A

ll 
over 
our 
social 

media feeds, everyone 
is dubbing 2016 the 

worst year. But was it really? 
Frankly, I think the 
reasoning for why 
it was the worst 
is hyperbolic. The 
statement is mainly 
tongue-in-cheek, 
citing the deaths of 
famous 
celebrities 

such 
as 
Prince, 

David Bowie and 
Carrie Fisher as the 
reason why the year 
was 
so 
horrible. 

The reactions to the 
deaths of some of our favorite 
stars are relatively harmless, 
but reveal something about 
the 
country’s 
favoritism 

toward 
the 
famous 
and 

those 
immediately 
in 
our 

consciousness.

At the end of December, 

Fisher, of “Star Wars” Princess 
Leia fame, passed away at the 
age of 60 from a heart attack. 
The outpouring of support and 
well-wishes has been extended 
to her family, co-stars and even 
her dog. There’s nothing wrong 
with this. It may seem trivial 
to some, but I couldn’t imagine 
how I would feel if one of my 
favorite 
entertainers 
passed 

away. What may seem strange 
or unimportant to some means 
something dear to another. Some 
of these people had a personal 
relationship with Fisher, and 
it 
is 
appropriate 
to 
grieve 

immediately after her death.

The problem lies within the 

discrepancy many have when 
grieving over loss of life. This 
isn’t a critique of political 
correctness, 
but 
rather 
an 

observation. 2016 was a year 
of multiple tragedies across 
the globe, which made it 
incredibly 
saddening 
from 

many standpoints. The year 
can’t be deemed as bad solely 
because 
beloved 
celebrities 

passed away. There may be a 
lack of personal connection, 
but there should be equal acts 
of empathy for those who have 

lost their lives in 
Aleppo, for example, 
as well as individuals 
like Fisher.

As of right now, if 

an alien came to our 
planet, they would 
probably 
observe 

that 
the 
masses 

deem 
celebrities 

as more important 
than others. There 
are 
far 
more 

stories 
online 

and 
topics 
of 
discussion 

surrounding celebrity deaths 
and calamities than those of 
regular people. It’s just odd 
that tons of attention goes 
toward one person for a while 
when there are many other 
groups of people that need 
support as well.

I own up that I haven’t 

shown 
equal 
amounts 
of 

concern and grief in these 
situations, either. I text my 
girlfriend 
something 
sad 

about Fisher because we both 
love “Star Wars,” but show no 
sign of sadness or support for 
those oppressed and in danger 
overseas. Doing that made me 
question why others and I do 
this and what these actions 
say about our Western society.

Examples 
like 
these 
of 

favoritism and apathy toward 
others could be from a result 
of lack of coverage, personal 
connection or care toward 
the affected. It’s important 
that we continue to realize 
that all lives matter (not in 
the way that opposes Black 
Lives Matter, but in a fashion 
that 
doesn’t 
dismiss 
the 

oppression of any group of 
people). I had friends point 
out this discrepancy in news 
coverage to me, citing how 
there was constant coverage 

and changing of Facebook 
profile pictures when the 
terrorist 
attack 
happened 

at the Batalan Concert Hall 
in France, but not as many 
cameras or grieving statuses 
in response to violence in 
the Middle East. The United 
States as a government — 
and even its citizens — can 
be prone to show more care 
toward its allies and its own 
than those it isn’t closely 
connected to.

We must not forget about 

the 
disadvantaged 
and 

endangered both on U.S. soil 
and abroad. We can show 
our support and share our 
grief for those people on 
social media, by volunteering, 
donating or reminding others 
of what is going on outside 
of 
our 
immediate 
worlds. 

Again, there’s nothing wrong 
with being sad over the death 
of our favorite celebrities, 
and while they may have 
touched our lives more than 
an average citizen thousands 
of miles away, every life is 
equally important and should 
be treated as such. It’s just 
that many lives aren’t given 
the same amount of limelight 
or recognition.

We can still show our love 

for the beautiful lyricism of 
Bowie that we’ll never hear 
live again, the spunk of Fisher, 
and post memes of how Betty 
White 
and 
other 
elderly 

celebrities should be protected 
from death for the whole 
year. But at the same rate, the 
people of Flint who still don’t 
have clean water, the citizens 
of Aleppo who have seen their 
homes crumble, and tragedies 
that affect our friends and 
family should be recognized 
with at least the same amount 
of effort.

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Wednesday, January 4, 2017

A new kind of resolution

ANU ROY-CHAUDHURY | COLUMN

E

ight percent. That’s the 
percentage of people 
who actually achieve 

their New Year’s 
resolutions. Every 
year, 
millions 

vow to change or 
improve something 
in their lives for 
the coming year. 
It’s a tradition that 
endures even with 
its low success rate 
and 
surrounding 

skepticism. 
But, 

it makes sense. A 
new year is a new 
start, a clean slate and a hopeful 
beginning. It’s a new year that 
has the potential to be better 
than the year before, so we 
make resolutions to ensure the 
potential. If you are one of the 
few who can stick with it, 
even better.

This year feels different. 

