I

n mid-November, news 
broke that Senator Al 
Franken, D-Minn., had 

forcibly kissed and groped 
radio 
newscaster 
Leann 

Tweeden on a USO tour 
in December 2006. On the 
morning after the story came 
out, I woke up and listened 
to NPR’s “Up First” while 
scrambling eggs, like every 
other morning. I had heard 
about the story via Twitter 
the 
evening 
before, 
but 

wasn’t aware of the details. I 
listened to the podcast hosts 
report on what had happened, 
and I began to deliberate 
about whether I thought he 
should resign. After a while, 
I decided I was ambivalent. 
It felt to me as if forcing him 
to resign suggested he was 
the only sitting U.S. senator 
who had sexually harassed 
someone. I thought certainly 
no one believed that.
 I discovered later that day 
that I was entirely wrong. 
My peers, most of whom 
are staunch liberals, were 
shocked by this news. They 
loved Al Franken — how 
could he betray them like 
this? 
How 
could 
such 
a 

liberal “feminist” sexually 
assault women? It was not 
only my circle of friends who 
reacted in this manner; even 
the hosts of the podcast “Pod 
Save America” discussed how 
distraught they were that an 
idol of theirs had turned out 
to be a predator. As I heard all 
of this, I was flabbergasted. 
Did my friends and favorite 
podcasters really believe that 
every time they saw #MeToo 
on their timelines, it was in 
reference to a Republican? 
That voting to fund Planned 
Parenthood 
and 
speaking 

against Donald Trump meant 
someone was exempt from 
being an abuser?
 It became clear to me that 
many 
people 
did 
believe 

these things. While revealing 
powerful liberal men also 
abuse women felt to me like 
“revealing” a lot of the people 
drinking at Garage Bar are 
well under 21, it turns out 
that many very smart people 

were caught by total surprise. 
It sometimes feels as though 
I’m 
trapped 
in 
an 
echo 

chamber with the people and 
media with which I surround 
myself, so it felt odd to have 
such a different perspective.
 The best explanation I have 
for my viewpoint is my past 
experiences. I was groped 

at 15 by a former friend, I 
was raped at 16 by a former 
boyfriend 
and 
sexually 

assaulted at 18 by a former 
friend and current friendly 
acquaintance. I’ve spent a lot 
of time (read: a very painful 
five years) thinking about 
those moments. I’ve assessed 
those men and their actions 
for so long, and yet it never 
occurred to me that their 
political affiliation would be 
relevant to their behavior. 
That is because it is not; 
those three men hold wildly 
different views on politics 
in general and on women’s 
issues specifically. Somehow, 
their views on abortion never 
made me feel more forgiving 
toward or more surprised by 
one over another. Being a public 
advocate for women’s rights and 
a private abuser of women only 
makes someone a hypocrite, not 
a “better” abuser.
 Sexual assault is a violent 
crime, not a partisan issue. 
We 
were 
all 
brought 
up 

surrounded 
by 
a 
culture 

of sexual assault that has 
historically 
allowed 
men 

to abuse their power and 

privilege 
without 
much 

punishment. 
We 
must 
all 

recognize that no matter how 
progressive or egalitarian our 
values are, we are affected and 
influenced by that predatory 
culture. For example, I was 
ambivalent toward Franken’s 
resignation for quite a while. 
I was convinced otherwise 
by Ana Marie Cox’s article in 
Esquire, which is summarized 
in 
this 
quote: 
“I 
think 

