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, April 14, 2015

Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Ben Keller, Payton 

Luokkala, Aarica Marsh, Victoria Noble, Michael Paul, 
Anna Polumbo-Levy, Allison Raeck, Melissa Scholke, 

Michael Schramm, Matthew Seligman, Linh Vu, 

Mary Kate Winn, Jenny Wang, Derek Wolfe

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

A

ttending the Boston Mara-
thon has been an annual 
tradition ever since my par-

ents 
emigrated 

from 
China 
to 

Massachusetts. 
They only knew 
fragmented Eng-
lish 
then, 
but 

they waved from 
Copley Square as 
the 
international 

parade raced by.

So, as a Bos-

tonian born and 
raised, I grew up 
with Marathon Mondays. Almost 
exactly two years ago, on April 15 
of my senior year of high school, my 
dad took me into the city as per tra-
dition. We bought 7-Eleven Slurpees 
and street-vendor hot dogs at Ken-
more Square, then we made it down 
Boylston Street, where we bumped 
into friends — some volunteering 
near the finish line; some cheering 
competing family members on; oth-
ers like me, just spectating. It was 
about 2 p.m. when we decided to head 
out early to move our car before traf-
fic got wicked bad. About 49 minutes 
later, we were on the highway home 
when two bombs went off at the very 
spots we just stood.

We all returned to school the 

next week struck by events that 
still seemed surreal. Our peers 
who stood at the finish line were 
still recovering from psychologi-
cal trauma. Our middle school 
principal’s family was in critical 
condition at Mass General. There 
are others that were hit closer 
than most of us. Dzhokhar Tsar-
naev, at just 19 years old, tore apart 
our city, killing three and injuring 
 

countless others.

This past Wednesday, the fed-

eral court unsurprisingly convicted 
Tsarnaev on all 30 counts for his 
involvement in the Boston bomb-
ings. On April 21, the same seven-
woman, five-man jury team must 
unanimously decide whether to 
sentence Tsarnaev to death. They 
 

absolutely shouldn’t.

Last week, the Boston Globe 

released its editorial stance against 

a death sentence for Tsarnaev. Mas-
sachusetts Senator Elizabeth War-
ren also declared opposition to 
execution in a CBS news interview. 
Capital punishment has been abol-
ished for almost 60 years in the state 
of Massachusetts, but many Boston 
politicians, including current Mas-
sachusetts Gov. Charlie Baker, sup-
port the death penalty in Tsarnaev’s 
case of terrorism.

Regardless of these varied views 

on the case, the primary goal of the 
government is to protect the safety 
and well-being of its citizens. Ulti-
mately, imprisoning harmful trans-
gressors achieves this purpose just 
as sufficiently. Even mass bombers 
like Tsarnaev cease to be physical 
threats when locked up for life. For 
a country that 
has been hurt 
time and again 
by 
terrorist 

actions, we will 
not 
ameliorate 

any tensions by 
using the same 
violence for ven-
geance. 
Adopt-

ing 
the 
same 

hateful terrorist 
mentality is a 
hypocritical — not an ethical — way 
to conduct a country’s legal system. 
Murder will never be moral — out 
of terrorism or out of revenge — by 
bomb or by lethal injection.

One year ago, when the massacre 

was especially fresh, a Boston Globe 
poll found approximately 29 percent 
of Boston voted against the death 
penalty for Tsarnaev and 62 percent 
voted in support of it. Months later, 
with some time from the immedia-
cy of the event, Boston’s NPR news 
station, WBUR, polled 49 percent 
against capital punishment for Tsar-
naev and 38 percent for it — a notable 
reduction in capital punishment sup-
port. Likewise, we cannot decide 
rashly from the heat of our anger 
and passion, as Tsarnaev did two 
years ago on this very day. We must 
allow our rationality to override our 
impulses to handle this case with 
careful contemplation.

