M
y goal is not to meet
the love of my life
until I am at least 26.
That will give me two years after
I complete my undergraduate
degree
to
work
somewhere
abroad, building my resume and
establishing connections. After
that, I will still have two years to
come back to the United States and
complete my master’s degree. Then
my future husband can come into
the picture, though he will have
to wait at least five years after that
before having kids, to give me time
to establish my career.
This is a common dinner table
conversation
among
my
four
female roommates and me. We all
hope to have families someday — I,
in particular, grew up in a family
with four kids and have always
wanted to have at least that many
myself. But my roommates and I
stay at the library until the early
hours of the morning multiple
times a week and run ourselves
dry with extracurriculars in hopes
that the additions to our LinkedIn
profiles will be the deciding factor
for our future employers. So,
though our bodies crave the idea of
falling in love and raising a family,
the idea terrifies us more than it
excites us. We don’t want to give up
the prospect of the careers we’re
working so hard for, but we also
don’t want to be that stereotypical
working mom who leaves her kids
in a nursery all day. We are aware
that there will come a day when we
have to choose between the joy of
motherhood and the satisfaction of
moving up in the workplace.
In these conversations, my
roommates and I overlook two
critical points. The first is that the
only reason we face this dilemma is
our gender. Our male friends have
yet to consider at what age they
want to get married and have kids.
For women, this is a natural part of
the conversation in college because
it pertains directly to their future
careers. For men, however, the
potential of fatherhood is distinctly
unrelated to the workplace. We
live in a culture in which men can
safely assume that being a “good
father” will in no way conflict with
their career goals.
There are ways that companies
can mitigate the sexism that keeps
mothers
and
future
mothers
from
pursuing
careers.
Her
Campus Media, one of the top
media brands targeted at college
women, recently took a public
stance on its support for female
employees by announcing that it is
a Business for Birth Control. This
means that, despite recent White
House regulations that allow any
employer to deny its employees
birth control coverage under the
Affordable Care Act, Her Campus
Media will continue to cover birth
control for its employees.
“As a company whose every cell
is about supporting, empowering,
and lifting up women, we knew that
making this kind of commitment to
our employees was a no-brainer,”
Stephanie Kaplan Lewis, CEO and
Editor in Chief of Her Campus,
wrote me in an email.
Lewis notes that providing
access to birth control is not
the only way a company can
foster a more gender-equitable
office culture.
“We offer our team members
exceptional flexibility in their
schedules as well as the ability to
work from home some or all of the
time, depending on the role...We
also offer unlimited personal, sick
and vacation days,” she said.
These
policies
reduce
the
necessity for a woman to choose
between work and motherhood,
as she knows that she can make
family
a
top
priority
while
continuing to move up in her
career. This leads into the second
point that my roommates and
I overlooked during our dinner
table conversations: We are not the
only ones who would suffer if our
desires for motherhood were to
force us out of the workplace. We
are all intelligent, savvy women
with strong work ethics and
unique perspectives that would
provide innumerable benefits to
any company where we choose to
work. If a company’s office culture
leaves us feeling that we are
unwanted because of our desires
to raise families someday, then that
company is missing out not only on
my roommates and me, but on the
millions of young women across
the country who want to both work
and raise a family.
The founders of Her Campus
Media (Lewis, along with former
Harvard classmates Annie Wang
and Windsor Hanger Western),
were recently named to Forbes
40 Under 40. To me, it comes as
no surprise that a company with
a commitment to gender equity
would see such success. As Lewis
states, “We have a number of
employees who are moms of young
children and left their former
employers to come work at Her
Campus because they saw that
our flexible policies enable them
to fulfill their career ambitions
while also accommodating and
encouraging their family ambitions
at the same time.”
She
elaborates
on
this,
explaining, “Having policies that
support
women
and
families
enable us to hire the very best
talent, regardless of where they
live or what their personal time
constraints may be, and this is
talent that employers with stricter
policies are missing out on or even
pushing out.”
As a University of Michigan
student,
this
makes
perfect
sense to me. College is one place
in our culture in which women
consistently
outperform
men,
even though men tend to do
better as soon as we enter the
workplace. Every day I’m able to
see the valuable contributions that
women bring to every aspect of
the University: class discussions,
leadership roles, group projects.
The men here are all thoughtful
and intelligent, too, of course, but
I can’t even imagine how much
this University would suffer if it
were to lose the perspective and
hard work of women. Yet, that’s
just what much of the corporate
sector of the United States is: a lot
of intelligent, thoughtful people,
but devoid of women.
My roommates and I will be
assets to any company where we
choose to work, so why is it so rare
to find a company that recognizes
this the way Her Campus Media
does? There are several years
before I enter the workforce.
