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.”