Ann Arbor, Michigan
Wednesday, September 17, 2025
Ann Arbor, Michigan
Wednesday, September 17, 2025
“You speak of values, but where were your values when my daughter lost her care?”
GLENN HEDIN Daily Staff Reporter
Car horns blared for hours near the University Hospital Thursday afternoon as drivers honked in solidarity with approximately 300 demonstrators — students, parents of transgender children and other University of Michigan community members — protesting Michigan Medicine’s decision to cease providing gender-affirming care to individuals under the age of 19.
Organized by the Huron Valley Democratic Socialists of America and the University’s chapter of the Young Democratic Socialists of America, as well as the Trans Unity Coalition, the rally drew a diverse crowd holding pride flags and signs that read “First Do No Harm” and “I Love My Trans Son,” among other slogans.
University alum Kami Michels, the parent of a trans child and a board member of the Jim Toy Community Center, said she was not pleased with Michigan Medicine’s decision.
“President Grasso, don’t send us another email about how much you care about civil rights,” Michels said. “You say you won’t tolerate totalitarianism; then why are you letting it run your hospital? You speak of values, but where were your values when my daughter lost her care? Your silence speaks louder than your slogans. You should be ashamed.”
The decision will cut off access to gender-affirming care for a large number of transgender youth, given that Michigan Medicine is
one of the leaders in the country and state in hospital rankings and services.
Mary Masson, Michigan Medicine’s director of public relations, wrote in an email to The Michigan Daily that the University had been pressured into this decision by a federal subpoena and would work to support impacted individuals.
“We recognize the gravity and impact of this decision for our patients and our community,” Masson wrote. “We are working closely with all those impacted, and we will continuously support the well-being of our patients,
their families, and our teams.”
Washtenaw County Commissioner Yousef Rabhi also spoke at the rally. Rabhi said he felt by increased surveillance and cuts to programs that promote inclusion, the University’s Board of Regents is capitulating to fascism.
“When you cower to fascism, you become a fascist,” Rabhi said. “They took away (diversity, equity and inclusion). They militarized campus, put cameras everywhere and made it a police state so that students and workers and faculty can’t express themselves anymore. Now they’re coming after our trans youth in this community.”
Music, Theater & Dance senior Grace Jun, co-chair of the YDSA at the University, said Michigan Medicine should not surrender to the Trump Administration’s policies on transgender issues.
“The Trump administration is a monster that is trying to systemically kill communities of people by taking away necessities for their survival and well-being,” Jun said. “YDSA demands that (the University) take an active stance against the Trump administration, fight for life-saving genderaffirming care. This is their legal and moral obligation to fulfill;their actions are hurting children.”
UMich community reacts to death of Charlie Kirk, talks next steps in addressing gun violence
“Gun violence does not care about your political affiliation, it doesn’t care about your age, it doesn’t care about where you live. It comes for everyone.”
board member, said in an interview with The Daily that while Kirk’s death was highly publicized, she felt other victims of gun violence did not receive the same public sympathy.
On Wednesday, Charlie Kirk, political activist and Turning Point USA founder, was shot and killed at Utah Valley University while on his American Comeback Tour. Turning Point USA at the University of Michigan held a vigil at the Diag flagpole to honor Kirk’s memory that evening. That same day, there was a shooting at Evergreen High School in Colorado. Both events have sparked conversation among the University and national community surrounding gun safety measures and political polarization in the U.S. In an interview with The Michigan Daily at the vigil, LSA senior Sarah Baldwin, vice president of the U-M Turning Point USA chapter, said Kirk’s death was a shocking tragedy.
“I think all the chapters are a little bit in shock because we know there’s so much political polarization in the country and that it’s been so tense in the last decade or so, but it’s just still shocking when things like this happen,” Baldwin said. “You never want to believe it can go that far — that we can be that angry with each other, that we can dehumanize each other so much. I think everybody hopes that, at the very least, this can maybe provide some kind of point of human empathy and community.”
LSA junior Aubrey Greenfield, March for Our Lives at UMich
“I think it just shows how politically polarized our environment is right now,” Greenfield said. “It really shows how Kirk is a very big name in political media and because of that, everyone knows (him), but they don’t know that 4-year-old who got shot, or they don’t know that brother or that sister who got killed in a small community in California.” Greenfield was also critical of President Donald Trump’s “Honoring the Memory of Charlie Kirk” proclamation, specifically his call to lower all flags to half-mast until Sept. 14, contrasted with his reaction to former Minnesota House Speaker Melissa Hortman’s death on June 14 and other gun violence victims.
“What about the families who lose kids or uncles or parents to gun violence every year?” Greenfield said. “The flags aren’t lowered for them; people badmouth them. People have conspiracy theories that certain shootings didn’t happen — where’s the respect for all of these kids and the outrage for all of these children to the same degree that there was for Charlie Kirk?”
Greenfield also noted that the Evergreen High School shooting was the 47th school shooting of 2025.
“On Sept. 10, when Charlie Kirk was shot and killed, on that
same day, Evergreen High School in Colorado also had a shooting that wounded two students,” Greenfield said. “It just shows you that gun violence does not care about your political affiliation, it doesn’t care about your age, it doesn’t care about where you live. It comes for everyone.”
At the vigil, Baldwin said not all students in the University’s Turning Point USA chapter agreed with Kirk on all topics, but admired his commitment to public debate and dialogue.
“Debate’s important — he really tried to help foster that,” Baldwin said. “Whether you agreed or not, he wanted to have the dialogue to make sure we saw each other as people and had those different viewpoints and different feelings and things. People are people — they are not walking political party platforms — so we’re going to try to carry on that legacy.”
In discussing next steps, Greenfield said cooperation across the aisle is key, commenting on the United States’ large gun culture and arguing that solutions must establish a culture of gun safety while still protecting the Second Amendment.
“It also involves collaboration, and not just from both sides of the political aisle, but also with responsible gun dealers and owners to find solutions,” Greenfield said. “For example, one that has been proposed is having some of these gun dealers go through suicide prevention training to be able to recognize
signs, so that if somebody comes in to purchase a gun they can go, ‘wait, we want to make sure you’re purchasing it for the right reason, and not because you want to harm yourself or others.’”
Justin Heinze, faculty lead for Public Health IDEAS for Preventing Firearm Injury and associate professor of health behavior and health equity, said in an interview with The Daily the topic of guns has become an increasingly polarizing issue for people to talk about.
“My colleague — Allison Miller, in the School of Public Health — has found that framing the conversation in a safety context, rather than harm, is really important to parents, and when we think about creating safer spaces, they’re more willing to talk about their firearms,” Heinze said. “At a policy level, you’re trying to reach across both aisles to make sure that policies are recognizing the rights of gun owners as well as those of citizens.”
Greenfield said there also needs to be an emphasis on gun violence research in the United States, citing the $158 million in grants for gun violence prevention cut by the Trump administration, which subsequently closed the White House Office of Gun Violence Prevention. Heinze said these previous investments were hopeful for gun violence prevention initiatives.
CONTINUED AT MICHIGANDAILY.COM
Activists have previously criticized the University for restricting student protests by suspending a campus activist group, pursuing disciplinary charges against demonstrators and retroactively adjusting their Statement of Student Rights and Responsibilities. Jun said she believed the University’s actions are motivated by greed.
“To the Board of Regents: you continue to disappoint and enrage your students and workers by actively trying to oppress your community members’ right to the freedom of speech and right to protest,
but anything for the precious endowment and money, right?”
Several speakers at the rally proposed strategies to respond to the University. Michels said alumni should financially boycott the University.
“You fucked with our kids, and now we are coming for your pocketbook,” Michels said. “We will not spend one more dime on Michigan football tickets. We will not donate one more dollar to the Alumni Association. Not a single cent of our money will go to you, because we know that’s all you really care about.” Rahbi told the crowd that another mode of protest Michigan residents have is to vote out the current regents.
“Every two years, you have an opportunity to elect regents,” Rahbi said. “Use that opportunity to hold them accountable. If they want to bow down to fascists, if they want to bow down to Donald Trump, if they want to bow down to an administration that’s more interested in billionaires and their profits than they are in average, everyday people like those of us standing here, they’re going to have a moment of reckoning coming soon.”
In an interview with The Daily, LSA senior Pragya Choudhary said he was disappointed in the University. “They made the decision because they’re scared, because they’re cowards,” Choudhary said. “Instead of holding to the values of art, science and most importantly, truth, they would rather fall to ignorance and, frankly, stupidity and mendacity.”
Visiting scholar from the Huazhong University of Science and Technology sentenced to three months in jail and to return to China after pleading no contest.
MICAYLA HORWITZ Daily Staff Reporter
On Wednesday, Chengxuan Han, University of Michigan visiting scholar from the Huazhong University of Science and Technology, was sentenced to her time served — a total of three months in jail — and will return to China after pleading no contest in August to three smuggling charges and to making false statements to United States Custom and Border Protection officers.
The sentence comes after Han was arrested at the Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport in June for lying to Border Protection about packages that she had previously sent to individuals associated with a U-M lab in 2024 and 2025. The packages contained a growth medium used in the cultivation of nematodes — a kind of roundworm — as well as DNA material.
Han’s defense attorneys, Sara Garber and Benton Martin, said in the sentencing memorandum that the government’s accusations are misguided, as Han routinely sends and receives packages with biological materials across the world, and the government overstated the seriousness of Han’s actions.
“Even if Ms. Han was negligent or failed to obtain the proper paperwork required by the United States for shipping materials—she made a mistake,” the memorandum read. “A mistake she has absolutely taken to heart and learned from. She did not, however, commit a criminal offense as charged by the government, certainly not with knowledge she was violating the law or with the intent to defraud the government.”
The Exchange Visitor Program at the University is meant to promote international educational and cultural exchange between professors, researchers, shortterm scholars and specialists who are given the opportunity to study and work at the University. Any researcher who comes to the University is required to comply with both federal and University regulations when handling biological material.
2012 Knight-Wallace Fellow Andrea Hsu spoke on the quick changes to the federal workforce that took place since the start of President Donald Trump’s return to the White House.
More than 200 University of Michigan community members and faculty gathered at the Wallace House Gardens Thursday afternoon for a lecture from Andrea Hsu, National Public Radio journalist. The lecture, titled “Inside the Firings and the Future of the Federal Workforce”, discussed the overhaul of the federal government through targeting the workforce upon President Donald Trump’s return to the White House.
The event was hosted by the Wallace House Center for Journalists for their 38th annual Graham Hovey Lecture, which honors the careers of previous Knight-Wallace fellows.
Hsu was a Knight-Wallace Fellow in 2012, studying innovative approaches to health care awareness. In her time as a journalist, Hsu first worked
UMich
as a researcher for the British Broadcasting Corporation’s Beijing bureau before joining NPR. Since 2021, Hsu has served as NPR’s labor and workplace correspondent, leading coverage on a variety of topics, including labor unions, workplace trends and the federal workplace.
Hsu said she anticipated a great deal of change to take place in the federal workplace when Trump took office, but she was still taken aback by how quickly the changes have been enacted.
“I knew from his first term that he had plans and unfinished business from his first term for the federal workforce,” Hsu said. “So we knew change was coming, and still, I was surprised, as were many people both inside and outside the government, at how swiftly he began remaking the federal government.”
Hsu said such swift actions by high level government officials can have serious consequences if executed poorly.
“It was clear from the start that his administration was taking a ‘move fast, break things’ approach, but what’s also become clear is that the stakes are totally different,” Hsu said. “Failure may be celebrated in Silicon Valley as part of the process, but in government, you have hundreds of millions of people relying on you, and there are consequences for swift action.”
In February, more than 24,000 workers at various federal agencies were fired as part of Trump’s efforts to “reform” the federal workplace and reduce its size. Hsu said an action like this is unprecedented.
“An unfathomable thing happened, which is that agencies fired nearly all their probationary workers en masse,” Hsu said.
“Now we know it was some 24,000 people fired in February, and these were mostly more recent hires. No administration had done something like this or used the probationary period in this way.”
Hsu said as soon as these firings began, she was contacted by numerous former workers who expressed their frustrations.
“I started getting messages from people who had been fired, and some of them just wanted to vent,” Hsu said. “Some were desperate to get the word out about what was happening. Some shared how stressed they were, and I remember one gentleman wrote me and told me he was so stressed he was thinking of hurting himself.”
Hsu’s employer NPR has recently suffered massive federal funding cuts in July as Congress cut $1.1 billion in public broadcasting funds.
In an interview with The Michigan Daily, KnightWallace Fellow Hyeonjun Lee, who attended the lecture, said journalists are crucial in situations such as these to help protect and inform individuals.
CONTINUED AT MICHIGANDAILY.COM
“The
launch reflects the growing recognition that today’s
complex social challenges require leaders who can work effectively across sectors.”
profit – with specialized skills in areas like impact measurement, financial management, and technology integration,”
intentionally structured to connect theory with practice through hands-on projects.
MA program is not affected by some of the same disruptions that have impacted other academic programs at the UM,”
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The University of Michigan School of Social Work announced the launch of a new Master of Arts in Social Impact Leadership program last month that will begin in fall 2026. Starting as a fulltime residential program before expanding to include a parttime online option in fall 2027, the program aims to prepare students to tackle complex social problems through leadership across nonprofit, government and private sectors.
Students in the program will complete leadershipfocused courses on impact measurement, financial literacy and digital skills. They will also complete a year-long community-based project with professional mentorship.
In an email to The Michigan Daily, Katie Richards-Schuster, associate professor of social work, wrote the program reflects a shift toward preparing students to address complex social problems through crosssector leadership.
“The launch reflects the growing recognition that today’s complex social challenges require leaders who can work effectively across sectors –nonprofit, government, and for-
Richards-Schuster wrote.
“There’s an increasing demand for professionals who can bridge traditional silos and apply evidence-based approaches to create meaningful social change.”
In an interview with The Daily, John Tropman, professor of social work, said the program builds on the Social Work School’s long-standing strength in macro-level social work.
Macro social work focuses on the big picture – as opposed to individual-level social workers — and includes non-profit leadership, policy advocacy and organizational development.