In hindsight, 2016 seems like 
a terrible year. The past few 
months have seen shocking 
change after change around 
the world: the enduring crises 
in the Middle East, fatal 
shootings and violence in the 
United States and changing 
political landscapes around 
the world. Simply, change has 
been frequent and unnerving 
in 2016. Social media has 
been 
filled 
with 
statuses, 

tweets and, of course, memes 
commenting 
on 
just 
how 

bad 2016 was and a seeming 
readiness to enter 2017. Yet, 
this 
type 
of 
commentary, 

which 
many 
have 
likely 

seen on Twitter feeds and in 
Instagram posts, is blaming 
2016’s problems on 2016. But 
aren’t we actually to blame?

More often than not, New 

Year’s resolutions are based 
more on our personal lives and 
less on what’s going on in the 
world. This is most evident 
in the popular resolution to 
exercise more, a resolution 
that results in a massive gym 
rush in the weeks following 
New 
Year’s. 
Resolutions 

always seem to be individual 

and insular. They are about 
improving our own lives and 
are derived from sayings like 

“New year, new me.”

With this type of 

thinking, New Year’s 
resolutions take on a 
sense of selfishness, 
a selfishness we are 
all prone to. And 
maybe, just maybe, 
that’s why they fail. 
As 
the 
8 
percent 

shows, these types of 
personal resolutions 
aren’t 
typically 

followed 
through 

on, which means the packed 
gym 
eventually 
dwindles 

down to its normal crowd. So, 
if resolutions are supposed 
to be about improving the 
coming 
year, 
maybe 
we 

shouldn’t focus simply on 
ourselves. Perhaps a new kind 
of resolution is needed.

A few years back, my high 

school English teacher showed 
our class Chimamanda Ngozi 
Adichie’s 
TED 
Talk 
“The 

Danger of a Single Story.” This 
TED Talk eventually became 
one of the most watched of its 
kind. Over break, I decided to 
re-watch it and was reminded 
of just how powerful words are. 
And just as most TED Talks 
do, the speech made me really 
think. Originally given in 2009, 
its 
message 
of 
assumption 

and acceptance is one that, 
in light of recent events, felt 
more fitting than ever. Adichie, 
who was born in Nigeria, talks 
about 
her 
experience 
with 

stereotypes 
throughout 
her 

life and how the single story 
or stereotype is a mark and 
perpetuation of a power which 
disregards so much.

Adichie 
explains 
how 

important 
and 
prominent 

storytelling is in our lives, 
whether we realize it or not. 
We learn from talking to each 
other, 
from 
hearing 
about 

different experiences, which 
ultimately add to our own. 
A 
“single 
story,” 
however, 

is 
detrimental. 
Instead 
of 

creating human connections, a 
single story dissolves them.

With the recent election 

and crises around the world, 
division seems more apparent 
than 
ever. 
On 
our 
own 

campus, our own microcosm 
of the world, we have felt 
the 
divisiveness. 
Posters, 

petitions and protests, along 
with a rise in hate crimes 
post-election, 
have 
formed 

from stereotyping those who 
don’t agree with us. It then 
creates a division that at its 
root comes from assumption, 
stereotyping and ultimately 
the “single story.”

After watching the TED 

Talk last week, I got rid of 
my original and admittedly 
selfish resolution and instead 
decided on a new one: Work 
to prevent the single story and 
stray from accepting it. After 
all, stereotypes are almost 
like a heuristic — it’s a short 
cut and a defense mechanism 
for many. Yet, its dangers 
were exemplified by many 
events in 2016 and as Adichie 
so eloquently said, “When we 
reject the single story, when 
we realize that there is never 
a single story about any place, 
we regain a kind of paradise.”

Talk about how horrible 

2016 was is warranted. But 
blaming it on something as 
intangible as four numbers 
is not. It was a rough year, 
it was a divisive year, but 
if we make resolutions on 
improving 
ourselves 
for 

the next year, then why not 
gear them toward improving 
things around us? New Year’s 
resolutions seem to be about 
the individual, and they often 
fail. So maybe, just maybe, 
a resolution that is for more 
than just ourselves can have 
a better success rate. I know 
my resolution is ambitious, 
but maybe it will be easier and 
more worthwhile than going 
to the gym every day.

REBECCA LERNER

Managing Editor

420 Maynard St. 

Ann Arbor, MI 48109

 tothedaily@michigandaily.com

Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.

EMMA KINERY

Editor in Chief

ANNA POLUMBO-LEVY 

and REBECCA TARNOPOL

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
Caitlin Heenan
Jeremy Kaplan

Max Lubell

Alexis Megdanoff

Madeline Nowicki
Anna Polumbo-Levy 

Jason Rowland

Ali Safawi

Kevin Sweitzer

Rebecca Tarnopol

Ashley Tjhung

Stephanie Trierweiler

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

Anu Roy-Chaudhury can be reached 

at anuroy@umich.edu.

Chris Crowder can be reached at 

ccrowd@umich.edu.

