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
4A — Wednesday, October 21, 2015

T

ucked away in some of my favorite 
in-between-class 
hideaways, 
I 

recently devoted spare moments of 

my time to reading “To 
Kill 
a 
Mockingbird.” 

Each time I began to 
thumb through its pages, 
the sight of me reading 
this 
particular 
novel 

seemed to spark multiple 
renditions of the same 
conversation. Roommates, 
friends, 
classmates 
and 

coworkers 
— 
usually 

sporting 
a 
perplexed 
 

look — approached me 
asking some variation of 
the question: “Haven’t you 
read this before?” Most tended to be satisfied 
(and some relieved) when I informed them that 
I was, in fact, re-reading it for a class.

Considering 
the 
book’s 
prominent, 

solidified position among the litany of texts 
students often read as a part of their high 
school or middle school curriculum, I can 
understand why some might find it odd if 
I was reading it for the first time. However, 
as my professor suggested, as continually 
evolving individuals, we experience aspects 
of a novel differently as time progresses and 
views shift. There’s merit in re-examining a 
world you originally believed you saw in its 
entirety. Yes, the same characters may be 
acting within the same plot, but just as it is 
with the world, one glance doesn’t tell the 
whole story.

To 
fully 
understand 

a book, a situation, an 
issue or even a person, 
you 
can’t 
rely 
solely 

upon your initial vantage 
point. A second, third or 
fourth look is necessary 
to 
uncover 
what 
you 

may 
have 
overlooked 

before, 
underscoring 

the notion that learning 
is a continuous process 
and, 
no 
matter 
how 

much one may think they understand or see, 
there’s probably something missing from 
 

the conversation.

“To Kill a Mockingbird” is known for its 

discussions of racism, injustice, prejudice and 
empathy, and for capturing the atmosphere 
of an entire period of U.S. history. This isn’t 
what my class focused on. Instead, we talked 
about visibility. Our conversation centered on 
the interplay between who’s seen, who isn’t, 
who deserves to be visible and why they are 
or aren’t.

Sight 
and 
its 
accompanying 
array 

of dimensions and dynamics foster a 
prioritization of ideas and people. Visibility 
is arguably often a determinant of worth 
 

— what’s worth devoting attention to and 
what ideas stimulate action, receive support 
or are even publicly rejected. Who or 
what is seen in our media landscape, or in 
government, is a reflection of the balance of 
power and control in society as a whole.

Recently, Elle UK released a video 

online that plays with these dynamics of 
visibility. The simple exercise in Photoshop 

illustrates that what you don’t see is often 
more important than what you do. The video 
showcases photographic stills of governing 
bodies, producers, creators and other groups, 
and then it alters the image by removing all 
of the men within the picture to reveal a 
sparse scattering of women surrounded by 
multitudes of empty space.

The short video certainly succeeds in 

highlighting discrepancies with regard to 
gender representation. On one hand, one look 
at the unaltered images tells a viewer that 
female representation is present in a number 
of environments. However, when one looks 
again from a different perspective, vast empty 
spaces that a male majority usually occupies 
overpower this now-seemingly miniscule 
population of women.

While 
women 
are 
visible, 
the 

disproportionate representation of men leads 
to a problematic scenario in which a few 
outnumbered individuals are responsible for 
standing for their entire group. This scenario 
can be seen across numerous groups and 
communities. In the media landscape, the 
inclusion of diverse representation often 
results in another problematic scenario in 
which the select number of visible individuals 
in a group often falls within stereotypes that 
aren’t reflective of the group at all.

Visibility is a complicated issue with a 

variety of consequences. While making 
one’s 
presence 
known 
allows 
for 
the 

acknowledgement of their accomplishments, 
ideas and opinions, it likewise creates a space 
where one is like an ant thrust beneath the 

gaze 
of 
a 
magnifying 

glass.

Being noticed in the 

public 
eye 
creates 
an 

atmosphere of exposure 
that can invite scrutiny 
and 
make 
individuals 

susceptible to criticism. 

Yet 
without 
this 

recognition, 
unequal 

representation, 
in 
a 

multitude 
of 
areas, 

will continue to silence 

voices that have been neglected for far too 
long. Our perceptions of who “normally” 
is seen and heard within the public sphere 
inhibits 
debates 
and 
discussions. 
The 

underrepresented never even have the chance 
to exist. Even when representation exists and 
there’s a space for these discussions, a lack of 
diversity may lead to an absence of underlying 
conversations and issues.

Simply altering or slightly modifying the 

pictures of society that we see isn’t a sufficient 
method that we should accept when re-shaping 
society. Often in a book, the characters who 
truly force readers to consider viewpoints and 
ideas that deviate from the norm are those 
who are barely visible in the text. In fact, these 
characters are usually the ones readers don’t 
notice the first time through. If we truly want 
to address problematic issues and change 
society, we need to re-examine the larger 
narratives at play and increase the visibility of 
overlooked voices.

— Melissa Scholke can be reached 

at melikaye@umich.edu.

