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 Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 — Friday, February 19, 2016

I 

was only 50 pages or so into 
“The Turner House,” a 2015 
National 

Book 
Award 

finalist, when I 
thought to myself 
that the author, 
Angela Flournoy, 
must have been 
from Detroit.

I was wrong.
A story about 

a living but aging 
matriarch, Viola; 
a dead patriarch, 
Francis; and their 
13 children, “The Turner House” is 
set in Detroit and details the fam-
ily’s current struggles living in the 
city as well as the history of how 
Francis and Viola arrived in Michi-
gan to start their family.

The book is mainly focused on 

two characters: Cha Cha, Fran-
cis and Viola’s oldest child, who 
is experiencing somewhat of a 
mental breakdown and Lelah, 
the youngest child, who suffers 
from gambling addiction, which 
takes her through several twists 
and turns with her family and old 
acquaintances.

The plotline itself is worth giv-

ing the book a read; it delves deep 
into the significance and strength 
of family relationships, and had 
me thinking how my divorced par-
ents’ families have stuck together 
through difficult times. It’s the 
setting, though, that gives the 
book its veracity. Nearly every 
detail rang true: the description of 
the casinos, streets and houses, for 
example. The discussions of white 
flight 
and 
deindustrialization 

were on point. Clearly, Flournoy 
has a unique, intimate knowledge 
of Detroit.

But again, Flournoy is not from 

Detroit. Though her father grew up 
in Detroit and she visited once or 
twice a year growing up, she’s from 
Los Angeles, lived in Iowa and now 
lives in Brooklyn.

So how exactly did she gain this 

insight? I spoke with her on the 
phone last week to find out.

“I read a lot of books,” Flournoy 

explained. “Mostly nonfiction, sort 
of urban histories or histories sort 

of like early industrialization in 
Detroit and then population change 
in Detroit. And then I also read 
some oral histories.”

“But also, I watched movies and 

YouTube videos and just random 
things. One of the most useful 
things actually was Google Maps, 
particularly the street view because 
all those photos in street view are 
dated, so you know exactly what 
a place looked like, say in 2009, 
which was really useful.”

I noted one crucial part of 

Flournoy’s 
research 
that 
was 

absent: She did not interview any 
Detroiters to gain an understand-
ing of the city at the most individual 
level. But, Flournoy made a compel-
ling point as to why it can actually 
be more harmful than helpful when 
your knowledge of a place becomes 
too vast.

“When you’re not from a city, 

there’s a way that you can sort 
of channel information without 
the burden of feeling like every 
little detail needs to be included,” 
Flournoy told me. “So I’m from LA, 
but I have not successfully written 
anything set in LA because the set-
ting always feels insufficient when 
I write it. So that’s because my 
knowledge of the city is so sort of 
detailed that it’s hard to figure out 
what information to prioritize and 
help the reader feel like they get an 
understanding of the place. And so 
in Detroit, I had a background of 
the city, but I wasn’t from the city, 
so then when I did research, I could 
really choose what details about 
the city were important to my char-
acters versus what was important 
personally to me, which I think is 
the challenge.”

And according to her, writing as an 

outsider about Detroit has paid off.

“The response has been over-

whelmingly positive, and it’s been 
humbling because I really wanted 
to do the city justice and I wanted 
to really empathize with people 
who lived there,” she said. “But I 
don’t think I paint a rosy picture.”

I wrote a column in January 

touching on the influence and abil-
ity of outsiders to come into Detroit 
and monetize its culture. Clearly, 
Shinola (the company I discussed) 

and Flournoy’s book are very differ-
ent things, but it had me question-
ing once again, both through fiction 
and nonfiction, who should be tell-
ing Detroit’s story. I think if I was 
asked a month ago who was best 
suited to do so (not that outsiders 
haven’t tried before), I would have 
said hands-down a native Detroiter.

After 
reading 
“The 
Turner 

House” and speaking with Flourn-
oy, my views have certainly shifted. 
Anyone, even if he or she isn’t from 
the city, can write about Detroit — 
or any place, for that matter — hon-
estly and effectively, but there is a 
prerequisite: the need to be open 
and honest about the subject you’re 
writing about.

When discussing this point, 

Flournoy recited a quote by an 
author who has influenced her writ-
ing greatly, Zora Neale Hurston: 
“Mouths don’t empty themselves 
unless the ears are sympathetic and 
knowing.”

