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March 24, 2021 - Image 8

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Thrifting is For You
When did everyone get so into

thrifting?

Scrolling through my TikTok, the

zeitgeist of Generation-Z culture, the
majority of my For You Page has been
flooded with thrifting videos. I feel like
I’ve seen all the thrifting Tik Toks possible
at this point. A middle schooler explaining
how her outfits of the day are sourced
from Goodwill. A college student’s
clothing hauls showcasing the latest finds
from Salvation Army. A high schooler
explaining how shopping second-hand
helps the environment while creating
a unique killer wardrobe. Interspersed
throughout these videos are lip-syncs
and comedy bits, and while watching, I
couldn’t stop thinking about how much I
wanted to go thrifting.

Back in the ‘90s, my mom would go to

Value World in Ypsilanti, Mich., with her
college friends to look for Levi’s. Now,
decades after my mom, LSA sophomore
Rita Sayegh visits that same Value World
with her friends. Now, it’s not surprising
to hear of high school and college students
thrifting on the weekends, but it was
at one point. In the late 90s to the mid-

2000s, fast-fashion labels dominated the
fashion industry. Hedonistic consumption
of clothing was at its peak; Zara, H&M,
Forever 21 and more were more than
willing to feed societal haste. These brands
are the pinnacle of fast fashion, because
Zara, H&M and Forever 21 provide the
latest trends off the runway in a cheap,
quick manner. However, the trend began
to shift as Gen Z grew older. A Deloitte
study on individuals born between 1995-
2012 (Gen Z) theorized that the Great
Recession shaped the age group to become
more focused on financial security and
pragmatic about finances and as a result,
willing to shop at thrift stores to score
clothing goods at a better price. Others
have reasoned that the rise of social

media has normalized and popularized
secondhand clothing as seen through its
prevalence on social media apps. Some
speculate that the growing climate crisis
has forced Gen Z to look more critically
at their carbon footprint and refrain from
supporting fast fashion and its terrible
impact on the environment.

Fast Fashion and Lasting Issues
Thrift shops have provided college

and high school students with new
opportunities in fashion. One of these
opportunities is to create a more
intentional lifestyle that minimizes the
impact on the environment. For LSA
sophomore Brendan Bontrager, shopping
at the Salvation Army started out as a way
to find pieces for a Halloween costume or
a themed party. Bontrager didn’t consider
thrifting as a resource for his actual
wardrobe. That began to change in college
when he became aware of the nature of
fast fashion.

“I used to think of environmental harm

as oil companies,” Bontrager said. “But I
became aware of how fast fashion harms
the environment (and) how H&M has
unethical working conditions.”

As Bontrager discusses, fast fashion

creates various societal and ethical issues.
Due to its cheap prices, clothing factories
cut corners to keep manufacturing
cheap,
underpaying
workers
and

creating hazardous work environments.
However, the harm does not stop
there. Fast fashion has also fed into the
climate crisis. According to the World
Resources Institute, textile production
releases around 1.2 billion tons of carbon
dioxide into the atmosphere per year,
which is linked to global warming and
is responsible for 10% of total global
emissions.

These issues forced Bontrager to

look toward other clothing options, but,
like many, he ran into the issue of cost.
Retailers like Patagonia, Reformation
and Boden create clothing with minimal
environmental impact and ethical labor
conditions, but it comes at a steep cost to
the consumer. For high school and college

students, these costs can be a deterrent for
shopping sustainably. Bontrager realized
that he could turn to the Salvation Army
or Goodfair, an online thrift store retailer,
for his clothing needs without forgoing his
passion for sustainability.

Youtube Girls
In Sayegh’s case, she developed this

interest in thrifting through her love
of YouTube. Sayegh said that in her
childhood she watched a lot of YouTube
and she “would see the YouTube
girls thrifting all the time,” referring
to creators like Liza Koshy, Emma
Chamberlain, Hannah Meloche, Ashley
Rous and others that began posting
videos centered around thrifting about
three years ago. The most popular
video,
“THRIFTING
BRANDS!!

GOODWILL
WITH
GREATLIZA,”

from Liza Koshy has about 15.4 million
views. Comparatively, the most popular
clothing haul videos centered around
Zara, H&M and Forever 21 have barely
half as many views as many of the thrift
haul videos — the most popular Zara haul
video amassing only 3.1 million views.
Thrifting became more mainstream as
a result of young viewers watching their
favorite internet personalities finding
great pieces of clothing for cheap prices.

