7-Opinion
L
ast
November
saw
the
continuation
of
a
local
tradition in Rochester, N.Y.,
where hundreds of women adorned
the grave of Susan B. Anthony with
their “I Voted” stickers. The act
is a nod to the role she played in
earning women the right to vote.
But the tradition glosses over a
major problem with the history of
the women’s suffrage movement:
It was done almost entirely for the
benefit of white women. Anthony
was willing to denigrate Black men
to advance white women’s suffrage.
Her contemporary Elizabeth Cady
Stanton was explicitly racist, and
both women left the work of Black
activists out of their narrative of early
feminism. The prioritization of white
women at the expense of people
of color dominated mainstream
feminism during the 20th century
and still does today. This branch
of advocacy has become a distinct
form of “feminism” known as white
feminism, and has been rightly
criticized and called out.
However, I’m not writing today
to call out Anthony or Stanton or to
critique white feminism (although
you should definitely spend time
reading pieces that do). Rather,
I’m using the feminist movement’s
struggle with white feminism as a
framework of comparison for another
advocacy movement that’s struggling
severely with pervasive whiteness in
its mainstream: veganism.
That very word may have made
you cringe. Vegans aren’t winning
any popularity contests anytime
soon,
and
lots
of
stereotypes
surround the movement, one of them
being that of whiteness. Perhaps the
image conjured in your mind when
you think of a vegan is a white person
decked out in Lululemon and non-
leather Birkenstocks toting a Whole
Foods bag filled with cashews and
quinoa. Maybe, more negatively, you
also thought of this person speaking
down to others and demanding that
everyone go vegan regardless of
circumstance, while also refusing to
acknowledge the privileges that allow
them to have choice in their diets.
The prevalence of whiteness in
mainstream veganism has made
many want to reject the ideas of
veganism entirely, claiming it’s a
“gateway to white supremacy” or
that it’s intrinsically racist, ableist
and classist. White veganism is so
damaging that many are outright
dismissing
a
movement
and
philosophy which seeks to end the
suffering and exploitation of billions
of animals each year and which has
“as far as is possible and practicable”
built into its definition.
The
relationship
between
veganism and white veganism is very
similar to that between feminism and
white feminism. Both movements
have been and still are progressing
through the work of people of color
— work that has often gone unnoticed
or uncredited. The white version of
both movements is fundamentally
opposed to the true goals of each
movement, serving only white and
often middle-class people at the
expense of others, helping them
benefit from oppressive systems
rather
than
dismantling
those
systems entirely. White people who
appropriate each movement refuse
to acknowledge their own privileges
and the constrained circumstances
and choices others face that may
limit their activism, contrasting with
the intersectional approach both
movements should be pursuing.
However, there is a dissimilarity
between feminism and veganism
in how their white counterparts
have impacted their perception as
a whole. While many acknowledge
white feminism is a problem and
it needs to be stopped, they still
believe the fundamental purposes
of feminism — to advance gender
equity and human rights — are
legitimate, and that feminism is still
valid and important. But when it
comes to veganism, its white form
has given people license to dismiss
it entirely. While this is frustrating,
it’s partially on us; vegans have
not done enough to quarantine or
reject whiteness from veganism.
However, I also think veganism’s
detractors should genuinely reflect
on their criticisms of veganism and
evaluate if they may be motivated
by their discomfort with veganism’s
implications and goals.
On our end, vegans must root out
whiteness from our practice and
advocacy on both the individual
and systemic levels. Unfollow and
stop supporting influencers that
perpetuate white veganism, such
as sisters Ellen Fisher and Hannah
McNeely or the somewhat infamous
Freelee the Banana Girl, and make
room in your feed for vegans of
color like Jenné Claiborne, Joanne
Molinaro and Nisha Vora, among
many others. This doesn’t mean you
can’t follow any vegans who are white,
but make sure the white vegans you
choose to support aren’t perpetuating
white veganism and that your
understanding of veganism is also
informed by voices of color. Similarly,
call out animal rights organizations
that perpetuate the image of veganism
as a “white thing” and demand they
make space for diversity in veganism.
