Opinion

SHOHAM GEVA
EDITOR IN CHIEF

CLAIRE BRYAN 

AND REGAN DETWILER 
EDITORIAL PAGE EDITORS

LAURA SCHINAGLE
MANAGING EDITOR

420 Maynard St. 

Ann Arbor, MI 48109

 tothedaily@michigandaily.com

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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 — Thursday, January 7, 2016

Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Caitlin Heenan, Ben Keller, Minsoo Kim, 
Payton Luokkala, Aarica Marsh, Anna Polumbo-Levy, Jason Rowland, 
Lauren Schandevel, Melissa Scholke, Rebecca Tarnopol, Ashley Tjhung, 

Stephanie Trierweiler, Mary Kate Winn, Derek Wolfe

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

A

fter about 20 minutes of unceasing 
pestering — the kind 9-year-old little 
sisters possess an innate talent for 

— 
my 
then-18-year-old 

brother finally agreed to 
go for a bike ride with me 
on some trails near our 
house. 
Throughout 
the 

ride, I fumbled about on 
the narrow dirt trails, 
bumping into my brother’s 
bike, alternating between 
falling too far behind and 
pedaling too far ahead. 
I was at a very talkative 
point in my childhood, and 
with every bump or wrong 
turn of my handlebars, I merely apologized 
and continued gabbing.

Though I was very talkative, my brother had 

become aware of another pattern of behavior 
I’d recently picked up. He suddenly braked in 
the middle of the trail, turned his bike around 
to look at me and, with a perturbed tone in his 
voice, asked me why I kept saying “sorry” so 
often. Apparently, I’d been doing that awhile, 
and even when I wasn’t causing collisions, I 
had begun almost every sentence since we’d 
left the house that afternoon with the word 
“sorry.” I didn’t know how to respond, nor 
did I have an explanation for the frequency 
of my apologies, so I replied with what was 
probably the last thing my brother wanted 
to hear — yet another apology. He shook his 
head and, in a true broth-
erly fashion, curtly told 
me I should stop because 
I was being annoying. As 
he began to slowly pedal 
onward, he amended that 
statement by adding the 
warning that people may 
not take me seriously if I 
was always apologizing.

The memory of that 

conversation 
with 
my 

brother still resurfaces 
from time to time, espe-
cially when my apologies 
seem too numerous and 
unnecessary. In fact, that 
conversation was in the 
back of my mind during 
Winter Break when I had the opportunity to 
catch up with a mentor and some colleagues 
from a project I worked on a couple of years 
ago. As our mentor gave us all advice about our 
individual work and our creative pursuits, she 
stressed the importance of language — how 
our words carry a specific magnitude into the 
world. But one of the most influential pieces of 
advice I took away from meeting with her was 
that what we communicate about ourselves 
through our words and our actions is one way 
we can decide how we’ll be perceived.

After she said that, I sat there recalling 

moments when I didn’t display confidence in 
myself or in the work I was producing. While 
I took my older brother’s advice all those 
years ago, I still catch myself apologizing in 
situations where an apology is unnecessary 
and second-guessing myself in discussions. I 
thought of all the times I asked questions by 
first saying, “So, this is a stupid question but … 
” I remembered moments when I would apolo-
gize for asking a question or saying something 
I didn’t think furthered the conversation.

But in these thoughts, I know I’m not alone.
Women, researchers and journalists alike, 

noticed this general and gendered pattern of 

over-apologizing years ago. In fact, a 2010 
study found that women apologize more 
often than men on a consistent basis, and that 
this is because women are often more likely 
to perceive themselves committing social 
offences or transgressions. As a result, we 
apologize, offering up acquiescence in a soci-
ety where women are continually expected to 
be polite, to be unobtrusive, to be perpetually 
pleasant and to be unaggressive.

Since then, there has been a slew of com-

mentary in the media — from articles to 
comedy sketches — describing this societal 
pressure, which also plays a role in the fre-
quency of women apologizing. According to 
linguist Robin Lakoff, “sorry” is a method 
women can use to obtain some of the power 
usually denied to them while still conforming 
to contemporary norms. Lakoff states that 
apologizing “lets people — especially women 
— get away with saying what the other person 
doesn’t want to hear.” At the same, another 
linguist, Deborah Tannen suggests that the 
act of apologizing is often viewed negatively 
as a form of dismissal or defeat.

