Political signage around Ann
Arbor, though often a year-round
affair for many students, protestors
and
organizations,
has
been
amplified by the midterm elections,
from splashes of “Vote Yes on Prop
3” signs across the Diag to yard signs
promoting local candidates.
I was not accustomed to this
politically
charged
environment
until coming to college, nor did
I realize its prominence until a
recent controversy occurred in my
hometown.
Grosse Pointe’s St. Paul on the Lake
Church garnered media attention
last month after displaying a large
“VOTE NO ON PROP 3” sign on its
front lawn, accompanied by dozens
of small white crosses. Driving past
the church with my mom, I saw the
sign and felt a knot tighten within
me — a visceral response triggered
by not only frustration toward a
message I don’t agree with, but its
size, lettering and language.
It was eventually taken down
for violating city code regarding
the size of signs, but its message
continued to reverberate within me
when I returned to Ann Arbor for
the start of the school year. It struck
me in the physical context of my
hometown, where such signs are a
rarity. Looking around Ann Arbor, I
thought: Were there any signs here
that I was missing?
Kerrytown’s sister funhouses:
MichMinnies Cooperative
I hurried over to MichMinnies
Cooperative on Halloweekend, my
Princess Peach costume hidden
beneath a U-M hoodie. Though
it was dark outside, I could still
admire the exterior of the houses as
I approached: the blue “Michigan
House” and, sitting just next to it,
a large purple townhouse named
“Minnies.” Together, they make
“MichMinnies,” one of 16 co-ops
in Ann Arbor’s Inter-Cooperative
Council.
The
brightly
colored
co-op
stands out among the other houses
on North State Street. A variety of
signs, flags and other objects dotted
the wrap-around porch of Michigan
House, making it an anomaly among
its plain surroundings. Signs on the
front of the blue building advertised
carbon neutrality, LGBTQ+ pride,
Bernie Sanders and perhaps most
infamously,
a
cardboard
sign
that reads RONALD REAGAN’S
GRAVE IS A GENDER NEUTRAL
BATHROOM.
The inside of the building held
the same chaos of posters. The walls
were clustered with a variety of
artwork and pictures of friends, as
well as a large swordfish sculpture,
a presumably stolen bus route
sign, caution tape and DIY wanted
posters,
among
other
aesthetic
curiosities.
I
would
later
learn
from
MichMinnies’s
president,
LSA
senior Mack Kroll, that the co-op
was originally named the Michigan
Socialist House, established to serve
students seeking affordable housing
during the Great Depression.
Because of the houses’ consistent
political
and
cultural
leanings
inherent to the community of
housemates,
the
signage
isn’t
reflective of just one member of
the co-op, but is rather a shared
representation of the intertwined
values
and
personalities
of
MichMinnies.
The occupants of the co-op are
not the only ones that enjoy the
inclusive environment MichMinnies
offers. Kroll recalled a time when a
mother walking with her son noted
his interest in the house. The mother
relayed to Kroll that they had always
passed it on their way to the son’s
preschool, and that the son would
tell his mom how much he liked the
decorations. After taking down their
former trans flag due to wear and
tear, the mother gifted MichMinnies
a new one.
With all these signs, these
physical
manifestations
of
the
houses’ cooperative identities, the
most important thing for Kroll is
that people living in and visiting
MichMinnies feel like they can
express
themselves
without
hesitation.
Standing in the late afternoon
sunlight amid a crowd of university
students, I observed the scene
before me. Music blared from a DJ
stand I couldn’t see, swallowed in a
mass of bodies decked out in maize
and blue. A friend of mine from
high school was in town, and an
old soccer teammate of his invited
us to visit his frat before we headed
off to watch the Wolverines take on
Michigan State.
The first thing I noticed was
the blue tarp surrounding the frat
house’s backyard, which served to
both maintain the frat’s privacy and
give the backyard an atmosphere
of exclusivity, like an improvised
club for the University of Michigan
“a-listers.”
