G

rowing up in Midwest 
Ohio, celebrities existed 
only on movie screens. 

They were enigmas, and I thought 
of them more as the 
characters they played 
than who they actually 
were. However, every 
January, I got what 
felt 
like 
an 
inside 

glimpse of Hollywood: 
the Golden Globes. I 
loved watching the 
red-carpet entrances 
on TV, complete with 
awkward interviews, 
extravagant 
dresses 

and a feeling that the people I 
watched in my favorite movies 
were real. But perhaps most of 
all, I enjoyed the acceptance 
speeches: the brief words each 
actor, actress, director or other 
member of the film industry 
would share with the world. 
Acceptance 
speeches 
always 

tended 
to 
be 
heartfelt 
and 

grateful and above all, defied the 
stereotype of celebrities.

You could see it in their faces 

and feel it in their words; these 
people often thought of as rich 
and 
selfish 
were 
passionate 

about what they did and grateful 
for the opportunity. Maybe I’m 
naïve or maybe these people are 
just really good actors. Either 
way, 
acceptance 
speeches 

always felt real. Yet, after recent 
awards shows — in particular, 
last week’s Golden Globes — I 
realize 
acceptance 
speeches 

aren’t just demonstrations of 
celebrities’ acting abilities but 
rather conscious efforts to use 
their fame for something greater.

When I sat down last Sunday 

to watch the Golden Globes, I 
was expecting the same glimpse 
of Hollywood I got every year. 
Instead, the trend of awareness-
raising 
speeches 
continued, 

this time from one of the 
most timeless actresses of our 
generation: Meryl Streep. After 
accepting the Cecil B. DeMille 
lifetime 
achievement 
award, 

Streep took the stage with the 
same gratefulness most actors do. 
But instead of thanking those in 
her Hollywood community who 
helped her along the way, she 
turned to the camera and spoke to 
us all, delivering moving words on 
Donald Trump’s presidency and 
the change all Americans know is 

on the horizon — whether you are 
a Trump supporter or not. Streep 
took a platform — in this case 
at an awards show stage at the 

Beverly Hills Hilton 
Hotel — to call out the 
threatening nature of 
a Trump presidency, a 
presidency she openly 
disagrees with. 

While 
Streep’s 

speech took social 
media by storm the 
next day, she is not 
the only celebrity to 
use an acceptance 
speech for political 

purposes. At last year’s Oscars, 
it seemed as though every 
other 
speech 
was 
used 
to 

raise awareness for something 
the winner felt needed to be 
addressed. The long-awaited win 
for Leonardo DiCaprio for Best 
Actor was met with a powerful 
speech on the enduring effects 
of climate change. But even 
before that, political speeches 
were common at award shows. 
The Washington Post outlined 
some 
memorable 
acceptance 

speeches, including one from 
1973 when Marlon Brando sent 
a young Native American girl 
in his place as to draw attention 
to the discrimination of Native 
Americans by the film industry. 

Many may argue a celebrity’s 

role in politics is ironic; they can 
play characters that experience 
injustices but they themselves 
are 
images 
of 
money 
and 

privilege. Yet, with speeches 
like Streep’s and those before 
her, I find myself comforted 
by the fact these people of 
wealth and privilege are using 
their platforms to speak out. 
After hearing an actress I have 
admired for so long speak 
about a presidency that brings 
uncertainty and fear to the 
institutions and ideals I believe 
in — in particular, the press 
— I was grateful. Whether or 
not celebrities have a place in 
politics isn’t the question; they 
will always have a spotlight 
and their use of it to shed light 
on other issues is powerful, 
possibly more powerful now 
than ever.

Trump responded to Streep’s 

eloquent and strong speech in 
what we now can consider true 
Trump fashion: The president-

elect tweeted, “Meryl Streep, 
one of the most over-rated 
actresses in Hollywood, doesn’t 
know me but attacked last night 
at the Golden Globes …” At this 
point, I shouldn’t be surprised 
by Trump’s tweets, yet they get 
me every time. But perhaps most 
ironic is Streep’s delivery of an 
opposing view to our president-
elect’s. Here is a woman who 
most of us have nothing in 
common with, yet she was able 
to use her Hollywood soapbox 
to translate what many of us 
have been feeling. But even 
more, without once mentioning 
the name of the person behind 
those feelings. And ironically, 
the man she stood up against 
has more in common with her 
than we do.

