“Something is being made in
this room.”
I hadn’t heard many other
people speak as passionately
about a space as Groundcover
News editor-in-chief Lindsay
Calka spoke of their office.
I
descended
late
Monday
morning into the basement of
Bethlehem United Church of
Christ: It was a space in motion,
a breathing entity. Over text to
The Statement’s photographer,
I described it as “an office,
kitchen, lounge, storage all in
one. And people seem to always
be there.” All these functions
mix the character of the space
into its own distinct spirit.
Groundcover
News
is
a
‘street paper’ — meaning that
the vendors of the paper are
unhoused or housing insecure
persons — and in the case of
Groundcover, the paper sales
serve directly as income for the
vendors. Outside of the vendors,
the paper is almost completely
run by volunteers.
The
prevalence
of
street
newspapers may be growing,
but still constitute not even a
fraction of the news industry.
Although the first modern street
paper is widely regarded as New
York City’s Street News founded
in 1989, the unhoused and those
afflicted by poverty have used the
news as a means to reflect issues
not covered by the mainstream at
least as far back as the early 20th
century (The start date varies
based on one’s definition of what
qualifies a newspaper as a street
paper). Today there are more
than 100 street papers published
globally in at least 34 countries.
This week I read Groundcover
News’s October 1st edition from
front to back: it cost two dollars.
Stories ranged from a touching
obituary for community member
Brian Coliton, the conflicting
social legacy of the Fleming
Administration Building as it’s
being torn down, a contemplative
historical piece on the meaning
behind Indigenous People’s Day
and an anonymous contribution
on the disturbing conditions
inside Michigan prisons that
advocates for guard bodycams.
Vendors wrote about half
of the pieces in the edition.
Lindsay described the paper
as
representing
“hyperlocal
community voices.” Groundcover
doesn’t attempt to tackle all areas
of news reporting, though topics
“are always timely,” Lindsay
said. “If it’s a big story connected
to the social service landscape
or conditions of poverty or
homelessness, we’re covering
that.
Social
justice
news,
community opinion and creative
pieces are our niche.”
Groundcover vendor Laurzell
Washington calls Groundcover a
“beautiful process of journalism”
and his work “fulfilling in terms
of dealing with people. You’ll be
surprised who you meet… All
sorts of people have a story to
tell.”
Laurzell
is
a
great
conversationalist; I met him
while he was making a sandwich,
grabbing lunch in the newsroom.
He
possesses
a
thoughtful
demeanor, and an empathy that
won’t take shit, but will forgive.
We took residency in two chairs
that sat just right, sinking to
comfort. I asked him what made
Groundover work.
“The average person tries
to work with each other,” he
started. “And a lot of employees
come from the homeless sector,
so I think a lot of people are
motivated with Groundcover.
If you been somewhere and
understand where somewhere is,
you ain’t so quick to put someone
else down.”
The
importance
of
understanding a place was a
common thread throughout a
lot of my conversations with the
Groundcover team.
As we got to know one another,
Laurzell and I realized we both
had
lived
in
Massachusetts
and Michigan. We reflected on
our experiences in both places,
similarities
and
differences.
Our conversation also covered
politics,
from
the
Russian-
Ukraine war, the FBI seizure
in Mar-A-Lago to why people
are drawn to Trump. Laurzell
recently wrote an article for
Groundcover on the war in
Ukraine.
In Lindsay’s own words, the
biggest piece of Groundcover
is that “it invites people into
conversation and relationship.”
Groundcover
has
a
“dual-
prong mission of low barrier
employment
(and
uplifting)
community
voices,
voices
that
are
marginalized,”
she
asserted. How these two parts of
Groundcovers’ mission “meet in
the middle is you have to buy the
paper from someone, and that to
people can be revolutionary.”
When I first bought my paper,
I was walking back from the
pitch meeting for this piece at
the Daily. I don’t remember
my
vendor’s
name,
but
I
remember that we laughed
about
technology.
He
told
me to put his vendor number
into the caption for my venmo
payment for the paper. QR
codes for cashless payment can
be found on the bottom right
corner of Groundcover papers
— a feature Lindsay worked
hard for. That night I was just
beginning to come down sick,
so I preferred to rush home.
Still, in an increasingly digital
world, unforeseen interactions
tinge it a little rosier.
English 126 – “Community-
Engaged Writing” and 221
-
“Literature
and
Writing
Outside The Classroom” have
both developed relationships
with Groundcover over the
past few years. I spoke with
Prof. John Buckley, instructor
of both of these courses, who
spoke to the profundity of the
interactions street papers like
Groundcover initiate.
“To make change in society,
everyone has to work together,”
he said. “In order to get
everyone to work together, you
need thousands of one-on-one
conversations. In order to buy
the paper, you are a human
talking
to
another
human.