And this definitely doesn’t mean
you shouldn’t be or become vegan
or advocate for veganism if you’re
white — I’m writing this as a white
vegan. But you must make an effort
to be educated on and cognizant
of how pervasive whiteness is in
mainstream veganism, in order to
avoid perpetuating white veganism
and to ensure your advocacy is
intersectional. This also entails
rejecting
plant-based
capitalism
and acknowledging that we will
never end the oppression of humans
and animals under an economic
system based on exploitation. In the
poignant and revolutionary words of
Audre Lorde, “the master’s tools will
never dismantle the master’s house.”
This is true whether we’re talking
about sexism and the patriarchy or
speciesism and animal oppression.
White veganism is a problem. If
vegan advocacy wants to end the
oppression and advance the rights
of animals, it needs to distinguish
white veganism from veganism as a
whole and reject it, much like many
feminists have done with white
feminism. Veganism has a problem
with racism, but we can isolate
and remove this appropriation of
the movement and work to uphold
intersectional veganism in a way that
benefits all humans and animals.
As for non-vegans who still believe
veganism should be rejected entirely
due to mainstream prioritization of
whiteness: Would you reject feminism
entirely on the same grounds? If not,
you may need to reconsider whether
it’s really white veganism preventing
you from supporting veganism, or if
you’re unable to confront the reality
and magnitude of animal exploitation
at this time. But if you ever decide you
are ready, veganism will have space
for you, no matter who you are.
A
s far as I can remember, I’ve
always enjoyed interacting
and conversing with other
people. Peers and mentors would tell
me I had a “dynamic personality”
that would help me later on in life.
This must be a positive quality, I
assumed, and I refused to give my
social ability any more thought than
that.
In winter 2020, I elected to
attend the University of Michigan. I
immediately figured meeting people
would be one of the easiest, most
enjoyable aspects of freshman year.
I was coming off the adrenaline
high that was my senior year of high
school, reassuring and providing me
with newfound social confidence.
Then
everything
changed.
COVID-19 hit. Cases went up. Dorms
shut down.
One year later, I blinked and
realized I had spent the entirety of
my first year in college at the same
desk, looking at the same view of my
subdivision, as I had done for the past
12 years.
The hardest part was not seeing
anyone for eight months. I woke
up, got a glimpse of my classmates
in a pixelated box, ate food, did
homework and went to bed. If I had
elected to go to campus in-person,
perhaps this would not have been the
case. I will never know.
When I started my job this
past summer on the staff of a local
golf course, I quickly realized my
new,
once-unfathomable
reality:
I hadn’t socialized with anyone in
eight months, let alone 14 soon-to-
be coworkers. Once I grasped the
situation, the social rust began to
show. It’s almost like I forgot how to
do the very thing that helped me get
to where I am today: talk.
The first month or so at the golf
course was rough. Talking to golfers,
colleagues and the like, I stuttered,
slurred words or — worst of all —
would zone out in the middle of a
one-on-one conversation. I began
to stick to company lines instead of
improvising original material. No
golfer enjoys being fed the same three
sentences from everyone on staff, but
somehow that was all I could muster.
I was completely lost. What the heck
is going on?, I thought to myself. Am
I okay?
Frustrated and dumbfounded, I
searched for answers. Chris Segrin, a
scientist at the University of Arizona
with an emphasis in interpersonal
relationships, claims that “social
skills are like athletic skills. If you
don’t practice them for a long time,
they atrophy.” Okay, I thought, but
why does it still feel like it’s only
me navigating this intrapersonal
uncertainty? It turns out I wasn’t
alone. According to a study conducted
by Harvard University’s School of
Education, 61% of young adults ages
18-25 reported “miserable degrees
of loneliness” during the pandemic.
In all honesty, my post-quarantine
social sluggishness was not only
common, it was perfectly normal.
***
I’ve never given much thought
to the introvert-extrovert debate,
because I believe most people are
a healthy blend of both. After the
past year and a half, however, I’m
wondering if we’ve all become
introverts, with some of us trying to
claw our way back to extroversion
again.
Opinion
BRITTANY BOWMAN
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.
CLAIRE HAO
Editor in Chief
ELIZABETH COOK
AND JOEL WEINER
Editorial Page Editors
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.
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
Julian Barnard
Zack Blumberg
Brittany Bowman
Emily Considine
Elizabeth Cook
Brandon Cowit
Jess D’Agostino
Andrew Gerace
Shubhum Giroti
Krystal Hur
Jessie Mitchell
Mary Rolfes
Gabrijela Skoko
Evan Stern
Elayna Swift
Jack Tumpowsky
Joel Weiner
Erin White
*** Author’s Note: This article
should be read with R.E.M.’s “It’s the
End of the World As We Know It”
playing in headphones. If that song is
not available, Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t
Start the Fire” is an author-approved
substitute.
