2024-03-13

More than 150 University of Michigan students and Ann Arbor community members participated in a “die-in” demonstration Thursday afternoon to commemorate the death of Aaron Bushnell and honor the more than 30,000 Palestinians killed in the ongoing Israel-Hamas war. For the die-in portion of the event, demonstrators laid on the Diag while holding Palestinian flags and pictures of people killed by Israeli airstrikes in Gaza as a collection of audio clips from Gaza played in the background.

For the second part of the event, organizers hosted a vigil where LSA sophomore Levi Pierpont, who was friends with Bushnell, spoke about their relationship and Bushnell’s legacy.

Bushnell, a United States Air Force serviceman, died Feb. 25 after setting himself on fire outside of the Israeli Embassy in Washington, D.C. in protest of U.S. involvement in the Israel-Hamas war. Immediately before Bushnell self-immolated, he stated, “I will no longer be complicit in genocide” and chanted “Free Palestine!”

The die-in was organized by the TAHRIR Coalition, a multicultural coalition of more than 60 U-M student organizations including Students Allied for Freedom and Equality and the Graduate Employees’ Organization. Representatives from the organizations Faculty

and Staff for Justice in Palestine and Jewish Voice for Peace spoke during the event.

In an interview with The Michigan Daily, LSA sophomore Annabel Bean, co-founder of the U-M chapter of Jewish Voice for Peace, said Bushnell’s death made it clear how far people feel they need to go to be heard.

“I think it impacted everybody so deeply because it really just showed that people are desperate,” Bean said. “The movement has blocked streets and highways and talked to our

senators and Biden and vote (but) nothing is changing. … It’s devastating because it shows the extremes that people have to go to for our country, our system to listen to us.”

After hearing from the event’s speakers, U-M students and community members laid down on the Diag under fake bloodcovered cloth and surrounded by wrapped-up towels representing the corpses of children killed in Gaza. Organizers also set up posters containing photos of child victims from Gaza. During

the demonstration, sounds of Palestinian people in pain, which were obtained from interviews and videos taken during attacks in Palestine, played over the speakers.

After the die-in, the event transitioned to a vigil for Bushnell. Attendees placed flowers on the steps of the Hatcher Graduate Library and observed a fiveminute moment of silence in his honor.

LSA junior Alex Sepulveda, JVP co-activism chair, said in his speech that he believes Bushnell’s

self-immolation was a deeply meaningful act of protest.

“What he chose to do on the day that he committed his action, he gave something to the world they could never take back,” Sepulveda said. “He bestowed a breath of fresh air, a breath of consciousness to the world that will linger in the winds of prosperity and courage forever.”

In an interview with The Daily, Pierpont said they were inspired to become more involved in pro-Palestine activism at the University after Bushnell’s death.

“I realized that I needed to jump into activism and do whatever I can to honor the memory of my friend, but also to get other students involved that feel similar — that feel like there’s nothing we can do about the situation,” Pierpont said. “I want people to step up and not wait for something so extreme to happen in their life. Don’t wait for the number of dead people to climb. Don’t wait for your friend to kill themselves in protest. Step up and do something now.”

Pierpont said he became friends with Bushnell while through the Air Force’s basic training together during the COVID-19 pandemic, and they had kept in touch since.

“I went to basic training with Aaron,” Pierpont said. “I got to know him really well and we kept up through texting, calling, things like that through the years. The last time I saw him was Jan. 5. … I had no idea he was going to do this.”

During his speech at the vigil, Pierpont said his grieving process has become difficult with the massive media coverage Bushnell’s self-immolation has received.

“It is so deeply unsettling to Google the name of my friend and see it in headlines,” Pierpont said. “It is still so difficult for me to hear other people talk about him. … You shouldn’t know my friend’s name. Maybe someday, he could have written a book about organizing, or you could have met him through his involvement in mutual aid. He could have become a labor organizer. … He could have done anything. I just want to have him back.”

City Councilmember Travis Radina, D-Ward 3, told The Michigan Daily that the most common issue he hears about

constituents is

trouble navigating the housing market in Ann Arbor as renters. Specifically, many renters say they are being pressured by their landlords to renew their lease early.

“Outside of some of the broader activist-led movements in town, this is one where folks are just consistently reaching out as individuals and contacting us about some of the problems that they’re experiencing,” Radina said.

The proposed Ordinance to Amend Chapter 105 of the city’s Housing Code aims to help tenants in the city by closing perceived loopholes in two existing housing ordinances: the Early Leasing Ordinance and the Right to Renew Ordinance, both of which were created to strengthen tenants’ rights. The new ordinance was approved unanimously by the City Council at their Feb. 20 meeting and will take effect if it is approved for a second time at

their upcoming Monday meeting. This ordinance was a product of collaboration between the city’s Renters Commission, its nonvoting City Council liaisons Radina and Councilmember Cynthia Harrison, D-Ward 1, and city attorneys and landlord representatives, according to Radina.

The Ordinance to Amend Chapter 105 would alter the language of the existing Early Leasing Ordinance and Right to Renew Ordinance so that landlords could not make a renewal offer to tenants until 180 days into their current lease. If the new ordinance is passed, tenants would have 30 days to decide whether they want to renew after an offer is made.

After 30 days, the landlord could either make a second renewal offer to the tenants or find new tenants to rent the property. Additionally, all deadlines and timing constraints regarding when landlords can show properties or sign leases with new tenants would be counted from the start of the current lease, rather than the end.

In 2021, the city updated its existing ELO to ensure landlords could not show properties to prospective tenants or sign leases with new tenants more than 150 days before the current lease ends.

The ELO also required landlords to make a renewal offer to a property’s current tenants before the 150day mark. The Right to Renew Ordinance, which was passed in October 2022, stipulates that landlords must make a renewal offer to tenants 180 days before the end of their current lease and says that unless landlords have “just cause” for not renewing a lease with a tenant, they must either allow tenants to renew their lease or provide relocation assistance.

Renters and tenant advocates have said that once the two ordinances went into effect, landlords began to find loopholes in the law. Student tenants reported landlords using waitlist agreements to find future tenants more than 150 days before the end of a property’s lease. A tenant leasing from Campus Management told The Daily in April 2022 that they were pressured to commit to renewing their lease more than 150 days before its end. According to the individual, their landlord said they could not guarantee the tenant would be able to renew their lease in March if they did not reserve a spot earlier.

The Ann Arbor Tenants Union said that after the passage of the Right to Renew Ordinance, some landlords have incentivized their

tenants to renew early by telling them the rent price in their initial renewal offer would increase if the tenants did not agree to renew by a specific date. MLive reported that in October, CMB Property Management sent an email to each of their tenants to offer a rental rate for the upcoming year, which the company said would increase if they did not renew their lease by the end of the month.

In an email to The Daily, Rackham student Claire Arneson, chair of the Graduate Employees’ Organization’s Housing Caucus, wrote that some landlords make multiple renewal offers to pressure tenants into renewing earlier without technically violating the Right to Renew ordinance.

“Before the (proposed) amendment, the ordinance specified that the landlord is required to make a good faith renewal offer, but did not specify a time frame in which the renewal offer had to be made, except that an offer must be made before and be valid until 150 days before the lease end,” Arneson wrote. “This left a loophole: the landlord could extend multiple offers, starting as early in the lease as desired with an expiration date (earlier) than the 150-day mark, as long as another offer was extended

such that it would be valid at 150 days before the lease end.”

In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Rackham student Nathan Kim, a member of the Ann Arbor Tenants Union’s Reboot Task Force, said they advocated for the prospective amendment ordinance because the issue of landlords pressuring tenants to renew early repeatedly came up during conversations the union had with tenants around Ann Arbor.

“We have been working with tenants across the city because of the issue of a violation of the Early Leasing Ordinance — whether explicit violations of the literal letter of the law or simply exploiting some of these loopholes — they have been happening, despite the strong laws that were passed in 2022,” Kim said.

An April 2023 report by the Renters Commission explored loopholes in the 2021 iteration of the ELO, specifically looking at the issue of waitlist agreements, sometimes called option agreements or holding agreements. Under these agreements, prospective tenants pay a fee, which the report found could range from $150 to nearly $10,000, to reserve a spot in an apartment if the current tenants do not renew. Though the new amendment

ordinance does not directly address the issue of waitlist fees, Radina said the Commission plans to introduce legislation to address these issues in March.

“(The proposed ordinance) is really cleaning up the existing law,” Radina said. “I am in the process right now of working with Councilmember Harrison and the renters commission on addressing the exorbitant waitlist fees and other rental junk fees that we’ve been seeing across the city. And so, that is something that we hope to bring in March for first reading and ultimately begin moving that forward as well because that is really where we’ve seen a lot of really predatory behavior.”

Under the current ELO and Right to Renew Ordinance, a property with a lease ending in August cannot legally be renewed or leased to a new tenant until March. This would remain the case under the Ordinance to Amend Chapter 105, as the ordinance requires that landlords allow tenants to consider a renewal offer for 30 days. This means landlords cannot show properties to

or

until 210 days into

Ann Arbor City Council passes ordinance to close loopholes in Right to Renew and Early Leasing

City Council approves new Greenbelt conservation acquisitions

The Ann Arbor City Council met in Larcom City Hall Monday night to discuss changes to the city’s open space and parkland preservation program codes, consider the purchase of two cityowned golf carts and approve the acquisition of three properties for conservation in surrounding townships.

The meeting began with several announcements from City Administrator Milton Dohoney Jr., including an increase to the city’s living wage which will go into effect April 30. This increase impacts pay for employees of city-hired contractors, who are required by the Ann Arbor Living Wage Ordinance to receive the current living wage as decided by the council. For employers not paying health insurance, this means an increase from $15.90 an hour to $18.32. For employers who do pay health insurance, wages would increase from $15.90 an hour to $16.43.

The Independent Community

Police Oversight Commission, a community-led organization that aims to create a transparent and trusting relationship between the Ann Arbor Police Department and city residents, provided their monthly update to the council. ICPOC Chair Stefani Carter presented the updates which included notes from the ICPOC 2023 Annual Report, which has not yet been released to the public. She highlighted that, of complaints received by the ICPOC, 41% were regarding inappropriate actions or language from police. The report includes several recommendations to City Council, including increased training for police officers in de-escalation, handling interactions with persons with disabilities, communication with the public and cultural sensitivity.

“Here in Ann Arbor, we don’t want any preconceived or ill-conceived perceptions or prejudices to interfere with the respectful and kind treatment of all persons,” Carter said. City Council then unanimously passed all items within the consent agenda, which were approved via a single motion.

Three resolutions approved

UMich study finds new plant protein fold with potential for anti-lung cancer drug

University of Michigan researchers discover protein in peanut plant roots

Mydy said understanding how peptides are cyclized in nature will allow for recreation in the lab will enable further study of its potential as an anti-cancer drug.

A University of Michigan study published Feb. 14 discovered a protein fold found in the roots of the peanut plant that uses copper and oxygen to form cyclic peptides, some of which may have potential as an anti-cancer drug due to its structured and stable nature.

In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Roland Kersten, principal investigator and assistant professor of medicinal chemistry, said his lab used mass spectrometry, an analytical chemistry technique, to analyze organic extracts from plants from the Matthaei Botanical Gardens.

“We would break apart molecules that enter the mass (spectrometer), and those can be pretty much puzzle pieces that can tell you what the overall picture is,” Kersten said. “Those are called tandem mass spectra.”

The lab studies cyclic peptides from plants from the BURPdomain, such as the bicyclic peptide moroidin, which is effective against lung cancer cells in the lab. However, Lisa Mydy, first author and research fellow at the College of Pharmacy, explained in an email to The Daily her decision to focus on AhyBURP, a protein found in the roots of the peanut plant, for her study.

“The reason I studied the BURP-domain protein known as AhyBURP, rather than the protein that leads to moroidin, is because I had better success making the AhyBURP protein in the lab to study the protein structure,” Mydy wrote. “In addition, AhyBURP uses copper and oxygen in a different way than known copper and oxygen-dependent proteins.”

Mydy’s methods involved the use of X-ray crystallography to look at the protein structure and function of AhyBURP that she made in the lab using bacteria.

“I determined the protein structure with the co-mentorship of Dr. Janet Smith here at UMich by X-ray crystallography, to find that this protein has a structure that isn’t currently found in any other published experiments,” Mydy wrote. “I’m using bacteria (E. coli) to make the protein, and then I purify AhyBURP away from the rest of the protein in E. coli. I then experimentally determine whether the AhyBURP protein will form a protein crystal, visible under a microscope.”

participation agreements with Webster and Scio townships for the purchase of conservation easements. A conservation easement is a legal agreement made to limit land use for conservation purposes. The resolutions also appropriate $78,400, $128,250 and $50,000 respectively from the Open Space and Parkland Preservation Millage for two properties in Webster and one in Scio. These agreements are part of Ann Arbor’s Greenbelt program, which aims to protect farmland and open space surrounding the city.

City Council also approved a resolution for a professional services agreement with Stantec Consulting Services Inc. in the amount of $689,200 for geothermal advisory and design.

The city received nearly $600,000 from a federal grant to design a geothermal heating and cooling system for Ann Arbor’s Bryant neighborhood in 2023 and is continuing to explore the viability of larger-scale geothermal projects in line with the city’s A2Zero climate plan. The plan includes goals for communitywide carbon neutrality by 2030,

which would require more sustainable methods of cooling and heating such as geothermal technology.

The consent agenda also included approvals of a oneyear contract extension with Washtenaw County for police dispatch services and a $135,000 construction contract with Spence Brothers for renovations to the Larcom City Hall Building. The renovations are intended to create space for Supportive Connections, a community organization that provides social services to prevent involvement or reinvolvement with the criminal justice system.

After passing the consent agenda, City Council turned to public hearings and consideration of ordinances on the agenda.

An ordinance to amend the city’s Housing Code and close loopholes in the Early Leasing and Right to Renew ordinances was again unanimously approved after a second reading. The ordinance is sponsored by Councilmembers Travis Radina, D-Ward 3,

Cathy Park Hong taks poetry and identity at the UMMA

‘We can’t burn out. We can’t give up.’

impressive turnouts.”

“If we can understand how nature cyclizes peptides, then we can engineer different versions of the cyclic peptides and screen against more bacteria and cancer cell lines to look for an effective drug target,” Mydy wrote.

Rackham student Jordan Hungerford, a co-author, wrote in an email to The Daily that they believe the research is important because it provides insight into how BURP domain proteins are synthesized, which is challenging to do in a lab setting.

“I believe understanding the mechanistic details of these BURP domains could provide a fantastic tool for medicinal chemists in that these BURP domains catalyze unique side chain cross-links which can be traditionally difficult to synthesize,” Hungerford wrote.

“In my opinion, this is the first step to finding a way to apply these enzymes to drug discovery.”

Rackham student Di Wang, another co-author, wrote in an email to The Daily that this study opens the door for future discoveries about BURP domain proteins.

“This research found a new enzyme that has a different reaction mechanism from other reported enzymes and successfully identified structure,” Wang wrote. “This could further promote the discovery of other enzymes in this BURP-domaincontaining protein superfamily.”

Kersten said the lab has not yet done any testing in living organisms, like mice, and will need to be able to produce a larger quantity of peptides in order to do so.

“So far, we have only made milligram quantities,” Kersten said. “Usually if you want to go to mice you need a little bit closer to a gram.”

Mydy expressed further interest in further exploring the protein function and how other cyclic peptides test as treatment options in inhibiting a certain type of lung cancer.

“I’m especially interested in the protein function of how exactly the copper and oxygen are interacting with the BURP-domain protein to form cyclic peptides,” Mydy wrote.

“I’m also interested in studying other cyclic peptides that are made by BURP-domain proteins and screening them against other bacteria and cancer cell lines.”

More than 100 University of Michigan students, faculty and staff gathered to hear Cathy Park Hong, Pulitzer Prize finalist and one of Time magazine’s 100 Most Influential People of 2021, speak at the University of Michigan Museum of Art on Wednesday.

Hong’s talk kicked off the “(Re)Emergence: Asian American Histories and Futures” series, which is a collaboration between the Institute for the Humanities and Asian American studies scholars focusing on diverse Asian American histories and how scholars, activists and others can learn from them to shape the future. Hong spoke about her book, “Minor Feelings,” an essay collection about her life and identity as an Asian American. In a conversation with Peter Ho Davies, Charles Baxter Collegiate professor of English language and literature, Hong discussed her movement from poetry to prose along with her thoughts on identity and race.

Victor Mendoza, interim director of the Asian/Pacific Islander American Studies program expressed his enthusiasm for having Hong at the University.

“She’s kind of a dream guest,” Mendoza said. “I’ve been wanting to invite her to campus for a long time.”

In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Manan Desai, attendee and associate professor of Asian/Pacific Islander American Studies, said he was impressed by the large audience.

“I’ve been in this room for many years to see a number of different speakers,” Desai said. “I think this was one of the most

Hong wrote “Minor Feelings” in 2020, at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic and amid rising hate toward Asian Americans. Hong said while the state of the world has changed, the fight against anti-Asian racism is not over.

“We’re still in a dangerous moment,” Hong said. “We can’t burn out. We can’t give up.”

While Hong is best known for her work as a poet, she said she wrote “Minor Feelings” in an essay format because she felt a dramatic medium like poetry could not easily translate into a work of nonfiction. When it comes to her identity as a writer, though, Hong said she likes to blur the lines.

“I always will identify as a poet, even when I’m working on a book of essays or a book of fiction,” Hong said. “I just see myself as a poet. In fact, maybe I see myself as a prose poet.”

Along with prose-poetry, Hong discussed her Asian American identity and said she believes the world needs to find a different way to think about identity that is not defined by where a person is from but rather what they feel connected to.

“There are a lot of Asian Americans who really claim their identity,” Hong said. “This is where it’s more of identity and rootedness — where it’s more like OK to take up space and we need to have more Hollywood representation.”

Hong said coalition building can help uplift people’s voices, particularly those who have been historically marginalized.

“I think it’s not so much about amplifying the most successful among us, but really foregrounding the most vulnerable among us,” Hong said.

A University of Michigan study published in February used an electronic chip to detect the quantity of circulating tumor cells, or cells shed from a tumor that enter the bloodstream, in non-small cell lung cancer patients. The goal of the study was to use the chip technology to track the progress of cancer treatments such as chemotherapy and radiation therapy.

Non-small cell lung cancer is the most common type of lung cancer in the United States and accounts for 81% of lung cancer diagnoses nationally. There are four stages of cancer progression and a cancer reaches stage four when the tumor metastasizes, or spreads as CTCs break off from the original tumor

and enter the bloodstream to travel to distant parts of the body.

