As Facebook reported, within 

24 
hours 
of 
its 
resurfacing, 

#MeToo has started appearing on 
the social media feeds of nearly 
everyone in the nation, with 
approximately 4.7 million people 
posting, commenting and reacting 
over 12 million times. This range 
of visibility is reaching the breadth 
of even the most successful social 
media 
movements, 
including 

the 
similar 
#YesAllWomen, 

which gave women a space to 
discuss instances of misogyny 
and violence. #YesAllWomen has 
produced over a million tweets 
on its thread since beginning in 
2014, and #MeToo has quickly 
accumulated similar attention in 
only a few weeks.

Even further, this movement 

has sparked conversations among 
all generations. As an Editorial 
Board, we noticed posts not only 
from our college-aged peers, 
but also from those we know in 
generations above us, like our 
parents and former teachers. 
Seeing attention being given to 
#MeToo by all generations frames 
the issue in context: Sexual 
harassment and assault has 
affected, and still affects, people 
of all ages. And, by talking about 
the problem, we are giving it 
much-needed 
attention 
and 

providing crucial support for 
survivors.

#MeToo has been so successful 

in part because it allows people to 
recount their stories in a manner 
that necessitates very little detail. 
Experiencing sexual misconduct is 
traumatizing, and having to relive 
these moments can be very painful. 
Furthermore, the sheer volume of 
#MeToo posts provides survivors 
with a space where they know they 
are not alone in their experiences. 
In this sphere, survivors know that 
they are understood, supported 
and, most importantly, believed, 
because they see that there 
are so many others who have 
experienced 
similar 
traumas. 

Survivors can support one another 
and remind each other that they’re 
not alone. It is difficult to talk 
about sexual harassment and 
assault, but survivors feel more 
comfortable among others who 
truly understand.

Though #MeToo began to 

gain attention due to the recent 
Harvey Weinstein scandal, it has 
persisted as a strong movement 
because of the thousands of 
survivors who saw it as a good 
platform 
to 
discuss 
sexual 

misconduct. In the media, these 
issues can be presented with 
“storybook villains” like Harvey 
Weinstein — painting a picture 
of sexual assaults as isolated 
instances. Often, discussions of 
sexual assault concerning public 
figures are easier to rally around 
than instances of assault that 

involve everyday people in our 
lives who are not in the public eye. 
While it’s easy to rally against 
someone whom we do not have 
personal connection to, we must 
remember most perpetrators are 
not famous figures; rather, they 
can be anyone, perhaps even 
people we are close to.

It’s 
important 
we 
stand 

by and believe survivors of 
sexual assault and harassment 
regardless of the fame of the 
perpetrator. This is especially 
important 
considering 
only 

310 out of every 1,000 people 
who have experienced sexual 
assault report it to the police, 
illustrating the silence that 
is associated with assault in 
our society. #MeToo brings 
attention to, and solidarity with, 
those who have experienced 
assault and is a step toward 
breaking this silence.

#MeToo is a strong reminder 

that survivors are everywhere, 
and we must listen, understand 
and believe them. As an editorial 
board, we agree that sexual 
harassment and assault won’t end 
through a social media movement, 
but #MeToo is an important 
step in educating the public on 
the magnitude and effect of this 
issue. #MeToo provides a space 
for solidarity among survivors and 
sparks a conversation that we all 
need to be a part of.

B

lest are they / the poor 
in spirit / theirs is the 
kingdom 
of 
God.” 
I 

remember singing this line from 
Hymn #624 during Mass many 
times in my youth, and I continue 
to sing it when I am in St. Mary’s 
Student Parish. I am not one to 
quote Bible verses, so do not see 
this as proselytizing Catholicism. 
(In fact, this might be the first 
time I have ever done so publicly.) 
Nevertheless, it has been the 
verse that runs through my head 
when I ponder debate, protest and 
morality in this modern age. 

This 
past 
week, 
Charles 

Murray, a fellow at the American 
Enterprise 
Institute 
and 
the 

co-author of the “The Bell Curve,” 
came to the University of Michigan 
campus. People protested because 
of his highly debatable scientific 
rhetoric on IQ and race, where 
he claims that whites are simply 
intellectually 
superior. 
After 

passing by the event Wednesday 
evening and recalling the recent 
rise of racist incidents in the Ann 
Arbor community, I found myself 
thinking about debate and protest 
in a broader sense. Recognize that 
I am not questioning whether 
protesting 
such 
speeches 
is 

important, but rather asking how 
one protests illogical conclusions. 
As a logical person, how does one 
use rationale to overcome illogic? 
More importantly, how does one 
debate individuals such as Charles 
Murray for an “improved societal 
morality,” however ambiguous 
that might be?

Has the debate on morality 

— or lack thereof — added to the 
gridlock and divide we see today in 
the United States?

