S

he told me she was collecting little 
white pebbles. We sat on the green 
bench of our senior lawn and talked 

about blackness.

She asked me if I had ever 

had that feeling that I was 
missing out. That feeling 
that 
creeps 
up 
on 
you 

when you realize there is 
something else. Something 
more. 
Something 
bigger 

than you. Or outside of you. 
You know the feeling, like 
you are almost there, but 
not quite. Hovering under 
the threshold but needed 
someone to reach up from 
above and pull you through the ocean’s 
surface. She told me that’s what she needed. 
“I think that’s it,” she questioned. One 
 

more stroke.

Sometimes that shallow pond is more 

similar to swimming from the ocean’s base 
with a bag of bricks roped around your feet. 
Or maybe it’s just someone peeling open 
 

your eyes.

She asked that the feeling be lifted off of 

her chest. The boulder of darkness. Lift off. 
She told me it was just a white pebble. Perhaps 
jammed in the palm of her hand. Or caught 
beneath her fingernail. Or worst, caught in her 
ear. It seemed to me that it was lodged in her 
throat, or the tear duct of her eye. She told me 
it was nothing serious. Only white she said, 
not too dark, not too black. More translucent. 
It will pass.

She called me one evening. I was sitting by a 

friend’s fire pit. Her more-than-a-friend at the 
time sat there too. Wearing yellow, I danced 
with the fire.

My friend buzzed in my pocket. She asked 

me if I remembered her little white stone. The 
collection, she reminded me. Her little bag of 

white stones that she kept beneath her bed. The 
ones that strapped her to Earth’s floor.

“It seems we have a problem” she hushed 

over the phone. The little white stones, she 
had misplaced them. She thought she had 
tucked them away into a place where they 
would stay put. Where they couldn’t run too 
far. Or drag her down too hard. Wreak havoc. 
“I thought maybe I would pass them to my 
children one day, but it seems this may no 
longer be the case.” She hummed some more.

“The stones have been replaced. Would you 

come over and see what I found. It’s hard to 
explain,” she told me.

“Of course,” I said. I asked if I could tell 

her more-than-a-friend what had happened. 
She said he wasn’t a rock collector himself. 
He may not understand. Or maybe he just had 
too many to count.

I left the fire and arrived at her front 

door. Down the steps. Her younger sister 
watched television. The middle child painted. 
A mother and friend took tequila shots. 
Unaware of where their sister and daughter 
and friend was taking me. Glassy eyes globed 
in milk. Ignore them, she told me.

We descended down the staircase, past 

the rainbow cave and hookah pipes. Past the 
portraits of the four siblings, once jovial.

Peering 
into 
the 
mother’s 
room, 

where a new boyfriend stood, staring 
 

into nothingness.

The last photograph that normally hung on 

the wall was a picture of her “old” family with 
her father who had found another woman. 
The picture and frame had been removed.

We arrived at the bottom of the stairs. She 

told me her light switch was broken. The door 
was also jammed, but if you push really hard 
you may be able to peer in.

— Dani Vignos can be reached 

at dvignos@umich.edu.

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

 tothedaily@michigandaily.com

Edited and managed by students at 

the University of Michigan since 1890.

Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s editorial board. 

All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 — Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Little white pebbles

Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Ben Keller, Payton 
Luokkala, Aarica Marsh, Victoria Noble, Michael 

Paul, Allison Raeck, Melissa Scholke, Michael 

Schramm, Matthew Seligman, Linh Vu, 

Mary Kate Winn, Jenny Wang, Derek Wolfe

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

T

his semester, I was given the oppor-
tunity to write and direct my first 
short film. A narrative about men-

tal health, it’s to premiere 
along with other student 
films at the Michigan The-
ater in April.

This has been a passion 

project pent up in my head 
for so long, now one I can 
finally bring to life. As a 
creator, there is a certain 
responsibility to myself and 
to the narrative that bur-
dens me. In the past week, 
I have slept less than 24 
hours, tossing and turning 
in anxiety, planning late at night to ensure 
everything could be as perfect as possible. 
We just finished filming this past weekend; I 
feel like I just gave birth. Despite the stress, I 
have learned more about creative teamwork 
than I ever have on any other project.

“Creativity” and “artistry” have always 

been elusive concepts. How does one actually 
be creative? Are certain types of creativity 
more effective? To what extent can you label 
or self-identify as an artist? Quite paradoxi-
cally to its name, creativity can often be the 
most rigid.

