Wednesday, September 16, 2020 — 7
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan In Color

Wildcat strike. When I first heard 

this term, it seemed something feral, 
yet unavoidable, similar to when you 
mistreat an animal for long enough 
and it finally decides to bite back. As 
a ResStaff member in West Quad, 
I would say that this is an accurate 
portrayal of my own feelings about 
choosing to strike. It feels as if I have 
been knocked down, ignored and 
belittled enough times that finally I 
have reached my breaking point. And 
so, at 9 a.m. this past Wednesday, 
along with the majority of ResStaff 
members, I decided to start striking. 
I will not speak for all of ResStaff, but 
I will share the personal occurrences 
that have driven me to risk my hous-
ing and food security. This week has 
been a thrown-into-the-deep-end 
way of being introduced to labor 
unions. I was not raised in a family 
that instilled the importance of not 
crossing the picket line. While my 
grandfathers were an auto-worker 
and a factory worker, and my grand-
mothers were a seamstress and a 
homemaker, I have received little to 
no education on labor unions up until 
this point. My mother is a University 
administrator at another institution, 
so when I heard of unions it was 
often laced with traces of frustra-
tion. Now, as a laborer participating 
in a strike myself, it feels like a comi-
cal turning of tables. 

While walking picket lines and 

refusing to show up to work shifts 
this past week, I often pondered 
about legendary Detroit activist 

Grace Lee Boggs and how she was 
first introduced to activism through 
labor unions and poor housing con-
ditions. In an NPR piece about her 
life, she describes her introduction to 
activism: “she was forced to find free 
housing in a rat-filled basement… 
One day, as Boggs was walking 
through her neighborhood, she came 
across a group of people protest-
ing poor living conditions — which 
included rat-infested housing.” To 
think, only five years after her death 
in a city she knew and loved, stu-
dent workers are striking over simi-
lar conditions. No demand for safe, 
comfortable living conditions is too 
great, whether it be due to pests or 
a pandemic — or both in the case of 
the Northwood Apartments where 
students are being quarantined. It is 
soothing to know that I walk in the 
steps of an outstanding Asian Ameri-
can woman activist, but it’s heart-
breaking that I must fight the same 
struggles. 

To mention Grace Lee Boggs 

without also recognizing the inter-
sectionality of safe housing and race 
would be a slight. Grace (and I use 
her first name because I feel that she 
would embrace the rejection of typi-
cal status signifiers and would also 
stand with the more radical ways of 
teaching from activist authors like 
Paulo Friere) actively fought against 
the oppressive and racist systems 
of housing in our society for both 
Asian and Black Americans. There 
is an inextricable link between the 
location of communities of color and 
poor living conditions in intention-
ally underfunded neighborhoods. 
Communities of color have been 

historically displaced, segregated 
and denied access to equal wealth-
building opportunities and home 
ownership. This has been carried 
out through redlining (which was 
particularly directed at Black com-
munities) as well as other blatantly 
discriminatory housing guidelines 
that denied people of color a chance 
at upward mobility.

While I would never say that the 

University of Michigan is under-
funded, I would say that it uses some 
of the same predatory practices on 
students with marginalized identi-
ties that housing authorities have 
utilized. Michigan Housing’s hir-
ing process often targets ResStaff 
who would not have another option 
when it comes to paying for room 
and board. Many are dependent 
upon financial aid, and would be 
risking housing and food security if 
they stepped out of line in their posi-
tions. It is this fear mongering that 
has prevented ResStaff from strik-
ing for so long. However, many were 
catalyzed into acting because the 
difference between striking and not 
striking was literally life and death. 
In my experience, striking was less 
a choice and more a duty as a leader 
to residents in my community and 
a colleague to my fellow ResStaff 
members. It was essential that I 
use my voice to advocate for oth-
ers. However, this is a terrifyingly 
vulnerable place to be. It has been 
a privilege that I have never felt the 
same housing insecurity that I am 
feeling now. The constant paralyz-
ing ache of awaiting an email telling 
me to remove myself from Housing 
premises immediately is all-con-

