Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Monday, April 15, 2019
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
FINNTAN STORER
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MAGDALENA MIHAYLOVA
AND JOEL DANILEWITZ
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Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of The Daily’s Editorial Board.
All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
W
alking
south
of
campus
with
my
sweet
shades
on
and
headphones
in blocking out the
darties
nearby,
I
strut
down
the
street in a fantastic
mood,
leaving
my
winter blues behind
me.
Welcome
to
springtime
in
Ann
Arbor,
which
essentially
means
summer,
where
people wear basically
no clothes even in 60-degree
weather, spend all their time
outside and avoid all of their
school work. I was feeling quite
dramatic and nostalgic listening
to
my
graduation-themed
Spotify playlist, “sad sad end of
an eraaaaa” when I approached
my beloved cooperative house. I
stopped on the sidewalk looking at
my home for a moment and smiled
knowing for the first time that I
was ready to leave her.
After
a
few
months
of
panicking about post-graduation
plans and being immersed in so
many enjoyable last events with
my close friends, I have come to a
new place of confidence, security
and acceptance about graduating.
With only a few weeks left, I have
been reflecting on my time here
and comparing my current self to
the version who first enrolled in
college. Looking back, I was a real
“know it all,” thinking nothing
would change about myself in
college. I really thought I wasn’t
learning anything new from my
classes and even wrote a column
about how I wanted to graduate
early so I could just begin a
master’s program in something
I actually wanted to study.
Re-reading this, even though it felt
so real to me at the moment, I find
it funny how I didn’t think I could
learn, evolve or grow more from
the rest of my time in undergrad.
Now, I find myself with no
post-graduation plans probably
due to procrastinating job and
program applications out of the
fear of making a decision too
quickly that could change my life. I
wouldn’t say I am particularly bad
at change. I am a flexible person
who loves being spontaneous, not
having a plan and figuring things
out with limited time.
I lived in a cooperative
house for the past two
and a half years where
the people and culture
have
transformed
every
semester.
However,
knowing
there
is
a
date
approaching when my
day-to-day life will be
inevitably
different
makes this transition
time even scarier and emotional.
When I entered college, I
was always confused about why
everyone called it the best years
of their life because I was pretty
miserable, even after I transferred
to the University of Michigan
in search of a better experience.
The transition was more difficult
than I had predicted but gave me
the shift in my college experience
I was looking for. With time and
putting myself outside my comfort
zone, I was satisfied with my new
community of friends, activities
and classes. Even if I didn’t feel
like I was evolving and changing,
every class, new friendship and
experience helped me to grow and
create the person I see myself as
today.
Though I know my next
transition will look and feel
different
from
my
transition
from one university to another,
this experience has prepared
me to take on new challenges.
Hopefully, with some time and
distance from being a student this
summer, I can enter post-college
life in search of a plan or job that
will lead me into the “real world.”
But I think this time, I’m aware of
how hard this transition is going
to be and the time it takes to deal
with new situations, trying new
things that are uncomfortable and
building a new community.
At the end of last month, I
watched the finale of my all-
time favorite show on television,
“Broad City,” which showed two
best friends who had to move
away from each other due to
new opportunities. It could have
not been timelier because I have
quickly
realized
the
saddest
part of graduating will be losing
my everyday community of my
soulmates, besties, friends and
casual acquaintances that are a
short walk away. My social life and
community I spent the last years
building will look different after
graduation, and it was already
impacted last May when several
of my close friends graduated. I
came to this morbid conclusion
that in college, your friends leave
you and eventually you will leave
as well. Though it is so upsetting
to think this way, it is important
to realize this period of life is
very temporary. We may have the
technology to stay in contact but
things will never be the same as
they are right now.
Throughout my time at the
University, all of the relationships
I gained have already impacted
who I am, the decisions I made
in my time here and those I’ll
make in the future. I know it
sounds sappy, but I truly feel
grateful to my friends for showing
me how to be confident in my
skills and to love and take care
of myself during stressful times
in college. They introduced me
to the different communities I
joined here on campus like my
cooperative house, which gave me
an instant community with like-
minded individuals who became
my family, and The Michigan
Daily, where I realized I could be
a writer. Being a columnist and
a former editor in the Opinion
section allowed me to reflect on
my experiences and gave me a
platform to write about things I
cared about.
So now, reaching the end,
every time I hear someone say
the number of days we have left
in this semester it makes me quite
nauseous, and most of the time
my reflex is to yell “shut up!” But
even with all of these feelings,
I’m still looking forward to my
future experiences wherever I
end up. Even if they may not be
as exciting as the last four years,
it’s important to remember that
undergrad is only temporary.
MILES STEPHENSON | COLUMN
On country music
W
henever I ask people
at the University of
Michigan what kind
of music they like, I usually hear,
“I listen to a wide variety of music.
I like all genres except country.”
After hearing this account dozens
of times, I began to wonder if there
was some intrinsic flaw in country
music or if this was indicative of
a demographic who believe it’s
trendy to dislike country. After
all, most people who condemn
an entire genre lack a formal
education in music. Any musician
will tell you that every genre from
jangle pop to bluegrass has the
potential for great musicality and
meaning.
