype before migrating to Discord. We watched silly YouTube videos together and showed each other our pets. You became such a big part of my life that some of my friends in real life knew you by name. We even had each other’s phone numbers so we could play GamePigeon games together. We talked about planning a trip to meet each other. Even though you were across the country, you understood me so simply. I told my mom about you, pretending you were a friend from middle school she had never met so that she wouldn’t question my choice to talk to strangers online. My favorite moments with you by far were in 2020, when we were able to watch the entirety of “Breaking Bad” and its prequel “Better Call Saul” together solely using Discord and Google Chrome extensions. Read more at MichiganDaily.com

Lynn Painter talks upcoming romcom ‘Happily Never After’

Cover art for “Happily Never After” owned by Berkley.

AVA SEAMAN Daily Arts Writer

Quotes have been edited and condensed for clarity. “Happily Never After,” the latest romcom by Lynn Painter, New York Times bestselling author, follows the story of a woman who strikes up a friendship with the man who crashed her wedding. When Sophie Steinbeck’s fiance cheats on her again, she knows she can’t go through with their wedding — so her best friend hires someone to disrupt it. That “someone” is Max, the guy whose side job is yelling “I object!” at weddings. A couple of months later, Max reaches out to Sophie and asks if she wants to join him in his objecting duties. Hesitant but excited, she agrees to help him out. The two become partners in crime as they save one doomed marriage at a time. At the same time, Sophie’s boss tells her she needs to have a better work-life balance to get a promotion, and Max’s parents want him to settle down and be “taken care of” so they can retire to Florida. The two decide to tell everyone they’re “just friends,” but they post cute staged pictures of themselves together on social media to convince their loved ones there could be something more. He’s a cynic, and she doesn’t believe in love anymore, so neither of them is interested in being in a relationship. Throughout the story, however, they consider if they should act on their undeniable chemistry. “Happily Never After” has been marketed as “The Wedding Crashers” meets “No Strings Attached,” but these movies aren’t exactly where Painter got the inspiration for the book. In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Painter shared that she heard the words “if anyone knows of any reason these two should not be married” on TV and got an idea for a book. “I was like, ‘Oh, that’d be funny if somebody did that for money,’ ” Painter said. “And I put it in my notes app and forgot about it for like a year.” When it was time to work on her next book, her agent hated her proposal, so she pulled out her notes app, and there the

story was. “Happily Never After” has the perfect blend of romance and comedy, most notably in the banter between Sophie and Max. There are also hilarious side characters like Larry and Rose, Sophie’s elderly roommates, who sense Sophie and Max’s attraction to each other before the pair can. Painter admitted that she doesn’t intentionally think about balancing romance and comedy in her books. “I’m a very unserious person,” Painter said. “I also grew up watching all of the ’80s and ’90s romcoms. I’m just a rom-com junkie, so I feel like that’s sort of just etched into my DNA. The whole ‘cringey, awkward things happening’ thing. Well, they fall in love! But I don’t plan on that, and I can’t be serious, so that’s just how it works out.” Painter also writes contemporary young adult romances in addition to her adult romances. One of the most memorable parts of her YA books are the official soundtracks she includes for the characters. “I feel like those big feelings you get from what you’re reading (are) the same as you get (when listening to) music,” Painter said. “It’s funny because when I started out, I wasn’t that kind of reader. And now it’s so a part of writing YA, even if the playlist has nothing to do with the book.” Even though she doesn’t create playlists for her adult romcoms, Painter said that the song she imagines for Sophie and Max is “Speak Now” by Taylor Swift. With her upcoming book, Painter wants readers to have a joyful reading experience. “I’m the type of person who is a big comfort watcher,” Painter said. “I’ve got ‘Friends’ and ‘Gilmore Girls’ that I watch a billion times over and over again. … I would love to write things that give people that warm (escape) into a book where nothing terrible is going to happen. I guess I just would love to put something out there that makes people smile and gives them joy.” “Happily Never After” is one of those books that will undoubtedly make you smile — you can’t help but root for the main characters to get together. Read more at MichiganDaily.com

MiC

6 — Wednesday, February 21, 2024

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Secrets that don’t belong to me ALIFA CHOWDHURY MiC Columnist

Hundreds of Muslim women have written about the trials and tribulations of the immigrant experience. They’ve recounted stories of disappointment when what should have been cinematic moments of liberation turned out to be disappointing moments followed up with pangs of guilt. They’ve written about feeling foreign in the only country that they’ve ever known or desperately holding onto parts of their cultural identities to save them from the wrath of the great American melting pot. I know they’ve written these stories because I’ve read hundreds of them. A simple Google search of “Muslim women guilt” will bring up thousands of blog posts, articles and research papers — all of which touch on the incredibly complicated, nuanced and layered experience of being a Muslim woman of Color in the West. I used to immerse myself in these writings. Whenever Muslim guilt would take over, I would search for an article, reading anything I could find. Layla Shaikley’s Mipstez video featuring Muslim women taking selfies, skateboarding, fencing and eating ice cream — doing all the things that young people like to do. Saba Ali’s trial run of taking off the hijab, which she anticipated to be a monumental moment, turned into a moment of dissatisfaction because of the lack of sideway glances or big applause. Zareena Grewal’s writings on the guilt and novelty that came with being able to afford the luxuries to go to college, write and explore when she could have just as easily been married off out of high school, living in her old neighborhood. I admit that reading biographies might be a peculiar way to cope with the struggles that come with navigating a layered identity like mine. But for a long time, it worked. I felt less alone and empowered by how these women who came before me overcame their struggles. No matter how upsetting their stories, they always came out strong at the end. Trauma served as a hook to their stories with happy endings. And I

soon started to believe that if they could do it, so could I. It wasn’t until last summer when trauma that I never quite grappled with started to fail me. I couldn’t just ignore situations that I’d been through. Out of nowhere, I felt as though I was reliving everything unpleasant and unlike the stories I was reading, my trauma was taking over my story instead of serving as its exposition. It seemed like hundreds of women knew how to fix their generational trauma, deal with their Muslim guilt or find a way to manage their overbearing relatives. Everyone except me. I’d reached rock bottom and convinced myself that I was an outlier — that there was no way out. *** Sparing details, I had to learn, albeit through some incredibly tough nights, that the only way out was through. Just because other women seemed as though they were able to deal with generational trauma, did not mean I had to as well. I had lumped these women’s writing under one category: guilt. And I’d only tapped into their writing when I wanted to feel worse about myself. It became a toxic cycle and in the process, I discredited hundreds of women who wrote, spoke or made art about their individual experiences. I wasn’t supposed to see myself through them — their experiences were supposed to be theirs. I was meant to learn and appreciate them. I don’t blame myself entirely; I exist as a minority and stories of one often become stories of all. In an effort to right my wrong, however, I write this piece to see myself through myself and my experiences, worthy of standing alone. *** I grew up used to holding onto secrets that felt like were not mine to share, yet they heavily influenced who I was. I was handed these secrets through stories, scoldings and long lectures about what it meant to be someone’s daughter or sister. Handing down these secrets of what it meant to be a woman in a Brown immigrant family was part of a mother-daughter relationship. Really, it was a part of any female relationship.

ALIFA CHOWDHURY/MIC

Many Bangladeshi women are taught the importance of maintaining a collective identity, I am not an exception. Hyper involvement in the lives of the women in my family due to the belief that women are meant to be communal beings, serving the interests of the community and family and not her own, enforced an idea of collective being for generations of women. Years of instilling this culture make the prospect of a woman having her own time or fulfilling her own desires daunting. Enmeshed families survive on what could be considered unhealthy boundaries. Women who prioritize themselves are seen to be prone to breaking the strict code of behavior that is expected to be followed. When generations of women, regardless of their grit and determination, their uniqueness and potential, are taught to be a tool to bring other people happiness or make other people’s lives easier, it is hard to break the cycle. My family’s case is no different. My mother was just doing what she has been taught and this is all she knows, this is all she has.

One cannot give what they do not have. Women in my family broke their bones in order to fit into the box society wanted them to. This included things as small as dictating what their hair should look like to telling them who they should marry. This is a part of the distinct Brown culture I come from. It’s okay to want this. But I would be remiss if I didn’t note that most of them didn’t, that they bent to the will of society because they were forced to. I’d also be remiss if I didn’t note that many of the next generation of women in my family wholeheartedly embrace this culture of being. And that’s their choice. It isn’t mine. To many of my family members’ discontent, I did not subscribe to the idea of sacrificing my individual desires to make others happy and cover it up by labeling myself “family oriented.” I wanted to be there for my family in other ways — showing up when they needed me, celebrating joyous moments with them and leaning on each other in times of distress. In short, I wanted a healthy relationship with my

Alhamdulillah NAZIM ALI MiC Assistant

আমি শ ধ ু ু একটি ছেলে আমি শ ধ ু ু একটি কাগজ তম ু ি আমার আগ ন ু তম ু ি আমাকে পোড া় ও না বদলে তম ু ি কুজ ায় পাইসো আমার আত ম ্ া ধর ম ্ গর ্ নথ ্ এই বরফ এবং ঠান ড ্ া মধ য ্ ে আমার দিন গরম হয ে় যাচ্ছ ে যেমন চা ঁদ এবং তারার নীচে তোমার সাথে আমি দিনের আলো অন ভ ু ব করি

NAZIM ALI/MIC.

