The debate about abortion 

often 
ignores 
that 
the 

procedure is primarily an issue 
of women’s health. Women 
compose less than 25 percent 
of the overall makeup of the 
House 
of 
Representatives. 

As such, the clear majority 
of people voting on the issue 
of abortion are not directly 
affected by their votes. This 
is particularly troubling given 
much of this vote fell along 
party lines — politicians were 
likely more motivated by party 
pandering than the wants and 
needs of their constituencies.

Though this bill would not 

affect the majority of women 
getting 
abortions 
— 
only 

about 2 percent of abortions 
are performed after 20 weeks 
of pregnancy — the passing 
of such a ban is an insidious 
attempt to add to the stigma 
regarding 
women 
who 
get 

abortions. It acts as a politically 
sanctioned 
mechanism 
to 

shame women who are making 
decisions 
based 
on 
their 

individual 
needs, 
whether 

they be medical, financial or 
personal. Additionally, passing 
introductory restrictions on 
abortion sets a precedent, only 
making it easier for stricter 
laws to be passed against it in 
the future.

And 
as 
many 
have 

pointed out, this bill would 
disproportionately 
hurt 

women who are already in the 
most 
vulnerable 
positions. 

It 
would 
overwhelmingly 

affect 
low-income 
women, 

who might have no choice but 
to wait longer than 20 weeks 
as they save up money to pay 
for the expensive procedure. 
Furthermore, many late-term 
abortions are performed for 
medical reasons, such as saving 
the life of the pregnant woman 
or 
terminating 
pregnancies 

that would result in stillbirth. 
Therefore, rendering abortion 
illegal after 20 weeks would 

not eliminate these abortions 
altogether. It would eliminate 
safe ways for women to have 
this procedure.

The bill also rests on the 

tenet that fetuses can feel pain 
at 20 weeks, thus claiming it 
is unethical to abort them. 
However, no sound scientific 
evidence 
currently 
exists 

to prove fetuses feel pain at 
this 
point 
in 
development. 

Basing a policy decision on 
the potential pain of a fetus is 
also entirely hypocritical. By 
solely considering the potential 
pain of the fetus, the argument 
neglects 
the 
emotional, 

psychological 
and 
physical 

pain the pregnant woman faces 
in making this decision and 
after the birth of the child. 
Furthermore, the same party 
tried many times this year to 
repeal the Affordable Care 
Act, which would perpetuate 
the 
pain 
of 
thousands 
of 

Americans by ridding them of 
their health care.

Thus, this bill not only serves 

to push aside women’s health 
rights, but also showcases the 
blatant disregard of definitive 
science to further political 
goals. Whereas conservative 
politicians are quick to dismiss 
climate 
change 
research 

as 
a 
partisan 
sham, 
they 

accept 
carefully 
selected, 

unsubstantiated 
medical 

“studies” that support more 
conservative 
anti-abortion 

ideals. 
Endorsing 
unclear 

scientific ideas solely because 
they align with their political 
end goals leads to hypocritical 
policy making, as well as 
policymaking that endangers 
public health.

Political 
maneuvers 
are 

being used to further the 
anti-abortion agenda with 
little regard to the women 
who are most affected by 
these decisions. Those who 
want a society focused more 
around anti-abortion values 
should instead be working to 
create and enforce programs 
that 
make 
it 
easier 
for 

women and families to be 
financially 
and 
medically 

stable, 
instead 
of 
taking 

away the choices of women.

A

s 
the 
kid 
of 

psychoanalysts, 
I’m 

often asked whether my 

parents analyzed me 
while I was growing 
up. And I don’t really 
know 
the 
answer 

to that question. I 
used to immediately, 
assuredly say, “No, of 
course not,” thinking 
that there was no 
way my parents saw 
me as they saw their 
patients. I was their 
youngest 
kid, 
their 

baby, not some confused, sad, lost 
person who paid for their service 
twice a week.

But as I’ve grown up I’ve 

recognized 
that, 
like 
any 

profession that our parents take 
on, it leaks into the rest of their 
lives. How could it not? Not 
surprisingly, this primarily took 
form in how my parents helped 
me deal with my own problems. 
They would have me simply talk 
about what was going on as a way 
of expressing myself, even when 
things 
seemed 
unfathomably, 

incomprehensibly confusing or 
sad — I was terrible at math, I 
was chubby and I was part of a 
friend group that bullied other 
kids. These, in addition to general 
adolescent dramas, were some of 
the things I’d be struggling with.

In other words, the idea was 

to share my mind with the rest of 
my family, to let them know what 
I was thinking. If I couldn’t do 
that, if things seemed too grave 
or too murky, I was taught that 
nothing really could be done to 
help my cause.

And now, thinking back on my 

childhood and the ways in which 
it has leaked into my own psyche 
today, I see, among all the beautiful 
and 
enriching 
experiences 

my 
childhood 
afforded 
me, 

that I struggle. I struggle to 
maintain privacy, to maintain a 
distance between myself and the 
surrounding world, potentially 
because of the emphasis that was 
placed on sharing my mind at 
home.

