Issue 12

PLACE WHAT THE F IMAGE IN THIS BOX University of Michigan

November 2017

Your Irregular Periodical Issue 12

Staff Molly Munsell Paige Wilson Natalie Brennan Lia Baldori Stina Perkins Anna Herscher Amanda Donovan Claire Abdo Emily Cutting Lindsay Calka Srishti Gupta Andi Chakrabarty Chase Chapman Adrianna Kusmierczyk Alexandra Niforos Emily Spilman Sophia Jacobs Caylin Luebeck Katie Slajus Sadie Quinn

Co-President Co-President Editor in Chief Assistant Editor Assistant Editor Assistant Art Director Assistant Art Director Layout Manager Assistant Layout Manager Assistant Layout Manager Assistant Layout Manager Finance Director Assistant Finance Director Social Media Coordinator Asisstant Social Media Coordinator Campus Coordinator Event Coordinator Event Coordinator Event Coordinator Blog Editor

What the F is a non-partisan, non-profit publication operated by students at the University of Michigan. What the F’s purpose is to encourage discussion on significant issues of campus, national, and world interest. The magazine, the executive board, and our sponsors do not endorse the ideas presented by the writers. We do, however, support and encourage different ideas into our community and into campus discussion.

Staff Columnists: Sabrina Deutsch, Ilina Krishen, Ally Owens, Maya Reyes, & Bhavya Sukhavasi Staff Artists: Thomas Callahan, Destiny Franks, Elizabeth Feldbruegge, Kate Johnson, & Maggie McConnell

All writings are real, found in bathrooms on campus, because sometimes we just need to talk to each other.

November 2017 Your Irregular Periodical Issue 12 01 02 06 08 10 12 14 16 18 20 22 27

FUNNY, FRESH, FEMINIST, FIERCE, & FUCK

Keep the conversation going online!

Visit our website at WhatTheFMagazine.wix.com/umich Like our Facebook page at Facebook.com/WhatTheFMag Follow us on Twitter @WhatTheFMag and on Instagram @ WhatTheFMagazine Find our Tumblr at WhatTheFMag.tumblr.com

Letter from the Editor Sh*t I’m Afraid to Ask My Doctor Here to Stay On Allyship A Diaspora Poem The Tour Guides Lied to Us Voices from the Shadows The CaucasityTM*: Swimming in a Sea** of White Mediocrity*** What the Fuck Can I Do? Noticeably White Wilted at the Roots Sources and Sponsors

Letter from the Editors

Welcome to What The F, your feminist periodical!

The “F” in What The F stands for a lot of things. In fact, it officially refers to “fresh, funny, fearless, feminist, fuck.” One of those sticks out to us a bit more than the others right now: Fuck.

The Elected Office repeals DACA, while ICE raids a restaurant on State Street, while anti-Latinx slurs are graffitied on the Rock. Fuck.

Black and brown bodies are surveilled and incarcerated nationwide, while racist slurs are written on dorm doors, while #BlackLivesMatter is pressure-washed off the Diag after midnight. Fuck.

Racist white men sit in the nation’s highest office, while Ron Weiser pulls the University’s puppet strings, while C.C. Little and his eugenicist history is honored at the center of campus. Fuck.

Issue 12, the What The Fuck Issue, aims to bluntly and directly speak to the anger and frustration we feel in a world that upholds exclusive systems of white patriarchal power. Silence is complicity; we decided to dedicate a full issue to these matters in order to give them our full attention. We hope the “Fuck” got yours.

the injustice of fleeting issues; the injustice of weeklong attention spans.

We hope that the work put forth in this issue makes you think—not just think, but Think. About your position, about the emotional labor you do for other students, about the identities that were created for you and how you rub up against them, about the organizations you participate in, about the ones you don’t, about how you got here and why you stayed here and how you have reimagined this campus in your head between the catches of sleep you’re unable to grasp.

And so we say What the Fuck in indignation and in validation. We say What The Fuck in solidarity with these voices, the ones in our magazine’s pages and the ones leading protests in the Diag and the ones whose throats are always-already sore. We say What the Fuck to show up in writing, while recognizing that words are no substitute for action. And we say What the Fuck in the hopes of joining a coalition, turning from these pages to the Maize Pages, from silence to action, as we try to build a better “we.”

In committed solidarity,

We believe that intersectionality, race, and inclusion are more foundational than the scope of a single issue. These concepts are not mere “themes,” but require continued dedication; and so, the replaced F in this issue’s title symbolically recognizes our commitment to reconceptualizing our feminisms. In the same way, we strive to dismantle typical forms of “knowledge” that permeate this campus. We find real meaning in prose and doodles and coffee shop interviews; in theoretical philosophy and in poems as vulnerable as they are valuable.

In this issue, we find meaning in voicing the everyday angers of injustice. The injustice that students of color on this campus spend hours of unpaid and unrecognized labor organizing for justice while white, self-proclaimed “allies” fail to show up, while the Administration sends a whole lot of nothing, a whole lot of silence (#SchlisselWYA). The injustice that undocumented students on campus face with the reality of DACA’s repeal. The injustice that Syrian students feel as their campus becomes desensitized to the plight of refugees under the haze of headlines;

The Editing Staff: Natalie Brennan, Editor-in-Chief Stina Perkins, Assistant Editor Lia Baldori, Assistant Editor

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Sh*t I’m Afraid to Ask My Doctor: I Can’t Sleep

by Sabrina Deutsch November 8, 2016. Palms sweating, stomachs churning, hearts racing, we watched the numbers turn in favor of a man who champions bigotry and racism.

For many of us, the pits that formed in our stomachs that night were familiar ghosts. And as you lay in bed that night, perhaps racecars whirred round your head, your body trembling in rising tempo as you waited for a sleep that wouldn’t come. How could it? When questions about your safety, threat of attacks on your body on the basis of your race, sexuality, or gender identity loomed so heavy and so real. Or maybe you felt nothing at all—numbness almost serene, at first.

Anxiety.

Slam poet Brenna Twohy calls anxiety “a steep slide you cannot see the bottom of,” and while feelings of hopelessness, a fight without end in sight, are common to anxiety, it has many faces. And that’s a problem, because it brings us to a critical flaw in the way that health is approached in the U.S. Too often, we’re forced to school our medical providers on this basic tenet of feminist theory – health is not just fevers and broken bones, it’s the sum total of lived experience, from shelter to social support.

Perhaps I’m an alarmist, but if you ask me, the world is in shambles right now. Without employing the coping strategies I’ve learned, my defaults fall to either side of the spectrum: worry incessantly or withdraw completely. While I know that mindfulness, meditation, aromatherapy, journaling, and every once in awhile, just giving myself a day of pure lethargy, have worked for me, anxiety looks different for different people.

Knowing the faces of anxiety: According to the National Institute of Mental Health, a wide spectrum of disorders are considered anxiety disorders, and nearly 20 percent of adults in the United States will experience some form of anxiety over the course of a year. Generalized Anxiety Disorder is considered the most common, but Phobias, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Panic Disorder, among others, also make up this composite.

So, where do I start?: When it comes to anxiety, social support is critical. Our experiences differ, but in one way or another we’re all walking through this mess of a life. For some, your ‘people’ might have the tips, tricks, and open ears that feel like all the help you need. Don’t discount that, but don’t rely on it exclusively either. Sometimes a well-meaning suggestion is the opposite of what you need. For example, my mom recommended a glass of red wine before bed, but it turns out that alcohol actually exacerbates anxiety.