আমি শ ন ু ে বড় হয ে় ছি ভালবাসার নৌকা পাহাড় বইয ে়

family. But because of expectations of what it meant to be a woman in my family, and because I was already so far down the hole of being a part of family drama and facilitating family therapy, my ideas about individual wellbeing came across as insolent, inconsiderate and downright rude. For a while, I took pride in trying to take down what seemed like a structural way to keep women tied down, ironically played out by other women. But my family’s disapproving frowns, hours of lectures to make me unlearn my new sense of individuality and ultimate disapproval left me feeling isolated, anxious and depressed. To many, I also stood as a walking representative of the wrongs of the West. I was not communal enough, not Desi enough, not cultured enough. I had drunk the Kool-Aid of selfsufficiency and individualism. This, in particular, hurt. I study postcolonial theory, and the activism I engage in every day is rooted in decolonization. The idea of being a delegate of Western

যায় এখন আমি ব ঝ ু তে পারলাম পর ্ তি টি পর ব ্ ত তোমার সাথে পার হওয া় র জন য ্ তৈরি হয ে় ছিল এই দ ন ু িয া় র আগে আমি তোমার সাথে হেসেছিলাম যখন আল ল ্ াহ আকাশে আমাদের নাম লিখেছিলেন পাশে পাশে

‫بیصن یریم‬

my destiny তম ু ি আমার ন র ু আমার প র ্ থম এবং প র ্ িয় বন ধ ্ ু

seclusion stood against my very being. Parts of me contemplated existing in the culture as long as I wasn’t a proponent of what I fought against every day. I was at a low, and by the middle of the summer, things took a turn for the worst. *** It took time, and I can say with certainty that I didn’t solve generational trauma to halt the pain I felt and continue to feel. But I do know this, regardless of similarities I have with women in my family or other brown Muslim women — I’m allowed to have a unique experience. I am allowed to hold space for myself without it being a Western concept. I am allowed to appreciate the sacrifice of other women in my family by being true to myself. I am allowed to care for my family and care for myself simultaneously. This is not a success story, and I don’t know how many of the secrets I hold I can keep to myself. But by writing my story and seeing myself through my own perception, I turn my secrets into revelations. I have no reason to hand them down, for they aren’t secrets anymore.

in this ice and cold my days are getting warm Even more under the moon and stars, with you i feel daylight i grew up hearing the boat of love will ascend the mountains now i understand every mountain was created to be crossed with you

you don’t burn me though instead, you reveal my soul’s scripture

before this life i laughed with you when Allah wrote our names in the sky next to each other you are my heavenly light my first and most beloved friend

dissipating, through works of art that transcend far beyond the passage of time. Their verses mirror the heartbeat of the relentless struggles they

witnessed, A timeless testament to strength in the face of silence. This contributor has asked to remain anonymous for safety reasons.

i am just a boy i am just a paper you are my f lame

Sabr ANONYMOUS CONTRIBUTOR

As a quiet testament to active resistance, sabr balances precariously at the tips of tongues, echoing through the streets of a broken Gaza and tending to thousands of open wounds. Wounds that cannot endure the same resilience that the Palestinian spirit is forced to. Through a landscape of devastation, sabr dances to a tune of reverberating explosives, its melody is both out of place yet deeply rooted and forever haunted by the qanun and the Tilawat, both of which no longer sound but linger in the memories of their listeners. Sabr is a superpower: an

inherent, metaphysical ability, so difficult to grasp – because exercising sabr is like building muscle. When pressure is exerted on that muscle, it either spasms or strengthens, and the sabr within Gazans is strengthening, not by choice but by necessity.

– sabr will remain a quiet testament to active resistance.

Taught from a young age, sabr filters down generations till we look around and realize that for the children of today, sabr is all they are taught and all they know. Over ten thousand young minds trained to practice patience in the face of unthinkable loss when they should instead be taught the value of education and the power of poetry and prose.

The poetry and prose that I speak of are the storytellers – vessels bearing the cries of silenced voices. They carry within them several lives, becoming a part of the era they lived through. Eras ridden with aggressions, each one more heartless than the last. Are they silent witnesses to history? But then, the spirit of Darwish lives through each of us. So resonant that if you look closely enough, You can see Alareer’s kite soaring high.

Exploited by a population that doesn’t possess it and practiced by one that has plenty

Whilst generations die out, their narratives remain steadfast, safeguarded with fierce protection that they never saw in

AGNIVA BHAUMIK/MIC.

their lifetimes. Those that come after, straddling dual identities, Palestinian and diasporic, will journey through the archives of a generation fast

The Michigan Daily — m ichigandaily.com

STATEMENT

Wednesday, February 21, 2024 — 7

When should we boycott boycotts? OLIVIA KANE

Statement Correspondent

SPICES. A cute acronym for powerful concepts: simplicity, peace, integrity, community, equality, stewardship. I attended a Quaker high school, and to instill in us the indispensable Quaker values, we wrote SPICES on white boards and invoked it in class discussions. These ideals governed my educational experience, supposedly. Never mind that when I was in ninth grade, the school undertook a milliondollar renovation project, or that there was a sharp economic and social divide between students on scholarship and students whose families had private planes. These values, so intensely lauded, were not upheld, and it was the school’s degradation of stewardship that bothered me the most. Each year, we were required to complete a certain number of service hours. Ideally, students would want to devote a significant amount of their time to something like bettering the planet or caring for abused animals. In reality, students might spend 30 minutes making a poster about the climate crisis and record that they had spent three hours at a protest — and I do not blame them for doing this. We were tired high school students who were told that service had a finite conclusion: record 25 hours, and you could graduate; record 25 hours, and you had contributed to relieving the suffering in the world. The complexity and nuance of service was hidden behind the ease with which we could report having done five hours of it. But then the school hosted an assembly with Kate Sekules, an assistant fashion history professor at Pratt Institute. She challenged us to think about the repercussions of advocacy campaigns. The assembly centered around fast fashion and the dangerous conditions of sweatshops around the world. My neighbors squirmed in their seats when Sekules talked about how H&M is a primary contributor to carbon emissions. People looked away when pictures of sweatshop workers were projected. I had predicted that this was how the assembly would go, and when the speaker mentioned boycotting, I wasn’t surprised. Here was an action that we could take. After being told that we should boycott stores like American Eagle and Urban Outfitters, we could all comfortably leave the assembly behind. Yes, it had been painful to look at pictures of child laborers, but if we stopped buying from Forever 21, it would be okay. We would have done our part.

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This is not what Sekules said. Upon referencing boycotting, she explained that if we all stopped shopping at stores that contribute to fast fashion, workers would negatively be impacted. In reality, many of these workers need these jobs. Other viable sources of income are scarce, and the fast fashion industry provides money for families. But, at the same time, the speaker encouraged us to shop at thrift stores and wear hand-me-downs from siblings and friends. The assembly ended, and there was an unusual lack of resolution: There was no course of concrete action proposed. Instead, the discomfort inherent to the complexity of the issue prevailed. Fast fashion was so deeply intertwined with political and social circumstances that Sekules could not propose boycotting. Instead, she had encouraged us to consider why boycotting might be dangerous. I didn’t know how to move forward after this assembly, and I think that is why I am still thinking about it six years later. I’ve yet to figure out the right course of action — fast fashion still exists, and sweatshop workers still face deplorable conditions. Six years have passed and no finite amount of service could have come close to resolving such an infinitely complex issue. In 1880, Charles Stewart Parnell encouraged Irish tenants to protest high rents and evictions. When tenants actually succeeded in ousting British

estate manager Charles Cunningham Boycott, the term “boycott” was popularized. Today, official boycotts are generally conducted by labor unions to protest unfair wages and conditions; but, more colloquially, any individual action against a corporation is considered a boycott. So while boycotts might be indicative of planned collective political action, they also include smaller scale individual action. In the United States, I think we tend to view boycotting as inherently worthwhile and beneficial — a view that probably stems from the country’s history of large-scale boycotts. When the term “boycott” comes up, many Americans likely think of the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and ’60s. Boycotts were consistently used as a tool to protest stores and businesses that discriminated against Black Americans, and the Montgomery Bus Boycott is a primary example of the power of collective action. The bus boycott cost Montgomery City Lines between $3,000 and $4,000 each day the boycott continued. In many middle and high school classrooms, we are taught that these boycotts played a part in securing fundamental rights for Black Americans. While this narrative is not completely false — the 1950s and ’60s were a period when rights were increased and desegregation was slowly implemented — it means

these boycotts cannot be considered with greater complexity. While one might easily assume that the financial losses Montgomery suffered would be enough for the city to desegregate buses, it was not until after the Supreme Court ruled Alabama’s bus segregation laws unconstitutional that desegregation actually took place. I was not taught about the Supreme Court’s decision in school. I learned first about the bus boycotts and then the eventual desegregation of the buses. I thought that by assuming the boycotts led to desegregation, I was connecting the dots. I think, in retrospect, we want it to be the case that these boycotts worked on their own — that the collective voice and action of thousands would be enough to enact change. It is difficult and unpleasant to accept that only when mandated by the highest authority in the United States — a governing body of nine white men at the time — was the city willing to desegregate the buses. I am not trying to devalue the importance of the bus boycotts. These protests helped Martin Luther King Jr. become the established leader of the Civil Rights Movement and encouraged the use of nonviolent civil disobedience. But, it is concerning that the narrative in the United States has become that boycotts can only be viewed as an overwhelmingly positive, successful and inspiring tool of change.

