7-Opinion
I am a sorority girl, but not in
the way they are typically por-
trayed: skinny, blonde and white.
I am none of those, yet I am still
in a sorority. This type of sorority
often gets lost in the great umbrel-
la of Fraternity and Sorority Life;
I myself didn’t realize a space like
this existed until later into my
freshman year, eventually joining
during the first semester of my
sophomore year.
South Asian Fraternity
and Sorority Life has been around
since the late twentieth century.
Spanning multiple fraternities and
sororities all across the country,
this community is niche in that
you usually don’t know about it
until you stumble across it. In this
sense, I truly believe that South
Asian sorority life has gone under-
appreciated, particularly on our
campus.
Dec. 7, 2020 will mark
one year since I crossed into
Sigma Sigma Rho Sorority, Inc., a
South Asian values-based soror-
ity founded on the principles of
Sisterhood, Society and Remem-
brance and committed to its
national philanthropy of Domestic
Violence Awareness and Preven-
tion. As I get closer and closer to
my first “Sigmaversary,” I’ve been
reflecting on just how integral
this organization has been to my
college life in such a short span
of time. Organizations like ours
that are a part of the Multicultural
Greek Council are rooted in tradi-
tion, yet innovative and evolving
with the times. We commit our-
selves to our philanthropy and
service initiatives, and present a
united front to represent not just
our organization but our cultural
values in the context of an ever-
changing world.
Joining Sigma Sigma
Rho pushed me to my limits. It has
challenged me in ways my other
organizations have not, and the
rewards have been like no other.
As a solo (the only member of my
class), I’ve gained a newfound
appreciation for my ability to inde-
pendently tackle challenges and
follow through with my commit-
ments. Joining this organization
instilled in me the values of dedi-
cation and loyalty not only to the
sisterhood but to myself as well.
My journey throughout the
past year, though significantly
impacted by the pandemic, has
been rewarding nonetheless. In
January, I had my new member
presentation, which is one’s official
reveal to the rest of the communi-
ty. That day, I displayed the skills
I had learned throughout the past
semester and showed the commu-
nity that I truly did earn my let-
ters. A new member presentation
involves the new class standing at
the front of a room with their faces
masked, presenting the history of
their organization and greeting
the other organizations that are
present. At the end, the members’
identities are revealed to the audi-
ence, cementing their place in the
multicultural Greek community.
This meant that I, a person who’s
always shied away from any form
of public speaking, stood alone
in front of around seventy people
and spoke from memory for about
half an hour. The event culmi-
nated in my Big unmasking me,
thus “revealing” me as the newest
member of the sorority. I moved
through this entire evening on a
rush of adrenaline, knowing that
I was doing something completely
out of my comfort zone but still
enjoying it, even excelling at it.
From that day on, I’ve found
a home within my chapter that
has been full of nothing but love,
acceptance
and
growth.
I’ve
learned that having a sister means
more than being tied by blood; a
true sister is one who is loyal yet
leaves room for growth, someone
who has your best interests at
heart and shares both your joys
and your struggles. Having this
sisterhood has been the greatest
motivation for me in the past year
to aim high and make my visions
become reality. I spend a lot of time
dreaming about what I want to do,
but that dreaming often comes
with the feeling that maybe I can’t
accomplish everything I want.
Throughout the past year, vari-
ous opportunities have popped up
that piqued my interest, including
writing for Michigan in Color. In
the face of all of the talent I saw
around me, I sometimes felt like
maybe I wouldn’t be good enough
to share that same platform. My
sisters are also some of my closest
friends, and sharing these wor-
ries led to meaningful words of
encouragement to remind me that
I have tangible skills to contribute
anywhere I want. Interactions like
these have been the extra push
I need to pursue opportunities,
eventually boosting my own belief
in myself.
On a campus where
South
Asian
student
life
is
extremely vibrant, consisting of
multiple types of dance teams
and social organizations, find-
ing Sigma Sigma Rho was like
unearthing a hidden gem. I
thought I had everything I wanted
in my other organizations; I found
friends and leadership opportuni-
ties, so I thought I was set. Adding
a sorority onto my already precari-
ously high list of commitments
hardly ever crossed my mind.
