G
rowing up, I always
envisioned
myself
living in a sorority
house at whatever college I
ended up attending. For some
reason, whenever I pictured
what I would look like years
down
the
road,
happily
committed to a university, I
was always wearing Greek
letters. To me, not going Greek
was never an option. It seemed
like a path everyone in my life
had gone down and one I was
willing to take myself.
However,
this
complementary
image
of
college and Greek social life
came crashing down when my
older sister fell through the
cracks of the system. Nobody
decided to stand up for her
and say, “She would fit in so
well here!” and I was baffled.
Rumored
romances
swirled
around her, and unfortunately
the Greek community truly
values gossip. She is the most
upbeat, “Sorority Sally” type
of girl I know, so if she couldn’t
thrive in the system, could I?
Did I even know people who
would be willing to stand up
for me?
As a result of my sister’s
experiences, I went into the
recruitment process with fresh
eyes. I could try to discern
between
the
performance
girls put on during each round
and who each girl truly was.
After all, I had to be able to
feel comfortable living with
these people. At the end of
the day, I turned out fine
and ended up in a house I am
extremely happy in. The social
aspect is phenomenal, and the
philanthropy is an added bonus
toward loving sorority life.
However, once it was my turn
to rush girls, I caught a glimpse
of the side of recruitment I don’t
like — the side of recruitment
that took my sister down in a
tidal wave of judgment. We are
expected to know, learn and
love or hate girls in the span of
20 — yes, 20 — minutes. Young
girls entering the newest, most
terrifying period in their lives
are supposed to know and
understand “unspoken rules”
of conversation or socializing in
order for houses to want them.
No talk about boys, but if you’re
comfortable with whom you’re
talking to, they’ll look past it.
No discussing parties, but if
they like you, they’ll let it slide.
It’s all so confusing because
how would you truly know if a
girl likes you or is coercing you
to break these barriers through
manipulated
self-sabotage?
Rumors like these constantly
make way between nervous
potential new members.
Eighty
girls
making
a
decision is a nightmare in and of
itself, and, from the first round,
cutting girls becomes more and
more intense. Relationships are
formed once you begin rushing
a girl more and more rounds, so
a protectiveness tends to occur
when someone tries to cut
her. Countering opinions flew
around the room, and these
thoughts were often greeted
by subtle jabs. Girls who know
this potential new member
from home want to keep her,
while girls who were rubbed
the wrong way by her during a
round try cutting her. While I
was semi-irritated by the way
my house preferred some girls
over others, there were horror
stories
swirling
around
of
other houses electing a single
girl to finalize decisions for
their entire house.
Though
Greek
life
has
made me abundantly happy
at school, it taught me more
than the regular rules of
sisterhood. While the process
is meant to be tough and sort
girls into houses they would
be “more comfortable in,”
I learned that second — or
even third — chances matter.
Sometimes first impressions
can be correct, but most of the
time, they can be completely
misleading.
Greek life taught me to be
more open and gave me the
opportunity to talk to people
I never thought I would. To
face the facts, there are tons
of negative stereotypes about
Greek life circulating through
college
communities,
and
honestly, many of them are
true. But it takes special people
to move past these stereotypes
and make the system their own,
create the culture they went
through this process searching
for. Those are the types of
people who thrive in the Greek
life community, and those are
the people that make being in
Greek life worth it.
F
or
individuals
struggling with mental
health, everything life
throws
at
them
during
college
doesn’t exactly help.
Maybe
friends
pressure me to go
out,
but
saying,
“I’m sad, I really
don’t want to,” does
not feel like a good
enough
excuse.
Thoughts of losing
out on a memorable
night
influence
me to go out, and when I do
go, chances are I feel worse.
Maybe I have a mandatory
meeting for a club on campus,
but being sad won’t suffice as
a good excuse for my group
leader. And on the off chance
I say I’m sick, I fear someone
seeing me on the Diag and
spreading rumors that I was
not actually sick. When I email
my professor for an extension
for a deadline I could not meet
because I had too much on my
mind, he will probably respond
with my score: a zero.
