Opinion
JENNIFER CALFAS
EDITOR IN CHIEF
AARICA MARSH
and DEREK WOLFE
EDITORIAL PAGE EDITORS
LEV FACHER
MANAGING EDITOR
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
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4A — Thursday, February 26, 2015
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EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
Children are like angels. Not
clean, not innocent, but genderless.
I’ve learned more information about
angels in my 12 years in Catholic
school than I care to account for. For
instance, did you know that the fifth
rank of angels controls the weather?
Me either, and I have my doubts. But
I digress.
Children, from my experience,
are born with little sense of gender
identity. I grew up with two little
brothers as my only playmates. How-
ever, there never seemed to be a gen-
der gap. No one was better or worse
because I liked fluffy purple sweaters
and they didn’t.
There’s no “right” or “wrong”
way to play when you are a child; at
least there wasn’t for me. I played
with my fair share of Rescue Heroes
and train tracks and Hot Wheels.
As we grow older, we’re told that
boys and girls are different. Going
to a Catholic school, I was condi-
tioned to look different and have
different tasks than my male coun-
terparts. Through my intersecting
identities as a woman and a Catho-
lic, I can reflect on specific gender
norms I learned growing up and
was expected to follow.
When I was five years old, I got
my first makeup set. The glorious
glitter lip gloss and bright blue eye
shadow entertained me for hours.
My brother Thomas, at the angelic
age of three, would willingly be my
model. After he was glamorized
with only the finest dollar-store
clip-on earrings money could buy,
I would throw a purple feather boa
around him and we would march
downstairs. My mother would laugh
and take pictures as he modeled and
twirled around.
This wasn’t girly. It wasn’t dis-
couraged, just like racing Barbie’s
purple Corvette alongside Thomas’
monster truck wasn’t “boyish.” We
were playing dress up, experiencing
a ritual that is deemed “normal” for
children. So why, once my brothers
graduated to the first grade, was my
dad scolding them for asking me to
paint their nails? Why was this sud-
denly not OK? My dad would call
them “girly” like it was an insult.
Suddenly, I lost my favorite play-
mates.
First grade began the uniforms.
Oh, the horror! For the next 12
years I would never stop hearing
“pull your skirt down,” “don’t sit
with your legs open” or “button up
that blouse.” Any obvious sign that I
had curves in my body was deemed
sinful. If you were a woman, you
better damn well be feminine,
but don’t show your ankles … we
wouldn’t want boys to actually
realize that you’re a teenage girl
or anything. Girls, of course, were
permitted to wear pants, but they
were unflattering, uncomfortable
and socially unacceptable. The sta-
tus quo was wearing a skirt, rather
a plaid kilt. The pressure to fit
into the “correct” gender category
was immense.
The curriculum included eight
semesters of theology, one of which
was morality. Every day there was
a new argument about Catholic
teachings. My teacher “proved”
that Jesus taught that women
shouldn’t be priests by picking only
male apostles. Unless you were the
Virgin Mary or striving to be her,
you were comparable to Eve and her
freaking apple. Each day brought a
new and equally crazy lesson. The
girls in the class would protest, and
often debate would ensue. But alas,
you can’t change what Moses wrote
in stone. Alas, girls can’t be priests
because, you know, Jesus said so. I
think this is when I realized that
there’s a serious mistreatment of
women in my religion. As much as
I identify as Catholic and have no
intention to change that, I recog-
nized that my peers have internal-
ized this inexplicable view that
women are subservient to men.
The worst was vocation day. I
remember dreading it weeks in
advance. The boys would go off
with the priests and tour whatever
seminary we were at. There was
a pool table, a bar, a TV and video
games. Here was your stereotypi-
cal man cave for these pious young
men. Who the hell wouldn’t want to
be a priest?
The girls would wait for the
nuns and sisters to come talk to us.
Now don’t get me wrong, they were
always the sweetest and most self-
less women I had met. They dedi-
cated their lives to the poor and
needy, and didn’t just pray, but were
actively working in the community.
