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 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. — 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.