Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Wednesday, September 5, 2018

Emma Chang
Ben Charlson
Joel Danilewitz
Samantha Goldstein
Elena Hubbell
Emily Huhman

Tara Jayaram
Jeremy Kaplan
Sarah Khan
Lucas Maiman
Magdalena Mihaylova
Ellery Rosenzweig

Jason Rowland
Anu Roy-Chaudhury
Alex Satola
Ali Safawi
 Ashley Zhang

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Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s Editorial Board. 
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EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

ERIN WHITE | COLUMN

The Epitome of Hometown Hero
 A

retha Franklin has 
lovingly been coined 
the Queen of Soul. 
Her decades of music have 
represented her roots through 
powerhouse hits and beautiful 
ballads, and her legacy as one 
of the greatest vocalists of all 
time is eternal. Her recent 
death has left members of every 
generation remembering the 
impact of soul on the music 
industry, but more importantly, 
the communities that fostered 
its growth. And no community 
has 
celebrated 
this 
impact 
as extensively as Franklin’s 
hometown: Detroit, Michigan.
As Franklin’s career began 
to take off, there was never 
a doubt about from where 
her understanding of music 
came. Her early years in the 
considered “home of blues” 
were 
fundamental 
to 
her 
musical elocution and ability. 
Daughter to a Detroit pastor, 
Franklin was raised on the 
music 
of 
Baptist 
churches 
and quickly became a singer 
for her father’s New Bethel 
Baptist Church. These gospel 
influences 
are 
what 
made 
Franklin’s voice so memorable 
and improvisational, and both 
gospel techniques and jazz 
rhythms 
were 
discernible 
throughout 
her 
six-decade 
career. Just as these stylistic 
choices 
remained 
based 
in 
Detroit, so did her heart and 
life. While she spent time 
touring, 
Franklin 
shuttled 
between the various venues 
across the country and her 
hometown of Detroit, finally 
moving back in 1982. Her time 
spent in Detroit showed love 
for a city that truly loved her 
back. She was a philanthropist 
who donated and gave back to 
her father’s church, sending 
$10,000 checks several times 
a year. She organized annual 
concerts and holiday meals. 
She has been recognized for 
supporting 
other 
churches 
and local food banks in the 

area. And she always made her 
presence quiet and humble.
Detroit 
is 
the 
home 
of 
the popular American music 
movement known as Motown, 
and it is also a center for gospel, 
R&B, jazz and blues. These 
musical influences are a staple 
of Detroit culture and give the 
city’s artistic world something to 
look up to and of which be proud.
Despite this rich cultural 
history 
and 
the 
fact 
that 
Detroit 
has 
recently 
been 
regarded as “up and coming” 
and “rebuilding,” the city has 
not been immune to negative 
coverage and opinion in the last 

few decades, especially around 
the time of the city’s well-
documented 2013 bankruptcy. 
Articles 
with 
titles 
like 
“Detroit: a city in decline” and 
“Anatomy of Detroit’s Decline” 
in 
well-read 
publications 
are 
what 
have 
fueled 
the 
pessimistic national narrative 
of Detroit.
Dangerous. 
Inefficient. 
Frightening.
These are only some of the 
descriptors outsiders are used 
to hearing about the Motor 
City. People look in on Detroit 
from far away and question 
its livelihood. They look at 
its missteps and make those 
blunders its entire existence. 
But a city is so much more 
than 
strictly 
numbers 
and 
generalizations. A city is built 
on people. And the culture 
of Detroit is something that 
shows these people to the 
world. When you see that 