However, they presented the veiled
life as boring and restrictive. They
were forced to wear modest cloth-
ing, covering anything that even
hinted at the notion that they had
breasts or hips. The sisters weren’t
allowed to drink, watch TV or, for
goodness sake, give sermons! They
couldn’t stand at the pulpit and
proclaim the Word — that would be
putting them in a position too pow-
erful for their fragile female minds
to handle. Nuns had to stay in their
place, and, honestly, their lives
seemed unimportant compared to
the men.
We play dress up as kids and
never truly grow out of it. So many
adults today put on their masks,
hiding their true identities, afraid
of the consequences the truth could
bring. We need to learn to restore
the cherubic innocence we had
when we were young, when gender
didn’t matter. If we could live in a
society where we could be our tru-
est selves, with the masks off, well
wouldn’t that just be Paradise?
Veronica Day is an LSA freshman.
Returning to Pardise
VERONICA DAY | VIEWPOINT
At the beginning of fall semester, all
freshmen were asked to attend Relationship
Remix, a workshop designed for first-year
students where the main goals were to discuss
how to lead healthy and happy relationships
in college, focusing particularly on sexual
assault. While there were things about it I
would have changed, it’s a very important
topic, and I commend the University for
making this a priority.
Only a few days ago, I got a message in
my inbox. The subject read: “Help improve
Relationship Remix by taking this short
survey!” Before I go further, I want to say it’s not
my intention to criticize the survey as a whole.
It’s commendable that there was a follow-up to
the workshop to allow for feedback. However,
I do want to point out something within the
survey that points to a larger society issue.
I began filling it out, ready to give feedback
as to what could make it better. The first few
questions I answered in a heartbeat, confident
in my answers. Then I got to questions 10
through 20 that asked me to “indicate my level
of agreement with this statement.” The first
few I answered quickly. Yes, I am confident
I “express my own needs and desires in
relationships”; yes I strongly agree I know
“what a healthy relationship looks like for me.”
But nine statements in, I paused, admittedly
horrified. The ninth statement read, “I
intentionally make choices that reduce the risk
I will experience sexual violence.”
This statement struck a deep chord.
Although it was part of a survey intended to
only take a short time and to be forgotten soon
after, the survey left a horrible taste in my
mouth and it echoes a problem faced across
the country. It perpetuates the idea that it’s the
survivors’ fault that they experience sexual
violence because of the choices that they make.
It isn’t clear enough, and it isn’t emphasized
enough in society that no decision that anyone
makes can implicate them in their own sexual
assault. Sexual assault is never the fault of the
victim, and by portraying it as such through
statements like these, we simply make the
problem of victim blaming worse. While it’s
true we may privately make choices, knowing
that they could put us in situations where
we increase the risk of sexual assault (which
is disheartening in and of itself), it should
never be in the public discourse that it is up
to potential victims to make choices to lower
their risks of experiencing sexual assault.
One of the largest problems we face when
it comes to sexual assault is how we handle it.
Recently, lawmakers proposed to arm students
on college campuses to combat sexual assault.
We need to reassess the discourse around
sexual assault. We need to focus our efforts
on preventing sexual violence. And for victims
of sexual assault, nations need to develop
and fund campaigns and organizations that
emphasize that survivors cannot and should
not be blamed.
We must change our systems in ways that
don’t allow for victim blaming, and instead
focus on prosecuting the perpetrators. We
cannot blame the victim any longer. It will
only isolate and create an environment where
victims are scared to speak out and get support.
Ending victim blaming starts with removing
statements like these from our University
surveys. This isn’t just a national issue
perpetrated by lawmakers and law enforcers;
this is an issue that must be addressed at local
levels such as the University.
Anna Polumbo-Levy is an LSA freshman.
Ending victim blaming
ANNA POLUMBO-LEVY | VIEWPOINT
V
irginity is often something we’re
ashamed of and want to get rid of,
or something we want to hold onto
until marriage so that we
maintain “purity.”
