I MISS YOU DAD

The Facebook group was created by two Welsh sisters looking for a place to grieve.

I want to tell you about a meme I 

saw the other day.

I’m usually pretty skeptical of 

memes. For some reason, it seems 
that under the shadow of the 
presidential election, memes have 
been co-opted into a lazy form of 
political dialogue. I do not claim 
to understand why Minions, the 
little yellow cartoon characters, 
are frequently juxtaposed with 
strange, 
conservative 
ideologi-

cal statements. Nor do I claim to 
understand why the “Pepe the 
Frog” meme became a war-banner 
for Donald Trump’s alt-right move-
ment. And it’s not just conserva-
tives that use viral images in such a 
bizarre way. I’m sure anyone from 
any political background has seen 
their parents’ friends post unset-
tlingly strange memes on their 
Facebook walls.

Usually I just ignore them, 

because most of the time they’re 
meaningless or vexing. But I saw a 
meme the other day that complete-
ly and utterly stopped me in my 
tracks. A girl from my hometown 
of Dexter, Mich. posted an image 
that was completely black, save for 
white text. It read: “i miss my dad 
so much.”

That was it. No Minions. No 

Photoshop-derived garnishes. Just 
that simple, heart-wrenching state-
ment — “i miss my dad so much.”

Suddenly, I wondered how this 

young lady must have been feel-
ing when she shared the post. 
What was initially bewilderment 
at the fact that such a horrific and 
depressing statement was shared 
via a meme — a theoretically mean-
ingless, vexing meme — quickly 
dissolved into empathy. We’ve all 
lost a family member. This girl 
just had the misfortune of losing 
one of her closest, and at a way too 
young age. And then she posted on 
Facebook about it. I felt really bad. 
Maybe she needed someone to talk 
to.

To my further surprise, this 

image was by no means the only 
one of its kind. As I clicked through 
to the image’s page of origin, sim-
ply called “I miss you Dad,” I found 
dozens and dozens more posts just 
like it, and thousands and thou-
sands of likes and comments, all 
about deceased fathers. Every sin-
gle one. 

“Was this time last year Dads 

chest X-rays came back (sad 
emoji),” read one comment. 

“The beginning of a heartbreak-

ing journey. Wish we had had more 

time together x.”

“My dad has been in heaven for 3 

years now and i miss him very very 
much,” reads another.

“Its very hard for me this time 

of year because he was my hunt-
ing buddy, and we had a lot of good 
times. I love you dad and miss you. 
Thoughts and Prayers to all who 
lost their dad.” 

The page has 484,002 followers. 
“We were very close to our dad,” 

said Rachel, one of the owners of 
the page. She runs it with her sister, 
Michelle. “He wasn’t just our dad, 
but our best friend. We could speak 
to him about absolutely anything.”

Rachel, who declined to give 

her last name, wrote in a Face-
book message conversation with 
The Michigan Daily that she and 
Michelle grew up in a little town in 
Wales. Rachel works as a carer in 
the UK, and has mostly grown-up 
children with her spouse. 

She said, the sisters were devas-

tated by their father’s early pass-
ing from cancer, following a heart 
attack at the age of 39.

“When dad was diagnosed with 

cancer, it felt like our world had 
been blown apart,” Rachel wrote. 
“My sister and I moved in with him 
and cared for him throughout his 
illness, until the end came … We 
were with him when he passed.”

That’s 
when 
Rachel 
and 

Michelle turned to Facebook.

“In the months following dad’s 

death, we searched Facebook for 
others that had been through the 
same as we had and took comfort 
in reading different quotes,” Rachel 
wrote. “We found we could relate to 
a lot of the posts and saw that there 
were others who had lost parents, 
partners 
and, 
heartbreakingly, 

children. We wanted to make 
a page for us. A page where my 
sister and I could post our feelings 
through quotes and pictures.”