Born and raised in the city
of New York, I didn’t properly
encounter
country
and
its
subgenres until high school, where
I began to personalize my music
taste more intently. I discovered the
charm, beauty and romanticism
that the genre has to offer and
began to follow artists like Chris
Stapleton, later encountering Eric
Church, Luke Combs, Keith Urban,
Jason Isbell, Tyler Childers, Jake
Owen and Toby Keith. Zac Brown
Band’s “Chicken Fried” introduced
pop country to new demographics
while Lil Nas X’s “Old Town
Road” featuring Billy Ray Cyrus
has recently become a widespread
cultural meme. Attend any party
on campus this month, even those
populated with lifelong urbanites,
and you will hear “Old Town
Road” played at least once, perhaps
ironically or perhaps sincerely.
For years now, rap has replaced
rock as the predominant popular
genre
in
America.
However,
rappers like Lil Nas X and even
Post Malone are bridging the gap
between
mainstream
popular
music and country, and for the
first time in my life, it’s becoming
trendy for urban demographics on
the West and East Coasts to enjoy
country music. But what’s holding
country back from becoming the
mainstream genre?
I asked students across campus
about their thoughts on country
and why it’s perceived the way
it is by the urban elite that this
university attracts. One sophomore
said the following: “In terms of a
bad rep, I think that in 2019, with
social media especially ... people
see country music as the anti-rap
music, and rap music is perceived
as cool. What they are in my mind
is cultural representations, and so I
understand how that can be hated
but as someone from Nashville,
it’s my cultural music and music I
really enjoy.”
Another
sophomore
said,
“It’s associated with ‘rednecks’
who have a negative stigma …
and conservatives, who are also
perceived negatively in many
parts of the country,” while a third
interviewee stated anti-country
rhetoric is tied to the South’s
negative reputation with racism.
Toby Keith’s “The Taliban
Song,”
though
melodic
and
narratively romantic, reminds us
of the cultural offensiveness that
people attribute to the genre with
lyrics like, “I’m just a middle-aged
Middle-Eastern
camel-herdin’
man … I’ve got a little two bedroom
cave here in north Afghanistan.”
Like all genres, some country
can make people uncomfortable
and push societal norms. One
freshman
student
interviewed
argued this song is an example of
cultural appropriation and that
Keith
inappropriately
adopted
the story of an Afghan citizen to
weaponize their story for jingoistic
propaganda. Though I agree that
Keith could have represented
Afghan people with more nuance
and respect, and that the song’s
account of American intervention
in the Middle East strays from
reality, I find fault with the thesis
that telling a story about a different
culture
automatically
equates
cultural appropriation. This kind
of thinking can lead to another
form of tribal bigotry: the belief
that art should be ethnically or
nationalistically coded, and that
an artist can’t tell a story about a
character from a different way of
life.
While “The Taliban Song”
raises questions about country’s
past, Kane Brown’s hit “Good
As You” brings to country a
sensibility unique to a white,
Black and Cherokee multiracial
identity.
Midland’s
“Drinkin’
Problem (Brindemos)” features
Mexican artist Jay De La Cueva’s
entirely Spanish verses. Of course,
we should be focused on the
musicality of an artist, not their
race or nationality, but in a culture
where identity is on everyone’s
minds, these artists and their
musical contributions help lend a
new modern face to country.
Like rap and hip-hop, the
country genre also integrates
masculine aggression into music.
This is one of the reasons rap is
so attractive to young, upwardly
mobile males. Many people often
wonder why Sperry-wearing high
schoolers from Connecticut flock
to rap concerts in the hundreds.
While debates rage on about toxic
masculinity, condemning signs of
aggression in men, rap songs like
Jay Rock’s “WIN” feature lines like
“Get out the way … f––k everything
else … Win, win, win, win.” This
triumphant and rebellious ethos
captures the minds of young men
and helps them direct their own
aggression into musical energy
and passion. Country can do the
same. In Chris Stapleton’s “Outlaw
State of Mind,” his lines “there’s
people all across the land from
New York out to old San Fran / just
don’t give a damn all the time / in
an outlaw state of mind,” embody
the same rugged individualism
intertwined with male rap, and
offers a subway-commuting, nine-
to-five professional the catharsis of
the cowboy romanticism that lies
at the heart of so many Western
stories.
So is the dislike for country
music
valid
criticism
or
mainstream cultural elitism? Like
any good debate, I think this is
where nuance plays a role. Some
dislike country because of its
connection to past racism, others
dislike it because it’s trendy to like
Lil Wayne instead, and somewhere
in
the
middle
are
everyday
Americans trying to identify with
real and enjoyable stories that
artists tell through their music.
Perhaps
country’s
journey
along the spectrum of popularity
speaks to a greater attentiveness
that Americans have for their
neighbors who might have been
raised a little differently in a far off
part of the country. They might not
have a lot of pickup trucks or front
yard beer bashes in my native New
York City, but that doesn’t mean I
can’t sing along with a friend who
finds a piece of home in a song on
the radio.