Researchers used the graphene oxide microfluidic chip to process blood samples taken from 26 patients at six different time points throughout their treatment for stage three non-small cell lung cancer. Sunitha Nagrath, chemical engineering professor and co-corresponding author of the study, said she and her team developed the chip in 2013, which uses antibodies to target and trap CTCs against graphene oxide sheets as the blood sample runs through it.

In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Nagrath said it is difficult to find CTCs in the earlier stages of cancer, so they wanted to develop a device capable of successfully trapping them.

“At the earliest stages, the challenge is the (circulating tumor) cells are much rarer,” Nagrath said.

“To have the ability to isolate these few cells, we knew we needed a very sensitive technology. … So, we created these islands of graphene oxide nanosheets. It’s like having these ‘nano arms’ that can grab onto the cells much more efficiently.”

The study aimed to use information from the chip to individualize treatment plans for lung cancer patients during a six-week course of weekly chemotherapy and radiation treatments. Shruti Jolly, Medical School professor of radiation oncology and co-corresponding author of the study, told The Daily the team chose to take blood samples four weeks into treatment.

“Instead of giving everybody the same treatment, we were trying to figure out are there some patients that need more dose, are there some who could get away with less dose,” Jolly said. “We picked the

four-week mark because it’s enough time so we detect (if the treatment) started working or not, but we still had those two weeks left. So if we needed to alter something, we still had the ability to change our course.”

Jolly said the chip could offer a less invasive approach than current methods used to track the effectiveness of lung cancer treatments, such as physical biopsies.

“The advantage of technology like CTCs is you could just get a blood sample, and then be able to detect them,” Jolly said. “You can’t geographically know where they are coming from. … That’s why we don’t necessarily diagnose lung cancer with it, but it’s a great way to be able to detect whether the treatments we’re giving lifts the burden of the circulating tumor cells.”

Currently, physicians also

often use CAT scans to see if a tumor shrank and thus determine treatment effectiveness. However, cancers can take weeks or months to respond to treatment and shrink. Jolly said the chip method could help physicians assess whether a treatment is working earlier on.

“The reason (physicians) have to wait for the three-month time period is because we actually need the tumor to shrink,” Jolly said. “In order for us to see that radiographically, it takes many weeks, versus the decrease in (circulating tumor) cells, you can detect (that) much quicker.”

In an interview with The Daily, Engineering sophomore Ian Paclik said he is interested in biomedical research and found the study to be promising in the field of cancer research.

“If they can get down the issue of sensitivity, getting a live update

or profile of cancer while it’s developing would be very useful,” Paclik said. “Cancer is unique to each person. … Personalizing a treatment plan for each patient, as the study is trying to do, is very important and very widely applicable.”

Although further studies are needed to corroborate the results of the study, Nagrath said she is excited about the results and hopes the chip can be used in clinical settings to help non-small cell lung cancer patients.

“It’s very exciting to see the agility of the tools that we develop in the lab and be used in the clinic,” Nagrath said. “Maybe we could find partners who would be interested in developing (the chip) into a commercially available tool. … Then this technology could be much more widely available beyond (the) University.”

About 50 University of Michigan students, faculty and community members gathered in Jeffries Hall Wednesday evening to hear Kate Masur, Northwestern University professor of history, tell the story of 19-year-old Olive Ash. Ash lived in Sutton, Vt. and died in 1858 after undergoing a medical procedure for an abortion. Masur took Ash’s story as part of her new archival research, focusing on the intersection between gender, patriarchy and the legal interpretation of women’s

reproductive rights in 19th-century New England.

In her talk, Masur said William Howard, the practitioner who conducted Ash’s abortion, was found guilty in 1859, despite his appeal that the fetus had died prior to the procedure, by the Vermont Supreme Court for violating an 1846 statute. The statute criminalized abortion and punished practitioners who completed the procedure when there was not a severe health concern for the pregnant person.

Masur said the interpretation of the statute reflected a perpetuation of traditional gender norms regarding women’s role in

society and prevented abortion from becoming a safe, accessible procedure. According to Masur, Chief Justice William Rehnquist believed allowing access to abortion would encourage women to avoid their prescribed roles as child bearers and mothers.

“This chief justice said the statute was not about protecting the fetus. The statute was about women,” Masur said. “So, in sum, the continued life of the fetus is not essential for the perpetration of the offense, and what mattered most was using interpreting the law as an effort to protect women’s lives and their reproductive capacity, and making sure that women acted

in conformity with the gender social norms of the time.” Masur said she analyzed the case of Olive Ash and the subsequent trial of State v. Howard because she wanted to better understand reproductive rights on a local level to gain insight into what life was like for women in the 19th century. “I zero in on events in 1858 and 1859, and in some ways it feels right to think about questions of women’s bodies and women’s opportunities on such a small, intimate scale because that’s the scale on which they were most often lived,” Masur said.

RUBY KLAWANS/Daily

explains five bills that were introduced, passed or signed into law in February

Each month, The Michigan Daily publishes a compilation of bills in the Michigan legislature to inform students at the University of Michigan on what is going on in their state legislature.

The following article explains five bills that have been introduced, passed or signed into law by the Michigan Legislature or Gov. Gretchen Whitmer throughout the month of February.

1. Cybersecurity defense for state universities

Status: Introduced in the Senate State Sen. Sean McCann, D-Kalamazoo, introduced a new bill to implement a cybersecurity defense team and update security operations for public universities in Michigan. The introduction of the bill is in response to increasing cyber threats such as the August 2023 cybersecurity attack at the University of Michigan, in which an unauthorized third party gained access to the personal information of campus community members and led to a campus-wide internet outage. This has led to the demand for cost-effective cybersecurity solutions for Michigan institutions.

Senate Bill 737 would establish the education security operations center to coordinate cybersecurity defense for public universities, minimizing costs and leveraging academic expertise. After the initial deployment phase, the bill would extend services to other public educational institutions.

McCann’s bill would also create a fund administered by the Department of Labor and Economic Opportunity to finance the establishment and development of the center, ensuring its sustainability.

2. Aid for students with dyslexia Status: Introduced in the Senate The Education Committee voted to update two proposed bills — Senate Bills 567 and 568 — to help students with disabilities achieve maximized literacy. The legislation was originally introduced in October of last year. Introduced by state Sen. Jeff Irwin, D-Ann Arbor, Senate Bill 567, mandates that schools assess all students for signs of dyslexia and language decoding challenges. It demands interventions based on the “Science of Reading” and would be customized to meet the needs of each student.

Introduced by state Sen. Dayna Polehanki, D-Livonia, Senate Bill 568 would impose more rigorous requirements on teacher preparation programs, mandating instruction in the “Science of Reading” and effective strategies for assisting students with dyslexia.

3. Foster youth protection in schools Status: Passed in the House

The state House passed House Bill 4677 to protect foster care children while increasing their access to high-quality education.

Sponsored by state Rep. Stephanie Young, D-Detroit, the bill mandates that the Michigan Department of Health & Human Services, the Michigan Department of Education and the Center for Educational Performance and Information must compile a yearly report detailing data on foster children’s educational records. The mandated report would include information such as the number of foster children suspended or expelled during the academic year and those identified by chronic absenteeism or truancy. The collected data is proposed to be used to address gaps in the education of students in foster

care, as well as identify issues between public, private and academy schools.

In a press release, Young said she believes the new bill is a step in the right direction for the well-being and success of children in foster care, allowing Michigan legislators to provide increased resources and educational opportunities.

“I want foster youth to know we are committed to putting them first and to making their lives better, providing them the resources they need for success,” Young said. “We see them and we hear them.”

4. Fines and penalties for illegal littering

Status: Passed in the House

The state House passed House Bill 4325 to protect the state’s environment and natural resources.

Sponsored by state Rep. Helena Scott, D-Detroit, the bill fines and penalizes individuals

for large amounts of illegal littering and increases the regulation of foreign substances discharged into the environment by imposing stricter penalties for littering.

In a press release, Scott said that efforts by Whitmer to improve environmental conditions for Michigan residents are essential for the state’s prosperity. “The signage of the illegal dumping bill by Governor Whitmer is a major victory in creating a better environment for all Michiganders,” Scott said. “Polluters will not be able to abandon land and buildings, creating blight, without consequence. The increased fines and penalties send a clear message: we’re putting the health and safety of our ecosystem and the people of Michigan first. If you pollute, it will cost you.”

5. Cut red tape & lower costs for families

Status: Passed in the House

The Michigan House passed a bipartisan bill package, House Bills 4416-4419, to eliminate red tape laws and help lower costs for families pursuing asset transfers when a family member has passed.

House Bill 4416, sponsored by state Rep. Graham Filler, R-St. Johns, would amend the Estates and Protected Individuals Code, allowing modification to current asset thresholds and implementing the Standby Guardian Law. The Standby Guardian Law allows a parent facing chronic illness or nearing death to nominate a standby or limited guardian who can assume guardianship responsibilities temporarily.

Also sponsored by Filler, House Bill 4417 revises the highest permissible value for transferring vehicle ownership to the surviving spouse following the owner’s death. This change accounts for the current cost of living for the family by taking into account the United States Consumer Price Index from the year before. State Rep. Kelly Breen, D-Novi, sponsored House Bill 4418 and 4419. House Bill 4418 alters the value of money, securities and insurance transfers permissible for minors. House Bill 4419 raises the threshold for issuing a certificate of title concerning the transfer of a watercraft from the deceased owner’s interest. This change also adjusts for the CPI to more accurately reflect the current cost of living. In a press release, Breen emphasized how limiting legal difficulties during contentious times, such as the loss of a family member, is important.

“Grieving the loss of a loved one is hard enough without having to endure litigation over inherited property,” Breen said. “That’s what these bills will help avoid. I’m proud of the bipartisan work we’ve done to help Michigan families avoid Probate Court and make a difficult time just a little easier.”

As the second semester begins, many University of Michigan students may be thinking about housing plans for next semester. While some may choose to apply for on-campus housing, it is limited and not always guaranteed for students after their first year at the University, which has led many students to look at offcampus housing options.

In an interview with The Michigan Daily, LSA freshman Kevin Dutton said he is currently looking online for apartments nearby.

“When it comes to subleases for apartments, you have until March to kind of figure things out, but I’ve been looking at (apartments for next year),” Dutton said. “I’m moving with my friend from high school next year, and we were looking at Prime Student Housing, where they have a bunch of different apartments in Michigan.”

Recent studies have shown that finding an affordable apartment is becoming increasingly hard in Ann Arbor. In 2023, the median rent in the Ann Arbor metro was $1,505 per month. In 2024, the median was recorded to be $1,619 — a 7.6% increase. This is not only occurring in Ann Arbor; prices rose by 12.6% nationwide over the last year.

LSA senior Ella Cole said she thinks it is stressful to find offcampus housing, particularly for students who may struggle to afford the high costs in Ann Arbor.

“I know this is a huge problem on a lot of college campuses in the U.S., and it’s not great, and a lot of students who come from families who can’t support them and can’t help them pay for housing,” Cole said. “It’s really, really hard for them. So it’s a big problem and I think the University ignores it.”

Many students have attempted to address these high costs by finding roommates. Information

junior Brenda Esquivel said she has talked to other students in a student organization she is involved with, La Casa, to help find off-campus housing.

“I was trying to search for roommates and I was struggling because I didn’t know where to look or who to ask,” Esquivel said.

“We have a GroupMe where a lot of students join and everybody sends messages if anybody needs help with anything, and I just shoot a message saying like, ‘Oh, if you need a roommate, I’m looking for somebody,’ and then from there, people started messaging me.”

Esquivel said she also received some advice from members of her sorority, Delta Tau Lambda, of which she is president, about how to find available listings.

“Most of my (sorority) sisters are off-campus, so they’ve been sending me their resources,” Esquivel said. “They suggested taking a day to walk around Packard or Division Street because most listings are on websites but a lot of them are also hung up on the lawn with a phone number.”

The University has a website, the U-M Off-Campus Housing Marketplace, aimed at helping students find off-campus housing in finding leases, roommates and subleases.

LSA freshman Reshma Bapanapalli said she used the U-M website to learn more about how to find housing off-campus.

“The website I mainly use (to find housing) is the Michigan website for off-campus housing, Bapanapalli said. “It’s a really great resource to look at options close and far from campus. However, it’s difficult because the apartments closer to campus are more expensive than the ones farther away, but it has been helpful to learn that I don’t need to look too hard for a roommate because some complexes will set one up for you.”

Esquivel said she believes it would be beneficial if the University’s website included

more available listings.

“If it’s such a good website, why do I have to use outside resources to find listings that they don’t have?” Esquivel said. “I’m curious whether the University puts in the listings or (if it’s) based on the actual Ann Arbor community.”

Mark Simmonds, manager of U-M off-campus housing program Beyond the Diag, wrote in an email to The Daily that students can find more support when it comes to off-campus housing by using Student Legal Services. SLS offers free lease reviews and can answer other legal or contractual questions related to housing.

“I would encourage any student (at whatever level) to keep in mind that there is not a shortage of housing in Ann Arbor, and therefore it is OK to take your time, weigh your options, and reflect on what is important to you in terms of cost, location, roommates, amenities, etc,” Simmonds wrote. “These are all important parts of the decisionmaking process, and can make the difference in terms of your housing experience.”

Simmons wrote that Beyond the Diag tries to reach out to students with different opportunities to find housing, like virtual offcampus housing fairs.

“We also prioritize learning from student experience and pay close attention to student feedback when identifying ways to improve,” Simmonds wrote. “We are always looking for opportunities to build and develop our program, in line with the university’s strategic priorities, and consistent with Student Life’s values. We established a partnership with a different website platform provider in August 2023, because we felt that their product and approach was more closely aligned with the needs and priorities of our students. We are conscious that with technological developments, there are always new ways to engage with students, such as virtual housing fairs and digital communication channels.”

Genre-defining films are a rare breed, especially in genres as oversaturated as science-fiction.

When you have countless Marvel movies, remakes or sequels to 20th-century classics à la “Jurassic World” and the classics themselves, many films are vying for limited attention. It’s especially difficult for a film to bury itself in the hard sci-fi constants of esoteric worldbuilding, strange plotlines and hard-to-grasp characters, while still competing with the fun, lighthearted competition of the likes of Star Wars. Denis Villeneuve’s (“Arrival”)

“Dune: Part Two” shatters these reservations by not shying away from them; Villeneuve instead uses every technique in his filmmaking repertoire to create one of the greatest science-fiction films — no, one of the greatest films — of all time, the enigmatic story and all.

Despite covering a huge chunk of plot, “Dune: Part Two” keeps its pacing tight and story coherent. It starts right where the first film left off: House Atreides has lost the desert planet of Arrakis to the rival Harkonnens who were helped by the Emperor (Christopher Walken, “Pulp Fiction”). Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet, “Little Women”) and his mother Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson, “The Greatest Showman”) have taken refuge with the Fremen, the native people of Arrakis; while with them, Paul falls in love with Chani (Zendaya, “Spider-Man: Homecoming”), a Fremen woman passionately wishing for her people’s freedom. Paul is seeing prophetic visions where he becomes the messiah to a warrior cult, the Lisan al Gaib, made worse by

both his mother’s active promotion of these beliefs and the Fremen leader Stilgar’s (Javier Bardem, “No Country For Old Men”) devout faith in Paul’s prophecy. Paul attempts to strike a balance between preventing a “jihad” that would result in a war spreading across the universe and killing countless innocents with wanting to avenge his family’s downfall. And yes, it is a jihad; even if the film westernizes the language to “holy war” or “crusade,” the film keeps the influence of Middle Eastern and North African cultures of the book. It doesn’t shy away from other Arabic-influenced words like Shai-Hulud, the Fremen name for the giant sandworms that dominate Arrakis. Instead, it only sanitizes the word jihad for audiences who might be uncomfortable with its use, weakening the film’s otherwise powerful message on the relationship between imperialism and indigenous groups. The first film, “Dune,” was rightfully criticized for its lack of representation in its cast, and the continued use of “holy war” follows this same trend of Hollywood silencing diverse voices in the name of profitability.

Paul’s quest for power is contrasted with the Harkonnen heir Feyd-Rautha (Austin Butler, “Elvis”), a violent sociopath who is being manipulated by the Bene Gesserit, a clandestine religious group that is seeking to replace the Emperor with a candidate from their eugenic breeding program.

Paul and Feyd-Rautha are both vying for the throne and control of Arrakis, and as the religious fervor around Paul increases, war seems inevitable.

The complex story is supported brilliantly by the film’s fantastic performances. Villeneuve draws greatness out of each of his actors, and every single character gets their time to shine. Every performer is given time

at center stage, allowing them to flex their acting muscles and show that even if they aren’t the main character, they deserve attention. Josh Brolin (“Avengers: Endgame”) especially benefits from this in his performance of Gurney Halleck, an advisor and friend to Paul. He uses his limited screen time completely, fulfilling one of the most tragic revenge arcs in only a handful of scenes. Zendaya as Chani straddles the line of loving Paul while still questioning the honesty in his desire to help the Fremen. The list of standout performers could go on — Butler, Ferguson, Bardem. Countless performances in this movie would stand above the rest in a lesser film, but Chalamet is the one who takes the cake. He seamlessly jumps between Paul’s fury, terror and desire, deftly balancing the conflicting emotions inside of Paul. The scene where Paul finally accepts his destiny and mantle of messiah is the most heartthumping climax in recent memory. I’ll leave it unspoiled because I lack the words to describe the way it makes me feel.

