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
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The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Wednesday, September 23, 2015
“I
see you.”
These three simple words uttered
in the first 20 minutes of the movie
“Beyond the Lights” pre-
vented a pop star from
committing suicide. The
film does not give a sophis-
ticated portrait of the
dimensions and complexi-
ties of mental health, but
there are notable aspects
of the storyline.
The star of the movie is
a multiracial, British-born
singer named Noni Jean
who was bred for success
as a popular new Billboard
Award Artist. The pressure of fame compelled
her to end her life. In the moment Noni decides
to fall to her fate, a police officer who “sees”
beyond her Hollywood persona rescues her,
and throughout the movie encourages her to
find the beauty in her own voice, which ulti-
mately sets her free.
Nina Simone’s song “Blackbird” is the under-
lying symbolic theme of the movie. The classic
record metaphorically illustrates the resistance
Black women face to define themselves in soci-
ety. Beginning in girlhood, women are incul-
cated to bind themselves in the cage of gender
roles and norms through mannerisms, edu-
cational attainment and social advancements
based on society’s norms and values. These
definitive molds of what women should be
intensify the daily challenges that life presents.
Black women are particularly susceptible to
this additional challenge, and are unreason-
ably assumed with the responsibility of being
strong for themselves and everyone around
them. This leads to a catch-22 as Melissa Har-
ris-Perry notes in her book “Sister Citizen,” “On
one hand, (the strong black woman) is a deeply
empowering symbol of endurance and hope.
Her courage in the face of seemingly insur-
mountable adversity emboldens black men and
women when facing their own life challenges.
But in her perfection, the strong black woman
is also harmful. Her titanic strength does vio-
lence to the spirits of black women . . . When
seeking help means showing unacceptable
weakness, actual black women, unlike their
mythical counterpart, face depression, anxiety,
and loneliness.”
There’s an inadequate discussion about men-
tal health in America, particularly within com-
munities of color. In Black culture, being strong
is the only way to survive. African Americans
have had to survive slavery, segregation, mass
incarceration and police/vigilante terrorism.
Black communities have a history of negative
experiences with the health care industry,
largely due to the abuse of Black bodies for
medical studies and experimentation.
Heinous examples of such abuses include the
Tuskegee Syphilis Study, the Dow Chemical
testing of carcinogens on (mostly Black) pris-
oners and using Black cancer patients to deter-
mine whether U.S. soldiers could survive a
nuclear catastrophe during the Cold War. This
exploitation and violence has lead to mistrust
in medical authorities, because more often than
not, these authorities don’t have Black people’s
best interests at heart. To fill this void, Black
people often share their burdens with their
family members, friends and spiritual leaders.
Yet it’s still all too uncommon for us to openly
name any difficulties with mental health.
Mental health problems manifest them-
selves in many forms: anxiety, low self-esteem,
ADHD, alcohol/drug abuse, suicide, post-
traumatic stress disorder, bipolar disorders
and eating disorders, just to name a few. Any
of these disorders can be caused by biological,
environmental or psychological factors. To the
detriment of communities of color, politically
induced environmental factors such as unem-
ployment, lack of quality education and vio-
lence are additional external stressors that can
trigger mental health disorders.
Too many people are suffering. According
to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health
Services Administration in 2012, an estimated
18.6 percent of African Americans, 28.3 per-
cent of American Indians, 13.9 percent of Asian
Americans, and 16.3 percent of Latinos report-
ed experiencing mental illness in the past year.
Too many people are hurting themselves and
hurting others as a result of not obtaining the
help they need.
There’s an absence of substantive discus-
sions around mental illness, and if the discus-
sion does surface, it seems to only be when
major tragedies take place. More often that
not, white people who perpetuate actions of
Spotting the blackbird
Only 12 of you know who I am
It isn’t too often that I get to be
a fan of the person and not just the
personality, but sometimes, stars
really are just like us.
Whenever I discover that a
talented artist whom I admire for his
or her professional accomplishments
is
in
long-term
recovery
from
drug and alcohol addiction, I gain
this newfound sense of kindred
spiritedness.
Like Martin Sheen, whom I
grew to adore on “The West Wing”
long before I had my first blackout
episode.
Like
Matthew
Perry,
whom I was crushing on during
the reign of “Friends” years prior
to my first encounter with the legal
consequences as a result of my
alcohol use.
You know them as the fictional
President
Josiah
Bartlet
and
Chandler Bing, respectively, but did
you know that they are — in reality
— people in long-term recovery who
use their notoriety to advocate for
generations of others afflicted with
addiction and in need of treatment,
not jail cells?
Well, now you do.
Celebrity certainly helps to gain
a captive audience, but thankfully,
you don’t have to be an award-
winning actor — or a comic book
superhero — to be an influential
individual when it comes to long-
term recovery. To make your mark
on this movement, all it requires is
mustering the courage to do one
simple thing: speak up.
Especially when it’s the White
House asking.
This September marks the 25th
celebration of National Recovery
Month, a campaign designed to
spread awareness about substance
abuse disorders and other mental
illnesses that devastate our country
— a plague that’s strengthened by
inappropriate shame and social
stigma, which in turn, perpetuates
millions of vows of silence.