I find this so dangerous a sentiment because it allows people to view boycotts as an end-all-be-all sort of action. Yet, as I began to see in that first assembly in high school, there is inherent danger in viewing boycotts this way. To overwhelmingly praise the boycott is to somewhat ignore the underlying political and social factors that have made a potential boycott necessary. By embracing the narrative that boycotts can only ever result in success negates the possibility that other action might be preferable. This is why the difference between the collective and individual boycott seems especially crucial. We cannot just assume that an individual boycott results in success. If I choose to boycott Forever 21 and H&M, I might think that I am benefitting workers halfway around the world. But in reality, when an individual undertakes this action without a request from labor unions, things become more complicated. This is why the speaker at my high school’s assembly suggested individual boycotting might be more harmful than we realize. The clothing industry represents an especially challenging example of the difference between individual and collective boycotting because it is relatively easy for an individual to stop shopping at a store that endorses fast fashion policies. However, Public Policy senior Ruth Lynch, co-founder of the University of

Michigan’s chapter of United Students Against Sweatshops, emphasized the importance of individuals adhering to labor unions’ calls for action. “Garment workers themselves don’t really ask for boycotts,” Lynch said. “They say do not boycott unless the union specifically asks for it.” The University’s USAS chapter is relatively new on campus and was spearheaded by Lynch and co-founder LSA junior Mark Tallents in the past year. Lynch and Tallents sought to revitalize the group on campus after a lapse in its presence, and they dedicate weekly meetings to planning larger-scale action like teach-ins and drafting communication intended for both faculty and the student body. Lynch and Tallents have met with garmentworker unions in Cambodia and they both champion the idea that boycotts are not an action we should immediately resort to. “Without a specific direction or an implementation of a structured and intentional boycott, it’s very easy for the boycott to become self-serving and lose its direction,” Tallents said. If Sekules, Tallents and Lynch have all affirmed the notion that boycotting clothing stores is not necessarily the right action to take, one might easily console themselves by appealing to the idea that it is not harmful to shop at these stores. Yet, both Tallents and Lynch stressed that they do not buy new clothes and prefer to thrift. Here is where the inherent tension in trying to reform the garment industry seems to lie: The reality is that it feels untenable to buy from these stores once one is aware of the unfair conditions they impose on their workers. However, as Tallents said, “If no one bought new clothes, those livelihoods are gone. It’s not about destroying the job, it’s about reforming the job and reconstructing it in a way that has dignity and is sustainable.” Clearly, boycotting is not a simple solution for securing better conditions for garment workers. But, Lynch proposes a way in which we might change how we think about boycotts — one that challenges the notion that they are always overwhelmingly beneficial. Lynch suggests that we often think of boycotting as doing something for garment industry workers. In reality, we should think of these boycotts as partaking in action alongside workers. People might often say something like, “I am boycotting H&M right now.” The emphasis of this statement is on the “I,” and the importance of the individual is inherent.

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My nights at the movies: Bringing normality to loneliness ANANYA GERA

Statement Columnist For the past month, I’ve gone to the State Theatre every single weekend. As a self-proclaimed lover of film and cinema, I have made it my personal mission to watch every new movie featured on the big screen. There is something sacred about watching a movie the way it is intended to be watched, with a large Diet Coke in hand and a roomful of people all prepared for a life-altering experience. I truly love going to the movies. When everyone is collectively laughing, crying, clapping and gasping at the story unfolding before us, I cannot help but feel connected to something larger than myself. But the crux of this past month is not that I’ve watched a new movie every weekend, but that every time I’ve gone to the movie theater filled with people, I have been by myself. It started with “All of Us Strangers,” a movie starring Andrew Scott (“Fleabag”) and Paul Mescal (“Normal People”) centered in magical realism. I was enamored by the mystery encapsulated in the trailer and was eager to see it unfold on the big screen. But, on that fateful Saturday evening, I had no one to go to the theater with, as my friends and roommates were busy with the beginning moments of the semester. At first, I bid farewell to my plans of an evening at the theater, resigning instead to spend

the evening alone in my apartment eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream. But I really wanted to see that movie. I mean, it was Paul Mescal! So I decided to attend by myself. Treating the occasion as grandiose when it was anything but, I got dressed up, wearing my favorite blue sweater and dotting blush on my cheeks to make myself feel better about going alone. I wanted to feel good about myself, hoping that the swipes of mascara would settle the nerves beginning to build up in my mind. Donning my coat and wireless headphones, I went on my way, enjoying the crisp January night and trying to ignore the subsequent anxiety rising in my chest. In theory, going to the movies by myself sounded fun — an alleviation to a Saturday night that would have otherwise been spent alone at home — but I was worried about how others would perceive me. Would they see me standing in line to get my popcorn and feel pity that I was obviously alone on a weekend night? Would observers be confused and stare openly at me in an attempt to decipher my motives? But, as I bought my ticket and a pack of Reese’s Pieces, I realized that no one really paid attention to me. To my surprise, as I sat down in my seat, there were other people in the audience who were also by themselves. By the end of the movie, every doubt I’d previously held had slowly eroded. I went to the movies alone because I was lonely. And I left the movies alone, but perhaps slightly less lonely.

I feel a profound connection to the individuals also present in the movie theater with me. How special is it that we all chose to see this particular movie at this particular time? For the rest of our lives, however far we roam, we will always be bound by this one point in time that we shared. It keeps the loneliness at bay and instead offers me the opportunity to appreciate the people around me, with their complex lives, thoughts and emotions that I will never get the chance to understand. I wonder what brings them to the movies by themselves on a Friday or Saturday night, but then I realize that it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we made it and are seated, ready to be transported to another world. That first venture to the movies by myself changed me in a way I cannot fully explain. Going to the movies by yourself is hard; doing anything by yourself can be hard. Sometimes, it feels as if there is a spotlight on me or a blaring announcement above my head: “Look! She’s here all by herself! What a loser!” But at the same time, it is wildly addicting, therapeutic even. In that theater, with a Diet Coke and Reese’s Pieces to keep me company, I was surrounded by people, yet also solitude. I felt more connected to my feelings than anywhere else. It reminds me that I may be there alone, but that is not particularly a bad thing. And what I love about the movies is that it is truly not a social enterprise. Of course, it is fun to go with your friends, share popcorn

and provide commentary about the movie you chose to watch. But more than that, the movie theater is a place to feel separate from the rest of the world while also being enclosed with a group of strangers all seeking the same reprieve, a togetherness in a separateness that is oddly comforting. Going to the movies alone helps me forget my loneliness. Thoughts of being alone on a weekend night dissipate from my mind as I allow myself to be fully immersed in the spectacle I sought out. As the lights dim, I put my phone on do not disturb and can finally enjoy a singular moment in time where no one can reach me. My focus narrows to the characters on the screen and the popcorn in my hand; I am a vessel in which the stories, characters and visuals pour into me. And there is nothing that I have to give in return. Let me make this clear: Going to the movies by myself did not make me fully comfortable with being alone. Doing things by myself is still an uncomfortable experience. But in that discomfort, I honed a newfound appreciation for my original loneliness, as it brought me to the movies by myself in the first place. I have gone to the movies by myself every weekend after that, watching movie after movie and taking pleasure in the company of myself and other untethered souls. Yet, despite the routine that I’ve grown to love, when anyone asks me what I’m doing on a Friday or Saturday night, I lie and say I’m going to the movies with a friend.

I feel embarrassed to admit that I am spending the night by myself — on purpose, no less — as I’m too aware of what others may think of me. College is a very social enterprise; the pattern of our lives revolves around being social and forming connections with people. Between classes, clubs and other commitments, it is hard not to feel like your entire life is composed of social endeavors upon social endeavors. Furthermore, if you live on campus or close to campus, it becomes even harder to separate college as a whole from the rest of your life. There is this unspoken pressure to constantly

be doing something with other people, whether that be studying in the library, eating dinner in the dining hall or sitting in lecture. I think this is due to unrealistic expectations regarding the college experience perpetuated by the media or feeling like everyone around you has it all figured out – social circles and all. Thus, it is hard to not feel embarrassed and ashamed when you do something by yourself, either intentionally or unintentionally, because of this unrealistic expectation that you should be social all the time.

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8 — Wednesday, February 21, 2024

STATEMENT

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The ritual of getting ready Design by Vivien Wang

CHARLOTTE PARENT Statement Columnist

I perched on the cold lid of the toilet seat in my friend’s apartment, twisting a flimsy Peppa Pig-themed party hat in my hands as my friend, Suhani, maneuvered her Dyson through my hair. After spending the previous two hours blinking back hot tears in the mirror as my hair refused to be the perfect amount of tousled, I was feeling a little giddy, girly, a bit brighter, bathed in a soft glow that had nothing to do with the hot air blowing over my face from the hair dryer. Noticing my constant fiddling with my hair, Suhani had offered to help me “get ready.” As she twirled the tool’s brush up and out of my hair, she instructed me to stand, face the mirror and flip my hair. I caught her gaze in the mirror, and she smiled. “I just love helping my friends get ready and getting ready with them,” she said, adjusting her own matching birthday hat. “It’s like an act of helping each other become the best versions of themselves.” As she unplugged the Dyson, handed me back my Peppa Pig party hat and rejoined the party, I stood there, a little bit awed. I felt transformed, ready to take on the birthday party and the bar-hopping that awaited us — and it had nothing to do with my new blowout. It had everything to do with that small act of kindness, of implicit understanding and unconditional assistance in getting ready with friends. We had, in other words, participated in a small microcosm of the unique “getting ready” ritual. As early as my freshman year of high school, I began to learn that no dance, party or event with my friends could be properly enjoyed without participating in this little tradition. No one told me this was the way — there was no section on how to approach the preparation for a night out in the little purple adolescent health booklets they passed out in middle school, nor did I watch my mom do this growing up. “Getting ready” was an intimate, intentional act of vulnerability, and