Trump’s 
presidency 
is 

juxtaposed with his ties to 
Hollywood. A president usually 
becomes a celebrity, but doesn’t 
begin as one. Trump’s past of 
wealth, 
privilege 
and 
fame 

make him more like the Meryl 
Streeps of the world than college 
students like me. But last Sunday 
night proved how fame does 
not always equal ignorance or 
selfishness and that politics are 
not subjected to one group but 
affect us all. For me, Streep’s 
speech was made with concerted 
empathy and thoughtfulness. 
She spoke for many, in particular 
foreigners 
and 
the 
press, 

drawing attention to people 
whose soapboxes may not be as 
tall as her own. I can only wish 
that Trump, whose own fame is 
about to increase exponentially, 
will do the same, except now as 
the leader of our country.

We all have seen the remarkably 

un-presidential 
tweets 
and 

speeches from the president-
elect. Trump’s discourse has 
taken away the elegance and 
power of words in politics. The 
excessive exclamation points 
and defensiveness are a stark 
change from what is expected 
of 
a 
conventional 
public 

official. Yet, with speeches like 
Streep’s, maybe the power of 
the spoken word in politics will 
now come from the places we 
least expect it.

L

ately 
I 
have 
been 

thinking 
about 
race 

more than usual. As 

a 
dark, 
African-American 

woman, it is difficult not 
to think about my race. I 
am constantly aware of my 
complexion. I do not have the 
privilege of being a lighter skin 
tone, blending in or choosing 
which community to belong to. 
The choice had been made for 
me long before I was even born.

Yet, I tried to convince 

myself and the people around 
me 
that 
I 
was 
different 

from 
others 
with 
similar 

complexions. 
I 
so 
strongly 

believed that being African 
American was different from 
being Black. I was frustrated 
and confused by people’s use 
of African American as the 
proper name for the Black race. 
I considered African American 
to be my race and my ethnicity. 
Since I was born in Nigeria 
before my family migrated 
to America, I am a citizen of 
both countries. That was what 
African American meant to 
me. I did not understand why 
people who had lived their 
entire lives in America but had 
dark complexions were also 
called African American.

I tried so hard to separate 

myself 
from 
the 
Black 

community because I knew 
the stereotypes that came with 
embracing my Blackness. I was 
determined to show everyone 
that my African heritage was 
different. I was firm in my 
belief that my complexion did 
not 
symbolize 
oppression, 

but rather the richness of my 
culture. However, my efforts 
felt useless.

I grew increasingly aware 

that the first thing people 
saw was the color of my skin 
and that was all they needed 
to categorize me. I was never 
given the chance to explain my 
African heritage or disprove 
the stereotypes. I started to 
hate my complexion. I wished 
I were lighter or that I could 
blend in. I envied light-skin 
girls who were praised for their 
olive skin tones. It was not until 
I sought out why my skin has 
its color that I re-learned how 
to love my complexion.

I learned that melanin is the 

chemical substance responsible 
for dark skin. Melanin protects 
the 
body 
from 
the 
sun’s 

harmful radiation. In places 
near the equator, like Africa, 
where there is more direct 
sunlight for longer periods, 
more melanin is needed. So my 
beautiful, dark skin protects 
me. In places like Antarctica, 
where there is hardly any direct 
sunlight, too much melanin is 
dangerous and prevents the 
body from absorbing adequate 
sunlight. Some radiation from 
the sun is needed to help the 
body convert substances into 

necessary vitamins, so in such 
places, people adapted fair 
complexions.

Studying 
history 
showed 

me that my ancestors were not 
responsible for the negative 
connotations that come with 
being labeled Black. In fact, 
the idea of race was created to 
rationalize the oppression of 
people with dark complexions. 
One drop of Black lineage was 
enough to claim someone, no 
matter how light their skin 
was, as a slave. Fanshen Cox 
DiGiovanni, an actor and a 
writer, honed into this idea of 
“one drop” in her one-woman 
multimedia performance, “One 
Drop of Love.” She takes her 
audience through the history of 
the U.S. census to discover the 
perception of race over time.

My 
anthropology 
class 

further 
emphasized 
the 

creation of race and defined it 
as a social construct. Race was 
created to categorize members 
of 
society 
and 
vindicate 

unequal treatment. Yet, the 
negative history of race does 
not mean we can ignore it 
when claiming our identities. 
Analyzing 
race 
in 
Brazil 

changed my perception even 
more. In Brazil, I learned in 
class, race is flexible. Your race 
is based on your personality, 
your family and how you self-
identify. I thought Brazil’s 
notions of race were superior 
to America’s, but then I took 
yet another look at race.