The change in attitude was noticeable

for LSA sophomore Abigail Miars, the
owner of the clothing resale store Umich
Apparel. Growing up in Grand Rapids,
Mich., Miars frequently went with her
father to garage sales and began shopping
at thrift stores in 2014, but she never felt
comfortable attributing her wardrobe to
thrift stores until recently.

“A couple years back, (thrift stores had)

a negative connotation that you couldn’t
afford (new) clothes if you shopped at the
Salvation Army,” Miars said. But around
two years ago, Miars realized that the
conversation
surrounding
thrifting

began to skew more positively and has
grown into a massive industry of its own.

Do the Hustle
The resale industry has been growing

rapidly. In 2019, it was estimated that the
industry was worth $24 billion, outpacing
traditional retail stores in growth over
the years. At the center of this growth
are students. Young adults have begun
reselling clothing as a side hustle, an
avenue worth pursuing for extra money.
These students will come into thrift
stores and buy in bulk. Then, they will
“flip” the clothing by customizing their
thrift finds, a process in which they crop
the shirt or dye it or sew it into different
articles of clothing entirely. Then, they
typically post the clothes on a special
Instagram account or a resale app like
Poshmark or Depop to sell it.

In honor of Women’s History Month, I

wanted to offer an ode to the most important
woman in my life, my Amma.

As a homemaker, my Amma is constantly

on her feet, 24/7/365. To gain more insight into
everything she has to do, I recently sat down
with her and simply asked her, “What’s your
schedule every day?”

She stared blankly, and after a couple of

seconds, responded, “I don’t know.” I asked
her again, phrased differently, “What do you
do every day?” She stared blankly again and
simply said, “Just sit around. I don’t do much.
It’s not like I have a job.”

My Amma never gives herself enough credit.

I knew sitting down with her and asking her to
talk about herself wasn’t going to help me write
this narrative. But I don’t usually see my Amma
in action, given the fact that for most of the day,
I am in school or away from home. The only
information I have managed to accumulate has
been from asking throughout the years, “How
was your day today, Amma?”

All of my Amma’s days are busy, and I can

intensely recall the busyness that filled her
days from 2011-2012 when my father’s parents
stayed with us. So, to the best of my ability, I
will attempt to convey everything my Amma
did in a day in those years.

6:00 a.m.: She would wake up and get ready

for the day.

6:30 a.m.: She would do pooja, the Hindu

act of saying prayers. My Amma always made
sure to pray for our health and happiness. My
grandmother would also be awake during this
time, doing pooja of her own. My Amma made
sure my grandmother had everything she
needed.

7:00 a.m.: She would make lunch for my

younger brother, my father and me. My brother
and I never woke up in time to make it to the bus
stop, let alone make and pack our own lunches.

7:15 a.m.: She would wake my brother and

me up for school. We always slept through
our alarm clocks, so our Amma was the only
reliable alarm we had. Soon after, she would
pick out our outfits. I don’t know how to dress
now, so you can imagine how rough it was when
I would attempt to pick out my own outfits
between the ages of 10 and 12. My Amma was,
and very much still is, my stylist, making sure I
don’t look like a clown every day.

7:45 a.m.: She would make sure we were

ready to take on the day. Amma would braid
my hair every morning. I was awful at doing
my own hair. In fact, I didn’t even know how
to braid my own hair until my freshman year
of high school, so I relied on my Amma to
do my hair for me every single morning. As
she brushed out all of its tangles and knots,
slathering the infamous Parachute coconut
oil along the way, she would ask us if we put
our homework in our bags and ensure we had
our water bottles. She would check to see if
we picked up our lunchboxes she made from
the kitchen counter and if we wanted to eat
something before we left for the bus. Finally,
she would take a breath for herself as the bus
entered our neighborhood, and my brother and
I would give our hugs and kisses and make our
way to school. This was her only break before
moving on to her next set of tasks for the day. It’s
funny — this would be the moment I considered
the beginning of my day. Meanwhile, my Amma
would have been up and moving for almost 2
hours at this point.

8:00 a.m.: She would finish preparing a pot

of coffee. My father would be up and getting
ready for work at this point, so now my Amma
made sure he would be ready to take on his
day. This is also when my Amma had to think
about what to make for lunch for herself and
my grandparents. On top of being vegetarian,
my grandparents do not eat eggs, onions or
garlic. And no, not even onion powder or garlic
powder. My Amma had to be creative to find
something new to make for them each day.

