The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
8 — Wednesday, March 31, 2021
I Do
Disclaimer: Though there is
still a long way to go, movements
that push for marriage equality
have swept through Asia in the
last decade. It is important that we
take an active role in condemning
homophobia and discrimination
on the basis of gender identity.
Note that I use the general terms
“bride” and “groom” throughout
in reference to my own experiences
with my uncle’s wedding.
Since turning 20, the questions
from my parents and extended
family have shifted from “Where
do you want to go to university?”
or “How are your grades?” to “Do
you have a boyfriend? Are you
seeing anybody? When are you
having kids?” and so on. While
I don’t know how to respond to
their questions, I’ll admit that I
often think about getting married.
My parents are from Malaysia
and Singapore. This means I not
only imagine wearing a white lace
ball gown, but I also see myself
walking down a banquet hall
adorned with glowing red paper
lanterns and walls that shine with
golden Chinese characters which
promise good fortune.
Back in 2013 when my uncle got
married, I was fortunate enough to
get to witness some of our unique
wedding traditions in action that I
hope to repeat when it’s finally my
turn. From the seemingly wacky
to the traditional, each ritual
emphasizes the importance of
family and promises a prosperous
future.
Starting with the date of the
wedding, it is a fairly common
practice for couples to seek the
advice of a fortune teller monk
or feng shui master to choose
an auspicious date based on the
couple’s zodiac signs and birthday
details. The lunar month of March
is considered an unlucky time to
get married because it is the month
of the Qingming festival, also
known as “Tomb Sweeping Day,”
that honors deceased relatives.
Generally, from my experience,
any talk about death — even as a
lighthearted joke and especially
on special occasions — is highly
taboo and likely warrants you
stern or horrified looks and might
even put you at risk for being the
subject of the next neighborhood
aunties’ tea group.
Likewise, couples might avoid
the lunar month of July because
of the Hungry Ghost Festival, in
which it is believed that the gates
of the afterlife are opened up
for spirits to roam. Lucky dates
include the numbers eight and
nine because their pronunciations
in Chinese are similar to the words
“prosper”
and
“long-lasting,”
respectively. For example, my
parents got married on the 19th in
the year 1999.
A couple days before my uncle’s
wedding, the An Chuang, loosely
translated to “bed-setting,” took
place. During this ritual, the
groom’s parents and grandparents
will make the matrimonial bed
with new sheets and blankets in a
lucky color — typically red or pink
to represent the start of a new life.
This job might also be undertaken
by a “lady of good fortune,”
someone who is happily married
and has many healthy children
and grandchildren, as she is said
to pass on the good fortune. The
bed will then also be decorated
with dried fruits to represent a
“sweet” marriage as well as other
grains and nuts. Children might
also be invited to roll and jump on
the bed to bless the couple with
fertility. My brother and I were
assigned this job in 2013. The
best part? My aunt and uncle gave
everyone who participated in the
ritual lucky red envelopes filled
with money, which are known as
“hong bao” in Chinese.
Based on the birthdate of the
bride and groom, going down
to the exact minute, the fortune
teller monk came up with a unique
and detailed analysis of what
zodiac animals were considered
auspicious for my aunt and
uncle. Fortunately for me and my
brother, we were just the zodiac
animals they needed. We got
special tasks during the wedding
such as opening doors for the
couple and holding the bride’s
dress, which earned us extra red
packets. Unfortunately for my
cousins, who were both zodiac
animals considered inauspicious
for the couple, they weren’t
allowed to participate in some of
the smaller activities like jumping
in the bed.
Before the couple returns at
the end of their wedding day, a
chicken and rooster might also
be kept under the bed. When
released, if the rooster emerges
first, it is said that the couple’s
first child will be a boy. If it is the
chicken that runs out first, the
first child will be a girl.
The night before the wedding,
the hair combing ceremony took
place. The bride’s mother or an
invited “lady of good fortune”
will comb the bride’s hair three
times while saying three Chinese
phrases. The first is something
along the lines of “May you stay
together all your life.” The second
is “May your hair and eyebrows
turn white together,” meaning
that the couple will grow old
together. Finally, the third is “May
your home be filled with lots of
children and grandchildren.”
This
touching
ceremony
symbolizes that the bride is
entering a new stage of adulthood,
and she might wear white to
represent purity. It’s at this
point in my future wedding
that I imagine I’ll be tearing up
while my mom is full-on crying.
Everyone will indulge in tang
yuan –– a simple dessert that
consists of chewy and colorful
glutinous rice flour balls served in
a sweet soup infused with pandan
leaves. My description doesn’t
give this dessert justice, but trust
me — it’s delicious. My favorite
is when they’re filled with red
bean paste or ground peanuts.
