LAUREN INGRAM | MICHIGAN IN COLOR
Dear Mainstream,
You have seen my thighs dangle
out from under my shorts and my
skirts. They jiggle, they flap and cause
problems whenever I try on something
new. It’s a little difficult to learn how to
love every inch of my body fat when I go
into a store — take your pick, H&M or
Forever 21 — and have difficulty buying
shorts. All of a sudden my regularly
size six thighs can’t fit into your size
10 shorts. That’s a problem. Oh, my
beautiful thick thighs — I put so much
onto you that it always leaves behind
lines and marks from the jeans I
force onto you each day. Mainstream,
I love my rolls, the rolls that roll over
my size six pants — but do you? Why
don’t you see the beauty behind my
curves and my rolls? I never see my
reflection on any of those websites
when I’m shopping online. I’ve
rarely met someone who looks like
those size small, 5’10” models, with
a small bust and a small waist. You
deceive us, making us think those
clothes will fit just like they do on the
models, but they don’t. Are they ever
tried on by someone who was larger
than a small? You imagine all of us to
be the same, and you expect for us to
change until we are. Mainstream, you
don’t allow for individuality, and you’re
so quick to deem someone’s body out
of the norm, to be plus-sized. Why is
plus size a different section in general?
You choose every chance you get to
embarrass my big black thighs, forcing
me to go to the plus size section when
you can easily extend the sizes into
your regular lines. Mainstream, learn
to love and accept my body for what
it is. What you see as imperfections I
see as uniqueness.
Mainstream, you have taken away
my uniqueness by manipulating my
nanas, aunties and mommas for years.
For so long, I was told that I had to tame
my hair and make it look “presentable,”
all the while damaging my hair. My
hair, oh my hair, it’s been pinched
and bobbled, robbed of its texture
and all. It’s been strained, lost,
shortened and almost completely
uprooted. For years, my hair follicles
have endured chemically-induced
pain. Sitting there for what feels like
years, being permed and burned,
permed and burned, permed and
burned. I constantly complainied
from the pain only to be reminded
that “beauty is pain.” Why does
it have to hurt to be beautiful?
Mainstream, you’re the one who told
our mommas to scold us in the morning
if we didn’t wrap our hair the night
before, always making sure that our
hair would be neat. We’ve been placed
in a bubble where we would rather
spend the money to look good than
spend the time to be true to ourselves.
Mainstream, you are a catalyst for
change — to make everyone look just
like you. You have beaten into the heads
of my nanas, aunties and mommas that
the natural curl coming straight from
my scalp shouldn’t be there. You have
convinced many of them that the
hair we are blessed with is not okay,
forcing us to assimilate to straight
long hair just so we are not looked at
as beneath the rest of mainstream.
How I choose to wear my hair is my
prerogative. I want to see my natural
curls back. I want to walk into a job
interview with the curls that sprout
from my head and not worry about
whether or not my qualifications are
the only thing in consideration for
the job. I’m slowly having to prove to
those who come before me that it’s
okay to wear my hair in its natural
state. Mainstream, accept me and my
natural afro of curls, just like we’ve
had to accept everything else that
you’ve thrashed in our faces.
Accept my skin, embrace it — it’s
not going anywhere. I am born and
proud of my smooth cocoa skin — my
beautiful chocolate skin that reminds
you of filth, that you describe as
dirt. Mainstream, you set aside my
skin color as if it’s removable. We
are not seen as an entity that needs
representation. You were in my
friend’s head when she thought her
only option was to bleach her beautiful
skin — her beautiful chocolate brown
skin. Mainstream, you tell my sisters
and me that we will be accepted if we
look just like you, if we try to match
you as best we can. There’s a divide
between me and my lighter-skinned
sisters. Mainstream, do you only
wish to inflict pain on me and my
sisters? Do you know how difficult
it is to look in the mirror and never
see the image reflected back at you
in media? Mainstream, do you hear
from your nanas, aunties and mommas
that you need to date someone with
lighter skin so that your babies will
have lighter skin so that your baby will
be considered beautiful based upon her
skin color? Mainstream, if you could
change your skin color, would you be
chocolate? No. You would rather
just take everything else about black
women and claim it as your own.
My lips, oh my lips, I was born
with these luscious, full and round
lips. They were not manufactured
— just au natural. You constantly
tore down my sisters for their lips
and used it as a way to emasculate
my brothers. “Big lips” are equated
with ugliness, mainstream, except
when it comes to today’s reality stars.
We embrace many reality stars as if
their newfound interest in having
big lips make them look better when
that same amount of tissue in my lips
is deemed unattractive. These are the
same lips I use to mindfully obey your
every whim, policing my sisters about
their hair expression and reminding
our brothers that assimilation is the
only way to get ahead — all of that to
finally have my lips deemed “cool.” My
grandmother actually tried to teach
me ways to make my lips look smaller
based on the type of makeup that I
used.
There’s only so much about my
appearance and my body that I can
continue to take from you, so I’ve
decided to take it all back. No longer
will I look to you for justification. If
you will not represent my beautiful
body and everything that comes
along with it, then I’ll find or create
a space that will. If you refuse to
recognize the part of your current
culture that takes parts of the
culture that I’ve had for years, I will
shame you for it. Mainstream, if you
continue to purposely tear me and
my sisters down, remember that
we’ll always keep rising up.