I am the writer and director — which in 

many cases could have been synonymous with 
dictator. In many instances, I would typically 
want complete, unhindered, uncontested con-
trol. I have this immense connection to the 
work I toiled over for so long; it is a story that 
has deep meaning to me, a creative vision that I 
want to bring to life exactly as it is in my head. 
I wanted to insist more takes when the image 
didn’t adhere word for word to the script. How-
ever, in this exactness, creativity becomes more 
of a science than the art it should be.

Filmmaking is a process that requires cre-

ative decisions to come in the moment — and 

also with the input of a team. To me, creativ-
ity always seems like an individual pursuit. 
Creativity means being introspective, tap-
ping into deeper emotions and finding inner 
inspiration based on outside influence.

Quite the contrary, especially as a first-

time director, I needed the input of indi-
viduals with far more experience than I had. 
Filmmaking is not — and cannot be — a solo 
process. The insight of the director of photog-
raphy, producer, assistant director and other 
crew members are what enhance the vision. 
Since childhood, group work has always been 
the bane of every student, as it’s unlikely 
every group member will pull an equiva-
lent weight and also see eye to eye on every 
decision. On a film set, though, collaboration 
is not what makes the process a nuisance. 
Rather, it is an integral, vital part of the 
creative process. 

I could have never completed this project 

without a team that, albeit with a few artistic 
disagreements, was so dedicated to putting its 
best interests into this movie. Essentially, in 
the process of translating work onto a screen, 
creativity becomes about the relinquishment of 
control and the contribution of a team.

What I have struggled to learn is that cre-

ativity is not about perfection. Maybe I am 
just realizing this now, but it is a struggle 
many other creators have regularly as well. 
Now, I can only imagine how those in Holly-
wood could ever manage feature-length proj-
ects without the help of massive teams — it 
just wouldn’t be possible. It has been a diffi-
cult, incredibly stressful process putting my 
vision to life — but I am learning to relinquish 
control and trust others.

For now, I am incredibly grateful for this 

opportunity and so immensely proud. And 
that’s a wrap.

 
— Karen Hua can be reached 

at khua@umich.edu.

Defining ‘creative’

KAREN 
HUA

BEN KELLER | VIEWPOINT

Mike Mansfield’s birthday

Recently, 47 U.S. Senators sent 

a letter to the leaders of Iran 
in an effort to derail current 
negotiations with President Barack 
Obama. 
Forget 
party 
politics 

for a minute — this was an overt 
attempt by members of Congress 
to go behind the back of a sitting 
President while he was conducting 
foreign policy. This kind of action 
is 
unprecedented, 
and 
reflects 

the sorry state of affairs not just 
between Capitol Hill and the White 
House, but also between almost 
every branch and department of 
our federal government.

Yesterday, March 16, would have 

been the 112th birthday of Michael 
Joseph Mansfield. He held many 
titles throughout his life — Marine 
Corps private, member of the U.S. 
House of Representatives, majority 
leader of the Senate and U.S. 
ambassador to Japan, among others. 
He presided over the Senate’s 
functions for 17 consecutive years — 
something no other majority leader 
has surpassed. Mansfield was a 
soft-spoken, humble, generous and 
pragmatic giant of his time. It’s the 
way he conducted himself within 
our nation’s capital that should 
be remembered on March 16, in 
the face of so much congressional 
stagnation and petty politics.

A terrific biography written about 

Mansfield by Don Oberdorfer reveals 
the life of a man who spent much of 
his time trying to stay away from the 
limelight. Oberdorfer describes the 
Senator’s many accomplishments 
while he was a member of our 
nation’s Upper House — including 
the successful passage of the Civil 
Rights Act of 1964 and other Great 
Society programs, as well as a 
continuous objection to military 
escalation in Vietnam, advice that 
President Johnson unfortunately 
did not heed. Being a Democrat 

or a Republican was much more 
of a nominal title back then, and 
Mansfield consistently stayed above 
party politics and led, for the most 
part, a very apolitical career.