Trading compassion fatigue for
a moment of empathy.”
Jay,
the
other
vendor
I
spoke
with,
who
refrained
from providing his last name,
also identified the ways in
which
Groundcover
fosters
social good. He emphasized
the
economic
opportunities
Groundcover provides vendors,
and how the relative stability
of
that
income
generates
other opportunities. Cleaning
services and boober businesses
have both grown from the
Groundcover community, Jay
said.
“You’re
learning
things
about business and managing
money by working here that’s
not understood by the average
person… What I love about
Groundcover (is) if you want
to learn, it teaches you how to
fish.” Or, it’s better to be taught
a skill than just be given the
benefits.
Jay emphasized in much
of
our
conversation
how
transformative it is for one’s
mindset
to
transition
from
having
to
constantly
think
about the next meal and where
to sleep, to being able to consider
one’s livelihood and the world
around
them.
Employment
centers
like
Groundcover
“bridge the gap,” so people can
create for themselves thanks
to a community of people that
genuinely care.
Yet, not all services for the
unhoused and housing insecure
promote the same opportunities
for
all.
Sometimes
the
altruistic people running these
organizations center themselves
via “criteria of helping” that
doesn’t always effectively meet
the challenges of poverty. One
example Jay points to is the
prominence of organizations for
those struggling with drug or
alcohol addiction whose tactics
don’t always effectively battle
addiction.
Simultaneously, those who
are food and housing insecure
for less altruistically popular
reasons struggle for similar
aid. Jay concludes his thoughts,
“Forget free college. The idea
that everyone can eat, that
alone, and basic shelter, those
things can change the world.”
I
sought
from
my
interviewees how the Daily,
a paper so intrinsically tied
with a mammoth institution,
relates to the city of Ann Arbor.
Lindsay gave her praises for the
rigorousness and investigative
work of our journalism.
Prior to this semester, I only
used the term marathon to describe
26-mile-long runs and a 24-hour
viewing of Harry Potter movies.
Now, as a sophomore in college, I can
add three consecutive days of exams,
several all-nighters and the wish
that caffeine came in an IV to the list
of marathon-level activities in my
vocabulary.
Last
Friday
night,
after
I
lost my self esteem in a lecture
hall
temporarily
titled
“exam
room three,” I came home to my
housemates and neighbors sitting on
our living room floor, yelling at each
other over an intense game of Cards
Against Humanity. While I could
have chosen to sleep, or at least nap,
I ultimately dropped my backpack
for the first time in 72 hours and
joined them on a carpet in need of
vacuuming.
It was euphoric. The knowledge
that I was done choosing between
answers A or C amid a harshly-lit
auditorium transported me to an
elevated plane of pure happiness.
But, before I could stop my
consciousness from wandering, I felt
a uniquely disturbing pressure to
make the most of this moment. After
so much wasted time on insanity-
fueling multiple choice questions and
solitary study nights, a heightened
need to make up for the youthful,
college fun I missed out on the weeks
before loomed over my head.
Although I was physically and
mentally exhausted, I chose to stay
up with my friends — feeling as
though my time as a young person
was slipping away. Supposedly, I
will one day remember these four
years as “the best days of my life” — a
phenomenon closely correlated with
the heavily-documented, distinctly-
American obsession with youth.
But why are we so obsessed with
staying young anyway? Who does
this infatuation really benefit?
***
The promotion of youthfulness in
the media goes back decades.
In conversation with Professor
Susan Douglas — communications
& media professor at the University
of Michigan, and author of “In
Our Prime: How Older Women
are Reinventing the Road Ahead”
— I learned about the extensive
marketing history supporting the
American culture’s infatuation with
youth.
According to Professor Douglas,
there has always been negative
media messaging surrounding aging.
However, when the young-adult baby
boomers of the post-war era entered
the market around the 1960s, media
and marketing tools that promoted
the value of youthfulness and ageist
messages became prolific. Industries
targeted this new, large consumer
base by endorsing pop-culture and
flattering the younger generation
— suggesting they were “cooler”
or superior to their parents and
grandparents.
Companies found this marketing
strategy lucrative, as baby boomer
consumers had a large market
capture. Professor Douglas explained
that as a result, music such as rock
‘n’ roll, young-adult-style films and
a host of material products geared
toward
young
people
became
increasingly prevalent in society. Due
to the success of these advertising
tools with the decade’s teens, this
cultural emphasis on youth persisted
through the ’70s, ’80s, ’90s and 2000s.
As a lover of arts and pop-culture
content, I’m familiar with a variety
of musical sensations, top-rated TV
shows and treasured coming-of-age
narratives. Songs like “Jack & Diane,”
“Summer of ‘69” and “We Are
Young,” trained me to idolize my teen
and college-aged years as the most
valuable time life has to offer.
