A

merican tennis player 
Billie 
Jean 
King 

once 
said, 

“Sports teaches you 
character, it teaches 
you to play by the 
rules, 
it 
teaches 

you to know what it 
feels like to win and 
lose — it teaches you 
about life.”

When 
I 
joined 

the 
public-school 

system, one of the 
very 
first 
things 

I did was join the 
track-and-field team. I was 
not sure what I was getting 
into, but I did know one of the 
nice ladies from my church 
was the coach of the eighth 
grade team. She told me I 
should join the team, and in 
a yearning for familiarity, I 
obliged. And I never looked 
back.

I guess you could say 

I was fairly athletic, and 
my 
classmates 
started 
to 

notice. They pressured me 
to join both the football 
and basketball teams and, 
knowing 
the 
feeling 
of 

exhilaration the track team 
gave me, I consented. As 
someone who had never seen 
a basketball before (growing 
up without TV or internet, 
on a farm in the middle of 
nowhere, you don’t get to see 
everything), let alone played 
the game, I spent most of my 
first season watching and 
learning. By sophomore year, 
I was playing on the varsity 
team and by junior year, I was 
in possession of one of the 
much-coveted starting spots.

My 
first 
lesson 
from 

sports was the importance 
of teamwork. Our football 
and basketball teams were 
plagued 
by 
players 
who 

were ineligible because of 
academic requirements. We 
needed every player we could 
get, and when one failed, it 
brought us all down. I worked 
with my teammates after 
school, and I would even ride 
my bike to Saturday school 
to make sure everyone was 
passing their classes.

We 
won 
some 
of 
our 

games during our first three 

basketball seasons, but we 
lost a lot more: We only won 

exactly one game 
my 
junior 
year. 

I 
proceeded 
to 

receive my first 
lesson 
in 
the 

importance 
of 

resilience. 
We 

continued 
to 

work 
hard, 
on 

and off the court, 
no 
matter 
what 

the 
scoreboard 

read. 
I 
would 

host weightlifting 

sessions after school, and my 
teammates would help me 
refine my game fundamentals. 
Our hard work paid off, and 

by my final season, we had 
turned our 1-20 team into the 
second best in the conference, 
even earning a playoff bye 
week.

Not only did playing sports 

teach me many valuable life 
lessons, it provided me with 
an irreplaceable brotherhood: 
a group of guys that would 
do anything to help improve 
each other. Even if we didn’t 
like one another initially, we 
left it all behind when we 
stepped onto that court, turf 
or track. Some of my very best 
friendships budded within 
the team setting.

Sports did indeed teach 

me about life. I was able to 
improve what I was good at 
and learn from what I did 
wrong. Sports provided a 
structured environment and 
a controlled place to relieve any 
stress or anger I might have.

According to Engineering 

sophomore Travis Dantzer, 
center 
for 
the 
University 

of Michigan Men’s Rugby 
Football Club and former 
fullback for the University 
football team, high school 
sports “gave me a lot of 
leadership 
opportunities… 

I was captain in basketball 
junior and senior year and 
then senior year for football.” 
When asked what qualities 
he’s carried with him beyond 
high school, Dantzer noted 
“the development of work 
ethic” as well as the ability 
and drive to “work really 
hard at something to see even 
moderate success.”

In the college setting, 

Dantzer states that sports 
“gave me 40 good friends, 
like 
immediately. 
Coach 

Sparks 
has 
been 
a 
huge 

resource to me, he helped 
me a lot with starting my 
blog.” As for the networking 
side of things, Dantzer says, 
“Most of my other friends are 
from church, so by playing 
rugby, I get to interact with 
a lot of people who have a lot 
different views than me on a 
lot of stuff, that I normally 
wouldn’t be friends with.”

“Not only has it made me 

more resourceful, it’s also 
given me initiative, I’m not as 
scared as a lot of other people 
are to just try new things, 
knowing 
that 
they 
might 

not work, which has really 
been helpful in other aspects 
like clubs, doing some work 
ventures I’ve been involved 
in and starting a blog and 
podcast,” Dantzer said.

Being actively involved in 

sports has numerous benefits 
and teaches many important 
life 
skills, 
including 

confidence, 
optimism, 

dedication and much more. 
The 
perks, 
though, 
are 

not exclusive to playing a 
sport. While nothing can 
replicate the lessons learned 
in the team setting, simply 
staying active and exercising 
regularly is a great way to 
gain and improve those skills.

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Monday, February 12, 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

Elena Hubbell
Emily Huhman
Jeremy Kaplan

 
 
 
 

Sarah Khan

Lucas Maiman

Ellery Rosenzweig

Jason Rowland

Anu Roy-Chaudhury

 
 
 
 

 

Ali Safawi

Kevin Sweitzer
Tara Jayaram
 Ashley Zhang

I

’m taking a class right 
now about the history of 
LGBTQ studies, and it’s 

having a profound impact on 
how I see myself and my own 
sexuality. We often discuss the 
social construction of gender 
and sexuality. This is what 
that means: To say sexuality is 
constructed is to point out that 
when we describe someone as 
homosexual or heterosexual, we 
are saying that person has their 
eyes on a love object whose sex 
does not change. They will spend 
their whole lives pursuing sexual 
partners of this same sex, and 
anything that falls outside of this 
pattern is deviant, unexpected 
and/or wrong. And when that 
person does break out of that 
dominant pattern, they are not 
listening to themselves and are 
deceiving themselves into some 
false reality.

