Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Thursday, January 24, 2019
O
ver the recent holiday,
I attended an event
as part of the 2019
Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King
Jr. Day Symposium at the
University of Michigan. I heard
about the harsh experiences
three women faced as they
participated in a student-led
committee to confront racism
in the South during the 1960s.
Someone asked how the civil
rights movement became as
powerful as it was, and one
woman reasoned that the might
of
those
oppressed
during
that time period was aligned
with the spirit of the youth.
In other words, these women
claimed part of the reason why
the movement began to peak
in the ‘60s was because of how
relentless and driven they, as
young individuals at the time,
had to be not only to gain their
freedoms and their rights but
more importantly to survive
in a setting that favored white
terrorism.
Today,
there
have
been
strides that mirror those of
past movements in terms of
collaboration among youth and
the drastic nature of change
necessary to find solutions
to improve the quality of the
environment.
Since
Speaker
Nancy Pelosi announced the
House
of
Representatives
committee on climate change
would
be
revived,
newly-
elected U.S. Rep. Alexandria
Ocasio-Cortez,
D-N.Y.,
has
made
known
her
adamant
support for the Green New Deal
as a plan this committee can
pursue to create an economy.
Driven by the stories and the
mentality of people in America’s
working class, Ocasio-Cortez
has demonstrated herself as
the standard bearer of this
mentality for radical social and
economic change. Referencing
the New Deal pursued during
the Great Depression and other
major revolutionary plans that
have been implemented during
our history, she rationalizes the
magnitude of this change to the
economy towards improving
the environment is necessary:
“The only way we are going to
get out of this situation is by
choosing to be courageous.
(The Green New Deal) is
going to be the Great Society,
the moonshot, the civil rights
movement of our generation.
That is the scale of the
ambition that this movement
is going to require.”
Ocasio-Cortez and other
politicians
have
presented
themselves
as
a
beacon
of
inspiration
for
youth,
while also contributing to
the growth of the Sunrise
Movement.
Following
the
2018
midterm
elections,
Sunrise
activists
made
themselves
visible
to
the
public by occupying Speaker
Pelosi’s office and demanding
newly-elected congressional
representatives
begin
to
discuss and work on the
logistics
of
the
Green
New Deal. In essence, the
spirit of this organization
encompasses the idea that
everyday people are the ones
affected
by
the
decisions
of
their
authorities
and
lawmakers
and,
therefore,
are the ones who can validate
their demands for appropriate
actions from the government.
As these activists assume the
position of demanding better
from the government in terms
of environmental health, fair
economic activity and just
social standards, they are
undoubtedly inspiring more
youth to join them and more
adults to gear their decision-
making
towards
pleasing
the majority that has become
composed of youths.
In other words, the Sunrise
Movement is working to collect
supporters and make climate
change a deciding factor in the
2020 Democratic presidential
primaries,
in
addition
to
strides they have already made
for
awareness
towards
the
necessity for the improvement
of our environment.
Past and present movements
show that the spirit of the
times during any era is carried
and propelled by its young
people.
Today,
the
Sunrise
Movement and their supporters
are
educated,
level-headed
and capable of addressing the
concerns that we have about the
world we are living in. We are
the ones who are realizing that
something has to be done to
make a better future possible.
We are the ones who are willing
to work to make it happen. Just
as
Ocasio-Cortez
mentioned
in her contribution to Bernie
Sanders’s national town hall
on climate change, it is natural
to fear change and to believe
change on such a massive scale
is impossible. However, today
will be another example of
the benefits that result from
showing
persistence
and
resilience in the fight for the
life we want and the fight for
demanding our authorities do
what is right.
As a youth today, my
commitment
to
advocating
for the improvement of our
environment is exemplary of
the spirit of the times. While
I
am
constantly
thinking
about the purpose I will serve
in this world as an engineer
after
graduation,
I
also
think about the thousands of
students here who will have
an equally significant purpose
to serve after graduation.
Whether their majors direct
them towards the medical
field, public health, criminal
justice, the natural sciences,
mathematics,
history,
political science or even the
realm of art, every student
will have the advantage of
belonging to a community
that values progress in all
sectors of our society. Because
I know we and people like us
across the nation and around
the world will ensure history
favors the bold, I have hope for
the future of our society.
Why I have hope for the future of our environment
Kianna Marquez can be reached at
kmarquez@umich.edu
Emma Chang
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
Sam Weinberger
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EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
The ethics of scamming in the millenial age
T
he
art
of
scamming
has been fascinating to
me ever since the term
“influencer” came to light. A scam
can take many forms: It can be as
simple as knowing how to get a
free drink at a bar or as complex
as manipulating financiers and
loan companies into lending you
money that doesn’t exist and
buying Macaulay Culkin dinner to
convince him that you’re German
royalty. We live in a time when the
internet provides anonymity at
extreme consequences. Identities
are stolen, music festivals are lied
about and learning the secret to
making an orchid crown is priced
at a remarkable $165.
