Opinion

JENNIFER CALFAS

EDITOR IN CHIEF

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and DEREK WOLFE 

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The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Friday, November 13, 2015

Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Ben Keller, Payton Luokkala, 

Aarica Marsh, Anna Polumbo-Levy, Melissa Scholke, Michael 
Schramm, Stephanie Trierweiler, Mary Kate Winn, Derek Wolfe

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

The GOP’s Hillary complex
I

n every debate, there are winners and los-
ers. Tuesday night’s fourth GOP debate in 
Milwaukee was no exception. Polls show 

a bump for Marco Rubio, 
Donald Trump dominated 
in terms of new followers 
and likes on social media, 
and Ted Cruz worked the 
audience like no other, 
with 13 minutes of speak-
ing 
time 
littered 
with 

applause and laughter.

On the other side, Jeb 

Bush failed to make any 
significant 
strides 
back 

into relevancy, and John 
Kasich was booed during 
his 
answer 
on 
bailing 

out banks. However, amid the fanfare and 
platitudes about what America is “really about” 
that typically accompany Republican debates, 
one candidate should feel pretty good about her 
position after this one: Hillary Clinton.

Billed as the debate about jobs and the 

economy, moderators from the Fox Business 
Network and The Wall Street Journal 
broached a variety of topics, from Syria to 
who on stage would have his or her tax plan 
endorsed by God to which five departments 
of government Ted Cruz would cut (spoiler 
alert: two of them are the Department of 
Commerce). Only one talking point, though, 
made its way into everyone’s remarks, and 
that was the Democratic frontrunner.

Hillary Clinton’s name was mentioned a 

total of 24 times in the two-hour debate, and 
at least once by each of the eight candidates 
(issues that were never mentioned, by the 
way, include race, making higher education 
affordable and campaign finance reform). 
She was called the worst secretary of state in 
history and the embodiment of cronyism. She 
was accused, along with Bernie Sanders, of 
not telling the truth about what’s hurting the 
middle class. She was challenged, in the third 
person, by Carly Fiorina.

Clearly, a requirement for any candidate 

during primary season should be electability 
and the potential to win a general election 
against an opposing party. But when was the 
last time, without an incumbent president 
running for re-election, that one person has had 
such a permanent and unshakeable target on 
his or her backs with the election a year away? 
All of this made one thing clear: Republicans 
have a major Hillary Clinton complex, and it’s 
not going away any time soon.

Why, then, does this make Hillary Clinton 

a winner? Simply put, constant attacks 
make GOP candidates look small, especially 
considering the fact that every charge leveled 
has been shrugged off by its target. The 
former secretary looks classier, more mature 
and more presidential with every dismissal 
of the clown car on the opposite side of the 
ticket next November. Not to mention the 
fact that in the long run, the American people 
are bound to tire of negative campaigning, 

if that is to be a central tenet of Republican 
campaigns for the next 12 months. And 
with articles titled “Who Can Beat Hillary 
Clinton?” being written in the hours after the 
debate, she seems like more and more of an 
inevitability for the Democratic nomination 
(likely to the chagrin of Sanders supporters).

Take how Fox moderator Maria Bartiromo 

began her question to Marco Rubio about 
whether anyone could compare to the 
“impressive resumé” of Hillary Clinton: “She 
was the first lady of the United States, a U.S. 
senator from New York and secretary of state 
under Barack Obama. She has arguably more 
experience, certainly more time in government 
than almost all of you on stage tonight.”

Seconds into the question, the entire 

audience started booing loudly. There are two 
explanations for this: One is that the audience 
of likely Republican voters thought it to be a 
bad question and that the former secretary 
of state, senator and first lady’s resumé is not 
impressive (which would be clearly biased 
nonsense). Another is that they know the 
opposite is true — that Hillary Clinton is 
qualified to be president and the sheer mention 
of her qualifications causes a knee-jerk 
reaction of moaning and woe in conservatives.

