Opinion The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com 4 — Thursday, September 12, 2019 Zack Blumberg Emily Considine Emma Chang Joel Danilewitz Emily Huhman Krystal Hur Ethan Kessler Magdalena Mihaylova Max Mittleman Timothy Spurlin Miles Stephenson Finn Storer Nicholas Tomaino Joel Weiner Erin White 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 M ore often than not, the line between knowledge and fact is blurry. Knowledge is a combination of fact and experience. Facts are the empirical orders of the world and the social rules that shape mindsets, and experiences are personal documentations of charting the unknown and the unique perspectives that result from those journeys. Both must intertwine and support each other to create knowledge, but one cannot replace the other. The unknown: we are told at a young age to embrace, explore and experience it. What we aren’t told is that the burden of expectations that accompanies our identities can limit both the beautiful potential and harmful consequences of the unknown. The unknown is filtered based on race, sex, gender, sexuality, nationality, ethnicity and other divisions in society. Breaking those barriers and gaining the privilege to dissociate from the stipulations of our identities and fully experience the unknown is easier for some than for others. But it is important for everyone to be able to try. I grew up critically aware of the color of my skin, and how it outlined the expectations for me as an Indian American. From spending hours shuffling through cheap, off-brand makeup to find the perfect foundation, to trying to create a playlist that was not “too Indian” or “too American,” the first 18 years of my life were spent artfully incorporating my Indian identity into my American one. This included exploring my heritage through its art forms, literature, language and pop culture while concealing those interests under an artificial persona – one of which the Americans would approve. I was presented with a dichotomy of beliefs. “Indian” meant traditional, beautifully vibrant and ethnically distinct. “American” meant the right to free will, a plethora of opportunities and change. What resulted was an internalized struggle to satisfy the two, as on the one hand the unknown was forbidden and on the other, it was an entity to be discovered. These empirical and social facts served as the framework for the rest of my life, and my role within it seemed engraved in stone. My Indian culture presented a rulebook to foster my mindset, and my American culture paradoxically presented me with an array of opportunities without the freedom to pursue them. As a result, my experiences were limited to living up to the textbook expectations of the Indian American community and beating myself up every time I faltered. The burden of expectations began taking a toll. While I could pretend to like math and tolerate spice, the artificial passion for medicine, as I struggled to mirror my peers and idealize the dreams that were laid out for me, withered away in the competitiveness of the real world. Everything about me, from my career aspirations to my opinions, were not my own. They were reflections of the stereotypes the members and outsiders of my community had for me. Identity, in any capacity is what makes an individual remarkably unique. But often times we do ourselves a disservice by limiting our experiences to those of people who have similar identities. While there is a certain sense of comfort and stability in holding a shared set of beliefs and values, these frameworks must serve as reinforcement for a path to be taken on one’s own accord, not the path itself. I eventually realized that despite a massive immigrant generational gap — from explaining to my parents that it is normal to have a date to the senior prom to convincing them it is OK to change my field of study half way through college, and everything in between — in principle, our journeys were the same. At my age, my parents were newlyweds in a foreign country tasked with survival while I am blessed with self-actualization. For them, the United States was the unknown, and they were to embark on a journey that few had before them. Surviving meant sacrificing passions for sustenance. For me, breaking free from the shackles of social rules and having the opportunity to make that journey uniquely mine is the unknown. It is up to me how I define self-actualization – lining up certain experiences that force myself to wrestle with my hyphenated identity or maximizing my full potential and embracing what it truly means. Circumstances, and the subsequent experiences they create, vary starkly across cultures and societies. It was my responsibility to take ownership and advantage over them, to allow them to complement the Indian traditions so deeply rooted in me, in order to build my own knowledge and understanding of the real world, just like my parents did. Deviating from the mindset my Indian community cultivated in me for 18 years and instead delving into the unknown, even the parts the social rule book prohibits me from, has empowered me to discover my passion and its subsequent purpose. As college signified a fresh start, I knew that I had the potential to gain four years’ worth of experiences to accompany my “Indianness” and learn what my place in society is, beyond that of the typical Indian American. From taking classes I never expected to take before, to experimenting with friendships and relationships, I learned that my community of Indians is my strength but my passions and purposes were two enigmas that I needed to uncover and etch for myself. The unknown is