“We have one of the bigger macro programs among social work schools, and we have been a leader in macro, so we do have quite a bit, but we’re trying to beef that up a little bit by having also a second degree,” Tropman said. “Sometimes the reputation of social work tends to fall on the clinical side, so that if people have another degree in social impact, that looks pretty good. I think it strengthens the credentials of somebody who might be misinformed about the macro side of social work.”
Richards-Schuster wrote the program’s curriculum was
“Students will work on realworld social impact projects throughout the program, moving from conceptualization through implementation and evaluation,” Richards-Schuster wrote. “The curriculum is structured around ensuring students connect academic learning to practical application. Students will apply frameworks like root cause analysis, systems thinking, and theories of change to their actual projects.”
Social Work student Katherine Maugh told The Daily she would recommend the program to peers who are passionate about leadership and social justice.
“This program is centered around community-based projects and social justice values, and that is a huge part of what makes it like social work,” Maugh said. “I feel like especially people (who) are super passionate on social impact leadership and kind of community-based levels of change in action would benefit from this program.”
Richards-Schuster said careful planning is being used to protect the program from the financial disruptions seen elsewhere at the University.
“We feel fortunate that the
Richards-Schuster wrote. “The MA will start as a small program to ensure sustainable support and growth.”
Tropman said the Social Work School is also considering other opportunities for professional development similar to the Ross School of Business executive education programs.
“What we don’t have, which the Ross Business School has, is an executive education program,” Tropman said. “So if you were, let’s say, a 35 year old associate director of a social work agency, and you wanted to improve your leadership skills in order to get to the next level, you probably don’t need a degree, but you may need a certificate. And so we were also thinking about developing a certificate program, but that’s not on deck right now.”
Richards-Schuster said early responses to the program have been enthusiastic.
“We have started to receive many inquiries about the program and are excited about the level of interest in the program thus far,” RichardsSchuster wrote. “We look forward to growing the program to meet interest over time.”
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Note: This review contains spoilers for “Long Story Short.”
Last week, the “BoJack Horseman” algorithm began targeting me once more. Ever since I first watched the show, my social media pages have been intermittently flooded with “BoJack” content, from the show’s funniest running jokes to its most depressing moments. It’s like my phone knows when I’m thinking about the show and, as always, missing it. But last week, I wasn’t just brought back into the “BoJack Horseman” internet fandom. A new, purply-blue world of characters jumped onto my screen, introducing the show’s creator Raphael Bob-Waksberg’s newest project, “Long Story Short.”
“Long Story Short” is an animated comedy-drama about the ins and outs of a colorful, nuanced family, the Schwoopers (Schwartz and Coopers). The show’s structure is constantly jumping through time, showing moments from 1996 and 2022 within the same episode. The show wants you to feel like you are leafing through the family’s photo album, as Bob-Waksberg explains in an interview with Variety. It feels like going down a rabbit hole of memories and, like the show itself, once you start, you can’t look away.
One of the first things you may notice about “Long Story Short” is its unique style of animation. Working with Lisa Hanawalt, the production designer for “BoJack” and creator of “Tuca & Bertie,” Bob-Waksberg’s approach here honors the lost art of hand-drawn animation by incorporating that authentic touch that only an artist can bring to the screen. Much like the show’s characters,
“Long Story Short” follows the story of Naomi (Lisa Edelstein, “House”) and Elliott (Paul Reiser, “Mad About You”), who are the epitome of a chaotic Jewish household. Their three children, Avi (Ben Feldman, “Superstore”), Shira (Abbi Jacobson, “Disenchantment”) and Yoshi (Max Greenfield, “New Girl”) reflect three extremely different combinations of their parents and three very different journeys, despite being raised under the same roof. Avi, the eldest, is sensitive and witty, with insecurities that unwillingly drive him to exhibit the same insensitivity he resents in his parents. Shira, a classic middle child, is fiery and stubborn, which, of course, is a defense mechanism for all her vulnerable and intense emotions. Diagnosed with ADHD at a young age, Yoshi has childish tendencies but a kind
rejecting their familial influences until these habits and patterns reemerge as traumas in their adult lives. Yet even the word “traumas” is questioned in the show. As the children sift through their memories, they must decide which of them can be blamed on their upbringing and which are the result of their own mistakes and character flaws. Facing struggles like pregnancy, developing sexuality, inner religious turmoil and finding a life’s purpose, each episode focuses primarily on one character, whether that be a member of the immediate family or a close relative such as Shira’s wife, Kendra (Nicole Byer, “Tuca & Bertie”). Through these snippets of a larger story, the audience discovers what the show is ultimately about: grief. About halfway through the season, the show reveals that the events depicted all occur before
great tragedies. It even puts into context the blues and purples that craft the color palette of the show, foreshadowing the grief that clouds the characters’ memories.
Shows tend to place such devastating twists toward the end of a season in order to maximize suspense, emotion and longing for the next season. This makes Bob-Waksberg’s decision to place this revelation in the middle of the show feel purposeful: Naomi’s death isn’t supposed to be a great climax that makes jaws drop at the last second. Rather, it is a pit in the viewer’s stomach that pulls at their heartstrings and leads to an incredibly unique viewing experience. Following this reveal, the subsequent episodes don’t necessarily revolve around Naomi’s death, yet we see now how grief always follows these characters. In fact, amid all the time jumps, not once does the show depict the exact moment when Naomi died. Instead, it focuses on the emotional journeys of Avi, Shira and Yoshi, processing the complicated, messy and at times difficult relationship they
complicated relationships we can experience in a lifetime.
“Long Story Short” brings to life in Naomi a very particular kind of matriarchal figure — one who cares too little and too much about everything around her.
Naomi is an incredibly complex character who finds fault with nearly everything and accepts no situation as satisfactory.
In an episode that looks back on Naomi’s own childhood, the audience sees how she learned to create conflict in order to bring attention to herself. The whole show is like a puzzle, and once this piece is revealed, every one of her scenes suddenly makes sense. We learn here that she craves the one thing she will never get in a large family: everyone’s attention. This degrades her relationships with all three children, as she makes it impossible to have a normal conversation free of condescending comments. Of course, underneath this facade of stubbornness is extreme insecurity. Frankly, she doesn’t know how to change, and unfortunately she doesn’t live
the foundation of the Schwooper family’s life. Bob-Waksberg’s unique representation of religion sets a new precedent not only for depictions of Judaism but for all kinds of religious representation in media. The show doesn’t depend on an Orthodox Jewish family for its dissection of religion. In fact, faith barely even plays a role in the Schwooper family’s Judaism. Despite this, Jewish culture leaks into every scene the five of them share: in their home, vocabulary, cooking and tradition. From Naomi yelling chutzpah (the audacity) to Shira attempting a Knish recipe, Judaism is such a strong part of this family’s identity, even without a direct emphasis on God. The show highlights an incredibly realistic middle ground of Judaism often found in American families. Instead of focusing on rules, guilt and prayer, which are not a part of every Jewish experience, it directs its attention to the cultural influences of religion, which can be found in so many places other than a Shul. While exploring this representation of religion as culture, Bob-Waksberg goes on to explore the internal conflicts of religion and the journeys each character must go on to discover their own relationship with faith. He explores a diverse range of topics from repressed antisemitism among Jews to African American Judaism and Reform to Orthodox transitions. These subjects are explored through the Schwooper family, their significant others and, eventually, the new additions to their family. The audience sees how a religious journey often begins with instilled ideals but can also lead to a personal journey that forces each character to redefine religion as it fits into their own lives. Sometimes, this means distancing themselves from ideals they no longer align with, and sometimes, it means seeking out greater means of faith to give themselves purpose. After all, in times of grief, purpose can be the ladder that offers us
MINA TOBYA Daily Arts Writer
To say I watched a lot of TV growing up would be an understatement. I had a great childhood parked in front of the cable box watching shows I was far too young for. I think by now I’ve seen just about every TV show ever made (only a slight exaggeration), yet the ones from that era still hold a special place in my heart.
It hurts to see them forgotten, especially the ones that barely got to stay on the air long enough to learn to fly. Some of these 2010s masterpieces have become cult classics precisely because of how short-lived they were — but that’s the best-case scenario. More often than not, they simply lived short lives and faded into oblivion.
Well, today I’m throwing them a rope and walking into the sunset with them, and you should take notes; these are gems, people.
“Don’t Trust the B**** in Apartment 23” Ah, how I love New York sitcoms about clueless 20-somethings. I wouldn’t exactly call the main characters of “Don’t Trust the B**** in Apartment 23” friends, per se — they’re more like vulgar scammers trying to take advantage of a naïve midwestern overachiever and getting stuck living with her. Frenemies, you might call them.
Chloe (Krysten Ritter, “Jessica Jones”) — the, well, you know, in Apartment 23 — runs a roommate scam to help poor small-town girls realize they’re better off away from the big bad city. It’s charity, really. June (Dreama Walker, “Pooling to Paradise”) is the first to grow some teeth instead of running back home with her tail between her legs. They’re baby teeth, sure, but they bite all the same. And every episode, they get a little sharper with a not-so-gentle nudge from Chloe and Chloe’s best friend, actor James Van Der Beek (“Dawson’s Creek”).
The quick comedy of the show was ahead of its time, which is why this might be the biggest cult sitcom on the list. In just two seasons, it showcased a more edgy side in casting a secondary
protagonist as certifiably coldhearted as Chloe. Ritter’s performance teeters on over-thetop (Chloe’s drunken messiness knows no bounds), but she always pulls back enough to make you see the human side of her. And while it’s nice to want to think like June, the eternal optimist, there’s something delicious about sinking into the wicked ways of a party girl like Chloe.
“About a Boy” Not to be confused with the 2002 Hugh Grant movie “About a Boy” — but the two are awfully close. (And, if we’re comparing them like the US-UK “The Office” rivalry, the Americans did it better).
Rich, unemployed and womanizing, Will (David Walton, “New Girl”) has got it pretty good — but it gets better when an annoying single mom moves in next door with her 11-year-old son Marcus (Benjamin Stockham, “9-1-1: Lone Star”). Marcus is what many (including the bullies at school) might call a “mama’s boy,” which is embarrassing even when your mom is played by the legendary Minnie Driver (“The Witcher: Blood Origin”). Will wants nothing to do with this sweater-wearing, vegan-eating, drum-circle-starting family — until he realizes Marcus can help him impress a woman by pretending he is Will’s son.
Some things you may expect: Marcus spends all 33 episodes teaching Will how to be more emotionally vulnerable, and Will spends that time teaching Marcus how to be his own man.
The show curates a carefully heartfelt tone, but that doesn’t mean its datedness doesn’t rear its ugly head every once in a while (i.e. womanizing). Still, it’s nothing as weird as Mr. Shue’s (Trigger Warning) (Matthew Morrison, “Christmas Waltz”) only friends on “Glee” being a gaggle of high schoolers — mainly because the Will in “About a Boy” is actually self-aware.
The pair is endearing, and the show doesn’t waste time on the other things you might expect: Will and Marcus’s mom never get together. And, thank God for that. Their friendship and backand-forth insults keep the show fresh — a second heart to beat next to the primary dynamic duo. This show doesn’t get nearly
enough love, so start sending your flowers as you binge the whole thing in a weekend (before exams start kicking your ass, that is).
“Life Unexpected”
In the early 2010s, every project was Britt Robertson’s (“Little Fires Everywhere”) “big break.” She deserves all the roses that have just missed her arms, starting with praise for her series lead debut.
“Life Unexpected” is the one teen drama that I can honestly say has an original premise. We follow Lux Cassidy (Robertson) as she tries to emancipate herself from the foster care system she’s had to endure all her life.
But in the process, she finds her biological father, a bar owner stuck in arrested development named Baze (Kristoffer Polaha, “Mystery 101”), and biological mother, a radio personality named Cate (Shiri Appleby, “Roswell”) who wants nothing to do with him. As fate (or a family court judge) would have it, the two end up with custody of Lux and have to figure this whole family thing out.
You can imagine the drama: Baze is angry that Cate never told him about the baby, Cate is distraught to find out that her daughter has had such a hard life and Lux is just trying to get away from them both. Makes for some really great television — a couple seasons of it, at least.
I’ve been trying to put my finger on why this show has stuck with me, and I think it comes down to the atmosphere. While Portland, Oregon might not be everyone’s idea of an ideal city, its presentation on the show is cozy yet busy. It immerses you into a controlled chaos — an aestheticized angst that you can always rely on to give you a soft place to land at the end of the day.
These are the things I love about this era of television: The shows are such a product of their time, yet still find ways to get ahead of it. They’re allowed to play within the confines of their box, and because of that, get to bang up against every edge of it. They’re not cookie-cutter; that’s hard to come by these days. Without audiences trying to preserve treasures like these, they’ll all eventually fall into the pit of lost media. I’m not ready to see that happen to these shows just yet.
‘Dandadan’ season two is back with more fighting and friendship
MICHELLE WU TV Beat Editor
After a whirlwind of actionpacked episodes in the first season of “Dandadan” led to a cliffhanger in Jiji’s (Kaito Ishikawa, “Devil May Cry”) haunted home, viewers were left to wonder what was to become of their beloved main characters. How were they going to defend themselves against such unexpected and formidable opponents after what had seemed like a relatively peaceful finale?
Going into the second season of “Dandadan,” I knew I would be treated to the same creative animation, humorous banter and wonderfully odd mix of genres the first season had excelled in. Except this time, I was also more prepared to take on the erratic pacing of the show and be less put off by the show’s bizarre paranormal villains. “Dandadan” season two promised just this, but also new character arcs, brewing love triangles and a catchy soundtrack. Couple that with episodes that expertly balance fast-paced action and slice-oflife filler content, and I was transfixed.
Season two also had a slightly different structure; rather than having each villain completely disappear after their defeat, each fight builds on its predecessors. As a result, we get extra snippets of the antagonists that help viewers understand them better — or at the very least give us hints for what’s to come. Oftentimes, this proves that our first impression of a character isn’t the whole of their story. By giving the “enemy” a chance to rewrite the narrative, “Dandadan” season two takes a different perspective on what it means to overcome adversaries.
