The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
Thursday, March 23, 2017 — 3A

I began my freshman year the 

way most people do: completely 
unsure of what classes to take. I 
decided to take a class that would 
fulfill the Race and Ethnicity 
requirement so I would not have to 
take it again in my undergraduate 
career. I took a class on the history 
of Islam in South Asia because it 
fit my schedule. And though the 
class was informative overall as a 
history class, it had little to do with 
my experiences as a South Asian 
woman and nothing to do with 
inequities as they exist relating to 
ethnicity. This class, along with 
many of the other options for the 
requirement, does not fit with the 
original intent of the requirement, 
which was made as a response 
to a request made by the student 
group Black Action Movement III 
in 1990.

The 
race 
and 
ethnicity 

curriculum has been criticized on 
multiple occasions in the past, but 
to no avail. There are still many 
classes that, despite fulfilling the 
requirement, are not in line with 
the goal of teaching students the 
value of new perspectives. Thus, 
students can still graduate without 
having taken a course that truly 
challenges them to think about 
issues of race and ethnicity in a 
new way, and the requirement 
is often viewed as an obligation, 
rather than an opportunity to 
learn more about different ethnic 
and cultural communities. The 
University of Michigan also has 
yet to extend the requirement to 
other schools outside of LSA and 

Art & Design.

It was not until I started taking 

courses in the School of Education 
that I saw what the Race and 
Ethnicity requirement should look 
like. My “Education: Schooling 
and 
Multicultural 
Society” 

course not only taught about 
racial and economic inequities, 
but also teaches how to take 
that knowledge and use it in the 
classroom and careers. The class 
is discussion- and activity-based 
and focuses on discussing some 
of the nuances of these issues. 
This is a model that the Race and 
Ethnicity required classes should 
all be based on, so that not only 
are issues being taught, but they 
are also being discussed in a larger 
group.

This model is also particularly 

important when thinking about 
other disciplines which do not 
require students to take courses 
that both fulfill the Race and 
Ethnicity requirement and pertain 
to eradicating inequities in their 
own future career paths. Every 
class in the Race and Ethnicity 
requirement should be carefully 
selected so students leave the class 
feeling well-informed on issues of 
race and ethnicity that are timely 
and are equipped with the tools 
they need to inquire about these 
issues and be lifelong learners.

Refining the Race and Ethnicity 

requirement is just one of many 
possible proactive steps to create 
a more inclusive environment 
on campus, but it is still only an 
attempt to educate students on 
issues they should have learned 
about long before attending the 
University. And yet, since the 
truth of the state of American 

education currently is that many 
children do not get the education 
they need about race and ethnicity, 
ensuring students recieve this 
education in college has become 
even more important. Refining the 
requirement will also help take 
the burden off minority students 
who are expected to provide 
education to other students on 
diversity, which can sometimes 
encourage the tokenization of 
these students, who should not 
bear this responsibility in the first 
place.

And yet, it should be a 

collective effort to ensure that all 
students at the University get an 
education where current issues 
of diversity are being discussed 
in all classrooms, not just those 
that fit the “Race and Ethnicity” 
requirement. This is something 
that some student leaders have 
discussed, but also one that 
students complain about when 
there is discrimination on campus 
that is not being discussed in 
the classroom. The University’s 
faculty should be educated on 
issues of diversity and should try 
to build curricula with this ideal 
built in wherever it fits. Professors 
should not fear bringing up these 
issues, for it is the fear of discussing 
diversity that ultimately keeps 
open discussions from happening. 
It would not be difficult for a 
student to go through their entire 
academic career at the University 
without learning about diversity 
in a classroom setting. University 
administration has to react to an 
issue. The University must create a 
culture that fosters this discussion 
so diversity does not only come up 
as a reaction to hatred.

In the MiC Spotlight series, our 

editors and contributors reflect on 
the reasons they joined MiC and 
their hopes for their work and the 
section.

 
When I was a kid, I wanted to be 

an author.

As a perpetually insecure child, 

I never started a journal or a diary, 
never wrote outside of coursework, 
and never actually took any of the 
steps that would have made me a 
writer. I didn’t think anything I 
had to say was important or worth 
immortalizing. But still I kept my 
dream of being a writer tucked in 
my pocket, so no one could see it 
but I could feel safe knowing it was 
there. I always promised I would 
start writing when I got smart 
enough, talented enough, inspired 
enough.

