2022-12-07

BACK 2 BACK

Michigan wins second consecutive Big Ten Championship

JOSH TAUBMAN Daily Sports Editor

The Michigan

INDIANAPOLIS —

football team refers to the Ohio State game as its “Super Bowl,” it’s metaphorical pinnacle point of the Big Ten. But on Saturday, the Wolverines were still in pursuit of a championship trophy — of physical, tangible proof to mark them as the kings of the conference.

No. 2 Michigan (13-0 overall, 10-0 Big Ten) raised the hardware it coveted, pulling away from Purdue (8-5, 6-4) in the second half for a 43-22 win. The Wolverines secured their second consecutive Big Ten Championship, the first time they’ve accomplished that feat since 2003-04.

“It’s just a blessing,” graduate receiver Ronnie Bell said at the trophy presentation.

“This team is battle tested and these guys learn from everyone in the program, everyone in the building.

“Everyone has worked so hard and to see it all come full circle, it’s a beautiful thing, it’s a beautiful blessing.”

Championships are a culmination of season-long goals, but for Michigan, its performance against Purdue was a fitting final reminder of the approach that led them through a flawless season: dominating the second half.

In the first half, both teams traded blows, and the Wolverines walked to the locker only leading 14-13. The Boilermakers had one game-breaking weapon in receiver Charlie Jones and they weren’t going shy away from using him. Jones galvanized Purdue’s offense, racking up seven catches for 74 yards to keep them afloat.

But when the teams returned to the field, Michigan only needed seven plays to forge its second half dominance yet again.

The first was a 60-yard burst by sophomore running back Donovan Edwards. Four plays later, the Wolverines were in the end zone. After forcing a three-andout on the Boilermakers’ subsequent drive, Michigan took even less time to stretch the lead. Sophomore quarterback J.J. McCarthy hit senior tight end Luke Schoonmaker for a 40-yard catch. Then, Edwards did the rest with a 27-yard touchdown run the following

play, juking and carrying defenders with him the entire way.

Seven plays. Two scores. And just like that, a tight game was blown open. Michigan had its lead, and now it could choke out its opponent.

“We’ve been in that situation before, multiple times,” McCarthy said postgame. “There wasn’t really anything said (in the locker room) but the usual, ‘We got 30 minutes, give it our all.’ We’re the best second half team in the country and it showed again.”

Edwards in particular rose to the occasion, finishing with 185 rushing yards after gaining just 37 in the first half. His efforts earned him

Championship Game MVP honors.

Defensively, meanwhile, the Wolverines mucked the game up. Down two touchdowns, Purdue started to display some urgency and moved the ball into the red zone. But each time the Boilermakers threatened, Michigan had an answer — using an interception from freshman cornerback Will Johnson and timely sacks to hold Purdue to just three points in the quarter.

With ten minutes left in the game, Purdue down nine with the ball, it desperately needed a drive to keep the game competitive. Instead, Johnson snared his second interception, jumping a pass and immediately throwing up two fingers towards his teammates.

“His skills are top of the charts,” McCarthy said. “I just can’t wait to see him keep growing into the great player that he is going to become.”

Three plays after Johnson’s pick, Michigan was in the end zone again. It could start to picture the confetti raining down.

The entire second half, the Wolverines didn’t attempt anything extraordinary, they just controlled the game. They made it boring. They made it ugly. It was exactly how they

had won all year.

In the waning moments, players embraced and fans danced in the stands — a second straight Big Ten trophy officially in Michigan’s grasp.

Except unlike last year, celebrations were more subdued. There was no gatorade bath for Michigan coach Jim Harbaugh. Players walked off the field satisfied, but not euphoric. McCarthy’s mind wandered to last year’s Orange Bowl trophy celebration against Georgia, where he stood to the side and watched as the Bulldogs soaked in the win.

“I feel like (that moment) drove me so much that this victory tonight doesn’t really feel like anything,” McCarthy said. “That’s something that’s really hard to come by. I mean, back-to-back Big Ten Championships is amazing, but just that feeling that we had last year, this is just in the way of making sure that feeling never happens again.”

The Big Ten trophy officially cements the Wolverines as the class of the Big Ten once again.

But, as McCarthy made clear, this year they don’t want that trophy to be the centerpiece.

EMMA MATI/Daily, KATE HUA/Daily | Design by Lys Goldman & Sophie Grand

Jury trial begins for former CSE professor Peter Chen

Computer Science faculty member charged

with criminal sexual conduct

would take four to five days.

Content warning: This article contains the use of graphic sexual language.

The jury trial for Peter Chen, former professor of electrical engineering and computer science at the University of Michigan, began Monday morning at the Washtenaw County 22nd Circuit Court in downtown Ann Arbor.

Chen is charged with criminal sexual conduct in the first degree, defined as an act of sexual penetration with a victim under the age of 13, a felony punishable by life in prison. The case filing states that the offense began on April 1, 2017. The alleged victim, who is a minor, is set to testify in the trial later in the week. Chen is pleading not guilty.

Originally set to begin in January 2022, the trial was delayed several times before commencing Nov. 28. Judge Darlene O’Brien, the judicial officer presiding over the case, said she anticipated that the trial

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Amy Reiser, Washtenaw County’s assistant prosecuting attorney, is representing the prosecution, the People of the State of Michigan. Reiser was accompanied by Sergeant Dawn Murphy from the Ann Arbor Police Department. Attorney Mariell Lehman is representing Chen, the defendant.

The first day of the trial consisted primarily of jury selection, in which 12 jurors were to be chosen from a pool of approximately four dozen to sit on the panel. During the jury selection process, the judge and both attorneys questioned the jury pool to determine who would be suited to deliberate the case.

O’Brien asked potential jurors about any prior experience serving on juries and any previous familiarity with the case or the parties involved.

Jurors also answered questions regarding any circumstances that might prevent the potential jurors from being impartial, such as being or knowing a sexual

assault victim or someone who had been charged with assault.

Many of Lehman’s questions regarded the possible jurors’ relationships with their children, as well as their stance on whether a child would lie about or have false memories of an impactful event.

Reiser explained to the pool of jurors that because there was a delay between when the offense allegedly occurred and when the alleged victim reported it, no DNA evidence would be provided by the prosecution. Reiser asked potential jurors if they would be able to return a verdict without DNA evidence and based solely on the testimonies of the alleged victim and the witnesses.

Throughout the selection process, O’Brien excused a few seated jurors for cause. Several others were excused via a peremptory challenge, in which either party’s attorney can dismiss a possible juror without needing to provide a reason.

After Chen was placed on administrative leave in early 2021, Engineering Dean Alec

Gallimore wrote in an email to CSE students that there was no indication of a connection between Chen’s career at the University and the criminal charge.

In a Jan. 2021 statement to The Michigan Daily, Lehman said Chen denied the claims made against him.

“On January 26, 2021 Mr. Chen was made aware of the criminal sexual conduct allegations that had been made against him,” Lehman wrote. “He completely denies the allegations and has cooperated fully with the Ann Arbor Police Department to assist them in their investigation. Mr. Chen is confident that the truth will prevail and that he will be exonerated fully. Mr. Chen thanks the numerous people who have reached out in support of him over the last few days.”

As is the case with all criminal jury trials in the state of Michigan, all 12 jurors must come to a unanimous verdict by the end of the trial.

The trial will resume at 8 a.m. on Nov. 29.

Pioneer High School closed due to social media threat

District

Ann Arbor Pioneer High School was closed Tuesday due to a threat made on social media, according to a news release from Ann Arbor Public Schools (AAPS). The news release stated that a threat was made Monday evening and that classes were canceled out of “an abundance of caution.” Pioneer is one of four primary high schools in Ann Arbor, and this

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decision will impact its nearly 2,000 students.

In an email to students obtained by Click on Detroit, AAPS Superintendent Jeanice Swift said the district is working closely with law enforcement to determine the source of the threat.

“The Pioneer and our District teams, working in partnership with the Ann Arbor Police Department, continue to work vigorously through a thorough investigation of this matter today, and we will hold those

involved responsible,” Swift wrote.

This is the second time that classes have been canceled at Pioneer in two weeks, with the school closing on Nov. 21 due to a problem with a water main. Like many districts, Ann Arbor has received social media threats in the past. AAPS closed all of its schools for a day last December after several threats were made in the wake of the shooting at Oxford High School that left four dead. The threat comes a day shy of the one year anniversary

of the Oxford shooting, which occurred Nov. 30, 2021.

Swift encouraged community members to take an active role in protecting their schools and urged students to report concerns to school or law enforcement authorities.

“Parents should speak with their students regarding the seriousness of posting or spreading social media rumors,” Swift said.

AAPS and AAPD did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

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Burns Park sees rise in home invasions

RACHEL MINTZ Daily Staff Reporter

The Division of Public Safety and Security at the University of Michigan released a statement on Wednesday regarding several home invasions between Nov. 20

and Nov. 27 in the Burns Park area south of Hill Street.

According to the release, residents of Burns Park reported to the Ann Arbor Police Department various items were stolen from their residences following their return from the holiday break. DPSS said there are

no known suspects, and there is evidence that homes were entered by force.

DPSS asked the Ann Arbor community to reach out with any known information.

“If you have information, please contact the Ann Arbor Police Department Tip Line at

(734) 794-6939 or tips@a2gov. org,” the statement said.

DPSS said it strongly encourages students to store valuables out of plain sight, utilize timers for lights and other electronics, keep windows and doors locked and report any suspicious behavior or incidents.

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leaders urge parents to warn children about dangers of online rumors

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DPSS: students leaving their residences over Thanksgiving break returned to break-ins

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Student Life Sustainability hosts COP27 Talk Back event

Attendees of UN climate gathering share experiences, decry protest policies

TAECKENS Daily Staff Reporter

Student Life Sustainability held a panel to discuss the recent United Nations climate talks held in Sharm El-Sheikh, Egypt for their most recent Conference of Parties (COP27).

The United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change includes representatives from various countries, corporations and nongovernmental organizations that arrive at prior agreements like the Paris Climate Accords during COP21.

Rackham student Alexa White, who presented at a COP27 pavilion on climate justice, was the event’s first speaker. White said the pavilions are spaces where state leaders can discuss different issues.

“This being the first climate justice pavilion … it was the first time there was a really large community where we could have a dialogue about climate justice and what it really meant,” White said. “So this is also the first time that nations were really pushing for climate justice to be discussed in negotiations.”

White said the biggest amendment that came out of COP27 was the loss and damage fund, which was designed to provide money to help developing countries cope with climate changeinduced disasters.

“(The loss and damage fund) will provide money that’s needed to rescue and rebuild the physical and social infrastructures that were devastated as a result of extreme weather events from climate change,” White said. “That is a major milestone in and of itself.”

White said the significance of the loss and damage fund is comparable to that of the Paris Climate Accords and that many concrete details regarding the fund have yet to be established.

“The difficult part is that now that it’s set up, there is an issue of figuring out who’s going to put what dollar amount in, when they will do so, (and) who is going to get that money,” White said. “What are (developing countries) going to get and when will they get it? All of those questions were not answered.”

Environment and Sustainability graduate student Neeka Salmasi, who also attended COP27 and organized the Talk Back event, discussed attempts to draw attention to the lack of water access in Palestine.

SACUA commemorates Oveta Fuller, talks new chair and new buildings

Late Med School professor honored, University acts to provide better door locks for classroom safety

MADDYN SHAPIRO & HANNAH YORAN Daily News Contributors

The Senate Advisory Committee on University Affairs met in a hybrid format at the Ruthven Building on Monday to discuss chair and director updates and the upcoming election to replace a University-wide Ombud.

LSA professor Silvia Pedraza, SACUA chair, began the meeting by commemorating the recent death of Oveta Fuller, associate professor at the Medical School. Fuller was a recipient of the 2022 Regents Award for Distinguished Public Service, a designation given to members of the University Senate for public service activities that reflect their teachings

and expertise.

“I am personally, of course, so sorry that she passed away, but pleased that we gave her an award in time,” Pedraza said. “She realized that we held her in high esteem.”

Pedraza announced that University Faculty Ombud Robert Ortega stepped down from being the University-wide Ombud and discussed the process of appointing a replacement.

“There is now a search committee that is looking at applications for the job,” Pedraza said. “We have received eight very excellent applications.”

She explained that many of the applicants were very skilled and have already served in either ombuds in their units or have experience as faculty grievance monitors. The committee will begin

interviewing exclusively University faculty members on Tuesday and is basing the decision on rankings, Pedraza explained.

Luke McCarthy, director of the Faculty Senate Office, also provided updates about the upcoming installation of a duress button that will allow doors in University buildings to lock from inside the building in case of an emergency.

“Building facilitators were very glad to look into this and address the situation,” McCarthy said. “We got word that we were approved to have a duress button in the office so that we can lock the doors from the inside. Building management has been very helpful and supportive.”

MESA hosts Native American Heritage Month closing ceremony CAMPUS LIFE Hosts, students call for more awareness of, engagement with Indigenous communities

JOSH SINHA Daily Contributor

The Native American Student Association and the Office of MultiEthnic Student Affairs hosted a ceremony Wednesday night to conclude Native American Heritage Month. Multiple events were held to educate attendees about Indigenous issues and celebrate cultural traditions.

Beginning with a community meal, the closing celebration featured a variety of Native foods, and was followed by a presentation by Rackham student Julisa Lopez.

Lopez’s presentation outlined her research as a member of the The Research for Indigenous Social Action and Equity Center about the marginalization of Native people.

“I like to think about the society we live in today, and how Native people are temporarily omitted in contemporary society, and how this omission in our current society leads to different consequences for Natives,” Lopez said.

Lopez discussed her research on the perception of racism against Native people with specific reference to red face and stereotypical portrayals of Native culture. She also presented data about murdered and missing Indigenous women and girls that demonstrated how the omission of Native people from the media results in apathy toward their marginalization.

“When a group doesn’t exist anymore, you don’t have to deal with their oppression,” Lopez said.

Lopez said she hopes that students

and faculty are educated on the history of Indigenous people. Her presentation was prefaced by a land acknowledgement that recognized the Anishinaabeg people, whose land the University of Michigan was built upon.

“Education here was started through boarding schools, which (were) stripping Native children from their families and from their culture,” Lopez said. “So recognizing that history first and foremost, and building trustful relationships with Native people, is a really important step on the path of education systems.”

Rackham student Alanna Hurd said she hopes the University will implement more direct change with input by Native communities.

José Brenes/Daily

NADIA

Erin Posas reports on her personal experience through COP27 at the Talkback even at the Michigan League Thursday evening.

Lead in the water: What are the educational impacts on Flint students?

teaching.