PHILIP (SOOYOUNG) HAM Statement Columnist

Every year following high school graduation, thousands of students receive a singular letter in the mail. Printed on the envelope is a navy and red swirl — an emblem reminiscent of the Korean flag. It’s from the Military Manpower Association. It’s a letter of conscription. I remember the day my mom came home one afternoon holding two of those letters — one for me and one for my twin. Receiving the letter was akin to a rite of passage: your dad got conscripted, your friend’s dad got conscripted and, if you’re lucky, you know a grandparent who fought in the Korean War who was also conscripted. But, everyone still dreads the day the letter arrives in the mail. “어떻게, 우리 애들이 군대 벌써 가네,” (Oh, our kids are already going to the military) my mom sighed. “그니까 …” (I know, right …) my dad exhaled. “빡빡이 time!” (Time to go bald!) I joked. “Oh my god,” My twin exclaimed, caressing the top of his head. I live 35 miles from the Demilitarized Zone, one of the most heavily armed borders in the world. It’s a little discomforting living that close to the border, considering that I once woke up to an evacuation alert one early morning in May before coming to Michigan. “Seek shelter, this is not a drill,” flashed across my phone screen. I went back to sleep, having accepted my fate in the blink of an eye. Living under the continuous pressure of North Korea has been a long game of ebb and flow; I remember being in middle school, watching my friends and teachers swarming around a television to watch Kim Jong Un cross into South Korean territory for the inter-Korean summit. A year

everyone around me seemed to understand this. My first exposure to this sort of exclusive ritual was during my freshman year of high school homecoming dance preparty. These were almost, if not equally as important, as the afterparties (though the preparties were more exclusive). This was your chance to truly bond with your designated friend group for the night by communing together in someone’s bedroom — or, in my case, a barren, teal-painted room with walls of floor-to-ceiling mirrors — and forging a bond by putting on your makeup and buckling your heels together before heading out into the social performance of the dance. This was an entirely foreign concept to me, even though I grew up with a sister 11 months younger than me. I shared a room (and a bathroom) with her my entire life,

later, we watched Donald Trump shake hands with Kim in Vietnam. Then, in what felt like a blink of an eye, North Korea announced another round of weapons testing. Back to square one. This has been going on for as long as I remember. Still, any time North Korea is on the news, anxiety runs high. The North is the boy who cried missile, except nobody is unwise enough to ignore his cries. So while threats aren’t boldly printed on every headline, they’re definitely still burning in the back of the Korean psyche. But beyond the sevendecade war Korea is still technically fighting, my friends and family dread the military — not because of our enemies at the frontlines, but our allies in the barracks. Korea has a notorious hazing culture in the military. I know military hazing exists in virtually every military in the world, and I might just be “soft” and need to “be a man,” but every memory I’ve had seeing the military appear on the news was never for good reason: In 2014, an army sergeant killed five other members in a shooting spree; in 2018, a solider was found with a gunshot wound to his head in the bathroom at the DMZ an apparent suicide; in 2021, a female Air Force member was found dead after complaining about abuse; later that same May when I woke up to that evacuation notice, a soldier was found in critical condition after putting a bullet up his chin; in July, a Marine drowned after not being provided any safety equipment during rescue missions. Fortunately, similar cases were more frequent a decade ago, and cases have been declining ever since — even the “deserter pursuit” unit of the army was recently disbanded (there’s a great Netflix show called “D.P.” after this unit that’s a little dramatized but I still highly recommend it).

but I never felt as if I was embarking on something sacred every time we discreetly nudged each other’s makeup to get more counter space in the bathroom. Most of the time, we got ready in tandem, her with her overstuffed floral-print makeup bags and me with my solitary concealermascara-eyebrow gel formula. There was a hum of camaraderie when I arrived at my group’s preparty house, a fine, vanilla-scented mist of Victoria’s Secret “Warm & Cozy” glittering in the suspended evening light. I was the last to arrive, as I took my time zipping up my dress and curling my eyelashes at home, unaware of the social gaffe I was creating. I had missed a crucial step in the unvoiced requirements to have a good night — I was not going to “get ready” with my friends. Seven mirrored reflections stared back at me as I took in the scene from the doorway, eyes wide with my

fading tan Target heels dangling in my hand. Fetty Wap’s “1738” blared from someone’s tiny iPhone speaker. I had never seen so many people — so many girls — chattering and squealing and asking, “Do you think my hair looks alright?” in one place before. I stood there, feet rooted in the carpeted entryway, and tried not to be stunned at the swath of femininity and friendship before me. I’d gotten ready with other people, sure — at one point, I shared a bathroom with all four of my siblings. I’d buckled my sister’s heels, checked her mascara and made sure she didn’t have lip gloss on her teeth before heading out to a birthday party. I’d heard my brothers jab at each other for knocking over each other’s toothbrushes, and I’d jockeyed for elbow space over the sink. I had never really, truly gotten ready with friends like this. I did that individually, arriving polished

and zipped up in my dress when the other girls were still in sweatpants. I still had fun at the homecoming dances — I posed for pictures on breakaway walls on Lake St. Clair, I tried to “juju on that beat” on the blue tarp passing for a dance floor in the gym — but I couldn’t help but feel a little bit bummed as I stepped into the noise of the gym with my friends. There was some intangible, fuzzy bit of experience I was missing out on — some unvoiced thread of connection that tied all the girls that got ready together. Something that, if I knew that I had it, I would have had just a little more fun that night. Throughout my time at the University of Michigan, this difference became all the more apparent; it was almost an unspoken mandate. I quickly learned that freshman year when I saw all my friends dutifully filter into one of their dorm rooms on the eve of a

Cantina push. I’d hang back at first, trying to curl my hair in the relative comfort of my desk under my lofted bed and would hear their chatter drift through my open door. “Do you think this top is better for tonight? Or should I do my blue one?” “Can I use your perfume? Mine’s all out.” “I messed up my wing again. Can you do the eyeliner?” Whenever I rolled up to the pregame, the pregame to the pregame or the actual event itself after getting my outfit and makeup sorted on my own, I felt almost bashful. A little bit wrong, even, especially when all my friends around me were in various states of disarray — tie-back tops strewn over mirrors, tubes of mascara tipped over, soldiers of various lipglosses stacked haphazardly on whatever surface space was free. Here I was, already prepared for the house party, bar or dorm-friendly version of “Around the World,” social mask and mode already set in place — and they were still deep in the throes of preparation. As I headed towards a Halloween pregame dressed as Indiana Jones last semester, I was spectacularly failing to exude his bravado and confidence. My hat refused to stay tipped just so on the top of my hair, my mascara was pooling underneath my eyes and the frizz in my hair was probably visible to anyone in a half-mile radius. I was dreading the celebratory photoshoot we certainly would do almost as much as the hours weaving in and out of loud, humid house parties. After walking in and settling on the couch, seeing the buzz of “getting ready” already well underway — a siren queen adjusting the shell accouterments on her skirt in one room, Joker applying her peeloff tattoos across her collarbones near the coffee table, Taylor Swift lining her lips in the bathroom mirror at the kitchen table — I was hit with a pang of FOMO. Here I was, already done up for the night, and I had nothing to do but wallow in my certainly-failed costume and lack of intrinsic bonding and relation to everyone else around me.

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The letter

My twin’s knees, fortunately enough for him, are somehow decrepit enough to qualify him as a “Social Service Agent,” which basically means he gets to enjoy a warm bed and breakfast at home and commute to a library for an office job, while I’ll be in the middle of nowhere sleeping next to 10 other snoring baldies who also want to go home. Funny enough, my older brother and my dad were also social service agents, so I’m the only one who can say I’m “actually going to the army.” Exemption from the military is only possible by winning national or international awards: medaling in the Olympics, receiving gold in the Asian Games or being the greatest esports player of all time. I don’t have any world-class skills or attributes, and hey, if BTS can’t escape conscription, how can I? So, what scares me more? North Korea or potential hazing from my superiors? I can’t pick my poison — maybe I’ll have to take both. With an already globally-charged political climate and a recent denouncement of reunification, the prospect of deployment feels closer than ever. And what better way to create hardened soldiers than through hazing? I don’t want to end up as another military tragedy or a statistic of war, but I suppose the least I can do is hope this is just another false cry of “missile.” Another thought that saddens me about conscription is what it means for my college experience. Service is 18 months long (and 21 months for my twin — what a loser). By the time I get back, my roommate will have graduated early and the rest of my friends will be seniors. The upperclassmen I got to know around campus will have long graduated, hopefully working full-time jobs or miserably settling into graduate school. But hey, the Hadley Family Recreation and Well-Being Center will have finished construction and I’ll maybe have a full head of hair

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grown back by Winter 2026. At least I also know I’m not alone in this endeavor: a handful of my Korean friends here at the University are going, along with my friends at other universities and their friends and their friends at other universities, and so on and so forth. After our 18 months are over, I suppose it’ll be like going to college again for the first time for all of us. I may have forgotten all I’ve learned in my introductory courses, but I will at least know how to handle a Daewoo K2, to endure tear gas, to throw grenades the right way and will have hopefully realized what I want to major in while crawling under some barbed wire. I don’t know how I might turn out after finishing my service: Will I end up as some emotionless, productive and stoic robot? Or will I hopefully just be a ripped version of my same self? Only time will tell. You apparently learn to unlearn and relearn the basics — everything you thought you already knew — walking, talking, folding your

clothes. My older brother and his veteran friends say they come back to university with a surge of motivation, hoping to “catch up” with their now “older” friends who are now looking for jobs after graduation while you’re still taking some random course to satisfy your major requirements. “아이고…” (Oh man…) my dad held the letter in his hands. “잘 갔다와!” (Have a nice trip!) he joked, patting me on the back. My two older brothers erupted in laughter. “At least I don’t have to pay your tuition for a while,” he added. He had a point, so I said nothing. He handed me the letter so I could read it for myself, but I honestly couldn’t decipher any of the formalized military jargon in it. I sighed in resignation. I knew this moment was inevitable and I shouldn’t have been surprised — my friends and I first started worrying about this day since middle school. “이병, 함수영,” (Private

Sooyoung Ham) my oldest brother jokingly saluted. “Oh wait, you’re not a private yet,” he corrected. “ 훈련병 124번 함수영,” (Bootcamp trainee number 124, Sooyoung Ham) he saluted again. Laughter erupted again. Admittedly, the banter was funny. As my brother saluted, I saw myself saluting at bootcamp, bald and maybe a little scared. As laughter began to dissipate, my brother patted me on the back. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” he reassured me. “Just listen to your superiors and do well on the physical testing stuff.” I nodded. “그래 맞아, 괜찮을거야,” (Yeah that’s right, it’ll be okay) my mom added. “우리가 편지를 쓸게,” (We’ll write you letters). I leave for bootcamp sometime this June. After four weeks of training, I’ll be stationed somewhere in the peninsula. But a saying apparently goes, “The further down south, the better.” I pray I won’t be stationed at the DMZ.

