100%

Scanned image of the page. Keyboard directions: use + to zoom in, - to zoom out, arrow keys to pan inside the viewer.

Page Options

Download this Issue

Share

Something wrong?

Something wrong with this page? Report problem.

Rights / Permissions

This collection, digitized in collaboration with the Michigan Daily and the Board for Student Publications, contains materials that are protected by copyright law. Access to these materials is provided for non-profit educational and research purposes. If you use an item from this collection, it is your responsibility to consider the work's copyright status and obtain any required permission.

September 21, 2016 - Image 3

Resource type:
Text
Publication:
The Michigan Daily

Disclaimer: Computer generated plain text may have errors. Read more about this.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
Wednesday, September 21, 2016 — 3A

Demario Longmire

Toni Wang

Alyssa Brandon
Sabrina Bilimoria
Christian Paneda

Ashley Tjhung

Managing Section Editors

Senior Editors

“Dipped
in
chocolate,

bronzed in elegance, enameled
with grace, toasted with beauty.
My Lord, she’s a Black woman.”

You may remember seeing

this quote from Yosef A.A. Ben-
Jochannan in a piece I wrote
last semester about my identity
as a Black woman. In that piece,
I am confident, I am poised and
I am proud of who I am. But, it
wasn’t always this way. I used
to struggle to find things I liked
about myself, and viewed my
Blackness as a dark shadow that
covered who I really am.

But today, I know my identity

as Black woman makes being
me so much better. I’ve come
to embrace who I am and all
the other things I love to do,
like traveling. This summer, I
had the amazing opportunity
to study abroad in Tokyo,
Japan. It was such an incredible
experience;
I
even
went

spelunking 50 feet underneath
Mt. Fuji. Being immersed in a
foreign culture, pushing myself
to reach new heights and taking
risks helped me finally break
out of the shell I used to hide in
for so many years.

I’m so humbled and honored

to be one of the senior editors
for Michigan in Color this
semester. I’ve joined Michigan
in Color after reporting for
the news section at the Daily
for three years. As a reporter,
I was deeply impacted by the
significant underrepresentation
of minority voices on campus
and a disregard for all the

wonderful
stories
students

of color at the University of
Michigan have to tell. I love
Michigan in Color because it
provides a space for minorities
to feel empowered. My greatest
hope is that my work with
Michigan in Color allows me to
help highlight amazing stories
from students of color within
our community.

But as much as I want to

provide a platform for my
fellow PoC, I also want to find
and strengthen my own voice.
I’ve had many struggles at the
University that have shaped
me into the woman I am today,
many of which were a direct
result of my identity as a Black
woman. I used to be ashamed of
being a Black woman and spent
so much time wishing I was
someone else. But today, I’m
proud of who I am and all the
adversity I’ve overcome.

Someone out there needs

help. Somewhere, there’s a Black
girl who despises her kinky hair.
Somewhere, there’s someone
who looks in the mirror and
wishes
they
were
someone

else, just like I did. I believe
my testimony and experiences
can be used as medicine for
others who are facing similar
struggles.

Expressing myself, discussing

my struggles and telling my
story has been hard, but I hope
writing for MiC helps me find
my voice and gives me the
courage to finally talk about my
journey with others.

Cheers to a new start and to

all the incredible stories I hope
to tell and hear.

Hi, my name is Ashley and

I’m a sophomore in the College
of Literature, Science and the
Arts. On campus, I am involved
in a number of social justice
groups including the Michigan
Community Scholars Program,
the Program on Intergroup
Relations
and
the
Detroit

Partnership. As a part of
these organizations, I became
frustrated with the lack of
resources for students of color
to voice their experiences,
especially in the face of systemic
discrimination. Joining MiC
was my way to give back to
communities of color at the

University of Michigan, while
also expanding my reflections
on how my social identities
impact my outlook on life.

As an Asian woman, my

relationship with my racial
identity has been somewhat
complicated. For most of my
life, I viewed race in the black-
white binary. I struggled to
understand if I was indeed
a privileged member of the
“Model Minority” or another
recipient
of
oppression

among communities of color.
While microaggressions and
discrimination were, and still
are, daily rituals, I was afraid
to rock the boat among my
predominately
white
school

and circle of friends. Before,
I
was
afraid
to

explore my racial identity for
fear of the cognitive dissonance
which
would
arise
from

questioning the system I lived
my entire life in. Since coming
to the University, however, the
unease has begun to fade. I
now identify as a proud person
of color and being a part of the
MiC community is a big reason
why.

Ideally, I believe MiC can

become the main outlet for
students of color to read and
express
their
frustrations,

experiences, culture and pride,
while not being afraid to post
“controversial” content. MiC
is a place both students and
student organizations can use
to share their stories with the
student body, with the goal

to
spark
conversation
and

dialogue around campus. Here,
people of color can find others
living similar experiences to
their own, and in the process
find
clarity
to
their
own

questions on their identity and
voice at this University, and
raise their MiC.