However, meeting the sisters of
SSR made me realize that one
thing I was lacking, something
that I had overlooked throughout
my freshman year, was a constant
stream of unconditional love and
support from a group of resil-
ient women. I needed that set of
females constantly pushing me to
be the best I could be and remind-
ing me just how much I am capa-
ble of to truly start believing that
myself.
Fraternity and Sorority
Life has always had an interesting
reputation throughout the coun-
try. I came into college adamantly
against any form of it, but that was
before I understood that a soror-
ity can be more than just parties
and drama. Meeting some of the
sisters instilled in me a desire to
be a part of this organization and
have these people in my corner.
When you find the right group of
people who lift you up and become
your family on campus, you finally
have the space to explore your
own definition of what it means
to be a strong woman and begin
growing into that. Finding my
Distinguished Sisterhood was the
defining moment of my first half
of college. As I reach my one year
milestone as a sister, I’m apprecia-
tive of the growth and confidence
I’ve gained as a result of my expe-
riences. My greatest hope is that
this organization continues to
thrive across the nation as one that
is redefining what society knows a
sorority to be.
On Nov. 20, the president-elect
of the United States asked the
American people for spare change.
Over half a million people in
this country experience homeless-
ness. The national consumer debt
has reached $13.86 trillion. Last
year, 35.2 million people lived in
food-insecure households. 32.8
million Americans under the age
of 65 do not have health insurance,
and that does not even include
folks that are underinsured. But
Joe Biden is asking us for more
money.
The audacity of politicians
asking the people they represent
for money isn’t new. They raise
money for campaigns, in the name
of ‘fighting’ Trump, to ‘defend’
the election and more ambiguous
efforts. On the other hand, when
thousands of Americans lost their
jobs due to the COVID-19 pan-
demic, only some of us were lucky
enough to receive a $1200 check
and the chance to apply for unem-
ployment benefits. This left many
Americans struggling more than
they ever had. And while I’m not
saying that is a single politician’s
fault (because the entire political
and economic system of the Unit-
ed States has failed us), the inabil-
ity of Joe Biden, Donald Trump
and their teams to read the room
is astonishing.
Up until Oct. 22, both Joe Biden
and Donald Trump’s campaigns
have raised over $1.5 billion. Over
$3 billion could have helped mil-
lions of people struggling around
the country, especially during this
pandemic that has affected us so
intensely. Throughout past Repub-
lican and Democratic administra-
tions, the lack of financial stability
of citizens has resulted in the loss
of housing, transportation, health
care, food, water and many more
essentials. History shows us that
one change in an administration
does not result in resources over-
night, which is why giving money
and supplies directly to those in
need makes the biggest difference.
Yet, the custom of giving poli-
ticians more money and power
instead of providing community
members with basic items is sup-
ported by many politically vocal
people. On Nov. 12, Mark Cuban,
a billionaire and judge on the real-
ity television show Shark Tank
tweeted that folks should direct
their money to community mem-
bers instead of political races.
This prompted responses from
many Democrats, as the Georgia
run-off election would help create
a Democratic majority in the Sen-
ate. Those who responded claimed
that winning the Senate would be
more help than directly aiding
under-resourced folks. Among
the responders, John Legend,
award-winning artist and self-
proclaimed activist summed up
what most were saying.
While this is a simplistic way of
thinking about the way the world
works, no, John Legend. Politi-
cians do not help the people more
than the people help themselves.
Politics are not simply “annoy-
ing”; they are often violent and
destructive
to
no/low-income
Black and Brown folks that they
claim to be representing. There is
no way to completely end home-
lessness, end food insecurity, end
debt and so on without completely
altering the way the government
runs, which thrives on capital-
ism. Therefore, the best way to
help people in need right now is to
actually help them.
That means donating to small,
local mutual aid funds and dis-
placement shelters. Spending your
free time walking through neigh-
borhoods and delivering fresh
food and water to folks. Setting up
handwashing stations and passing
out hand sanitizer and masks dur-
ing a global pandemic.