The second thing I noticed was
that, as I pushed through the crowd,
the faces I passed had the same skin
tone as me. Despite not knowing
any of the fraternity members or
“brothers” there, I was well aware
of the reason I could waltz in as if
I belonged. Being a white person
myself, I was all too comfortable
in the company of a group that I
blended right into.
When you’re in the moment —
EDM tunes blaring in your ears,
solo cup in hand — it’s easy to see
how the privilege of being a part of
“the brotherhood” is appealing to
so many university students across
the country — a privilege that has
historically created homogenous
groups of campus “cool kids,” a
privilege
deeply
embedded
in
systems of racism, homophobia,
classism — the list goes on.
Greek life gives students the
opportunity
to
choose
their
social circle, but it’s not unique
in that sense. Social hierarchy is
synonymous with Greek life, but
beyond the explicit measures of
social standing, like the ranking
systems that determine the “top”
frats and sororities, many student
organizations on campus operate
in
a
similar
way,
positioning
themselves in relation to their peers.
Involvement
in
student
organizations is a means for students
to tout their status, whether it be a
sorority or the ski and snowboard
club.
To investigate this, I spoke with
LSA sophomore Alina Malin, a
member of the a cappella group
The Compulsive Lyres, one of over a
dozen a cappella groups on campus.
Malin explained that when it
comes to a cappella at the University
of Michigan, an organization that
features “rushing” loosely similar to
that of Greek Life, “Certain groups
are very driven by competition ...
and certain groups are all about the
social aspect.”
“There are certain groups that
tend to compete more, have more
funding and have worked toward
performance quality over other
things,” Malin continued. “There is
a hierarchy in terms of performance
ability because that’s measurable.”
However, while a cappella and
Greek life both have hierarchies,
for Malin, the similarities end there.
“People don’t really join a cappella to
get social standing,” Malin said.
So, competition among different
a cappella groups may not be the
popularity contest that is Greek life,
but you’re still going to end up with
people rushing what they perceive
as the “best” a cappella group.
To be certain of social hierarchy’s
heightened relevance to Greek life, I
spoke with an anonymous member
of the business fraternity Phi
Gamma Nu about their experience.
The interviewee chose to remain
anonymous out of a concern for
the potential social ostracism they
might face for speaking up about
social dynamics among the business
fraternities.
Explaining
their
fraternity’s
position in comparison to the other
business frats, they said, “We would
be considered kind of lower than
everyone else.”
“Within
the
business
frats,
they’re called the tri-frat ... It’s DSP
(Delta Sigma Pi), PCT (Phi Chi
Theta) and AKPsi (Alpha Kappa
Psi), and they were the first three
established
at
Michigan,”
the
interviewee said.
Hence, Phi Gamma Nu hasn’t
been around for as long as these
“top” frats and is not afforded the
same prestige.
Getting into one of the top frats
can mean a lot to prospective
members. “That’s a big mentality
people have when rushing,” the
interviewee explained. The rushing
process involves interviews, in
which, according to a Reddit
post on r/uofm, those rushing get
“grilled pretty hard.”
Being in a business frat is
an
opportunity
to
establish
connections that will last into
post-college life in the workforce.
In other words, “They all do the
same thing, it’s just different social
cultures, but people still perceive a
ranking even though it’s just there
for the sake of having a hierarchy,”
the interviewee said.
Whether
that
hierarchy
truly matters or not is up to the
individual. As this person told
me, “I view them kind of as friend
groups, and when you’re rushing,
you should see which friend group
you want to fit into best.”
Lucy Brock, an LSA junior and
member of the sorority Sigma
Kappa, echoed this sentiment.
Wednesday, November 16, 2022 — 7
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
S T A T E M E N T
ELIZABETH WOLFE
Statement Columnist
Give me a sign: Touring Ann
Arbor’s Signage Landscape
Social hierarchies on campus:
Why Greek life isn’t unique
CONNOR HERRERAS
Statement Columnist
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
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