Legislative achievements aside, 

Mansfield may be most remembered 
for his remarkable persona. When 
President John F. Kennedy was 
assassinated in 1963, Jacqueline 
Kennedy, the president’s widow, 
asked that Mansfield give a eulogy 
while the president lay in state at 
the Capitol. There was a reason 
Mansfield led the Senate through 
five 
different 
presidencies 
and 

served as ambassador to Japan — 
a job that is typically reserved for 
political benefactors — even after 
Ronald Reagan took office from 
Jimmy Carter in 1981.

It could have been his humble 

beginnings: a boy from New York 
City raised in Montana by a distant 
aunt and uncle, only to run away at 
an early age and subsequently live 
in an orphanage for over a year. He 
worked as a coal miner without a 
high-school degree for almost a 
decade. His future wife, Maureen, 
convinced him to work his way 
toward a bachelor’s degree, and 
he went on to get his master’s and 
teach at the University of Montana.

A few years ago, James Grady 

wrote 
a 
wonderful 
piece 
on 

Mansfield in Politics Daily. In it, 
Grady recalls an episode in which 
Mansfield “Caught a Democratic 
colleague 
breaking 
a 
promise 

to a Republican, (so) Mike used 
the rules of the Senate to give 
the Republican his promised fair 
shot.” There was little pettiness 
in the Mansfield Senate, very 
small-scale 
bitterness 
and 

hostility among its members; Mike 
regularly reminded his colleagues 
to, as Grady puts it, “Act like they 
belonged to ‘the world’s greatest 

deliberative body.’ ” During the 
Watergate 
scandal, 
Mansfield 

made sure to make a non-partisan 
investigative committee to oversee 
the 
hearings, 
something 
that 

secured 
constitutional 
integrity 

throughout the process to remove 
a corrupt politician from the 
 

White House.

Mansfield once said, “When I’m 

gone, I want to be forgotten.” This 
kind of modesty, statesmanship and 
respect for everyone surrounding 
him makes Mansfield a politician of 
his own kind, from a different era. 
Today, seldom do you see a member 
of government deliberately try to 
avoid taking credit, solely focusing 
on bettering the people of the state 
of Montana and the country that he 
fought for and loved.

I wish I could truly express the 

excellence that embodied the life 
of Mansfield; however, I believe the 
best way to do that is to review his 
life, and realize that he was truly 
one of the greatest leaders to ever 
set foot in Washington, D.C.

He is now buried in Arlington 

National Cemetery, in the same 
simple gravestone that marks the 
thousands of soldiers lying with 
him, still keeping watch over our 
nation and its lawmakers.

I hope that those who work 

in our government, and those 
who aspire to one day be in our 
government, take notice of the 
lessons taught to us by Mansfield. 
The state of American politics is in 
fragile condition, constantly being 
tested by the extreme partisanship 
of our country’s leadership. Let us 
hope that the words and wisdom of 
Michael Mansfield can once again 
be realized, especially by the ones 
who walk in his footsteps.

Ben Keller is an LSA freshman 

and Editorial Board member. 

T 

rayvon Martin was killed 
during my first semester 
in college. I remember 

sitting in my civil 
rights 
history 

class, where our 
professor 
asked 

if any of us had 
heard the name. 
I knew the loose 
facts of the story, 
but it was still 
a 
little 
while 

before 
George 

Zimmerman 
became 
an 

anathema 
and 

hoodies a symbol of solidarity.

Three years later, I ran into that 

same professor at a small gather-
ing of students and faculty. I hadn’t 
seen him in some time, but the event 
was tragically fitting. Along with 
others, he had helped organize a 
space for us to watch the announce-
ment from Ferguson about Darren 
Wilson’s indictment.

After we listened to the decision, 

everyone sat quietly to observe 
a moment of silence for Michael 
Brown. The only sounds came from 
a woman in the front of the room, 
who was crying. As four and a half 
minutes passed, a professor asked 
if anyone had thoughts or reactions 
to share. Between tears, the crying 
woman asked, “When are our lives 
going to matter?”

During my time in college, it 

has often been hard to believe life 
is genuinely improving for Black 
Americans. Between the deaths of 
Trayvon Martin and Mike Brown, 
there have been countless Black 
people killed by police and vigi-
lantes: Renisha McBride, Jordan 
Davis, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice and 
more. The milestone of the nation’s 
first Black president has, in some 
ways, been overshadowed, and not 
just by the frequent destruction 
of innocent Black life. The Voting 
Rights Act has been gutted, state-
level bans on affirmative action 
have been upheld and it is likely 
that the Fair Housing Act is on the 
chopping block next.