When Jiji discovers that Evil Eye is just a little boy who never got to play with others and was sacrificed, his once aggressive approach to fighting him turns tender. This allows viewers to appreciate the change in pace, preparing them for an arc that spans almost the entire season, rather than a few episodes like those for regular villains. It also offers the characters a chance to explore how they can use compassion and playfulness instead of brute force to exorcise the yokai monsters that enter their world. With this kind of structure, the lines between glorious heroes and freakish
“Dandadan” season two keeps many of the familiar elements well-loved by viewers: Okarun’s (Natsuki Hanae, “Demon Slayer”) adorable dorkiness, Ayase’s (Shion Wakayama, “Her Blue Sky”) kickass spunk and Turbo Granny’s (Mayumi Tanaka, “One Piece”) scathing sarcasm. At the same time, the show surprises viewers with new foes like the Kito Family and Evil Eye (Mutsumi Tamura, “Clevatess”) to challenge its characters’ wit and supernatural abilities. Like the previous season, the characters spend every few episodes fighting off a new enemy and learning more about the world of aliens and ghosts. However, where season one focuses on the characters establishing friendships and learning not to judge others based on their beliefs, season two highlights the importance of empathy and care for both allies and enemies, even in the face of terrifying opponents.
antagonists are blurred, adding nuance and a tone of maturity to an already multi-layered show.
While “Dandadan” is praised for its skillful storyboarding, one critique I’ve seen online is the number of animation quirks present in this season compared to the last. In season two, the characters exhibit unnatural movements in uneven lighting, leading some to believe the animators may have paid less attention to detail this production cycle. Though this didn’t significantly impact my viewing experience or understanding of the narrative, I do know that this season covered more action sequences and chapters in the manga than the previous season, which may have contributed to inconsistent artistic choices, especially when it came to progression of speed and shifts in perspective.
Although declines in animation quality in the anime realm seem to have become more common, I hope it doesn’t become the norm. The visual storytelling of “Dandadan” was one of the main reasons the show originally made such a strong impression on viewers, and it continues to do so with its range of dynamic angles, camera cuts and character designs.
Despite its minor shortcomings, “Dandadan” by no means disappointed me; I thoroughly enjoyed the novelties this season brought out and getting to watch Ayase, Okarun and Jiji discover new ways to tackle challenges while strengthening their friendship. And until the announcement of season three, we can only hope that “Dandadan” ends this season with a flourish.
Archaeologist's
Inner self, in Jungian
Suffix with capital and organ
Cray-___ (crayon brand)
Gov. codebreaking group 35. Colony workers 37. Broke down 40. Evaluated one's own behaviors...or something that 17-, 25-, and 62-Across possess? 43. Pivotal ballet skill? 44. Fairy tale starter
Like NYC's Fifth
Word before a maiden name 48. Fast-acting psychedelic substance
51. Maple-syrup-to-be
52. Indecisive response
55. They can be picky
57. "___ not to laugh"
58. 2008 Pixar robot
60. Garfield's canine companion
62. With concern for the wellbeing of others
67. ___ colada
68. Pre-birth, with "in"
69. Senate garb
70. Shakshuka ingredients
71. Conductor's wand
72. Exchange without money
DOWN 1. Reproachful onomatopoeia
2. Be in the red
3. Women's History Month (abbr.)
4. To a
Michigan in Color is The Michigan Daily’s section by and for People of Color.
In this space, we invite our contributors to be vulnerable and authentic about our experiences and the important issues in our world today.
Our work represents our identities in a way that is both unapologetic and creative. We are a community that reclaims our stories on our own terms.
Smile.
That’s what I was taught. When you’re uncomfortable, smile. When you don’t know what’s happening, smile. When you start to overthink, smile. When you want to seem more at ease, smile. Make friends. Smile.
Be likable. Smile. Keep the peace. Smile.
It’s a never-ending cycle of being kind.
For a while, I thought smiling, being observant and staying agreeable was just who I was. Kind. Approachable. Quiet. Easy to be around.
But over time, I started to wonder — what part of that was actually me, and what part was who I was taught to be?
I’ve always thought of myself as kind and approachable, not in a forced way, but the kind that comes from genuine curiosity. The kind where I want to get to know people, even the small details. That’s how I connect — by observing. It’s a lot easier to gauge the topic of conversation and learn about the moment when you take yourself out of it. I notice the details in a person’s face before they display their emotions or how they feel — details that are never said out loud.
But somewhere in the repetition, in the constant smiling and peoplepleasing, I started to realize that kindness wasn’t just something I offered, it was something expected of me.
Especially as a woman.
We’re taught to cook. To clean. To serve. To care for others without breaking a sweat. To lose ourselves quietly.
To make others feel comfortable, even when we aren’t. With my grandma, cooking was a way for her to connect with me. As a 7-yearold with no one to play with and not much to do, our connection was limited to two things: cooking, or quietly watching TV. And because everyone believed TV ruined the minds of young children, cooking it was. I wasn’t tall enough to use the stove or cut onions, so my job was to watch, to learn how it was made and maybe one day, do it myself.
My grandma never followed a recipe. She eyeballed everything. When I asked, “How much salt should I add?” she always said, “Just a pinch,” or “Pour until I tell you to stop.” It never stopped amazing me how she just knew what to do. I wanted to make what she made, create meals that could feed all my cousins, neighbors and family members. But when I looked around the kitchen, it was always just me and my grandmother. She had taught her children to cook, but now only the women were expected to stay in the kitchen. The men knew the
basics — how not to burn rice 101 — while the women learned how to prepare elaborate feasts meant to feed countries, but somehow only one man. There were no men in the kitchen. No male cousins. No uncles. No one.
I never disliked cooking. I just resented what it meant. In my culture, cooking felt like an obligation — but only for women. I saw it every time we had visitors: the women sweating in the hot kitchen over pots of steaming food while the men sat, feet up, waiting to be served. I wasn’t just watching. I was learning what was expected of me. Not just as a skill — but as a lifestyle. A woman who knew how to cook was most valuable to her husband and her family. You were there to serve guests when they came to your house. Serve the men who visited and never lifted a hand to help, while the women stayed back, slaving away in the kitchen. When family members came over, I had to bring them food. At first, I was okay with that: they were guests, and that’s what you do. But then the service kept going. I had to bring water for them to wash their hands. Water for them to drink. Put their shoes away. Stand awkwardly in a corner while they told me I was going to grow into a fine young lady. Then, after they finished eating, I had to clear their dirty dishes — bowls filled with bones and half-eaten food — and bring new water for them to wash their hands again. And I hated that. As I got older, every time I was told to “come help in the kitchen,” it felt less like a lesson or a bonding moment and more like an obligation. It became a kind of rehearsal for being the “perfect wife.” I started to resent the sound of the stove turning on, the cutting board hitting the counter, the smell of things frying. The weight of that unwanted responsibility hung over me, and I couldn’t escape it. It didn’t matter if I was tired or didn’t feel like it, it was expected of me. If I questioned it or stayed out of the kitchen too long, I was seen as disrespectful — lazy. Eventually, I started to avoid the kitchen like the plague, because I knew that when I stepped inside, I wouldn’t be going in for myself. It wasn’t just the kitchen. I started to notice it everywhere, in the way I dressed, the way I walked, even in the things I enjoyed. Everything about me started to feel performative, like I didn’t have a mind of my own. I couldn’t just be me. I felt like I had no real identity. And I hated it. If the kitchen made me feel trapped and taught me how to serve, the church made me feel small, like I was meant to disappear, only to appear when called on — fade into the background. I wasn’t just expected to dress a certain way.
AMANY SAYED MiC Columnist
If you’ve gone through any version of the American school system, you can probably recite the preamble by heart. You probably know that Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492 and the Declaration of Independence was signed in 1776, plus a bundle of other hard-to-remember dates that have been drilled into you throughout various history classes over the years. However, not only do our victories make the history books, but our tragedies as well. We’ve learned, at length, about the Holocaust, slavery, segregation and the many other dark spots that plague the past and leave imprints of pain to this day. There’s a clear emphasis in and outside the classroom placed on understanding the negative events of the past, despite our general aversion to dwelling on our mistakes.
I was supposed to sound right, look and be just right.
At my church, the old aunties always had something to say about the younger girls, no matter how we dressed or styled our hair. I never wanted them to talk about me, so I started dressing like them. I wore long skirts, high-neck blouses, even flat shoes. I dressed so much like them that my church friends started calling me “Auntie.”
I did this to avoid judgements from the aunties, but despite my efforts I didn’t realize just how high the standards were, especially with my own friends.
I remember one day I wore an anklet to church. My mom likes making beaded jewelry for my sister and me, so I wanted to wear it with my long, flowy dress and sandals. I was sitting in the pews when one of the other girls noticed my anklet. She didn’t say anything at first, but later she pulled me aside and said, “You know prostitutes wear those, right?” Then she walked away. I stood there, shocked. I was dressed like an Auntie. She was wearing jeans and a crewneck. And somehow, I was the one getting judged. I couldn’t wear jeans because they were too suggestive. I couldn’t wear long sleeves if they were too form-fitting. Yet there I was, in an almost floor-length dress with an anklet, being called out. As if that tiny piece of jewelry somehow defined my character.
This was the turning point in my clothing choices. I like to tell myself that I started wearing hoodies because I liked them, but really, it was because if no one could see my body, no one could comment on it. I stopped wearing the things I liked and started saying I wore that because it made me “comfortable.”
I do like comfortable clothes, but that’s not how it started. It started with hiding. I second-guessed every outfit, every laugh that felt too loud, every sentence that felt like it might come off the wrong way. I became careful. Cautious. Observant.
As an adult, it’s wild to think that one expectation — one single phrase — kept me away from the kitchen. Because of the experiences I had as a child, I no longer wanted to learn how to make the cultural dishes I grew up watching. And now, at twenty, I can’t cook most of them. I’m stuck with the knowledge that I didn’t just refuse to cook for others, I also stopped cooking for myself. For my siblings. For anyone left in my care.
I’m still trying to get that passion back — the passion to step into the kitchen and cook a dish that brings joy to my day, like my grandmother. To one day have my siblings watch me cook the same way I used to watch her. Now I want to cook, not because someone is waiting at the other end expecting me to, but because I myself enjoy it.
As I write this article, we are near the end of Muharram, the first month of the Islamic lunar calendar. For Shia Muslims like myself, the first 10 days of Muharram are dedicated to remembering and mourning the tragedy of Karbala, a battle without which we believe Islam would not exist today. We spend time listening to informative lectures and majalis, detailed and poetic descriptions of the events that occurred on the 10th of Muharram, known as Ashura. I find that the critiques Shia Muslims receive from other sects regarding our insistence on placing such significance on Ashura mirror the arguments against remembering the terrible histories of any society. We are often told to leave the past in the past, or that there’s no use in mourning what happened thousands of years prior.
In an effort to explore this idea, I wanted to look into why we should learn history, specifically upsetting history, as a part of our curriculum. Without comparing different devastating events to one another, I was curious as to the power of learning and relearning the past. We’ve all heard the rhetoric “ignorance is bliss,” but just as common is the phrase “history repeats itself.” There are unfortunate patterns of suffering across history — war, oppression and poverty, to name a few — and despite attempts made to break these curses and propel the future into an upward trajectory, it seems that we are doomed to repeat the mistakes of our ancestors. Even without direct repetition of history’s mistakes, clear threads of hurt follow from most, if not every, major historical event. Just because slavery as we knew it doesn’t exist today doesn’t mean its echoes don’t remain; the same can be said for other events. Still, in the present moment, we have the advantage of hindsight and the ability to see the consequences of decisions made in the past in order to use that information to carve a more promising tomorrow.
As Grace Tatter writes for the Harvard Graduate School of Education, “History is inherently political.” There is no avoiding the discomfort that inevitably comes with exposing our dark history, nor any benefit to pretending it doesn’t exist. In America, educators and politicians alike have posed several debates of this nature on the topic of critical race theory. Racism, and the way teachers should approach it in the classroom, will never be a “convenient” topic to bring up. The way we interpret history depends on how we learn it, and the way we learn it depends on who has a say in the curriculum. Tatter discusses how when it comes to racism’s place in American history, it’s less about interpretation and more about the facts. If we omit slavery and the subsequent Jim Crow laws from history books, it’s a lot more difficult to make sense of why American society looks the way it does today, where there is a significant racial wealth gap between Black and white households and where Black Americans make up a disproportionate percentage of the prison population.
What we understand about the country’s past clearly lends itself to the way we interpret present day events, and that is why it’s so important for our history lessons to not only mention, but go into depth about issues like racism. Otherwise, we risk collectively building our American identity on the events we ignore, rather than properly dissecting the country’s past and choosing to build our nationalism on something we believe in.
One of the only things I remember from elementary school social studies is the Underground Railroad. Vividly, I can recall being amazed at the resilience and bravery of the people who were able to escape slavery through this system. Like others, I was so sure that my family, had we been around at the time, would have been a part of the solution — we would have kept our porch light on and housed as many freedom seekers as we could fit. But this story of hope and happy endings cannot exist without the story of the people who were not as lucky, who could not escape the horrors of slavery and instead lived, suffered and died under its dehumanizing institution. It would be dishonest and unjust for us to ignore the terrible reality of slavery, one that millions of people endured, and instead opt to only tell the happygo-lucky version of the story. In order to ethically tell history, we must adhere to a certain level of honesty and impartiality. It is important for us to stray away from “myth-making,” as Daniel Little, former University of Michigan-Dearborn chancellor, describes, and look at history exactly the way it is.
This is important for not just slavery, but every other historical atrocity. In his paper on the philosophy of history, Little argues that we have a moral obligation
“… to discover, represent, and understand the circumstances of our past, even when those facts are deeply unpalatable.”
Learning about history is about more than just what knowledge of that history can do for us, but also what we owe to past generations given our opportunity to do what they couldn’t and expose their oppressors. Though we may not be able to right past wrongs, we can ensure that those lost to genocide, oppression, war or slavery are never forgotten.
On their website, the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization lists out some of the reasons behind teaching and learning about the Holocaust. Among them is that by educating ourselves about the horrors of the Holocaust, we can better understand and reflect upon modern issues that originate within the same dark roots of prejudice and the abuse of power. We might like to think such atrocities only exist in the faraway past, and that here in the golden present, we have nothing to be ashamed of. However, this could not be further from the truth.
Today, all around the world, several humanitarian crises are begging for our attention. From the occupation of Palestine, to the civil war in Sudan, to gang violence in Haiti — everywhere you look, there is a terrible injustice being carried out with a terrifying similarity to injustices of the past.
