Bus routes along the Washtenaw wealth gap
AVA BURZYCKI
Statement Columnist
This past year, I’ve spent an
almost uncomfortable amount of
time waiting for the bus, running
after the bus and, finally, riding the
bus. It takes around a half-hour to
get from my Pittsfield Township
apartment to downtown Ann Arbor,
and I spend the majority of this time
stuck in a locked gaze, inspecting
both inside and out of the wide
window panes. Each ride is a new
mix of personalities — some are
quiet, some rowdy and some strictly
full of discomfort. The Pittsfield
scenery tends to be more uniform,
with only business closures and
outlandish weather provoking new
curiosity. But there is one clear and
unchanging linearity I see when
riding the bus from Ypsilanti to Ann
Arbor — the poverty lessens, and the
homes and businesses become more
extravagant.
Most often, I take route five.
Across from my apartment, the
bus stop waits on the other side of
Packard’s potholes and faded dash
lines. Extending from Ann Arbor
to Ypsilanti, even Packard begins to
crumble as it moves away from Ann
Arbor’s wealth. Immediately upon
stepping out, the outside air reeks of
gasoline and cigarettes. The road is
crumbled and well-littered with the
only bits of beauty being a handful
of sturdy maple trees. There is no
sense of comfort or humanity, just
impersonal and uniform suburban-
brutalist street planning. Here, the
world simply looks cement-gray and
holds nothing but bleakness. This
is an area built to hold the working
class, their workplaces and their cars,
not to build community or enrich the
lives of its citizens.
These
types
of
underfunded
communities are not scarce in
Michigan, but Ypsilanti’s economic
position is situated uniquely in
comparison to the adjoining city
of Ann Arbor. With Washtenaw
county resting at a lowly 80th of
83 Michigan counties for income
equality, the significantly above-
average
economic
disparities
practically define the area. The main
divide exists between Ann Arbor and
Ypsilanti — the former being closer
to a standard homogeneity of the
well-educated and white upper class,
and the latter being a more diverse
group of working-class individuals.
One city is allowed the resources to
flourish above the basic necessities,
and the other is barely given enough
to survive, if that.
***
Washtenaw has a visible wealth
inequality
problem
—
this
is
inarguable.
Even in the businesses I see, there
is a clear assumption about the locals
being made: Ypsilanti is built for low-
income groups and Ann Arbor pushes
a high-end narrative. On route four, I
see Big Lots turn into Whole Foods,
and General Dollar into Lululemon.
This business divide impacts food
as well: Ypsilanti holds a plethora
of cheap fast food options whereas
Ann Arbor leans into a higher price
tag and higher quality options. As
a poor commuter, if I don’t pack a
lunch then I simply cannot afford to
eat. The biggest difference between
storefronts and production, however,
stems from the simple existence of
business — in Ypsilanti, there are
significantly more barren buildings,
broken
windows
and
crowded
housing options.
Once the bus stops at the Blake
Transit Center, the buildings slowly
turn from rotting wood to beautiful
planes of brick, the nature almost
built into the city planning. These
two stops sit in completely different
worlds — my low-income apartment
and surrounding area were not
built for beauty and comfort in the
same way Ann Arbor is. Libraries,
restaurants, public museums and
outdoor areas are all reflections of
the investment in quality of life that
Ann Arbor gives to its residents.
Often, it is rated one of the best
places to live not despite its cost,
but because of it. The high price-tag
investments create a colorful city that
only its target demographic, affluent
students and professionals, can
afford. This community investment
contrasts heavily with Ypsilanti.
Despite also housing a university,
Eastern Michigan University, it is
not afforded the same cushions and
living standards as wealthy Ann
Arbor residents are. It is simply built
to physically house poor residents,
nothing more and nothing less.
Ann Arbor is built as an individual-
oriented city, but only for those who
can afford it.
As
potentially
the
most
influencing factor in creating Ann
Arbor’s population demographic,
the University of Michigan implicitly
enables
and
perpetuates
this
predicament.
Among public universities, the
University has one of the highest
proportions of students from the top
1%, but is also deemed as one of the
most affordable for poor and rural
Michigan students because of the
Go Blue Guarantee, which offers
free tuition and tuition support
for families with incomes below
$65,000. In many ways, it can be
difficult to sit with this dissonance:
The technicality of funding is there,
but the entire system and culture of
the University are screaming at its
poor students to leave.
S T A T E M E N T
4 – Wednesday, July 6, 2022
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Design by Abby Schreck
Read more at michigandaily.com
Beach reads and the
construction of a guilty
pleasure
To some, the idea of a “beach read”
fits the dictionary definition: “A book
you can take on holiday, which is good
enough to keep you engaged but not
so serious it will spoil your holiday.”
Romance fanatics like myself have a
different definition, one more like The
New York Times “American summer
novel,” one featuring a whirlwind
romantic story in a vacation spot far
from a character or reader’s reality.
From its conception in 19th century
middle-class vacation culture by
authors like Louisa May Alcott,
the American summer novel genre
has been owned by women. While
immensely popular with readers and
placing at the top of “summer reading
lists,” critics soon dismissed the
genre as “light reading.”
My “beach reads” contain worlds
limited to coastal islands and vacation
hotspots. They feature beautiful
romances — books like “Beach Read”
(Emily Henry) and the many works
of Mary Alice Monroe. Complex
dramas, often involving small-town
or family life and its eccentricities or
a troubled past with love, make the
novels long, emotional and turbulent
— like “Sex and Vanity” (Kevin
Kwan) or the iconic body of work by
Elin Hilderbrand. While extremely
“whirlwind” in their narratives,
every beach read must have a happy
ending — or at least hint at one.
Another element of the genre of
KAYA GINSKY
Statement Correspondent
“beach reads” is its aesthetic and
artistic perception — critics and
readers (including myself) treat the
entire genre as if it were sinful and
distasteful, calling the books “guilty
pleasures” or “indulgences.” I admit
to hiding the books at the bottom of
my beach bag, under sand and pent-
up shame, only opening the well-
worn pages on an empty beach with
my toes in the sand.
In unpacking my convoluted
views around my reading habits, I
looked to the late media critic and
activist bell hooks. In her novel,
“All About Love”, hooks writes that
“Male fantasy is seen as something
that can create reality, whereas
female fantasy is regarded as pure
escape.” Women authors, female
protagonists
and
increasingly
feminist themes have begun to
dominate the beach read genre. The
reader base of all “romantic fiction”
is primarily female, with 82% of
surveyed romance readers in 2017
identifying as such. hooks continues:
“The romance novel remains the
only domain in which women speak
of love with any degree of authority.
However, when men appropriate
the romance genre, their work is far
more rewarded.” For many women,
controlling narratives in love are but
a fantasy reserved for fiction writing.
In beach reads, a female protagonist
often takes control of her love life
and finds her truest self through it.
Design by Abby Schreck
Read more at michigandaily.com