I am now 19, just as Tsarnaev was 

that day. I reflect back on all the 
hasty, careless decisions I made two 
years ago — even two days ago. I like 
to call myself an adult, capable of tak-
ing responsibility for my actions and 
my wrongs, but sometimes I am too 
immature to do just that. This is not 
to allow Tsarnaev’s youthful igno-
rance to serve as a safety net; without 
parole in prison, he will never receive 
any second chances. However, the 
solution for incorrigible young indi-
viduals is not to annihilate them 
from existence, but rather, to teach 
them a hard lesson.

At the time, Tsarnaev was more of 

a teenage boy than any sort of man. 
We must teach him what he may not 
have learned in his own childhood: 
two wrongs don’t make a right. A 

lifetime in pris-
on should be an 
opportunity for 
him to regret 
his actions and 
emotionally 
realize the dam-
age he imparted. 
A life sentence 
is not “sparing” 
him out of sym-
pathy — it’s a 
sentence instead 

of a quick end to societal shame 
and disgrace. More importantly, 
it’s to remind us of how we banded 
together as a community to find 
and convict him — then, how we 
had the morality not to perpetuate 
 

his wrongs.

A part of me is angry. I want him 

in prison so he can fester in regret 
and self-pity for the rest of his exis-
tence. But, the other part of me wants 
him to have, wishes him to have, the 
opportunity to repent later in his life 
when he can fully realize his terribly 
hurtful ways. I am a Bostonian speak-
ing: He hurt my city and my commu-
nity, but that does not make it right 
to execute him as a result. Just five 
days before this year’s marathon, we 
must remember that life in prison is 
not a mitigation of punishment — it’s 
 

just morality.

— Karen Hua can be reached 

at khua@umich.edu.

No boys allowed

“Boston Strong” does not mean death

KAREN 
HUA

I am a senior here at the University, and 

next year I’ll be attending graduate school 
here as well. Today I am going to tell you a 
little bit about my experience as a working-
class, work-study student.

Over the last four years, I have held a 

few different jobs, including working at the 
campus dining halls, daycare and babysitting 
services, Briarwood Mall in retail, McDonalds 
and Coldstone. I am currently an employee at 
University Health Services, making $9.75 an 
hour as an assistant in human resources.

I didn’t continue in my previous positions 

for various reasons, but they all had a few 
things in common:

None of my former employers offered me 

any kind of health insurance. My schedule 
was not consistent.

There was little to no opportunity for career 

advancement. No one paid over $10 per hour. 
There were always unresolved issues between 
employees and management. There was no 
sympathy for life as a student. None of these are 
jobs that look really exceptional on my resume.

But 
without 
experience, 
extra 
time 

or connections, it isn’t easy to find an 
opportunity that doesn’t fall under this 
umbrella of occupations.

Being a first-generation student from a 

low-income family, it’s a necessity that I work 
while going through school. I don’t have the 
option to do only one. But the rigor of our 
academics and the commitment needed to 
advance in the workplace are constantly 
working against each other in my life. Even 
now, I only work 15 hours a week, 20 on a 
good week — this in combination with my 
school schedule, and homework is very tiring. 
Especially now, when I’m trying to prepare 
myself for graduation and graduate school.

For the most part, my income alone has not 

been sufficient in meeting my basic needs. 
I have made up for the difference in loans 
from the University and favors from family 
members who cannot really afford to help 
me. I have tried my best to cut all financial 
corners over the years, (I’ve never had a car, 
I have lived in Ypsilanti since sophomore year 
for cheaper rent, had food stamps and state 
health insurance at one point, and lived with 
roommates), but all of these solutions were 
short-term, and ultimately the problem lies in 
the lack of support I am receiving from my job.

Though the University has been helpful 

in providing what resources it can, its help 
mostly consists of loans, which will benefit 
them more in the long-term than me. Raising 
the minimum wage to $15 an hour would 
allow me more time to focus on my studies 
while still receiving a sufficient income. It 
would also save me somewhat from drowning 
myself in more student loan debt later.

A current issue I am facing as a work-study 

student is requesting a higher pay grade once 
I begin graduate school. Even though I’ll have 
a degree from one of the best institutions in 
the country, my pay will increase by just 25 
to 75 cents from the $9.75 I am making right 

now. How can the University expect other 
businesses to pay and treat us properly when 
they don’t always follow suit?