The Ford School of Public Policy and Education Policy Initiative held a seminar Wednesday afternoon to discuss findings on how the 2014 Flint water crisis impacted educational outcomes for younger children.

During the discussion, the experts shared research findings nearly eight years after the crisis began, followed by a discussion on the larger real-world impacts on today’s youth.

Public policy professor Brian Jacob led the talk and began by discussing the timeline of the Flint water crisis. He said despite previous insistence from public policy officials who said the water was safe to drink, it wasn’t until 2016 when the crisis was declared a state of emergency.

Mona Hanna-Attisha, a professor at Michigan State University who helped to uncover the water crisis, Kevelin Jones, Flint Community Schools Superintendent, and Sam Trejo, assistant professor of sociology at Princeton University, were also invited to discuss the impacts on K-12 students within the community.

As the superintendent of the district, Jones said he had personal experiences dealing with the water crisis and emphasized the significant amount of time it took away from

“I used to drink water out of the water fountain at my school with no problem and be able to just enjoy my life,” Jones said. “As the superintendent, it’s very difficult to know that I walked the halls of these same schools as a young man and graduated from Flint Community Schools and is now watching children have to be careful with drinking water. Being the principal, my job is to educate scholars and motivate them to learn, but now I have to father, and I have to say don’t drink that. We had to change the way we lived in the school.”

Hanna-Attisha also explained her experience as a pediatrician giving advice to mothers. She began her own research once she heard there was a possibility of lead in the water. Her research was what helped to uncover the water crisis.

“The day after releasing our research and the state went after me and said I’m wrong, the Flint schools said no, we’re protecting kids and shut off their drinking fountains” HannaAttisha said.

Rackham student Eneida Hysi attended the event and said the information was eye-opening for how the crisis affected student learning.

“The impacts on education were an aspect I hadn’t really thought about,” Hysi said. “My understanding was in regards to the physiological effects.”

Trejo said that research from the

water crisis showed that there was an increase in school-aged children with special needs, and Hanna-Attisha also shared research that supported these findings.

“When we look at special needs, we see an increase in them moving from before the crisis to after the crisis,” Trejo said. “There was about a 9% increase in special needs.”

LSA senior Dilpreet Kaur, a member of the Flint Justice Partnership, helped coordinate the event and spoke on the importance of spreading awareness.

“You don’t necessarily have to belong to that community to be able to speak on it,” Kaur said. “One thing (the speaker) did mention was coming into communities. For me, (I want to continue) going into the community and helping in any way I can.”

Hanna-Attisha discussed the importance of learning about the water crisis and how it is not just a trivial story.

“What happened in Flint is not just a story about this one city north of here that had this water problem and there was this big injustice,” Hanna-Attisha said. “It was really an everywhere story. It’s about inequity, it’s about disinvestment in public health, it’s about deteriorating infrastructure, it’s about environmental injustice, it’s about democracy, it’s about science.”

SMTD students, faculty reflect on sustainability

Community members call on school to increase reuse, laud existing efforts

RACHEL MINTZ

While climate policy is hotly debated in national politics, many programs at the University of Michigan have been incorporating sustainable initiatives, reducing greenhouse gas emissions and minimizing waste sent to landfills. One of these programs includes the Department of Theatre & Drama at the U-M School of Music, Theatre & Dance (SMTD).

Music, Theatre & Dance senior Jordan Pinet has been studying theatre design and production at the University for four years, focusing particularly on stage management. She recently looked into the school’s theater program to evaluate if the theater productions are sustainable.

Pinet conducted an independent research study, which has not yet been published, about theatre sustainability during the summer of 2021 to understand how theatre programs can become more sustainable. Pinet conducted her research within the Department of Theatre & Drama, studying different shops within theater production and their efforts to become more sustainable in addition to what needs to be improved.

She found that the University is effective in incorporating environmental sustainability but often overlooks other important

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aspects of sustainability, such as social sustainability. Based on her research, Pinet said theater programs need to focus more on social sustainability because burnout is a relevant and widespread issue in theatre.

“I did some research this past summer, specifically an independent study about theater sustainability, looking into how we move past just environmental sustainability,” Pinet said. “Sustainability is talked about as this three-branch concept, where environmental sustainability is one part of that, but there’s also social and economic sustainability.”

Pinet said her findings revealed how the University takes sustainability into account for necessities like props, costumes and lighting by reusing or refurbishing costumes and props and switching

to LED lights and motion sensors in dressing rooms. Pinet said financial and labor limitations prevent further options to explore sustainability.

Pinet said she understands the difficulty of achieving sustainability within a university because of the frequent turnover of students and staff.

“Something that I think a lot of places, including (U-M) theatre, (should consider is): How do you put policies and practices in place so that the sustainable things you’re doing now keep happening even when people change?” Pinet said.

“Especially with things like student (organizations), where the entire organization is run by people that’ll be gone in four years?”

Judge denies third trial in Whitmer kidnapping plot Co-conspirators to face sentencing Dec. 28

ISABELLA KASSA Daily Staff Reporter

Two men convicted in August for their role in the plot to kidnap Gov. Gretchen Whitmer were denied a new trial Friday in an order from Judge Robert Jonker of the U.S. District Court for the Western District of Michigan. A jury convicted Adam Fox and Barry Croft of conspiracy in an August retrial following a mistrial in April. In his ruling, the Court found there was insufficient evidence to pursue allegations of juror bias or to convene a new trial.

Lawyers for Croft and Fox claimed there was juror bias and that Jonker unfairly targeted the

defendants while presiding over the second trial. In his opinion Friday, Jonker disputed these allegations, pointing to the court record and declaring his actions did not arise to the level of judicial bias.

“Neither the authority nor the facts cited by Defendants establish the appearance of judicial bias requiring a new trial,” the opinion read. “The Court was quick to express frustration with both parties when it believed the party was wasting the jury’s time unnecessarily; the Court did not single out the defense.”

The first trial took place in April, nearly two years after the plot was uncovered and during that trial, the jury convicted two of the other conspirators in the plot. They were

unable to come to a unanimous verdict for Croft and Fox, however, resulting in a mistrial. The Attorney General continued to press charges, so the pair were tried again in August. During the second trial, Fox and Croft were convicted of conspiracy and conspiring to obtain and use weapons of mass destruction.

In their request for a third trial, attorneys for Fox and Croft reiterate allegations made in the second trial that a juror in the second trial was eager to be on the jury because they were “far left leaning.” In the opinion, Jonker dismissed these allegations as insufficient to warrant a new hearing.

UMich Debate Team wins fall semester national debate championship Policy duo conquers tournament at Wake Forest University

JOSHUA NICHOLSON Daily Staff Reporter

CAMPUS LIFE University of Michigan students don’t just have the football team to cheer for. Earlier this month University debate duo LSA junior Kelly Phil and LSA senior Rafael Pierry won the 66th annual Franklin R. Shirley Classic with an undefeated record of 11-0.

The tournament, hosted by Wake Forest University, is considered the fall championship due to its status as the last debate tournament of the fall collegiate schedule. Phil and Pierry went on to beat teams from institutions such as Harvard, Dartmouth and Emory, winning the tournament with a final win over host Wake Forest University.

This season is the first in which Phil and Pierry have worked together as debate partners, and Phil said she thinks they work well together as a

team.

“He’s very motivated to win the national championship from March, and last year I wasn’t as successful as him,” Phil said. “Being partners with him this year, it’s reminded me that this is kind of the year where I can also win it all. And that’s really motivated me as well. So because our goals are aligned, it’s been really easy to work together.”

Aaron Kall, the debate director for the University, said he was thrilled with the pair’s performance throughout the fall semester.

“I’m elated with the performance, just given that it’s such a major tournament, and it’s the last major tournament of the first semester,” Kall said. “So it really provides a lot of momentum for us heading into the second semester.”

Pierry said their performance from the tournament gives them a confidence boost as he and Phil

prepare for the next semester of tournaments.

“It’s really nice getting to spend that Winter Break period, where you’re preparing for the next wave of tournaments, coming off a good result,” Pierry said. “It’s also good because it solidifies the perception that you’re doing well amongst the debate community as a whole. They remember us as the team that won the last tournament, so it’s a good feeling to close out strong.”

Phil said the victories this semester have helped take a weight off her shoulders going into Winter Break.

“It really feels like we’ve ended the season on a good note and going into Winter Break, we can really know that we’re in the best position we can be,” Phil said. “So it takes a lot of weight off of our shoulders, I think, whereas if we didn’t do as well, then going into Winter Break, we would have to try really hard and make up for whatever

we didn’t do this semester.”

The pair currently have a 41-4 record entering the winter semester.

Phil said the debate team has given her a lot of opportunities throughout her time at the University and encouraged students from a wide range of backgrounds and majors to look into the team.

“There were some members of the debate team that were computer science majors and math majors in the past,” Phil said. “So I don’t think it’s completely incompatible with the subjects that (different students) might be interested in.”

Phil said the current debate topics often overlap with the interests of STEM majors.

“I had to learn from the ground up what all these basic AI concepts were,” Phil said. “Whereas if you’re already a computer science major, then it’ll probably be way easier for someone to really learn and understand a topic

much faster. So I think, especially this year, there are a lot of topics that overlap with what STEM majors might be interested in.”

Pierry said they were not intimidated by the prestige of their competition, which included teams from Ivy League universities such as Harvard and Dartmouth who have previously won the championship.

“(Kelly and I) tend to know most of our competitors at an individual level, so we don’t really think of them as the school,” Pierry said. “We know them; we’ve debated them many times before. I think we’ve debated Dartmouth something like five or more times this semester alone. So I wouldn’t really say it’s intimidating.”

Phil said she didn’t have any doubts about her and Pierry’s performance before any matches.

“I think that while going into the tournaments, there haven’t been any big doubts,” Phil said. “In terms of skill,

U-M Law withdraws from nationwide rankings

CARLIN PENDELL Daily Staff Reporter

The University of Michigan Law School announced on Nov. 20 that it will no longer participate in the law school ranking process by the U.S. News & World Report.

In the statement, Dean Mark West declared that the Law School would be exiting the ranking following other top-ranked law schools that have opted out of the ranking, such as Harvard and Yale.

West wrote that the U.S. News report does not align with the values of the Law School and no longer serves its original purpose.

He added that there are other valuable resources available for students when comparing different law schools, including the American Bar Association.

“Over time, I increasingly have come to believe that the U.S. News law school rankings no longer serve the public interest,” West wrote. “This information (from the American Bar Association) dramatically and admirably increases transparency: It is available for free, and reflects informed thinking about what information is most important and relevant.”

West cited concerns about the methodology and algorithm of the

rankings process, which he said is often hidden from participating law schools. U.S. News relies on surveys of faculty members from each law school — though Michigan will no longer be participating.

U.S. News & World Report will likely continue to rank Michigan and other law schools without the insight of faculty surveys, West explained, and will rely exclusively on public information to rank the schools.

“I recognize, of course, that U.S. News and other organizations will continue to rank law schools, and that our rank may fluctuate based on differences in methodologies,” West wrote. “No matter. We will

continue to focus on providing the best legal education possible and supporting our community — including especially the peoplecentric factors that rankings struggle to measure.”

Second-year Law student Alexander Gavulic, a CSG representative, said he was not surprised that Michigan decided to drop out of the U.S. News rankings after hearing that other top-ranked schools had also dropped out. Gavulic said the reception among law students was somewhat varied, adding that some questioned the potential for ulterior motives among Law School faculty.

“I myself am not entirely sure how I feel because I see both sides of it,” Gavulic said. “The administration’s viewpoint seems pretty clear as to why they’re removing themselves.”

Gavulic said he feels this decision will not have a severe impact on the Law School and students in the near future, as high-ranked schools such as Michigan will retain their reputation as elite institutions.

“I don’t think that this is going to substantially impact hiring practices or even people looking to apply to the Law School just because I think it’ll still be viewed as a top tier law school, regardless of what U.S. News says,” Gavulic

we felt pretty confident that we could do well.”

Phil and Pierry compete in Policy Debate, a form of debate in which competitors propose policies related to a topic, which remains the same for the entire year. This year, the topic was extending legal personhood, the idea of having rights and responsibilities in the legal system. Pierry said he and Phil focused on artificial intelligence when arguing in favor of the topic. He said their argument focused on making AI liable for crimes.

“I think we approached it pretty creatively given what the topic has presented us,” Phil said. “(We) made a lot of new arguments before other teams had in terms of new frontiers for AI rights and duties … I think all in all, we’re really taking advantage of the broad nature of everything we can do with the resolution.”

said.

LSA sophomore Ruby Alseikhan plans to apply to law school and was excited by the school’s announcement. She said the U.S. News rankings have a negative impact on the application process for many pre-law students.

“I’m really proud to go to a school that’s helping to realign the core values of the legal community,” Alseikhan said. “The U.S. News rankings in particular carry a lot of weight for those applying to law school, regardless of if (the ranking is) a true reflection of the education.”

Ford School hosts panel examining lasting repercussions of past contamination

Design by Evelyn Mousigian

José Brenes/Daily

Erin Posas reports on her personal experience through COP27 at the Talkback even at the Michigan League Thursday evening.

MADDYN

ROSA SOFIA KAMINSKI Senior Arts Editor

We all had to start somewhere as people. And lately, I have been realizing more and more how

much our selves emerge from what we immerse ourselves in. For many of us in this section, including myself, that was art, in several different forms, dating back to our childhood. It taught us about the world as it was, the

world as it could be, the world as it would never be, though it was still fun to consider. It showed us the space outside ourselves, and how we fit into it. Art taught us about those we love and about what we wanted; it asked us to be honest

On Nancy Drew, Scooby-Doo and the mysteries of childhood

SERENA IRANI Daily Arts Writer

On my older sister’s bookshelf sit 12 bright yellow hardcover editions of the Nancy Drew classic mysteries.

Arranged in a neatly ordered row, dust has now likely had the chance to coat the spines and nestle in the upper lip between the cover and the pages, but there was a time when those books scarcely spent a second stuck on the shelf. They’d go directly out of my sister’s hands and into mine, where they’d remain indefinitely as I re-read them over and over, caught in an infinite loop awaiting a break sequence that would never arrive. A beloved token of my sister’s library and an artifact of my childhood, the pages are wellworn from countless turns and creases, and I know each one of the mysteries they hold within by heart.

Nancy Drew was always my sister’s “thing,” but like many of her lightly used possessions and the vast majority of her closet, her interests trickled down to me. I vainly

thought of myself as the Ramona to her Beezus, and LeUyen Pham’s “Big Sister, Little Sister” was my gospel (something our well-loved copy at home covered in crayon scribbles and a binding hanging on for dear life can certainly attest to).