We’ve had Democrats and
Republicans in leadership giving
us less than the bare minimum
while they allow landlords to raise
rents and evict families and multi-
billion dollar industries to exploit
people’s labor for minimum wage.
As the iconic Black poet, Gil Scott-
Heron, says in his performance of
“Whitey on the Moon,” a white
man’s
achievements,
whether
they be making it to the moon or
the White House, does not change
anything for Black people. The
only real change comes from our-
selves.
Wednesday, December 2, 2020 — 5
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
My friend Grace was the first
person to ever make me a playl-
ist. She sent me a painstakingly
crafted 16 track ensemble full of
SZA, Kendrick Lamar, Outkast,
Amy Winehouse and Ariana
Grande among others. It took her
days to complete, and I still con-
tinue to listen to in its entirety
years later. What truly makes
receiving a playlist like Grace’s
such an honor is that whoever
makes it for you assembles every
song with bits and pieces of your
very being in mind. Like the fact
that you prefer Cherry Cola over
any other fountain drink, or that
you bunny ear your shoelaces
when tying them, or that cilan-
tro on your tongue tastes like
soap, or that you wholeheartedly
believe that The Atlantic is sig-
nificantly better than The New
Yorker when it comes to the rat
race that is the literary magazine
industry. But more so, music is an
extension of the soul, it’s every
dream, ambition and fear and by
that virtue sharing music comes
to present itself as the most
sacred form of friendship. In the
midst of a pandemic and an age
in which everything has increas-
ingly gone virtual, the sharing
of music has asserted itself as an
even more profound way of ini-
tiating and maintaining friend-
ships.
For the first few weeks of the
semester, I had become accus-
tomed to the sweaty palms, heart
thumping, heavy stomach sort
of sickly feeling that comes with
the introduction of the dreaded
breakout room. And while there
are many things I have come
to hate about them, more than
anything else, I hate the lack of
human and personal connec-
tion, the black screens, the large
swaths of awkward silence punc-
tuated by sighs and wait-what-
are-we-supposed-to-dos.
In
a
breakout room I was unable to
read a person’s body language,
unable to see how they grip their
pencil or whether they tilt their
chins up or down, and to observe
the tiniest of details that ulti-
mately allowed me to tailor our
communication into a meaning-
ful one, and most importantly
served for efficient and stream-
lined group work. With the
advent of online interpersonal
communication, I found that my
social skills had reduced to that
of, dare I say, my middle school
self. My jokes flopped, either fol-
lowed by forced laughs or none at
all. Failed attempts at relatability
with my peers left me question-
ing whether I was really that
unlikeable. After a lengthy pro-
cess of trial and error, I learned
that the greatest weapon of all, in
the battleground of discomfort
that is the modern day breakout
room, was meaningful conver-
sation. Much more deeply, con-
versation that didn’t surround
intended majors or future plans
or hometowns, but rather, music.
I found that people loved to talk
about themselves, particularly
the more nuanced parts. In a vir-
tual setting that has only exac-
erbated the need to satisfy every
facet of the human condition
and more inherently, the essen-
tial need to be perceived and
understood, opening the floor
to dialogue about something as
intimate as the music one listens
to, became the ultimate antidote
to breakout room dysphoria.
Perhaps the most gratifying vic-
tory of all besides completing our
assigned class work, was coaxing
a peer out of black-screen-name-
display-only-mic-off anonymity
as they raved about the hidden
genius of Kanye West, or
even watching their thumbnail
sized zoom box swell with sort
of prideful acknowledgement as
I furiously scribbled down the
songs they told me I absolutely
had to listen to. And I listened to
every single one, some of which
I’ve played on repeat until their
novelty wore off into absolute
sickening oblivion.
