I
’ve
never
written
about
sex
before. It’s always
felt like a breach
of some invisible
social contract, like
a taboo topic tip-
toed around euphe-
mistically because
we can’t talk about
the
details:
It’s
too personal, too
vulnerable,
too
awkward for your
grandmother
to
hear you wrote an
article about hook-
ing up. I’ve always
thrown sex into the
category of things
beyond my scope
of personal, opin-
ionated
expertise,
like foreign policy
or Major League
Baseball or classical
music.
Let me preface
this with the fact
that I do not write. My job at The Mich-
igan Daily is to edit: I proofread and
fact check, suggest and question. But
in terms of generating content, I leave
my opinions unsaid. Armed with
the words of others, I am free to
wholeheartedly participate in the
world of journalism without bar-
ing an inch of my soul. All without
being the slightest bit exposed —
no byline with my name and no
picture. I do not write. And I most
certainly do not write about sex.
But I’ve been in college for three
years now and it occurred to me
that maybe I do have something to
say. Maybe there is room beyond
the silence, beyond the closed
lips, beyond the texts I have typed
and deleted, just past whispers of
friends and sharp turns I’ve taken to
avoid him, to avoid you, to avoid myself.
There is all the space in the world to
say what I want to say.
It takes courage to share our stories.
It takes bravery to share our trauma,
our regrets, our mistakes and our suc-
cesses. It is one of the hardest things
in the world to be honest. As an editor,
I’ve had the privilege to read so many
accounts of honesty: Passionate opin-
ions, personal narratives, coverage of
tragedies and triumphs. The mundane
and the unusual, the wins and the loss-
es.
I am going to write that sex in col-
lege is not what I expected. Hookup
culture, to me, has been a source of
intangible, undefinable confusion. I
have gotten by without much thought.
I haven’t been in danger, or in love. I
have played my part in the chaos, at the
frat parties, at the bar, in the middle of
the night. I have lied and been lied to, I
have rejected and been rejected, I have
stomached disappointment and an
extra drink. I have snuck home in the
morning and called my mother.
I don’t write, but I am a writer. And
I’m not a born communicator: In fact,
I’m an expert in avoidance. A lot of us
are. What strikes me about hookup
culture is how deeply removed we’ve
become from our truths. I am 21 and
just learning how to say what I mean.
My mom always told me I’d never be in
a relationship until I stopped looking
over my shoulder every time I make a
decision. I always told her it wouldn’t
matter here. But I have to learn how to
write what I’m thinking, how to leave
something unedited and unfinished.
There is a lot of noise. There are a
lot of layers. I was always the one in
high school turning down the music at
parties so I could hear you speak more
clearly. I was always one to want what
I couldn’t have. That has been my big-
gest flaw. I could never articulate per-
fectly what I was feeling, so I didn’t say
anything. I was never 100 percent sure
about foreign policy, or baseball, or
music or sex, so I never spoke up at all.
I think we forget that people are lis-
tening. I forget I’m always staying just
10 more minutes at the bar because I
have more to say. I’m always forget-
ting that I know how to be myself. I’m
an editor: always cutting things out,
always fixing your mistakes. I don’t
write about sex. Maybe I’ll learn how
to.
Wednesday, December 5, 2018 // The Statement
2B
ILLUSTRATION BY CHRISTINE JEGARL
BY EMILY STILLMAN, DAILY COPY EDITOR
Copy That: The one about sex
Managing Statement Editor:
Brian Kuang
Deputy Editors:
Colin Beresford
Jennifer Meer
Editor in Chief:
Alexa St. John
Photo Editor:
Amelia Cacchione
Designer:
Elizabeth Bigham
Managing Editor:
Dayton Hare
Copy Editors:
Elise Laarman
Finntan Storer
statement
THE MICHIGAN DAILY | DECEMBER 5, 2018
I do not write. And I
most certainly do not
write about sex.