I 
 

expected the world to look 
different when I woke up 
last Wednesday. I don’t 
know exactly what 
I 
expected 
it 
to 
look like; perhaps 
I thought I would 
see 
catchy 
quotes 
lighting up the sky 
in bold pink font, 
proclaiming that the 
future is female and 
therefore that I am 
the future. Maybe 
I expected the sun 
to 
shine 
a 
little 
differently, to reflect on the 
crimson maple trees around 
campus so the leaves would 
glow like a thousand little 
stars and light my path as I 
walked down State Street to my 
economics lecture.
For the past two years, I 
had been told Tuesday would 
be my chance to change the 
world. Instagram had been 
flooded with glossy images of 
feminism and intersectionality 
that promised a better life for 
us all if we would simply vote. 
We were told that if we voted 
on Tuesday, we would have 
a chance to paint America 
sparkly pink and wrap it up 
with a bow. We were told our 
fate was in our hands if we 
would just show up to the polls. 
So we showed up. We voted in 
record numbers. 
It was a groundbreaking 
election. We, as voters, decided 
Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez will 
be the youngest woman ever 
to serve in Congress, Ilhan 
Omar will be the first Somali-
American in Congress, Sharice 
Davids and Deb Haaland will 
be the first Native American 
women in Congress, and Letitia 
James will be the first African 
American woman to serve as 
New York’s attorney general, 
among several other decisions. 
We decided it’s finally time 
for over 100 women to serve in 
Congress. For a split second, 
I let myself get caught up in 
the hope and hype. I thought 
maybe when I woke up, things 
would look and feel at least a 
little different.
Then, 
Wednesday 
night, 
more than a dozen people were 
brutally murdered on American 
soil simply for spending time at 
a country music bar.
After 20 years of living in 
this country, I should have 
known better. I should have 
known the country has never 

been glossy and pink and hope 
always appears to be in vain.
One of my good friends grew 
up 
near 
Thousand 
Oaks, Calif., which 
was 
the 
location 
of the shooting. I 
didn’t talk to her 
much about it, but 
I know she spent 
most 
of 
Thursday 
in 
mourning. 
Real 
people in Thousand 
Oaks 
— 
people 
with 
families 
and 
dreams 
to 
change 
the world — simply went out 
to enjoy their evening at a bar, 
and now they’re dead. Gone. 
Executed for committing the 
unforgivable crime of existing 
on American soil.
On Friday, the same friend 
sent me a video of her neighbor’s 
house in California, engulfed in 
a blanket of sinister flames that 
danced with gleeful knowledge 
of the destruction they were 
causing. 
Historic 
wildfires 
have taken over the region, and 
have now killed more than 30 
people. Thousands of families 
have lost their homes, and 
dozens have lost someone they 
love.
How 
are 
we 
possibly 
supposed to find hope when 
there seems to be nothing but 
death from sea to shining sea?
Personally I know of two 
activities that give me hope: 
When I’m loving kids and when 
I’m telling stories.
It’s fairly simple, actually. I 
volunteer for two really great 
organizations: one for which I 
spend time with 10th graders 
in Detroit and one for which 
I hang out with middle school 
students 
in 
my 
hometown. 
To me, nothing beats being 
with these kids, hearing about 
their classes and career goals 
and their crushes. And telling 
stories – well, you can already 
see God gave me a love for 
words, and when I sit down and 
put them on paper, it just feels 
right, like all my confusing 
thoughts finally have a purpose.
There’s 
nothing 
profound 
about either of those things, 
and they won’t put an end to 
mass tragedy, but they give me 
a small opportunity to make 
the world a little bit better, 
and when faced with that 
opportunity, I’m going to take 
it.
As heartbroken as I am by the 
current state of our country, 

I am a proud American and I 
consider it my honor to perform 
my civic duties. I’m an informed 
voter and I’ve participated in 
multiple protests when voting 
didn’t seem to be enough. I 
actively reach out to my elected 
officials. If you’re an American 
and you don’t do those things, 
it’s high time to ask yourself 
why not. Nothing is going to 
change if we don’t demand 
change.
But I have another civic 
duty, one that wasn’t listed 
in my Advanced Placement 
Government textbook: to sit 
in a middle school cafeteria 
and listen to 12-year-old girls 
complain 
about 
their 
gym 
classes. Every one of us has 
more civic duties. Some of 
us are called to improve the 
country by helping advance 
our computer systems, or to do 
research on cells, or to bring 
beauty to people’s lives through 
art.
I beg of each and every one 
of you: Do what you were put 
on this planet to do. That’s 
your civic duty. You can’t 
singlehandedly prevent tragedy 
from ever occurring again, but 
there are plenty of things you 
can do to make this broken, 
hurting country a little bit more 
joyful.
This 
isn’t 
a 
call 
to 
complacency, telling you to 
follow your dreams instead of 
fighting for change. Far from 
it, in fact. Please do everything 
you can to enact change in 
this 
world 
because 
we 
so 
desperately need it in more 
ways than I can begin to list in 
this column.
My call, instead, is for you 
to remember though we may 
never see bold pink words 
engraved in the skies, though 
perhaps we will always find 
ourselves in a country of 
mass tragedy and heartbreak, 
we can never be stripped of 
our hope. There is always 
something we can do to make 
today a little bit better. And in 
two years’ time, when our fate 
is once more in our own hands, 
I hope we believe it, and show 
up to the polls again, and, 
despite everything, I hope 
we continue to vote in record 
numbers.

