A s we drove down Carpenter Street in the Binghampton neighborhood of Memphis, Tenn., schoolchildren in royal purple polos and khakis flooded the sidewalk as school let out for the day. Their backpacks bounced on their backs as they crossed the street to the Carpenter Art Garden, a lively purple house with a yard full of large, painted, wooden hearts. Our tour guide, Noah Gray, the executive director of the Binghampton Development Corporation, explained they were part of a Valentine’s Day craft. The same hearts were speckled around the neighborhood, the children’s colorful masterpieces proudly on display in nearly every yard down the street. It was the picture of a loving, vibrant community. Though poverty levels and crime rates in Binghampton remain high, it was hard to believe people avoided even driving through it about a decade ago. Over Spring Break, six students and I visited Memphis with a global health and design student organization called Michigan Health Engineered for All Lives to serve the city — a destination that my mother constantly worried about. All she knew was that Memphis ranks as one of the most dangerous cities in the United States, and that statistic was enough for her to imagine a blighted, desolate ghetto. She’s not alone in this thinking. Media and statistics have framed Memphis — and similar cities of highly concentrated poverty and racial minorities, such as Detroit — as dangerous, drug-ridden and to be avoided. It was a perception that I, admittedly, shared before a week in the city showed me just how inaccurate and unfair the stigmas attached to Memphis are. In seven short days, my impressions of Memphis were completely transformed. One of the goals of Serve901, an organization we worked with in Memphis, is to educate outsiders on the history of Memphis and to erase the negative stigmas attached to the city, and they surely did just that. We learned from many residents that Memphis was once primed to be the “New York City of the South” until yellow fever struck and wealthy, white residents fled to the suburbs, leaving behind a population that was predominantly poor and Black. Institutionalized segregation, perpetuated by years of systemic racism, further concentrated African Americans in certain impoverished neighborhoods, such as Binghampton and Orange Mound. Needless to say, Memphis did not become the Big Apple of the South and instead garnered a reputation as a city falling apart at the seams. However, what the statistics and media fail to show is all the wonderful change that is happening in Memphis. One of the largest problems in Memphis is food scarcity, a phenomenon in which people living in an area do not have regular access to healthy food, either because they cannot afford it or because grocery stores are too far away and there are no transit options, such as bus lines or access to cars. For example, the historic Orange Mound neighborhood of Memphis is a USDA- classified urban food desert, because most of its residents do not own cars and often have to choose between paying rent and buying food. Recognizing this serious problem in his community, resident Mike Minnis, whose wife was born and raised in Orange Mound, started Landmark Farmers Market, an urban farming operation and food kitchen in the middle of the neighborhood. Now, residents of Orange Mound can access affordable, healthy, fresh- grown fruits and vegetables only a short walk away. Minnis’s efforts have even inspired others in the neighborhood to start their own gardens and take control of their own health. And it doesn’t stop there. With intimate knowledge about the exchange of information within the families of the community, Minnis plans to educate his neighborhood on nutrition and health education by way of children’s comic books. Through these simple yet genuine actions, he is stirring tangible change in the roots of his community. The Binghampton Development Corporation is another organization that aims to combat food scarcity in the Binghampton neighborhood. Although Gray did not grow up in Binghampton and thus hasn’t experienced its problems firsthand, he makes it a priority to engage members of the community in the BDC’s efforts by hiring them or listening to their personal testimonials. For example, after consulting with residents of Binghampton and discovering they have to take multiple buses to get to the nearest Kroger for groceries — a trip that can take several hours — the BDC began development of a new plaza in the heart of the neighborhood. When it is complete, no resident will live more than a mile away from a grocery store. The BDC has also reshaped the community in other substantial ways, such as building parks in abandoned lots, converting a rundown apartment complex into a senior living center and opening the Carpenter Art Garden. The Art Garden houses a number of after- school activities and clubs, allowing the children of Binghampton to discover artistic, engineering, carpentry, sewing, writing and entrepreneurial skills that might’ve