8:30 a.m.: She would make sure my father

has his water bottles, his coffee, his ID, his
phone, his wallet and his keys. After he leaves,
my Amma could finally take another breather.
Immediately after she exhaled, she would need
to start making lunch.

9:00 a.m.: She would make lunch for herself

and my grandparents while making sure my
grandparents are comfortable, not too cold and
all-around feeling well.

10:00 a.m.: She would set the table with

water, napkins and a placemat. My Amma’s pet
peeve is when her tablecloths get messy.

10:30 a.m.: She would sit down with my

grandparents as they eat lunch, making sure
they have everything they need. My Amma
would usually wait until after they were done
eating to eat herself, so she could accommodate
any of their needs as they ate.

June 2020 was a time in which my

mind wandered between wondering
and worrying. As the summer months
progressed, I spent my time constantly
wondering when my days would cease
to be relegated to the boundaries of my
parents’ house, with the exception of an
occasional walk around my neighborhood
to get a change of scenery and keep my
body moving. Moments that weren’t
spent wondering about my future were
spent worrying about it. Key moments
and aspects of my life such as my college
experience, graduation and the nature of
my personal relationships all had question
marks by them, and existing in this space
of uncertainty riddled me anxious. At the
same time, the socio-political world that I
was immersed in was undergoing a similar
tug-of-war. It was one that took place
between those who prioritized controlling
the spread of the virus and those who were

focused on reviving the U.S. economy. The
former group was willing to endure hits to
the stock market for the sake of saving lives.
The latter, on the other hand, desired the
immediate reopening of businesses, despite
the health risks such actions would cause,
especially for non-white communities.
Around this time, I, along with my peers,

wondered what side the University of
Michigan would be on.

On June 22, 2020, we got our answer.

It was on that day University President
Schlissel announced that the University
was planning to have a public-health-
informed fall semester. According to
that day’s announcement, this would
include a mix of online and in-person
classes, residence halls and dining halls
that would still be open to serving and
housing students and an availability of
activities that would enhance the student
experience. The promise of a semi-regular
semester placed a glimmer of hope in many
students, myself included. After months
of having virtually no social interaction
outside of those I lived with, I marveled
at the opportunity of being able to once
again be immersed in a world of my peers.
What made the deal sound even sweeter
was the fact that both the president’s
announcement and the resulting Maize
and Blueprint webpage announced not
only an expected return to campus, but
also a promise to utilize effective public

health measures, such as the expectation
of social distancing and mask-wearing
along with some level of COVID-19 testing,
and a provision of quarantine housing in
case students contracted the virus. This
plan was marketed as a way to have the
best of both worlds –– safety and the
quintessential college experience. Maybe it

was possible to fulfill these two seemingly
opposed priorities.

This sense of cautious optimism was

not long-lived. Within two weeks of move-
in day, it was clear that the plan to ensure
proper social distancing, mask wearing
and other safety measures among students
relied mainly on circulating a set of
guidelines that students were encouraged
to follow for the sake of themselves and
those around them.

The only attempt that was made to

enforce these public health practices
came in the form of a student ambassador
program, an initiative in which students
who underwent an assigned training
module were chosen to patrol campus
neighborhoods to encourage students to
follow proper public health safety measures.
These ambassadors did not have the
authority to enforce or deter any changes in
the recurring instances of unsafe behavior
such as partying or Fraternity & Sorority
Life
activities.
However,
concerning

observations made by the ambassadors
would be reported to the Division of Public
Safety and Security, which initially would
employ armed officers to de-escalate the
situation. The use of minimally-trained
students and police personnel to enforce
guidelines brought about very reasonable
concern about the potential of implicit bias
and police harassment towards Black and
brown students on campus. The threat of
this program to the safety of non-white
students was especially heightened at this
time given the widely publicized instances of
police brutality –– and the resulting protests
–– that took place during the summer and
beyond. The lack of trust and understanding
between those administering the program
and those who were supposed to be
benefiting from it caused the program
to not last beyond the first semester of its
installation. The overall insensitive nature
of the program, along with the increased
sense of caution of police presence, ignited
resistance of the student ambassadors from
many student groups, which eventually led
to the recalling of this program.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
8 — Wednesday, March 24, 2021

U-M just announced in-person classes: will this

end the same way it did last year?

