T

his
Thanksgiving,
I

was upgraded from my
perennial seat teetering

awkwardly in between
the kids’ table and
adults’ table; I was
given
permission

to officially enter a
more
sophisticated

environment. Eat your
hearts out, younger
siblings and cousins.

It was not long

before I realized that
the prospect of a table
with candles and a
centerpiece had made me too
optimistic. The topic discussed in
the big leagues this evening: college
campuses and free speech — hardly
the
lighthearted
conversation

I wanted to have after gorging
myself with food.

As far as I imagine political

conversations
at
Thanksgiving

dinner tables across the country
typically go, however, the one at
mine happened to be quite tame.
There was little shouting, frequent
laughter and not once did I think
that anyone was having second
thoughts about foregoing politically-
affiliated assigned seating.

But there was one thing in the

debate over the campus free speech
conundrum I found unsettling.
It was something equally as
unsettling at the Thanksgiving
table as it had been when it arose at
the University of Michigan Board
of Regents’ table two days prior
and then at The New York Times’
news desk the next week. Free
speech on college campuses was
exposing the larger normalization
of neo-Nazism in today’s politics,
and liberals had become unwitting
contributors to this.

Like the rest of the country, I

had expected at least some degree
of normalcy when a champion of
white nationalists ascended to the
Oval Office. Still, the throning of a
Mexican-denigrating,
both-sides

shaming and Pocahontas name-
calling
demagogue
exceeded

expectations. The once-dormant
Stephen Millers and Steve Bannons
of the world were allowed to enter
mainstream politics, bringing the
“fringe” beliefs shared by their
loyal acolytes with them.

Neo-Nazis
have
enough

powerful allies as it stands today.

The left — or anyone, frankly, who
believes in fairness and equality
irrespective of race, religion or

creed — should not feel
compelled to be one of
them or sympathize
with them. Articles like
the softening profile
of Tony Hovater, an
Ohio-based neo-Nazi
whose
“Midwestern

manners would please
anyone’s
mother,”

that The New York
Times published last
Saturday do just that.

Though
these
self-serving

pieces
most
assuredly
cause

liberals to rejoice in their supposed
show of tolerance, a shortcoming
that conservatives have loved to
attack, any victory is shallow and
short-lived. Sympathizing with
Nazi sympathizers is antithetical
to ostracizing their brand of
baseless bigotry. Liberals need
not pat themselves on the back
for legitimizing an outsider voice;
when
that
outsider
espouses

white supremacy or Nazism, then
anything short of rebuke merely
continues to lazily promote the
narrative in which unadulterated
hatred is falsely equated with
“political belief.”

Though this may be the reality

of our current political landscape,
the
kicking-the-can-down-the-

road attitude that humanizes,
rather than ostracizes, America’s
neo-Nazis, must be curbed at once.

Outlets like The New York

Times hardly owe anyone a
platform on their powerful pages,
much less white supremacists and
Nazis whose beliefs have as great
a factual foundation as fake news.
While the media may indulge itself
in propagating hate under the
guise of tolerance, the University of
Michigan should not.

That’s why the Board of Regents’

and University President Mark
Schlissel’s decision on Tuesday that
moved Richard Spencer one step
closer to speaking on campus was
so disheartening.

In not allowing Richard Spencer

to speak on campus, we would
not, as University Regent Mark
Bernstein (D) eulogized, be failing
in our mission to promote free
expression. Nor would we “provide
even more attention to the speaker,”

as
University
President
Mark

Schlissel wrote in a campus-wide
email, if the University were to
reject Spencer, as schools including
Michigan State University, Ohio
State University, Pennsylvania State
University, the University of North
Carolina at Chapel Hill and Auburn
University
have
done.
These

institutions have courageously
challenged the new normal.

What we are doing is embracing

it. We are overcorrecting for our
past transgressions in which our
student body wrongly denied far
less odious figures the right to free
speech by choosing the nuclear
option. Richard Spencer gets a
platform at the University. Tony
Hovater has a spread in The Times.
I discuss the merits of Nazi speech
at the Thanksgiving table.

It is true that many students on

campus need to realize that not all
conservative speakers on campus
are the devil incarnate. Heeding
Elie Wiesel’s famous words that,
“The opposite of love is not hate,
it’s indifference,” would be an
effective approach to combating
this provocative strain of evil,
because we cannot be complacent.
But I am hesitant to use Spencer as
the example for this re-education.
When hate is as uniquely sinister
and as far-reaching as Spencer’s
is, we ought to be happy, not
dismayed, that there is pushback
from students and faculty on
campus. For the administration, it
is hard to say the same.

At what point do we draw

the line? When men with even
more hateful views and actual
political power than Spencer
inevitably request to speak at the
University, will the University let
them speak too?

Or will we continue to treat

our adherence to the Constitution
as a suicide pact until regrettable
repeats of history emerge?