MELISSA
SCHOLKE

My interest in criminal justice 

policies has taken me to a few talks 
on the subject over the years. I’ve 
listened to people tell their stories 
of life behind bars and how those 
years have inspired them to seek 
change. All of these lectures have 
been informative and fascinating.

Last Tuesday, however, was the 

first time I’ve seen hordes of people 
wait hours outside an auditorium 
for the chance to hear an advocate 
for criminal justice reform speak. 
In fact, it was probably the only edu-
cational talk I have seen that filled 
a large auditorium so quickly and 
with such an enthusiastic crowd. 
But such is the power of Piper Ker-
man, the writer of the memoir that 
inspired the hit TV show “Orange is 
the New Black.”

Kerman is a vocal prison reform 

activist who uses her experience 
behind bars, through the TV show 
and her memoir that depict it, to 
shine a light on the fundamental 
flaws of our nation’s criminal jus-
tice system. She’s also undoubt-
edly a celebrity; the show (loosely) 
based on Kerman’s life experience 
is a massive hit, and she has 112,000 
followers on Twitter. It’s hard for 
me to reconcile these two identities, 
especially given that Kerman was 
not the typical U.S. prisoner, and 
her experience as a prisoner doesn’t 
reflect the pain and suffering felt by 
many of those incarcerated.

Mass incarceration, after all, is 

a problem that disproportionately 
affects communities of color and 
poor communities. Kerman, on 
the other hand, is white, wealthy 
and college-educated. People like 
Kerman (and me) are less likely 
to end up in jail or prison because 
our privilege makes us unlikely to 
be caught committing a crime and, 
if we are caught, less likely to be 
punished for it.

When rich white people commit 

crimes, it’s often viewed as a fool-

ish mistake or some kind of fluke. 
The same cannot be said for people 
of other backgrounds. And, if the 
wealthy do end up being charged, 
they can afford effective repre-
sentation. Kerman’s sentence was 
short because she could afford an 
attorney who could fight to get her 
the minimum sentence. Few people 
who end up in prison are that lucky, 
and her view of the prison system is 
undeniably a privileged one.

But the story of a white woman 

from a good family who ends up in 
prison is a story that people will 
listen to. In her interview with The 
Michigan Daily, Kerman acknowl-
edged that the reason people are 
interested in her story is because it’s 
a “fish-out-of-water story.” Every-
body knows that people like Ker-
man don’t go to jail. So, when they 
do, we’re interested. Her whiteness 
and wealth may make her ill-suited 
to be the face for prison reform, but 
these are the reasons that people 
are listening in the first place.

Kerman is well aware of her 

privilege, and uses it as a tool. She 
says she wrote “Orange is the New 
Black: My Year in a Women’s Pris-
on” so that somebody who usually 
wouldn’t pick up a book about pris-
on would be curious and find them-
selves empathizing with prisoners 
and caring about criminal justice 
reform. It did just that.

The popularity of “Orange is the 

New Black,” the book and show, 
brought 
complex, 
sympathetic 

prisoners of different races and 
backgrounds into the hearts of 
millions of Americans. The show 
is groundbreaking because it por-
trays prisoners as humans who 
made mistakes, not evil, danger-
ous people. The show continues to 
reveal the depth of humanity that 
these prisoners are capable of, and 
Kerman continues to advocate for 
prison justice reform. And people 
will keep watching and listening.

Even if it’s hard to stomach that 

a wealthy, white woman is prob-
ably the most famous prison reform 
advocate in the United States, it’s 
hard to deny that her activism has 
helped prison reform make huge 
strides. Kerman’s somewhat con-
flicting roles of celebrity and activ-
ist have helped the issue reach new 
ears. Her show is part of the reason 
that the topic is widely understood 
as a pressing national issue.

So maybe it’s best not to look a 

gift horse in the mouth.

As someone who cares a lot about 

changing the criminal justice sys-
tem, I will continue to be grateful 
for the work that Kerman does. But 
perhaps it’s time to bring additional 
voices to the forefront.

Kerman does her part by high-

lighting the stories of other former 
prisoners who are more representa-
tive of our nation’s prison popula-
tion. Now it’s our turn to make sure 
the conversation doesn’t end here.

Listen to the voices of other people 

who have experienced the crimi-
nal justice system, not just because 
their stories are interesting, but also 
because they are important. Listen to 
a TEDxUofM Talk by Mary Heinen 
and support the Prison Arts Coali-
tion, the project she co-founded that 
supports and provides resources for 
those creating art in and around the 
prison system. Be a part of the Prison 
Creative Arts Project, a similar pro-
gram that is housed in the Universi-
ty’s Residential College. Do your own 
research to find out how you can best 
help prisoners or reform prisons.

Don’t be content to take “Orange 

is the New Black” at face value: 
The plotlines on the show may be 
fictional, but the pain felt by the 
characters as a result of their incar-
ceration is far from make-believe.

Mary Kate Winn is a Public 

Policy junior and an assistant 

editorial page editor.

