7-Opinion

Opinion

I

f you’ve been on the Ann Arbor 
campus of the University of 
Michigan between 5 a.m. 

and 5 p.m. this past week, you’ve 
likely heard chants of “Solidarity 
Forever,” 
impassioned 
speeches 

about quarantine conditions and a 
noticeable lack of construction noise. 
If you haven’t figured it out by now, the 
Graduate Employees’ Organization, 
non-unionized resident advisers and 
a host of MDining staff have been 
striking to protest the University’s 
inexcusable mishandling of the 
COVID-19 pandemic. GEO has 
additionally 
emphasized 
the 

deconstruction of the University’s 
relationship with and reliance on 
the Ann Arbor Police Department 
and armed campus police. Simply 
put, these strikes on campus are 
necessary for the collective health 
and safety of the University and Ann 
Arbor as a broader community. On 
Wednesday, Sept. 16, GEO ended the 
strike after accepting an offer from 
the University. However, the broader 
problems of community health 
and systemic injustices still stand 
and ought to be analyzed after the 
historic strike came to an end.

For many at the University, 

U-M’s COVID-19 planning has been 
an utter letdown. Between public 
health experts’ assessments, the 
University’s own ethics committee 
and the general student sentiment, 
the University has dropped the 
ball on any semblance of a “health-
informed” 
fall 
semester. 
This 

fumbling 
of 
critical 
decision-

making and lack of transparency 
has 
had 
widespread 
impacts 

that affect the entire University 
and 
Ann 
Arbor 
communities. 

For undergraduates, the lack of 
transparent communication from 
the administration on decision-
making, the absence of randomized 
testing and increased tuition make 
it incredibly hard to navigate the 
complexities of life as a college 
student, let alone during a pandemic. 

“The 
lack 
of 
details 
and 

transparency about the University’s 
reopening 
plans 
was 
very 

concerning,” Art & Design junior 
Maggie Wiebe said. “By the time it 
became apparent how ill-planned 
and dangerous the University’s 
reopening plan was, it was already 
too late for most people to change 
their plans for the fall.” 

For R.A.s, lack of sufficient 

personal protective equipment, no 
enforcement mechanisms for social 
distancing or mask-wearing and 
little transparent communication 
from the University make the 
risk of transmission and fear of 
transmission unnecessarily high. 
For graduate students, the lack of 
a universal right to work remotely, 
no representation in the decision-
making process and an insufficient 
universal child care subsidy make 
their lives as instructors and students 
dangerous and incredibly hard to 
balance. For the wider Ann Arbor 
community, public schooling has 
been remote in lieu of the University’s 
decision to bring students back to 

campus, and online schooling is more 
detrimental to K-12 education than 
to college. These mounting stakes 
and tensions made a strike effectively 
inevitable 
as 
negotiations 
and 

communications with the University 
were unproductive for both GEO and 
ResStaff. 

“We feel that a strike is necessary 

because the U-M admin has chosen 
to continue with their reckless and 
unsafe reopening plans without 
following the guidance of public 
health 
experts 
or 
their 
own 

ethics 
committee,” 
Dominique 

Bouavichith, a graduate student 
in Rackham Graduate School and 
member organizer of GEO, wrote in 
an email statement to The Daily. He 
continued, addressing the necessity 
of a strike itself, “GEO has tried to 
bargain toward our demands at the 
table, and the administration refused 
to budge in any substantive way…” 
This lack of action precipitated not 
only the GEO strike, but a strike of 
non-unionized R.A.s with similar 
sentiments. 

An R.A., who wishes to remain 

anonymous due to fear of retaliation 
from the University, expressed 
frustration and stated “The fact that 
(the administration) felt they needed 
to bring everyone back to campus to 
make money, when we don’t even 
have a firm enough pandemic plan 
so that students in quarantine are 
getting snacks, getting hot meals 
and consistently getting fresh soap is 
ridiculous.” 

