In the era of Megan Thee
Stallion and Cardi B, it can
be easy to assume that Black
women want to learn how to
dance like them. I’ll admit,
it can be fun learning the
newest dance to a hit song in
the comfort and privacy of
your home with your friends.
However, the situation that I
am about to describe serves a
reminder of how stereotyping
that all Black women can
dance a certain way can be
debilitating.
Recently I attended a party
with one of my friends who
is also an African American
young woman. Although it
didn’t bother me, we were the
only visibly Black women in
the room. When we arrived
at the party we befriended
two girls who are not Black
which was fun at first, but
then the party got boring. As
soon as the party began to
die down, the two girls who
were supposed to be our new
friends kept pressuring us
to “shake our a**.” At first
I thought it was funny, but
when they continued to do it,
I felt peer pressure to actually
dance in a way that I don’t feel
very comfortable with. After
that I felt very compelled to
leave the party.
It is known by my friends
that I am not comfortable

dancing like that, and luckily
my friend that I was with took
over and stole the attention
away from me. I was able to
stay at the party until it got
shut down, but the situation
that occurred never escaped
my mind. What if I was
there by myself and someone
pressured me to dance like
that? I think that I probably
would have done it. There

aren’t any words to describe
what goes through your mind
when you are being pressured
in that way. It’s like you lose
the ability to say “no” or “I
don’t want to.” It was an
experience that I hope to
never have again. I think that
if Black women weren’t held
to stereotypes such as being
able to twerk, we would be
able to feel more comfortable
admitting that we listen to
certain types of music or
actually enjoy certain things
that are considered outside of
the “norm.”

They look on as her lush, green
fields are plowed over
Year after year, she works hard
to provide the animals a place to
graze

They look on as her freshwater
is contaminated by the Keystone
pipeline,
affecting
minority
communities
Year after year, she cleans and
recycles the water to provide
humans with nutrients to flourish

They look on as her tall, brown
trunks are ripped from the
ground
Year after year, she tries to
regrow those trunks for the air to
be rich with oxygen

They look on as her deep blue
waves are trashed with plastics
and garbage floating everywhere

Year after year, she pushes
and pulls these waves to help the
humans move their cargo

They look on as her delicate
sky is fogged with fumes and
chemicals
Year after year, she provides
the world with her sunny skies or
rain to soothe a drought

She looks on as they build
all over her land, replacing the
greenery with dark black roads
She looks on as they kill off her
animals, using them for decor or
clothing
She looks on as they fight each
other, killing the innocent and
torturing the rest

She looks on as they slowly
change her world from green and
blue to death and despair

Year
after
year,
we
take
advantage of everything she has
provided us with
Her
land,
her
water,
her
animals, her air, her sky, her
mountains, and her valleys

Soon, she will grow tired of
replenishing us with all of her
gifts

And then year after year, we
will mourn the loss of what we
used to have
And then year after year, we
will reminisce about the times
she had provided us with all of
her beauty
And then year after year, we
will live to see our future die,
right in front of our eyes

When most people think
about the new HBO show,
“Euphoria”,
it’s
often
categorized as a racy high
school television show that
brings
you
into
the
lives
of
teenagers
dealing
with
problems such as substance
addiction, identity, sex, and
of
course,
daddy
issues.
Although these themes are at
the forefront of the show, and
they definitely hit you like a
ton of bricks right off the bat,
I can’t help but be pulled in
by the interracial queer love
story between the two main
characters, Rue and Jules.
Seventeen
year
old
Rue,
played by Zendaya, is our
protagonist and narrator. As
her character navigates her
struggle with drug addiction
and sobriety, she meets and
falls in love with the new girl
at school, Jules, played by
Hunter Schafer. Both complex
and
intriguing
characters,
their two worlds collide and
they discover their friendship
which develops into something
more. Despite the fact that this
storyline is very cliche, writer
and director Sam Levison does
an amazing job of portraying it
in a way that feels refreshing
and enlightening, even drawing
from personal experiences of
his battle with drug addiction.

(He is now fourteen years
clean.)
Of course, there have been
similar relationships on TV
before, such as Santana and
Britney from Glee, a high
school couple who played a
major role in expanding the
portrayal of interracial queer
love to mainstream media.
I think it’s fair to say that
most
representations
of
LGBTQ+ people in relationships
focus
on
the
struggles
of
coming out or dealing with
homophobic loved ones. These
stories are important to have
on-screen because it is a reality
for a lot of queer folx. On the
other hand, we need stories
about queer couples that don’t
focus solely on their sexual
orientation but also branch out
to show how LGBTQ+ people
navigate the struggles that all
teenagers in high school face,
such as unrequited love. This
is what makes Rue and Jules’s
relationship unique. Rue simply
falls in love with someone who
doesn’t love her in the same
way. It’s a story that is relatable
for many but it’s so refreshing
to see it portrayed through a
queer lens.
It could be possible that
writers feel the need to explain
the complexities of sexuality
and gender, but there’s also
power in letting things be.
We never see Rue come out
to
her
mom,
despite
only

