2020-03-18

ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINE YEARS OF EDITORIAL FREEDOM

Wednesday, March 18, 2020

Ann Arbor, Michigan

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ALLISON ENGKVIST/Daily

For graduating students, their final college moments came and went before they knew it University of Michigan graduating students share their feelings towards not having a graduation and ending classes a month earlier than anticipated.

As coronavirus outbreak forces campus to shut down, students lose chance to celebrate milestones together ELIZABETH LAWRENCE & MAYA GOLDMAN Editor in Chief & Daily Staff Reporter

The University of Michigan’s Ann Arbor campus has an eerie, ghostlike feel to it.

In the past week, each day has come with a new blow to normalcy because of the coronavirus. First, in-person classes were canceled.

Next came all sports competitions.

Gov. Gretchen Whitmer ordered all Michigan restaurants, bars and other public places of accommodation to shut down temporarily, meaning that on-campus dining halls and libraries have closed. Today,

another blow — students in dorms must leave unless they “truly have no other alternatives,” and other students have also been urged to leave campus.

The changes have impacted everyone in the University community, as well as people worldwide. But especially for those finishing their final year, the timing of this global pandemic could not be worse. On Wednesday, they attended classes unaware that these in-person meetings would be their last. They had to cancel large, meaningful events of their senior year, such as concerts and competitions. And then on Friday, March 13, University President Mark Schlissel sent out

an email confirming that Spring Commencement was canceled.

“I probably cried for a solid 40 minutes, and I don’t really cry. I wouldn’t say I’m a crier,” LSA senior Sydney Moore said.

Schlissel’s initial email contained a few sentences saying commencement was canceled and that the University “will look at ways to celebrate 2020 graduates in the future.” A follow-up email from Acting Provost Susan Collins and Interim Vice President for Student Life Simone Himbeault Taylor, sent first to parents and then to students, elaborated more on the decision.

“We know that this decision is very upsetting for many of our

graduates and their families. Our students work incredibly hard to reach this milestone, and those who earn a Michigan degree deserve to be celebrated with their friends, professors, families and loved ones. Commencement is one of our favorite times of the year, as well,” Collins and Himbeault Taylor wrote. “At the same time, we want commencement to be safe – for our graduates, the hundreds of employees who prepare for and work during the ceremonies, and the tens of thousands who join us to celebrate.”

Collins and Himbeault Taylor said the University will find another date for the Class of 2020’s

Michigan Medicine adjusts to fight virus

New 32-bed isolation unit among measures being taken to prepare for incoming cases LIAT WEINSTEIN & CLAIRE HAO Daily News Editors

Since the first cases of the novel coronavirus (COVID-19) were confirmed in Michigan last week, doctors and hospital officials at Michigan Medicine have begun preparing for a steep increase in cases as the virus spreads.

There are 65 confirmed cases of COVID-19 in Michigan as of Tuesday, including seven in Washtenaw County.

Shortly after the first two cases of the virus in the state were announced on March 10, Michigan Medicine confirmed it was treating one of the patients.

According to the Detroit Free Press, on Tuesday morning, Michigan Medicine CEO Marschall Runge said the hospital is

ALLISON ENGKVIST/Daily There are 65 confirmed COVID-19 cases in Michigan, including seven in Washtenaw County, as of Tuesday.

currently caring for two confirmed coronavirus patients and “treating several patients” who are awaiting testing results. However, the Michigan Medicine website notes

it will not be disclosing the current number of COVID-19 patients as the situation is rapidly evolving.

Michigan Medicine announced on Monday the opening of a new

32-bed isolation unit in order to handle a possible influx of coronavirus cases. The new unit, known as the Regional Infectious Containment Unit, will be used to care solely for patients diagnosed with COVID-19.

Michael Mulholland, senior associate dean for clinical affairs at Michigan Medicine and executive director of the University of Michigan Medical Group, spoke Tuesday afternoon in a media call about limited curbside screening for Michigan Medicine patients who have been referred to the hospital by their doctors. Mulholland said there are now three screening centers available to Michigan Medicine employees and patients if they are showing symptoms.

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

commencement and will share that information as soon as possible.

Still, an abrupt end to college as they know it with no May graduation ceremony is jarring, according to the graduating students who spoke to The Michigan Daily. They know it isn’t the University’s fault, and that canceling the ceremony is for the best. But for these students it’s still an upsetting turn of events.

Here are some of the names, faces and stories, in their own words, of the University of Michigan Class of 2020. Some quotes have been condensed for clarity.

See SENIORS, Page 3

HOUSING

Residents pushed to leave dorms Students must request to remain in residence halls EMMA STEIN

Daily News Editor

All students living in University of Michigan residence halls must leave campus unless they fill out a request to remain in housing, according to an email sent to everyone still living on campus Tuesday afternoon.

If their request is approved, the email notes, they are not guaranteed to continue their current housing assignment and may have to move to a new building.

See DORMS, Page 2

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2A — Wednesday, March 18, 2020

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CORRECTIONS

DOMINICK SOKOTOFF/Daily

Students continue to move out of dorms in compliance with the many statements issued by the University, asking all dorm residents to return to their permanent residence.

GEO hosts virtual sit-in amid coronavirus cancellations

Graduate student union continues bargaining campaign with the University after failing to meet March 1 deadline for agreement BRAYDEN HIRSCH Daily Staff Reporter

Despite a spate of cancellations across campus amid an outbreak of coronavirus, the Graduate Employees’ Organization continued their campaign for a new contract with the University of Michigan. On Tuesday afternoon, more than 80 people gathered virtually for a digital sit-in after the graduate student union and the University failed to reach a tentative agreement by March 1.

The union’s platform

includes proposals related to sexual misconduct policy, climate change, housing and food security and disability and mental health accommodations.

When GEO began contract negotiations with the University’s administration last November, they called for expanded mental health and transgender health coverage and increasing pay equity.

In February, GEO held a “grade-in” in Mason Hall to continue raising awareness about issues facing graduate student workers, including disability and mental health

accommodations and housing equity, among others.

In a February interview with The Daily, University President Mark Schlissel said the University recognizes the important contributions of graduate student employees on campus and expressed his support for their work at the University.

“The graduate students are the lifeblood of the University, and we’re the biggest public research university in the country, if not the world,” Schlissel said. “Most of that research is done by our graduate students. They’re

our partners in scholarship, they’re our successors very often in the academy; they’ll be tomorrow’s professors and leaders in society. So, we’re invested in their success.”

In a written statement to The Daily when bargaining began in November, Sascha Matish, associate vice provost for academic affairs and senior director of academic human resources, said the University is committed to working with the GEO to develop a contract both parties can agree upon.

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DORMS From Page 1 According to the email, sent by the University Housing Team, concerns about the spread of the novel coronavirus made it crucial for students to leave campus.

“New developments in the COVID-19 pandemic make it clear that now is the time to return home,” the email reads. “ ... While University Housing will ensure that we have sufficient housing available for students who truly have no other alternatives, we cannot promise that you will be able to remain in your current housing assignment.”

The request to stay must be filled out by Wednesday, March 18 at 8 a.m. A failure to respond will result in the University assuming the student has moved out and discontinuing access to the building.

The email also noted that Northwood I, II, III, IV and

V, Lawyers club and Munger Graduate Residences are exceptions to the rule students must leave unless they have no other option.

This comes after Simone Himbeault Taylor, interim vice president for student life, sent a campus-wide email Monday urging all students to return home.

All libraries and gyms on campus have been closed, while dining hall usage has been reduced to take-out only.

Additionally, Gov. Gretchen Whitmer put into effect an executive order on Monday closing performance venues, movie theaters, libraries, museums and bars, in addition to banning on-premise consumption at restaurants in the state.

Several cases of COVID19 have been identified in the University community, Taylor confirmed in her email to students.

“There are several confirmed cases within our community, dozens of others remain under

evaluation, and many others have been placed in quarantine as a result of exposure,” Taylor wrote.

“And these numbers are growing daily.”

LSA sophomore Isaac Bigsby lives in Couzens Hall. He was originally planning on moving out this weekend but now has to expedite his move-out process in light of this email.

“I think that was the real turning point in my decision to move out — when they started to get more serious about what’s going on,” Bigsby said. “And based on my understanding, looking at it, I think what they’re gonna do is relocate people and so it’d be kind of crazy because the one thing I was worried about is if I leave Friday, am I about to have to move all my stuff somewhere else and then move out again for sure, but I’m not too worried about it now since I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Bigsby said while he is able to move out

sooner than he initially intended, not everyone has that ability. He noted international students may face heightened challenges.

“There’s one of my hallmates who is leaving on Friday and is concerned.

Are they gonna shut off access on Wednesday and if so, that’ll be a problem if he isn’t leaving until Friday,” Bigsby said. “I think there’s several other people that also don’t really have a place to stay. I kind of think about international students, where are they going to put their stuff if they’re forced to leave?”

Bigsby said he appreciates the University’s response and said the school has made sure everyone in the residence hall feels secure, but the previous uncertainty around whether students were supposed to stay or move out made it difficult for him to figure out what to do.

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SENIORS From Page 1 Rosie Van Alsburg, an Engineering senior studying computer science and physics, is from Ann Arbor, Mich.

“I’m a transfer student so I started at WCC (Washtenaw Community College) first and then came here. I’ve been in college for five years.

Everything still feels fake, you know. I’m in a state of disbelief, like, ‘Oh, it’s a joke. They’re going to put classes back in person and this is just a weird dream.’ But my friends are booking flights back to their home states and everything, so I know that it’s actually happening.

I’m the oldest grandkid on both sides, so I’m the first grandkid in my family to graduate. Both sides of my family were going to come in. I was really excited about that. I’ve just been in school for a very long time. This was supposed to be the celebration — that I didn’t suffer for five years for nothing.

My last year I failed a class. Six credits worth of class. EECS 482, it’s the operating systems class, it’s famously the hardest one in the department. And I failed it. I did really poorly, and I thought I was going to drop out and that was the end of it. It turns out, it’s okay, I came back from it. My GPA’s not perfect, but I’m still graduating. I meet all my requirements, and I’ve got a job lined up for May. So, I came back from that.”

Sydney Moore, an LSA senior studying Women’s Studies, is from Taylor, Mich.