The problems highlighted by 

this R.A., and the fact that they fear 
losing their housing for making 
these points publicly, are indicative 
of an administration that is blinded 
by corruption, stumbling into a 
dangerous “wealth-informed” fall 
semester. As corruption has plagued 
this 
particular 
administration, 

from 
repeated 
sexual 
assault 

and misconduct scandals to the 
mistreatment 
of 
the 
Dearborn 

and Flint campuses, a strike is the 
most — if not only — effective way 
to enact change. It leaps over the 
typical constraints that prevent 
action, having to operate on the 
University’s schedule and trying to 
separate activism and labor, and hits 
the University where it matters: the 
financials.

Striking, or withholding labor, 

is technically an illegal action for 
public unions to take in the state of 
Michigan. University President Mark 
Schlissel and Provost Susan Collins 
have leaned on this law in their initial 
patronizing messages to the wider 
university community as a scare tactic 
to push undergraduates away from 
taking actions in solidarity with GEO. 
This messaging should be ignored, 
and we should question whether this 
law has any relevant purpose except 
to prevent substantive institutional 
change from occurring. I urge unions 
and non-unionized groups across 
campus to consider this perspective 
while examining the possibility of 
joining GEO and the R.A.s, who will 
continue to organize despite the 
official strike ending. 

When the strike was ongoing, 

whether groups were moving forward 
as a union to strike alongside GEO 
or seeking actions to support their 
efforts, solidarity is important for the 
success of these collective demands. 
“It’s crucial to be supporting labor and 
workers … solidarity in organizing is 
how we will win,” University alum 
Hoai An Pham said. 

She continued, “The history of 

organizing and relationships that 
have been built up and cultivated until 
this point have undoubtedly made this 
strike stronger … one example of this 
could be from construction workers 
who are now striking because GEO 
workers joined construction worker 
picket lines years ago, or all of the 
undergrads who saw organizing done 
in years past and are joining the picket 
lines now because of that.” Solidarity 
among community allies is a must to 
support this necessary strike.

Admittedly, 
many 
are 
just 

beginning 
to 
understand 
the 

importance of strikes and hold some 
confusion about what has been 
occurring on campus. “Two big 
misconceptions … people think they 
can’t support or participate if they 
aren’t members of the union and 
that the workers are being selfish in 
shutting down the school. Both are 
false,” Vidhya Aravind, University 
alum and former solidarity and 
political action chair of GEO, stated. 

She continued, “Everyone is 

welcome on the line but there are a 
ton of virtual ways to show up too. 
The more disrupted campus life 
is, the more pressure UMich will 
face to rectify things … Remember, 
the people that care for us deserve 
comfortable work environments, 
and fair compensation and benefits. 
If they don’t have those things and 
the University refuses to give those 
things (as they are now), then they 
feel forced to strike.” 

GEO went on strike for anti-racist, 

abolitionist and community health 
demands, and continue to organize; 
R.A.s are still fighting for safe 
treatment, transparency from the 
administration and proper treatment 
of quarantined students; community 
members stand in solidarity with 
their work. Now, it is important to 
consider what comes next. While 
these efforts that are working toward 
community safety certainly have 
continued momentum, a general 
strike should have guaranteed that 
intersectional demands were met. 

Transportation, 
MDining 
and 

University faculty shouldn’t have to 
go on strike to be able to receive better 
hazard pay. Undergraduates shouldn’t 
have to walk out of classes that 
professors don’t cancel in solidarity. 
Ann Arbor families shouldn’t have to 
virtually or physically join the picket 
line to protect their community 
health, which is directly related to an 
outbreak at the University. But the 
swifter the collective action, the more 
effective it will be. Support organizers 
and strikers now. Solidarity forever.

Solidarity forever: an inevitable and necessary strike

ANDREW GERACE | COLUMN

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

BRITTANY BOWMAN AND 

EMILY CONSIDINE

Editorial Page Editors

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

Andrew Gerace can be reached at 

agerace@umich.edu.