I certainly hope not, but I am

not holding my breath. There’s
a reason why Dictionary.com
chose “complicit” as its word of
the year for 2017. When Spencer
and
his
gang
of
swastika-

wielding,
violent
criminals

roll into town, that reason will
quickly become apparent.

L

et him come. Bring it on.
I want Richard Spencer.

I’m not the other that

he fixates on. Sure, I’m one of
the snowflakes who voted for
Hillary Clinton, and I’m Middle
Eastern. But I’m not Muslim.
I’m not Jewish, either, nor am I
Black. All of this is to say I am
not the one who deserves the
final say in this matter. I am
not explicitly threatened by his
toxicity the way my friends and
classmates are.

Still, I want him. I want

his ignoble crusade to make a
stop on our campus. Yes, his
ideology is capable of inflicting
great suffering, some of which
we’ve already seen. But I’ve
watched him take a punch;
I’ve seen his followers try to
peacock as something more
menacing than the scared and
threatened lot they are.

I’m not afraid of him.
I’m more afraid of not

knowing
his
supporters,

especially the ones so close
to us. Come out. Own your
violence and your hatred. I
want to know who you are, even
though you see a subhuman
any time you don’t see a white
human.

I
don’t
think
Richard

Spencer wants to speak here.
It serves his purposes more to
be blocked from speaking, so
that he can cast himself as the
victim of an unruly and restless
liberal youth that needs to be
disciplined and educated in
the realm of what’s “mature.”
What he doesn’t realize is
that we are far more mature
than
what
his
corrupted,

compromised, feeble brain is
capable of.

At its best, this campus is

not a safe haven for his ilk.
At its worst, it has enough
dynamics to elicit conflict from
a controversy like this. There is
racism on this campus because
there are racists on this campus.
As there have been. This is not
news. Unfortunately we don’t
know how many, but we know
that they are currently the
silent, scared minority.

Richard Spencer is more

afraid of us than we are of him.
At the end of the day, his fears
of a more just, diverse and
equitable world are coming true.
Yes, this is delayed all the time,

and in the news we see that it is
possible not just to delay it but
also to reverse it. But only in
moments, not in totality.

It’s easy for me to feel like the

world’s never been worse. I’ve
only been alive for a moment,
and in this moment there
seems to be sexual violence
everywhere,
racial
injustice

everywhere,
human
rights

abuses everywhere. It seems
that way because it is so — this
evil is here, in great force.

What
I
do
well
to

remember is that this evil

has been around since the
beginning, in quantities far
more overwhelming. Ask any
marginalized
person;
they

can point to a time when their
people were more persecuted,
more
degraded,
more

threatened, more isolated than
they are now. The difference
is our awareness of such evil.
While excruciatingly painful,
we better address our worst
demons when we can see them.

And so, we are at a junction.

This is part of the fight for the
direction of our country. We
can shrink away from it and
feel safer. We can drown out
the voices we hate, block that
Twitter account that causes
us duress and turn off the
channels that propagate lies
and deception to our neighbors.

Or, we can listen. We can

allow Richard Spencer to speak
to those that are interested.
Where they supply violence,
we’ll
provide
self-defense.

Wouldn’t it be nice to know
your classmate thinks you’re
inferior? Isn’t it better to know
if that professor you might
have next semester thinks
you’re subhuman?

So, please, if an on-campus

site doesn’t work out, stop by
my apartment, Mr. Spencer,
and bring your compatriots.
I’ll make you some coffee,
which you are free to throw
out because it was made by
somebody several skin tones
darker than you. You can make
your own cup after; I know you
live a life of fear. I can’t relate.

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 — Friday, December 1, 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

I want Richard Spencer

ANDREW MEKHAIL | OP-ED

Carolyn Ayaub
Megan Burns

Samantha Goldstein

Emily Huhman
Jeremy Kaplan

Sarah Khan

Max Lubell

Lucas Maiman

Madeline Nowicki
Anna Polumbo-Levy

Jason Rowland

Anu Roy-Chaudhury

Ali Safawi

Sarah Salman
Kevin Sweitzer

Rebecca Tarnopol

Stephanie Trierweiler

Ashley Zhang

Andrew Mekhail is an LSA

sophomore.

The new normal

Draupadi’s sari

SARAH NEFF | SARAH NEFF CAN BE REACHED AT SANE@UMICH.EDU.





Editors note: The name of the author
has been omitted to protect their
identity.
Trigger warning: description of
sexual assault
I

n
the
Hindu
epic

“Mahabharata,”
a

prominent turning point

occurs
when
the
princess

Draupadi
is
inadvertently

gambled away by her husband
to his evil cousins. She is
dragged in front of the entire
kingdom and disrobed to be
assaulted. Though she yells
at her husband in anger, she
doesn’t fight back against her
assailant. Instead, she prays to
the Lord Krishna, who blesses
her with infinitely long cloth
for her sari, so she cannot be
fully disrobed.