unfathomable. But it presents a host of opportunities, ones that cannot necessarily be defined by what we were told or encouraged to believe. Experiences we make for ourselves, ones that challenge us and force us to think critically may initially be difficult or seem impossible. Through charting the unknown, however, we inadvertently discover ourselves and establish roles that expand and build on our unique identities and offer a unique perspective reflective of our journeys. DIVYA GUMUDAVELLY | COLUMN Overcoming “model minority” expectations B ees are often seen as one of mankind’s most beloved animals. Whether it be the buzz over Honey Nut Cheerios or Jerry Seinfeld’s sarcastic character Barry from the “Bee Movie,” we seem to have a greater affinity for these striped insects than we do for their six-legged relatives. Man- made bee habitats scattered throughout campus, most notably in the East Quad Residence Hall garden, reflect this love. Even so, the bee population is still struggling to maintain its numbers due to habitat loss and the often avoidable use of pesticides. On a sunny Monday morning in September 2016, beekeepers in and around the town of Smallville, N.C., found their hives — and livelihoods — in tatters. Millions of bees littered the ground, clumped together in mangled balls of crooked legs and motionless wings. Areas that were once filled with the hum of thousands of honeybees were now silent. Juanita Stanley, one of the affected beekeepers, recalled her initial reaction to The New York Times: “Honestly, I just fell to the ground. I was crying, and I couldn’t quit crying, and I was throwing up.” Beekeepers immediately set out to discover the culprit behind the deaths of their bees. They found that their county had haphazardly aerially sprayed a pesticide, Naled, the day before in order to eradicate mosquitoes, inadvertently killing tens of thousands of honeybees in the process. The county administrator, Jason Ward, half-heartedly apologized for the issue, saying “We’ve learned that the beekeeping community in Dorchester County, and in that area in particular, is larger than we were aware of.” Pesticide sprays — targeted at pests like mosquitoes — are becoming increasingly common throughout United States, killing countless bees and destroying hives. While deaths of captive bees on this scale due to pesticide sprays are rare, the chemicals are known to devastate populations of wild bees and dozens of other insect species. According to bee researcher Dennis vanEngelsdorp, “if you’re killing honeybees, you’re killing a lot of other non-honeybee pollinators, too, and those populations could take a long time to recover.” Since the negative effects of pesticides on insect populations still not fully known, one can only guess how many insects and animals — beloved or not — have been killed in the crossfire in the war against pests, like zika-carrying mosquitoes. An unexpected alternative brings hope to the situation, however, giving the bees a chance to buzz on. The unintentional slaughter from pesticide use is pushing some Southern states to look towards genetic modification as a sustainable alternative, altering the reproductive systems of pests in order to disrupt their populations. Genetically modified mosquitoes have been released in Africa and South America to fight zika and malaria- carrying mosquito species with considerable success. This is just one example in which genetic modification has worked towards fixing an environmental issue. In fact, many environmentalists see genetic modification as an answer to various environmental issues, including feeding a burgeoning human population on less land and helping endangered species adapt to climate change. While many environmentalists see the process of genetic modification as a sort of Frankenstein- esque process, others support its use. Even so, like thousands of Ian Malcolms, many have spoken out against the practice of genetic modification, warranting their fears by using information unfounded in and often disproven by modern science. Genetic modification of organisms has actually been the norm for decades in the agricultural industry due to its wide variety of benefits. Genetically modified food sources result in a higher yield, reducing deforestation in the process, and often requiring less pesticides than organic crops. Even the great Bill Nye, once a critic of genetic modification, has come to endorse its use, saying on Neil deGrasse Tyson’s podcast, “StarTalk,” that “genetically modified food has no effect on us.” Genetic modification is not without its flaws, however. It contributes to the worldwide loss in crop diversity and the corporate domination of the world’s food supply, with 53 percent of the world’s food supply being owned by just three companies. Whether the moral dilemmas outweigh the benefits has yet to be proven. The FDA has declared the practice safe and the nation must start allowing facts to drive the discussions around genetic modification rather than dystopian presumptions. So if you go out there and eat a beautiful, genetically modified apple that shines so bright it burns your eyes, or an orange the size of a fat baby, you might just be saving the world. Why genetic modification is the bee’s knees Divya Gumudavelly can be reached at gumudadi@umich.edu. MARY ROLFES | COLUMN Finding love? There’s an app for that RILEY DEHR | COLUMN “ So...how did you two meet?” was a question I dreaded hearing, and one I typically answered with half- truths. Sometimes I would say we met at the coffee shop where we had our first official date. Other times I would respond vaguely with the city where we’d met and