D 

ue to a pandemic-that-

must-not-be-named, 

many people have found 

themselves quarantined in their 

homes. This new window of free 

time can be looked at as a unique 

opportunity to try new things. 

Perhaps, you can finally read 

all of those untouched books on 

your shelf, start exercising, learn 

to bake, watch that show you’ve 

been meaning to get to on Netflix. 

While I am a big proponent of 

trying new things, I also strongly 

recommend 
revisiting 
things 

you’ve experienced in the past.

Re-reading, 
re-watching 
or 

even re-listening to something is 

often looked upon as a complete 

waste of time. Why give up time 

that could be spent discovering the 

millions of untouched materials the 

cybersphere or your dust-collecting 

bookshelf can doubtlessly provide? 

To me, however, there is something 

uniquely peculiar about revisiting 

old work; it’s because we never 

experience the same thing twice. 

When I reopen a book, which I 

regularly do, I am never reading it 

exactly the same way. I’m a new 

me with new experiences, new 

memories and quite possibly, a new 

perspective which will reshape my 

views of the work. This same idea 

applies to movies, television and 

music.

It goes without saying that 

our current predicament forces 

us to reconsider parts of life that 

we’d previously taken for granted. 

Many of us have been faced with 

new questions and begun to look 

at life differently. These lenses — 

quite possibly glazed with fear, 

apprehension and hope — can 

offer us the irrefutably magical 

opportunity of revisiting fictitious 

worlds with a new point of view.

Why, however, should you spend 

your time re-entering a world when 

you could instead be somewhere 

completely new? In times of 

stress, revisiting a work can be less 

overwhelming or daunting a task 

than tackling something completely 

different. The words seem familiar 

or comforting, like a weighted 

blanket, and the characters feel 

like old friends. With each piece of 

dialogue, description or downbeat, 

you may just feel a little more OK 

than you did before. I, of course, 

am not a doctor, psychologist or 

person qualified to assess anxiety or 

frustration. 
Instead, 
I 
speak 
from 
my 

own personal experience. However, 

there have been studies that support 

my claims about the benefit of 

repeat experiences. In his study, 

“Enjoy it again: Repeat experiences 

are 
less 
repetitive 
than 
people 
think,” 

psychologist Ed O’Brien discusses 

measured enjoyment levels of 

repeat experiencers. “Repetition,” 

he claims, “could add an unforeseen 

spice to life.”

Harry Potter and Hermione 

Granger were there to comfort 

me 
when 
the 
ACT 
seemed 

unconquerable. John, Paul, George 

and Ringo serenaded me 

through college acceptance and 

rejection letters. Now, through this 

uncertain and inexplicable time, 

Lorelai Gilmore has helped me keep 

calm and attack this new reality, 

clever quip by clever quip.

We revisit the same songs again 

and again — they become a huge 

part of our identity. The same should 

be said for the longer works in our 

lives; books, movies and television 

define our interests and can speak 

to our perspectives, ideologies or 

priorities in an even greater way. 

Through 
this 
process 
of 
rediscovery, 

we find new ways to connect with 

people.

Even in isolation, we can 

revisit, expand and reinforce old 

connections made the first time 

we experienced a certain book or 

movie. Who were you dating? Who 

were your friends? What were your 

priorities? 
How 
has 
that 
all 
changed? 

Maybe a connection you’ve made 

in this past year has forever altered 

the way you feel during “To Kill a 

Mockingbird” or how you pity “The 

Godfather.” There are so many new 

entrances 
and 
hallways 
and 
windows 

within the doors you have opened in 

the past. Find them, walk or climb 

through and open them. In addition 

to all of the new tasks and books and 

shows in your queue, try applying all 

of this newness to something your 

brain 
will 
remember. 
It 
may 
surprise 

you how new it may seem. 

I 

n deeply embedded systems of 

oppression, the most basic elements 

of human rights are stripped 

away. The right to plan your family size. 

The right to drink water without being 

poisoned. The right to get life-saving 

medication without bankrupting yourself. 

These issues are obvious in unstable and 

undemocratic developing countries. But, 

they also hit extremely close to home.

In 
political 
systems 
marked 
by 

corruption, high violence and extremism, 

there is a festering wound that is often 

overlooked. The rights of the affluent are 

prioritized above all else; elections are 

blatantly rigged, the wealthy can bribe 

the police and afford exemplary lawyers 

to further benefit themselves in the legal 

system. Challenges to the status quo of 

government are “extreme” or “too radical,” 

even when the statement is as harmless 

as a social media post. Those who are not 

prioritized by the state must be silenced, 

or at the very least, disempowered in 

order to maintain an unchecked system 

that protects a small number of specific 

people (tied by class, family ties, religion or 

race). This can be executed by the state in 

multiple ways.