I previously wrote that my 

Catholic 
education, 
though 

somewhat 
divisive 
in 
today’s 

more 
secular 
society, 
was 

beneficial because it increased 
existential thought and improved 
introspection. 
I 
neglected 
to 

mention that as a result of this 
education, I have come to question 
morality more consciously, on 
which, I would argue, most of 
the faith is based. My biggest 
struggle as a Catholic is that I am 
constantly questioning the words 
in the Bible, and how they pertain 

to today’s moral standings. In this 
vein, I posit that most morality 
is based on faith — which, in my 
own definition, means suspending 
rationale in support of something 
that 
cannot 
be 
conclusively 

determined.

Therefore, when we attempt 

to 
engage 
with 
people 
like 

Charles Murray and other white 
supremacists, I am conflicted, as I 
might be in faith, on whether these 
individuals have morals. Just as my 
logical, “atheist” brain might say, 
“Their conclusions are unfounded; 
therefore, their pseudo-science 
is not worth engaging in.” But 
believing they have morals, I 
say in the same breath: “These 
influencers are not going away. 
These individuals have devout 
followers and advocates. Though 
they have not shown actions 
in the past which might yield a 
sense of morality, we must engage 
with them, sit down, try to ask 
how and why they came to such 
conclusions. We must believe they 
can change their ideas.”

So as to think about these 

opposing views, I would start by 
reasoning that protests in general 
lie on the fact that we find the 
person or group to be wrong: 
logically and, more frequently 
today, ethically. However, I also 
think that if we are motivated to 
change the mind of the opponent, 
we must begin to think about our 
own sense of morality.

Through some of my own 

introspection, I have realized that 
a large issue in our country is a 
“debate crisis.” One of my biggest 
questions is if humans possess 
an innate moral compass that is 
neurologically written into our 
genes and brain makeup. I think 
this “debate crisis” lies in the fact 
that our views on morality have 
shifted, without much notice, from 
a place of constant question in 
“average” society to subconscious 
definiteness. 

In other words, we have come to 

believe there is a rather subjective, 
but firm line of morality, and either 
you exist on the “good” side of 
that line or you do not. In popular 
society, I find people see very little 
gray area in this. As a consequence, 
people more frequently blame large 

and small issues not on poor logical 
conclusions, but rather a severe 
lack of moral reasoning. Moreover, 
our 
hyper-individualistic 

population has increasingly begun 
to define morality by one’s own 
standards. Though not a defined 
fact of nature, we have come to 
subconsciously declare that since 
you and I are human, we must 
have a sound moral compass.

Therefore, when we engage in 

the increasingly partisan politics 
of the modern era, regardless 
of what political leanings we 
might have, we individually deem 
ourselves morally superior. Since a 
sense of morality is fundamental to 
the justice and progress of society, 
some call those opposing us on 
a variety of different viewpoints 
illogical, corrupt and beyond 
reach. This is highly problematic 
since we have, without even 
realizing, declared there are no 
grounds to question and engage a 
viewpoint, nor do we wish to delve 
into why morally questionable 
rationales exist.

I 
completely 
understand 

and 
agree 
that 
people 
like 

Charles 
Murray 
and 
other 

white supremacists are morally 
problematic. There’s little debate 
there. And honestly, I don’t know 
the complete answer to debating 
morally 
questionable 
people. 

However, may I suggest the 
problem partially lies in that we 
don’t recognize such speakers and 
supremacists most likely believe 
they are morally superior, just as 
you and I might find ourselves to 
be morally superior. 

Call me optimistic, but pure 

logic must win when talking and 
engaging with individuals such as 
Charles Murray, simply because 
it has for millennia. In addition, 
I doubt that they are void of 
changing their perspectives. Are 
they “poor in spirit?” Certainly. Is 
“theirs the kingdom of God?” I’m 
not sure. However, by “graying” 
morality in our modern society, not 
ignoring why they came to their 
perspective and asking them to 
look inside themselves, hopefully, 
change will happen.

A

ctually, I don’t believe in 
God.” After three and a 
half years, the words still 

feel alien as they leave my mouth.

When people ask me about 

my background, I tell them I was 
“raised Catholic.” The Church 
has always been a defining 
feature of my life: I was baptized 
as a newborn, and I learned 
about the love of Jesus and Mary 
every week at Sunday school as a 
preteen. From ages 11 to 18, I went 
to Catholic school. Every day for 
seven years I attended religion 
class, prayed along with the 
school announcements and was 
surrounded by other Christians.

This experience shaped me 

to an extent I may never fully 
understand. The Catholic Church 
gave me my morals, my ethics, my 
sense of community, my desire 
to positively affect the world. I 
will forever respect the amazing 
people within the Church and 
the good they do, but I can’t call 
myself a Catholic anymore.

About my sophomore year of 

high school, my questions started 
outpacing the Church’s answers. 
The more I learned about science 
and the world around me, the 
more contradictions I saw within 
my religion. The Church asks 
believers to have faith, to embrace 
God’s mysteries. But why would 
God create the most intelligent, 
infinitely inquisitive creatures in 
the history of the planet, only to 
tell them that faith is enough? How 
could a single sin of Adam and Eve 
condemn all human posterity to 
suffer and die? Eventually, the 
lack of answers became too much. 
I finally acknowledged I didn’t 
believe during my senior year of 
high school.

