O

ct. 5, 2018. The Senate 

chamber held its collective 

breath as Sen. Susan 

Collins, R-Maine, rose from the desk 

once occupied by civil and women’s 

rights activist Sen. John Sherman 

Cooper, R-Ky., to waste nearly an 

hour of time and announce that she 

would vote to elevate accused sexual 

assailant and calendar enthusiast 

Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme 

Court. During her winding speech, 

Collins 
addressed 
everything 

from her reservations about the 

judge to the reality of the #MeToo 

movement. Collins was flanked by 

two fellow GOP senators: Shelley 

Moore Capito, R-W.Va., and Cindy 

Hyde-Smith, R-Miss. 

The former is supposedly pro-

abortion rights, yet she voted to 

permanently ban federal funding for 

abortions, including Medicaid. So, 

for Capito, it’s morally permissible to 

have an abortion ... as long as you’re 

not poor. The latter made a truly 

inexplicable joke about lynching 

during her 2018 Senate campaign 

against a Black man. When asked if 

she regretted the comment, Hyde-

Smith said she was sorry that people 

were offended. This trio elevated 

the first explicitly pro-beer Supreme 

Court 
justice, 
which 
allowed 

Republicans — especially the 6’3” 

Cheeto topped with a Pringle in the 

White House — to use Kavanaugh 

to galvanize the base in the 2018 

midterms.

Enter Sen. Marsha Blackburn, 

R-Tenn. As a politics nerd, I first 

saw Blackburn when she was 

just 
a 
climate-change-denying 

representative who debated Bill Nye 

— yes, that Bill Nye — about global 

warming on NBC’s Meet the Press. 

As someone who easily experiences 

secondhand 
embarrassment, 

watching the vice chair of the 

Energy and Commerce Committee 

get ripped to shreds on national 

television made me experience 

several 
levels 
of 
discomfort. 

Highlights of the debate include 

Blackburn calling climate change an 

“unproven hypothesis” and claiming 

that the Earth had cooled over the 

last 13 years. The constant lies and 

disinformation made her a darling of 

the right-wing. 

This energy also fueled her 2018 

Senate campaign against Tennessee 

Gov. Phil Bredesen. Conventionally, 

Bredesen — being a former governor, 

centrist and generally boring guy 

— would have been competitive in 

this race. But, on the back of the 

Kavanaugh-induced 
conservative 

rage, Blackburn wiped the floor 

with Bredesen, winning by 10.8 

percent despite being outspent by $3 

million. Since she has been in office, 

Blackburn has continued to support 

the far-right and the interests of the 

president, blocking three different 

election security measures in a move 

that made #MoscowMartha trend 

on Twitter. She has also baselessly 

attacked 
Lieutenant 
Colonel 

Alexander 
Vindman 
for 
being 

“unpatriotic.” 

The 
midterm 
elections 
also 

brought 
Sen. 
Martha 
McSally, 

R-Ariz., to national prominence 

through her loss to the most 

interesting woman in the world, 

Sen. Kyrsten Sinema, D-Ariz. Now, 

while I would love to spend the 

rest of this article talking about 

Sinema’s illustrious side hustle as 

a triathlete, I cannot. Suffice it to 

say, she is amazing, which fueled 

her 2.34 percent win to take over 

the seat previously held by Sen. Jeff 

Flake, R-Ariz. However, after the 

election, Gov. Doug Ducey pulled 

a switcheroo on the people of the 

Grand Canyon state and appointed 

McSally, who had just lost statewide, 

to sit in the other Senate seat vacated 

by the late Sen. John McCain, 

R-Ariz. In McSally’s time in the 

Senate, she has taken on the mantle 

of a “warrior,” repeatedly berating 

journalists, blaming Democrats for 

the coronavirus and belittling sexual 

assault survivors, despite being one 

herself. Now, don’t get me wrong, I 

believe McSally sharing her story is 

incredibly brave and commendable, 

but stealing a Senate seat and using 

that national perch to degrade our 

country and make lasting structural 

damage to our institutions is 

completely unacceptable. However, 

McSally is not the only person who 

cheated and lied in order to gain 

power.