And so they did. What they 

didn’t expect was their page to 
get nearly 500,000 followers, and 
dozens of comments on every post. 
Along with their administrators, 
they still post images that go viral 
almost every day. One recent image 
was a photo of an autumn-tinged 
forest, with the caption: “Honestly 
— I spent today missing you and 
that is probably how I will spend 
tomorrow, and the day after that, 
and all of the days after that, too. 
#missingyou.” 
The 
comments? 

Stories 
from 
people, 
mostly 

women, from every background, 
about their fathers.

A father that died in a car acci-

dent. A father that died from can-
cer. Heart attack. Truck wreck. 
A baby girl dying at five weeks. A 

father dying on his son’s birthday. 
A woman pledging to sleep next to 
her father’s metal detector.

“The pain will be with me until 

it’s my turn <3.”

“My dad has been dead for 58 

years.”

“I can’t even describe it.”
Though many of the images 

make references to heaven, “better 
places” and other places of eternal 
rest, Rachel told me that she and 
Michelle are not religious women.

“We respect other religions 

and are aware other people might 
be/are religious,” she wrote. “We 
speak with and help people from 
all over the world and have met 
with some unusual traditions and 
interesting ones too. Religion plays 
a role on the page for those who 
find comfort from it.”

One of Rachel and Michelle’s 

administrators has of late started 
a small business on the page selling 
charms. After receiving requests 
for charms to remember their loved 
ones by, the admin began selling 
metal charms to members of the 
group. According to Rachel, the 
initiative is a new, but successful, 
venture.

But it’s not about the money for 

Rachel and Michelle. For Rachel, 
the true value of the page lies in 
the connections she makes with 
people around the world.

“There are so, so, many (stories 

and) they are all touching in 
different ways,” Rachel wrote. 
“I’ve had a few that have made 
me cry. One young man saw his 
dad killed by a gang … He was 
very descriptive and his words 
will haunt me forever. A lady 
wrote a story about her life with 
her dad, her life after her dad 
and then being diagnosed with 
cancer herself and having to leave 
her own children behind. It was 
beautifully heartbreaking.

“People message me because 

they feel suicidal. Others need 
support or advice. I have made a 
few friends on the page. Though 
we don’t talk away from the page, 
we chat in general and share com-
mon interests, etc. The comments 
and likes on the page? Yes, the 
comments have helped with my 
own tragedy. Talking to others 
and helping others has helped me 
work through some of my pain. 
The likes? I guess it’s nice to know 
people like what you do, but I’ve 
never been big on likes.

“Actual words of support, I find, 

are better,” Rachel said.

Rachel and Michelle’s page can 

be found at @Imissyoudadmemo-
rypage on Facebook. 

JACOB RICH
Senior Arts Editor

How two sisters created a dialogue 
about death and family via Facebook

‘I Miss You Dad’ provides forum for grieving daughters, family members

 There truly could not have 
a been a more wonderful 
surprise for metal/hardcore 
enthusiasts to wake up to on 
Halloween than a new music 
video from Code Orange, 
announcing their upcoming 
album Forever. The music 
video for this title track looks 
like it came straight out of 
a horror movie, as it depicts 
rebirth through death.
 It’s no secret that Code 
Orange is a band known for 
abrasive tunes and violent 

songwriting, and “Forever” 
holds true to the status quo. 
It’s exceptionally gritty, 
completely absent of all color 
except blood red. The video 
quickly cuts between shots 
of the band aggressively 
jamming out and ritualistic 
imagery: a circle of candles, a 
bucket of blood and figures in 
cloaks. It’s the perfect video 
for the Halloween season and 
horror fans, and additionally 
honors the band’s past.
 The ritual contains a lot 
of symbolism about the 
band’s direction with the 
new album. Inside the 
candle circle, the words “It’s 
Almost Forever” are spelled. 
Figures in faceless red suits 

violently destroy a crown 
with hammers. A girl rises 
from the bucket of blood. In 
closing the video, a body bag 
is dragged outside and cut 
open, revealing “I Am King” 
engraved on the victim’s 
forehead, which is the title 
(and literally the album art) of 
their previous album.
 Code Orange has effectively 
set the stage for the January 
release of Forever with their 
new video, and have left fans 
eager for what’s to come in 
the next few months. It’s 
almost forever, and Code 
Orange doesn’t care if you’re 
ready or not.