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While a simple internet search will yield a plethora of suggestions for dealing with anxiety, the truth is the appropriate method(s) will vary by individual. Checking in with your physical health tends to be a good place to start. Eating well, exercising if able, and taking steps to getting a good night’s sleep can help you pinpoint which aspects of your daily life may need more attention than you’re giving them. From there, you might consider mindfulness and meditation, the tapping method (EFT), or other forms of relaxation that you can incorporate daily. As students, it’s easy to lose sight of ourselves in favor of focus on our surroundings. This is dangerous, and it’s critical you remember that your health always comes first.

Professional counseling is not the appropriate course for everyone, but it may be worthwhile to try in conjunction with other lifestyle changes, or just as a simple check in with an objective source. You can make an appointment with CAPS; clinical services are free of charge for University students. But, CAPS is notoriously overbooked, underfunded, and lacking in representation. Thankfully, many healthcare providers cover mental health services, either in part or in full. Remember: Trumpcare 0, Obamacare 1.

Are there medications I can take?

When it comes to treating anxiety with medication, there are two classes of medications your doctor will typically consider: benzodiazepines and serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs). Benzodiazepenes, or Benzos, are typically prescribed for shortterm use because they’re fast-acting. Think: height of a panic attack, I need help ten minutes ago. Benzos are sedatives, however, so it’s important to remember that feeling a bit hazy/foggy/groggy after taking them is to be expected. Meanwhile, SSRIs are considered a long-term treatment option. In order for them to be effective, they have to be taken consistently for 4-6 weeks before you start seeing a change in your anxiety. The upside of this: they tend to be less addictive than Benzos.

Is anxiety a threat to my physiological wellbeing?

Anxiety can be a full-bodied, mental, emotional, and physiological experience. When left untreated, anxiety disorders are associated with increased risk of heart disease, gastrointestinal disturbances, respiratory problems, and sleep disturbances. That weight in your chest and ache in the pit of your stomach are not simply misappropriations of an unsettled mind, but true manifestations of bodily unrest. You know your body, it’s not just ‘in your head.’

Things to keep in mind: Anxiety is sneaky, sometimes it likes to hide out in the back of your closet for a while and you find yourself neglecting your journal and sleeping through the morning ritual that keeps you grounded. Keep in mind, you don’t feel thirsty until you’re already dehydrated. Likewise, you may not feel anxiety creeping back up on you until you’re back where you started, or worse off than before. Most sources say that anxiety will never truly ‘go away.’ As we learn to deal with it, however, it can almost feel like it has vanished. The trick is, you can’t quit while you’re ahead.

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Feminist Quote here

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Here to Stay

by Anonymous

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s a current sophomore, the past month’s events have not only been hurtful but also caused a ripple of fear within me. The University is my home and to know that people don’t want me here is hurtful among several other things. These comments were meant to hurt the Latinx community but if anything, it made our voice louder, and we will continue to refuse to be silenced. President Trump also released the news that DACA was to be rescinded on September 5, 2017. It was then that I truly became fearful of what my future was to become.

DACA recipients simply want to be able to work and provide for their families. We want to get a career, afford houses and cars, and give back to our parents, families, and communities and with DACA taken away none of this can happen. We had no say in how we were brought here, but I will also refuse to throw my mother under the bus because like any other mother she only wanted to provide me with a better future.

I always knew I didn’t have the right papers since I was a little girl, but at that time I never knew the severity of what it meant to not have them. When you grow up in a village that is mostly white with children whose parents all went to school together you don’t get the chance to question a lot of things because you are too busy trying to keep up with everyone who is already several steps ahead. My mom always told me to do my best, and I always did. I had always thought if you wanted a job you could just go and find one, I figured the only worry would be in having to find one.

I was wrong. To work you need an S.S. card, which I did not have. To most people, the idea that you will never be able to grow past a menial job because you don’t have the correct paperwork to take those extra steps is enough to make them quit but not to me. I was resolved to be something more. My mother didn’t sacrifice everything to have me give up because of a few obstacles.

It was at the beginning of my freshman year of highschool when DACA was announced. I was worried at having to give up all my personal information to the government, I wasn’t worried for myself though, but rather for my parents. I was in fear that people

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would take them away. My mom called me silly, she said it would be crazy to miss this opportunity. You can work to go to school, you can be someone, she told me. It worked out. I could now work legally. I put my documentation into the back of my mind for the first few years of school, but finally I couldn’t avoid it when my senior year rolled around. My grades were still up and now college was being shoved down our throats. I couldn’t join my friends as they talked excitedly about which school to go too. At that point I didn’t think I was going to go anywhere. I filled out applications only because my school forced me too. I took the ACT my junior year because I had to. A little part of me had given up, I had accepted my fate. I couldn’t take out loans and college was too expensive. Most scholarships needed documentation and I couldn’t find the positive aspect anymore.

Except, I had not fully given up. Slowly and over the course of several months I filled out the only application that mattered to me. It was on January 31, 2016 that I was sitting in front of my computer screen a filled-out application in hand just waiting to be submitted. I was still in my own dream world full of endless possibilities that maybe, just maybe everything would work out. The next second I sent it and quickly slammed my laptop shut.

A few months later, I learned that I had been accepted into the University of Michigan.

Money, of course was still a huge issue, but here’s one thing I would love people to know about immigrants in this country. We are some of the hardest working people ever. Although Michigan helped significantly, my summer was filled of 70-hour work weeks and 12-hour shifts. It didn’t matter to me when I came home tired as hell because I knew I was working toward something that mattered.

When I first stepped foot on this campus as a freshman I cried. I can’t help but smile every time I walk past the Union and the Block M in the Diag. This is it.

This is everything I have ever wanted. I wouldn’t be here without my mother’s sacrifice. I wouldn’t be here

without DACA. They say that we are “taking jobs that belong to TRUE American citizens,” but I am lost to the definition of “true American.” Hundreds of thousands of students like me simply want to uphold what the American Dream is, and with DACA we had the chance to do that.

I know I live in a world that does not want me, but I also know that I will not be silenced. DACA being taken away is only another obstacle, and like any other obstacle before it can be overcome. My Latinx background does not define who I am but I do add more definition in what it takes to be Latinx at the University of Michigan. Our fathers and mothers sacrificed so much for us to be here and we will not back down. You can tell us to go fuck ourselves, but you will not easily silence us. The Latinx community is here to stay, I am here to stay.

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On Allyship

by Madison Jones

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I would like to preface this by saying that my opinions aren’t the endall be-all on allyship and social justice. While I am a woman of color, I do hold a lot of privileged identities, and I cannot speak to the expe-

riences of those who are dark-skinned, LGBTQ+, immigrants, differently abled, working class, non-Christian, etc. I work to act as an ally for those communities, but I’m nowhere near perfect, and I need to challenge myself with everything written below. I am aware that there are many forms of oppression that often intersect; however, many of my ideas are presented in terms of POC and white ally relationships because it is not my place to speak for those who hold marginalized identities that I do not.

We are living in a time where social justice is trendy (@Pepsi). While this has its pros and cons, I would argue that a definite pro is the number of people who have labeled themselves as ‘allies’ for marginalized groups.

With this, however, comes another issue: ineffective allyship. When I log onto Facebook, I see several of my friends’ profiles sporting some new profile filter that declares their support for whichever social justice cause is currently popular. And yet, when it’s time to actually show up for a protest or donate to a cause, there’s a sudden lack of interest and action from those who had just fastened a safety pin onto their lapel. As MLK Jr. once said: “In the end, we remember not the words of our enemies but the silence of our friends.” Being an ally is so much more than a label; true allyship is difficult and active, requiring time, effort, and constant self-reflection. Too many people seem to think that deciding to be “woke” is the finish line, when it is in fact the beginning of a commitment to actively advocate for marginalized groups on their own terms.