Last Thursday was a ground-
breaking day in our country’s
history when an intimate group of
young people in long-term recovery
from drug and alcohol addiction
gathered at our nation’s most
sacred building in Washington,
D.C., to discuss the great shift that’s
happening within our culture:
“Recovering out loud. No shame.
Only pride.”
One of the members of the panel,
which was streamed live, was the
University’s own Ariel Britt, a
graduate student in the School of
Social Work and an intern for the
Collegiate Recovery Program, led by
program manager Matt Statman.
I’ve gotten to know “Air,” as she’s
called, through my own involvement
with our CRP and Students for
Recovery, the student-run sister
organization, and if you asked me to
tell you one thing about her, I’d tell
you that she’s always smiling. That’s
what I think of when I think of Air:
Cheerful. Vivacious. Full of life.
But it wasn’t always that way, and
when I asked her to share her story
for this piece, obviously, Air was
more than willing.
Her addiction tore her away
from her undergraduate education
here at the University. In search of
a geographical cure, Air retreated
to Brooklyn, N.Y., hoping time
away from a college environment
— a beyond-hostile atmosphere for
anyone (of any age) who’s trying to
stay sober — might bode well for her.
Thankfully, Air found recovery
and built a support community in
the city, but after a while, she felt
stagnant. She knew she wanted
to return to Ann Arbor to finish
her degree, but she was hesitant
to reacquaint herself with such a
triggering world, full of such dark
memories.
“It was tough just to walk by
bushes where I used to throw up,”
she admitted to me, and I understood
completely. I had the same feelings
when I twice had to push the
pause button on my academic
and professional journey to seek
rehabilitation — knowing full well
the kind of toxic arena to which I’d
eventually have to return if I wanted
to finish my degree.
It seemed impossible…
But then came the CRP, and it
commenced during the same winter
term when Air moved back to Ann
Arbor. She got connected with Matt,
and all of her fears about having to
leave campus in order to rebuild a
support community vanished. The
CRP works diligently to provide
students in recovery with social
opportunities that aren’t mired in
drugs and alcohol — a serious rarity
on campus — like tailgates, ice
skating at Yost arena, camping trips
and volunteer efforts.
And now, as Air nears graduation
this December, she wants to use
her master’s degree to continue
crusading for this cause within
educational institutions across the
country as a fearless advocate for
current and future college students
who need recovery support.
On top of everything else, Air
works as a manager for a sober living
house managed by the local Dawn
Farm treatment center.
“Bottom line, people are dying
and not receiving the services
they need because this movement
is so underground,” she told me,
citing the recent documentary The
Anonymous People as a huge source
of inspiration. “And you shouldn’t
have to leave school to get the help
you need. This is an issue of social
justice above all else.”
I have no doubt that people whose
lives have been personally impacted
by the disease of addiction — from
Martin Sheen and Matthew Perry to
Matt Statman and Ariel Britt — will
continue to speak up in the name
of life, liberty and the pursuit of
happiness for every member of this
country whose existence has been
marginalized by this disease, and
the White House ain’t a bad place to
“start chatting.”
Recovery from addiction isn’t the
modern scarlet letter. It’s a badge of
honor, and I keep mine pinned to my
chest because we need to illuminate
the solution just as frequently as we
broadcast the problem. For every
story on a heroin overdose, let’s
feature a story about a collegiate
recovery program that might have
saved that person’s life. For every
funeral, let’s celebrate a sobriety
milestone in honor of someone who
wasn’t as fortunate.
The devastation has its important
place. We can’t dampen or quash
the seriousness of this health crisis,
and there’s a reason why one of
my tattoos reads in bold, black ink,
“Scars are souvenirs you never lose.
The past is never far.”
Let’s not forget the stark truth that
addiction is a matter of life or death.
But let’s not forget about life.
Let’s not forget that there’s hope.
Let’s not forget that continuous,
uninterrupted sobriety — even
in college — is possible when the
support is there both tangibly
and through social and political
empowerment.
Let us never forget that recovery
is a reality.
Carley Keyes is an LSA senior.
I
’m Zach Ackerman. I’m an LSA senior
and a townie, and come November, it’s
likely I will represent about 9,000 Ann
Arbor residents on the
City Council. While 9,000
of you live in my ward,
based on the poll numbers,
it looks like only about 12
of you voted during the
August primaries.
Now, I have no intention of taking you on a
lengthy guilt trip. There are real institutional
barriers keeping young voices out of the pro-
cess. By way of example, the student popula-
tion is split amongst all five of Ann Arbor’s
wards, diluting the impact of the young vote.
And, perhaps most importantly, the deciding
vote in Ann Arbor is usually the Democratic
primary in August — I’m running unopposed
in November’s general election — when only
one in 10 students are enrolled in classes at
the University.
The result is a much older voting popula-
tion, one with a median age of 61 years and
an incredibly high level of engagement. Gov-
ernment moves really slowly, and most of our
peers will only spend four short years living
in Ann Arbor. But our alumni tend to move to
cities — more than 56,000 in Metro Detroit,
23,000 in Chicago and 13,200 in New York.
