O

ver 
Thanksgiving 

break, I went to see 
the new coming-of-age 

film, “The Edge of Seventeen,” 
expecting 
to 

see 
myself 
in 

Hailee 
Steinfeld’s 

awkward, 
selfish, 

yet entirely relatable 
protagonist, Nadine. 
And I did, doubling 
over with laughter 
at her over-the-top 
antics 
and 
long-

winded wit that are 
nothing but normal 
for a teenage girl. 
However, 
I 
found 

my endearment unexpectedly 
stolen by newcomer Hayden 
Szeto, the lone face of color in 
a nearly all-white cast (Hailee 
Steinfeld and movie-brother 
Blake Jenner have Filipino and 
Cuban roots, respectively, but 
they are portrayed as white in 
the film). 

Rarely do I get to see an 

Asian face in Hollywood, and 
when I do, they’re usually 
typecast into some variation 
of the goofy, geeky sidekick 
who excels in school and 
maybe takes up martial arts 
as an extracurricular. Though 
Szeto’s adorably nervous, boy-
next-door 
character, 
Erwin 

Kim, could have easily become 
the clichéd Hollywood Asian 
male, the movie makes it 
clear that Erwin is just “your 
average 
guy,” 
even 
poking 

fun at such stereotypes when 
Nadine tries to pigeonhole him 
as a stereotypical Asian with 
a mother who “owns a small 
restaurant downtown” and a 
“quiet, gruff father who never 
says ‘I love you.’ ” 

Despite that, Erwin spends 

most of the film ignored by 
the leading lady, who goes 
for the cooler “bad boy” Nick, 
potentially falling in line with 
Hollywood’s 
emasculation 

of Asian men. So imagine 
my 
surprise 
and 
delight 

when he takes his shirt off 
to 
reveal 
a 
swoon-worthy 

physique that falls in line with 
American standards of male 
attractiveness 
and 
(spoiler 

alert) wins the girl in the end. 

Let’s face it: Hollywood 

has not properly represented 
my people and our stories. 
Directors and producers claim 

that there are no 
big Asian stars to 
feature in their films 
as an explanation for 
their whitewashing, 
but the argument is 
circular: How can 
Asians ever establish 
themselves as stars if 
they are never even 
given a chance?

Asian 
Americans 

have 
long 
seen 

themselves 
erased 

or ridiculed in Western media. 
Take, for example, “Breakfast 
at Tiffany’s,” the movie I’d 
watched the day prior for my 
family’s 
post-Thanksgiving 

dinner tradition of watching 
old Audrey Hepburn movies. 
In all my times of watching 
the film, this year was the first 
year I realized just how racist 
and offensive Mickey Rooney’s 
portrayal of the Japanese Mr. 
Yunioshi was. Not only did 
Rooney tape his eyelids and 
wear yellowface (because God 
forbid an actual Asian person 
play an Asian character), but he 
also sported a ridiculous accent 
and persona that established the 
“Asian” Yunioshi as nothing but 
a caricature, a joke. 

But, Ashley!, one might cry out, 

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s” came 
out more than 50 years ago, long 
before all this political correctness 
nonsense came about! That may 
be true, but how can the racist 
ignorance of the ’60s really 
be a defense when Hollywood 
so recently disappointed the 
Asian-American community by 
casting the white Emma Stone 
as a quarter-Chinese, quarter-
Native American fighter pilot in 
Sony’s 2015 “Aloha” and Scarlett 
Johansson 
as 
lead 
Motoko 

Kusanagi 
in 
the 
upcoming 

adaption of the Japanese manga 
“Ghost in the Shell”? 

So Szeto’s role in “The Edge 

of Seventeen” may seem like a 
small thing to most, but to me, 
an Asian love interest in a big 
box-office movie is the hope I 
need that Hollywood is taking 

a step in the right direction. Of 
course, Szeto’s portrayal in the 
film is not perfect. After all, 
he’s a Chinese actor playing a 
Korean character, a common 
occurrence in this industry 
that perpetuates the racist 
sentiment that all Asians are the 
same and that our ethnicities 
are 
interchangeable. 
“Teen 

Wolf” is guilty of that practice, 
casting Korean Arden Cho as 
the Japanese Kira Yukimura in 
order to tap into Japanese lore, 
as is “Once Upon a Time” for 
casting Korean Jamie Chung as 
the Chinese Mulan. However, 
that’s a detail I can overlook for 
the opportunity to see my race 
represented on the big screen. 
Baby steps. With the success of 
ABC’s “Fresh Off the Boat,” the 
first television show about an 
Asian-American family in 20 
years, and Steven Yeun’s Glenn 
Rhee being a fan favorite on 
“The Walking Dead,” there is 
hope that my children will be 
able to turn on the TV and see 
their lives and stories reflected 
back to them. 

