A

s our bodies change, so 
do our perceptions of the 
body types we consider 

“normal.” As a young white girl 
growing up in a small town, 
surrounded by other young 
white girls, it was easy to pick 
out my own flaws in comparison 
to theirs. In the classic coming-
of-age fashion, I came to realize 
that the world of bodies was 
incredibly diverse outside of my 
community, yet in spite of this, 
the representation of bodies in 
media is still focused narrowly 
on the same young, white, 
feminine bodies with which I 
was so familiar. 

For centuries, there have 

been women who have been 
unhappy with the way they look. 
Though trends have changed, 
this commonality of a negative 
body image has remained. This 
critical self-perception is most 
prominent through adolescence 
and 
typically 
persists 
into 

adulthood. Various literature 
suggests that perfectionism, 
defined by Merriam-Webster 
as “a disposition to regard 
anything short of perfection as 
unacceptable,” is a core factor 
in body dissatisfaction and 
eating disorders among women.

What I quickly learned was 

that the University of Michigan 
is home to an exceedingly large 
population of perfectionists, 
which 
explained 
both 
the 

intense 
academic 
standards 

to 
which 
students 
held 

themselves and the consistent 
physical regime which those 
very same students follow. 
I personally do not have the 
necessary determination and 
work ethic that is required for 
a perfectionist personality, but 
many of my friends and peers do. 
While in various circumstances 
such a personality is useful and 
rewarding (by holding oneself 
to high standards, one is more 
apt to travel upward in terms of 
career and success), in terms of 
body image and the perfectibility 

of the body — specifically among 
women — perfectionism quickly 
becomes dangerous.

The prevalence of thinness in 

the media can explain the ideals 
to which women so strictly 
hold themselves. What various 
studies (and common sense) 
show us is most media outlets 
portray women as thin, and 
representation 
matters. 
This 

topic has many branches, but 
focusing specifically on body 
type, ask yourself how many 
female television characters you 
can think of with body types that 
would wear anywhere between 
a size 16-18 (the sizes of the 
average American woman as 
reported by Psychology Today).

A dangerous mix is created 

when women are told that 
the admirable body type is 
incredibly thin and toned, and 
these same women are taught to 
work rigorously to achieve their 
goals by any means possible. 
While it’s obviously healthy to 
exercise and eat well, excessive 
habits in any form become 
problematic 
quickly. This 
is 

occasionally apparent in the 
young women who go to the 
gym seven days a week without 
fail, who’ve vowed to cut sugar 
and carbohydrates entirely from 
their diets. (I cannot and do not 
wish to define what is or should 
be considered “healthy” because 
that term is purely subjective. 
What is healthy for some may not 
be for others. This subjectivity is 
the kryptonite of dealing with 
eating disorders.)

But when this behavior is 

flaunted and praised, as it often 
is on college campuses, we 
come to consider it as the ideal. 
While for many this lifestyle is 
healthy and at times necessary 
for mental well-being, this is 
not universally the case. When 
subjective methods are applied 
objectively, problems arise. The 
adoption of a strict diet and 
exercise regimen may result in 
significant bodily and mental 
change for some, and not for 
others, 
thus 
perpetuating 

distress among young women 

who are so desperately striving 
for physical perfection.

Even 
further, 
there 
is 

certainly a class divide between 
those who are and are not able 
to afford gym memberships 
and health foods, which are 
considered necessary for these 
idealistically healthy lifestyles. 
The 
distress 
of 
lacking 

requisite resources to attain 
this bodily ideal is greater than 
is immediately visible, and the 
various racial, cultural and 
class-based setbacks to young 
women attempting to achieve 
this ideal are innumerable.

So we ask ourselves, “How 

do 
we 
change 
this?” 
One 

possible immediate response is 
simply to call for more realistic 
representation in media or to 
advertise healthier, less extreme 
lifestyles. But these solutions fail 
to account for the damage that is 
already done. What’s more, this 
norm is already perpetuated by 
the young women it affects and 
those around them.

I do believe that, over time, 

bodily ideals can be modified 
into 
more 
attainable 
and 

inclusive forms on a global 
scale. However, change such as 
this does not happen overnight, 
and there are more personal 
and individualistic efforts that 
can be made in the meantime. 
Instead, I argue, we should 
utilize 
mindfulness. 
Do 
not 

discuss with your friends how 
little or how much you’ve eaten 
that day. Do not boast how much 
weight you’ve lost or gained 
in the past week. By focusing 
less on physical aspects of 
one another, we can end the 
personal perpetuation of these 
potentially harmful ideals and 
simultaneously focus on aspects 
of our peers that do not need to 
be changed by diet restrictions 
and 
gym 
memberships. 
Be 

mindful of how others might 
perceive your words. What 
seems harmless to you may not 
seem so innocent to another.