Remember how I said earlier 

that there was a 6’3” Cheeto topped 

with a Pringle who was in the 

White House? Well now, sadly, we 

have to talk about him. Specifically, 

we have to talk about his role in 

shaping all of the aforementioned 

women’s political careers. Prior 

to the Trump era, Collins was 

moderate, pro-abortion rights and 

consistently spoke in defense of 

moral leadership. Capito was a 

moderate with a strong women’s 

rights agenda. McSally was a Paul 

Ryan critic. The Trump effect has 

been pronounced for all of these 

women, especially those who have 

received promotions in the Trump 

era: Blackburn and McSally. Their 

political legacies are so intertwined 

with Trump that they must echo not 

only his policy preferences but also 

his toxic rhetoric and lies. See, since 

the Republican Party is increasingly 

male-dominated 
in 
both 

representatives and constituents, the 

women who remain have become 

“Trumpified.” Unlike the old white 

guys who are inherently assumed 

to be on their side, GOP women 

have to prove themselves to a sexist 

base. This extra level of scrutiny and 

purity testing makes female senators 

from moderate Maine to ruby-red 

Mississippi 
reconsider 
political 

positions that they previously held, 

which in turn gives the president 

an increased hand in shaping the 

Congressional GOP.

While Republicans have pursued 

this strategy, Democrats have taken 

a different approach by allowing 

their young female representatives 

to span the ideological spectrum, 

from Bloomberg-endorser Rep. Lucy 

McBath, D-Ga., to Bernie Bro and 

democratic socialist Rep. Alexandria 

Ocasio-Cortez, D-N.Y. This diversity 

inside the Democratic caucus has 

allowed for a robust policy debate 

surrounding issues like Medicare 

for All and a Green New Deal, while 

the Republicans’ united front has not 

yielded much except a ballooning 

deficit and a corporate tax cut. 

The Democrats have been allowed 

to build such a broad coalition by 

not having a Trump-like figure 

to dominate the scene. Instead, 

the national party has allowed 

for debate and discussion around 

policies rather than insisting on 

political allegiance.

Now, I’m not saying Republican 

women should want Trump to lose 

in 2020 — especially because that 

would change many of their political 

fortunes — but it would ultimately be 

better for democracy and the GOP. 

A debate over Trumpism among 

Republicans and, more importantly, 

a reckoning for the behaviors 

of this era might just usher in a 

kinder, gentler, more compassionate 

conservative party. Even though 

I still won’t vote for them, it’s a 

movement I can support.

S

ince the University of Michigan’s 

initial COVID-19 announcement 

on March 11, students have been 

feeling overwhelmed, to say the least. 

The uncertainty that comes from a 

surreal crisis like the one we are facing 

induces heightened levels of stress 

and anxiety for both students and 

community members. The University 

administrators’ 
fumbled, 
multi-day 

rollout of their response measures did 

little to mitigate these fears.

In the midst of universities and 

governments around the globe enacting 

unprecedented policies, people want to 

cling to what is comfortable. Yearning 

for normalcy during a crisis is natural. 

Some students are still hanging out with 

friends and visiting on-campus spots 

while taking precautions. To many, this 

type of response seems reasonable.

It is not. 

By only providing additional clarity 

and toughening their policies March 

17, the University helped facilitate 

this dangerous attitude. The March 11 

statement did not take a clear stance on 

whether or not students should leave 

campus, only specifying that housing 

and dining halls would continue to 

operate. By not conspicuously stating 

they wanted students to leave if they 

were able to, the University caused 

confusion and many people, quite 

understandably, decided to remain on 

campus for the time being and go about 

their lives as normally as possible.

This widespread desire to stay in Ann 

Arbor for the semester briefly influenced 

my plans. I could have easily driven 

myself an hour and a half to my moms’ 

house in Kalamazoo, but I wanted to stay 

on campus. I figured being in Ann Arbor 

would help me focus on my schoolwork 

and avoid the probable challenges of 

moving back home. I reasoned that I 

could stay if I exercised precautions, 

such as limiting my movement outside 

of my residence hall and not meeting up 

with large groups. Many of my friends 

and hallmates were planning on sticking 

around, too. 