Awareness of this trend and its capabil-

ity to make women appear less competent 
and confident has even prompted the cre-
ation of a Chrome app called Just Not Sorry. 
This app highlights particular phrases in an 
e-mail that could come as across as language 
that would dismiss or undermine the profes-
sional abilities of the writer. The app’s cre-
ators at Cyrus Innovation, a consulting firm 

specializing in women-led 
companies and tech teams, 
created the app to alert 
women about the subcon-
scious word choices they 
may regularly use to avoid 
seeming too demanding.

As I wrote through a 

draft of this column, I 
realized there is already 
so much information on 
this topic. Oddly enough, I 
began to wonder if I should 
apologize 
for 
bringing 

up a subject people have 
discussed for years. This 
goes to show that after so 
much discussion, women 
still feel compelled to say 

“sorry” for things that don’t require an apol-
ogy, and many women may still feel anxiety 
about appearing too aggressive. When gender 
norms are so ingrained in our society, they 
can persist for a long time and contribute to 
trends of inequality. To counter this, we need 
to continue to facilitate awareness and dis-
cuss the causes of such trends. Whether it’s 
through apps, journalism, art or educating a 
variety of groups, this is clearly a conversa-
tion worth continuing.

Each time “sorry” is the initial phrase in a 

sentence, it usually masks a far more impor-
tant statement such as “I have an idea,” “I 
have a point to contribute” or “I have a ques-
tion.” These words introduce sentences that 
people need to hear and respect, regardless 
of gender or any other identity trait. “Sorry” 
may have a proper place in our general eti-
quette. However, no individual should ever 
feel so restricted by norms that they apolo-
gize for questioning the world around them, 
for having confidence or for wanting to 
express their ideas. 

— Melissa Scholke can be reached 

at melikaye@umich.edu.

Sick of sorry

Not a nice neighborhood

W

e’ve all done it: riding 
around in a car, going 
down a street that has 

seen 
better 

days and saying 
something 
like, 

“This isn’t a nice 
neighborhood.”

I’ve 
been 
a 

passenger with my friends many 
times over the past year, and I’d 
estimate that I would have to use 
both hands to count how many 
times I’ve heard someone say a ver-
sion of this. It struck a chord with 
me, being from a city that people 
look down upon because of its name 
and the media’s portrayal of it rath-
er than because of an unpleasant 
visit. These comments don’t add 
anything to the drive.

It made me frustrated, mostly 

because what I heard came across 
as a blanket statement for all neigh-
borhoods that looked similarly 
“bad.” The majority of the places we 
passed looked perfectly fine — and 
familiar.

Everywhere we passed looked 

similar to my neighborhood in 
my city, Flint. If they thought my 
neighborhood was bad, what would 
they think of me? I’ve lived in and 
been to less-than-affluent neigh-
borhoods in Flint, Detroit, Philadel-
phia, Mississippi and other areas 
across the country.

Yes, the neighborhood doesn’t 

look great, but it isn’t bad. It isn’t 
“not nice.”

“This isn’t a nice neighborhood” 

can come across like “I’m used to 
better — we shouldn’t go in there 
because in there, crime is possible, 
and the people there are danger-
ous.” In reality, those statements 
might or might not be true. What’s 
really dangerous is making those 
assumptions before you meet some-

one who actually lives there.

There’s a difference between the 

action of not entering the neighbor-
hood and the reason behind it. It’s 
perfectly fine to stay away because 
you don’t feel safe in an area where 
you don’t know the people. It’s 
harmful to avoid driving on that 
street because you assume you’ll 
get robbed if you stop at a certain 
gas station, or feel certain you’ll get 
a dirty look if you make eye contact 
with a pedestrian. We all face this 
catch-22, myself included.

The high frequency of crime 

coverage in the media has given 
people the idea that bad things and 
only bad things happen in poorer-
looking areas. There’s no message 
of hope. There’s no story of people 
working together or of comradery 
between neighbors. The more nega-
tive viewpoint may be the more 
accurate, but the stories about areas 
like this never consider that the 
glass is half-full, not half-empty.