And I don’t want just one 

revolutionary show that counts 
as our “representation.” I want 
Asians — and all people of color 
— integrated into mainstream 
media not as token minorities, 
but as normal people among 
a 
multicultural 
cast 
that 

accurately 
represents 
the 

diversity in America today. Let 
us be the protagonist. Let us 
be the love interest. Let us be 
the hero, the antagonist and 
the three-dimensional morally 
ambiguous middleman. 

What 
Hollywood 
needs 

to understand is that we are 
all human, and when we’re 
stripped bare, we bleed red 
just like the rest of the world. 
Asians are not all special, super 
geniuses or completely devoid 
of sex appeal. No, we are just 
normal people, and we, too, 
fall in love, make mistakes and 
have stories worth sharing. You 
know, normal people things.

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 — Friday, December 2, 2016

The last registration

MICHAEL SUGERMAN | COLUMN

I 

registered 
for 
the 
final 

classes of my undergraduate 
career Wednesday morning, 

and only as I wrote 
this sentence did it hit 
me how odd that is.

Class registration 

is routine — a twice-
a-year activity that, 
in 
its 
mechanical 

regularity, 
has 

become 
a 
subtle 

source of comfort. 
Class 
registration 

means 
that 
I’m 

returning 
to 
Ann 

Arbor, and all that 
doing so entails. After next 
semester, 
my 
routine 
will 

change. That’s jarring.

It’s not just the courses I’ve 

taken, the papers I’ve written or 
the all-nighters I’ve pulled.

It’s the drive into Ann Arbor 

from the airport, and the swell 
of joy that comes with whizzing 
down 
Washtenaw, 
past 
the 

Arborland sign and the Rock and 
South U and the Hill en route to 
finishing a 2,300-mile journey 
from Los Angeles to Kerrytown.

It’s my house. The drafty 

walls 
and 
creaky 
radiators. 

The old futon Casey brought 
from Grand Rapids that has a 
lovable, gaping hole on its right 
side — which is actually really 
comfortable if you know where 
to put the pillows. The box of 
175 York Peppermint Patties, 
replenished each semester by 
my grandmother, that sits on the 
mantle in our living room. The 
stacks of frozen burritos Matt 
keeps in our freezer, occupying 
at least 25 percent of the space. 
The dirty coils on our gas stove, 
and all the times we cooked 
chicken breasts, green beans 
and boxed mashed potatoes on 
them. The porch swing where 
I’ve been content to sit and sway 
for hours.

It’s sangria at Dominick’s, 

or a fishbowl at Charley’s. The 

party that turns into a trip to 
Rick’s (or as my buddy Joe calls 
it, “the Café”) that turns into 

a trip to Backroom 
Pizza, where no one 
ever knew a crappy 
$1 slice could taste 
so 
good. 
It’s 
the 

quiet evenings when 
making a homemade 
meal, playing a game 
of 
Scrabble 
and 

binge-watching 
a 

Netflix show with 
good friends is more 
satisfying than any 
night out.

It’s the Big House. The sea of 

maize. The disappointing losses 
of freshman and sophomore 
year. The electric revival of 
junior and senior year. The 
deafening voices screaming in 
unison and echoing across the 
field. Fire Hoke. Free Jabrill. 
Let’s Go Harbaugh. You Suck. 
Let’s Go Blue. The “bullshit” 
chants 
the 
University 
of 

Michigan (and subsequently, 
the band) doesn’t want national 
television to hear. The wave, at 
all speeds. The Blues Brothers 
dance. Mumbling and making 
up words to “Varsity” at the 
end of a win because none of us 
know them.

It’s walking through campus 

and the city. Throwing a Frisbee 
to a friend, or a gaze at the fall 
foliage in the Arb. Making sure 
to hop over the class of 1953’s 
Block ‘M’ at the Diag’s core, and 
staring down an emboldened, fat 
squirrel in the process. Admiring 
the Bell Tower, and wondering 
why the hell a column with a 
clock on it is so beautiful to 
look at as the sun sets. Heading 
downtown and strolling around 
Main Street.