hope for no further questions. Occasionally I would claim it was a rogue LinkedIn message that brought us together. Every one of these partial truths concealed the honest beginning of our relationship, because we met in a way I was convinced no great love story could possibly begin. We met online. More specifically, we met on a dating app, one making the seemingly counterintuitive claim that it’s “designed to be deleted.” While Hinge has been around for about as long as Tinder has, its rise in popularity has been more recent. Marketing itself as a dating app for people who want to get off dating apps, it differs from many of its dating app siblings both in profile appearance and liking mechanism. The app features answers to short prompts and personal interests alongside profile pictures, and “likes” are meant to be tailored to each profile instead of a recurrent right swipe. These choices do seem designed with relationships in mind, focusing on personality compatibility and customized first interactions rather than superficial attraction and copy- and-paste icebreakers. Still, it’s easy to be skeptical about the ability to form a true connection via Wi-Fi connection. Topping the App Store’s Lifestyle category chart, Tinder has played a significant role in the growth of online dating, which means it has a huge impact on how online dating is perceived. And whether through design or through user experience, Tinder has gained a reputation as a “hook-up” app, which has impacted the wider perception of online dating – to many, its utility is limited to short- term partnerships and casual flings. This reputation, along with an assortment of other reasons, stigmatizes meeting online as unnatural and even desperate. But as online dating becomes more and more prevalent, it’s important to question the reason for the swiping game shame and change attitudes about starting a relationship online. Part of the stigma surrounding meeting online may come from the remnants of the internet’s beginnings. From the Craigslist Killer to Chris Hansen’s “To Catch a Predator,” the media’s portrayal of those seeking a digital connection was defined by outsiders and people with ulterior motives, and stranger danger was expanded to the entire web. However, with the expansion of social media, it’s much easier to verify a Tinder match’s identity. By following a few simple guidelines, online dating can be a perfectly safe way of meeting someone. To many people, it can feel even safer than traditional dating. Getting to know someone from a distance presents a unique relationship phase that removes the pressure and immediacy of face-to-face interaction. It can make it easier to notice red flags and judge a situation rationally. In addition, bringing the relationship offline for the first time can be carefully planned so both parties feel safe and in control. Of course, we should still be diligent about letting trusted sources know about our plans for the first time we meet someone offline. But this isn’t a caution unique to online dating; it is the same as letting a friend know who we are leaving a party with or alerting a parent about an early morning run at the Arb. It is a fairly standard measure we take in many parts of our lives, not just for Bumble dates. Yet for many, the hesitation surrounding dating apps isn’t about fear; it’s about following the rules. Isn’t using a dating app sort of cheating? Winning a game by cheating isn’t really winning at all. Love is meant to happen spontaneously, not through swipes, and every great love story begins with some sort of meet-cute. According to Insider senior reporter Lindsay Dodgson, the convenience provided by dating apps might even be destroying love. But classifying dating apps as the easy way out leads to questions about many of the more traditional, “valid” ways to potentially meet significant others. For some, going out to parties, bars and clubs is almost exclusively about finding a match. People join certain activities and enroll in certain courses in hopes of capturing a certain type of person. A true connection is expected to be unexpected, but in reality, many people are actively looking to date to a certain extent, whether through swiping, socializing or their sociology course. Dating online doesn’t remove the possibility of spontaneity, either. What could be more unexpected than an algorithm creating an opportunity for a perfect match out of thousands or even millions of possible pairings? A well-crafted first message can certainly make for a wonderful meet-cute story. Modern technology has significantly changed how we do pretty much everything, including communicating, applying to college, ordering a cab and, yes, dating. Embracing these changes breaks down stigmas and creates a society more open to non-traditional ways of finding the one. Plus, couples with online origins will no longer need to sweat the question, “So... how did you two meet?” That might actually be a pretty cute story. Mary Rolfes can be reached at morolfes@umich.edu. Riley Dehr can be reached at rdehr@umich.edu. It is up to me how I define self- actualization ATTEND A MASS MEETING Join The Michigan Daily! We will be holding mass meetings at 7 p.m. in the Newsroom, 420 Maynard Street on September 12, 15 and 18. Come browse the different sections and learn more about the paper. A true connection is expected to be unexpected CONTRIBUTE TO THE CONVERSATION Readers are encouraged to submit letters to the editor and op-eds. Letters should be fewer than 300 words while op-eds should be 550 to 850 words. Send the writer’s full name and University affiliation to tothedaily@michigandaily.com.