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
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, April 6, 2016
A
ccepting I was a feminist
took me a while — probably
longer than it should have.
Feminists
had
told
me
time
and again that
if
I
believed
men and women
should be equal,
which
I
did,
then I was a
feminist.
But
separating
the
truth
of
the
movement from
its stereotypes
—
the
false
image of hating men, the angry
tweets and the bra I didn’t have to
burn — did not happen overnight.
Today, I wear the title proudly
and I admit that I still have a lot
to learn. And I have a feeling that
there are about to be a lot more
of me. Barring any substantial
change, a Clinton-Trump general
election is coming, and with it, the
single best night for recruitment
that feminism has had in modern
history. Ignore the campaigning
and Twitter skirmishes that will
inevitably dominate news cycles
and national discussion. Skip to
October, to a debate stage in some
university auditorium in Middle
America. That is where it will
start.
From Gerald Ford denying a
Soviet presence in Eastern Europe,
to Ronald Reagan’s famous “There
you go again,” up to Al Gore’s sighs
and Mitt Romney’s “binders full of
women,” presidential debates have
been the highest and most public
forum for political discourse — a
forum in which no woman has
ever had the opportunity to speak.
Millions watch, and if the Trump
effect on the GOP primary debates
are any indication, 2016 will be no
exception. More people than ever
will tune in to hear what comes out
of his mouth next. Young and old,
liberal and conservative, Black
and white will not be able to resist
watching the political equivalent
of the Fight of the Century. But
unlike Ali and Frazier, this will
not be a fair fight.
Though he has benefited from
the fact that he has consistently
been the center of attention at
every debate in some form or
another, Trump’s debating skills
over the course of the primary
season have pleased few other
than his supporters. He attacks
wildly and without caution, as
he did with Ted Cruz: “I know
you’re
embarrassed.
I
know
you’re embarrassed … I’m relaxed.
You’re the basket case.” If anyone
boos, he chalks it up to a biased
audience. He has blatantly lied,
insulted moderators and made
explicit reference to the size of
his manhood, all on national
television. And a lot of it has
worked thus far.
His antics in these contests have
been what makes him endearing
to the portion of the Republican
base that hates the establishment
and the media, supporters who
love to hear someone speak their
mind and lambast the evil that is
political correctness. If there is
one thing Trump knows, it is how
to market himself. But this cannot
continue in a general election. The
strategy that has catapulted him to
the top of a fragmented GOP field
will not work with independents,
moderates, swing state voters and
the vast majority of Americans
who disapprove of Trump. Keep
in mind the fact that, with the
notable exception of Megyn Kelly,
no one has held him accountable
for his sexist remarks. Since their
confrontation in the first debate,
Trump has avoided this “third-
rate reporter” at all costs, refusing
to participate in debates where
she, and her questions on behalf of
women, were present. In a contest
based around looking “presidential,”
knowledgeable and relatable yet
strong, Trump’s infantile behavior
will pale in comparison to Hillary’s
calm and collected presentation.
My golden retriever would look
presidential next to the GOP front-
runner, but I digress.
Feminists could not have written
a more symbolic showdown. On
one side, a man who has degraded
women, reduced them to their
appearances and last week said that
exercising their constitutional right
to have an abortion should result
in “some form of punishment.”
On the other, a composed and
capable
woman
with
one
of
the most impressive resumés
in the history of presidential
candidates. Someone who has,
throughout her career, promoted
reproductive rights, equal pay
and family paid leave.
Whether Hillary Clinton is
the ideal icon for feminism in
the 21st century or not is still
up for debate. Regardless, she
will be the champion of every
American
woman
when
she
inevitably takes on Trump and
his rhetoric. In living rooms
and at dinner tables across the
country, conversations will be
sparked by the simple truth
that sexism is alive and well. It
will have a name, a face and an
unconvincing head of hair.
Discrimination based on race,
religion, sexual orientation and
gender identity are more easily
identifiable.