In the eyes of many peo-
ple, the first time one has sex
with another person is a sig-
nificant occasion. Everyone
has different notions as to
why it’s a big deal, but there’s
one thing I have found held
in common–after it happens,
the big deal is pretty much
over. The build-up is such a
big deal that the actual act is
almost inconsequential.
Originally this notion of “virginity” came
from the idea that once an unmarried woman
has intercourse with a
man, she is tainted with
sin and no longer pure
for her beloved husband.
She is ruined for mar-
riage if she has engaged
in intercourse before she
is wed.
These days, there’s often
a pressure to have sex for
the first time at a young age.
If you haven’t, you are con-
sidered inexperienced, and there’s an assump-
tion that you must be undesirable. Since ideas
of “purity” no longer have such a strong hold
in many communities, there should be no rea-
son that one hasn’t had sex by their late teens.
Even while writing this article I feel compelled
to make clear that I’m not writing this article
because I am a “virgin,” because I don’t want
you to get the wrong idea. I don’t want you to
think I’m undesirable or inexperienced.
Virginity is based around shame — either
shame that you still have it, or shame that you
“lost” it.
But what the heck even is virginity? Is
it simply when a penis enters a vagina? An
orgasm certainly isn’t in the definition, is it?
When do men who only have sex with men
“lose their virginity?” Do we re-define vir-
ginity as when a penis is stuck inside a hole?
Is it all about the penis entering an orifice? So
then when do women who only have sex with
women lose their virginity? When is “virgin-
ity” lost when no penis is involved? Does a
woman have to have something stuck inside
of her to “lose her virginity?”
Based on these basic concepts, it seems like
“virginity” is all about the penis.
Virginity is about shame, the male orgasm
and heterosexual sex.
This is a call for vocabulary change. Per-
haps we should say I had sex for the first
time rather than “I lost
my virginity.” Where did
you lose it? Should we go
find it?
Women, we should cel-
ebrate having orgasms for
the first time, rather than
the first time we have a
foreign object stuck in
our bodies. We should
celebrate sex rather than
ridding ourselves of vir-
ginity. We should celebrate the act of making
one another feel good rather than the concept
of who took what from whom. Having sex for
the first time can be treated as a less weighted
experience, while one’s first orgasm is the
real celebration. Let’s lose “virginity” as a
concept. No one should be labeled by his or
her experience levels, but rather by his or her
desire to love.
— Maris Harmon can be reached
at marhar@umich.edu.
Rejecting virginity
MARIS
HARMON
Virginity is about
shame, the male
orgasm and
heterosexual sex.
Energy policies protect health
TO THE DAILY:
A week and a half ago, the Michigan
Public Service Commission released a report
concerning the state’s progress of Public
Act 295, issued in 2008. This Act requires
that by the end of 2015, the state’s electric
providers get 10 percent of their energy from
renewable sources. According to the report,
Michigan’s renewable energy output is at 8.1
percent, and MPSC seems very optimistic
that the goal of 10 percent will be met by the
end of this year.
But, we shouldn’t stop there. The act
terminates at the end of this year, and
rather than abandoning the efforts already
in place, we should build off of the growing
momentum. By increasing Michigan’s use of
renewable energy, an incredible amount of
health benefits could follow in its wake. As
of now, Michigan ranks fifth in the nation in
premature deaths, hospital admissions and
heart attacks attributed to coal-fired power
plant pollution. We can, and must, do better
than this.
By demanding cleaner energy and tapping
into Michigan’s solar and wind power
potential, we will reduce these pollutant-
induced diseases. Energy policy, after all,
can protect our health.