As such, much of my early exposure to art was contingent on the things that my sister was into; half of the reason I consider myself to be an avid reader is the fact that I spent years trying to “catch up” to where she was, even though she was three years my elder. To some extent, I watched what she watched, read what she had read a couple years ago and wanted nothing more than to understand the art that she loved so dearly.

Over the years, we readily passed through various book phases, but Nancy Drew’s presence was a constant like no other. My sister’s Nancy Drew collection grew to encompass vintage book sale finds and dozens of paperbacks from the ’80s and ’90s passed down from our aunt. Aside from the books, we’d also watch the 2007 film adaptation

starring Emma Roberts (“Scream Queens”) religiously and tune in for weekly reruns of “The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries.” I still reminisce about those lazy Sunday evenings, curled up on the couch as we listened to the opening notes of the show’s theme song and waited for the omniscient narrator to announce which mystery we’d be viewing that night. We liked Nancy’s standalone episodes best and begrudgingly sat through the Hardy Boys ones, but the crossover specials that occurred once or twice a season were simply unmatched.

Suffice to say, Nancy Drew left a ubiquitous imprint on my childhood. Each adaptation’s interpretation of her blends seamlessly into the other; when I think of her, an amalgamated vision of the classic ’30s illustrations, Roberts’s perfectly put-together plaid ensembles and Pamela Sue Martin’s (“Dynasty”) smartly chic and pragmatic ’70s jumpsuits and blazers all come to mind at once.

and gave us the curiosity to look for a greater understanding of ourselves. Childhood art is often dismissed, rarely getting the credit it deserves for being the first art we connect with. It’s the thing that, through patience from

the creators and natural empathy from the children absorbing the work, taught us that our presence and soul are not only contained in our bodies but can be shared with others. In editing all these writers’ pieces, I saw firsthand

all the different experiences and stories they had to tell, but also felt the same thread of connection to and core understanding of each one. If you read on, I’m sure you’ll feel the same. Introducing: the Childhood B-Side.

Me and my childlike artistic preferences

AVA SEAMAN Daily Arts Writer

I have the same taste in art as my four-year-old niece — I swear I’m not exaggerating.

I love Disney movies, and their soundtracks, probably more than her. Hannah Montana (yes, Hannah, not Miley Cyrus) makes her way into my top five most listened to artists every Spotify Wrapped. I will defend Barbie movies until I die. Young adult books dominate 90% of my bookshelf. I frequently rewatch my favorite Disney Channel or Nickelodeon shows. My artistic preferences don’t exactly match that of a typical 20-year-old.

I struggle to grasp the concept of growing up. Not to sound like a millennial, but “adulting” is hard, and saying goodbye to childhood is even harder. I’m the youngest in my family, yet I’m the sentimental old fool whose conversations often begin with, “Remember when?” I’m like an overfilled balloon of

nostalgia just waiting to burst. I’m not nostalgic for my childhood — a childhood plagued with divorce and financial insecurity — but rather the idea of childhood with its simplicity and innocence. Holding onto the past (however I choose to see it) makes life a little easier.

I attach positive emotions to the idea of childhood, and in turn, the movies, music, books and TV shows

I devoured as a child stay as fun and enjoyable as ever. They never grow old, unlike me.

It’s hard to outgrow something you can always easily return to. With the growing popularity of streaming services, the movies and TV shows I consumed as a child are increasingly accessible and inescapable. That’s fine by me — movies and TV shows shaped my childhood. Saturday mornings were made for watching cartoons at my grandma’s house. Movie nights meant root beer floats. Quoting lines from movies and TV shows we watched as children is how my siblings and I communicate; our humor is permanently altered by

“Shrek” and other fantastical (read: stupid) movies.

The fact that the types of movies and TV shows I like to watch don’t reflect my age embarrasses me at times. I sometimes feel shame and guilt from liking things that are “just for kids.” But just because some movies and TV shows are made for children, doesn’t mean they can’t resonate with adults. I appreciate Pixar movies now more than I did as a child. I refuse to believe the Toy Story franchise and “Up” are “for kids only” because they make me sob more than they should.

My favorite show of all time, “Avatar: The Last Airbender,” remains (unsurprisingly) relevant in today’s society. Aside from “Boy Meets World,” it’s one of the most thought-provoking children shows I’ve ever encountered and has one of the greatest character arcs of all time. So even the thought of one of my favorite movies or TV shows from childhood being “just for kids” hurts.

Design by Iris Ding

The first time you came across Rookie’s website, it was already a graveyard

MEERA KUMAR Daily Arts Writer

The first time you came across Rookie’s website, it was already a graveyard. It was March 2020, you had a surplus of free time on your hands, and you were reading interviews with Elizabeth Meriwether, the creator of the sitcom New Girl. Upon first glance, Rookie’s website appeared anything but dead: an online magazine by and for teenagers.

Created by Tavi Gevinson in 2011, the vivacious teal-andwhite site features thoughtful art and writing pertinent to the current zeitgeist. As you read further, you were charmed by the frank yet playful writing by Emma Straub; you spent the rest of your night scrolling through the interview series “Why Can’t I Be You?” It was easy to get lost in the mix of readers, journalists and celebrities remarking on pop culture, feminism and adolescence, with their art sharing honest experiences of friendship, sex, art and life: things that felt so prescient but seldom acknowledged genuinely. Upon further inspection of the website, it becomes clearer that Rookie folded in 2018; a thin red banner sticks to the top of the screen, stressing as you scroll that “THIS IS AN ARCHIVE. THIS SITE IS NO LONGER BEING UPDATED.” Upon realizing this, you were overtaken by a passing wave of loneliness for the next few days: How could this adolescent hub of imagination, whose pulse was so loud to you that it seemed almost deafening, already be dead before you could see it alive?

You found Rookie a few weeks before your 18th birthday, at the tail end of your legally-bestowed childhood — before the reality of the pandemic set in, and when momentary relief from the absence of in-person work outweighed longterm devastation for many. You

read the essay “A Fork in the Road” by Upasna Barath when you began to question your college major, listened intently to the Rookie podcast with Lisa Hanawalt while re-watching “Bojack Horseman,” and scrolled through issues archives, desperate to know more.

You spent days clicking through the origins of the Live Through This category, overcome with respect for the authors who managed to so eloquently make maps for those who came seeking to overcome traditional and new growing pains after feeling around in the dark for so long. The content was fun, but also took readers (mostly teenage girls) seriously, while simultaneously accepting them as they were, all at the same time — you know how rare this is. You never felt like a good teenager. You never broke out of your shell, reading Rookie late into the night, the brightness of the screen searing your eyes, while days that were supposed to make the high school experience worth it, like prom and graduation, passed in quarantine. So much of high school was spent feeling like you weren’t close enough to the ideal person, and until you finally do make it there, you assume you are worthless.

Reading Rookie Magazine felt different, though, because it was always full of love for its readers. Not conditional, like everything felt back then, not because you were the best, or you took up the least space, but because you were alive and thoughtful and full of love.

You still don’t know if you can articulate why Rookie was so fascinating to you, beyond the obvious joy and acceptance of its art. Rookie was never about the “best” piece of writing; it was about finding beauty in the stories that teens expressed out of love for their communities and craft itself, quietly firm expressions of humanity that made you feel a little less alone, in their explorations of everything from writer’s block, birth control,

graduating high school and much, much more. Scrolling through issues made you see the impact that magazines could have on their audience: Unfamiliar with this philosophy, you were freshly done with architecture college applications and receiving your International Baccalaureate Visual Arts grades — to you, art was still a zero-sum game. Rookie is the first place where you began to question the competition you were instilled with.

Gevinson writes that Rookie “had been founded, in part, as a response to feeling constantly marketed to in almost all forms of media; to being seen as a consumer rather than a reader or person.”

Viewing the reader as a consumer, and therefore, the writer as a producer removes the human irrationality that is critical to art. The words of Rookie impressed you because they made your, and so many others’, inner worlds real: They took off the pressure to be something widely-loved and easy to stomach. This active defiance of artistic worth made all the difference; suddenly, speaking didn’t seem so alienating anymore. Slowly, you made your way through your first year of college and began to release your grip on the ties you held in your childhood so tightly that your wrists burned. The archived website wasn’t a sign of what you missed anymore, but a memory that shows you what art can be.

Now you carry a little bit of Rookie in your pocket wherever you go. Sustaining the magazine was clearly an exhausting amount of labor, and Rookie struck gold with its investors that allowed the site to remain free of charge (though it was overwhelmed with adertisements and influence from large media companies hoping to bend the site to their will), but you can’t help it: The childish part of you still waits, still holds out hope that

Chasing ghosts at Borders

a fact was purchased by my dad at the 2007 midnight release of “The Deathly Hallows,” the one my brother commanded him to camp out for in his stead.

There’s a track on Jon Brion’s unparalleled 2004 soundtrack to “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” that’s been playing in my head lately. “Bookstore” runs only 52 seconds, but its character, formed from eerie strings played in reverse, is unforgettable. In the movie, the track plays as Joel goes to meet Clementine at a bookstore where she works.

The logo is never shown, but I’ve always known it was a Borders. The warm colors, those angled shelves rising just to chin level — the setting of the bookstore chain is etched into my memory. But I’m one of the last kids who grew up with it. Fifth graders today have no memory of the place I’m about to describe. And when they, like I once did, watch “Eternal Sunshine” in late high school or early college and think they’ve found a niche and unknown brilliance in it, that scene in the bookstore will be nothing more than that: a scene in a bookstore.

It’s more to me.

Those are the things I saw myself. Here are some I didn’t. Borders was founded here in Ann Arbor. The first store opened in 1971 at 209 S. State St. — now the site of a CVS — but the owners relocated a few years later to 303 S. State — now the site of the MDen — and in 1994 to the corner of Maynard Street and East Liberty Street — now home to Knight’s Steakhouse, Sweetwaters and Slurping Turtle.

The Liberty location would remain the flagship Borders for the next 17 years. The space used to be a Jacobson’s department store, which my mom would find funny.

***

The carpet in the kids section. That’s what I remember. The space-themed, cosmic blue/purple carpet with yellow stars and rocket ships, flattened in the center lines of the aisles where people walked, where they stopped to tilt their heads at the spines on the shelves. The shelves were taller then, if only because I was smaller.

There was a little platform where they’d give readings, where authors would presumably sit and leaf through their new picture book to a crowd of adoring kindergartners, though I never went to one of those. My Borders was in Grosse Pointe, Mich., just down the block on Kercheval Avenue from Starbucks and Ace Hardware. There used to be a Jacobson’s department store across the street, but it closed before I was born or soon after and I only know because my mom mentions it whenever we drive by.

I went there to look for Percy Jackson and Warriors books — the two series that held my third-grade class in a pop-literary chokehold. I have a Harry Potter box set somewhere that I know for

But the company quickly expanded beyond Ann Arbor. They opened their second store in Birmingham, Mich., sometime in the mid-1980s, just a few minutes away from where I went to high school. When the founders sold the company to Kmart in 1992, there were 21 Borders locations across the U.S. That number rose to the hundreds as the company opened franchises, airport stores and went international.

By the mid-2000s, Borders was the ubiquitous bookstore chain. Some had cafés and sold Starbucks coffee. They sold CDs and CD players, branded mugs and toys — Bakugan and Beyblades, if I remember correctly. They had an endless assortment of bookmarks and, of course, they sold books. Real, physical books. And that might’ve been why they didn’t last. There were over 500 Borders locations in the U.S. in 2010. A year later, there were none.

The company had been bleeding money. They hadn’t turned a profit since 2006. It occurs to me that my memories of Borders were all from this time when things were turning bad, though I never knew as much. I can think now only of the quiet among the shelves and the smell of fresh paper. But behind the scenes, the model was failing.

Amazon arrived in 1995. As he is wont to do, Jeff Bezos killed a source of happiness.

history’s reiteration of Rookie

will appear soon. You can’t help it; you scramble when you see a new New Yorker essay by Tavi, you press play immediately for an episode from Barath’s hibernating “Wait for It” podcast, you sift for

Roxane Gay’s Goodreads reviews because you know how funny she is from the Rookie podcast. Because, my god, you don’t think you’ve seen a purer labor of community care that you can understand. Rookie is

dead now, and you are long gone, but spirits are celebrated. If you see young Tavi and the old Rookie team, make sure to give them your thanks for giving you a place to stay for a while.

Design by Leah Hoogterp

by Patti Varol and Joyce Nichols Lewis

JULIAN WRAY Book Beat Editor

Arts

Mario Kart is a blast to the past

LILLIAN PEARCE Managing Arts Editor

I have never claimed to be a “gamer.” Given that I only ever truly played “Super Mario,” I didn’t feel deserving of the same title that people fluent in “Minecraft,” “The Legend of Zelda” or “Halo” held. I was only familiar with one tiny corner of the gaming world, but I was completely and utterly immersed in it.

Every Saturday morning I’d wake up before sunrise and quietly race to the living room. I wanted guaranteed access to the TV, and I wanted to be alone in the dark and quiet space. In spite of the serenity, I was wired, eagerly waiting for the Wii to load and bring me my favorite sound: the “Mario Kart” theme music. Though I enjoyed every game in the Super Mario universe, “Mario Kart” was my favorite; it was more intense than the Super Mario Nintendo DS game and gave me more control than the Super Mario Galaxy games (the Wii steering wheel had nothing to do with it).

I would play “Mario Kart” until my parents woke up and I was forced to clock out. For hours on end, I would play Grand Prix after Grand Prix — four-game tournaments against the computer — only moving on to the next after scoring first in each round. Maybe this should’ve been a sign of my later struggles with perfectionism, but at the time, it wasn’t really winning that kept

me playing, but having so much uninterrupted fun. (OK, maybe winning was a contributing factor to my addiction).

As I grew older and out of my “Lion King 1½” phase, neither movies nor television really held my attention — at least not in the way Mario Kart did. I wasn’t racing to finish my homework in time to watch the newest episode of “Victorious” or “Good Luck Charlie”; no, I was rushing to get in a race or two before bed.

I did have something to show for my unwavering devotion to the game — I unlocked every possible character and vehicle, as well as the other miscellaneous rewards.

Rosalina, one of the most difficult characters to unlock, was my favorite player. I was both proud of and stubborn about my achievements; I wouldn’t let anyone else play in my saved file in case they messed up my stats. Instead, I’d play in my sibling or dad’s save to unlock their desired characters before moving back into my own.

Though the Grand Prix tournaments were my favorite, I would log several hours doing Time Trials as practice for the computerized competitions — it was all incredibly serious to me. I’d compare the speeds of different vehicles, (I always preferred the bikes to the karts — they’re faster and easier to maneuver), their accelerations and their drift types (inward drifting was the best), to determine which vehicle was the best overall choice and

which ones were better for certain terrains, like ice or sand. Mario Kart had my full attention, and it has kept my attention for years.