Just
watch
the
news. Sexism, on the other hand,
hides. It exists in the socially
acceptable forms of slut shaming,
in
the
unequal
expectations
about marriage and children,
in the double standards about
displaying emotion in public,
and in countless other nooks and
crannies of our national culture.
When
I
imagine
what
a
Trump/Clinton
debate
might
look like, I see a place where
sexism cannot hide. Under the
bright lights and scrutiny of
millions of Americans, as he
tries to score points with his
base of predominantly angry
white men, Trump’s shocking
disrespect for more than half
of the voting public will not be
funny or entertaining. It will
be disturbing — a wakeup call
to those who have chuckled at
“meninism”
on
social
media
and, like I did as a first-semester
freshman, refused to use the F
word. So no matter which party
wins the House or the Senate or
the White House, I will make
one prediction about the 2016
election cycle with confidence:
Feminism will win.
— Brett Graham can be reached
at btgraham@umich.edu.
The F-word in 2016
BRETT
GRAHAM
Though
the
most
common
narrative
surrounding
sexual
violence and intimate partner abuse
tends to focus on heterosexual
relationships
with
a
female
survivor and a male perpetrator, it’s
important to remember that these
issues affect relationships between
people of all social identities. In
fact, according to a 2010 survey
conducted by the Centers for
Disease Control and Prevention,
rates of sexual violence were much
higher among lesbian women, gay
men and bisexual men and women
than among heterosexual people.
The
survey
reports
that
approximately 13 percent of lesbian
women and a whopping 46 percent
of bisexual women reported having
been raped at some point in their
lives. Forty percent of gay men and
47 percent of bisexual men reported
experiencing sexual violence other
than rape. Compared to 17 percent
of heterosexual women reporting
rape and 21 percent of heterosexual
men reporting other kinds of sexual
violence,
these
statistics
show
that sexual violence has a major
presence in the LGBTQ community.
So why are LGBTQ survivor stories
so invisible?
When
people
don’t
see
themselves
represented
in
a
situation (in this case, among abuse
and sexualized violence survivors),
they tend not to identify with it.
Many LGBTQ people are afraid
to report their assault or to speak
out about their abuse because they
worry the resources available for
survivors aren’t “for them” or feel
they aren’t included and accepted
in safe spaces for survivors. This
“othering” can make the survivor
feel further alienated by society.
Another huge barrier for LGBTQ
people seeking resources or support
is the gendered language that tends
to be used when discussing assault.
It is often implied that all survivors
are female and all perpetrators are
male, which, for many survivors,
is inconsistent with their story.
Because they do not see themselves
accounted
for
in
resources
supporting survivors of abuse and
assault, many LGBTQ people do not
speak up or seek help.
Another possible reason behind
this could be that members of the
LGBTQ community who experience
sexual violence are afraid to tell
their stories due to stereotypes
and their minority status. There’s
a sentiment that if there is an
issue with sexual violence in the
community, then straight people
will
have
another
excuse
to
marginalize them. Other members
of the LGBTQ community may have
friends or family members who
are skeptical of LGBTQ people’s
sexuality and partner choice. This
may cause the individual to feel
like they have to work extra hard
to keep up the appearances of a
healthy relationship in order to
make sure people have no reason
to
further
disapprove
of
the
relationship and, by extension,
their sexual orientation.
There is also the fear of being
outed. LGBTQ people who have
been abused, but have not come
out, fear speaking about their
experience or seeking resources
for help because they are not yet
ready to be out. In the case of
abusive relationships, the abuser
could even use their partner’s fear
of being outed as leverage to keep
their partner from leaving.
With
all
these
real
issues
and fears, what can be done to
combat this problem? How can
straight people — survivors or
otherwise — be allies to the LGBTQ
community both generally and
in the context of sexual assault
and intimate partner violence?
One big step is inclusive language.
The
use
of
“partner”
rather
than “girlfriend” or “boyfriend”
includes all gender identities and
all types of relationships. Rather
than
gendering
sexual
assault
and intimate partner violence,
understanding that these things
can happen to people of any and
all social identities is crucial to
opening up the conversation about
domestic violence to everyone.