Villeneuve’s Dune is not a carbon copy of Frank Herbert’s “Dune,” and often for good reason. With less time to develop characters and plot lines than a full-length book, Villeneuve removes many auxiliary elements to emphasize “Dune’s” most important elements: Paul’s rise to power and its dire consequences for the universe. Multiple secondary characters are removed whole cloth, a two-year time jump is replaced with a continuous plotline and simple characters are given new complexity, all to the benefit of the film. Instead of learning what happened to the kids of a Fremen character who died halfway through the story, the audience sees Chani voice her opinions, make decisions that impact the world around her and have real human emotions — all

things that were lacking in the book. She criticizes the Fremen religious cult arising around Paul, seeing through the illusion of freedom the prophecy presents to its truth — it’s just another form of control. The film adds a more character-driven angle to the book’s original story, creating an impassioned journey for the audience to join along on. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the costumes — they are exquisite. All of the outfits from the previous film are on full display, and the film’s attention to detail allows the audience a chance to examine them in finer detail. Sandsuits are still impossibly complex, yet tattered by the desert. Bene Gesserit headdresses and veils provide a combination of religious evocation and sinister concealment. However, our new characters’ clothing — or sometimes lack thereof — provides the audience

with an immediate understanding of what kind of people they are dealing with. The Emperor’s daughter Princess Irulan’s (Florence Pugh, “Midsommar”) bejeweled dress doesn’t stop at a typical neckline, instead stretching to the edges of her face, punctuating her unimaginable power over the universe. Feyd-Rautha is decked out in a bizarro version of the Fremen’s stillsuits: While their gear emphasizes speed and minimal waste, Feyd-Rautha’s beefy black armor implies strength and brute force. Combined with the striking hair and makeup work on Butler, even a still image of the Harkonen nephew is unnerving. Every single costume and detail contributes to the film’s characters and visual storytelling, adding to the world without the audience having to think about it at all. The colors of “Dune: Part Two”

‘The

strip back the visuals to their bare bones. The vibrant oranges of Arrakis open and end the film, with the surprising energy and life of the harsh desert planet setting the stage for immersive visual storytelling. Sandwiched inside are softly lit scenes of the Emperor’s homeworld, stark and brutal black-and-white scenes of the Harkonnen planet Giedi Prime and kaleidoscopic dream sequences that fragment natural landscapes into a chaotic mess of colors, spice and fear. Each unique setting has such a distinct visual design and color palette that they are instantly recognizable from just a few-second sequence. Despite the otherworldly settings, the audience is never lost; they can always look up at the sunlight for guidance, like a traveler in the desert.

Other Valley’ is a character study in grief, change and time travel The Michigan Daily Crossword

Scott Alexander Howard’s debut novel, “The Other Valley,” opens on a startling premise. A small town lies nestled between the open arms of a mountain range and the welcoming expanse of a lake. To the west sits another town, with the same beaches, the same orchards and even the same people — only 20 years in the past. The eastern valley has another village, this one 20 years in the future, and beyond that sits still another, 40 years in the future of the original.

The chain continues forever, a sweeping expanse of identical villages, each displaced from its neighbors by exactly 20 years. Each offers a look into a predestined future or a long-forgotten past — one that, wisely, is rarely glimpsed within the scope of the novel. Instead, Howard is content to dangle the promise of the valleys over the length of the book, and the result is contemplative, melancholic and almost infuriating at times with its careful, deliberate attention to character and mood.

Occasionally, villagers are allowed to visit neighboring valleys, hoping for a glimpse of a future they may never see or a loved one long since passed. The Conseil, the village’s governing body, oversees all travel between valleys. Travelers are always escorted, their faces masked, forbidden to speak. Passage between villages is otherwise strictly forbidden, as changing even the smallest details in a “past” village would ripple throughout the future villages. It’s a bold premise, one strangely — and enticingly — sparse of details beyond the bare skeleton of its concept.

The novel centers around Odile, a teenager pressured by her mother to apply for a job within the Conseil. Initially awkward and reserved, Odile is pulled out of her shell by a budding connection with fellow student Edme, an aspiring violinist and composer, and his gang of friends. Their schoolyard antics form the crux of a delightful, if not subdued, coming-of-age story, the pressures of body image and adolescence intermingling with the giddy heights of first love.

Things are swiftly complicated, however, when Odile recognizes a pair of visiting mourners as Edme’s parents. She realizes that the couple have come from a neighboring village to grieve their son’s passing and is forced to choose between the

Conseil’s strict orders to stay quiet and her own burgeoning feelings for Edme. Edme will almost certainly die if she does nothing, but any change Odile makes could have disastrous implications for the future of the other villages.

This decision forms the crux of the novel, rather than the bold setting Howard develops. The world becomes a backdrop for an intensely personal narrative of grief and change. Odile has a wonderful emotional clarity to her, a pervading sense of loneliness and bitterness that soaks through Howard’s stark landscapes and philosophical musings. Her passive nature and wavering faith in the Conseil come to quiet, agonizing conflict with her affection for Edme, a tension that Howard holds for longer than a lesser writer could manage. Howard is the master of the slow build-up — a buildup that is spoiled, if only a little, by the rather abrupt ending to the novel.

Odile’s mother sits as the unsung star of the book. A failed Conseil candidate, Odile’s mother sees every step in Odile’s rise toward leadership as a chance for her to rewrite the mistakes of her own childhood. It’s a clever parallel to Odile herself — and the main conceit of the villages — that Howard draws with careful ease.

There’s a tantalizing ambiguity to the valleys, one that Howard never dwells on for too long. A smattering of folk tales highlight the Conseil’s fear of change, dovetailing neatly at points with Odile’s personal journey. The world outside the villages is never referenced — if it exists at all. This is a small obfuscation that does a lot to develop the fairy-tale feel of the villages.

Of course, an unfortunate side effect of this vagueness is that the central concept of the novel is at times half-baked. The Conseil itself feels a bit like an afterthought. Like most governments in this kind of literary speculative fiction — I’m sure I won’t be the only reader to be reminded of Lois Lowry’s “The Giver” — the Conseil’s intentions are too slippery to be fully grasped, somewhere between the well-intentioned and the sinister, that slick precipice between utopian and dystopian. Elements that could have been the centerpiece of the novel, such as the Conseil’s militaristic regulation of the border, are introduced to further Odile’s emotional arc, only to fade swiftly into the background, their political and social ramifications

Last year, women across social media rebranded their flight from adult sensibilities into a performance of girlhood that was so enthralling, critics called 2023 the “year of the girl.” We went on hot girl walks, we ate girl dinner, we did girl math — hell, we tied pink bows around pickles and called it “coquette.” But what about real-life, complex girls, not the trends we see on social media?

While I was clinging onto my adolescence, watching TikToks about calico critters who failed to beat teen pregnancy, I saw girls online half my age perfecting 10-step skincare routines — ones that, on a good day, were precisely nine steps longer than mine.

At the beginning of 2024, these so-called “Sephora kids” became the focus of TikTok’s “girl” discourse. Except this time, adult women didn’t identify with Sephora kids the same way they related to rat girls, lala girls, OKOKOK girls, clean girls, vanilla girls, tomato girls — trust me, I could go on. Instead, the nomenclature speaks for itself. Twenty-something women — the same ones who went feral over adult sippy cups — have assigned “girl” to every combination of chronically online word vomit they can think of. But when it comes to actual 10-year-olds, they hesitated, reluctant to acknowledge them as Sephora “girls” because they fail to espouse the kind of prepubescent girlhood adult women want to remember.

“I was begging to a 10-year-old,” one woman recounted about her runin with a Sephora kid, who snatched

the last bottle of Drunk Elephant bronzing drops off the shelf. “Give me your Gucci heart Ring, and I will,” the little girl offered. The woman didn’t accept. “This whole side of my face would just twitch,” an ex-Sephora employee recalled about her encounters with “these gremlin bitch-faced monsters.”

Another Sephora employee weighed in, sharing a story about a mom who freaked out over the $900 worth of product her daughter rang up, while “the little girl (was) just looking at her like, yeah, bitch I’m gonna spend $900. Like, I don’t know what you’re looking at.”

“I (was) trying not to punch this 10-year-old girl,” another woman admitted after a Sephora kid hit her with a “big ass bag” while cutting her in line. “I tried to (say excuse me), but apparently, you’re deaf,” the

little girl insisted when the woman looked back at her in horror. In the wake of the Sephora kid “epidemic,” women have come face-to-face with what it actually means to be a girl in 2024, and it isn’t pretty. The apocalypse of girlhood is upon us, and yet, we’re vilifying little girls for participating in a culture we created. Many of the women who have recounted their experiences with Sephora kids have only done so while filming a headband-clad GRWM, promoting the same Drunk Elephant, Sol de Janeiro and Glow Recipe products these children are fiending for. Certainly, the irony isn’t lost on anyone.

But is this really our fault? Should we hold adults responsible for turning Sephora into a playground for modern girlhood? The only way I could answer this question was by

measuring the Sephora girl against my own 10-year-old self. We were both children of the internet — how different could we be?

In the early 2010s, YouTube witnessed a renaissance of beauty media, spearheaded by young women like Michelle Phan, Bethany Mota (MacBarbie07), Jackie Aina, Zoe Sugg (Zoella), Lindy Tsang (Bubzbeauty), Rachel Levin (Rclbeauty101) and more. But don’t be mistaken — calling these women “influencers” would be equivalent to watching a Generation A kid mime a phone call with their palm instead of their fist.

YouTube’s OG “Beauty Gurus” built their platforms from the inside of their childhood homes, filming makeup tutorials on a MacBook they propped up on a stack of books. The focus of their content — “Natural

Looking Makeup Tutorial,” “Easy School Hairstyles,” DIY — make your own concealer (easy!),” “Back to School: Locker & Organization Essentials,” “School Morning Routine” and “Drugstore School Makeup Tutorial: 6th 7th 8th Grade & High School” to name a few — reflected the DIY nature of their fame. Beauty gurus were, first and foremost, ordinary young women, producing videos for girls just like them: too young to afford beauty products sold outside of a drugstore, too grown-up to follow their moms’ rules about wearing makeup and dating boys.

Beauty gurus didn’t respond to this age-old, preteen conundrum by asking their parents to shell out $68 for Drunk Elephant Protini Polypeptide Cream. Instead, if they wanted a beauty product, they made

it themselves. In 2011, an article from the Wall Street Journal reported on a growing population of priceconscious, independent 8-to 18-yearolds, creating their own makeup from “bedroom cosmetics labs stocked with household products like olive oil and petroleum jelly.”

Then-14-year-old Cloe Feldman (CloeCouture) explained that her “do-it-yourself videos (were) aimed at viewers who can’t afford to buy make-up.” Levin, then 16, echoed a similar sentiment, substituting Urban Decay’s $19 eyeshadow primer for a mixture of concealer and body lotion. This DIY beauty culture became so pervasive in the early 2010s that 10-year-olds (myself included) mashed up avocados and bananas in a bowl and called it skincare. We made pore strips from egg whites and toilet paper, bronzer from cocoa powder and rubbing alcohol, nail polish from glue, lip plumper from cinnamon, hair rollers from tampons and lipstick from crayons. Nothing was off limits. From promoting EOS lip balms, Essie nail polish and Maybelline baby lips to Lush bath bombs, Bath and Body Works and DIYs that would make Sephora girls gag, YouTubers of the early 2010s inaugurated the golden age of age-appropriate, preteen beauty. But if beauty gurus succeeded in creating brands centered around affordable and accessible beauty, what changed?

It all dates back to 2017, the year the beauty guru died and the influencer was born. Well, technically, the first-ever influencer didn’t hail from the age of Starbucks unicorn Frappuccinos, Salt Bae, Anastasia Dip Brow, poorly blended contour and “Despacito.”

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The 1997 film, “Titanic,” immersed viewers in several hours of unattainable maritime luxury and, apart from the tragedy at the end, showed millions of people what it’s like to be rich and at sea. Today, people don’t have to watch a three-hourlong movie to vicariously experience a cruise — they just have to open TikTok. The world has moved in an interesting direction.

The hashtag #cruisetok currently has more than 144,000 posts on TikTok, many of which relate to Royal Caribbean’s Ultimate World Cruise. There are super yachts, mega yachts and giga yachts, but the Ultimate World Cruise surpasses all other seacraft in extravagance and ambition; it boasts a 274-night itinerary that spans over 60 countries and 11 world wonders. Does that make it a super mega yacht? A tera yacht? I’m not sure. But an estimated 600 people have embarked on a ninemonth voyage where the cheapest ticket comes out to $60,000 per person (for a room without windows).

The cruise videos began to pop up around the holidays last year, starting with cabin tours, daily routines and detailed reviews of the food. They show no sign of going away —

#cruisetok has only gotten bigger, extending its reach past TikTok to mainstream news sources. Today. com keeps tabs on highlights of the cruise, including “minor flooding on deck” and “seeing Antarctica from a distance.” Most of the videos are boring as hell — something along the lines of, ‘I ate cruise food again today, and I’m tired of it’ — and that’s because people experiencing a cruise isn’t interesting, really. But the internet thought this cruise was different.

The Ultimate World Cruise had only been at sea for days before TikTok users embraced the novelty of a nine-month vacation. People started to ponder logistics. What happens if you’re pregnant when the cruise starts? What happens if people get sick? What happens when hundreds of people are stuck together on a ship for almost a year? Soon, the observers made the connection: The cruise is a social experiment, and with that, there must be drama.

The “cruisetok” hashtag is widely conflated with reality TV, a comparison owed to the string of storylines born from several selfreported narratives of life on the boat. Passengers on the cruise who post videos of their experiences are referred to as “characters” or “cast members,” and with more than 600 people on board, there is an excess of material. Numerous TikTok users —

most of whom are not on the cruise — spend a lot of time researching, analyzing and cross-referencing cruise videos to deliver updates to their followers. That’s where things become strange.

Take the Pinnacle Club guest program — one of the most talked about sources of drama. In short, Royal Caribbean offers Pinnacle membership status to passengers of the nine-month trip who dump a lot of money on the cruise compared to “segmenters,” who have booked a limited stretch. Pinnacle members receive special treatment unavailable to segmenters, including invitations to town hall meetings about the ship’s itinerary, access to exclusive group chats and expedited boarding.

I couldn’t find videos of segmenters complaining about the Pinnacle members, but one cruise analyst felt inclined to say that segmenters feel ostracized, and that Pinnacle members are only “showing us what they want us to see.” OK … this person feels strongly about an implied ugly side of Pinnacle members. Are they spitting on the segmenters? I’m not sure. On the other side of the screen, additional TikTok users respond to the Pinnacle member drama — which, I restate, was mostly perpetuated by a viral video from somebody who is not on the cruise — creating a tangled web of discourse.

Enter Marc Sebastian, one of the most loquacious critics of the cruise and its rumored classist tendencies. He’s baffled by the Pinnacle members. He senses mutiny. Someone will go overboard he predicts, and he wants to watch.

In an act of divine intervention (via an anonymous sponsorship), the “Andy Cohen of the 9-month-cruise” boarded the ship in early January, determined to illuminate the ugly truth about the Pinnacle club. For the

first time, an outside commentator entered the social experiment. Some of the nine-month members were not pleased with his desire to stir chaos, but Sebastian left the cruise with essentially no new discoveries. The concept of a perk program is not groundbreaking, and Sebastian did not uncover a dark truth. So how did this drama become so distended?

Remember #Bamarushtok? when thousands of people followed a group of girls rushing sororities

at The University of Alabama? The “cruisetok” is something similar: Viewers process and piece together parts of the larger narrative, then distribute the drama to a wider audience. This doesn’t work without the middleman who is there to consolidate information and ensure that a coherent story is followed, and that the audience has something to look forward to.

there, intoning mirthlessly under “Everything Turns Blue,” striking a final rippling chord on “House Of Self-Undoing.” Where before she pulled from Hank Williams and Nick Cave, Wolfe now wears Scandi-metal influences on her sleeve.

The album’s opening track twitches with electricity, like an overclocked gadget; on “Whispers in the Echo Chamber,” Wolfe drops into a sinister, bifurcated chant for the digital age. In the silent middle eight, when it all goes dark, she whispers to you, so quietly she’s made it into haunting ASMR: “surrounded by living ghosts, you see / I thought I had to swallow them before they swallowed me.”

When the track goes back online, she is reduced to a chant (“more, more, more”) that evokes the album title: She reaches out to she reaches out to — to what? Who but the mirrors themselves? She finds herself reflected in them, but this is just the glass working as designed.

In interviews, Wolfe wished she were a Kurt Cobain, with a voice that crackles out of her stomach, gurgling like acid. But that voice hurt Cobain from the inside; that

voice is just not hers. For her part, Wolfe knows how to wield her vocal prowess: Hiss Spun’s shoegaze sensibilities bury her with the reverb and Apokalyspis ’ expansive guitarscapes stretch over her poetry like a tarp. On She Reaches Out to She Reaches Out to She, tracks click and whirr and buzz under her, over her, nearly drown her out — but Wolfe’s delicate falsetto does not waver. Not once does she raise her voice.

Michigan’s ASA presents: An unforgettable ‘Fake African Wedding’

During the coldest month of the year, in one of the coldest states of the country, a group of African college students chose not to spend their time simply “warming up by the fire.” Instead, they threw a wedding — a Fake African Wedding — on Jan. 27, 2024. Immersed in the heat of throwback Afrobeats songs, lively dancing that drew crowds and spirited live performances, they embraced the warmth and vibrant essence only an African wedding celebration could provide.

The African Students Association, fondly referred to as “ASA,” brought together members from five different colleges across Michigan. They convened at Divine Providence in Southfield, Michigan to mark a significant occasion: A Fake African Wedding the state’s inaugural event of its kind. Anticipations were high as pre-event interviews revealed that guests were looking forward to a good time, great music, and most importantly, the opportunity to connect with other Africans from various schools. Needless to say, the Fake African Wedding would prove to be exactly that and more.

Starting at 6 p.m., attendees trickled in from the five schools participating: the University of Michigan, Michigan State University, Eastern Michigan University, Wayne State University and University of Detroit Mercy. In an interview with The Daily, Oriekaose Agholor, ASA president at the University of Detroit Mercy, explained that although the true crowd would only gather fashionably late around 9 p.m., organizers had been at the location since 1 p.m.

“We wanted everything to be perfect for our guests,” Agholor said. “So we needed to be there early to set up.”

And indeed, the hard work of the organizers shone through. The wedding hall showcased an extravagant photo booth, adorned with curtains of orange, ivory and gold — the royal colors of the night. Against the backdrop of the photo booth reading “Better Together,” attendees captured the night’s essence under the glimmer of selfie sticks, flashing cameras and fluorescent ring lights. This phrase symbolized the wedding theme permeating the air and underscored the unity among the colleges — now, better together. Once the performances began, the “wedding” truly took off. The first performance featured a dance troupe from Michigan State University, who displayed a scintillating choreography to modern Afro-pop and Afrobeats rhythms. Following this, the band, consisting of a pianist, bass guitarist, drummer, background singers and a live saxophonist, serenaded and energized guests with acoustic renditions of popular Afrobeats songs, infusing the night with a unique artistic charm.

Soon, the hall was filled with a sea of raised phones, ready to film their “I Went to a Fake African Wedding” recaps and Instagram story highlights. The venue’s vibrant decor and the band’s musical prowess paled in comparison to the true stars of the evening: the wedding attendees themselves. Guests arrived dressed in dramatic, glowing colors, delicately woven kente fabric, flowy boubous, bedazzled corsets, feathered fans and sparkling gele matched with Ankara — all customary pieces for a wedding of such grandeur. Midway through the event, an impromptu “Best Dressed” competition broke out and, as you would imagine, it took hours before the judges selected a winner.