- DOMINIC POLSINELLI

MUSIC VIDEO REVIEW

A

“Forever”

Code Orange

FILM INTERVIEW

“What happened is that the 

world changed in the last 18 
months,” said Abby Ginzberg, the 
co-director and co-producer of 
the new documentary, “Agent of 
Change,” in a recent phone inter-
view. “Between Black Lives Mat-
ter and college campuses really 
reacting and having their own 
demonstrations, it became anoth-
er activist moment. It connected 
the story we were telling to the 
present, and it totally transformed 
the film.”

The documentary “Agents of 

Change” looks at the untold story 
of the struggle for a more mean-
ingful education for Black students 
on college campuses nationwide 
in the late 1960s. Ginzberg and 
her co-director and co-producer, 
Frank Dawson, were on the cam-
pus of Cornell University during a 
pivotal moment in the movement 
to expose racism in higher educa-
tion — a 1969 takeover of a cam-
pus building by Black students in 
protest of recent discriminatory 
events. They joined forces to cre-
ate a film documenting the expe-
riences they had and witnessed 
during the demonstrations.

“The film’s characters were 

caught at the crossroads of the civil 
rights, Black power and anti-Viet-

nam war movements at a pivotal 
time in America’s history,” Ginz-
berg said. “Today, over 45 years 
later, many of the same demands 
are surfacing in campus protests 
across the country, revealing how 
much work remains to be done.”

Ginzberg asserted that the 

experiences of the characters in 
the film were not unique to Cor-
nell or San Francisco State Uni-
versity — demonstrations and 
demands for more Black students 
and professors took place at col-
leges across the country. She and 
Dawson felt the need to tell the 
story through the film because of 
its lack of representation in the 
media and in history as a whole.

“I don’t know why the story 

hadn’t been told before,” Ginz-
berg said. “Each generation finds 
something in the generation that 
preceded it that needs to be told, 
and it hasn’t been told as well as it 
should have. There are blackouts 
throughout incredible parts of 
American history. I think this is 
just one example of it.”

The film aims to inspire its 

collegiate audiences to look at 
the representation of their own 
schools and consider the racial 
dynamics of the classrooms and 
the dearth of spaces for people of 
color. Ginzberg said she thinks the 
film especially has the potential 
to create open dialogue because 
of the partnership of herself and 

Dawson, as a white woman and a 
Black man.

“We reflect different aspects of 

what the struggle was like, at this 
case in Cornell. The reason San 
Francisco State and Cornell were 
successful was that, over time, 
they were supported by a majority 
of white students,” Ginzberg said. 
“Down the road, there was an alli-
ance between the majority of the 
white students and the demands 
of the Black students. That story 
is told visually in the film, and I 
think that’s an important aspect 
to this.”

The film’s ability to start a con-

versation after it’s over is also con-
tingent on the group of people. 
Ginzberg emphasized the neces-
sity to have both Black and white 
students, faculty and adminis-
trators committed to the issue to 
have a productive dialogue and 
facilitate change on a larger scale.

“We want all people who care 

about issues of race on campus. 
It’s been important that we have 
representations from across the 
campus present at every screen-
ing because the film evokes a 
dialogue,” Ginzberg said. “We’re 
hopeful that the film begins a dia-
logue that can continue long after 
the film screening is over. The 
film is designed to link up with 
the struggles that are taking place 
today, even though on each cam-
pus, it’s a different story.”