That 
dream 
has 
mutated 

throughout my life. Ten-year-old 
me was convinced she was going 
to write a novel when she grew 
up; 15-year-old me knew that 
journalism was where she needed 
to be; 20-year-old me has accepted 
that she wants writing to be 
important to her career and refuses 
to stress about the specifics.

As my romantic notion of 

being an author shifted, so did 
my understanding of myself and 
my identity as a young Muslim 
woman. It’s not that I woke up one 
day shocked that I was brown and 
Muslim — it was that I realized 
that the experiences I had were 
not common among all people. 
Not everyone had normalized 
the idea that the government 
may be listening to their private 
conversations and not everyone 
stayed away from calling things 
“the bomb” unless they were telling 
a joke.

It became clear that the faint 

suspicions I had felt toward my 
novels were because I wasn’t seeing 
my story being told. And then I 
started thinking about what other 
stories weren’t being told. And then 
I started wondering why those 
stories might not be told. And then 
I thought about why it was those 
stories — often full of corruption 
and negligence and -isms. And then 
I started wondering what I could 
do to fix that. And then I decided 
to pursue a career in policy and 
stopped actively dreaming about 
being a writer.

But to write is to claim agency 

and ownership of a narrative that, 
for many people of color, has been 
dominated by the stories of others. 
To write is to give yourself and your 
community a voice, a platform, a 
moment to say: “I was here. I felt this. 
It was real and it was important.” To 

write is to be selfish and selfless, all 
at once. To write is to resist, on some 
level, the idea that who you are and 
what you experience is not valid and 
valuable and worth reading.

And so I’ve joined Michigan 

in Color as an editor as part of an 
attempt to return to that dream.

It is an honor to be part of a 

section that works so clearly to 
elevate the stories that are often 
untold or unheard, and I hope to 
use my time here engaging with 
writers to do just that. I hope that, 
in reading and writing our stories, 
you can find meaning, purpose, 
strength and solidarity as I often do.

- AREEBA HAIDER

Reflecting upon my upbringing, 

I realize how incredibly lucky I am 
to be writing this. As a transracial 
adoptee from Vietnam who came 
from a small province and a family 
that was deathly ill, I am grateful 
for and I am proud to raise my voice. 
Growing up, I had trouble raising my 
voice in challenging environments, 
because of my personal insecurities 
and often times not knowing where 
I stand. I was an agreeable giver, 
someone who gave myself to others 
while letting conflicting voices 
trample my own.

Since being involved in Michigan 

Community 
Scholars 
Program, 

Intergroup Relations, the Center 
for Positive Organizations and A/
PIA activist communities, I have 
grown to be strong in letting my 
voice be heard, because I have 
found spaces where I flourish. This 
strength has pushed me to navigate 
difficult conversations surrounding 
racial 
discrimination 
and 
the 

current social climate, primarily 
surrounding Asian and Pacific 
Islander American civil rights. As an 
Asian American, I am tired of being 
forced into the gray middle ground 
in the race conversation. Media 
often portrays us as wedge groups 
to be model examples to society, but 
we are far too often silenced as soon 
as we gain the confidence to speak.

Joining MiC was something 

I’ve longed for since I arrived to 
campus. The stories MiC publishes 
are 
powerful. 
MiC 
gives 
an 

unapologetic space for people of 
color to have their voices elevated. 
Personally, I remember reading 
Elise Jayakar’s article on her biracial 
experience. That piece inspired 
me to write, because it touched me 
in a way that will never leave me. 
So, my contribution will be giving 
myself wholly to a community that 
was built on being a deviant to the 
norm. I was given the extraordinary 
privilege to grow up in the United 
States and I am using every breath 
to elevate the voices, stories and 
narratives of those that have been 
silenced by the dominant narrative.

- ADAM BRODNAX

I’ve been told by others that I 

never hesitate to speak my mind. 
Since I was very young, I have 
always been able to unapologetically 
express my thoughts and feelings. 
I used to simply think that it was 
because I was bold or determined. 
However, as I grew older, I saw 
that many of my peers, especially 
those who were people of color, 
were unable to voice their opinions 
and were frequently disregarded. 
This made me ask myself why other 
people could not just say what they 
wanted to. It took me quite a while 
to find the answer to that question.