Opinion

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Wednesday, February 21, 2024 — 9

Why a rise of ‘Careerism’ is bad for everyone GABE EFROS Opinion Columnist

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Careerism” is the belief in advancing your career at the expense of other passions or duties. This typically looks like refining one’s networking, elevator pitches and LinkedIn page — skills that people are encouraged to develop for the job hunt. Because of constant job hopping, one is never really able to settle into any one job. They never get the institutional knowledge that comes from experience and never last at one job long enough to really excel at it. Furthermore, there’s little chance to find out if they like the work, company or people long enough before they are looking for their next job. The classical stereotype of

working for the same company while enjoying reliable benefits simply doesn’t exist to the extent that it used to. Instead, workers constantly seeking new and better opportunities are the ones rewarded. Due to this paradigm shift, many people in the workforce are now spending their time strategizing for their next job instead of connecting with their work and coworkers. Because ofthe rising importance of networking, combined with an increasingly competitive job market, people are focusing on building their network before they have found the right career for themselves. If this overzealous focus on career advancement continues in comparison to career enjoyment, it will create a despondent professional workforce that’s unsustainable long term. A general drawback to job

hopping is that people, caught up with how to position themselves advantageously for the future, are unable to learn from or enjoy their career in the present. Frequently moving from job to job sometimes requires physically moving your home, which means that workers are not only leaving their jobs but are also prevented from becoming entrenched in their communities. In an age where face-to-face communication is more and more valuable, physically moving can strain relationships built at a previous location. Part of the reason that real relationships are not formed under careerism is that it values competition over all else. Careerism uses competition to build networks and leverage paths to the best employment possible. With today’s extremely competitive job market, this

means your competition is everyone. Friends, coworkers and even classmates are all competing for many of the same jobs. Some people are naturally competitive and thrive in these scenarios. Other people, however, may be naturally turned off from this way of operating, as weak relationships and constant switching of jobs and locations can create a lonely life. Beyond the realm of applications and recruitment lies the fact that white-collar jobs are dwindling because of increasing automation. Because of this development, careerism is unsustainable from a labor perspective. Eventually, people will tire of the constant job hopping, competing and networking that is becoming almost necessary to succeed in America today. Given enough time, there will likely not be

enough jobs for the people who want them, leading toa whitecollar labor recession or bubble. Admittedly, networking, resume building and the like are real skills that people find genuinely useful for upward mobility within their careers. Knowing someone at a company can land you a job even if they are not hiring. People participate in careerism because it works. However, the problem arises when companies hire people based on their references. This incentivizes people to improve those skills specifically, and not ones pertaining to the actual roles of the job. In essence, people never really learn their job because they don’t need to, especially if they believe that they won’t be there in a year or two. Careerism sacrifices the humanity of relationships and

authentic connections. You aren’t forming real, authentic relationships — with your boss, coworkers or even your own work — beyond adding to a resume or making a connection on LinkedIn. To a careerist, a genuine relationship does not matter as much as their next job. Our world is increasingly being defined by how you leverage your career for professional advancement. This comes at the cost of forming relationships with those around you. As individuals go through cycle after cycle of job-hopping and networking, they are potentially sacrificing genuine human connection and the depths of their experience that make for a truly fulfilling life. We must reevaluate our priorities within our workplaces and communities to make a future that is not only more sustainable, but more meaningful.

The sophomore slump

Design by Abigail Schad

New high rises are causing Ann Arbor to lose its college-town charm ETHAN BITTNER Opinion Columnist

n his 1989 book “The Great Good Place,” sociologist Ray Oldenberg coined the term “third place,” which refers to anywhere people spend time away from home (first place) and work (second place). These can be coffee shops, restaurants, gyms, bars or barber shops — any place where people go to spend their free time and enjoy themselves. The societal impact of third places is enormous. They facilitate social interaction and are spaces where people can connect with others, make casual conversation and exchange ideas. They are fundamental to maintaining vibrant and happy communities. Without third places, it’s possible for people to live in close proximity without ever interacting, causing feelings of social isolation — feelings that have contributed to the “loneliness epidemic” that has been on the rise in the U.S. since the 1970s. Third places have been disappearing for decades across the U.S., and Ann Arbor is no exception. When I visited Ann Arbor as a child with my parents, both of whom are University of Michigan alumni, they pointed out the shops and watering holes that had existed when they attended the

University, like The Brown Jug, Scorekeepers, Fleetwood Diner and Angelo’s. These Ann Arbor staples are a central component of University tradition and a quintessential part of the Michigan student experience. In recent years, however, the construction of new high-rise apartments and U-M buildings have threatened Ann Arbor’s third places, jeopardizing the charm of one of America’s best college towns. New students may be unaware that Vic Village South’s building site, 1110 S. University Avenue, was once home to South U Pizza, an Ann Arbor favorite that opened in 2009. Last year, the University purchased the building that housed Angelo’s, a brunch mainstay that opened in the 1950s. It will be demolished to accommodate new U-M buildings. More recently, Landmark Properties Management Group has proposed a new 17-story tower at the site of the Galleria Mall, the building currently home to Pinball Pete’s and a number of other businesses. Developing new high rises diminishes the sense of community that brings life to both Ann Arbor’s streets and a U-M student’s college experience. Ann Arbor has long been known for the strong spirit that surrounds the University’s academic and athletic programs. Think about the U-M emblems and memorabilia that decorate places like The

Brown Jug and Coach & Four Barber Shop. Going inside these establishments, or even just walking by, is a reminder that you are part of a rich history that dates to 1817 and a family more than 600,000 strong. The University is central to the identities of these Ann Arbor staples and they give back by making Ann Arbor feel unique. These businesses help create an atmosphere that attracts students from around the world. Constructing more sterile and architecturally bland high-rise apartment buildings undermines this appeal. These changes to the Ann

Arbor community will have a negative impact on student wellbeing. More than 60% of college students reported feelings of loneliness in a study conducted in 2018, a nationwide statistic that is likely reflected in the U-M campus. This number has likely risen in the last two decades due to increased technology use and the COVID-19 pandemic. Losing more social gathering spaces will only exacerbate the loneliness and social isolation felt by students. Without places to come together over shared interests or activities, young people may feel more inclined to spend time alone or involve

themselves more deeply with social media. Despite negative social and cultural effects, the proponents of high-rise construction claim it’s a step toward solving a housing crisis that has priced students and families out of Ann Arbor. In reality, however, high rent makes these new buildings inaccessible to many U-M students, benefiting only those who could already afford desirable housing close to campus. If the University wants to maintain Ann Arbor’s collegetown charm, then there needs to be a balance between preserving third places and creating

Design by Emma Sorter

affordable housing for students. The University could invest in more on-campus housing, which would mitigate demand for off-campus arrangements that drive up prices. In order to preserve third places and Ann Arbor’s culture, developers of new high rises could carve out space for small businesses — not large chain restaurants or stores, —on the ground floors of new buildings. Then, they could build housing units directly overhead, similar to the layout of the Landmark building at 1300 S. University Ave. Students can get involved as well by protesting and speaking out against the demolition of third places at city council meetings. When news broke that Pinball Pete’s was going to be removed to make room for a new high rise, more than 100 community members gathered at the Ann Arbor District Library to protest. Their attempts have been unsuccessful so far, but the outpour of support encouraged co-owner Ted Arnold to seek a relocation spot downtown to stay close to the campus community. While more affordable housing options are necessary in Ann Arbor, removing the gathering places ingrained into Ann Arbor’s historic streetscape and U-M culture is not a good approach. Doing so only harms Ann Arbor’s charm and the unique spaces that are essential to the University of Michigan community.