FACULTY FROM THE SCHOOL OF PUBLIC HEALTH | OP-ED

Policing is a public health issue

Ray Ajemian

Zack Blumberg

Brittany Bowman
Emily Considine
Elizabeth Cook

Jess D’Agostino
Jenny Gurung
Cheryn Hong
Krystal Hur
Min Soo Kim

Zoe Phillips
Mary Rolfes

Gabrijela Skoko

Joel Weiner
Erin White

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

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.

Wednesday, September 23, 2020 — 8
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

I

f you’ve been on the Ann Arbor 
campus of the University of 
Michigan between 5 a.m. 

and 5 p.m. this past week, you’ve 
likely heard chants of “Solidarity 
Forever,” 
impassioned 
speeches 

about quarantine conditions and a 
noticeable lack of construction noise. 
If you haven’t figured it out by now, the 
Graduate Employees’ Organization, 
non-unionized resident advisers and 
a host of MDining staff have been 
striking to protest the University’s 
inexcusable mishandling of the 
COVID-19 pandemic. GEO has 
additionally 
emphasized 
the 

deconstruction of the University’s 
relationship with and reliance on 
the Ann Arbor Police Department 
and armed campus police. Simply 
put, these strikes on campus are 
necessary for the collective health 
and safety of the University and Ann 
Arbor as a broader community. On 
Wednesday, Sept. 16, GEO ended the 
strike after accepting an offer from 
the University. However, the broader 
problems of community health 
and systemic injustices still stand 
and ought to be analyzed after the 
historic strike came to an end.

The 
Graduate 
Employees’ 

Organization strike has highlighted 
two issues confronting institutions 
of higher education: the pandemic 
response and policing. Many see these 
two issues as being disconnected, 
believing that one is a public health 
issue while the other is not. However, 
policing is an important public health 
issue that should be considered as 
part of a “public health-informed” 
semester that reflects a commitment 
to addressing structural racism. 

The field of public health is 

primarily concerned with preventing 
death and illness. Police can cause 
both direct and indirect physical 
and mental harm. Between 2012 and 
2018, 6,295 men were killed by police, 
and from 2001 to 2014, boys and men 
aged 15-34 were treated in hospital 
emergency departments for injuries 
caused by police violence at a similar 
rate to that of pedestrians injured 
by motor vehicles. Black women 
are disproportionately represented 
among women who are killed by the 
police, and women of color are more 
likely to experience sexual violence 
at the hands of police. Many other 
groups — like LGBTQ+ individuals, 
immigrants, homeless people, those 
with 
low-socioeconomic 
status 

or mental health disorders — also 
experience heightened risk of police 
violence. 

Policing also negatively impacts 

mental 
health. 
Even 
police 

encounters that are not physically 
violent, including being stopped 
on the street or verbally harassed 
by police, have substantial and 
disproportionate 
public 
health 

impacts. 
Such 
encounters 
are 

linked to heightened depressive 
symptoms and higher rates of 
trauma, anxiety and post-traumatic 
stress. Negative encounters with 

law enforcement are also linked to 
heightened mistrust and avoidance 
of health care institutions, which 
is particularly concerning amid a 
pandemic. Racial bias in surveillance, 
arrests and sentencing contribute to a 
disproportionate risk of incarceration 
and associated adverse mental and 
physical health impacts.

Decisions made by postsecondary 

institutions 
regarding 
campus 

policing and relationships with 
local police departments are critical 
for the health and well-being of 
students, faculty and staff, as well 
as the surrounding communities. 
There 
are 
opportunities 
for 

colleges and universities, including 
our own, to divest from harmful 
policing practices and instead take 
a public health-oriented approach, 
addressing policies and practices 
which disproportionately impact 
marginalized groups. 

The 
current 
conversation 

on the University of Michigan 
campus offers opportunities to 
critically examine responses by 
the University to the COVID-19 
pandemic using a public health lens 
that encompasses consideration of 
policing practices. For example, the 
Michigan Ambassadors program — 
a student-led initiative that partners 
with campus police — involves 
surveillance and reporting of “non-
emergency 
compliance 
issues” 

related to COVID-19 (e.g. failure to 
wear a mask, large social gatherings). 
Unfortunately, 
given 
well-

established patterns of racial bias in 
policing and reporting on campus, 
such programs place students of 
color at a disproportionate risk. 
Alternate strategies to slow disease 
transmission through a focus on 
structural and community change, 
rather than surveilling individual 
behaviors, should be considered. 