Now. I can’t offer a ten-step program on how to become the perfect ally.

I can only share from my personal experience with white and male allies and as an ally for other marginalized groups (again acknowledging that I’m far from perfect in my advocacy for those communities). So while I don’t have all the answers, I can offer what I believe to be a starting point for good allyship.

The first step in becoming a truly effective ally is figuring out when it is appropriate to step back to listen and learn, and when speaking up and acting is needed. Understanding these differences and implementing them can be difficult, but they are crucial in building a foundation for good allyship.

It is absolutely a privilege any time a marginalized person is willing to share their experiences, and it should be treated as such. Marginalized people are not obligated to teach, share, or inform allies, nor are they obligated to police their tone and hide their anger, sadness, or frustration to spare the feelings of allies. They should not have to convince allies to support them either: “So-and-so should be less angry if they want people to try to help them” is a completely invalid and problematic line of thinking.

Marginalized people should not have to explain and justify their oppression in order to receive validation from their oppressors. Furthermore, al-

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lies should not rely on marginalized people to teach them, especially about things that could be answered with a swift (and free!) Google search. Be proactive. Even Bing can explain why white people saying the N-word is never okay.

That being said, if a marginalized person has decided to share their experience, they need to be listened to, learned from, and appreciated—not spoken over. Instead of whitesplaining, mansplaining, and/or cisplaining, sit back and actually listen to what they are saying without getting defensive. If someone says something that is uncomfortable and provokes a “not all white people/straight people/men” response, instead of going off on your own unsolicited rant, sit with your discomfort and reflect on why it made you feel so uncomfortable. Maybe you’ll learn something about yourself and your own problematic tendencies.

While many allies don’t even like to sit and listen and learn from marginalized people, even fewer seem to actually act when it’s time to step up.

This could be due to a few reasons: being uncomfortable and unwilling, not knowing how or when to act, or just feeling or being ignorant. If you want to continue to assert yourself as ally, then you must work through the discomfort of speaking up and doing something. Also, reflect on why you are so uncomfortable speaking up for what you claim to believe in.

Discomfort aside, here are three main scenarios where allies should step up and do something: 1. When there are no marginalized people around to speak up and someone (a stranger, friend, or family member) says or does something offensive.

2. When it’s time to physically show up at a protest or give financially, if you are able.

3. If a marginalized person is present, but needs back up or support.

The first scenario deals with the issue of overcoming discomfort and unwillingness. I understand that saying something to close friends or family can be difficult, but ultimately I must speak up if those around me say homophobic, xenophobic, or Islamophobic things. And while it might feel awkward, I must recognize that the momentary discomfort I feel when speaking up for those identities could never compare to being oppressed because of those identities. If you have decided that you are an ally and are committed to social justice, then you carry that commitment into your personal networks. Bigotry doesn’t take a break just because it’s the holi-

days, so neither should you when Uncle Billy says something homophobic.

should consider looking into the situation.

The second scenario deals with actually showing up. When there is some-

It is easy here to fall into the trap of assuming that all marginalized

thing tangible that can be done, allies need to challenge themselves to do

people are the same and are all offended by the same things. If a per-

as much as they can. Sharing your support online and in words is all well

son of color isn’t upset by something, don’t whitesplain racism to them

and good, but people need to follow through and back up those sentiments

and try to convince them that they should be offended. You are an ally

when it’s time. You need to show up. You need to show up. You need to

on their terms. Try to discern whether or not a situation is making them

show up. You need to show up. Again, any hardship and inconvenience

uncomfortable, and proceed accordingly. It may not be appropriate to im-

you may feel being an ally for a group will never compare to their oppres-

mediately speak up loudly on their behalf; it might be better to privately

sion. If you are able, donate a few dollars to a trusted nonprofit because

address whomever said or did something offensive and urge them to con-

it does take money to fight for these causes. I recognize not all people

sider how their actions could have been hurtful. Or it might be best to ask

are physically able to attend protests and marches, but to those who have

whomever you are trying to help how you can best support them and let

yet to show up for anything or make a single phone call or take any kind

them know that you are willing to help them in whatever way they need.

of action: do better. Show up if there is a planned protest or march, and

Even just acknowledging that their feelings are valid can go a long way:

understand your place at these events. It is important for ally bodies to be

many people believe that because microaggressions are ‘micro,’ they don’t

present but to also be decentered; if you are a white person at a Black Lives

have the right to be upset, so validation is always important.

Matter protest, you should not be up front, you should be on the sides, protecting POC if need be.

It can be tricky to figure out how to act at different moments, and it often depends on the specific situation. But this is why being an ally shouldn’t

The third and final scenario: supporting and validating a marginalized

be taken lightly. It is not a label or a Facebook profile picture filter; it is

person during a situation when they need it, rather than being a bystand-

a commitment to continual self-reflection and self-improvement. It is a

er. Quick story: my friend, who is a dark-skinned black woman, recently

willingness to listen, to learn, and to apologize if needed. It is a charge to

had an incident where a nail salon worker loudly commented about how a

take a stand when you are needed. Being an ally is not easy and being an

color wouldn’t look good on her because of how dark her skin is. She was

effective ally is even harder.

the only black person in the establishment, and no one said anything. In

Finally, no social justice conversation is complete without considering

this instance, an ally should have spoken up in her defense or backed her

intersectionality. We must be aware of our different identities as we move

up. We have to recognize that POC are perfectly capable of speaking for

through different spaces, considering when we are allies and when we are

themselves and allies shouldn’t speak over them, but if they need support

not. A white woman has a much different place at the Women’s March

or validation, allies should provide it as best they can. If a marginalized

than at an Immigration March. Understanding your role and identity at

person doesn’t feel like saying something for whatever reason—perhaps

different events is crucial for good allyship and coalitional advocacy. We

they feel threatened, are exhausted from being oppressed, or are simply

need to engage with identity politics and work to end our own oppressive

not in the mood to pop off on bigotry—but seems uncomfortable, an ally

actions towards each other. A white gay man can demonstrate misogynoir towards a black woman but she can be homophobic towards him. We, as allies for one another, should constantly strive to continue learning, reflecting, and checking ourselves. We need to work to acknowledge our own implicit biases and inherent prejudices. We need to recognize when we use poor language that needs to be fixed or when our actions (and inactions) perpetuate certain systems of oppression. And we need to understand that often, social justice exists in liberal elite bubbles on college campuses that too often exclude marginalized people. No one’s social justice is ever going to perfect, but we need to always keep striving to become better allies and better advocates for one another. If not us, then who?

(This piece was originally posted on Madison’s blog https://pettypartyblog.wordpress.com/. Check it out for Madison’s “100% correct opinions!”)

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A Diaspora Poem

by Tarik Dobbs

O’ White boy in my English 300 class, I too wonder how many poems will be written about diaspora

O’ pan-Arab diaspora children, do you see the blue eye’d boy in my English class You see his disregard, absolving himself he finds your story tired, after all

CNN calls you the Lost Generation A bunch of soot-covered carcasses with PTSD Without Snapchat or Instagram, but maybe Twitter

O’ Diaspora children, the Facebook photo frames couldn’t save you the Upworthy videos couldn’t save you the New York Times 360-degree videos couldn’t save you the U.N. couldn’t save you E.U. couldn’t save you No Saudi money for you

You were patient though, strong, still you didn’t want to go

And I didn’t want Jeffrey to write about you Remember, he said

you lost your mind/body/soul in Aleppo Self-indulgent And I wonder if you know my aunt or she knows you

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They taught her al-engliziya inside the mop closet in the immigrant/poor/blighted neighborhood in D.C. I’m sorry they didn’t give you a spot in the closet They took you to Germany and hid you in shackles for your own safety they spit on your face and smile when you spoke German/English/French it didn’t matter You did it anyway

O’ Diaspora Baby, are you ISIS? A Fox News talking bite?

