2023-03-29

The University of Michigan Graduate Employees’ Organization announced in a tweet March 27 that they will begin striking. The strike will officially start Wednesday, March 29 at 10:24 AM, which will be initiated by a walk out at that time. This announcement comes after GEO members authorized leadership to call for a strike in their meeting a week earlier, with 95% of members voting in favor of a work stoppage. The last GEO strike took place three years ago in fall 2020.

The strike comes after five months of negotiations with the University without a compromise reached on a new three-year contract agreement.

In a press release, GEO claimed that striking is the natural next step in their ongoing activism, including protesting Ono’s inauguration and filing unfair labor practice charges against the University in March. In the press release, GEO said they hope it will help encourage the University to meet their demands.

Throughout their negotiations, GEO has asked that graduate employee salaries increase to $38,537 per year, claiming that what they are currently being paid is not a liveable wage in Ann Arbor. They have also asked for

GEO strikes against the University

improvements in their current health care plan and for the University to make alterations to campus security.

In response to GEO members authorizing a strike, University President Santa Ono and University Provost Laurie McCauley sent out a joint email statement to the campus community March 24. In the statement, Ono and McCauley alleged that a strike would not only be a breach of GEO’s current contract with the University, but would violate Michigan state law. Ono and McCauley expressed the University’s intent to take legal action against GEO if necessary.

“The University will take appropriate lawful actions to enable the continued delivery of our educational mission in the event of a work disruption,” the email said. “Those actions will include asking a court to find a breach of contract and order strikers back to work, stopping the deduction of union dues, filing unfair labor practice charges, and not paying striking GSIs and GSSAs for time they do not work.”

In a separate email sent out to the campus community on March 25, McCauley stated that the University will take measures to keep campus operations as normal as possible and ensure that undergraduate students will receive academic support for the duration of the strike. To do this, McCauley said the University intends to

continue good faith bargaining with GEO and working to ensure that students receive accurate final grades for their Winter 2023 classes.

“Our school, college, and department leaders are planning for substitute instructors, alternative

assignments, and other means for delivering instruction in the absence of graduate student instructors,” McCauley wrote. “Providing a high-quality educational experience for every student remains our top priority.”

Rackham graduate student

Sovoya Davis, a member of GEO, said the length of the strike will be dependent on the University’s response.

“The University of Michigan, they are responsible for this strike,” Davis said. “If they are willing to take bargaining seriously, and offer counter-

proposals that actually show some movement, then I’m sure that the Union will do all that they can to be amenable to that. You know, nobody wants to strike, we care about our students a lot, so it really just depends on the University of Michigan.”

The University of Michigan’s Central Student Government held their annual executive debate Sunday evening to give the campus community an opportunity to hear from the presidential and vice presidential candidates for the 202324 school year. Candidates were able to describe their campaign goals and the main issues they plan to address if elected. Student representatives from The Michigan Daily and The Michigan Review switched off asking the candidates questions about three main topics: administration, university affairs and student organizations.

The presidential candidates answered questions first. This year’s candidates are Engineering senior Zaynab Elkolaly, LSA junior Gabriel Ervin, Engineering junior Maria Fields, Public Policy junior Meera Herle and LSA freshman Tony Liu. Elolaly is running independently and she is an Engineering representative on the CSG assembly. Ervin is a member of the Independence Union and an LSA Student Government representative. Fields is a member of the Respect Party and an Engineering representative on the CSG assembly. Herle is a member of the Forward Together Party and she

is serving as the CSG Chief of Staff. Liu is running independently.

Several of the candidates spoke about improving mental health initiatives on campus and their plans for distribution of CSG funds, which they receive from the University, to student organizations and other campus programs.

Ervin discussed mental health in relation to high Ann Arbor rental costs.

“(Rent costs) have been out of control completely and have been an unbearable cost for many students on campus,” Ervin said. “I believe that the student government needs to work with the administration to address this problem. If the rent goes down, people are less stressed. People aren’t worried about where they’re going to get their next meal from or how they’re going to pay for their textbooks. That takes a lot of burdens off of people, and so we need to work on that together right now.”

Herle said she wants to increase access to mental health care across the University for students by expanding access to in-person counseling. If elected, Herle said she wants to work with administration to add mental health options for students that are intentionally inclusive of different communities including students of various racial, gender and sexual identities.

The University of Michigan Museum of Art unveiled three new exhibits as part of their ongoing “Curriculum / Collection” series: “Predicting the Future,” “Strategic Brand Management” and “U.S.

Citizenship: Race / Class / Gender.”

Each exhibit was developed in collaboration with multiple U-M faculty members for use in one of their classes this semester.

David Choberka, Mellon Foundation curator for U-M learning and programs, put together

all three exhibits in collaboration with U-M faculty. Choberka has been creating private galleries for U-M class student visits since UMMA established their U-M learning program in 2012 to increase student engagement. UMMA first started publicly displaying the class-specific exhibits in 2020 with the creation of the “Curriculum / Collection” series.

In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Choberka said he previously displayed works from a collection in one of the UMMA’s private study rooms for a class to discuss before the “Curriculum / Collection” series allowed works to

be displayed in the public gallery.

“One of the goals of ‘Curriculum / Collection’ was to turn those ways we use the collection for University learning into gallery experiences as well,” Choberka said. “A lot of people are very aware that it’s a University museum, so it’s really cool for them to come through and not experience just any old museum anywhere, but a museum that’s doing unique and interesting things because of our connection to learning on campus.”

“Predicting the Future”

The exhibit “Predicting the Future” draws themes from the course ALA 350, taught by LSA lecturer Cameron Gibelyou.

The course has been taught in collaboration with the UMMA and Choberka for at least eight years. In the exhibit, many of the artworks are composed around a diagonal line that extends from the lower left to upper right of the image. After giving ALA 350 students a tour of the exhibit, Choberka said the first activity he usually asks students to do is to draw their personal representation of progress on a notecard. Notecards from previous classes are displayed in the gallery.

“Everybody draws some variation on that same diagonal,” Choberka said. “Every time the students do it, it’s kind of mindblowing for them. … Whenever I ask students, ‘Why do you think we all draw the same line?’ they all talk about stock market graphs. … It’s the predominance of x-y graphing as a fundamental way we imagine the shape of progress.”

“U.S. Citizenship: Race / Class / Gender”

“U.S. Citizenship: Race / Class / Gender” interacts with several courses, including ENGLISH 332, AMCULT 103, AMCULT 300 and ALA 270. Various works from the UMMA’s collection are displayed in the exhibit, all depicting symbols like the American flag or the Statue of Liberty. The exhibit also includes a new acquisition, Sonya Clark’s “Whitewashed,” which consists of an American flag in shades of white and cream painted directly on the wall.

Campus community comes together to celebrate Holi

U-M students welcomed the start of spring at the colorful Hindu festival

University of Michigan students gathered at the W38 parking lot, located next to Elbel Field at Hill and South Division streets Sunday afternoon to celebrate Holi, the Hindu festival of colors. Organized by the Ahimsa Council, the Hindu Student Council, the Indian American Student Association and the Indian Student Association, the event was free and open to the public.

Holi is celebrated annually to welcome the arrival of the spring season, love and new beginnings. The festival usually takes place in March or occasionally in February depending on the Hindu lunisolar calendar. This year, Holi fell on the night of March 7 and continued into the day of March 8 in India.

Despite the chilly winter temperatures still lingering in Ann Arbor, the sun was shining Sunday afternoon. Participants received bags of colored powder upon arrival in vibrant hues of red, orange, yellow, pink and blue to throw at each other.

Attendees were instructed to wear white or light colors in order for the colors to pop on their clothing. Blue tarps covered the blacktop, where attendees could scatter and throw color on each other. Soon enough, the air was filled with brightly colored clouds of powder that covered everyone’s clothing, hair and faces in every shade of the rainbow.

Along with throwing colored powder, participants sang and danced along to Indian music played by a DJ, chatted with attendees and took pictures together in their freshly colored clothing.

Business sophomore Ronith Ganjigunta celebrated Holi with his family when he was younger and attended the event Sunday. In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Ganjigunta spoke on his reasons for attending the festival at the University.

“I want to continue the tradition during college,” Ganjigunta said. “I just wanted to spend time with my

friends (and) we just wanted to do something fun together.”

LSA junior Sanya Bhatia told The Daily Sunday’s event was her first time celebrating Holi. While attending the event with her friends, Bhatia said she hopes to make a new meaning of the celebration.

“Holi doesn’t actually hold that much meaning to me, and so I just hope to make a meaning with it,” Bhatia said. “I’m (most excited for) just having fun with my friends.

That’s the spirit of Holi.” Michigan IASA, one of the student organizations in charge of the event, hosts events and

performances for students to get in touch with their culture on campus.

Niharica Suri Kannan, co-logistics chair of IASA, told The Daily about the organization’s goals for the event.

“We’re just hoping that people have fun and have a good time, play Holi (and) get in touch with their roots and their culture in America,” Suri Kannan said. Snigda Narisetty, co-president of IASA, spoke with The Daily about the importance of community building for the organization.

Silver-where? UMich students are stealing dishes from dining halls

thrown out and others are taken by students who do not know that all dinnerware and utensils should remain in the dining halls.

In 2011, The Michigan Daily reported the University of Michigan spent about $40,000 annually replacing dinnerware stolen from campus dining halls. Now, more than a decade later, has anything changed?

Susan Cramer, senior associate director of MDining, told The Daily in an email that the University now spends about $60,000 more annually than they did in 2011 to replace dinnerware. “Annually, MDining will spend close to $100,000 to replenish lost dinnerware and flatware, though our manufacturer replaces any broken or chipped dishware through a warranty program,” Cramer wrote. “Notably, MDining operational costs do not influence annual tuition rates, since tuition revenue pays for the core academic mission of the University (instruction, financial aid, academic advising, etc.).”

According to Cramer, thousands of items go missing from U-M dining halls each year. Not all of those are intentionally stolen, however. Cramer told The Daily she believes some dishes are accidentally

“Over the course of an average academic year, MDining replaces (approximately) 22,000 pieces of flatware and dinnerware, which includes a combined 11,000 forks, knives and spoons; 4,000 plates; 5,000 bowls and 2,000 cups,” Cramer wrote. “Students may accidentally place dinnerware and/ or flatware in compost bins along with their compostable items or may be unaware that dinnerware and flatware should remain in the halls.”

While it is difficult to pinpoint exactly why students take reusable dinnerware from campus dining halls, LSA sophomore Flynn Lyon theorized that many students may have simply forgotten to pack utensils and plasticware with them when they moved into their residence hall.

“I think the main thing is convenience,” Lyon said. “A lot of people when they first move in, their thoughts are ‘I need to get a lamp, I need to get bedsheets and to get all these big things for my dorm.’ And I think

like that.”

Lyon recounted a story from his freshman year when he frequented the Mosher-Jordan dining hall. Lyon said one day, there were no forks in the dining hall which made eating his meal a challenge. So the next day, when the forks had been replenished, he decided to take a few with him to ensure he always had a fork when going to eat. Lyon said stealing forks became somewhat of a game until he had accumulated over 200 of them in his dorm room.

“It snowballed into this bit: ‘How many forks can I steal from the dining hall?’ ” Lyon said. “I think it got up to around 250 to 260, somewhere around there, before I eventually ended up getting in trouble and met with my hall director. I gave them back obviously.”

No matter the reasoning behind the missing items, LSA junior Ava Dobos, dining hall student manager, told The Daily the theft tangibly affects both dining hall workers and people who eat there. Dobos said the lack of silverware and dishes increases wait times in the dining halls.

“With the amount of people we serve in a night, we can get really low on silverware very quickly,” Dobos said. “We get low on dishes

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for certain places and that creates a wait time for people. But I don’t know if I credit that just to stealing; stuff gets broken.”

To temporarily address shortages due to lost and broken dinnerware, U-M dining halls have occasionally had to rely on compostable alternatives, which were also used at all campus dining halls during the pandemic. Cramer noted that using disposable dinnerware may inadvertently make students more likely to take reusable dishes out of the dining hall if they become used to taking their meals to-go.

“MDining often observes an increase in lost items when reintroducing permanent dinnerware and flatware after prolonged compostables usage, which may occur during periods of staffing shortages and equipment downtime,” Cramer wrote. “This increase in lost dinnerware and flatware may be due to students becoming more accustomed to taking compostable pieces with them outside dining spaces.”

Dobos said she often finds dinnerware thievery is blatantly obvious, though she and her fellow staff cannot do much to stop it.

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Members of the Persian Student Association perform at their Nowruz show at the Power Center Friday night.

is Ann Arbor’: tracing the history of the State and Michigan theaters

University of Michigan alum, grew up in Ann Arbor and used to go to the Michigan Theater during her time in high school and as an undergraduate at the University.

While wandering around downtown Ann Arbor at night it is hard to miss the bright orangeand-teal neon glow of the State Theatre marquee. Right across the street, the Michigan Theater sign is just as iconic — a warm array of incandescent bulbs surrounding a vertical “MICHIGAN” 10-feet off the ground. Both of the brightly-lit theaters and their retro-style signs have become landmarks for those who live close by — but how did two major entertainment venues end up so close to each other?

Both the Michigan Theater and State Theatre have historic roots in Ann Arbor — the Michigan Theater is the older of the two, at almost 100 years old it originally opened in 1928. The State Theatre opened 14 years later in 1942 as a single-screen venue, though it was upgraded to a four-screen multiplex theater in 1977. In the late 1970s, the construction of many large multiplex theaters caused smaller movie theaters to close or expand — like the State did. Meanwhile, the Michigan Theater initially remained a single-screen theater and faced financial difficulties in the late 1970s, which eventually led to the creation of the Michigan Theater Foundation in 1979 to preserve and protect the Michigan Theater. The foundation has overseen the State Theater since 2014.

Ellen PutneyMoore, director of marketing for the Michigan Theater Foundation and a

In an interview with The Michigan Daily, PutneyMoore explained the origin of the connection between the two theaters. She said after the previous owners of the State Theatre, Aloha Entertainment, decided to sell the building in 1997, a group of local buyers decided it would be supervised by the Michigan Theater Foundation along with the Michigan Theater.

“At a certain point, Aloha Entertainment decided that they wanted to get rid of the State Theatre, so a group of local investors bought the building in 1997,” PutneyMoore said. “This investor group is the one that hired the Michigan Theatre Foundation as well to operate the State (Theatre) in 1999 … the Michigan Theater (Foundation) was like, ‘Oh, no. We can’t get rid of this incredible 1942 landmark,’ so they purchased the theater in 2014.”

PutneyMoore said before the State Theatre and Michigan Theater were jointly overseen by the foundation, they were “friendly rival” theaters that focused on providing different types of entertainment.

“The Michigan (Theater) has always focused a lot more on live events,” PutneyMoore said. “Now (it shows) movies as well, but (it) will do a lot of live events, concerts, lectures, that sort of thing. It was more of a friendly rivalry — the State (Theatre) was

doing a lot of independent films and first run repertory, much like they’re still doing now.”

The Michigan Theater and State Theatre still offer different types of entertainment today. The State Theatre often plays independent and popular films, while the Michigan Theater plays any other recently released films and has the space and venue for more live performances or large events, according to PutneyMoore.

“The State (Theatre) was doing a lot of both independent films and first run repertory, much like they’re still doing now,” PutneyMoore said. “(The theaters are and historically) were distinctive because the Michigan (Theater) had the space to do live events, whereas the State (Theater) had always just been a movie theater.”

PutneyMoore said both theaters have become more than just an array of movie screens and plush seats — they are also important cultural landmarks.

“(Both theaters) are one of the crown jewels of the Ann Arbor community,” PutneyMoore said.