Opinion

10 — Wednesday, February 21, 2024

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

What the anti-DEI movement misses SARAH ZHANG Opinion Columnist

ass layoffs and a potential recession are top-of-mind for students thinking about their post-graduation plans, reflecting a difficult labor market for job searchers. This tough market also brings the certainty of workplace diversity, equity and inclusion into question. One survey estimates that 33% of DEI professionals — those who have been hired to ensure workplace equity — have lost their job since December 2023, compared to 21% of non-DEI workers over the same period. The cuts are a result of a sluggish economy, companies’ cost-cutting measures and declining emphasis on racial justice since 2020. Anti-DEI sentiments are also on the rise, likely contributing to

the uncertain future of DEI programs. While 56% of adults support increasing DEI initiatives in their workplace, more than 20 states planned or passed legislation to undermine DEI in 2023. As a result of this right-wing activism, many companies feel pressure to dedicate less resources to or even roll back DEI programs. For example, the Supreme Court struck down affirmative action last summer. While these rulings intended to influence university policies, they also affect the workplace. One impact of the affirmative action ruling is likely to be a reduction in racial diversity on college campuses and, as a result, a reduction in diversity among companies that recruit from those universities. A more direct consequence of these rulings is increasing the vulnerability of corporate DEI policies. Companies that save hiring or promotion opportunities for historically-marginalized groups,

emphasizing sex or race as a “tiebreaker” in selecting candidates or linking demographic quotas to manager compensation, are now in danger of judicial opposition. When we solely focus on these hiring policies, however, we miss the true picture of DEI initiatives: removing biases from workplace environments, like removing prejudiced language in job descriptions and supporting transparency in the promotion process. DEI initiatives also include organizing employee resource groups, hosting mentorship programs and enacting flexible work policies for working parents. By overlooking the vast majority of inclusive workplace programs, the anti-DEI movement focuses on hiring and promotion policies to politicize the entire DEI movement and erase the progress that these initiatives have made in promoting equity. Although some may not completely align themselves with this

movement’s extremist stance, their rhetoric permeates into our everyday conversations and skews our understanding of DEI. To clarify the meaning of DEI programs and improve their effectiveness in the workforce, we should push for a two-pronged approach on both individual and institutional levels. First, we must think critically about our perceptions of DEI and whether they reflect the limited definitions that the anti-DEI movement promotes. From past internships and job experiences, we should reflect on whether companies we worked for organized diverse resource groups or mentorship programs for new employees with someone with a similar, marginalized identity. Any action that a company takes, no matter how large or small, to uplift employees from historically underrepresented groups is a crucial part of their DEI efforts. Beyond personal reflection, we

should also engage in respectful conversations about DEI. Despite anti-DEI arguments that relate promoting inclusivity to limiting one’s freedom of speech, DEI programs and free expression are inextricably linked. We should reflect on the harm that words can cause, such as the “diversity hire” or reverse discrimination narrative, and lead with curiosity and open mindedness. By practicing respectful dialogue, we become more aware of our own biases and gain greater empathy with others with different perspectives. By bridging viewpoints, we open the door to more conversations. In addition to action on an individual level, we should also push companies to reform their DEI structures. For instance, companies should retain their DEI task forces. Continuous support for DEI despite political pushback and economic pressures signals that companies

consider diversity a priority and represents a strong commitment to workplace inclusivity. In line with taking DEI seriously, companies should also invest in and promote initiatives outside of hiring to create an equitable culture. By emphasizing flexible work policies or promoting transparency in the promotion process, companies can reshape public perceptions of DEI and present a holistic view of the programs. By providing a more accurate definition of DEI, companies make these important initiatives less prone to politicization. Given the growing threat of anti-DEI rhetoric, we must continue reflecting on lesser-publicized programs and reading beyond the controversial headlines of these initiatives. Through these measures, we confront the anti-DEI movement’s subtle influences on our perceptions of DEI and use dialogue to drive diversity in our future workplaces.

Sorry not sorry: Let’s stop unnecessarily saying ‘sorry’ LIV FREY Opinion Columnist

ditor’s Note: In this article, I refer to both women and nonbinary individuals who were assigned female at birth. However, it must be stated that not all nonbinary individuals identify with all aspects of femininity, let alone identify with femininity at all. Thus, I decided to use “individuals socialized as women” to honor those who do not choose to identify with femininity. Albeit wordy, it’s important to deconstruct gender binary language when we choose to write about gender issues pertaining to two or more genders. A couple of weeks ago, a friend and I were helping another friend edit her resume for a consulting competition. I don’t remember what was “wrong” with her resume, per se, but I do remember her apologizing at least a dozen times. She said things like, “I’m sorry that my resume is so bad,” “I’m sorry that I was never taught how to write a resume” and “I’m sorry that you guys have to edit all of this.” Yet, even though she was trying to be nice, in the back of my head I kept thinking, “Why does she keep apologizing? She has nothing to be sorry for.” The word “sorry” is a staple in every woman’s, and every individual socialized as a woman’s, vocabulary. At least 20 times per day, I catch myself unintentionally saying “sorry” — from the quiet “I’m sorry” when I drop a pen in front of another person to the loud “I’m sorry” that often precedes asking questions in a class or work environment. But after another “sorry” slips out, I always ask myself, “Would a man ever apologize for this?” Most of the time, the answer is “probably not.” Why is it that individuals socialized as women have to constantly apologize when we truly don’t

have anything to apologize for? The answer lies in the fact that “I’m sorry” is an extension of the way women are raised to use more tentative speech (e.g. “I’m not sure, “it’s possible,” “it may be”) than men. In a professional setting, an experiment conducted by Harvard University professors showed that men were more willing to give women a pay raise when they used tentative language, but when men were negotiating, the language they used made no difference. Another experiment from the American Psychological Association showed that men respond better to speeches given by women when they use more tentative language rather than assertive language. To completely eradicate unnecessary “sorrys,” we would need to undo years, if not generations, of social conditioning. From birth, little girls are taught that they should speak their mind, just as long as they aren’t being too aggressive about it; it’s okay to show emotion, just don’t be too sensitive. Of course, these standards are socially constructed, but the problem arises when men are lauded for their boldness, while women and those socialized as women are berated. This double standard reinforces the urge to apologize more. It’s also important to acknowledge that race, compounded with gender, is a critical factor in the way those socialized as women get treated in their schools and workplaces. Black women and Asian American women face greater amounts of backlash when they use assertive language. The intersection of these identities create a different discriminatory experience that expects more tentative speech and more “sorrys.” As a result of this imbalance, those socialized as women suffer academically, and are more likely to use tentative language when presenting research. Al-

Design by Hannah Willingham though tentative language can emphasize interpersonal sensitivity, these speech patterns are looked down upon in traditionally male-dominated environments, such as academia. We also suffer professionally. We are more likely to get jobs when we present ourselves as confident, but again, we can’t be “too confident,” or else our recruiters will mark us down for being too “abrasive.” I can count the times I spoke in front of a large group last semester on one hand because I am always internally unsure when the right time is. The few times I have spoken, I always prefaced with some sort of tentative language — with

“I’m sorry” being the most repeated offender. “Sorry” is so subconscious that I’ll catch myself telling the doors I bumped into on the way out of class that “I’m sorry.” Once I started noticing it in myself, I started noticing it in others, too. In my history class, men will unapologetically take charge of the discussion, while the women in the class will always preface their answers with “I’m sorry if this is off-topic… ” When I went to office hours for astronomy homework help, the women I was working with would constantly apologize for getting the wrong answers, while the men never did. While it’s important to think

critically about when we want to apologize, we might also want to think about why men don’t. Conversely, we should be teaching men how to “man up” by apologizing more, because saying “I’m sorry” demonstrates inner strength, intelligence and leadership skills. After all, why should we conform to a society that doesn’t inherently value emotional empathy? It’s not bad to apologize, and there are perfectly appropriate times to do so. Perceived offenses, such as bumping into someone, being late or hurting one’s feelings are all warranted times for a brief apology. “Sorry” is a very powerful word, but our

apologies would be even more powerful if individuals socialized as women didn’t inadvertently use them as a verbal crutch. So the next time you are sending an email, sitting down for a coffee chat or even interviewing for a job, think about when and how you are using the word “sorry.” Observe the way in which you apologize, and decide if an apology is truly necessary or if you are only saying sorry because you feel inadequate or unvalued in that space, or if, by now, it just rolls off the tongue. If we want to make our campus more progressive, we need to address our language. I’m not sorry that this needed to be said.

UMich needs to rethink access to UHS ELIZA PHARES Opinion Columnist

arlier this semester, I attempted to make an appointment with University Health Service for the second, and probably last, time in my college career. I sat on the phone on a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, hoping that, at some point, I would stop listening to their dreadful hold music and talk to a real person. Unfortunately, that moment never came: My call was dropped after 30 minutes of being on hold. After that experience, I decided to make the two hour trip home to see my primary care physician — it seemed easier than calling UHS again. Many other University of Michigan students echo a similar sentiment; UHS is simply too complicated to access for the average student. The University must address these barriers in a way that allows students to easily access UHS. Making an appointment at UHS is a long process. First, students have to set up a patient portal account. Although these directions are sent in an email to new students, it’s a minute and easily overlooked process within the larger scope of acclimating to college. After students make this account, it takes about 24 hours to get set up in the system. Next, students have to make an appointment

either over the phone or online. Choosing the latter option only allows students to choose from select services, which include COVID-19 and flu vaccination appointments, mammograms, COVID-19 testing and nutrition plans. Virtual urgent care and asynchronous E-visits, which are essentially email correspondence with a medical professional, are also available but not a sufficient replacement for an in-person visit. The most efficient online service UHS provides is the quick service clinic, where students can make appointments for a range of about 20 small health issues. While this seems like a great tool, it has some downfalls. Though the website provides many dates for students to choose from, they actually have appointments only for same and next-day services. The majority of these appointments are available between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m, with most not extending past 3 p.m. This online service is simply not accessible enough for students, who typically have class during that time frame. The second and more traditional way students can make appointments at UHS is by calling them. While long wait times are frustrating, another issue for students can be the act of making a phone call itself. Telephobia, the fear or anxiety of making a phone call, is becoming more common among Gen Z individuals. A study from CommBank

found that 49% of young adults and teens say speaking on the phone makes them anxious. This number increases among people with social anxiety disorder, depression and other mental health disorders — groups that are all more likely to need UHS for access to medications or for referrals to therapists. With these access points in mind, what can the University do to provide students better access to UHS? In an interview with The Mich-