Meghan Laarman
LSA sophomore
Send letterS to: tothedaily@michigandaily.com
LETTER TO THE EDITOR
B
efore I begin, I just want to
say that one of the things
I value as a columnist for
The
Michigan
Daily is that I can
explore a wide
variety of topics
and speak frankly
and
honestly
through my own
experiences. I’ve
written columns
about
language
barriers, racism,
femininity,
religious
minorities, among others, and I
appreciate that The Michigan Daily
allows me to do so. For this reason,
I, too, really cherish the idea of
having other people write from
their own unique perspectives.
I read a recent column titled
“Relative Wealth,” and there were
parts of it that I found illuminat-
ing and fascinating — the cultural
differences between the Bay Area
and Ann Arbor, for example. Like-
wise, I sympathized with Klein’s
sense that her views on money dif-
fer from other Michigan students.
However, I also want to bring in my
own perspectives — the part that
differs from Klein’s. I am among
the minority whose family does not
earn $100,000 or more a year. I am
also an Ann Arbor native.
Before she got laid off, my mother
was earning about $30,000 a year.
She is currently making an incon-
sistent $900 a month, without ben-
efits. I’m not saying this to incite
pity, but to give a sense of where
exactly I’m coming from. I consider
myself extremely lucky, not only
because I am attending this school,
but also because I have been able
to receive financial aid and schol-
arships to be here. Without this
kind of money, I would not have the
option of living close to campus (as
opposed to commuting from home
via bus). I would not have the option
of taking the kind of classes I want
to take. And I would not have the
option of considering a computer
science double major (not surpris-
ingly, the tuition for an LSA com-
puter science major is that of the
Engineering school, about $1,500
more per semester than any other
LSA major).
And that, I think, is my main
point: how money gives people
options. It sounds like such a cliché,
but the thing to remember is that
clichés originate from an experi-
ence that is true, regardless of how
many times they are uttered.
Even if there are cultural dif-
ferences between spending habits
in California and Michigan, what
remains true is that the wealthy
in each state still have the option
of buying whatever it is they want.
Yes, it’s fascinating that people in
California would much rather trav-
el or collect experiences than buy
clothes, but it
seems to me that
these
Califor-
nians still have
the
option
of
buying
expen-
sive clothes if
they
wanted.
And for town-
ies,
it
might
be
true
that
we care more
about
fashion,
but what remains valid is that the
wealthy among us can still book a
plane ticket to Europe whenever
they want. Both options are still
readily there.
I think it’s important to keep
in mind that there’s a difference
between having a family who needs
to save some money here and there
to afford an out-of-state school, and
having a family who knows that
the out-of-state institutions are not
even up for consideration. I think
it’s important to consider the dif-
ferences between paying for a pric-
ey drink and not having the money
to even buy drinks in the first place
because most of that spending
money is going towards necessi-
ties. These, in my opinion, are the
kinds of comparisons we should be
looking at more closely, the kinds of
comparisons that we should work
to eliminate in our society.
Until I wrote this piece, I have
very purposefully steered clear of
discussing my low socioeconom-
ic status. I have, since coming to
Michigan, come to embrace my sta-
tus as a woman, as a person of color,
etc. But I have never felt that I could
fit in with my peers because of my
SES. It’s a part of me that makes
me feel, in a strange way, ashamed.
I will not forget the day my moth-
er opened the mail and found an
anonymous check of $200 to help
us pay for the bills; she broke down
in front of me in shame, and I felt
completely worthless because there
was
nothing
else we could
do — we had no
other option of
paying for our
utilities than to
accept this gen-
erous donation.
So given that
students
like
me don’t feel we
have a proper
place
in
this
school, the most important thing
we can do is help each other find
a way we belong. We want to find
each other; we want to reach out to
each other; we want to know that
our presence here is not a burden.
While I still appreciate the new
perspective “Relative Wealth” pro-
vided, I think some of what it did to
students like me is remind us of just
how little we relatively have, of just
how few of us there might be.
— Jenny Wang can be reached
at wjenny@umich.edu.
A response to “Relative wealth”
JENNY
WANG
That, I think, is my
main point: how
money gives people
options.