Opinion
JENNIFER CALFAS
EDITOR IN CHIEF
AARICA MARSH
and DEREK WOLFE
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4A — Thursday, September 17, 2015
I
f you are anything like me,
you have grown emotionally
attached to your planner and
have anxiety at
the thought of
losing it.
At the begin-
ning
of
each
semester, I devel-
op the urge to
buy sticky notes,
colored
pens,
a
whiteboard,
whiteboard
markers,
wood
pencils,
colored
pencils, mechan-
ical pencils, those fancy pencils with
the roll-up erasers, and so many fold-
ers, notebooks and binders that it
looks like I bought the entire “back to
school” aisle at Staples. Needless to
say, the beginning of any school year
is a scary time, but before you decide
to drop all of your classes and join the
circus — come on, we’ve all thought
about it — just hear me out.
Each year, along with all of my
new school supplies, I seem to
develop a renewed sense of ambi-
tion. Classes aren’t hard yet, and
even though I can tell some of them
(shout out Chem 351) are going to
be more than a handful, I somehow
have a “bring it on!” attitude. Each
semester, I feel ready to take on the
world, but like clockwork, after the
first set of midterms rolls around, I
find myself halfway through a pint
of Ben & Jerry’s, asking, “What did
I get myself into?”
Last semester, I decided to address
this problem head-on. If I had so
much motivation at the beginning of
the semester, how could I maintain
that mindset throughout the year?
In Public Health 300 last winter (a
class that I highly recommend), Dr.
Vic Strecher talked about goal set-
ting theory. The theory points out
that specific goals, in combination
with feedback, lead to higher perfor-
mances than does having no goals or
vague goals.
Though goal-setting may sound
cliché, I realized that goals have
a tendency to manifest in every
aspect of my life, whether I make
the conscious effort or not. Begin-
ning in freshman health class in
high school, we talked about setting
goals at the most basic level. Before
that, I was setting goals in gymnas-
tics and working on them not just
physically, but also visually. Today,
on the wall at my gym, there are
dozens of names under which peo-
ple write, rewrite and eventually
check off their personal goals. For
me, goal setting has always been
an important part of my athletic
life, but I have realized that it can
be extended outside to all realms of
personal health; maintaining aca-
demic sanity, for one.
Enter: colored sharpies.
Since putting all of this together,
which seems more like common
sense after writing it down, I have
taken advantage of my extensive col-
lection of ink, chalk and whiteboard
markers, and written down the dif-
ferent goals I have right now. The
process of writing these goals was
much more difficult than I expected,
which is why I want to break down a
few specifics:
1. Know your values: Before
being able to write any sort of goal,
it’s important to zero in on your per-
sonal values, and make sure that any
goal you write is in support of and
enhances those values.
2. Start in the future: Think
about where you want to end up in 10
years first. There will only be a few
goals, but that’s a good thing; no one
should have their entire life planned
during their junior year in college.
After you have your 10-year goals,
move back to five years, then one
year and then six months. You’ll start
to see what you can do now to actu-
ally attain those goals that seem so
far away. Short-term goals are a great
way to reach those in the long-term.
3. SMART (or something like
that): The concept of SMART goals
(Specific, Measureable, Attainable,
Realistic and Time-bound) has been
hammered into my mind since my
high-school health class. I would
add to this only the letter “C” for
challenging (sorry if that screws up
the acronym). In Strecher’s class
last semester, we learned individu-
als committed to a goal would per-
form better when the goal difficulty
is high. Still, it’s important to know
yourself and set goals accordingly
(see “R” above).
4. Write ‘em where you can see
‘em: This is a point that I cannot
stress enough. Writing goals down
and putting them somewhere you
can see them reminds you every day
what you’re working toward. Those
ridiculously colorful words on my
wall could mean the difference
between success and ending up back
with Ben & Jerry.
5. Don’t be afraid of change: Life
is stressful, complicated and unpre-
dictable. Roll with it! Staples sells
erasers too! Goals are important only
so long as you take a step back every
once in a while to assess your prog-
ress, acknowledge what is going well
or poorly and make modifications.
Right now I’m thinking about how
difficult this year is going to be. For
me it’s one of those times when I ask
myself how I’m going to do it all. The
classes, research, volunteering and
clubs … it can definitely get to be a bit
much. I set my goals to remind me
what I’m working toward, one day at
a time.
How well will it go? I’ll keep you
posted.
— Grace Carey can be reached
at gecarey@umich.edu.