The simple fact of the matter is that primary 

season should be a time for candidates on both 
sides to connect with voters and determine 
the stances and issues that will resonate best 
with the people they are determined to lead, 
not a cage match to decide who gets to the 
title fight. As someone who is not registered 
with either political party and will not cast 
a vote in the primaries, I value the chance 
to see candidates get to know their base and 
how they steer their campaigns in certain 
directions based on the stories they hear 
and the people they meet. During Tuesday’s 
debate, though, it was difficult to see any of 
that, considering the only direction I saw 
from each campaign was straight to the 
White House and through Hillary Clinton.

Instead, I saw what will be the most glaring 

weakness of the Republican field thus far. 
It’s not Jeb’s family name or Carly Fiorina’s 
business record. It’s not Donald Trump’s 
unpredictable aversion to political correctness 
or Ben Carson thinking the pyramids were 
built by Joseph to store grain, though all of 
these come in a strong second place. It’s the 
fact that they can’t stop talking about Hillary 
Clinton and start talking about the issues. It’s 
the fact that mentioning her name can change 
a poor answer to an applause line. It’s the fact 
that sooner or later, the parade of negative 
campaign material is going to get old for the 
independent middle, which doesn’t necessarily 
hate the former secretary.

In case it wasn’t obvious, the constant 

demonization of one personality is not enough 
to base a winning presidential campaign on. 
Or at least it shouldn’t be.

— Brett Graham can be reached 

at btgraham@umich.edu.

BRETT
GRAHAM

F

reshman year, I joked to my 
younger brother, “You can 
be my roommate.” I wasn’t 

moving 
into 

a dorm, and I 
felt 100 percent 
OK 
with 
that 

decision. I didn’t 
have to worry 
about 
laptop 

theft, 
doing 

my laundry in 
coin-operated 
machines 
or 
sharing 
a 

communal 
bathroom. Now, 
three years later, I’m happy that 
I can still live with my family — 
the way I did during my first fall 
semester at the University.

My home is only about a mile 

away from Central Campus, and 
I’ve lived there for my entire college 
career so far. If anything, I believe 
it’s added to my personal experience 
of college and has made my time 
mean more by providing me with a 
calm, private place to go back to at 
the end of each day.

Kelsey Murphy, a junior in the 

School of Music, Theatre and Dance, 
lived at home for her first two years 
of college and feels similarly.

“The idea of living in a dorm just 

didn’t appeal to me at all,” she said.

Though her home was a little 

farther from campus than mine, she 
still found it worth the trip back and 
forth each day.

She continued: “I’m a very 

private, independent person, and I 
like having my own space to come 
home to at the end of the day and 
not having to share a space with 
someone I don’t know.”

Living at home also means that 

I have neighbors — neighbors who 
aren’t 
all 
20-somethings 
going 

to college or university. Actually, 

many of my neighbors teach at the 
University or at other colleges in the 
area, and they never fail to remind me 
that I should be doing my homework 
right now. In a neighborhood that’s 
home to people of many ages, I also 
find that my schedule has more of 
a regulated structure than when 
I spend my whole day on campus. 
Without my family members and 
their activities to provide me with 
perspective, the day tends to float by, 
divided up between classes, study 
sessions and meals, either from a 
lunchbox or a take-out box, often 
eaten over a piece of reading due for 
something later that afternoon.

Maybe the single most defining 

and important aspect of living at 
home is the cost — that is, the lack 
thereof. While Murphy was living at 
home, she was able to set aside money 
for the apartment she has now, which 
she finds a more desirable living 
situation than one that requires a 
long daily commute.

“I want to be more involved on 

campus and take part in more social 
events,” she said. “So it’s great living 
so close to everything. It makes my 
classes a lot easier, too, because the 
time I would have spent driving 
back and forth between campus and 
home I can now use for homework or 
catching up on sleep.”

That’s one of the drawbacks 

I’ve come up against as well — 
living somewhat far from campus 
makes it difficult to participate in 
extracurricular or late-night events. I 
don’t have my own car, so I’m reliant 
on the city bus system to get me to 
and from campus each day unless 
I arrange for a ride. It can also be 
difficult to meet up with friends or to 
plan spontaneously. But I don’t think 
that living at home has detracted 
from my “college experience” one 
bit — if anything, I believe it’s added 
deeper meaning to my time here.