What’s left of you after reddit/4chan/the hill dot com

O’ Land of Poptarts Mickey D’s Ford Motor Company and Citigroup, and GE, and Bank of America

O’ Land of Israeli Chickpeas Land that doesn’t sing our songs Eid in Michigan’s winter is still no Christmas

O’ UAE, lam araka mundu mudda (Long time no see) La afham (I don’t understand)

The desert is dying but you hold onto an oasis all alone

O’ Diaspora Baby, I wonder if all of the hotels in Dubai could open up for you

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The Tour Guides Lied to us.

by Ally Owens

If you don’t like the stuff happening on campus, just leave!!1!1

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f you dropped and cracked your phone, after surveying the fixable damage, would you admit defeat and proceed to smash it to bits, or would you take it to the Genius Bar? The current, piss poor state of race relations at the University of Michigan can be likened to a fixable cracked phone. No, I’m not just going to leave when times get rough. I’ve dreamed of attending here and worked for years to make it a reality (also, President Schlissel hasn’t replied to my requests for a refund, but I’ll just add that to the list of things he hasn’t responded to). So racists and sympathizers of racists, we’re here to stay. Now what? We’re at that fork in the road where it seems equally likely that we could smash the phone or fix it properly. Because there’s no way I’m getting my money back, I for one would like to choose the side of healthy mending. One of the best ways I feel that this campus can go about relieving the tension would be actually taking the time to get to know us. As one of the many underrepresented campus demographics that I will be examining this semester, black women have it pretty tough. Sociological research has shown that black women are the demographic that struggles the most being accepted into white-dominated spaces, as we are either prematurely stereotyped or just outright ignored. It’s as easy as starting a conversation with us, and we are already failing at something as simplistic as that.

I’ve noticed that most people within the privileged majority, now more than ever, have shied away from acknowledging events and even black students as a whole for either reasons of fear, nerves, or just complete oblivion. So, here I am, another black woman doing a job for white America. Since most of the campus is too afraid to make conversation with members of our black population, I’ll do it for you.

Lets meet the ladies.

Peggy Randon (Political Science and Biology, ‘21): a self-proclaimed pseudo-adult, just doing her best to get by.

Lauren Robinson (Pre-Med, ‘21): a woman who owns the fact that she is an asshole with a heart of gold.

Arielle Ewing (Pre-Med, ‘21): she labels herself a fake deep queen.

Olivia Gardiner (Undecided, ‘21): who describes herself as a straight up goof.

And me, Ally Owens, a snarky film bitch who is making her parents a lot less proud than the women above.

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he four women I interviewed chose to attend U of M for various reasons, but the one commonality between us was the fact that the school is, in the words of Peggy Randon, “prestigious as fuck.” I definitely can relate to this sentiment— bragging ranks highly among my favorite pastimes. For us, the college admissions process came with the extra hurdle of picking between a predominately white institution and a historically black college/university. I can speak from experience in saying that the stigma against choosing PWI over HBCU can be damaging to a black identity—getting called a sellout, being told that your college experience is going to be terrible.

The women I interviewed all had no biases against HBCUs as reputable hubs of education, but rather opted for a white majority school because of the warning that this is how the real world is going to be. Arielle Ewing said that she wanted to prepare herself for the culture clash early, “I know it would be shocking if I spent four years at an HBCU, where everyone gets it, and everyone has the same experiences, and then it’s like you go off campus to your job and it’s like…what?”. Despite feeling contentment in their decisions to go blue, this relative contentment did not come without sporadic instances of pre-college anxiety.

Upon making her final decision to attend the University of Michigan, Peggy began to worry about fitting in. Her expectation was that the school was going to be racially stratified— whereas white students will stick with other white students, black students will stick with other black students, and those who dare to be “inbetweeners” will be scrutinized from both sides for various reasons. Arielle, an ex-Michigan State fan grew up thinking that the Michigan student body—regardless of race—was uppity and pretentious (~The Michigan Difference~) and expected her childhood suspicions to be proven correct. Lauren foresaw herself being ill-received by her white peers, as she has been for the duration of her schooling. Olivia, like me, expected, optimistically, to be able to talk to everyone freely. We all expected to have some sort of black resource or social circle in our classes. Peggy expected the work to be hard, but had to wrangle with the question, “just how on top of my

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shit will I have to be because I am a black person?” referencing professors and graduate student aides that may be biased and have preconceived stereotypes of black students’ work ethic.

On the subject of this, Ari brought up the worry she had of the lack of normality given to black students if we’re simultaneously labeled as unqualified beneficiaries of affirmative action, yet expected to be exceptional and never have an off moment.

We all know it’s true. White students can make “lazy college student” jokes without fail, but if a black student attempted to do the same, “Chad” or “Jake” would be on their way here from East Lansing armed with pitchforks and low ACT scores, claiming that one of us “stole their spot.”

Sadly, our realities have not done much to prove false our expectations. Peggy spoke at length about her reality here at the University of Michigan—she had hoped that the black community would be tight knit because there are so few of us, however, because of her interests and opinions that may stray from the “norm” in the black community, she feels as though she gets judged for not being “black” enough. In the “white world,” Peggy says she hasn’t faced the brunt of hidden racism afflicting other U of M freshmen because of aspects of her being that “disarm” white people. She states that this phenomenon is indicative of a larger issue: “I speak ‘properly’ and white people cool out. You feel like you have to smile a lot, be overly friendly. If they [white people] see you have other white friends, then you’re accepted.” To be embraced by the majority, you must assimilate or go the extra mile to make your oppressor comfortable with your presence. Seriously? Ari and Lauren on the other hand have faced very overt social micro-aggressions. Lauren’s roommates assumed upon first meeting her that she must be from the inner city. On the Blue Buses, Ari notes that “people act scary and they won’t make eye contact with me. They’ll see an empty seat next to me on a full bus and still won’t sit next to me.” Ari laments the privilege that white women have on campus in not having to be hyper-aware of things like their hair maintenance in communal baths, their curves at parties, and their tone of speech in presentations among other things.

inclusion may vary based on racial identity

Olivia notices the micro-aggressions inside the classroom— noting that people ignore her in discussions, presuming she does not have anything intelligent to contribute to the discussion. Most tragically, none of us have many classes where other black women are, so it becomes a quest for the Holy Grail to find those you can connect with. Not surprisingly, the women I interviewed were underwhelmed at the white response to the events in West Quad, where an anonymous freshmen took it upon themselves to write the N-word onto the door of two black residents.

Peggy was disappointed, but not surprised by her non-black friends’ reaction to the hate crime in West Quad. Either her white friends could not be bothered by it, or they chose to use it for their own exploitative gain. “My friends would say to me ‘Tell me when the next protest is so I can write about it for The Michigan Daily!’ That’s all it’s worth to them.” Ari felt unsafe walking down the streets after a late class immediately following the event. She felt as though her place at this school had been put into question. The reaction from white, “liberal” peers was lukewarm as well. From the few friends that actually knew what was going on, she got requests to not make things political (wow! I never thought about it that way). Ari also noticed the hypocrisy of people who reacted negatively to the protests blockading the Central Campus Transit Center), but had virtually no response to the hate crime itself. She says that she is tired of white people treating it as though this issue is a couple of bad apples, when all of them benefit from the system. I always find it telling when the same white people that wouldn’t hesitate for a “March for Science” or a “Women’s March” suddenly act as though they have no idea what a protest is when it comes time for a march for black rights.