When I write things (plays, 

stories, 
columns, 
essays), 
I 

immediately feel the need to share 
what I’ve written. If I think the 

thing is good, somehow that 
doesn’t carry enough weight. I 
need the affirmation of other 

people. Often, this 
stunts my writing 
entirely, 
since 

before 
the 
thing 

I’ve written has any 
chance to breathe, 
before I can form any 
specific, 
intimate 

relationship 
with 

it, it is in somebody 
else’s hands, it has 
the marks of their 
critiques on it. I 

have endless writing projects 
waiting for me in my Google 
Drive, projects I know I’ll 
never return to, because the 
connection has been snapped 
by my insistent sharing.

This idea of having a thought 

and immediately needing to share 

it — out of a sense that containing 
it within me will not feed the 
thought its sufficient affirmation, 
that I am unable to affirm my 
own thoughts separate from my 
friends and family — extends not 
just to the things I write, but to the 
private fantasies I have.

I often imagine what could be 

better about any given situation. 
I imagine whose presence I 
would love to have, where else I 
would love to be. I imagine how 
swell it would feel to have some 
skill or trait that I don’t actually 
have. I focus on the absences, 
and so I pull away.

But I often share these fantasies 

with my friends. And I often 
do this without actually letting 
others know that this is a fantasy; 
instead, I’ve lied. And this has led 
to the end of dear friendships, to 
people I love feeling confused, 
manipulated and, ultimately, to me 

feeling profoundly terrible about 
myself. Why couldn’t I just keep 
my mouth shut? Why couldn’t 
I just appreciate the beauty of 
whatever I had in front of me?

I lie to share my fantasy. I 

lie because my fantasy doesn’t 
count if it’s just in me. It needs to 
spread, take root in the minds of 
others, too.

And over the past several 

months, in an effort to gain more 
of a sense of personal privacy, 
I have begun to keep a journal. 
I write in it every couple of 
days. My entries wander, they 
fantasize, they contradict. All of 
this is OK, because it’s in a space 
that only I have access to. My 
journal represents me figuring 
out aspects of myself before 
anybody else has to.

In my journal, there are 

words and ideas that come out 
of me when I am in a meditative 
state, when I’m not consciously 
working to think or to formulate 
thoughts, but instead simply 
commenting on what I am seeing 
as I saunter through my mind. 
Like a toddler standing with a 
clipboard and a piece of paper in a 
fancy museum who is told, “don’t 
worry about the technical jargon, 
just draw what you see.”

And then, since I’ve been 

abroad this semester, I have 
been meditating for 10 minutes 
per day. Pausing for a second, 
momentarily getting out from 
beneath the cutthroat hustle-
and-bustle 
of 
my 
rattled 

conscience. Taking a private 
moment for myself, to focus on 
my breath, my body. To establish 
distance 
between 
me 
and 

everything else. Some distance is 
certainly necessary. 

This 
lesson 
lies 
at 
the 

foundation of what it means 
for me, as an individual, to be 
growing up and becoming more 
independent. 
Understanding 

the 
potential 
beauty 
in 
a 

thought that no one else sees. 
Realizing those thoughts do not 
need affirmation from anybody 
else in order to be full, to have 
real meaning.

F

or 
a 
long 
time, 
I 

thought 
of 
taking 
a 

gap year as a strange 

thing — something only for 
the 
eccentric 
or 

routinely contrarian. 
This 
may 
have 

been a product of 
my 
upbringing: 

Years at a college 
preparatory 
school 

made it difficult to 
imagine any option 
beyond 
immediate 

enrollment into the 
best college I could 
get into. The option 
of taking time off in between 
didn’t even occur to me.

Of my class of 115 students, 

only 
two 
chose 
to 
defer 

attending a system of higher 
education. As some of my 
friends heard of their plans, 
rumors quickly spread that they 
weren’t “good” or “mature” 
enough to go to college. Today, 
I shudder at that ignorance. Far 
from being naive, those two 
made the most mature decision 
an 
18-year-old 
can 
make: 

ignoring the voices of others to 
hone in on their own.

At 
the 
University 
of 

Michigan, I’ve always felt a bit 
uncomfortable seeing so many 
of my peers having their lives 
figured out already. It seems 
as if every other student is pre-
something — pre-med, pre-law, 
pre-engineering, 
pre-finance. 

I often feel as if I’m the only 
one who’s still in the process 
of discovering what path bests 
suits me. At the same time, 
however, I’m also a bit skeptical 
of those who decide on a track 
from a young age. Surely, a good 
number of students must pick 
predefined paths as the result 
of certain pressures rather than 
genuine interest.