MiC isn’t just a section of a

newspaper or another page to
read. It is a living document
of the struggles and triumphs
people of color experience
throughout campus and life. We
are a community of strong and
inspirational students, faculty
and alumni who support and
affirm each other through our
shared experiences.

Be ready to raise your voice.
Be ready to raise your MiC.

ASHLEY TJHUNG

Senior MiC Editor

Before college, back when

I thought those times would
be the most stressful part of
my life, I would always call my
friend who lived too far away
and tell her that I needed to
“find myself.” Her response
would always be the same “Now
what does that evenmean?”
and my response would be
the same “Well, um, I mean, I
don’t know,” which I thought
beautifully articulated the fact
that I was completely lost on
who I was as a person.

Narratives
of
Asian

Americans in general, ran thin
in the area I grew up in. I was
only offered the stereotypes of
what others told me; I was to
accept them as truths, and I did.
After all, my parents are super
strict and my food is really
weird, right? To accept these
stereotypes was to ensure a
(false) sense of safety and avoid
ridicule in my mind. In a sense,
I lost my voice. In hindsight,
maybe that is why I would
always complain about finding
myself in one way. I didn’t
know what it meant to celebrate
myself as a person of color, and
I
didn’t
want to fully

admit my shame as one too.

But as time passed, my

submission was more harmful
than helpful. Little by little,
I stood up to peers, teachers
and strangers who wanted to
dictate how I should think with
no idea of the experiences of
being marginalized because it
definitely was way more than
about getting my feelings hurt.
I researched all I could to learn
more about my cultural heritage
as an antidote for poisonous
stereotypes.
Holding
my

ground felt much better than
being metaphorically pinned
down.

In college, in the midst of

highly demanding academics, I
was drawn to Michigan in Color
because of how brave, honest
and unapologetic each story
every contributor had to offer as
people of color. I loved, and still
love, the freedom of allowing
expression in all forms outside
of written pieces like audio
and visual art. I want to raise
minority voices up, because I
know how it is to be torn down.

To make others heard, not

silenced

To make others strong, not

shameful

To
make
others
find

themselves, like MiC has made
me is why I chose my role.

CHRISTIAN PANEDA

Senior MiC Editor

I’m a workaholic. I love to

plan out my days to maximize
productivity — no 15 minutes
can go unused. People who have
worked with me before know
me for wanting to streamline
everything so that I can pack
more activities into each busy
day.
But
between
classes,

meetings, readings, essays and
exams, it’s often hard to both
find peace of mind on campus
while still being productive.

Michigan in Color has been
just that — the work we do is
cathartic more than stressful.

As a minority, I’ve spent a lot

of my life looking for the right
group — I’m a feminist, but
not a white woman; Pakistani,
but not Muslim; Parsi, but not
Indian; American, but first
generation. The contradictions
never end. Navigating other
people’s confusion about my
identity — after all the “come
to church with me” and “are
you sure you’re Pakistani?”
— ultimately left me with a
stronger
sense of self. It’s

not that I don’t fit anywhere, but
rather that I fit into a number
of different spaces. It taught
me that identity is more than
the logistics — where you’re
from, what religion you follow
— and more than what others
(read: majority) ascribe to you,
but rather being able to self-
identify.

I
currently
serve
as

co-director of the South Asian
Awareness Network, a South
Asian social justice student
organization. SAAN has been
an outlet for South Asian
American solidarity and a place

to understand my role in social
change. My experience with
SAAN ultimately led me to MiC
as a space to engage with other
communities of color. Michigan
in Color has been the space to
not only explore these many
identities, but to be surrounded
by a group of people who share
the identity of being a frustrated
person of color with too many
experiences and feelings to
unpack alone. For the first time,
I’ve found a group of people
who share my worldly angst.

MiC makes the long hours

worth it.

SABRINA BILIMORIA

Senior MiC Editor

Not limited to the biological

anatomy in the formal sense, our
voices are the means through
which we communicate our
perspectives, our experiences,
our beliefs. Our voices give
weight
to
our
thoughts,

validity to our experiences and
translate the intangibility of
the complexity of the human
experiences
into
narrative,

reflection and wisdom. Our
voices are our essence.

What happens when you’re

told you don’t have a voice? That
your voice isn’t important? It
doesn’t have the right timbre?
It sounds “funny?” Not “smart
enough?”

I didn’t think my voice had

any power. When it came to
talking about race, I doubted
myself.
There
was
always

someone more eloquent, more
creative, more interesting than I
was. My voice wasn’t important.

My story wasn’t inspirational,
it was shameful. Coming from
a poor Black family where
struggle was normalized, I felt
like more of a trope, a number, a
stereotype than an actual person
with experiences. When I tried
to speak, it sounded robotic
and foreign; I felt phony and
restrained in the way I spoke
about myself. I kept my past and
home life a secret. People didn’t
know about me because I didn’t
want to know myself.