How to avoid Ben & Jerry
Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Ben Keller, Payton Luokkala, Aarica Marsh,
Victoria Noble, Michael Paul, Anna Polumbo-Levy, Allison Raeck, Melissa Scholke,
Michael Schramm, Mary Kate Winn, Jenny Wang, Derek Wolfe
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
ALISON
SCHALOP
An exercise in critical thinking
I
t’s already the second week of
school, so there’s a good chance
that some big questions and
hard facts have already been raised
and put on the
table for discus-
sion in courses,
such as interna-
tional
tensions,
systemic societal
prejudices
and
why we bother
to
differentiate
between stalac-
tites and stalag-
mites.
Facing
these problems,
discussing them
rationally with evidence and logic,
and taking the next steps once you
have a more complete understanding
of these complex issues takes prac-
tice and an open mind. Even those
with an experience in conflict reso-
lution and diplomacy can struggle
with this process, so I would like
to walk us through an example as a
start-of-the-school-year refresher.
To start us off, here is an alarming
statistic that I just made up: Nearly
90 percent of the pockets on pants
marketed toward women have suf-
fered from malnourishment to the
point of near-extinction. They’re one
of the fastest-climbing groups on the
endangered list, right after the black
rhino and the use of cursive. Out of
all my pairs of jeans, there isn’t a
single pair that I can fit my entire
hand into, and I have average-sized
hands; I’m sure individuals with
well-endowed hands suffer even
worse. Some of my pants even have
fake pockets.
In light of these serious facts, let
me propose a conspiracy theory: the
systematic extinction of pockets on
pants marketed towards women is
actually a ploy by Big Fashion to sell
more purses.
It makes sense, doesn’t it? (This
is
where
the
openmindedness
comes in.)
Less holding space needs to be
made up for somehow, and if pur-
chasing more is our only option,
we’re going to do it. My needs are
no different than those who wear
pants from the men’s section; I need
to have my phone, keys, various
candies, various candles, umbrel-
la, assortment of woodworking
tools and wallet on my person at
all times, which is impossible with
the coin-purse sized pockets on my
jeans. Instead, we are expected to
invest in extra accessories to make
up for the value-sized features pro-
vided to us.
In this discourse like any other
socratic seminar, others may bring
up counterpoints or new facets to
the issue, and listening is key. For
instance, some may say that this
problem is actually indicative of
what has been called the “Woman
Tax” or the “Pink Tax,” which
alludes to the price gouging that the
products marketed towards women
go through; a razor put in the men’s
section might be much cheaper than
the same one in pink in the women’s
section. Some might say that the only
reason we as a society put up with
this so-called tax is to adhere to lim-
iting gender norms. Another point
to bring up in this discussion is that
the small pockets might actually be
to encourage a slimmer fit to pants,
which plays into the objectification
and sexualization that women’s bod-
ies are subjected to in our culture.
However, I said my idea first and
loudest, so all of these people that
may say these other things are either
wrong or don’t matter, and I win.
Thus, step one is complete: estab-
lishing the facts and some back-
ground for further context to this
ongoing
injustice.
Now,
what’s
important to remember about the
issues that we discuss in classes and
face as a society is that debate and
understanding is only one step. Pro-
posing well-thought-out solutions
and eventually implementing them
is truly the end goal.
In this case, I have a variety of
solutions, all set to go. For instance,
we can all just stop wearing pants. If
we boycott the companies that force
small pockets upon us and perhaps
mix in a letter-writing campaign,
then they’ll have to give into our
demands. Similarly, we could per-
haps all buy pants from whatever
section we want, gendered or not,
but giving them our business regard-
less of their pocket size decisions
would only encourage more tom-
foolery. Another idea would be to
get rid of phones, keys, wallets, etc.,
and move our society towards more
of a commune model in which there
is no currency or individual housing.
We wouldn’t need pockets nearly as
much then, but the drawback here is
that it might take more than a week,
and we don’t have that kind of time
to spare. Instead, I propose what is
easily the best option of the bunch,
which is to take down Big Fashion
with an agent on the inside. They
would never see it coming.
At this point, one or many of these
solutions would be championed by
the masses, brought to the attention
of the media and the world at large,
and it would be fixed within days,
thus ending this cycle of critical
thinking and discourse. I’m certain
that this exercise has been helpful
and made the process a simple one to
follow, and now it is well within our
means to fix every problem the world
is facing, now and in the future.