Most importantly, it hasn’t left 

me coddled, which I think some 
people assume when I tell them 
about my living situation. If I use the 
kitchen, I have to wash my dishes. 
I do my laundry and help with 
vacuuming and other household 
chores, such as walking the dog 
(more of a highlight than a chore, 
in my opinion). I get to help haul 
groceries every weekend and also 
get to choose some of what food we 
have available during the coming 
week. When I’m home alone, I can 
play my music as loudly (or quietly) 
as I’d like, and on weekends and 
even during game days, I don’t need 
to worry about noisy partygoers.

Of course, living at home just 

doesn’t make sense for students 
coming to the University from other 
states or internationally. I can also 
understand the interest in getting 
your very own apartment, dorm or 
room in a house during your college 
years. But it makes sense to me, in my 
own personal situation, to live this 
way, and it’s worked well for me so 
far. I stay up to date on what my fam-
ily’s doing, have access to a familiar 
kitchen and food that I’m used to and 
get to raid my brother’s video game 
collection from time to time.

Maybe best of all, I can study 

without having to trek to the library. 
(Actually, scratch that. Best of all is 
getting to pet my dog.)

I’m on campus enough as it is; it’s 

nice to have a place to retreat to that’s 
far enough away to provide a big 
distance between my home life and 
school life. Murphy and I both agreed 
that for us, living at home for a year or 
two, or perhaps more than that, was 
the best decision we could make.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to 

go wash my lunch dishes!

— Susan LaMoreaux can be 

reached at susanpl@umich.edu.

Living at home

SUSAN
LAMOREAUX

The Weight of Your Words

I became exposed to the realities 

of racism during the relatively 
conflict-free and halcyon days of 
my childhood. Each year, I spent 
the months between September 
and June in Montgomery County, 
Pennsylvania 
— 
a 
supposedly 

progressive bastion in an increasingly 
regressive state. It was here where I 
learned about the Mayflower, Amelia 
Earhart and Eleanor Roosevelt, but 
not Benjamin Banneker, Sojourner 
Truth and Marcus Garvey.

My summers, though, were spent 

on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay, 
at the site of what my grandparents 
told me was once Travellers Rest 
Plantation — a sprawling estate 
supposedly fueled by slave labor 
that produced wheat, corn and 
other staple crops. This land is 
where my grandparents settled 
down during retirement.

Afternoon walks in Travellers 

Rest yielded the discovery of many 
vestiges of a bygone age. I vividly 
remember walking by long-defunct 
train tracks, now covered in tall 
grass, and asking my grandfather 
why no trains seemed to pass. It was 
then that I learned how Southern 
plantations grew the food that fed 
the rest of the country.

On other walks, we would stroll 

past a long, willow-lined driveway. 
The driveway was so expansive, 
in fact, that the great distance hid 
whatever sat at the other side of it. 
Time after time, I would wonder 
what could possibly be at the end of 
that driveway. Eventually, I asked 
my grandmother. It was then that 
I learned about the elegant homes 
of slave masters and the depraved 
conditions the slaves lived in (I 
refrain from saying “the homes the 
slaves lived in” because that would 
be an insult to houses).

Another time, we passed a memo-

rial sign honoring Frederick Doug-
lass, who, according to local legend, 
was born as a slave in the next town 
over before escaping and attaining 
his freedom. At the time, the name 
meant nothing to me, and my grand-
parents could tell. So there I stood, on 
an old plantation in the summer heat, 
receiving a history lesson about the 
abolitionist movement. 

However, when I returned to 

elementary school every fall, my 
classmates and I went right back to 
learning about the Mayflower, Ame-
lia Earhart and Eleanor Roosevelt, 

but not Benjamin Banneker, Sojourn-
er Truth and Marcus Garvey.