“Oh yeah / Life goes on, long after
the thrill of living is gone…Holdin’ on
to sixteen as long as you can / Change
is coming ‘round real soon / Make us
women and men.”
While “Jack & Diane” earned
its spot in the American-anthem
repertoire for its catchy tune and
clever rhymes, I wonder if John
Mellencamp’s lyrics contributed to
the song’s allure. According to this
beloved ’80s artist, becoming women
and men — or more specifically,
exiting your teen years — eliminates
the possibility of a “thrilling” or
enjoyable existence within the latter
decades of your life.
However, imagining my 16-year-
old self as the peak cumulation of my
life is both a horrifying and entirely
false concept. Not only am I happier
as a 19-year-old in college, but I
am also a better person in terms of
identity growth and autonomous
development.
Therefore, it should be easy to
disregard the notion that my late
teens and twenties are “the best
days of my life,” and I should ignore
Pitbull lyrics like, “We might not
get tomorrow, so let’s do it tonight.”
Yet, nonetheless, I continue to catch
myself feeling the need to mimic the
wild and spontaneous characters
in the latest teen Netflix dramas, in
order to ‘have fun while I can.’ But
why?
In speaking with Professor Sonya
Dal Cin — communications & media
professor and adjunct professor of
psychology at the University — I
learned how compounded marketing
messages and societal influence
may promote this contradictory self-
image.
“We know from extensive research
in psychology and communications
that messages prevalent in society
often reflect societal values, but
they also have an impact on how we
see ourselves,” said Dal Cin. “What
people are exposed to does impact
the way they make sense of their own
lives.”
Dal Cin goes on to describe the
implications these environmental
factors may have on a person’s self
esteem.
“There are a range of different
ways in which people think about
what’s
important
in
life,
and,
therefore, how they may or may not
be meeting what they view as the
ideal self,” said Dal Cin.
She
delineated
how
the
inconsistencies between what people
think they should be versus what
they actually are can cause tension.
“In psychology, there is this
concept of ideal self versus the actual
self. When there is a discrepancy
between the ideal self and the actual
self, it can cause some difficulties in
how people feel about their identity,”
Dal Cin said.
Therefore,
messages
about
youth
and
age
can
certainly
affect personhood and self-image
depending on how an individual
places value on the media, the culture
of their environment and their
understanding of actual and ideal
selves.
Professor
Douglas
describes
how this concept, deriving from self
esteem issues, allows for markets to
capitalize on a culturally-produced,
collectively-felt fear of aging.
According to Professor Douglas, a
binary was created in the 1960s that
pinned ‘old’ and ‘young’ against one
another. Negative messages about
older generations, specifically the
women in those generations, were
cemented into American culture
through television and other public
platforms.
Professor Douglas mentioned how
Disney often portrayed elderly female
characters as crazy grandmothers,
hideous witches and evil mothers.
I’m reminded of Snow White’s
stepmother, the Evil Queen, who
disguised herself as an old woman
in order to trick the fair princess into
eating a poison apple, all because she
was jealous of the princess’s beauty.
Characters like Disney’s Evil
Queen were juxtaposed with young
female characters, often princesses,
who represented beauty, kindness,
happiness and desirability.
By reinforcing this binary in
popular culture, the media capitalizes
on the association that old women are
‘bad’ and young women are ‘good.’
“They tell us we can’t be happy
with wrinkles and eyebags. And they
engrain those beauty standards in
the minds of young people early on,”
said Douglas. “The job of the entire
anti-aging industrial complex is to
make everybody phobic about getting
older. It’s a great strategy, because
everybody is always getting older,
and nobody can escape it — creating
a constantly renewing and endless
market.”
After speaking with both Professor
Douglas and Professor Dal Cin, I
have a newfound motivation to resist
the youth-oriented pressure that the
American consumer industry has
created.
While I’m sure the 2012 version of
One Direction believed we needed
to “go crazy, crazy, crazy” and “live
while we’re young,” I think we can
all agree that the band’s former
lead singer, Harry Styles, is “living
it up” more as he approaches thirty
than when he first performed that
song at eighteen. His overwhelming
popularity and sold-out stadiums
certainly serve as evidence to that
fact.
And surely John Mellencamp
enjoyed life after he made it big with
“Jack and Diane.” He did become
a musical legacy, after all.
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
6 — Wednesday, October 19, 2022
S T A T E M E N T
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
NATE SHEEHAN
Statement Columnist
In conversation with Groundcover: Ann Arbor’s street paper
America’s obsession with staying young
REESE MARTIN
Statement Columnist
JEREMY WEINE/Daily