“I am the first person in my family to graduate from college. And, obviously, we still get the degree and all that, but commencement and the graduations and celebrating with your friends and the department and the faculty you’ve built relationships with is something that has really motivated me. I hate to say that, that being here isn’t enough, but it’s not.

All my family would come and watch me be the first to graduate. The hardest thing actually was calling my mom and telling my mom there is not going to be anything at all. Because when I called her on Wednesday when they canceled classes, the first and only thing she said to me was, ‘Please don’t tell me they’re going to cancel graduation.’ That’s all my parents have been waiting for, to see me graduate from U-M. I don’t want to cry, but it’s like — even finishing high school was something that felt impossible.

Coming to U-M has felt — obviously there are things wrong with the institution, we all know that — but to come to this kind of university… this is not an institution that was built for me, the fact that I kept going even when I didn’t want to is like really the biggest thing.”

Alexandra Niforos, an LSA senior studying English, is from Grosse Pointe, Mich.

“I was on the phone with my friend who’s also a senior here and we were actually in the middle of canceling ‘The Wiz’ for Musket … And then I got the Schlissel email, and I was like, ‘Before we continue, commencement was canceled.’ We both were in shock … At first, I was like, ‘This might as well happen.’ But as soon as I was on the phone with my mom, I burst into tears and just felt overwhelming emotion.

I know it’s a formality but it still

feels important — and the product of all your hard work is walking in graduation. I was thinking my grandparents are immigrants and education is so important to my family, I would have been their first granddaughter to graduate college, and they would have watched that happen. And now they don’t get that.

(I’d like) more answers about what’s next. I know when I read that email, I was so jarred that it was so minimized … They were like, ‘We’re looking for an alternative way to celebrate the class of 2020,’ and I said, ‘What does that mean?’ … It just felt like a formality and not like an actual solution. I understand why they’re doing what they’re doing, but for them to just leave us hanging with no answers, it added to the shock.”

Ryan Montgomery, a Business senior studying Human Resources and Music, is from Grand Haven, Mich.

“My older brother, he’s 31, he spent five years here at Michigan. So, I kind of grew up ever since fifth grade knowing I wanted to go to Michigan — it was the place I was going to be. I was going to join the Men’s Glee Club, I was going to graduate, I was going to do all this, and to have that ripped away, it’s really rough. It’s not a fun time for anybody.

It’s been madness (being a Resident Adviser). Res staff in general has been doing a pretty good job of communicating. It’s been as smooth as it can be for these unprecedented times but there’s still some smaller aspects where it’d be nice to know that this is happening. What I love is the actual RA community, we’re really, really tight, so it’s been nice to have them to rely on.

Being in the Men’s Glee Club is the reason I came to Michigan, more than academics, more than sports or anything like that. I needed to be in this choir. My freshman year I came in, joined the Glee Club, and we were performing this piece called ‘Seven Last Words of the Unarmed,’ which is about the last words of seven Black men who were shot by white police.

And so that was a huge milestone for us. Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor reached out to us and said, ‘Hey, I’d love to have the Glee Club come into my black-tie dinner party and perform for us.’ I was one of 20 people chosen to fly out to D.C. and sing for that. That was magical. If there was one moment I had to boil it down to, it’d probably be that.

My brother got the chance to go on two international tours with Glee Club, they do them about every four years, so that was my big thing. I’d been saving up, I worked really hard for a Boy Scout Popcorn Scholarship, stuff like that, way back when I was young. I was always working my whole life to go on an international tour, and then to hear that our spring concert for this year and international tour for this year was canceled, it’s devastating. It’s an absolute bombshell to all the seniors and all the graduating folks who this was going to be their last time.”

Desi Dikova, an LSA senior studying Chemistry and Interdisciplinary Physics with a minor in Energy Science and Policy, is from Farmington Hills, Mich.

“Canceling commencement was absolutely in the best interests of protecting our most vulnerable. Of course, we can rationalize it all day

News long and still feel hurt.

As a low-income, first-generation college student, attending, let alone graduating, college is a huge accomplishment. This meant so much to me and my family. I was most looking forward to Al Gore’s speech at commencement and participating in the Spectrum Center’s Lavender Graduation for LGBT+ students. I was also looking forward to SWAM club swim’s end-of-the-year formal and banquet. I’ve been with SWAM for the past four years. Not being able to say goodbye to my beloved teammates, the people who have meant the most to me, is the biggest disappointment.

It’s jarring and shocking that none of it will happen.

I’m most proud of myself for starting the Chemistry Inclusivity Initiative with the American Chemical Society club this year. We hosted guest faculty, ran a mentorship program and launched a podcast series about the intersection of social identities and the sciences. It’s been incredibly rewarding to develop diversity and inclusivity initiatives that I would’ve wanted when I was first starting college. What we leave behind is so much greater than any schoolwide, department or extracurricular ceremony can recognize.”

Vijita Kamath, a Business senior studying Math and Business Administration, is from Mumbai, India.

“I was extremely upset because I’m also in the process of immigrating, so I don’t get to go home. I’m essentially stuck in the U.S., and I thought I would see my dad for a conference which was happening next weekend, but that got canceled. And he’s like, ‘Oh well, never mind. I’ll come for commencement.’

And now that’s also gone, so I haven’t seen my family in two years, which makes me sad.

I was looking forward to seeing my family the most and since I’m a fifthyear senior just finally being able to validate it and get it all done, because it’s been a long five years of college.

My sophomore year my mother passed away, and I was stuck in the same immigration dilemma then too, so being home was a really stressful time. One thing I was bummed about then was that my mother doesn’t get to see me graduate. And now it’s like both my parents don’t, and I’m the only child and an international student and first-gen so that was one thing that I was really sad about. But I’m also glad that I was able to overcome that, be able to graduate with two degrees instead of one, which makes me really proud and be involved with all the extracurriculars I do in my life.

A delayed date would be really helpful or just telling us how they’d accommodate us if we walked in the December commencement activities that happen for Fall 2020 grads. In terms of them telling us that they made accommodations so when we start our jobs, giving us a date so we can leave and walk and be back with our friends to celebrate, giving us travel accommodations would be really helpful. Or just an online address from professors, deans, even if we can’t congregate.”

Jackie Berger, an LSA senior studying Political Science, is from West Bloomfield, Mich.

“I was looking forward to hearing former Vice President Al Gore as our commencement speaker. My family has been insanely unlucky in terms of

Wednesday, March 18, 2020 — 3A

our commencement speakers. I have two older siblings that both graduated from the University of Michigan also.

My older sister was part of the Class of 2015. Their commencement speaker was originally NBC news anchor Brian Williams. The University, however, had to cancel him as speaker because Williams was caught in a scandal after making up a story while covering the war in Iraq. My older brother was part of the class of 2017, which as some of you may know was the year of the infamous video montage commencement speech.

My brother refused to show up to his commencement ceremony, so none of us did as well. My family was looking (forward to) finally having a classic Big House commencement with a well-known speaker, only to have this commencement fall through on us as well.

I was also looking forward to having my family all together for the first time in years. My parents are divorced and both of my siblings have since moved away to begin their professional lives in Chicago. Since my older brother was not at his commencement as I had mentioned, the last time that the five members of my family were all together at the same place at the same time was my high school graduation back in 2016. This May was going to be the first time that both my parents and both my siblings would all be together, but now I’m not sure what the future holds.

This past semester, I have actually been away from Ann Arbor. I am finishing my UMich degree remotely from New York City with an amazing internship that I got at The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon. I was looking forward to flying in commencement weekend and seeing all of my friends in-person in Ann Arbor while we prepared to graduate.

I was looking forward to catching up with them on everything that we’ve been up to this past semester while I was away.”

Hasan Ali, a Rackham student studying Electrical Engineering, is from Karachi, Pakistan.

“It was the biggest bummer that I’ve ever seen. Honestly, it had me down.

One thing that I was really looking forward to this whole academic year was the graduation itself. That’s the capstone of your whole journey. And for me that was something that when coming to the U.S., before I started my master’s, was an achievement or dreamlike moment, when it’s like the gown and the cap, and the family’s going to be there and then you get to graduate. It’s just an all-around amazing feeling. It hit me like a bus, like, ‘Oh my God, I’m never going to be able to experience that.’

When you come from an international country, the work ethic and the way things are in the U.S. is quite different from what it was for me back home. Getting in tune with that for the first semester was a hassle.

I could not tell what was happening, I was all over the place. Things and logistics and the way people treat you and the way you’re supposed to go about things is also very different.

Grasping that and getting yourself in line with that and second semester onwards, actually enjoying that, was a big achievement I would say. It gives you a new experience and perspective and honestly that’s one thing I’ve really taken away from this masters.

I like to play sports a lot — all of

that has stopped. I was playing two leagues in the recreational sports league, the IM league. Soccer’s my go-to thing. That was something I would look forward to week in week out, and right now that’s all stopped so … it’s a different lifestyle right now.

For these moments to be taken away, it kind of feels like you’ve been cheated. But at the same time, I do understand that it was a need of the time. But at the same time, you’re like, ‘Oh my God, why me?’”

Lillie Heyman, a Public Policy senior studying Women’s Equity Policy, is from Florham Park, N.J. “I sobbed within seconds. It’s almost tragic, in the most dramatic way. Ceremonies are really important to me. I’m someone who has a hard time with change, so for me in a transitional period as momentous as finishing 16 years of school and finishing college at the University of Michigan, I wanted that ceremony.

For its symbolism, for the sentimental aspect of it, and just for a second be proud of all the work we’ve been doing together.

All of the different ‘lasts’ that you have in the last month of school — your last time hanging out with your friends, your last time going to certain places, your last time being in the Big House, hearing all your friends’ names being read. In Ford, there’s only 80 of us, so we’ve all gotten pretty close, and having a Ford graduation too, together, is really important.

Closing everything out in a symbolic way is really important. It happened so abruptly, I didn’t get to have the different lasts that people talk about and that I wanted very dearly.

I’m heavily involved in Dance Marathon, and I was looking forward to my big achievement being this year’s VictorThon. Its in-person form got canceled unfortunately, so we’re doing some kind of virtual VictorThon instead, but I was really looking forward to that 24-hour event and playing a large role in it. So, that’s also something I have to grapple with and work through my emotions as well.