“The 
reason 
why 
that 
line 

was important for this book was 
because I wasn’t from the place,” 
she explained. “I had to do the work 
of trying to be sympathetic and the 
knowing part was the research. The 
sympathetic part was just as impor-
tant, or rather maybe empathetic. I 
really thought it was important to 
try to be fair, but not be judgmen-
tal as far as various characters and 
their relationship to place and also 
their history in the place. I think 
if the book has succeeded on a set-
ting level, it’s because I really tried 
to learn first and try to synthesize 
that into fiction second.”

For that reason — to confront 

difficult truths that make up the 
history of Detroit — it was obvious 
to me from our conversation that 
Flournoy has a deep affection for 
Detroit. 

So I asked the natural question: 

“Have you thought about moving to 
Detroit?”

“I don’t love a Midwestern win-

ter,” she replied.

Well, I tried. At least she told a 

story worth telling and did so with 
sympathetic and knowing ears.

—Derek Wolfe can be reached 

at dewolfe@umich.edu.

Who can tell Detroit’s story?

E-mail in chan at tokg@umich.Edu
IN CHAN LEE

Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Caitlin Heenan, Jeremy Kaplan, Ben Keller, 

Minsoo Kim, Payton Luokkala, Kit Maher, Madeline Nowicki, Anna 
Polumbo-Levy, Jason Rowland, Lauren Schandevel, Melissa Scholke, 

Kevin Sweitzer, Rebecca Tarnopol, Ashley Tjhung, Stephanie Trierweiler, 

Hunter Zhao

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

M

ost mornings, I am awoken by the 
shrill ring of my alarm clock alert-
ing me that it is time to stumble out 

of bed and sleepily begin my day — an unset-
tling tactic, but also effective. However, this 
particular Wednesday morning, I was awoken 
by something much more troubling. While I 
grabbed my phone to turn off my alarm, I 
opened a picture message that caused my jaw 
to rapidly drop in disbelief. When my friend 
Meg thrust open her door to go to the bath-
room, she was immediately confronted with 
the remnants of someone’s vomit splattered 
across the dimly lit hallway of West Quad. 
Of course, she had to document the moment, 
along with the caption, “Oh, hell no.”

For something that had once been mere 

distant chatter, the norovirus outbreak 
entered our lives in a manner similar to the 
suddenness with which it strikes its victims. 
Eating pre-packaged oatmeal safe in the con-
fines of my dorm room, I grew more and more 
fearful as the reports of widespread vomit-
ing accumulated — especially on Yik Yak, the 
perfect breeding ground for fear-mongering 
alarmists.

As the day wore on, I 

began to feel like I was 
starring in some sort of 
twisted quarantine-style 
horror film. I had already 
been wary of dining halls 
in the past, and the virus’s 
suspected connection to 
South Quad Dining Hall 
completely destroyed my 
appetite for any food that 
had been set out in the 
vicinity of potentially ill 
students. I didn’t take 
the buses due to reports 
of people getting sick on the already jam-
packed transportation. The Ross Academic 
Center was closed early to be deep cleaned. 
A friend that had been perfectly healthy 
at lunchtime was puking by the afternoon. 
Despite how terrible the events occurring 
are, I heard multiple people make remarks 
that the mass hysteria was sort of “entertain-
ing” and “exciting.”

Why is it that humans tend to lose all sense 

of rationality when outbreaks occur, and 
seem to delight in doing so?

Though the term “contagion” is usually 

used to refer to the spread of illness, the more 
specific phrase “social contagion” refers to 
the idea that moods and thoughts can become 
contagious in large group settings. As soon 
as individuals enter into a group, they begin 
to feel that they are both “anonymous and 
invincible” — a feeling accelerated today by 
the influx of social media apps and online 
messaging sites available. People say what-
ever they want, with no fear of the repercus-
sions because they seemingly have the entire 
group on their side. Then the “contagion” 
occurs, and the members of the group fall 
susceptible to extreme suggestibility. High 
on emotion and fear, they engage in a period 
of extreme interaction, finely attuned to the 
stress that other group members face.

An “us against them” mentality is quickly 

created: students versus norovirus, or maybe 
even more so, students against the admin-
istration’s handling of the norovirus. This 
type of contagion was prevalent during such 
events as the French Revolution, the Cold 

War and the Ebola outbreak, and still exists 
today… right in the middle of campus.

