About 100 University of Michigan students and faculty members marched from University President Santa Ono’s residence to the Alexander G. Ruthven Building Thursday afternoon to urge Ono and the University’s Board of Regents to protect diversity, equity and inclusion. The event took place prior to the Dec. 5 board meeting, where the Regents were expected to discuss cutting DEI initiatives. The Regents did not vote on DEI initiatives or funding at this meeting.
LSA senior Princess-J’Maria Mboup, the speaker for the Black Student Union, emphasized to the crowd that funding for DEI should be increased, rather than cut.
“I refuse to lay down and let a program die that has improved conditions for Black students,” Mboup said. “It hasn’t done enough, and we know that, but the answer is not dismantling. The answer is not to give up. The answer is to invest more money, more time. We are worth that.”
SACUA Chair Rebekah Modrak released a letter on Nov. 20 alleging that the Regents held a closed door meeting about possibly defunding DEI initiatives in fiscal year 2025. According to the letter, the Regents were expected to vote as early as Dec. 5.
“There do not seem to be safeguards at the presidential and provostial level where leadership is asking the Regents to articulate their concerns about DEI or asserting our institutional commitment to these values,” the letter read.
The University’s DEI 2.0 Initiative includes providing support for the Wolverine Pathways program, increasing physical and digital accessibility across campus, providing training resources, studying staff salary equity and funding initiatives such as the Comprehensive Studies Program. The University spent $236.2 million on DEI between the 2016 and 2023 fiscal years.
President-elect
Donald Trump has been a frequent critic of DEI initiatives, vowing to remove “DEI bureaucrats” and to implement “real standards” on colleges and Universities. Republican lawmakers in 20 states have proposed bills to limit DEI initiatives, and Project 2025, a conservative plan for a second Trump administration that Trump has denied affiliation with, includes plans to eliminate DEI offices in the federal government.
Rackham student Eleanor Aro, graduate advisor for the Black Student Union, expressed frustration with potential changes to the DEI program in an interview with The Michigan Daily prior to the event.
“I think the University may be reacting to the presidential
UMich expands Go Blue Guarantee
The program continues to offer free and reduced tuition for eligible students
Board of Regents meeting, University President Santa Ono said that by next fall, a full tuition guarantee will have been awarded to more than 10,000 students.
election, but I think they’re reacting preemptively, and I also think they’re not listening to what students actually want,” Aro said. “Students want DEI. We want DEI, and it helps so many students of Color. It helps so many marginal students with marginalized identities, it’s really important that we show those people how much we care about them, how much we want them as part of our campus community.”
On Thursday morning, University Provost Laurie McCauley announced the elimination of diversity statements in faculty hiring, promotion and tenure.
This policy announcement follows the University’s adoption of the institutional neutrality bylaw, which states the University
will not take a stance on social or political issues that are outside administration functions.
The neutrality policy was created in the wake of ongoing conversations about student activism surrounding Israel’s military campaign in Gaza. The University also increased campus safety measures and amended the Student Statement of Rights and Responsibilities to allow the University to act as a complainant against students.
Mboup told The Daily she sees these events as an increase in student repression.
“We’re seeing an era of repression come into full swing by the day, and the Regents, the University, whoever, thinks that we’re not aware of this, but we are,” Mboup said. “We’re seeing more
UMich leader in international education, report says U-M Ann Arbor campus has largest international student population in the state
repression. We’re seeing more policies that are made without student input, and even when they have student input, they do things that directly contradict their own values of DEI.”
Rackham student G Harrison participated in the protest. She told The Daily that she feels that the potential defunding of DEI is an extension of previous changes made by the Regents.
“This is just the latest and one of the more egregious in a series of censorship acts towards any expression that goes against the University,” Harrison said.
“Encouraging to divest last year caused a whole big stir because we were pro-Palestinian, and that was an issue, and now being proDEI is an issue … so it’s a slippery slope. We’re living in a University
ADMINISTRATION
culture of fear now, because of many things, but especially the University neutrality policy.”
At about 4 p.m., after the Regents meeting began inside the Ruthven Building, protesters marched to the back of the building, which was blocked by metal fencing. Protesters moved to the Central Campus Transit Center, where they continued to protest.
Regent Sarah Hubbard (R) told Fox News in an interview Sunday that she supports increasing scholarships over furthering DEI initiatives. In the meeting, Ono announced that the University administration will expand the Go Blue Guarantee to more than 10,000 students by fall 2025.
Aro told The Daily that DEI initiatives would better support students if the University gathered community input.
“I think many of the critiques that students and faculty have of DEI could be remedied if the University listened more to what students want,” Aro said.
American Culture professor
Clare Croft told The Daily she has seen the changes in DEI policy take effect over her 15 years teaching, and she emphasized its importance.
“In the 15 years I’ve been on faculty — so I was here before the kind of big ramp up of DEI — I’ve seen the kind of positive changes it’s made on campus, the ways in which our faculty comes from a wider range of backgrounds than it did prior to DEI, the ways in which campus conversations have changed,” Crofta said. As DEI continues to receive national attention, Mboup said she recognizes its flaws but also knows that the University cannot fulfill its missions and values of supporting marginalized students without furthering DEI.
“I think it’s important that we recognize that multiple things can be true at once,” Mboup said. “DEI has many flaws, and DEI is one of the most important initiatives that the University has ever spearheaded. And if we want to be the leaders and best, if we want to keep that title, then we need to have DEI at the University.”