Playing “Mario Kart” is the only art that brings me back to this nostalgic state of mind. When I rewatch old TV series or even reread books (the art form I am most partial to), I don’t feel anything beyond amusement concerning my past taste. Video games, though, transport me back to those early quiet mornings in my living room, adrenaline pumping, eyes wide open.

Over Thanksgiving Break, I had the luxury of playing my sibling’s Nintendo Switch after begging them to download “Mario Kart.” I itched to play it throughout Thanksgiving dinner; I counted down the minutes of The Game until I

could get my greedy paws on its controls. Just as I did when I was young, I played the Grand Prix tournaments one after the other, following my respective first-place trophies. I jumped up and down when the confetti rained over the characters and shoved the screen in my parents’ faces when my highlight reels rolled. I needed them to bask in my glory with me and give me an approving nod, which is exactly what I asked of them back in 2010.

“Mario Kart” brings me both relief and joy when I play it today. I can vividly remember how good it felt to win, to dodge turtle shells and banana peels and be granted with a bullet boost in times of strife. Though I still don’t think I qualify as a gamer, I know I’ll be a “Mario Kart” player for life.

Finding my family in the found family trope

REBECCA SMITH Daily Arts Writer

When people ask me what my favorite book series is, I still say it’s Percy Jackson.

Now, I know you’re probably thinking that I must not read a lot, or that if I do, I have the taste of a very nerdy seventh grader. I mean, there are so many amazing books in the world, and my favorite series is “Percy Jackson and the Olympians?” Lame. But the thing is, I do read a lot. I read all the time, actually, yet no book or series has managed to have the impact on me that Percy Jackson did when I was a wee 10-year-old, and I think I finally understand why.

Writing myself in and out of childhood

CARAPELLOTTI Senior Arts Editor

At a family reunion last summer, my grandmother gleefully presented me with a manila folder. Inside were several sheets of paper, all different sizes, each filled with my childish scrawl. They were stories I had started — and never finished, to her dismay — while staying at her house over the years. I couldn’t have been more than 8 or 9 years old when I wrote most of them; likely they were parts of make-believe games I had started with myself before getting called to dinner. But regardless of how old I was, I knew even then that I wanted to be a writer.

The books I read and movies I watched clearly influenced my writing, whether it was a story about a girl befriending a wild tiger due to my obsession with “Free Willy” or a full-length movie script set in a wizarding school that was eerily similar

to Hogwarts. Writing came to me easily as a kid because I loved it. It was this love that first drew me to the University of Michigan. In fourth grade, a classmate’s parent who worked at the University gave my class a presentation about the school, which is how I first learned that I could study creative writing in college.

As I got older, the stories I wanted to write became less fantastical and more rooted in my personal experiences. I wrote down almost every idea I had in my diary, alongside boy troubles and frustration with my parents. I brainstormed a coming-of-age story about a group of middle school friends, inspired by the girls in my own friend group. When I struggled with anxiety and depression, I wanted to write a character that faced those same struggles and overcame them. I had started to recognize the power of words and how they could make a difference in the lives of many.

But when it came time to go

to college, my attitude suddenly changed.

I was a bit pretentious when I first started looking into colleges. Originally, I wanted to go to NYU (yeah, I know).

The University of Michigan then returned to its top spot, more for its reputation as a top university than for its creative writing program. But by the time I graduated high school, I was enrolled at a completely different university, planning to pursue a degree in psychology and become a therapist. I don’t exactly remember how I left behind my original dream, but my end goal was the same: I wanted to help people since I could connect with them.

The idea of being an author still remained in the back of my mind, waiting in the wings until I realized, in 2020, that I couldn’t handle the emotional strain that would come with being a therapist for the next 50 years or so. Psychology was interesting to me, but I needed creativity in my life.

I’m lucky enough to have a family that has always encouraged any career path I might take. My parents were understanding when I wanted to change my major. Yet whenever they asked me what I wanted to do instead and the thought of writing inevitably popped up again, it terrified me to say it out loud. Being an author would mean a different kind of stress than being a therapist — it would mean a life of unpredictability, which I’ve never been hardwired to handle. So why couldn’t I let the idea go? We’re all familiar with the idea of the “starving artist.” A career in the arts is highly cutthroat regardless of which path you

take: a writer, an actor, an artist. We’ll face more rejections than we can count. We have to take day jobs to support ourselves through that grueling process of our work just being acknowledged, and even if we are lucky enough to land a deal, it probably doesn’t pay very well. Once it’s time to enter the “real world,” our answers to “what do you want to be when you grow up?” don’t matter as much as how we’ll support ourselves. Why is money more important than happiness? On a practical level, I understand the answer to this question, but I hate feeling like my passion matters less as I get older. I hate how much of a risk it has to be to go after what I want.

The day I admitted to one of my closest friends what I really wanted to do with my life, I felt a weight being lifted off my shoulders. It hasn’t been without its challenges, including a nasty sense of perfectionism — since the competitiveness of the industry has me falsely convinced that I have to get it right on the first draft if I want to “make it” as a writer — which couples dangerously with my horrible habit of quitting anytime I can’t figure out a plot hole. But it has its blessings, because it brought me here to The Daily, where I not only have the opportunity to build a portfolio but am surrounded by people who want the same things I do.

Now that I have returned to my dream of being a writer, I still find myself giving “disclaimers” whenever people ask me what my plans are once I graduate. “I want to write,” I say, “but right now I’m looking for a way to support myself while I do that.” Even as I write this article, I had to stop myself from writing “I had the courage to go back”; if this were a more technical career I was pursuing, I wouldn’t be called courageous or have to assuage family members that I promise, I have a plan. I want this path and all the stresses that come with it because it will make me happy. Days spent typing and deleting the same paragraph over and over again might not be the path to financial freedom, and landing a book deal might not catapult me to fame. But that’s okay with me, because the possibility of even one person reading my books and connecting with them matters more. That can only happen if I try.

I don’t remember the first time I picked up “Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief,” but I do know that by the time I finished the whole series, Camp Half-Blood felt like home, and its inhabitants — Percy, Annabeth and Grover — felt like my old friends. The series was like a warm safety blanket I knew I could fall back on, no matter what was happening in my life.

This isn’t entirely surprising. Since I was young, I’ve always clung to the fictional words I read about and watch, holding onto them like they are lifelines. When I find a series that I love, I immerse myself in it, absorbing every detail until I know it like the back of my hand. That book, TV show or movie becomes not just a form of entertainment, but a way of life. Still, there was something undeniably special about the way Percy Jackson drew me in.

For those unfamiliar with the series, the story begins when Percy discovers that his father is actually the Greek sea god Poseidon, and he is thrown into a world of Greek gods and magical creatures. It’s a fastpaced adventure, but it wasn’t the monsters or the bloody combat that stuck with me. It was the relationships Percy forged along the way, specifically his friendship with Grover Underwood, who stuck by his side through it all, and his relationship with his reluctant ally, turned friend, turned girlfriend, Annabeth Chase, a friends to lovers arc that set the romance bar way too high. In the midst of his life-threatening quests, Percy found the people who would stick by his side forever — a group of friends who became his family.

A found family, you might say.

I’ve become intimately familiar with this trope. From the golden trio in “Harry Potter,” to El and Hopper’s precious bond in “Stranger Things,” to the hit sitcom “Friends,” the found family trope — forging familial bonds with the people you choose — infiltrates a large chunk of media, and the impact it had on me as a little kid cannot be understated. Seeing my favorite characters in the world surrounded by people who supported and loved them through it all set my expectations for what I thought friendship should look and feel like. It made me believe that one day I would find my people — my family — because if Percy could do it while fighting off Titans, I could too.

Growing up, I was lucky to have a biological family who loved and supported me unconditionally. I didn’t need to search for a family, because I already had one. I did, however, have a very

black and white idea of what a family looked like: A mom, a dad, a couple kids, a dog — the nuclear family. Now, we know that the concept of a family is far more expansive than this, and it was reading and watching the found family trope that opened my eyes to this complexity. Series like Percy Jackson and Harry Potter pushed the boundaries on what I perceived to be a family. Reading about groups of drastically different individuals coming together and leaning on one another, I realized that family is not just marked by blood relation, but by an unconditional love and support that is rare and magical. By immersing myself in these stories, I discovered that who we turn to for love and support is not limited by the words on our birth certificate, but can be defined and constructed by us and us alone. A person’s support system, I realized, did not need to follow a strict dictionary definition, but could be made up of whomever they choose to have in their lives. Sometimes — like Harry making a family for himself at Hogwarts, or Percy finding his best friend in a satyr — support comes from unlikely places and people, but that does not make it any less valuable.

I began to carry these lessons into my life, allowing them to guide me. As a kid, I struggled with social anxiety that I still cope with today. At a young age, I cycled through a lot of friends. Most of them didn’t stick around, and a lot of them hurt me, but the found family trope had a funny way of making me feel a lot less alone. When I was sad, I knew I could flip open Percy Jackson, reread a favorite scene and be reminded of the kind of love and friendship I deserved in my own life. Suddenly, my definition of family was not black and white, but bright and colorful and vibrant.

Now, as a 20-year-old away at college (who is thankfully a much more confident version of herself than she was at 10), rereading Percy Jackson feels like a warm hug. It’s an instant remedy to anxiety and stress, and — even though I know the story by heart — reuniting with its characters feels like coming home to old friends. Flipping open my well-worn copy, I’m reminded again that my circle of love and support is not limited or defined by anyone but me. My family can be made up of whoever I choose. I guess that’s why, years later, the series is still nestled in the center of my bookshelf, on display for anyone who saunters into my room. It’s both a source of comfort and a reminder that I’m not alone, that I have the power to surround myself with people who care about me.

To find my family.

Needless to say, I’m still working on it. I’m incredibly lucky to have friends who I love more than anything in the world, and a family who has my back, but support systems are constantly evolving and changing. I have a funny feeling that, even 20 years from now, I’m going to need to keep revisiting these stories, to get that gentle nudge on the shoulder from Percy and Annabeth and Grover and all the characters who filled my childhood. They will always remind me that I deserve loving, supportive family and friends, whatever that may look like.

HANNAH

Design by Leah Hoogterp

Design by Leah Hoogterp

I am from the East Garfield Park neighborhood on the west side of Chicago, a community struck by decades of disinvest ment and replete with closed facilities. Blocks away from my home is the high school that witnessed my curiosity and resentment for the world grow.

During my preteen years, dif ferences between my neigh borhood — where the median income was close to the pover ty line — and the upper-income neighborhoods surrounding downtown Chicago became intensely difficult to ignore. I never questioned my home because its value was so much more monumental than the high-rise buildings I saw as I journeyed downtown, but I questioned what brought about our closed facilities and the absence of hope for change. I was curious about the sources of power that negatively struck communities like East Garfield Park. As my career interests and life experiences fused in high school, I was interested in learning how I could bring change to my community. Ulti mately, I concluded that a col lege education would lead me to a professional career, and I reveled in the idea that the uni versity I would attend would be the perfect place for me to pursue my dreams.

In March 2021, I was accept ed to the University of Michi gan. That was it — a dream come true. I would attend one of the most recognized uni versities in the country, and

I would be able to change the forces of power in favor of my neighbors and those to come. Like many dreams, I was hum bled by the realities of it. Since the day I arrived on campus, I’ve become more convinced that the dream I had was not mine to make.

The University of Michi gan is 205 years old — older than most public institutions and cities around the country. Before arriving on campus, the need to acknowledge the Uni versity’s demographics never roamed my thoughts. This uni versity had the same mission as any other higher education institution around the United States: to provide a college education. I chose the Univer sity of Michigan for its pres tige and promise of serving the bright futures of its students.

As a first-generation college student who had always relied on unconditional and compre hensive support in my early education, I lost hope in my dream as I watched the Uni versity hide me in the shadows of ‘we treat all students the same.’ This dream was now corrupted by the absence of social-emotional support, the frequency of encounters with white privilege, and the inabil ity to feasibly advocate for myself. The once-perfect place to pursue my dreams became a deception.

A couple of weeks ago, I was invited to sit in a group con versation with a high-ranking U-M administrator. The con versation had the goal of gaug ing the student life experiences of representatives from a broad range of student organizations.

Like in most rooms across this university’s campus, I was one of the few students of Color. Monuments of tension and pro test began to build in my head. My presence had too much at stake, and I was eager to name the numerous ways the Univer sity did not serve my friends of Color and me. My inner dia logue constructed an essay, but I could only say one thing: any administrative efforts across the University should be done with students, and not for stu dents. Stakeholder engagement is crucial for collaborative and relevant decision-making. I glanced at those present in the room, and I couldn’t help but go back to questioning power. The power dynamics in that room looked different than the forces that economi cally corrupt and criminalize East Garfield Park. The power in that room hid behind state ments like “We always appre ciate student input,” but gave little-to-no opportunities for students to provide it. My posi tionality on this campus is the source of that power. It feeds itself through the presence of every person enrolled across the 19 colleges, but what hap pens when students come from communities of broken dreams and a pittance of hope? We are incapable of giving it our ener gy, and it leaves us to think that this place may not exist to serve us. Quickly, we learn that this place is just like any other historic institution or force of power that victimizes its sub jects. That to me is the failure of this university.

Denial

“You know, I’m glad we did this,” the blonde smiles coquett ishly. “I really vibed with your profile.” She dips her spoon into her dessert, a swirl of chocolate, strawberry and vanilla melting on the metal. Daniel grins from across the dinner table and nods at her.

“Yeah, I could tell from the profile that you were just the girl I was looking for,” he trails off, searching his memory for her name.

“Betty,” I interject. “Betty!” Daniel quickly adds. He shoves Neapolitan ice cream into his mouth, sheepish. I laugh, “Nice save!” His eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Betty flushes red, a blush lightly dusting her cheeks even in the dimness of Daniel’s apartment. In the candlelight, you could bet ter appreciate the gentleness of her beauty. She was all soft curves, breathless laughs and quiet smiles. Contrasted with the stark red and white hellscape that is Tinder, Betty is simply an angel descended from the algorithm cloaked in Reformation. “Com pliment her dress. It’s expensive as shit.” Daniel’s hand clenches the spoon; Betty blinks oblivi ously. Daniel stammers, “You look amazing in that dress.” I giggle, a shadow hovering over the two of them. “You obviously haven’t gotten smoother since you ended things.” Daniel flinches.

“What are you looking at?” Betty’s head tilts as she tries to discern the meaning behind Dan

iel’s blank stare. “Nothing,” he says dismissively. Betty rests her hand against his bicep. “Lost in thought?” she offers. He places his palm on top of her hand. “Just trying to enjoy the moment with you.”

