L
ike so many others, I woke
up several days after the
election hoping I was
still only trapped in a horrible
nightmare. I was scared to walk
outside — not only because of
the tangible fear of living in this
country with Donald Trump
as president, but because doing
so felt like I was starting to
accept that this is my country,
regardless of how foreign it feels.
I cried just twice before noon —
an improvement from the days
before — and went to class for the
first time in a week. The gravity
of what will come of our next
presidential administration is
still unknown, but as I continue
to talk to people around me, I
hear more and more of us saying
we are ready to fight.
Last night, I stood in a room
with more than 100 people from
just Washtenaw County, all of
us having volunteered our time
to Hillary Clinton’s campaign. On
my left was a middle-aged, gay,
white man, and on my right was an
elderly Black woman. When one of
the organizers, a young Muslim
man, got up to speak, he said what
I was thinking: Our volunteers
look like America. The thing about
elections is that they’re all about
numbers, and the numbers say
nothing about our intensity, our
love and our fervor.
Hillary
Clinton
won
the
popular vote, which means that
more people in this country
voted for the most qualified
presidential
candidate
this
country has ever seen over
someone who only had to tap
into hatred that has existed
for centuries. Hillary Clinton
won the popular vote, which
means that more people in this
country are ready to fight than
to hate. Many higher-educated
and
higher-income
people
voted for Clinton, which means
that our fight will have more
funding, more strategy and more
experience. There are too many
people of color, women, queer
folks and people with hearts
who will not give up over the
next four years, just as Clinton
hasn’t given up for the past 30.
The numbers don’t show that our
team is stacked.
If you voted for Donald
Trump or Gary Johnson or Jill
Stein or wrote in Bernie Sanders,
I challenge you to think about
how the people of color, LGBTQ
folks,
undocumented
people,
people with disabilities, woman-
identifying people or any other
marginalized person you have
ever met will be affected by a
Trump presidency. And then
I challenge you to think about
how you will be affected by
a Trump presidency. If that
disparity makes you sad, angry
or uncomfortable, then I want
you on our team, because this
dangerous
embarrassment
is
your America now, too.
Our presidential election has
made me fear for my safety and
the safety of those around me.
But if we are going to wake up
every morning terrified, then
those of us who are ready to
fight must force ourselves to
understand why fear won this
election. Whether it was the fear
of a challenge to whiteness or
the fear of losing more jobs, the
sentiments that captivated so
many people in this country are
valid. Rather than radicalizing
people who were motivated by
that fear, we should work to
address it alongside the fear
that systemically marginalized
people have felt throughout this
country’s history.
Donald
Trump
is
our
president, and this is our country,
and denial is only the first stage
of grief. But if we want change,
we can never tolerate the final
stage as acceptance. This cannot
be like another mass shooting
or episode of police violence,
during which the pain wanes
over time. Perhaps we let go of
that pain because our society is
quick to absolve a usually white
shooter of blame, and to accept
police violence against Blacks
as nothing extraordinary or
needing special attention. This
pain is not new to marginalized
communities, and we should
look to them as examples and
leaders in this fight.
As time goes on, may we
never settle into this — may we
always be uncomfortable with
the hatred and resentment that
people in this country have
accepted as normal or even
desirable. We will learn new
coping mechanisms and agents
of change as time goes on, but we
must never forget how we felt on
Nov. 9. That pain will stay with us
every day, and we will counter it
with the knowledge that change
only happens when we show up
more than once every four years
on Election Day.
On Feb. 1, 2016, I stood in
Cedar Rapids, Iowa, and watched
the first woman in history win a
presidential caucus. That was
one of many cracks in a glass
ceiling thicker than we thought
it was. I have no doubt that we
will throw everything we have
until it shatters all over anyone
who doubts the resilience of
our communities. As a woman,
as a queer person, as a Jew,
I will continue to wake up
terrified. But as someone who
has
worked
relentlessly
on
Clinton’s campaign for the past
15 months, I will believe in the
passions of people who will
never quit working to keep the
dream of progress, safety and
humanity alive.
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Wednesday, November 16, 2016
MOLLY ARONSON
May we never settle into this
IN CHAN LEE | CONTACT IN CHAN AT TOKG@UMICH.EDU
Refusing those who want to help
DANIEL ANTHONY | OP-ED
D
ear Vice President Harper,
Last week, I received
an
email
from
you
reminding
students
of
the
35th annual Blood Battle with
Ohio State. In your email, you
encouraged students to sign up to
donate blood, helping “us win and
… save lives.” I’m responding to
you now to say that even though
I am a healthy, able-bodied young
man, I will not be donating blood.