Learning about history is not an excuse to ignore the pressing issues of the present. Rather, it should serve to call us to action and urge us to do something before it’s too late. When it comes to discussions about the Underground Railroad, Civil Rights Movement protests, the hiding of Jews during the Holocaust or any other past heroic act, we seem to have full faith that we would be able to do the right thing. It is easy to listen to Martin Luther King Jr. say “I have a dream” with tears in our eyes, to learn about villains like Adolf Hitler or Joseph Stalin and think, “How could they?” But, it is not enough to merely shake our fists at the oppressors of both the past and the present, nor to applaud those who are part of the solution. If we ourselves cannot take the actions necessary in the here and now to make positive change, we are just as much at fault as the aggressors. It’s hypocritical to feel so strongly about history and yet be so apathetic to the events in the present. We must take action to avoid becoming the very thing we swear to rebuke, or else we will find ourselves stuck in the endless loop of history fueled by those of us so comfortable with our existence and the reassurance of hindsight, that we forget the importance of critically looking within as well. To be a bystander is not just to do nothing but to ignore the moral obligation we have to help others whenever possible.
CONTINUED AT MICHIGANDAILY.COM
ISHA
JAYADEV Statement Correspondent
The earthy, leathered smell of the local thrift store engulfs me — I’m freshly 16 and have wasted no time since getting my license.
There are five Goodwills within five miles of my house, and I intend to visit every single one. My fingers trail over the used clothing, giggling to myself at some truly hideous pieces. One shirt has the phrase “Super DAD, Super HUSBAND, Super BROKE,” and another says, “Divas shouldn’t have to do dishes!” Among the poorly-made T-shirts, however, are flowy skirts and tank tops I don’t hesitate to throw in my cart.
I’ll be honest, I started thrifting because it was cheap. In the era of becoming a woman — that is, the creative expression that comes with the excitement of choosing who you want to be as a young adult — I thought incessantly about the clothes I was wearing. The eyeliner, the dramatic outfits, the purple peekaboo hair; all were part of an attempt at conveying who I was. And with my barista job, I couldn’t afford to do much “conveying” with mall prices. I needed a new avenue.
This is also around the time I learned about Shein, an online fast-fashion brand with astonishingly low prices. Its predecessor, Romwe, had never acquired quite as much hype, but when Shein came along, I couldn’t help but throw every $4 top in my cart, amassing clothing hauls worth hundreds of dollars.
However, the bigger Shein became, the more vocal people were about its negative environmental impact. In 2023, Shein emitted 16.7 million metric tons of carbon dioxide. According to the Environmental Protection Agency, one tree seedling grown for 10 years absorbs around 0.06 metric tons of carbon dioxide; this means that it would take 270 million seedlings growing for 10 years to undo that kind of environmental damage. On top of that, Shein’s business model makes heavy use of artificial intelligence to predict trends — which has its own adverse environmental impact — but also enables it to churn out massive quantities of clothes at the expense of thoughtful, well-made items. It’s a TikTok algorithm on a
larger scale. Adding 10,000 items to the website daily allows Shein to not just keep up with, but drive the world of fast fashion.
So before I really had the chance to bask in an entirely new wardrobe, my conscience began to eat at me. I watched “The True Cost,” a documentary that exposes how the fast fashion industry’s unsustainable practices contribute to worker exploitation and human rights abuses. I was horrified; the documentary reveals the working conditions many garment workers face in Bangladesh, explaining how little choice factory workers have in setting their wages as corporations force them to produce clothing at a low cost or threaten to turn their business elsewhere. Shein specifically has many of its factory workers working 75-hour workweeks while making less than a livable wage. Beyond the threat of poverty are even heavier concerns of dangerous labor conditions; in April of 2013, Rana Plaza, an eight-story commercial building in Bangladesh housing multiple garment factories, collapsed and killed 1,134 people, while thousands more were injured. That’s the reality of what it takes to keep up with American consumerism — treating lives like they’re expendable and the planet like it’s collateral damage.
So, I turned to thrifting. Headphones in and an iced coffee in hand, sifting through clothes almost felt like a game I could master. I became obsessed with finding the perfect thrifted piece, excited to follow compliments on my clothing with, “Thanks! It’s thrifted.”
The more I thrifted, the more I began to notice how many clothes in the thrift stores were from Shein. Every other piece of clothing … Shein, Shein, Shein and more Shein. Maybe it wouldn’t have bothered me so much if the clothes had a few more wears in them, but in line with Shein’s practice of following every fleeting trend, most of them had already gone out of fashion. It was clear the cheap, synthetic material wouldn’t have lasted much longer, even if it was given a new home.
This past weekend, I visited the Salvation Army near the University of Michigan’s campus and had the opportunity to speak with some thrifters. In an interview with The Michigan
Daily, Amanda Woodward, from Michigan, told me she had bought from Shein before and found the clothes to be very low-quality.
“They don’t last long for me,” Woodward said when talking about the clothing she had from Shein. “If I do shop at places like that, it’s for vacations or like oneoff events. I typically wear them, and honestly, by one or two wears, they’re falling apart anyway, so I typically do what I can to just recycle or trash them.”
Hearing Woodward describe the short lifespan of Shein clothing
beginning of filling my closet with the second-hand versions — and fill my closet I did. This year, I had to buy a second clothing rack as well as storage space to put under my bed, just to fit all my clothes. That’s when I had the thought — maybe this was just another version of overconsumption, with the facade of sustainability slapped over it. Doing better for the environment felt like a coincidental side effect of what I was really doing: swapping one version of overindulgence for another. By
reminded me of how I used to feel justified in my own early thrifting habits. If these clothes were headed to the landfill, wasn’t I doing the planet a service by rescuing them second-hand?
Even as I stacked multiple pieces of clothing I had no intention of wearing more than once, I believed the Earth might thank me for my generosity, ridding the thrift store of one less item. With the end of buying straight from fast fashion brands came the
Ava Farah/DAILY
buying in bulk, never thinking twice before getting something I wanted but didn’t need and falling victim to the dopamine rush this version of retail therapy provided, I was only adding to the problem.
When people buy from Shein, it’s easy to discard the clothes after one or two wears because of how little they spent on them. There’s no incentive to cherish what they’ve bought, because it took little to no monetary sacrifice on their end. But thrifting can
function the same way. I’d often buy things, let them rot in my closet for a few months and then give them back to charity, knowing it was only $3 worth of skin off my back.
Maybe this approach to consumerism is a little better than how I used to operate, but the issue lies in the habits I’m reinforcing. Treating materialism like the goal, pursuing quantity instead of quality — I had slapped a bandaid over a much larger problem.
I am constantly grappling with some level of dissatisfaction and the shiny new thing provided the temporary relief I needed.
Clothes are my kryptonite.
But I’ve seen everyone deal with the internal need to soothe their discontent with something new — whether it be a popular new water bottle or a fun stuffed animal.
From Stanleys and Owalas to Squishmallows and Jellycats, there is always something available to scratch that itch.
Research on the psychology behind overconsumption supports this idea; there’s an aspect of consumption that is often used as a coping mechanism. It helps calm emotional distress, giving the buyer a temporary dopamine rush. Studies have linked emotional lows to reactive behavior, such as seeking material gains, because it often serves as a status symbol. In our culture of social comparison, having a nice new car — one that your neighbors might ogle at — can help stave off feelings of inadequacy. When I feel most powerless about my circumstances, the things I own can help me feel some ounce of control over more deep-rooted insecurities. I may not know what I’ll be doing for the next five years of my life, but my necklace was complimented several times today, and for now, that is enough.
But there’s something else that I think the researchers haven’t quite put their finger on. Oftentimes, when I see something I don’t need but feel drawn towards, it’s because having it will build up the “aesthetic” that I’ve curated for myself. I’m excited by the prospect of having something that will signal my “vibe” to everyone else. My life is a constant search for fulfilling my vibe through the clothes I wear, the jewelry that adorns me or the posters on my wall — as if perfecting the exterior will somehow help me discover
what lies underneath. Who am I? Will the 50 pins on my tote bag help people understand how I feel on the inside?
It’s a constant struggle — knowing I’m always craving something new, but knowing even something as simple as buying it goes against being the person I want to be. I want to learn to be okay with having less, because that is where I believe true contentment will come. And I know that to be true, because I’ve applied this sentiment when it comes to buying shoes. For my entire life, I’ve always had only one pair of sneakers at a time, a pair that I use until the soles have holes and they’ve turned a completely different color. I know for a fact I don’t need more than one pair of sneakers, and I don’t let myself buy a new pair until I absolutely need to. I remember every lifestyle shoe I’ve ever owned: the Adidas Superstars, the Nike Air Forces, the Converse and finally, the New Balance 550s. Every single pair, cherished, appreciated and loved. Because I want them to last, I treat them kinder than I’ve ever treated my clothes, and I’ve never felt the urge to buy another pair that I don’t need. I hope to extend this thought process to clothing as well. In a society where we’re taught that each dress should only be worn once, it’s definitely hard. As a college student, there’s at least one event a week that I feel the need to have a new, cute outfit for, and when I’ve built so much of who I am around my material things, it’s tough letting go. I’ll have to face finding out who I really am — outside of what I own. So, what pushes me to do so is knowing that I have the privilege of overconsumption, and it’s somewhat my duty to be responsible about it. For those in the factories feeding the habits of the privileged American children, and for the planet, without a mouth to defend itself from the constant exploitation of its resources. I owe it to those sharing the Earth with me, who make a much smaller carbon footprint than I, but will reap the consequences of a dying planet just the same. The fact of the matter is, I have more than enough, and if your life is anything like mine, it’s time to start wondering: Do you?
GABE EFROS Statement Columnist
University of Michigan football may be my first love, but there are some things I cannot stand about the in-person fan experience. There is simply always some stupid Shit going on. There is always another break in the football action with yet another thing to be a participant in and always a chant to be actively participating in, even when there’s nothing going on. It’s never important and it doesn’t enhance my experience, it’s just Shit. I enjoy myself regardless, but it is irritating and bordering on frustrating how inundated I am by loud noises that have no connection to one another, and the huckstering of sponsors shouting over a new contrived game for fans to participate in during downtime. It seems like I am being fed a distraction from the occasional stillness that sporting events traditionally provide, should I get too bored by two and a half minutes of inaction and immediately vacate the premises. At the University, I can think of no better example of how constant, unnecessary happenings mechanize our emotions than the beloved Victor The Frisbee Dog. Each game since I have been a student, Victor trots out onto the field at Michigan Stadium during a break and has a handler throw him a frisbee while he, usually successfully, tracks it through the air until it’s in his jowls, much to the fanfare of 100,000 of my closest friends. I’ll admit, it is pretty cute. I have two pet mutts and love animals. It’s fun when they do tricks. Of course, my dogs don’t, but you get the idea.
Who cares about Victor The Frisbee Dog?
But, I also have to be honest and say that at this point, I do not care in the slightest about Victor The Frisbee Dog, regardless of how controversial that may be. I have seen him do this song and dance multiple times a game for every game the past few years and frankly, the novelty has worn off.
Here’s the thing: From what I can tell, people around me in the student section don’t seem to care either! Victor catches the frisbee up to (if memory serves) five or six times a game, and it’s cool the first time you see it — people clap and cheer, and I’ll even lock in to his antics during the first game of the season. But after that, the luster dissipates. It is even less present after whoever is in charge of programming at the Big House attempts to get me excited for some sort of athletic contest or trivia or whatever. Victor could very well be a relay race sponsored by DraftKings. He has been stripped of meaning, cast into each individual person’s void as a nameless and faceless thrill.
“Who cares about this?” seems like an obvious question thus far, but that is exactly the point. You don’t care to hear my ramblings about a dog at a college football game, and frankly, you don’t care about Victor. Victor is at every game, and even just the concept of Victor — a way to manufacture excitement during lulls — is happening during every timeout. He has no individuality. The excitement that people feel has been absorbed into the mass desperation for excitement in general, but not for Victor himself.
Yet, beyond the manufactured nature of the random Shit at sporting events, the base level at which it operates also doesn’t
make sense. To me, at least. If you want to have an amped up crowd, ready and waiting to cheer for a big moment, why do you insist on playing music for every down, even the more inconsequential ones? If you want people to be excited for Victor, why is he at every single game doing the same thing multiple times per game?
By the time it’s the fourth quarter and it’s a close game, I should be super excited for its conclusion. However, I have already been asked to expend all of my energy cheering during timeouts for a dog. On hot days early in the season, I
Whether it be a bad job market after graduation, a mountain of debt or a burning Earth, I accept it because I can’t do anything about either end of the bargain. Obviously, none of those outcomes are good, but what terrifies me is that I can’t even do anything about it. When I look at Victor, I see my future, our collective future, staring me in the face, and everyone is cheering it on. At the end of the day, it’s what everyone else in Ann Arbor signs up for, too. It is our new social contract. I get Victor and, in return, I don’t complain afterward when I can’t afford to buy my own house
“At the University, I can think of no better example of how constant, unnecessary happenings mechanize our emotions than the beloved Victor The Frisbee Dog.”
am more than ready for the game to end, and on frigid days late in the season, I am begging for the game to end, not because I am excited to see how they end but for the sake of the game being over. It’s like someone just unilaterally decided one day that “sports are exciting and the production of them should be exciting as well.”
The result is a simulacrum of what I feel sporting events actually should be. The moments in which nothing is happening are just as important as when something big is happening. If there is something always happening, there is never anything happening, and crowds cannot build anticipation towards the next something that will happen.
This transaction, an overdose of something all the time prior to the acceptance of our conditions after college, is the college experience.
for the foreseeable future. Four years of everything in exchange for a whole lot of nothing for the rest of our lives.
Eventually, I, and lots of other people, will burn out. After enough Victor and ill-timed needle drops, the football game is over. People vacate the student section and go off to do something else. At U-M games, this decrescendo seems to occur at the end of the third quarter after the crowd sings “Mr. Brightside.” Save for the few games against formidable opponents, people soon head for the exits. Everyone knows this, too, because the goal is not to not burn out, but of course, to shine as bright as you can, and there is nothing brighter than the collective, melodic euphoria of singing with the same people who signed the same contract as you. In fact, the college machine demands that you shine
bright, lest you think too much about what comes after, or lack thereof, because you might break the machine. What comes after is beyond the machine’s purview.