Recently, reporters have begun
to pick up pieces on scams large
and small, and it’s drawing a lot
of attention. With the release of
the Fyre Festival documentaries
on Netflix and Hulu, a TV show
dedicated to Anna Delvey (the
German woman who convinced
New York’s elite crowds she was a
European heiress) in the works, and
a recent Twitter thread exposing
the scams of Instagram influencer
Caroline
Calloway
(whose
Instagram bio reads, horrifyingly,
“No not that writer, the one you
love!!!”) it’s safe to say that scams
are very in. Each of these scammers
has been white, middle class and
undeniably privileged. But does
who their scams target matter?
I started following Caroline
Calloway on Instagram about three
years ago. My interest in her at
the time was mostly fascination.
I didn’t exactly like her, but I was
curious about her. Her posts were
less about her pictures and more
focused on sharing long, detailed
retellings of parties in castles and
traveling abroad. Her Instagram
stories
depicted
her
beautiful
life with her beautiful friends,
accompanied by lengthy, and at
times, TMI descriptions of her
current life. This was not an account
for purely visual inspiration, and the
target demographic was not your
average American teen. Calloway
was an icon for the girls who read
fairy tales later into adolescence
than they’re probably willing to
admit and who still hold onto the
romantic notions found in “Notting
Hill” or “The Princess Diaries” —
an impressionable group of middle-
class white girls who wanted a life
more exciting than their own. So
when Calloway decided to produce
“creativity workshops” in a national
tour, it’s no wonder that her first
event sold out in several hours —
with tickets priced at $165.
Calloway differs from Delvey
and Billy McFarland of Fyre
Festival in a few distinct ways.
Where Delvey and McFarland
sought large-scale multimillion-
dollar scams, Calloway’s scams
have been small and not blatantly
manipulative. But where Delvey
and
McFarland
exploited
the
wealthy, Calloway’s scams target
her audience — mainly obsessed
tweens,
teens,
and
twenty-
somethings — and they’ve been
going on for quite some time.
Part of Calloway’s pull has
been her extreme commitment to
honesty through detail. Following
Calloway on Instagram is like
following her in the literal sense.
It’s as if you’re standing two steps
behind her as she goes throughout
her day. She shares everything: her
wake up, breakfast, trips to the gym,
flower shopping, (oddly frequent)
thank
you
note
writing
and
especially her salad dinner parties
that she seems to have almost
nightly with various successful and
vaguely famous friends. She doesn’t
have a job and she doesn’t seem
to need one. She lives in a studio
apartment somewhere in the West
Village. So if Calloway is spending
her days stretching, eating salad
and wandering around New York,
how is she making money?
Recently
Calloway
has
denied her wealth (claiming salad
ingredients are cheap and that she
eats a lot of toast), but anyone who
follows her knows she’s wealthy.
Though Calloway claims total
openness and honesty in her social
media interactions, her followers
aren’t tricked into thinking her life
is perfect. They know she shows
them what she chooses to: parties,
boys, friends and orchids.
When Calloway chooses to
show the more negative aspects of
her life, these insights are carefully
cultivated with a victim-based
narrative. First, it was her fall-out
with the publishing company and
her lost book deal (which she used
to later sell individual chapters
of the book she never published
for $5 a digital pop, totalling to
a staggering $50 for a DIGITAL
book). Then it was digging up
nostalgia and sadness for her days
at the University of Cambridge and
her ex-boyfriend. Most recently
the sob story has consisted of
mysterious and vague photos of her
father’s messy home in Virginia,
his mental health problems and
her recovery from these childhood
traumas — from which she has
gained inspiration to pursue her
most recent endeavor of creativity
workshops.
These creativity workshops
have been Calloway’s breaking
point. Having promised orchid
crowns, professional photos and
the “super salads” she shares with
her friends, Calloway delivered
very little. But Calloway did more
than promise salads to her fans —
she charged them $165 per ticket
and planned a full American tour,
one for which she never booked
venues. Yes, Calloway got in over
her head and planned very, very
poorly. Yes, Calloway’s fans have
mainly given positive reviews to
the workshops Calloway has given
so far. But is it right for Calloway to
take money from her fans to list off
cliches and life stories that they’ve
already heard?
Meet and greets are sometimes
ticketed events, and Calloway’s
fans seem more than willing to pay
the price to meet their icon. But
Calloway isn’t exactly an influencer,
and she isn’t exactly a celebrity.
She’s a 27-year-old woman who
probably read fairy tales much later
into her adolescence than she’s
willing to admit and who secretly
views the fantasies of “Notting
Hill” and “The Princess Diaries”
as aspirational. Calloway’s fans
love her because they know she’s
essentially just like them (albeit
a
prettier,
wealthier
version).
By charging these like-minded
women nearly $200 to “be like
her,” Calloway is manipulating her
power to exploit a group of people
who already hear her words as
gospel.
Calloway is, of course, just
one of many twenty-something
influencers trying to make a living
off of an abstract brand she’s built
for herself, and she’s certainly
received her taste of internet
backlash over the past few weeks
for her exploitative endeavors.
Yes, Calloway is a product of the
broken influencer system. Yes,
Calloway is likely not trying to
exploit her fans on any conscious
level. But had Calloway taken this
criticism to heart and apologized
earnestly, I wouldn’t be writing
this piece. Calloway’s apologies
were half-hearted, self-serving and
angry. I’ve continued to monitor
Calloway’s stories and each day
they become more despicable.