A
few nights ago I was
eating dinner with a
group of colleagues, and
like most conversations these
days, we ended up talking about
politics. Specifically, someone at
the table began a long rant, filled
with sexist tropes and ignorant
conclusions, about people who
free bleed — bleed without
using menstrual products like a
pad, tampon or menstrual cup
— during their period. In her
chastisement, she said, “Radical
feminists like those people ruin
it for the rest of us.”
What a profoundly ignorant
and misguided statement.
While
there
were
many
issues with what this person
said,
including
misogynistic
notions about female bodies
and
reproductive
processes,
the idea that radical feminists
were somehow a hindrance
to other feminists was deeply
uninformed and quite frankly,
ridiculous.
Yet, I was not surprised.
During the mid-2010s, especially
in the wake of the 2016 election,
there has been a resurgence of
feminism, sometimes referred
to as “fourth wave feminism.”
While feminism requires new
feminists to join the cause in
order to persist and thrive over
time, it is imperative that new
feminists familiarize themselves
with
feminist
history
and
principles. However, in this new
resurgence, many new and young
feminists are perpetuating and
popularizing a very shallow
brand of feminism.
In
We
Were
Feminists
Once, Andi Zeisler, founder
of Bitch Media, discusses the
implications
of
marketplace
feminism: where feminism is
adopted by brands, which are
often guilty of anti-feminist
practices, to sell products as
part of some sort of feminist
lifestyle.
In
this
way,
21st
century feminism has been,
according to Zeisler, “co-opted,
watered down, and turned into
a gyratory media trend…[with] a
media landscape brimming with
the language of empowerment,
but offering little in the way of
transformational change.”
I have to agree. In fact, the
idea of empowerment itself is
foolish and ill-advised because
it is based on the false idea that
women are not leaning-in and
seizing opportunities or power.
When companies or policies
claim to empower women, they
fail to recognize the fact it is
not actually women who aren’t
asking for raises or saying no to
inappropriate sexual advances,
but systems of power that
intentionally prevent women,
particularly women with other
marginalized identities, from
gaining financial, political or
social power in order to uphold
patriarchal institutions.
Especially on International
Women’s Day or during the
Women’s
March,
my
social
media feeds will be flooded with
images of young women wearing
pussy hats or something with
a seemingly-feminist slogan or
posts about girl power, women
supporting women and so-called
“sheroes.” Yet, it is the same
people that post a selfie in a
“Girls just want to have fun-
damental rights” T-shirt once a
year whose claim to feminism is
hollow and unproductive.
Of course, there have been
feminist activists and academics
doing hard and comprehensive
work for years. I do not include
them in groups that practice
Frivolous Feminism, nor do
I mean to be condescending
towards young people new to
feminism.
I certainly was not as socially
or politically aware when I first
claimed the feminist identity as I
am now with women’s studies as
one of my majors. And that’s OK.
Becoming socially and politically
aware is a learning process, one
where we will make mistakes
and learn from those mistakes.
But we cannot learn from our
mistakes if we don’t know when
we’ve made them or understand
their implications. This is where
the importance of criticism
comes in. Critical thinking is at
the root of feminism, precisely
because
feminism
was,
in
part, borne out of critiques of
patriarchal systems, like those
that did not allow women to vote.
When
the
aforementioned
person decried radical feminists,
it was clear she lacked knowledge
about feminism and its history.
It is also clear she has not read
feminist text or engaged with
feminist theory on any serious
level, if at all. But she is not alone.
Among
many
newly-
identifying feminists, there is
often tone policing going on in
order to make feminism more
acceptable to other people (i.e.
men). In trying to make it more
agreeable,
tone-policers
are
stripping feminism of its power
to challenge and dismantle the
systems of power and oppression
that hurt and constrain women
every day.
Radical
feminists,
particularly radical Black and
lesbian feminists such as Audre
Lorde or the writers of “The
Combahee
River
Collective
Statement,” have consistently
been leading the feminist cause
through progressive activism
and contributing to fundamental
feminist theory.
This is not about gatekeeping
feminism
by
telling
anyone
they can or cannot identify as
a feminist. It is about pointing
out the problem with using
feminism, especially when it is
pseudo-feminism, as a tool to
undermine and exclude other
people.
A feminist awakening calls on
us to examine the ways in which
we benefit from and continue
to uphold a white supremacist
capitalist
heteropatriarchy.
Further,
feminism
requires
work,
including
a
personal
divestment from systems of
oppression.
In the words of Black feminist
Lutze B., “Feminism is not
a sorority or Mary Kay like
endeavor. It is a sociopolitical
ideology. Become a student of it.
Read.”
Feminism is not a sorority
Miles Stephenson can be reached at
mvsteph@umich.edu.
ELLERY ROSENZWEIG | COLUMN
Ellery Rosenzweig can be reached
at erosenz@umich.edu.
A sad, sad end
Marisa Wright can be reached at
marisadw@umich.edu.
MARISA WRIGHT | COLUMN
EMILY CONSIDINE | CONTACT CARTOONIST AT EMCONSID@UMICH.EDU
Conversation K.O.
ELLERY
ROSENZWEIG