Franken should voluntarily 
relinquish 
a 
privilege 
in 

recognition 
that 
women’s 

voices and experiences are 
more 
important 
than 
his 

short-term political career.” 
I don’t know why that simple 
point was so difficult for me 
to understand from the start. 
I know I would feel personally 
insulted, disheartened and 
enraged each day if one of my 
abusers held public office. 
While I also know that there 
are hundreds of victims who 
must live with that horrible 
reality, it is one that we 
should actively try to reduce.
 So, if I was right, and there 
is at least one other U.S. 
senator who is guilty of 
sexual misconduct, and even 
if there are 30 of them, and 
even if they’re all Democrats, 
I sincerely hope they will be 
outed and removed. If it ruins 
Democratic chances of ever 
winning back Congress, so 
be it. We cannot be a party 
that puts abusers in power 
and justifies it by claiming 
that things would be worse 
for women if we lost their 
votes. I certainly understand 
that argument; I understand 
that 
reproductive 
freedom 

is at risk, we desperately 
need maternity leave and 
that the Republican Party 
has no intention of helping 
women on these issues. I also 
understand that as long as we 
are complicit in propping up 
abusers, women’s safety and 
autonomy is not a priority of 
the Democratic Party either.

I 
 

am 
both 
an 
early-

morning 
person 
and 

a 
runner. 
These 
two 

characteristics 
aren’t 

mutually 
exclusive, 
but 

both 
have 
one 

similarity: “This 
American 
Life.” 

“This 
American 

Life” is a podcast 
produced by NPR 
and 
narrated 

predominantly by 
Ira Glass. It has 
different weekly 
themes, 
with 

stories 
ranging 

from things people regret 
to how Greece is helping 
Syrian refugees. For the last 
six years, I have religiously 
listened to “This American 
Life” on my runs. Hundreds 
of miles logged have been 
matched with hundreds of 
stories from people all around 
the world.

My alarm clock blares before 

the crack of dawn, I climb out 
of bed, slip on my running 
shoes and walk out the front 
door. The air has the distinct 
smell of morning dew: clean 
and fresh. I press “play” on 
my podcast, and I’m off, legs 
running and feet pounding. 
Ira Glass’s friendly voice rings 
through my ears: “Every week 
on our podcast we choose a 
weekly theme…” This opening 
statement is one I can recite 
from 
memory, 
that 
makes 

me feel comfortable; it is like 
listening to an old friend.

One rainy morning, I turned 

on my daily podcast. I heard 
Ira’s weekly opening statement, 
his 
tone 
noticeably 
more 

somber than previous weeks. 
This, he said, was Harper High 
School. The “This American 
Life” staff would be spending 
two weeks in an inner-city 
Chicago high school exploring 
how the school deals with lack 
of funding, gang violence and 
the school-to-prison pipeline.

Jumping over puddles and 

getting more drenched by 
the minute, I remember tears 
streaming from my face and 
mixing with the dreary rain 
as I listened to the stories of 
the three students who were 
shot, the teachers who didn’t 
come to class and the weekly 
flooding of the hallways from 
dilapidated infrastructure.

Harper High School is a 

stark contrast to my high 
school, an upper-middle class 
suburban school where almost 
everyone graduates and goes to 
college. And this educational 
disparity made me angry. So 
I decided to act. I gathered 
the support of my peers and 
faculty and broke through a 
long-held silence surrounding 

systemic issues. Students for 
Social Justice emerged, and 
with the help of the school 
administration we launched a 

school-wide campaign 
against sexual assault. 
For the first time, and 
for the next two years 
of high school, I was 
able to be a leader and 
make a difference.

Arriving 
at 
the 

University of Michigan 
in early fall brought a 
mix of fear, excitement 
and anticipation. High 
school had supposedly 
“prepared” me for the 

next four years, and everyone 
said the best years of my life 
lay ahead. The first few weeks 
of college included thousands 
of new faces, taking the longest 
route to class because Google 

Maps did not know how to 
navigate through the Diag and 
working up the courage to do 
homework in the Law Library. 
All of these changes were new, 
and I felt like I was failing to 
find my place.

Festifall 
was 
the 
most 

overwhelming event to occur 
on 
campus: 
thousands 
of 

booths, flyers and, of course, 
free candy. I grabbed handfuls 
of flyers and laid them out 
on my still-organized desk. 
All the clubs seemed new, 
exciting 
and 
promising. 
I 

could help refugees, join a 
pre-law fraternity, cook in 
the South Quad basement or 
work for a handful of different 
publications.

