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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