It’s unfortunate, the circumstances, because you almost think that we don’t have a right to be upset about these things because people are getting really sick, people are dying, and it’s a really hard topic.

And it seems almost selfish to be upset about something like this, but I think we have a right to feel our emotions, and it’s important that we feel these emotions and important that we talk about them and process them and not feel bad about feeling this way.”

Victoria Li, an LSA senior studying Economics, is from Canton, Mich.

“Oddly, I was shocked and not surprised at the same exact time.

I remember being on the phone with a friend just 30 minutes prior to the official announcement of the cancellation of commencement. It honestly still feels surreal. My heart hurts, a lot. One moment I was a senior with a significant portion of my time in undergrad left. The next moment, the entire period between Spring Break and graduation was canceled, and I suddenly found myself having to say goodbye to some of the people who I’ve seen every day for the past few years.

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Opinion

4A — Wednesday, March 18, 2020

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RILEY DEHR | COLUMN

Why I can’t feel the Bern ... no matter how hard I try

A

s the iconic piano riff began to play, my mom, grandma and I looked at each other with excited grins. With the lights of metropolitan Denver twinkling over the stage, Dolly Parton belted out “9 to 5.” Seeing Parton perform the song alongside my mom, who worked her way through college as a single mother and her mother, who worked at Wendy’s for decades until retiring, made the song’s anti-corporate, prowoman message hit even harder.

We danced and sang along with the thousands of other people nestled between the stunning megaliths of Red Rocks. A lifelong memory, it wouldn’t be the only one set to Parton’s underdog anthem.

After waiting for four hours in Detroit’s Eastern Market, the same piano riff blared throughout the room. Like in Colorado, the notes brought an ecstatic smile to my face as presidential candidate Sen. Elizabeth Warren, D-Mass., ran onto the stage. The room erupted in screams as she gave the woman who introduced her, state Sen. Stephanie Chang, D-Detroit, a typical, big Warren hug. After a year of supporting and campaigning for her, I couldn’t believe my political icon was right in front of me.

Attacking corruption and corporate greed with the fervor and agility only she has, Parton’s jingle felt tailor-made for Warren’s speech.

The overflowing excitement I felt from the rally hadn’t dissipated by the time Super Tuesday results trickled in later that night.

Eventually, though, the excitement began to sour. My mother, who had registered to vote after attending a Warren rally in Denver, called me to vent her frustration with a Democratic Party that was readily denying a woman nominee. While I tried my best to cultivate optimism with California’s vote yet to be counted, a few hours later I had joined her in her anger.

Two days later, Warren suspended her campaign for president, narrowing the field down to two very old and very white men, former Vice President Joe Biden and Sen. Bernie Sanders, I-Vt. Women across the country expressed their disappointment.

Rachel Maddow told Warren that her leaving the race felt like a “death kneel” to see a female president in

her lifetime while U.S. Rep. Nancy Pelosi, D-Calif., complained about being the most powerful woman in the U.S. government. I also couldn’t help but feel my once overwhelming excitement for the primary fall to the wayside. Beginning as the most diverse field in either party’s history, I couldn’t believe that in Tuesday’s Democratic primary I was being forced to vote for a white dude. As a liberal, it’s no surprise that I voted for Sanders, but unlike many of my classmates, I did so without any enthusiasm. While I wish I could see Sanders as a liberal beacon of hope, I can’t help but see his potential presidency as a looming disappointment.

Known for his crotchetiness, Sanders’s temper, exhibited by his constant yelling and hatred of criticism, is only matched by Biden’s, who famously called a young woman a “lying dog-faced pony soldier” for asking a question.

Compared to ex-candidates in the race whose communication with voters encouraged productive dialogue, these two despise the questioning of them or their plans.

With the most ambitious left-wing platform in modern history, this will likely come back to haunt Sanders’s presidency.

A politician for almost his entire adult life, Sanders is beloved for his admirable consistency on the issues that are now the centerpieces of his campaign. Sanders’ supporters tout his decades-long unwavering stances as proof he won’t flip-flop as president. In order to fulfill his promises, however, Sanders plans to do just that: Changing his views on the issue of executive power, a philosophy that he opposed as a congressman. His team has already drafted dozens of executive orders for his presidency to bypass Congress on issues like immigration reform, the environment and legalizing marijuana. While this proves he plans to make good on his promises, it’s a bad way to go about doing so.

Executive orders, while effective at enacting short-term changes during a president’s administration, will fail to solve the problems they address. Easily repealed by future presidents, any structural change, which most of his plans require, must be accomplished through the creation of permanent

solutions codified by law. President Donald Trump’s repealing of the Obama administration’s executive order that created Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA), leaving the futures of thousands of “dreamers” in limbo, exemplifies why unilateral executive action is a sub-par strategy. This is one reason his presidency won’t be the liberal heyday his supporters anticipate.

While it’s reasonable to argue executive orders are a necessary evil to bypass Mitch McConnell’s lame-duck Senate, Bernie’s path to the nomination has entailed burning more than just Republican bridges.

While Sanders has publicly denounced the toxic “Bernie Bro” culture that is known for sexist and sometimes dangerous attacks on fellow Democrats, his actions don’t align with his words. Sanders, as well as other top officials in his campaign, have all sat down for interviews with the pro-Sanders podcast “Chapo Trap House.”

Calling themselves part of the “dirtbag left,” the show is infamous for spouting off the same viciously insensitive remarks Sanders claims to denounce. With an agenda that will require at least unity amongst Democrats, Sanders’s unique inability to stop his supporters from attacking strong women like those who raised me was yet another reason I didn’t “feel the Bern” at the ballot box.

I used to tumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen before class each morning and scroll through my phone’s newsfeed, optimistic that Democrats would not only beat Trump in November but would do so using the same woman-power that won us back the House in 2018.

Now, my morning ritual inspires more sadness than hope. I want Bernie’s left-wing revolution to seize the White House, don’t get me wrong, but I’m disappointed the glass ceiling Hillary Clinton began to chip at more than a decade ago still has yet to shatter. While this election may have been heavily influenced by the boogeyman in the White House, hopefully in four years the nominee will be chosen based on their qualifications rather than their gender.

Riley Dehr can be reached at rdehr@umich.edu.

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How to cope with social isolation

he drawbacks of social distancing can include loneliness, reduced productivity and loss of health benefits associated with human interaction. Happy hours, fitness classes, traveling and football games activate the body’s senses and make for a pleasant experience — so much so that people crave and seek out more of these interactions. So when left to our own resources, many are wondering, “How can we handle social distancing?”

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, social distancing is necessary to reduce the probability of contact between persons carrying an infection and others who are not infected. Bottom line: By staying home you reduce the risk of becoming infected with COVID-19 and then unknowingly infecting others.

Not all people will experience the stress of this outbreak in the same way.

The common ground is the shared responsibility to contain coronavirus in our communities. Worried or not, now is not the time to carry on like normal.

Many of us are scared, anxious, tired and sad. Take comfort in knowing this will pass and the drawbacks of social distancing are temporary. Use the time wisely to connect with yourself and come out the other side stronger. Right now, self-care is your health care; do as much as you can.

Be sure to be self-shielding: Being within six feet of someone who is sick can get you and your personal space contaminated with COVID-19. Now is the time to overindulge in screen time to completely avoid respiratory droplets of others when we talk, sneeze and cough — these can land on surfaces or in your mouth or nose. Skype or FaceTime your friends and conduct meetings over video conferencing platforms.

Prepare meals at home: Gov. Gretchen Whitmer issued an executive order on Monday closing all Michigan restaurants and bars. There is no antibiotic (they are designed for bacterial infections, not viral ones like the novel coronavirus) to treat COVID19. Scientists are already working on a vaccine, but they don’t expect to have a good vaccine until spring of 2021 at the earliest. It’s best to stock up on groceries for a two-week period of time, and prepare all meals at home. Use this time to fuel on healthy foods — avoid sugar, salt and white flour — to keep your immune system strong.

Work out at home: Thirty minutes is the magic number when it comes to reaping the benefits of exercise. Doing a workout that is out of your typical routine will challenge your body and keep your mind active. Find a workout video online and get your family involved. Utilize your backyard for breaks and a few laps to stretch your body.

Wash your hands: Twenty seconds of scrubbing. Do this often, and be careful about maintaining good hand-washing and cleaning of high-touch surfaces like doorknobs and countertops. Remind yourself not to touch your face.

Self-care is your health care: Ask yourself: What do you like to do? Avoid sedentary habits in the home — instead tackle home projects and organization.

Read books, do journaling activities — anything you can do to set up your comeback when self-isolation is no longer recommended. Channel the creativity inside of you — keep pushing through.

Are you doing all that you can?

Dr. Rubina Tahir is a board-certified chiropractor and wellness expert and can be reached at chiro@rubinatahir.com.

KEVIN MOORE JR. | CONTACT CARTOONIST AT KEVJR@UMICH.EDU

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Arts

ALBUM REVIEW

‘Conference of Trees’ and the hidden life of the forest

could be considered ambient; in context with the whole album, it acts as the Daily Arts Writer pregame to the party that is the second half.

Regularly, I find myself yearning to The album progresses by taking on a be out in the woods. Whether it’s the more direct tone. Songs become more beat stereotypical “call of the wild” or a driven and dance inspired. For many, this deeply poetic passion for the natural, may feel like a bit of a departure from the being among the trees has always been way the album starts, but f luidity is one a rather important form of respite for of Conference of Trees’s greatest assets me. It’s a place where sitting on a mossy — it never feels abrupt. Pantha wants stump doing nothing in particular is a to look at nature both organically and productive action. Over the years, this synthetically, yet impressively neither urge has aspect feels all only gotten that forced. He more potent. walks the line I started to between the convince two with deft myself that precision. As trail-running a result, the is the only reverie of trees form of conversing is exercise I never broken. actually enjoy.

If anything, I really began Pantha Du Prince the album to appreciate depicts how Modern Recording the tiny the interaction nuances, one of the trees being the changes over interaction time. It starts between out subtly and the trees. I then gets more would notice prominent the way the until it wind brushes dominates the leaves and envision the trees the forest, only to fade away into the communicating in some discreet waving background. Conference of Trees acts in pattern, like f lag signals. In a way, I the same way as nature: a cycle. started to see the woods as a connected When I listen to this album, I can’t group. And if Conference of Trees is any help but think of a forest in Utah called indication, it appears as though German Pando. Walking through, it would seem composer Pantha Du Prince may share like a simple amber aspen grove. Beneath my belief that nature holds a collective the surface is where it gets interesting. power.