I recognize that I have an 

incredible amount of privilege 
as an upper-middle-class, South 
Asian woman. Quite often, people 
will take my word over that of 
others because I am assumed to 
be more hardworking and rational 
than other people of color. Unlike 
many of my peers, I rarely feel 
unsafe due to my ethnicity or 
religion. Furthermore, I grew up 
in an environment that was very 
supportive and encouraged me to 
be confident in myself. I can only 
hope to provide other people with 
a fraction of the opportunities that 
allowed me to find my voice.

I have been involved in social 

justice organizations, including the 
South Asian Awareness Network 
and Uncover: A/PIA, in the hopes 
that I can use my privilege to 
help bring about social change 
on campus. Likewise, I wish to 
continue to use my privilege in 
order to bring about awareness 
through writing. As a senior editor 
of Michigan in Color, I want to 
help provide a space for people of 
color to share their stories and life 
experiences. I, along with the other 
editors of Michigan in Color, will 
always work to amplify your voices 
and to make your voices echo for 
others to hear.

I have shared my story and have 

been heard. Now, it’s your turn to 
speak up. If you have something to 
say, just let me know and I’ll be sure 
to pass you the MiC.

- SIVANTHY VASANTHAN

I learned, pretty early on, that 

mainstream media does not make 
books, TV shows or movies for my 
consumption. I gave up on writing 
as a career a long time ago, before 
I ever really gave myself a fair shot 
at it, because I thought no one else 
would either. South Asian voices 
in media are reduced to archaic 
stereotypes 
or 
exoticized; 
our 

experiences are never our own 
— they are constructed through 
the lenses of those who don’t care 
enough to tell our stories without 
embarrassing us. Even when they 
are, prominent mainstream South 
Asian creators, such as Mindy 
Kaling and Priyanka Chopra, refuse 
to acknowledge their backgrounds, 

cultures and histories without 
sounding tone-deaf and ignorant.

That is why I joined MiC. I might 

not be a seasoned writer or an active 
member of the creative community 
anymore, but this forum is one 
of the few places I feel capable of 
taking charge of my own story: 
because I get to tell it.

- TANYA MADHANI

In my last Spotlight, I wrote 

about how finding my voice as a 
Filipino-American, removing my 
shame as one and strongly wanting 
to help other people of color do the 
same is why I joined Michigan in 
Color. All of that still remains the 
same. Working for Michigan in 
Color has been without a doubt one 
of the most rewarding experiences 
of my life, because I got to do exactly 
what I sought out to do.

When I think about why I return 

to Michigan in Color, I can’t help 
but be reminded of the wonderful 
people who have helped me along 
the way: former Michigan in Color 
managing 
editors 
Toni 
Wang 

and Demario Longmire. Their 
hard work and activism has truly 
inspired me to raise up my voice 
as 
a 
Filipino-American. 
They 

would never hesitate to ensure that 
whatever experience or emotion 
I and the other contributors and 
fellow MiC editors felt on any 
particular day, hour or minute 
was completely OK and valid. 
They took the time to critically 
unpack anything problematic so no 
privileged stone was left unturned 
and unchecked. I also want to take 
this moment to say that they are 
hilarious people. I would also like 
to give a special shoutout to Sabrina 
Bilimoria and Alyssa Brandon 
— past senior editors who also 
are doing #work on campus and 
beyond that are absolutely amazing. 
They have helped cultivate a sense 
of community that I may not have 
thought I deserved, but definitely 
needed.

It is important to me that I 

continue that legacy.

I return to Michigan in Color 

because it is not solely about doing 
work I enjoy. It is about doing 
the work I think is critical at this 
point in time. I want to continue 
to foster the sense of belonging for 
people of color that others have 
done provided for me. I find it so 
necessary to document the complex 
experiences of those marginalized 
so that we never forget but to also 
extend our solidarity to others who 
may feel a similar way. I am here to 
pass down the MiC to fellow people 
of color to share their stories during 
every step of the process.