UMich Regent Jordan Acker’s home,
vandalized
The University of Michigan is expanding eligibility for the Go Blue Guarantee, allowing about 2,200 additional current in-state undergraduate students to qualify for the program. The eligibility criteria for the Go Blue Guarantee increased from $75,000 on the U-M Ann Arbor and Dearborn campuses and $65,000 on the U-M Flint campus, according to an announcement made by University President Santa Ono at the Dec. 5 Regents meeting. The program will now offer free and reduced tuition for up to four years of undergraduate education to incoming and returning students with families of annual incomes and assets under $125,000.
The Dearborn and Flint campuses will continue to require students to have a 3.5 GPA or higher to qualify. Since the program was established, it has provided free tuition to more than 8,000 students. During the December
“We are so pleased by this number,” Ono said. “We’re so looking forward to the opportunities it will provide students and families from all across the state. Outstanding individuals will find a University of Michigan education is within their grasp, and then they will go on to achieve their dreams.”
During the meeting, University Regent Michael Behm (D) said the University administration had been discussing an expansion to the Go Blue Guarantee for some time.
“These changes, we don’t make these in a rash fashion,” Behm said. “This is something that we’ve thought about over the last several months, and how to proceed forward in this area to give this opportunity of a great education, tuition-free, to as many students as the University can afford. So it’s important and something we’re very proud of.”
This change will take effect this fall.
University of Michigan students hail from more than 120 countries and all 50 U.S. states. This year, the University’s Ann Arbor campus brought home the title for the largest international student population in the state of Michigan from 2023 to 2024, according to a report published by Open Doors, an annual census of international students in the United States from the Institute of International Education.
The report stated that there are 11,766 total international students on the Ann Arbor campus. It also found that the leading destination for students looking to study abroad is Spain and that 3,440 U-M students went abroad from 2022 to 2023. U-M students can access study abroad opportunities through the U-M Center for Global and Intercultural Study and through
programs such as the Fulbright U.S. Student Scholarship and the Humphrey Fellowship. Marianne Craven, acting United States Deputy Assistant Secretary for Academic Programs, said in an interview with The Michigan Daily that she hopes students will utilize these opportunities.
“When we think about the vast array of study abroad that’s out there, there are so many wonderful programs,” Craven said. “Fulbright obviously has a storied history, and it is a wonderful program, but there are definitely others, and we want everyone to grab the opportunity that’s in front of them.”
In an interview with The Daily, Judith Pennywell, director of the U-M International Center, spoke about the ways the University supports international education. She said the International Center serves members of the international community at the University who are sponsored to either study, work or participate in research.
SNEHA DHANDAPANI Daily News
Early Monday morning, University of Michigan Regent Jordan Acker (D) awoke to the sound of two heavy objects being thrown through a front window of his home, according to his Instagram post. Acker also found his wife’s car graffitied with an inverted red triangle, a symbol of Palestinian resistance against Israel, and the words “DIVEST” and “FREE PALESTINE” in red ink.
In an interview with The Michigan Daily, Acker recounted the moment he woke up Monday morning.
“We were woken this morning at about 2 a.m. by the sound of crashing glass,” Acker said. “We were really confused. And then the police rang the doorbell, maybe a minute to a minute and a half later, and we saw that our car had been spray painted (with) some messages of threats… They had thrown two mason jars through our front window.”
This incident marks the third time pro-Palestine protesters have
targeted Acker. The first incident occurred May 15, when a masked protester came to Acker’s home to deliver a list of demands that included University divestment from companies profiting off the Israeli military campaign in Gaza and the defunding of the Division of Public Safety & Security. Protesters also staged a demonstration at the residence of University Regent Sarah Hubbard (R) that same day. The second incident occurred June 3, when Acker’s Southfield law office was vandalized with demands for the U-M administration to divest. Acker said he supports full prosecution for those responsible for the vandalism incident.
“We can disagree, we can fight, we can have long disagreements about policy, but committing crimes is not appropriate,” Acker said. “It’s never acceptable under any circumstances for members of our community. And I am supporting law enforcement in their search for whomever did this, and whomever did this should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, including federally.”
Ananya Kedia/DAILY
CSJ holds hearing on SAFE complaint
The allegations threaten the student organization with a two to four-year suspension
Editor’s note: This article describes an Oct. 16 event where Students Allied for Freedom and Equality tabled. The referenced event was Open MiC Night, which is hosted each fall by the Michigan in Color section of The Michigan Daily and features performances and static art by artists of Color. SAFE was among the multiple multicultural student organizations that tabled at this event. The Daily’s permit for the Diag allowed for the use of electricity, amplified sound and tables.
The University of Michigan’s Central Student Judiciary held a public hearing Thursday afternoon over Zoom to examine allegations filed against Students Allied for Freedom and Equality, a proPalestine student organization. The allegations threaten the organization with a two to four-year suspension.
Stephanie Jackson, a Universityappointed consultant, filed the complaint Oct. 31 through the Student Organization Advancement and Recognition process. The complaint document obtained by The Michigan Daily alleges SAFE violated U-M Standards of Conduct in August 2024 and May 2024. These alleged violations refer to a die-in protest held on the Diag during Festifall on Aug. 28, an Oct. 16 tabling event on the Diag and a demonstration at the private residence of Regent Sarah Hubbard (R) on May 15.
The case comes after recent revisions to the University’s Statement of Student Rights and Responsibilities, which allowed the University to file complaints directly against students. The SOAR manual requires that a public hearing follow any such filing.