T

his experience we call 
college has the potential 
to be the most integral 
quest 
for 
self-discovery 
in 
our lives. Exalted in popular 
imagination as a wild, inspiring 
and fulfilling era, adults often 
reminisce 
on 
their 
college 
years with a wistful smile. This 
is because people in college 
are 
afforded 
the 
freedom 
of 
adulthood 
without 
its 
consequential 
responsibility. 
Yes, many students work and 
pay their way through college, 
and some have to sacrifice a lot 
to make college happen, but few 
wrestle with the true pressures 
and entanglements of adulthood 
like raising a child, nurturing a 
marriage, and paying taxes and 
mortgages for an entire family. 
By its very design, college can be 
an inherently selfish time. You 
set off on your own adventure 
and find out what’s important 
to you and who you are. You’re 
constantly concerning yourself 
with what classes you’re going 
to take, who you’re going to 
develop 
relationships 
with 
or what organizations you’re 
going to participate in across 
campus. There’s the danger that 
you might develop a routine 
blindness to the people who 
brought you to college in the 
first place: your parents.
By parents I don’t just mean 
biological parents. Perhaps you 
were influenced more by your 
grandparents or a teacher or 
community organizer (further 
references to “parents” herein 
indicate the people or person 
who 
raised, 
mentored 
or 
otherwise supplied you with 
the building blocks from which 
you constructed yourself). A 
parent can take many forms, 
but whoever they are, there’s a 
chance you’ve become numb to 
their struggles in your constant 

juggling of the new and exciting. 
“They didn’t get me into college! 
I did through hard work and 
determination,” 
you 
might 
assert. As a matter of fact some 
people at college even have 
an unfortunately adversarial 
relationship with the people 
who raised them because of past 

complication or hardship.
The 
important 
truth 
to 
recognize here is regardless of 
the tone of your relationship 
with your parents, they still 
represent the order around 
which you oriented yourself in 
the world. Whether someone 
has a close and loving or 
contentious 
and 
distant 
relationship with their parents 
— the philosophy of life that 
you’ve inherited from them 
is your familiar anchor in the 
world, the truth from which you 
go out and explore. 
Whether 
you 
consciously 
realize it, those elements are 
the very things that stabilize 
your life. Discovery, the new 
and uncharted, is chaos. That’s 
where learning comes from, 
exposing yourself to something 
beyond order so that you might 
incorporate it into yourself 
and expand. Too much chaos, 
and your life might fall out of 
balance. Too little, and you’ll 
never learn, grow or change. 
But how do you embrace the 
chaos without throwing the 

order your parents gave you 
out the window? How do you 
create your own values without 
desecrating 
the 
ones 
your 
parents instilled in you? How do 
you discover yourself without 
leaving them behind?
Start by trying to understand 
and appreciate the kind of 
order your parents have given 
you. Partly as a function of 
our mutual respect, effective 
communication and openness, 
I’ve 
been 
fortunate 
in 
my 
relationship with my parents. 
Their order has helped instill 
in me values that allow me to 
make sound judgments and 
balance the temptations and 
opportunities presented to me 
as a young person living away 
from home. One ingredient 
of this order is my parents’ 
conscientiousness. 
My 
dad 
organizes his briefcase and 
closet every night before work. 
He arms each pocket and drawer 
with a toolbox of materials 
for nearly every situation: a 
backup 
pair 
of 
headphones 
and medicine for a theoretical 
future cold. It’s the doomsday 
prepper of briefcases, a trait 
accumulated from a lifetime of 
being prepared to face chaos for 
him and his family. My mom, too, 
has a specialization in making 
our 
home 
feel 
perpetually 
organized, 
comfortable 
and 
safe. It isn’t just tidiness. My 
mom is establishing order in our 
house so that those who enter 
know that this is a place safe 
from the chaos of the world, 
that this is a home in the truest 
sense of the word.

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 —Thursday, November 15, 2018

Emma Chang
Ben Charlson
Joel Danilewitz
Samantha Goldstein
Emily Huhman

Tara Jayaram
Jeremy Kaplan
Lucas Maiman
Magdalena Mihaylova
Ellery Rosenzweig
Jason Rowland

Anu Roy-Chaudhury
Alex Satola
Ali Safawi
Ashley Zhang
Sam Weinberger

DAYTON HARE
Managing Editor

420 Maynard St. 
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
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Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.