I have worked at my job for two years, 

going into my third, and with my family’s 
income and my position as a full-time 
graduate student, I think I should be paid at 
least $14. There are other graduate students 
on this campus who make that amount, if 
not more. The University needs to take a 
greater responsibility for making wages for 
student workers more consistent. Getting 
paid a higher wage is something I think about 
often, but with the University monopolizing 
my time, I feel silly applying for jobs that can 
give me the support I need. I need health 
insurance, or at least sick days. I need a 
higher wage. But I also need a professional 
community that understands my position as 
a student, and how big of an accomplishment 
school is for me and my family.

I know my story is unique, but there are 

many other first-generation, low-income, 
over-worked and underpaid students on our 
campus. Seek them out and listen to their 
stories because they matter. This problem is a 
real one. And it’s also something I didn’t think 
I could complain about until involving myself 
with the U of M Fight for $15 campaign.

As students, we have to remember that 

this is our campus. We put all of our time and 
energy into the University. Some of us spend 
literally everything, and I mean everything, 
that we have to be here and even promise to 
pay back loans we may never have the income 
to afford. That’s a scary reality, but we also 
have the power to change the structures that 
determine how we live. It’s going to take 
mobilizing students like myself, and more 
resourceful students who can empathize 
with us, to get the ball rolling.

This issue is important because no student 

should have to choose between supporting 
themselves right now and preparing to 
support themselves long-term. That in itself 
is contradictory. Though this may not be 
a problem the average Michigan student 
faces (because most have financial support), 
it’s a problem across college campuses 
and for workers everywhere. Starting an 
undergraduate workers’ association and 
raising the minimum wage for all University 
employees, both directly employed and 
subcontracted through University Unions 
and Catering, is the first step in the fight for a 
living wage in Washtenaw County and across 
the state. We could be innovators in creating a 
space where student workers have a voice and 
are initiators of the next big labor movement.

Join us on Wednesday, April 15, at noon in 

front of South Quad for a rally on campus and 
at 3:45 p.m. at the Cube to support Detroit 
fast-food workers in their fight for a living 
wage and the right to unionize. For more 
information and to get involved, please visit 
our Facebook page.

Kalyn Sanderfer is an LSA senior.

KALYN SANDERFER | VIEWPOINT

The fight for $15

I

n college, I have heard many 
stories like the Daily’s investiga-
tional article last week into the 

University’s poli-
cies for respond-
ing to reports of 
sexual 
assault. 

These stories are 
usually 
framed 

as tales of “crazy 
parties” 
leading 

to all manner of 
wild, often public, 
sexual escapades 
that 
men 
laud 

each 
other 
for. 

The issue of women (or men) actually 
wanting to partake is never brought 
up, the word “consent” being little 
more than a presumption.

I have heard these stories, and I 

have felt equal levels of confusion 
and disgust. I can’t explain why men 
rape women, as much as I wish I 
could. I also can’t explain why people 
in these stories I have heard wanted 
to partake in loveless, public acts of 
(presumably) consensual sex. But as 
I have sat and heard these kinds of 
wild party stories, my confusion and 
disgust has been tinged with a dull 
ache of jealousy.

As much as it makes me ashamed 

to admit it, that jealousy is some-
thing I might be able to explain.

***

I was a boy once, a boy who had 

few friends and many gnawing inse-
curities. I wasn’t athletic, being that 
dreaded last-picked kid when we 
made teams. For similar reasons, I 
knew that girls were not interested 
in me, and I grew to hate my body 
and the way I looked. I had good 
parents, but my father was emotion-
ally distant while my mother’s feel-
ings swung between intense love and 
intense spite. My sister was the epit-
ome of perfection I could never be, 
and while I loved her dearly, I knew 
that anything I did was immediately 
compared to the absurd precedent 
that she set.

I spent a lot of my time alone; 

drawing, reading, daydreaming, con-
templating. I would imagine what 
it would be like to one day have all 
these things I was lacking, to be 
popular among boys and sought after 
by girls. But these were only dreams, 
and the continued difficulty of reality 
led me to be deeply depressed. Over 
time, my depression spilled over into 

bitterness and, at times, uncontrol-
lable rage.