It’s the winter. The rain, 

which turns to hail, which turns 
to snow, which turns to slush, 
which turns to ice. The wind 
blowing impossibly in every 

direction, so no matter which 
way you look, your hood flies 
off and the weather slaps you 
in the face. The slightly-more-
aggressive-than-two-hand-
touch football game, because the 
snow is thick and tackling makes 
it more legitimate, somehow. 
The late-night sledding with 
trays smuggled out of dining 
halls on Palmer Field and 
outside the Medical Center 
Plaza. The reprieve of spring, 
when the ubiquitous white melts 
away to reveal the green below. 
The first afternoon when it’s 
warm enough to sunbathe, even 
though it’s just 50 degrees. The 
next week where it paradoxically 
snows again, just as a small 
middle finger from the Mitten.

Choosing 
my 
last 
set 

of 
classes 
was 
stressful. 

Inherently, there existed the 
pressure to balance picks that 
satisfy the pesky, remaining 
distribution requirements and 
others that stimulate fledgling 
academic interests I’ll only 
have time to explore in depth 
as a college student.

Registration 
is 
always 

important, but if we’re being 
honest, it’s usually a mundane 
task in which our options are all-
but-determined by the context 
of our majors.

This time was different. The 

choices felt more consequential, 
because it was the last time I’d 
be making them — and “lasts” 
carry the weight of everything 
that has prefaced them. It’s easy 
to feel paralyzed by the gravity 
of moments like these, but I’ve 
found it’s healthier to consider 
that the reason they feel so 
heavy is because the “preface” 
was so meaningful.

All things considered, then, 

I’m happy. And I’m not just 
talking about classes.

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

Michael Sugerman can be reached 

at mrsugs@umich.edu.

Ashley Zhang can be reached at 

azhang@umich.edu.

Just normal people

ASHLEY ZHANG | COLUMN

ASHLEY
ZHANG

FROM THE DAILY

 Stop construction of the DAPL
O 

ver the past several months, protests over construction of 
the Dakota Access Pipeline have grown from a whisper to a 
feverous roar, both on campus and across the nation. Celebrities, 

concerned citizens and many University of Michigan students have 
joined the #NoDAPL movement, which supports the Standing Rock 
Sioux Tribe of North Dakota who have led the movement. Protesters 
have been challenging the pipeline’s path, slated to pass under the 
Standing Rock Sioux’s main source of water, the Missouri River, and 
through significant spiritual land. Adding to the controversy, growing 
protest camps in Standing Rock have been met with water hoses and 
tear gas from police forces. Because of the unacceptable environmental 
hazards of oil pipelines, the threat the DAPL poses to water sources for 
the Sioux and the persistent violation of the Sioux’s sovereign rights, 
we oppose any further construction of the DAPL.

The 
pipeline 
is 
being 

built in what is now an era 
of dangerously rising global 
temperatures 
and 
contempt 

for 
the 
reality 
of 
climate 

change at the highest levels 
of government, most recently 
manifested in President-elect 
Donald Trump’s appointment 
of a climate change denier 
to lead the transition at the 
Environmental 
Protection 

Agency. 
Oil 
pipelines, 
in 

general, present environmental 
risks, 
and 
the 
DAPL 

specifically presents deeply 
unnecessary risks to both 
local ecologies and a vital 
water source that runs from 
North 
Dakota 
to 
Illinois. 

The 
International 
Energy 

Agency has found that oil 
pipelines nationwide spilled 
three 
times 
the 
volume 

of oil as trains — another 
method of transporting oil 
which carries it’s own risks 
to local communities and the 
environment — between 2004 
and 2012. A major stakeholder 
of the DAPL, Enbridge Inc., 
built the disastrous Line 6B, 
which 
dumped 
1.2 
million 

gallons of crude oil into the 
Kalamazoo River, and crude oil 
spills from pipelines have been 
shown to harm the environment 
for 
years 
after 
the 
initial 

spill. The DAPL threatens the 
viability of the Sioux tribe’s 
water intake for 70 miles down 
the Missouri River.