In 2018, the 25,000 member 

American Public Health Association 
formally 
recognized 
policing 

practices as a public health issue 
with 
disproportionate 
adverse 

impacts on racialized communities. 
APHA’s 
evidence-based 
policy 

statement, states, “Physical and 
psychological 
violence 
that 
is 

structurally 
mediated 
by 
the 

system of law enforcement results 
in deaths, injuries, trauma and 
stress that disproportionately affect 
marginalized populations.” Other 
major health organizations — like 
the American Medical Association — 
have issued similar declarations. 

Recognizing the essential role 

of community safety in supporting 
public health, the APHA policy 
statement advocates for community 
safety through investing in the social 
determinants of health (e.g., housing, 
education, 
jobs); 
decriminalizing 

poverty, mental illness and substance 
use; and implementing community-
based alternatives to addressing 
harms and preventing trauma (e.g. 
transformative justice, restorative 
justice). The point is that ensuring 

safety does not require funding 
armed police but rather investing in 
programs that address root causes.

Institutions of higher education 

can reduce the harmful effects of 
policing by critically examining 
existing contracts with local police 
departments, 
actively 
pursuing 

alternatives and modeling the type 
of transformative change that is 
required through the management 
and funding of their own campus 
safety 
programs. 
Resources 

currently invested in policing can 
be redirected to expanded mental 
health 
services, 
evidence-based 

sexual assault prevention, affordable 
housing, tuition, equal pay and 
other factors critical to supporting 
a diverse, equitable and just campus 
and community. Creating a campus 
environment that prioritizes these 
supports over armed police facilitates 
learning and allows all members — 
particularly those most negatively 
impacted by policing — to thrive. 

Many 
institutions 
of 
higher 

education have already begun to take 
these steps. Following a request by 
Jael Kerandi, student body president 
of the University of Minnesota, 
and the killing of George Floyd by 
Minneapolis police, University of 
Minnesota President Joan Gabel 
severed ties to the Minneapolis 
police force in May 2020. More than 
85 graduate student unions, faculty 
unions, undergraduate groups and 
thousands of university-affiliated 
individuals have signed a cross-
campus statement calling for their 
respective institutions to similarly 
cut ties with local police. Additionally, 
Johns Hopkins University, Harvard 
University and Yale University have 
all recently questioned the role of 
campus police. 

Campus 
policing 
practices, 

including contracts and agreements 
with local police departments and 
federal agencies, have powerful 
implications for efforts to foster 
a diverse, equitable and inclusive 
campus that supports the physical 
and mental well-being of students, 
faculty and staff. A truly “public 
health-informed” plan for workplace 
safety on campus must recognize 
how policing impacts health and 
must work actively to improve upon 
the health of all members of the 
community.

All authors are faculty members 

from different departments at the 

University of Michigan. Amy Schulz, 

Paul Fleming, William Lopez, Carissa 

Schmidt and Riana Elyse Anderson 

are all faculty from the Department of 

Health Behavior and Health Education, 

School of Public Health. Melissa Creary 

and Julia Wolfson are faculty from the 

Department of Health Management 

& Policy, School of Public Health. 

Additionally, Alexis J. Handal is a 

faculty member from the Department 

of Epidemiology, School of Public 

Health. All can be reached collectively 

at Polpubhlth@umich.edu.

JORDAN HUNTER | COLUMN

The problem that doesn’t exist

T

he month of May this year 
had been shaping up to be an 
excellent time for Doja Cat. 

The Los Angeles rapper and singer 
is an undeniable hitmaker, with her 
song “Mooo!” becoming a viral hit in 
2018 and her song “Say So” reaching 
No. 1 on the Billboard charts on 
May 11. However, her success soon 
turned to controversy later that 
month when she was accused of 
hanging out in internet chat rooms 
with racist incels the same day her 
unreleased song “Dindu Nuffin,” 
a term which is disparaging 
to victims of police brutality, 
resurfaced from the depths of 2015. 
As #DojaCatIsOverParty began 

trending on Twitter, it was clear 

that the internet had made its 
decision: Doja Cat was canceled.