“I think you can see that even at the University of Michigan. We’re on all the (University’s) brochures and when they talk about the surrounding town, we are highlighted.”

LSA sophomore Maeson Linnert studies Film, Television and Media and is a part of various theatre groups at the University such as the Residential College Players and Not Even Really Drama Students so he places a high value on local performance

and entertainment spaces. Linnert said the Michigan Theater and State Theatre are smaller than most modern movie theaters, but give students an opportunity to think about the history of Ann Arbor when walking by.

“I believe they serve as a reminder to Ann Arbor’s rich history without becoming a plaque on a wall somewhere,” Linnert said. “They’re still alive and, as far as I can tell, doing pretty well.”

LSA sophomore Isabelle Zeaske, vice president of the RC Players, said a trip to either theater provides a fun escape for U-M students and Ann Arbor community members. “I appreciate that they’re some

of the most accessible historical buildings in the campus area,” Zeaske said. “Plus, they serve a fun and useful purpose.”

Business and LSA junior Brooklynne Bates is also studying FTVM and is co-president of the student organization Black Film Society. Bates said the theaters often coordinate programming with the University for events, especially within the FTVM program.

“(Compared to the Michigan Theater,) I have (more) experience in the State Theatre, not only watching movies there, but also attending different events,” Bates said. “For example, the Film, Television (and) Media

Department often brings in guest speakers who will show their movies (there). So, I’ve gone with my classmates to see movies from different directors.”

The University often holds events, such as the Penny Stamps Speaker Series, at the Michigan Theater, bringing in guest speakers and opportunities for education throughout the year. Bates said walking past the facade of the theaters makes her feel a sense of hominess and belonging in the streets of the city. “I just feel like I’m walking by a little piece of history (when I pass by the theaters),” Bates said. “You just kind of feel like: this is Ann Arbor.”

causation.

and anxiety levels are correlated in a real-world improv situation.

University of Michigan researchers found improvisational theater classes improve anxiety symptoms and lessen uncertainty intolerance in adolescents in a February study. The new study focused on students enrolled in improv classes through the Detroit Creativity Project, is the third installment of a series — including previous installments published in 2019 and 2020 — investigating the link between improv and improvements in anxiety symptoms.

February’s study was the last paper of a three-part dissertation written by Peter Felsman for his Ph.D. at the University. U-M psychology professor Colleen Seifert, statistician senior Brandy Sinco and Joseph Himle, professor of social work and psychiatry, also contributed to the study.

In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Felsman said the new study’s focus on uncertainty intolerance — negative beliefs about uncertainty and negative reactions to uncertain situations — in the context of the real world sets it apart from the other installments of the dissertation. This study examines whether uncertainty intolerance

“In the real world, this intolerance of uncertainty proposed mechanism seems to hold up,” Felsman said. “And that is really cool. So (for) people who don’t show up to improv with a high degree of social anxiety, but maybe they’re feeling depressed — learning to embrace uncertainty can be helpful to them.”

The Detroit Creativity Project works to bring improv classes directly to the schools of students in Detroit and neighboring cities.

Seifert told The Daily the project was a good topic for their study because of its aim to bring improv to students who likely hadn’t had access to improv classes before.

“(Detroit Public Schools) is an area where it’s really low resource,” Seifert said. “ … So the brilliance of the Detroit Project’s plan is it’s right in the school classroom. … You just sign up for it if you want it. So it’s very accessible.”

The researchers asked study participants to take a survey screening for mental health issues both before and after taking an improv course. Seifert said though this approach allowed all students who wanted to participate in improv to take the class, this approach made it more difficult to determine

“We didn’t want to deny anybody improv … so what we went to is called an A/B test,” Seifert said. “So you test them before they have the intervention, and you test them afterwards. And so you can’t claim that the intervention caused (decreased anxiety or uncertainty intolerance) because you don’t have a control group to see that it didn’t happen in that control group. Instead, what you do is infer a correlation.”

The survey consisted of 11 questions assessing social anxiety, uncertainty intolerance and social self-efficacy — one’s confidence in their ability to navigate social situations. The study showed decreases in both social anxiety and uncertainty intolerance after participating in the course, as well as a correlation between the two. The researchers conclude from these results that engaging in improv exercises decreases uncertainty intolerance, and that a decrease in uncertainty intolerance is associated with a subsequent decrease in social anxiety.

According to Felsman, facing situations that are unpredictable — such as those found in improv — can help people gain a more positive outlook on the prospect of uncertainty.

“Engaging repeatedly in the unknown in this fun and playful way would teach people that there’s something nice to be discovered in the unknown,” Felsman said. “It’s not always a terrifying thing.”

LSA senior Cassie Bergen is co-president of Midnight Book Club, an improv comedy group on campus. She spoke with The Daily

about how she learned to deal with unpredictability by repeatedly facing uncertain situations with people she trusts in the group.

“In practice, you do this over and over again,” Bergen said. “You go into this uncertain situation with support over and over again (and) you learn that, okay, yeah, I can do this. Yeah, I can face uncertainty

and be okay.”

Music, Theater & Dance senior Paul Legallet, the other co-president of Midnight Book Club, noted in an interview with The Daily that being able to live in the moment is not only essential to doing improv, but also helpful for improving mental health.

Former University President

Mark Schlissel will return to teach in the Molecular, Cellular and Developmental Biology department at the University of Michigan in the fall following his removal as president in January 2022. Schlissel, who was fired for engaging in an inappropriate relationship with a U-M employee, will be a co-instructor for MCDB 436 – Human Immunology in the Fall 2023 semester.

In an email to The Michigan Daily, University spokesperson Kim Broekhuizen wrote

that Schlissel maintains his tenured faculty appointments as a professor in the College of Literature, Science and the Arts as well as the Medical School.

“Mark Schlissel retains a faculty position, with tenure, that was granted as part of his initial U-M employment agreement,” Broekhuizen wrote. “Schlissel, a molecular immunologist, has a 50% appointment in MCDB. Microbiology and Immunology in the Medical School will be his home department for administrative purposes.”

In an email obtained by MLive, Schlissel confirmed his plans to teach MCDB 436. “Yes,” Schlissel wrote. “I am scheduled and plan to teach that course in the fall.”

Schlissel has previously worked as an instructor and researcher at the John Hopkins School of Medicine as well as a professor in the Department of Molecular and Cell Biology at the University of California Berkeley.

In 2011, he launched his career in university administration at Brown University as provost and moved to the University of Michigan to become the president three years later.

Documents obtained by the Detroit Free Press in January 2022 initially showed that Schlissel would retain his position as a tenured faculty member after his removal as president.

Trigger warning: descriptions of domestic abuse/gun violence

Dozens of students gathered at the Michigan League Thursday evening to hear a panel of elected officials speak about gun violence and legislation.

Hosted by the University of Michigan’s chapter of College Democrats, the event featured a panel discussion between U-M students and Michigan politicians in response to the mass shooting at Michigan State University on Feb. 13 which resulted in three deaths and five injuries.

Former state Rep. Yousef Rabhi opened the event by speaking

about the difference he noticed in how the Republican-controlled state legislature responded to the shooting at Oxford High School versus how the legislature has responded under Democratic control.

“When I was in the legislature, we were seeing gun legislation that was completely going the opposite direction every time there was a shooting or an incident,” Rabhi said. “They would propose legislation to arm teachers … but we’re only going to solve these problems if we fundamentally look at the system. And frankly, it is a system of profit.”

Rabhi then passed the microphone to U.S. Rep. Debbie Dingell, D-Mich., who has historically advocated for gun

legislation such as safe storage bills, universal background checks and red flag laws. Dingell said she was discouraged by the lack of legislative response to repeated gun violence at the national level.

“I’m just discouraged that nothing’s ever going to happen at the federal level,” Dingell said. “I am done with thoughts and prayers … thoughts and prayers don’t cut it, they don’t find solutions and nothing happens.”

Dingell shared a story about her personal experience with domestic violence as a child to highlight the prevalence of gun violence beyond mass shootings and the need for comprehensive gun control legislation.

Design by Abby Schreck

Ann Arbor Film Festival 2023: Searching for stories in Films in Competition 2

MILLAR Daily Arts Writer

The Ann Arbor Film Festival’s series of short film competitions showcases the beauty and unique nature of experimental film. The festival’s Films in Competition 2 session featured seven films ranging from five minutes to around half an hour. Each film was completely different in style and theme, requiring me to constantly readjust. From the pastels of “Roses, Pink and Blue” to the startling acoustics of “South Los Angeles Street” to the microscopic visuals of “2cent / 10coil,” I attempted to create meaning through my own interpretations, story-searching in the darkness of the Michigan Theater.

“Roses, Pink and Blue”

“Roses, Pink and Blue” (Julia Yezbick, “How to Rust”) tells the story of two lost balloons on a pastel-colored beach. We never see the balloons. White words written against visuals of the ocean and sunset tell us that a young girl has lost them. They are now drifting away, somewhere we cannot see. While the words tell us the story, the screen shows us the water and sand where the balloons floated away.

In just six minutes, “Roses” tells a poetic story about loss and the intangibility of moments in the past. The short combines poetry with visuals that maintain the aesthetic of a disposable camera. These faded, fuzzy images create a sense of nostalgia for the day on the beach when the young girl lost her balloons. Watching the film felt like looking through a photo album, remembering a moment in time when things were happier.

“South Los Angeles Street”

“South Los Angeles Street” (Leighton Pierce, “Everything’s gonna be OK”) is a portrait of Skid Row in Los Angeles from the vantage point of a fourth-floor loft. A helicopter flies above, cars drive below and the sound of honking can be heard from all directions.

The short film begins by showing the helicopter moving in slow motion across the clear blue sky. At first glance, the shot resembles a painting. The camera then moves below to the cars and then around the apartment, capturing the word “Home” written on a building. It’s clear, without words, that this street holds significance to the filmmaker — he carefully characterizes the strip of LA from every angle. “South Los Angeles Street” was a tour of the areas above and below the loft through its windows, sights and sounds included. The film feels like a love letter written to home, taking in all of the beauty that can be seen from all angles. It made me miss the trees and birds I would see in my own hometown.

“2cent / 10coil”

“2cent / 10coil” (Monteith McCollum, “Rabbit in the Sand”) explores the qualities of a U.S. postage stamp under an electron microscope. These visuals are difficult to grasp as they appear, resembling closeups of thread or cloth, and are interspersed with quotes from a speech given by former President Warren G. Harding after his journey known as “The Voyage of Understanding,” where he explored the wilderness of Alaska. The quotes appear on screen as clips from a newspaper article. “I become somewhat philosophical when I travel. I am sorry.”

“Words seem inaccurate. I wish I could convey the lure and fascination with which I grow.” These statements were scattered throughout the 10-minute film, each contributing meaning to the visuals placed behind them. In addition to the close-ups of the stamp, the

filmmaker includes images of nature. I was unsure what to make of what I saw or read until the context was provided at the end of the film: Harding’s exploration of Alaska came weeks before his unexpected death. Before passing, he explored the lanscape of Alaska, land that no

other sitting president had seen. Only then could I appreciate the visuals I had analyzed for the previous 10 minutes. There is beauty in the unknown. Her page became more of a series of diary entries accompanied by a photo of a beautiful Cambridge student, living a life of deeply curated

beauty and adventure. This was an early predecessor of the “radical vulnerability” approach to garnering Instagram fame, and it successfully launched Calloway into being the aspirational and vaguely literary influencer she had been attempting to become since the beginning.

Side Biscuit celebrates two years

Two years after opening, does

Side Biscuit hold up to the hype?

Short answer: yes

Side Biscuit sits on the edge of the student neighborhood at Packard and Woodlawn streets. It emerged in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic as the brainchild of chef Jordan Balduf. Balduf originally started Side Biscuit running online orders out of his driveway before buying the restaurant space. Side Biscuit’s cult status in the Ann Arbor restaurant scene has steadily risen since it first opened its doors in 2021. Just after its two year anniversary celebration, I decided that it was finally time to see if it lives up to the hype.

Walking into the store, you are immediately struck by how much energy is flowing through such a small space. Off to the side, they have merchandise for sale prominently displaying their Buffalo Bills inspired logo. I took about two steps before reaching the order counter with the rest of the space being occupied by a tight open kitchen where the temperature, volume of the classic rock and vibes were all sky high.

The “driveway plate” is Side Biscuit’s marquee deal, coming with six wings and the side biscuit of the week. I ordered the driveway plate with the open pit BBQ sauce. It was definitely sweet; in fact, it was one of the sweetest BBQ sauces that I have had. This was no detriment, however, as the sweetness came with equal tanginess. In addition to the BBQ, I tried the OG buffalo sauce. It absolutely blew me away. The buffalo sauce had the correct level of heat; I could totally feel it,

but it wasn’t too much to handle. It had a subtle butteriness to it that smoothed out the heat.

These sauces are nothing without the masterfully prepared wings underneath them. As a broke college student, I eat so much dining hall food and fast food that I was beginning to think that generic and processed food had gotten pretty good in terms of quality and taste. Yet these wings reminded me how good wings can really get. The meat was a much higher quality than what is normally seen in chicken wings. The chicken was noticeably juicy, as opposed to the all-too-often dry chicken wings you might see from a fast food wing. The skin was fully crispy and was clearly fried to perfection. Overall I thought that the chicken wings were spectacular.

The real star of the show was the namesake side biscuit. Every week Side Biscuit features a biscuit of the week and in honor of St. Patrick’s Day, they featured an Irish soda biscuit studded with raisins and topped with orange zest. The biscuit managed to outdo the wings in terms of quality and taste. It had a perfectly crispy outside with a hot, soft and buttery inside. Speaking of butter, keeping with the theme, it came with a side of orange marmalade butter. The butter was incredibly creamy and so good that my roommate felt justified in finishing it on its own.

Side Biscuit celebrated its twoyear anniversary of opening last weekend with a tailgate-type party outside the store. This celebration included a wing eating contest, free biscuits and a guest DJ. Over the last two years of its operation, I have heard constant claims of how elite Side Biscuit is and now I can finally attest to its cult status.

LAURA

Courtesy of Will Castle

Courtesy of the Ann Arbor Film Festival

“If you dream it, you can make it so.”

“Don’t be afraid of the space between your dreams and reality. ~Belva Davis”

When you open a “Calvin and Hobbes” comic collection, the air around you explodes with homicidal stuffed tigers and deathdefying sled crashes. Spaceman Spiff soars through a black canvas cracked with stars, and Mom is always there to push you out the front door on a frigid Monday morning. “G.R.O.S.S.” is the name of the game, and the great beloved outdoors is prettier and brighter than it’s ever been. To read “Calvin and Hobbes” is to be a kid again, to see the big world brimming with endless possibility and to know that as long as you and your tiger best friend make it home at the end of the day — where mandatory bathtime is your greatest nemesis — life is good and kind and full.

My big brother is and always will be five years older than me. The gap between a newborn and a five year old is virtually insurmountable. Even the difference between 19 and 24 is significant. But every year we get older, the gap shrinks a little. When we’re 52 and 57, we’ll be just the same: old.

Anyway, when I was little, I adored my older brother. I want-

ed to be just like him. I remember seeing him read all these different chapter books and thinking, “I can’t wait to read.” When I saw him reading “Calvin and Hobbes” comic books, it was only natural that I ended up there too. There were a lot of big words that I didn’t understand. Calvin gives quite a few philosophical soliloquies every now and then.

But I got the gist of it — Calvin is a funny 5-year-old rascal that you can’t help but adore. Hobbes is his loyal, true best friend, Nevermind that he’s actually a stuffed tiger that only comes alive when other characters aren’t around, Hobbes is very much real. My brother named our cat Hobbes. He had the name picked out before they left for the Humane Society.