Curious to know where they got their garments from, I approached several guests. Many, like LSA senior Kobby Nyankson, senior in Biopsychology, Cognition and Neuroscience, revealed they had “ordered it specifically for this event.” Other adventurous, even more intrepid guests like Art &

Design junior Elsa Olander would tell me they custom-made their outfits and jewelry. By hand. I could only respond with exclaimed eyes and deep claps — in awe at the meticulous planning and immeasurable creativity behind each outfit.

However, it wasn’t until the bridal party made their grand entrance that I realized the true splendor of the event unfolding. Their entrance was a stellar mix of intricate planning and fantastic improvisation. Dancing in pairs and trios to timeless wedding classics, such as “Duro” by Tekno and “Aye” by Davido, the bridal party’s attire radiated sophistication, as the groomsmen’s flowing white Agbadas complemented the bridesmaids’ orange aṣ - bi (pronounced ah-sho-eh-bi; ceremonial clothing, customary to Nigerian weddings). This was elevated even further by the arrival of the bride and groom, imbued with a sense of glamor and prestige that one would expect from the couple celebrating their union (It was hard to imagine

that no one was actually getting married because all the details made it seem all too believable). The bride in particular seemed to relish this spotlight, enchanting and winning the attention of many in the crowd.

As the live band yielded to a DJ, the once-calm atmosphere transitioned to an energetic showdown. All initial layers of prim and proper had been replaced with pulsating dance moves, beads of sweat and exuberant exclamations, all fueled by the DJ’s eclectic music selection. I use this choice of words very intentionally, as it is the only way to accurately reflect the palpable exchange of energy that happened on the dance floor.

In staying true to the customary African wedding traditions, there was also an endless showering of money throughout the evening — a gesture of respect, jubilation, and celebration. Though I must admit, in our case, not all the money present was “real” — we were still college students, after all — the tradition remained intact and was

joyously celebrated throughout the night.

However, all that being said, no event is without its flaws. While it was celebrated as the first of its kind, many guests expressed a desire for more. As Lizzy Junaid, a sophomore studying Women and Gender Studies on the premed track said, “If the point was to showcase African culture, it fell short … because it was more of a club and not a wedding. There (were) no groom’s parents, no bride’s parents … they should have just called it a party, not a wedding.”

Numerous guests would also complain about the food, many describing it as “undercooked” or “not enough” — a big shame as African weddings are customarily known to have the most delectable food. Perhaps these notes will shape the organizers’ future events, ensuring that the high expectations are met, or better yet, surpassed.

Nonetheless, for what it stood for, the Fake African Wedding and the organizers behind it must be applauded. Throughout the event, I wondered how they managed to bring it all together. Organizing an event for one college is no easy feat, let alone all five. When I asked LSA sophomore Oreoluwa Adewumi, event coordinator at U-M ASA, seeking answers, she told me it was all the handiwork of the five presidents of the respective schools.

“I had talked about it in the past,” LSA junior Chinyere Amasiatu confirmed, president of the University of Michigan ASA. “ … But I was not sure if we would have the resources to until Nadia reached out to us and was like we gotta make this happen.”

Intrigued, I spoke with Nadia Olanrewaju, president of ASA for Eastern Michigan University, and delved deeper into her reasoning behind the event.

“February has ripened into love, and I have become whole and complete.” – All That Still Matters at All: Poems, Pagan Salute, Miklos Radnoti I do not have a favorite month. January is my birth month, and all that comes to mind is frigid weather, bleak days, and endless monotony. It is as if December represents a culmination of the year’s festive spirits and whimsical joys and January is just one day of ringing in a new calendar year. There is a switch that is flipped once January 1st is over, signaling the end of the happy season, the days turning to a dependency on desperately extracting warmth from the cold. Thirty-one endless days that feel as warm as a frozen tundra and as cozy as a liminal space.

Then February rolls around and the numbness of January is somewhat alleviated. It feels like a month for collecting myself, like I am slowly rising from hibernation and spring is not completely elusive anymore. The taste of spring just about touches my senses and I hang onto it as a promise that the cold, physically and metaphorically, is indeed not endless. February

brings Vietnamese Lunar New Year (or T t), and so the coming of spring or xuân is especially a celebratory time of year for me. My Vietnamese pride is especially heightened as I adorn my days with the color red, for luck and also as a symbol of love. I welcome the auspicious aura of T t, enjoying the dishes my mom cooks for our small family of three, listening to classic Vietnamese tunes, and abiding by the new year superstitions. In this way, I make my own joy during February and give myself more reason to let the love I am capable of flourish.

As February brings Valentine’s Day, it naturally spurs reflection on how love in all its forms fits into my life. It can be easy to feel lonely and this pervasive loneliness can make conquering academia and the general mundanity of life harder and more isolating. Couple that with seasonal depression and it can be a formidable trifecta. It makes me feel selfish to entertain the idea of having a significant other because I endlessly feel lucky for my amazing friends and my platonic soulmate. Why must I yearn for love when it is already with me? The love I share with my friends is the primary anchor that keeps me grounded, without which I confidently believe I would not be the person I am now. Their love holds me down and lifts me

up, and its transformative power is something I never take for granted. Simultaneously, I allow myself to be vulnerable and confront the idea that being romantically alone sometimes feels like having a skewered heart hoisted upon a mast for display. Dramatic? Maybe.

But I think it is fair to say that we have all felt a palpable sense of pain even if it is not really there.

Nobody wants to be dependent on love. At the same time, there is reason to believe that life and love are not mutually exclusive. While the meaning of life is too hefty of a philosophical question to conquer in a spur of the moment, undeniably, life and love are intertwined. Love may be most visible in dramatic declarations, but I think it thrives even at the height of simplicity. I taste it in the meals my best friend used to cook for us when we were roommates, read it in the birthday letters and messages I receive from my closest friends, and feel it in the way my sister enthusiastically shows me how to play her favorite games. I sense it in the positive regard people bestow on me, in the way they speak of me fondly and adorn me with accolades in my absence. Wanting love is not really a dependency and more of a natural inclination. Love also takes the form of cherishing oneself and the passions that drive ambition. But what about when it comes to

On love and lunar icarus as an insect

romantic love? I have always prided myself on being content with being alone. I thrive in solitude. I do not need the company of others to be happy. In contrast to these beliefs, I have recently become accustomed to companionship, allowing myself to be self-expressive and enjoying the connections I have created with others. This change in how I socially orient myself has given me an appreciation of human connection in a way that I have admittedly lacked and has changed how I feel about the balance between solitude and companionship. I fully believed that it was too weak to need anyone, and breaking myself out of this hyper-independence is more a relief than the weakness I thought it would be. I never internalized the idea that people enjoyed my company and perceived me in ways that equated to love and so I suppressed this very human need, transforming it into a vulnerability that I did not want exploited.

While I have slowly but surely gained my footing by allowing myself to accept love without doubt, romantic love is somewhat of a different facet. In her memoir, “Arrangements in Blue”, Amy Key writes, “I still hope there is romantic love to come — I cannot give up hoping for it, but I don’t want to become unraveled by jealousy for everything that it is not.

I don’t want to pay attention to the epiphanic declarations of people with different experiences to me and use them as evidence that my life’s experience can never be equal to theirs. I must find my way to a life that is good as it is … I did need to look closely at my life and reach for the love in it.” She encapsulates a healthy conception of romantic love and it is one that I center in my life because it does not pick a side, to love or not to love; rather, there is optimism that is simultaneously sheltered by the trappings of love littered in the fabric of each day.

At the time I wrote this, I was single. Now, this Lunar New Year, I feel especially lucky to have a partner I truly cherish and am excited to grow alongside. So, did my life change, and does having a significant other take away every negative emotion? Not entirely. Do I find myself on cloud nine, enjoying every moment we spend together, thinking about them fondly? Yes, absolutely. I am immensely grateful to have a new form of love in my life and a person to whom I can offer romantic affection, metaphorically and literally holding hands through life with. Being in a relationship allows me to learn about myself in a way that is unique to romantic love: Who am I as a girlfriend? What do I enjoy? How do I like to communicate? A romantic relationship is not the answer to

all of life’s questions about love, but rather an accompaniment and a new perspective. I suppose this is a letter of gratitude to February as I have really gotten to appreciate it in all its 28 (29 this year) days of glory. I am mentally reconfiguring how I perceive each month of the year with the goal of finding things to love and making light out of bouts of darkness. Although I do not have a favorite month, February was extra sweet, and rather than deliberating on a favorite, I will disregard the constraints of time and find memories to cherish whenever they may appear. Lunar New Year is symbolized by luck, and while I may have some luck on my side, self-direction is what can bring me closer to finding solace in mundanity. More importantly, there is no weakness in loving, whether or not that love is reciprocated. I think Mitski’s “My Love Mine All Mine” captures the beauty of one’s ability to love quite beautifully. Love defies life and death and may be dealt out, but will always remain one’s personal possession. It is a celebration of the self for being able to love, and expresses how it is all one’s own to give. Love is really such a beautiful thing and discovering the reaches of one’s propensity to love and be loved ensures that life does not lack meaning.

out individually by hand i yank the curtains closed and slam the door shut but the splinters are still there so i lock myself in the bathroom and curl up in the bathtub—

(yesterday while going through the littered cartons in the storeroom, a consequence of moving houses so often, i found a photo book from when i was a baby. most of the pages were empty. a gust of fresh air burst into the room when my mother opened the door and sprayed me directly in the chest. a violent shudder passed through my body. i dropped the album and collapsed. when did i stop being so small?) —and prepare myself to pull out slivers of diseased wood from my back cracking and twisting and moulting; my bones change shape as i reach behind my neck forming and deforming; i have eight arms now, none of them look quite right

a sickening screech as i pluck one fragment from my spine or was it from my mouth, or from spears straining against skin, scratching against armour the bathtub is suddenly full, i’m not sure of what i blink four times at once; there is a constant prickle in the air waiting for me to stretch out my tongue and steal it and prick into someone’s guts and suck out their sadness some days i am a feast in a silk web other days i’m lying stretched out, pinned to a board even other days i loom over rot and penetrate infested wounds bury myself in purple pulsating flesh, tearing and gnashing and devouring

with silent curses dripping down my chin, a stained grin “let me say your name” killing my mind just so i can stop myself from wondering when i will stop complaining about things that are my fault; there is an argument on the balcony attached to my room and the windows are paper thin wings that block

IHAA

Courtesy of Sory

If our story is a TV show, then Conan Gray would be the backing track

July 2022

Let me tell you a story about a boy and a girl / It’s kinda short, kinda boring, but the end is a whirl —“The Story” Conan Gray.

I’ve always been hesitant about telling our story. How do I begin to talk about you, the boy I met at the wrong time, and me, the person who’s become a stranger in your life? I feared that talking about us would only reopen old wounds I once carefully stitched together. But these unsaid words needed a way to escape from my brain, and I needed a way to escape from them.

So here I go: telling the same tale, this time with myself as the only audience.

“The Story” is a good starting place. I’m always brought back to that song when I think about us. I thought I would have outgrown Conan Gray by now.

But I haven’t.

Those familiar tunes still evoke the same scenes in my mind. They still bring back memories of swings, picnic blankets and your head on my shoulder. Except this time, as I let the soft guitar and Conan’s soothing voice flood my ears, I’m finally ready to tell our story.

October 2019

Tell all of your friends that I’m crazy and drive you mad / That I’m such a stalker, a watcher, a psychopath / And tell them you hate me and dated me just for laughs /

So why do you call me and tell me you want me back? / You maniac —“Maniac” Conan Gray.

“YOU MANIAC!”

That was how it started: “Maniac” blasting from the speakers of our karaoke room, and all of us screaming the lyrics in an enthusiastic yet off-tune manner that eventually became typical of our outings. I’m not usually one for making a fool of myself, but even I couldn’t resist the song’s catchy beat. There was an unapologetically carefree and unbothered energy to

the song that drew me in. I didn’t think you were the type to let loose during karaoke. Yet, you seemed to have no qualms serenading Kai while holding an air microphone. It must’ve been a silly scene. There we were: a bunch of teenagers belting out lyrics to a breakup song as if any of us had a crazy ex to scream about.

I suppose that was the luxury of being young and clueless. There was a particular flavor of blissful ignorance that only existed when the bubble of innocence hadn’t yet been popped. Back then, I thought we had more time before it did.

June 2021

Nineteen, but you act twentyfive now / Knees weak, but you talk pretty fly, wow /… / Kiss me in the seat of your Rover / Real sweet, but I wish you were sober —“Wish You Were Sober” Conan Gray.

My first thought was, ‘That sounds like a lot for a bunch of firsttimers.’ Followed closely by ‘I hope none of them get seriously hurt’ and ‘I really thought you’d be smarter than this.’

You sounded exactly like I remembered, albeit a little giggly. When I heard your voice spill from Iris’ phone, my breath halted in my throat. It felt as if you were clawing into my chest, trying to drag out the memories we shared until they seeped out through old wounds that weren’t yet healed.

Iris was too busy laughing at whatever was on your end of the Facetime call to notice my fingers trembling.

‘I wish you called me.’

‘I wish I was still allowed to laugh with you.’

‘I wish I was still in your life.’

‘I wish you were sober.’

January 2020

Oh, and I’m afraid that’s just the way the world works / It ain’t funny, it ain’t pretty, it ain’t sweet —“The Story” Conan Gray.

“The Story” was my favorite song. You didn’t listen to Conan Gray on your own. Even so, you let me play it on repeat until we could both recite the lyrics word for word. Technically, “The Story” was

a rather sad song. The lyrics were filled with mentions of loss, missed opportunities and the world’s bitterness.

All except for a few lines in the chorus. You and I held on to those lyrics like a lifeline. We clung on tightly to the strings of hope reassuring us that—

“It could work for you and me,” I’d sing that line while gazing into your eyes. You always said they were “plain and black, nothing interesting to look at.” You must not have known that under the soft rays of the setting sun, they glowed. Like amber.

“Just wait and see,” you’d sing back to me. You’d tell me my eyes held an entire ocean.

“It’s not the end of the story.”

Right?

July 2021

When Conan released his debut album in March 2020, I became attached to a song called “Little League.” No, it wasn’t the most popular track, nor was it my favorite one on the Kid Krow album. Still, it carved a special place in my heart because it reminded me of being a kid. Of fighting over blankets during sleepovers and racing bikes around the neighborhood pretending they were dragons. It reminded me that despite living through events that demanded maturity and composure. I’m still allowed to be a kid. I vividly remember watching the music video and thinking it looked like a film reel that captured the highlights of Conan’s life and friendships. I wanted something like that, too. So, I made a music video of my own. I pictured myself on the night before graduation, looking back on these clips with my friends and remembering all the wonderful moments we shared together.

Now, sitting in my childhood bedroom, I’m staring at clips of Iris singing, Kai dancing, Mia and Val fighting over a blanket, Richie running around the block because he lost a bet, Yura prancing around the hallway, Haru teaching everyone how to throw cards…

When we were younger ‘We

looked so different back then.’ / We didn’t know how it would be ‘So much younger than we are now.’ / We were the dumb, the wild, the free ‘I miss those times.’ / Little League / And when we were younger ‘You aren’t in these videos.’ / We wore our hearts proud on our sleeve ‘I miss being with you.’ / Why did we ever have to leave? ‘I wish we never had to leave.’ / Little League September 2021

From far away, I wish I’d stayed with you / But here, face to face, a stranger that I once knew —“Astronomy” Conan Gray I had been adamant about not listening to any more of Conan’s songs. What good would it do if I did? The result wouldn’t change: his voice and words ringing in my ears, bouncing around my head as I lay sleepless in bed. I didn’t want to fall into that abyss again.

But, the people we used to be familiar with always seem to find their way back to us. Conan found his way back through my Spotify account. “Astronomy” snuck up on me when I played a suggested playlist on Shuffle, and that song ended up being the first track. I wanted to pick apart the song for

traces of us, but thankfully, the lyrics told a story that wasn’t really ours.

You walked your way back into my life through a classroom door. There we were: forced to see each other four days a week and act like friendly acquaintances. Act like you hadn’t seen photos of me when I was 11, and I didn’t know all of your siblings’ names in your mother tongue. And so we sat on either side of Kai, the three of us having conversations where you and I both spoke to just one person.

April 2022

But, please, don’t ruin this for me / Please, don’t make it harder than it already is / I’m trying to get over this —“Memories” Conan Gray.

I kind of regret re-following Conan on Spotify. I did it back in February because I thought I finally stopped my habit of connecting every Conan Gray song back to you. Turns out I hadn’t. “Memories” hit a sore spot that “Astronomy” didn’t reach back in September. I’m feeling tears well in my eyes again, tears that hadn’t surfaced in a while.

‘I thought I was doing fine.’ The bridge caught me off-guard.

I replayed those 18 seconds too many times before I finished my first full listen of the song.

So, there’s no good reason in make believin’ / That we could ever exist again / I can’t be your friend, can’t be your lover / Can’t be the reason we hold back each other from falling in love / With somebody other than me. It sounded like someone was yelling at me to get over these memories. Let go of the last few traces of you I was still clutching close to my chest. Conan may have been the one to sing those lyrics, but I think I heard them in your voice.

Or maybe I heard them in mine.

May 13th, 2022, 7:46 PM

I think I’m finally ready. How long did it take to get to this point? Nine months? A year? Longer? It doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that I’m finally ready to call you. I’m finally ready to get closure. Honestly, I’m tempted to drown out my anxieties with Conan Gray again. The urge to play “Memories” on repeat until it’s all I hear in my brain is very much there. But I ignore it. This time, I need to be alone.

‘For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow Is Enuf’ is food for the soul

experience. This poem is a lament of the pain she had to endure alone … she reflects on the moment and finds herself back there at times. I’m a very visual person so I spent a lot of time fleshing out what these memories were for her — what they all looked like, felt like and smelled like. In creating such distinct memories, it was easy for me to identify that these aren’t feelings I’m carrying because these aren’t my memories.”

“You can’t have me unless I give me away”, leaves the mouth of Lauren Horne as she becomes the Lady in Green. She delivers an impassioned speech about the harm loving a man can do, and how much it can rob you of. Horne is frequently on the stage alone. Holding the hearts of an entire room with nothing but your presence is not an easy task, but damn she makes it look as effortless.

prefaced, “I know a slight concern for some of you coming here tonight was whether this show was going to be just another display of Black Trauma during Black History Month. And to that, I say no — I don’t believe it is. While there is trauma, and pain, and sacrifice … this is a show about Black joy, Black community, Black sisterhood despite despite despite … Aim to understand the pain but appreciate the beauty. Because is that not what we all want? For someone to understand our pain, but still call us beautiful?”