Doja Cat, to some of her 

defenders and fans, was a victim 
of “cancel culture.” Defined by 
dictionary.com as the “popular 
practice of withdrawing support 
for (canceling) public figures and 
companies” when they’ve done 
something that the public finds 
“objectionable or offensive.” The 
goal of canceling someone is to 
punish them. Both former President 
Barack 
Obama 
and 
President 

Donald Trump have lambasted the 

idea, with the latter calling it “the 

definition of totalitarianism” in a 
speech at Mount Rushmore in early 
July. To many people in the public 
sphere, cancel culture seems to be, 
and often is, public enemy number 
one. It stops its targets from being 
able to grow from their mistakes 
and does nothing but show how 
intolerant and polarized we’ve all 
become.

Cancel culture isn’t without its 

supporters, though. Adherents to 
cancel culture see it as a way of 
teaching the person, brand or retailer 
being canceled, a lesson. They did 
something wrong, so to boycott 
their work can seem like an obvious 
solution to those who support the 
idea of cancel culture. According to 
American writer Camonghne Felix, 
cancel culture can serve as “a way 
for marginalized communities to 
publicly assert their value systems 
through pop culture.” In that 
way, cancel culture gives those 
typically silenced in mainstream 
conversations a voice. In their eyes, 
this works. 

However, I have to disagree: 

Cancel culture doesn’t work because 
it doesn’t exist.

Can you name someone who has 

actually been canceled? R. Kelly? 
J.K. Rowling? PewDiePie? 

R. Kelly, currently facing, 18 federal 

counts of various sex crimes, enjoys 
more than five million Spotify monthly 
listeners — albeit from a Chicago 
correctional 
facility. 
Additionally, 

J.K. Rowling, childhood icon-turned-
TERF, still reaps the profit from her 
seven-book Harry Potter franchise 
and the accompanying movie series. 
PewDiePie, the gamer who had more 
than a few antisemitic moments, has 
more than 106 million subscribers 
on YouTube after signing a live-
streaming deal with the media giant. 

The word “canceled” has always 

had a sense of permanence to me, 
and by that standard, none of these 
people were really canceled. Maybe 
“paused” could be a better word for 
it, but by all accounts, Kelly, Rowling 
and PewDiePie have all lived on and 

continued to amass enormous wealth. 
Hardly anyone labeled as a victim of 
cancel culture ever really suffers long-
term. 

Doja Cat’s canceling in May of 

2020 wasn’t even her first time being 
canceled. It happened August of 2018 
when Twitter users discovered her 
tweets containing homophobic slurs 
from 2015, and the subsequent apology 
still gets heralded as one of the most 
hilarious celebrity apologies ever. 
After that, Doja Cat was “canceled” for 
about a year, but once the “Hot Pink” 
rollout began, the rapper was back and 
even more successful than before. 

That still leaves me with the 

question: Has anyone ever been 
canceled? Despite what happened 
in May 2020, August 2018 and the 
rest of Doja Cat’s problematic history 
— including, but not limited to, 
appropriation of Hindu culture in her 
“So High” music video — the rapper 
is thriving, having just performed a 
medley of two of her biggest hits in 
this year’s MTV Video Music Awards 
show. Even the people we assume 
to be the most thoroughly canceled 
still retain strong followings outside 
of mainstream approval, however 
small and quiet their supporters 
might be. People like what they like, 
and some are able to separate the art 
from the artist. To them, it doesn’t 
matter what the artist has said 
because they can’t “make the music 
not bop,” as explained by YouTube 
vlogger As Told By Kenya.

Jordan Hunter can be reached at 

jhunterr@umich.edu.

CHRISTINA KIM | CONTACT CARTOONIST AT CKIMC@UMICH.EDU

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