In another year at Michigan 

in Color, I want to say this to all 
people of color reading this, YOU 
AND 
YOUR 
EXPERIENCES 

ARE VALID AND DON’T LET 

ANYONE OR ANYTHING TELL 
YOU OTHERWISE.

- CHRISTIAN PANEDA

Storytelling has been a powerful 

force through my life. As a child, it 
was through listening to narratives 
from my parents and grandmother 
— all of whom immigrated to the 
United States from India in the 
early 1990s — that I was able to 
learn about my roots and heritage. 
Storytelling did what none of my 
elementary 
school 
classrooms 

could do by eliciting a vivid sense 
of curiosity and appreciation for my 
culture.

Now, as a student at the 

University of Michigan, I reflect 
on both the spoken and unspoken 
stories of our campus. I am 
grateful to have had a multitude of 
opportunities to learn about social 
justice, identities and activism: My 
participation as a peer educator 
in the Sexual Assault Prevention 
and Awareness Center’s primary 
prevention program has heightened 
my understanding of the ways in 
which sexual and domestic violence 
pervade our society. Since my first 
year, Alternative Spring Break has 
challenged me to think critically 
about what it means to ethically 
engage with different communities 
around me and address the savior-
ism that often surrounds service. 
These opportunities have been and 
continue to be incredibly important 
in shaping my understanding of 
social justice.

But these organizations focus 

primarily on how we practice 
activism and prevent harm. This is 
not to say that these pillars are not 
important; on the contrary, they are 
essential if we wish to understand 
how 
communities 
can 
come 

together and challenge systems 
of oppression and harm. Indeed, 
these organizations are driven by a 
different kind of passion than that 
found in the written word.

Serving as a senior editor for 

Michigan in Color provides a 
unique opportunity to hear from 
those members of our campus 
community 
who 
have 
been 

harmed by these systems, whose 
hearts are brimming with stories 
— raw, intimate and unapologetic 
ones — that need to be listened 
to. I am honored to step into this 
role and learn, not only from my 
fellow editors, but also from the 
contributors who bravely allow 
their truths to soar. If my presence 
in MiC makes it even slightly more 
possible for you to be heard, then I 
have done my duty.

- NEEL SWAMY

My absolute favorite thing has 

always been to sing. When I was 
7, my brother helped me express 
my love of singing through song 
writing. From then on, creative 

writing became an outlet for all 
of my passions. I began to write 
fantasies and dramas to express 
myself. I grew up taking honors 
and AP English classes but I did not 
enjoy writing academically. When 
I took my first English class at the 
University of Michigan, I began 
to see writing in a different light. 
I became an activist through my 
writing and I realized the power my 
words had to inspire and empower 
others. Writing was a means of self-
discovery for me.

I have recently been thinking 

a lot about identities. Growing 
up, I never felt like I belonged to a 
specific category. I was constantly 
juggling between my identities as a 
Nigerian, American, Black, Muslim 
woman with sickle cell anemia. 
Then I started learning about the 
intersection of identities. I began to 
realize that no one fits into simply 
one group but rather we all belong 
at the intersection of multiple. My 
involvement with the educational 
theater company showed me that 
our identities create the lens through 
which we perceive the world around 
us. I realize that I am so much more 
than a race, religion or disease — yet 
these are the identities I think about 
the most.

To celebrate Martin Luther King 

Jr. Day, I went to a one-woman 
multimedia 
performance 
called 

“One Drop of Love,” by Fanshen 
Cox DiGiovanni. She acted out her 
life, even the painful moments, to an 
audience of strangers because she 
believes her story needs to be told. I 
started sharing my story for a similar 
reason. I wrote how I felt to better 
cope with and understand what I 
was feeling. Along the way I realized 
my story could move others the way 
Fanshen’s moved me.

I joined MiC because I was 

inspired by the people I knew who 
were involved. I resonated with the 
passion they had for the work they 
were doing. They presented MiC 
to me as a place where my presence 
would be welcomed, my voice would 
be heard, and my story would be 
praised. When I started writing I 
knew MiC would be the best place 
to publish. MiC editors helped me 
harness my voice by making sure 
my words accurately portrayed the 
message I wanted to get across. I 
was incredibly happy and proud of 
the finished product they helped me 
create. After my first publication, I 
knew that if I were given the chance, 
I would want to do what they did for 
me for someone else. Now, as a senior 
editor for MiC, I hope I can help 
others find and share their voices. I 
acknowledge how hard it can be to 
share your story, but I promise I will 
uphold it and you with the greatest 
respect. Your story is welcomed 
here. This is part of mine, so I invite 
you to share yours.