Sincerely,
The Conventional Black Girl
5
OPINION
Thursday, May 19, 2016
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Science needs storytellers
I
read an article recently in The New
Yorker written by the physician-
scientist Siddhartha Mukherjee,
which introduces
the
topic
of
epigenetics
through
stories
about his mother
and aunt. They’re identical twins,
but Mukherjee remarks on how their
personalities
differ
despite
their
genetic similarity, which he alludes to
in the title, “Same But Different.” He
attributes their distinctive qualities
to another layer of biological data
encoded over the DNA in each cell of
the body. The epigenome, he says, is a
system composed of proteins and other
small molecules that interact with
DNA, controlling how it is read, which,
in part, defines individuality.
It was a welcome example of how
employing a personal narrative can
be used to explain an area of science
by bringing it to life, enabling a casual
reader to absorb the information
comfortably. Epigenetics and other
areas of science might otherwise seem
intimidating or dry if encountered
through a textbook or peer-reviewed
article. It’s enjoyable to leisurely read
and learn about an unfamiliar subject,
but also interesting to observe how
a familiar subject is presented to
somebody else in an unfamiliar way.
In this case, however, biology experts
reading Mukherjee’s explanation of
epigenetics reacted differently.
The
article
quickly
received
widespread criticism for providing
an incomplete explanation about the
mechanisms of gene regulation. An
article in the scientific journal Nature
noted that one genetics researcher said
the article was “a horribly damaging
piece” for the field. Another called it
“a truly painful read.” Researchers
believed
some
of
Mukherjee’s
descriptions were inaccurate and noted
that he failed to include any mention
of transcription factors (a completely
different group of molecules that affect
how DNA is read), misleading the
public about the true inner-workings
of gene expression. Naturally, a more
objective explanation of the science
would have left little print room for his
personal narrative, which may not have
appealed as much to the magazine’s
non-science-specific
readership.
Mukherjee himself has acknowledged
his article’s shortcomings, but The
New Yorker has defended the content.
This controversy highlights an
important
discussion
about
the
communication of science. Because
science,
especially
biology,
can
be so complex, anyone actually
working in the field must have a deep
understanding of where the boundary
of knowledge exists in order to ask
the right questions and to obtain the
answers that extend that boundary. A
researcher might spend years trying
to understand the mechanism of a
new cell-signaling pathway, when
thousands of different pathways are
already confirmed to exist, and many
more remain undiscovered. There
arises a substantial gap between the
depth of what scientists believe to
be true or possible, and what the lay-
public has the capacity to understand.
Mukherjee
exhibits
how
storytelling is an important method
for communicating science. Using
personal anecdotes and explaining
concepts at a surface level is effective
in enabling a lay-audience to relate
and understand. Inevitably, many
mainstream media outlets will fail
to present scientific topics with
thoroughness
and
depth
when
constraints, such as word count or air
time, exist. In these cases, it should be
acknowledged by journalists, who can
direct someone with a deeper interest
to sources where they can learn more.
But sometimes science can be
packaged so artificially for the media
that the message presented hardly
resembles the conclusion of the
original study. In a recent episode of his
show “Last Week Tonight,” comedy
news anchor John Oliver bashed
media outlets like Time magazine,
“The
Today
Show,”
local
news
broadcasts and even the TED series for
sometimes overlooking the diligence
and nuances of scientific studies in
order to hook the viewer with a catchy
headline. (In one instance, a study
testing the effects of eating chocolate
on childbearing, which turned out to
show no effect, somehow received the
local news headline: “Eating moderate
amounts of chocolate could benefit
mom and baby.”) While attention-
grabbing headlines are important for
sequestering viewers and readers,
journalists
should
ensure
more
consistency from what the study
concludes to what the reader or viewer
sees by interviewing the researchers
themselves, instead of merely trying to
interpret conclusions in press releases.
Keeping
scientific
news
and
discussion in the mainstream media
is vital to the dissemination of new
knowledge. In addition to accuracy,
reach
is
also
important.
Those
believing that dry, comprehensive
accounts are the only tools for
distributing new findings will be
greatly disappointed in their lack
of permeation among the general
public, when people cannot connect
to the concepts. A more scientifically
DAVID
MERTZ
informed public generates new ideas
for solving problems and better policies.
The scientific community should
appreciate journalism that creatively
shares new findings and, instead of
quickly antagonizing its messengers,
should request for findings to be
communicated accurately with the
proper context and implications.
In
“Same
But
Different,”
Mukherjee chooses to prioritize
telling a story to explain epigenetics
instead of purely objectifying the
subject matter and diluting the
element of humanity he uses to
connect with his audience. His
new book “The Gene: An Intimate
History” becomes available May 17. It
will include other narratives and fill
the scientific holes left by his article,
providing a more comprehensive,
yet still accessible, understanding
of gene regulation. Hopefully it will
appease his critics.
—David Mertz can be reached
at drmertz@umich.edu.
“The conventional Black girl”