Also eaten during other festive
occasions such as the Lunar New
Year, the round shape of the balls
represents the full moon which,
in turn, symbolizes wholeness or
completeness.
In my opinion, the wildest
tradition is the wedding gate
crash. On the wedding day,
my uncle went to his bride’s
house and, with the help of his
groomsmen, had to prove his love
and commitment to his bride and
her family. Only after completing
a list of oftentimes embarrassing
and disgusting tasks — such as
waxing the hair of your legs,
learning ridiculous dances, eating
bizarre food combinations and
trying to pick the right key out of
a pile from a bucket of freezing
water — was he able to see her.
Anybody is also allowed to
demand bribes from the groom to
let him pass the front door, which
I unfortunately didn’t discover
until after the game was nearly
over.
Stop leaving Her out of the conversation
Disclaimer: The author of this piece
is not a Black trans woman. This piece
is intended to address other readers
who do not identify as Black trans
women and call upon their urgent
allyship and action.
Happy Women’s History Month!
I’m sure you’ve seen cute graphics
of women floating around your
Instagram explore page. Or maybe
your Twitter timeline is flooded
with celebrities acknowledging the
important women in their lives.
This month intends to celebrate
the accomplishments and strides
towards equality women have made
throughout the world, as well as
celebrate the impact women have
in all aspects of life. While it’s quite
admirable to look at the much-
needed improvements we have
made in relation to gender equality,
it has become increasingly apparent
that this month fails to shine light
on the women who are continuously
left out of the conversation: Black
transgender women.
The intersectionality of being
Black, transgender and a woman
disproportionately
make
these
women targets of hate crimes and
state-sanctioned violence. During
the summer of 2020, six Black
transgender
women
––
Brayla
Stone, Merci Mack, Shakiie Peters,
Draya McCarty, Tatiana Hall and
Bree Black –– were killed within
nine days. The National Council
for
Transgender
Equality
U.S.
Transgender
Survey
revealed
that 47% of the survey’s Black
respondents “reported being denied
equal treatment, verbally harassed,
and/or physically attacked in the past
year because of being transgender.”
While 22% of transgender people
reported
experiencing
biased
harassment from police officers,
38% of Black trans people reported
this kind of harassment. Given
that transgender women of color
are
disproportionately
victims
of hate crimes, it can be assumed
that
Black
trans
women
are
experiencing violence all the more
frequently due to the intersection of
transphobia and ongoing anti-Black
oppression. Kimberlé Crenshaw,
Black feminist who coined the
term “intersectionality,” says the
term aims to acknowledge and
account for the fact that “many
of our social justice problems like
racism and sexism are overlapping,
creating multiple levels of injustice.”
Intersectionality
fundamentally
helps to acknowledge the role
oppression plays in the formation
of discriminatory policies and its
subsequent effect on Black trans
women’s identities.
The violence that Black trans
women experience not only exists
interpersonally, but also systemically,
as
Black
transgender
people
disproportionately
experience
high rates of unemployment and
poverty. The unemployment rate
for Black trans people in the United
States is 26%, which is four times
greater than that of the general
population. Black trans people also
experience homelessness at a rate
five times greater than the national
average. While these statistics are
generalized to Black trans people
as a whole, it is an inescapable fact
that low-income Black trans women
are victimized by violence at even
higher rates, both interpersonally
and
through
state-sanctioned
means. More specifically, women as
a whole earning between $15,000
and $24,000 reported a third more
occurrences of domestic violence
than women who earn more than
$75,000.
Because
Black
trans
women face difficulties regarding
employment and poverty, they
are likely to fit within this income
bracket that correlates to higher
rates of domestic violence. 80%
of trans women also reported
experiencing discrimination while
working, which creates an unsafe
and unstable environment. For
many Black trans women, economic
insecurity corresponds with higher
rates of intimate partner violence ––
these women are less likely to report
cases of violence due to their distrust
in the criminal justice system, as
the existing legal system inherently
upholds ideals of white supremacy.
For one example amongst many,
Black people are incarcerated at five
times the rate of white people while
also making up 47% of wrongful
convictions.
The
legal
system
uplifts the white majority through
policy and law while systematically
ensuring that marginalized groups,
including
Black
trans
women,
continue to experience violence and
poverty.
In
order
to
economically
empower Black trans women, new
policies must be put in place across
the board. Universal basic income
has the potential to keep Black trans
women above the poverty line,
which would allow them to leave
the “economic threshold” that is
associated with the highest rates
of violence. Affirmative action in
relation to employment for Black
trans women could also improve
their job outlook, consequently
minimizing unemployment rates and
promoting safer work environments.