More so, my short time at
The Michigan Daily has been
particularly gratifying. I am
unaccustomed to being a part of
something bigger than myself,
and yet I find it pleasantly enjoy-
able. I appreciate the literary lib-
eration afforded to me here and
for the very first time in a long
time, I feel as if the words I write
have been bestowed a special sort
of weight. Regardless, not being
physically present in the news-
room, or personally meeting my
editors and fellow columnists
presents a disorienting chal-
lenge. In particular, though my
editors engage in the extremely
inward and intimate process of
reading my work, I’ve realized
that I know next to nothing about
them. With the emergence of a
shared Michigan in Color playlist
amongst the staff, I found it was
more of an opportunity to learn
about them all as human beings
that lead very complex lives. I
could glean bits and pieces of
their temperaments and charac-
ters from the songs they chose
to add, like how my editor Devak
had the most varied and out of
bounds music taste of all, or that
while Maya had only contrib-
uted three songs, they were tear
wrenching and mighty in their
own right. And most important-
ly, the beautiful and delightful
realization that my music taste
was shared with some of the
most eclectic and dynamic peo-
ple I had ever had the privilege of
meeting. It should be noted that
they have excellent music tastes
by the way.
We’re doing the most. Even
in the midst of a deadly global
pandemic and turbulent civil
unrest, we are still doing the
most … if not more than we
were doing before any of this
started. Our current reality
is one characterized by Zoom
fatigue, news and social media
overload, financial stress and
social isolation. Yet during
these
extremely
exhausting
times, almost none of us are
getting the rest we truly need.
This reluctance to rest isn’t
new. “Grinding” aka this obses-
sion with working ourselves to
death has been a characteris-
tic of American culture since
its conception. At an academic
level, we glorify not getting
enough sleep at night, taking
more credits than we can han-
dle, and putting way too many
extracurricular commitments
on our plate in order to stay
“booked and busy.”
If being busy is a flex, no
wonder we all feel so weak.
If we’re always “working to
death,” when will we get a
chance to enjoy our life? If
we’re always “on the grind,”
when do we get to get off?
The toxic effects of grind-
and-hustle culture are further
exacerbated by racial injustice,
especially in this time where
conversations on race are in
the spotlight. For Black stu-
dents, beyond the academic,
occupational, extra-curricular
duties we have, there’s often
the expectation that we take
place in a higher civic duty.
Especially in these turbulent
times Black students often
feel pressured to overextend
themselves,
exerting
extra
emotional labor time advocat-
ing for social causes, speaking
about their injustice, and doing
“the work” on top of everything
else.
With all these exhausting
endeavors, many Black activists
are recognizing sleep depriva-
tion as a racial justice issue,
and calling for a divestment in
grind culture. In other words,
we need to stop grinding. Black
community activist and healer,
Tricia Hersey talks often about
how we’ve ingrained in our-
selves a machine-like sense of
constantly working, much like
robots as a result of a grind cul-
ture that very much literally
treats humans as machines. In
a Q&A with her and Black Lives
Matter
co-founder
Patrisse
Cullors, she details the ways
in which capitalism and colo-
nization have influenced our
rest, discusses the necessity for
“rest as resistance,” and identi-
fies the relationship between
rest and abolition.
In order for us to solve the
problems of today, we have to
be able to be the best versions
of ourselves. We have to take
the time to rest … to recover …
to recoup … to relax.
When we divest from grind
culture, we also divest from
the beck-and-call of consumer
culture that drives us to place
profit over people.
We
divest
from
white
supremacist culture that plots
to over-work, over-extend and
over-bear people of color rob-
bing them of their right to rest.
We divest from the individ-
ualist, self-centered mindset
that drives competition and
capital gain and prohibits us
from recognizing the humanity
in others.
More importantly, we invest
in a healthier version of our-
selves that is centered around
joy, restoration and healing.
Most importantly, we get the
most out of doing the least.
CAMILLE MOORE
MiC “Off the Record” Blogger
Sharing music is the most
sacred form of friendship
Stop grinding
Screenshot by the author
KARIS CLARK
MiC Columnist
SARAH AKAABOUNE
MiC Columnist
Community solidarity over political idolization
Photo by Joel Muniz via Unsplash
The hidden world of South Asian sorority life
SUBARNA BHATTACHARYA
MiC Columnist