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