The forest itself is actually just one tree, Conference of Trees finds Pantha Du connected underground by a network of Prince continuing down the path of fungal roots. The woods itself becomes a using more organic instrumentation, single organism, able to send a message but perhaps with more intention and from one trunk to another even several effectiveness than ever before. The acres away. It’s relieving to look at nature project starts out with the soft hums of in such a way. We’re living in a world wood chimes and low groaning strings now where urban life and proximity to (reminiscent of Stars of the Lid), setting one another can no longer be comforting up the earthen mood and atmosphere nor provide any security. Taking solace for the rest of the album. Over time, under a lonely pine or in a boysenberry wooden percussion hits appear, slowly thicket is beginning to look more like progressing with more aggression and a necessity rather than a privilege. rhythm. All of this evokes imagery of Unknowingly, Conference of Trees acts as the album’s namesake. Roughly the first a strong proponent of social distancing 40 minutes of the album run together and therefore a fairly essential listen in so unimpeded that it could easily be these trying times. Trees are probably the mistaken for a single track. On its own, it safest thing to hug at the moment.

DREW GADBOIS

Wednesday, March 18, 2020 — 5A

TV NOTEBOOK

It’s 2020: Forget ‘The Office’ and start a new TV show MAXWELL BARNES Daily Arts Writer

Let’s paint a picture. It’s Saturday night at Skeeps. Your $12 Moscow Mule pitcher is running dry. “Down” by Jay Sean is blasting on the speakers. Everyone’s losing it. Luckily, you lock eyes with that special someone from across the muddied dance f loor. You find your way through the crowd and begin to hit the basics: Name, major, hometown, your least favorite President of the University whose last name starts with an “S.” Next thing you know, you’re in a Lyft back to their place. The two of you are violently making out in the back seat while your driver tries to politely tune you out.

Once you get back and crash on their

Conference of Trees

PANTHA DU PRINCE

“The Office” has become a symbol of stale viewership

couch, they suggest watching something on Netf lix. Perfect idea. You both scroll around aimlessly through titles, hoping to find something agreeable. Now’s a great opportunity for you to suggest a show that demonstrates just how cultured and cool you really are.

“How about ‘The Office’?”

Just then, thunderclaps emerge from outside. The glass in the windows shatters as the eyes of the person you arrived with begin to glow bright red. Thunder strikes and the wind howls throughout the room as you watch in horror as their head does a full 360-degree revolution.

“THE OFFICE ENDED IN 2013!” they reply in a demonic intonation.

“The Office” has become a symbol of stale viewership. In 2018, Netf lix dished out $80 million just to keep the ’90s sitcom “Friends” on its platform for another year. And why wouldn’t they? The show is rewatched constantly and remains one of the most popular titles streamed.

These shows have become a staple of entertainment for boring people. Just think of all of the new ideas that aren’t being funded as a result of continued audience letharg y. By comparison, in 2016, it only took $6 million to fund the first season of “Stranger Things,” a Netf lix original that also remains one of the platform’s most talked about titles to date.

Netf lix has shown it has the potential to create engaging storylines. However, the disparity in funding used to rehash the past is remarkable. Netf lix’s corporate strateg y works best when audiences gain dependence on their supply of comfort and nostalgia. If the only thing you watch in 2020 happens to be “Parks and

Recreation,” you’ll eventually become so trapped by the pattern of watching a single show that you’ll pay anything to keep viewing it. As users fall victim to a cycle of repetitive viewing, services like Netf lix will continue to allocate a sliver of funding to new content.

While “The Office” and “Friends” are both hilarious shows (maybe not “Friends,” but I digress), we’ve seemed to reach a stalemate in a television culture where our fascinations are dominated by nostalgia. Look at the countless remakes and sequels that are currently dominating the film industry. Why bother creating new things if what they already have will still make more money? Our collective fixation with the past is killing not only TV but also entertainment in general.

In order for any media to succeed there have to be new attempts at artistry, both good and bad. Leaving no room for creative growth has resulted in audiences feeling like we’re stuck in a job we hate, mindlessly selling paper and aimlessly hitting on the receptionist with a fiancé.

Fortunately, there might be some light at the end of the tunnel. As of 2020, “Friends” has been removed from Netf lix and will be heading straight to the new streaming service HBOMax in May. “The Office” will be departing from Netf lix in 2021 and is expected to draw a huge wave of new subscribers for NBC’s online service “Peacock,” which is set to launch on April 15th. What will these new streaming services mean for continued watchability? While it’s too early to tell, I’m sure viewers will find some way to pay an extra ten bucks a month in order to justify the Michael Scott sticker from Redbubble stuck to their laptop.

In the meantime, use the absence of some familiar titles to watch something new. Television has literally never been

Our collective fixation with the past is killing not only TV but also entertainment in general.

In order for any media to succeed there have to be new attempts at artistry, both good and bad

better and more diverse. Take some time to get a suggestion from The Daily. If you hate it — so what? At least you tried.

Maybe the next time you’re hitting on someone at Skeeps you’ll have something new to talk about besides how much Greek life sucks.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Arts

Wednesday, March 18, 2020 — 6A

FILM REVIEW

TV NOTEBOOK

‘The Way Back’ is a sports film without the formula for the game. At first, Jack seems embarrassed by his team, embarrassed by their pregame dancing Daily Arts Writer ritual and the fact that they keep losing games.

But as time passes, he clearly starts to see himself There’s something to be said about the in these kids. Whether he’s encouraging shy but popularity of sports movies, a genre that has talented point guard Brandon (Brandon Wilson, made its name with heartwarming tales of misfits “Little Monk”) to step into a leadership position, working together towards miraculous wins. or hypocritically chastising center Marcus Most sports films leave the audience with a sense (Melvin Gregg, “American Vandal”) for his vulgar of satisfaction. You know the story: The wise language, he tries to help them forge a positive mentor coaxes talent out of an underdog team path to their future. He inspires his players with of misfits and ultimately leads them to victory. mantras and mentalities, asking his team the most There’s a formula to these films, and it works important question after every game, win or lose: every time: “Remember the Titans,” “A League of “What did we learn about ourselves last night?”

Their Own,” “Hoosiers,” “Field of Dreams” and Like most sports movies, you become quickly “Rocky,” to name a few, are crowd-pleasers even attached to the team and their success. You in their predictability. wince when the opposing team dunks savagely When I entered the theater to see “The Way on an unprepared center. You cheer when one of Back,” I incorrectly assumed that it would be the players sinks a three-point shot that swishes a typical sports through the net movie.

To be with a satisfying fair, there are a whoosh.

These number of classic players are not just sports movie a group of high elements present school kids in blue throughout: jerseys — they’re a struggling your team now.

Dir. Gavin O’Connor misfit basketball All the while, Warner Bros. Pictures team, montages there is a slow that show their reveal of details improvement and about Jack’s past, slow motion action giving us a gradual shots.

Director understanding of Gavin O’Connor the full picture. (“Miracle”) is a sports movie veteran, and he Jack’s struggle and hidden motivations are so knows how to play the genre well. But what engrossing that at times you almost forget that sets “The Way Back” apart is its focus beyond this is a movie about basketball — a feat that can be basketball and into the deep humanity of credited to Affleck’s performance. His execution addiction, grief and recovery. is captivating, in his trembling fingers or the subtle This exploration of human resilience is slurring of his words when he is drunk. Affleck centered around Jack Cunningham (Ben Affleck, himself has had numerous public struggles with “Gone Girl”), a construction worker who is offered addiction and mental health in previous years, a job as the head coach of the Bishop Hayes High and has cited this project as a kind of therapy for School’s basketball team. In high school, Jack was him. Affleck is fully committed to the role, and Bishop Hayes’s star player, leading his team to this passion gives Jack a thrilling spark in a film victory and multiple championships. Now, he’s an full of muted colors and heavy themes. alcoholic who spends nights getting so drunk that Over the course of his season with Bishop he has to be carried home from the bar.

Hayes, Jack gives the team a lot of advice, good His coaching doesn’t follow the typical sports and bad. At one of the first games, Jack sends movie format. Jack is not a wise mentor or a steady the wrong message, encouraging his team to rock for his struggling team to latch onto. He’s play dirty. By the end, he’s encouraging them in volatile and foul-mouthed, with a tendency to a different way, creating mantras about working yell at referees and push people too far. His life is together as a true team and playing with a chip unstable, but he drinks with rhythmic ease. Still, on your shoulder. Watching his messages change Jack’s ties to the team are essential to its success; is gratifying, even if it’s predictable. “All the little as the team starts winning games, his life starts things add up,” he starts to tell his team. Rather to stabilize, his moods become more sedated and than focus on the big things you can’t change, his drinking is less destructive. However, just try to fix the small things that you can. These because sports can temporarily improve life does messages go beyond sports, into the realm of not mean that they can fix it entirely. While most human problems that “The Way Back” navigates sports movies avoid this truth entirely, this is a so comfortably. By the end, you don’t care as much fact that “The Way Back” openly acknowledges. about who won the playoffs as you do about what The ten Bishop Hayes Varsity players have the players, and their imperfect coach, learned different personalities, but are united by their love about themselves in the process.

KARI ANDERSON

“The Way Back”

WARNER BROS

BUTCH HARTMAN

Gen Z is going goth and our cartoons might be the reason ANYA SOLLER Daily Arts Writer

OK, so the world right now is a pretty dark place to live in. Political uncertainty, a quickly deteriorating environment and the current outbreak of a deadly pandemic have made 2020 one of the scariest years in recent history. With so much chaos compacted into a short period of time, it’s not hard to resign oneself to a pessimistic view of the future.

Enter Generation Z. Born in the years between 1997 and 2012 and characterized by a love of memes and a distrust of authority, the young people that comprise Gen Z (occasionally referred to as “zoomers”) have grown to dominate social media and pop culture while also becoming increasingly involved in social issues. The largest, most ethnically diverse age group in the history of the U.S. has simultaneously disavowed the establishment and called for change with social movements like #NeverAgain and the March for Our Lives, in response to the numerous school shootings that have defined many childhoods.