Does that mean our love for Victor isn’t genuine? I don’t think it matters. The excitement we feel is real, but transactional, easily cashed in by the host of the game whose only job is to provide that excitement in any way possible. We crave any and all excitement during the game so that we can maximize our time there because, eventually, the game does end.
Similarly, my weekdays are filled with work, class, homework and extracurricular activities. I keep a log of what I do during each day, just so I can remember definitively what it is I did. I have lots of commitments, and yet I crave more. I need more things to do to avoid thinking about the fact that my college career is more than halfway done. There is no push against this notion, only a pull towards action to forget and deny this fact. In a way, I am my own distraction, running toward an imaginary frisbee that I will never catch.
The college machine is designed this way: to not only squeeze out as much juice as possible from the college experience, but to keep the machine running on overdrive continuously so you don’t think about why it’s sputtering. We can’t stop ourselves from moving forward in time, so maybe if we jam-pack our college years with as much as we can, we’ll at least stop thinking about it and maybe feel like we made the most of the little time we had. Most people seem to know these things implicitly. It makes sense to
me, I suppose. The job market for college graduates sucks, and many of us don’t like the direction of the country. Actual learning at college is being outsourced to artificial intelligence, as are our jobs. In return, it seems like we are also faced with a decaying planet and piles of debt. It’s not fun to think about, but we all know that it’s waiting for us after we graduate. So why not indulge in everything possible while we still can? Despite my overall dislike for what Victor The Frisbee Dog inspires, I would rather watch a dog catch a frisbee than either think about my future or live an alternate, college-less reality. In fact, I do. I am in control of my own machine. I consent to my own affliction. I signed my contract years ago. That’s why the machine works. At the end of the day, it’s fun. Victor is fun if you don’t think too much about what he represents. College is still more fun than the alternative, which is what awaits all of us after we get our degree. The fact is that, despite prospects post-college getting shittier, despite illusory college accessories getting shittier, people like Shit. Me included. The question is, then: how Shitty can things get? How shitty will we allow things to get? How many times do we have to see Victor The Frisbee Dog catch a frisbee before we can no longer use him to silence our own thoughts? How long until Victor isn’t enough to distract us from the fact that the game is doomed to end? I am not sure of any answers to these questions, nor am I going to wager a guess at them. Instead, I am going to go watch a dog catch a frisbee during a football game, because there is no bigger Shiteater than me.
Despite having only watched “Good Will Hunting” twice in my life, I can quote a particular line from memory: “You wasted $150,000 on an education you coulda got for $1.50 in late charges at the public library.” This fictional moment has oddly frequented my mind and my conversations recently — the point made seems to be particularly relevant to politics in the United States. Will’s (Matt Damon, “The Martian”) statement is essentially attacking elitism, or the people in society who hold power, education and wealth. Recently, I’ve been wondering if perhaps Will’s logic applies to the current Democratic Party and their loss in the 2024 presidential election.
The definition of “elite” is complicated, as it possesses different connotations, but combining Merriam-Webster’s definitions gives us the most accurate one: “the best of a class,” “the socially superior part of society,” “a group of persons who by virtue of position or education exercise much power or influence.”
Within modern politics, liberals are typically associated with elitism. Fordham Political Review notes that “There’s a clear connection between liberal values and elite institutions, but with that comes a perception of elitism being synonymous with liberal spaces.” This becomes an issue when politicians then turn countries into a fight between populists versus the “elite.” The Brookings Institution explains: “Populists claim to represent the unified will of the people against the elite, positioning themselves as the true voice of the populace.” And populists often weaponize anti-intellectualism — which Merriam-Webster defines as “opposing or hostile to
intellectuals or to an intellectual view or approach.”
Mark Mizruchi, professor of sociology, described how elitism and anti-intellectualism are intertwined in an interview with The Michigan Daily.
“One is seen as a consequence of the other,” Mizruchi said. “Those who are skeptical of or suspicious of intellectuals and other knowledge workers are usually people who see (these workers) as elitist.”
In other words, antiintellectualism is essentially a defense mechanism for non-elites to combat elitism. The anger at the lack of equity in our country is valid. But recently, I’ve seen politicians utilizing that anger to manipulate their constituents.
I considered elitism heavily during the college application process. In high school, many of my peers spent thousands of dollars on SAT tutors, college application advisors and experiences that would appeal to admissions officers. It never sat quite right with me that a select number of students each year are admitted to top colleges primarily because of the wealth they have access to.
As an out-of-state student at the University of Michigan, I will never deny that I am privileged, but I wanted to do my best to attend college because of the work that I put in rather than the money or opportunities I was given by my family and community. Almost all of my extracurriculars in high school were either free or paid for by me. I studied for the SAT alone, using Khan Academy and a textbook. I’ve had a job yearround since my sophomore year of high school. I attended a public school. I read “How To Be a High School Superstar” by Cal Newport my freshman year of high school and followed his advice as best I could instead of hiring an admissions advisor or taking preparatory courses.
I don’t say this as an attempt to brag about my ethics (or others’ lack thereof). I bring this up because I am, in many ways, part of the American elite. However, I don’t believe that being an elite requires acting on, maximizing or increasing that existing privilege. I understand the frustration in society around the American elites, and I understand why antiintellectualism is so appealing to many: I, too, would be angry if I didn’t have access to education just because of the life I was born into, and felt like society looked down on me because of it.
Mizruchi explained how, historically, the Democratic Party was seen differently than it is today.
“In earlier years, college graduates were Republicans and working-class people were Democrats,” Mizruchi said. “That started to shift where the collegeeducated people were turned off by the far-right social policies.”
Now, highly educated people are frequently liberal, with just more than 50% of postgraduates aligning themselves primarily with liberal values. This is a stark contrast to the mere 12% of adults who hold no more than a high school diploma and describe their political beliefs similarly.
According to Mizruchi, that shift began with a realignment of social beliefs, such as those around abortion and LGBTQ+ rights. Mizruchi explained an additional, and arguably more interesting, change within the economic elites.
“Economic elites in the mid20th century had a much higher level of modesty and regard for the larger society than economic elites today, and they backed it up with their actions,” Mizruchi said.
He further explained that, beginning in about the 1980s, the U.S. started to see a shift to show off wealth. Yet, it’s not only the gaudiness that has seemingly changed, but also the actions of
the wealthy. Mizruchi noted that, prior to the ’80s, the economic elite knew that in order to maintain their privilege, society needed a strong foundation, so they had motive to believe in decent wages and opportunities for everyone. Today, we don’t see that same regard.
We now see the repercussions of this shift. New York Times reporter Shane Goldmacher explained in an interview that, historically, race had been the factor that best predicted which political party an individual would align themselves with. But over time — and particularly since President Donald Trump entered politics — the indicator shifted to class. Income now best predicts how a person will vote.
And, unsurprisingly, education is a significant predictor of income, with higher education typically yielding higher average income. Now, Democrats are the highly educated, wealthy elites of society, a fact the party is struggling to deal with effectively. Trump in particular has weaponized this fact to further the political divide in education.
Florida State University Law Review notes that the Trump administration attacked science and scientific findings as a way of promoting anti-intellectualism.
In 2016, at a Pennsylvania rally, Trump claimed that former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton “stood with the elites.” This rhetoric demonized elites to conservative audiences and set the stage for his attacks on what he considers elitism: education.
It’s no secret that Trump has attacked education. He promised to abolish the Department of Education, targeted “woke” campuses and took aim at diversity, equity and inclusion programs by cutting or freezing funding. He even attempted to gain control over certain academic departments. Trump created — and is now fighting — a battle against what conservatives
define as elitism. And he managed to do this despite being a billionaire and graduate of the University of Pennsylvania — in other words, an elite himself.
This dynamic is critical when analyzing the Democratic Party’s loss in the most recent presidential election. Democrats placed a large emphasis on decreasing the cost of education within their 2024 platform, promising to expand Pell Grants and improve student-loan repayment programs. To many, this was a pro. But to others, it came across as the party of “college-educated elites” funneling resources to their own base.
Goldmacher explains why this plan didn’t succeed in attracting the voting demographic that former President Joe Biden and former Vice President Kamala Harris were hoping for.
Goldmacher states that “...even if (a) program … was targeted at diverse communities, the feeling was, well, the Democratic Party is the party of college-educated elites, and they’re giving money back to college-educated elites.”
The party didn’t win new voters by promoting affordable education, which made winning the election increasingly difficult for Harris.
A USA Today article published days after the 2024 election noted this. John Williams, professor at the University of California College of Law explained, “For years, Democrats have accepted the fact that they can’t win over voters who aren’t college educated.”
“The assumption has been that Democrats would make up for that by winning overwhelmingly among voters of color. But that didn’t work,” Williams said.
The Democratic Party was left with exactly what they began with: strong support from educated liberals — because that is exactly who their campaigning catered to.
This is what the modern elitist versus anti-intellectualist crux has formed from. Current Republican leaders have labeled anyone holding positions of power in higher education settings as elites.
“What’s happened recently is that certain political actors have played on (anti-intellectualism) and really tried to (convince) people who might or might not be anti-intellectual that they should be because these knowledge workers, professors, scientists and others do not have their interest at heart and think they’re better than that,” Mizruchi said.
The right wing has effectively reframed elitism to mean “the educated.”
Like Trump, I am a member of the elite. But I don’t demonize the elite for my own personal gain. Education is valuable: I’ve learned that during my time at the University. The classes you take, opinions and information you are exposed to, the people you meet and the ways in which you are challenged is irreplaceable. Maybe what unsettles me most is how easily I can slip between these categories. I am, by all measures, part of the very elite that populists rail against — a college student at a flagship university, someone who benefitted from access to education even if I did my best to access it on my own terms. Yet, I also understand the frustration that fuels antiintellectualism, the feeling that education is less about merit and more about inherited opportunity. That contradiction is the American reality: elites and non-elites looking at the same system and seeing two different stories. Living in the middle of that divide, I can’t help but wonder if the real danger isn’t elitism or antiintellectualism themselves, but how quickly we turn both into weapons.
It’s the first week of college. You’re a freshman: green-faced, eager and overly anal about being early to all of your classes. You show up 15 minutes before class starts. By virtue of being first, you get dibs on any seat you like. You pick The Best Seat (according to self-determined metrics respective to the classroom setup, of course).
It is perfect. And for the rest of the semester, you continue to sit in The Best Seat.
Now, it’s your second first week of college. You’re a sophomore: prematurely jaded and pointedly not green (more a suffocating sepia like construction dust or splotchy pink like strained eyes). You’re still overly anal about not being late, but not to the point of being early enough to earn first dibs on the seats.
The Best Seat has already been taken. Grumbling, you pick a seat. Not the best by any metrics, certainly not your own. You have to crane your neck to see the board, or turn sideways to get in and out without bonking someone’s face with your behind or are smushed into the corner and have to wait for the doorway to get unclogged after the endof-class-exit-rush before you can leave. It is not perfect. During the next class, you happen to come in earlier and see The Best Seat is currently empty. By all means, you can stake a fair claim on the chair — squatter’s rights and all that. But, you don’t. Instead, you sit in the same spot you did during the first day of class. You don’t think twice about it either; sitting in that seat is now muscle memory despite it only being week one. And by the time all the stipulations and accumulating annoyances of the not-perfect seat begin to manifest as cricks in your neck, back and dignity, it is far too late in the semester.
You can’t just change seats now. Right?
***
The unassigned assigned seat, or sitting in the same seat for every class, respectively. It’s not a novel phenomenon, but somehow I didn’t become aware that I was doing it — that we are all doing it — until this semester. I let it slip through my subconscious like I slip through the crack between the table and my oh-so familiar chair every day.
And once I awoke to it, after having to do 180s to look at the clock winking on the wall directly behind me for two classes consecutively, the whole thing really started to piss me off.
If I knew I would be lawfully wed to this one seat for the rest of eternity, I would have at least taken it for a spin before letting it go to second base. Why are we all so averse to change? Why did my classmate feel the need to apologize to me when she took the seat I usually sat in? Why have I been blindly following this implicit social rule for so long without notice? Why, why, why?
I had a billion questions and no answers. So I did what all great minds do when faced with intellectual dilemmas. I slept on it. And then I turned to science. Herd behavior is the psychological tendency of a group to adopt the opinions and behaviors of the majority over favor of their own. First coined in 1895, the theory was popularized by Wilfred Trotter, a British neurosurgeon whose studies were published in the 1914 text “Instincts of the Herd in Peace and War.” Trotter lays out how the herd leads the herd as a self-contained unit. The baton of leadership is passed from one to the next, but any member who strays from the established order becomes an outsider undeserving of being followed. In the context of classroom seating, a dissenting student who ends up in a different seat will be ignored as every student following attempts to maintain status quo by sitting in
whatever available seat is closest to their original.
Trotter also emphasizes the empowerment of being in a herd as there is no delegating entity and instead each member feels equally entitled to their shared authority. Despite being a follower, we still gain a power in subsequently being followed (perhaps one that negates all the emotions associated with the former). This exchange of power makes unassigned assigned seating even more binding than if a professor, for example, enforced a seating chart.
Trotter’s principles of herd mentality, while applicable, felt like only part of a larger truth. Some of these other truths were held in a 2001 article “Toward a Theory of Psychological Ownership in Organizations,” which suggests instead humans’
habitability is not a result of herd mentality but rather our desire for ownership.
The article highlights that we are territorial creatures and feel deep attachment to our physical and intellectual properties. This attachment, however, is not covetous but more so used as an extension of the self. So, in theory, the reason students find themselves returning again and again to the same seat in class is because we come to see that seat as a manifestation of ourselves. Regardless of whether we like the seat or not, it is inherently ours by the basis of interaction. That ownership, ours and our classmates’, becomes sacred and nonretractable. And by being able to claim a seat as our own, we feel we’ve also claimed a space in the classroom. We “own” the room.
While this article did provide a much-needed layer of nuance, it was hard to fully apply its principles on ownership to a college campus scenario when the authors were very obviously writing for employers in a workplace setting. Thus, I sought out the perspective of someone who could not only provide insight about psychological processes but was also fully equipped to apply it to a college environment: a psychology professor.