As for Schlissel, everyone’s favorite marionette, Ari demands “real, deal shit [action] or it’s [hate crimes] are going to keep happening. He sounds good on paper, but what is he really doing?”. She expressed incredulity at the school’s “oblivion” to where the hate crimes came from, because at the end of the day, you have to know who you’re admitting here, and if not—

do a better job. In turn, she asks the lead student organizers in the black student union to come up with clear cut goals so that denying accountability becomes harder for the administration. Lauren and Olivia who were both present at the town hall meeting, were exasperated by Schlissel’s evasiveness and vagueness when discussing a solution to a very solvable problem by gas-lighting students by talking about “the process” and emptily referring back to “investigations.” We should not be tasked with preserving our own safety—we are here to learn.

Our first task as University of Michigan students should not be drawing a line in the sand as to what is appropriate behavior for students. That’s the administration’s job! And if they aren’t going to do their jobs that I am paying thousands of dollars for, then I. WANT. MY. MONEY. BACK. The black women of the University of Michigan are not going anywhere. However, while you are tasked with spending four more years with sitting next to us in class, seeing us in the elevator of your housing, and bumping up against us on the bus, I challenge you to step outside of your comfort zone: start a conversation or come into a black-dominated space for once, rather than expecting marginalized groups bend over backwards to accommodate you. I challenge you to see us as individuals rather than the caricature the media likes to present us as. Some of us like dogs, some of us don’t want to be near them. Some of us live for camping and being outside, while some of us dread the idea of even going outside to get the mail. Some of us thirst for Steph Curry, while some of us think the young Frank Sinatra was a full-course meal. Some of us lean conservatively, while some us are more socialist than Bernie himself. Recognize and appreciate our variances, and respect us no matter what shade of black we are, what we speak like, or where we come from. It does not take a certain ideal to garner respect. Now let’s take this phone to the Genius Bar, the mall closes at 9.

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Voices From the shadows

By Ilina Krishen

F

For this issue, I believed it was important to discuss race from a woman of color’s perspective. Race’s role in feminism has too often been ignored in the popular feminist discourse. In light of recent political events, particularly within the past year, it is important to shed light on race within our local and national communities from the women’s perspectives. Too often, women of color have been neglected from various discourses concerning race and feminism. Here, I have compiled interviews discussing race from four women of color on this campus.

Name three words that come to mind when you hear the word racism.

Nicole: White people, Humiliating, Infuriating BigLoo: Ubiquitous, Taught, Societal Saraswati: Prejudice, Injustice, Identity Fatima: Systematic White Supremacy Name three words that come to mind when you hear the term white feminism.

Nicole: Bullshit, unnecessary, unacceptable BigLoo: Taylor Swift, privilege, conceited Saraswati: Taylor Swift, intersectionality, Narrative Fatima: Colonialism, sex-centered, ignorance The phrase “I don’t see color” is often used to respond to racism. What do you think of that statement?

Nicole: I had a teacher say that to me in high school, I don’t like it. If people of color want you to see race, then you should. It’s not rocket science. If people of color tell you that to not be racist is to acknowledge race exists, then you should see it and figure out what it means to engage with race and dialogues in a [more] positive way than the way you have been conditioned to see. We have been taught to see race from our childhood. Some people have grandparents who were forced to drink from different drinking fountains, so we can’t say race doesn’t exist anymore.

BigLoo: I cringe a little, squirm uncomfortably in my yellow skin, and hand them a pile of conceptual bullshit. This statement is a perfect example of benevolent racism. People say this to make themselves seem virtuous, but by doing so, they’re shoving marginalized groups deeper into the shadows of society. Whether conscious or unconscious, we ALL have biased perceptions of various colors. What we really need is for people to stop pretending like there’s no color and start addressing the distinctions and discriminations they bring. My skin tone, my background, and my story is different from yours. Acknowledge that. Don’t dismiss me and tell me that you don’t see my color, because honeybun, we both know you do.

Saraswati: I think it’s dumb. The people who do use it don’t know what they mean. They mean to use it as a positive thing, but it’s almost like they shielding themselves from being called racist. By them not acknowledging it, it doesn’t exist for them. It’s kind of similar to people saying it’s a social construct, therefore I am color blind and claim that I am not racist or colorist.

Fatima: As Trevor Noah once said, “you don’t see color, then what do you do at traffic lights?” But in all seriousness, that phrase is ridiculous and entails a lot of apathy. When a person of color tells you about their experiences as a POC, you have no right to say you don’t see or understand them. Obviously, you don’t see it if you aren’t affected by it. Also, the privilege in being able to “not see color” is one that POC can never have.

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That phrase essentially translates to “I don’t care to see color,” because if you truly did not see color and valued POC voices, then you would recognize their struggle and try to understand them, which essentially means seeing color.

There have been multiple racist incidents on campus, as well as nationally, this past year. How do you feel about these taking place in a “liberal” city/university?

Nicole: After the incident in West Quad, I wondered if I had to start checking my own door now. I don’t think any people of color actually believe that Ann Arbor is the liberal paradise that people make it out to be. It’s frustrating to see the university President, who has been in office for four years, and nobody being caught for any racist incident on campus. People are thinking that we are just protesting to hear ourselves yell when we’ve been facing these things for decades with no results.

This is time we could be studying that we are instead using to fight for rights against people we give thousands of dollars to. I don’t think the administration is against black students, but I don’t think they are doing enough to let black students know they can be trusted or depended on.

BigLoo: My initial reaction used to always be to get riled up and stay woke. Like helllll nah someone hold my chopsticks! We don’t accept chauvinists here, not there, not anywhere! But, with the consistency and patterns in the aggressive assaults, I’m starting to only see oppressors as a bunch of bored scum. We can’t fight fire with fire. Instead, we’ve progressed to peaceful protesting such as teams kneeling during the flag and just recently, Dana Greene Jr. kneeling for over 20 hours in the diag.

They didn’t use phonetics, but their statement was louder than ever.

Saraswati: I think it has opened me up to how no matter how educated someone can be, it does not mean they are educated in the realm of race. People can be very educated but choose to ignore those aspects of their education or society. I was shocked seeing the number of people supporting white supremacy and people doing it for the fun of it. I don’t think it’s something to joke about and it reflects how privileged you have to be in order to joke about something like that, particularly about race relations that have had people of color being alienated for decades. People don’t want to deal with these problems because it doesn’t affect them and that shows privilege.

Fatima: This conception that this is a liberal campus is so horrible. Just because this University plops in a small percentage of minorities to use for school ads doesn’t mean this campus is liberal. Additionally, being liberal doesn’t necessarily mean the inability to be racist or even qualify for a good thing. Many liberals could care less about the U.S. lead bombings throughout the Middle East, as well at the state-sponsored Israeli terrorism and apartheid in Palestine. The same people protesting the wall Trump threatened to build actively support the apartheid wall in Palestine, the same wall that Trump has praised and has said he looked to model the Mexico wall on. The same liberals are the type to come to a protest, ask someone to take a picture of them with a sign, and then leave (I’ve actually witnessed this many times before).