Gen Z, while undoubtedly politically and socially active, maintains an air of nihilism that often earns them labels like “apathetic” or “spoiled.” This disconnect between their perception and reality may lie in Gen Z’s multifaceted attitude toward the future.

That attitude, while complex and evolving with age, involves contradictions between idealism and realism, hope for progress and fear for the inevitable.

The reasons for Gen Z’s unique outlook lie in the social, political, racial and cultural dynamics that define the modern world. While all these inf luences play a role in developing the Gen Z mindset, one small aspect of popular culture may serve as one of the best ways to describe the average Gen Z kid: The abundance of goth girls in children’s cartoons.

While not the most highbrow media trend to analyze, the ubiquity of the “goth girl” trope in ’00s and ’10s kids’ TV may give insight into Gen Z’s tendency to appear apathetic while actually harboring

deep empathy for those around them. This trope, though used since the inception of the goth subculture in the early 1970s, was most visible during the mid-2000s — formative years for the vast majority of Gen Z. Many shows produced on popular children’s networks like Nickelodeon, Disney Channel and Cartoon Network feature a specific stock character of the goth girl with a black heart of gold. These characters are often presented as walking contradictions: Sam Manson from “Danny Phantom” hunts ghosts, but is a steadfast vegetarian; Gwen from “Total Drama Island” always has a sarcastic one-liner for her competitors, but also has the intelligence to make it to the faux-reality show’s finale. Thorn and the Hex Girls of the “Scooby-Doo” franchise have a witchcraftthemed heavy metal band, yet care for the planet as selfproclaimed “eco-goths.”

These characters, each meant to act as unlikely protagonists and role models for the young audience, have two important traits in common: a gothic aesthetic with an uninterested exterior and a secret passion for supporting the people and causes they believe in.

Gen Z viewers watching these goth girls take TV by storm were paying close attention. E-girls and e-boys have recently emerged as lifestyle trends on youth-oriented apps like TikTok, and memes heralding the goth women and men of the 2000s are all over the Internet.

Clearly, these cartoon tropes have made an impact on popular culture visually, so the idea that they may have had a strong inf luence on Gen Z as kids may not be so far-fetched.

Though cartoon goth girls only provide a small glimpse into the childhoods of this generation, analysis of this trope contextualizes the simple, everyday media messages that Gen Z grew up with. In understanding the actions and motivations of Gen Z today, it’s worth examining why exactly we became so hopeful and pessimistic. We do not exist in a vacuum — we did not make ourselves this way. As this generation ages, realizing what created us informs how we can move forward.

Clearly, these cartoon tropes have made an impact on popular culture visually, so the idea that they may have had a strong influence on Gen Z as kids may not be so farfetched

statement T H E M I C H I G A N DA I LY | M A RC H 1 8 , 2020

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2B Wednesday, March 18, 2020 // The Statement

statement T H E M I CH I GA N DAI LY | M A RCH 1 8 , 2020

Managing Statement Editor Magdalena Mihaylova Deputy Editors Emily Stillman Marisa Wright Associate Editor Reece Meyhoefer

Designers Liz Bigham Kate Glad Copy Editors Madison Gagne Sadia Jiban

Photo Editor Keemya Esmael Editor in Chief Elizabeth Lawrence Managing Editor Erin White

How Michigan taught me to live

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BY MAX MARCOVITCH, STATEMENT CORRESPONDENT

y feet were up on the dashboard of the passenger seat in my roommate Kevin’s 2015 Subaru Forester. The sun was beginning to set as we drove back from Atlanta. We were listening to a crime podcast, an iced coffee by my side. We were somewhere in rural Ohio, a few hours from a return to Ann Arbor for the final semester of college, a time that is supposed to be pure, unencumbered by worry, loosely jovial. It’s the time — the last time — to live and learn before reality smacks you in the face like a stiff board.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through Twitter and came across an article written for the University of Missouri website by Wright Thompson, one of the greatest writers on this planet. As I was reading through the piece, I came across a line that blew me away.

I read it once. Paused. Took a breath. Looked up. Then I read it a few more times: Sometimes it feels like we spend 45 percent of our lives trying to be something, 10 percent of our lives being it and 45 percent having been it.

I thought about the prescience of reading that during my trip back up to Ann Arbor for the last round of the happiest era of my life. I thought about the call to action that phrase inadvertently makes: to live deliberately but conscientiously, to strive for more but appreciate what’s right there, to allow a healthy dose of nostalgia without letting it consume you, to appreciate who you are instead of obsessing over who — or what — you’d like to be.

Thinking back to that moment now, there is a cruel irony in how everything has unfolded. This was supposed to be a self-reflective piece about the anxiety of constantly living in search of a destination. It was meant to be a sober confrontation of how we live our lives and what we value.

I was going to delve into my personal fears about life after college, finding the right career and landing on my feet. I wanted to explore this flawed instinct we have to always set goals and how that breeds a lack of appreciation for the present. These were my primary worries no less than a week ago.

That irony is cruel because this past week we had our final moments of college ripped away from us due to the coronavirus outbreak: our last stretch of classes, our final months with friends, social gatherings, livelihoods and our graduation — all gone.

I have tears welled up in my eyes as I’m writing this. I don’t know which of my friends I’ve possibly seen for the last time. My family doesn’t get to come to the Big House and take pictures with me in my cap and gown. Instead of triumph, the best four years of my life are ending with an inauspicious, premature departure from a deserted campus, as I abide by an encouraged evacuation of a place I will always call home.

I was supposed to write this about the dichotomy of marrying our short-term aspirations with the macro

visions we have for our lives.

But sometimes, life happens. didn’t know I had anxiety until I came to college. I was dumped into a pool of 40,000 people and was told to swim, and for a while I merely treaded water.

I know I’m not alone in that — if anything, that makes my experience quite consistent with the student body.

I suppose that discomfort teaches you how to find yourself. That’s the only way to discover who you are. We must venture into that big, bold unknown to emerge a more complete person.

These idealistic cliches are both true and supremely unhelpful for a lonely freshman searching for purpose. We’re told this romantic tale about what college was supposed to be and so I grew increasingly frustrated by the stagnation of my personal growth. Why isn’t this what it needs to be? My brain became flooded with thoughts and doubts and confusion, and that began to cripple me.

I came to the University of Michigan knowing one person on campus, and even he was relatively new to my life. I didn’t know what I wanted to study or what I wanted to become. Having grown up in small, tight-knit communities all my life, I secretly harbored fears that I wouldn’t cut it outside those bubbles. I joined a fraternity to quell some of the lurking social anxiety I wasn’t truly ready to confront and I worried that Greek life would change who I was. I missed home. I longed, quietly and unassumingly, for the comforts of what I knew.

It feels peculiar, then, to be writing this next to my girlfriend and my four-year roommate in an off-campus coffee shop — completely heartbroken that, three and a half years later, it’s over. Just like that, it’s over. The people, the places, the city that made this the best four years of my life. All of it now lurks as a past tense in the narrative of my life.

Nostalgia is healthy. But man, I just wasn’t ready for it yet.

Thompson’s words pierced me on that drive. They still do. I worry that as my peers and I strive for these highachieving, high-minded lives, we miss the forest for the trees.

We miss the days we spent hanging out on the couch watching “The Bachelor” over a few beers. We miss the evenings in the library spent cracking jokes instead of studying. We miss the nights spent at 420 Maynard St., talking about life and University of Michigan sports and

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ILLUSTRATION BY MAGGIE WIEBE

everything and nothing at all. We’d lose track of how many games of euchre we’d played and pretended to bemoan waking up early for our 8:30 a.m. classes the next day, as if we weren’t eager to do the same thing the very next night.

We miss the road trips to far-off Big Ten cities, driving through the night as we played the most obscure music in our Spotify library — then stealing some dumb prop from the bowels of a football stadium and carrying it to the rental car like a goddamn trophy. We miss the meals shared. We miss the nights out. We miss those first days of spring after a long winter, the first day we get the “allclear” to wear shorts. And we’d take the grill out of the garage. We’d play music and toss a football. We didn’t have a care in the world.

Instead, we strain over internships and jobs. We complain about drama with friends. We bitch and moan and stress. Anything to get the grade. Anything to keep moving in a direction we’re told is “forward.” We get so bogged down in the stressors of a life we know to be brutally unpredictable.

Nothing is a better reminder of that fragility than a global pandemic taking over the world, upending our daily lives and threatening our health. The past few days have forced a kind of reflection I wasn’t prepared for. I’m sure many of my fellow seniors would say the same.

I don’t want to spend 45 percent of my life trying to be something and the other 45 percent having been something. But in order to spend 100 percent of our lives being ourselves, we have to become comfortable with the imperfections and incongruities life will bring. We have to dare to live optimistically and without fear. In this long journey of life, we have to find the beauty in the ordinary.

The summer with no fireworks

BY MAXWELL BARNES, STATEMENT CONTRIBUTOR B

Wednesday, February 26, 2020 // The Statement3B 3B

referring to our managers.

I immediately began to regret having been so open about my mental health to my coworkers.

My own experience with depression arose in the fall of my sophomore year of college, when I was desperately trying to transfer to the University of Michigan out of the elite arts university I was attending in New York City. For the better part of a year, I encountered loneliness unlike any kind I had experienced before. I essentially lived alone in my dorm room.

I did everything alone: museums, basketball games, Broadway plays.