I think the magic of “Calvin and Hobbes” lies in its ability to marvelously capture the sacred essence of childhood. All Calvin cares about are those warm summer days where he and Hobbes tramp out to the middle of the woods and go soaring past the trees and rocks and brooks on their rickety old sled that has yet to get them killed, despite their best efforts. Calvin hates school, never does his homework, abhors baths and loves to hate his neighbor Susie. He’s incredibly simple in his likes and dislikes, and he’s

actually quite industrious in his play. He establishes his own club called G.R.O.S.S. — “Get Rid Of Slimy girlS” — and occasionally sets up his own booth to charge people money for his advice (shockingly, no one pays him). There are very few significant characters in Calvin’s world, and it seems to exemplify the way that, when you’re a kid, the world is simultaneously so big and so small. Calvin has the time and space to consider such big questions about life, but he also has a very clear sense of immediacy and has no anxiety or concerns about the future. He’s careless in all the perfect, childhood ways.

When I read “Calvin and Hobbes,” it takes me back to those warm summer days when I had nothing to do but everything in the world to gain. My brother and I would go out into the backyard and dig up earthworms to feed to our pet quails. We’d capture roly-polies and stash them in plastic bowls covered with Saran Wrap until they died. During those long adventure days, my friends and I would turn a giant green round loveseat on its side and cover it with a blanket. One of us would crawl into the loveseat while the rest of us would roll it back and forth across the living room, laughing hysterically as we

flung our friend around the room. It was our very own homemade roller coaster. Those days were simple, beautiful and kind. Nothing in the world mattered, and we were happy.

After I moved to Michigan for college, I started giving away my “Calvin and Hobbes” books to a few family friends in the

area. They have little boys in elementary school who would probably get a kick out of all the rough-and-tumble craziness that Calvin gets into. I’m growing up now, and I’m a little too busy for comics these days. The pages are worn and wrinkled, with a few food stains here and there from when my brother and I would

snack on ice cream and crackers while reading on the floor. But even as I gave away these relics of a time bathed in golden sunlight and happy laughter, I kept one for myself. It sits on the shelf right above my desk — and every couple of months, I pull it down from the shelf, snuggle in a blanket, find a good page and smile.

I visited the house I grew up in over Spring Break. My family moved a while back, but we haven’t been able to sell it yet, so it sits empty. The room that our Christmas tree would always light up was being painted, and I was taken back to when I was 12 years old — just about to leave primary school — when I got “Pokémon Black 2” for Christmas. I was about two years younger than its protagonist, but a year older than the original protagonist of the series’s progenitor “Pokémon Red and Blue.” Now, I’m 21 years old and adults make up more and more of the franchise’s market demographic. Even with all the arguments that Pokémon will forever remain a franchise for children, the reception for the series is dying off. A once universally-adored series seemed to be running out of steam, reliant

on formulas and gimmicks now decades old.

Here’s the thing, though. Through all the noise and the rightful frustration of the infamously irritable Pokémon fanbase, its creators did strike gold with the franchise’s original core concepts. The biggest accomplishment of the Pokémon games is their ability to tie stories so closely to gameplay. Every encounter has the potential to give you a new battle partner for life in your quest to “catch ‘em all,” and every turn-based battle victory is another step on your journey (to be the very best, like no one ever was). It’s what made the series — largely relegated to 2D top-down chibi sprites — so immersive.

The core mechanics have never changed as the franchise evolved from Generations I to IX between six different handheld consoles; the formula just became more and more refined with each Gen, adding new Pokémon along the way. Fans

were satisfied because it felt like each evolution was a new chapter in the same story that pushed the limits of their handheld homes — but this seemed to peak around Gen V, with the “Pokémon Black and White” games for the Nintendo DS. From here onward, the series became reliant on battle gimmicks that wouldn’t return in future games and balancing nostalgia manipulation with proper tribute to the past: Gen VI’s Mega Evolutions,

Gen VII’s Z-moves, Gen VIII’s Dynamaxing. These weren’t new chapters or refinement of a formula, but tired tropes being repeated. When new Gen VIII titles were announced for the Nintendo Switch — a truly innovative next-gen console in and of itself, being a next-gen home console that was also this generation’s handheld — it felt like a new story needed to be written, an expectation that was betrayed by the derivativeness

of “Pokémon Sword and Shield.”

However, is Pokémon ready to tell a new story?

Enter Ash Ketchum. Or rather, exit Ash Ketchum, as the Pokémon anime protagonist wraps up his last episodes after 25 years. During those two and a half decades, he’s remained just 10 years old, as everyone around him was also ageless. He’s received many a costume change and art-style innovation, sure, but he’s never really changed or grown up as a protagonist. Of course, this leads to numerous fan theories on his supposed immortality, but it’s clear he just operates in a “floating timeline” — one that keeps the show updated in the present without accounting for aging.

But in many ways, Ash’s eternal youth and marginal maturing symbolize the state of his franchise. That’s why it’s so interesting that they’ve now chosen to finally let him move on, to introduce new protagonists.

Enter “Pokémon Scarlet and

Violet.” I’ve written on it at length, but there’s a variety of interesting innovations I didn’t mention: defying Pokémon starter patterns, breaking Pokémon Professor naming traditions, bucking the games’ story conventions entirely. Yes, the games operated poorly at launch and these issues aren’t quite yet resolved, but they’re still vastly interesting entries that aren’t getting enough credit for what they attempted to do — finally tell a different kind of story. Playing through these Gen IX games felt like they were trying their absolute hardest to give the series a new starting point — making “Scarlet and Violet” just a shade different from “Red and Blue.” But did we ever really want Pokémon to change? Are we wishing for what used to make the series so special to us? Or are we slowly realizing that maybe that spark is gone, that it left when we grew up?

My toxic trait might just be thinking I could survive “Outer Banks.” For whatever reason, patterned swimsuits and beachy music are enough to convince me that I could totally handle the “Pogue Life,” even if that means spending my days run-

ning from the police or being hunted by bloodthirsty millionaires. But despite the lifethreatening danger the show’s characters always seem to be in, something about their lifestyle has always made me intensely jealous. In fact, I still remember the exact words I texted my best friend after I finished the first season three years ago: “I want to be a pogue so bad.” And if I’ve

learned anything through the appalling amount of time I spend online, it’s that I’m not alone in that wish.

Released in April 2020, “Outer Banks” gained a cult following during the early stages of the pandemic, specifically with the teen demographic. For those unfamiliar, the show tells the story of the “Pogues,” a group of friends from the Outer Banks of North Carolina who spend their days boating, fishing and searching for the lost treasure of a famed shipwreck. After a hurricane hits the Carolina coast, the teens are left without power or working cell phones for almost the entirety of the first season. And, in my opinion, it’s this aspect that has helped elevate the series and lead it to popularity amongst a younger demographic.

It’s not that Gen Z is lacking in teenage content and media — we’re definitely not. But we are lacking in teenage content that isn’t completely intertwined with our generation’s affiliation with technology. With other Netflix shows directed at teen audiences (“Sex Education” or “Ginny and Georgia,” for example), the internet and social media are integral to the plot of the show and regularly make their way into the characters’ everyday lives (if I had to watch this scene, so do you). And honestly, with the amount of time modern teens spend online, these may not be entirely inaccurate depictions of the way we live. But “Outer Banks’ ” noticeable lack of technology helps to

show us a new perspective: not the life we do live, but the life we wish we could.

Personally, I feel like I got through high school. But I didn’t really live it. I never snuck out or even attended a high school party until spring of my senior year. What was the point? Had I decided to leave, our hightech security system would have alerted my parents immediately, and even if it didn’t, Life360 would have incriminated me by the next morning anyways. I’m not implying that my secret high school longing was to sneak out a window and go hang in some rando’s basement, or that I would have even made the choice to do these things in the first place. But, I am saying that it’s easy to feel trapped when

you don’t have the opportunity to make truly autonomous choices. Not without knowing that your technology will expose you for making the same decisions teenagers have always had the freedom to make in previous generations.

Before I became a teenager, I was told that it would bring me a newfound sense of freedom that I hadn’t felt as a child. But to be honest, I think the most independent I’ve ever felt was during my elementary school years — before I even thought about touching a cell phone. Before I could no longer go on a walk to clear my head without my location being tracked, without constant streams of text messages and follow-up question marks when my replies weren’t prompt

enough. Before I lost the feeling of freedom previous generations of teens have always had, all in the name of — well, having technology.

This is obviously not all to say that I think that tech is a bad thing — I don’t. But I do think that it’s easy to feel overwhelmed when every attempt you make to get away from it all is met with excessive information from the internet or the perpetual obligation to reply to messages, all contributing to the mental white noise of constantly consuming media. It’s easy to feel a little like a lab rat: given an illusion of autonomy, but constantly feeling as though you’re under surveillance.

Design by Tye Kalinovic

“Breaks always come right when you need them”– a wise person once told me this. Over the course of my college career, I’ve heard this phrase time and time again, whether it be courtesy of similarly stressed university students counting down the days until winter break, or a chanting placation in my own head. Regardless, it seems as though the difficulties in my life get egregiously worse right before the inevitable release of break. And given that this “wise person” was, to my knowledge, nonpossessing of psychic abilities, this final-stretch phenomenon is applicable to many, if not all, college students.

It always seems, by some odd coincidence, that the grueling weeks leading up to a break are not the typical breed of grueling that college students are begrudgingly accustomed to: assignments that seem to stretch on longer than hours in a day, loud roommates, critical parents saying your major is “obsolete” and “why can’t you just be a doctor or something useful?”. Perhaps that last part

is just a me-problem. Regardless, hidden in the fine print of our commitment to university is the typical gruel and drag that is college life. But the days or weeks leading up to a break? That’s a special kind of torture.

Right before the typical school break comes to relieve the anxieties and pressures I feel as a college student, I experience a very unique, particular type of angst. I call it the “pre-break angst.” When I know that in five, four, three days I’m going to be released from the swarm of social and academic stressors, somehow all my problems seem to hit me with the force of a Mack truck.

All of a sudden, my workload is suffocating my already barren social life, or I make a super snippy retort back to that friend who’s been making subtle digs at me all February long or, more likely, a very creative combination of the two that somehow still includes the original dilemma of the loud roommate.

This loop of heightened emotion and accumulation of stress only seems to be on such a highly concentrated repeat right before the anticipated end that comes with break. But why does the week right before break seem

to be such a tumultuous time for college students?

It’s easy to chalk it up to course load. There is definitely a correlation; during the week before break, more popularly dubbed “midterms” or “finals week,” assignments are more strenuous and demand more time and energy. We pound information into our heads as we study, then flesh it all out with a fine-toothed comb on our exams. Naturally we wouldn’t be of the most sound mind when undergoing the brainnumbing study routine that comes with midterms or finals week. Moreover, the effects of this highpressure period bleed into other aspects of our lives such as, say, our relationships with friends, our families or significant others, causing seemingly new problems that plague our minds until the metaphorical school bell rings. But really, I think these problems were always there.

My roommate will always be loud. That’s a fact I’ve had to accept from the beginning. But these seemingly newfound problems that rub me the wrong way — innocent jokes at my expense, being crushed by the weight of my academic commitments or feeling excluded from a group of friends

— aren’t as newfound as they seem. They are often very indicative of more visceral problems which have simply been laying under the radar until this catalytic point of exposure. And during that hallowed week before break, I feel like I’m going to explode from all of the pressure.

The knowledge, or rather the notion, that all of our problems will come to an end in a few days’ time allows us to express and feel our emotions with less inhibitions or perceived “realness” attached to them. Especially since the week before break is already a time of undeniable academic stress, it’s very easy to assume a sense of direct relation with other elements of stress during this time and disregard these so-called heightened emotions, chalking them up to the damning circumstance of pre-break.

Pennsylvania State University Biobehavioral Health Professor Jennifer Graham-Engeland is currently researching the effects of academic stress, such as a period of exams, on college students’ mental health and has found that the prolonged period of exam week can severely exacerbate mental health as students experience a drastic shift in academic pressure.

This almost ubiquitous level of academic stress is certainly making way for other stressors and negative reactions to manifest, but it is merely a component rather than the source of most turmoil.

During the week before a break, I’ve gotten into little spats with friends, both said and received some unkind things with my roommate or bawled in the UgLi at ungodly hours of the night. But the minute break begins, these problems dissipate and the slate is wiped clean. I feel rejuvenated — fresh as a daisy — and ready to get back into the swing of things now that my alleged irrational phase of emotions has passed. Thank goodness that whole situation is over, right? Wrong. Break will come and go, and in one-to-two months’ time, it’s the week before break all over again and, surprise, my conflict resolution has not gotten any better. The same problems will resurface again and my eyes will feel sore from an underwhelming lack of sleep, crying or rolling them at my friends who, for some odd reason, just seem to be pissing me off extra. At the time, these problems seem to derive from an accumulation of stress, but really the roots of the problems are

innate, propelling this seemingly inescapable loop. Though such issues seem to arise at full capacity during this pre-break phase, my inarguably taxing workload (despite not being a doctor) and sense of insecurity within friendships was always present. These problems were just buried under my stronger, heavier fear of confronting them. The answer was clear: This period of pre-break was my way of finally acknowledging the problems and painful feelings that felt too big for me to unpack regularly. And the magical clean slate that occurred after I rendered these emotions as invalid and circumstantial was just my excuse for not confronting these very real, very rational issues. I allowed myself to be afraid of these emotions and let them build up until they inevitably exploded. The explosion and all of its debris would stay on campus and, by the time I came back, it would all be forgotten. And then of course, I always chided myself for letting the common stress of midterms and finals plague me and my personal life yet again. After all, breaks always come right when you need them, right?

ELIZABETH WOLFE Statement Columnist

My first time writing an advice column was without submitted questions — just me, alone with my computer, spitballing at the screen. It was my senior year of high school, my final column, a last-ditch effort to leave something timeless behind. I remember splitting the column into sections: on health, on relationships, on wellness in general. It was broad but heartfelt — maybe not as applicable to others as I would’ve wanted — but I remember thinking, It would be cool to do this for real.

My second time writing an advice column was a brief stint last year on the Opinion section of The Michigan Daily. Myself and two other writers were hired to answer submissions, except, by the time the deadline came around, we had received hardly any questions to pen advice in response to. At the end of the semester, my recently-graduated sister admitted to submitting honest-ish submissions with her friends so that we would have something to reply to. I had a small suspicion after getting a submission about a roommate who refused to watch anything except curling during the 2022 Winter Olympics, but decided to withhold my skepticism.

At that point, the advice gig was coming to a close. The columns fizzled out quickly, and I wrote other pieces during that semester to fill the time. When the fall 2022 semester arrived, I transferred to The Statement, and my advice column prospects dissipated along with the change. But it wasn’t gone from my mind.

I felt like I had failed.

Submissions never took off, and I only answered about three or four questions. It left me considering the philosophy of advice itself:

Words from a failed advice columnist

What made me think I was qualified for the position? Did readers feel they could trust me?

What do we look for in an advice column? How could I — how can anyone — do this right?

My first experience with an advice column was through American Girl’s monthly magazine, with little scoops on classroom crushes and embarrassing moments. From there, my tastes matured. Even now, when I think of the classic advice column, my mind turns to ’80s and early 2000s magazines and online forum submissions, like Reader’s Digest — women writing to other women about their husbands, boyfriends, diets and bodies. But glossy print magazines certainly weren’t the OG advice columns.

The first English advice column was published in 17th century England by John Dunton, editor in chief of the Athenian Mercury. According to writer Carolina Ciucci of Book Riot, London newspapers at the time “answered letters about current events and history, but Dunton also entertained letters about such disparate topics as botany and premarital sex.”