otherwise gone untapped. By listening to and engaging with the community — rather than coming in and assuming they know best, as many “saviors” of blighted neighborhoods do — the BDC is proof that positive change can happen quickly when people are passionate about their communities. BDC Boardmember Robert Montague is another figure who has used his privilege for the betterment of those not as fortunate. Once a successful businessman and computing analyst, Montague used his money and expertise to found the BDC. His latest endeavor, Tech901, aims to confront the shortage of IT talent in Memphis, as well as the lack of diversity in the field. By teaching young Memphians how to code and equipping them with professional development skills, Tech901 is making the future of Memphis marketable. It would be easy to make lots of money by teaching programming classes in the richer suburbs of Memphis, but by investing in people in the inner city, Tech901 is investing in its future. Landmark Farmers Market, the BDC and Tech901 are only a handful of all the wonderful organizations that are dedicated to improving different aspects of Memphis, and the more I saw, the more I realized how mistaken my initial impressions of the city were. With the work of these community organizers, Memphis is proving its negative reputation wrong — proving me wrong. Many University of Michigan students come from a place of privilege and may feel far removed from the problems in Memphis — or even in Detroit, a mere 40 minutes away — but as the people at the BDC and Tech901 have demonstrated, that is no excuse to ignore and avoid the very real problems that are happening. These organizations recognized the problems within these communities and made real improvements by working with the people living there. As University students, we, too, can use our privilege for good. Our education has afforded us knowledge, skills and resources that would be well- spent helping a population that doesn’t have the same privileges. And we don’t have to wait until graduation to start making a positive impact; even as undergraduates, there are a number of resources at our fingertips. M-HEAL is just one fine example. Devoted to global health, M-HEAL project teams reach out to contacts in developing countries to identify health needs in those regions and design solutions to the problem using all the resources this University has to offer. Through this design process, we gain valuable experience in engineering and global health, but the focus of these projects is always on the people we are hoping to help. Through constant contact, research and needs assessment trips, we make sure we are always catering to their needs, requests and wishes, because when you’re helping a city or country in need, it’s really about helping the people there. As we finished our tour of Binghampton, Gray said of Memphians: “We do not love Memphis because it’s great; Memphis is great because we love it.” That love is so evident in all the wonderful work they do, and it is truly something to learn from and aspire toward. M y friends know me to be an inconsistent texter at best, and I readily admit that it’s not my forte. The optimal way to reach me is as simple as it is surprisingly intimate: call. I’ve always loved phone calls. When I was younger, I memorized my home number — along with those of my grandparents and my great-grandmother (Gammy). Every night, I’d sit in our small breakfast nook, pick up the landline and chat with Gammy. It was meaningful time. I can’t recall what we talked about, but I remember viscerally that it brought me a great deal of joy. I liked hearing her voice and having a real conversation. My Gammy has long since passed, but my impulse to engage with others not directly in my presence via phone has persisted throughout my life. When I was allowed to get an AOL Instant Messager account, for example, I always insisted on video chatting with friends. It made the interaction even more personal to see whom I was talking with and feel like their whole presence (as opposed to just their voice) was there in the room. It’s why I love FaceTime so much now. For those of you who watch “Broad City,” FaceTime is an integral part of the show. Its main characters, Abbi and Ilana, FaceTime each other no matter the context. FaceTime feeds their impulse to speak to one another whenever they’re not together (and sometimes, even when they are), whether it’s from the street or a cab or the bathroom. I asked Nansook Park, a University of Michigan psychology professor who specializes in personality and social contexts, whether or not my tendency toward phone calls and FaceTiming is rooted deeper than individual preference, and she explained that “human beings are social animals” for whom interpersonal communication is as necessary as food and water. “Even with emoticons, texting is limited in terms of conveying deeper and intimate feelings and subtle nuanced messages,” she wrote in an email. “We can pick up a lot more subtle but significant