In spite of my sadness, I was committed to making it work. I participated in intramural sports, wrote for a satire magazine and even rushed a fraternity in hopes of meeting someone, PHOTO COURTESY OF MAXWELL BARNES anyone, with whom I could form a deep connection. I s I sat on a boulder in the middle didn’t succeed. My classes, while superb of the Saluda River in North in instruction, were not enough to keep Carolina, I raised a can of Twisted me from quickly losing maintenance of Tea to my lips. I had never tried one before, my social life in such a large city. It felt too and the taste was sweet and lemony — adult, and I was too young. easily mistakable for a non-alcoholic At times I did not feel like I was even beverage. “That’s dangerous,” I said to my attending a university. As a theater major, friends, noting its satisfying intake that only two-fifths of my classes were taught could have easily led me to drink five more. by university faculty — the others were The relaxing sensation of the wind led by third-party teachers from a local lightly bristled through my hair. It was the acting studio. I was essentially a glorified Fourth of July and I was conveniently on conservatory student with a lunch plan. my day-off from working as a counselor at Lost in the rat race of the New York City a nearby sleepaway summer camp. Calmly, rush hour, I often recognized my own face I wandered back through the torso-deep as the youngest out of everyone on the waters to the riverbank to check my subway during my commutes to and from phone. I was prepared to head back to my classes. As my condition quickly turned camp later that afternoon, along with the unbearable, I turned to prescription miscellaneous crew of counselors that had medication to help alleviate the profound shared an Airbnb with me the previous level of sadness I was experiencing. night. I was excited for that evening. I When I was accepted to the University, anticipated I would be assisting with I decided to give up a summer internship the ceremonious ritual of shooting off with a well-known improv training center fireworks for all of camp — nearly 300 in Chicago. I figured I needed a space that children ages six to 16 — to see. At our was familiar so I could regroup emotionally. camp, the firework lighting was an honor I had been a counselor at the North Carolina reserved for only male counselors with at summer camp before, so returning to it was least a summer of prior camp experience. supposed to be a refresher, something I It was going to be a fun event which I had hoped would be a peaceful bridge between been looking forward to for weeks. one chaotic timeline to another, more As I checked the GroupMe app, I realized relaxed one. I love working with kids, and I had been removed from the coveted I had hoped my summer would be just as “Bomb Squad” chat. I quickly received a enjoyable as the last. Upon my arrival, I was call from Trent, a peer who was the head of understandably questioned by my fellow the boys camp. He flustered while he tried counselors about my sudden departure to explain why I had suddenly been left out. from New York. I answered them honestly: “What’s the issue?” I asked puzzledly.

I was new to medication. I was depressed. I “They’re scared you’re going to shoot needed simplicity. the fireworks at the kids,” he answered,

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ack on the riverbank, my call with Trent ended abruptly. I nearly dropped my iPhone into the water below as I became furious and fraught with confusion. I couldn’t think straight. My good friend, Henry, offered to drive my car back to camp as I sat in the passenger seat.

We drove in silence before he spoke up.

“I’m sorry, do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“What is there to talk about?” I replied.

“I’m being punished for something I can’t control.”

When I had applied to be a camp counselor, at no point in the application process was I asked about the status of my mental well-being. I had assumed with the current tide of the zeitgeist, I wouldn’t be barred from opportunities. It seemed like “Reduce The Stigma” was the catchphrase of 2019. It turned out my confidence in the public’s far-reaching acceptance of mental health’s destigmatization was overassumed.

As I became more and more open about discussing these topics the first few weeks of camp, the summer I desired went out the window. Suddenly, I wasn’t leading any overnight camping trips. I wasn’t being asked to help read the daily paper aloud to campers in the mornings. Any scavenger hunt or evening activity that required a counselor to perform did not include me.

This was especially unnerving when I would be passed up for playing characters or putting on costumes to judge talent shows. I was an acting major, after all. I had energy and dedication to spare that wasn’t being utilized.

I knew I was being treated wrongly by my managers’ logic. In my mind, caring for a horde of 12-year-old boys in a woodland cabin surely must hold more responsibility than lighting off fireworks.

When I returned to camp from my day off, I sat down with my employers face-toface. Both were in their twenties, like me.

I asked them: “Should I still be allowed to work here?” To me, the question wasn’t about pettiness or simply being angry about not being able to light fireworks. It was about who they thought I was because of my depression, which began to shape my own interpretations of myself.

Through some struggle in explaining, my administrator Francis countered. She had some pity in her eyes. “It’s not that we don’t trust you, we just don’t trust your judgment. Gut feeling? We didn’t think it would work.” My heart sank. Word of my depression had clearly gotten back to my managers on account of my openness.

I felt sterilized. Meanwhile in Chicago, participants of my abandoned internship were meeting privately with Lorne Michaels after viewing an invite-only SNL audition. I left the meeting in a blur, feeling like I had easily accepted defeat.

I should’ve gotten angrier, I thought, and more curt about the pattern of exclusion I had been facing for the past few weeks.

I wished I could have conveyed how desperately I wanted to feel included rather than excluded. Any incorporation or trust between me and my employers would have done wonders for my self-confidence.

That night, the fireworks were rained out. 10 days later, when they were rescheduled, I was conveniently placed on another day off.

After the Fourth of July incident, I considered quitting my job entirely.

However, that would’ve meant I would have to pack my things and head home for the remainder of the summer with no friends around and certainly no means of making money. For my financial and social health, I was stuck working under the heavily circumscribed agency I was being handed.

From an occupational perspective, the largest roadblock in reducing mental health stigma seems to be the actual implementation of nondiscriminatory policies. Although it is illegal for employees to be fired on account of their mental health, an employer may request information about a mental health condition when there is objective evidence that an employee may pose a safety risk. This loophole is broad.

While it may keep some workers employed, this rule certainly has great potential to be abused.

Looking back on the disappointment of this past summer, I’m still fortunate for a lot of reasons. I’m grateful I have the opportunity to make such sweeping adjustments to my life if I’m feeling I require them. I’m grateful to have a supportive family and the option of pursuing higher education. I’m grateful I have the choice to live without medication, as I’ve been practicing since August.

However, I’m aware that many others may find themselves in dire circumstances similar to mine and lack the necessary resources to create changes.

At the University, I volunteer on the Depression Center’s student advisory board. I joined because I wanted no student to feel the way I felt. Before the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, we had been preparing to participate in mental health crisis training, so that we could learn to uplift and support friends and colleagues who are in danger of physical harm.

As our culture continues to “reduce the stigma,” I’d like to see more initiatives focusing on similar crisis training which become commonplace for employers.

Hopefully these would be taught in the same manner we teach CPR or anti-sexual harassment seminars. I’m no doctor, I’m a camp counselor — my best expertise is in playing “Capture the Flag.” But it seems like a good place to start. .

Maxwell Barnes is studying Communications and Media in LSA and a Daily Staff Writer for Arts. He can be reached at mxwell@umich.edu.

4B Wednesday, March 18, 2020 // The Statement

Wednesday, March 18, 2020 // The Statement 5B

Instagram was my therapy … until it wasn’t

BY ELI RALLO, STATEMENT COLUMNIST

sweater. But the experiment had rendered me more mindful: I started to notice a correlation between my Instagram usage and the way I was feeling. Some days, Instagram was my therapist — others, the perpetrator of my anxiety.

It isn’t a novel concept to suggest that social media causes mental health problems, or exacerbates them. But in struggling with these issues myself and growing up in a world that’s plugged in 24/7, I hope to discover and illuminate the more nuanced, personalized aspect of the connection. nlike other generations, Generation Z has never known a time without the ease of cell phones, the internet and social media to stay connected, instantly gratified and pluggedin. As the first generation to grow up with the flow of information and the immediate knowledge of anyone’s and everyone’s personal life, Gen Z has always known the temptation to compare their own lives to curated highlight reels of everyone on Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, Twitter and LinkedIn. Growing up with the presence of social media, the world becomes a vacuum as the details that people chose to share swirl together to create a hyperreality.

Comparing someone else’s phony world of vacation photos, job offers, homeownership and new relationships to one’s real life is bound to leave an individual feeling insecure, unaccomplished and pressured to aspire to a level of perfection. Millennials have been constantly faced with an impossible, unspoken task: Look like you have it all together, exude happiness and appear as though everything is perfect, even if it isn’t.

To maintain the masquerade is to convince everyone around you that you’re just as happy, if not happier, than they are.

I can recall having a day-long panic attack — from the moment I woke up, to my desk at work, through the evening on the day following my 21st birthday — and still posting a filtered photo of myself smiling in a sparkly pink dress.

It comes as no shock that there is recorded data which suggests that social media has an impact on the mental health of Gen Z. Anxiety has been linked to many different factors in college-aged students, like loneliness, stress and uncertainty as collateral of a transitional period, to name a few. Generally speaking, the rise in mental

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ILLUSTRATION BY MICHELLE FAN

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n October 2019, I deleted my Instagram for a month. There was no dark downfall into obsession or an utter collapse of self-worth that prompted this decision, but I had been experiencing a plateau in my mental well-being at the time and had recognized social media wasn’t helping the problem.

I loved Instagram from the moment I first downloaded it. I used to rely on it like a crutch, sharing content almost every day — posting pictures of myself smiling at a football game in the fall when I was lying in bed mid-winter, sad about a breakup or a falling out with a friend — and putting great pressure on getting likes. Now, I use it as a digital journal, a consistent stream of consciousness and look into my life: posting pictures of candid life moments, unfiltered and unplanned.

Last fall, in a time when my peers were continuously posting ceremonious photos and announcements of accomplishments and future plans, I was drowning in selfdoubt and anxiety. My feed was constantly filled with the smiling faces of those who had their futures planned — drinking out of red cups at football tailgates, standing close with a significant other, happily accepting a return job offer and a signing bonus.

I was genuinely overjoyed for the achievements of the people I followed, but I couldn’t stop comparing my

own life to the images that filled their grid on my screen. Though I was aware that one day I’d be sharing similar achievements on my own profile, the time when their accomplishments were thrust in my face felt overwhelming and never-ending. I wanted everyone to be doing well, and I wanted the same for myself.

Social media wasn’t the cause of the emotions I was experiencing, but my generalized anxiety, which I’ve struggled with my entire life, was greatly exacerbated by my glowing Instagram feed. I remember making the decision to post a story of a piece of greasy pizza that had no connection to my declaration of a social media detox with the caption “logging off for a month!” in a fat, pink font. The fact that I felt the need to share my decision to stop using Instagram with my followers is ironic. Maybe it’s for that reason I redownloaded the app three days later, modifying my hiatus to allow limited time for scrolling and no posting for a month.

After this Instagram cleanse, much like cutting carbs or sugar from a diet, I felt fresh and renewed. I didn’t need Instagram and even found that I now had time for more productive pastimes, like reading every night before bed.