I identify as agnostic: I accept 

I may never know if God exists. 
I bristle at the label atheist. I 
feel quite sure that no bearded 
Abrahamic All-Father guides the 
universe from above the clouds, 
but who’s to say no cosmic force 
exists at all? However, sometimes 
I think my aversion to atheism 
runs deeper than uncertainty. 
I grew up feeling connected 
to an ancient, global, spiritual 
community. Atheism feels so 

final, like cutting the last cord to a 
community I used to cherish. It’s 
a deep dive into the unknown.

I know I’m not the only one 

who has struggled with leaving 
religion. A third of Americans 
under 30 have no religion, and the 
number of religiously unaffiliated 
Americans has only grown in 
recent years. A great deal of 
physical and emotional strain 
has accompanied this growth in 
deconversion. Studies have shown 
that the religiously unaffiliated 
report worse physical health, 
more suicidal thoughts and less 
healthy behaviors. Psychologist 
Marlene Winell has even coined 
the term RTS, or religious trauma 
syndrome, to describe the negative 
health effects some undergo when 
losing their religion. 

I can understand why losing 

religion 
may 
be 
traumatic. 

For many, religion ensures a 
strong sense of community, an 
unshakeable sense of purpose 
and 
an 
assurance 
that 
all 

the struggles of this life will 
eventually dissolve into eternal 
joy in the afterlife. Who wouldn’t 
be devastated after losing these 
lifelong safety nets?

Although leaving Catholicism 

didn’t leave me with RTS, it did 
leave me with a bit of a void. I 
questioned my purpose in life, 
my moral system, my sense of 
community. 
Could 
I 
believe 

in 
Christian 
values 
without 

believing in Christ? Why be good? 
What’s the point of even living 
if it all ends? I sometimes found 
myself wishing I could force 
myself to believe, that I could 
turn off the part of my brain that 
never stops asking questions.

It took a while, but I came to 

cherish the freedom and joyful 
cognizance irreligion can bring. 
Losing my religion allowed me to 
live in the present. Catholicism 
perpetually trapped me outside 
the current moment. I was always 
preoccupied with either the past 
or future. The past held all the 
answers: the revelations of the 
prophets, the teachings of Christ, 
the sins of my ancestors that have 
been passed down to me — these 
all occurred thousands of years 

ago. The future was the only thing 
worth living for. All good deeds 
were done in preparation for an 
afterlife or out of love for God and 
his kingdom to come in the distant 
future.

I came to realize that the idea of 

a world without God may be more 
ecstatic and beautifully absurd 
than I could have imagined. How 
impossibly fortunate are we that 
the trillions of atoms that make up 
our bodies randomly combined in 
just the right cosmic combination 
that allows us to see and feel a 
sunrise, to taste ice cream on a 
warm summer night, to see art 
and to hear music? I’ve learned to 
find gratitude for the absurd fact 
that I’m alive at all, rather than 
despair at the idea of death.

I’ve also learned to find more joy 

and meaning in my relationships. 
I live for my friends and family 
rather than the idea of God. I live 
for the love of those around me 
and appreciate conversations and 
memorable nights as I’m having 
them. I feel free to do good deeds 
for others not out of fear of sin or 
respect for moral authority, but 
because I cherish the people in my 
life and want to help them.

I learned to find meaning in 

my everyday work. Catholicism 
teaches the idea of a vocation — 
a calling from God to a certain 
career or role in life. I’ve embraced 
the idea of a secular vocation, 
the idea that I can craft my own 
meaning 
by 
making 
positive 

impacts in my school life, in my 
career and in my everyday actions. 
I’ve focused on building a career in 
which I can benefit my community 
through 
practicing 
law 
and 

improving government policies. 
I’m trying to find purpose in the 
small accomplishments and day-
to-day victories.

I’m not saying I’ve reached 

enlightenment. Far from it — 
most of the time I have no idea 
what I’m doing. But, I’m learning. 
I’m learning to live without easy 
answers and hope in a higher 
power. It’s not easy, but I’m 
learning. 

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Monday, October 23, 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

Losing my religion

TOM AIELLO | COLUMN

How do we protest?

DAVID KAMPER | 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

David Kamper can be reached at 

dgkamper@umich.edu.

 Tom Aiello can be reached at 

thomaiel@umich.edu.

FROM THE DAILY

The importance of #MeToo

M

eToo has been tweeted over 800,000 times since Alyssa Milano 
brought it to the forefront of Twitter in the wake of the Harvey 
Weinstein sexual assault allegations. This movement originated 

with activist Tarana Burke over 10 years ago through her foundation Just 
Be Inc., with the aim of raising awareness of the magnitude of sexual 
assault. This gives survivors a community of support, and the reach of 
a social media campaign that has the ability to flood people’s timelines 
can effectively demonstrate the extent of the issue. The Michigan Daily 
Editorial Board believes that #MeToo functions as a strong solidarity 
movement, and though this campaign will not solve the serious problem 
of sexual assault, it is a reminder to be supportive of all survivors. 

FRANNIE MILLER | FRANNIE CAN BE REACHED AT FRMILLER@UMICH.EDU

#MeToo
#MeToo
#MeToo