Jackson’s opening statement focused on two allegations. She said the first involved SAFE’s Aug. 28 die-in protest during which members, without a permit, blocked pedestrian pathways for about two hours. According to the complaint, these actions disrupted Festifall, created safety risks and led to four arrests. At the hearing, Jackson emphasized the seriousness of SAFE’s defiance of University policy and the broader implications of their behavior on campus events.
“Despite being explicitly denied permission for using the space on
FOCAL POINT
that date and receiving formal notice of that denial, the group proceeded their demonstration,” Jackson said. “This deliberate defiance of University policy disrupted an event designed to welcome and engage all students.”
The second incident took place May 15 at Hubbard’s private residence. Protesters left props — including body bags, red-painted objects simulating blood, tents and broken furniture — on Hubbard’s lawn and front steps. The University contends that the demonstration, which involved the use of bullhorns and drums, disturbed the neighborhood and intimidated Hubbard and her family. The complaint also references social media posts by SAFE publicizing the die-in at Festifall and the protest at Hubbard’s residence as evidence of their intent to provoke public participation.
Jackson said that while SAFE has a history of activism, the organization should balance between advocacy and adherence to University policies to ensure community well-being.
“It’s important to recognize that this hearing is not about suppressing free expression or debate,” Jackson said. “Our University values the right to advocate from a diverse viewpoint. However, with these rights come responsibilities. The group’s actions disregarded university policies meant to protect the integrity of our community, while also posing risks to health, safety and rights of others.”
Evidence for the formal complaint included information on SAFE tabling at an Oct. 16 event on the Diag. The complaint cited a SAFE Instagram post where the organization announced they
were selling kuffiyehs, shirts and manaeesh, alleging that SAFE did not have an appropriate permit to sell food.
The SAFE co-presidents,
Engineering senior Maryam Shafie and Public Policy senior Mariam Odeh, represented the respondents of the complaint. In the opening statement, Shafie drew parallels between SAFE’s tactics and historically celebrated activism at the University, arguing that the group is being unfairly targeted.
“The tactics of protest cited in the complaint — die-in demonstrations, constituents visiting the homes of their elected public officials, social media campaigns and community events — are not new phenomena,” Shafie said. “They are part of the celebrated history of activism at the University of Michigan, immortalized on its websites, in its books and even on the walls of its buildings. Yet, when pro-Palestine protesters employ these same tactics to call for Palestinian liberation, we are wrongfully framed as violent and retaliated against with aggression.”
A 10-minute period of questioning followed the opening statements.
LSA junior Kenichi Lobbezoo, CSJ associate chief justice, asked how the University knew SAFE was organizationally responsible for directing members to Hubbard’s home. Jackson responded by citing the same Instagram posts sent in as evidence in the original complaint.
Shafie said SAFE uses words such as “our,” “we,” and “us” in their social media posts to refer to those who support Palestine, rather than SAFE itself. Safie also said the use of those terms does not necessarily imply that SAFE is the organizer or facilitator of such events but rather
supports the intention.
“Every action taken for Palestine is considered a collective one,” Shafie said. “So when we use terminology like ‘our’ on social media, that speaks to the collective action associated with this movement and many other movements.”
Odeh and Shafie both claimed there was no evidence that SAFE in any way collaborated, coordinated, encouraged or directed the protest outside Hubbard’s home, nor organized the event on the Diag on Aug. 28 or Oct. 16. Jackson defended the proposed two to four-year suspension for SAFE by highlighting the University’s stance on holding student organizations accountable for repeated violations, noting that the sanction aligns with institutional consistency and fairness.
“The University has made an express statement that they are looking to hold student organizations that violate the rules accountable,” Jackson said. “This is looking at the totality of the circumstances together and saying, look, any other student organization that continually broke the rules, would be asked to be removed from the University for two-tofour years. This is consistent. … If you look across the board, even historically, we are benchmarking and making sure that this sanction sets a precedent and it is fair and equitable.”
In the closing statement, Jackson emphasized the importance of maintaining fairness and order through adherence to University standards, and said the actions in question are detrimental to the campus environment.
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UMich Board of Regents allegedly considering cuts to DEI
its DEI initiatives.
The University of Michigan Board of Regents met behind closed doors to discuss the future of the University’s diversity, equity and inclusion plan, including the possibility of defunding DEI altogether, alleges a Nov. 20 letter written by Faculty Senate Chair Rebekah Modrak.
According to the letter, which was emailed to the more than 7,300 faculty and educational staff who comprise the Faculty Senate, multiple sources have confirmed the occurrence of this closed-door meeting. The letter says the Board could announce changes to DEI funding during their meeting later today.
“With seemingly no interest in accessing evidence about the successes or challenges of the program, the Regents cannot understand what DEI encompasses,” the letter reads.
“Many of us are concerned that the Regents are about to make decisions that stretch beyond their charge … and encroach upon our educational and research missions.” Modrak’s letter also expresses concern over a lack of checks and balances on the Board by U-M leadership.
“There do not seem to be safeguards at the presidential and provostial level where
leadership is asking the regents to articulate their concerns about DEI or asserting our institutional commitment to these values,” Modrak wrote.
Modrak shared the final draft of her letter with University President Santa Ono, whose response she included in the version she sent to the Faculty Senate.
“I affirm my staunch support for the core values at the University of Michigan,” Ono’s response read. “These values are at the heart of everything we do as a university. They make us stronger together, and will continue to be at the foundation of all that we aspire, pursue and achieve.”