igan Daily, Dr. Robert D. Ernst, chief health officer and executive director of UHS, spoke about barriers to entry within UHS, specifically online scheduling. “Self-scheduling is a complex endeavor because UHS has such a wide range of clinical services (14 different clinics), which means students often benefit from speaking with a call center representative (or transferring to a nurse if needed) to ensure students schedule appoint-

ments with the right providers for their given needs” said Ernst. “We have heard from students that this is a priority issue and we are making a lot of progress towards offering self-scheduling in most clinics.” Ernst and the University recognize the importance of self-scheduling, but don’t have a concrete solution ready at the moment. So what can they do to fix this access problem now? The first solution would be to create a wider time

frame for online appointments at UHS. U-M Counseling and Psychological Services already uses an online appointment scheduling service for students with mental health concerns. Students are able to put in basic information and tell CAPS specifically what they are struggling with. Then, CAPS is able to give a student a list of open appointment times so students can select what works best with their schedule. There are many logistical questions that come with building a different website. CAPS is a subdivision of UHS and reaches a much smaller audience than UHS does, so an online appointment system is more feasible for them. Additionally, UHS must balance prioritizing students and staff. Currently, the United Michigan Medicine Allied Professionals, a union for U-M health care staff, is advocating for better working conditions within Michigan Medicine and UHS. Given how recently this union chapter was founded, UHS needs to proceed cautiously in implementing any changes to their procedures. If any unfavorable changes are made, union push back would cause an administrative hold up and defeat any attempt at progress. Working with the union to find a solution for students and staff is vital for

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Sports

Wednesday, February 21, 2024 — 11

WOMEN’S BASKETBALL

Michigan loses in game of runs, swept by Michigan State, 70-66

ZACH EDWARDS

Daily Sports Editor

It was a game of runs. From tip off when the Michigan women’s basketball team bolted ahead on a 13-5 run, to Michigan State’s 15-2 run to end the third quarter, the flow of play was dictated by runs. That sentiment was echoed by both Wolverines coach Kim Barnes Arico and Spartans coach Robyn Fralick after Sunday’s game, a back-and-forth battle of both offensive efficiency and defensive lapses between the in-state rivals. But the Spartans took control of the game with a 15-2 run at the end of the third quarter that prohibited the Wolverines’ fourth-quarter comeback attempt. Michigan (16-11 overall, 7-8 Big Ten) was in need of a seasondefining win but instead fell just short. In a game of runs, the Wolverines couldn’t build one in the final quarter to overcome their deficit, losing 70-66 to the Spartans (18-7, 8-6). “They made all their threes

to start and that can happen,” Fralick said. “But it’s a long game, so you have to stay with it. When we finally got a few stops, that allowed us to inch our way back into the game.” Early, Michigan flashed that offensive efficiency, looking primed to keep up with Michigan State’s second-best scoring offense in the Big Ten after the Wolverines started the game 5-for-5 from deep. Despite its red-hot start, Michigan scored just nine points in the second quarter. Its offense looked as if it had checked out of the game completely while Michigan State went on a 7-0 mid-quarter run, sinking the Wolverines to a five-point deficit entering the half. But a new wave of energy took over for Michigan in the second half. Led by junior guard Jordan Hobbs’ 10 third-quarter points and a 20-5 run, Michigan recaptured the lead and built it up. Bolstered by the same offensive firepower it flashed in the first six minutes of the game, Michigan found ways to dish the ball

to the open player and operate its offense efficiently through quick ball movement along the perimeter. “We were doing a good job of moving the ball and creating space for our teammates,” junior

CALEB ROSENBLUM/Daily

SWIMMING & DIVING

Underclassmen shine in time for postseason in First Chance Meet RORY PATERNITI

For The Daily

The newest Michigan swimmers took advantage of their moment in the spotlight at the First Chance Meet. Budding swimmers posted personal-best times left and right, with several Wolverines earning the chance to compete in the NCAA Division I “B” Championships. The No. 18 Michigan men’s swim and dive team excelled at Canham Natatorium, collecting over twenty season-best times and six NCAA B standard qualifying cuts in the nonscoring meet. The No. 16 Michigan women’s swim and dive team similarly thrived, taking home four personal-best times and three NCAA B cut times. The Saturday morning session started strong for the men’s team, with all five swimmers racing in the 500-yard freestyle dropping substantial time. Senior Jack Callan was first to finish with a time of 4:24.43, just out-touching his teammate, freshman Ryan Healy, who finished right behind. Despite being one of the youngest on the team, Healy dropped nearly ten seconds in the event for his personal-best time of 4:24.63. His successful weekend was later rounded out by two additional

season-bests in the 400-yard individual medley and his 100-yard butterfly time trial. With the Big Ten Swimming and Diving Championships taking off in Indiana this week, the First Chance Meet is a special opportunity for Michian’s greener swimmers to highlight their abilities with the postseason around the corner. “Freshman year is obviously hard, you’re coming in, it’s a change of environment,” Michigan coach Matt Bowe said. “… Some people that maybe in the fall were a little bit buried in the hard work, in the volume and intensity, they really came alive at this meet and posted some best times.” With time trials underway at the end of the morning session, freshman Devon Kitchel certainly came alive with an impressive swim in the 100-year backstroke. Kitchel posted a 1:01.02 in her race to make the NCAA B-cut with her seasonbest time. Sophomore Ella Jo Piersma also made waves of her own with a B-cut in the 100-yard butterfly, swimming a personal-best of 52.74 that had her teammates on their feet in celebration. The Wolverines added to their collection of best times in the men’s 200-yard individual medley, with notable time drops from junior

TESS CROWLEY/Daily

guard Laila Phelia said. “We shot it in rhythm and I felt like that helped us with the momentum.” Shooting 77% in the first six minutes of the third quarter, parallel to the first six minutes of the game, Michigan seemed

Cameron Luarde and the freshman pair of Maciej Gabrys and Ethan Schwab. Luarde’s time qualified as one of his two NCAA B-cuts from the meet. Freshman Lily Cleason finished strong for a cut in the women’s 200-yard backstroke, dropping 2.34 seconds for a personal-best time of 1:55.05. Hard work also paid off for breaststrokers. Often known as a finicky event, breaststroke frequently proves to be a mental struggle for swimmers, necessitating long training periods before drastic progress. Michigan clearly broke through those mental struggles; with four Wolverines dropping significantly in the men’s 100-yard breaststroke, the progression was clear. Luarde glided to the wall 0.2 seconds ahead of Schwab, with a time of 54.03. Schwab shedded two full seconds in the race, before putting on another strong performance the following day. The 18-year-old freshman Schwab dropped a stunning 6.72 seconds to claim first in the men’s 200-yard breaststroke, posting a season-best 1:56.30 and qualifying for the NCAA B-championship cut. “Sometimes you’re kind of in that battle where you’ve got to keep that confidence and know you’re gonna be in a good spot when you rest,” Bowe said. “So it was great to see them come through and have the performances that we knew that they were capable of.” The First Chance Meet lived up to its name this weekend, providing many young Wolverines with their first opportunity to showcase a season’s worth of training and dedication.

to regain control of the game — until the Spartans stole it once again. Michigan State’s full-court press limited the Wolverines’ offense, forcing six turnovers in just four minutes. Using their defensive intensity and a 15-2 run to end the quarter, the Spartans essentially put the game back where it was at the half — leading by six points. “As the game progresses in the game of runs, we need to learn how to be able to sustain that momentum,” senior forward Cameron Williams said. It was clear that whichever team made the biggest run in the final quarter of play would ultimately walk away with the game. And Michigan State made sure to contain Michigan’s attempt at a sprint to the finish line. The Wolverines kept the game within reach, trying to remedy the late third-quarter blow they took. And following an and-1 from sophomore forward Chyra Evans and two free throws on a technical foul with 2:30 left, Michigan shrunk a seven-point deficit to just two — even getting

two of Michigan State’s players to foul out of the game. But ultimately, despite lacking key players in the final minutes, the Spartans’ offense didn’t falter in the final minute of play. Guard Moira Joiner scored the game-sealing mid-range jumper to give the Spartans a two-possession lead with 10 seconds left, and the Wolverines never completed their final run. “It was streaky,” Barnes Arico said. “If you look at it, we shot 62% in the first quarter and shot 28% in the second. How does that work? We did the same in the third and the fourth we shot 54% in the third and then we shot 28% down the stretch. How does that happen?” Michigan State’s third-quarter swing and fourth-quarter save was just enough to secure a sweep in the rivalry series, and Michigan couldn’t recover from its streaky play. As the Spartans ran away in the third quarter and ultimately with the series sweep, the Wolverines’ postseason hopes are beginning to run away after they failed to secure the win.

WOMEN’S LACROSSE

Michigan’s offense dominates Cincinnati en route to 14-4 victory MIKAELA LEWIS

For The Daily

After a dominant start to its season, the No. 10 Michigan women’s lacrosse team entered Wednesday’s matchup against Cincinnati — a team it had a perfect 3-0 record against — with the hope of building early season momentum. With all eyes on the Wolverines’ hat trick trio — junior attackers Jill Smith, Kaylee Dyer and Jane Fetterolf, who each netted at least three goals in their previous matchup versus Jacksonville — Michigan’s offense didn’t disappoint. Led by dominant draw-control and shooting, the Wolverines (2-0 overall) spoiled Cincinnati’s (0-2) home opener with a 14-4 victory on Wednesday. Opening the game, Michigan took an early green card and Bearcats midfielder Ally Keith capitalized on the player-up advantage, scoring the first goal and applying pressure on the Wolverines. “I thought we came out a little timid,” Michigan coach Hannah Nielsen said. “I thought we were a little sloppy and unfocused.” However, that opening goal by Cincinnati woke the Wolverines’ offense up. Junior midfielder Julia Schwabe quickly answered back, equalizing the game off a rip from the corner. Building on that momentum, Smith scored her first two goals of the day to give Michigan a 3-1 lead. Dyer also scored two in under a minute — including a goal with one second to go in the quarter — to give the Wolverines a 5-1 lead to end the first quarter.