I realize, since I’m from a poor-

er-looking area, my perspective is 
different. I’m more accustomed to 
seeing areas like this, while others 
aren’t. I’ve had experiences in more 
run-down neighborhoods, and I 
came out of those places just fine. 
Through volunteer projects in plac-
es like Detroit, I’ve even left them in 
a better state than they were when 
I entered. I’ve seen my great-uncle’s 
garden (with many stalks of corn!) 
on Flint’s north side, and have met 
some of the sweetest people I’ve 
ever had the pleasure of knowing in 
Philly and Kokomo, Ind.

While others may not feel safe, 

I’m kind of reminded of home. I 
don’t live in the most crime-cen-
tered area in Flint by any means, 
but my neighborhood may look 
“bad” if someone from out of town 
visited. Like every neighborhood 

in the world, we are not immune to 
crime. I’ve been affected by crime 
personally, but it doesn’t affect my 
concept of this area as home to me.

On the other hand, people who 

live in especially crime-ridden and 
downtrodden areas may desper-
ately be trying to get out. They may 
want to leave, and may not feel like 
their house is their home because 
they feel uncomfortable and unsafe. 
Their lives could be at stake. But 
that gives them the strongest of 
grounds and credibility to talk 
about their neighborhood. They’ve 
lived there and have gone down 
the same street every day, possibly 
looking at another neighborhood 
and saying, “I’d like to live there.”

We’re 
all 
culprits 
of 
look-

ing down on a neighborhood just 
because of its appearance. We’ve 
all been quick to assume, quick to 
judge a book by its cover. On the 
outside, we can see an area that’s 
poor, struggling, dangerous. But 
the inside might reveal a commu-
nity living as a team, a group of 
people who have had tough breaks 
and are doing their best for a safe 
place to live.

The assumptions we make can 

sometimes be well-founded, but it’s 
also possible we have been misin-
formed. Until we’re completely cer-
tain our assumptions are true or we 
have lived in the area in question, 
we shouldn’t say, “That isn’t a nice 
neighborhood.”

In response to the next time I 

hear this, I hope to speak up and say 
that we can’t be sure.

You know what you should say 

when you come across a neighbor-
hood like this?

Nothing.

— Chris Crowder can be 

reached at ccrowd@umich.edu.

CHRIS 

CROWDER

MELISSA 
SCHOLKE

Playing in the mud

I

n late December 2015, Amanda 
Bouldin, 
New 
Hampshire 

state representative, posted a 

Facebook status 
that 
objected 

to a proposed 
state law that 
would make it 
a misdemeanor 
offense 
for 

a 
woman 
to 

expose 
her 

nipple in public.

Josh 
Moore, 

another 
New 

Hampshire state 
representative, 
commented that if Bouldin feels 
exposing the female nipple is natu-
ral, then she must also feel it is tol-
erable and natural for men to grab 
women’s nipples. She said nothing 
remotely related.

When anyone shares a politi-

cal opinion — whether on social 
media, through art or in a column 
like this one — they expose them-
selves to commentary and criticism 
from anyone who might disagree. 
Unfortunately, as courteous civil 
discourse quickly evaporates from 
the political sphere, policy advo-
cates increasingly find their words 
contorted far beyond their original 
meaning, and their character or 
intelligence attacked simply due to 
their opinion.

Google almost any issue, click on 

a random op-ed and read the com-
ment section. There’s a pretty solid 
chance someone’s called the writer 
an idiot, racist, socialist or worse. 
Or you could try looking up Hill-
ary Clinton, Donald Trump, Bernie 
Sanders or any of the other presi-
dential candidates. You’re sure to 
find at least one piece comparing 
him or her to Hitler, Stalin or a war 
criminal. The Twitter world has 
even taken a few swings at Ben Car-
son’s wife’s appearance.

Our collective inability to play 

nice and avoid hyperbolizing seri-
ous issues on the Internet no doubt 
threatens our ability to objectively 
evaluate candidates and high-stakes 
political issues. It also likely deters 
otherwise competent people who 
are passionate about serving our 
country from attempting to do so 
through political channels for fear of 
seeing their family’s name dragged 
through the mud. I’ve even heard a 
few of my peers in the Ford School 
of Public Policy remark that they’d 
be unwilling to publicly advocate on 

certain issues for fear of backlash.