Both men and women were allowed to submit questions, and Dunton created not only a women’s section of the Mercury, but eventually a magazine dedicated solely to women: the Ladies Mercury. Though, this avenue ultimately barred women from conversations about the “arts and sciences, history, the world” and relegated them to “the purely personal.”

For the next two centuries, advice for women took the form of conduct books. Unlike etiquette books, which stressed manners for young women, conduct books intended to “mold the character of a young woman and teach her how to think, act, and speak in a way that was both morally and

socially proper,” as clarified by writer, Rachel Dodge, in a blog post on Jane Austen’s World. These books took the form of manuals, letters and pamphlets. Conduct books written by both white men, and eventually white women, reinforced gender roles and white assimilation. For example, in “A Father’s Legacy to His Daughters” by John Gregory, he advises “modesty, which I think so essential in your sex, will naturally dispose you to be rather silent in company, especially in a large one … One may take a share in conversation without uttering a syllable.”

The advice column we know today is closely aligned with the work of Beatrice Fairfax, a pseudonym for the late 19th century journalist Marie Manning. She created an outlet where “people could write about their personal troubles — love and domestic — and receive unbiased opinions.” The Fairfax column was key in establishing this genre of journalism, leading to iconic columns just as Reader’s Digest and Dear Abby.

While the advice column has developed from its original habits rooted in white patriarchy, the modern advice column is, nevertheless, poised towards a white, female, middle-class audience. I think this history is fundamental when considering how to invite inclusivity and diversity into submissions. What sort of topics does the writer express interest in discussing? If their focus is narrow, are there other writers covering the wide spread of questions?

This history is also not without consequence for men. It is not that men, particularly white men, were excluded from the genre, but rather they initiated a level of control that made them the authorities of advice, especially with the publishing of conduct books. Over time, as women-only

sections developed and indulged readers in frivolous matters, the advice column as a whole took on that reputation. I would argue the advice column is not womendominated today because women need the most advice, but because men are conditioned to view seeking out advice as a feminine activity, if not a weakness.

We must also consider how this history influences the writer. What gives someone the credibility to pen an advice column? Is it many years and experiences under their belt? Is it a degree in sociology, psychology or social work? How do you account for differences in age, gender, race, sexuality and so on?

As much as we may try to imagine, there is no pictureperfect advice columnist. Credibility for an advice columnist is different from the credibility of a news journalist. Advice relies on opinion and personal experiences, and it’s much harder

to reflect one’s common sense and empathy without facts and data as evidence supporting their ability. I would argue it is less about experience or education and more about character. This is not a solution; degrees and experiences can be reflective of intelligence and wisdom, but even then, the qualities that make someone good at giving advice are intangible and vary from person to person. I believe empathy and the ability to be honest about your perspective and shortcomings make someone an admirable advice columnist.

So what makes a good advice column? What makes an opinion good advice? If you can believe it, I have some advice to give. I hope my credibility comes across through my previous attempts at advice giving and recognition of the problematic history of advice writing in the English language. Here is what I believe are the basic necessities for a wellwritten advice column:

Number one: An advice column is not timeless. Rather, all advice is timeless. The definition of advice is “an opinion that someone offers you about what you should do or how you should act in a particular situation.” In this case, the advice you give is particular, so it shouldn’t be aimed at fixing all related issues. But at the same time, good advice may be abstracted and applied to other problems by readers. So with that said, even these suggestions are subject to change.

Number two: Everyone in this exchange (the writer, the asker, the third-party reader) is vulnerable. These feelings are exacerbated in a college setting, and not just for men. I find one of the struggles with asking for advice among peers, especially in a competitive college setting, is the fear of seeming weaker or less intelligent than others.

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

To be a 16-year old girl at summer camp

OLIVIA MOURADIAN Statement Columnist

At the age of 16, from 4 to 5 p.m. for the better part of two weeks, I sat on a damp towel in Franklin, Mass. reading aloud to some of my cabin mates at an Armenian summer camp. Like many summer camps, Camp Haiastan was relentlessly regimented. Part of that regimen consisted of an hour of free swim in the afternoons, a chlorine-coated reprieve from the hours of playing games under the sun’s scrutiny. In the first few days of camp, I would choose to swim with my cabin mates, but most days I’d opt to read Nicola Yoon’s “Everything, Everything” on my towel. Some of my cabin mates would sit with me,

and eventually, I began reading out loud to them. As we weren’t allowed to have phones, or any technological devices, books and letters had become our primary forms of media. For those few days, cut off from the rest of the world, that towel, that book and those girls felt like where my world started and ended. Even years after those sunsoaked afternoons came and went, sandwiched by many years before and after, they still stick out as some of the most carefree and special hours of my life. Beyond our reading sessions during free swim, and despite most of us not knowing each other extensively beforehand, there was something so special about camp that drew my cabin mates and I together within a day

or two of walking through the door of our well-worn cabin for the first time. On one of our first nights at camp, preferring sharing hushed conversation to adhering to a scheduled bedtime, we all gathered in a circle on the forestgreen wood floor of our cabin with flashlights on after lights out. A self-described oversharer, I suggested we all go around the circle and share our “life stories.”

At the time, it was just an attempt for me to exchange emotional vulnerability for social connection. In retrospect, I’m struck by how quickly we were able to open up to each other about some of life’s most challenging subjects. Sitting cross-legged in our pajamas, we discussed religion, fears of becoming our parents, belonging

in the Armenian community, sexuality, losing friends, body image and so on for hours. In a world that insists on the necessity of women working against other women, this circle embodied female trust and camaraderie to a degree that I haven’t seen since. We passed around flashlights and tissues, knowing that this wasn’t something we’d ever get back. From that night on, those girls — almost all of whom I didn’t know prior — became lifelines in places I didn’t know I needed saving.

In addition to how naturally my cabin seemed to click, summer camp’s unique offering to do things exclusively for one’s own enjoyment also contributed to the authenticity of our relationships. Looking back, I’m surprised I went to Camp Haiastan once — let

alone three times. The activities there typically encourage either athletic ability or a knowledge of Armenian culture and history — two things I have always felt I particularly lack. Whether it was understandably being the last pick for someone’s dodgeball team or stumbling through the Lord’s Prayer in Armenian before meals, being bad at the things I was tasked with left me feeling exposed. But once I realized that this particular context of vulnerability would only exist for two weeks, my interest in presenting a particular image of myself to those around me became limited. Particularly at cultural summer camps, there’s almost no evading feelings of otherness in some way, and I know several of my cabin mates shared my disinterest in appealing to ideals we’d never reach. And with that commonality, we all met each other where we were — not where we were told we were supposed to be.

For those two weeks, I was energized by the transience of the physical and mental spaces I was in. There’s something distinctly formative about living in the same room as seven other girls and knowing that you only have two weeks together. I shared fears and insecurities that normally took me months, if not years, to be honest with someone about, and watched the girls around me do the same.

I said ‘yes’ to everything because I knew the context I was living in had a two-week expiration date. I went out of my way to do things that I wouldn’t normally do, and so did a lot of the people around me. My cabin mates and I adopted the practice of saying every day was “our day,” laying claim to each hour as if it was ours alone. I spent several nights staring into the trees above me watching flying squirrels jump from one branch from the next. It was tradition to stay up all night on the last day of camp, and all I can remember from that night now is watching the sky above “picturesque Uncas Pond” lighten in the early morning.

Watching the sun rise with my cabin mates, I struggled to come to terms with the fact that we were all leaving and for the first time questioned what would become of these relationships that had all at once become central in my life. For many, nostalgia plays a crucial role in retrospective perceptions of summer camp. I’ve found that the most nostalgic moments are often the most unattainable. The more out of reach a positive memory is, the more we miss it. Summer camps excel at maintaining this elusive quality: I will simply never be 16 with a schedule consisting exclusively of playing games I’m bad at in rural Massachusetts, and talking with new people from different corners of the country over cheese boregs again. Once you sign out of a summer camp, it’s back to the real world: the microcosm of early mornings and flashlights after dark collapses just quickly as it was created. While I don’t talk with any of my cabin mates regularly now, I see snippets of their lives on social media and sometimes I wonder if they think of the fudgy ice creams from the camp store or the five-minute showers or the dance lessons or the midnight conversations that I could have sworn would never end. In writing this, I’ve realized how much my memory of this place and the people I shared it with has faded. I don’t think of Camp Haiastan often, but when I do I am forced to acknowledge how different I am now. The confidence I once had has been eroded by self-doubt; the girlhood I once shared with my seven cabin mates now feels like an impossible caricature of youth. Despite knowing that place and the person I was there will perpetually be out of reach, when I revisit memories of camp I always have this quiet hope that if I think about it long enough, it won’t be gone — and that I’ll feel that same sense of assumed trust in the world and in myself again.

Design by Leilani Baylis-Washington

Design by Leah Hoogterp

Hip-Hop’s Evolution: from political empowerment to commercial beast

KARIS RIVERS MiC Columnist

The years spanning 1991 to 1993 are widely recognized as the peak of golden age Hip-Hop. This title has been rightfully earned due to the creativity and diversity present within the music produced at the time. But what about what came after? Hip-Hop’s evolution and growth in popularity during this period led to the dilution of its creative impact and what I would consider to be a stale placeholder of what once was. By no means do I intend to assert that the art form has no value now, but rather that this diverse and complicated genre has found itself riddled with stereotypes. To understand how it reached this point, we must dissect the evolution of Hip-Hop. Originally a creative tool of expression used by and for Black people, it has transformed into a commercial beast that dominates the way we, as Black people, perceive ourselves.

Hip-Hop is not just a genre, but a way of living for the people who partake in it. It is a culture that is a culmination of the history, language and media of the Black community. It feeds into the music, and the music in turn feeds back into it. Beyond that, it is an expression of creativity that Black and brown people use to uplift themselves from the struggles that plague their communities.

In the face of the peak of the crack epidemic, these struggles intensified. When crack use surged in cities, legislators brought about the War on Drugs, and economic destruction and hopelessness followed. In his article “The Crack Epidemic and the Transformation of Hip Hop: A Bronx Tale,”

Mark Naison discusses how Black artists responded to the crisis. The first response was to push Black unity and resilience, drawing influence straight from the Black Power movement of the ’60s and ’70s, in which the Black community asserted racial pride and empowerment. This is reflected in the music of artists like Public Enemy, which contained politically charged messaging and lyrics that appear in songs like “Fight The Power” and “911 Is a Joke” among others. By uniting, the community

could reclaim its power and fight against the daunting systems at play. The second response is best understood as the emergence of the “hustler” or “gangsta” figure as both a hero and anti-hero for the Black community. The “hustler” and “gangsta” figures were very alike and originally represented success by any means necessary. In

“The Hip Hop Wars”, Tricia Rose depicts these figures as a complex reality within major cities during tough times. Groups like N.W.A. sought to take on the livelihoods of these figures and tell their stories.

The generation consuming music at this time had almost nothing to lose and everything to gain. They were seeking escapes from poverty, addiction and violence in their communities and were in desperate need of power over their own livelihoods. In his book “Somebody Scream!” Marcus Reeves discusses how once the “hustler” figure became an icon that everyone wanted to exemplify, N.W.A took advantage: “The age of crack turned urban Black communities into cauldrons of selfishness, paranoia and violence, and N.W.A turned those sentiments into a fresh musical movement.”

N.W.A.’s success was a cultural reset that changed the trajectory of Hip-Hop from that point on by solidifying “gangsta” rap as a distinct subgenre.

N.W.A. was violent, ruthless, a little scary and unmatched in power and reach. The group released countless songs that blew up in the charts, while also discussing issues close to the communities from which they came — including those involving the police and sys-

temic racism. However, Ice Cube’s departure from the group led to less politically charged messaging and more controversy. N.W.A. began emphasizing what we now understand to be key to music of this era: the degradation of the Black woman, the glorification of violence and drugs, and the rise of the “hustler” icon which manifested in both their artistic and personal lives. A prime example of this is Dr. Dre’s physical assault on Dee Barnes, which only helped to reinforce his “gangsta” image amongst the general public. The members of N.W.A. were by no means the only rappers who glorified these ideals.

2 Live Crew and Geto Boys were habitual offenders. Violence and misogynoir — hate and prejudice geared specifically toward black women — were becoming common issues for rappers, and the community was torn.

This problem bubbled and boiled over outside of cities and into white America — this changed the game completely.

“Gangsta” rap’s spread in nonBlack sectors of the United States led to peaks in commercialism, allowing it to become a product to be sold to white teenagers. There are many essays that document the appeal of “gangsta” rap to white Americans, but readers of The Source magazine put it best: “gangsta” rap gives white consumers the chance to “live out their ‘Ghetto fantasies’ ” and opens up a massive market in the music industry.

It’s 9 o’clock in the morning and the start of the semester. Your social battery didn’t charge enough over break to be talking to dozens of people, but small talk and introductions are unavoidable this first week. When prompted, each person gives their spiel: Name, year, major, maybe a fun fact and of course “Where are you from?” That question always makes me a little uneasy. I usually answer with a simple “Livonia.” That answer though feels ingenuine as it doesn’t feel like the city belongs to me and frankly, even from a young age, I understood that it never did. I have vivid memories of an elementary school-aged me explaining how I lived in a “white neighborhood.” I knew it belonged to them. Even as homeowners, the Kouassi family rented that space. We could not take pride and ownership of our neighborhood as a home. We didn’t get the full benefits of suburbia that everyone else did. Why did my family drive 20 minutes every day to Detroit and then 45 minutes every day to Troy to take me to school when other kids in the neighborhood simply took the bus to neighborhood schools? Why did my family, especially my father, go to work and straight back home, not taking walks around the block or making friends with other families in the neighborhood? And, when we first moved in, why were there eggs thrown at our house and dead birds left at our door? You guessed it: racism and not being welcomed within that environment. As intense as my family’s story may sound, it is a microcosm of the larger issue of housing inequality and residential segregation in this country.

freedmen. Subsequent legislation and actions, however, would serve as a catalyst for residential segregation becoming increasingly racialized.

With my head on the pillow in a state of sleep delirium, I blindly click shuffle on my playlist.

“Oh, I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien” — “Englishman in New York” by Sting reverberates throughout my bedroom, the sound of soprano saxophones swirling around in my subconscious. I smile to myself, considering my own experiences as an “Englishman in New York.” Metaphorically speaking, of course, since I write this sitting in a coffee shop in the heart of Ann Arbor.

As the saying goes, I jumped across the pond — from London to Michigan — and began living

Design by Sara Fang

Douglas Massey and Nancy Denton’s “American Apartheid” suggests that racial segregation between Black and white populations in the U.S. has been steadily increasing since the mid-1800s. Due to rampant anti-Black racism post-abolition, indices of Black-white segregation almost doubled in northern cities and almost quadrupled in southern cities between 1860 and 1940. In historical eras that preceded this, while residential segregation existed, class was a leading factor in where people lived. Poor white sharecroppers could be seen living alongside

Between the mid-1910s and 1930, during the Great Migration a large influx of Black Americans moved northward and westward to escape racial violence and gain access to new industrial jobs. As competition for these jobs increased between “native” white people, white immigrants and Black Southerners, discrimination and tensions began to reflect this dynamic. Pre-existing anti-Blackness and this new resentment manifested in a combination of private and institutionalized practices, which barred Black Americans from living in certain communities, leaving them segregated and isolated amongst themselves. Some common practices that were utilized included zoning restrictions and the buying out of Black residents. Others included restrictive covenants written into deeds, which made ownership or renting of properties by Black people illegal, blockbusting, redlining and physical violence. At the same time, white Americans were benefiting from the subsidization of suburbanization. After World War II, the Federal Housing Administration and Veterans Affairs began giving generous loans to white families moving into white, suburban neighborhoods. Clear lines began to form between groups, thus creating the “Black ghettos,” void of resources and opportunities, and the “white neighborhoods” that a younger version of me could clearly identify.