O

ver 
the 
past 
eight 

years, 
our 
country 

has gone through a 

lot, from mass shootings and 
arguments over gun control 
to 
human 
rights 

crises such as the 
Flint water crisis 
and 
the 
Dakota 

Access 
Pipeline 

protests. Maybe it’s 
just because of the 
consistent flow of 
media making us 
aware of everything 
wrong in the world, 
but times have been 
tough 
lately. 
But 

when it comes to 
the issues of racism and police 
brutality, there was no better 
president to be in office than 
Barack Obama.

Obama’s 
campaign 
from 

2008 seems like a distant 
memory to some, but the slogan 
“Change we can believe in” and 
the chant “Yes We Can” still 
ring loudly in my memory and 
have remained applicable for 
both his terms. I remember 
watching his inauguration in 
my seventh-grade science class 
and feeling such an aura of 
positivity and hope.

It personally meant so much 

to me because someone like me 
(mixed, born to a Black father 
and a white mother) was the 
most important man in the 
country and perhaps the world. 
Who knows when or if that 
will happen again. He was a 
president whom I felt I could 
relate to, who made me laugh 
and smile and cheer him on.

He 
set 
a 
beautiful 

example of a loving, devoted 
husband, father and public 
servant, combating the many 
unfortunate 
stereotypes 

attributed to Black men. He 
didn’t come from a privileged 
background 
and 
faced 

discrimination throughout his 

life, whether he was going to 
a predominately white high 
school in Hawaii or becoming 
the first Black president of the 
Harvard Law Review. He rose 

to the top position 
in the country as a 
Black man, giving 
faith to many that 
they 
can 
achieve 

great things (though 
that isn’t possible 
for 
all, 
especially 

with vast disparities 
in the quality of 
living 
conditions 

and education we’re 
born into).

Obama 
was 
a 

symbol of hope for many 
Americans, especially Black 
citizens, 
and 
certainly 
for 

myself when racial tensions 
were high. No matter the result 
of the most recent election, 
a clear divide has emerged, 
polarizing us to two sides: 
whether 
you 
believe 
race 

relations and racism are still 
prevalent in the country or not.

From my perspective, racism 

can be covert but is still a large 
issue in our country. There 
has been a disproportionate 
number 
of 
Black 
people 

shot by police compared to 
whites, a clear mistreatment 
of Black people all over the 
news and a disregard of the 
fears and feelings of people 
who are afraid of what could 
potentially happen to them or 
their loved ones.

On the nights when I prayed 

that my father or sister would 
be safe and mourned for the 
men and women who have lost 
their lives because of profiling 
or oppression, Obama was a 
symbol of hope for me. I had 
a 
president 
that 
probably 

was mourning over the same 
issues. He shed a tear when 
the Sandy Hook Elementary 
School shooting happened and 

displayed empathy whenever 
a tragedy struck our country. 
And he didn’t just mourn — he 
used his words to bring us all 
together and attempted to use 
his position to pass laws, such 
as the curbing of gun usage.

In the beginning of July, after 

the wrongful death of Philando 
Castile, Obama’s words hit the 
nail on the head about why 
everyone should care that there 
are people dying in the streets 
at the hands of police: “When 
incidents 
like 
this 
occur, 

there is a big chunk of our 
fellow citizenry that feels as 
if because of the color of their 
skin they are not being treated 
the same. And that hurts. And 
that should trouble all of us.” 
This was a president who got it 
and gave extensive statements 
on the topic, not shying away 
from it or dismissing it like 
other politicians.

I smiled at pictures giving 

us glimpses of Obama’s life 
at the White House, such as 
when he hysterically laughed 
at a baby dressed as the pope. I 
felt empowered listening to his 
State of the Union addresses 
as he used his gift of public 
speaking to comfort the nation. 
I know that there’s nearly half 
the country that voted against 
him and perhaps many view him 
unfavorably, but I think there’s 
an argument to be made that he 
is one of the most personable 
presidents we’ve ever had. And 
that side of him is what we 
needed at times. We needed a 
president to make us laugh and 
tell us the reality of situations 
while guiding us through them 
with poise and empathy.

All in all, I’m overjoyed that 

my president looked like me. 
It’s not just that — he cared like 
me, too. 