As I got older, the concept of 

being a man was largely shaped by 
these emotions. Some of the feel-
ings I experienced translated into 
important pieces of my personality, 
especially empathy and sympathy 
for the pain of others. Some of these 
feelings have only led to more pain. 
As Ta-Nehisi Coates wrote: “Part 
of any adult’s maturation must be 
keeping the idiot in them under 
wraps. But I can’t kill the boy. Nor 
should I … The boy reinforces the 
man. But he needs guardrails.”

My guardrails have taken time to 

build, and on plenty of occasions over 
the last four years, they have melted 
away completely. The boy comes 
out, seeing the world in black and 
white, following his most extreme 
feelings into the abyss. He wants to 
impress people, he wants everyone 
to like him and he wants women to 
 

want him.

The man in me knows that out-

posturing men and sleeping with 
women will not fill the craters in my 
heart. The man in me also knows 
that these craters, even the ones cre-
ated by my father’s early death, do 
not have to define 
me. But the boy 
is blinded by his 
fear, his depres-
sion and his anger.

My guardrails 

are much firmer 
than they once 
were, but they are 
still finding their 
place. I have made 
terrible mistakes 
while I’ve been in college. I have 
hurt myself and others around me, 
and I often don’t know why. Many 
of the worst mistakes I have made 
revolved around a woman, and 
nearly all of them occurred while 
I was drunk. But these mistakes 
have trailed off precipitously in the 
last two years, a time when I chose 
to leave my fraternity and greatly 
reduced how much I drink.

This, 
I 
suspect, 
is 
not 
 

a coincidence.

Alcohol and Greek life are not 

to blame for the many mistakes I 
made while in college, but their role 
in uncaging my inner demons is 
unmistakable. Being drunk knocks 
down 
many 
different 
personal 

boundaries for different people, as 
does being in a superficial, overly 
masculine environment. But for 
me, they tear away at the reason-
able, empathetic man I aspire to be, 
replacing him with an amoral boy 
trying to out-gun everyone else. 
I’m proud of myself for recogniz-
ing this, and for increasingly trans-
lating my awareness into avoiding 
binge drinking and checking myself 
when I start seeing women as tools 
to improve my self-esteem.

In the stories that I have so often 

heard, from the wild sex at par-
ties to the most brutal rapes and 
assaults, the assaulters are often 
associated with some hyper-mas-
culine group, be it the military, 
the football team or a fraternity. 
In these stories, alcohol has almost 
always been present, as well, usu-
ally in the body of the assaulter.

This, too, I suspect, is not 
 

a coincidence

***

My path to manhood has been a 

difficult one, to say the least. The cul-
ture of this campus, especially when 
it comes to sports, Greek life and 
other male-dominated institutions, 
was not going to smooth my transi-

tion, but steer 
it into a black 
hole 
instead. 

The 
behavior 

encouraged by 
our culture of 
hyper-mascu-
linity and binge 
drinking 
does 

not limit itself 
to males.

Far too many 

of my female friends have been raped, 
sexually assaulted or beaten — not by 
men, but by boys. Boys who want to 
prove something or fill some alcohol-
soaked gap in their soul. Boys like me 
who have gone one step further.

To quote Ta-Nehisi Coates again: 

“After the boy has his moment, the 
man must take the weight.”

While these words have guided 

much of the way I see my transition 
to manhood, a sort of trial by fire 
where I learn from my mistakes, I 
feel it needs to be altered.

For too often, it is not the man who 

takes the weight, but the woman.

— James “Trip” Brennan can be 

reached at jmbthree@umich.edu.

TRIP 
BRENNAN 

For too often, it is 
not the man who 
takes the weight, 
but the woman.

We must remember 
that life in prison is 

not a mitigation 
of punishment. 

 

— Former U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton announcing her candidacy for 

the 2016 Democratic presidential nomination in a video Sunday afternoon.
“

NOTABLE QUOTABLE

Everday Americans need a 
champion. And I want to be 

that champion.”