I will not because I cannot, and
this is because I am a gay student
at the University of Michigan.
In your letter, you informed
me that throughout the drive’s
existence,
the
University
of
Michigan has collected enough
blood to save the lives of more
than 644,000 people. This grand
accomplishment is something we
should be proud of: These are lives
that matter. Yet, I can’t help but feel
that we can improve the manner in
which we conduct this meaningful
public health initiative.
As you are probably aware,
under
the
current
FDA
regulations
the
Red
Cross
cannot legally accept blood from
a “man who has had sex with
another man during the past 12
months.” Gay men are not alone
in these regulations.
They also apply to any “female
who has had sex during the past
12 months with a man who has
had sex with another man in the
past 12 months.” Consequently,
the FDA requires blood from
these groups of people to be
deferred unless a person of this
group abstains from sex for 12
consecutive months. This directly
“defers” the donations of all
sexually active gay men, bisexual
men and any heterosexual or
bisexual women who have had
sex with gay or bisexual men.
I am aware that donating
blood saves lives. I am aware that
HIV disqualifies any infected
individual from donating blood.
I am aware that the majority of
newly diagnosed HIV cases are
within the gay demographic.
I am aware that “window
periods” make detecting the
disease less certain. I am aware
that the FDA and the Red Cross
take the health of the people
receiving
blood
donations
very
seriously
and
consider
their treatment of policy very
thoughtfully and conservatively.
But I am also aware of research
that suggests that an individual
sexual risk assessment is just as
effective as the prohibitory and
generalizing policy that the FDA
has adopted; that HIV can be
prevented through the use of
safe sex and even medication;
and that it is mandated for
health care professionals to
screen donated blood for HIV
prior to transfusion.
I would like to contextualize
the FDA’s policy within our
own
University’s
policy
on
non-discrimination. We, as a
University
community,
claim:
“The University of Michigan is
committed to a policy of equal
opportunity for all persons and
does not discriminate on the basis
of race, color, national origin,
age, marital status, sex, sexual
orientation,
gender
identity,
gender
expression,
disability,
religion,
height,
weight,
or
veteran status in employment,
educational
programs
and
activities, and admissions.” Yet,
because of my sexual orientation,
I am not offered the same
opportunity to help my school
or
my
community
through
participation of this historic blood
drive. Instead I am “differed.”
Yes, I am “differed” along
with those who, according to
the Red Cross, “have ever used
needles to take drugs … not
prescribed by (their) doctor …
have ever taken money, drugs
or other payment for sex … (or)
in the last 12 months have been
in juvenile detention, lockup,
jail, or prison for more than 72
hours.” This bears the offensive
implication that, because of my
sexual orientation, I am inherently
hazardous to my community.
In other words, my health,
my lifestyle and my merit are
questioned primarily on the
basis that I am gay. Therefore,
it seems to me that as a healthy,
monogamous
and
responsible
person, I am being unfairly and
unnecessarily “differed” from
one of the cornerstones of my
University’s history.
This
annual
Blood
Battle
presents me with two choices:
For 12 consecutive months, I
can rebuke a part of my identity
in order to donate blood, or I
can live freely while accepting the
systematic discrimination that the
University perpetuates annually.
Neither of these options are
ideal. So, perhaps, the 35th
annual Blood Battle presents our
University community with an
opportunity to follow up on our
self-attributed “Leaders and the
Best” character. Perhaps, we can
speak out against this implicit
discrimination. Perhaps, we can
unite to change our tradition into
a wholly inclusive process.
Your email reminds me of this.
Sincerely,
Daniel Anthony
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.
SHOHAM GEVA
Editor in Chief
CLAIRE BRYAN
and REGAN DETWILER
Editorial Page Editors
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.
Carolyn Ayaub
Claire Bryan
Regan Detwiler
Brett Graham
Caitlin Heenan
Jeremy Kaplan
Ben Keller
Minsoo Kim
Madeline Nowicki
Anna Polumbo-Levy
Jason Rowland
Ali Safawi
Kevin Sweitzer
Rebecca Tarnopol
Ashley Tjhung
Stephanie Trierweiler
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
Daniel Anthony is a School of
Music, Theatre & Dance senior.
MOLLY ARONSON | OP-ED
Molly Aronson is a
public policy junior.