However, these feelings of heightened 

fear can actually weaken one’s immune sys-
tem rather than protect it. Worrying will 
not necessarily let germs into the body, but 
worrying increases the level of cortisol in 
one’s immune system, which will in turn 
reduce the antibodies that help fight infec-
tion. When one experiences a time of pro-
longed stress, his or her body needs white 
blood cells, but cortisol will continue to 
suppress these blood cells. A weak immune 
system, without the necessary cells need-
ed for protection, is much more likely to 
become infected.

As I sat in West Quad realizing I was still 

healthy and unaffected by the virus, the 
humor behind my earlier hysterics rapidly 
set in. With my friends, it was so easy to get 
all wrapped up in the frenzy and pretend 
that we were all inevitably going to con-
tract the sickness and go down in flames. 
But now, by myself, I realized that I was 
simply falling victim to the crowd mental-
ity. With something like a sickness, this 

type of social contagion is a 
little more benign. But when 
a crowd gathers about ideas 
dealing with important soci-
etal issues, this behavior can 
quickly become insidious. 
How many times have you 
started believing something 
just because those around 
you said it was true?

As I’m writing this, the 

sun is shining brightly from 
a sky unblemished by clouds, 
the temperature is warm 
and two more of my friends 

spent their nights hunched over the toilet, 
victims of the norovirus. Yet, I’m OK.

In this situation, just as much as any 

situation, it’s extremely important to main-
tain a calm exterior and not let oneself get 
wrapped up into the craziness. I’m choos-
ing to go about my routine as normal, with 
a little extra hand-washing thrown in of 
course, and calmly acknowledging the extra 
precautions the University has instituted to 
keep students safe and housecleaners bran-
dishing disinfectants and face masks. Chief 
Health Officer Robert Winfield sent out an 
e-mail Feb. 17 reminding students to wash 
their hands frequently and isolate them-
selves for at least 48 hours after symptoms 
subside.

I can never predict what the future may 

bring. I’m sure that as the number of days 
remaining until Spring Break continues to 
dwindle, the sick toll will only rise. I myself 
have a very real chance of getting sick. Yet, 
unless I actually do, I’m going to actively try 
to reduce my own contribution to all of nor-
ovirus’ hype. Norovirus, in all of its grimy 
glory, is extremely unpleasant and worthy of 
discussion, but soon it will pass and students 
will find a new cause or issue to rally around. 
Students will begin to return to classes, vomit 
remnants will be scrubbed from the halls and 
one day — one fateful day — the South Quad 
dining hall will be restored to its former 
glory.

—Kaela Theut can be reached 

at ktheut@umich.edu

Life in the time of norovirus

O

n Feb. 6, I attended the 
University of Michigan’s 
first tri-campus summit at 

the UM-Flint campus, where I had 
the opportunity to meet inspiring, 
engaged students from all three 
campuses. I heard the stories of 
students from Dearborn and Flint 
who do so much admirable work 
toward social justice and equity in 
their communities — those of whom 
I wouldn’t have been able to know 
about otherwise. In particular, I met 
students from the Flint campus who 
not only are committed to respond-
ing to their city’s water crisis, but 
are living it every day. Unlike many 
of us in Ann Arbor — no matter how 
much we think we know or want to 
help in this situation — these stu-
dents have the experience of going 
to university while in the midst of 
one of the most public urban crises 
in the United States.

For more than two years, Flint, 

Mich., has been on the receiving 
end of state-sanctioned violence. 
The city of about 100,000 people 
is about 57-percent Black/African 
American, and has been dealing 
with lead-laden water since the for-
mer emergency manager, Darnell 
Earley, decided to switch the water 
infrastructure from the Detroit 
supply to the Flint River. As many 
of us know by now, this had dire 
consequences: The chemistry of the 
river water proved corrosive almost 
immediately 
after 
the 
switch 

occurred, exposing lead in many 
of the pipes carrying the water — a 
problem that continued even after 
the supply was switched back to 
Detroit in October because of the 
corrosion. Flint residents started 
reporting dirty, smelly water and 
health impacts (rashes, hair loss, 
breathing problems, burning eyes, 
etc.) in the first months after the 
switch. This was in April 2014 — 
almost two years ago. Since then 
nearly a dozen people in Flint have 
died of Legionnaires’ disease (posi-
tively correlated with lead expo-
sure), all of Flint’s children are 
being treated as though they were 
exposed to unreasonably high lev-
els of lead, the city is under a state 
of emergency and communities 
are feeling the impact of this cri-
sis. While community organizers 
and others in the Flint community 

resist the water crisis by supporting 
each other and finding ways to care 
for themselves, Gov. Rick Snyder 
and others in the state government 
quietly talk about reactionary solu-
tions.