Psychology Professor Josh Ackerman has been teaching at the University of Michigan for more than a decade and has ample experience with unassigned assigned seating. In an interview for The Michigan Daily, Ackerman notes that he has witnessed the phenomenon to varying extents in practically
Meleck Eldahshoury/DAILY
every class he’s taught at the University.
While Ackerman sees this seating pattern as overall neutral, he does highlight potential disadvantages (barrier to allocating accessibility seating, friends sitting next to each other causing distractions) and advantages (consistency in seating aids professors with learning names, especially with large classes). And when I asked Ackerman what psychological processes he believed to be playing a part, the concept that reigned supreme was familiarity. “I think people in general gravitate towards a sense of familiarity,” Ackerman said. “And it’s not just seating. We see this across pretty much the entire range of human experience.” CONTINUED AT MICHIGANDAILY.COM
Edited
ZHANE
YAMIN AND MARY COREY Co-Editors in Chief
Stanford
Managing Editors
Hunter
Mateo
Unsigned
The “value of a liberal arts education” is one of those phrases that is often repeated without real consideration of its meaning. As the Trump Administration continues its assault on higher education, college administrators have invoked traditional liberal values as a shield to defend against the denial of congressionally-appropriated grant funding and threats to bar enrollment of foreign students. Universities are largely right to do so. But as academic institutions wield liberal values against those who would limit academic freedom, they forget to fully enforce those values on the home front.
On the matter of ideological diversity on college campuses, the Trump administration actually has a point. The University of Michigan would do well to remember that a truly liberal education requires exposing students to a variety of viewpoints, including and, especially, positions those students disagree with. We can take a first step toward this aspiration by making a genuine effort to hire more conservative faculty for LSA.
To most U-M students, it likely goes without saying that we live and work in a left-leaning environment. A Michigan Daily analysis of political donations made by University employees found that Democrats received 94% of donations while Republicans received only 6%. In political science alone, this fall’s LSA course guide includes two courses on colonialism and one on imperialism, alongside such topics as Latinx Politics, Histories of Law and Social Justice and Social Justice in Japan.
To most left-leaning students, those might seem to be typical additions to a course catalog. But imagine reading through those titles as a moderate or conservative. For them, the left-wing shibboleths in the titles make those courses inaccessible, which
contributes to a broader alienation that many conservative-leaning students feel. That’s not to say we shouldn’t examine these topics, but their use of left-wing buzzwords and the absence of right-leaning counterparts indicates a bias in the information proffered to students — which only drives moderates and conservatives further away.
It is that sense of alienation that breeds a staggering amount of conformity on college campuses around the country.
New research from Northwestern University (which interviewed students from Northwestern and Michigan) indicates that a substantial number of students self-censor their views on politics and family values for the sake of social and academic acceptance. Eighty-eight percent of those interviewed reported adopting more progressive views than they genuinely hold to succeed socially or academically. More than 80% reported misrepresenting their views in submitted coursework to align with professors.
Think about that for a moment. When you next take your seat in lecture, odds are the person next to you has deliberately distorted their opinion on a course assignment because they thought a more left-leaning view would play better with the professor. If a liberal education means anything, it means that participating students should be able to form and express their views, well, liberally. When that doesn’t happen, we lose the intellectual rigor and belief formation that make college valuable in the first place.
Many moderate and conservative U-M students undoubtedly accept the monoculture and its effects as the reality of academia. For them, an environment where opinions are freely expressed and freely debated is simply too much to ask. But our monoculture can be broken with the introduction of a little intellectual diversity. If the University hired even a few conservative professors for LSA — particularly in departments like political science and history —
ELENA NICHOLSON Senior Opinion Editor
As former President Thomas Jefferson once wrote, “Agriculture… is our wisest pursuit, because it will in the end contribute most to real wealth, good morals and happiness.”
In his vision, the small farmer prevailed as the moral emblem of the hardworking American. But this image distorts itself with the realization that agriculture in this time period flourished because colonizers exploited enslaved people. Around the world, colonizers brought their warped ideas of farming to communities that didn’t need them. The ability and knowledge to grow food is, and always has been, a powerful skill.
Before widespread colonization, few American settlers knew how to grow food for themselves, unlike Native Americans. Because of this, they relied on gathering food, stealing from Native American tribes and, in some cases, learning agricultural methods from American Indians. If they were unable to grow crops, they died of starvation or disease.
While settlers learned new methods of farming from Native Americans, they didn’t use them for long. Imperialists moving into different parts of the world were backed by countries and powerful groups that sought monetary gain from colonial expansion. As a result, environmentally sustainable subsistence farming faded into the background in favor of less sustainable, more profitable plantation agriculture.
About 200 years later, those corrupt methods devolved once again with the death of the small farmer and the rise of multinational corporations running large scale monoculture. Monoculture is the propagation of a singular crop or animal, contrasting with more sustainable agricultural practices. Currently, it is the primary means of producing food around the world. From the Americas to Africa and Asia, imperialists arrived and changed the way communities ran farms that had been successful for hundreds of years — all in order to benefit European markets. Primarily, this meant changing diverse farming practices across the world to monoculture.
Now, the general public lacks the knowledge and ability to sus-
tainably grow food, and large corporations hold most of the power over agriculture worldwide. Monoculture has expanded across the world through colonization, and its dominance has exacerbated both environmental issues and social inequalities in these places. The environmental implications of monoculture farming are disastrous. Large crops are much more susceptible to blight because farmers grow large quantities of one type of food, making entire yields vulnerable to perishing at the hands of one pest. In an attempt to combat vulnerability, farmers utilize large amounts of fertilizers and pesticides to cultivate crops quickly while protecting them. However, soil fertility loss plagues monoculture farms because excessive fertilizer use quickly depletes certain minerals and nutrients needed to produce a singular crop. This leads to soil erosion, degrading soil so severely it becomes unusable. While diverse crops would promote healthy soil, singular crops reduce overall ecosystem biodiversity and disrupt the soil pH, mineral and nutrient composition.
CONTINUED AT
SARAH ZHANG Senior Opinion Editor
Astudents would see a genuine institutional commitment to fighting conformity. They would also find an outlet to express previously withheld views.
Hiring more conservative professors can thus be more than a vanity project for the Trump administration. It can be the first step toward a truly tolerant intellectual environment on campus.
Left-leaning students, as most U-M students are, may shudder at the thought of such an initiative. But increasing the number of conservative professors wouldn’t simply benefit right-leaning students at the expense of progressives. We are at our intellectual best when we surround ourselves with people who disagree with us. When we silence the dissenter — or conveniently exist within a space without viewpoint diversity — we are deprived of the ability to hear and think through opinions not our own.
If the dissenter has valuable contributions to make, we lose exposure to those contributions. If not, we lose the clarity produced by the collision between truth and error. Either way, the opportunity to learn from faculty with different views would enhance the spirit of open debate and dialogue necessary to liberal education, thus improving the academic experience for all students.
Furthermore, successfully arguing for politically liberal causes — a goal of many LSA students — in part depends on a thorough understanding of opposing views. It’s difficult to think of a better way to achieve such understanding than by going straight to the source.
More broadly, the delegitimization of opposing views lies at the core of our increasing political polarization. Within their echo chambers, liberals and conservatives alike believe that the other side acts out of bad faith rather than legitimate value judgments. That conclusion drives Americans further apart at a time when we should be uniting in defense of shared liberal values.
s headlines of tariffs and deficits dominate the news, I continue to grow anxious about our national economic uncertainty. When I doomscroll through social media, I know I am not alone. In fact, some of my online peers deem recent trends, such as Kesha’s new song or gray clothing, as recession indicators. Inspired by the online discourse and recent articles, I noted the decrease in nail salon visits and Lululemon sales as key examples of declining consumer sentiment, although I zthese behaviors.
But while trying to atical recessions, I overlooked the debilitating long-term consequences if this economic event became a reality: job losses, decreased income and financial instability. We forget that we want our forecast to be wrong, given the downturn’s potential to cause economic disruption across the country.
Financial newspapers, including the Wall Street Journal and CNBC, reinforce this fixation on numbers. In doing so, financial journalism overlooks the human impact by detailing the consequences of current events on profits and stock prices instead of on people’s lives and communities. Many business students or professionals have an overreliance on financial news, learning to analyze current events based only on their value to generate portfolio returns or impact a company’s profitability. When we lose this human focus, we become unaware of these problems and stop thinking about ways to help.
As readers of business news, we can correct this blind spot by reading from a diverse set of outlets and recognizing the intertwined nature of finance and social impact.
Remembering the human perspective is especially important due to the shortsightedness of business thinking. Financial journalism and business students alike predominantly focus on making money or maximizing profits. Even if corporate leaders only depended on profit when making decisions, each choice impacts the company, its stakeholders, its employees and the surrounding community. When we read news that exclusively covers the financial perspective, we fall into traps of close-mindedness.
For instance, despite employee concern and outrage, Google reversed its prohibition on developing
artificial intelligence for military weapons and surveillance, joining other big tech companies in partnering with defense agencies. Turning profit into the only perspective facilitates a wavering ethical stance that increases the company’s potential to do harm, such as creating mass surveillance technology. The shortsightedness also perpetuates a company’s tunnel vision of beating earnings and enlarging their bottom line, turning people and communities into collateral damage.
Financial journalism fortifies this tunnel vision. This area of journalism often prioritizes the profit motives of current events at the expense of recognizing the human impacts. For example, during the brief Israel-Iran conflict, some writers documented the rise in oil prices and supply chain disruptions yet overlooked the devastation of communities and civilian casualties.
In addition, other writers highlighted the economic consequences of natural disasters. During the tragic Palisades and Eaton wildfires earlier this year, some journalists focused on the resulting financial liabilities for insurance companies and their stock price drops, excluding information about the destruction of communities and widespread neighborhood displacements.
But prioritizing monetary impacts over human ones is not always intentional. Since the human perspective is often less quantifiable than the financial one, authors may gravitate toward hard numbers.
However, paying attention to human issues drives financial prosperity. We often believe the business and human perspectives to be at odds, but this trade-off may actually be less significant than we believe.
Ideas like the “triple bottom line,” which aims to maximize profit while helping people and the planet, gained traction as the three perspectives often work in tandem to yield sustainable success. For instance, companies that prioritize sustainability often see positive market returns by increasing efficiency of resources and minimizing waste. Therefore, broadening our analysis of current events beyond the financial lens means recognizing the importance of understanding the humanistic perspectives in driving a more sustainable and prosperous world.
We do not have to link the human experience with bottom lines or sales targets to prove that it’s
valuable; recognizing humanity in others is important as is.
Reading beyond the profit motive diversifies our palate. For instance, NPR’s “Planet Money” podcast and Vox articles emphasize the entwined nature of human and financial impacts. Furthermore, reading beyond front-page news sections to other parts of our favorite papers, such as the Financial Times’ “Moral Money” section and Bloomberg’s “Equality,” are steps in the right direction for highlighting the human side of economic news. We can also participate in impact investing or buy green and social bonds. While these investment practices draw criticism for impact washing and greenwashing, the solution is not to become disillusioned with any opportunity for change. All solutions will be some level of imperfect, and cynicism and inaction have never solved problems. However, diversifying our news to truly understand the human condition is hard. We cannot psychologically process the large amounts of news that happens every day due to media overload. Recognizing the full extent of an event’s consequences on people is challenging given the speed of the news cycle and the sheer amount of stories that deserve our attention.
Starting with just a few personal issues to read about is enough, and we can find these few issues by thinking about our own communities. Whether we realize it or not, almost all economic headlines impact us in some way, and we can better understand the human consequences when we think about how national news affects us and our neighbors. As I rethink our national economic health, I find that inflation charts and GDP contractions, though important, are less helpful for understanding the news than seeing more expensive groceries at Kroger or a decrease in job postings. Similarly, whether we read about natural disasters or international wars, a more human perspective helps reground us on the loss of life and devastating impacts on communities.
While reading the news may not help solve all of the world’s problems, each article is an opportunity to think beyond words on a page and gain a greater understanding of the challenges that communities like our own face. Although small, this action motivates the next one of asking how we can help — a critical question in our media culture that is needed to regain sight of what matters.
SETH GABRIELSON Opinions Columnist
President Donald Trump is expanding the power of the presidency in every way he can. From his flagrant disregard of court rulings to signing an executive order banning flag burning in defiance of Supreme Court precedent, this president has shown little respect for the institutional norms our government runs on. Trump doesn’t just test the limits of presidential power — he denies they exist.
We may see this president as outrageous and power-hungry. Though he is shocking, he is by no means one of a kind. For 50 years, the office of the presidency has been swelling beyond its constitutional bounds. What Trump represents is not the beginning of this story, but the breaking point — the moment we must decide if we want a president, or whether we are content to crown a king.
To understand how we got here, we have to look back. For almost a century, presidents from both parties chipped away at limits on their power, each pushing a little further than the last. While the expansion of presidential power may have started with former President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, former President Richard Nixon is the first modern example.
Nixon’s presidency was consumed by scandal, but what made Watergate so dangerous was the mindset behind it. He abused federal agencies for political ends, ordered illegal surveillance and even directed the break-in at Daniel Ellsberg’s psychiatrist’s office after the Pentagon Papers leak. His infamous line — “When the president does it, that means it is not illegal” — revealed his belief that the office placed him beyond the law. He resigned under pressure, but the real lesson was that presidents could test boundaries until caught.
Former President George W. Bush expanded presidential power
on a massive scale after 9/11, claiming sweeping commanderin-chief authority: warrantless surveillance, indefinite detention and John Yoo’s torture memos. He also issued more than 700 signing statements, often declaring laws unconstitutional — even signaling that anti-torture provisions would not bind him. The presidency was beginning to treat congressional authority as optional.
Former President Barack Obama promised balance but, facing gridlock, relied on unilateral tools: sweeping orders on immigration, drone strikes — even against U.S. citizens — and military action in Libya without congressional approval. He entrenched the imperial presidency as the normal way of governing.
By the time Trump arrived, the groundwork had been laid. What had once been Nixon’s arrogance and Bush’s precedent had become the bipartisan status quo. Trump simply inherited an office already swollen beyond its bounds — and decided to push it further than anyone dared.