You’re welcome.
In all seriousness though, pants
manufacturers: please, I’m begging
you, give me somewhere to put my
phone and a place for me to stick my
hands when I’m standing awkward-
ly. It’s really not that much to ask.
— Sarah Leeson can be reached
at sleeson@umich.edu.
Not a date, temple
I
’m lucky because unlike the 19th century
French-Jewish artillery officer Alfred
Dreyfus and the AEPi Fraternity at Emory
University, a Jewish frater-
nity that was vandalized
with offensive graffiti in
2014, I have never experi-
enced anti-Semitism. From a
young age I’ve been taught that anti-Semitism
is real and it could be lurking anywhere, but
I never seemed to encounter this enigmatic
monster. I was raised Jewish in New York City,
where, according to The Wall Street Journal, 13
percent of the country’s Jewish population cur-
rently resides.
Despite being a Midwestern public school,
the University has a large Jewish popula-
tion as well. The school offers a wide range of
Judaic studies classes and has a huge Hillel and
Chabad religious system. According to Hillel.
org, the University of Michigan undergradu-
ate population is about 16 percent Jewish. This
is an astoundingly high number, considering
estimates show that less than 2 percent of the
United States’ population is Jewish.
At the University, I’ve met a supportive
group of people who come from of a variety
of cultures. My group of friends is much more
diverse religiously than they were at home. In
New York, those who aren’t Jews know about
Jewish culture. For the first time in my life, I’m
surrounded by people who do not understand
Judaism. I’ve never been in a place where peo-
ple don’t know that “Bubbe” means grandma,
“schvitzing” means sweating and “batmitzvah”
means I had an over-the-top party when I was
13 because I sang a bunch of Hebrew words
I didn’t understand in front of my 200 clos-
est friends and family members. These words
either come from Hebrew or Yiddish, a Jewish
language of German origin that comes from
Eastern Europe and is passed down in tidbits
by Bubbes.
It has hit me, in the past few weeks, that no
one cares about Jewish holidays. No one seems
to care about anyone else’s religion with the
exception of the person who creates the Snap-
chat filters. Yet those are often used disrespect-
fully in contexts completely irrelevant to a
given holiday.
Everyone likes Christmas because it means
happiness, cheer, Santa and, of course, pres-
ents. People like to talk about Hanukkah and
Kwanza because they fall around the same time
of year and they like potato pancakes. I’ve yet
to meet someone who celebrates Kwanza, but
I’m not giving up. We’ve all heard of Ramadan.
When I was little, I couldn’t fathom not eating
for a whole month. I had yet to learn about the
whole sun-sets-and-then-you-eat situation.
All of this aside, when I run into friends
dressed up, on my way to services, they say,
“You look so nice! Are you going on a date?”
It doesn’t even occur to them that I may have
a religious commitment. Happy New Year?
Shana Tova? Everyone’s confused. When it’s
Easter, we all know why some are wearing pas-
tels or headed to church in their “Sunday best.”
It’s literally called your Sunday best. You go to
church, on Sundays, wearing your best.
The Jewish holy day actually falls on Satur-
day rather than Sunday.
Since leaving New York, the reality has
begun to hit me that I’m part of a minority pop-
ulation in our nation. Despite constantly feeling
safe and comfortable in my own religious back-
ground, I now understand that I come from
a group of people who went through a geno-
cide less than a century ago. For the first time
ever, I feel a connection with those who were
oppressed in Europe in the 20th century.
I feel frustrated. I feel frustrated that public
schools often get three weeks off for Christmas,
yet the holiest of Jewish holidays are complete-
ly brushed over. I miss my family and I miss my
synagogue, but I can’t even take solace in time
at Hillel or spent with Jewish friends because
I’m too busy with other commitments. Club
presidents, professors and GSIs seem to be com-
pletely blind to the holidays. The Apple Calen-
dar on my computer didn’t have Rosh Hashana
or Yom Kippur automatically programmed in. I
guess they don’t qualify as official U.S. holidays.
I guess my religion isn’t important enough. I
know this goes for so many other religions as
well, and I know there are religions that are
more obscure and brushed over than my own.
I know I’m lucky that Jews are even acknowl-
edged at all.
I’m of an overrepresented minority with
many powerful and wealthy people who make
up an extremely small portion of the popula-
tion. Yet, my religion being ignored and under-
valued somehow makes me feel as if I’m a less
important part of society. Since I was a little
kid I was told that Hanukah is not as good as
Christmas. Never has this rang so true.
