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
Managing Editor

Stanford Lipsey Student Publications Building
420 Maynard St. 
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
 tothedaily@michigandaily.com

Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.

MAYA GOLDMAN
Editor in Chief
MAGDALENA MIHAYLOVA 
AND JOEL DANILEWITZ
Editorial Page Editors

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