2016’s forgotten tragedies 

CHRIS CROWDER | COLUMN

CHRIS

CROWDER

ANU 

ROY-CHAUDHURY

T

his past year was a 
bizarre ride. The Cubs 
won the World Series, 

“killer” 
clowns 
allegedly 

roamed the land and the man 
who invented the Kinder Egg 
Surprise passed away, just to 
name a few. I could go on.

For 
me, 
however, 
the 

strangest part of 2016 might 
have been getting by on my 
Franglish for 10 weeks to work 
in Tours, France, at an event 
management company. And, 
more specifically, the most 
surreal part had to be working 
at the Tours American Festival.

Imagine Elvis impersonators 

and trucks, country music and 
Twinkies — everything that 
apparently 
spells 
American 

culture to a foreign nation. 
I wasn’t sure what to expect 
when I showed up at work 
on the first day, but it wasn’t 
really that. When I think of the 
United States, I think of a lot of 
things, but not necessarily swing 
dancing and rodeos.

It 
was 
strange 
to 
walk 

through the booths and find 
small, eccentric elements of a 
larger picture of my home, like 
stumbling on a baffling puzzle 
that was partially put together 
with none of the missing pieces 
present. When these pieces came 
together, they didn’t make a map 
of the states, but rather an odd 
caricature of the old West with 
some of the aesthetics of the 1950s 
(which, now that I’ve written that 
sentence, I feel needs to be the 
basis of a horror film).

The main upsides for me 

were that A) I got to enjoy some 
cupcakes 
there, 
which 
was 

great because they’re not the 
most common dessert to find in 
France, and B) my conspicuous 
American accent became an 
attractive oddity to the people I 
spoke with rather than a reason 
to walk away quickly.

However, there was a strange 

discomfort in existing in that 

space and seeing my own culture 
through 
another 
country’s 

lens. There was no context for 
anything that was on display, 
including the cringier parts of 
our history and cultural artifacts 
that had been included. There 
were women walking around 
in attire that recalled 1950s 
housewives, 
complete 
with 

aprons (hmm...), teepees next 
to 
parked 
covered 
wagons 

(yikes) and T-shirts with the 
Confederate 
flag 
on 
them 

(yikes again).

Not for the first time, I 

considered 
the 
incredibly 

complex concept of cultural 
appropriation, or, to grossly 
oversimplify 
it, 
the 
use 
or 

adoption of one culture’s elements 
(fashion, slang, customs, etc.) by 
another culture. Was this that? 
Was American culture being 
appropriated? I couldn’t help 
but think that were this a Syrian 
Festival or a Chinese Fair put on 
by French natives in the way that 
this American festival was being 
produced, picking and choosing 
bits and pieces of their aesthetic 
and music and history to partake 
in, there might have been issues 
(to put it lightly). In this case 
though, I couldn’t see any kind 
of backlash coming from it, and 
perhaps rightly so.

To be completely honest, 

I was slightly uncomfortable 
with the incongruous portrayal 
of America that I was seeing. It 
left out some of the best and the 
worst aspects of the country, 
from our weird school systems 
to our ability to make a club or 

organization for almost anything 
to our worrisome race relations.

However, 
I 
didn’t 
feel 

particularly upset with what 
I was experiencing. The fact 
of the matter, since it was the 
United 
States 
in 
question, 

is that American culture is 
already one of, if not the most, 
dominant 
cultures 
in 
the 

world. Our media is spread 
worldwide, 
and 
American 

tastes are often catered to or 
treated as the default. While 
there are plentiful issues with 
imposing 
American 
culture 

and ideals on a global scale, 
it’s 
already 
happened. 
It’s 

out there and if others want 
to respectfully play in the 
sandbox that is our culture, I 
would say, “Here’s a shovel — 
I’m making a sandcastle.”

In short, while I would have 

liked to have been sure that the 
people around me understood 
the context and history of what 
they were engaging with, I really 
didn’t mind others participating 
in 
it. 
American 
culture 
in 

particular isn’t one that can 
solely be behind glass; at this 
point in globalization, it’s in its 
nature to be shared as others 
see fit. We can’t own what we’ve 
given away.

That said, I do have some 

suggestions 
for 
the 
next 

American 
Festival. 
There 

needs to be a rule that everyone 
smile uncomfortably or give 
a nod of acknowledgement to 
everyone they pass — bonus 
points if you show teeth when 
you smile. When the vendors 
sell something, they have to ask 
how the customer is doing, even 
if they don’t care or don’t know 
them. Every kiosk needs a drive-
thru lane. All drinks need to 
have free refills and ice cubes. 
(Even coffee. It is law.)

Including these small changes 

might add up to something closer 
to what America really looks like. 
That’s my America, at least.

Americana from the outside

SARAH LEESON | COLUMN

SARAH LEESON

Sarah Leeson can be reached at 

sleeson@umich.edu.

CONTRIBUTE TO THE CONVERSATION

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— President Barack Obama tweeted a New Years Day greeting on January 1st. 
“

NOTABLE QUOTABLE

It’s been the privilege of my life 
to serve as your President. I look 

forward to standing with you 
as a citizen. Happy New Year 

everybody. ”

American culture 
in particular isn’t 
one that can solely 

be behind glass.