***

I was the type of girl whose

reputation preceded her. In the
Indian-American
community

at the University of Michigan,
I was the girl who partied too
hard, who’d hooked up with too
many guys.

We met at a party my

freshman year and I already
knew who you were. You were
the type of guy whose reputation
preceded him, too. In the
Indian-American
community,

people called you an asshole.

I always liked the bad boys.

And you were the worst.

Over the next few weeks,

we would sneak away to talk
alone at parties and make out
in the corner. You told me I was
different. You told me I was “so
much better than all these other
Indian girls, so much less of a
prude.” You attempted to uplift
me by putting down countless
other women in our community. I
laughed along.

You took me back to your

fraternity house after a party
on Halloween. I had gone as a
Disney princess and you didn’t
have a costume. It was late, and
it was dark, and I didn’t know
that part of town very well. Your
roommates were smoking weed
and blasting Lil’ Wayne. You led
me into your room, to your bed
and I followed. You reminded
me that I was pretty for a brown
girl, carefree for a brown girl,
chill for a brown girl. I accepted
these as compliments.

We began to fool around a

bit. In a few minutes, you easily

unpinned the costume that I had
taken an hour to assemble. No one
had ever taken as keen an interest
in my body before, and I was
flattered. I was content to just let
you look at me. I was 17, and you
made me feel, for the first time in
my life, beautiful.

But I was 17, and I barely

knew you. You looked at me, all
of me, and your eyes told me you
wanted more. I had never done
more than this. I had received
enough of your approval tonight.
I wanted to stop here, while I
was still comfortable, while I
was still happy. South Quad was
30 minutes away, and I didn’t
want to make that journey alone.
I asked you to walk me home.
You asked me to have sex with
you instead.

I said no, and started gathering

my costume strewn across the
floor. You asked again.

I said no, but I didn’t want to

come off too forceful. I didn’t
want you to suddenly think I
wasn’t “carefree” or “chill.” You
asked again.

I said no, and I asked you

to please take me home. This
was before the days of Uber
and Lyft, and I couldn’t trust
my tipsy freshman self to find
my way home on my own. You
asked again.

I said no, but this time you cut

me off. You said you would take
me home, but only after we had
sex. You asked again.

I said no, but this time you

reminded me that I didn’t really
have a choice. You said if I wanted
to get home safe, we had to have
sex first. You hovered closely over
me, giving me no room to escape.
You asked again.

I said yes, and I have chosen to

forget the rest.

***

You and I had bonded earlier

that night over a shared interest
in Hinduism. But Lord Krishna
didn’t bring me more cloth that
night, like he did for Draupadi.
Prayer isn’t always practical
advice, and our faith ultimately
gave us little guidance on notions
of consent and assault.

The secular aspects of our

culture didn’t help either. The
Indian-
and
Hindu-American

communities
are
notoriously

conservative when it comes to
sex and gender roles. My parents
never gave me “the talk,” and
maybe yours didn’t either. In
my family, the men make all the
decisions, and maybe it’s the

same in yours too. Even Draupadi
was treated as just an object to
be gambled away, and it seems
not much has changed in the
millennia since.

My family doesn’t think I

should date someone unless I’m
going to marry them. My mom
still thinks I’m a virgin. Any
conversation that began to border
on sex was immediately shrouded
in judgment. Where was the room
to talk about sexual assault?

And though so many of our

peers claimed to be far more
liberal than their parents, they
have often still inherited the
same judgment and exercised
it on people like you and me,
people who in their view partied
or hooked up too much. At the
University, being part of the
Indian-American
community

meant
navigating
constant

judgment
and
moral
double

standards.
Having
sex
was

rebellious; talking about it was
taboo and would inevitably lead to
slut-shaming. Sexual assault was
something we opposed in theory,
but wouldn’t dare acknowledge in
our community.

Our parents had so many

rules for us growing up, and our
peers in college weren’t much
better. By breaking their rules, I
thought I was rebelling against
our community. You probably
thought you were rebelling too,
but you broke me instead.

***

I walked home after sunrise

wearing your T-shirt, the Greek
letters displayed proudly across
my chest. I kept that T-shirt,
perhaps in denial, in the back of
my closet for the better part of
a decade. If a friend ever saw it,
I’d tell them about how I’d stolen
it from some random frat guy
freshman year.

I finally threw your T-shirt

away last year. Cloth may have
been a physical barrier for
Draupadi, but it wasn’t going
to keep hiding my experience.
Our community cannot keep
wrapping
up
sexual
assault

with infinite cloth, pretending it
doesn’t exist.

ANONYMOUS

The author is a College of

Engineering alum.

This is the seventh piece in
the Survivors Speak series,

which seeks to share the

varied, first-person experiences of

survivors of sexual assault.

LUCAS MAIMAN | COLUMN

Lucas Maiman can be reached at

lmaiman@umich.edu.

LUCAS

MAIMAN

I want Spencer’s
ignoble crusade
to make a stop on

our campus