The deep attachment was apparent, though. Even after my Instagram detox, I essentially reverted back to my old habits, slipping into my posting routine like an old

health issues among young adults is a trend which cannot be linked to one specific cause or tangible thing — it’s subjective. However, the trend of well-being in American young adults decreasing and the time spent on electronic devices increasing suggests there does exist a correlation between social media usage and the severity of mental health issues, namely anxiety and depression. Though correlation exists, one must recognize that researchers have failed to find casual data linking mental health problems and social media, thus obfuscating the question further.

On the other hand, one study did find causal evidence of an increase in well-being due to reduced use of social media. The study, done at the University of Pennsylvania in 2018, sought to test the positive correlation between mental health and social media. The group practicing limited social media use saw a decrease in depression and loneliness, suggesting that limiting social media use can improve well-being.

In my personal experience utilizing social media, there have been both highs and lows. There are days when I feel as though my mood is improved by viewing the lives of my peers, family members and celebrities — watching people I admire succeed or be entertained by interesting content. Conversely, there are days when I face a struggle with my presence on social media applications—comparing myself to images of others and monitoring my own social profiles can be taxing.

But even with so many pitfalls, there are tremendous amounts of research and opinion on the basis of social media influencing mental health positively.

A study done at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health found that when used mindfully, social media has been found to positively improve preexisting mental health issues. Research Scientist Mesfin Awoke Bekalu found that strong social networks are associated with positive mental health as the networks act as gateways for connection to others.

He concludes that it is the way in which individuals use social media that is an important distinction when analyzing its effects on mental well-being.

The question, then, is twofold: Does social media create or exacerbate mental health problems? Does it help? If it is a damaging force on Gen Z, how do we stop a train that seems to be running full steam ahead?

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n an effort to better understand how college-aged individuals feel in regard to the intersection of mental health and social media, I decided to reach out to some of my peers. Throughout my investigation, only a few male-identifying individuals were interested in being interviewed, which may be indicative that these issues affect them less intensely or linked to the fact that men are less likely to speak openly about mental health issues.

However, there were numerous collegeaged women who expressed they’ve experienced both negative and positive effects on their mental health from social media usage while in college.

“If I think about when my mental health issues began, it’s around the same time we started really using Instagram and Snapchat,” said Sophia Maita, a senior at Fordham University studying communications and culture.

Maita, who experienced the onset of mental health issues around age 12, claims social media has had both a negative and a positive influence on her emotional wellbeing. “I’ve tried to set up my social media to be positive … I follow a lot of inspirational accounts,” she said.

The posts that often make people jealous or insecure can sometimes play in as a positive: “It makes me happy to see people on Instagram and Facebook doing well and being successful,” she said.

But it’s a careful balancing act.

“Just seeing people out partying with someone who I’m not friends with or don’t get along with can be difficult.”

The fear of missing out, often referred to as FOMO, can be defined as anxiety caused when you find out about an event that you are not attending or weren’t invited to. Usually, people are exposed to such information via social media posts. It is the feeling that everyone is having more fun than you, or experiencing something novel or exciting, and that you’re missing it. It can have negative effects on both happiness and self-esteem and has been found to provoke great distress.

That being said, FOMO can turn into something more sinister than a feeling of unease at a Snapchat story of your friends at a bar without you.

“When I see on spring break or in the summer people looking so hot in bikini photos, and that was what I was struggling with my freshman and sophomore year of college ... feeling envy or shame really took

a toll on my eating habits and how I felt about my body.” Maita said.

Social media — especially Instagram — has been found to be damaging in regards to eating disorders: While it does not necessarily cause them, it normalizes disordered eating behaviors and fosters body dysmorphia.

Most recently, TikTok has been filled with pro-eating disorder content. Many teenage girls have normalized posting videos of their “FDOE”, or full day of eating, in which they list the calories of their every meal — most often between 600-800 a day. The app has been known to glorify skipping meals and to promote weight loss supplements, thigh gaps and the constant weighing of oneself.

TikTok has even been dubbed “Pro-Ana,” a term to describe the promotion of eating disorders like anorexia.

Instagram has also been criticized for emphasizing a pro-eating disorder narrative, like through accounts that promote diet culture. These accounts advertise over-exercise, compulsive dieting and calorie counting, which can be extremely destructive to someone already engaging in eating disorder habits or tendencies. There are also “fitspiration” and “health” Instagram accounts that promote healthy habits like exercise, nourishing oneself and evading diet culture.

“With any platform that has pages and accounts that aren’t tied to a singular person — like fitness or foodie accounts — we have the option to view diet and fitness accounts all day if we want, which can be dangerous to people with pre-existing mental health problems,” said LSA senior Hallie Fox. “I definitely think it’s a double-sided coin. You can see weight loss accounts saying ‘this is what people should look like’ but there are also accounts that are for recovery and struggles and body positivity,” Fox said.

Instagram has a huge community of eating disorder recovery accounts, run by women predominantly, who share their struggles with recovering from an eating disorder and use the platform as a food journal to hold themselves accountable.

While this creates a sense of community and solidarity for eating disorder sufferers and survivors, doctors urge that such accounts cannot replace professional treatment.

Many social media are dedicated to creating a sense of unity and

a space for those who feel alone in their struggle. Millennials and members of Gen Z have been both criticized and lauded for general openness about struggles with mental health and the de-stigmatization of therapy and dialogue around emotional well-being.

SMTD sophomore Harper Klotz found their community online, on the website Tumblr.

“After being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and PTSD I didn’t know anyone around me experiencing these things, so I looked for resources and people online that I could relate to. Tumblr made me realize I wasn’t alone in what I was experiencing,” they said.

Online platforms are seldom regulated, which is part of why they work so well in connecting people and allowing them to be vulnerable. But there is a dark side to this openness.

“Tumblr and Twitter can be really toxic, especially Tumblr … there was a lot of glorification of suicide and eating disorders … there’s mixed messages because anyone can post anything,” Klotz added. ith millennials and members of Gen Z connected to our mobile devices at all times, perhaps it’s in our best interest to seek out profiles and accounts that make us feel good, as opposed to relentlessly comparing our lives to others, which can lead to destructive consequences. It’s almost impossible to know — in a place as vast and open ended as the internet, where anyone can post anything — what provokes distress and what introduces positive emotions. Many people don’t want to waste time on social media, but feel trapped. If we decide to stop utilizing social media altogether, we forgo a major means of interaction, communication and socialization between peers, friends and family members. Without social media, one could lose the ability to network, keep in touch with connections and even get hired for jobs. There’s almost no way to unplug — and even unplugging could bring on other negative feelings, like FOMO. Social media can be a haven of support and love, spreading affection in the form of a thumbs up and digital hearts, but it can also be a destructive path of pressure and comparison. The future is unclear for teenagers and young adults, with TikTok popular among young people and even LinkedIn causing exacerbations in stress and anxiety. Perhaps the balance

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— and solution — is for us to figure out on an individual basis. On the other hand, perhaps it is a societal-level issue worth concern and attention. uring my Instagram hiatus, I noticed I took fewer photographs than I normally would have. It seemed to suggest that I only feel inclined to take pictures with the prospect of posting them, not necessarily just to have them to look back on as a memory. On vacation over fall break, I didn’t post once — not a picture of an aesthetically pleasing palm tree, a Caribbean sunset, a fruity cocktail or my silhouette fake-looking out at the ocean in a purple bikini — which is surprising given my inclination to shareable social media platforms like Instagram.

I couldn’t decide if I was worse or better off without fulfilling the itch to feel fleetingly satisfied promoting happy, jubilant photos.

I didn’t give in to a phony desire to share my life with the world, and eventually even forgot about posting altogether. I was no longer caught up in what everyone else was doing and how they looked over fall break. I had come down from the drug, and I was at a strange homeostasis.

Social media is inevitable. It exists and we live among it. We can choose to embrace it for its wonderful qualities or hate it for its negative ones — or we can recognize that it can be imperfect and wonderful simultaneously.

I’ve often thought about taking time off from social media again. Now, though, I feel more inclined to use platforms like Instagram and Twitter — which have benefited me by way of news, comedy, connection and entertainment — productively, rather than as a filter of my life. I have accepted the ebb and flow of social media platforms on my mental health, and recognized the negative exacerbation Instagram can have when I am coping with anxiety and stress. I am the only one who can bar social media from making me feel worse.

For those of us who have lived in the yo-yo effect of deleting, redownloading and feeling incredibly aware of and attached to our profiles, I urge you to find ways to limit your use. Observe your own social media practices and focus on how they make you feel. Unplug for a few days.

Practice Instagram and Snapchat use in moderation. Only in fostering a healthy balance for oneself can emotional wellbeing truly improve.

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A physical sign of anxiety

6B

Wednesday, March 18, 2020 // The Statement

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was in fifth-grade music class when I discovered my first pimple. It didn’t hurt, there was just a small raised bump on my cheek. I turned to one of my friends and asked if there was something on my face.

She examined it. “Looks like a zit,” she said. “Want me to pop it?”

I recoiled. “Can’t I just wipe it off?” I rubbed my palm on my cheek.

She laughed. “It’s stuck to your face.

You can’t wipe it off.” The bell rang and I walked out of the room, horrified, imagining a foreign object growing through my skin.

When I got home, I examined it in the mirror. It was a slightly-red bump, hardly noticeable. I didn’t know what she meant by “popping” it, though I remembered hearing someone being told to pop a zit in an episode of “The Suite Life of Zack and Cody.” I squeezed it until it became angry, red and definitely noticeable. But not a pop.

In truth, I didn’t really know what acne was supposed to look like — I’d rarely seen it in the media, only when mentioned as a joke or partially airbrushed away from actors’ faces on Disney Channel. My parents didn’t have it, and neither did my cousins or my brother. I went home and told my mom, who bought me a face wash with salicylic acid in it. The pimple went away within a few days.

As the acne began invading my face more often, the face wash stopped working. I resorted to YouTube to give me resources for how to treat it myself.

Toothpaste, olive oil, aluminum foil, baking soda, honey and lemon seemed to do the trick for other people, but only aggravated my acne-prone and dry skin. I wished I could just pop my pimples and be done with them, but they felt deeper, like they had sprouted from within my pores and I had to dig them out by the roots.

Acne had created an anxious cycle for me: My acne caused anxiety, which caused me to pick and squeeze at it to get rid of it, which only made my skin worse.