This sentiment was echoed by what I 

witnessed on my social media feeds, as 

students posted photos from bars, joked 

about spending $20 to fly internationally 

and shared statments like the following: 

“I’d rather be dead in Ann Arbor than 

alive in my hometown.” Soon after the 

University switched to online classes, I 

noticed that students were continuing 

to attend informal events with more 

than 10 people and neglecting to adhere 

to proper social distancing measures at 

such gatherings.

This approach exhibits privilege that 

is, quite literally, deadly.

It is imperative for those who have 

the ability to go to an alternative, 

safe location to do so. Crowded living 

environments like residence halls and 

sorority houses would make the virus 

remarkably easy to spread to others and 

make it difficult for individuals who 

have been exposed to properly self-

quarantine. Many people who have the 

coronavirus might not even realize they 

are carrying it, being that some of those 

who are infected are asymptomatic. 

About 81 percent of cases are mild, 

which is likely higher among younger 

demographics. A lack of caution among 

students, coupled with the effortless 

transmission of the virus, will only 

spread it wider and faster, further 

risking vulnerable populations and 

increasing the number of patients that 

health care workers will need to aid.

Additionally, not taking the advice 

to move home is seriously harmful to 

students who have no other choice but 

to stay. Some people simply don’t have 

the funds to travel or a safe place to 

go. International students are caught 

in incredibly difficult situations due 

to travel restrictions, while out-of-

state students have to choose between 

waiting it out or making the trek back 

home — potentially increasing their 

risk of exposure by traveling across the 

country — to be with their families. 

Others might need the food provided 

by campus dining halls or need to work 

jobs in Ann Arbor to make ends meet. 

Staying on campus means frequenting 

common spaces like dining halls and 

grocery stores while continuing to 

live in tight quarters, making social 

distancing harder and putting the 

students who must stay here at an 

increased risk of exposure.

By risking transmission of the virus 

in a condensed campus environment 

like that of Ann Arbor, people with 

the ability to return to safer homes 

elsewhere are only adding to the 

problem. Even though it might not 

present a severe risk to you personally, 

staying on campus and spreading 

the disease could mean life or death 

for others. Although not explicitly, 

doing this prioritizes those who are 

healthy, young and wealthy over 

those who are immunocompromised, 

elderly, undocumented, disabled and 

impoverished. Not taking the threat 

COVID-19 presents seriously is a 

demonstration of blatant privilege that 

will inevitably weaken public health 

efforts to combat the virus and prolong 

its adverse effects on society.

This is our chance to come together 

and do something good. By following 

preventative measures — like moving 

off-campus and not socializing with 

friends in person — we can prevent this 

pandemic from saturating the capacity 

of our health care system and causing 

long-term disruption to society. If you 

are privileged enough to have a choice, 

choose to help the vulnerable people 

who need us to do our part.

4— Wednesday, March 25, 2020
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Alanna Berger
Zack Blumberg

Brittany Bowman
Emily Considine
Jess D’Agostino

Jenny Gurung
Cheryn Hong
Krystal Hur
Ethan Kessler
Zoe Phillips
Mary Rolfes

Michael Russo
Timothy Spurlin
Miles Stephenson

Joel Weiner
Erin White 

ERIN WHITE
Managing Editor

Stanford Lipsey Student Publications Building

420 Maynard St. 

Ann Arbor, MI 48109

 tothedaily@michigandaily.com

ELIZABETH LAWRENCE

Editor in Chief

EMILY CONSIDINE AND 

MILES STEPHENSON

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.

LILY ANTOR | OP-ED
If you have the privilege of choice, choose to go home

Lily Antor is a sophomore in the College 

of Literature, Science,& the Arts and can be 

reached at lilyant@umich.edu.

SUBMIT TO SURVIVORS SPEAK

The Opinion section has created a space in 
The Michigan Daily for first-person accounts 

of sexual assault and its corresponding 

personal, academic and legal implications. 
Submission information can be found at 
https://tinyurl.com/survivorsspeak2020.

What it takes to be a successful woman in the Trump GOP

KEITH JOHNSTONE | COLUMN

Keith Johnstone an be reached at 

keithja@umich.edu.

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