The 
dominant 
narrative 

around 
sexuality 
continues; 

nothing can throw you off that 
path. Your sexuality is your 
essence, distinct from all of your 
other traits, not influenced by 
anything that you experience, 
because this thing is how you 
were born. You were born this 
way, and you will die this way.

We say this is constructed 

because none of this is a “fact.” 
Our speculation of what should 
happen and what should be 
people’s 
sexual 
desires 
and 

inclinations is all produced by our 
collective, 
culturally-produced 

expectations of sexual behavior. 
As we have read in this class from 
queer theorists, sociologists and 
historians alike, historically there 
have been multiple cultures with 
understandings of homosexual or 
heterosexual behavior entirely 
different from our own — based, 
for example, not solely upon the 
sex of the chosen love object 
but, instead, centering on what 
kind of role you take during sex: 
passive versus active, receptive 
versus 
insertive, 
etc. 
Other 

understandings are based on your 
gender presentation, or any of 
the other individual preferences 
within your own sexual desires.

I’m 
also 
taking 
this 

class 
while 
in 
the 
throes 

of 
contemplating 
my 
own 

sexuality. The truth is, I don’t 
know. I don’t know what I like, 
I don’t know who I want to be 
with. I’ve only ever been with 
women, but these experiences 
have almost never felt as natural 
or as open-and-shut as they 

seem to be for all my “straight” 
friends, 
who 
talk 
about 

heterosexual sex with a certain 
facility and comfort that I have 
always found alienating.

I also know I have sexual 

desires for men every now and 
then. I recently switched my 
Tinder settings to show me both 
men and women. And this feels 
like a step in the right direction. 
I am definitely swiping right on 
a fair number of dudes who I can 
imagine myself getting to know, 
cuddling with and all the rest.

But still, there is nothing 

conclusive. 
No 
moment 
has 

happened yet when I think, “This 
is my sexuality, this is who I am.”

And this ambiguity tears 

me up. It makes me feel totally 
alienated from myself, like I 
don’t know anything about who 
I am. If I can’t figure this out, 
who am I, at all? Not having this 
knowledge when I am about to 
graduate and enter the “real 
world” makes me existentially 
anxious, as if not knowing this 
thing means I know nothing at 
all. Mired in feeling sad about 
this 
ambiguity, 
everything 

around me gets sucked into a 
whirlpool of negative thoughts: 
a force that drains all of the 
life out of everything I am 
experiencing, transporting me 
to a faraway place where only 
I roam, a place inaccessible to 
anybody else, where all that 
once seemed promising and 
light 
now 
appears 
gloomy, 

hopeless and unknowable.

I think part of the reason why 

I feel so sad about not knowing 
has to do with the pressure 
caused by the social construction 
of sexuality, the pressure to apply 
a label to myself — in other words, 
to know what I am. This system 
of categorizing desires (modern 
conceptions of homosexuality 
and heterosexuality only first 
entered our discourse at the end 
of the 19th century) does not 
really allow for not knowing. 
Sure, there is the category 
“Questioning.” 
But 
this, 
of 

course, doesn’t serve me beyond 
a passive, limited way of stating 
these thoughts I am having. 
There isn’t any depth to this 
moniker. What is the context of 
these questions, and why are they 
happening? It fails to capture the 
context of my investigations, to 
capture anything deeper than its 
surface level description. It’s not 
specific to my experience, to the 
sets of questions I am grappling 

with every day.

I also think, though, that self-

realization can only really come 
through experience, through an 
open and honest engagement 
with the people around me. 
My dear friend and roommate 
lives his life with extraordinary 
deliberateness 
and 
attention. 

For example, he doesn’t like 
us using swear words in our 
apartment, because they taint 
his ongoing dialogue with God. 
As a secularly-raised person, I 
initially felt this concept to be 
strange and restrictive.

But now, in fact, I would 

like to live with this same level 
of openness. Not necessarily 
in touch with God, and not 
necessarily 
refraining 
from 

swearing, 
but 
instead 
more 

generally remaining relentlessly 
aware of the fact that all 
interactions might contribute or 
lead to something divine. That by 
maintaining an open heart while 
examining my own mind and 
interacting with people in order 
to collaboratively explore their 
minds, I might come to some 
greater understanding of myself 
and my own (conflicting, messy 
and erratic) set of desires.

The class I’m taking provides 

me with a really vital education 
into the experiences of people 
with 
non-normative 
sexual 

identities throughout the history 
of humanity and the construction 
of those sexualities according to 
the cultural and social moment of 
those various times.