messages about the other person through different tone of voices and facial expressions. Through body languages, we can communicate … (a) variety of subtle messages that is not always easy to convey in written words.” The more extensive sensory experience of voice-to-voice and face-to-face communication, Park noted, “can make people feel closer to one another.” Sounds right to me. You can’t “ghost” someone when they’re listening live on the other end of the line. A phone call is an investment: of time, of substance and perhaps of emotion, to some extent. Answering a phone call is as active as making one; it means that both parties actually want to be part of it (for the most part). It’s not a coincidence that I associate phone calls with the strongest relationships in my life. Phone calls are how I check in with my parents throughout the week, and how I catch up with my grandparents (albeit a little less frequently). My sister and I sometimes FaceTime in silence while we do homework, intermittently exchanging BuzzFeed quizzes and comparing our results when we need a break. It’s about the company, you know? When I FaceTime non-college buddies, it’s as much about talking as it is about seeing what the other person’s environment is and how they occupy that space. What is their normal? Their routine? What does it look like? Sound like? How is it different from (or the same as) the space in which we interacted in the past? Video chatting is so special because physical separation is bridged by literally bringing another human being into my lived experience (and vice versa). And when folks aren’t around to pick up the phone (or when I’m not, for that matter), I’m thankful for the documentary nature of voicemail. Some people don’t listen to voicemail, but I treasure it. My mailbox is frequently full — in part out of laziness, sure, but also because I save certain messages and re-listen to them. Some are for laughs, like this favorite from my sister: “Hello. It’s me. Mom and Dad are being weird again. Okay. Bye.” Others have a deeper meaning. Last January, while I was on the East Coast as part of the Michigan in Washington program, a monumental blizzard hit D.C. one weekend. I still have the voicemail saved from my dad’s father, who called to ask me about it. He died over the summer, and every once in a while, it’s nice to pull up that message and hear his voice. To be certain, text conversations serve a purpose, and they’re not to be avoided. Some of my funniest and most memorable exchanges have been via text, particularly in places where speaking aloud would be rude, frowned upon or altogether unacceptable. But voice is powerful, and even more so when it’s accompanied by visage. It’s not a coincidence that I ran this column by both my mother and a high school friend via FaceTime before I finished writing it. Now that I’m graduating, I’m cognizant of the fact that my college friends will be added to the list of people who are spread across parts of the country where I am not. So a heads-up: expect frequent FaceTime calls from this guy. Opinion The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com 4 — Friday, March 17, 2017 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 Samantha Goldstein Caitlin Heenan Jeremy Kaplan Sarah Khan Max Lubell Alexis Megdanoff Madeline Nowicki Anna Polumbo-Levy Jason Rowland Ali Safawi Kevin Sweitzer Rebecca Tarnopol Stephanie Trierweiler EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS Phone call fanaticism MICHAEL SUGERMAN | COLUMN Using privilege for good ASHLEY ZHANG | COLUMN Ashely Zhang can be reached at ashleyzh@umich.edu. Michael Sugerman can be reached at mrsugs@umich.edu. ASHLEY ZHANG R ecently, a student-written article titled “My Child Will Not Be Allowed to Be Transgender” has been popping up on my social media. From one student to another, here’s my response: Moriah, This is about to be a critical response, but I want to level with you first. I admire your desire to do the best for your future children. I do. As someone who works in a family psychological clinic, I love seeing people who want to do the right thing for their children — who want to sing to them, care for them and make them happy. I have no doubt that you will love your children. But here’s the thing that most people don’t want to acknowledge: From those who do all the “right” things to those who commit abuse or neglect, a vast majority of parents love their children. Loving your children does not mean that you cannot, or will not, hurt them. So, I ask you to be vigilant in evaluating your behavior; do not fall into the trap of believing that doing something out of love means that it is the best thing to do for your child. With that said, let’s get into it. I want to believe you truly love and respect transgender and other LGBTQ people as you say you do, but after reading your article, I find it hard to do so. This is the message that your article gives off: I love you and respect you, but your existence is invalid. I love you and respect you, but