ALEXA ST. JOHN
Editor in Chief
 ANU ROY-CHAUDHURY AND 
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

HANNAH HARSHE | COLUMN

Hope amid tragedy

Integrating parents into the college experience

MILES STEPHENSON | COLUMN

Hannah Harshe can be reached at 

hharshe@umich.edu

Miles Stephenson can be reached at 

mvsteph@umich.edu.

The joint campaign’s ethos 
is “Whether you or someone 
you know is struggling, there 
are 
counseling 
services 
available to everyone at the 
university … We’re here for 
you.” U-M mental health 
service 
providers 
also 
expressed the hope that this 
campaign will open up the 
campus to new conversations 
about mental and emotional 
health.
As students, most of our 
mental health falls under 
the 
guidance 
of 
CAPS. 
Mental health on college 
campuses is a critical issue. 
A 
2016-17 
report 
from 
Healthy Minds, a national 
network that surveys the 
mental health of U.S. college 
students, shows 31 percent 
of students have depression, 
31 
percent 
have 
elevated 
levels of generalized anxiety 
and 11 percent have had 
suicidal ideation in the past 
year. Suicide is the second 
leading killer of Americans 
ages 10-34. These alarming 
statistics highlight the need 
for comprehensive mental 
health services on college 
campuses.
We 
applaud 
CAPS 
and 
other campus organizations 
for attempting to bring more 
awareness to the available 
mental health resources for 
students. One resource we 
would particularly like to see 
this joint campaign promote 
is the embedded counselor 
program run through CAPS. 
While many students may 
not be aware of it, 13 U-M 
units, such as the College of 
Engineering, the School of 
Public Health and the Ford 
School of Public Policy, have 
their own dedicated mental 
health provider available to 

students. These embedded 
counselors have their offices 
not in the main CAPS space 
but in the academic unit 
itself. For instance, a Public 
Policy 
student 
would 
be 
able to see their embedded 
counselor at their office in 
Weill Hall. The embedded 
model was actually started 
in four of the North Campus 
colleges in 2014 and we feel 

that, despite the general 
lack of awareness among 
students, this is a good 
model. CAPS would do well 
to highlight their embedded 
counselors and expand the 
program to other academic 
units such as LSA, which 
does not currently have its 
own.
CAPS 
has 
developed 
a 
bad reputation among some 
University 
students 
due 
to long wait times and the 
feeling that students are 
not getting the help they 
need. While we hear these 
concerns and will continue 
to urge CAPS to cut down 
wait times, we also must 
acknowledge CAPS is meant 
to serve as a first-step on the 
road to good mental health 
and not the cure-all some 
students may expect it to be.
While we endorse this 
new awareness campaign, 

we also call on CAPS to 
improve 
their 
services. 
As 
previously 
mentioned, 
long waits are a serious 
barrier to students wishing 
to 
access 
care. 
We 
also 
have concerns with stories 
of students feeling forced 
away from CAPS and toward 
community providers. While 
we recognize CAPS operates 
under a short-term treatment 
model and it may not be able 
to provide the specialized 
care needed to address some 
mental health problems such 
as eating disorders, pushing 
students toward community 
providers presents problems 
of 
access. 
Unlike 
CAPS, 
community 
providers 
can 
be 
prohibitively 
expensive 
without 
good 
health insurance and many 
students without a car could 
have a hard time traveling to 
appointments.
We encourage CAPS to 
explore innovative solutions 
to improve access to mental 
health 
services 
among 
the 
student 
population. 
Potential 
options 
could 
include a fully staffed CAPS 
office 
on 
North 
Campus 
and providing teletherapy 
as 
an 
alternative 
to 
in-person counseling. The 
joint campaign should also 
promote Wolverine Wellness 
and the Wolverine Support 
Network, 
two 
non-CAPS 
mental health interventions. 
 
The 
joint 
awareness 
campaign 
initiated 
by 
three of the University’s 
counseling offices is a step in 
the right direction. However, 
promoting 
resources 
without actively working to 
improve them would be a 
wasted opportunity.

FROM THE DAILY

New U campaign is promising

T

his week, three University of Michigan counseling offices 
announced a new joint campaign to increase awareness of and 
access to mental health services for students, faculty and staff. The 
University’s Counseling and Psychological Services (CAPS), Faculty and 
Staff Counseling and Consultation Office (FASCCO) along with Michigan 
Medicine’s Office of Counseling and Workplace Resilience together provide 
no-cost counseling to the majority of the campus community.

We encourage 
CAPS to explore 
innovative 
solutions

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HANNAH
HARSHE

By its very design, 
college can be an 
inherently selfish 
time

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