- HALIMAT OLANIYAN

Re-defining the Race and 
Ethnicity Requirement

RABAB JAFRI

MiC Columnist

Please stop asking Black boys 
why they don’t play sports

MiC Spotlight: Senior Editors

We are currently in the thick 

of March Madness, a time of year 
when it seems as though everyone 
is an expert in all things basketball. 
People are filling out brackets, 
making 
bets 
and 
anxiously 

watching as many games as they 
possibly can. This time, more than 
ever, I am reminded of one of the 
things that annoyed me most during 
my childhood, along with being 
the cause of a lot of anxiety and 
decreased self-esteem. When I met 
new people, usually adults, or saw 
family members whom I did not see 
on a regular basis, they would ask 
me, “Do you play any sports?” Now 
this in itself is harmless. Every given 
year, I was one of the tallest people 
in my grade. After my awkward pre-
teen phase, I slimmed down and 
started to work out at my mom’s gym 
occasionally. It was not unusual for 
people to comment on my “athletic” 
physique, and the affirmation was a 
positive reinforcement. It really was 
no surprise that people thought I 
would be an athlete.

In reply to the aforementioned 

question, “Do you play any sports?” 
I would simply say no and smile. 
However awkward, all of this is 
fine and completely normal. Sports 
are a big part of American culture 
and most of my peers played them. 
So what was the issue? It lay in one 
word: Why?

Now this always seemed like a 

very loaded question, and I never 
knew exactly how to respond. I 
would say, “I’m just not into them,” 
or something of the sort. If I was 
lucky, they would leave it at that; 
however, sometimes they would say 
some pretty demoralizing things. 
One family member even told me 
that I was “a waste of height and 
size.” This comment bothered me 
for obvious reasons, but mostly 
because it seemed like people were 
never interested in all of my other 
qualities and interests. I enjoyed 
reading 
books 
on 
presidential 

history, catching up on politics and 
cooking new foods.

For a short period in middle 

school, I played baseball and ran 
track. Though I liked the challenge 
and opportunity to spend time 
with my friends outside of school, 
I knew that I was not an athlete. I 
actually fractured my ankle sliding 
into home base and was forced to 
wear a cast and then a boot for the 
better part of a year. Nonetheless, 
this piece is not at all my attempt 
at criticizing athletes or organized 
sports. I am not oblivious to the 
many positive effects that sports can 
have on youth: the ability to bond as 
a team, have a sense of responsibility 
and opportunity to compete with 
peers by constructive means are 
just some of the benefits. In more 
urban communities, specifically, 
sports can be pivotal in establishing 
a relationship between a coach and 
his players where many of them 

may not have a paternal figure in 
their lives. Sports can also give an 
out to students looking to escape 
violence and other disadvantageous 
situations.

However, 
in 
the 
Black 

community, sports are sometimes 
viewed 
as 
the 
only 
way 
to 

prosperity. This could be because 
the entertainment industry has 
for so long capitalized on the 
athletic ambitions of Black boys 
in conjunction with the general 
public’s appetite to consume such 
media. This, all the while collecting 
the lion’s share of multi-million 
dollar profits. For example, about 
three in four NBA players are Black; 
however, owners in the league are 
almost exclusively white.

I want my point to be clear: 

Stop asking Black boys why they 
don’t play sports because it is 
in turn reducing them to your 
entertainment. Instead, start seeing 
Black boys as intellectuals. Start 
seeing Black boys as artists, public 
servants and CEOs.

Let’s encourage more Black youth 

to code, draw and write columns for 
their school paper. The world needs 
more Black leaders, and today’s kids 
have to be inspired to chase those 
dreams. And with all of that being 
said, it is crucial to still acknowledge 
that kids can be whatever they want 
in life. So, if after you’ve encouraged 
him to be ambitious, and that Black 
boy wants to be a basketball player, 
go to the bleachers and cheer him 
on.

MICHAEL HEYWARD

MiC Columnist

MIC SENIOR EDITORS

