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