Privilege lets people get away with
a lot and Calloway is no exception.
Her scams have hurt her fans and
will continue to do so. Her denial of
any and all wrongdoings are what
makes her actions all the more
horrifying. She’s gotten away with
it so far — why not keep going?
Megan Burns is a senior studying
philosophy and psychology.
MEGAN BURNS | OP-ED
KIANNA MARQUEZ | COLUMN
TARA JAYARAM | OP-ED
LENA SISKIND | CONTACT CARTOONIST AT LENASISK@UMICH.EDU
It’s never too early!
Hold on to the horizon
I
used to think I was
the only one. The only
kid to spend their car
rides tearing through books,
replacing themselves with the
protagonist, stretching and
pinching the character until
I recognized myself in the
reflection. I was always sorely
disappointed when the movie
adaptations of my favorite
novels came out, not only
because the characters rarely
looked the way I expected
but
because
they
didn’t
carry the same experiences
and histories I had molded
for them in my mind. The
specificity of a movie never
afforded itself the kind of
shapelessness I’d grown to
love in novels.
I kept these behaviors
hidden
from
most
until
I came to the realization
I
wasn’t
alone
during
conversations with friends
in my sophomore year of
college. Someone mentioned
they spent the larger part of
their seventh grade staring
out of the window of their
bedroom at a grey brick wall
as if there was a window with
a “boy next door” to fall in
love with, prompted by the
music video for Taylor Swift’s
ballad
“You
Belong
With
Me.”
Assurances
followed,
and parallel stories flowed of
instances where all of us had
made insertions of ourselves
in the gaps of stories. Each
of us had cherry-picked the
experiences of the characters
which we identified with and
skimmed past the ones we
felt were foreign. They took
their form in songs, TV or
movie characters and many
books — each as imaginative
and ignorant of details as the
next.
Lately,
I’ve
felt
the
impulse to focus my time
and energy more on forward-
facing pursuits. I’ve switched
out my fiction reading for
academic journals and news
publications. When I have
free time during my walks
to class, I gravitate towards
podcasts instead of albums
— avoiding the latent guilt
I feel if I listen to music and
daydream when I could be
learning something new. I’m
driven to pursue this constant
search for information out
of a romanticism I’ve tied
to my incessant curiosity. I
continue to hope that perhaps
the next topic I’m exposed to
will be “the one.” I’ll discover
the statistic that changes my
mind on what I want to do
with my life, or maybe I’ll
read the article that opens
up a world I could see myself
dedicating my future to.
But
maybe,
in
these
habits,
I’ve
lost
sight
of
the
things
imagination
affords to our lives. There’s
an implicit hierarchy in my
mind of the importance of
consuming things that inform
me about the world around
me and those that fuel my
daydreams.
I
forgot
what
imagination
and
mysticism
taught me about myself, how
I see myself and who I want
to see in the mirror in my
own future. All of that time I
spent molding the characters
in stories — highlighting the
characteristics I appreciated
— can serve as a sort of “word
bank” when toying with the
puzzle of who I want myself to
be.
College is a time when we’re
told to hunker down, ground
ourselves and prepare for our
futures. We’re given a vision
of the “real world” that we’re
on the cusp of experiencing
—harder and harsher than
the one we’re accustomed to.
The pursuit of imagination
and daydreaming in the view
of a cold and “real” future
seems foolish. But something
beautiful happens when you
experience something as if it
was created for and about you.
You are transformed into a
distorted version of yourself,
too far to see but close enough
to feel.
At the beginning of this
month, I was sitting on a
flight back to Ann Arbor
from my hometown, and, as I
typically am on all modes of
transportation, I was hit with
a wave of introspection. It’s my
last semester at the University
of Michigan, and I ran myself
through all of the things I
needed to get done over the
next few months. I made a
mental to-do list with boxes
for my job search, mapping
out my future, saying goodbye
to friends, making the most of
a barrage of “lasts.” It felt as
though I was drafting a will
for my childhood, planning
how I was going to change
and what parts of myself I was
going to leave or take with
me. I considered letting go of
these behaviors that felt like
testaments to my youth: my
spontaneity, juvenile curiosity
and resilient imagination. I felt
it was time to ground myself in
reality and find a more logical
structure for my impending
future.
At that moment, I looked
out the window of the plane
and, in a scene that would
prompt groans of cliché from
readers, I saw a fierce and
fiery
sunset.
Instinctively,
my mind dropped all the
preoccupied planning and I
was overwhelmed with the
sense that this was a sign. I
realized I would never lose
my imagination. I’d never stop
playing the protagonist in my
life, thinking of my world as
if it was a story created for
and about me. Every sunset
is a sign, every character can
teach me about myself, every
song stuck in my head can be
part of my soundtrack. Your
imagination may not teach you
about the realities of the world,
but it can teach you about the
role you’d like to play in it. So
maybe it’s time to “unground”
ourselves. And in your own
lives, next time the sky is on
fire, imagine it’s burning for
you.
Tara Jayaram is a senior in LSA.