There is a trend of social justice during a time of intensity, but that desire for social justice washes out as soon as the trend dies out. Silence is complicity.

What strategies do you have for combating racism?

Nicole: One of the biggest strategies is realizing that there just might be some stuff that you might not understand. I would invite people to start asking some questions and having dialogues with people of color.

I would also advise people to just call other people out. I would love white people having a level of humility because there have been people being humiliated for the color of their skin. I would invite them to reflect on times they have said or done something that might have been harmful to people of color. For other people of color, I would learn the systematic process of racism because a lot of our own history is whitewashed. We need to overcome our own internalized racism. I would also advise non-black people of color to contemplate when they have perpetuated anti-blackness in their lives. You can still be prejudiced and you are also a victim of white supremacy, just like the rest of us.

BigLoo: I personally just call people out whenever I hear it. We’ve had enough of silencing our voices in order to ignore uncomfortable confrontations. You have to do it calmly though. Don’t get offended and start screaming. They just need someone to calmly and quickly tell them to make it stick in their head like “oh that was wrong of me.” You also don’t wanna go preaching to these people because they’ll drown you out, get defensive, and/or try to argue with you, which is just a waste of time. Just let them know like, “hey what you said was inappropriate so just be more careful next time,” then move on. I know it can get uncomfortable at times, but it’s up to us to stop racism at the source.

Saraswati: I would make sure that I am very aware of things going around me and that I educate myself on these issues and their details. I would also read a lot of pieces from people who are a lot more educated on the subject than I am. I also try to educate my friends and family as well as through Facebook. I would share educational articles on Facebook in the hopes that my friends and families will read them. I would also call out friends who have made racist or insensitive comments. I think it’s important to help people understand the concepts because I think a lot of opinions are due to the fact of not knowing the entire story. Protest is also really important as well, particularly seeing how influential Colin Kaepernick’s protest has been. It’s important not to center all these issues around Trump because these problems have been around for decades.

BigLoo: Be with us in solidarity, and pass the mic to us. We appreciate and love your support, but let us speak from the shadows. I know everyone has something to say and I don’t mean to silence anyone, but it’s crucial for our Caucasian counterparts to listen to us and let us tell our stories.

I want them to know that race is merely a human construction to categorize ourselves based on similar backgrounds and beliefs. They weren’t created to attack one another, but to practice our distinct beauties within.

We’re all more similar than different, in a way. We go to the same school, take the same classes, join the same clubs, because we are all humans with interests. This is our own way of categorizing ourselves. We create an environment within an environment we feel comfortable and welcomed in. Why try to fight that? Once you come to overcome any innate ignorance, you will come to fully appreciate the diversity on this campus.

Fatima: I advise them to put in more effort at showing up to events combatting racism and to speak out against any case of racism they witness.

This means not disregarding the topic after you attend one protest, but putting continuous effort to learn more about and work against the various forms of racism in this country and abroad. Additionally, to also work on educating yourselves as opposed to constantly telling People of Color to explain racism to you. It is draining, do not ask us for a solution when we can barely get people to care. Rather, attend already planned events and learn for yourself. Also, understand that race is so much more than a skin color. It is experiences and culture; it is constantly being attacked with perceptions of your community and having to take consequences for actions that are assumed you commit. As an Arab, many argue that I am basically white because of my skin color. But that doesn’t stop the colonialism, imperialism, invasion, bombing and occupation of my country. It doesn’t stop orientalist-based perceptions of barbarism and radical images within the media about my people. It certainly doesn’t come with the privilege of being able to disregard my identity and not see color.

Fatima: Mobilizing People of Color to discuss and combat together within the community. Attending as many discussions, teach-ins, and protests led

by People of Color. Through that, I can learn what and how a minority group wants a movement to be led, as opposed to assuming that I would know.

What advice do you have for your Caucasian colleagues for them to be an effective ally to people of color/other minorities?

What is one thing you want your non-minority colleagues to know/understand about race? Feel free to add more because one isn’t enough.

Nicole: Read from non-white people and different perspectives as well as be objective. I would also advise to reflect on your actions. Call out your problematic relatives and friends because if you aren’t saying anything, you are encouraging it. Participate in official and trained dialogues about race because these are run by people who know how to run this uncomfortable conversation. I want to give it up to white allies who have given up their lives to fight racism because society has been conditioning on what race is and how to see it. It can really shake you up going against everything you’ve been told. I would also say to believe in a person’s potential to learn and grow because we are all victims of white supremacy.

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The Caucasity TM*:

Swimming in a Sea** of White Mediocrity***

by Lakyrra Magee

*I would like to acknowledge all the wonderful Black activists (and specifically Black twitter and @desusnice) who I have learned this phrase from—their work does not go unnoticed. Caucasity, as I am using it here, refers to the actions of white people, motivated by racist/sexist assumptions, that demonstrates that they have preconceived notions and act on them. It typically results in offensive behavior and me clapping back. The audacity. **I will not be specifically addressing the blatant current racism in this piece because I am tired of liberals using extremist white supremacy as a way to scapegoat their own racism and responsibilities as active participants in a racist white supremacist society. And quite frankly, I am tired of talking about it. Instead, I choose the racism I experience every day and highlight ways in which liberal academia perpetuates the practice of racism institutionally and individually. ***When you want to know what white mediocrity is, think DT.

Intended Audience: As I write this, I think about who my intended audience is. I am constantly afraid to fall into the trap of only writing for white people to “get it,” but I want my work to be inspirational for Black queer femmes, who have a lot of thoughts and are consistently held back by racism within academia. I hope you know you’re not valuable because you’re the “diversity,” you’re valuable because 1. You exist and 2. You’re fucking intelligent. I hope you don’t let them, be they cis, men, white, heterosexual, make you believe any differently.

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M

y first semester, freshman year of college I sat in a political theory course that was mostly comprised of white men interested in Political Science, Business, or Economics (this isn’t to erase the presence of white women or people of color in the room, but to acknowledge that there were a LOT of white dudes). One day the professor asked us to partner with a person next to us and discuss democracy (something about ancient Greeks or Romans or what have you—you know, Europeans). Promptly, having come to class prepared (as I am a philosopher and theorist at heart), I turned to the white man next to me. Excitedly, I hypothesized and made connections between the reading and our current political system to the white man who never turned his head to look at me. After I finished, he sucked in a breath, and replied “No.” Now I know you are confused, because I was confused too. I hadn’t asked him a question that required a “yes” or a “no,” so his response seemed out of left field. Then I realized: he was saying “No, you’re wrong.” After about three minutes of silence, the professor came back in front of the lecture and made space for people to share what they had talked about. After a few responses from (mostly white) people who were not quite on point, the professor shared with the class his thoughts. They were exactly what I had said.

Although I do not remember the exact content of what we were discussing as a class, I remember smiling to myself. I remember the moments before of feeling like my shine had been stolen, and being restored by confirmation from my white male professor.

Being a Black woman in Academia I find that with the booming market of Diversity, those seen as the “diversity” are coveted for their personal knowledge. We are expected to have a specific role at this University, and giving our interpretation of some reading by some white male philosopher is not one of them. Our personal knowledge, meaning our experiences and our feelings, just as long as those feelings are not geared towards any white student, professor, or colleague, are demanded both institutionally and individually. And while I wholeheartedly acknowledge this form of knowledge as valuable, the superficial way in which academia uses those individuals, demanding free emotional and intellectual labor, whilst simultaneously perpetuating white people’s entitlement and devaluing the labor put into “diversity work” from people of color, shows that “Diversity” is not about equity. Rather, it is about maintaining an educational curriculum geared towards white students, where students of color are not only expected to be students but also to give free therapy sessions and lectures on how to be “good allies”—responsibilities rarely put on white students.