This drift has a name: the unitary executive theory. It argues that Article II gives the president
absolute control of the executive branch. Justice Antonin Scalia made the case in Morrison v. Olson. Under Bush, Yoo’s memos brought the theory into practice, justifying surveillance, detention and torture. What began as an esoteric idea has since been embraced by presidents of both parties. In Trump’s hands, it is no longer a theory at all, but a weapon for personal power.
The idea first gained traction in conservative legal circles. In Morrison v. Olson, Scalia argued for complete presidential control. Under Bush, Yoo’s memos claimed virtually unlimited wartime powers — justifying surveillance, detention and torture.
What began as an esoteric legal argument has, across decades, been adopted by presidents of both parties. And in Trump’s hands, the unitary executive is no longer a theory at all. It is a weapon for personal power.
Trump is the culmination of this long drift toward executive supremacy, but his version is more brazen than anything that came before. Where past presidents cloaked their actions in legalese or national security jargon, Trump
JOVANNA GALLEGOS Opinion Analyst
Two months ago, I boarded a plane and crossed the Atlantic Ocean to my home away from home for the next year: Oxford, England. I was excited for my internship, yet I didn’t know a single person there. But, as soon as I entered, I got a feeling of being in another world. The city’s permanence, with its imposing buildings immersed in an atmosphere that somehow feels both ancient and young, surprised me as I dragged my luggage across cobblestones. Although moving across the world (or even to a new city) is always a leap, the shift felt more like a free fall for me as an introvert. While some think that introverts are antisocial or shy away from housemates, that isn’t the whole truth. Although I might find loud gatherings draining, I excel in smaller settings, like an impromptu kitchen conversation or a late-night pub trip. For introverts like me (and perhaps like you), connection is more about quality than quantity. Starting something new, like university or a job, can feel daunting for introverts, but living with others often eases the transition. The urge to choose a solo apartment is strong when you’re used to your own routines and value your alone time. However, living alone may make any big life change feel more lonely. If you’re able, look for a shared living space or flatshare. Living with strangers may seem horrific, but it can make a new city feel like home faster
than you’d expect. Moving in with three strangers made me nervous. I was worried about whether we’d click, if tension would develop over little things or whether we’d just avoid each other for the next 12 months. On top of that, coming from a completely different country added another layer of anxiety. I wasn’t just adjusting to new people, but also to a new culture, different customs and unfamiliar routines. But what actually happened was that my housemates — two students from England and one from Scotland — became my built-in support system, daily conversation partners and first friends in this city. The hardest part was feeling like I had no one around who truly understood me or shared my experiences. Over the past few weeks, having people around softened every typical “new person” issue. I had prepared myself for loneliness and homesickness, but I overcame those feelings faster than I thought. Everything we did together felt organic. We turned trips to the Tesco supermarket into a group effort, food prep into family-style dinners and the ride home into day debriefs. As an introvert, I was surprised by how the city seemed less frightening when I saw familiar faces. Sharing a space means there’s someone to cook dinner with, to watch a show with or talk about the weirdness of the British postal system. These moments make a new city feel less foreign, even in the simplest ways. I realized that having someone to share both the mundane and significant moments was more important than constantly doing
something exceptional.
Being “new” together at the same time fosters a unique camaraderie, despite having different backgrounds. I answered the questions of why Americans call it “college” instead of “university,” and my housemates gave me the rundown on what “cheers” means in different contexts. We laughed together about the confusing nature of British slang, and none of us felt uncomfortable asking for clarifications. It was nice knowing that no one would remember my embarrassing moments by bedtime. As much as I worried about standing out, nobody thought about me as much as I did. However, this camaraderie was not instant. Not every dinner went smoothly, and not every dynamic was idyllic. The initial weeks of figuring out routines and boundaries were awkward but so worth it. Living with others forced me to be open and to admit when I was unsure or confused. In return, I received empathy and answers. But sharing a space became sharing life.
One of the best surprises of cohabitation is learning you don’t have to be best friends with everyone. Sometimes, you’ll really click with one or two mates and settle into casual coexistence with others, and that’s okay. As an introvert, I’ve also noticed that the quality of a friendship is more important than the quantity of friends. It’s more than enough if you live with three strangers and only click with one of them. Sincere friendships develop gradually and from unexpected places.
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dispenses with justification entirely. He refused to comply with congressional subpoenas during his first impeachment, instructing top officials not to testify. He attacked judges who ruled against him, deriding them as “so-called judges” and undermining trust in the courts. And he demanded personal loyalty from the Justice Department, reportedly pressuring prosecutors to shield his allies and pursue his rivals. He treats federal agencies as extensions of his will — purging inspectors general, pressuring the military to serve his political ends and using executive orders as blunt political weapons. He also used his pardon power to protect allies convicted of crimes tied to him, turning a constitutional safeguard into a tool of personal loyalty.
Most dangerously, reporting from The New York Times revealed that he authorized an extremely risky Navy SEAL mission inside North Korea without notifying Congress — a decision that could have triggered war overnight. Few actions better capture his disregard for constitutional checks on military power than this.
Nowhere is this clearer than in the Supreme Court’s recent ruling that presidents enjoy “absolute immunity” for their official acts — a decision that elevates the office beyond the reach of law. Trump did not hand down that ruling, but his nominations helped shape the Court that delivered it. Combined with his own defiance — like issuing a flag-burning ban against settled precedent — the effect is unmistakable.
Even symbolically, Trump stands apart. Nixon hid his abuses, Bush justified them as wartime necessity and Obama framed them as gridlock’s last resort. Trump revels in defiance — bragging about power, demanding loyalty and using constitutional theory as a shield for himself.
This is what makes Trump different. He did not invent the imperial presidency, but he is the first to embrace it as a political identity. In his hands, the unitary executive is no longer about policy or efficiency. It is about one man’s claim to stand outside the reach of law itself.
The Constitution was written on a simple premise: Power must be checked by power.
Founding Father James Madison put it plainly in Federalist No. 51: “Ambition must be made to counteract ambition.” Congress was meant to guard its legislative turf, the courts to enforce the limits of law, the executive to carry out its duties within bounds. The system only works if each branch jealously defends its authority. But when Congress abdicates oversight, when courts are undermined or ignored, nothing remains to contain the presidency. The result is not a coequal branch of government but something closer to an elected monarchy — a single figure elevated above the law, governing by will rather than by rule. The consequences are not abstract. Agencies lose independence and become tools of political loyalty. Courts lose legitimacy when presidents treat their rulings as suggestions. Citizens lose faith when laws apply differently to the powerful than to everyone else. Democracy erodes not with a single coup, but with the slow normalization of unaccountable power.
The United States has long prided itself on being a nation of laws, not of men. But that principle survives only if limits are enforced. Without them, elections decide not who will govern under the law, but who will temporarily replace it.
Defenders of the modern presidency argue that these powers are not luxuries but necessities. The world moves too quickly, they say, for a deliberative Congress to respond. Crises like terrorism, pandemics or climate disasters demand decisive action. Alexander Hamilton himself praised “energy in the executive” in Federalist No. 70 as a safeguard for national security. More recently, conservative legal thinkers and Trump allies — from former Attorney General William Barr to members of the Federalist Society — have defended sweeping views of executive power, arguing that the president must act decisively without waiting for congressional approval.
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WILLEM DEGOOD Opinion Analyst
During my childhood, there was nothing as cool as the Blue Angels tearing through the sky overhead.
After my first sight of this U.S. Navy flight team and their F/A-18C Hornet aircraft, I was hooked on fighter jets for the rest of my life. For the rest of America, between blockbuster movies and stunning demonstrations, the fighter plane is one of, if not the most, culturally revered parts of the American armed forces. However, this is not by accident. The military has made specific efforts to tailor the place of the fighter jet within popular American media and shape public opinion. As a society, we need to critically consider the place of the fighter plane within our culture and how it has manipulated our conception of the U.S. military.
Since the end of World War II, the vast, advanced, highly trained Air Force and Naval Air Force have been defining advantages of the U.S. military over most of its opponents. Out of the more than 14,000 aircraft in the entire U.S. military — more than any other country — the fastest, most advanced and some of the most well-known are its fighter jets.
The U.S. military uses these small, incredibly fast and relatively nimble aircrafts for patrolling war zones and carrying out precision airstrikes. Most famously, they have been used to joust in direct combat with enemy fighter aircraft for control of the skies.
Beyond service throughout both war and peace, sci-fi looks and powerful weaponry have made
the fighter jet a staple of American popular culture, especially in Hollywood. In 1986, the highest grossing movie of the year was “Top Gun,” which starred Tom Cruise and Val Kilmer as skilled, daring U.S. Navy fighter pilots. Along with its sequel, “Top Gun: Maverick” — the highest-grossing film in 2022 — these movies have entertained millions with thrilling flight and action sequences centered around Navy jets dueling in the air with deadly enemy fighters. The influence of the “Top Gun” franchise has built the fighter jet into not just a popular fascination, but a symbol of American heroism and military prowess.
Both “Top Gun” movies now exist only with the help of the military in many areas of production. Most notably, the military made a wide variety of assets and advice available in the production of the movies, including access to actual fighter planes. In exchange for these contributions, the studios behind these and dozens of other movies make sure to portray the military in a positive light. Whether exciting audiences with action scenes, or wooing them with cinematic shots, the fighter plane has been a spearhead of this effort. This media, and especially the spectacle of the fighter plane, has been a primary avenue through which the government portrays the military to citizens at home, and fosters positive public opinion.
Importantly, entertainment media often centers its portrayal of fighter jets around air-to-air combat, or encounters in which fighter jets attack enemy planes in battle with their cannons and missiles, often at close range. This serves to entertain
audiences with exciting combat sequences, but also fosters the notion that U.S. fighter aircraft continue to regularly engage in combat with enemy planes.
In reality, however, U.S. military fighter aircrafts have achieved no more air-to-air kills against enemy aircraft since 2000 than they did throughout the entirety of “Top Gun: Maverick.” The military employs thousands of aircrafts in active service around the world, but those participating in combat duties in recent decades mainly use their maneuverability, speed and weapons systems to carry out air strikes against enemy targets, rarely engaging enemy aircraft.
It is true that the modern fighter jet secures air superiority and defends against attacking aircraft — but centering air-to-air combat as the primary role of the fighter jet obscures the actual purpose and consequences of air power in the U.S. military. Recent conflicts in places like Iraq, Syria and Afghanistan showed that the main objective of an American aircraft is to attack ground targets from the air. ` Yet, these precision airstrikes often deal high collateral damage to civilians. Since the “war on terror” in the Middle East began in 2001, American airstrikes have killed about 22,000 civilians, and damage to infrastructure and housing has displaced millions more. Maintaining this perspective is a way to present a commendable function of the fighter jet to Americans, while diminishing focus on the tragedy it and other types of American military aircraft have inflicted upon conflict zones.
‘He’s ready to prove to people that he’s No. 1’: The quiet confidence behind Donaven McCulley’s rise
JONATHAN WUCHTER Managing Sports Editor
It was a rather mundane way for graduate wide receiver Donaven McCulley to find out. There was no big announcement at a receivers room meeting, no phone call from any coach to congratulate him.
The No. 1 jersey was just there hanging in his locker, ready for him to put it on, not for any game or even practice, but ahead of a media photoshoot.
Theatrics aren’t really McCulley’s thing anyway. He’d earned that jersey by letting his actions speak louder than his words. A grand announcement wasn’t fitting given the behindclosed-doors, hard-nosed offseason work that entitled him to a historic number with a historic program.
Nor was the moment one for celebration, even if it invigorated a brief sense of pride for earning the trust of his coaches. The jersey was instead — as McCulley saw it — an exhortation, it was a call for him to be great.
“It just gave me a sense of, ‘OK, now it’s really go time,’ ” McCulley told The Michigan Daily. “It didn’t give me a sense of, ‘OK, I’m here.’ No, it’s, ‘All right, now you’ve got to work to keep this number every day.’ ”
Transferring to the Michigan football team from Indiana, the jersey was the first on a long
list of what McCulley wants to accomplish. Like every action he’s taken in his career, he transferred for the chance to be the best version of himself. He wanted to be the Wolverines’ X-receiver and wear the coveted No. 1. Now that he’s accomplished that, he’s back to work, quietly confident in himself and what he has to show the world. ***
When McCulley was growing up in Indianapolis, his world was his family. The only people he needed to prove himself to were his older brothers, Derick and Derin. They, however, were on the opposite mission: to not let their younger brother win, at anything. Still, a young Donaven was out playing basketball everyday. And when his time came, he was ready.
“I can’t remember what summer it was, but we were playing at one of Derin’s friend’s house, and Donaven, he wanted the ball,” Derick told The Daily.
“He wanted to play with us. He wanted the ball. So, we’re like, ‘Really, all right, we’re gonna let him play.’ So like, he played with us. And it’s not like he had never played before, but this time he just wanted to be involved so we got him the ball, and this little dude ran through everybody, like not through, but he was shifting everywhere, around everybody.”
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ALINA LEVINE Daily Sports Editor
Friday night, when the Michigan football team gathered around the table at team dinner, there wasn’t a dry eye in sight. For the Wolverines, it wasn’t just supper, it was a farewell to Michigan coach Sherrone Moore as he began his self-imposed twogame suspension.
And as the Wolverines’ entire team jogged out onto the field Saturday against Central Michigan, interim coach Biff Poggi just walked. For Poggi, this game was about more than the playbook and points on the board — it was about Moore.
“We were texting last night just about how much he loves me and I love him,” Poggi said. “It was a really hard week in our building, a really hard and emotional week. Football is a game about relationships, and his players love him like you wouldn’t believe. I would say, today, you saw a love letter from 120 young men to their football coach. I think that’s outstanding.”
For how much Moore stressed that the Wolverines’ game against the Chippewas should be about the players, Michigan paid him no regard. Instead, the Wolverines game out firing on all cylinders, playing with a chip on their shoulders.
In Michigan’s first drive, junior running back Justice Haynes drove up the middle to find the endzone for the Wolverines’ first touchdown of the game. The crowd roared and Michigan’s sideline exploded, but it wasn’t enough. On the Wolverines’
very next drive, freshman quarterback Bryce Underwood slung a deep ball that connected with junior wide receiver Semaj Morgan in left field for Michigan’s second score.