Even after the Fair Housing Act outlawed these more overt forms of discrimination in 1968, the intense racial segregation persisted via

Englishman in New York

among fish who were complete strangers to me. While I thrive on new adventures far out of my comfort zone, this one in particular came with its own set of advantages and drawbacks. On the first day of college, I was met with unexpected cultural obstacles. My first interaction went along the lines of:

“Bet, I’ll see you there,” to which I responded, “Why are we betting on this?” As the semester went on, I began to internally decipher the ways in which Americans think and act. To my surprise, they were doing the same with me.

“I don’t drink coffee, I take tea, my dear.”

Sting has the right idea. I was astounded by the sheer amount of people waiting for their Starbucks order at any given moment in the

day. My guilty pleasure is –– and always will be –– a cup of tea with copious amounts of sugar; coffee simply does not compare. On the topic of food, what I call “painau-chocolat,” my friends call “chocolate croissant” — which I discovered when I ordered one at a cafe, much to my embarrassment. Later, I asked a barista where the toilet was, to which she gave me a strange look and pointed toward the “bathroom” sign. Before asking for water, I always prepare myself to eliminate the “t” entirely, for fear of dehydration.

“You can hear it in my accent when I talk” — so much so that when speaking in class, I see a mountain of heads turning to face me, their ears pricking at the sound of a voice unlike their own.

My accent seemed to me like some sort of barrier, hindering my ability to connect. Finding it difficult to relate to others with what I knew, I began to make myself more malleable by shaping my own experiences to fit within the framework of Midwestern America. Although “slay” has yet to enter my vocabulary, I now have my own opinions on everything from ranch as a suitable condiment to March Madness to the strange phenomenon of using one’s hand as a map.

Growing up in Wimbledon, tennis encompasses my childhood experiences and my neighborhood. It reminds me of the perfect start to the summer season — afternoons spent with my family on Wimbledon Tennis grounds are a quintessential Brit-

ish experience. I recall the only two weeks in a year when my street is amassed with crowds from all over, scrambling to catch the evening matches. Playing tennis also acts as a form of therapy for me. It requires fierce concentration, sparking a connection between my body and my brain. This solitary sport forces me to synchronize all my senses in one fell swoop.

Tennis is a topic that I speak about quite often, especially when interacting and introducing myself to new people. While some friends share my love for tennis, most others find it to be an intriguing aspect of my personality. Initially, I had perceived my “Britishness” as a limitation and something to be given little

more covert forms of discrimination. Banks began to discriminate by either not supplying loans to Black families or by only considering more risky loans. Real estate agents would strategically only show certain homes to Black families and white families would participate in white Flight by leaving a neighborhood after a Black family moved in, for fear of their property value dropping or of integration. Living in proximity to Black families became a threat to white families’ social and economic capital. Within six months of my family moving into the neighborhood, a white family moved away. Then within two years of our move, another white family left the neighborhood. While I don’t know the exact reason for their leaving, in many ways, this echoed the trends of the past. My family represented a threat to them, their property value and their community’s white purity and homogeneity.

My Black family is not a threat. None of the Black families that have been subject to discriminatory housing practices were. We are like any other family. We have family dinners, we sing and dance together, we tend to our lawns, we laugh, we cry, we survive and we ignore the isolation of our house’s walls. So when I introduce myself in class, sure, I will still say I am from Livonia. However, when I say it, I will say it without pride because I know Livonia, and cities like it around the country, as well as their people and their practices, are and have historically been a threat to my family and people that look just like me.

attention to. Instead, it became an instrument yielding candid conversations and authentic relationships.

Sting reminds his listeners that “manners maketh man.”

So, two years later, I now know that connections are not premised solely on similarities. I don’t need to mimic mannerisms or adjust my own identity in order to make space for myself within a new environment. The topic of tennis was a conversation starter that was unique to me; it allowed me to express my own narrative.

In truth, I prefer being the person that makes heads turn and I enjoy the questions that follow. If manners do in fact maketh man, I would rather stick to what I know and learn from what I don’t.

Share your ideas with the Inclusive History Project

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NURAIYA MALIK MiC Columnist

‘Where are you from?’: a reflection on residential segregation

LAUREN KOUASSI MiC Columnist

Aditi Khare/MiC

JULIA VERKLAN AND ZOE STORER Managing Editors

Debates on the Diag

From The Daily: Vote Zaynab Elkolaly, Salma Hamamy, MPower on March 29-30

THE MICHIGAN DAILY EDITORIAL BOARD

From The Daily: A strike would be bad on your record

On March 7, 2023, University President Santa Ono was inaugurated as the 15th President of the University of Michigan, and was immediately greeted with a crisis inherited from presidents past. Promptly after his inauguration ceremony, freshly minted President Ono was met by hundreds of students in front of Hill Auditorium. Among those present were members of the Graduate Employees’ Organization carrying signs with their demands for the University, ranging from increased compensation to better healthcare coverage and childcare benefits. This picket comes on the heels of another unfruitful month of bargaining between the labor union and the University. On many occasions, GEO and the University have been able to come to a compromise — but at this moment in time, a strike is imminent.

GEO last went on strike in Fall 2020; for nearly two weeks, thousands of graduate student instructors didn’t show up to work. Discussion sections went unattended, some professors canceled class in solidarity and, for some students, education ground to a halt. Despite allegations by the University that the strike violated the bargaining agreement the union signed — a claim the University is making again — GEO was successful: They were able to achieve better childcare options, greater support for international graduate students and a safer working environment at the height of the pandemic. This strike, although generally disruptive to the learning environment of the University and its students, increased the visibility of graduate student conditions and inspired the action of other student employees.

Strikes are rarely a positive thing for the reputation of the aggrieving employer. Several times in its history, GEO has protested against the University, and each time these protests have negatively harmed the University’s reputation. Canceled classes, increased media attention and many dissatisfied members of the U-M community could prove unpredictably damaging to the foundation of the institution, and could even dissuade parents of high school seniors from sending their children to the University of Michigan. In an ideal world, the University would be able to take GEO’s concerns into consideration without taking damage to its public image. However, the University’s lackluster reactions to GEO’s demands and proposals have all but necessitated this drastic turn. These consequences are revealing. If GSIs can turn the campus upside down it is proof of the critical role that graduate students play in the University’s operations. GEO is well within their right to strike and, in using that power to attempt to change the framework of campus, they are making their platform and purpose at the University known. Whether they are in classrooms or lecture halls, labs or offices, graduate students play pivotal roles in the functioning of the University and undergraduate students’ lives.

Undergraduate students will be one of the primary groups affected by the strike. Many undergrads interact with a Graduate Student Instructor almost every day, whether that be in a lecture hall, office hours or in a GSI-taught class. Although many undergraduate students support GEO’s cause, they are nervous about what a strike will mean for their academic experience, especially as the end of the term nears. The campus is looking down the barrel of a full fledged disaster, a dissolution of trust built between students

and the University — between students who picket and students who will eventually cross the picket line. In addition to upset undergrads, the domino effect of disaffected parents and donors could cause the University an even greater headache in the long term.

It is important to recognize, however, that this point could have been avoided by action on both sides. There have been moments where GEO’s demands have seemed superfluous in comparison to their core grievances, and there is a chance that if they had been left out, an agreement would have been reached by now. But it is the University that has, more often than not, prevented progress: the U-M administration has failed to handle these negotiations artfully, downplaying the necessity of their solution and conclusion. GEO’s most important demand, a $14,500 raise (about 60%), was initially met with a paltry $481.10 (a 2% raise) in the first year. After months of negotiations, the University increased their counterproposal to $721.65 (a 3% raise) in the first year. Most recently, the University offered a 5% raise in the first year, followed by 3.5% and then 3% raises in the second and third years of the contract.

Regardless, GSIs deserve competitive wages and should feel that the academic institution they are a member of is there to support them — not to diminish the importance of the GSIs’ other needs. It is of utmost importance that, in the midst of a strike, the University thinks critically about the impact such a protest will have on student life and campus culture.

While also acknowledging the difficulty of meeting certain GEO demands, the University should come to a measured and considerate decision that not only reflects the importance of GEO’s requests, but also of the well being of both graduate and undergraduate students.

The University of Michigan community faces an important decision this week. All students in the University’s 19 schools and colleges are eligible to vote in the presidential election for Central Student Government, and though these elections have had a low turnout in the past, the CSG executive is still an influential position on campus, acting as the primary interlocutor between students and the U-M administration. The University’s student government has defined the campus conversation on a number of important issues, from successfully centralizing the vibrant Vietnam War protest movement on campus to eliminating general admission tickets for football games. These examples highlight two distinct roles that CSG has embodied in the past: a megaphone for nation-wide activism and a persistent voice for issues that affect students — particularly ones for which no other organization is as effective an advocate.

It is with this dual mandate in mind that The Michigan Daily Editorial Board voted to endorse Zaynab Elkolaly and Salma Hamamy, running under the MPower ticket, for CSG president and vice president in the election on March 29 and 30. Though all four tickets interviewed by the editorial board would bring a wealth of experience and substantive proposals to the CSG executive, Elkolaly and Hamamy’s focus on accessibility, accountability and outreach set them apart. Multiple tickets expressed concerns about the culture and approachability of CSG; in the end, Elkolaly and Hamamy brought the best combination of concrete solutions and passion to address these issues and best improve the wellbeing of U-M students.

Elkolaly, the presidential candidate, is a senior in the College of Engineering Honors program, majoring in nuclear engineering with a minor in political science. Elkolaly has a well-documented background in student advocacy and University affairs. She served on the Coordinated Community Response Team, a University-organized initiative that assesses and works toward combatting the persistence of sexual assault on campus, and as the DEI coordinator within CSG itself. Through these efforts, and through a history of advocacy on issues ranging from criminal justice

Spring Break woes

to climate change, Elkolaly has supported a diverse set of student voices. Outside of these spaces, she is energetically involved in different student organizations, such as the Asian Student Association and Students Allied for Freedom and Equality, giving her a unique perspective as an organizer, in tandem with her work in student government.

Hamamy, the vice presidential candidate, is a senior majoring in Biology, Health and Society and Middle Eastern and North African Studies in the College of LSA. Aside from being a research and medical assistant, Hamamy has experience with various positions in LSA student government and in leading multiple projects. She was the Sisterhood Director for the Muslim Students’ Association, where she created a mentorship program and a sisterhood discussion series, and co-founded the organization One Mind At a Time, which seeks to improve literacy rates around the world. Like Elkolaly, Hamamy has a wide range of experiences in student government and student organizations, with a focus on building communities and working toward positive, material change.

Crucial to the MPower platform is inclusion: Elkolaly and Hamamy provide a set of innovative, actionable steps that not only promote true inclusion by uplifting voices on campus that are often left unheard, but also center the grassroots advocacy already embedded in this campus. Elkolaly and Hamamy’s commitment to uplifting student voices is best characterized by their support for the Ethical Investment Project, where they plan to “establish compensation to organizations engaging in activism and civic action” through a simple application process. Their platform also calls for solidarity with the Graduate Employees’ Organization, who just announced their plan to go on strike, and for reallocating Division of Public Safety and Security funding to organizations that are more focused on helping students, such as Counseling and Psychological Services and the Sexual Assault and Prevention Awareness Center.

Beyond that, Elkolaly and Hamamy are committed to increasing the accessibility and transparency of CSG’s Student Organization Funding Committee. The ticket told the editorial board they hope to provide public, periodic and detailed information on where CSG allocates student funds. This would go further than the financial transparency CSG

currently offers, and would include graphics and presentations that are more accessible to students, such as a newsletter. Multiple tickets, including candidates serving on the CSG Assembly, expressed concern and confusion around CSG’s current financial transparency measures to the editorial board.

Elkolaly and Hamamy also emphasized simplifying the SOFC reimbursement application process, which they described as “byzantine” in nature. More than just streamlining the application form, the MPower ticket told the editorial board that they would like to prioritize SOFC funding for smaller or newly-formed student organizations, which often lack the financial resources to pay for events out-of-pocket and hope that SOFC is able to reimburse them later. Though we have concerns around SOFC giving student organizations funding up front — as those organizations might overestimate their expenses and ask for more money from SOFC than they need — Elkolaly and Hamamy’s commitment to helping clubs with fewer resources is clear.

Underlying the MPower platform and its initiatives is something undeniably unique about Elkolaly and Hamamy. Their ticket registered only two days before the deadline and — unlike the other three tickets we interviewed — without an associated party. The candidates told the editorial board they felt their campaign was more a result of necessity than desire. As representatives of student voices they consider often unacknowledged, Elkolaly and Hamamy decided to run to change the culture of CSG. They are not concerned about running without a slate of Assembly candidates, either. Elkolaly and Hamamy told the editorial board that they have strong relationships with Assembly members and would prioritize building a new coalition by making student government more hospitable to its own members and to communities outside of CSG. After careful consideration of four persuasive CSG tickets, Elkolaly and Hamamy’s overwhelming commitment and authenticity convinced the editorial board to endorse MPower. By prioritizing an inclusive environment and delivering actionable proposals, we believe they will do an overwhelming amount of good for the University and its students should they be elected into office. Vote Zaynab Elkolaly and Salma Hamamy on March 29-30 for CSG President and Vice President.

Reclaim and embrace being a prude

AUDRA WOEHLE Opinion Columnist

From “hussy,” “floozy,” “tramp” and “tart,” to “hoe,” “skank,” “whore” and “slut,” we certainly have no shortage of names to call a promiscuous woman. The word “whore” was first used in the 16th century to refer to a prostitute or harlot, while “slutte” was first used in the 15th century to describe a slovenly, untidy woman. From old Germanic dialects, to Old and Middle English to now, words like these have continued to develop in order to comment on and police womens’ sexual behavior.

While these terms have been created and continually used toward sexist ends, they have been similarly adopted by the group these words are most often directed at: women. This can, in some cases, take the form of women using the same

RUSHABH SHAH Opinion Columnist

“ Call your mom,” he said, followed by a long, drawn-out pause. “Everybody.” Only after a raise of the eyebrows and direct eye contact with every individual in the audience did he continue.

“I’ve told this (to) like a billion people or so. Call your mom, call your dad. If you’re lucky enough to have a parent or two alive on this planet, call them. Don’t text, don’t email, call them on the phone and tell them you love them and thank them and listen to them for as long as they want to talk to you.” Those were the words of American actor J.K. Simmons after he won an Oscar

misogynistic terms against other women. Even when used by women, these words and their connotations just can’t seem to be shaken, and thus, many have called to make the move to abandon them altogether. In the words of Tina Fey’s character Ms. Norbury from “Mean Girls,” “You all have got to stop calling each other sluts and whores. It just makes it ok for guys to call you sluts and whores.”

Beyond cruel intent, however, these words have been increasingly used as terms of endearment, as a means of reclamation. For some, using these terms around trusted friends is a way of taking away the strength of their sexist connotations. “Slut” has specifically been used to platform protests against sexual violence via the SlutWalks, which arose in response to a Toronto police officer’s advice “to avoid dressing as sluts.”

“Whore,” “slut” and all their synonyms are words

in 2015.

A few weeks ago, we saw two Oscar winners, Michelle Yeoh and Ke Huy Quan, once again show their parents some love while receiving their awards. In both of their acceptance speeches, they talk about their mothers, who, at the ripe old age of 84 (yes, both of their mothers are 84), stayed up into the middle of the night just to watch their children take American cinema’s biggest stage.