It wasn’t until around seventh 

grade that we began to seriously 
talk about events like the slave trade, 
the Civil War and the Civil Rights 
Movement. But by then it was too late; 
my classmates had already developed 
their view of different races. Even 
though, thankfully, the vast majority 
turned out not to be hateful racists, 
they still lacked the history to 
understand the implications and 
repercussions of things as simple as 
the jokes they made toward me and 
other minority students.

In 10th grade, we read a short 

story in literature class about the 
Klu Klux Klan burning down Afri-
can American churches. After the 
teacher referred to the churchgoers 
as “Black” and “African American,” 
a classmate of mine raised her hand 
to inform the class that “they prefer 
to be called colored.” Obviously she 
meant no harm, but this just high-
lights the dangers of not informing 
children of the history behind racial-
ly loaded terms.

In 11th grade, when an Indian 

friend and I were both on the com-
puters in study hall, the substitute 
teacher approached us. “What grade 
are you guys in?” she asked. After 
finding out we were juniors, she 
asked my friend which colleges she 
planned on applying to. The teacher 
then turned to me and asked what 
I was planning on doing with my 
future. She then went on to describe 
the wonderful career her nephew 
made for himself in the army. She 
assumed that because I was a Black 
male, I was not qualified to move on 
in academia. I understand that she 
was trying to be helpful, but in doing 
so she made me feel as if I wasn’t tal-
ented or smart enough to be pursuing 
higher education, an unintentional 
side effect of her ignorance 
— of the 

weight of her comments.

In 12th grade, I received my accep-

tance to the University of Michigan. 
Out of the more than 1,000 students 
of North Penn High School’s class 
of 2015, to my knowledge, I was the 
only one to receive an acceptance let-
ter. This achievement gained me the 
nickname “Mr. Affirmative Action,” 
a superlative that still angers me to 
this day. My classmates belittled the 
work I put in over the past four years, 
attributing the fruits of my labor to 
nothing more than winning a ran-

dom outcome in a genetic lottery.

It was just earlier this year when 

my sister proudly told one of her 
school’s faculty members where 
I was going to college. “Oh! What 
sport does he play?” the woman 
asked. Dumbfounded, my sister 
pressed for some context. It turned 
out that the woman assumed I was 
admitted to the University for some 
athletic ability and not for my aca-
demic achievements.

“How is it possible for a 6’4” 

Black kid to not be good at sports?” 
she must have wondered. But in 
doing this, she was inadvertently 
asking, “How is it possible for a 
6’4” Black kid to be good enough to 
get into Michigan? There must be 
another explanation.”

Racism is like water; it seeps and 

thrives in every unguarded action 
and word. You may not know the 
water is in your ceilings until mold 
starts growing, and by then it is often 
too late. The ceiling must be torn 
down and a new one must take its 
place. More importantly, while the 
ceiling is down and the insides of the 
house are exposed, it’s essential to 
tackle the water leakage problem that 
caused the issue in the first place.

This must be done with racism. 

We can’t deny the problem that rac-
ism exists because, just like mold, the 
situation will continue to build up 
and create an increasingly danger-
ous environment. Likewise, we can’t 
only offer solutions that replace the 
ceiling — designating areas as safe 
spaces or banning this word and that 
phrase — because it’s only a matter of 
time before our efforts are proven to 
be wasted and the problem returns.

Instead, we must tackle the root of 

the problem by educating young child 
about the history of race relations. 
This can be done in many ways, from 
teaching children about race issues 
earlier in their lives to encouraging 
parents to have these hard conversa-
tions in an open environment with 
their young children — like the ones I 
received from my grandparents.

While these measures may seem 

like a drop in the bucket compared 
to tackling the policies that allow for 
the proliferation of institutional rac-
ism, at the very least it will inform 
people so they will think about the 
consequences and implications of 
what they say before they say it.

Jason Rowland is an LSA freshman.

JASON ROWLAND | MICHIGAN IN COLOR

E-mail JoE at Jiovino@umich.Edu
JOE IOVINO

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