U.S. political discourse has dete-

riorated into disparaging, meaning-
less mud tossing. But the issues that 
face our community and country — 
muddy or not — require our atten-
tion, thoughts and voices.

I have learned the hard way that 

contributing my voice to political 
issues requires me to subject myself 
to criticism and mud tossing. But 
the willingness to subject my work 
to potential criticism has made me 
a better writer and advocate for the 
issues I care about.

The summer after my freshman 

year, I wrote a Michigan Daily 
column titled “The Problem with 
Feminism.” It received dozens of 
comments — most of them negative 
and written by people who hated 
my piece.

Their words seethed with anger 

and disgust with my writing. To 
this day, I remember word for word 
some of the many comments about 
how awful or stupid I was, not 

only as a writer, but also as a per-
son. When I first read all the com-
ments, the sense of pride I once felt 
in my work quickly dissipated. I felt 
dejected and defeated, and definite-
ly cried.

At the time, I might have 

described myself as offended by 
the mean comments. On a surface 
level, I was. But the real disappoint-
ment arose out of the dissonance 
between the commenters’ and my 
own perception of my work. Origi-
nally, I had agreed with my own 
opinion and had thought the col-
umn was a good one. 

But after reading so many nega-

tive reactions to my work, I began 
to adopt the overly negative view of 
the commenters. I started to believe 
I was as stupid as so many of them 
suggested, and began referring 
to the piece as “the worst column 
ever.” I told my editors I wasn’t 
going to write a column ever again.

But as I processed the event over 

the next couple of days, I began 
to read my own writing through a 
new lens. I came to understand that 
neither the commenters nor I had 
adequately evaluated the piece. It 
wasn’t “the worst column ever,” but 
it did have objective flaws. Some 
of my word choice wasn’t precise 
enough to accurately represent my 
opinion. There were holes in my 
argument that I didn’t notice when 
I proofread it the first time. Some of 
the sentence structure was off.

This realization quickly became 

motivating. I knew where my work 
needed to improve. I reversed my 
decision never to write columns 
ever again less than a week after 
I had made it. For better or worse, 
I’ve been sharing my opinions with 
Daily readers ever since.

Last 
semester 
during 
finals 

week, a Michigan Review writer 
published a reply to a column I had 
written on gun control. The piece 
took quotes from my “insane” col-
umn out of context before tearing 
them to shreds.

But truth be told, the reply 

piece didn’t really bother me. I 
had already come to accept — even 
welcome — the opportunity to read 
dissent from my work. I had gained 
something invaluable from my first 
experience with critics: the abili-
ties to more objectively evaluate my 
work and process criticism as sug-
gestions for improvements instead 
of personal attacks.

As a columnist, I have developed 

a more durable self-confidence 
grounded in appreciation of my 
abilities, and an acceptance of my 
weaknesses and capacity for error. 
I have become more willing to take 
risks, accepting of the possibility 
that I might fail.

To anyone who cares about our 

world and the people in it, don’t be 
afraid to share your opinions with 
those who might disagree. Read-
ing negative feedback and personal 
attacks against you, and seeing 
your words taken out of context is 
hardly fun. But it’s certainly worth 
it. Our country needs thoughtful, 
passionate people willing to share 
their views. Accepting the risks of 
advocating and discussing difficult, 
divisive issues certainly represents 
an opportunity not only to help 
make our country a better place, 
but for personal growth as well.

— Victoria Noble can be 

reached at vjnoble@umich.edu.

VICTORIA 
NOBLE

 

— President Barack Obama in his Tuesday announcement of executive actions he will 

take on gun laws.

“

NOTABLE QUOTABLE

We are fed the excuse that common-sense 

reforms like background checks might not 

have stopped the last massacre, or the one 

before that, or the one before that, so why 

bother trying? I reject that thinking.”

 “As I wrote through a 
draft of this column, 
I began to wonder if I 
should apologize for 
bringing up a subject 
people have discussed 

for years.”

 “I became more 
willing to take 

risks, accepting the 

possibility that I 

might fail.”