Perhaps Her Campus Media’s
policies
are
foreshadowing
those that will be the norm in
just a few years. Perhaps I can
hold out hope that by the time
I
graduate,
companies
will
promote
a
gender-equitable
workplace
environment
in
which motherhood is seen as just
as unrelated to career success
as fatherhood is. If so, both the
company I work for and I will
benefit. If not, the workplace
is missing out on countless
hardworking,
intelligent
women — and that loss is to
everybody’s detriment.
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Thursday, February 1, 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
Samantha Goldstein
Emily Huhman
Jeremy Kaplan
Sarah Khan
Lucas Maiman
Jason Rowland
Anu Roy-Chaudhury
Ali Safawi
Kevin Sweitzer
Tara Jayaram
Ashley Zhang
Ellery Rosenzweig
Elena Hubbell
F
ormer Secretary of State
John Kerry surprised a
lot of people last week,
starting
with
his
translator
in a conversation with a high-
ranking
Palestinian
official.
Despite his absence on the
national political stage for the
past year, he readily admitted
“he was seriously considering
running for president in 2020.”
On paper, not many other
Democratic
hopefuls
could
hold a candle to this multi-term
senator, former secretary of state
and decorated war hero with
three Purple Hearts who almost
ousted George W. Bush in the
2004 election.
Not many who reported this
news took that angle, though.
Most focused on the fact that
John Kerry is 74, and his entrance
into the race would push the
average age in the Democratic
field even higher. While this
is something that should be
taken into consideration, the
discussion on age currently
dominating
columns
and
2020 speculation needs to be
toned way down in the search
for a challenger to President
Donald Trump.
It does not take long to
recognize
the
common
denominator
between
these
Democratic
candidates.
Sen.
Bernie Sanders, I-Vt., would
be 79 should he assume the
presidency, and former Vice
President Joe Biden would be
77. By comparison, Kerry would
be a spry 76 and Sen. Elizabeth
Warren, D-Mass, the kid of the
group, would be 71. This is all
in comparison to Trump, who
would be 74.
At first glance, one wonders
why the party of progress
would struggle to recruit a
candidate who was born more
recently than the Eisenhower
administration. What happened
to the youthful energy of Obama
‘08 and even Clinton ‘92? Both
campaigned and assumed office
in their late 40s.
These
concerns
are
understandable,
given
the
questions about our current
commander in chief’s health,
from heart fitness to dementia to
poor dieting. Everyone has seen
those comparisons of presidents
before and after their eight years
in office: grayer, tired, worn
down. For some, the legacy of
former President Ronald Reagan
is that of an elder statesman
with
Alzheimer’s
disease,
having trouble getting through
meetings and using jelly beans
to quit smoking. Applying for
arguably the most stressful job
in the world warrants a level of
scrutiny as to whether or not
one can handle it physically
and mentally. Age certainly
plays a part in this. But it’s not
the whole story.
For one, I know 70- and
80-year-olds who are more
sound of mind and have better
blood pressure than certain
30-
and
40-year-olds.
My
grandfather could give you
the address of the dealership
where he bought his first car
and who played left field for the
1962 New York Yankees. I am
struggling to remember what
I ate for dinner two days ago.
These things are not linear.
Not every presidential candidate
operates with “McDonald’s, KFC,
pizza and Diet Coke” as their
major food groups. Not everyone
above 70 has delusions of grandeur,
and many of these articles come
dangerously close to implying
some of these 1-to-1 connections.
The
first
question
that
every party donor, reporter,
Democratic primary voter and
potential
candidate
should
be asking is whether or not
that person could successfully
articulate an argument. Can
their message resonate with the
people? Are they in tune with
our society? Can they win?
Then ask the questions about
age and hair color and Twitter
presence. Liberals played into
enough of this nonsense in 2016,
asking Hillary Clinton to dab
on Ellen and then laughing at
her for being awkward when
she did. Democrats need to stop
caring about this nonsense.
An
octogenarian
statesman
and a middle-aged insurgent
challenger are ultimately held
to the same standard in terms
of their ideas and their policies.
Sanders may be, and probably is,
more able to energize younger
voters than Cory Booker.
Perhaps this early polling
speaks to what the Democratic
party
needs
right
now
—
experience, gravitas. The ideal
candidate might be Warren or
Sen. Kamala Harris, D-Calif.,
or it might be “Grandpa Joe”
— there is no age limit on the
ability to have good ideas or
serve the public well. 84-year-
old Supreme Court Associate
Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg and
her daily workout routine should
be enough evidence of this.
Democrats, stop disqualifying
candidates.
Take
a
breath.
Forgive the irony, but stop eating
your young. Decide on a message,
a feeling, what you want out of
a candidate before you narrow
the field. Furthermore, realize
that if you ask candidates who
are above the age of 60 to start
jockeying for position as the
most “vibrant” or “youthful,”
you are asking to be deceived.