Bargaining

Daniel gestures to the couch and asks her if she wants to watch a movie. She politely nods; he puts on “The Way We Were,” a classic romance film. Both sit attentively on the couch, churchlike in both posture and distance. I rest myself along the top of the couch in the space between them, an imper fect triangle, and graze Daniel’s shoulders as the couple in the film sprint around in the sand. “Remember swimming to the beach from the boat? It was so far away and we were both out of breath but you swam all the way with me. Is it because you wanted to? Or is it because you wanted to come with me? To be with me? You never told me why. Your arm was turning purple, crawling up your body, and we couldn’t figure out why. That was scary. But you still followed me anyway. I know I never thanked you for that, but I am now. Thank you. Could we go back to that?”

Betty shivers delicately. Daniel covers her with his arm, pulling her closer. He rubs her shoulder.

“Do you want a blanket?” She smiles adoringly at him, “I think I’m fine now.”

Anger

The movie is close to over, but the show is about to begin. Betty yawns conspiratorially, “You know, it’s getting awfully late.” She runs her French-tipped nails against his chest. “You’re welcome to spend the night. I’m feeling awfully lonely after that movie,” Daniel says as he nuzzles his face against her neck. I sit straight up.

“Look at you, playing Mr. Nice Guy yet again. You just want to get in her fucking pants, you piece of shit.” He pauses his burrow ing, glaring in my direction before continuing.

“Don’t do this. Please. Fuck.” I pause. “What about me? That used to be me on that couch. That was our moment. This was ours. You were mine. You’re still mine.”

Betty beams against his face and lets out a full laugh.

Depression

“I’ll never stop haunting you the way you haunted me.”

She kisses his cheek, “I guess I might take you up on that offer.”

Pressing her forehead against his, Betty looks adoringly into his eyes. “Let’s go somewhere a little bit more… intimate.”

Guiding Betty by the hand, Daniel brings her to his room. The lights are off and the moon is high, gleaming onto the wooden floors of his bedroom, turning Daniel and Betty’s shadows into some sort of two-headed monster. The room is sparsely decorated — pale white walls and white bed sheets. It smells of sweat and regret, and Daniel can’t sleep.

Acceptance

He stares at the ceiling. There, in the stillness after, he finds me, embraces me. But it’s time for me to go.

Daniel turns, “Could you stay here longer? I miss you.” Betty stirs. I ghost my finger along the bridge of his nose.

“You know I can’t stay.” My shadow glides to the window, a breeze pushes the doors open.

Daniel rises, pausing to look at Betty once more. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me.” I shake my head.

I text too much. I’ve talked about this before … but after averaging roughly 4-5 hours of screen time each week with iMessage manag ing to take up 3-4 of those hours, I must mention it once again, cause, clearly, I got a lot to say… in a multi tude of ways.

Indeed, my iMessage app does duke it out with Twitter for the top slot of my screen time on the regular. For a while, I been won dering what about this particular application seems to apprehend my precious time so effortlessly. Now, before I shoot the messenger, I have some ideas.

In my original text on texting, “Texts as Texts,” I talked about how our texts could be seen as

digital yet sacred documentations of soul in their capacity to immor talize our social experience on the screen. Rather hastily, I likened texting to the process of writ ing letters, which let us recall, as Jungian psychotherapist Thomas Moore maintains, serve as, “soul’s organ of rumination rather than the mind’s capacity for its under standing.” Though in thinking more about our culture’s tendency

towards digital compulsion, vice and egoistic concern, I wonder whether this holds true. As Moore puts forth, writing and sending letters remains a highly ritualized process, developing from page and envelope to stamp and seal, not before stealing away to mailbox, mailman and recipient hand. So can we really say such a prolonged process of pondering is akin to any text we might send?

Maybe check your last text and get back to me, but I definitely do believe that while the process may not be the same, when done delib erately letter writing and texting are still engaged in similar acts of meditative reflection, artful expression, prudent confidentiality and profuse anticipation, as Moore proclaims, and my mini-case study on texts as texts will soon reveal.

But how often are we truly delib erate with our digital choices? I’ll be the first to say that my texting at times feels more blandly compul sive than authentically intentional. Lately, I been feeling real flustered about my neurotic texting tenden cies, in part I believe because I gen erally don’t spend too much time on social media apps anymore, so texting via iMessage has become a big part of how I stay connected with others.

After all, who in our personal lives don’t we text? And since when in its advent have we felt the need not to text if at all? Even self-pro claimed “bad texters” take part in this never-ending nexus of text messaging by virtue of having a phone…nobody in this modern era is ever truly on their own. We are always one text away. Nowadays, one press of the send button allows

us to be in contact with anybody who’s got our number whenever. We are eternally accessible, irrev erently reachable, forever free to say something to somebody, any thing to anybody, anywhere, at any time.

Many of us have been texting for nearly a decade or longer at this point. I got my first phone at 13 but texted via a messaging app on my Kindle Fire in fifth grade for two years prior. Over the last 10 years, I’ve communicated via electronic message with likely upwards of thousands of people via iMessage, Kik, GroupMe and other social media apps with IM features. When considering the cornucopia of people we communicate with in the digital sphere, it’s easy to separate these experiences from our analog lives. But the interac tions we partake in during texting and other forms of electronic com munication imprint, not just on the physical page, but energetically upon our souls in the most subtle of ways. Texting is intimate in totality in that we divulge so deeply with one specific person out of billions upon billions. Amidst the meticu lous, careful crafting, backspac ing, erasing, deleting, re-typing, re-thinking, re-drinking and now, really we-thinking our message, we find ourselves in a trance while just trying to chat.

No mere message is mundane, so text this next quote to a friend and hit send: “Other people are estab lished inalienably in my memories only if their names were entered in the scrolls of my destiny from the beginning so that encountering them was at the same time a kind of recollection,” as Carl Jung would

attest … at the sanctified site of the Text, soaked in the holy waters of revelation, we can recognize divin ity in the disclosure.

Nonetheless, we must re-call that we can only manage an imag ined view of the recipient at any time. We have no grasp of their actual reality, their true thoughts and feelings towards our texting. Not only are we removed from the Other when texting, but so typi cally do we find ourselves removed from the Self as well. As the dialec tics of distanciation remove those reading the text from ascertaining the absolute meaning, we become divorced from our own perception of its meaning ourselves as time marches on. Drunk or high texts sent in a drastic haze can boggle the mind for minutes, even months to come later. The moment we send a message, we lose sight of its sin cerity, the quality of character and tone we’ve intended to portray at that point in time. The time of day a text is sent, the interval between responses, the length of the mes sage received, in addition to its morphological marks and syntacti cal structures may suggest certain details about the emotional state of both, the sender and receiv er, though even then we may be deceived. Dutifully in those details, however, does lay the devil, as tex ting tends to unveil much more about ourselves than we might realize. It may not be in the act of sending and receiving itself, but instead, in the act of reflecting on our past texts, prior lived timelines and previous modes of being, oper ating and exchanging with others.

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Out-of-state students help swing the vote

JACK BRADY Opinion Columnist

On Nov. 4, University of Michigan students filled the Diag as Gov. Gretchen Whitmer stepped out of her campaign bus to rally the young crowd. With her was Pete Buttigieg, U.S. Secretary of Transportation. The next day, Sen. Bernie Sanders, I-Vt., made his own stop in Ann Arbor, encouraging students to vote for the Democrats in the looming 2022 midterms.

Their mission: Get out the college student vote.

They succeeded. On Election Day, young people made up a much-larger-than-usual voting bloc. University of Michigan students waited for hours to cast their ballots at a campus polling place, giving Michigan Democrats a boost in what could have been close races. The Blue Blitz paid off, with Whitmer and her allies winning another term in each of the state’s four state-wide offices, this time with a Democratic Michigan House of Representatives and state Senate. All three progressive ballot measures were also approved.

The race was called and many Wolverines rejoiced — even though many of them are not from Michigan. Students from across the country who had registered to vote in Ann Arbor celebrated the triumph of their values. Michigan, a swing state, had swung left, and they had helped.

And when summer comes and they return home, they leave the people of Michigan to live with the results of the election.

For this reason, these students need to be voting in their home states. Absentee ballots exist precisely for this reason. Even New Hampshire, the hardest state to vote in, only requires a simple form. The process is designed so that those abroad on Election Day, including students, can still vote in their own communities.

Many people in line at the campus polling place, however, missed the deadline to fill out these forms. Procrastinating paperwork was not the only force driving out-ofstate students to register in

Michigan; strategic voting also played a large role. Over a quarter of U-M undergraduate students come from deep-blue California, Illinois, New York or New Jersey.

A Democratic vote in Chicago or Newark is a blue drop in a vast ocean. A Democratic vote in Michigan could change the color of the whole state.

President Joe Biden said democracy was on the ballot, and Michigan’s Republican gubernatorial candidate was an election denier. Roe v. Wade was overturned, and polling on Proposal 3, which would guarantee reproductive rights, looked uncertain.

Mobilized by national leaders and consequential issues, many out-of-state students accurately concluded that a ballot in Michigan has a higher chance of swaying elections than a ballot in Illinois or California. So they cast one here. LSA freshman Ava Hammerman, who voted in Ann Arbor, explains, “I voted in Michigan because my vote has more of an impact here than in Maryland, which is much more blue. It is important to vote in a state that I can help swing.”

But what does this difference in voting power mean for lifelong Michiganders? Was our political system meant to contend with these issues of out of state votes?

Michigan’s political diversity is a feature, not a flaw. An out-of-state vote in Michigan does not answer a defect, it dilutes the influence of permanent residents. Abortion, immigration, gun control and education may be less contentious issues in liberal cities and states, but not in Michigan. In future elections, it should not be so easy for nonMichiganders to influence the issues Michiganders feel so passionately about.

Federalism, the bedrock of the United States, is based on local people making local decisions. State governments are meant to represent the interests of their constituents, not temporary lodgers. Though out of state students live here for four years, and any statelevel policies will impact them, they certainly do not have a comprable insight to lifelong Michiganders.

A student living only in a dorm, paying few taxes and counting down the days until they can return to New York has little of the knowledge necessary to cast an informed vote in Michigan, and they are far less affected by the results. Most important issues on the ballot are not as flashy as reproductive rights or the governor. Further down the ticket, local judges, city council, the mayor and state representatives are equally important.

These are serious contests with significant consequences for people in the community. But they lack the heavyweight titles and gravitas to excite outof-staters driven by national issues. Even within Michigan, the idea of a Detroiter voting for the Ann Arbor School Board is absurd, let alone another person with permanent residence hundreds of miles away doing so.

Many students feel like they are wasting their ballot voting in their deep blue home state, but they are wrong. The small races that really define a community all demand their voice. America is a country built on communities, and the nationalization of politics has had very negative impacts for them. Detroit, Ann Arbor, Chicago and New York all have their own neighborhoods with their own problems that require a highly localized response.

The diversity that makes America special manifests itself in school boards and city halls. These seats of local government should be emblematic of the people living there.

The big issues still matter. Election denial must stop and women must have the right to choose, but it is up to local people to make it happen.

And they usually do a good job — Trump’s handpicked conspiracy theorists lost at the polls. Only nine states prohibit abortion with no exceptions and Michigan is not one of them. So, to all the out-of-staters who voted in Ann Arbor, your own community needs your vote more. Michigan does a good job on its own.

Jack Brady is an Opinion Columnist and can be reached at jackbra@umich.edu.

To Medicate or not to medicate? College students must decide

This past week, I went to the University of Michigan’s student health services to get routine blood work and lab tests done.

After checking in for my appointment, the receptionist handed me a small clipboard with a questionnaire attached. “It’s just protocol,” she assured me. “We ask all college students to fill it out.” The survey asked me to consider my feelings and behaviors over the past two weeks, prompting me to rate the extent to which I had little interest or pleasure in doing things or felt tired and had little energy — and, unsurprisingly for a college student in the middle of exams, I ranked each of these categories pretty high.

When I was finally admitted into the doctor’s office, I handed over my questionnaire, and waited as she scanned over my responses. After a couple minutes, she began slowly nodding her head back and forth while I braced myself for the follow-up question that I already knew was coming: “Have you ever considered taking anti-anxiety medication?”

It is precisely this line of questioning that has contributed to the doubling of anti-anxiety and antidepressant prescription use among college students, with one in four college students reporting having taken some form of psychiatric medication within the past year. Although pharmacological treatments for mental illness have provided life-changing results for many people, they do not come without repercussions. Specifically, the appallingly low thresholds for prescribing psychiatric drugs have engendered harmful trends of overprescription and misdiagnosis.

The form that I was asked to complete by the receptionist in the doctor’s office, formally known as a PHQ-9 questionnaire, is a major culprit in the progression of this epidemic of overmedication. Not only does the form’s reliance on self-reporting of symptoms open up a strong potential for error and response bias, but in a recent study researchers at McGill and Stanford found that the questionnaire “substantially overestimates depression prevalence.”

When compared with structured clinical screenings for depression, the PHQ-9 was shown to falsely overestimate depression rates by more than 50%. This is particularly concerning, considering that almost all population estimates

of depression prevalence are based exclusively on cursory screening tools such as the PHQ-9. Thus, a vicious cycle ensues: depression and anxiety rates are inflated by inaccurate and unreliable clinical practices, and production of psychiatric drugs is bolstered to meet false quotas of perceived necessity.

Consequently, such trends of overdiagnosis, paired with worsening shortages of psychiatric professionals, have promoted the false perception of psychiatric medication as a complete and total solution. The National Institute of Mental Health identified the growing threat of this mindset, affirming that “prescription drugs are not a cure for anxiety, but rather only one part of treatment.”

In fact, multiple studies have found that the continued use of antidepressants may be harmful in a way that many would not expect. Identified as “tardive dysphoria,” experts have established that extended use of these drugs substantially increases the risk that an individual will experience chronic depression in the long term. This is normally accompanied by an overall loss of antidepressant efficacy, rendering the patient’s corrective options limited and fraught.

A study conducted at Yale found that usage of SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) antidepressants more than doubled the risk that a depressed individual would develop bipolar disorder. This emerging patient demographic has been revealed as chronically overmedicated and undertreated, highlighting a growing need for critical reevaluations of societal views of mental illnesses and their plausible remedies.

The solution to this problem lies in the prioritization of both holistic and cognitive therapies for mental illness, rather than strictly chemical ones. These approaches have tentatively been shown to be equally or more effective than psychiatric drugs in treating depression and anxiety disorders, with reduced risks of relapse after ending treatment.

Another recent study coming out of Georgetown University Medical Center suggests that consistently practicing mindfulness and meditation had the same success rate in reducing symptoms of stress and anxiety as psychiatric medication did. Such findings are imperative for efforts to reduce medication reliance, as the results could increase the likelihood of insurers to cover costs for holistic treatments and therapies, which currently can cost up to $500 for an 8-week session.