suming. In such a situation, I lean on 
the community around me, but this 
comes with mounting challenges as 
I balance trying to protect those I 
care about. Over the past few weeks 
I have told friends I was radioactive 
— too often exposed to spaces where 
students are blatantly irresponsible 
and potentially contributing to the 
spread of COVID-19. I didn’t want to 
return home to visit my father for his 
68th birthday because I didn’t want 
to expose him to everything I could 
be carrying. I have dodged repeated 
phone calls from my mother because 
I can’t lie to her again and tell her 
that I’m alright while holding back 
tears. This is nothing in comparison 
to ResStaff members who are risk-
ing homelessness in the case that 
the University decides to fire us en 
masse for making our voices heard. 
I can return to my hometown if no 
other housing is available, but not all 
of ResStaff can say the same. This is 
why I strike. For the marginalized 
folks in my community who are 
being taken advantage of by Uni-
versity Housing practices that echo 
the discriminatory rules of another 
era. I strike for future student work-
ers who do not yet know how to 
raise their voices and I strike for 
myself, to give myself an opportu-
nity to demand more. Throughout 
her work, Grace Lee Boggs always 
mentions that revolution and activ-
ist action comes from a place of deep 
love. A love for people and the places 
they live and work. Funnily enough, 
the place where I work is also the 
place I live and like Grace says, I have 
an enormous amount of love for it. 
For this reason, I strike.

 VICTORIA MINKA

MiC Columnist

YOUR WEEKLY

ARIES

Get your sweetheart fully involved 
with any decisions you make, 
especially about money. It’s the 
respectful thing to do and will 
help you avoid any potential 

pitfalls from the 
Venus-Uranus square. 
Keep talking.

AQUARIUS

GEMENI

The biggest problem you face in a 
relationship this week is your 
belief that you know what your 
partner wants. Do you? Really? 
Have you actually listened, as 

opposed to just hear 
what you want to 
hear? Think deeply 
about this.

SAGITTARIUS

CAPRICORN

SCORPIO

CANCER

Any financial waste or irrespon-
sible monetary decisions this 
week will cause problems within 
a relationship. The New Moon 
boosts your communication 

skills, but you’ll need a 
lot of tact and patience 
to handle this well.

TAURUS

Conflict this week could come 
from your blood family’s reaction 
or attitude towards your lover. 
There may be prejudice or just 
irrational dislike in the mix here – 

but either way, you owe 
it to your partner to 
stand up for him or her.

VIRGO

PICES

LIBRA
LEO

Your identity is inextricably 
linked to your career, but is your 
partner fully onboard with that? 
This week’s New Moon 
underlines the need to ensure that 

you share your values 
with one another, and 
that communication 
lines remain open.

Read your weekly horoscopes from astrology.tv

The New Moon in your own sign 
is a very positive event. There’s 
potential magic in romance this 
week too, despite the Venus-Ura-
nus square. Speak to your partner 

from your very soul and 

you’ll awaken a deeper 
desire than ever 
before.

With a New Moon in your privacy 
zone, it’s important to rely on your 
own counsel this week – especially 
as advice from friends could be 
misleading. Their intentions are 

good, but when it comes 

to romance, you should 
definitely trust your 
own instincts.

What you think is good news for 
your relationship may be viewed 
very differently by your partner, 
especially if it involves your career. 
The New Moon encourages you to 

share your dreams and 

plans with your 

sweetheart – get on the 
same page.

The New Moon fires up your 
ambitions zone, so this is a great 
week for seeking a new job or a 
promotion. If you’re single and 
looking for love, don’t be too 

narrow-minded about 

the kind of person 

you’re seeking. Break 
the mold.

This week’s Venus-Uranus square 
is actually a good chance to liven 
up a flagging relationship. Spice 
things up in whatever way you 
choose, but do introduce some 

spontaneity to keep the 

magic alive. Boredom is 

your enemy.

This can be a very healing week 
for your relationship, especially if 
in-laws or others have previously 
tried to interfere in your 
togetherness. The New Moon 

highlights a fresh bond of 

trust between you, 
which you can 
definitely build upon.