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 — Friday, January 13, 2017

Resolutions for every year

ANTHONY COZART | OP-ED

I

n an episode of “Master of 
None,” the Netflix comedy 
produced by and starring 

Aziz Ansari, there’s a scene 
where a colleague of Ansari’s 
character, 
Dev, 
introduces 

himself to Dev’s friends at a New 
York City bar. The colleague only 
addresses the men at the table, 
which Dev’s romantic partner 
Rachel, played by Noël Wells, 
reacts to immediately. She points 
out the colleague had treated 
her and the other women in the 
group as if they were invisible. 
Dev and his male friends brush 
it off, making up excuses: Dev’s 
colleague was in a hurry, people 
aren’t so awful and they’re 
overreacting.

Two things stand out in the 

scene: the initial sexist, if subtle, 
act by Dev’s colleague and the 
men’s reactions. The men tell 
Rachel and the other women, 
who have just experienced the 
sexist act, that they’re wrong. 
They (and their excuses) reject 
their female friends’ perceptions 
of what just happened and how 
they’re treated more generally. 
Later, Rachel describes what 
this is like: “When somebody, 
especially my boyfriend, tells me 
that I’m wrong without having 
any way of knowing my personal 
experience, it’s insulting.” 

Watching the episode over 

winter break made me think 
more about the experiences of my 
female friends and classmates. 
In the fall, a close friend told 
me that almost the same scene 
and 
treatment 
happened 
to 

her. I’d also heard from others 
about colleagues who regularly 
“mansplain” and about similar 
subtle sexist acts. Apart from 
listening to and encouraging my 
friends after the incidents, I’d 
done little to help.

Like many people, during the 

holidays I also began to consider 
resolutions for the New Year. 
How can I be happier, healthier 
and more successful in 2017? 
While I’ve adopted resolutions 
with this question in mind, I’ve 
also included several addressing 
the 
sexism 
and 
misogyny 

displayed in the “Master of 
None” scene. They’re resolutions 
that we (men, on campus and 
more generally) should keep: 
to avoid these common sexist 
acts, however small, subtle or 
unintended, 
to 
support 
our 

peers, interjecting instead of 
justifying the offense (as Dev did 
in the episode) and to intervene 
whenever possible.

The episode is powerful, in part, 

because it demonstrates these 
acts are ubiquitous and happen 
even in progressive bubbles of 
Manhattan (and Ann Arbor). Like 
the characters in the episode, I’m a 
feminist in principle, likely because 
of my mother’s experiences as a 
leading female lawyer. And while I 
try to be conscious of what I say and 
do toward others — for example, 
by avoiding using stereotypes and 
gendered terms — I’ve found and 
seen how it can be easy to make 
these mistakes. Last week, while 
walking with a female colleague 

to teach our first classes of the 
semester, I made a quick comment 
that, 
while 
well 
intentioned, 

may have sounded demeaning, 
however slight.

How 
can 
we 
keep 
these 

resolutions?

To start, we can stop and stand 

up to “mansplaining,” the not-at-
all subtle or insignificant practice 
of men explaining to others, 
often women, a topic or idea in 
a condescending or patronizing 
way. According to research on 
team building, listening to and 
respecting 
others 
makes 
us 

more successful. (I also plan to 
read more, including the book 
“Men Explain Things to Me,” by 
Rebecca Solnit.)

Another way is to cut out the 

jokes — which are often online and 
justified as “trolling.” At the end of 
last semester, a female classmate 
posted a reminder to Facebook 
about using gendered language 
in instructor evaluations. One of 
my male peers commented “No.” 
Whether joking or not, in doing 
so he delegitimized her point. 
Someone should have responded, 
yet no one did. On the same 
topic, we can abstain from using 
gendered terms and slurs in our 
conversations and messages.

We can stop talking over, 

crowding 
out, 
discounting, 

bulldozing and interrupting our 
female classmates. We can reflect 
on what we said, saw and heard 
in 2016 and when we should 
have stood up for others. We 
can commit to holding our peers 
more accountable, to act in ways 
that reflect our beliefs. And we 
can listen to, learn from, help and 
support our female peers, this 
year and in the future.

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
Megan Burns
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

Anthony Cozart is a Public Policy 

graduate student.

Sincerely: Thanks, Obama

CHRIS CROWDER | COLUMN

CHRIS

CROWDER

Striving for perfection

MEGAN BURNS | COLUMN

Megan Burns can be reached at 

megburns@umich.edu.

EMILY WOLFE | CONTACT CARTOONIST AT ELWOLFE@UMICH.EDU

Chris Crowder can be reached at 

ccrowd@umich.edu.

MEGAN BURNS

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Avoid these 

common sexist 
acts, however 
small, subtle or 

unintended