So instead of spending these next 500
words trying to convince you to vote next
August, I’ll instead encourage you to engage
in the local discourse of any community you
find yourself in.
While your city council will likely never
declare war or pass an international trade
deal, cities wield tremendous power and
leverage a lot of resources. For example, the
United States’ three largest port cities alone
dominate a 622.3 million tonnage shipping
industry, an industry that, in turn, dominates
the American economy.
City governments across the country affect
everything from the ease of your commute to
the price of a gallon of gas. The returns on
investment in local government are the most
authentic you will ever see from any type of
government. Ten million dollars will pave
17 miles of road, or build an entire neighbor-
hood of mixed-income affordable housing.
Whether you’re a state’s-rights libertarian
or progressive liberal, there’s a strong case
for investment in local government. And, no
matter where you live, local government is
going to exist.
But for at least four years, you will live
here. Your life will impact the community
and the community will doubtlessly impact
your life. So instead, I will take these last
200 words to try to convince you to vote
next August.
Every month, when you cut your rent
check, you contribute to the city’s $380 mil-
lion annual operating budget. That’s a clear
financial stake in the health of Ann Arbor if
nothing else. I don’t have a student agenda,
but I want to help Ann Arbor remain fiscally,
economically and environmentally sustain-
able well into this century. And I believe most
students want to see the same, whether they
think about it or not.
We are the young of this city and often the
heaviest users of our downtown. A vibrant
downtown is something we all want. But how
do we build it at a price tag accessible to all
of us?
Every winter, our roads fall apart, and
come April we’re reluctantly repairing bent
rims and flat tires. How do we fill our pot-
holes in a state that spends less per capita on
roads than any other in the union?
Each day, tens of thousands of students
will hop on a Michigan bus to get to and from
class. How can the city and the University
build a public transit system that decreases
traffic congestion and our surprisingly large
negative impact on the environment?
These are only four of the thousands of
issues that our municipal government tackles
every day. Each issue is incredibly complex
and will likely take decades to fully address,
but each will only be addressed if there exists
a passionate and dedicated citizenry — one
made up of all ages.
Whether you’re an Ann Arbor resident for
four years or for life, I encourage you to voice
your concerns, write your City Council repre-
sentative, and let me be your friend.
— Zachary Ackerman can be
reached at zdack@umich.edu.
ZACHARY
ACKERMAN
Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Ben Keller, Payton Luokkala, Aarica Marsh,
Adam Morton, Victoria Noble, Anna Polumbo-Levy, Melissa Scholke,
Michael Schramm, Stephanie Trierweiler, Mary Kate Winn, Derek Wolfe
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
CARLY KEYES | VIEWPOINT
Recovery is a reality
E-mail GabriElla at GabsmEy@umich.Edu
GABRIELLA MEYER
mass violence are viewed as victims
of mental health disorders, as if their
violent acts were justified from hav-
ing an impaired state of mind.
When Adam Lanza took the lives
of 20 children at Sandy Hook Ele-
mentary School, the media wanted to
attribute Lanza’s horrendous act to a
history of psychological or emotional
disturbance. In contrast, Shannon J.
Miles, a Black man with a history of
mental illness who is being charged
with capital murder for killing a sub-
urban Houston police officer, is vili-
fied without question, and met with
the unwarranted campaign of “cops’
lives matter.”
If only someone had seen the
signs early on. If only someone had
paid attention. If only the phrases, “I
hear you. I feel you. I see you,” were
enunciated genuinely, we could save
someone we care about from taking
someone else’s life, or even their own.
It isn’t normal to think about killing
yourself or killing someone. But it’s
becoming all too common.
What can we do? Connect with one
another to find the approaches that
work best. Increase access to therapy
and medication, while being mindful
that not everyone may need a thera-
pist or medication. A friend, fam-
ily member, mentor, religious leader,
teacher or anyone else can serve as
an emotional support system. It takes
courage to admit our shortcomings
that seemingly marginalize our-
selves, but we all are more alike than
we are different. Everyone experi-
ences stress; how we respond to it
differs.
It’s time to start talking about
mental health. It’s time to encour-
age more Black Americans to talk
with psychologists, and become
psychologists themselves. It’s time
to demand cultural competency
training for our mental health pro-
fessionals. Mental health services
need to adapt to communities of
color and ensure that the services
and treatment are accessible, both
in terms of proximity of providers
to communities of color and costs.
It’s time to speak up when we notice
something.
Symbolically,
blackbirds
are
known for having an acute sense of
awareness and ability to use their
senses. They’re mysterious and
serious, and demand devotion and
commitment before sharing their
secrets. Maybe you know a black-
bird that exhibits these characteris-
tics. A blackbird may find it difficult
to share their struggle because the
world has told them it’s either flight
or fight, and the blackbird cannot
manage either one. It’s important to
spot these blackbirds, so that they
may receive the help, encourage-
ment and love they need to fly. Then,
everyone can really see the beauty
they bring to the world.
— Alexis Farmer can be reached
at akfarmer@umich.edu.
ALEXIS
FARMER