The New Moon is in your love 
zone, but the Venus-Uranus 
square suggests that you’ll simply 
be too busy to spend much time 
on romance this week. If you can 
get your sweetheart involved in 

your work in any way, 
two heads are better 
than one.

WHISPER

“mothers are just people who 
give birth to roommates”

“i have decided to become 
really attractive and hot”

“i want a gf who drinks soup”

‘Why I strike’

MADDIE HINKLEY/Daily 

Growing up as “that one Asian 

kid” in a community where the 
average civilian resembled Gary 
Busey more than myself, I devised 
several methods to fit in with 
the other children at school. I 
wore chic American clothes, like 
stripped, glittery V-necks from 
Justice, and I pretended to have 
an intense passion for all things 
equestrian so a pig-tailed horse 
girl would befriend me. One of 
the early routines I adopted to be 
cool was eating the food my mom 
packed for me as quickly and dis-
creetly as possible, because it was 
absolutely nothing like what the 
other girls at my table had. There 
were days that I came home after 
school and told my mom I’d sim-
ply “forgotten” to eat the kimbap 
she woke up at 6 a.m. to assemble 
for me. I probably thought if I ate 
enough mashed potatoes, every-
one who looked at me would see 
a blue-eyed blonde instead of the 
pasty, bifocaled Korean I clearly 
was.

I am the proud daughter of 

immigrants who raised me in 
an agrarian town where food 
options, for an Asian fob, were 
nonexistent. (We had one sad 
“Chinese” buffet whose highlight 
was a vanilla soft-serve machine.) 
It would have been easy to raise 
me on a diet of Hamburger Helper 
and grilled cheese sandwiches, 
but instead my parents went to 
great lengths to ensure we could 
retain the cuisine of our culture 
at home. Comfort food was not to 
become one more sacrifice they 
had to suffer in the name of the 
American Dream. And as I grew, 
so did my appreciation for Kore-
an food. (In retrospect, I can’t 
believe that as a kid I would have 
preferred the synthetic cheese 
and bland ham of Lunchables to 
laboriously marinated meats laid 
out over a freaking pillow of white 
rice.) Every ingredient which had 
embarrassed me before — copious 
spoonfuls of garlic, pungent kim-
chi, roasted seaweed which clung 
to the teeth — just came together 
as delicious food I felt incredibly 
lucky to have at the table, cooked 
fresh every day.

Korean food takes patience 

and dedication. My mom will 
slice away every spare strip of fat 
from our short ribs. She spends 
days preparing her rich ox-bone 
broth, and weeks to ferment and 
pickle half a dozen side dishes. My 
dad delights in searing a perfect, 

medium steak for his family, test-
ing new recipes, making inscruta-
bly terrible food puns (preferably 
about nachos) and using tongs and 
scissors to fry us immorally indul-
gent slabs of pork belly. They dem-
onstrate how to eat mussels with a 
single shell and entreat me to take 
the crispiest portion of a fish — the 
tail. We each get one bowl of rice, 
the food placed in the center com-
munally, and we dig in together.