W
hile it’s been a terrible
year and a half for
almost everything, it’s
been a great time for R.E.M.’s 1987
hit single “It’s the End of the World
As We Know It (And I Feel Fine).”
The song has steadily crept back
into our playlists, radio stations and
general psyche during the past two
years. Growing up, I used to listen
to the song frequently and found its
satirical, nihilistic tone to be quite
comforting. In the aftermath of 9/11,
living through the 2008 economic
crash and the beginning of regular
school shootings, it’s clear our
generation was dealt a tough hand
at a young age, a fact that has heavily
shaped our lives. American stability
has never been a comfort we could
enjoy — even before the COVID-19
pandemic — and is certainly not
something I foresee us enjoying in
the near future.
As I’ve recently been listening
to the song, the end of the chorus
has stuck out to me. For those
unfamiliar, the chorus:
It’s the end of the world as we
know it,
It’s the end of the world as we
know it,
It’s the end of the world as we
know it, and I feel fine.
The last time I listened to the
song, that line in the chorus “and I
feel fine” hit me like a sack of bricks.
In many ways, it does feel like the
world is ending, certainly as we
know it. And I most certainly do not
feel fine!
How
do
we
individually
process issues that so greatly
affect the collective? From the
ongoing pandemic to reports of
the devastating effects of climate
change; to the societal upheaval and
fracturing we’ve witnessed from the
steps of the Capitol Building to our
own living rooms, it seems like the
world is falling out from under us. I
think these feelings of grief, despair,
sadness and anger are natural, and
we should accept and feel them
when they arrive. However, we
should not let them stifle our other
emotions.
I’ve found a few strategies that
have helped me process living
through this series of unfortunate
events
we
find
ourselves
in;
strategies that both allow me to
be involved in creating solutions
while also taking care of my mental
health. Going forward, I urge you to
consider these strategies for yourself
or to at least begin to engage with
some of these topics.
First and foremost, creating
an intentional consumption, and
lack thereof, of media surrounding
overwhelming topics has been key in
preventing me from spiraling when
addressing such topics. Finding time
to hold space for stillness or taking
a step back from certain topics is
crucial in preventing a given issue
from
becoming
overwhelming.
When things become overwhelming
they can become all-consuming,
where one may feel hyper-fixated or
unable to focus or act upon anything
else. Alternatively, they can become
compartmentalized,
where
one
refuses to engage with a topic to
prevent further emotions when
addressing it. Both these responses
prevent us from feeling the natural
range of human emotions that
should accompany our lives and
perspectives on these topics.
A simple way to hold time for
yourself is to segment time in your
day to engage with a certain topic, like
climate change or politics, therefore
allowing you to engage with these
critical issues thoughtfully. This
provides you with space during
the rest of the day to focus on other
things, knowing you have addressed
or will address those areas of concern.
This promotes healthy reflection,
action and engagement with these
overwhelming topics. Other ways
to help include adding filters to
Instagram and Twitter accounts
to limit the amount you consume
regarding a certain topic while on
the apps. Unexpected engagements
with depressing articles can be
incredibly demoralizing without
producing any positive engagement
or action.
Another strategy I’ve found, and
one that is especially possible at the
beginning of the school year, is to get
involved with on-campus initiatives
that
can
create
local
impact
regarding topics of concern. While
the doom and gloom surrounding
a host of issues sometimes feel
hopeless, getting involved on campus
to make a local impact is incredibly
important both for creating change
and helping us feel the spectrum
of feelings that accommodate our
current situation. Being involved
on campus in the work on topics
like climate justice, racial justice,
economic equality or sustainable
living creates a sense of hope and
purpose towards addressing those
topics while simultaneously actually
helping make change around them.
So many wonderful groups exist
on campus that are doing the work
to engage and combat many of
these seemingly insurmountable
problems.
A final strategy is to just do
something else, anything else. I
often found these doomsday-like
topics (that are frankly our reality
for the foreseeable future) could
quite literally push me into a corner.
Feeling trapped and hopeless, I spent
much more time thinking about
all the things I could and should be
doing than doing any of it. While we
try to ‘what-if’ ourselves to death
on a host of topics in an unhealthy
and unproductive manner, finding
something that works to combat
these overwhelming feelings is
imperative to preserving our mental
health and working to fight these
tough topics. Go on a walk, have an
impromptu dance party, call your
grandma. Don’t think, just break the
ice.