Allowing Black trans women to
have representation in creating
policies that will benefit their
community, such as those outlined
by Trans Agenda of Liberation, is
another effective starting point for
promoting upward mobility.
Despite the fact that violence
against Black transgender women
is unfortunately common, there
is hardly any policy in action
preventing their loss of life. Violence
towards trans people increased
drastically
during
the
Trump
presidency.
His
administration
also enacted isolating policies, such
as eliminating protections from
health
care
discrimination
for
transgender patients and rescinding
gender-identity based protections
for
transgender
students
––
including Title IX policy reversals,
which
no
longer
safeguarded
rights
of
transgender
students
in public schools to use facilities
in accordance with their gender
identity. Additionally, the Trump
administration appointed several
anti-LGBTQ+ political judges and
policy
makers.
Discriminatory
practices are also maintained at the
state level –– South Carolina
recently removed gender and sexual
orientation from their hate crime
bill, leaving Black trans women
and other members of the LGBTQ+
community unprotected in South
Carolina. The large negative reaction
to this, however, caused lawmakers
to add it back in five days after it was
removed. Though sexual orientation
protection was added back to the
hate crime bill, the initial decision
to exclude the LGBTQ+ community
shows that this community isn’t on
the forefront of policymakers’ minds
when deciding who to advocate for.
And in Michigan, a bill has been
introduced in the state legislature
limiting public high school students
to compete on sports teams based
only on their “biological sex.”
This bill very obviously targets
transgender students, particularly
transgender women, denying the
legitimacy of their identity, and in
doing so, uses sports as a means to
misgender young trans women. This
bill perpetuates transphobic falsities
that cisgender women are “losing
opportunities”
to
transgender
women
and
subsequently,
that
trans women are not women.
Federal and state governments
perpetuating violence against an
already marginalized community
leave Black trans women without the
protection they need.
MEGHAN DODABALLAPUR
MiC Columnist
A treatise on failure
Today I am wishing that more
people were honest about failure,
because I sprinkle my own into
conversation like candy. I failed a
quiz last week, and I slipped on ice
taking out the trash. I dropped a class
my first semester of college. I quit
gymnastics and figure skating and
violin and painting classes because
I could never master any of their
outcomes just right. The New Yorker
has rejected my work more times
than both fingers can count, and
I still submit my stories anyways.
I have never been the bearer of
perfect grades. Not once. Not even
in middle school. There are half-
finished puzzles in my basement and
plans of a treehouse that I’d convince
my father to build me one day, in
notebooks I’ve barely ever used. I
didn’t call my grandmother back
before she died.
However, I feel as if my beloved
college newspaper is the only place
in the world where failure is no
longer relegated to an extension
of the self, a personal shortcoming
and a deficiency of the soul. Failure
here is too-squeaky doors, and
bikes that rust in the rain, and milk
accidentally left out to curdle –– utter
mistakes, and much more deeply, a
thing that is an unequivocally and
wholly accepted facet of the human
condition. I have failed many times
here, submitted work I’d feverishly
written an hour before noon, and
more so, work that is not my best. I
have haphazardly placed commas
where I’ve felt they belong rather
than where they actually belong and
left my editor Maya hanging for five
days on occasion because her texts
had slipped my radar. In meetings, I
am guilty of silence even though I’m
brimming with thoughts, words and
ideas, like “ANAMIKA I LOVED
YOUR PIECE ON PAATI AND
SPONTANEITY” and “MAYA AND
ANAMIKA
AND
GABRIJELA
AND CLAIRE HAO YOUR EDITS
AFFORDED ME THE DIGNITY
OF BEING HEARD,” and yet in
this space, I am still a writer. I am
a writer who receives suggestions
and good-jobs and wow-I-didn’t-
know-you-could-do-thats
and
when I speak here, the room listens,
and I allow myself to take up space
for the first time because I am a
columnist for The Michigan Daily.
I send my work to my mother and
to my two friends Siri and Duaa,
who tell me my words make them
feel something, and sometimes my
father comes home with a flesh-
and-bone copy of this paper in print
and flays it open on the dining room
table to read by himself.
In high school, a boy from my AP
U.S. History class in room C-326
said that I was far too stupid to be
there, and my friends laughed for
months on end behind my back.
I was girl-that-didn’t-know-the-
answer-when-called-on and girl-
who-was-least-likely-to-succeed.
And I knew nothing about Manifest
Destiny, too little about trickle-
down economics, and the AIDS
crisis, and Edward Hopper and
American
solitude.
There
was
nothing that was mine and only
mine. No robotics or track-and-
field or dance or Science Olympiad
or theater. Nothing that granted
me respect or acknowledgment or
validity or belonging, and I simply
existed and mostly I was girl-who-
was-a-failure.