Performance freed me of

these insecurities and doubts.
When I was on stage, I felt strong
and sure. I could easily connect
to a character. A person whose
emotions and experiences were
different than my own, even as
I continued to disconnect myself
from my own emotions and
experience. Instead of liberation,
performance, for me, was an
escape. A survival tactic. Life
at the University of Michigan
as a person of color, especially
in conversations about race,
sometimes felt more like a like an

act than performing did.

As a new student to the

University,
I
joined
the

Educational Theatre Company,
a theater troupe on campus that
focused on peer education and
explored topics of social justice
and campus climate through
performance.
Through
my

work with ETC, the boundaries
that society, structurally and I,
personally, had placed on the way
I allowed myself to think about
my story started to blur. I realized
my story and experiences were
important. For the first time,
my voice was developing and I
could recognize it. It sounded
real. Through performance, I
found community and engaged
in conversation with others who
were feeling and experiencing
similar and different things from
myself. These conversations took
place in sketches, monologues
and
theater
sculptures.

Performance was instrumental
in my self-discovery and self-
development. Theater is a tool
to build and explore community.

For me, it is both a part of my
activism and my self-care. It has
helped me find a voice. It helped
to give me the courage to start
to tell my story and share myself
with my community, especially
with other people of color. It
led me to see the importance of
spaces on campus for students
of color to connect and explore,
criticize and create, and share
and grow together.

I hope to bring performance

and
other
nontraditional

mediums
of
expression
to

Michigan in Color. Students of
color, despite the resounding
noise
of
doubt,
erasure

and
minimization
of
your

experiences present here on
campus, know that you have
a voice. Think of Michigan in
Color as a space for you to start
or continue to find it. I leave you
all with this:

Voices of color
loud and radiant amidst
a sea of white noise.
It’s easy to miss the rainbow
when you’re not looking for it.

DE’MARIO LONGMIRE

Managing MiC Editor

I have a terrible memory. I

often find it difficult to recall
events that happened to me
throughout a day, let alone
over the course of a month or a
year. This has been especially
disheartening for me now that
I’m a senior in college. These
past two weeks I have found
myself scribbling down every
pleasant moment I experience
with immense detail, a desperate
attempt at documenting a year
that I know will pass by all too
quickly and one that I hope I can
hold onto despite my record of
forgetting.

I feel as though some of

the challenges I have with
remembering
come
from

the fact that I have changed
immensely over the past three
years and continue to change
almost every minute. I have a
sense of dissociation with who
I feel I am in this moment and
who I used to be, even yesterday.
At the same time, the moments I
can remember are the ones that
truly reflect this ever evolving
self.

One of my clearest memories

of freshman year is when I first
stumbled across a Michigan
in Color article. I remember
sitting at my dorm room desk
and
reading
through
then-

editor Carlina Duan’s piece,
“Our sacrifice, our shame” (one
of the most read articles ever

published by the Daily). I was in
awe of Carlina and her writing.
She was able to articulate
her experiences as a second-
generation Chinese American
woman in a way that I never
could, and in reading her story
I could better understand my
own. Though I hadn’t written
the piece, I felt that I had been
given a voice.

The
feeling
I
had
after

reading Carlina’s article for
the first time is something that
will never escape my memory.
Since then I have read almost
every article published by MiC
and each one has resonated
with me in one way or another.
They have brought me closer to
myself and helped me navigate
my experiences on this campus.

They have bonded me with
communities of color at the
University of Michigan and
served as a constant reminder
of our strength and resilience.
In sum, MiC has played a
transformative
and
integral

role during my time here, which
is why I wanted to become
involved. I hope to continue
the wonderful work that MiC
has been doing — to amplify the
voices and stories of people of
color at Michigan, to make bold
declarations of our existence
and thriving here — so that even
when my memories of this year
become blurred and I forget the
details of my last fleeting days
in college, I know I will always
remember the feeling of finally
being heard and understood.

TONI WANG

Managing MiC Editor

Is this thing on: Why MiC matters

ALYSSA BRANDON

Senior MiC Editor

As Michigan in Color returns to campus, we thought it would be a great time to reflect on why MiC

has been and continues to be a transformative space of healing, growth and exploration for people of color.
With countless tragedies, acts of violence and police brutality, as we look to each other in these times of
pain and sorrow, as we struggle to make meaning for ourselves, we lean on the power of unity and we give
ourselves and our communities space: space to grieve, space to process, to love, to be imperfect. Our stories
don’t always have endings, our narratives aren’t linear, we’re sometimes cyclical, sometimes messy, but
always our own. We wanted to introduce ourselves, faces new and old with the stage always set and the
MiC still live. Michigan in Color is growing, the voices audible, our words visible.

Back to Top

© 2024 Regents of the University of Michigan