The
implications
surrounding mental health on
campus limit our conversations
surrounding this issue. As
students,
we
think
school
comes before everything. We
are not taught to take a “mental
health day.” It is only when
we are physically unwell that
we believe it is acceptable to
miss a class or a deadline. The
stigma we put on mental health
as bystanders, sufferers and
friends prevents us from openly
discussing the topic and taking
advantage of the few resources
(that are already over capacity)
available on campus.
For many students, mental
health is compromised during
their time at the University of
Michigan, and often mental
unwellness
is
exacerbated
during stressful periods of the
school year. We are constantly
taught throughout our lives
by
our
professors,
parents
and friends that we need to
be cognizant of the mental
health conditions of
others. But we aren’t
taught how to talk a
roommate
through
a breakdown or how
to stand up for our
classmates who are
dealing with mental
illness.
Mental
health
is something that
is
different
for
each
individual.
Recognizing these differences
is essential when conversing
with a friend in crisis and
making
them
feel
OK
to
pour it all out. Some people
never experience the anxiety,
depression or other ailments
that others have to deal with
every day. When a classmate or
friend is clearly upset and going
through a lot, the common
response from bystanders is
“that sucks; I’m so sorry.”
Though this is clearly not
what
the
suffering
person
needs to hear, I often find
myself at a loss for words when
someone tells me about all the
bad things that are happening
to them. There is no way to
know how these experiences
directly affect them or what
is going through their head
or how they feel in that exact
moment. Everyone experiences
hardship so differently that we
cannot assume anything about
anyone else, and that’s what
makes this issue so hard to
deal with.
As someone who struggles
with anxiety, it is hard to let
people in on what is really going
on in my mind. What might not
seem like a huge deal for one
individual can be immensely
different for another. To make
it worse, being thousands of
miles away from your family
and constantly surrounded by
strangers does not exactly make
for a welcoming environment.
I
have
found
several
resources that discuss how
to go about talking to a peer
about their symptoms, but
the results were inconclusive.
And what if these formulaic
steps don’t work? We all
take things differently, and
a cookie-cutter plan to make
someone feel comforted in a
stressful situation does not
always
work.
Spontaneity
is important, and catering
to an individual’s needs is
essential in making them
feel trusted and welcomed
confiding in you.
Mental health is even more
essential to our growth as
individuals because, without it,
we are constantly in a state of
discontent that is unproductive.
As university students, we need
to recognize that we all have
moments of stress, despair and
anxiety. Though we might not
experience these things in the
same way, it is important to
validate the feelings of others
and to let them know they are
not alone. It is OK to voice the
issues with mental health in
society. This will allow us to
come together and beat the
stigma surrounding this valid
illness, so we can all get the
resources we need.
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Tuesday, November 7, 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
Talk about mental health
MICHELLE PHILLIPS | COLUMN
Inside Greek life: is it worth it?
TORI BOORSTEIN | 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
Tori Boorstein is an
LSA sophomore.
NATALIE BROWN | NATALIE CAN BE REACHED AT NGBROWN@UMICH.EDU
Ann Arbor: a vegan dystopia?
LEVI TEITEL | COLUMN
I
am no fan of cold weather.
In fact, I detest the very
notion
of
winter.
The
inclement weather we have
been graced with after a hot
autumn has not fared well for
me. In light of the rapid seasonal
change, my body was not ready
to handle snow Oct. 31. So, I
have taken to my favorite coping
mechanism to get over the
winter blues: eating.
This week I walked from
North
Quad
Residence
Hall to Kerrytown, where I
braved the wind and drizzle
to meet an old friend at one
of my favorite Ann Arbor
establishments:
The
Lunch
Room. Not only is The Lunch
Room a fantastic restaurant,
but it also happens to be a
fantastic
vegan
restaurant,
if you could ever fathom that
(perceived) oxymoron.