The proven dangers of oil 

transport pipelines call into 
question the Army Corps of 
Engineers’ 
environmental 

impact 
assessment 
of 
the 

pipeline that the federal agency 
released before building began. 
Both the U.S. Army Corps of 
Engineers, the federal agency 
responsible for issuing permits 
for 
construction 
projects 

on and near waterways, and 
Dakota 
Access 
LLC, 
the 

branch of Energy Transfer 
Partners building the pipeline, 
conducted 
risk 
assessments 

and reported that no significant 
environmental 
or 
cultural 

impact was found. However, 
the pipeline assessment relied 
on an outdated 1985 survey 
of the land that the pipeline 
would run through, which the 
Sioux claim omits important 
burial sites and sacred land, 
meaning their risk assessments 
may be largely invalid. In 
addition, 
the 
Army 
Corps 

classified the pipeline in such 
a way that allowed it to issue a 
special Nationwide Permit 12. 
This permit process allowed the 
pipeline to only be assessed in 
areas where it crossed federally 
protected lands, bypassing laws 
intended to preserve culturally 

significant lands and letting 
it be built with little federal 
authorization 
and 
oversight 

from the Army Corps.

In addition to the damage oil 

spills inflict on local ecologies, 
the DAPL represents a step 
backward in the shift toward 
renewable energy the United 
States should continue to make. 
In 2016, job creation in the 
solar energy field grew 12 times 
as fast as overall jobs in the 
United States and surpassed oil 
and coal jobs. Though Trump 
has said he would support the 
pipeline under the premise 
it will promote the creation 
of new jobs and stimulate 
the economy, furthering the 
development of fossil fuels 
is the wrong way to go about 

those goals. The DAPL will 
produce hundreds of temporary 
construction jobs, but will only 
offer a handful of jobs in the 
long run. If Trump truly cares 
about infrastructure and job 
growth, he will encourage 
renewables 
instead 
of the 

economically 
deteriorating 

and 
environmentally 

dangerous 
energy 
sources 

like the oil that would be 
transported by the DAPL.

Building the DAPL would not 

only be environmentally costly, 
but also continues to perpetuate 
the U.S. government’s historic 
and systematic mistreatment 
of 
Native 
Americans. 
The 

Advisory Council on Historic 
Preservation 
states 
federal 

agencies must consult with 
Indian tribes if construction 
projects 
take 
place 
on 
or 

affect religiously or culturally 
significant land. Yet the Sioux 
assert that the Army Corps 
rushed the surveying process 
with the Nationwide Permit 
12 and didn’t make significant 

efforts to include the tribe’s 
input in construction plans. The 
pipeline’s path over significant 
tribal archaeological finds, and 
the threat it poses to the tribe’s 
water 
intake, 
demonstrate 

disregard for tribal sovereignty 
and echo the long history of 
questionable land grabs from 
native peoples in U.S. history. 
The Army Corps must cease 
authorization for the pipeline 
if it intends to reconcile with 
a people long abused by the 
federal government.

Moving the pipeline away 

from North Dakota’s capital 
of Bismarck and to its current 
path because of concerns over 
the city’s water supply further 
shows disregard for the Sioux 
nation. Though this was likely 
seen as a simply utilitarian 
decision, the shifted plans 
echo government disregard for 
people of color, which we’ve 
seen more locally in Flint, 
Mich. According to the Sioux, 
the reroute may violate the 
Clean Water Act and National 
Environmental 
Policy 
Act 

through the dangers it poses 
to the Sioux water intake. 
The government should shut 
down the DAPL and condemn 
environmental racism.

Recent 
clashes 
between 

protesters and law enforcement 
officials 
in 
Standing 

Rock 
further 
necessitate 

the 
cessation 
of 
DAPL 

construction. 
The 
Standing 

Rock Medic and Healer Council 
has condemned health dangers 
posed 
by 
police 
brutality, 

including police forces’ use 
of tear gas and water hoses in 
freezing 
temperatures, 
and 

has filed a lawsuit alleging 
excessive force. This violence 
stands in stark contrast to the 
non-violent 
police 
response 

during the occupation of the 
Malheur 
National 
Wildlife 

Refuge in Oregon by armed 
white men. The response to 
the DAPL protests contributes 
to the problem of excessive 
police 
aggression 
toward 

marginalized communities.

Stopping construction of 

the Dakota Access Pipeline is 
vital to the preservation our 
environment and to the well-
being of the Standing Rock 
Sioux. Student activism on 
this issue is more important 
than ever, especially in the 
face of inadequate coverage 
of the silencing of the protests. 
We call on the Army Corps of 
Engineers and Dakota Access 
LLC to cease construction of 
the project. For the safety of the 
local ecology and the dignity of 
the Sioux community, we ask 
for a halt to the construction of 
the DAPL.

MICHAEL 
SUGERMAN

Stopping 

construction of 

the Dakota Access 
Pipeline is vital to 
the preservation 

of our 

environment and 
to the well-being 
of the Standing 

Rock Sioux.