KAYLA THOMAS

MiC Columnist

Design by Emily Gordon

Amma’s daily schedule

SMARANI KOMANDURI

MiC Columnist

The nature of the thrift

KATHERINA ANDRADE OZAETTA

MiC Assistant Editor

Design by Zoe Zhang

In defense of the female gamer

When people think of gamers, they usually

picture a man sitting in his bedroom ––
sheets everywhere, food all over his desk,
clothes scattered across his room as he yells
through his headset for his teammates to
come save him. Men are allowed to be messy,
obscene and obnoxious when they play video
games. They can stream the video game
missions they pursue through various online
platforms like YouTube and Twitch and rack
up millions of views within a day. However, I
have noticed when women stream the video
games they play, they are more likely to face
sexist comments from viewers about their
appearance. Women who game overall are four
times more likely than their male counterparts
to be harassed while playing online. For
example, when Pokimane, a female gamer with
over 7.1 million followers, had a makeup free
streaming event, she received comments that
called her “disgusting,” “ugly” and implied that
she “catfished” her viewers. A female gamer
is also required to take into consideration her
relationship status and appear available in
order to cater to her male audience. Another
instance of sexism in the gaming industry
can be seen with women not revealing their
gender in order to be seen as a “bro” to avoid
harassment from men online.

In my experience, I have been told that I am

not a part of the gaming community for playing
games like Animal Crossing and Stardew
Valley because they are “too feminine” to
be considered a valid game to be streamed
because of their low level of difficulty. They are
considered unworthy to be streamed because
they do not involve harming an opponent and
blood and fighting scenes, all of which are
characteristics of video games whose main
target audience are men. Though Animal
Crossing is not marketed as a game for women,
the people around me perceive it as one
because of its charming aspects such as fishing
or tending a garden due to traditional gender
roles. In my experience, men do not believe
that growing different colors of flowers on an
island takes as much precision and execution as
finding and attacking a target in a field.

Women, both as game characters and real

humans, are oversexualized by male streamers
and held to fantastical standards. In most video
games, the female characters are always seen
as innocent, thin women with slim waists and
big breasts, sharing similar physical attributes
with
anime
figures.
This
unattainable

expectation of women’s appearance becomes a
part of everyday reality when male participants
interact with women on Twitch streams. Data
provided by an Indiana University study shows
that the average female streamer is more likely
to receive comments involving words such as
“hot,” “boobs” and “cute” while the average
male streamer’s comments contain vocabulary
much more centered around the game he is
playing. These comments are a result of men

in the gaming industry becoming accustomed
to seeing unrealistic, sexualized female bodies
while playing video games and then expecting
women
to
mimic
those
characteristics

outside of the streaming world and within the
professional gaming industry.

Female streamers are oversexualized in

the gaming industry primarily because the
industry itself is dominated and controlled by
men who perpetuate these harmful narratives.
For example, Bella Poarch, a new streamer, has
been subjected to hate and backlash from social
media for her facial expressions in TikTok lip
sync videos, which critics claim is promoting
a child-like image solely to garner attention
from men. The problem here is not Poarch or
her facial expressions, but rather society and
the hyper-sexualization of women starting
from a young age. When a woman acts cute
and happy, she is not encouraging men to prey
on young women — she is simply being herself.
Having a childlike or innocent demeanor isn’t
an invitation to be sexualized. Male gamers
need to allow women to be themselves.

This oversexualization has made it difficult

for female gamers to enjoy their hobbies and
stream the content they wish to share. Now
when women go to stream video games, viewers
assume that they are “boobie streamers” —
women who supposedly wear low cut tops
and receive targeted sexual comments in
exchange for money and subscribers for their
channel. There is nothing wrong with a woman
getting her bag or wearing what she likes, but it
becomes an issue when the male gaze pressures
her to do so for validation as a gamer. This
makes many women feel pressured to fulfill
such sexist expectations because they learn
that being oversexualized is one of the only
ways to climb to the top of the gaming industry.

Male streamers do not have to worry

about being oversexualized or changing their
personality online because their community
does not view them purely as a sexual object.
They are free to play any video games they
want without being told that they are not a
“real gamer.” During their streams, viewers
are focused on the hacks the streamer is
teaching them and how engaging they are
with the crowd. On the other hand, women are
subjected to harassment, unsolicited messages
and threats from men when playing online.

As a community, we need to look at the way

we treat women who stream and game and
begin to show them the respect they deserve
for their craft. Women continuously have to
go above and beyond in all work settings in
order to prove themselves, and the gaming
community is no exception. This double
standard of female streamers having to live up
to this idea of perfection, while men are able
to simply show up, has to end. Women can be
gamers without streaming games that are gory
or bloody. Women should have the freedom to
stream whatever they want without having to
feel like they will be left out.

ANCHAL MALH

MiC Columnist

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