I learned that public health 

acknowledges the importance 
of race categories and considers 
race to be a social determinant 
of 
health. 
Then 
I 
started 

looking at the statistics. The 
facts are unnerving: Blacks face 
more adverse health effects 
in almost every category. I 
was enraged when I found out 
that a college-educated, Black 
woman of high social class 
is three times more likely to 
have a preterm birth than an 
uneducated, 
white 
woman. 

Then I realized the problem is 
so much bigger than how we 
self-identify. The fact is, Blacks 
are subject to health disparities 
before they are even born.

Up until that point, I aspired to 

be a physician so I could tackle the 
problems sickle cell patients face. 
I thought finding a cure would 
solve all of their problems. Now I 
realize that a cure is not enough. I 
have to address the fact that sickle 
cell anemia is considered a “Black 
disease.” As a minority, I must 
tackle the racial disparities that 
accompany the disease before I 
can focus on a cure. 

I realized that my skin, just 

like that of many sickle cell 
patients, 
would 
forever 
be 

perceived as dark and therefore 
I would be categorized as Black. 
I cannot see my racial typology 
negatively, however. I have to 
understand and acknowledge 

the history of my race. Black is 
not just a self-identifier, but a 
political identity that has had 
systemic 
ramifications. 
My 

choice in identifying as Black 
has allowed me to reclaim that 
identity on my own terms.

I 
finally 
came 
to 
the 

conclusion that I am Black and 
African American. Accepting 
both identities has allowed me 
to open myself up to the Black 
community. I began to reach 
out to the Black communities 
on 
campus 
and 
actively 

participating in events. I made 
it my mission to find a home 
for myself within the Black 
community 
and 
convinced 

myself that I had finally come 
full circle with my perception 
of my race.

Attending 
DiGiovanni’s 

performance 
showed 
me, 

however, that I had still been 
trying to distinguish myself 
from the community I was 
seeking acceptance from. Last 
year, I began to call myself a 
Nigerian American because I 
was sick of explaining what I 
meant by African American. 
Fanshen’s 
show 
helped 
me 

realize what I was doing. Her 
performance takes the audience 
through her life struggles to find 
out what race she belongs to as a 
mixed woman. Growing up she 
was constantly asked: “what are 
you?” The question often made 
her feel excluded, but upon 
reflection she realized a certain 
privilege that comes with being 
able to answer that question.

Fanshen made me realize 

that I, too, have a certain 
privilege 
as 
an 
African 

American. Although I belong 
to a minority race, I have 
the ability to define African 
American as it relates to who 
I am. I can trace my lineage 
back to Nigeria and I know, 
without a doubt, that hundreds 
of generations of my family 
were born in the same nation as 
I was. I am privileged that my 
family came to America on its 
own terms.

We are so often engulfed 

by our adversities that we do 
not recognize where we have 
an advantage. Acknowledging 
my fortunes as well as my 
hardships 
has 
helped 
me 

embrace my identities and 
better understand who I am. I 
am not merely one thing. I am 
a Black, Nigerian, American 
woman with sickle cell anemia. 
Still, I am much more than that. 
I will continue to share my 
story no matter how hard it is 
in hopes of educating, inspiring 
or touching at least one person 
because, like Fanshen says, all 
it takes is “one drop of love.”

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Finding your partner in the Tinder Era 

ZACHARY COX | COLUMN

T

echnology 
has 

revolutionized the manner 
in which people pursue 

romantic 
and 
sexual 
partners, 

particularly for college 
students. 
Many 
on 

campus 
choose 
to 

utilize Tinder, a dating 
application that displays 
photos of the individual 
and a brief description to 
a user, who then chooses 
whether or not they are 
interested. This creates 
a unique space, free 
of competition from 
others, where a person 
can privately view prospective 
dates or sexual partners without 
having to feel the pressure or sense 
of competition that exists at parties 
or in bars.

However, Tinder also creates 

a 
space 
that 
provides 
new 

opportunities for people to be 
objectified and rude, often in a 
sexual context. With this new 
space comes a new responsibility 
for us to extend the same kindness 
and polite nature online as we 
would in person. Moreover, this 
new space, while an excellent 
tool 
to 
generate 
face-to-face 

interaction, should not entirely 
replace the old-fashioned effort of 
approaching someone in person. 
Face-to-face interaction is the best 
way to build interpersonal skills 
that will serve us in all areas of life, 
be it in the professional context, in 
romance or in friendship.