previously being with guys
nor do we see Jules tell Rue
and
other
classmates
that
she’s transgender. In many
cases, I don’t believe those
conversations need to be had on
screen, and some people even
believe they aren’t necessary
at all. Teenagers should be able
to live freely without having to
label themselves.
What’s also cool about the
show is that the relationship
that we see unfold is also
interracial.
It
further
represents the fact that Black
LGBTQ+ folx exist and their
stories
exist
with
equal
importance to white LGBQT+
folx. Rue’s life is complicated
and challenging but, still, her
character arc is not primarily
focused on her racial identity.
Her Blackness isn’t magnified
or stereotypical, it just is what
it is.
New interpretations of queer
relationships
are
important
and a big step in the direction
of more inclusive media. I
hope the story of Rue and
Jules inspires more writers
and casting directors to think
outside of current Hollywood
standards
and
bring
more
diverse,
intersectional
portrayals to light. Euphoria
is an exciting and emotionally-
inspiring show to watch, and I
can’t wait to see what season
two has in store for Rue and
Jules. (#rules4eva)

Life is a little less funny

“Cause my love goes BANG
BANG BANG!”
Tuesday night, many John
Witherspoon fans felt their hearts
go bang bang bang. The world
receives heartbreaking news that
the legendary actor and comedian
John Witherspoon had passed
away. John was only 77. News
took several celebrities by shock.
No one wanted to believe the man
they called “Pops,” or “Granddad,”
had passed on.
When well celebrated actors
such as John Witherspoon pass, I
always ask myself, “Why does this
hurt so much?”
The answer is simple. The loss
of any Black icon hurts. It’s one
less person we look up to in the
world and one less image of Black
representation on TV. Another
person that looks like you, talks
like you, understands you, or even
made it out of the same turmoil
you endured, is gone.
That’s what hurts.
I remember when I first heard
John Witherspoon’s voice echoing
from my TV. I was a child and
it seemed like I heard his voice
before I actually saw him pop up
on the screen. In the beginning,
I wondered, “Who is this crazy
man talking like this?”
But that was the beauty of it.
John left a legacy that would
never
be
forgotten
simply
because his sound, his voice,
and his comedic ways were left
unmatched. Whenever I heard
John Witherspoon’s voice, I could

easily identify him. He had a
distinct tone and you didn’t even
need to hear the lines, “Don’t go
in there for about 35, 45 minutes.”
You just knew it was him.
He meant something to the
Black community. Like several
iconic Black figures, he was
needed during a time when
Hollywood was notorious for
crafting films centered around
stereotypes and producing films
with black people as perpetrators.
With beloved bodies of work
like Friday, The Wayans Bros,
and
The
Boondocks,
John
blessed us with comedic Black
dad
representation,
but
also
taught us valuable lessons. He
didn’t embody the stereotypical
narrative that Hollywood likes to
push, and he wasn’t a perpetrator
or a victim. He was a dad who just
was and just lived.
John created his own flare
with every character he played,
he embodied originality, and
that was something that was
needed in the black community.
His characters shined in a light
of relatability, and reflected a
sense of connection. I remember
watching Friday as a child and
hearing the lines, “Everytime I’m
in the kitchen, you in the kitchen.”
Those words lingered in my house
growing up and to this day. It
was something I never stopped
hearing my mom say, and to this
day, I’m always in the kitchen
when she’s in the kitchen. John’s
character’s voiced the beauty of
our community and he said things
that several people grew up with.
With all the comedy in the world,
he included Black culture in his

work. He kept his community
close.
John’s exaggerated characters
and physical comedy weren’t
what made him unforgettable.
He took advantage of quiet
moments and blessed our screens
with valuable wisdom. It wasn’t
loud and silly, it slipped through
quietly, soft, and raw. He was the
kind of TV dad that mastered both
comedy and life. “You win some,
you lose some, but you still live
to fight another day,” was a line
he recited in Friday, when he saw
his son Craig holding a gun that
he bought for protection. This
scene was important for the Black
community, specifically because
Hollywood
had
normalized
the portrayal of Black men
and violence. John’s voice rang
through the character Willie, as
he taught his son that you didn’t
need a gun for protection nor does
it make you a man.
The jokes that danced from
John’s
mouth
were
always
followed by a lesson. I remember
when he scolded Craig in Friday
for not wanting to eat his cereal
without milk. As a child I found
the scene hysterically funny, but
in the midst of it all, I felt it. The
scene wasn’t just for kicks and
giggles, his character reminded
a younger generation of their
privileges––having food on the
table. I even remember Willie
making Craig eat the dry cereal.
He made a valuable lesson funny
and lighthearted. And when I
think about pouring cereal, it’s
ingrained in my mind to always
check if we have milk.
His role in Friday was so