In authoritarian regimes, freedom 

of the press and freedom of speech are 

typically the first things to be eliminated, 

like in China, where the infectious and 

potentially fatal COVID-19 originated 

before spreading across the globe. The 

restrictive policies that prevent people 

from speaking about their experiences, 

fears and challenges directly contributed 

to the slow spread of information about the 

virus, highlighting how domestic human 

rights policy abroad impacts our domestic 

well-being. 
Governments 
sometimes 

progress from illegitimate (dictatorships 

and extreme citizen suppression) to 

legitimate (a government with some 

available representation of citizens). In 

this process, the powerful politicians and 

entrepreneurs have to earn some respect 

from those that work for (and are always 

beneath) them, in order to keep their 

power.

After 
the 
American 
Revolution, 

the founders had to reckon with a few 

challenges. 
These 
challenges 
came 

primarily from non-land-owning white 

men. In order to stop violent uprisings (like 

Shay’s Rebellion), the powerful threw the 

disgruntled a bone 80 years later — giving 

them the right to vote. Despite what we 

know and understand as an obvious flaw 

in democratic liberty, at the time, these 

white men were depicted as radical. While 

their concerns were included in political 

discourse, other disenfranchised groups 

(African Americans, immigrants, women 

and the intersections of these identities) 

were still forced into cultural silence 

through subordinating and dehumanizing 

systems like race-based chattel slavery and 

disenfranchisement through strict voting 

laws.

Over time, as states become stronger, 

the affluent and powerful have to mitigate 

more challenges. When abolitionists (and 

other grassroots movements) had clawed 

their way into political discourse, forming 

voting blocs dedicated to the end of slavery, 

the issue many faced had to be reckoned 

with. When white women and working-

class white men came to personal terms 

with the atrocities of slavery — which 

African Americans had been traumatized 

by since the 1500s — the affluent and 

powerful were forced to find a solution, 

nearly tearing the country in two. In 2020, 

the impact of slavery on generations of 

African Americans is easily understood 

as a horrific human rights violation. But 

before slavery was abolished, abolitionists 

were depicted as radical. The barriers 

that exist today, upheld by past race-based 

chattel slavery, are swept aside.

As mobility, progress and change begin 

to occur and restrictions are lifted — for 

example, the fight for gay rights demanding 

media representation — and as individuals 

who are hurt by the political, economic 

and social limitations enforced by the 

government finally gain a say, they see a 

glimpse of what the affluent and powerful 

have always had. This movement led to the 

majority’s basic tolerance of their humanity, 

which then led to the acceptance of their 

legal ability to marry who they love. Now, 

the adoration of a handful of white gay icons 

(Ellen Degeneres and Pete Buttigieg) have 

worked for their recognition. Once these 

political, economic and social freedoms are 

actualized for some, they justifiably want 

to keep their sense of autonomy, affluence 

and power. Sadly, the legal restrictions 

and oppressive policies that they have 

progressed from still have a firm grasp on 

non-white LGBTQ+ members who face 

disproportionately higher rates of violence. 

Despite the expection of marriage as a 

human right, for centuries, any display of 

LGBTQ+ affection was depicted as radical. 

Today, the legacy of those barriers that 

many still encounter today is ignored.

Human rights issues are prevalent in 

every country. In China, the suppression 

of free speech contributes to the spread 

of a complicated and deadly virus across 

the globe, while the continued lockdown 

and persecution of the Uigher Muslims 

renders them specifically vulnerable to 

COVID-19. In the United States today, 

racialized 
immigration 
policies 
are 

leaving children in cages without their 

parents or basic supplies to support 

themselves. In the U.S. today, polling 

places with high amounts of minority 

voters are closed despite massive lines. In 

the workplace, LGBTQ+ Americans are 

fired because of their sexual orientation 

or gender identity. Any state-enforced 

policy that strips people of their basic 

humanity, from their right to live to their 

right to critique the government on social 

media, isn’t an attack on one group alone. 

It’s an attack on everyone, whether it is 

immediately apparent or not.

It is unfair to argue that fighting for 

fundamental human rights is radical, and 

the fear of social ostracization should 

not prevent privileged citizens from 

advocating for a progressive candidate. 

Those of us who are lucky enough to 

be able to vote because of the resilient 

and heroic actions of those before us — 

those deemed radical, unreasonable and 

idealistic — need to vote. Rather than 

pointing fingers at international human 

rights limitations, American voters must 

first reconcile with the historic and 

present-day oppression, discrimination 

and dehumanization in their own country. 

Not just for ourselves, but for everyone. 

While the freedom of speech, political 

participation and financial security may 

finally be in our grasp despite centuries 

of discrimination, we must use what we 

have fought for to help our neighbors, not 

just ourselves. And this applies to those 

currently in power, too — continue to 

silence and dehumanize others, and you 

will have serious moral and pragmatic 

fissures to mend. In 2020, vote from a 

place of hope for humanity versus the fear 

of its failures, and with the understanding 

that human rights are not, and have never 

been, radical.

4 — Thursday, March 26, 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

Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.

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.

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

ELIZABETH COOK | COLUMN

The “right” side of history

The unique experience of re-reading and re-watching

JESSICA D’AGOSTINO | COLUMN

Jessica D’Agostino can be 

reached at jessdag@umich.edu.

Elizabeth Cook can be reached at 

elizcook@umich.edu.

KEVIN MOORE JR. | CONTACT CARTOONIST AT KEYJR@UMICH.EDU