Now, I’m well aware that movie stars aren’t really the best source of advice for the “regular” person, mostly because they are difficult to relate to. Most of them live a life of luxury, bereft of a lot of the struggles that lower-income groups face every day. However,

with centuries of sexist, deprecating baggage. To overcome objectification and the expectation to be both appealing and pure, we can rewrite the definition of these words and turn them into compliments or a title of power.

A slut is no longer a slovenly, untidy woman, but instead a woman who understands her power and holds the reins of her sexuality.

But, counter to these terms’ judgment of female sexuality are words that scrutinize a lack thereof. On the other side of the same sexist coin, terms like “prude” and “frigid” criticize a woman’s disinterest in or refusal of sex — but they remain largely abandoned by this movement of reclamation.

Compared to words connoting sexual promiscuity, words connoting little to no sexual experience, like “prude,” have taken on a less desirable meaning. To be sexually liberated means

shirking the confines of a female sexuality and instead becoming an empowered woman. This empowered woman, unencumbered and even emboldened by shame, is in control of her sexuality in a way that can only be demonstrated by sexual prowess. However, this creates a double standard of sexist slurs. At one end stands the weak and demure woman — the prude — who is out of touch with her power and sexuality. At the other end is the courageous, powerful slut who breaks free from her cage of sexual expectations by having as much sex as she wants. One could be forgiven for believing that the dichotomy between the slut and the prude is equal to that between the repressed and liberated woman, though that’s far from the actual case.

Historically, it was advantageous in some respects to ostensibly be a prude. From Aristotle to contemporary

Call your mother

as college students, one common ground we may find with these superstars is the shared struggle of being away from home at a young age. Regardless of whether you’re an international student who left their country to be here or a resident of the United States, we all have a home and a community outside of this college campus that represents a place of guidance, security and comfort.

When Simmons implored us to call our mothers, I think that is what he was referring to — the people we associate with home. People who you’re so close to that you don’t feel the need to put any effort into the relationship, because no matter what, they’ll be there for you. More importantly, calling your

mother is the simple answer to a commonly-dealt-with question: How can I take care of my mental health? Not only is mental health one of a college student’s biggest concerns, but it’s also an issue that tends to arise in our lives regularly, and requires our utmost care and attention.

When I’m ready to give up on my computer science degree, as the only person who will never lose faith in my abilities, it’s my mother who reminds me what I am capable of. When I feel aimless, like I’m not carving out the best path for my future, she is the first to remind me not to worry and to believe in myself.

When I feel tired and scared, as I, and I’m sure many did, during the week of the Michigan State University shooting and on

Catholicism, prudence has remained a cardinal virtue stressed particularly for young women. When taken to the extreme, a strong emphasis on prudence manifests in harmful teachings like purity culture. While prudence on its own is far from damaging in how it values caution and thoughtfulness, both perceived and active prudence are not fully protective measures. As evidenced by stories in the wake of the #MeToo movement, simply refusing sex is not always the most accessible way of eluding a dangerous situation of sexual assault. Under the scrutinizing eyes of an objectifying society, women have always had to walk a fine line between saint and temptress. If reclaiming terms like “whore” and “slut” will truly reallocate power to women coming into their sexual identities, then we also must expand our vocabulary of sexual empowerment to include

countless other occasions during the school year, she is the one there to just listen and make me feel safe. When you were a child, you’d share what happened at school with your mother, right? You’d do it almost every day, right? So why stop? The answer to so many of our mental health problems is just one phone call away and we don’t even realize it. This role doesn’t have to be filled by a mother. It can be anyone who you think of when you think of home — a teacher, a relative or a coach. Lean on them for support and remember to return the favor. As Simmons said, “Love them and thank them and listen to them for as long as they want to talk to you.” Even if all that person talks about

“prude,” too. If a sexually empowered woman is in control of her sexuality, then it’s imperative to recognize that not having sex falls under such an umbrella. Sex may be refused for a myriad of reasons, ranging from asexuality to religious objections to simple disinterest. These reasons don’t add up to a repressed woman or a poor feminist, but instead a woman making informed decisions for herself.

Whether a “whore” or a “prude,” whether “slutty” or “frigid,” it’s essential to recognize that these are only terms, and fluid ones at that, defining only one facet of the self. One may go from sex and sex and sex one week to little to no sexual interest the very next, and can you really put labels to that? With an expansion and reclamation of the word, being a prude doesn’t have to mean being modest or prim — it can mean knowing sex isn’t a sole means of empowerment through setting healthy boundaries for oneself.

are the same boring stories on repeat, just listen. I’m sure it means the world to them.

I once heard someone describe home as the place where people notice when you’re not there. Identify those people and, as the title says, call them. It’ll be the single best decision you ever make in your college life. It won’t just make them happy, it will brighten up your day as well.

On a campus where life is dictated by your Google Calendar (I know mine is), set aside 30 minutes every day for this phone call. Schedule it, pick a special color for it and make sure it’s set to “repeat daily.” Do what you have to do to ensure that regardless of how much work you have, you call your mother.

Design by Sara Fang

SportsMonday: View Michigan like the favorite it is

hockey on the Golden Gophers’ home ice, claiming the trophy in the best conference in the country.

Just two games stand between the Michigan hockey team and ascendance.

By no means should it be a surprise that the third-ranked team in the Pairwise is heading to Tampa and the Frozen Four with a shot at the title. That much, even with a nail-biting overtime clash against Penn State, could be expected. Up until now, in the NCAA Tournament the Wolverines have simply been doing what they should have done — thrash a low-ranked team in round one and get by one of the Big Ten’s best to advance in round two.

But now it’s time for a challenge.

It’s time for Michigan to get over the hump it drove straight into and crashed a year ago. Now, the Wolverines need to do what they couldn’t last season and advance. Standing in between them and the National Championship Game is No. 2 Quinnipiac, a team that was ranked higher than them in the Pairwise all year, touts one of the best goalies in college hockey and the lowest goals-against per game average of any team. It’s also a team that Michigan beat in the Allentown Regional Final last season, sending the Wolverines to the 2022 Frozen Four, so there’s some familiarity between the two sides.

Then, if Michigan can pull out a win, either a menacing No. 1 Minnesota waits on the other side for what would be the teams’ sixth meeting of the season or a powerful Boston University that split its series with the Wolverines back in October.

It’s not an easy path.

But it never is, is it? Titles aren’t handed out, they’re taken — not always by the best team, but by the right team.

And this year, Michigan is the right team.

Let’s just lay out some facts. The Wolverines won the Big Ten Tournament, beating the No. 1 team in

The Big Ten’s strength is apparent through the first two rounds of the NCAA Tournament, outscoring its opponents 41-9.

Another fact, Michigan is the highest scoring offense in the country, with 169 goals. That offense is led by the NCAA points leader, freshman forward Adam Fantilli, with 63.

Now let’s mix those facts with observations. That points leader?

That’s arguably the best player in college hockey. Whether the freshman wins the Hobey or not, Fantilli is the single most dangerous person on a pair of blades in the entire NCAA. He dazzles, he delivers and he’s the X-factor that can flip a game with the flick of his wrist. He’s what title teams have — he’s what title teams need.

The Wolverines head to Tampa Bay as hot as you can get. Ever since playoff hockey began, Michigan has been a wagon. As soon as the pressure cooker reached its highest setting, the Wolverines have looked the best they have all season.

“They’re all playoff games since a couple of weeks ago,” freshman forward Gavin Brindley said after Sunday’s win. “So we kind of know what to expect. … It’s do or die. So we’ve been doing it for a week now. So we can’t wait (for the Frozen Four).”

That’s another thing — the confidence.

Michigan oozes it. On the ice, off the ice, the Wolverines have the belief that they should win. And it shows. A tight win over a tough Big Ten team in Penn State — not to mention at an arena in the Nittany Lions’ home state that was filled to the brim with blue and white — has only added to Michigan’s swagger.

“It’s huge for us,” sophomore forward Mackie Samoskevich said. “That’s a tight playoff game. … We know we can do it now — we’ve got a lot of confidence.”

And why shouldn’t they? The pieces are all there. A high-powered attack, two players with Hobey Baker aspirations in Fantilli and sophomore defenseman Luke Hughes, a deep roster of talent and a coach that — despite being in his first year — has turned a struggling undisciplined early-season team into a lethal machine.

Sure, it’s single-elimination hockey. Teams just need to just have a good night to move on, and a bad bounce can end a season — anything can happen. Any team that’s left can win the ‘chip.

Yet, while any team could, the Wolverines should.

Michigan is the one with the right equation, the one that’s at its best at the best possible moment with all the pieces to finish the job.

The players know it, too. Brindley said it in the most clear way possible:

“It’s our time now.”

And honestly, it’s about time we start believing him, too.

Jonathan Wuchter: Michigan needs to learn how to win without Lauren Derkowski

COLUMBUS — Lauren Derkowski is dominant and often borderline unhittable from the circle.

The sophomore righthander’s presence empowers the Michigan softball team with the ability to compete and win big games. But when she isn’t in the circle, the Wolverines’ powerlessness is put on full display.

The tale of the two versions of the Michigan softball team — with and without Derkowski — became apparent in Sunday’s double header against Ohio State.

After giving up a run in the first inning of game one, Derkowski delivered nine consecutive shutout innings in the win. She was dominant. So dominant that her performance would clear your mind of the opportunities squandered by the offense to put the game away earlier. So dominant that few balls were put in play, limiting opportunities to expose the infield’s lackluster defense.

In the second game, those weaknesses were unearthed in the 11-2 run-rule loss. Just 30 minutes after the win, all while bringing an identical batting order to the plate, the Wolverines were unrecognizable.

The difference was that Derkowski wasn’t pitching.

This isn’t to blame the game’s starter — junior right-hander LeBeau for the loss. She is an aggressive pitcher who has delivered several stellar performances, including a no-hitter. But at this point in the season, LeBeau is not on Derkowski’s herculean level.

But Michigan’s issue is not LeBeau’s arm, rather the issue is its reliance on the irreplicable play

of Derkowski to overshadow the Wolverines’ flaws.

“We’ve seen that over the years with Michigan softball when we have strikeout pitchers, our fielding percentage is higher,” Michigan coach Bonnie Tholl said March 15. “We limit the opportunities for the opponents.”

To begin game two, LeBeau was on pace to retire the side in order. Instead, an off-target throw from senior third baseman Audrey LeClair gave the Buckeyes a two-out base runner leading to a four-run onslaught. LeBeau’s task was unfair — get four outs instead of three — but a result of the gap between her and Derkowski in masking the rest of the team’s mistakes.

Soon after, a ground ball through the legs of freshman first baseman Maddie Erickson brought the team’s error total to 29 on the year — approaching last season’s mark of 33 in less than half the amount of games. Derkowski’s play often overshadows those mistakes. Without Derkowski, however, those mistakes become costly to the team’s ability to win.

Michigan’s desired path to victory is well established. The Wolverines are orchestrated to win low scoring games through strong

strikeout pitching complemented by aggressive hitting and baserunning. Derkowski’s 9-5 record is evidence of the potential success of that approach, while LeBeau’s 5-7 record is a reminder of its limitations.

That path eventually worked in the ten-inning win and many of Derkowski’s starts. But when unearned runs push the Wolverines into deep holes, like in Sunday’s game two, they aren’t built to come back — exposing Michigan’s other weakness: inconsistent and untimely offense.

Over the past two weekends, many of the Wolverines’ runs have come through home runs — an added dynamic to an offense that struggled to hit for power at the beginning of the season. But more glaring is their recent inability to score consistently outside of the long ball. The focal point of this offense has been scoring through a mirage of slap-hitting, bunting and sacrifice hitting — only to be complemented by the occasional home run.

“We’re a team that’s gonna have to continually put the pressure on the defense,” Tholl said after the double header.

SOFTBALL

JONATHAN WUCHTER

Michigan scrapes by Penn State, 2-1 in overtime, advances to Frozen Four

NOAH KINGSLEY Daily Sports Editor

ALLENTOWN, Pa. — When Mackie Samoskevich ripped his patented wris ter into the back of the net 52 seconds into overtime, it was a familiar sight.

The sophomore forward beat an opposing goalie with his shot.

The No. 1 seed Michigan hockey team pulled off overtime heroics. Another dramatic comeback victory. The Wolverines had seen this all before.

But held scoreless for 52 minutes by No. 2 seed Penn State, the highest scoring team in the nation struggled to navigate the unfamiliar territory of a lowscoring game for the majority of regulation. Thanks to familiar scorers like freshman forward Adam Fantilli and Samoskevich, though, the Wolverines (26-11-3 overall) scraped by the Nittany Lions (22-16-1), 2-1 in overtime, to secure a spot in the Frozen Four for the second year in a row.

“We said it right before our

produced at least one high-danger chance on nearly every single shift in the first period, but Penn State goaltender Liam Souliere made save after acrobatic save to turn them all away. But when chance after chance fell to the wayside, the Wolverines lost any early momentum they created. And entering the second period, they looked disjointed. Passes missed their targets, they continuously turned the puck over and their early chances gave way to Nittany Lions ones instead.

With 1:28 left in the second frame, freshman forward Jackson Hallum took a hooking penalty, giving Penn State all the space it needed to convert on one of those chances. Forward Connor

slipping through their hands, the Wolverines needed to mount a response

“We said it right before our first shift (of overtime) — ‘we’re gonna win this game,’ ” sophomore forward Dylan Duke said.

“I just have two options,” Michigan coach Brandon Naurato said. “I can be negative on the bench, which will feed into the players, or we can keep it positive and stick to the plan. It’s an easy answer.”

Backs against the wall, season on the line in front of a hostile crowd, the Wolverines had two

and the Nittany Lions remained stalwart to prevent it.

With eight minutes left in the game and hope draining away, though, Fantilli gave Michigan’s offense a lifeline — just like he’s done all season long. In similar fashion to Penn State’s goal, it took a penalty to create the chance. And in similar fashion, Fantilli finished off a goal-line rebound to tie the game at one apiece.

“We were drawing up set plays for our powerplay, and me going down there was something that was big for us,” Fantilli said. “… (Freshman forward Rutger McGroarty) got a whack on it, I got a whack on it, and it ended up going in. Obviously, it’s a big relief.”

“He looked at me and he said it, right before he went out and scored,” Duke said.

After 52 minutes to find the first goal, it took Michigan just 52 seconds of overtime to find the second. After 52 minutes of an unfamiliar game, it took just 52 seconds to reach a familiar end.

Scoring fewer than two goals in regulation for just the fourth time this season and losing the other three, it may not have been the game the Wolverines expected to play. But in the biggest moments, its expected contributors delivered in the clutch to keep them playing for it all.

And for that reason, they’ll skate in back-to-back Frozen Fours for the first time since 2003.

WOMEN’S MONTH

In observance of Women’s History Month, The Daily’s sports section is launching its sixth annual series aimed at telling the stories of female athletes, coaches and teams at the University from the perspective of the female writers on staff.

With gold medal experience, Erin Virtue aims to return Michigan to its former glory

LILY ISRAEL Daily Sports Editor

The newness of Erin Virtue’s tenure as Michigan’s new head volleyball coach is obvious.

Just walk into her office in Weidenbach Hall where a new name adorns the door. And that’s pretty much all that hangs on the walls. Blank walls, void of memories, but with plenty of room to make new ones.

Blank walls, save for one thing. One golden thing: her Olympic gold medal.

That medal highlights Virtue’s pinnacle. She’s summited the mountaintop that no other current Michigan head coach — and few coaches in the world — have accomplished.

Virtue summited that mountaintop in the 2020 Olympics, winning the gold medal as an assistant coach for the US Volleyball Team.