Regardless of their identity, all
survivors deserve to be heard and
believed.
— Rachel Thursby is a SAPAC
network publicity activism volunteer.
Inclusivity for LGBTQ survivors
RACHEL THURSBY | OP-ED
T
hough the anti-Islam words that
appeared on the Diag earlier this week
could be easily erased by a group of
students with rags and buckets of water, the
same cannot be said for
the
sentiments
behind
the statements, which are
systemic and unfortunately
long-lived.
We cannot dismiss those
hostile messages with a
shrug and an invocation
of the importance of “free
speech.” We cannot let
the broader debate over
“safe spaces” on college
campuses
obscure
the
fact that, whatever the
motivation or intention, whoever wrote the
messages gave a voice to hatred and hostility
toward the religion of Islam and those who
follow it. And we cannot deny that this
Islamophobia dehumanizes and marginalizes
millions of Muslims who are guilty of
nothing more than being Muslims, laying the
groundwork for persecution and violence
toward them.
Unfortunately, this is precisely what the vast
majority of comments on The Michigan Daily’s
coverage of the anti-Islam chalk do. They
attempt to dilute the maliciousness behind
the statements and attribute the outrage that
the words sparked to yet another round of the
debate surrounding “safe spaces” on university
campuses. “Look what we have here,” they seem
to say, “another episode of anguish for those
goddamn, cry-baby liberal students, so coddled
that they simply can’t handle discomfort, let
alone honest disagreement.”
Forget paraphrasing. By way of example,
here’s what one commenter actually wrote:
“To the darling precious snowflakes who melt
into a shimmering puddle when they see chalk
drawings they don’t approve of — do you EVER
hope to get a job?? You understand that ALL
workplaces (even university labs) are filled with
a variety of people some of whom may have
different perspectives and even different values
than you.” Four other commenters nodded in
agreement with a “like.”
Though
the
chalk
writings
were
expressing
a
“perspective”
that’s
(thankfully) “different” than that of many,
that’s only the beginning of the discussion
we need to be having. At a university where
respect, civility and equality are supposed
to be at the core, we cannot tolerate a
“different perspective” that’s grounded in
ignorance and hatred of people because of
their religion. This is a “perspective” that
exposes Muslims to the risk of physical
harm and hurts them in other ways that are
just as real and equally as offensive.
It doesn’t matter whether the inflammatory
words were written in chalk on the Diag or
burned into the side of Angell Hall with a
blowtorch. They must be understood as a
virulent attack on our community’s obligation to
be more inclusive. To dismiss the statements as
harmless, let alone to defend them as protected
by concepts of “free speech,” aids those who
would divide the University community. These
words cannot go unchallenged.
If, instead of the anti-Islam statements,
there had been swastikas, I strongly doubt that
so many of the comments on the Daily’s article
would’ve told offended Jews to “cry me a river.”
That’s because generally, we understand and
reject anti-Semitic remarks as harmful hate
speech that alienates an entire population. In
most quarters, malicious Jewish conspiracy
theories aren’t accepted as merely expressing a
“different perspective,” and Jewish slurs aren’t
excused as simply an exercise of “free speech.”
In this regard, Islamophobia is no different
than anti-Semitism.
To be sure, freedom of speech should be
broadly defined, particularly in an academic
setting, where open expression of different
ideologies,
thoughts,
beliefs,
analyses,
viewpoints — you name it — is essential
to generating meaningful discussion of
important but difficult issues. But the
motivation behind the speech matters, and
to pretend that the words on the Diag were
inspired by anything other than hatred and
bigotry is absurd. That doesn’t mean that
those words can’t be uttered or written,
even in the way they were. It just means that
the statements, and whoever wrote them,
deserve nothing more than to be swiftly
condemned by both the administration and
our community as a whole. It’s that simple.
— Anne Katz can be reached
at amkatz@umich.edu.