Ono has not commented publicly on the allegations that the Board met to discuss potential cuts to DEI. When asked for comment on the matter, University spokesperson Colleen Mastony referred The Michigan Daily to a Nov. 27 message from University Provost Laurie McCauley in which she denied claims that the University is considering fully defunding DEI programs.
Tabbye Chavous, the University’s vice provost for equity and inclusion and chief diversity officer, provided a written statement on the benefits of DEI to The Daily on Dec. 3. In it, she highlighted strides the University’s DEI plan has made in enrollment rates among first-generation college
students and students of Color. She also addressed students who have concerns about the future of DEI.
“Many current students reading this article may have never experienced a (University) without DEI programs or initiatives,” Chavous wrote.
“The day-to-day aspects of campus life you encounter — such as the availability of certain financial aid programs, classes, academic support programs, faculty scholarship, and cultural celebrations — could all be affected.”
Modrak’s letter alleges that Chavous was not present at the meeting with the Board and other central leadership figures despite being the University’s highest-ranked DEI officer. Chavous did not comment on whether she was present at this meeting.
The Daily spoke with two faculty members on the record about their reactions to the possibility of defunding DEI, including Kevin Cokley, the University diversity and social transformation professor of psychology and associate chair for diversity initiatives in the psychology department. He said he was not particularly surprised by the letter’s allegations and recalled participating in a provost-assembled workgroup examining the use of diversity statements as an early sign that the administration might be looking to backtrack on some of
“The Regents were interested in potentially doing away with the use of diversity statements for faculty hiring,” Cokley said.
“It is not a surprise to me that now there are some concerns about the potential dismantling of DEI initiatives at large.”
While the Board has not publicly commented on the allegations in Modrak’s letter, University Regent Sarah Hubbard (R) recently appeared on Fox News to criticize DEI efforts at the University, including the use of diversity statements.
“The Board has been looking at (DEI) for a long time,” Hubbard said. “Lately, the scrutiny has just really increased, and we’ve had a number of other issues on campus related to protests and other kinds of upheaval, and it’s really taken us, given us a chance to take much closer scrutiny of this.”
The University announced Thursday morning that it would no longer ask for diversity statements in faculty hiring.
“The decision by Provost Laurie McCauley follows an Oct. 31 recommendation by an eightmember faculty working group to end the use of the statements, which have been criticized for their potential to limit freedom of expression and diversity of thought on campus,” the statement read.
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(To the tune of “My Favorite Things.”)
Handwritten post-its and pictures of sunsets. Movies with
roommates and homemade mini muffins. Throw a surprise party, compliments abound. It’s the little things that make me feel proud. Seven great writers grant all of my wishes. They tell me about the things that give their life purpose. I love to read everything that they write. It’s the little things that
The Little Things B-Side
they bring to life. When the car stops, when the sneeze stings, when we’re feeling sad. We simply remember all the little things, and then we don’t feel so bad.
There’s nothing quite like the little things. A handwritten note from a roommate wishing you a
The weakness of a sneeze
NATHANIEL ROSS Daily Arts Writer
This country has a way of making us all feel pretty polarized. Whether it’s the news, politics, or Francis Ford Coppola’s most recent movie, a lot of what we consume tends to just make us more divisive as a culture. And while that may be great for debates, sometimes it ends up making us feel more alone. In the amid all this chaos, I find that it’s the simple things that keep me going. Funnily enough, a sneeze and the “bless you” that typically follows are high on that list. Within all of the craziness in this world, a “bless you” is a constant reminder that, at the very least, we aren’t alone. Even if you’re a loner out in the woods like Ralph Waldo Emerson, there is the inevitability of our inability to bless ourselves. That’s why I feel that a “bless you” is just the normalized way for Americans to acknowledge our collective weakness: sneezing.
A sneeze is our bodies’ biological attempt to fix something. When a foreign agent irritates the nose, a sneeze automatically occurs to flush out irritants through our mouth and nose; it’s an unstoppable phenomenon. A sneeze is specifically engineered to make its way through our system no matter the cost, whether that be during work or in the middle of a final.
A sneeze temporarily but thoroughly disrupts the status quo of a social situation. At any moment, sneezing can make
you feel like a burden to those around you — after all, it’s disruptive and maybe even annoying — but a friendly “bless you” serves as reassurance that your life and the lives of others will go on despite unprecedented interruptions.
But the meaning behind sneezing wasn’t always observed so casually.
In general, the Englishspeaking “bless you” is believed to originate from the days of the bubonic plague. Since a sneeze inherently hinted at disease (though it can mean many other things), it was used as a gesture to ward off the pandemic. Nowadays, almost half a millennia later, it has largely shrunk into a norm more than anything else. And this norm is not at all unique to American or English-speaking culture.
In many Spanish-speaking countries, people often reply with “salud,” which literally translates to “health.”
“Gesundheit” in Germany and “afya” in Tanzania also refer to the same concept in their respective languages. In Denmark, people reply with “prosit,” meaning “may it help” while, in Iraq, citizens say “kher be inshallah,” translating to “it will be a good thing, god willing.” Interestingly, many Asian countries like India, Malaysia and Korea simply don’t have a response. On these occasions, responses to sneezing are primarily seen as unnecessary and consequently impolite.
While words may differ around the globe, the gesture of responding to a sneeze is often associated metaphorically and
literally with an individual’s well-being. Despite the difference in the meaning of these words and the cultures that they come from, this exchange seems to be a common thread for a great deal of people.
