Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Wednesday, April 3, 2019

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EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

L

ike so many others, 
it 
seems 
that 
my 
adolescence 
has 
been 
characterized 
by 
an 
ongoing 
and 
increasingly 
fraught battle with 
my own skin. It was 
an all-out offense 
against an enemy 
that I wasn’t even 
really sure I knew. 
I had patches of dry 
skin on my cheeks 
as well as a perpetually oily 
forehead, and it felt like I was 
in a never-ending state of 
redness. It seemed that when 
I finally got rid of the zits 
on my chin, they’d reappear 
with vengeance below my 
nose, and as an athlete in 
high school, it seemed I was 
constantly sweaty and oily. 
I’d rip gunk out of my pores 
with a pore strip, only to 
re-clog them with makeup 
and moisturizer. You’re not 
supposed to pop zits, but I 
would anyway and then I’d 
dry them out with OXY, a 
chemical that came in a roll-
on and smelled like cleaning 
solution. This was obviously 
very astringent and harsh 
on my young, teenage skin, 
and then I’d justify it by 
washing my face and treating 
it with various products from 
Lush, a company I knew 
to be ethical — and more 
importantly in my teenage 
brain — handmade and all 
natural. Did this do anything 
for my skin? Probably not. 
I didn’t know what half of 
the products I used did, and 
I probably would have been 
just as well off had I simply 
washed my face every day. 
If we’re being honest, I still 
don’t totally know what half 
of my skincare regimen is 
really for. I have products 
I use and a routine I follow 
daily, but what is it actually 
doing for my skin? I don’t 
know, but it makes me feel 
good — like I’m taking care of 
myself, like I’m controlling 
something that I can control.
Skincare has emerged in 
recent years as a common 
form of self-care. Something 
utilitarian 
and 
ordinary 
became an easy way for 
people, especially women, to 
feel like they were living a 
healthy lifestyle and making 
themselves beautiful in the 
process. 
Skincare 
culture 
and makeup culture go hand 
in hand, especially in recent 
years. No matter how positive 
a spin you put on it, or how 
much feminist praxis you 
apply, these are multibillion-
dollar industries that exploit 
the insecurities of women 
for a profit. Makeup has 
been 
through 
an 
image 
rehabilitation in recent years: 
“It’s an art form,” people say, 
or “It’s meant to highlight 

your natural beauty and hide 
blemishes.” The fact remains, 
however, 
that 
women are under 
enormous amounts 
of 
pressure 
to 
wear 
and 
spend 
money on makeup, 
often at the risk of 
getting paychecks 
cut. 
Skincare 
is 
a little easier to 
frame in a positive 
light: It’s all about 
finding 
your 
natural 
beauty, 
achieving 
beauty without makeup. But 
is it really natural beauty if 
you’re altering the chemical 
makeup of your face?
In 
her 
article 
“The 
Skincare 
Con,” 
Krithika 
Varagur writes about the 
rise of skincare in popular 
culture, 
with 
her 
thesis 
being, 
“Perfect 
skin 
is 
unattainable 
because 
it 
doesn’t exist.” She writes of 
women who have gone to see 
dermatologists after using a 
cocktail of products that has 
left their skin badly burned. 
One woman described her 
face as being “one big open 
wound,” with visible cracking 
everywhere. 
Dr. 
Whitney 
Bowe, a dermatologist based 
in New York, criticized the 
sheer number of products 
on the market, describing 
how 
people 
“haphazardly 
combine 
products 
not 
realizing that many of them 
are overlapping, rather than 
complementing, one another 
when it comes to mechanism 
of action.”

This results in inflamed 
and irritated skin, a situation 
she describes as “far from 
atypical.” 
The 
fact 
also 
remains that engaging with 
the skincare industry can also 
be prohibitively expensive. It 
costs money to afford all the 
goops and creams that are 
supposed to give you dewy, 
glowing skin (although the 
trend of dewy skin seems to 
be on the way out, a deeply 
unfortunate occurrence for 
me, a naturally shiny (read: 
sweaty) person). According 
to 
one 
survey, 
American 
women apply an average of 
16 skincare products per day, 
and the serums the website 
advertised to me were $28 at 
the cheapest and $281 at the 
most expensive. Not from 
Costco-sized 
tubs, 
either, 