Then enters a tsunami of performers. Goddesses bathed head to toe in monochromatic outfits forcing melanin skin to radiate. They swarm the intimate set designed by Sarah Shaw-Nichols. The couches strung across the stage floor, tables littered with liquor bottles and close seating make the auditorium feel lived in. The drum beats delivered exquisitely by Nicholas Wilkinson II and Wesley Wray harmonize with the beating inside of all of our chests. It’s as if we are not merely audience members, but integral

pieces of the production. The Lady in Yellow, played so sincerely by Iman Jamison, starts the show off with a poem detailing a young woman taking her sexuality by the reins for the first time. She saturates every moment with humor, relatability and nonstop charisma. Later, Iman portrays her character’s emotions after being cheated on and receiving an HIV diagnosis. In act one, the Lady in Yellow’s performance feels like the warm caress of sunshine. As the emotional weight of the production increases, Jamison expertly turns that warmth into something scorching hot and painful.

Jerianne Clarke is The Lady in Orange. Clarke infuses her role with an authenticity that I can only describe as “homegirl energy.” The Lady in Orange immediately feels like a childhood friend I could’ve traded secrets and niggas ain’t shit horror stories with. Clarke is a lightning rod of humor, elegance and playfulness. All eyes lock on her and the rest of the ensemble as they curve their bodies to make room for

Latin beats and settle into complex formations with ease. This movement can be tied back to choreographer McIntosh. She spoke to me about her process: “To convey emotions through movement, I relied on the text as the source of inspiration. My main goal was to illuminate Shange’s words, not overshadow them. When Sarah invited me into this process, I wanted my role to be more of a facilitator … This show and its aesthetics are all rooted in complexity, which required us to intentionally transform the space for each unique poem while letting cast personalities exist as well.”

Personality was also a key component in the portrayal of The Lady in Brown. Brendan Johnson wraps themselves in this role. Johnson permeates their monologues with a fun and almost flirtatious energy. In later acts, Johnson’s lighthearted and energetic approach turns cold and hard as they convey an abusive and closeted partner. I had the pleasure of asking them how they took us

to these juxtaposing places so skillfully. “What I loved about this show was the freedom it bestowed upon each cast member. This left a lot of room for the actors to bring themselves to the role … A lot of the comedic beats I found in the show stemmed from how I would have delivered them to my homegirls. That casual and supportive vibe fueled all of the humor because it was rooted in our own identities and the community we created … Live theatre has a way of cracking people open when done correctly … switching quickly between humor and heaviness was exciting for me because I knew I was inciting discoveries within the audience … If I made one audience member more empathetic, then I did my job.”

The Daily asked Johnson about their thoughts on navigating a role that’s been historically filled by cisgender performers as someone who identifies as nonbinary:

“I was TERRIFIED to step into this role. I am just now beginning my journey of unraveling my

gender … This was the first time I was presenting myself to a group of people in a way that was closer to my fullness. That is an incredibly vulnerable feeling. … I decided that my goal would be to serve as representation for any Black trans women or genderqueer folk in the audience. I strove to make this role a voice for people who are historically silenced in the theatrical cannon.”

The Lady in Blue is at the center of some of the choreopoem’s heaviest pieces. Arin Francis portrays this complex character. Francis is art and emotion personified. She forces the audience to hang on to every word that leaves her mouth as she brings poems about abortion, lost love and losing yourself to life. Every line she utters becomes an incantation, and we have no choice but to be swept up in her magic. The Daily asked Frances how she performs with such accuracy and doesn’t lose herself to the trauma she depicts.

“For ‘Abortion Cycle #1’ I had to make sure I separated my feelings about the poem from the character’s

The Lady in Purple frequently takes on the role of a narrator. Sasha Bacon’s performance is grounded in quiet strength. She imbues scenes of infidelity, sisterhood and sexual assault with a soft and underlying power. When given the space, she bathes in the spotlight, divinely brandishing her humor and sexuality.

After the show, I approached the cast to sing their praises. I walked up to Sophia Lane, who plays the Lady in Red. She carried the back end of the choereopoem on her shoulders, delivering a gutwrenching monologue surrounding child abuse, domestic violence and murder. She was a walking earthquake. I gave her her 10s before asking if she was okay. I imagined masterfully evoking such agonizing moments couldn’t be easy. Lane responded, “I’m okay, but I don’t feel much. I’m numb.” This is ironic considering her performance forced me to feel far more than I’ve felt in such a long time. She has wrung herself dry to act as a vessel for heartbreaking beauty. And in a way, ain’t that life imitating the art we all witnessed in that Drama Center? In a way, ain’t that the dilemma of a Colored Girl? To give your entire being, make yourself numb, so the people around you can feel something.

Sharra Kutty/MiC

ELLIE

range, 50 degrees, before I turned 12. Even though the curve in my back was painful and the deformity was taking a toll on me mentally, I opted out of a spinal fusion in the interest of maintaining mobility.

June 2021. I’m performing at Matrix Theatre’s Solo Performance Festival in Mexicantown on Detroit’s West Side. While I kneel on a dimly-lit stage with a projector screen behind me, the audience finds wadded-up papers with tiny pebbles inside scattered among the seats. Each paper has a word that has, in the past, been used to describe my lopsided back:

Hunchback Quasimodo Crooked

Twisted

And my personality:

Venomous Villain

Per their instructions, the audience uncrumples the papers, reads them aloud and then rewads them around the stones and chucks them at me. With each hit, I bend over and to the side, hunching in on myself, spine contorting against hardware. As each slur is spoken, I write it on my skin. Behind me, the projection screen cycles through years’ worth of x-rays, my spine progressively contorting, right up until the last one before I had it surgically yanked back into place and secured with eight flexible ropes. The final preoperative x-ray on the screen measured my curve at 90 degrees.

The words scribbled on my body came from a variety of sources: parents, lovers, bad bosses. They referenced both my physical deformity and aspects of my personality that are apparently viewed negatively. Whether this negative view of my personal traits was more amplified by my status as an assigned female at birth, femmepresenting person, or the fact that certain things about my appearance are slightly off, who knows. But God forbid you be anything but grateful, sweet and cooperative. Especially if you’re a woman. Especially if you’re anything other than conventionally beautiful.

I can still remember the first time I saw it in sixth grade. It was early morning, and I was lined up outside of a yearbook class in a hallway across from a large window. I could see my reflection against the dark sky outside — and I noticed a certain roundness to my back. My right ribs curved straight behind me like the first letter of my name: a C. I started bending, contorting, trying to see if there was a way to suck the back ribs in somehow, but there was no use. There was a giant hump on my back, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I was diagnosed with mild scoliosis at 6 years old. After a failed and traumatic experience with bracing, my spine hit surgical

So my curve and hump progressed throughout my teens before I was ultimately able to undergo a newer, motion-sparing procedure in my 20s. While the surgery did significantly reduce my curve, it did not eliminate the “rib prominence” I so hated. Even today, two years post-op, I still have a bit of a hunchback — reduced, sometimes hidden with good posture, but never gone.

In the years that I’ve lived with my lopsided ribs, I’ve experienced various feelings about my body in phases. I’ve always been selfconscious and vaguely disgusted by the way my back looks. But, in some moments, I’ve been able to summon up a degree of pride. Three years into my forced cohabitation with crookedness, I started doing theatre, and I haven’t stopped since. Most of the time, people either didn’t notice or lied about not noticing. I can remember one time after a show when my co-star’s sister came up to me and touched my back, asking, “Were you born with this?”

She went on to say, “It just makes you more beautiful.” I have a lot of mixed feelings about that.

In an experience perhaps shared by many femme people, I’ve always felt a certain pressure to be beautiful. If I’m not devastated about the aspects of myself that are not conventionally beautiful, it’s as though I’m not doing my job as a woman somehow. So what kind of a woman am I if my back is lopsided and noticeably hunchbacked on one side? If my left ribs poke forward in the front, making my boobs ever so slightly asymmetrical? If my spine is always pushing one shoulder higher than the other and makes my head want to tilt to one side?

Add in a fiery, decidedly not sweet and meek personality, and we have a recipe for an experimental piece of theatre involving insults and ableist slurs written in Sharpie on bare skin and a sanitized stoning.

Since my deformity is behind me — literally, not figuratively — it’s hard to say whether it’s played a role in the various terms hurled at me over the years. If I’m looking somebody in the eye to call out some nonsense, my sharp tongue is much more visible to them than my ugly back. While insults directed at my personality were almost always said in anger, those uttered about my appearance have typically been in jest — supposedly, anyway. But part of me always wonders. Outside the realm of experimental theatre, depictions of bodies like mine are limited.

I can’t recall ever having seen a movie with a leading lady who has scoliosis, and certainly not one where she’s also a fully realized, three-dimensional person. The hunchbacked characters I can think of include Quasimodo, perhaps a decent guy but largely shunned by his community. There’s Rigoletto, an operatic jester who is technically the story’s hero, but also manages to get his daughter killed. There’s also Pulcinella, a hot-headed, 16th-century Commedia Dell’arte character with a hook-nosed mask, a penchant for crude humor and fights and an oddly placed poetic side. According to John Rudlin, he even sometimes had two humps “indicating his split personality.”

Then, there are characters like Venable.

“American Horror Story: Apocalypse” brought us a group of characters learning how to survive in a nuclear wasteland, some of whom found themselves in an elaborate underground bunker where no one is allowed to have sex (seriously, what else are you supposed to do after the end of the world?). The makeshift community is run by Sarah Paulson’s Venable. A few episodes in, the Antichrist (played by Cody Fern) pays her outpost a visit. To determine whether Venable is worthy of being transferred to his special, better fallout shelter elsewhere, he creepily orders her to undress for a physical examination, revealing vertebrae that are visibly curved to the side — to a familiar eye, indicating scoliosis — and … purple skin?

Wha … ?

Her back was bruised and veiny, literally tinted in varying shades of purple.

Okay. So there is clearly a lot wrong with this image anatomically.

First, scoliosis is rotational, and the deformity comes from this rotation more so than the sideways curve. The spine doesn’t just curve to the side, it twists, which is what pushes the ribs out on one side and causes them to cave in on the other. So Venable’s back should have been a lot more lopsided than bony and veiny.

Second, and I want to make this very clear: SCOLIOSIS DOES NOT

TURN YOU PURPLE.

I don’t know what poor, mean old Venable had. Maybe she had blood poisoning. Maybe she was pregnant with a Xenomorph. But that was not any case of scoliosis I, and I doubt any licensed practitioner, have ever seen.

To the showrunners at “American

Horror Story”: If you’re going to put a prosthetic spinal deformity on an actor with a pristine spine, at least run a basic Google search first.

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

Editor’s

The Oregonian, December 30, 2010: Jim Harrison says he writes more books because he “stopped drinking half-gallons of vodka.”

Reader, my 40-year-old halfbrother is in active withdrawal, sitting in some hospital bed shaking, as I speak to you. This is not the first time he’s been here. He’s been on a weeklong bender, relapsing after a few months sober. This has been a pattern in my life: Alex is sober, then he isn’t. He lives along a sine wave, with sober peaks and drunken lows. We are currently at a low.

My parents took a call from his girlfriend, and drove to pick him up in the middle of the night — they knew what to do because they’d done this before, both for Alex and themselves. They’re both recovering alcoholics who understand what it’s like to be an addict, dragged from the bottom of the bottle to a hospital in the middle of the night; and for the last 20 years, they’ve made many trips to detox facilities with their drunk son in the backseat.

Four years ago, this same ordeal took place, around the time I was applying to college.

Most colleges require some form of a personal essay with an application, and for my own, I wrote about what was happening at that moment in my life — a very similar essay to the one you’re reading now. I lamented the currents of addiction that run through my blood and celebrated my father, a poet, for turning the recurring nightmares into poetry. Here are the first two sentences of the essay; I largely consider them to be the first good sentences I’ve ever written:

When my older brother, Alex, lost his job, house and car and was sent to rehab after his second DUI, I wasn’t told. Instead, my father wrote a poem about it and taped it to our refrigerator.

The poem is tragic. It’s beautiful. My father spins a narrative, taking Alex, shaking, to detox. The next day, “At dawn,” my dad writes, “I’m in the backyard. / Wanting a sign, I get two sparrows, trilling at the foot of the gnarled box elder.” These sparrows fluttered before him,

landing just beyond the box elder tree we had previously assumed was dead. It bore no leaves. It was hollowing and losing color. But, one summer night, that tree was struck by lightning: “a great flash of wirecrossed plasma,” my dad called it, and the tree grew again. Since that night, that shocked box elder — gnarled, wounded but flourishing nonetheless — became Alex’s tree.

Last year, the box elder fell. Any sparrows that were on it flew away — searching for a home and sustenance elsewhere.

But whether the tree stood anymore was not important. I had sucked the marrow from that lesson: Writing is coping, and the writer’s condition is not one he asks for but one that is given to him. So four years later, when I find myself in the same position, writing the same essay, I am compelled to write because of it. Thankfully, I’m not drinking because of it.

Last weekend, while I was watching “Trailer Park Boys,” my mother called and told me Alex was drinking again. This time, trying to drink himself to death.

If you’ve ever seen “Trailer Park Boys,” you will understand when I tell you that it is categorically the worst piece of media to be consuming while someone calls you to tell you your brother is drunk again. It’s a mockumentary series that follows the exploits of three constantly-drunk, pot-smoking, recidivist losers. It mocks substance abuse issues in every single episode they air. For example, the title of the episode I was watching is “Jim Lahey is a Fuckin’ Drunk, and He Always Will Be.”

This is no dig at “Trailer Park Boys,” though. I consider it one of the finest pieces of comedy writing of all time. It is brilliant and multilayered while appearing egregiously masculine, abrasive and simple minded. It is high art, in my eyes, even if it might not look like it.

My mother hung up, and at that moment, in some coincidental wirecrossed plasma between art and my real life, “Trailer Park Boys” made me laugh and cry simultaneously. It grabbed me by the chin, looked me in the eye and told me — through a cacophony of swear words, weed and booze — that it was going to be okay.

Let me explain.

In the episode I was watching, Ricky — one of the three main characters — stands in his father’s trailer, frying bacon. The trailer is coated in black ash, the roof is blasted off and the windows are shattered. Two episodes prior,

Ricky left potatoes frying on the stove while he drove him and his girlfriend behind a muffler shop to have sex. When they come back, the trailer is ablaze.

Ricky’s father, Ray, loses his mind at first. He’s a wreck, rolling around in his wheelchair, swilling gin, wishing he never had a child.

But two episodes later, as Ricky stands in what remains of the kitchen, frying bacon, Ray seems to have changed. He has a Bible in his lap, next to a half gallon of liquor.

There’s a cut to Ray interviewing with the fake producers of the mockumentary. “Oh, well, you know, things aren’t too bad, all things considered. Sure, it could be better, but God takes care of the little sparrows in the sky. He’s gonna take care of the guy in the wheelchair,” he says.

He rolls into what’s left of the kitchen.

“Bacon frying and the sparrows chirping, Rick,” he says. “It’s all about the bacon and the sparrows, buddy.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ricky responds.

“I’m not worried. My trailer’s burned down. The sparrows aren’t worried. Nobody’s worried,” Ray says. He is drunk — had spent the night before gambling and is now thumping his Bible. He is nothing like my father. But, for a moment, he looks just like him.

And Ricky — like he knows he’s

Alex; like he knows he is the older brother I never really saw or knew; like he knows that while he stands in the ruin of his father’s life he is going to say 11 words that crack me up and ruin me — quips back:

“Sparrows are stupid, Dad. They don’t give a fuck about anything.”

I suppose I have two questions for you:

First: Have you ever been drunk enough to vomit?

Second: Have you ever been distraught enough to write?

They’re similar feelings. The urge to write sits in my stomach like oatmeal, coming up whenever it wants to, usually. Sometimes it comes out easily, and sometimes I need to pump my stomach, but it will emerge. It might be inconsiderate to say I feel the urge to write the way an alcoholic feels the urge to drink, but if I said I am drawn to write the way a sparrow is drawn to birdseed, would you know what I mean?

Writers will write, the same way my dad and Ricky’s dad both will continue to wax about the sparrows, the same way the sparrows themselves will continue to flutter, soar and inevitably dive.

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Design by Evelyn Mousigian

I am not a writer. I am not an artist. And I am most certainly not a creative. In the ungodly hours of the morning, these were the things I whispered to myself when I was certain no one else could hear the scribble of my pencil on paper — desperately attempting to get my hands to work faster than the thoughts enveloping my brain. Poetry, short stories and creative nonfiction about the things I’ve experienced poured from the soft graphite onto the blue, spiralbound notebook I kept next to my bed for the entirety of my high school years.

I have always loved to read and write. I’m told by my mother that I picked up my first book at 2. From then on, I never put another one down. My favorite academic activities were the 100book challenges my school put on to get their students to read more, and by the time I graduated high school, I developed a close, firstname-basis relationship with the librarian — checking out so many books that I was beginning to run out of options. But my love for both reading and writing had manifested itself as more of a hobby than a potential career path.

Growing up, I primarily lived with my mother, an unmarried teacher who spent most of her time scraping by on the electrical bill and rent. The narrative that a position in the medical field would offer financial stability was enticing when all I ever wanted to do was to be able to provide for myself and my family. To be a humanities major is an immense privilege, that, to me, seemed reserved only for those whose families could afford to put them through a four-year degree and then cushion themselves in the case they became a “starving artist.” On top of that, I felt that in order to be a writer, you had to be exceptional; you couldn’t just do it. I had a story to tell, and a strong desire to tell others too, but I just felt, well, average.

Despite whatever doubt resided in my mind of my creative capabilities, I joined the publication class run by my longtime mentor and English teacher in my sophomore year of high school. I had every intention of simply taking photographs for the yearbook (I was going through a photography phase that I was sure would lead somewhere), but upon orientation in August, it was clear that I was bound to take a different path. The class had just taken on our school’s print newspaper, The Laker Anchor. My

Soothing music seeps from my headphones. Trying to concentrate, I count seconds for the length of each of my breaths. That gets boring quickly. I have much more fun watching the wall, patterned in shadow. Outside, there’s the promise of the sun as the days are getting longer. My yoga mat, when unrolled, fits neatly into the little open floor space in my dorm. It’s been getting more use lately, as I’ve begun to routinely dedicate more time to meditating. Sometimes I kneel, sitting on my heels, feet slightly splayed under my weight; I feel a dull stretch in my tightly bent knees, and hear the soft whirr of the box fan up by the window. Other times, I lay on my back, arms by my sides, palms up. I find it to be far from peaceful; I’m easily preoccupied by other matters and unable to focus — an indication that it’s not yet a well-developed habit. I took meditation up thinking it would bring me some sense of calm, but it turns out that “calm” is something that comes with practice, rather than merely the toleration of a brief guided meditation video.