I have learned time and time again my place at this university is as a racial tour guide: showing white and nonblack students and professors the hardships of institutionalized racism, greeted with violent emotional outbursts when I refuse, and met with accusations of wanting others to remain ignorant. It is MY fault that they don’t know because “at least they asked.”

Much like the story I shared above, I am also frequently denied the ability to think critically about subjects that are not race related. The lackluster “No” I received from that white student foreshadowed the way my college career would turn out: people would disagree on principle of my Black woman-ness. Even as I write this, I am thinking about the ways in which I don’t give evidence for every claim, in response to what some critique might say. Because I know that those who read this and understand have had experiences like this that have made them come to their own similar conclusions, I am going to share my knowledge and observations.

There are plenty times in my academic career thus far where I have critiqued a reading by a white author (especially as a Women’s Studies major) and I have had some person explain the reading over again to me.

Not only did I understand it, I understood it enough to engage in critical conversations about concepts, theories, and general ideas and their implications to our society. I tend to understand the readings, and apply and critique concepts in a real way. In a practical way.

I am highlighting this, not because I think it is novel, but because I feel as though there are many instances where someone takes it upon themselves to “teach” me or steer me in the right direction.

I write this piece to not only highlight my own experiences, but to share how practices in academia can limit the education of Black women. Instead of engaging in critical and thoughtful conversation, I am shut down and told “no.” Instead of being acknowledged as a valuable student in a course, I am forced to be the instructor and educator with no benefit other than learning how to navigate white people’s feelings; more broadly, I consistently learn how to navigate remaining inoffensive, as my Black woman body continues to be inherently offensive.

In my academic career I have been forced to reckon with what it means to not only possess the knowledge of and understand the theoretical inter-workings of racism (which is a set of knowledge that is constantly undervalued), but to also understand topics beyond race and identity and how they impact different social identities.

And as a result, not only do I have a deep understanding of courses and ideas here at the University, but I also have the ability to apply those ideas systemically and place theories into practice. It is through this revelation that I have been able to acknowledge my intelligence and worth.

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What the fuck can I do?

Have you become increasingly angry about injustices against minority groups in this country and on this campus? Do you want to help, but struggle with figuring out how to get involved? Then this quiz is for you!

Yes, as a preliminary step, I’m ordering more stickers right now.

I also acknowledge though that this is a “trendy” feminism that I will not allow to merely substitute real action and allyship.

start

Are you willing and able to commit time and energy to bringing awareness to a cause you care about?

Yes, I just cleared my schedule.

Would you want to display your dedication to certain issues by wearing clothing with intersectional phrases or covering your laptop with supportive stickers?

Do you feel comfortable organizing with others in public support of a cause?

Yes, let’s go!

It looks like you’re itching for a protest!

Check Facebook for events going on to see if anything is happening soon. Follow activist orgs on social media to see when they’re holding events. Take some time to consider your positionality when joining orgs, attending events, and expressing allyship.

If you are not directly affected by a cause, recognize your place as an ally and not an activist. Look on Maize Pages for hundreds of activist orgs where you can help plan public events and channel your frustrations into action. Here’s a few to get you started: Students4Justice, Students for Choice, LGBT Michigan, Progressives, and SAPAC.

That’s not really my thing.

I don’t think I’m there yet.

No need to fear. You can still get involved!

However, we encourage you to take some time and reflect what is holding you back from actively participating. For now, by boycotting companies that unethically or unfairly treat their workers, you can still positively affect change for a cause you care about. If you have the means to spend some money, or with the money you save from boycotting, support POC/LGBT/immigrant-owned businesses.

*Before you take this quiz, we want to acknowledge that taking action is complex and cannot be simplified to a few steps. This is meant to be a starting point, not a nuanced guide to activism. Above all: consider your positionality for all issues and show up.

I’m pretty swamped right now.

Do you read the news daily and try to educate yourself on different issues?

Of course!

Do you make sure that you are aware about intersectional issues, including race, gender, sexuality, etc.?

Duh.

Call your Senator! You are an informed citizen whose demand for change about a breadth of issues should be heard. Plus, this only takes a couple minutes out of your day to make a real change. Here’s the numbers for the two current Senators of Michigan: Gary Peters (202) 224-6221 and Debbie Stabenow (202) 224-4822. If you’re not from Michigan, a quick Google search will get you what you need, and get dialing!

I should probably turn on my CNN notifications…

I tend to focus on one set of issues over the other.

Time for an Intersectional Study SeshTM. Even if you don’t have a lot of free time, you can squeeze in some readings before bed or during lunch. In order to learn about different issues, you need to listen to different voices.

Pick up some Audre Lorde to learn the dangers about white feminism and narrowing your scope of equality for women. A staple read is I am Malala written by the youngest Nobel Prize laureate Malala Yousafzai, an integral figure in women’s education. Check out Roxane Gay’s Bad Feminist for a collection of witty and insightful essays discussing race, sexual violence, body image, and sexuality.

If you feel you’re lacking in knowledge on trans rights, look into reading a book by Jazz Jennings. These are just a couple examples, but make sure that you are getting a wellrounded sense of all issues.

φ N ticeably “

Words and actions meant to hurt someone based on their identity have no place at the University of Michigan and we condemn them,” President Mark Schlissel said in an email, sent in the wake of the yet another hateful act made against a minority group on campus. In this past year on campus there have been so many verbal, written, and physicals attacks that you can extend Schlissel’s response to something happening on any given Tuesday.

But it only gives me a morsel of satisfaction to know that our University’s President condemns blatant acts of racism—like writing shit on the rock about Latinx students and graffiting the n-word in West Quad and posting fliers supporting eugenics. Leaders and the best, right?

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While these attacks need to be brought to attention, they sadly only represent a sliver of the exclusion happening on campus. The extremist actions and words that get five minutes of fame take away from dissecting the systemic discrimination that a majority of students are perpetrating on an everyday basis. Being able to recognize a blatant racist, sexist, or homophobic remark doesn’t take a lot of skill or intelligence. But making an effort to educate yourself about the deeply-rooted barriers that are keeping people down, and how you may be upholding them, calls for a cognitive

WhitΣ

by Maya Reyes

responsibility. We are all capable of doing this work—sometimes it just requires discomfort in accepting your role in these institutional systems.

Within the past couple years, blatantly racist incidents involving Greek Life have made nationwide news. In 2015, Oklahoma University’s SAE fraternity was filmed singing a racist chant that included the n-word, referenced lynching, and implied the purposeful exclusion of black members. In March of this year, a noose was found in a University of Maryland fraternity. The University of Michigan has come under national attention for proposing a “Hood Ratchet” party and an Egyptian-themed party. In 2014, the University of Alabama’s Student Government voted against a resolution to integrate its all-white sororities after claims were made that the sororities were denying members based exclusively off race.

Incidents like these are parallel to the types of events on campus we receive emails about. The types of events that cause the flash sharing of articles and Facebook statuses condemning hatred. They are

easy to call out as morally wrong. They are easy to identify as racist, and they are generally ruled by the court of public opinion as unacceptable.

But newsworthy incidents like these cannot be the only times we talk about racism occurring on campus. We need to uncover the underlying systems that perpetuate racial exclusion.

Systems like Greek Life are not outwardly racist on a day-to-day basis (except in the examples above, in which, they clearly are outwardly racist).