Being a vegan in Ann Arbor,
or anywhere for that matter,
is
extremely
difficult.
As
a pescatarian of five years
and a vegan for almost a full
calendar year, I do my absolute
best to meander through the
complexities of the Ann Arbor
restaurant scene with variable
success. While greater Ann
Arbor maintains a host of
vegan fare, I feel unfulfilled.
Why are there so many options
that leave me unsatisfied? The
combination of my unusual
personal preferences and the
inaccessibility of Ann Arbor
vegan victuals makes for an
unfortunate evening ritual for
my own sake.
The geographic distribution
of vegan restaurants in Ann
Arbor is heavily concentrated.
The bulk exist near Main
Street and north of Central
Campus, which is limiting
to many students, including
myself.
Inconvenienced
by
the lack of options on Central
Campus, where are students to
go? As it turns out, we are not
left with much.
While
I
have
previously
written on the waning status
of student neighborhoods, the
same argument extends to where
students can grab a bite to eat.
As I expressed in my previous
column regarding the changing
nature
of
city
storefronts,
the major intersection near
my home (Packard and South
State
streets)
has
changed
considerably over the past few
years as restaurants come and
go. Moreover, finding a wide
variety of places to eat in just
a few steps’ reach is incredibly
difficult. This distance will
only get more difficult when
snow begins to cover the streets
and sidewalks.
The options I have near my
home consist of the following:
cheese and bread, more cheese
and
bread,
and
barbecue
chicken. This is not to say that
you can’t even find one thing on
the menu that would count as
remotely vegan in some of these
restaurants, such as a black
bean burger. However, given
the limited options, I am usually
stuck with frequenting the same
exact restaurants week after
week, eventually running out
of options and coming to abhor
this repetitive routine.
Ann
Arbor
is
also
oversaturated with restaurants
outside of the budget range of
most college students, and this
phenomenon is not just limited
to vegan restaurants. However,
because most vegan restaurants
tend to be located near Main
Street, they can charge whatever
pedestrians there can afford.
Maybe I am just a picky
eater with a skinny wallet. But
besides limiting my diet to only
plants, I am pretty much willing
to try any type of cuisine or
dish. And while there are many
restaurants in Ann Arbor, I still
need to spend as much time
finding a restaurant on Yelp as it
would take to actually have the
meal I have not yet eaten.
I sometimes find it easier to
schlep outside of town or even to
Ypsilanti to find a more casual
and as enjoyable restaurant
experience. Plus, going outside
of town can provide a more
unique selection of places given
the amount of foreign food that
is not as prevalent within Ann
Arbor. Of course, the extra gas
it takes to leave town may not
be as economical as just staying
at one of the more upscale Ann
Arbor
restaurants.
What
a
predicament.
Because of the difficulties
I run into finding an ideal
restaurant, I do much of my
cooking at home. My at-home
eating habits are not at all a
detriment; if anything, it is
a good thing to not have to
spend money outside the home
unnecessarily.
However,
it
would be nice if I could stop
on my way home after a long
day of class to carry something
out without having to worry
so much about my distinct
stipulations.
I just got a winter jacket
today, so I am well prepared to
brave the winter snow in order
to grab some food. Whether or
not I voluntarily confine myself
to my apartment until spring
arrives, I should still do my
best to be as adventurous as I
can even if Ann Arbor’s meager
offerings make it difficult.
Levi Teitel can be reached at
lateital@umich.edu.
Michelle Phillips can be reached at
mphi@umich.edu.
Being a vegan
in Ann Arbor,
or anywhere for
that matter, is
extremely difficult.
What might
not seem like a
huge deal for one
individual can
be immensely
different for
another.
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.
MICHELLE
PHILLIPS
Young girls
entering the most
terrifying period
in their lives are
supposed to know
“unspoken rules.”
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