culture, Detroit begins to mean 
something to you. Living in 
Metro Detroit my entire life, I 
have always viewed the city in 
a different light than the media 
would like me to see.
Artistic. Resilient. Strong.
Detroit has a unique energy, 
and it moves those who care 
enough to search for it. Franklin 
made people want to search. She 
was a mouthpiece for everything 
Detroit stands for, and a constant 
reminder of what can come from 
a place like Detroit. A city with 
culture, history, heart. A city 
that makes you work. A city that 
has undergone hardship and still 
managed to persevere. Franklin 
was a perfect example of the 
type of success a community 
like Detroit can create. She loved 
her city, contributed to her city 
and, 
most 
importantly, 
was 
present in the community. Her 
contributions are what make her 
the epitome of a hometown hero. 
She was an advertisement for 
everything Detroit means to the 
people who live there.
In her death, Detroit quickly 
turned from a place of mourning 
to a place of celebration. Her life is 
being memorialized in every corner 
of the city, and the Queen of Soul 
is being treated as royalty. There 
have been constant reminders of 
her life, from billboards up and 
down every Detroit highway to 
hundreds gathering at her church 
to have a gospel choir tribute. Her 
two-day open casket viewing at 
the Charles H. Wright Museum 
of African American History 
brought in thousands of fans and 
citizens who wished to pay their 
respects. What you give to life will 
come back to you. Franklin gave 
her community everything she 
had, and made sure the rest of the 
world knew it too. In doing so, she 
will forever be remembered as a 
symbol of Detroit.

Human Being versus Football Fan

HANNAH HARSHE | COLUMN

T

he Urban Meyer scandal 
of 2018 is exactly what 
our misogynistic, self-
absorbed culture desperately 
needed. Unfortunately, faced 
with the opportunity to make 
a powerful statement about 
the gravity of domestic abuse 
and the need for systemic 
cultural change, the Ohio State 
University Football Program 
fundamentally failed.
 The Urban Meyer scandal 
of 2018 is exactly what our 
misogynistic, 
self-absorbed 
culture 
desperately 
needed. 
Unfortunately, faced with the 
opportunity to make a powerful 
statement about the gravity of 
domestic abuse and the need for 
systemic cultural change, the 
Ohio State University football 
program fundamentally failed.
Before I go any further, let me 
first clarify that I say this not as 
a football fan and a Wolverine, 
but as a human being. Second, 
let me also clarify that I don’t 
necessarily believe Meyer should 
have been fired.
In fact, let me backtrack a 
little and give a quick summary for 
those of you who are unfamiliar 
with the recent scandal within 
OSU’s 
football 
program. 
Up 
until this August, Zach Smith 
was an assistant coach for the 
OSU football team. Smith is the 
grandson of Earle Bruce, the 
iconic former OSU football coach 
who, in his lifetime, served as a 
mentor for Meyer, OSU’s current 
head football coach.
Ultimately, the gist of the 
scandal is this: Courtney Smith, 
Zach 
Smith’s 
now 
ex-wife, 
pressed charges against Smith 
for domestic abuse in both 2009 
and 2015. It is widely implicated 
that Meyer was aware of these 
abuse allegations and swept them 
under the rug in order to keep 
Smith on his coaching staff, and 
that he lied about doing so at Big 
Ten Media Day.
After a report implied that 
Meyer had intentionally looked 
the other way from Smith’s alleged 
domestic abuse, OSU put Meyer 
on paid administrative leave 
and launched an investigation 
into Meyer’s handlings of the 
issue.At this point, all eyes were 

on the OSU football program. 
Why? Well, college football fans 
were curious about the fate of 
one of the country’s powerhouse 
football programs. But this issue 
extends far beyond the realms 
of college football. One in every 
three women will experience 
domestic abuse in her lifetime. 
During the investigation into 
Meyer, OSU had a once-in-a-
lifetime stage, an opportunity to 
send an invaluable message about 
the gravity of domestic violence 
and how much more important 
of an issue it is than winning 
football games. But, like I said 
before, OSU failed. Completely, 
utterly failed.
First off, certain OSU fans 
partied at an “Urban Meyer 
rally” and tailgated outside of 
the Board of Trustees meeting 
that determined the fate of 
Meyer’s career. This is despicable 
because it shows a desire to win 
football games at all costs, even 
if it means treating a sensitive 
issue like domestic abuse with 
carelessness 
and 
disrespect. 
However, I refuse to condemn all 
of Buckeye nation simply because 
of a few disgusting fans. I’m sure 
every program has some fans 
who would do the same thing.
When 
the 
investigation 
concluded, 
OSU 
announced 
Meyer 
made 
“insufficient” 
actions regarding Zach Smith. 
Meyer was not fired, but he 
will have to serve a three-game 
suspension. As measly as that 
punishment 
may 
sound, 
I’m 
not an investigator and I don’t 
know what Meyer knew and 
did when faced with such a 
sensitive issue. I can speculate, 
but I can’t determine whether 
OSU’s punishment for Meyer 
is appropriate. In my opinion, 
OSU’s ultimate failure comes in 
the form of Meyer’s statements 
during the press conference.
It’s important to remember 
that the OSU investigation this 
August was not an investigation 
into whether or not Zach Smith 
abused his wife. Therefore, any 
he-said-she-said surrounding the 
abuse allegations is irrelevant. 
The 
OSU 
investigation 
this 
August was about how the 
football program handled a issue 