but little containers ranging 
from 1 to 7 ounces. Despite 
all of this nonsense, spending 
this money on skincare seems 
almost necessary. In one of 
her most interesting points, 
Varagur 
posits 
that 
the 
skincare industry frames it 
as an almost moral question: 
If you don’t have good skin, 
you’re not taking care of 
yourself.
Your skin is good. It is 
your 
largest 
organ 
(yes, 
the skin is an organ, don’t 
think about it too much) 
and it is protecting you 
and keeping you safe all 
the time. It protects you 
against diseases and foreign 
bodies, regulates your body 
temperature, prevents water 
loss, 
insulates 
your 
soft 
tissue, 
produces 
vitamins 
and is the reason you feel 
physical sensations. It is a 
complex and finely tuned 
machine, and it has evolved 
to function to protect you. 
A zit isn’t a bad thing; it’s 
your 
body’s 
reaction 
to 
protect you from a foreign 
antibody. 
The 
world 
is 
constantly 
assaulting 
our 
skin, 
with 
mineral-heavy 
and 
toxic 
water, 
ever-
changing weather and the 
bone-crushing, soul-sucking 
stress 
that 
comes 
from 
simply existing in today’s 
society. All the flaws and 
blemishes that multibillion 
dollar companies are trying 
to get you to fix with their 
creams 
and 
serums 
are 
natural reactions from your 
body to keep you healthy.
So what now? Will I stop 
buying 
skincare 
products 
and stop using them all 
together? 
Probably 
not. 
Despite 
the 
fact 
that 
I 
know, logically, that zits are 
normal well into adulthood, 
I 
will 
almost 
certainly 
continue to rub my Lush 
products 
on 
problematic 
spots until they go away. I 
do think that my deep dive 
into the skincare industry 
has made me more critical, 
however, of the products 
I’m buying. I’m wary of 
very 
astringent 
products 
that wear away at skin, and 
I’m hesitant to purchase 
something that will disrupt 
my skin’s natural patterns 
too much, even if it means 
I’ll look like a big bottle of 
olive oil during the summer 
months. 
There’s 
no 
easy 
answer, as participation in 
these 
multibillion 
dollar 
industries seems inevitable, 
and indeed, mandatory at 
times. The only thing I can 
really do with any amount of 
certainty is to trust my body 
and trust the skin I’m in. It’s 
good skin, and I’m lucky to 
live in it.

Caroline Llanes can be reached at 

cmllanes@umich.edu.

I

f you were to look at 
the header portion of 
any 
of 
my 
school 
notebooks, 
regardless of subject 
or year in school, 
you would find an 
amalgamation 
of 
monochromatic 
doodles done with 
my favorite pen.
Art has always 
been an outlet for 
me in a variety of 
forms. Whether it 
be sketching, singing along 
far too loudly in the car or 
creative 
writing, 
art 
has 
served 
as 
something 
that 
can make change and impact 
individuals 
on 
numerous 
levels.
Coming to college, entirely 
unaware of how I would best 
embrace 
this 
passion 
and 
outlet as someone planning 
to 
study 
government, 
I 
mentioned this anxiety to 
my academic counselor who 
pointed me toward what I 
believe is one of the most 
impactful 
organizations 
this campus supports. The 
Prison Creative Arts Project, 
housed in the University’s 
LSA 
Residential 
College, 
makes the restorative aspect 
of art accessible to those in 
prison facilities throughout 
the state of Michigan. It is 
via 
this 
organization 
and 
the complimentary academic 
course that this notion of art 
as restorative, as an outlet 
and as something to create 
small and large scale change, 
is fostered.
The 
power 
of 
art 
is 
something that has become 
apparent to those involved 
with 
the 
organization, 
also known as PCAP. LSA 
sophomore Zoey Horowitz, 
creative writing facilitator, 
explained 
that 
the 
organization has given her 
a greater understanding of 
how engaging in artistic and 
creative 
processes 
can 
be 
personally 
rewarding. 
She 
stated that, through PCAP, 
she has been able to hone 
her 
own 
appreciations 
of 
creative expression while also 
introducing and facilitating 