It’s easy to forget where we fit in sometimes. Work, social and personal lives constantly ask us to commit ourselves to something outside us, but, sometimes, the pressure to accomplish these mundane tasks just results in everything crashing down. In these moments of weakness, ones where I’m running around campus with a fever, staring at a page of homework I don’t understand or trying to submit an essay minutes before it’s due, there is nothing I need to hear more than a simple “bless you.” It reminds me of what I and many others are working toward: not losing sight of the bigger picture.
At our highest and lowest moments, wherever we are, a sneeze cannot be stopped. For better or worse, it’s a weakness the human race will never get over. Though we as individuals are susceptible to distraction, weakness and disease, the collective strength and perseverance of humanity can and will push us through moments of pain. A “bless you” is just one of the many representations we have of this common thread. Whether it’s walking around, studying, in a lecture or actively failing an exam, the weakness behind a sneeze and the subsequent response are two little pieces of humanity that I will cherish for as long as I continue sneezing.
Maisie Derlega/DAILY
nice day. A stranger ahead of you in the Starbucks line offering to pay for your coffee. A sticker on the sidewalk with a positive message. A book that you can’t put down. It’s the little things that make life worth living; it’s the little things that bring us back to life, every single day.
The little things ignite a certain kind of feeling within us. They brighten our days, wipe our tears and heal our hearts after years of quietly hurting. The little things pick us up off the ground and keep us going. They’re there for us in our darkest moments and decorate our
happiest memories. The little things are a gift. In this B-Side, seven wonderful writers decided to write about the little things that make their lives all the more worth living. My lovely writers, the little things you’ve gifted me will stick by my side forever.
NICOLAS EISENBERG Daily Arts Writer
On the last day of high school, my Japanese teacher pulled me and two other students aside to have a word with us. He fancied himself a life coach on the side and wanted to bestow upon us one last lesson before we graduated. To each of us, he gave two Japanese coins, or koban: a kitschy fake coin to represent how the flashiest things often have the least amount of value, and an authentic koban from medieval Japan to represent that the truest measure of worth is found in the humblest of vessels. I haven’t seen him since my graduation ceremony, and I may not see him ever again, but I cherish those coins to this day. They represent a moment of genuine warmth and an expression of an implicit “I’m proud of you” made explicit. These gifts, souvenirs and little things are capsules of both memories of days past and fragments of the people I spent them with.
In a credenza adjacent to my desk sits a small box, which serves
as a curated collection of knickknacks that may have no apparent monetary value, yet are imbued with meaning to the point that I couldn’t fathom throwing them away. This type of collection isn’t a new practice — scrapbooking has been around for more than 400 years — but what distinguishes these trinkets from other items I have saved, like ticket stubs or playbills, is that these items were transformed by the act of being given. By going from one hand to another, a magical process occurs, and each item evolves from just a trinket or bauble into a prized possession. I’ve bought and received flowers before, but the handmade corsage my friend made for me when we went to prom remains my favorite gifted flower I’ve received. I keep it with that box, and as I run my fingers through the long-withered flowers, I can vividly recall that night and the bittersweet joy of being a soon-tograduate senior.
Like talismans, I keep some of these items on my person at all times as a reminder of where I come from. As a college student,
it’s quite easy to find yourself belonging to no place in particular: the past recedes into a hazy, dreamlike memory and the future feels volatile and uncertain. I feel like a guest in both my family home and my college residence, as both are places I’m destined to leave eventually. That’s why holding onto these items is of such paramount importance to me — despite the transience of my current living situation, my bonds with others transcend time and space, and I can keep people with me through these items.
My best friend from home gifted me a keychain from their favorite show before they started college. We had just finished watching it together as our project for the summer and they wanted to commemorate the final viewing session as well as our friendship. Although it had been unspoken, we knew that this summer would be the last one we could spend long stretches of time together. We knew that when they started college, our relationship would inevitably change. This keychain has since become my personal good-
JENNA JAEHNIG Daily Arts Writer
If you’ve been held hostage in my minivan, it’s because I love you. I was one of the first of my high school friends to have a driver’s license, despite being one of the youngest. I was terrified when I had my first driving lesson, but I learned to love it and now I think there’s very little that can’t be fixed with a car drive and an aux cord.
I love driving. I love how mindless it can be. I love that it forces me to be present with myself when I’m driving alone and that it creates a perfect atmosphere for conversation when I’m driving with somebody else.
My car isn’t exactly cool: I drive the same 2007 silver Honda Odyssey that’s been in my family for as long as I can remember. When my sister left home for college, my parents somehow got our minivan to Ann Arbor, and it’s felt like a physical piece of home has been with me ever since. At this point, the AC is broken and so are the window shades in the backseat, but I think that means she’s been loved. A minivan probably isn’t most people’s dream car. It’s big and bulky and doesn’t look the most glamorous, but I love it. I love how many people it can fit and how proud I feel when I successfully manage to fit in a parking space. I love that I can pretend to be a soccer mom behind the wheel and I love how safe I feel while I’m inside. I wear my status as a minivan driver like a badge of honor.
Because I was one of the first of my high school friends to get my license, I was usually the designated driver, and that has remained the case even though most of my friends have their own licenses now. I don’t mind. In fact, I usually insist on being the one that drives. I like the responsibility and trust my friends give me by letting me control all of our fates for a little while. My car has been with me for so long, and it has seen so much that it’s as much a part of my relationships as I am. My car is a memory capsule that I hold very close to my heart.