These circumstances serve as a sobering reminder that matters of health are highly personal and unique to each individual. Mental health issues in particular are extremely complex, and often unable to be fully ameliorated through blanket solutions such as medication. Health care systems have come to rely too heavily on prescriptions rather than preventative action, and this trend threatens to pose serious harm to the American public if not corrected.

Ultimately, although effective for some individuals, no medication comes without a set of side effects and repercussions. Accordingly, it is important to always do your research, with considerations of whether these potential risks will be offset by the benefits.

Tate Moyer is an Opinion Columnist & can be reached at moyert@umich.edu.

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We can’t afford to lose animal experimentation

NAMRATHA NELAPUDI

Deep beneath the Chemistry Building, East Hall, Undergraduate Science Building, College of Pharmacy, and School of Public Health — staple buildings and second homes to STEM students — lies a relatively unknown operation. Walking down a few flights below ground level, your nose will pinch, skin will bead from the humidity and pupils will dilate to adjust to the low lighting.

As decayed as these conditions may sound, these basements are rigorously monitored to uphold an atmosphere for the beings that know this place to be their primary and forever home: rodents. Here, hundreds to thousands of rats and mice are kept in cages that line special containment rooms — either awaiting, in the middle of, or having gone through experimentation.

The University of Michigan has a vast Animal Care and Use Program that sets and disseminates ethical standards for the use of animals for both education and research purposes.

In addition to ACUP’s 41-page website that details (ad nauseam) the roles and responsibilities necessary to ensure animal welfare, the University of Michigan also has a publicly available and transparent

database of all the laws, policies and guidelines researchers are required to follow.

In combing through the resources and precautions put in place for everything from fish eggs to primate hair, a common theme emerges: our institution ensures the highest standard of care and attention to animals. As documented in the official position statement of the University of Michigan, the universal “Three Rs” of biomedical research — Reduce, Replace and Refine — are at the heart of the whole endeavor.

Spelled out in context, the three Rs stipulate that whenever a non-animal replacement isn’t available, the least amount of animals necessary should be used, and they should receive the best animal welfare.

Yet animal experimentation strikes a nerve with many people on campus — such as the U-M Animal Ethics Society and Michigan Animal Respect Society — and no meticulous list of regulations will change that.

Irrespective of the exhaustive measures that research-intensive universities like the University of Michigan undertake to ensure best animal use practice, many consider the non-consensual, abrasive and unknown outcomes of experimentation on sentient beings to be grounds for the complete separation of animals from research. Period.

An attainable and realistic middle ground between animal rights activists and animal researchers simply cannot exist. The discrepancy lies in the value system each party subscribes to. The core belief that a mouse’s life is as important and precious as a human’s cannot be altered with data showing, for example, that countless life-saving drugs have been developed rapidly because of rodent experimentation, and that thousands of students learn best from tangible manipulation of animal models.

Little progress has been made to reach peace with animal experimentation abolitionists because scientists often view activists’ fundamental beliefs as malleable ideas — as if crunching the numbers about in-vivo productivity can shift entire ideologies rooted in deep cultural, religious and ancestral ways of life. Nonetheless, the closest anyone has been to harmony lies in novel alternatives to animal testing. The National Institute of Health, the blueprint for biomedical research practices in America, syndicates various research endeavors to develop, scale and test new methods of replicating live, multi-organ environments. The most promising models involve artificial intelligence prediction of chemical toxicology, embryonic stem cell culture and the use of invertebrate creatures.

While these cost-effective

alternatives would relieve the burden of skilled manpower required to conduct animal experiments, research labs have little incentive to fully switch to animal-free models.

The observability with which gene therapy technologies, drug administration and physiological change occur in live animals — which go on to yield results that appeal to medical journals, funding committees and Big Pharma on the cusp of a new drug rollout — supersedes the alternatives that would really only work for projects vaguely related to the main research question.

With the threat of pandemics persistent, human drug resistance and other health challenges that demand quick output of biomedical solutions now more than ever, pushback from animal rights activists and their demand for complete conversion to animal alternatives is something the world cannot afford at this time.

The NIH notes, for example, that in addition to the use of animal models that greatly aided their own COVID-19 vaccine efforts, Moderna’s lightning-speed rollout of their mRNA vaccine was the result of preclinical data in thousands of genetically-altered mice. And as of summer 2022, more than 223 million doses of the Moderna COVID-19 vaccine have been administered in the U.S.

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Why does TV get Gen Z so wrong?

CLAUDIA FLYNN Opinion Columnist

When “The Kissing Booth 3” came out last year, it became the perfect finale to a horriblyreviewed trilogy, with clips such as this one going viral for how painful they were to watch. This kind of dramatized interpretation of how Generation Z speaks to each other persistently appears in media centered around today’s teenagers as older writers try

to grasp how we communicate. As modern TV shows continue to portray the generation as one-dimensional, self-obsessed teenagers absorbed by social media, they make it increasingly difficult for Gen Z to connect with the characters we are supposed to relate to.

What it means to be a teenager continues to evolve, and film writers are working to incorporate the new norms of being a teenager into their media. However, they are not succeeding. Take the new remake

of “He’s All That,” for example. Instead of a trained actress, this film stars TikTok star Addison Rae, and embodies every modern teenager cliché possible. The characters are mean, addicted to social media and primarily focused on popularity and fame.

Productions such as “Riverdale” and “The Kissing Booth” have gained popularity with our generation, but instead of being recognized for what they got right, they’ve gained attention for how much they get wrong. Standout issues range

from the actors that are 5 to 15 years older than their characters to the agitating dialogue that makes you wonder, who thinks we actually speak like that? The issue is that these shows encompass all of the stereotypes of today’s teenagers that older generations perceive, and little to none of the depth that actually is present in Gen Z, such as their adamant political activism, advocacy for social causes or transparency surrounding issues such as mental health or diversity.

In contrast, one movie that portrays an accurate representation of teenagers is “The Perks of Being a Wallflower.” Unique for its raw (and sometimes uncomfortable) discussions on mental health, this 2012 film encapsulates the more realistic parts of being a teenager, such as struggling with mental health, drug abuse, sexuality, academic hardships, anxiety, sexual abuse and suicide. Although they are intimate and challenging topics, these are some of the issues that consume our generation’s daily lives, drive our conflicts and heavily impact our relationships. This honesty is what has led to this film’s lasting impact and the precedent it has set for other meaningfully relatable films in the future.

Gen Z experiences heavy battles with mental health. This generation is the most anxietyprone yet, with 90% reporting having experienced psychological or physical symptoms due to stress in the past year, and 70% saying anxiety and depression are significant issues among peers. Although our heavy use of social media is criticized and ridiculed by older generations, our instinct to turn to social media platforms like TikTok for advice isn’t due to some deep-rooted narcissism or desire to “go viral.” Instead, people struggling with mental health turn to social media to share experiences, seek information about getting help and find and give support.

So where does this lack of understanding of how Gen Z interacts with society come from? Well, for starters, the majority of film writers in the U.S. are over 40 years old, and are additionally primarily white, straight and male. The homogenous nature of the writers leads to the repetitive misinterpretation of minorities. Gen Z is more racially and ethnically diverse than other generations. We have the largest LGBTQ+ population, with approximately 21% of Gen Z over 18 identifying as a part of this community. Yet, in a survey conducted by VICE media, 50% of Gen Z respondents said they felt that the current level of diversity in media does not reflect modern audiences.

What’s the f***ing

bad

marginalized groups.

ZHANE YAMIN Opinion Columnist

e hasn’t slept in probably uh seven days” was the only phrase of hip-hop artist Baby Keem’s song “naked freestyle” my speaker system was able to output before my parents turned it off. Admittedly, I should have known the next words, namely “these hoes,” would have gone over badly with them, considering their general distaste for vulgarity.

Interestingly enough, as pervasive as expletives are within modern music, and within life in general, the distaste that my parents hold does not exist within a vacuum. Swear words are held as a persistent taboo throughout daily life, and social customs throughout the world look down upon swearing. Unknown to many people, though, is that there are clear psychological, physiological and sociological benefits to using curse words properly. Furthermore, these effects are representative of the greater power of breaking “taboo.”

Putting the taboo aside, multiple studies have shown that the surfacelevel benefits of curse words are many. One 2015 study showed that the better use of curse words was related to the education level and vocabulary of the speaker. The idea that people who swear do so because they lack the ability to find the right, non-taboo word to use was proven a myth, and, generally, people who swear more actually tend to be more fluent in their language than people who do not.

Aside from the connection between curse words and language fluency, there exists a clear connection between cursing and pain tolerance. In terms of physical pain, it is found that swearing can help alleviate and distract people from pain. The cognitive process of swearing allows people to perceive harmful stimuli as being less painful because of the attention the process requires. A sports psychology study also found that swearing can increase performance in strengthrelated and physical tasks.

While the psychological and physiological benefits to swearing are numerous, a certain amount of attention should be paid with respect to the negative consequences it can have. Gone unchecked, simple cursing can undergo an ugly transition into what University of Michigan sociology professor Fatma Göçek called in a Michigan Daily interview “verbal violence.”

According to Göçek, “verbal violence” can undermine the inherent respect and empathy during social interaction needed in order to sustain a healthy society. Violence begets more violence, which is a vicious negative feedback loop that can be detrimental to society.

This is where a discernment needs to be made in order to emphasize the positive effects of swear words. Not all taboo words are non-harmful. For example, slurs and stereotypical terms have been used throughout much of human history in order to hurt and oppress

There is a clear difference between copulatory and excretory swearing and divisive, harmful speech. The use of the former can come with many positive effects, while the latter has the capacity to cause great harm. There is also a difference between swearing at someone and swearing with someone.

Furthermore, it is the responsibility of the speaker to determine what swear words to use and when to use them. Using swear words at the right time and not with a wanton mouth can actually prove you to be more aware and educated to the person you are speaking to.

When one can distinguish between the proper use of swear words and the improper use of swear words, it can help you connect with people at levels that would have otherwise been impossible to reach. When someone breaks a social norm in front of another person, they break down an invisible barrier.

Shattering the linguistic norm of politeness has been shown to prove honesty and authenticity to the person one is speaking with.

When a societal norm is broken down, especially in scenarios where conformity is omnipresent, it gives a covert prestige to the speaker — that is, a connection between speaker and audience due to the words they choose to use. When asked how she would feel if a job interviewer cursed in front of her, LSA freshman Elizabeth Harrington details how she would feel more comfortable, saying she “would relax and feel like the workplace had a more casual environment.”

The thing is, using swear words shows an inherent honesty. One 2017 study found a clear positive correlation between honesty and the use of expletives. A certain authenticity is needed in order to break down societal norms, and when that authenticity is shared with people, it can make them feel more human. When a professor curses in their lecture, it, in the words of LSA Freshman Meredith Knight, “humanizes the information” and shows that “the professor respects us as humans before students.”

At the end of the day, we are all real people. We are not the societal standards that we feel pressured by and we are also not the demonization we might receive for breaking those standards. While societal expectations might exist for a good reason, the importance of people supersedes the importance of the expectations.

Even though the taboo of swear words is not a global issue or a cause that requires global campaigning against, the issue is representative of the general human state. If we can break down the societal standards that bind us, even in little ways such as “expanding” our public vocabulary, we can move one step closer to a world that’s a little more honest and a little more authentic. The true power of swear words comes from their ability to bring us, even if a little bit, closer as people. That’s the fucking point.

Zhane Yamin is an Opinion Columnist and can be reached at zhane@umich.edu.

“H

point: “Bad” words aren’t that

SportsMonday: Don’t let winning distract you from the athletic department’s failures

NICHOLAS STOLL Managing Sports Editor

In sports, one thing is put above all else: winning.

Excuses are made for cheat ers and gamblers on the tame end, and domestic abusers and sex offenders on the extreme end. But as long as they help your team win, it’s OK. Because in sports, that’s all that matters, right?

Right?

And Michigan is winning.

The football team just claimed its second straight Big Ten Title — accomplishing the feat for the first time since 2003-04 — and secured consec utive College Football Playoff appearances for the first time in program history. The men’s basketball team has made five straight Sweet 16s. The wom en’s basketball team reached unprecedented heights, mak ing the Elite Eight in last year’s tournament. The hockey team made it to the Frozen Four once again. The gymnastics teams bring home banners, individual wrestlers have claimed titles and the suite of other varsity sports have found great success.

That success across the entire athletic department has been forged by hard work, dedi cation and — of course — moral compromise.

Because who needs account ability when you’re winning?

First, turn your eyes to the Big Ten Championship MVP and sophomore running back Donovan Edwards. After retweeting antisemitic rheto ric, the athletic department didn’t muster a very strong response. Edwards eventually apologized, only after saying it was a “glitch” — an unlikely scenario given the steps it takes to retweet something. Universi ty President Santa Ono put out

FOOTBALL

this indirect statement, which fails to address Edwards him self or his actual actions.

Beyond that? Excuses. You don’t know Dono like we do.

We heard.

Dono didn’t mean it. They said.

Dono’s a great guy. The line went.

But “Dono” helped them win. That much is evident. So his actions were brushed under the rug.

Just this week, senior defen sive tackle Mazi Smith faced felony gun charges. The inci dent dated back to Oct. 7, but the charge was filed Wednes day, and athletic director Warde Manuel left this lacklus ter statement:

“We are aware of the charge against Mazi from a traffic stop back in October,” Manuel said.

“Mazi was honest, forthcoming and cooperative from the very beginning and is a tremendous young man. He is not and never has been considered a threat to the University or community.

“Based on the information communicated to us, we will continue to allow the judicial process to play out. Mazi will continue to participate as a member of the team.”

The Wolverines would’ve been hurting without their star player and team captain in the Big Ten Championship game. Of course he was going to play.

I know that Smith was in the process of getting his concealed carry license and the other facts of the case. I’m not here to say whether he is guilty or not. I’m here to say the athletic depart ment failed to give substantive reasoning why a player charged with a felony wasn’t suspended even a game — instead being lauded in the press release — or why the news wasn’t disclosed sooner.

Had the athletic department known about the incident since Oct. 7, this becomes all the more complicated and all the more damning. There’s no way to know, but the past doesn’t look favorably on the athletic department’s track record.

Another star athlete — for mer point guard Zavier Simp son — also faced charges after a vehicle incident with police in 2020. Simpson, unlike Smith, was suspended one game. The issue in his case wasn’t the sus pension, but the way the athlet ic department failed to properly address Simpson lying to police that his name was “Jeff Jack son,” how he was driving a vehi cle owned by Manuel’s wife and how bodycam footage indicated an impaired state of mind.