Food, for my parents and for 

many immigrant parents, is an 
expression of pure love. My mom 
will debone a whole fried sword-
fish and make sure I have plenty 
of the meat before she lifts a single 
grain of rice to her mouth. If I’m 
ever too busy to come to the table, 
she’ll wrap pork, rice, garlic, a jala-
peño slice and a generous heap of 
ssamjang in a lettuce leaf, walk to 
my desk, jam it in my mouth and 
tell me not to work so hard. K-BBQ 
fed to you by your umma just 
hits different. A love expressed 
through food is quiet and unas-
suming, like East Asia’s cultural 
status quo, but the reward is a 
complex medley of deep, spicy, 
garlicky, sweet and earthy flavors 
which play off of each other and 
warm you from within. It tastes 
like home. When I went to college, 
I realized I hadn’t appreciated the 
full extent of my parents’ efforts 
and I craved home food and cut 
fruits more than ever. Nowa-
days, I’m off the meal plan and 
I take buses to Korean grocery 
stores and try to learn — though 
I can never quite replicate the fla-
vor —to cook my mom’s recipes 
myself. I text her asking how to 
make budae jjigae and she replies 
with bafflingly rough estimations 
of her cooking process (“when 
you’ve chopped up enough onions, 
you’ll know”) followed by “good 
luck!” and a smiley face or heart 
emojis. I host dumpling parties 
with my closest friends where we 
sit around the table and whine 
about being single and applying 
to internships while folding meat 
filling into pale dough wrappers, 
just like I grew up doing with my 
family. And when I visit my big 
sister in Seattle, she always has a 
hot, Korean meal set on the table, 
waiting for me. Whenever I’m 
exhausted from a long flight out 
West, all it takes is the sight of 
a steaming odaeng broth on the 
stove to remind myself that family 
is worth crossing any borders and 
taking any risks for. Together, my 
sister and I try to hold onto these 
precious remnants of our parents’ 
love and, my God, do they taste 
delicious.

The sixth love language

 JESSICA KWON

MiC Columnist

The vast majority of my free 

time this quarantine was spent 
streaming movies and television 
shows. I found solace in loung-
ing around on whichever piece of 
furniture seemed most comfort-
able that day and spending hours 
fully engrossed in fictional and far 
away worlds. The TV show “I May 
Destroy You,” created by Michaela 
Coel, took me to an entirely differ-
ent state of mind. The HBO series, 
set in London, follows Arabella, a 
young Black writer, and her group 
of friends as she juggles work 
life, family, friends and romantic 
relationships after being sexually 
assaulted.

While numerous aspects of the 

twelve-episode series were excit-
ing, puzzling and even triggering, 
the most notable theme that stuck 
with me was the importance of 
portraying imperfect people on 
screen. This realization immedi-
ately made me think of the ‘single 
story,’ a phrase coined by the 
author Chimamanda Ngozi Adich-
ie during her 2009 TedTalk titled 
“The danger of a single story.” 
She speaks about the dangers of 
oversimplified stories or ideas we 
form about individuals, groups of 
people or entire countries. Speak-
ing in generalizations is harmful 
and erases any kind of dignity or 
possibility of seeing each other as 
full human beingsand not just one 
part of a monolith.

Coel sincerely invests in decon-

structing the ‘single story’ of sex-
ual assault, showing that sexual 
assault looks differently for every 
individual who experiences it. 

Throughout the series, we see 
five different incidents of sexual 
assault. Each survivor responds 
in such different ways, making it 
impossible to force into a single 
narrative, character or plotline. 

This is an applaudable feat as 

media portrayals of people who 
survive traumatic experiences 
can often be stereotypical. High-
lighting varying experiences with 
sexual assault shows that no one 
survivor, perpetrator or environ-
ment is the same as one another. 
It is vital to understand that every 
survivor of sexual assault process-
es trauma in different ways, there-
fore we must reject the single story 
of the ‘perfect victim.’

It is for this reason that the 

characters are written to be hon-
est and flawed; no character is 
fully good or fully evil. Coel cap-
tures the messiness, the confu-
sion, the denial, the anger, the grief 
and the acceptance that may come 
after being assaulted and how that 
can play out in daily life. “I May 
Destroy You” makes us ask our-
selves, can we really judge an indi-
vidual until we’ve experienced the 
same trauma and triumphs that 
they have?

By understanding this and writ-

ing with respect and nuance to the 
complexities of sexual assault, 
Michaela Coel has created a 
show that resonates with viewers 
worldwide, including myself. This 
series truly strives to bring more 
voices and varying experiences 
into light while forcing audiences 
to be introspective. In the end, she 
leaves us with a powerful message 
that after the dust fades (while 
some may still linger), trauma does 
not define the individual, and nei-
ther can we.

Content warning: This article discusses themes such as sexual 

assault and trauma. It also contains spoilers from the television show 

“I May Destroy You.”

Michaela Coel is Destroying 

the Single Story

 CAMILLE MOORE

MiC Columnist