The problem I and so many oth-

ers see here is that the emergency 
management that led to this prob-
lem in Flint is bound to the poli-
tics of race and class. Michigan’s 
current administration sought to 
— and continues to seek — ways 
to restrict democracy in Michi-
gan’s urban centers. Since most 
white people left these centers in 
the decades following World War 
II, the cities — including Detroit, 
Flint, Saginaw, Pontiac and Ben-
ton Harbor — who’ve experienced 
emergency management have been 
home to majorities of people of 
color. These are people who vote 
for their officials, like every other 
community in the United States, 
but are then are told by the state 
that they are not fit to choose their 
leaders. Would this happen in 
“white” cities? I severely doubt it.

As a non-Black person of color, 

I write this article in solidarity 
with those in Flint who are criti-
cally resisting abuse in the form 
of water poisoning, emergency 
management and downright negli-
gence — I’m close to calling it “stu-
pidity” — on the part of Snyder and 
his administration. As a brown 
Middle Easterner, I see the state 
violence in Flint tied to the impe-
rial colonialism that is tied to the 
history of almost every person of 
color in our society. I can’t be the 
first to find similarities between 
U.S. involvement in the Middle 
East and the politics of racial 
domination within our nation. In 
1953, when U.S. and British forces 
initiated a coup d’état to oust Ira-
nian Prime Minister Mohammad 
Mosaddegh in the name of petro-
leum interests, they sent my fam-
ily’s country down a road that led 
to extreme Islamist control. Iran, 
once a close ally to the United 
States, finds itself always serving 
Western interests. Iran, once a 
nation where human rights were 
practiced daily, has become a place 
where those who are suspected of 
being gay or of political subver-
sion are routinely killed. Really, 

the white “West” has determined 
the course of Middle Eastern poli-
tics and economics by meddling 
in ways that are completely self-
serving; this is why I say we still 
live in colonial times. And the 
psyche of colonization there works 
in the same ways here. When the 
white governor of a state effec-
tively replaces the elected offi-
cials of Black-majority cities, we 
— Black and non-Black people of 
color — call out racial domination. 
When these emergency managers 
make decisions that lead to the 
wholesale poising of urban popu-
lations, we raise our voices against 
imperial colonialism. And when 
the same government continues 
charging water bills to those with 
tainted water — those whose well-
being has been jeopardized by vio-
lent government practices — we 
see very clearly how unrelenting 
oppression can be.

I want to highlight that we 

people of color share common his-
tories, and as much as the world 
tries to divide us — telling us that 
we are too dissimilar to hold a 
conversation, let alone struggle 
together or love one another — 
that history cannot be erased. 
 

When the students I met at UM-
Flint described their experiences, 
and those of others in their com-
munity, I understood where they 
were coming from, at least in part. 
Though I’m wary of co-opting 
racial/ethnic struggles as my own, 
I affirm that our oppressions are 
linked. Not only that, I affirm that 
our resistance as well as prosper-
ity are tied to each other’s as well. 
 

If we are to overcome racism (or 
the “imperialist-white suprem-
acist-capitalist-patriarchy”) 
we 

must stand in solidarity with each 
other. I attest that it’s in our best 
interest as non-Black people of 
color to find points of solidarity 
and work in alliance with Black 
communities as we all carve paths 
in life and work toward mutual 
liberation.

Michigan in Color is the Daily’s 

designated space for and by 

students of color at the University 

of Michigan. To contribute your 

voice or to find out more about MiC, 

email michiganincolor@umich.edu

In solidarity with Flint

DEREK 
WOLFE

DARIAN RAZDAR | MICHIGAN IN COLOR

“Two of my friends 
spent their nights 
hunched over the 

toilet, victims of the 
norovirus. Yet, I’m 

OK.”