This publication and the people
within it have never demanded
perfection from me, never asked for
anything more than myself, and I
have been in search of such a feeling,
this special sort of requiem for a
dream, my entire life.
SARAH AKAABOUNE
MiC Columnist
‘Say Her Name... Too’: Bridging dance and social activism
This Sunday, the University of
Michigan’s
student
organization
Creatives of Color hosted a powerful
discussion and movement workshop,
which was moderated over Zoom
by Dr. Antonio C. Cuyler, associate
professor of arts administration and
director of the MA Program at Florida
State University, and Lawrence M.
Jackson, associate chair and associate
professor of dance at the University
of Alabama. The conversation was
centered on how dance can serve as a
vehicle for social activism.
CoC was created by student and
filmmaker Drew Metcalf in 2017
through OptiMize’s Social Innovation
Challenge. The intention was to unite
and foster a community of artists of
color across campus. The event began
with a speaker introduction by LSA
senior and current CoC President
Tiffany Harris, who introduced the
viewing of the dance film “Say Her
Name… Too.” Choreographed and
directed by Jackson, this short screen
dance combined cinematic elements
with choreography to explore the lives
of five Black women who died at the
hands of law enforcement: Natasha
McKenna, Sandra Bland, Michelle
Cusseaux, Atatiana Jefferson and
Breonna Taylor.
In the compelling six-minute
performance,
each
of
the
five
University
of
Alabama
dancers
embodied their respective “character”
portrayals
through
intentional
movement and the use of symbolic
props. The organic emotion of the
dancers and their interpretations
inspired an engaging discussion
surrounded in love and empathy for
the rest of the event.
As Jackson explained, “(dance is)
an embodiment of all the arts.”
Each solo section was introduced
by reiterations of each of the killed
woman’s last words, a creative
decision made by Jackson, as he later
explained, to attribute the lives of
Natasha, Sandra, Michelle, Atatiana
and Breonna to their respective
dancer’s flow.
Jackson and the dancers sought
to give life to these women and their
voices, explaining that they were “not
ever trying to speak for them, but
having them speak for themselves.”
**
Following the viewing, Jackson
and his dancers demonstrated the
creative process that went into their
performance by leading the attendees
through an immersive movement
workshop. For Jackson, it was
important to find a common thread
among the women portrayed in this
piece and all people of color brutalized
by law enforcement at large. Upon
choreographing the piece, he found
this connection through a three-step
movement phrase.
Movement phrases, he said, act
similarly to literary phrases with a
beginning, middle and end. Dancers
use these movement phrases to
convey the meaning of certain words
and
experiences
through
their
art, using them as a starting point
in formulating their movements.
When he considered the encounters
that these women had with law
enforcement, he came up with three
foundational words to visualize the
emotions they had likely experienced:
“what?”, “me” and “arrested.”
During
the
demonstration,
Jackson guided the viewers through
his choreographing process word-
by-word,
connoting
a
physical
movement with each phrase. For
“what?”, he instructed the audience
to put their hands up: the typical,
intuitive response following being
confronted by the police. The next
movement represented the word
“me” and was communicated by
pointing his index finger to his chest,
encouraging the audience to do the
same. Finally, he portrayed the phrase
“arrested” by curling his hands into
fists and crossing his arms across his
chest to represent the action of being
handcuffed as audience members
mimicked his movement.
While the three-part phrase is
constructed of rather mundane
movements
he
described
as
“pedestrian,”
Jackson
explained
how these simple steps could be
transformed into more complex
dance moves as well as manipulated
and stylized to convey different
emotions by altering the pace, energy
and space used to perform those
gestures.
According to Jackson, movement
explorations served as a crucial
component that Jackson and his
dancers utilized to cultivate a
largely
virtual
creative
process.
Through Zoom, they were able
to use movement phrases while
collaboratively experimenting with
in-time
movements,
angles
and
facial expressions through remote
rehearsals.
**
During the discussion, Jackson
emphasized
the
importance
of
dancers doing their “due diligence”
as visual artists, which involved
thorough research on the lives of the
women they were portraying in order
to create an authentic representation
of their experiences. However, he
also noted that though it’s easy to get
caught up in all the research, they
must never lose sight of humanizing
these women and connecting beyond
whatever
information
is
found
through news articles or other sources
— not only capturing who they were
as people but also expressing how
they may have felt by recounting their
own lived or understood experiences
with injustice.
Design by Janice Lin
VICTORIA TAN
MiC Columnist
EASHETA SHAH &
YASMINE SLIMANI
MiC Columnists
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