you are a flawed human being. I love you and respect you, but you are sick. I love you and respect you, but you cannot be who you are unless it is in a way that I deem acceptable. That’s not how love and respect work. You cannot say you respect someone and then invalidate their existence and trivialize their identity to a simple “decision.” And what message does it send to say I love you, but I would not let someone who is “closest to my heart” be like you? After reading your article, I gather that you have two main concerns: that being transgender is against how God intended us to be, and that being transgender is a mental illness. So, let’s talk about that. “My children will always be the ones closest to my heart, but this does not mean that I will accept their desire to be anything other than who God made them as.” Let me ask you a question: How does one know what God intended for them? Growing up Catholic, I was taught that the Bible offers insight into God’s will. In the absence of an actual scriptural reference, many religious people, yourself included, argue that God created man and woman and that being transgender is wrong because transgender people go against God’s will by straying from that design. I don’t buy that argument — mostly because it reveals a misconception of what it means to be transgender in that it conflates identifying as transgender with receiving gender reassignment surgery. Being transgender does not mean that you will change your biological sex; it just means that you don’t identify with it. While many people choose to have gender reassignment surgery in order to make their physical state match their mental state, not all transgender people do. Whether they choose not to have surgery because of financial reasons, age, lack of resources or simply because they don’t feel a need to, they are still transgender as long as they experience a disconnect between their biological sex and their identified gender. It is problematic, then, to argue that being transgender is against God’s will using a biologically based argument, because it doesn’t reflect the reality of what it means to be transgender. It’s also important to note that if we are basing gender on genitalia, then it isn’t true that God only created man and woman because God also created intersex people, who were born with ambiguous genitalia. Many people who are born intersex have a surgery performed upon them, in which a doctor changes their genitalia to look more like a penis or a vagina. If you are strongly opposed to surgery that changes one’s genitals (like gender reassignment surgery), then you should probably be open to a third gender — or else you would have to allow intersex people to choose whether to be a man or woman regardless of the genitals they were born with. So perhaps God’s design isn’t all that clear cut, Moriah. But even if it isn’t ungodly to be transgender, could you still be right that being transgender means that you are inherently sick or mentally ill? Not quite. “In my opinion, transgender humans are suffering from a mental illness, in a similar fashion to those fighting sicknesses such as anorexia and depression.” Disorders like anorexia nervosa and depression are described in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, the manual clinicians use to diagnose and treat their patients. Transgenderism is not described here. To equate being transgender to having a mental illness is a dangerous comparison to make. We used to make this comparison in regards to homosexuality until the American Psychological Association — with the help of some tenacious activists — realized how detrimental it is to pathologize homosexuality. To be fair, I could see how you might be confused. A concept that is related to being transgender is in the DSM-5 under “gender dysphoria,” which is described as distress resulting from “a conflict between a person’s physical or assigned gender and the gender with which he/she/they identify.” But gender dysphoria is not an identity, and it is not an inevitability. Praying that your child will suddenly feel like their penis or vagina fits with their body isn’t going to make gender dysphoria go away. Taking your child to conversion therapy that will try to make them “accept” their biological sex isn’t going to work either — in fact, it can make it worse. There are reasons why some states have made conversion therapy illegal and why the American Psychological Association does not support it: It can lead to higher rates of depression, anxiety, drug use and homelessness. Scariest of all? Conversion therapy is correlated with a higher number of suicide attempts and completions. So perhaps we should be focused on making conversion therapy illegal if we want what’s best for LGBTQ youth. By the way, do you know what is recommended for people with gender dysphoria? My child can be transgender ANNA SMITH | OP-ED Anna Smith is an LSA senior. MICHAEL SUGERMAN Read more at MichiganDaily.com 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.