Aging Democratic field for 2020
BRETT GRAHAM| COLUMN
D
oes sexual harassment
truly merit professional
decapitation?
That’s
what NYTimes columnist Bret
Stephens wants to know. As does
Matt Damon. And apparently,
according to New Yorker writer Jia
Tolentino, it’s besieging her own
medial specialist’s conscience. I
wonder what skeletons he’s got in
his closet.
From the moment the Harvey
Weinstein effect took its full
force, the #MeToo movement
has become subject to scrutiny
that feels almost as significant
as the campaign against sexual
misconduct itself.
Critics of the movement have
targeted the perceived inability to
discern between varying degrees
of assault as the crux of aspects
that are wrong with the fewer than
five-month-old crusade to resolve
the dismal state of sexual attitudes.
A force for change that is barely in
its infancy has already managed
to draw detractors, especially as
assailants, mostly men, continue to
face this reckoning.
Why are people, specifically
but not solely men, unable to
thoughtfully participate in the
conversation?
When
women
leave a sexual experience feeling
violated, assaulted or just simply
in tears — even if the sex itself
may seem to have been within a
grey area of consent — isn’t the
conversation important to have?
When Babe.net published the
piece “I went on a date with Aziz
Ansari. It was the worst night of
my life,” a back and forth erupted
over the sexual encounter and
whether it exhibited aspects of
assault or if Ansari was just the
target of angry women (because
weaponizing a woman’s anger is
significantly easier than actually
engaging it).
Reading
the
Babe
article
alongside
the
articles
that
inevitably came with it felt like
taking a masterclass on how
to misconstrue a movement. It
was an immediate attempt to
disengage with the concerns
of millennial women without
properly shedding light on such
embedded dynamics.
The
strongest
criticism
of
“Grace,” the victim of Ansari’s
sexual misconduct, was that she
was unable to assume agency
within the situation. Why didn’t
she just get up and leave?
The lesson of #MeToo, from
the perspective of a cisgendered
man,
is
a
commitment
to
listening to each story of sexual
misconduct.
Grey
areas
that
have been emerging shouldn’t be
bleached out by men who claim
to understand them just as well as
the women who experience them.
Men such as Damon are being
horrible listeners at a time when
listening is crucial. It would do
critics well not to dismiss claims
of harassment by asking “Has
#MeToo gone too far?” especially
when the movement itself still
has not exhibited whether the
ramifications
of
harassment
(especially those acts in the grey
area) will actually last.
In
recent
months,
the
conversation has grown along with
the chorus of critics. In December,
the New Yorker published Kristen
Roupenian’s short fiction piece
“Cat Person,” a story that drew on
the worst date imaginable — and,
more disconcertingly, a date that
many women go on over and over
again.
One of the most cited scenes
is the one in which the two
characters, at the end of their
dismally awkward date, have
a sexual encounter that lacks
affirmative consent and, in some
capacity,
fringes
on
assault.
Many women have described this
scene as harrowingly familiar,
while men (though not all men)
have decried it an innocuous,
consensual encounter.
I would describe the experience
of reading such a skin-crawling,
unrelentingly horrific story, but
doing so would detract from the
voices of women who know such
gruesomeness on a personal level.
How do men feel, then, that they
can provide salient feedback on an
experience that is completely out
of their realm? This is not to say
that Roupenian’s story shouldn’t
yield criticism from a literary
standpoint, but most of the male
objection doesn’t come from such
an earnest place.
With the laudatory reception
from women came a swift and
blunt backlash from men who
defended the actions of the man
in the story, Robert, and indicted
those of the woman, Margot.
Of
course,
the
warped
conventions
of
sexual
encounters
have
become
so
normalized
that
any
conversation saying otherwise
is a target for resentment by
those who perpetuate such
lopsided dynamics.
Thus, the criticism veers into a
territory that begins eliminating
the conversation of sexual politics.
This infringes on one’s right to
express
discontent
with
this
wholly unbalanced dynamic.
Dismissing a movement still
somewhat in its inception by
weaponizing the voices of its
heralders does nothing to add to
the conversation.
Women
likely
understand
the difference between sexual
harassment and assault, especially
considering
how
many
have
withstood both. Discourse that
actually
promotes
enriching
discussion rather than positing
women as “agentless” could yield
a culture that balances the skewed
nature of sexual politics.
Men have to listen to #MeToo
JOEL DANILEWITZ | COLUMN
When companies support women
HANNAH HARSHE | COLUMN
Hannah Harshe can be reached at
hharshe@umich.edu
MICHELLE SHENG | CONTACT AT SHENGMI@UMICH.EDU
Brett Graham can be reached at
btgraham@umich.edu
Joel Danilewitz can be reached at
joeldan@umich.edu