***
My car is waiting at a stoplight. “Pieces” by Matoma is playing. It’s a Thursday night, a little past 7 p.m. and my car is stopped somewhere along the 20-minute drive in between field hockey practice and my high school. Ralph is in the driver’s seat next to me, frantically changing out of a sweaty reversible pinnie and into a more presentable top as the red glow permeating the car changes to green. She steps on the gas as we race to our high school gymnasium to make it in time for the varsity basketball
luck charm, something I keep on my person as I take tests, travel across the country for spring and winter break or do anything I want emotional support to accomplish. These gifts are repositories of emotion, and in uncertainty, their sentiment helps reassure me that I have personal worth beyond the bounds of academic success, as evidenced by the bonds I have created with others. More than just reminding me of the relationships in my life or emotions and memories of the past, I believe that these objects contain the souls of the gifters. Of the items I have already listed, my most prized possession is an external hard drive my father gave me before I left for college. This drive contained all the music he had ever collected: every purchase on iTunes, every bootleg CD he had scanned, every vinyl record from his childhood that he had digitized. This felt monumental; I was being gifted his life’s work, a virtual Library of Alexandria for rock ‘n’ roll.
team’s senior night. The two of us have become the team’s number one fans and, for some reason, half of my closest friends play basketball: two on Varsity, two on junior varsity. The team culture was for JV team members to watch varsity games. I sat with them so often I should’ve been an honorary team member. To be honest, I don’t remember anything about how that game went. I think they won. I could ask Paris (she was one of the two on varsity). But what I do remember was the way Ralph, the most cautious driver I know, sped like her life depended on it so we could make it to this game. Every time I find myself driving that same route, I am transported back to that night and feel the anticipation and excitement that overflowed the car. I feel myself becoming a sophomore in high school again. I feel like I’m at home.
***
My car is in the Chipotle parking lot. It’s my senior year of high school. Lana and I went to watch Paris and Violet at a basketball game (I told you I was a dedicated fan) earlier that night. I drove, obviously. The three of them joked that I was holding them hostage after I locked us in the trunk of my minivan. We ate our Chipotle and played truth or truth (it was California cold and there was no way any of us were getting out of the car to do a dare). We hadn’t ever hung out just the four of us, and Paris and Lana didn’t really know each other well but the three of them were three of my best friends, albeit individually. I relished seeing people that I loved so much meet each other, talk to each other, learn about each other and laugh with each other. I didn’t leave my house that night thinking I would end up in the trunk of my car, but there I was. Again, I don’t remember who won that game, but I do remember the sound of the laughter filling up my car like air.
***
My car is somewhere on the 101. I’m graduating high school in a few months, driving from my hometown to Los Angeles to visit potential colleges. If I were only allowed to use one word to describe myself, it would be indecisive, so, April 2021 was a month straight out of my personal hell. I had a little more than a week before May 1 — decision day — and I was nowhere near making a choice. So, my family made the last-minute decision to spend our spring break flying to Michigan and then road-trip down to southern California so I could at least visit my potential future homes. It was just my sister, my dad and I since my mom had to stay home to work, posing a huge disadvantage to me, since my mom’s opinion is the one I value the most.
Driving home on the freeway, we could see stars in the sky above us. The wind ripped through our hair with the background noise of a blasting radio. We made a playlist called “Drive Home After New York,” consisting of ten songs, primarily Katy Perry and Taylor Swift hits from the 2010s with Olivia Rodrigo’s “jealousy, jealousy” mixed in. Whenever I hear “All your friends are so cool, you go out every night / In your daddy’s nice car, yeah, you’re livin’ the life,” I think of my friends. My friends were so cool, we were going out at night, we were in Violet’s dad’s nice car. We were living the life. I don’t usually roll the windows down when I drive because of how loud it gets and the uncomfortable feeling of my hair whipping around my face, but whenever I want to go back to that moment, all I need to do is go for a late night drive, roll the windows down and press play on that playlist, and I’m back with them instantly. Car
I felt utterly abandoned in a time of desperate need. But this was the first time my sister and I both had our licenses, so we gave our dad the unprecedented privilege of the backseat of the car as we took the driver and passenger seats. We decided we would split the driving between the two of us and made a requirement that the other one was not allowed to go on their phones or read a book or do anything besides keep the driver entertained. We had a seven-hour drive ahead of us, excluding rest stops and bathroom breaks, but somehow, it worked. Looking back, this particular drive is definitely what made me expect this type of passenger behavior: I now refuse to do anything in the passenger seat besides talk to the driver without their explicit permission, and I hate when my passengers don’t reciprocate the favor. Our biggest accomplishment during that drive wasn’t our lack of arguing (which was a huge feat, don’t get me wrong), but rather the resulting nine hour and two minute-long Spotify playlist. Think Lauv, Alvaro Soler, Avicii and Vance Joy with a little bit of Glee Cast and Kygo sprinkled in. While I do remember the outcome of that trip and how it somehow led me to Ann Arbor, I remember the seven hours in the car more. My car is on the 280. Well, not my car — Violet’s car. Violet, Lana, Charlotte and I are all dressed up to go out to dinner in downtown southern California. This would be our last hurrah before splitting up to go to college multiple states away from each other. The change was imminent, yet I wasn’t ready for it, anticipating that things would change.
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The little things that make my college house so special
When people ask me if I’m ready to graduate, I always answer with a resounding no.
It’s not because I love school. I’ll actually be happy to leave the exams, lectures and papers in the past. It’s not because I’m attached to Ann Arbor — I love the city but am excited to live somewhere new and experience new things. It’s not even because I’m scared of adulthood and its responsibilities (though that may be part of it).