Winning took priority over teaching lessons and molding young athletes — over being the “leaders and best.”

But passing over serious inci dents doesn’t end there.

In former Michigan hock ey coach Mel Pearson’s case, there was a slew of disgusting infractions that Manuel and the department had known about for months before firing him earlier this year. It took pub lic outcry before the facts of the case were deemed severe enough to result in action.

Because Pearson was a win ner. His players were top pros pects at NHL squads and the Wolverines were in the Frozen Four. Firing Pearson would likely result in a rough year for the Michigan hockey program.

That simply isn’t enough to excuse inaction — and there’s really no other explanation for it.

Really, this feigned igno rance and false moral high ground stretches much further back than the past couple years. Look at what’s happened with Bo Schembechler and the chill

ing accusations, corroborated by his own son, levied against him.

Still, Michigan coach Jim Harbaugh praises him, and his statue still stands outside the hall given Schembechler’s namesake on athletic depart ment grounds.

Why?

Because he was a goddamn

winner.

And that should not be enough to pardon any kind of behavior.

Not every incident needs a suspension, firing or sweep ing address, but athletes and coaches need to be held accountable for their actions. It’s not Manuel and the athletic department’s job to cover up its

pupil’s failures — it’s their job to handle them properly. And if Manuel and his department can’t, they’re the ones who should be held accountable.

Winning programs don’t excuse that.

Stoll can be reached at nkstoll@umich.edu and on Twitter @nkstoll.

INDIANAPOLIS — At this point, it’s a moment you’ve prob ably seen before.

The confetti raining down in Miami Gardens, the best season the Michigan football team had in almost two decades coming to one somber and unceremonious end.

Red populated Hard Rock Sta dium as Georgia’s players, coaches and faithful all stuck around to soak in a dominating Orange Bowl victory. All of the Wolverines had left the field, except for a few who stood off to the side, watching the Bulldogs celebrate what Michigan so desperately wanted.

That contingent included two then-freshmen: quarterback J.J. McCarthy and running back Dono van Edwards.

Fast forward to now, and the scene after the Wolverines cap tured their second straight Big Ten title was quite different: Play ers were grinning, the confetti was maize and blue, but one thing remained the same.

McCarthy and Edwards once again stood right next to each other. Although this time, it was at the podium after the tandem of budding stars carried Michigan to another Big Ten trophy. They shared bright smiles, but some thing about their celebration felt hollow.

The memory of last year’s Orange Bowl still lingers.

“I feel like (the Georgia loss)

drove me so much that this vic tory tonight doesn’t really feel like anything,” McCarthy said after the game. “That’s something that’s really hard to come by. I mean, back-to-back Big Ten Champion ships is amazing, but just that feel ing that we had last year, this is just in the way of making sure that feel ing never happens again.”

It’s a difficult position to be in, but it’s also an enviable one. For McCarthy and Edwards, they’re at a point where accomplishments like Saturday night don’t mean all that much to them. They want more, the Wolverines want more.

Michigan just captured its 13th victory, its most wins in a season in program history. And yet, there is no trophy for that accomplish ment, no banner to hang — it’s simply what’s expected of college football’s elite. It’s obvious that the Wolverines want to be in the upper echelon of their sport. Edwards proclaimed that much to everyone inside Lucas Oil Stadium, moments after accepting the Big Ten title game MVP trophy.

“I mean it’s kinda self-explana tory what our goals are,” Edwards said. “I believe we’ve talked about it all year. And it’s not really much more that needs to be said. … Let’s go do what our main goal is.”

Michigan’s goals have been to beat its rivals, win the Big Ten, make the College Football Playoff and win the National Champion ship.

The Wolverines have been very upfront about those goals all year, they’ve worn them unabashedly

on their sleeve. But now it’s dif ferent. Now, they are on the doorstep of their hearts’ desire — they’re just two wins away from a national title.

Michigan’s dreams of winning a national championship are tan gible. And McCarthy recognizes that.

“I love our chances,” McCar thy said. “Last year it was kind of the bright lights, everything was new, Big Ten Championship, Col lege Football Playoff. Going into the offseason it gave us so much momentum, and we knew that we could get there, and we could get back. Ultimately, this whole offseason it was about winning it.

“Everything is great that hap pened today. But job is not fin ished. We’ve got a lot bigger plans in mind.”

It’s really that simple. The Wolverines want to win a national championship, and they believe that they can. Everything that has happened over the past year has just brought Michigan closer to its end goal.

Maybe that’s a rematch with Georgia for the national champi onship, maybe it isn’t. Just which ever team it plays, the Wolverines hope that they aren’t, once again, the team learning what it’s like to play with the big dogs. Or the team taking moral victories instead of taking a trophy.

Michigan wants to be the team celebrating. And if there’s one thing to take from the Wolver ines, it’s that they unequivocally think they will.

Michigan earns No. 2 seed, to play TCU in Fiesta Bowl

JARED GREENSPAN Managing Sports Editor

For the second consecutive season, the Michigan football team is headed to the College Football Playoff.

On New Year’s Eve, the sec ond-ranked Wolverines will take on No. 3 seed TCU in the Fiesta Bowl. The winner of that

semifinal will advance to the national championship against either No. 1 Georgia or No. 4 Ohio State.

The game will mark Michi gan’s second ever appearance in the College Football Playoff.

Last season, the Wolverines earned the No. 2 seed and lost to Georgia in the Orange Bowl, 34-11.

Michigan is in the midst of a

historic season, having won 13 games for the first time in program history following its second straight Big Ten championship, a title it cap tured with a 43-22 win over Purdue Saturday night.

The Horned Frogs, mean while, sit at 12-1 and will look to rebound from a 31-28 loss to Kansas State in the Big 12 Championship Game.

Despite second straight Big Ten championship, Michigan’s focus lies on the national title

SPENCER RAINES Daily Sports Editor

FILE PHOTO/Daily

FOOTBALL

KATE HUA/Daily

SPORTSWEDNESDAY

‘Made for the big moments’: Donovan Edwards leads Michigan to Big Ten title

JARED GREENSPAN Managing Sports Editor

INDIANAPOLIS — For the second consecutive year, the Michigan football team transformed Lucas Oil Stadium into a colossal celebration. And when the main event — a 43-22 victory over Purdue in the Big Ten Championship game — gave way to the afterparty, Donovan Edwards still found himself at the center of it all. Edwards, standing on a makeshift stage at midfield, snaked his way to the front of the scrum as his name echoed throughout the stadium. The sophomore running back had just been honored as the game’s MVP, recognition of his 185-yard, one-touchdown performance. He accepted the trophy from college football legend Archie Griffin, hoisted it above his head and glanced upwards, a drizzle of maize and blue confetti falling from the rafters.

“I rise to those occasions,” Edwards said postgame. “I thrive for that. … I believe I’m made for the big moments, you know?”

After back-to-back commanding performances in the two biggest games of Michigan’s season to date, that much is clear.

“This guy comes alive in big games,” Michigan coach Jim Harbaugh said, his voice rising an octave to emphasize “alive.” “… This guy, when it’s a big game, I mean, his whole career, whether it was high school, college, now, he just hits another gear. He takes off to another level.”

Edwards’s ascent isn’t entirely unexpected. He is a former five-star recruit who, over the past two seasons, has shown brilliant flashes. A combination of injuries and a crowded running back room, though, have limited them to just that — mere flashes.

That complexion has changed, drastically. When Blake Corum injured his knee in the second quarter of Michigan’s game against Illinois on Nov. 19, the Wolverines’ season teetered. Yes, Michigan is a complete team, but Corum was their engine, their Heisman candidate, their bellcow. Filling his void seemed impossible, especially when the Wolverines struggled to move the ball against the Illini once Corum went down.

Only one player had the potential to change that. And Edwards — after missing two games himself with a hand injury — returned last Saturday in Columbus with a vengeance. On the heels of a mundane first half performance, he exploded in the second half, tallying 216 rushing yards and two long touchdown runs. He carved up Ohio State’s defense while cradling the ball only in his left hand, his right hand still wrapped in a soft cast.

Saturday unfolded similarly. Edwards took his first four carries for six yards. By halftime, he had 11 carries for just 37 yards, while Michigan clung to a 14-13 lead.

from the concession lines, Edwards opened the second half with a bang. On a simple run to the left, he drew a one-on-one matchup at the line of scrimmage with Purdue cornerback Reese Taylor. Edwards juked, sent Taylor to the ground and sprinted down the far sideline for a 60-yard run. Michigan scored a touchdown four plays later.

On the next drive, Edwards took care of the job himself.

Receiving a handoff at Purdue’s 27 yard line, Edwards pinballed his way off seven different Boilermakers, churning up the middle and into the endzone on a Marshawn Lynch-esque carry. Five minutes into the half, the Wolverines led by 15, with Edwards to thank.

“That’s who you are,” Harbaugh said postgame, looking at Edwards. “401 yards in the last two games. Amazing.” Amazing and also necessary. When Corum injured himself, Michigan didn’t want to abandon the run. For two years, the Wolverines have dominated the opposition with a bruising, physical play style predicated on a bullying offensive line and talented running backs. It’s their identity — a smashmouth, wear you down football team — and it has propelled this stunning turnaround. But without Corum, that vision no longer seemed feasible.

Few could have imagined the dominance that has followed.

Harbaugh — who described Corum and Edward as “two supreme backs” — was one of them.

“When this is the next man up, it’s that good,” Harbaugh said, grinning.

A few moments later, Harbaugh left the podium, ducking back into Michigan’s celebratory locker room. Walking down the stairs, he pointed at Edwards and pounded his chest. Edwards reciprocated.

In another world, it’s Corum at the podium, healthy and brilliant. But this is Edwards’s time now, his moment, and it felt like it as he hoisted the MVP trophy, did an array of postgame standups, ran over droves of defenders. And while unfortunate circumstances have created that, it’s clear that he’s ready.

Last week, charging out of the Ohio Stadium tunnel after the win, Edwards proclaimed “damn, this my stadium.” This week, in the wake of a similar performance, Edwards struck the same tone.

“I would say this is our home, too,” Edwards said.

“We’ve been here last year, this year, and when we did our walk-through yesterday, it was just like, yeah this is our home right now. We were completely comfortable because a bunch of us have already played here last year. It was just another day in the office.”

Edwards makes it seem like that sometimes, undeterred by added burdens and unfazed by heightened stakes. He has at least one more big game to tackle, and if he can keep up this dominant stretch, well, he’ll likely have another one, too.

NICHOLAS STOLL Managing Sports Editor

INDIANAPOLIS — J.J. McCarthy’s patented smile seemed to peak just a little bit higher Saturday night.

The sophomore quarterback had every reason for his glee: maize and blue confetti blanketed the field at Lucas Oil Stadium, the No. 2 Michigan football team won its second-straight Big Ten title and McCarthy led his team under center to the moment of glory, hoisting the conference trophy once more.

His own stat-line — 11-for-17 for 161 yards and three touchdowns — displays the contribution McCarthy made to the 43-22 win over Purdue. Turn on the tape, and it gets even more impressive; scrambling throws across his body and frozen-ropes filled up the 11 completions, sending Michigan fans into stupor and making Boilermaker-faithful drop their jaws in disbelief.

The golden boy was finally golden.

The performance spoke for itself. Nobody in the postgame press conference asked McCarthy about how he felt he played, nobody asked Michigan coach Jim Harbaugh his thoughts on his quarterback’s performance and nobody asked sophomore running back Donovan Edwards how McCarthy’s game helped him succeed on the ground.

It was just expected of McCarthy to do what he did. He’s a player so talented that circus-plays and NFLcaliber throws are the status quo.

But, unlike Saturday, that talent hasn’t always translated to results.

“The journey has definitely been a roller coaster,” McCarthy said Saturday. “Just going back to my injury in the offseason and then obviously the competition with Cade. Cade is a great quarterback. A lot (of) it at the beginning of the year and fall camp was just focused on trying to beat him out.”

That’s nothing to underestimate in McCarthy’s journey.

Cade McNamara, too, is a Big Ten Championshipwinning quarterback. The now-Iowa transfer did it all before McCarthy as the Wolverines’ leader and QB1 last season, with McCarthy playing second fiddle. It was McNamara’s poise, his decision-making, his tact that made him a champion.

Even if McCarthy had all the talent in the world, he’d need those McNamara-esque qualities to reach the top. After his talent won him the job in September, McCarthy’s next task was to prove he had them.

“It was like, ‘OK, now we have games to win,’ ” McCarthy said. “It was just that constant kind of — a bunch of obstacles that just made me improve in every way I possibly can.”

Obstacles they were.

McCarthy often struggled throughout the season. He was never truly bad, but as he showed glimpses of greatness within prolonged streaks of mediocrity, there was much to be desired. Missed deep passes, poor decision making and a risky affinity for contact along with other growing pains filled the narrative more than his high upside.

Still, Harbaugh held the highest praise for his prodigy: comparing McCarthy to himself.

“He’s better than me — but I mean, he reminds me of a young Jimmy Harbaugh,” Harbaugh said after Michigan’s win over Iowa on Oct. 1. “Off he goes, he drops back, and then he runs over to his left, circles back to his right, back to his left, runs it, or throws it, to an open guy. Man, I love it, I just love it.”

McCarthy could always do that — it just wasn’t consistent. He had the ability to lift the Wolverines to a victory on his very own shoulders, but he simply never put a game together and did it.

Until Nov. 26 against then-No.2 Ohio State.

McCarthy threw for 263 yards and three touchdowns, connecting on his deep balls and saving drives with his legs and arm. It was a clinic in quarterbacking. For the latter half of that game, McCarthy wasn’t just a young quarterback with heaps of talent, he was the Wolverines’ leader — a beacon of light ushering them to victory.

In Saturday’s Big Ten Championship Game, McCarthy’s light shined just as bright.

It was a culmination of McCarthy’s journey. He was often flashy and gaudy. At times, he made mistakes — such as attempting to extend a play too long and forcing a ball into coverage, resulting in an interception — a product of his inexperience. By no means was he perfect Saturday, but for the second week in a row the five-star recruit performed exactly as he was billed: great.

On Michigan’s first drive of the game, McCarthy delivered. After a double play-action, McCarthy placed a ball where only freshman tight end Colston Loveland could reach it. Through double coverage, Loveland highpointed the ball and hauled it in for a touchdown. Later, McCarthy demonstrated his mobility, rolling right to evade the Boilermaker rush, firing in stride across his body to find graduate tight end Luke Schoonmaker, putting the Wolverines up 14-10.

As a result of poised plays like those, just one season after McNamara lifted the Big Ten Championship Game trophy for the first time in program history, McCarthy found a way to lead his team to the title once again.