But it is also really helping 

me 
deconstruct 
a 
pressure 

I feel strongly but do not 
remember learning, a pressure to 
categorize, name and know my 
sexuality in some irreversible, 
definite way that defines my 
essence, forever. Instead, I’m 
trying to buck this trend. By 
demanding something deeper 
than these labels, than this path 
that everyone expects me to 
take, I am opting out of sexuality 
as a system. My thoughts about 
my own sexual desires are trying 
to work against this dominant 
paradigm by cultivating a new 
voice, one that is accepting and 
wildly supportive of my — and 
everyone’s — messy process of 
coming to a place that works 
for us, distinct from any label or 
culturally produced expectation.

Opting out of sexuality 

ISAIAH ZEAVIN-MOSS | COLUMN

W

hen 
I 
was 
in 

elementary 
school, 

I had a laminated 

placemat with the presidents listed 
on it. Presidents were 
always interesting to 
me. George Washington 
had very different hair 
from Bill Clinton. And 
wasn’t it crazy that 
John Adams was the 
father of John Quincy 
Adams? My very liberal 
mother 
often 
talked 

about 
and 
involved 

me 
in 
supporting 

Democratic presidents; 
We canvassed for John Kerry in 
the 2004 presidential election, 
and I was confused waking up 
and seeing that George Bush was 
our president. I remember hearing 
her say, “It is going to be a long 
four years.” This always struck 
me, because Abraham Lincoln 
was celebrated in school since I 
could remember — but he was 
a Republican. I never stopped 
thinking about it. 
 As I grew up, I learned about 
the 
history 
and 
foundation 

of 
political 
parties, 
and 

understood 
that 
they 
were 

very different in the past. But 
why, even as a young kid, did 
I question the character and 
beliefs of Abraham Lincoln just 
because our placemat said he 
was a Republican? Because I 
had thought for a long time that 
one side was perpetually in the 
right, and one was in the wrong. 
But in reality, I was the culprit 
of affiliating vague ideologies 
with beliefs that differ from 
person to person.
 There is power in asking 
questions, recognizing what you 
do not know and finding someone 
who does. But there is also 
power in questioning what you 
do know: your core beliefs and 
your understanding of the world 
around you. A question. Seems so 

simple, right?
 We live in an extremely 
politically-divided nation, where 
one side is always pitted against 

the 
other. 
Blame 

comes 
from 
both 

sides, with different 
perspectives 
and 

multiple reasonings. 
There 
is 
very 

little room for any 
“in-between,” 
where 
you 
are 

not 
reprimanding 

someone 
for 

misspeaking 
or 

supporting 
the 

“wrong side.” And it is easy to 
revert to outright dislike of people 
solely based on their political 
beliefs before hearing about their 
actions or their thoughts.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

It is easy, whatever side you may 
be on, to automatically classify the 
opposition as “the other.” When 
you disagree with the beliefs of an 
argument, it is common to associate 
those beliefs with the person who 
holds them, thus further promoting 
our partisan society.
 I am a culprit of acting in 
this manner, regardless of the 
political knowledge I have gained 
since the time of presidential 
placemats. I was a politically-
active student last fall, and I 
definitely 
remember 
President 

Donald Trump’s election. After he 
became president, it was very easy 
to blame the Republican Party for 

his actions. This overstatement is 
glaringly wrong, and within the 
last year, I have recognized the 
power of a question.
 Last year, I remember sitting with 
a friend during class right after the 
election. I knew this friend had 
voted for Trump and I was still 
upset by his decision. When Trump 
fired James Comey, I was confused 
and overwhelmed by the changes 
that our nation was experiencing. 
So instead of attacking my friend, 
for one of the first times in my life I 
civilly asked him what he thought of 
the Comey situation; did this change 
his views about the president? 
Did he believe this was infringing 
upon a supposedly independent 
organization? And, of course, what 
did he think about the border wall? 
Instead of attacking his views, I 
questioned them. To my surprise, I 
was able to engage in an hour-long 
discussion about the reasoning 
behind his political beliefs. This did 
not make me support his decisions 
whatsoever, but it did help me to 
understand the logical thought 
process of the “other side.” And this 
was a powerful moment.
 This is the time for critical 
reasoning. To look at a situation, 
a person, a candidate and truly 
think about what they are saying, 
proposing or doing. And, more 
importantly, why they are saying, 
proposing or doing these things. 
So, question your peers on their 
beliefs. Question your family, your 
professors, your mentors. We all 
have something to learn from the 
other side. Talking about politics 
with a Republican, Democrat, 
Libertarian — whoever it may be 
— does you absolutely no harm. 
Questioning someone else’s beliefs 
only allows you to understand 
them more, and to understand your 
position more, too.

The power of questioning

JULIA COHN | COLUMN

The value of sports

LUCAS DEAN | COLUMN

Lucas Dean can be reached at 

lbdean@umich.edu.

Julia Cohn can be reached at 

julcohn@umich.edu.

Not only did 

sports teach me 
many valuable 
life lesons, they 

provided me with 
an irreplaceable 

brotherhood.

Isaiah Zeavin-Moss can be 

reached at izeavinm@umich.edu.

NATALIE BROWN | CAN BE REACHED AT NGBROWN@UMICH.EDU
Within the last 

year, I have 
recognized 

the power of a 

question.

JULIA 
COHN

LUCAS 
DEAN