as delicate as domestic violence. 
It’s about whether Meyer took 
the 
allegation 
seriously 
and 
went to every length he could to 
ensure it was properly reported 
and investigated, or whether he 
swept it under the rug. It’s not 
an investigation into whether 
Zach abused Courtney. It’s an 
investigation into whether, in 
the case that abuse may have 
occurred, the football program 
cares 
more 
about 
properly 
reporting abuse than it does 
about winning football games.
In 
his 
press 
conference, 
Meyer never once addressed the 
issue of domestic violence or 
mentioned Courtney Smith. He 
talked only about what a pain this 
“situation” was to him and his 
fans. He began by apologizing to 
Buckeye Nation: “I followed my 
heart, not my head.” When asked 
what he would say to Courtney 
Smith, he said, “I have a message 
for everyone in this, I’m sorry we 
are in this situation.”
I know I said earlier that my 
disdain for OSU’s recent actions 
comes from me as a human being, 
not me as a football fan, but if you 
know me, then you know that I 
live and breathe college football 
every fall. It’s nearly impossible to 
separate Hannah the football fan 
from Hannah the person. I hope 
that if a similar situation were 
to arise at Michigan, I would be 
significantly more heartbroken 
that someone was abused than 
I would be at the thought that 
Harbaugh could be fired.
Ultimately, 
though 
OSU 
significantly missed the mark 
when it comes to showing the 
seriousness of an issue like 
domestic 
violence, 
this 
past 
August should be a lesson learned 
for all of us. Do we care about 
complex, sensitive issues like 
domestic violence no matter 
what, or only when it’s good PR? 
After OSU showed how not to 
handle such an issue, let’s all look 
a little more deeply into ourselves 
and see if we would’ve handled it 
the same way.

Hannah Harshe can be 

reached at hharshe@umich.

‘They Don’t Want Our Intelligence’

ABBIE BERRINGER | COLUMNW

T

hey don’t want our 
intelligence,” 
a 
classmate 
of 
mine 
confidently 
proclaimed 
to 
our 75-person Late American 
Political Thought class last 
spring. The statement was 
followed by many nods of 
agreement from the class. 
Surprisingly 
enough, 
he 
wasn’t talking about some 
form of extraterrestrial life, 
but rather about people living 
in rural America.
Our 
discussion 
was 
on 
America’s 
invisible 
poor 
a 
topic we had been reading 
about in “The Other America: 
Poverty in the United States,” 
an acclaimed book by Michael 
Harrington 
published 
in 
1962. 
Harrington 
described 
the 
ever-growing 
economic 
divide in the country during 
the era of affluence, talking 
about how as the middle class 
grew, it was becoming farther 
removed from the realities of 
the impoverished, often rural 
or deeply urban, American 
communities. He used the 
Appalachian region as one 
example of a community that 
was not seeing the increase 
in wealth that other parts of 
America were. In a very brief 
summary that does not do the 
book any justice, he talked 
about how this inequality was 
affecting the psyches of the 
people in these communities 
and those who were blind 
to their struggles. He called 
these 
people 
“The 
Other 
America” and described the 
effect of being forgotten on 
the residents and society as a 
whole.
The student in my class’s 
response was in answer to 
the question “Why is there 
a cycle of poverty in these 
communities?” His answer 
was that these people simply 
don’t want our intelligence. 
His 
definition 
of 
“our” 
referred to the people who 
have been able to move up the 
socioeconomic ladder— those 
in the suburbs and cities who, 
in his view, made it due to 
their heightened intelligence. 
What was surprising was how 
much of our class seemed to 
agree with his statement.
If this had been the only 
time I had heard a student at the 
University of Michigan voice 
such a negative opinion about 
America’s rural class, maybe I 
would have chalked it up to one 
case of ignorance, but, on the 
contrary, I have heard many 
similar statements among my 
peers. In another conversation 
in an earlier class, I overheard 