Many 
can 
relate 
to 
the 

experience of having to compete 
to speak to someone whom they 
find attractive. Matching with 
someone on Tinder allows one to 
approach unimpeded by others. 
Furthermore, they are able to 
rehearse their first line to an 
infinite degree. However, it also 
takes away the ability to read 
the verbal or bodily response 
to what is first said, making 
the clarity of communication 
all the more important. Still, 
with the somewhat anonymous 

nature of the Tinder interface, 
communicative mistakes are not 
permanent. That “Hey cutie how 
are you doing?” message that you 

sent two months ago 
to your first match 
likely 
won’t 
follow 

you anywhere, though 
your first match may 
not 
have 
thought 

much of you with such 
a message. 

Once 
you 
match 

with 
someone, 
the 

next 
step 
in 
the 

process is to send the 

first message. Regardless 

of your end goal, be it a one-night 
stand, relationship or something in 
between, you must show interest 
in a polite manner, steering clear 
of commentary that is overtly 
sexual in nature. Everyone wants 
and deserves respect, so sending a 
message detailing what you would 
like to “do” with your match right 
off the bat may not be the best way 
to get your desired response.

You must not drop the chivalry 

of the well-mannered man who 
holds the door open for others 
simply because you are hidden 
behind a screen. Look through 
the bio of your match and try to 
find something interesting, or 
something you have in common. 
Perhaps you realize you have the 
same major or are from the same 
town. That may be a better place 
to start the conversation, even if 
your goal is to end with sex. People 
appreciate others who care to get 
to know and learn a little bit about 
them, even if they aren’t interested 
in a long-term relationship.

Once you become skilled at 

connecting with people virtually, 
doing so in person may become 
vastly 
less 
appealing. 
Why 

bother to approach that person 
at the party when you can invite 
the one you matched with on 
Tinder? If we depend solely 
on pictures and 500-character 
descriptions to get to know 
people, are we really developing 

our interpersonal skills? When 
you have a conversation with 
someone in person, you can’t 
pause and consult the internet 
to find information about the 
person’s interests to come up with 
a subject to talk about, or how to 
respond to a remark they make.

For us to be capable of 

successfully building stronger 
relationships 
with 
others, 
it 

is vital that we extend our 
vocabulary of words, actions and 
emotions beyond the cell phone. 
These skills extend beyond the 
realm of romance and dating. 
In a job interview, you cannot 
consult 
Google 
when 
asked 

about sales strategy or how you 
would approach a management 
consulting case. You need to 
build your skills in learning how 
to respond in real time in an 
effective manner.

And 
in 
the 
context 
of 

relationships, 
you 
truly 
get 

to 
know 
a 
person 
through 

spending physical time with 
them, not by studying some of 
their interests on a social media 
profile. Spending physical time 
with people reveals the little 
behavioral tendencies and their 
peculiarities, such as the way 
they set a table to eat or how they 
fold laundry. These are not things 
that you can learn by perusing 
what they’ve liked on Facebook.

While we may have our own 

personal motives for approaching 
people, be it friendship, romance 
or sex, it is unlikely we will 
have this desire reciprocated 
by the other person if we do not 
demonstrate a genuine interest 
in them. When you find yourself 
at a party or bar and see someone 
you would like to talk to, do 
it. Don’t hesitate and don’t be 
afraid. If you fail, it is unlikely 
that 
you’ll 
be 
remembered. 

You have nothing to lose, and 
everything to gain.

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

Samantha Goldstein

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

Zachary Cox can be reached at 

coxz@umich.edu.

ZACHARY 

COX

The Hollywood soapbox

ANU ROY-CHAUDHURY | COLUMN

Anu Roy-Chaudhury can be reached 

at anuroy@umich.edu.

ANU ROY-

CHAUDHURY

— Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. speaking about the Vietnam War in 

New York City on April 4th, 1967. 
“

NOTABLE QUOTABLE

The world now demands a 

maturity of America that we may 

not be able to achieve. ”

What is Race?

MICHIGAN IN COLOR

Halimat Olaniyan is a Michigan in 

Color Senior Editor. Michigan in Color 

is a section of The Michigan Daily by 

and for people of color.