It’s because I cannot wrap my head around the fact that this time next year, I won’t be living with my best friends anymore.
It’s a hard truth, a painful one even. It keeps me up at night and makes my chest ache with a sense of grief for something I haven’t even lost yet. It may sound dramatic, but my roommates are special. Not only are they my best friends, but over the past three years of living together, they also have basically become my sisters, mothers and wives all wrapped up in one. We support, love and listen to one another so deeply that — no matter what I’m feeling on a particular day — I know I can walk through my front door, dish it all out and feel seen and heard, no matter what. We moved into our little blue house at the beginning of our
sophomore year, and since then, the house and its walls have become part of our anatomy. The kitchen is where we cook together, share about our days and pregame for nights out. The attached living room is the heart of our home, its walls plastered with pictures and decorations only me and my roommates can understand. The couch is where we’ve had some of our deepest conversations, made some of our fondest memories and binge-watched an ungodly amount of reality television. Upstairs are our bedrooms, and the space between them, where we sit and talk for hours on end when we should be in bed already. Every crevice holds something special, every corner a different memory. Even the notso-pretty parts — like our creepy,
unfinished basement where we do the laundry — hold parts of our college experience that cannot be replaced. It’s more than just a house: It’s a home, a vessel for our greatest memories and a direct reflection of who we are and who we’ve become. This past semester, much of my time has been spent going back and forth between having fun and craning my neck to get a glance at a rapidly approaching finish line, one I’ll step over in May as I pack my bags and pull out my college driveway for the last time. In a way, I feel like a version of me is already there, following me around and whispering in my ear to remind me of what I have to leave behind in the coming months.
Michelle Peng/DAILY
How a hummingbird feeder taught me the meaning of life
Picture this: It’s the early 2010s in Burgettstown, Pa., a sleepy town in the woods of Appalachia, bespeckled with ancient water towers and lulled by the hushed song of the creek. I was probably no more than 6- or 7-years-old, watching my Mimi fill up the stark red hummingbird feeder and hang it on her wrap-around porch — a duty I had watched her perform many times before but had never stopped to consider why. It seemed like such a frivolous thing. Sure, there was work to do around the house — weed-whacking, dishwashing and the like — but hummingbirds seemed the least of our concerns. With our long list of things and people to take care of, I failed to understand why we had to reserve time for something so insignificant and small, that I figured should be more than able to take care of itself. Why bother with something so seemingly meaningless? Before I could ask, a green and red blob of color flittered into view and perched on the feeder. The bird in question had arrived, its frenetic wings defying the laws of speed as it softly sipped the sweet nectar from our makeshift flower. My tune had changed as rapidly as a birdsong. I was dialed in. The world slowed to a
crawl as I watched the docile yet busy creature’s curious eyes and tiny belly coupled with its apparent excitement as it departed just as quickly as it appeared. It seemed so fragile, and yet so eternal, its shiny feathers appearing sleek in the morning dew. But then, just like that, it was gone. I’ve never been much of a philosopher. I find the subject quite boring. But, there was something undeniably sacred in the task of feeding that hummingbird, something crucial that I have been searching for ever since. And finally, years later, I believe I have rediscovered it.
When it comes to the little things in life, hummingbirds completely embody the concept. It’s the smallest bird in the world and one of the
Daily Arts Writer The Michigan Daily Crossword
fastest. I believe that seeing one might be the closest to living among fairies that humans can experience; the hummingbird is an otherworldly being that yanks us away from the craze of everyday life and forces us to take pause, to bask in nature’s presence as it dances across our eyes. Of course, being the fast little thing it is, it never dances for long. Part of its appeal is that the moments we spend with the hummingbird are fleeting. Hello and goodbye are often uttered in under a minute. Half the time, it’s hard to realize the bird was even there, as it comes and goes silently. But isn’t that the whole point? Hummingbirds and people have one thing in common — we
On compliments and why they matter
MORGAN SIERADSKI
24. One might go over your head? 26. "Bye for now," in a text
Uphold 33. Performance concentration at UMich's SMTD
Quadrangle across from Ross
Notion 40. Big name in frozen waffles
41. What a Bostonian does in Harvard Yard, according to an accent-inducing phrase
42. Perp chasers
43. K-5 sch.
44. "Dies ___ " (Requiem Mass hymn)
45. Cardiff citizens
46. Allow
48. Gel (with)
50. Russia's ___ Mountains
52. "Gladiator II" star Pedro
57. Nature's fertilizer made by 59-Down
60. Small screen programs centered around humorous scenarios, or a hint to this puzzle's starred clues
63. Batman's partner in crime
64. Berth place
65. Nike rival
66. "___ worse than death" (extremely unpleasant experience)
67. Healing plant
68. Time to give up?
69. Half-man, half-goat
70. Brooklyn ballers
71. Greek archer of love DOWN
1. Like a bird on the wing
2. Rapscallion
3. British noblemen
4. NBA journeyman Tony infamous for a straight zero stat line
5. Share on Instagram, say
6. Pearl Harbor island
7. Forensic detectives, for short
8. Cardinals quarterback Murray
9. "Well, kinda"
10. *Where business gets done, or doesn't
11. Sitar melody
12. Taylor Swift has 11 of them so far
13. Fur or faux
21. More than dislike
25. Stable diet
27. 525,600 minutes
28. California NFL player
30. Golden calf, for one
31. Salespeople, informally
32. *Prepare, as potatoes for Thanksgiving
33. *Prez's number two
34. Gawk at
35. Disney CEO Bob
36. *Supportive group
38. ___-Ball (arcade classic)
41. Middle Eastern bread
45. "Huh?"