His journey has been winding, with a plethora of ups and downs. McCarthy spent a year as a backup, an offseason fighting for his chance and a season learning how to lead an offense. He’s done everything he can to become a winner.

Now, on the winningest Michigan football team of all time, that’s just who McCarthy is.

Then Edwards came alive.

Before a number of fans could even return to their seats

SUPER SOPHS

A career in the making, McCarthy’s journey has led him to this point

KATE

Design by Lys Goldman & Sophie

. S h a g g i n g . G e t t i n g b

x. L ove ma k i ng. F*ck i ng. Sha g g i ng. G et t i ng bu s y. H it t i ng.

The Statement 2022 Sex Survey

JULIA VERKLAN MALONEY Statement Deputy Editor

Here marks the clos ing chapter of a fall semes ter that, to many University of Michigan students, was characterized by a series of Tinder hook-ups, bouts of religious guilt, the oc casional trip to University Health Services and a whole lot of “doing it.” We here at The Statement know this because we asked, just as we have done for the past 10 years.

Indeed, on this day in 2012, The Michigan Daily debuted its first Sex Issue, detailing “gay cruising” on Craigslist and consum mates dressed as crayons.

Results

Much has been done in the past decade, and we have had the pleasure of docu menting it all — the good, the bad and the dirty.

u s y. Hookin g up. Hittin g it. Sex . Love makin g. F *ckin g. Sha g gin g. Gettin g bu s y. Hookin g up. S e x . L o v e m a k i n g . F * c k i n g . S h a g g i n g .

So alas, welcome to the 2022 Sex Edition — or as some may call it, the “heated fellowship” edi tion.

In November, the Statement and Web team distributed a survey to all 51,225 University of Michi gan students on the Ann Arbor campus, both un dergraduate and graduate. Of those, we received 4,915 respondents — a sample your STATS 250 professor would approve of.

Demographic results indicate that 18% of the re spondents were freshmen,

19% sophomores, 19% juniors, 20% seniors and 24% graduate students. 59% of respondents iden tify as being a woman, 36% as men, 3% as non-binary, 1% as gender-queer and 1% as other. The distribu tion of respondents’ sexual orientation was recorded as 63% heterosexual, 18% bisexual, 7% lesbian/gay, 5% queer, 3% asexual, 2% pansexual and 2% other.

It is important to note that statistics resulting from this survey may be skewed, as many individuals may have withheld information detailed in the question naire, refrained from an swering certain questions and/or may have answered questions dishonestly. We

also recognize the pres ence of survey bias in those who chose to participate, as some respondents are per haps more open to discuss ing sex-related topics or are more prone to checking The Michigan Daily emails through which the survey was distributed.

Additionally, we are cognizant of, and made ap propriate adjustments to, an omission error made in a demographic ques tion inquiring about the respondent’s college. Out of the options offered, our survey failed to include a select few colleges, namely SMTD and STAMPS. As a result, there may be partial error in results utilizing college as a variable, as

such responses were sub ject to re-categorization after the survey’s closure.

We also would like to acknowledge the pres ence of heteronormative phrasing present within se lect questions and answer choices. In particular, we recognize that the discus sion of contraception and safe-sex practices may be non-representative of cer tain sexual orientations, particularly those who par take in non-heterosexual sex and do not engage with standard forms of contra ception. We apologize for any harm we may have caused with this discrep ancy and understand that this lapse may have caused a potential skew in data.

To be frank, it wouldn’t be a sex survey without a statistically significant amount of sex. The results are in: 62% of the campus population has had sex this semester, a number that is seven percentage points shy of an innuendo (maybe next year!). But it is also a number that, when stripped down, reveals broader truths surrounding students’ views, motivations, preferences and background of all things sex. So, to begin, let’s go back to basics: sex-ed.

Sex Education and Safe Sex Practices

A majority of student respondents (30%) first learned about sex through the internet/social media, followed by through friends at 24%. Hence, our educa tion system still appears to be lacking in terms of suf ficient sex-ed, as only 17% of respondents first learned about sex from school. And regardless of when and how respondents first learned about sex, 40% perceive their sex education as a largely negative experience that was both uninforma

tive and unhelpful.

When asked about how sex education could be improved, many writein responses indicated the need for outlined steps to achieve female pleasure, how to engage in queer sex, clear definitions of con sent, ways to detect sexual coercion and a comprehen sive list of the best safe-sex practices.

Perhaps to make up for such a lack of scho lastic instruction, some University students have

expanded their sexual skill set through ‘experiential learning’ outside of the classroom. Specifically, the survey finds that graduate students studying within the School of Social Work are having the most sex this semester, often seven or more times a week. And those within the College of Engineering are pre sumptively doing too much homework and the least amount of dirty-work: 45% report that they have not had sex this semester, the

lowest rate of sex observed across all of the colleges represented in the survey.

Whether “doing it” a little or a lot, the majority of students use condoms (‘male condoms’ or ‘female condoms’) to ensure safesex. Additionally, 38% of students have used or are currently using some form of contraceptive, be it the birth control pill, IUD, implant, etc. Again, it is important to note that the survey questions surround ing contraception aligned

mostly with heterosexual sex and consequentially did not collect data on PrEP us ers, etc.

But for the 10% of students who rely on with drawal and the 2% who do not use any form of safe sex practice, we here at the Statement would like to cordially invite you to ex plore University provided resources to make certain that you and your partner(s) are having the safest of sex.

Sex. L ove ma k i ng. F*ck i n g . S h a g g i n g . G e t t i n g b u s y . H o o k i n g u p . M a k i n g o u t . H i t t i n g i t . S e x . L o v e m a k i n g . F c* k i n g . S h a g ig .gn G te t i gn ub s .y kooH i gn .pu H ti t i gn ti. S.xe L evo am k i .gn kc*F i .gn ahS g g i .gn G e t t i n g b u s y . H o o k i n g u p . M a k i n g o u t . F *c k i n g . H i t t i n g I t . G e t t i n g b u s y . H o o k i n g u p . H i t t i n g i t . S e

Though they both take up space in our collective conscious ness, sexual encounters and aca demic spaces typically reside on opposite ends of the campus spec trum. It’s what makes this 2006 Daily article about how to have sex in the stacks of Hatcher Graduate Library so entertaining. Though the authors say it’s a rite of passage, the article’s guide to “hav(ing) your ‘O.’

Sex in the classroom

Right between the ‘N’ and ‘P’” has seemingly been lost to time.

When we think about sex in college, the last places we’re think ing of are the bustling stairways of Mason Hall or the graffitied bath rooms of Angell. Sex, which for the purposes of this article encompass es physical intimacy and attraction, is not generally associated with the academic experience. Sterile aca demic buildings and numbing class room pressures do a fantastic job at squashing our libido.

But for the ma jority of stu dents, sex is a frequent fold of the social fabric of college life. We’re used to hearing about the trials and tribulations of hookup culture — a

social phenomenon (often associ ated with college-aged persons) in which sexual intercourse and emo tional intimacy aim (and often fail) to be entirely separate entities. It’s the friend who spent a Thursday night glued to their phone, waiting for a text invitation to that North Campus boy’s one-bedroom apartment. It’s the roommate who keeps a sexual partner despite not even finding them pleasant to be around. Or it’s your own realization that your classmate’s dorm bed you’ve landed in every Friday night for the past month will most likely never care to take you on a date.

Hookup culture is pervasive, and it has real-time consequences for those who don’t benefit from it. Past Statement sex surveys show stark disparities in orgasm fre quency and sexual satisfaction be tween men and women/nonbinary respondents, this year as no excep tion. In every night out, every swipe right or left, every hungover debrief, the collegiate cultural expectations of sexual encounters influence what we do, who we do and how we feel about it.

We know sexual intimacy is often less than positive for Michigan students. We know hookup culture contributes to the ways we sacrifice what we really want to act out the social scripts we’ve been provided with. But we forget to look further than our experiences and those of our social circles. We forget that the heteronormative, rigid culture surrounding sex at this powerful university institution is, in and of itself, also a powerful institution — one that warrants critical study and thinking.

Teaching sex Classes at the University that discuss the social and cultural in fluences of sex are relatively new. The Women’s and Gender Studies Department was born just about 50 years ago, in 1973. A biology class on human sexuality was first introduced in 1985. NURS/WGS 220: Perspectives in Women’s Health, an introductory course that dedicates significant time to the female orgasm, made its course guide debut in 1991.

Love notes from an asexual girl

There’s a succulent on my win dowsill. I’ve been trying to propa gate it for about a year now. But I’m starting to discover a distinct lack of green in my thumb.

When I was fresh out of high school and looking toward the big move to college — the first major tectonic shift in my life — I felt like bottled lightning. I was itching to leave my small hometown on Michi gan’s west coast.

Sometimes, when electricity fills my body to the brim, I feel like I have to snap my fingers to let some of it go. Snap. Finally, I’ll be intel lectually challenged. Snap. I’ll make friends with people who are just like me. Snap. Maybe I’ll finally meet someone. Maybe I’ll fall in love.

Well, my freshman year of college must have been made of

plastic; it deflected my energy at every turn. Because of COVID-19, I wasn’t really allowed to leave my dorm room or let other people in. There were no more than two meal options in the dining hall either. I waited on the edge of my seat for years to be where I was, but after arriving there I found my college experience to be virtually nonexis tent. Needless to say, I was barely meeting anyone, platonically or romantically.

When I found the word “asex ual” during my sophomore year it was through word of mouth and YouTube comment sections. An entire facet of my experience with love thus far, or lack thereof, could suddenly be communicated with one word.

And I kind of thought finding the asexual label and claiming it would be the end of my needing to figure anything out about my love

life. The discovery of sexual iden tity is a journey all on its own, and I felt like finding a label that fit me should be the end of it, maybe be cause I needed a break from analyz ing myself so much. I was definitely wrong. Self-scrutinization doesn’t take breaks.

Lately, I haven’t been able to wrap my head around how I’m sup posed to know who I like if the sex

ual attraction piece is missing. I feel like a bat trying to fly without echo location. Or like I’ve been dropped in the middle of the Sahara Desert with a broken compass and a dream. I’ll walk in circles forever, mutter ing, “Girls or guys? Or everyone? Or no one?” till I die of heat exhaus tion. Or worse, die alone.

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

Read more at MichiganDaily.com

EMILY BLUMBERG

Statement Correspondent

DANIELLE CANAN Statement Correspondent

Design by Serena Shen

Design by Serena Shen

Let’s talk date parties, pseudo-consent and transactional sex

ELLA KOPELMAN Statement Columnist

“He tried to kiss me like eight times,” my friend said as she casually took a sip from her iced coffee — her mascara from the night before

asked.

“I kept telling him it wouldn’t be a good idea, but he was so drunk he just kept lean ing in. It was crazy,” she chuck led uncomfortably, as if remem bering an off-color joke.

Our group of friends sat around the living room, dishev eled and numbingly hungover. When we each took our turn in the sacred “morning debrief,” I was appalled at the stories com ing from each one of my girl friends after the fraternity date party we attended the night

A lot of my friends’ testimonies seemed to carry a similar theme: One of pseudo-con sent, with many of their male dates be having under the im pression that a date party invite meant implicit consent, con sent that lasted all night and expired at sunrise. That all their nights would end in an inevitable, albeit not explicitly-consensual

hookup.

“You know that’s not okay, right?” I inquired wearily.

Intrinsically, we all knew this behavior was not okay, but that didn’t stop the stories from the night before to be told with a casual lightness — with us all too afraid to address the underlying level of discomfort. With each story of one of my friends being groped or continually hit on by her date, I became increasingly disgusted. I began to wonder why this was coming up now

My friends and I go out to bars and parties on a regular ba sis without having to withstand such blatant lack of respect for our bodies. There was some thing about this outing — The Date Party — that made the no tion of consent feel different.

Date parties are a common occurrence on college cam puses in many student organiza tions. While they have origins in college Greek Life communi ties, they also occur frequently in professional fraternities and other organizations, like prelaw frats, pre-health frats and

Sex or scripture?

other university clubs.

LSA Sophomore Jenna Al-Nouri has experience with date parties as a member of both a social sorority and a profes sional pre-health fraternity. Thankfully, Al-Nouri hasn’t had a date party experience in which a date has pressured her into feeling like hooking up was the only way to end the night. But, she is still aware that this culture exists. She reminisced on a time when a male friend of hers stated that he “wanted to bring a date that he could hook up with.”

Al-Nouri recognizes the disrespect toward a woman’s boundaries that is often height ened around date party season and has come up with ways to combat this negativity while still preserving the fun of the event.

“I made a rule that I will only bring a best friend that’s a girl because I know she will be chill,” Al-Nouri shared. “I have a lot more fun when I bring a friend.”

A DECADE OF SEX

The Madonna-Whore complex

VALERIJA MALASHEVICH Statement Correspondent

Sex, in a sense, has become one of the most commercialized phenomena of our evolution ary biology. Evolving for over 2 billion years, the first archaeo logical record of penetrative intercourse dates to 385 million years ago between prehistoric fish named Microbrachius dicki (giggle now if you need to).

Since the time of Mycenae Greece, however, sex has been streamlined into embodying the more sociocultural aspects of our societies, with the biological effects of pregnancy and disease being redefined as a simple and banal prologue to the complex and emotionally-enriching pro

cesses of sexual intimacy. Often the source of drama and action in art as much as in real life, sex has come to define humanity and its transience, influencing political beliefs and policy, cultural and structural development of societies and our self-identity and relation ships. The psychology of sex, in a way, supersedes its physicality because the meaning behind the act distorts our cultural values more so than physical penetra tion ever could.

The most notable contribu tions to our contemporary val ues of sex stem from the works of psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud, who rose to prominence for his outlandish (and often correct) hypotheses about sex.

Of the most striking — and trust me, there’s a lot — notions is the foundation and defini tion of the Madonna-Whore complex. The term came about when the shifty, yet often spoton, psychoanalyst had observed a strange dichotomy in his male patients, who came to him com plaining that they didn’t feel any sexual desires for their wives as they did for prostitutes.

Mostly applicable to het eronormative ideals of sex, this complex, as defined by Freud, is the black-and-white splitting of female partners into two groups: the chaste and virtuous Madon na, and the immoral and promis cuous Whore. Freud illustrated the paradoxical nature of this phenomenon by explaining that

“where men love, they have no desire and where they desire, they cannot love.” This theory turns respect and attraction into mutually exclusive traits, with tumultuous implications in the scope of sexual dynamics.

What drew me in about this complex was the absurdity of this subconscious rationale, how the male-centered fallacy views a woman’s modesty as a determinant of the respect she is owed, and the implication that a woman who has liberated herself from the anxiety of social scrutiny ought to be ousted from the societal hierarchy.

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Design by Serena Shen

Design by Serena Shen