important
to
Black
culture
because it pushed back against
the stereotype of laziness. He was
a hardworking family man trying
to do right by his son and although
the movie was filled with jokes,
one message rang clear: every
parent wants the best for their
child, no matter how old they
are. Throughout Friday, Willie
constantly pushes his son to do
better and take responsibility not
only for his actions, but his life.
The major lesson Willie tried to
teach his son was hard work and
the true meaning behind being a
man.
His embodiment of relatable
characters
with
goofy
and
charismatic tactics is a timeless
force in the Black community.
John didn’t just touch the hearts
of people who grew up with
him. His legacy lives on from
my mama who doesn’t want me
in the kitchen while she’s in the
kitchen, to the 21 year old me that
still enjoys hearing Witherspoon’s
voice shine through “Granddad”
from The Boondocks, and to my
9 year old niece whose favorite
movie is Friday.
John Witherspoon is not only
mourned for his death, but the
death of an era, and the loss of
representation. He taught us that
life will give you cereal with no
milk, but you still have to eat it
and that you may fail, but living to
see another day is one of the most
triumphant things you can do.
In a statement issued the day he
died, his family said, “John used
to say ‘I’m no big deal,’ but he was
a huge deal to us.” He really was.

Comfort in the abyss

Year after year
Queer Representation
in Euphoria ‘Rules’

The clock ticks and ticks. My
eyes are lasered onto the small
hand as it approaches 9. I can’t
afford to continue looking at it,
but I can’t look away. Feeling
every second that passes, my
body reacts with a fidget, a leg
shake or that creeping angst.
In front of me: a laptop open to
too many tabs, two books with
scattered highlighting and all
of my notebooks filled with
lead to the brim. It’s midterm
season and the misery in the air
confirms it. My calendar is full

of steep assignments, but I also
have tests and classes per usual.
This
is
without
mentioning
extracurriculars, my internship,
and attempting to hold together
some sort of a regular human
life. It seems as if so much is
going on at any given moment,
yet there is so much more I still
need to do. Time now seems to
pass by quicker, the clock’s ticks
have shorter intervals, and a cold
warmth slithers through my skin.
My heartbeat is more noticeable,
my breaths feel heavier and I’m
too uneasy to keep still. What do
I do? What do I focus on? Maybe
I need to calm down and stop
enthralling over my concerns.

But I must be concerned for a
reason. I begin pacing around
the room, but all of this is surely
making matters worse. I try to
sit down and make myself work
but I can’t. My headspace makes
me claustrophobic, it is void
and silent. What do I want from
myself? Why do I feel this way?
There is a draining doubt and
burning insecurity; nonetheless,
this isn’t my first time at the
rodeo. My third year around,
I’ve acquired methods to tame
my demons.
Once I began drowning in my
thoughts, I had to learn how to
swim.
Let us take a dive: I stop…

and I take a second. Actually
take a second. Then follows a
breathe. One where the wave
of air seeps in like a tsunami-
strong. Like the form air takes,
I become nothing, I think of
nothing, absolutely nothing. It’s
impossible, but I do it anyways.
Next: with open arms I allow
my embodied anxiousness to
enter my thoughts, I greet it and
acknowledge it. Facing it does
not mean fighting it, each time
I must understand that it is but
another emotion and it is valid.
Now I gracefully plummet and
bask. Bask in pure gratitude,
bask in pure appreciation, bask
in pure realization. I think

about those who’ve raised me,
how much they mean to me,
and how much I mean to them.
I stop and think about my
friends, the last time they left me
laughing inexplicably, the last
time they were the sole reason
I felt at home. I think about the
immediate present, the now, my
tangible existence. I’ll be the
first to agree that you shouldn’t
expect somebody to pat you on
the back for doing things you’re
already supposed to be doing
— but goddamnit should you
be patting your own back any
chance you get.
Everyone should take that
break when they need it, replace

toxic habits with beneficial ones.
We should live our lives with
ourselves as the protagonists,
we should be selfish, but the
most selfless egoist there are.
Live for our pleasures; while
also prioritizing the pleasure of
creating that within others. No
other warmth comes close. And
to you- you’re reading this, and
you’ve come this far. If you were
looking for that sign, here it is:
you’re greatness. You are owed
nothing yet deserve all you’ve
earned. Your hard work does
not go unnoticed, your genuine
character does not go without
recognition and at the end of the
day, this will all be worth it.

ROBERTO SANCHEZ
MiC Blogger

CAMILLE MOORE
MiC Blogger

RAHIMA JAMAL
MiC Columnist

Fulfilling
expectations

ARIELLE MCENTYRE
MiC Columnist

YASMEEN LUDY
MiC Blogger

It’s like you lose
the ability to say
“no”

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
Monday, November 11, 2019 — 3A