Piper the privileged prisoner

The overlooked voices 

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

MARY KATE WINN | VIEWPOINT

“I 

think I have seen your 
article in the Daily. You 
write for Michigan in 

Color right?”

I have heard 

this 
comment 

too many times 
for it to be a 
coincidence. 
As 

I calmly explain 
that I was not 
hired to write 
for Michigan in 
Color — which is 
a section of the 
Daily devoted to 
people of color 
— and that instead I’m an opinion 
columnist, I wonder what would 
lead so many people to the same 
conclusion. It may be because I write 
about my religious and cultural 
backgrounds, but to think that the 
subject matter of my articles would 
take people to that conclusion so 
often is still off-putting to me.

Maybe it’s the mere fact that I’m 

a person of color and a writer, and 
they saw my writing in the Opinion 
section.

Please do not misunderstand me. 

I respect MiC and highly encourage 
people to submit articles to the 
section. It’s a great space for people 
to write about their backgrounds 
and genuine experiences within 
their 
ethnicities 
and 
cultural 

backgrounds 
— 
I 
have 
even 

considered contributing to it before.

However, what I do not like is 

the idea that MiC is the only place 
that people of color are expected 
to talk about their backgrounds, 
or that people of color at The 
Michigan Daily seem confined to 
writing only for MiC. Discussion 
of culture shouldn’t be limited to 
one section of the paper, nor is it in 
actuality. People write about their 
backgrounds in other sections of 
the paper, and when I do the same, 
it’s because it’s my preference.

When 
one 
expresses 
their 

religion in a way that’s as visible 
as a hijab, it “colors” everything 
that person does. Any time I 
speak, I unwillingly become the 

spokesperson for all 1.57 billion 
Muslims. Any time my column 
shows up in the Daily, or someone 
adds me on social media, before 
they hit that follow button, the first 
thing they see is my hijab.

In most ways, I love my hijab, 

what it represents to me and the 
satisfaction of getting through 
to someone who had negative 
misconceptions about it previously. 
At the same time, it can get tiring 
being the “token Muslim girl” in 
class discussions, or even in the 
Daily’s Opinion section. The weight 
of it can be overwhelming, but it 
proves more flaws on society’s part 
than my own. 

Imagine what this might feel like 

for a moment. Chances are that you 
can relate to that feeling in some way 
— being discredited just because of 
your appearance. Yes, I’m a Muslim. 
Yes, I often write about my culture 
and 
my 
background, 
breaking 

misconceptions surrounding them 
because it’s important to me. No, 
I do not see that as an excuse for 
you to confine me to the ideas that 
you have about 
Muslims 
or 

people of color in 
general.

When 
you 

are 
the 
token 

Muslim girl you 
also become the 
token “Arab girl” 
even if, as in 
my case, you’re 
not 
Arab. 
My 

roots in India go back about three 
generations, but even before that 
generation, I’m still Persian before 
reaching my Arab roots.

Ethnicity and culture are not just 

skin deep. To begin understanding 
the 
complexity 
of 
ethnicity 

and culture is important when 
approaching people of different 
backgrounds 
than 
one’s 
own. 

Truthfully, unless you can trace 
your ancestors to the very home you 
live in right now, the chances are 
that your roots begin somewhere 
else. This is important to think 
about before painting somebody 

else with a large brush just for what 
they look like on the surface.

Sometimes when I do not fit the 

label people already precomputed 
for me, they stare at me in awe: “No, 
you cannot be Indian!”

If I say I’m not Middle Eastern, 

people often argue, “Pakistan is 
considered part of the Middle East 
to some people” (which is false, 
unless you want to consider the 
Indian subcontinent a part of the 
Middle East).

Though it isn’t plausible for you to 

know the roots of every person that 
you meet before inquiring about their 
culture, it’s critically important to be 
respectfully unassuming. Listen to 
people with an open mind, and if they 
tell you what their background is, 
believe them — don’t question them 
with skepticism.

I have been told to write less 

about my background. I have 
been asked why I feel the need 
to self-victimize. Time and time 
again, people have written off my 
accomplishments after one look 
at me, but I’m empowered just 

the same, and 
continue 
to 

hope that my 
writing inspires 
people 
in 
a 

multitude 
of 

ways.

Explaining 

that 
just 

because 
I 

write about my 
religion 
and 

ethnicity does not mean that I write 
for MiC is just another hurdle to get 
through as I try to reach people 
through writing quality columns 
spanning a variety of subjects.

True, this might be another 

column 
about 
my 
background 

and it may have fit well in MiC’s 
section, but it fits just as well here: 
the 1,000-word space I was hired 
to write for every two weeks in the 
Opinion section at a 125-year-old, 
editorially independent newspaper.

— Rabab Jafri can be reached 

at rfjafri@umich.edu.

Not just Michigan in Color

RABAB
JAFRI

The 

underrepresented 
never even have the 

chance to exist. 

True, this column 
may have fit well in 
MiC’s section, but it 
fits just as well here.

E-mail in Chan at tokg@umiCh.Edu
IN CHAN LEE 