— Alison Schalop can be reached
at aschalop@umich.edu.
Am I like Iggy?
W
hen I wear a kurta pyjama to my
half-brother’s wedding in Germa-
ny, why do I think I’m not stepping
into Iggy-Azalea-cultural-
appropriation territory?
As a white person, I may
not be “TumblrCertified” to
defend my choice to wear
formal desi clothing. How-
ever, I can speak to how I
took one familiar element in
my life — dance — and used
it to surround myself with
amazing new friends, an
inspiring community and
valuable experiences.
When I first meet some-
one with an, “I’m Liam! Nice to meet you,” I
can generally tell when their eyes check me
off as irrelevant. At first glance, I don’t stand
out much; I’m just another tall white guy
wearing fitted sweatpants, Nikes and some
University organization crewneck. Not that I
really amount to more than that, but there is a
bit more to what I’ve found at this school than
meets the eye.
After eight years of competitive dancing in
typical western styles (jazz, hip hop, contem-
porary, ballet), I got involved with my high
school’s Indian American Student Associa-
tion, and did some basic bhangra and fusion
performances. After discovering the commu-
nity that came along with Indian American
dance, I came to Michigan excited to con-
tinue. With the University’s IASA, I had the
wonderful opportunity of learning and per-
forming a Raas (traditional Gujarati dance)
routine in 2014, and hope to learn and per-
form with IASA classical in 2015.
The University’s fall IASA show is North
America’s largest student-run production,
and after sitting through last year’s two-hour
long show of Indian dance performances,
the first thing my dad says to me in his heavy
Bavarian accent is, “You should join the Ger-
man Student Association instead!”
Sorry, dad. Never before in my German-
American life had I been exposed to such a
large community of students who 1) Have
immigrant parents (a defining trait which I’ve
found produces wonderfully insightful and
resilient humans), 2) Love to dance and care
about putting on a killer performance, and
3) Are partially interested in me for the one
thing I find boring about myself: being white.
After one year of being a dancer and cho-
reographer, I’m now one of four captains of
Michigan Izzat, the University’s all-male bolly-
wood-fusion dance team, which competes with
a routine composed of bollywood, bhangra,
hip-hop and contemporary. My freshman year,
I got to compete with my new team in Austin,
New York, Atlanta, Chicago and at the finals,
Bollywood America, in Phoenix.
I knew I was officially part of the colle-
giate Bollywood dance community once some
members of other teams began referring to
me as “King Liam,” a nickname my friends
from high school now mock me for. I’m val-
ued not only for my dancing abilities, but for
being a token white boy. After winning first
place in Atlanta, an Indian guy from another
team told me I “stole the show.”
Am I taking advantage of my race in an
insidious way, or just playing my cards right
and invoking some bizarre minority-as-a-
majority privilege? Am I taking the bolly-
wood-fusion spotlight away from those who
deserve it?
I like to justify it by telling myself that it’s
OK because it’s not like I’m running around at
Coachella wearing a bindi, but is it?
Just a few months ago, my interest in India
broke through the dance lens with which I
had always understood it. This summer, I
spent four weeks in Amritsar, India, studying
“Sustainable Nourishment” through langar
and seva (service) at the Harmandir Sahib.
Informally referred to as the Golden Temple,
the site of the holiest Sikh gurdwara has been
serving more than 40,000 free and nutritious
meals per day for the past 400 years. And yes,
to my extreme pleasure, we did also take daily
bhangra classes in Amritsar.
On my last day of doing seva at the Har-
mandir Sahib, I bought myself a kara, the
steel bracelet which is one of the five articles
of Sikhism, and haven’t taken it off since. I
had reservations about wearing one due to
cultural appropriation and the fact that I’ve
barely scratched the surface of Sikhism, but
my professor was very supportive. Yet, I still
stand by my original reservations.
Do I have the right to dance and
dress as the desis do, despite not
having to endure the same racial,
cultural and religious hardships?
I like to tell myself that the dif-
ference between myself and Iggy
is that I’m actually trying to edu-
cate myself and learn from Indian
people, rather than taking fashion-
able elements and reappropriating
them. I’m still not completely sure
where that line is drawn, but I hope
to remain aware of its presence as I
dance along it.
— Liam Wiesenberger can be
reached at wiesliam@umich.edu.
LIAM
WIESENBERGER
SARAH
LEESON
GRACE
CAREY
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