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.