STATEMENT

teacher, after some convincing, got me on the editorial team to take the newspaper from exclusively printed to fully online, and after a few months, I’d assumed the role of editor in chief. I was so deeply passionate about telling others’ stories and triumphs that I was ready to dive head first into the leadership tasks that this position would entail. While it was simply a small-town, studentled newspaper that covered club events and new teachers, The Laker Anchor became my metaphorical baby. I used my personal social media to push story releases and spent countless hours working on my own stories and editing everyone else’s.

Writing and editing news pieces and opinion editorials was a sort of outlet for me. I took primarily STEM-centered classes throughout high school, like AP Calculus and AP Psychology, with the fully intending to be pre-med in college; I even applied to the University of Michigan as a neuroscience major, but there was always a thought in the back of my head that I was wasting my time as a STEM student. When I got to college, though, the thought became unbearable. I pushed myself in the name of financial stability and a readily available, straightforward path to take to get to where I wanted to be, but I found myself attempting to escape the reality of chemistry and the looming threat of the MCAT by

writing and reading at a higher rate than ever before. Writing and reading had always come more naturally to me than integrals or biological processes, but I asked myself if a career in English would be as lucrative as the one I would have as, say, a neuroscientist or pediatrician. I had no idea. I had a four-year plan and a list of medical schools to apply to upon graduation, but not a clue on what to do with a Bachelor of Arts.

I was miserable taking biology, chemistry and psychology. I found myself dreading lectures about the process of DNA replication, and I certainly didn’t care about methyl groups. The classes were more work than I’d anticipated, and I was running myself into the ground doing something I hated.

I joined The Michigan Daily as a Statement columnist in the second semester of my freshman year, and it felt like I could breathe again. But I still considered my love for journalism and writing just a hobby. It wasn’t until I met U-M alum Eli Rallo — who was, coincidentally, the author of my favorite book and one of my biggest inspirations — that I had a “come to Jesus” moment about the path I was taking. It wasn’t until I sat in the Michigan League one Friday night, listening to Rallo answer a question about how she came to the University of Michigan in pursuit of theatre but ended up being a journalist, that I realized I was making a

big, fat, gigantic mistake. If Rallo could take a gamble on herself and switch career paths and end up as successful as she was, perhaps I could too. I thought back to the time I spent at The Laker Anchor and realized writing was never just a hobby, and I didn’t care if I wasn’t an amazing writer; I just wanted to write.

I walked out of the League with tears in my eyes and asked my friends, “Should I just say fuck it and major in English, guys?” They responded with an eager and slightly annoyed “Yes, Anna.”

I had been talking about the possibility of switching majors for months now, so this wasn’t anything new to them. And it wasn’t that I thought I wouldn’t have support from my friends and family in the choice to major in English, it was that I wasn’t sure I was good enough for it — that I wasn’t a creative or a writer.

Throughout my adolescence, I thought that because I wasn’t cranking out books, poems and generally writing at all hours of the day, and I wasn’t necessarily the “tortured poet” the media makes writers out to be, that I couldn’t and shouldn’t pursue a career in English. The truth was, I had simply never entertained the possibility that the humanities led to perfectly fine and stable careers.

Liberal arts majors do just fine upon entrance to the workforce.

“Liberal arts and humanities

majors are more likely to enter careers where midcareer salaries are the highest,” Jim Chow wrote for Forbes. “While (liberal arts majors) do not create immediate pathways to high-paying first jobs, ‘they have long-run value in a wide variety of careers.’ ” I declared an English major on Feb. 20, 2024 and bought myself a coffee from Starbucks to celebrate. I told my story to the English adviser I met with, and he was so through the roof that I left the meeting smiling and with an awesome new LSA English T-shirt. I’m not quite sure, in all honesty, where this will take me, or if I will eventually fit the “starving artist” profile, but I am thrilled to find out. I will live in a dingy, rat-infested New York City apartment if it means I am granted the ability to do what I love. I recognize that not every English lover has the privilege to pursue the humanities, but I can only hope that I live to see the day when writers and poets no longer push their love for the arts to the side in the namesake of financial stability. I am often still doubtful of myself and whatever god-given talent I may possess that urges me to write, but I know that I will continue to learn and grow into the writer I want to be; I’m slowly yet surely realizing that it’s okay to have no idea what success looks like as a writer or as a journalist. I often thought that success would look like an acceptance to

medical school or landing a job at a high-profile hospital, but things changed. In the few short weeks that I have been an official English major, I find myself riddled with anticipatory excitement about the idea of not knowing what comes next.

I still keep the blue, spiralbound notebook from my high school newspaper days in my college dorm. I still fill it with prose, poetry or whatever writings my mind seeks to put onto paper. I love the excitement and nervous butterflies I get when I pitch my story ideas at The Daily, and I am beyond enthusiastic to geek out over medieval literature and contemporary authors. Life is too short, and 9-to-5s are far too long to spend doing something you don’t absolutely adore, and frankly, I’m sick of telling myself that I’m not a writer. Even though I’m still just learning what it means to be a writer, and figuring out the way in which I want to make a name for myself, I do know that I want to encapsulate the world around me and put it into tangible words, feelings, and expressions. In his speech “The Artist’s Struggle for Integrity,” James Baldwin said, “The poets (by which I mean all artists) are finally the only people who know the truth about us. Soldiers don’t. Statesmen don’t. Priests don’t. Union leaders don’t. Only poets.” I will forever tell the truth about the world around me, and, damn it to hell, I am a writer.

I was first introduced to meditation as a kid; I was told to practice it daily at the beginning of each of my Taekwondo lessons. I was so concerned with doing it correctly that I was unable to be as chill as intended during those few minutes. I can remember squeezing my eyes closed, digging my fingertips into the tops of my legs, taking deep breaths through my nose and inattentively trying to imagine what I would be having for lunch after class. There was usually a slight hum in the air from the gym’s air conditioning unit and the sound of careful footsteps passing by. Pacing the dojang, an instructor would recite, “focus your eyes, focus your ears, focus your mind, focus your body.” For a gaggle of rowdy elementary schoolers, this served as a gentle reminder to shut up and concentrate, but as the years went on, the message remained: In order to meditate effectively, we must learn to move and speak intentionally and be engaged with the present moment.

More recently, I seemed to be missing some of that mindset’s sensibility — I didn’t care much about connecting with myself or reaching self-actualization through that. I was (and am, all too often) stuck in far-off places or fretting far-fetched things, longing

for days of the past or intentionally drifting off into daydreams. These other worlds brim and spill into the turbulent present, and with it comes some detachment, then voicelessness — I get so trapped in my own head that I think I speak less. In his essay “Sitting Around,” Jim Harrison says life has proven itself to be “a great big house fire of impermanence,” and that he has turned to sitting on a tree stump in order to make peace with the moods and pains that come along with it. Apparently, sitting can be a devised haven from the disquiet.

Of course, it’s important not to lose my life to unanswered wishes or be paralyzed by indecision, endless rehearsals and illusions.

To an extent, these rehearsals and illusions may be an escape from reality, but then at some point, I need to be rooted in the present — I was missing too much; my own ignorance had become unendurable. Through meditation, I suppose I was seeking some sort of self-immersion, a remedy for my stiff concentration that I lazily labeled as hardheadedness.

Instead of stump-sitting like Jim Harrison, I ended up sitting on a big rock — well, lying down, but I started out sitting. This was on the shore of Lake Michigan by Northwestern University, the Chicago skyline visible even

through the gray gloom. Hefty chunks of rock had been stacked from the water up to the grass as sort of a break wall, waves crashing into them steadily, and they had been covered in colorful graffiti. My friends were scattered down the shore, snapping photos of the view. My knuckles and ears burned from the wind’s cold, but there, looking out on the lake, the day’s heaviness was gone and a sense of elation was creeping in. It was on these rocks that I fell asleep, moments later. I was likely tired from my travels, but I had considered it, at the time, to be an indication of the great peace I felt.

I sometimes wonder how much of this I may have lost (moments taking in the world around me, I mean) having my phone on me all the time and being preoccupied with its corresponding distractions and idealisms or simply failing to separate work and play, letting it all bleed together — something along those lines. It’s silly that it seems to have taken so much effort for me to have ended up on that rock, or to find myself settled down in the grass somewhere doing absolutely nothing. Those excursions, even if they’re not exactly intentional mindfulness, effectively counteract the aforementioned restlessness, disappointment, selfrighteousness, delusion, etc. I like

to think that if I was still a little kid, I’d sit and explore much more often, thinking nothing of it. I want that back.

I’ve found I experience this sense of freedom with swimming, the immediate silence once my head dips below the surface. In this rare kind of quiet, I could spend a morning only admiring the light dancing on the bottom of the pool, feeling the pressure of my cap over my ears, concentrating on how I was moving and breathing and nothing else. It’s meditative; I’m able to be engrossed by what I’m doing and focus. I find myself enraptured by running for this reason: The movement is redemptive. Oddly enough, it can be relaxing. With intense exercise, it’s easy to be shocked into a rhythm that the mind and body must follow. All the while, I’m conscious of where I am physically, taking hardly any time for distraction. Though I’ve encountered more tranquility through motion, I suspect I’ll still end up sitting on the floor from time to time, maybe continuing to try to learn to meditate in that way, too.

For the longest time there’s been a beat-up note card haphazardly taped to the wall next to my bed. On it are more words from Harrison, this time from one of his poems, “Spring”: “In a childhood

story they spoke of a land of enchantment. We crawl to it, we short-lived mammals, not realizing that we are already there.” Reading such a thing repeatedly can feel like a derision; it’s quite a digestible message, though one that fades amid all the noise and haste. Consequently, that passage probably hasn’t pushed me to be appreciative of what’s in front of me as much as my dad had hoped it would when he wrote it down for me, years ago. And still, it remains stuck to my wall.

So, there’s value in both tuning in and tuning out. There’s this balance, you see. In my experiences, meditation’s principle — engagement with oneself and the surrounding world — may be generative and healing. I intend to not waste each day reaching for another; dreaming and doing may be simultaneous and manageable, enjoyable, even. Sometimes, it takes just a little rest or reset to get there. Meditating alone isn’t going to be what it takes to drag me out of a slump, but it’s a path I’ve explored to get closer to being comfortable with where I am and more conscious of what I’m doing. It’s slow progress, and I guess time will tell if I have the patience for it. Surely, I’ll still feel uneasy about this and that, but maybe it won’t all be as dismal as it once seemed.

After a grueling college admissions process, I was excited to begin my journey at the University of Michigan. Yet, I was surprised by the campus’s intense culture of club recruitment and internship applications. At the beginning of each semester, I applied to some clubs but was hesitant to apply to others, intimidated by the grueling recruiting process and anxious about rejection.

Outside the realm of college clubs and internships, rejection is a universal experience. For instance, for every 11 to 15 jobs applicants apply to, they receive between 6 and 10 rejections. Similarly, rejection rates for college admissions have increased over the past few years. While a mismatch of skill sets or lack of experience can affect application decisions, high rejection rates often stem from a large number of applicants or from systemic issues like discriminatory Artificial Intelligence resume reviews. Therefore, rejection is inevitable

in the process of searching for opportunities, and the reasons for a school or club to not extend an acceptance are frequently impersonal to the applicant.

Though we recognize that rejection is normal, we often do not normalize it. Our culture promotes the goal of minimizing rejection. Minimizing rejection, however, reinforces the negative stigma around it. Although we can, and should, strengthen our applications, the goal of preventing rejection through sheer determination overlooks the impersonal macro-level factors that inform application results. This can make rejections feel even more personal and demoralizing, as we only find ourselves to blame. In addition to promoting a culture of avoidance, we struggle to normalize rejection by hiding our shared experiences. Rejection hurts our self-esteem, motivation and sense of belonging, and many find difficulty in separating personal identity and passion from a rejection of their application. It can also feel like a confirmation of our inadequacy for a role or reinforce our exclusion from an organization. We often overlook the true ex-

tent of the feelings that rejection brings. In fact, the brain processes social rejection like it processes physical pain. By recognizing that feelings of social rejection are not mere emotions, we recognize the physiological depth of these experiences. The pain associated with rejection explains our desire to avoid the feeling and hide it from others. This physiological dimension also contextualizes the nuanced feelings of club rejections. A rejection from an organization is not only an exclusion from

professional opportunities, but social opportunities as well. Alongside physical pain, comparison culture makes discussing rejection more difficult. Our peers’ journeys of seemingly consistent success reinforce perceptions that our rejections reflect our personal inadequacy. By associating rejection with failure, we link it with shame and a lack of belonging with peers, whose success we idealize. Feelings of failure and shame drive imposter syndrome and further discourage us from speaking about our personal experiences.

To counter this culture and normalize rejection, we need to ditch the mindset of avoiding rejection and accept this experience as inevitable and universal. Furthermore, when we encounter rejection, we should recognize the decision as unreflective of our personal identity and limit our participation in comparison culture. To prevent ourselves from idealizing others, we can reduce our usage of social media platforms like LinkedIn, which craft distorted narratives of our peers’ journeys and conceal their personal challenges.

Beyond personal reflection, we should normalize rejection by finding solidarity with others. From throwing rejection parties to creating a shared spreadsheet with each friend’s rejections, we can embrace the universality of rejection and dispel the narrative that processing rejection is an inherently lonely experience. Through celebration, we can also counteract feelings of failure and shame.

Even without rejection parties, we can still find solidarity by embracing similar experiences. When talking about rejection is difficult, we can find power by processing decisions hon-

estly together and empathizing with those on social media who unabashedly share their personal stories of rejection. Practicing vulnerability is far more powerful than repeating platitudes or unmotivational quotes.

While removing the negative connotation from rejection may cause some to work less efficiently, this destigmatization ultimately should not discourage us from wanting certain opportunities, which means that we would still diligently complete applications. Furthermore, normalizing rejection delinks our personal worth from results and empowers us to pursue more opportunities when fears of rejection no longer impede us. Aware that my application experiences have just started, I remind myself of the inevitability and universality of rejections. As I overcome my fears, I find myself applying for opportunities that I would have skipped a year ago, which empowers me to set more ambitious goals. Making rejection both normal and normalized, I can embrace shared experiences with others and will start planning my own rejection parties with my peers.

With 73% of University of Michigan students living off campus, much of the U-M college experience isn’t happening in the Diag, but around it. This might sound like an overstatement, especially when it seems like we spend so much time on campus. However, where you choose to live in Ann Arbor is perhaps the most important decision you’ll make as a U-M student if you want the campus social scene to be attainable.

The idea that where you live impacts your life is a bit of a no-brainer. Obviously, living in a Vic Village apartment is a lot different from living in an eight-person Kerrytown house. But students too often underestimate the impact of where they live, particularly in relation to

the University’s culture. Members of the U-M community tend to look at its culture in holistic terms, referring to the student body’s “work hard, play hard” mantra or the infectious school spirit that enthralls Ann Arbor. In reality, the University’s culture is far more fractionalized, with unique subcultures in various parts of town that reflect the diversity of the U-M community. This fractionalization allows students to find communities that resonate with their individual needs and preferences.

Within the broad scope of the University of Michigan, two specific areas surrounding Central Campus stand out: north of the Diag and south of the Diag. These regions are where most U-M students reside and they’re only separated by a five to 10 minute walk. Yet, they’re separated by a lot more than geography. The students living in these areas seem to have vastly different academic focuses, so -

cial preferences and lifestyles. In order to assess the differences in student perspective on this debate, I conducted a survey on current sentiments on housing options on campus. I sought to catalog this idea by polling 20 U-M students: 10 living north of the Diag and 10 living south of it. Let’s start with north of the Diag. This area is known for its close proximity to essential locations like Kerrytown, downtown Ann Arbor and Central Campus. Here, you’ll find the majority of Ann Arbor’s quality restaurants and shopping options, specifically on State Street and Main Street. While north of the Diag provides a lot of opportunities for monetary indulgence, it offers little for social indulgence. The students I polled gave this area a low average social rating of 2.78 out of 5, indicating that the environment north of the Diag is indifferent to one’s social experience in college. This might appeal to students who prefer a quieter,

more focused environment, but a lacking social atmosphere definitely isn’t for everyone. There’s fewer parties and less emphasis on interacting with neighbors — and when football season rolls around, there are a lot less tailgates and school spirit.

In contrast, south of the Diag, known for the South University area, Greenwood and Burns Park, was given a social rating of 4.7, significantly higher than its northern counterpart. With close proximity to South U bars and frat row, this area is known for being an extremely social environment. People are always out and about — partying, dartying and everything in between — and this is where you’ll find almost all the tailgates during football season. This liveliness, however, can be a double-edged sword. Noisy parties are common, with music playing loudly during weekends and at night. Students are often running around this area at all hours, which can be annoying for those who prefer a more chill atmosphere. Furthermore, if you like this area, be prepared to walk. A lot of the houses south of the Diag are farther from campus and from most of the restaurants on Main Street and in Kerrytown. When only thinking about the fractionalization of Ann Arbor in terms of contrast or division, it seems untenable with the idea of a greater, unified U-M culture. It’s hard to claim that we value togetherness when we unknowingly separate ourselves based on our lifestyles or personal backgrounds. This separation limits how often we interact with people different from us, and also makes it harder for students to experience different aspects of the Ann Arbor experience.

Yet, we must realize that it is impossible for any one student to engage with all that the college experience has to offer.

So while a divided Ann Arbor might inhibit students from experiencing the full breadth of University life, it can also promote a deeper, more personalized experience in the scope of one’s individuality.

For starters, just as students can choose different schools within the University to attend or different majors to study, a fractured Ann Arbor allows students to choose where they want to live based on their academic and personal background. In an interview with the daily, LSA senior Kristen Toporski, who lives north of the Diag, explained this phenomenon.

“For people who are majoring in something that is going to have them on North Campus, North Quad or at the hospital, north of the Diag is a prime location for quick travel to class,” Toporski said. This kind of autonomy in housing is crucial to a student’s academic life, as it empowers them to find a living environment that best assists them in their journey toward academic success and personal well-being. A student who thrives in a quiet, study-oriented atmosphere would likely prefer northern areas, while someone who prefers a more socially active and diverse atmosphere would find the southern neighborhoods more appealing.

Where we are witnessing education become more and more of a personalized experience, it is nice to know that the housing situation in Ann Arbor similarly supports individualism and the opportunity for choice.