It is hard to prove that there are rules, whether formal or informal, that exclude students of color or uphold white systems of power. But, these systems are upheld in institutional ways. Monetary demands from fraternities and sororities can reach roughly $1,500 per year. And yes, while there is financial aid, keeping up with expensive activities and the lifestyles of other students can be impossible for some students. Because of the expensive monetary requirements of Greek Life, it has become apparent that the system reinforces classism. Students in Greek Life occupy a powerful place on campus, holding keys of social mobility that exclude those with different financial backgrounds. As a blatant example of this: while I was rushing sororities, I was often asked which mall in New Jersey I shop at, alluding to the real question of whether or not I have enough money to shop at the exclusive designer mall.

Being that race and class are so intricately tied together in America, the Greek Life system allows for a plethora of white-dominated spaces.

On a larger scale, Greek Life reinforces white standards of beauty, is ignorant to the effects of education inequality, and turns a group of people into singular problematic identities. These are the factors to racism that are less discussed on this campus. Changing the way you think about the implications of white privilege is a hard thing to do. And it becomes even more difficult when you are surrounded by sixty other brothers or sisters that look like you, live in similar zip

codes, and share similar experiences of privilege.

The Interfraternity Council and Panhellenic Association are two of the largest student organizations on campus. I know that participating in Greek Life is not a precursor to perpetuating racial exclusion. The situations I describe are not the universal experience, but rather the average experience. And as these systems continue, we move farther away from achieving the equality this campus deserves. @Wolverineshub is an instagram meme account that pokes fun of the normalities we Michigan students face on campus. Over the summer, this account posted a picture of a Crest “Noticeably White” toothpaste with the title of “Greek Life at Umich.” At least I wasn’t the only struck at how homogenous Greek Life at Michigan is. I know that I’m not alone in thinking this.

Schlissel ends his email by saying, “We stand in firm belief that all members of our community have a place here at the University of Michigan.” I am happy to say that there are communities on campus that are breaking down barriers and striving to understand what is going on outside of their realm of comfort. But these groups sure as hell aren’t Greek Life.

Yet, when talking about progressing our campus and holding the University pillars to a higher standard, we can not turn a blind eye to the most influential student organization on campus.

Fraternities and sororities hold a great deal of weight on campus and have the ability to revolutionize the organizations they call home. I ask my peers in Greek Life to scrutinize your role and the spaces you occupy. Instead of strengthening the staunch economic, racial, gender, and religious divisions that exist, why not actually take a stand and speak out against exclusion? Instead of self-righteously cleaning your conscience because you voted for Clinton, dig a little deeper to make sure you aren’t the one being problematic. Instead of assuming you know why things are happening, take the time to listen to others, educate yourself, and challenge the status quo.

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Wilted at the roots

by Ana Maria Sanchez-Castillo

M

y Abuelita was a fan of Cumbia, native to the valley of Texas, She would hum the sounds that reminded her of home while using her long fingernails to flip her famous homemade tortillas, Spending her life doing this had made the skin on the tips of her fingers tough, resilient to the pain the heat would normally inflict on others.

I would watch in amazement.

In the early years of my life, she was the strongest thing to be known.

Lips painted smoothly in various hues of red, shaping words in a tone so gracefully confident, upon hitting oxygen, her opinions solidified into fact.

She was an embodiment of everything I knew to be woman but, As I grew, I watched her wrinkle.

The skin on her face began to sag and her spine concaving into her chest.

Slowly becoming delicate like the carnations, I would lie beside my mother’s grave.

Soon they would wither, as did she many times before her death.

As I watched many of the women in my family do as well Looking back on my formative years I see how my image of my Abuelita became tarnished along with her.

I developed awareness of the way she shrank into herself at the hands of countless abusive men.

Our culture had taught her that being women meant being anything they wanted her to be; beautiful, homely, and uneducated.

I think back to the way my mother may have lined her lips, then saturated them.

The same crimson that stained her teeth as she smiled, eyes dim, in family photos beside him.

Always beside him.

I think back to when her skin was tinted to various shades of blue and purple, Hand prints embedded onto her arms, dark like the bags that always surrounded her eyes.

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So I worked as hard as I could studying above screams, Studying above cries, above the pleas.

Because more than anything I feared them one day being mine.

Grasping at the slim gleams and prospects of an alternative narrative that did not result in a carnation on my headstone.

Or worse, the continuous death experienced by the ones that stood on Abuelita’s dinner table, the ones who crowded my home on Thanksgiving reminding me how much I looked of my mother.

They had no idea how badly I didn’t want that.

In a system where there is more conversation of women you know being abused, temporarily leaving their husbands only to return, Or dying at the hands of the men who claimed to love them, Than to hear of any of them attending a university, it is hard to imagine the latter will be your fate When you grow up never seeing anyone like yourself in positions of power, To make it to a place like The University of Michigan with prestige and valor dripping like gold from the name, A place that promises you, “here you can be best—a leader of tomorrow” Then soon coming to see that as an empty statement, Soon coming to see yourself as a means to fill a quota, You realize that the only position you occupy— historically—at this institution, in your home— is a means to an end.

It’s hard to form a solid understanding of your place on campus when yours has always been to not take up space.

Being latina on campus,

At a university that plasters faces similar to yours on posters, website, brochures—boasting the diversity you never see, A university that tells you you belong yet does little to reprimand those who slander your entire culture, And as you walk through campus and pass by “fuck latinos” painted boldly on the rock, you come to see that the environment created on campus was not necessarily created with you in mind.

These thoughts become set in stone along with the realization that little devotion towards an increase of representation will be made.

A university that tells you you belong while you find yourself to be the only brown face in section, A university that tells you you belong here, that you deserve success and high achievement yet professors, administration, those who dictate

rules about how your life will be conducted, seldom look like you, seldom female, seldom hispanic.

“You belong” It is insulting to be told this when the world has told me since I was born that I do not.

To say I belong here in a system that says otherwise—with continuous emails that diminish our cries and pleas with responses matched to those in my history books— It is insulting, it is dehumanizing, It is exhausting To have made it to a point where I finally felt my voice might be heard, to realize it falls on unlistening ears.

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Cover,

Illustration, pg. 24-25,

Anna Herscher

Illustration by Anna Herscher

List of Staff,

Illustration, pg. 26,

Illustrations by Anna Herscher

Illustration by Thomas Callahan

Bathroom Confessional,

Back Cover,

Illustration by Tyler Krantz

Illustration by Anna Herscher

Letter from the Editors, pg. 1, Illustration by Anna Herscher

Sh*t I’m afraid to ask My Doctor, pg. 2-3,

https://www.helpguide.org/articles/anxiety/anxiety-medication.htm https://www.healthline.com/health/anxiety-complications#overview1 https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/prevalence/any-anxiety-disorder-among-adults.shtml https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Rj3mxA_wZA Illustration by Miles Honey

Quote, pg. 4-5, Photo Illustration by Kate Johnson

Here to Stay, pg. 6-7, Illustration by Brooks Eisenbise

On Allyship, pg. 8-9, Illustration by Jasmine Sutton

A Diaspora Poem, pg.10, Illustration by Emily Cutting

Illustration, pg.11, Illustration by Adrianna Kusmierczyk

The Tour Guides Lied to Us, pg. 12-13, Illustration by Maggie McConnell

Voices from the Shadows, pg. 14-15, Illustration by Anna Herscher

What the Fuck Can I Do?, pg. 18-19, Infographic by Paige Wilson

Noticeably White, pg. 20-21, Illustration by Amanada Donovan

Wilted at the Roots, pg. 22-23, Illustrations Destiny Franks

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