At the end of the day, we’re all
navigating what R.E.M. would
describe as “the end of the world
as we know it.” While we live
through it, work our best to fight
against it and ultimately see where
current times lead us, we shouldn’t
always feel fine. The “end of the
world as we know it” can be quite
daunting, scary and bleak — we
should embrace this reality with
authenticity and care. As we do
so, let’s do our best to laugh, smile,
cry, love, grieve, work, rest and take
care of ourselves along the way.
I
t is a wonderful month for
infrastructure! On Aug. 10 this
year, the U.S. Senate passed a
$1 trillion infrastructure bill. Along
with $39 billion for public transit and
$65 billion for broadband, this bill
would also streamline the federal
environmental impact assessment
process. This included codifying a
Trump-era executive order intended
to speed up certain federal projects,
as well as amending how the federal
government applies the National
Environmental Policy Act (NEPA).
NEPA is the most influential piece
of federal environmental policy in
recent history. Former President
Richard Nixon signed the NEPA into
law in early 1970. Originally a piece
of legislation meant to protect the
environment, it has been perverted
by proponents of a “not in my back
yard” or NIMBY ideology to do the
opposite. The actual text of the law is
benign, merely requiring that federal
agencies assess the environmental
impacts of any projects that are
undertaken by the government or that
need a federal permit. Unfortunately,
in the 50 years since the law’s
enactment, the implementation of
the act has spiraled into a web of
obstruction and lawsuits that shocks
many European regulators and
planners alike.
While environmental groups like
Earthjustice and the NRDC have
criticized the move to streamline
NEPA, this was absolutely the right
decision. Current applications of
environmental regulations are in
and of themselves environmentally
harmful, as they are often the cause of
the death, extreme delay and extreme
cost for the sorts of projects that we
need most desperately, such as high-
density housing or public transit.
Is it hyperbolic of me to say that
an environmental protection law is
harming the environment? A little,
but let’s look at the facts.
The United States is one of the
most expensive countries to build
infrastructure. According to the
Niskanen
Center,
the
average
environmental
impact
statement
takes around 4.5 years to complete.
Regularly over 1,000 pages, these
documents
cost
development
entities, both in the public and private
sectors, billions of dollars in delays.
Running on average around 600
pages, these documents have to be
thorough because they are subjected
to an odious legal gauntlet from
homeowners associations and other
aggrieved parties.
But what does that mean in terms
of how much extra cold hard cash is
spent on projects? As Vox journalist
Jerusalem
Desmas
reported,
a
recent New York City Second Avenue
subway
expansion
project
cost
taxpayers $2.6 billion per mile. San
Francisco’s Central Subway Project
took $920 million, and the Los
Angeles Metro’s D Line spent a cool
$800 million per mile.
A
very
similar
project
in
Copenhagen? Practically free at
$323 million per mile. In Italy and
Spain, these types of projects can
be as cheap as $160 million per mile.
It is not out of the question to say
that with European centralization
of transportation authorities, we
could get as much as 10 times the
bang for our buck compared to the
present day.
This obstruction is deadly. Every
public transit project delayed is
another pedestrian killed by a
motorist. Every day delayed is
another thousand tons of carbon
spit into the atmosphere by bulky
SUVs and pickups. So yes, of course,
we should pay attention to the
environmental impact of action.
But, we should also consider the
environmental cost of inaction:
the cost of continuing in our car-
centric, human-unfriendly method
of development, continuing even
when the laws of both capitalism and
human nature tell us that we need to
change.
The NEPA is still a largely
beneficial
bill,
requiring
the
government to be deliberate in the
actions they take and how they affect
the environment.
Congress is weakening the National
Environmental Policy Act. That’s
good for the environment.
COVID-19 hurt our social skills — it’s
time to bounce back
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
8 — Wednesday, September 8, 2021
It’s the end of the world as we know
it. How could we feel fine?
ANDREW GERACE
Opinion Columnist
JULIAN BARNARD
Opinion Senior Editor
SAM WOITESHEK
Opinion Columnist
Design by Melissa Lee
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
Dismantle white veganism, but don’t
reject veganism altogether
MARY ROLFES
Opinion Columnist
Read more at MichiganDaily.com