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