“(Moore) said he was gonna be at home jumping up and down on his couch, regardless of what happens,” freshman defensive back Elijah Dotson said. “He said he was proud of us and he loves us. So we went out there and played for Coach Moore.”
With at least two touchdowns per quarter, the Wolverines certainly made sure that Moore got his cardio in celebrating at home. Time and time again, Michigan ran through Central Michigan to find the endzone, never once losing steam.
In the week leading up to the matchup, the Wolverines never needed Poggi to give them that extra push. Despite Moore’s best efforts, his players were decidedly not playing for the names on the back of their jerseys — they were playing for Moore.
With Poggi at the helm, there was no chance the game was going to be about anyone else. And by the end of the game, Michigan had signed its love letter with a dominant win.
“It’s hard,” Poggi said. “Sherrone sent me this text about seven o’clock last night, he said, ‘You’re who I want to do it. I know you’ll love our boys to the core,’ That was the text. … I’m so grateful. But you know, this was all about Sherrone Moore, and it’s going to stay all about Sherrone Moore.”
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Tré Williams and the impact he leaves wherever he goes
SAM GIBSON Daily Sports Editor
Joe Casamento, called ‘Coach Caz’ by just about everyone, has seen a lot over his years coaching high school football in New York and the DMV. For more than 50 years, he led undefeated seasons, coached over a hundred Division I athletes and won state championships.
And yet, reflecting on his years as head coach at St. John’s College High School in Washington, D.C., Tré Williams still stands out.
Casamento remembers a practice when, as he often arranged, St. John’s first-string offense lined up against the second-string defense. Naturally, things were lopsided, with one side full of 17 and 18 year olds already fielding high-major offers and the other full of guys pushing themselves to get to that next level.
Williams didn’t see it like that. There he stood, as a senior defensive lineman, cheering “like a madman” for his teammates from the sidelines.
“That guy might not be playing on Friday night or Saturday, but it’s important to him that somebody’s recognizing that he’s doing well,” Casamento told The Michigan Daily. “Because that feeds to his confidence, and he gets better, then he makes the guy who’s in front of him better, because he’s pushing them.”
Williams didn’t care if the guy he was celebrating was on the first- or second-team defense.
It just mattered that he was on defense, and that he was making a play. As one of St. John’s captains, Williams understood the importance of lifting up his younger, newer teammates. Because just a year prior, he was in their shoes.
When Williams was a junior in high school, he moved from Connecticut to D.C., leaving his tiny private school in the lush Connecticut suburbs to join an elite football program in the DMV. Already a physically gifted athlete, Williams could’ve gone to a number of high schools and been the star. Instead, he wanted to be surrounded by players of and above his caliber.
“It required him to do things differently and to pay attention to technique and stuff,” Casamento said. “He just couldn’t overpower people and be dominant without really working at his craft. … He was looking to come someplace where he would have to compete and get better. And he did.” Soon enough, Williams excelled. In coaches meetings, Casamento and his staff brought him up frequently. On the field, Williams was making play after play. Transferring schools became just another step on his path, and he had few challenges learning St. John’s playbook and acclimating to a new defense. Some aspects of his playstyle weren’t fully fleshed out, having spent the past few years steamrolling lesser competition, but his consistency and technique quickly improved.
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WOMEN’S SOCCER
HARMON SIDHU For
The Daily
In a match dominated by defense, highlighted by a career night from senior goalkeeper Sophie Homan and an organized backline, the Michigan women’s soccer team held its ground against No. 22 Ohio State.
The Wolverines defense (3-4-1 overall, 0-0-1 Big Ten) held firm against the Buckeyes (4-1-2, 0-01) in their Big Ten opener Friday night, forcing a 0-0 draw.
“It’s always challenging coming on the road, but in particular,
they’re a very, very good team,” Michigan coach Jennifer Klein said. “I thought our team’s ability to just be committed to our defending and be committed to our press and make it challenging and difficult for them was really great. And getting the points on the road feels really good.”
The Wolverines needed that resilience from the opening whistle as the Buckeyes nearly broke through just 43 seconds, into the match. but Homan parried away the strike from 25 yards. The Buckeyes controlled possession early with nine first-half shots and four corners. But Michigan’s
backline held its shape, limiting Ohio State to just two shots on goal before halftime.
Despite the early pressure, the Wolverines still built momentum late in the first half. Sophomore forward Ella Jablinskey’s 41st-minute effort forced Michigan’s first corner, which deflected into play and drifted outside the box. The Wolverines kept possession, but the half ended scoreless.
The Buckeyes came out firing in the second half with a wave of pressure with four shots in the first two minutes — but Homan again kept Michigan steady. She
GABE MILLER For The Daily
After its first loss of the season only one day before, the Michigan women’s volleyball team was searching for a win to regain its steam. It was also the very same opponents who served the Wolverines their first loss of the season that they sought to defeat.
After a short-lived victory for the Cavaliers, the Wolverines were fueled up and dominant, and Michigan (7-1) secured a 3-0 win over Virginia (5-3), with a sweep in Charlottesville.
Michigan began the game with something to prove, launching lots of attacks towards Virginia from outside hitters like sophomore Ella Demetrician and graduate Allison Jacobs. The Cavaliers proved unable to catch up to the amount of firepower they faced, both early on and through the rest of the game
“We just really set our mentality in a different way,” Wolverines coach Erin Virtue said. “Just how we were going to approach this match, mentally and emotionally, as a team.”
The running start Michigan got wasn’t just a testament to its technical skill, but also the mindset it employed throughout the game.
The Wolverines approached the second set with this tunedin mindset, attacking with a point-scoring percentage of 40% compared to the 28% Virginia was boasting. Jacobs spearheaded the offense, with a total of 15 kills by the end of the game and 40 attacks. As the set progressed the score became closer and closer, with kills in these tense moments by senior middle blocker Serena Nyambio keeping Michigan ahead. The Wolverine drive was a true embodiment of the feelings they booked from last night, and their win was a testament to the rebound mentality they came back with.
“We had a little bit by everyone to be able to survive this match,” Virtue said. “I think it’s nice to see different folks stepping up in different times when we need them.”
Offense wasn’t the only thing on the table for the Wolverines, as a fierce Cavalier roster called for everyone to be on high alert. Demetrician recorded a high
number of digs to relieve some of this pressure for Michigan, with 13 by the end of just three sets.
Sophomore middle blocker Jenna Hanes also contributed to the protection, with three blocks by the end of the game
The Wolverines’ attack didn’t end in the third and final set, but the Cavaliers began to catch up. Michigan began the set with a six-point lead at 12-6— a lead that didn’t last long as Virginia then shortly went on a 7-1 scoring run.
The Wolverines failed to match this record, as their lack of kills during the latter half of the third set resulted in a momentary Cavalier lead.
The set only came to an end after a powerful offensive run from both teams, but the Virginia run was stopped in its tracks by the mental resilience of Michigan. This eventually ended in a decisive win for the Wolverines to close the curtains on the game once and for all.
The fire that Michigan left its loss with the day before provided it with motivation to coast on, and a drive to win the next game and even up its record against the Cavaliers.
Soyeon Kim/DAILY
Through five kilometers, sophomores Stephanie Bertram and Anjali Hocker Singh commanded the Spartan Invitational. Sitting squarely in the top-20 pack, Bertram and Hocker Singh spearheaded the Michigan women’s cross country team’s charge through the East Lansing course. Due to intense conditions and earlyseason fatigue, however, the Wolverines’ dominance didn’t last through the finish line.
In the first scored meet of the 2025 season, Michigan took on 16 other programs, including conference foes Northwestern, Michigan State, Ohio State, Indiana, Rutgers and Purdue.
After a dominant showing at the Michigan Open last week, the
Wolverines’ expectations were high for their top performers on Friday. Instead of repeating prior success, though, Michigan succumbed to powerful opponents, finishing fifth overall.
“We were out well, we just kind of faded,” Wolverines coach Mike McGuire said. “Everybody lost places, pretty much. So it’s just a situation of continuing to work, getting out, grouping up and staying grouped together. We definitely have work to do.”
produced three quick saves as part of a six-save performance that matched her career high, setting the tone for the back line’s resilience and composure for the rest of the half.
“A big credit to the result has to go to Sophie Homan and the performance, just unbelievable,” Klein said. “Her composure in the net, making some really bigtime saves, kept us in. She did an amazing job.”
Those stops allowed the Wolverines to grow throughout the game, showing more aggression on offense and threatening on the counterattack. Senior midfielder
MEN’S SOCCER
Jenna Lang ripped a shot from 15 yards in the 55th minute, marking Michigan’s best chance of the half.
But the Buckeyes pushed back late. Ohio State forward Callie Tumilty struck the crossbar in the 81st minute and midfielder Ava Greco nearly stole the match, but Homan’s diving save kept the score intact. So despite late pushes from Ohio State, the Wolverines’ defense and Sophie Homan held firm through every test.
By the final whistle, Michigan had survived a 22-13 shot disparity, a 12-2 corner deficit and heavy Buckeye pressure to force a tie 0-0. The result leaves the alltime rivalry perfectly balanced at 15-15-7.
In a heated Big Ten rivalry, Michigan’s grit on defense came up large, and as a result —thanks to the tone Homan set. The Wolverines walked away with a hard-fought point in competitive Big Ten play.
“We didn’t get rattled.” Klein said. “We stayed in the moment, felt like we responded and not reacted, and because of that, we were able to gain some momentum, able to build some better pressure higher up the field.”
Last minute heroics seal signature win for Michigan over No. 1 Indiana, 3-2
difference in execution would be the story of the first half, as the Wolverines were denied by the woodwork twice before the end of the half.
hero stepped up for Michigan. It was sophomore midfielder Kyle Pierson who outleaped everyone to head home a free kick that gave the Wolverines the lead, 2-1.
As Indiana forward Palmer Ault stepped up to the penalty spot in the 90th minute, the Michigan men’s soccer team braced for the inevitable ripple of the net. But it never came.
In the most dramatic of circumstances, the Wolverines (4-0-2 overall, 1-0-0 Big Ten) stunned the top-ranked Hoosiers (5-1-1, 0-1-0) at Bill Armstrong Stadium. For Michigan coach Chaka Daley’s team, it was a statement to the rest of the nation.
If the Wolverines were supposed to be the underdogs, they didn’t seem to get the memo. From kickoff, Michigan took the game to Indiana, winning the first five corners of the match. However, a strong start to the game yielded little result for the Wolverines, as the Hoosiers’ vaunted defense made life difficult in the final third.
Despite Michigan’s upper hand early on, Indiana got on the board first. With the first shot of the game, defender Alex Barger opened the scoring for the home team. It seemed that the
Despite her limited experience, Hocker Singh showed a tact and confidence well beyond her years. Building off of her careerbest performance at Big Ten Championships last season, Hocker Singh started off the season strong. Hocker Signh raced with aggression and determination throughout the six-kilometer Spartan Invitational. Maintaining a steady pace throughout the course, Hocker Singh shaved more than 30 seconds off of her previous best to finish 13th overall in 20:51.3. Racing in the front pack, Hocker Singh was surrounded by the region’s top competitors. As the sole Michigan runner to finish in the top-15, Hocker Singh finished behind seven of the Wildcats’ runners, a lone runner from the Spartans and Grand Valley State, and two Cincinnati competitors — all four teams that scored ahead of
However, on its seventh corner of the night, Michigan was finally rewarded. After a VAR review of a mad scramble in the box, the Wolverines were awarded a penalty with a minute to spare in the first half. Junior midfielder Joao Paulo Ramos took full advantage of the opportunity, leveling the game going into the break, 1-1.
Entering the second half, Michigan was full of confidence that it could pull off the improbable in Bloomington. But it was the Hoosiers who started the second half putting pressure on the Wolverines’ backline for the first time.
Barger came close to doubling his tally with a near post effort that was denied by junior goalkeeper Isaiah Goldson. However, Indiana’s momentum in the game was lost thanks to repeated stoppages for fouls and injuries.
As set pieces became the theme of the match, an unlikely
Michigan. But the intense level of competition didn’t phase Hocker Singh, who instead focused on running her own race.
“She got out and stuck her nose in there,” McGuire said of Hocker Singh’s race. “She was really solid. She PR’d on 5k on her way to 6k. She’s definitely moving the needle from where she was at last year.”
But Hocker Singh’s career day wasn’t enough to uplift the entire Wolverines squad. Especially as her running partner petered off due to intense heat conditions.
Despite her dominant performance through the beginning of the race, Bertram was not part of Michigan’s scoring contingent. Instead, the next Michigan runners to cross the finish line were seniors Rylee Tolson and Penelopea
“We hope that he scores many goals for the rest of his career,” Daley said. “For him to get up there at 5-7 is impressive.”
Just like that, Michigan was within touching distance of a historic victory. But Daley wasn’t satisfied with the onegoal advantage. The Hoosiers continued to ramp up the pressure on the Wolverines, but this time it was the visitors working against the match’s momentum. Junior forward Grayson Elmquist headed home Michigan’s third goal of the day with 10 minutes to play, seemingly putting the game to bed. However, as the home fans headed for the exits, Indiana continued to ramp up the pressure. With six minutes to play, reigning Big Ten offensive player of the week Collins Oduro finally rewarded the Hoosiers’ probing with a pinpoint strike. Then, with 39 seconds left to play, disaster struck for the Wolverines.
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Gordon, 17 runners after Hocker Singh. The duo finished 30th and 33rd respectively, leading the way for the second squad of Wolverines to secure points. The following four Michigan point-scorers finished in the top-50, rounding out the Wolverines’ 139-point final tally.
“We definitely lost some big points with Steph,” McGuire said. “We had honestly a great race running, number one for us, we’re capable of running two or more people around her. We’ve just got to shore some things up a little bit.”
While the Wolverines may have secured a fifth-place finish Friday, they were unable to capitalize on early race momentum. Consequently, Michigan may find itself falling toward the back of the race in Big Ten competition.
“today, you saw a love letter from 120 young men to their
ZACH EDWARDS Managing Sports Editor
The No. 23 Michigan football team opened up the playbook against Central Michigan.
After struggling to get anything going on offense last week against then-No. 18 Oklahoma, the Wolverines gave the Chippewas multiple different looks. As a result, freshman quarterback