Moreover, the difference between north and south of the Diag demonstrates the beauty of how diverse our U-M community really is. With students coming from all over the country and around the world, it would be absurd to only have one singular type of living environment for everybody. This makes the

availability of different living options more representative of the world at large and, therefore, more representative of the student body.

College offers a mosaic of cultures, interests and academic focuses, and you cannot go about higher education with a one-size-fits-all mindset. Students don’t need to fit into one specific box for what it means to go to the University — and the variety of our off-campus housing opportunities reflects that. A fractured Ann Arbor is therefore not detrimental to our culture; rather, it’s a symbolic recognition of how diverse a group the U-M community really is. Ann Arbor’s fractionalization also proves especially useful when it comes to social and emotional development. When students arrive on campus, they are coming in with drastically different social skills, emotional IQs and networking abilities. Enabling students to reside in areas that match with their developmental stage is beneficial, as it provides a sense of comfort and security through which they can grow. A supportive environment is vital to preparing students for post-grad life.

Regardless of which area is best for you, it’s clear that your choice of neighborhood is not just about finding a convenient place to sleep and store your books. Your decision will influence your academic focus, social interactions and overall well-being. So, as you consider your housing options, think beyond the physical space. Reflect on your personal and academic goals and remember that the place you call home during your college years is more than just an address — it’s a crucial part of your college experience. Your housing choice is not just about where you’ll live; it’s about how you’ll live during your time at Michigan.

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Academia, there are two sides to my hyphen

codemesh instead.

There has been recent emphasis for the U.S. Congress to adopt new protocols to favor more educated immigrants on the path to Americanization. In fact, a study published by the Manhattan Institute provides a set of suggestions for Congress to implement to ultimately “select better immigrants,” quantifying them by their level of English proficiency or ambition. However, this set of criteria is exclusive to immigrants that are equipped for Americanization.

There are three broad paths of mobility across first, second and third generations of immigrants, and selecting “better” immigrants exclusively limits us to prioritizing the immigrant that is already set up for upward mobility.

As a first-generation college student that grew up around the Greek language, limiting immigrant-origin students (or those who are foreign born or who have at least one parent that has immigrated and are enrolled in university) to abide by American standards of learning results in acculturative stress and hinders them from the self-discovery of their rich, multifaceted identity.

Exclusivity based on American standards of intellect kills creativity, especially in an academic setting. If enabled to embrace their bicultural identities through intercultural competence, immigrant-origin children may bear the key to U.S. competitiveness in the predicted high-skilled workforce.

Immigrant-origin students currently comprise 26% of children and 33% of all young adults and have provided a 78% increase in college enrollment from 2000 to 2021. While immigrant-origin children seem to be the growing proportion of school-age students, standard U.S. education is not entirely enabling their potential as diverse individuals. Carola Suárez-Orozco, director of the Immigration Initiative

at Harvard University, raises the point that just focusing on English proficiency in the classroom is a “very reductive way of thinking about the immigrant child experience.”

Welcoming the immigrant tudent’s native tongue while learning English not only allows the individual to practice biculturalism, but sets them up for social and academic success.

Deviating from the English immersion approach (as early as primary education) and encouraging diverse forms of linguistic expression enhances cognitive thinking skills, which is particularly useful within secondary and higher education.

An immigrant-origin student might face conflicting beliefs between their native culture and the dominant culture within their institution, creating cognitive dissonance between the individual and their multicultural identity. This dissonance may reemerge as mental health burdens when balancing their biological roots and the stereotypical expectations. However, embracing these inconsistencies and, instead, actively producing generative thought may enable one to embody a bicultural identity. When social and cultural diversity is experienced in a way that challenges the dominant culture, a concept also known as cultural resistance, there is evidence to suggest positive consequences occur psychologically and within intergroup relations, but generally stimulating cognitive flexibility. Honoring both the dominant and native culture may even resolve the intergenerational culture gap to maintain the closeness of a parent-child bond by ensuring translatable conversation across generations.

A foreign language might even look like a different dialect of English, not necessarily a completely unidentifiable tongue. For example, in institutions, rather than obligating academics to codeswitch between Standard American English and their natural tongue, they can be encouraged to effectively

Laurel Johnson Black, associate professor of English at Indiana University of Pennsylvania, is a pioneer of codemeshing whose work resonated with me the most, as she speaks to the experience of the working class.

In her academic essay, “Stupid Rich Bastards,” Black narrates her own story, one where she experienced this cognitive dissonance and intergenerational culture gap first hand. She consistently finds herself misunderstood in academia, but also at home, the place that once grounded her. Her education and use of SAE is unable to be translated to her immediate family, who did not receive a postsecondary education; Black felt marginalized throughout her pursuit of a higher education. Working class has a tongue that, like other unconventional English tongues (such as African American Vernacular English) may be natural to bicultural students, but does not diminish their academic credibility.

In fact, when the writers began to appropriate their natural tongue in an equitable environment, they may find themselves liberated as a multicultural intellect, having more to add beyond the standards of academia.

Therefore, respect for the diversity of languages, cultures and identities that we come across must be greeted with intercultural competence and equity, especially within the education system. Allowing someone to embrace their bicultural identity also allows for more cognitive flexibility, making it easier to respond in everyday situations. It also may be the root of inspiration for oneself to feel equipped to productively express themselves in an academic setting by resolving the internal dissonance that may subconsciously restrict a multicultural learner. If we stress the importance of a globalized world, one that can express compassion and interest in their neighbor’s different beliefs, cultural values and language, we can actively inspire creativity in academics in American universities and beyond.

WA look at homelessness in Ann Arbor

hen most passersby see a homeless person on the street, they do the same three things: avert their eyes, avoid getting too close and walk a little faster. I’ve done it too. We’ve gone collectively blind to the plight of the homeless because we perceive them as different, and that difference makes us uncomfortable. As a result, we’ve excommunicated them from our society like modern day lepers, depriving them of basic human respect and dignity.

Over the course of a bitterly cold late January and early February, I paid three visits to the Robert J. Delonis Center, Ann Arbor’s largest homeless shelter, to find out what needs to change. The lobby was constantly active, with staff handing out lunch tickets, a translator working across language barriers and the receptionist elegantly balancing phone calls with the ever-present line of people formed at her desk. In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Daniel Kelly, executive director of the Shelter Association of Washtenaw County (which administers the Delonis Center), said that a rapid increase in housing prices and eviction rates has contributed to “record need” for the shelter’s services; but many people still don’t understand the scale of the issue.

“In Washtenaw County, we have over 3,000 people homeless in a given year, and the number is rising,” Kelly explained. “It’s kind of like an iceberg. You only see the tip typically, and there’s just this giant thing under the water.”

From June 2022 to June 2023, Washtenaw County’s homeless population increased by 138% and the number of individuals relocated to permanent housing decreased by 16%.

Kelly then proposed a method to visualize what’s below the waves: Imagine 3,000 homeless people crowded into the Diag. Now the problem feels more urgent. Put yourself there, every person you see has a different story. Husband and wife, Richard and Crystal Bower, told me theirs. For most of the winter, the couple and their dog lived in a tent camp behind a Meijer in Taylor. The store staff welcomed them for cleaning up needles and garbage in the parking lot, but police forced them to leave.

“When you’re homeless here, you don’t have civil rights like everybody else does,” Richard lamented. “As soon as they find out you’re homeless, they treat you differently.”

The two of them made the three-day walk to Ypsilanti, as they were unable to find transportation. Crystal was hit by a drunk driver on Michigan Avenue after dark. She was

wearing all the necessary reflectors, but the road had no sidewalk. Rescue workers pronounced Crystal dead on the scene, but thankfully succeeded in resuscitating her.

“They were asking: What’s my wife’s name, what’s her date of birth, what’s her address,” Richard said. “And as soon as they got to the address part, and (we) said we have no address, all the rescue workers just turned their backs and walked away from us.” Richard continued, “The cop says, ‘Come here,’ and pulls me away from my dying wife’s side to run my name for warrants. And I don’t have no warrants. It’s just because they automatically assume that homeless people have warrants and they’re drug addicts. The only word I can use is inhumane.”

The workers did eventually take Crystal to the hospital. While she was preoccupied there with her husband, their dog ran away and died. Since then, Richard has been too busy caring for Crystal to get a job. He finds ways to hustle money in the few hours a day she sleeps. When I asked them what misconceptions about homelessness they’d like to clear up, Richard said, “We’re human beings like everybody else.”

Crystal added, “We’re not always all the same. We’re not drug addicts.” With her chin held high and a smile across her face, still scarred from the accident, she proudly stated, “I didn’t take their oxycodone. I didn’t take no narcotics. I take Tylenol, ibuprofen and Aspirin.”

The public understands the homeless to be a homogenous group, but they aren’t. Some of the people at the Delonis Center are there by bad fortune. Some are there because of bad decisions. Many abuse drugs or alcohol; even more have a mental illness. Kelly estimates that 70% of people at the Delonis Center fall into this category, which ranges from mild depression to paranoid schizophrenia. Mental health and substance use disorders are especially linked to chronic homelessness, although the connection is not always causal. Every homeless person is an individual, with their own flaws, strengths and challenges. In other words, they are normal human beings facing an abnormal set of circumstances.

When people on the left discuss the issue, they miss the abnormal part, instead creating new terms like “unhoused.” None of the people I spoke to at the Delonis Center complained about being called homeless; they complained about being homeless. The word is unpleasant because the situation itself is unpleasant.

“Homeless” evokes a visceral reaction, reminding everyone who hears it of the injustice these individuals are suffering.

“Unhoused” sounds like it refers to a lifestyle choice. It doesn’t call to action. But lacking permanent shelter

is not a lifestyle choice, it’s a catastrophe — one that we shouldn’t diminish with sanitized language.

On the other hand, those on the right say that American cities have been “invaded” or “overrun” by the homeless. Without context, you’d think these commentators were describing enemy soldiers or even locusts. Homeless people are neither of these things. The reality is that Americans are on the streets, and their country is failing them. They aren’t setting up tent camps or crowding places like the Delonis Center because they want to — they have nowhere else to go.

Berating the homeless won’t put them into houses or apartments any more than transforming our vocabulary will. Ann Arbor deserves practical solutions. In the short term, that means giving more volunteer and financial support to places like the Delonis Center. Kelly makes this promise to anyone who arrives at the shelter’s doors: “They’ll be safe, they’ll be warm.” Guests there can find sleeping arrangements, free meals, showers, laundry machines, social workers and medical care. Perhaps most importantly, they receive a caseworker that helps them find a permanent home and assists them with individual needs.

Long term, the University needs to build more student housing. This won’t solve the problem entirely, but it’s a giant leap in the right direction. According to Kelly, many of the low-rent landlords the Shelter Association used to work with now sign leases to students instead. This puts the homeless into direct competition with a group whose median family income is $154,000 — a bidding war the homeless can’t win.

A new residence hall is currently under construction at Elbel Field, a good start, but Kelly says an additional one or two would be even better. In an interview with the University Record, University President Santa Ono stated that, “Since 2004, undergraduate enrollment has increased by more than 8,000 students, yet on-campus housing has simply not kept pace.” The roughly 2,300 beds at Elbel aren’t enough to close that gap, but another 2,300 on top of them could be.

The University of Michigan and residents of this community are capable of solving homelessness in Ann Arbor. The people here are kind and empathetic, but after going to the Delonis Center, I was surprised at how little of this virtue we extend to those most in need. The homeless aren’t lepers — they don’t belong in encampments behind stores or on lonely benches in the cold. They deserve our generosity and a place in our society. This city can make change happen, now it’s a matter of will.

JACK BRADY Deputy Editorial Page Editor

Jaelin Llewellyn’s pride and perspective on the game of basketball

Prideful, ambitious and cunning.

“I’m a Slytherin,” graduate guard Jaelin Llewellyn told The Michigan Daily.

A self-proclaimed “Harry Potter” superfan, Llewellyn embodies the values of the emerald green and serpent bearing Slytherin house.

Every time Llewellyn steps on the court, he’s proud to be there.

Because the Ivy league graduate with a fittingly cunning game has earned the right to step onto the Crisler Center floor. Through ambitious injury recoveries, his career has persisted to this moment.

From Mississauga, Ontario to Lynchburg, Virginia, then Princeton, New Jersey and finally Ann Arbor, Michigan, Llewellyn’s basketball journey, on and off the court, has been epitomized by his ever-growing perspective and appreciation for basketball.

*** Llewellyn didn’t enter high school with the prototypical makings of a future Power Six starter. His potential hid behind a passfirst approach to the position.

And the makings of a leader were masked by his quiet demeanor.

“Both off and on the court, he was very unassuming, quiet,” Father Michael Goetz coach Norm St. Louis told The Daily. “Always came with a good attitude. … He was the starting point guard on a pretty good basketball team. And he didn’t have a leadership role on our team, but he definitely contributed and he listened and he contributed both verbally and in practice. … He’s going to be going places.”

At Father Michael Goetz,

Llewellyn was young, driven and eager to grow in the basketball world. His ambition sprouted alongside his game, and after just two seasons he was hungry for heightened competition and exposure.

Transferring to Virginia Episcopal School for his final two seasons of prep basketball, Llewellyn — who has since inked the region’s 434 area code on himself — arrived at a landmark of his career in Lynchburg. There, he was tasked with learning to be a rising star, navigating high-level prep basketball and the mayhem of recruitment that came with it.

“I knew he was a good basketball player, but I didn’t really realize how good he actually was,” VES coach Darko Sedlar told The Daily. “He is a unique kid who has a really cool perspective on life. Even though he’s a really good basketball player, you would never kind of think of that. Sometimes, when you’re really good and have a really big spotlight on you, it can kind of get into your head. But he’s one of the most humble kids I’ve ever been around.”

Llewellyn was discovering how to shine under the spotlight, understanding his role but never letting his ego outweigh his appreciation. He sang in glee club to grow closer with his teammates and volunteered his time with special needs basketball programs. Basketball was at his core, but Llewellyn was beginning to see it from multiple angles.

He was the star player, easy to connect with and grateful to be coached. There was just one thing that the introverted Llewellyn hadn’t become yet: a natural leader. At Princeton, his on-court trajectory continued as scheduled. Becoming a starter and double-

digit scorer as a freshman, his importance was grand from the beginning. Building off that, Llewellyn averaged 15.3 points per game as a sophomore.

If everything went according to plan, the path was clear. Multiple years starring at a Division I program is a successful career.

In 2020, however, for the first time in his career, Llewellyn was pushed off course, taken away from the court due to COVID-19. The Ivy League initially canceled the 2020-21 season outright. And when restriction lightened to allow Llewellyn back into the practice gym, he tore his Achilles tendon on the first day.

And just like that, he was forced to take a detour.

“I don’t know exactly how it happened,” Sedlar said. “I always tell him, ‘Hey, you can always come back to VES and work here.’ And I really don’t know exactly what

Strong start fizzles out, Wolverines secure second place at Big Ten Tournament

technical fall defeat.

Blockhus in the quarterfinals. And it was there where he truly “dug deep,” as Bormet described.

COLLEGE PARK — One year ago, the Michigan wrestling team went into the championship finals of the 2023 Big Ten Tournament with only a heavyweight title to rest its hopes on. And while the Wolverines finished their night by giving their home crowd a thrilling victory from thenfifth year senior Mason Parris, the team as a whole finished in fifth place — an underwhelming result considering their success in the previous year.

A year later, with a lineup of mostly new faces, No. 9 Michigan (8-4 overall, 5-3 Big Ten) went into the weekend hopeful of fulfilling both individual and team goals it had come short of in last year’s competition. Despite a hot start and four wrestlers in the final championship bouts, the Wolverines faltered in capturing an individual championship title but managed to secure a second place finish as a team, 47 points behind No. 1 Penn State (12-0, 8-0), the reigning Big Ten Champions.

“We competed really well through those first three rounds,” Michigan coach Sean Bormet said. “… The last round wasn’t our best round. I’m not okay with that from the standpoint that our guys want more and I want more for them.”

The Wolverines started their weekend off strong by advancing eight weight classes to the semifinal round. In a day full of thrilling upset victories and avenged losses, No. 7 seed graduate Will Lewan stood out amid Michigan’s plentiful wins. Known for his low-scoring bouts that often go into sudden victory or tiebreakers, Lewan stuck with his usual style in the 157-pound class to defeat his first-round opponent, advancing to face Minnesota’s No. 2 seed Michael

Sporting an offense that he rarely brings out, the match culminated with a second-period pin that advanced Lewan to the semifinals. There, he flipped the script on a dual loss from earlier in the season against Indiana’s Brayton Lee with a sudden victory takedown to advance to the finals.

“I don’t really go into any match expecting anything — I expect to wrestle my best match and I expect to win,” Lewan said regarding his quarterfinal pin. “It was nice to finish the match early, I’ll tell you that.”

Along with Lewan, redshirt junior Dylan Ragusin also advanced to the championship finals at 133 pounds. Ragusin appeared to live up to his No. 1 seeding in his first day of matches where he relived an intense victory against Penn State’s Aaron Nagao, whom he’d pinned in their previous meeting. With graduates Austin Gomez and Shane Griffith also securing places in their respective 149- and 174-pound championship bouts alongside five other Wolverines pushing through the consolation bracket to compete in the third- and fifth- place finals, Michigan garnered a lot of team momentum heading into the finals round.

But after propelling nine of its 10 wrestlers into placewinner titles, that momentum the Wolverines had built came to a halt.

Following teammate graduate Michael DeAugustino’s loss in the 125pound bout for fifth-place, Ragusin faced a familiar opponent: Rutgers’ No. 2 seed Dylan Shawver, whom he’d narrowly defeated just a few weeks earlier. But the result this time around was far from narrow as Ragusin uncharacteristically couldn’t carry through with his attacks and lost the offensive battle in a 23-8

“Dylan’s match boiled down to one position where there were big points,” Bormet said. “Coming off that first takedown he gave up, he was wrestling hard to close the gap, but that was a big, big score.”

And from there, the wheels started to come off for the Wolverines. One after another, Michigan struggled to reach the scoreboard before its competitors and would come close but not enough to make up point deficits in many “razor thin matches.”

With all the lowerweights dropping their bouts, the Wolverines’ final shot at an individual championship title fell through with a medical forfeit. Griffith, whose undefeated record through the dual season was vital for Michigan’s success, had suffered a leg injury in the last seconds of his winning semifinal bout, handing Illinois its only champion of the tournament.

“It’s not a significant injury but the timing of it was not optimal for him to be on the mat wrestling tonight, unfortunately, even though I know he wanted to,” Bormet said. “But we got to stay on top of that situation so he is at his best when we go to the NCAA Tournament because it’s a quick turnaround.”