that mechanism to others.
Through 
my 
own 
participation 
in 
this program in the 
past, I have seen 
the 
unique 
and 
singular ability of 
art 
as 
something 
that 
can 
bring 
people of differing 
experiences 
and 
from 
entirely 
separate 
spaces 
together. 
This 
is 
due to the shared 
experience that many forms of 
art can provide. Working with 
art in this capacity has only 
reinforced my appreciation 
and understanding of all art 
forms — both within popular 
culture and in an individual 
capacity. 
It 
was 
working 
with 
this 
organization 
that 
gave 
me 
a 
personal 
understanding that art can be 
something lighthearted while 
simultaneously tapping into 
something 
more 
profound. 
The sheer joy that the shared 
experience of singing a song 
or discussing the first time 
one 
heard 
something 
on 
the radio brought a sense of 
lightness and understanding 
that truly took me aback.

There 
is 
something 
unique 
about 
art. 
While 
brainstorming, I truly do not 
believe there is something 
else akin to the depth of 
individual 
and 
collective 
experience that art can create. 
We can sometimes take this 
experience 
for 
granted, 
like when we casually come 
together and converse about a 
shared memory about a movie 
or that one Taylor Swift song 
that was popular in middle 
school. Art is something that 

can bind us together in a way 
that 
most 
other 
mediums 
cannot.
In an age where funding 
for art programs is routinely 
cut, and creative expression 
sometimes takes a backseat 
to other programs, let us 
challenge this notion of art 
as something to be rid of or 
stripped from a budget. Let 
us champion as a community, 
as students and as people the 
importance of what art can 
be and do for each and every 
one of us. It is organizations 
like 
PCAP 
that 
recognize 
and validate the importance 
of the transformative effects 
both individual and collective 
experiences 
engaging 
with 
art can provide.
Seeing 
the 
beauty 
of 
creative 
expression 
in 
a 
variety of forms and watching 
how 
memories 
of 
songs 
can bring people together 
and 
experience 
emotions 
connected to written word 
or 
movies 
exhibits 
the 
power 
art 
has 
to 
shape 
individual 
dynamics 
and 
transform 
individual 
and 
group experiences. Art has 
the unique ability to offer 
an outlet for so many — as it 
has for me. Let us celebrate 
those bringing creative or 
expressive opportunities to 
others, as it can be just one 
of many methods for growth, 
understanding and change. 
Having the ability to express 
oneself in a society clouded 
with divisive rhetoric and 
channeling 
those 
energies 
in a positive or individually 
beneficial 
way 
is 
of 
the 
utmost 
importance. 
Art 
does not have to be what one 
would 
traditionally 
define 
it as. It can be something as 
simple 
as 
humming 
along 
to something or doodling at 
the top of a page. Whatever 
one’s definition may be, let us 
make art accessible, because 
it, in its variety of forms and 
means, has the power to bring 
change.

The cult of skincare

CAROLINE LLANES | COLUMN

Appreciation and restoration: the power of art

SAMANTHA SZUHAJ | COLUMN

SAM SUGERMAN | COLUMN

Living in “The Lorax”
W

hen I was 5 years 
old, every night, I 
would lie in my bed 
under a mountain of covers, 
snuggled up next to my mom 
so she could read me a bedtime 
story. Usually I would fall 
asleep instantly — the warmth 
that resonated from her, the 
comfort I experienced, and the 
soothing voice she read with 
would catalyze what seemed 
like an explosion of melatonin, 
and my eyes would flutter then 
close. I would fall into my pillow 
and promptly drift into the 
nighttime, typically before she 
even got past the first couple 
pages. However, one night in 
particular was different as I was 
tired and curled up under the 
covers.
My mom picked up a new 
book and read the title aloud, 
“The Lorax,” and immediately 
I was intrigued. It was the 
first time in weeks she read 
something other than the usual 
“Biscuit” or “Magic Treehouse” 
book. Instead of dozing off, I 
attentively absorbed all of the 
information she read. However, 
it 
was 
not 
Ted 
Wiggins’ 
hankering ambition to plant a 
tree for his fancied Audrey that 
sticks with me today, but it was 
the sweet and simple moral of 
the story: respect nature. It 
was this sentiment that has 
stayed with me 14 years later 
as a student in the Program in 
the Environment yearning to 
salvage what we have left of 
the natural world as personal 
interest degrades what Mother 
Earth gifted us.
In “The Lorax,” The Once-ler 
let his own intrinsic motivation 
to profit from the Thneed, his 
product, kill the animals, spoil 
the flamboyantly colored trees 
and ruin pristine nature. The 
Once-ler’s actions resulted in 
the establishment of a city called 
Thneedville, a city full of fake 
vegetation run by a businessman 
who 
commercialized 
fresh 
oxygen. Beyond the walls of 