DANIEL ANTHONY
ISAIAH ZEAVIN-MOSS | COLUMN
Collaborative disruption
O
ver
the
past
week,
the
most
uplifting
words I’ve heard came
from
a
classmate
of mine: She said
she has never felt
more
terrified
of
the
future,
and,
simultaneously, she
has never felt more
immediately aware
of her responsibility
to help and to look
out for other people,
particularly people
who are targeted by
xenophobia,
white
supremacy and all
that Donald Trump embodies.
Trump
is
the
living,
breathing
manifestation
of
white supremacy. And he has
just been given the keys to the
most powerful position in the
world.
White
supremacists,
of course, have always been
here, and the consequences
of their ideologies have been
made manifestly visible. We as
a nation have barely been able
to suppress the fact that we
largely operate in a way that
normalizes white supremacy
(think of the habitual way in
which we as a culture respond
to murders of young Black
men by police — outrage, “this
cannot happen,” move on to
the next story, repeat). But
Tuesday, Nov. 8, 2016, served
as a coming-out party for white
supremacy. No need to suppress
it anymore. It is the definition of
mainstream America.
For the most part, I have
been
really
pleased
with
the outpouring of love from
our University of Michigan
community. People are talking
about fundamentally changing
their lives in response to this
election — myself included.
I am not going abroad next
semester because I need to
stay here and help. And I am
not alone.
But I have also felt shocked
at the silence in some of my
classes. Interestingly enough,
this silence pervades classes
taught by white men and
with students who are almost
all white. In these classes,
there is no mention of what is
happening, of the hate crimes
on our campus and in our nation.
No mention of the fact that
millions
of
people
today fear for their
lives. One professor
ended a class of mine
early, but stayed in
the classroom, saying
he feared for his life if
he were to go outside.
And
this
ability to be silent
demonstrates white
privilege in practice.
We
can
only
be
silent because none
of
these
policies
directly target our lives. We
do not have to address Trump,
we do not have to adjust
our syllabi. Why would we?
Instead, we will talk about it
once, for 30 minutes, and move
on. Relatively speaking, this
is the same way in which we
(speaking specifically to white
people) digest the murders of
young Black men by police.
And so the response might
be: But if it doesn’t affect you,
why would the professor have
to talk about it?
Because
the
professor’s
job is to help educate us, the
students, on the most pressing,
urgent questions of our day.
And these are not questions
about
the
ways
in
which
some dead white poet uses
metaphor when talking about
blackbirds or forests or snowy
evenings. Instead, let’s talk
about white privilege. Let’s
talk about the fact that none of
us apparently feel compelled to
speak about what is happening
in this country. Why is that?
Since the election, I have had
classes that could have taken
place in any time throughout
history at this university. This
is unacceptable.
We need to be engaging
with the questions of our time.
We need to be reading and
considering voices that grappled
with these similar questions.
Because,
of
course,
these
questions have always been
relevant — white supremacy has
always reigned in this country.
So people have been responding
to it every day, forever.
But
times
have
fundamentally changed. We
are now dealing with a man,
our president, who has 20
sexual
assault
allegations
against him and who openly
mocked a disabled reporter.
We are dealing with a chief
strategist who once told his
wife that he didn’t want to send
his kids to a certain school
because he didn’t want his kids
to be learning with Jews. This
is our world.
Teachers,
administrators:
It is your job to prepare us
for this world, to demand
that we engage with what is
going on. If this means having
conversations
with
which
you are uncomfortable, that
is a good thing because that
discomfort means, most likely,
that you need this conversation
just as we do. So why don’t we,
students and teachers, if only
for a moment, operate on some
sort of a level playing field, in
which we are all learning from
one another about these icky
terrifying issues?
Do not fear this sort of
collaborative learning. Just as
my peer told me last week, now,
more than ever, we need to rely
upon one another, to look out
for one another, to help one
another learn and be safe and
continue to grow despite this
monumental force of division
that has been rewarded with
the highest office in the world.
Silence, on the other hand, favors
this force. It is what it wants. Do
not obey. Do not give in. Fight.
Collaboratively disrupt.
ISAIAH
ZEAVIN-MOSS
Isaiah Zeavin-Moss can be reached
at izeavinm@umich.edu
We need to be
engaging with the
questions of our
time.
CONTRIBUTE TO THE CONVERSATION
Readers are encouraged to submit letters to the editor and op-eds.
Letters should be fewer than 300 words while op-eds should be 550
to 850 words. Send the writer’s full name and University affiliation to
tothedaily@michigandaily.com.