The stress caused me to break out more, too.

A couple years later, I started seeing a dermatologist and found out that I had cystic acne, which happens when hair follicles plug with oil and dead skin cells.

The doctor told me I was producing more of this oil due to a hormone imbalance.

Since there was no whitehead to pop, they would poke my face with a needle and let the acne drain every couple of months, leaving me bleeding and red when I left.

BY HANNAH BRAUER, STATEMENT COLUMNIST

I sat quietly in the car as my mom drove me home, dreading the next day when I had to go to school with scabs forming over my red bumps. I felt the pain in every pore.

I tried buying over-the-counter products, using a customizable skin regimen and then switching to creams prescribed by my dermatologist. After none of these worked, I finally began taking an antibiotic that made me more

depression worse, a struggle between the internal and external.

Through the years, my mental health suffered greatly as I watched my face fill with unwanted red dots. Every time I left the house, I felt like everyone was staring at it, and eventually, I grew my hair out so it covered my cheeks. I didn’t make eye contact when I talked to people. When I would pose for photos next to my friends I made sure they had the flash off, and I

ILLUSTRATION BY TAYLOR SCHOTT

sensitive to sun rays. While the acne cleared up slightly, taking it during the summer left me with months-long sunburns. I couldn’t run cross country without frying my shoulders, and my Spanish teacher frequently asked if I’d just gone on a vacation because of my frequently-burned nose.

I didn’t know if people were looking at me because of my acne or my sunburns — it felt like this new kind of redness brought more attention than a bad acne flare. I stopped taking the antibiotic and switched to a combined birth control pill, which would help balance my hormones and hopefully get rid of my acne once and for all. And though the new pill helped with the acne, it made the anxiety and

angled my body so the spots would be concealed.

The thing about acne is that it has the potential to permeate the rest of your life. It’s a badge of anxiety worn on your face, and you never know what would have been different if you didn’t have it.

Would I have performed better in that job interview? Would I have had more friends growing up? Is it harder to socialize with people because I’m afraid people don’t actually like me?

Acne is the most common skin condition in the United States, affecting up to 85 percent of people between the ages of 12 and 24 — so why is there so much shame attached to it? Maybe it’s because there are certain beauty standards that we

see in the media, and celebrities must be “ready for their close up” with flawless skin. Maybe it’s because people think it’s gross and have internalized the idea that people with acne have bad hygiene: I’ve been told many times to wash my face more, though, in my experience, those with acne are often the ones taking the best care of their skin. They know how much work it takes to avoid a flare-up.

Having acne has taken an immense toll on my mental health, and I’m not the only one; the emerging field of psychodermatology reveals the connection between skin health and mental health.

Psychophysiological disorders such as eczema, psoriasis, acne and hives are common “skin disorders that are worsened or, in some cases, brought on by emotional stress,” and “certain emotional states can lead to increased inflammation in the body.” This ultimately can lead to a cycle of mental health negatively impacting the skin.

After going off of birth control for mental health reasons, my acne came back — and it began to scar. Though the bumps themselves came and went, I was left with permanent imprints on my face, a visible reminder of my invisible mental struggles.

I began wearing makeup nearly every day to cover up my scars, which only plugged my pores more. It was a temporary fix, a band-aid for the days when I couldn’t handle the anxiety of going outside with a face full of acne. But it became a crutch, something I had to rely on, because underneath the foundation my pimples started getting worse. It added another aspect to the cycle: Makeup gave me more acne, which gave me more anxiety, which caused more acne and more makeup. I only stopped when I reached the bottom of my mental health barrel last winter, and instead of honing my makeup skills, I switched to working on my self-esteem.

I have gone through plenty of chemical peels and new dermatologists and prescription pills and expensive topicals to know that the best way to heal acne is to work on your mind first. Adding stress and makeup to the cycle just hurts your confidence, when healing comes from treating your skin gently, as well as yourself. Over the last 10 years of dealing with acne, I know my mind and body have a stronger connection than they did before. I am gentler with myself, in my skincare routine and in my self-talk, and know that being OK with myself will always translate into my skin.

How climate change affected my mental health

Wednesday, March16, 18,2019 2020////The The Statement 7B 7B Wednesday, January Statement

BY ISABELLE HASSLUND, STATEMENT CONTRIBUTOR

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hen I was a child, my family used to go on nighttime walks during the summer. I remember strolling along the tree-lined sidewalks of New York City, purposefully going down the least well-lit pathways so I could spot fireflies.

I would gently reach my small hands toward any pulsating green light and softly clasp my fingers together to catch them. My brother and I would giggle as light escaped from our fingertips, the fireflies’ legs tickling our palms. Light pollution may have blocked the visibility of the starry night sky, but we didn’t notice — the fireflies were the stars brought down to earth for us to enjoy. These were stars we could reach.

As I grew older and my family continued going on walks in the cool summer nights, I saw less and less fireflies. At first, I thought it was because I was growing up and not paying attention to them as much. I soon learned that the light pollution that was blocking me from seeing the night sky was also starting to shield the stars I had played with as a child — the fireflies — on Earth.

It’s important to establish early education about climate change. Even being from a city whose nickname is the “concrete jungle,” I learned about conservation and climate change from a young age. As a child, I loved going to the Bronx Zoo, where they curate each exhibit so that you must pay attention to conservation efforts and the effects of human-induced climate change on wildlife populations. Before being able to see the gorillas at the zoo, everyone was led into a small theater with dark, plush seats and curtains for walls to watch a short film about what field researchers and conservationists do to help the gorilla population. The image of field researchers carefully treading the moist rainforest soil in search of gorillas is ingrained in my mind, but the conservation lessons that come from it are much more impactful.

In a summer gardening program at the New York Botanical Gardens, my friends and I learned about the impact of pesticides and safe pest control measures, how to properly take care of and sustainably harvest a plot of land and how to use the harvest to make food and to feed other animals.

I was living in a bubble, young and surrounded by environmentally-conscious family and friends who introduced me to progressive modes of thought. The world I lived in when I was younger was trying to work its hardest to live in harmony with the planet and save its creatures — rehabilitating endangered populations, using environmentally-friendly cleaning products and using reusable bags well before a plastic bag ban was in effect.

I grew up thinking environmental regulations were of importance to the government, never dreaming that future leaders would threaten them. I thought it was a fact of life that our world will only get better from here. I strongly believed that we were on a path to living lives that would benefit — not harm — the planet.

As I grew older and met more people, my world expanded. I had to learn that there were people who did not grow up familiar with conservation efforts, who did not know of ways to live with, as opposed to against, the planet and other animals. I learned that there are people who are not empathetic to animals, plants and the inanimate parts of the earth. To this day, it is difficult for me to understand these mentalities, especially as our climate quickly and dramatically deteriorates.

The list of climate change effects is a long one: the Great Barrier Reef dying, the longer periods of drought and heat, habitat loss on a massive scale due to products such as palm oil or fires, the increased frequencies of natural disasters.

I developed climate anxiety as a result of the rapid tangible changes in ecosystems due to climate change. Human-driven climate change is not only potentially physically harmful, but psychologically harmful as well. Research shows that climate change has and will continue to exacerbate mental health issues such as anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder and depression.

I witnessed the growing climate anxiety not only in myself, but in others, first hand with the bushfires in Australia, which not only impacted the country of Australia but the entire world. Social media was flooded with pictures of severely burned animals, videos of koalas coming up to tourists for water and stories of people losing their homes. The air quality dropped drastically and situations became dangerous in major cities, like Sydney. You could see the haze of the smoke from South America.

The Australian bushfires were uncontrollable, leaving a lot of people feeling helpless. As I currently write this from Australia during the COVID-19 pandemic, I can tell you that Australians don’t panic unless there is reason to panic.

While family and friends in the United States bombard me with messages about COVID-19, life goes on in Australia. So you can imagine how impactful an event would have to be to startle the people of Australia, and that is exactly what the bushfires have done here.

Every single professor I have had here in Melbourne has mentioned the bushfires during their class — both their psychological and ecological impact. Even though the smoke’s haze has cleared, it has revealed mass habitat destruction.

My climate anxiety manifests itself in a rush of emotions — anger, disappointment, sadness, nervousness — and can creep up at any time.

Hearing about the recent Australian bushfires forced me to stop looking at my phone. I couldn’t look at social media without my chest tightening and my heart racing. My eyes welled up with tears at the sight of displaced animals.

Even smaller events trigger my climate anxiety: Whenever I witness people sorting their trash incorrectly, when I see people using singleuse plastic, when I hear people say that their one lifestyle change will not make a difference or when I watch our nation’s leaders deny that climate change is an issue driven by human impact.

My climate anxiety is triggered when I hear that the University is willing to arrest students — climate warriors — who are fighting for our future by telling those in power to take accountability in their major monetary contribution to climate change.

As I grew older, I drastically changed my lifestyle. My lifestyle acts as a therapy for me. I became vegetarian and greatly reduced my animal product consumption after observing farming practices during a veterinary sciences trip to Costa Rica. I reduce my time in the shower and try to only thrift and buy sustainably-made clothing.

My climate anxiety is caused by a feeling of a lack of control. We have few leaders to look up to, and environmental policy never seems to be at the forefront of our political sphere or in the media. The anxiety is further perpetuated by the feeling that our generation will be left to clean up the mess past generations have made.

I have had conversations with friends who are seriously considering a future that includes not having children because they do not want to bring someone into a world that will soon be unbearable to live in.

There is no “cure” to any mental health illness, but climate anxiety can be alleviated with a group effort. First and foremost, vote for those in government whose main priority is to help the environment. Educate yourself on conservation efforts and the facts about climate change. Know that every action has a large impact, a ripple effect. We need to take control with our votes, our actions and our minds — and do it with compassion. It’s not a cure, but it’s a start to a solution.

Isabelle Hasslund is a junior studying Music in SMTD and Ecology and Evolutionary Biology in LSA. She can be reached at hasslund@umich.edu.

ILLUSTRATION BY CHRISTINE JEGARL

Wednesday, March 18, 2020 // The Statement

VISUAL STATEMENT IRELAND: THE LUCKY CHARM OF EUROPE PHOTOS BY SOPHIA AFENDOULIS