The opportunity to take a 

high school gap year may have 
passed, but there remains an 
equally intriguing alternative. 
A post-college gap year should 

appeal to both people like me as 
well as those who think they’ve 
already 
figured 
out 
their 

career paths. The options are 

virtually 
limitless 

— solo backpacking, 
teaching 
English, 

working odd jobs, 
volunteering — it’s 
just up to you to 
figure 
out 
what 

clicks best.

Wherever 

students 
choose 

to go on their gap 
year, they’ll likely 
be 
away 
from 

the 
societal 
and 
parental 

pressures that may have over-
exerted 
their 
influence 
on 

their path. Even for students 
set on their plans, a gap year 
could provide time to unwind 
and 
declutter 
their 
minds 

from the relentless regiment 
of 
exams 
and 
homework, 

especially if graduate school 
is in the picture. As former 
Yale 
University 
professor 

William Deresiewicz put it in 
his book “Excellent Sheep: The 
Miseducation of the American 
Elite,” “I can’t tell you the 
number of students who did 
that and (became) strikingly 
different people — fuller, more 
independent, more present in 
their lives, and ready to cut 
through not only the academic 
but also the social bullshit.”

Skeptics of the gap year often 

berate it as an opportunity 
cost to develop a career or get 
a leg up on graduate studies to 
prepare you for professional 
work. I see it another way — 
think of the doctors or lawyers 
who drain years of training, 
hundreds of thousands in loans 
and time away from friends 
just to realize that a career in 
medicine or law isn’t right for 
them. Wouldn’t they rather 
pay the “opportunity cost” of 
a few months off then wake up 
years later and wonder what 
they’ve wasted all their time 

and money on? They likely 
won’t have the privilege of 
a break during their career 
— unpaid sabbatical leave is 
offered by only 12 percent of 
employers, according to the 
Society for Human Resource 
Management, 
and 
only 
4 

percent of employers offered 
paid leave programs last year.

Our early twenties shouldn’t 

be spent laying the foundation 
for a cozy mid-life career. As 
author and entrepreneur Gary 
Vaynerchuk put it, “This is not 
the time to play it practical and 
safe. It is not the time to get 
the job mom and dad wanted 
or 
the 
time 
to 
maximize 

your salary so that you can 
buy a fat whip.” In other 
words, don’t stress over being 
“successful” the second you 
graduate. Sure, parents might 
get uncomfortable at cocktail 
parties when the couple next 
to them brags about their 
daughter’s starting salary at 
some Fortune 500 company, 
while they’re explaining why 
their child is off eating on 
the floor with villagers in 
Peru. Those lucky enough to 
have parents who had such 
experiences when they were 
younger need not worry, but 
students should never let their 
fear of disappointing them (or 
anyone else) stop them from 
exploring the unconventional.

I do not mean to romanticize 

the gap year — rarely is it a 
magical elixir that spits you 
out with purpose and passion. 
Traveling alone and working 
odd jobs can lead to bouts of 
loneliness and a longing for 
the safety of a routine. Yet, it is 
often by enduring these trials 
that they become valuable 
experiences for those who 
have done them. 

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 — Tuesday, October 10, 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.

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

Take a gap year after graduation

LUKE JACOBS | COLUMN

Toward introspection

ISAIAH ZEAVIN-MOSS | COLUMN

Carolyn Ayaub
Megan Burns

Samantha Goldstein

Caitlin Heenan
Jeremy Kaplan

Sarah Khan

Anurima Kumar

Max Lubell

Lucas Maiman

Alexis Megdanoff
Madeline Nowicki
Anna Polumbo-Levy 

Jason Rowland

Anu Roy-Chaudhury

Ali Safawi

Sarah Salman
Kevin Sweitzer

Rebecca Tarnopol

Stephanie Trierweiler

Ashley Zhang

Isaiah Zeavin-Moss can be reached 

at izeavinm@umich.edu.

 Luke Jacobs can be reached at 

lejacobs@umich.edu.

FROM THE DAILY

Prioritize women’s health

W

ith the endorsement of President Donald Trump, the House 
of Representatives recently passed a bill that criminalizes 
abortions past 20 weeks of pregnancy. The bill introduces 

fines and prison sentences of up to five years for those who perform the 
procedures, allowing exceptions only in cases of rape or incest, or when 
the health of the pregnant woman is threatened. The Michigan Daily 
Editorial Board believes our representatives should not play politics 
with women’s health. The bill’s introduction itself demonstrates that our 
representatives are placing political goals over the importance of women’s 
health and using unsubstantiated scientific claims to drive those goals.

LUKE 

JACOBS

ISAIAH 

ZEA
VIN-MOSS

My journal 

represents me 

figuring out aspects 

of myself before 

anybody else has to.

This bill showcases 

the blatant 
disregard of 

definitive science.

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Daily for first-person accounts of sexual assault and 

its corresponding personal, academic and legal 

implications. Submission information can be found at 

https://tinyurl.com/survivespeak.

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MICHELLE SHENG | MICHELLE CAN BE REACHED AT SHENGMI@UMICH.EDU