I was a typical overly-

ambitious freshman, and all of 
those flyers sat in my desk for 
weeks. I would occasionally 
glance at them while getting 
my next stack of notecards, and 
a pang of anxiety would pass 
through my body. I had yet to 
attend any mass meetings or 
fill out any applications. Was 
I failing at getting involved? 
I felt like the only freshman 
on campus who was this 
overwhelmed, but I began to 
realize I was not alone.

As 
the 
semester 

progressed, 
my 
friends 

changed, 
my 
classes 
got 

more difficult and the leaves 
began to change colors. As I 
continued to doubt my college 
involvement, “This American 
Life” remained a constant. My 
running routes shifted from 
flat, tree-lined streets to the 
hills near Oxford Road. Ira 
Glass’s voice rang in my ears, 
sharing stories of failures, 
hope and the possibilities of 
change. Donald Trump had 
been in office for a year, but 
Roy Moore lost in Alabama. 
There was still hope, and 
I could make a difference. 
Hundreds 
of 
students 
on 

our 
own 
campus 
kneeled 

for hours in protest. Change 
could be made in any way. 
Making a difference did not 
have to mean joining clubs or 
starting political movements. 
Rather, it meant continuing 
to seek out experiences that 
made me feel empowered and 
showed me a purpose. Though 
not becoming involved in 
typical college organizations 
felt 
much 
like 
failure, 

recognizing my purpose from 
the environment in which 
I was immersed each day 
continued to be empowering.

My 
surroundings 
have 

shifted, 
but 
my 
curiosity 

and 
desire 
for 
progress 

has never waned. I see this 
possibility 
in 
the 
smallest 

of 
places: 
contributing 
to 

class discussion, reading the 
newspaper during a 30-minute 
break or discussing politics 
with 
a 
newfound 
friend. 

Recognizing my peers come 
from diverse places and have 
different experiences sparked 
my interest in asking questions. 
The transition from high school 
leadership 
to 
discovering 

interests in unknown places is a 
new experience. But sometimes 
experiencing the “new” is just 
opening your eyes to the world 
around you. All of this reminds 
me that I am no longer in my 
bubble: there is possibility all 
around me.

Now, I sit through lectures 

about the history of social 
justice 
and 
civil 
rights 

on 
college 
campuses. 
My 

professors are teaching my 
peers and me how to lead, 
pioneering 
generations 
of 

change. This is the kind of 
change that “This American 
Life” motivated me to think 
about. This is the change 
that I experience unknowing 
opportunities each day. So, “on 
this week of ‘This American 
Life,’” I will keep listening, 
keep asking questions and 
keep working for change.

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 — Thursday, January 11, 2018

DAYTON HARE

Managing Editor

420 Maynard St. 

Ann Arbor, MI 48109

 tothedaily@michigandaily.com

Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.

ALEXA ST. JOHN

Editor in Chief
 ANU ROY-CHAUDHURY AND 

ASHLEY ZHANG
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

MARGOT LIBERTINI | COLUMN

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

Democrats can be abusers too

Running for thought

Margot Libertini can be reached at 

mliberti@umich.edu.

NATALIE BROWN | CONTACT NATALIE AT NGBROWN@UMICH.EDU

We were all 
brought up 

surrounded by a 
culture of sexual 
assault that has 
allowed men to 

abuse their power.

Julia Cohn can be reached at 

julcohn@umich.edu.

JULIA COHN | COLUMN

I felt like the 
only freshman 

on campus 
who was this 

overwhelmed, but 
I began to realize 
I was not alone. 

— President Donald Trump speaking at the White House during 
a news conference with Norwegian Prime Minister Erna Solber 

when asked if he would be interviewed by Mueller 

“

NOTABLE QUOTABLE

Certainly I’ll see what happens. But 

when they have no collusion, and 

nobody’s found any collusion at any 

level, it seems unlikely that you’d 

even have an interview. ”

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JOIN OUR EDITORIAL BOARD

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our newsroom at 420 Maynard Street. All are welcome to come discuss 

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JULIA 
COHN