And 
this 
is 
just 
the 
past 
 

three years.

It is very easy to look at American 

history — especially as it is pre-
sented in schools — and see a clear 
progression toward racial equality. 
The end of slavery was followed by 
the end of segregation, which led to 
expanded voting rights, which was 
followed by the nation’s first Black 
president, etc., etc. The improved 
state of Black Americans from 
chattel slavery to explicit protec-
tion in the Constitution is undeni-
able, but a deeper understanding 
of the history 
and 
structural 

flaws of educa-
tion, 
criminal 

justice, 
voting 

and other insti-
tutions 
muddy 

the waters.

Neighbor-

hoods 
and 

schools 
across 

the country are 
overwhelmingly 
segregated by race, with “Black” 
schools 
finding 
synonymy 
with 

“poor” or “violent” schools. Prisons, 
from local holding cells to federal 
penitentiaries to death row, are dis-
proportionately filled with Black and 
brown bodies. Inequity in the educa-
tion and criminal justice systems is 
nothing new when it comes to race 
in America, but these discrepancies 
are not necessarily stagnant. It could 
be argued that, if current trends con-
tinue, the average Black child born 
today will face worse discrimination 
than his or her parents.

Perhaps this gloomy outlook is a 

bit cynical, even fatalistic. But as a 
realist, I don’t find it unreasonable 
to fear that our generation may hit 
a brick wall when it comes to racial 
progress. I don’t say this to be a 
provocateur or a contrarian, but to 
reflect the urgency of crisis and the 
necessity for action.

At the very least, we must accept 

that a perpetually unequal soci-
ety is possible; in December 2013, 
however, the Black Student Union 
decided it would not be inevitable.

During a time when college stu-

dents are criticized for “slacktiv-
ism” and general political apathy, 
the BSU has been able to convert 
national media attention into con-
crete progress. A new multicultural 

center is on its way, and the Uni-
versity has been pushed harder for 
increased diversity than it has in 
years. Though many of the experi-
ences discussed through #BBUM 
reflected a campus unwelcoming 
to Black students, perhaps most 
importantly — though less con-
crete — there has been a noticeable 
change on campus when it comes to 
discussions of race.

Similarly, the killing of Michael 

Brown 
and 

attacks on pro-
testers in Fer-
guson 
should 

not purely be 
seen for their 
horrors. 
The 

day after pros-
ecutors 
chose 

not 
to 
indict 

Darren Wilson, 
hundreds of stu-
dents and com-

munity members gathered on the 
Diag for a vigil. After a few short 
speeches, local activists moved the 
gathering into a planned march. 
Leaving the Diag, more than 1,000 
people filled Ann Arbor’s streets, 
bringing downtown traffic to a 
halt. Massive anti-racism demon-
strations like these have broken 
out across the country, and paral-
lels with tipping points during the 
1950s and 1960s are hard to ignore.

During college, there has been 

no issue that I have studied or writ-
ten about more than racism. It’s a 
poetic note that my undergraduate 
years began with the senseless mur-
der of a Black 16-year-old and will 
conclude with the nation declaring 
“Black Lives Matter.” However, no 
matter the neat symmetry of my 
experiences, this isn’t poetry. This 
is the future of civil rights and civil 
liberties; this is the destiny of an 
entire people, both as a collective 
and as millions of individuals. This 
is a turning point.

In explaining why he came that 

day to a community dialogue on 
Ferguson, a Black graduate student 
fought back tears as he told us:

“This is my life on the line.”

 
— James Brennan can be reached 

at jmbthree@umich.edu.

Illuminate the darkness

JAMES 
BRENNAN

Perhaps this gloomy 

outlook is a bit cynical, 

even fatalistic.

DANI
VIGNOS

DO YOU EVER JUST WANT TO DISCUSS TAXATION? 
HOW ABOUT THE FREEDOM OF INFORMATION ACT?

Check out The Michigan Daily’s editorial board meetings. Every 

Monday and Wednesday at 6 p.m., the Daily’s opinion staff meets to 
discuss both University and national affairs and write editorials. E-mail 

opinioneditors@michigandaily.com to join in the debate. 

FOLLOW THE DAILY ON TWITTER

Keep up with columnists, read Daily editorials, view cartoons and join in the debate. 

Check out @michigandaily to get updates on Daily content throughout the day.