Just over two minutes into the second quarter, Dyer replicated her three-goal performance from last week, completing a hat trick and opening the floodgates for Michigan. Smith followed with her third goal of the day, also for back-to-back games with a hat trick, scoring a behind-the-back shot as she fell to the turf, riling up the crowd. “Yeah, no, not something I practiced,” Smith said of the goal. “I think it was just in the moment. Wasn’t thinking, kind of just did it and hoped for the best. And luckily that happened, but I wouldn’t count on that again.” While Smith’s goal highlighted the quarter, multiple Wolverines found the net, extending their lead to 10-1. With 29 seconds left in the half, Bearcats attacker Camryn Callaghan squeezed one past junior goaltender Erin O’Grady to cut Michigan’s lead to eight, but sophomore midfielder Ceci Stein answered back with a last-second score to make it 11-2 to end the half. In the second half, though, Michigan took its foot off the gas as its offense slowed down. But Smith ended the stalemate in just six minutes, netting her fifth on the day. Dyer followed with her fourth of the game, holding onto

a 13-2 lead to end the third. With Michigan’s defense giving up more free positions and green cards to put Cincinnati on the player-up and O’Grady subbing out, the Bearcats at last capitalized on the opportunities provided. By then though, the Wolverines’ offense had already put the game out of reach and a late goal bookended a 14-4 win for Michigan. Just like its season opener, the Wolverines’ offense came from Smith and Dyer, as they scored nine of Michigan’s 14 goals. And while this time that offense was enough, committing turnovers and allowing 14 shots on goal highlighted the Wolverines’ defensive weaknesses, an area that they intend to improve moving forward. “Despite the fact that we’ve won by a good margin, we’ll focus on that in film tomorrow and just get the bodies right to come up with electricity on Saturday,” Nielsen said. With its home-opener on Saturday against No. 4 Denver — a team that threw up 38 shots in its first match this season — Michigan will need to tighten up on defense to complement its dominant offense.

LILA TURNER/Daily

WOMEN’S BASKETBALL

Michigan bounces back to split four-game series against Western Michigan in high-scoring affairs

ELI TRESE

Daily Sports Writer

It was obvious that both teams were going to be able to score. A combined 27 runs in the first game indicated that much. So, wins depended on which teams’ defense could serve as the best tourniquet. In a series defined by high-powered offense and two extra-inning games, the Michigan baseball team (2-2 overall) split its four-game series, 2-2, against Western Michigan (2-2), rebounding despite dropping the first two games. With the first game tied at three after the top of the fifth, the Wolverines were poised to separate themselves from the Broncos in the bottom of the inning. Two doubles from sophomore first baseman Mitch Voit and sophomore center fielder Jonathan Kim, respectively, plated a run, while a hit-by-pitch and a wild pitch brought home another. A single by junior third baseman Cole Caruso brought

in the third and final run of the inning, pushing Michigan to a confident 6-3 lead. But the Wolverines’ unforced pitching struggles appeared in the next half-inning as three walks and a hit-by-pitch propelled Western Michigan to a five-run inning, putting it up 8-6 and quickly erasing Michigan’s mid-game lead. The issue of walking batters wasn’t constrained to just the fifth inning; the Wolverines walked 13 batters in the first game alone. And Michigan coach Tracy Smith is no stranger to the danger that giving up free bases presents. “Credit to Western Michigan, they got the hits when they needed it,” Smith said. “But we really put ourselves in that position because there were just too many free bases.” The offensive fireworks continued, headlined by home runs from sophomore right fielder Greg Pace Jr. and Kim, but the Wolverines’ pitching staff couldn’t sufficiently quell the Broncos’ offense as Mich-

igan fell 14-13 in 11 innings despite the powerful offensive showing. Michigan’s pitching struggled once more to start game two. With Voit toeing the rubber as the Wolverines’ starter, Western Michigan amassed a 7-0 lead in just two innings. But Michigan fought its way back into the game, and by the time the ninth inning began, the Wolverines held a slim 9-8 lead. “A lot of teams will roll over, but we didn’t,” Smith said. “We just kept going, so I feel really good about that piece.” Regardless of any resilience that Michigan displayed, it couldn’t hang on as it dropped the second game, 11-9, in extra innings once again. Losing the first two games of the season is not any team’s dream start — especially when both games were lost in extra innings. But the mature mindset of the otherwise young squad shined through. “We try not to get down on ourselves,” Kim said. “Throw those two games in the trash and move on and stay together.”

And in a crucial third game, the Wolverines snatched an early 6-3 lead in the third inning that they never relinquished, thanks in large part to a three-run home run by freshman designated hitter Collin Priest and a seven-inning complete game by graduate pitcher Jacob Denner. Michigan rode on the backs of solid performances from freshmen, as both Priest and freshman catcher Brock Leitgeb, getting made first starts. With Priest’s home run and Leitgeb’s three-run double, the freshman duo combined for six RBI as the Wolverines collected their first win of the season, 9-4. The final game of the series certainly wasn’t the offensive showcase that the previous three games were, as both teams combined for just 15 hits. But just as free bases were Michigan’s downfall in game one, walks and hit batters proved costly for Western Michigan in the final game. Eight walks from the Broncos’

pitchers, a solid outing from senior pitcher Chase Allen and a lategame home run from graduate outfielder Stephen Hrustich secured the 6-2 win and the series split for the Wolverines. Despite question marks lining its pitching rotation, Michigan’s bats answered the calls. When the pitching staff struggled, the Wolverines’ offense kept them afloat as best as it could. “We preach it all the time, its ‘do

your job,’ ” Smith said. “So, offense, it’s your job to go grind out 40 atbats, and keep doing that regardless of what’s happening on the mound.” It may seem easy to rely purely on a high-powered offense to carry the team through the season, but as the first two games showed, scoring a lot of runs doesn’t always result in a win. So for now, the onesided showing left the Wolverines with a series split.

JULIANNE YOON/Daily

Wednesday, February 21, 2024 The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Design by Lys Goldman Photos: GRACE LAHTI/Daily

SPORTSMONDAY

NIGHTMARE ON

STATE STREET

‘It’s gonna be a horror film’: Turnover troubles haunt Michigan in 73-63 loss to Michigan State LINDSAY BUDIN Daily Sports Editor

n just about every statistic, the Michigan men’s basketball team trumped Michigan State. The Wolverines had a higher field-goal percentage, more rebounds, more 3-pointers. But they also exceeded the Spartans’ turnover number. In fact, Michigan doubled it. Giving the ball away 22 times proved costly as Michigan State capitalized on the extra opportunities the Wolverines gifted it. Held back by those sloppy mistakes, Michigan (8-18 overall, 3-12 Big Ten) succumbed to the Spartans (17-9, 9-6), 73-63, for the first time at home in Wolverines coach Juwan Howard’s tenure.

“You go back and you joke about it, but you lose a game like this and look at 22 turnovers, it’s gonna be a horror film,” Howard said. “And it’s not gonna be rated in a positive way.” The first half looked like the quiet beginnings of that horror film. Turnovers didn’t seem to impact Michigan as much. While the Wolverines turned the rock over nine times, Michigan State also struggled to eliminate its mistakes, tallying seven of its own. Without a significant disparity in opportunities off turnovers, the half was instead dictated by hotand-cold offenses. After a scorching 7-for-9 start by Michigan, it turned ice cold, making just two of its next 12 attempts. And as it struggled to find the bottom of the net,

Michigan State capitalized. A four-point Wolverine advantage quickly turned into a nine-point deficit, forcing them to call a

halftime down 39-37. And while the Spartans cleaned up their sloppy play after halftime to minimize turnovers, Michigan

As Howard said, winning is difficult with 22 turnovers. That dictated the horror film’s ending, as turning over the ball stole the Wolverines’ life away.

timeout. But coming out of the break, Michigan punched back. Sophomore guard Dug McDaniel went on a personal 7-0 run to shrink the deficit to two points and take the Wolverines into

didn’t take such measures. In fact, they only made the turnover problem worse — the horror film reached its second act. “Turnovers, they were costly in today’s game and overall I felt

like we were rushing at times, too sped up,” sophomore forward Tarris Reed Jr. said. “… I felt like we just had to slow down and those turnovers turned to points and just giving them too many opportunities to score.” Michigan State’s 13 points off turnovers in the first frame didn’t jump off the page in comparison to Michigan’s nine. The 14 points that the Spartans tallied in the second half compared to the Wolverines’ two certainly did, though. Still, for more than 10 minutes of the second half, Michigan stayed afloat despite the turnovers. Even with Michigan State’s impressive three-turnover half, the Wolverines didn’t sink, tied at 63 with 7:01 remaining. But in those final seven

minutes, Michigan’s mistakes finally caught up to it. Six of the 13 second-half turnovers, as well as six of Michigan State’s points off turnovers in the second half, came in that span. “When you have 22 turnovers, it’s tough to win,” Howard said. “Teams are just too good in our league. Give Michigan State credit. Yeah, defensively they were good. But there were a lot of gifts that we gifted them.” As the Wolverines continued to shower the Spartans in gifts, those presents prevented Michigan from tallying a single point in that final seven-minute span. And as Howard said, winning is difficult with 22 turnovers. That dictated the horror film’s ending, as turning over the ball stole the Wolverines’ life away.