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

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A true connection 
is expected to be 
unexpected

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