the cities, hidden from public 
view, lay the harsh realities of 
the Once-ler’s selfishness: a 
desolate and barren terrain.
“The Lorax” and I quickly 
transcended to a nostalgic state. 
It took me back to being five 
years old, when all I wanted to 
do was chase butterflies and 
smell the roses, a time before I 
could even enunciate climate 
change let alone tell you what 
it is. The event that reminded 
me of “The Lorax” is the super 
bloom unfolding in California. 
Formerly 
green 
and 
barren 
mountains, after a heavy winter 
rainfall, have transformed into 

brightly colored fields painting 
the terrain vivid shades of 
purple, orange and yellow. As 
I scrolled through pictures, I 
was quickly reminded of the 
scene in “The Lorax” when 
the Once-ler first arrives in 
the Truffula Forest — before 
he catalyzes mass destruction. 
However, beyond the striking 
similarities in scenery, there 
was also an eerie familiarity in 
the destruction of nature from 
“The Lorax.” Jean Rhyne, a 
California State Parks employee, 
made the comparison to humans 
and invasive species. This is 
because the influx of tourists 
following the flowers for the 
idealistic picture are stepping 
on and in between the flowers, 
which crushes the roots and 
kills them. The human desire is 
killing the flowers of the super 
bloom.
Yet this is not the only means 

by which humans are destroying 
nature. 
Since 
1993, 
humans 
have 
tarnished 
3.3 
million 
square kilometers of the world’s 
wilderness, equivalent to an area 
twice the size of Alaska. Each 
year, we have lost over 7.3 million 
hectares, or 7.3 million Michigan 
Stadiums, worth of forest due to 
deforestation, an additional 1.5 
acres of rainforest being removed 
every second. Anecdotally, Lake 
Poopo in Bolivia is completely 
dry due to human-caused global 
warming, as a body of water 
comparable to an expanse the 
size of Rhode Island is now just 
a salt-crusted lake bed. As of 
2014, we have lost 52 percent of 
biodiversity, as we have lost 76 
percent of freshwater wildlife 
and 39 percent of marine and 
terrestrial wildlife since 1970. If 
these trends continue at the rapid 
rate they are moving, we could 
be without wilderness by the 
end of the century and a world 
with no trees, dry waterways 
and limited biodiversity that will 
look much like the area outside of 
Thneedville.
This all prompts the question: 
Are we living in “The Lorax?” Is 
the Once-ler a metaphor for the 
omnipresent human destruction 
of nature? Currently, there are 
many 
entrepreneurs 
actually 
capitalizing on the pervasive 
issue of pollution and poor air 
quality by actually selling air. 
Vitality Air traps air and sells it 
in bottles of 160 “breaths” of pure 
oxygen for $32. The company is 
constantly growing and is not 
the only business in the market. 
Sounds 
similar 
to 
Aloysius 
O’Hare and his company O’Hare 
Air. So what can we do to keep 
“The Lorax” a fable and not allow 
the story to materialize? Well 
I think the Once-ler answers it 
best, “Unless someone like you 
cares a whole awful lot, nothing 
is going to get better. It’s not.”

Sam Sugerman can be reached at 

samsug@umich.edu.

Zack Blumberg
Emma Chang
Joel Danilewitz
Emily Huhman
Tara Jayaram

Jeremy Kaplan
Magdalena Mihaylova
Ellery Rosenzweig
Jason Rowland
Anu Roy-Chaudhury

Alex Satola
Timothy Spurlin
Nicholas Tomaino
Erin White 
Ashley Zhang

Samantha Szuhaj can be reached at 

szuhajs@umich.edu.

Is the Once-ler a 
metaphor for the 
omnipresent human 
destruction of 
nature?

CAROLINE

LLANES

But is it really 
natural beauty if 
you’re altering the 
chemical makeup of 
your face?

SAMANTHA
SZUHAJ

Art is something 
that can bind 
us together in a 
way most other 
mediums cannot

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