Director talks activism

REBECCA LERNER

Daily Film Editor

‘Agents of Change’ explores racism on college campuses

4B — Thursday, November 3, 2016
the b-side
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

BEST CONCERT EVER

In this new miniseries, Daily 

Music Writers reminisce on the 
best live show they ever saw.

If I had asked 14-year-old me 

what I saw myself doing the day 
before graduation, my younger 
self would probably have thought 
I’d be burning all of my homework 
assignments or doing something 
equally exhilaratingly destruc-
tive. Instead, I’m sitting on the 
sun-baked pavement outside of St. 
Andrews Hall in Detroit, trying 
to keep the loose shards of grav-
el scattered about from slowly 
migrating up my shorts.

The exterior of the building is 

worn, slightly graffitied, infused 
with the ghosts of concerts past, 
as if the furious energies of those 
countless nights have bled straight 
through the walls of the hall. I’m 
sweaty and hungry, but the antici-
pation pumping through my veins 
fuels me, keeping my limbs rest-
less and my mood bright.

It starts raining 30 minutes 

before doors open. A few lucky 
people take cover under the 
awnings that poke out from the 
building next door, but most of us 
are vulnerable, left to conquer the 
weather with nothing but the con-
tents of our bags.

When I finally inch into the 

hall, the air conditioning washes 
over me like a calm, fresh wave. 

I find myself shivering uncon-
trollably, partially because of the 
excitement and partially because 
of the rain that has dampened 
my head and back. I head straight 
for the front, delving deeper into 
the mesmerizing fog and danc-
ing lights with each step. I end up 
right at the barricade, mere feet 
away from the edge of the stage. 
People mill around, bodies com-
pacting closer and closer together 
with each consecutive opening 
act.

The wait is long, but PVRIS 

finally comes onstage in a flurry 
of sound and flashing light, diving 
into “Smoke” to lead off the night. 
I’ve listened to their album, White 
Noise, countless times, but never 
like this, with the world feeling 
like it’s exploding apart and the 
decibels roaring so loudly that my 
very bones vibrate. Lynn Gunn’s 
singing isn’t perfectly polished 
the way it is on studio recordings, 
but the tiny imperfections and 
spontaneous embellishments she 
adds to the songs develop them 
into entirely new works of art. I 
scream along as loudly as I can, 
and when my throat starts to feel 
hoarse, I double my volume.

In between songs she speaks to 

us, her voice warm and sweet, a 
clear contrast to the vivid energy 
of the music. She orders us to jump 
and we do, flashing brightly as the 
lights onstage cheer us on. The 
crowd becomes one boisterous, 
thrashing organism and I feel as if 

my body cannot possibly contain 
all of the life I’m experiencing.

My favorite part of the night 

is right at the last song, when she 
leaps down from the stage and 
walks through the pit, along the 
boundary that divides the hall 
between her domain and ours. 
Her voice grows ever powerful as 
she stalks along the line, buoyed 
by the watchful gazes of the burly 
security guards that stand vigi-
lantly within arms reach and the 
force of our fevered screaming. 
She reaches out for us and we 
reach back, still awestruck that 
this lioness is here in the flesh. 
Her hands are small, warm and 
somehow dry despite the heat and 
the effort she’s putting into the 
performance.

The concert ends far too 

abruptly; they finish with their 
most well-known song, then cata-
pult off the stage with a bang. We 
pour out of the space in a mess of 
bodies, and I find myself back at 
the same spot of pavement, slight-
ly unsteady on my feet. When 
people ask me about my favorite 
band, I tell them about the bass, 
the drums and Lynn’s wonderful 
voice, but I never mention the aca-
demic, personal or mental strug-
gles that PVRIS has helped me 
through. The night leaves me bit-
tersweetly nostalgic yet hopefully 
euphoric, ready to face college and 
all that the next year will bring.

SAMANTHA LU

For the Daily

The explosive live energy of PVRIS