“There’s a pinnacle in anything that you do,” Virtue told the Daily. “For some, an actress maybe a Golden Globe, and for some maybe a Super Bowl championship, but for us it was (that) we were the best volleyball team in the world. Winning a gold medal was just a surreal experience.”

That pinnacle can only last so long. But the lessons and experiences it imparted last forever, and that’s what she brings to Michigan.

Now Virtue readies to take another team to a new peak. She aims to carry the memories she made, the lessons she

learned and the world-class experience she has to return the Michigan volleyball team to the heights it once accomplished as its new head coach. Heights she is extremely familiar with.

Erin Virtue holds a blue, maize, and white striped volleyball with a block M on it under her arm while she looks to the court to her right. She is wearing a light heather grey shirt with black yoga pants and grey shoes.

Virtue is no stranger to Ann Arbor, and more importantly, she is no stranger to finding success at Michigan. She served as the offensive and recruiting coordinator during the golden age of Michigan volleyball. From 2011 through 2015, she helped lead the team to four NCAA tournament appearances, two Sweet 16s and one Final Four appearance — the lone appearance in program history. Off the court, all five of Virtue’s recruiting classes were ranked in the nation’s top 20.

“The group of athletes we had here in 2012, which was one of the best seasons Michigan volleyball has had, was a special group,” Virtue said. “Not only who the individuals were about but who the team was as a collective, and a group that developed and believed in one another. I’m so excited to build that into this group we have here.”

Building the team, its players and culture is one of Virtue’s first goals. The Big Ten is one of the most challenging conferences in the country, and the Wolverines haven’t been at the top of the conference in some time. But Virtue, in her

first head coaching venture, wants to be the person to change that.

Virtue has been involved in volleyball at nearly every level. She played at Illinois from 2001 to 2004, where she was the team’s setter. After a short stint training with the US National Team, she joined the coaching ranks at Loyola Chicago in 2006. She then coached setters and liberos at Cincinnati from 2007 to 2010 before coming to Michigan. Then, she took her talents to the National Team, where she served as the offensive coordinator and the director of the USA National Team Development Program.

All of these experiences led Virtue back to the Wolverines, and she is more than prepared for the journey ahead.

But before Virtue had the opportunity to become a head coach, she had to build up her leadership skills.

She first took a leadership role when she had a season-ending injury her senior year at Illinois. On the sideline, she found ways to support her teammates. This time spent on the sidelines, carving out a new role for herself, is what sparked her initial interest in coaching.

“As I grew into the coach mindset, for me it was just about supporting people,” Virtue said. “That was a big deal. They say everything happens for a reason, and I didn’t believe them at that time. No one wants to get injured. But certainly that perspective helps me support athletes who are injured at this time because I’ve been in different roles.

“I’ve been the starter. I’ve been

the captain. I’ve been the injured player. I’ve been the bench warmer. I’ve been in all those roles as an athlete so it helps in making sure we understand the roles of all women on our team is a big part of coaching. So I’m grateful for the kind of full spectrum that I went on as an athlete.”

That experience at all levels prepared her for where she is now. With a tall task ahead — rebuilding the culture and bringing Michigan back to relevance — Virtue isn’t shying away from any of it.

“I want to be uniquely myself,” Virtue said. “I think it’s really easy to be in comparison mode when you’re in a very incredible league. For me, I think the one thing that I want to make sure that I always remember is all of the pathways that got me here and the experience that I can bring.

“Right now, I’m the only one in this league that was part of an Olympic medal-winning team and part of an Olympic medal-winning staff. I know what it takes. I know the grind it takes to be great. … I’m excited about the challenge ahead. But again, I’m going to be as unique as I can to every other competitor.”

Running the gamut as a player gave Virtue the experience she needed to come into her own as a coach. But she still has a long road ahead of her.

Erin Virtue holds her right hand up with her pointer finger pointed up and she looks as though she is giving directions to the team. She is wearing a light heather grey shirt with black yoga pants and grey shoes. She stands to the side of the court and a blurry glimpse of a player wearing a maize uniform can be seen in the foreground to the right.

Former head coach Mark Rosen’s firing in December was the final straw signaling that there needed to be a swift culture change. After a slew of down years, Michigan’s performance on the court may not be the only thing that needs fixing. Virtue’s impact is clear and immediate, already building deep, personal relationships with her players. And her player’s response is obvious.

“She just has a lot of knowledge,” senior setter Scottee Johnson said. “Her plans are very intentional, like she’s very honest. And she wants to know us as people and really tries to connect with us.”

This same coaching style was evident in her first stint with the Wolverines.

“Virtue is more than just a coach,” former player Lexi Dannenmiller told The Daily. “She just cares for us as individual beings and as girls, she works to empower us. She’s one of those coaches that she will motivate you but in a way that also inspires you. So she’s like, making you work hard. She’s making you be your best. But in a way that really just inspires and empowers you.”

Virtue’s focus on building personal relationships off the court is starting to show up through success in practice. Her ultimate goal is to bring Michigan back to the dominance it once saw, one that she had a hand in crafting. She knows that won’t be an easy task. But she carries experiences with her that few other coaches have, and that makes her a good fit for the job.

“I’ve always wanted to do hard things in my career and in my athletic ventures,” Virtue said. “So the opportunity is really exciting. … (I will) hopefully take this program and it’s built on a wonderful foundation, but then just kind of get over this hump and the Big Ten is an exciting and challenging opportunity in front of me and this program.”

Virtue is the centerpiece of this new culture, but she wants to build the program as a whole. That starts with surrounding herself with like-minded coaches, and she has already started that process by hiring associate head coach Dan Pawlikowski. Similar to Virtue, Pawlikowski has coached at all levels of volleyball, and Virtue hopes that allure will attract the right type of athletes to rebuild the program.

“I want to bring in people who want to really love this game and understand how to develop volleyball players, but I also want to bring in really, really good people,” Virtue said. “… I want to attract student athletes that want to try to compete at the next level professionally or internationally after they’re done with Michigan. … You’re gonna see that not only in the athletes that we bring in, but also the staff that we want to have mentors and leaders and people that embody what it is we want to teach.”

Being a new coach in the Big Ten will certainly be a challenge, but Virtue knows that she isn’t like other coaches. She knows that she is uniquely herself and brings things to the table that no one else does. Her vast coaching experience at the forefront, Virtue really isn’t the newbie in the league.

And Virtue isn’t shying away from the challenge, and opportunity, in front of her.

The gold medal might be the only thing hanging on in her office now, but Virtue hopes that won’t be the only piece adorning the wall in a few years. But she doesn’t just want those accolades in her office. She wants banners in the rafters. She wants her name — and her player’s names — etched in Michigan volleyball history.

With her unique coaching ability and her unparalleled experience, she wants to take Michigan to heights unknown. And there’s nothing saying Virtue can’t achieve just that.

How Jen Klein rebuilt Michigan women’s soccer culture

ISABELLA VILLACORTA Daily Sports Writer

Before Jen Klein took the reins as head coach of the Michigan women’s soccer team in 2018, the Wolverines had not won a Big Ten Tournament title in over 20 years. Beyond that, they hadn’t made it to the NCAA Tournament since 2016. With the introduction of Klein, however, the team hoped to reach new heights.

And in the five years since she took the reins, they’ve done just that.

In 2021, her fourth season at Michigan, the Wolverines achieved the long sought after Big Ten Tournament title. While performance and skill were important in this achievement, a vital component went beyond the talent. Klein’s unique coaching style and desire to facilitate a positive culture for her team played a key role.

“In years past, we struggled with team culture,” junior defender Sarah Bridenstine told The Daily. “… She really stresses that in order to have a championship team you need to have a good culture first.”

For Michigan, a good culture looks like strong leadership that fosters character and player development, positive communication and trust.

And Klein’s past experiences have helped her build that culture into her coaching philosophy. As head coach at UNLV — where she was the youngest head coach in NCAA Division I women’s soccer — then as assistant coach at Washington State followed by associate head coach at University of Southern California, Klein has developed an extensive repertoire of coaching experiences to draw from.

But her strong leadership doesn’t just stem from past coaching experiences — it also comes from playing experience.

During her time playing soccer at Arizona, Klein was team captain for two years. This experience has not only shaped her knowledge of the game and ability to make quick in-game changes, but also the way she leads. She is able to relate to her players and understand the difficulties that come with being both athletes and students.

“(It’s about) knowing what they’re going through as a student, what they’re going through as an athlete, what it feels like to play against a rival, what it feels like to deal with a tough conversation with a teammate,” Klein told The Daily.

Klein’s various experiences as both a player and a coach have benefited and shaped the Michigan women’s soccer program in a way it never has

before, creating a culture that is founded in “character, connection and communication.”

It’s a culture Klein has utilized at every level, not just as a head coach.

“She does a really good job of relating with individual players,” Keidane McAlpine, Klein’s former colleague at USC, told The Daily. “… in communicating with them, learning their little stories, meeting them on a very human level and just being real, being authentic with the players and I think that too gives them a space where they feel very comfortable.”

Klein’s ability to be authentically herself has created a model for her own players to follow. She cares about her players as people, not simply athletes. This essential characteristic takes center stage in Klein’s unique coaching style. In a world where players are often seen as athletes and employees, Klein has intentionally restructured the culture to create an environment that is player-centric. This, in combination with Klein’s attention to detail, knowledge of the game and competitive spirit has created a space for the Wolverines to effectively reach their highest potential.

And the culture has clearly paid off.

In Klein’s fourth season after taking over the program as head coach, Michigan won 18 games in the 2021 season, tying their previous record.

“I think how she motivates a group,” assistant coach Tori Christ told The Daily. “And I think how, when she says something … she empowers people to take it upon themselves and like make it their own, whether it’s their role on the field, whether it’s our roles as staff, but I think just how she motivates a group is incredibly intentional.”

Klein motivates her players through leading by example and providing them with the training and support they need to succeed. While many athlete’s view lifting and conditioning as the most challenging part of training, Klein does the arduous exercises right alongside her players — highlighting her personal coaching style and the ability to motivate her players. She is able to model her own expectations, creating a culture that is centered around leading by example.

That’s important, especially when things are difficult.

This past season, Michigan faced a string of conference losses entering its game against then – No. 14 Rutgers. Ending the half down 2-0 with a win necessary to keep tournament hopes alive, the game did not appear to be leaning in the Wolverines favor. However, they came back out, scored three unanswered goals, and ended the game with a victory

against Rutgers.

That turnaround came at the hands of Klein’s leadership.

“She came into the locker room, just like full of positivity and energy and she’s just like, do what you want with this, this time is yours,” Bridenstine said. “You have 45 minutes left to put it on the field. … I just think when she can stay positive in situations and when she’s thrown adversity, it really helps the team out.”

Klein’s ability to remain positive and composed in the midst of difficult situations, while also placing responsibility on each player clearly had an impact on the team as they were able to turn a likely loss into an electrifying victory. The culture she has built helped pull them past mediocrity and into victory.

Another important aspect of Klein’s coaching style is her emphasis on having the right mindset.

“You can be in a low performance mindset or a high performance mindset and we talk a lot about positive self talk and how that can affect your performance,” Bridenstine said when recounting a central aspect of Klein’s coaching philosophy. “And so even if it’s not your best day on the field, if you can maintain

a positive mindset you’ll remain within your high performance.”

Having the right mindset can turn a good player into a great player, and it can make or break a game. By putting an emphasis on mindset, Klein empowers her players to make positive changes no matter the situation.

Since arriving at Michigan, Klein had set out to rebuild culture, and she’s done just that. As with any good leader, she listens to her players and is incredibly intentional when it comes to culture and its impactful role in the team dynamic.

“First and foremost to building (culture) to where it is was listening to the current team,” Klein said. “… We really take into account the players and allowing for them to be contributing members to what the culture is going to look like.”

By fostering an environment where player’s voices are listened to, Klein has created a strong foundation built on collaborative efforts and trust. With this foundation in place, she has been able to focus on developing players both on and off the field.

“Training is such a great time where we have an opportunity to teach

players not only just skills to help them within our sport, but skills that are going to help them in their time once they’re done playing soccer,” Klein said. ” And so really developing them as people, students and athletes.”

When Klein joined Michigan, she took over a team with unfamiliar players, many of which she had not recruited. However, her ability to develop and connect with players helped her transform the team into a force to be reckoned with.

“I think my favorite moment is when a player’s light bulb comes on,” Klein said. “When all of a sudden like something that they’ve been working on, an area that they’ve been focusing on and it clicks and they get it and that to me is always such a proud moment as a coach.”

It is clear that Klein genuinely cares about her players. This, along with her passion for the game and expertise, is what ultimately shaped the unique team culture she has built for the women’s soccer team.

With the team’s footing now set firmly on this culture-centered foundation, there is no doubt it will aid them in their upcoming season. And that’s possible because Klein is at the helm.

ELLIE VICE/Daily

Naomi Morrison’s victorious path to Michigan gymnastics

ALINA LEVINE Daily Sports Writer

After Naomi Morrison’s mother, JoAnn, learned that her daughter taught herself how to do a back handspring on the side of the house, she decided it was time to enroll Naomi in gymnastics. That decision began her lifelong love of the sport.

Now a junior at Michigan currently ranked 17th in the nation on the floor, with first-team Big Ten honors for the second straight season, Morrison has had an impressive career so far at Michigan.

But, her journey with gymnastics started long before this, at the age of three or four, through watching her older sister Faith who went on to compete at Washington.

Faith and Naomi are not the only athletes in their family, though. They’re just the tip of the iceberg. Their sister Grace played volleyball for Appalachian State, their brother Sam played football for Arizona and San Diego State, and their brother Ben is a current sophomore playing football for Notre Dame. Moreover, their father, Darryl Morrison, played football for Arizona before going

on to play for the Washington Commanders in the NFL.

With such an athletic family, her siblings — as well as her parents — served as her role models throughout her childhood.

“My siblings, seeing them having that dedication day in and day out, going in and training, and just trying to be the best athlete that they could be — they were my biggest role models,” Naomi told the Daily. “Also, my parents — just the way that they led their lives as well. My dad played football as well, so seeing the things that he achieved, it was like, ‘Oh, I can see that for myself because it’s literally in my genes.’ ”

Gymnast Naomi Morrison stands on the lower bar and leans forward to catch the higher bar in front of spectators.

Since beginning the sport as a kid, Naomi has flourished, and her high skill is now shining at the college level. By the end of her sophomore season, she had garnered seven event titles and scored a 9.900 or better 29 times despite still being an underclassman. And, as the 2023 season comes to a close, she has only built upon those numbers.

Her talent came through, especially at the Big Ten Championships, where she scored a 9.900 on vault, an impressive

score that contributed to the Michigan women’s gymnastics team’s overall firstplace finish.

Naomi noted that she prepared for this competition throughout the season, and in doing so, she underwent some important mindset changes.

“I feel as if I’ve matured a bit more as an athlete, just being an upperclassman,” Naomi said. “So now it’s no longer like, ‘How can I master these skills? But, how perfect can I make them?’…It’s a mind game — forcing yourself to believe that you literally can hit any routine you go up and do, and it can be the exact same as you do in practice.”

Indeed, gymnastics is not only a physical sport but a mental one as well. Many student-athletes struggle to balance the demands of their sport with the rigor of classes and outside activities. For Naomi, she credits her teammates, family and especially her faith for creating such a strong support system that she can rely on.

“Growing up, we understood that everything that we have is a gift from God, and we need to steward it correctly,” Naomi said. “So, it just means that every time you go out, and you train that you can’t give a half performance; you have to give it your all. If you’ve been given this gift,

utilize it for the best that you can be. So, that definitely pushed me to be the woman that I am today.”

