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.