An attack on inclusivity
ANNE
KATZ
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
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L
ast Thursday, I stopped by Student
Food Co.’s table in Mason Hall to pick
up a few essentials, and I asked about
the new “People’s Food
Co-Op” bag, its price listed
on the chalkboard at $10.
It’s basically a paper bag
filled with various kinds of
healthy junk food, not really
what I was looking for, but
I was curious and wanted
to know more. What made
me take a step back was the
way one of the girls selling
took a moment to introduce
the co-op to me to the point
of
even
pointing
down
State Street in the direction of Catherine and
Fourth Street. For any other student, someone
who’s never heard of the co-op or who’s shopped
there once but has only vague memories of the
experience, this might be a perfectly normal
gesture. For me, it felt strange simply because
I’ve shopped at the co-op more times than I can
count. Growing up in town, I’ve been a customer
of the store for my entire life.
It’s understandable that one of my fellow
students, probably someone from out of town,
didn’t know about my far-reaching connection
to this Ann Arbor icon. What I find interesting
is just how little students really get to know
this city. Over the course of four or more years
here, people live in dorms and campus housing,
occasionally venturing into apartments in
more “townie”-centric neighborhoods. With
restaurants, nightlife scenes and study spaces
located right around campus, it makes sense
that most students stay within a fairly small
radius from the Diag. After all, who wants to
walk an extra half-mile to pay extra at pricey
Main Street eateries?
I’ve been the opposite case. As an incoming
freshman, I knew my favorite entrée at plenty
of spots on Main Street, but barely understood
the location of the Diag in relation to the rest
of town. Before enrolling at the University, all
I saw was this other side — the “townie” side —
of the city. I’d walked around campus a couple
times before, so I thought I knew everything
about the University. As I’ve discovered over my
three years here, that wasn’t the case at all.
The University is a large and complicated place,
very different from “real-world Ann Arbor,” as a
fellow student remarked to me during the fall of
my freshman year. Learning my way around this
new part of town — where to study, how to find
my classes, and what kind of snacks to pack for
a long day — has been an adventure, and one I’ve
been enjoying greatly. While my time here hasn’t
been perfect, of course, it’s been nothing short of
pleasurable seeing my world expanding, little by
little, to accommodate the Chemistry Building,
MLB, East Quad. And while I’ve lived at home
during the fall and winter semesters, spring has
drawn me away from the familiar more and more
— with a weekend at the Bio Station, six weeks on
the New England Literature Program and, this
coming May, a month overseas.
And just as this other side of my city has slowly
opened up to me, I hope other students have been
exploring beyond the four “U” streets that border
the original campus. Just as I’ve found favorite
restaurants on South U and on State, I hope
others will branch out to explore Main Street,
Westgate, Traver Village or other shopping
destinations around town.
When I enrolled at Michigan, I was still a
townie. I’d eaten at the League and walked
across the Diag, but without knowing their
names. I’d studied in the Hatcher reading room,
but probably couldn’t have located it on a map.
It’s been through my time here, through
walking campus and getting myself lost, that
I’ve truly learned my way around a side of the
city previously hidden to me. I thought I knew
what campus looked like, what the University
was, but I couldn’t understand all of that
without first living the student experience in
my day-to-day routine.
That doesn’t mean there isn’t another side
to the city, one that I hope will be of as much
interest to students as it is to townies. It’s
there in the bungalows of my neighborhood,
the Huron River, the Arb and city parks, it’s
what makes this city Ann Arbor. It can be
found in the public library and in downtown
boutiques. While campus and its surrounding
neighborhoods may technically be a part of
town, they aren’t the same as the destinations
for people who live here year-round. So if
you find yourself getting tired of the same
old sights, then break away from the throng
and go out for a stroll on the city streets or in
the local neighborhoods. On your way back,
maybe you’ll even find yourself stopping into
the People’s Food Co-Op to purchase your
favorite healthy snack.
— Susan LaMoreaux can be
reached at susanpl@umich.edu.
This side of campus
SUSAN
LAMOREAUX