Naomi has most certainly demonstrated drive and dedication throughout her career. Her strong upbringing has shaped her into the woman that she is. She’s determined to continue to make her mark in the gymnastics community and won’t stop until she’s satisfied.

“I don’t want to leave the sport without knowing that I tried my absolute best to be the best that I can be,” Naomi said.

While women have been competing in the Olympics since 1900, women’s gymnastics was not officially standardized in the competition until 1928. In contrast, men’s gymnastics had already been officially recognized at the start of the Olympic tradition in 1896.

While conditions for female athletes have improved throughout history, particularly after the passing of Title IX in 1972, women still face an abundance of discrimination.

Aware of that history, being a female athlete holds a stronger significance for Naomi.

“It means so much,” Naomi explained. “I didn’t really understand how much weight there was in that title until growing up and understanding that wom-

en didn’t have the same opportunities as men. So to understand that I’m a trailblazer for people who are still coming and may have been like me and know that there are people who look up to me because of what I’m doing, it’s amazing — I feel like a trailblazer.”

And, trailblazer is the perfect word to describe Naomi.

As she continuously seeks to better herself both as an athlete and a person, she is etching her name into the gymnastics world. Her strong character and commitment to reaching her goal of becoming the best athlete she can be have served as an inspiration for many young athletes who hope to one day compete at the college level.

Naomi understands the impact she can have on others, and she has a message for all the aspiring gymnasts who look up to her as an example:

“The sky is the limit,” Naomi said. “When people don’t believe in you, it’s up to you to believe in yourself and make sure that you have a support system that constantly pushes you to be the best that you can possibly be because you’ll be surprised at the things you’re able to achieve.”

And if there’s one thing that Naomi can do, it’s continue to surprise us all.

How sticking to her roots led Gabby Wilson to success

KENDALL MCCASKILL Daily Sports Writer

For senior gymnast Gabby Wilson, attending Michigan was just a matter of when.

Born in Ann Arbor and raised in Ypsilanti, the University has always been on Wilson’s radar athletically and academically.

The athlete gene runs in the family. Her parents were All-Americans on the track and field teams of Illinois and Eastern Michigan. Her younger sister runs on the track and field team at Michigan State, just like her parents.

And while Wilson has stayed true to her family’s roots by competing athletically for Michigan, she’s also put her own spin on that tradition.

“Growing up, we all were trying different sports, but I only did gymnastics mostly,” Wilson said. “We’ve always been a really active family, even before we

did sports, and we’ve always had a love for physical activity in general.”

As a young athlete, Wilson looked up to her educators and outstanding Black gymnasts like three-time Olympic gold medalist Gabby Douglas.

“Of course, when I saw Gabby Douglas win (the Olympics), it was really cool that people were kind of making that comparison,” Wilson said. “And it wasn’t necessarily me thinking ‘because she won the Olympics, I can win the Olympics and do that.’ But it just made me feel like there was no reason why I couldn’t do anything that I set my mind to.”

So, Wilson did just that.

Her commitment and prodigy earned her recruiting letters starting at just age 13 from interested programs, but Wilson was still unsure on what to look for in her future home. This was before the NCAA adopted its new rule in 2019 to push athlete recruiting to after their sophomore year of high school. With the help of her parents, she was able to prioritize

her academic and athletic goals before making a final decision.

“I was really just trying to think of which school had the most opportunities for me, athletically, and academically, and Michigan just happened to be down the street,” Wilson said. “So it was really a no-brainer, I only visited Michigan and Oklahoma.”

Nine years later, Wilson is a team captain and key contributor to the women’s gymnastics team. In her freshman year, she was ranked in the top 50 nationally on vault and floor. Now in her senior year, she’s since continued to rack up numerous accolades including multiple All-American honors, a team National Championship and three career 10.0s on floor and vault. In addition, her performances on floor and vault aided the Wolverines’ consecutive Big Ten championship wins, earning the individual vault title in 2023.

Wilson’s continued success and unique floor performance stems from

her musicality and storytelling, which she credits to her family.

“Ever since level seven, where we get to have our own routines on the floor, I’ve always loved being able to perform it to the best of my ability and really use it to show my personality,” Wilson said. “I would say that my college years have been the most impactful in terms of my full routines. I’ve actually been able to tell a story and show what I’m passionate about through my dance, my music choice and the choreography.”

For Wilson, music evokes emotions that allow her to express her personality and passion for the sport. With her impressive dancing and overall floor execution, she boasts a season floor average of 9.900. She also attributes her passion and success on the floor to assistant coach Maile’ana Kanewa-Hermelyn, Michigan’s floor choreographer.

“I’ve cherished my time being coached to hone in on what I wanted people to think about when I was performing,

and just see that I love being out there,” Wilson said. “I want people to know just from watching me that this is what I love to do and I’m doing it for my team. I love my sport.”

Although she’s in her senior season, this isn’t the end for Wilson. She recently announced that she will return for a fifth season and obtain a master’s in public policy through the Ford School.

“After COVID, we knew that we had an extra year of eligibility and I wanted to be intentional about what that meant for me, and what that meant for my academic goals first, and then thinking about athletic opportunities,” Wilson said. “After the fact, I never wanted to really go anywhere besides Michigan.”

As the Wolverines continue to face tough competition, Wilson’s decision to stay home again will be beneficial as her passion, roots and creativity flourish in her performance. Because just like when she first committed to Michigan, those are the elements that drive her.

Varsity athletics or Michigan academics: Julia Lindahl’s hockey journey

MALLORY MOORE Daily Sports Writer

Academics or athletics? Most top student athletes don’t need to choose between the two. But, for freshman women’s club hockey player Julia Lindahl, her journey started with that choice.

“Honestly, I ultimately decided on Michigan because of the academics,” Lindahl said. “I never really looked into the hockey program in depth or contacted the coaching staff until getting accepted.”

Lindahl chose Michigan because of its academic opportunities and the women’s hockey team was an added bonus. She considered attending Gustavus

in Minnesota to continue her hockey career as a Division III varsity player, but she ultimately chose Michigan.

The Michigan women’s club hockey team has consistently shown its strength against top ranked programs, and this season was no exception.

Lindahl played an important role in this success, earning first team All-Rookie status in the CCWHA and a place as one of the league’s top scorers.

Playing in each of the Wolverines’ 28 games this season, Lindahl finished with 19 goals and eight assists, a stat line that solidified her position as one of the team’s top performers. Her success has only continued to grow since her high school career, hinting at the potential she has for the rest of her career.

The club hockey program has

proven to be a great way for Lindahl to continue her career. But, it’s important to consider how such decisions might change if Michigan had a varsity women’s hockey program. The school’s absence in the growing landscape of women’s college hockey is becoming more notable.

“Coming from Minnesota, a state with six D-I women’s programs and 10 D-III women’s programs, I was surprised when I first found out that not only does Michigan not have a varsity team, but there are also no NCAA D-I women’s teams in the state,” Lindahl said.

The university isn’t an anomaly in the state of Michigan, as Lindahl noted. Around the country though, its absence — along with those of other schools in

the state — is becoming more apparent. The decision athletes have to make in choosing a school is beginning to include even more factors.

“The biggest surprise of the situation is that Michigan is one of the biggest hockey states in the country,” Lindahl said. “Most girls have to make the tough decision between staying close to home and playing club, or leaving the state for an NCAA opportunity.”

Lindahl’s decision came down to academic opportunities, but it likely would’ve included a clearer perk with a varsity women’s hockey team at Michigan. The creation of a varsity program would take time but would result in increased athletic opportunities for women at the university.

The hockey talent on the women’s

club team clearly shows the availability of skill at Michigan, and this would only increase with the start of a varsity program. Lindahl explained that a varsity women’s team would, most likely, not lead to an eradication of the club program.

Instead, it would continue to help hockey involvement grow and help athletes avoid choosing between continuing varsity athletics or pursuing prestigious academic programs.

“I think that the idea of a varsity team at Michigan should definitely be the end goal,” Lindahl said. “If the university were to start a varsity program, it most likely would not be the club team transitioning to varsity status, but instead a varsity team being added in addition to the current club team.”

Increasing the opportunities on campus for women who play hockey should be reason enough to add a varsity program. With a varsity and club team, women would have more opportunities to continue playing hockey, and this would also increase visibility in women’s hockey around the country.

Michigan remains behind other Big Ten schools with women’s varsity hockey programs, including 2022 national champion Ohio State and 2023 national champion Wisconsin.

Questions remain about why the process has continued with little progress, but with the club team’s continued success, the opportunity for another varsity women’s program at Michigan could become clearer.

The women’s club team has continued to show increasing success throughout recent seasons, but such success could be showcased at the varsity level. The Wolverines already compete against some varsity programs and often win these matchups.

But where the team differs from varsity programs is in their funding outlets. Lindahl explained that apparel, equipment and training are all funded by team fees, dues and fundraising efforts.

“The extra funds help us take trips to play competitive teams that we otherwise wouldn’t be able to play,” Lindahl said.

Such funds allow them to travel to play teams like Arizona State and Grand Canyon University, two programs the Wolverines beat early in the season.

Ultimately, Lindahl decided on the University of Michigan because of the academic opportunities the school has to offer.

But, the university could prioritize resources for a varsity women’s hockey program, and the combination of such academic opportunities and a varsity program could help athletes like Lindahl make an easier decision.

Fueling championship football: Abigail O’Connor making mark at Michigan

LINDSAY BUDIN Daily Sports Writer

It was six o’clock in the morning. The sun hadn’t even begun to rise and Ann Arbor was still bundled up under the covers. Most people hadn’t stepped out of bed, let alone started their day.

But Abigail O’Connor isn’t most people.

At 6 a.m., football practice was well underway, and she was doing whatever it took to motivate her players. Even if that meant taking strength and conditioning coach Ben Herbert’s grueling fitness test.

So at the crack of dawn, while most people’s movements remained only in their ongoing dreams, O’Connor settled in next to an offensive lineman coming off of a broken ankle and took that test. It’s a test designed for football players who put in hours in the gym and on the field day in and day out. It’s a test designed to push you to your limits. It’s a test designed to agonize you.

But for O’Connor, a nutritionist who doesn’t spend most of her day in the weight room like her players, that didn’t scare her. She remained by her player’s side and completed the strenuous physical challenge. For O’Connor, her job title as director of performance nutrition means a lot more than simply tailoring diets for her players.

“Because you’re always around them, you kind of see that entire experience,” O’Connor told The Michigan Daily. “And, alright you broke your ankle. From a nutrition’s standpoint what can we do to make this recovery process a little bit better? And then you kind of get wrangled into doing things. Like, yeah I’ll run the conditioning test with you at six in the morning.”

Growing up, O’Connor never imagined this line of work for herself. She didn’t go to college interested in spending her days guiding some of the highest caliber college athletes. In fact, she didn’t even grasp the fact that she could spend her days doing that.

“My undergrad degree was in biology, and I was taking a couple of exercise physiology courses during my undergrad, and one of them was a sport nutrition independent study,” O’Connor said. “It was the first semester of my senior year in college, I was like, ‘Oh, people get paid to talk about (nutrition) all the time.’ So I found out you can have this as a career pretty late in college and applied to graduate school to get my masters in nutrition.

“… I quite literally fell into it.”

Three years later, after spending time at Houston as a performance nu-

trition intern and at Minnesota as the director of sports nutrition, she took the next step in her career. And that brought her to Michigan.

As a woman, a leadership job at one of the most prestigious college football programs in the country could be considered daunting. The sport industry generally is a male-dominated field, and football is one of the most male-dominated sports. But O’Connor wasn’t intimidated, instead taking the opportunity for herself and using that to help her players.

“I think it’s really important for our athletes to be around women and to be around professional women who are enthusiastic about their sport, enthusiastic about their development,” O’Connor said. “… I think it just adds to the entire experience of our athletes to be around women in sport, and women who are enthusiastic about growing support.”

O’Connor’s enthusiasm and motivation shines in her work. Throughout her time with the Wolverines, O’Connor has thrived in her role of developing the team’s nutrition. The time players put in on the field, in the weight room and watching film is what first comes to mind for many when thinking about preparing and working before a game. But nutrition is equally important. Getting more than 100 Division-I football players to change their diets and commit to healthy habits is no easy task, though.

Food is fuel, and for athletes who spend thousands of hours working on their body, why should they listen to some stranger about changing the way they eat?

Because it’s not a stranger telling them. O’Connor realized that without meaningful relationships with her players they wouldn’t have any reason to listen to her. So she found the best way to get the team on board: Trust.

“There’s a lot of trust that’s built first,” O’Connor said. “And that’s what’s kind of built that buy-in. Come first with the trust and second with the information.”

That buy-in is everything. If O’Connor is providing excellent information, but there’s no trust, the players have no reason to listen. And when that happens, everyone loses. O’Connor can’t do her job to the best of her ability and the players’ bodies can’t perform their best. But O’Connor made sure that wouldn’t happen.

How?

Remaining clear in her motivation. She just wants the players to be as good as she knows they can be.

“I get no benefit from you eating

the broccoli, you’re the one getting all this benefit,” O’Connor said. “And I’m pushing for you to be the one who’s improving.”

If Michigan’s players don’t understand why O’Connor is pushing them so hard, it’s tough to reap all of the rewards of her guidance. Luckily, the Wolverines have bought in, not only understanding her motivation and trust, but using it to improve themselves.

Not only have the players grown to trust O’Connor, but O’Connor has grown to trust them too.

“She took care of me my first three years,” defensive lineman Mazi Smith told The Daily. “Last year, she started being able to let me go because she knew I was going to do the things that we worked on. It was rough to start it, but once we got to go on everything, everything went right along.”

Smith is a player who bought in right away. He knew the player he was capable of being and was prepared to do anything and everything to achieve that. And that meant treating his body right, not only in the gym, but also at the table.

“I think if you had told Rec-Specs wearing Mazi, ‘Hey, you’re going to be

the number one freak in the country your senior year,’ he would not be surprised whatsoever,” O’Connor said. “But he was very well aware of all the work he was going to have to put in, and that kid was on my hip for his entire freshman year.”

That dedication paid off for Smith. Since that freshman year of turning to O’Connor for all guidance related to what he put into his body, he has taken immense strides. Not only did he build 30 pounds of muscle and work his way to becoming a widely-regarded second round pick in the upcoming NFL Draft, but he also developed habits that extend beyond those accomplishments. Through that process, Smith grew a healthy relationship with food that will help him continue to prosper.

And that’s thanks to O’Connor and her dedication.

Arriving at Schembechler Hall at 6 a.m. everyday shows just how strong that dedication is. She doesn’t put in hours for conditioning, fine tune her agility or run drawn up plays. But she still has an impact. Because at six in the morning, when Ann Arbor is still sleeping, she’s there.

She has made it clear that she’s here to do whatever it takes to help the team.

“I will go through the lift, like I’ve run our conditioning tests so that when I sit and talk to them about it I have first-person experience,” O’Connor said. “Yes, (the test) is a bummer, it does suck. I’m there at practices, I pop into meetings to get a more clear understanding of what they’re doing and what their goals are.”

Because each player’s individual goal is unique. For Smith, it was fueling his body correctly, and adopting healthy habits. For defensive end Mike Morris, O’Connor composed ways to add lean mass to specific areas to improve his craft. For wide receiver Ronnie Bell, O’Connor helped him embrace his injury and use the adversity to tweak the way he runs.

But beyond players’ individual goals lie one shared mission — to win. Although O’Connor isn’t on the field running drills or calling up plays, she plays a huge role in that mission all from her desk.

And sometimes at the start line of a 6 a.m. conditioning test.

Courtesy of Michigan Athletics