two people discussing what 
it was like to live in a small 
town. A girl said, “I grew up in 
a small town and it was awful.” 
The boy she was talking to, in 
an attempt to connect with her, 
said, “Yeah I can imagine you 
must have wanted to get out of a 
place where people’s minds are 
so small.”
After 
the 
election 
of 
President Donald Trump in 
2016, I found myself shocked by 
some of the statements made by 
my peers describing what they 
thought anyone who voted for 
Trump must be like. Adjectives 
that I’ve heard used include but 
are not limited to: ignorant, 

stupid, bigoted, racist, evil and 
abhorrent. I felt an immense 
amount of duty to defend the 
people from rural America as 
these were my people. I grew 
up in rural communities and 
have a deep respect for the 
people in our country who 
work our farms, fix our cars, 
build our houses and keep our 
streets safe from crime.
By now, many sociologists, 
psychologists and journalists 
have taken on the task of 
looking 
into 
what 
caused 
so much of working class 
America, particularly regions 
such as the Rust Belt, which 
have 
historically 
voted 
Democrat for almost 20 years, 
to make such a drastic switch 
by voting overwhelmingly for 
Trump. Every source from 
Newsweek to CNN to USA 
Today has published articles 
citing 
various 
studies 
and 
proposing a myriad of theories.
One thing I know, however, 
is that there has been very little 
empathy in these articles for 
the people they are analyzing, 
as if they are nothing more 
than animals in a zoo to be 
evaluated and yet not truly 
with whom to be related. Often 
times these people’s feelings, 
whether they are said to be 
based on economic hardships, 
cultural concerns or some form 
of paranoia, are portrayed to be 
inherently false, not grounded 
in rational logic and out of 
touch with reality.

Yet, it is not very often 
that the people writing these 
articles have truly seemed to 
step into the shoes of these 
individuals. 
They 
draw 
a 
very hard line based on what 
they deem to be unacceptable 
political 
affiliations. 
They 
protest all over the country 
in cities like Ann Arbor that 
are touted as some of the most 
“inclusive” places to live in 
America, and yet they seem 
to have little concern with 
actually 
empathizing 
with 
a portion of the population 
large enough to come together 
and vote Trump into office as 
the president of the United 
States.
What I see on our campus 
is a deeply rooted classism 
and elitism that breeds a 
superiority complex that has 
enabled our student body to 
create an “us” and a “them”. We 
see ourselves as the educated, 
and therefore the superior 
minds. Yet, and maybe as a 
symptom of arrogant youth, 
we lack an understanding of 
how the environment and 
livelihoods 
of 
the 
people 
in these communities have 
shaped the way they think.
I have intentionally avoided 
delving into the myriad of 
theories as to why people in 
rural 
America 
believe 
the 
things they do because that 
is not the point of my article. 
Rather, my point is this: On a 
campus that preaches so much 
“tolerance,” it is undoubtedly 
hypocritical to hear people 
talk so disgracefully about 
rural 
communities 
the 
way they do. Is it okay to 
generalize 
and 
stereotype 
them because we see them as 
majority white? I certainly 
don’t think so. Is it okay to call 
them “stupid” or “ignorant” 
because they don’t have what 
we perceive as a high standard 
of education? The average 
liberal student may not say 
so considering they’d never 
make such statements about 
people from other cultures or 
of differing education systems 
because this would be seen as 
racist and culturally arrogant. 
Yet we catch ourselves saying 
these things about those in 
rural America. It is time we 
evaluate our own “tolerance” 
as well as our own perceptions 
of ourselves. If we truly are 
“the leaders and the best,” it 
is time that we realize that 
the best leaders listen to those 
who are struggling and truly 

Aretha Franklin 
was a constant 
reminder of what 
can come from a 
place like Detroit.

JOIN OUR EDITORIAL BOARD

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national, state and campus affairs.

 What I see on 
our campus is 
a deeply rooted 
classism and 
elitism

 Abbie Berringer can be reached at 

abbiebr@umich.edu

 Erin White can be reached at 

ekwhite@mich.edu

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