As the weekend came to a close, the Wolverines only managed to end the finals round with a single win: a third place victory for graduate Lucas Davison over Rutgers’ Yaraslau Slavikouski following his loss in the semifinals.

While Michigan’s string of losses snowballed over its initial hopes, its early success had already solidified its runner-up placement.

Although the Wolverines can find some reconciliation in their solid early performances and a respectable second-place finish, the underwhelming final round of the tournament ultimately left them short of their final goals.

happened. He was staying here for the summer a little bit and he was rehabbing. … It just worked out.”

Sedlar wanted Llewellyn on his staff, his quiet demeanor didn’t matter. He knew his former player had the ability to connect with an array of people and understood the X’s and O’s of the game. Sedlar saw Llewellyn’s leadership potential, and he had the system to let him blossom.

Sedlar was admittedly intense and demanding of his players, allowing Llewellyn to ease into his new role by doing what he does best: provide an understanding presence.

“I was only a couple years older than them,” Llewellyn said. “I was at the school when some of the guys on the team were there as well. So when they get hard coaching and they’re a little combative to it, I would kind of step in and kind of be like a listening ear and try and get

them to understand the place that the coaching was coming from.”

Llewellyn taught with the perspective of success at the next level and actively demonstrated the fortitude to recover from a major injury. But he was still learning, too.

Llewellyn was seeing the other side, discovering how to lead with the expectation to do so. Having commanded respect through his ability to empathize, he developed his voice. Sharing his experiences as a player, he gained insight from a coaching perspective.

“It just gave me purpose and meaning during that difficult time,” Llewellyn said. “Especially not being able to see my Princeton teammates for 18 months, it gave me a reason to just keep going and working with those guys. It was a transformative experience. And I think I learned a bit about coaching, it can be challenging. And I can appreciate all the effort that my

coaches put in now, because I saw a little bit of what it takes.”

After Llewellyn recovered from the injury and returned to the court the following year, he wasn’t the same. His role hadn’t changed, his scoring nearly identical to before the injury, but Llewellyn wasn’t. His leadership had developed, his perspective had widened and above all, he was thankful.

After 18 months, he was proud to be back on the floor, physically and mentally. Everything got back on track. Llewellyn joined the 1,000-career-point club at Princeton, then transferred to Michigan to become the Wolverines’ starting point guard.

But just eight games into his Michigan tenure, Llewellyn was derailed once again when he tore his ACL — the second major injury of his collegiate career.

“It was definitely challenging,” Llewellyn said. “There were some dark days and some good days … But I just had the goal in mind of wanting to be back on that court with my teammates and just for the love, my love of the game in the first place.”

While Llewellyn had endured the recovery process before, that didn’t make it any less difficult. And this time there was a season to miss. He had to watch from the bench, his impact reduced to rediscovering his voice with new teammates and coaches.

He had led with an official coaching title before. But on the sidelines, Llewellyn role was undefined — left for him to craft it.

“I’ve gotten more comfortable in voicing my opinion and my knowledge of basketball,” Llewellyn said.

ANNA FUDER/Daily

Michigan stalls out after strong first quarter against Iowa, losing 95-68

MINNEAPOLIS — In the Big Ten Tournament semifinal, the stars were bound to come out.

And while All-Big Ten first teamer Laila Phelia appeared to have the Michigan women’s basketball team peaking at the right time, her star power wasn’t enough to match No. 3 Iowa’s.

After a hot first quarter from the Wolverines, Hawkeye guard Caitlin Clark took over and drove Iowa to victory.

The star-studded Hawkeyes (28-4 overall, 17-3 Big Ten) once again defeated Michigan (20-13, 11-10) on the back of a high-level offensive performance from Clark, who registered 28 points and 15 assists, winning 95-68.

To start the rematch on Saturday afternoon, the Wolverines once again found themselves facing not just Iowa, but the raucous crowd that traveled to see the Hawkeyes compete for a title.

And just as it did in Iowa City, this harsh crowd didn’t deter Michigan. Rather, it fueled the Wolverines to a blazing start.

Michigan knocked down all

six of its first quarter 3-pointers, punching first against Iowa and instilling a nervous buzz among the Hawkeye faithful. The Wolverines, behind graduate guard Lauren Hansen’s 11 points and junior guard Laila Phelia’s four assists, led by as many as eight points and took a three-point lead to the first break.

In the face of Michigan’s hot start, Clark responded in full form as the engine to Iowa’s offense. The only caveat is she wasn’t navigating with her shot — it was her passing that took the wheel as she racked up six assists. “Caitlin is going to do whatever she has to do,” Iowa coach Lisa Bluder said. “If she’s open she’s gonna shoot it, if she draws two defenders she’s gonna dish it … she’s exceptional, exceptional at it, especially in the full court.”

Trailing to start the second quarter, Clark continued to slice up the Michigan defense with dime after dime, and the rest of her offense followed. After the Wolverines’ offense cooled from its blazing start, Clark nearly quadrupled her first-quarter scoring, ending the half with a doubledouble of 19 points and 11 assists.

As Clark finished the half

responsible for 43 points — one more point than Michigan’s total — she led the Hawkeyes into the halftime break up by nine. Iowa had already recovered from the Wolverines’ hot start, and was in position to fully overwhelm them in the final 20 minutes.

“(Clark) can score the basketball better than anybody,” Michigan coach Kim Barnes Arico said. “But she can pass the ball better than anybody, I think that’s what makes her so special. You try to keep the ball out of her hands because she’s such a great deci-

sion maker … I don’t know if anybody’s figured it out.”

And slowly but surely, Clark’s Hawkeyes pulled away in the third quarter. Both teams struggled from deep in the period, but Iowa continued its success inside while the Wolverines couldn’t

LILA TURNER/Daily

Michigan can’t contain Iowa’s paint presence in Big Ten Tournament

down shots. We have a really big inside presence and I think people don’t realize that all the time.”

MINNEAPOLIS — In her postgame press conference, Michigan women’s basketball coach Kim Barnes Arico was asked if she had expected No. 3 Iowa to have a strong presence inside the lane when game planning for the Hawkeyes. She put it simply: “No.”

Expected or not, Iowa had its way in the paint on Saturday. It scored 54 of its 95 total points inside the key, dominating with layups and hook shots.

And despite leading at the end of the first quarter, the Wolverines’ plan slowly fell apart as they weren’t able to defend the Hawkeyes’ offense in the lane. For an Iowa team known for its logo-3s and leading the nation in triples per game with 11.3, Michigan didn’t anticipate the varied shooting the Hawkeyes displayed.

“You try to take away (Iowa guard Caitlin Clark), we have other threats,” Hawkeye guard Kate Martin said. “You want to do a box and one, we have other people who can knock

WOMEN’S

Iowa lobbed the ball in the lane, dribble-penetrated and drove to the rim in transition. And no matter what the Wolverines tried to do, nothing could slow down the Hawkeyes when they drove to the basket.

Michigan tried man-to-man, a two-three zone and even a boxand-one but once Iowa began pushing the ball downhill, the Wolverines had no awnswer.

“They were able to get downhill in the first half,” Barnes Arico said. “We talked about it at halftime, our ability to rotate over and take some charges, especially when Clark picked up a foul early. … Their two posts who were in foul trouble in the first half came back in the second half, and then they just isolated super high for shooters and just went in a oneon-one situation inside. I think we totally could have done a better job of helping from the weak side.”

Even beyond one-on-one situations, the Wolverines couldn’t match the Hawkeyes’ pace after the first quarter. In

transition, Iowa pushed the ball up the floor with urgency, hitting open players in stride for quick layups and leaving Michigan reeling in its wake. Most teams pass into the paint to slow the game down, but the Hawkeyes sped up the game when it passed inside.

“They beat us fair and square, but I think we got worn down and really weren’t locked into the game plan as much as we were yesterday (against Indiana).” Barnes Arico said. “… I thought we did a phenomenal job yesterday loading and took away their paint touches, and today we really didn’t load and take away those touches.”

Friday’s win over Indiana showed flashes of what the Wolverines’ paint defense could be: collapsing on the post and forcing opponents to shoot a contested shot or dish an outlet pass. Between the fatigue of playing three games in three days and the pressure put on by the Hawkeyes’ high-motor offense, Michigan ran out of energy in the key.

And when Iowa had an opportunity in the paint, it stepped on the gas and made it count.

buy a bucket from nearly anywhere. Clark added three more assists, and the Hawkeyes added eight points to their lead by the end of the quarter. With the vigor they showcased in the first quarter faded, the Wolverines’ Big Ten Tournament lives were on the line in the fourth quarter. Iowa fully extinguished them quickly by continuing to dominate on both sides of the ball, as Clark added a quick seven points before subbing out for the remaining 7:35 with an insurmountable lead.

“We weren’t able to score with them later in the game, and they were able to pull away from us,” Barnes Arico said. “But I think our team did a phenomenal job all week and potentially ran out of gas a little bit against a tremendous Iowa team, so credit to them.”

After Michigan’s flaming start in the first quarter, Clark and the Hawkeyes did what they do best — light up the Wolverines. It wasn’t a record-breaking afternoon for Clark this time, but her all-around output sent Michigan packing once again, and gave Iowa a shot at the conference title on Sunday.

Michigan defeats Minnesota in second round of Big Ten Tournament, 76-57 WOMEN’S

guard Laila Phelia recording seven first-quarter points, including an and-1 in transition, the Wolverines got ahead by finding open players.

MINNEAPOLIS — Entering the postseason, the Michigan women’s basketball team needed consistency if it wanted to make a run in the Big Ten Tournament. And in the second round against Minnesota, the Wolverines showed exactly that.

From the tipoff until the final buzzer, Michigan remained in control, something that it’s struggled to do in Big Ten play.

Dictating the pace and pushing the ball in transition, the Wolverines had no trouble scoring on the offensive end while limiting buckets on defense. It wasn’t just one side of the ball that they excelled — they dominated in every facet of the game for nearly all 40 minutes. On the back of a strong allaround performance, Michigan (19-12 overall, 10-9 Big Ten) took care of business against the Golden Gophers (16-15, 5-13), 76-57, propelling itself into the quarterfinals of the Big Ten Tournament. From the opening possession, Michigan directed the tempo. Whether it was graduate guard Lauren Hansen nailing her first two shots from deep or junior

“We were just really happy with the way that our team came out and how we established ourselves for the beginning of the game,” Michigan coach Kim Barnes Arico said. “I thought we really set the tone and played a great game.”

It wasn’t just the offense that set the tone, either. Michigan used a full-court press during spurts of the first half and doubled players down low to slow down Minnesota’s offense, forcing the Gophers to take contested buckets late in the shot clock. Epitomized by a first-quarter shooting percentage disparity of 51% to 31%, the Wolverines easily took control early.

Back-to-back 12-point quarters for Minnesota demonstrated Michigan’s grip on the game, forcing unwanted shots and capitalizing on them on the offensive end by pushing in transition. A 36-24 differential on points in the paint throughout the game not only showed the Wolverines’ efficiency of getting the ball down low, but revealed the Gophers weakness and inability to finish long possessions.

“On offense it felt like any shot

we got, it was earned and you had to work for that,” Minnesota guard Amaya Battle said. “Even then, it still wasn’t super easy. They were crashing the boards super well on both ends. … They’re just super physical.”

And Michigan didn’t stop there.

The Wolverines picked up right where they left off in the second half. They made five of their first six shots in the third quarter and featured a 15-point quarter from Phelia — essentially putting the game away by taking a 19-point lead.

But that didn’t stop Michigan from piling on. It wasn’t just the offense that was cooking, either. No matter the outcome of Minnesota’s possession, whether it be a made shot or defensive stop, Michigan pushed in transition and scored on the other end through quick dribble drives into the paint for an easy layup or dish to the perimeter.

“Defense definitely translates and fuels our offense,” senior forward Cameron Williams said. We pride ourselves on our defense so when we do get a stop, we can push the pace and advance the ball.”

Laila Phelia’s career night lifts Michigan over Indiana to Big Ten Tournament semifinals

MINNEAPOLIS — Less than a minute into the second half, the Michigan women’s basketball team found itself in a giant 17-point hole against No. 12 Indiana. The pit was eerily reminiscent of the one the Wolverines found themselves at the bottom of in Bloomington Jan. 4.

But instead of grabbing a shovel, junior guard Laila Phelia threw down a rope for Michigan, dragging the Wolverines out of the hole and pulling them to victory.

Compiling a career-high 30-point performance — highlighted by 20 second-half points all in the paint or from the free throw line — Phelia showcased why she was named to the consensus All-Big Ten First Team. Drive after drive, she attacked the Hoosiers’ defense, regardless of who was trying to stop her. She finished shots by wriggling between Indiana players and also got to the free throw line, converting 4-of-5 free throws in the second half.

“Laila has been phenomenal,” Michigan coach Kim Barnes Arico said. “And I think she, like our team, is continuing to get better and better and better. And I told her just walking over here how proud I am of her ability to read the screens and they were icing her, trying to force her to go left.” No matter what Indiana threw

at Phelia in the second half, they couldn’t redirect her drives to the basket. Play after play, Phelia continued getting downhill and to the hole. Despite the Hoosiers holding a 16-point lead at the time, Phelia was undeniable. She banked in her first second-half bucket, catalyzing the first of the Wolverines’ many second-half runs. “We didn’t get off to the start we did back at home in Bloom-

ington, but it felt good going into halftime,” Indiana coach Teri Moren said. “Also cautioned our kids that it was far from over. Then Phelia just decided to come out and sort of try to take that

ing, though. It also allowed for Williams to get post touches off of those actions. The attention Phelia drew sucked in defenders, leaving her teammates wide open on the perimeter for threes.

third and fourth quarter over.”

Taking the game by the reins, Phelia snatched up dribbles and swiped balls out of the passing lane, kickstarting her own transition offense and finishing on the other end.

While the Hoosiers tried to switch up their defensive scheme, Barnes Arico swapped Phelia and graduate guard Lauren Hansen’s roles and directed Phelia to bring the ball up the court. That switch created opportunities for Phelia to cut off senior forward Cameron Williams’ screens and drive directly to the basket, continuing to get downhill and score. Phelia’s takeover involved more than just her own scor-

Michigan buried those 3-pointers, creating a hole to bury the Hoosiers right along with them.

“Laila and Jordan, they both draw a lot of attention, so they were able to just drive and move the ball, kick it out, and we could

kind of space the floor a little bit,” Hansen said. “… When you’re aggressive like that, they have to play you, and we just kept finding each other.”

Phelia commanded the arena the entire second half, and there was no hesitation with a single drive. Emerging from the Wolverines’ den, she clawed her own way up out of their halftime hole and pulled her teammates along, leading a third-quarter surge with 10 points in Michigan’s 19-8 swing.

“She’s a tremendous player,” Barnes Arico said. “And she always talked about her freshman year when the team went to the Elite Eight, those seniors like Naz Hillmon and Danielle Rauch, just like they poured into her, and they carried her through that tournament.

And today I challenged her, like, ‘Laila, this is your time. This is your time to pour into those young ones and take them with you and show them what it means to compete and to compete at this level.’ And she pretty much did that today, yesterday, and it’s proud moments as a coach to see your players really, it clicked the way it has for her the last couple days.”

Phelia has been clicking on all fronts ever since the Big Ten Tournament began, averaging 26.5 points — a figure higher than her previous career high of 26. Her performance Friday night boosted the Wolverines over a team they haven’t beaten since Hillmon and Rauch took the floor by her side.

But now, this is Phelia’s time.

GOODBYE irish

SPORTSWEDNESDAY

Michigan sweeps Notre Dame, advances to Big Ten Tournament semifinals

They say history doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.

And after an extremely physical series between the No. 14 Michigan hockey team and Notre Dame, which included abundant penalties, reviews, and nearly identical third periods on Friday and Saturday, it’s clear there is some truth to this.

The Wolverines (20-13-3 overall, 12-11-2 Big Ten) skated into Saturday’s game with an edge on the Fighting Irish (15-19-2, 9-14-2), as a win would move them on to the Big Ten semifinals and provide them more solid ground for a spot in the NCAA tournament. By

keeping composure and holding on in the third period, Michigan earned itself another win over Notre Dame, 4-3, advancing in the Big Ten Tournament.

“The game had everything,” graduate goaltender Jake Barczewski said. “This was a huge weekend for us, but we’re not satisfied, that’s for sure.”

The first 30 minutes of the game were eerily similar to Friday’s victory. Eight minutes into the first period, the Irish struck first. Directly off of the faceoff, Notre Dame defenseman Drew Bavaro sent the puck top-shelf from the point. But the Wolverines soon retaliated, as freshman forward Nick Moldenhauer drew a kneeing penalty, sending Michigan to the power play. Not even 10 seconds in, sophomore forward T.J. Hughes

redirected a shot from sophomore defenseman Seamus Casey, tying the game at one.

And with nine seconds to go in

While history doesn’t repeat itself, the present can be eerily similar to the past. And with the past now behind it, Michigan moves on to the Big Ten semifinal.

the first period, Hughes tallied his second of the game, skating to the net front to tip a rebound into the goal. Despite both of Hughes’ goals being reviewed, the plays were upheld and the Wolverines skated into intermission up 2-1 — just like

on Friday. “Every team Michigan plays is talented and you have to be physical,” Michigan coach Brandon Naurato said. “It just shows our resilience and team toughness to fight through that.”

So, it’s unsurprising that both teams picked up speed when the second period opened. Notre Dame, however, capitalized first,

scoring two quick goals that put the Wolverines back into a deficit. All season, they have struggled to come back from behind and have often let manageable deficits snowball into blowouts. But on both Friday and Saturday, Michigan didn’t let a deficit tear down its confidence.

Two minutes after the Irish took the lead, the Wolverines once again tied it up. They created chaos in the crease, and junior forward Dylan Duke scored a net-front goal from the right corner — his specialty. And early in the third, Brindley notched the game-winner. With Notre Dame on defense attempting to clear the puck, McGroarty mitigated that chance, skating around the offensive zone and sending a spinning pass to sophomore defenseman Tyler Duke. Tyler then skated up to the

goal and sent a cross-crease puck to Brindley, who tapped it in. For a team known for thirdperiod collapses, maintaining a lead for the remaining 16 minutes was not a simple task. But despite some close calls, Michigan held on.

“We closed out two games this weekend,” Hughes said. “That’s huge for our mentality and huge for our confidence, so we’re just gonna build on that. We know we can close out games now and we can all trust each other now, so we’re gonna keep this rolling.”

While history doesn’t repeat itself, the present can be eerily similar to the past. And with the past now behind it, Michigan moves on to the Big Ten semifinal.