47. One with pressing duties?
49. Volleyball smashes
51. Forrest Gump's C.O.
53. Climb
54. Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo's rendition of "Defying Gravity," for example
55. Protein-building acid
56. Exams for aspiring JDs
57. Mardi ___
58. Tucson institution, briefly
59. Blind as ___
61. Hamster's relative
62. Northern neighbor of the 45-Across
The other week, my roommate and I were talking about our favorite compliments. During our conversation, I referenced a compliment she had given me just two weeks prior when she told me I was the kind of friend you would want to bring home to your parents. When I mentioned the compliment, she looked confused. She told me she didn’t recall telling me that but was honored that I remembered it nonetheless. We laughed briefly about the confusion before switching topics. Still, her reaction stuck with me. A few days later, I spoke with a friend from high school. We don’t spend much time together anymore, but we call each other often to catch up. Somehow, the conversation turned to the topic of eye color, and I regretfully admitted that I didn’t remember the color of his eyes. He found that strange, as I had once complimented the color of his eyes during class. Now, years later, he told me he still thought about my compliment. Our time apart had caused me to forget aspects of his
appearance, but the impact of my compliment remained with him. I began wondering, how can such disparities be possible? While my roommate’s compliment had permanently embedded itself in my memory, she hadn’t thought about it since. The idea baffled me, until I realized I had also fallen into the same pattern. Both instances prompted me to think about all the compliments in my life, both given and received. Looking back, I can easily recall the best compliments I’ve received, but not those I’ve given. I can barely remember the last time I complimented someone, let alone what I said. Having no memory of past compliments doesn’t diminish their value, though. We rarely track the compliments we gift to others because they are just that: a gift. Their purpose isn’t to remind the giver of their positive actions but to show the receiver admiration through another’s perspective. Someone could offer a life-changing compliment and never think of it again. Our words have more power than we realize, and this power comes with great responsibility.
We spend our time beating around bushes. We can both be frustrating people to deal with. Speaking clearly (with purpose) about things that (emotionally) matter is unfortunately difficult for us. The fact that we pitched three jokes about how to start this paragraph before actually writing it proves the kind of people we are. We can blame it on our upbringing all we want, but anything vulnerable will be danced around. Things will be brushed over and jokes will be made in the name of keeping ourselves and the people around us comfortable (and we have the scrapped, halfwritten articles to prove it). So the fact that we’re writing this piece voluntarily is pretty wild. But alas. We’re here, we’re being honest, open and vulnerable and we are deeply uncomfortable. Have fun reading! From late November to early January, an extra stocking hangs on the mantelpiece. No one will stuff it on Christmas Eve, and no one will open it on Christmas morning. But when my stocking goes up beside my brothers’ and my parents’, so will hers. This is a “little thing” — but I see little things everywhere. My mom has a plate that is placed carefully in our dining room. I don’t know if she made it herself or bought it. I don’t remember where it came from, or when it took its
rightful place on the shelf beside the table we eat at only on special occasions. But it lists the birthdays of all six members of my nuclear family. I don’t have picture frames at school — that seems like a purchase I won’t be making until my frontal lobe finishes developing. I realize sticking things on the wall
Haylee Bohm/DAILY
REBECCA SMITH Senior Arts Editor
ISABELLA CASAGRANDA Daily Arts Contributor
ARYA KAMAT MiC Columnist
The first time I got my eyebrows done, I was 12, crying in the passenger seat of my mother’s gray Honda Pilot. Earlier that day, a boy in algebra class had pointed out my unibrow in front of everyone, and the humiliation felt like it might swallow me whole. My mother, who had spent years watching me wage wars against my reflection, decided it was finally time. She drove me to a small salon wedged between an Indian grocery store and a vape shop. There, an auntie with reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose took one look at me before she clicked her tongue with the command of someone who had tamed a thousand unruly eyebrows.
She settled me into a reclining brown leather chair in the center of her shop. The world blurred as I removed my glasses and squinted under the harsh fluorescent lights. The auntie rolled out and cut a strand of white cotton thread from its spool, winding it around her thumbs and index fingers to begin her work.
The first pluck of hair on my skin is always comforting: a clean swipe through the center of my eyebrows to remove the pesky unibrow hairs. The auntie then makes her way to the tops, paving smooth spaces by the forehead and shaping the bushy brows into high arches. Then comes the most painful part; threading under the eyebrows never fails to make me tear up, squeeze my eyes tight and think happy thoughts to distract myself from the impending pain. This step requires using both hands — one hand on my eyebrow and the other on my eyelid — to pull the skin taut and expose the stray hairs for plucking. If I’m lucky, the auntie can eliminate all the undereyebrow hairs in one fell swoop of her thread’s pull. Last, but not least, come the final touches. Thin scissors snip the tall front brow hairs before the auntie lathers aloe vera gel over the tender, plucked skin; relief smells like cool mint
and antiseptic. As the auntie threaded, she chatted with my mother in Hindi about how I should have come sooner, how I really should try this Indian herbal thing for my T-zone acne, how a pretty girl like me shouldn’t let herself go like this. I didn’t catch every word, but I knew the tone well — the same one my mother used when she’d tell me to stay out of the sun, to lather myself with sunscreen, to do something about all this hair. The auntie’s fingers twisted and pulled, and with each twang of thread, I felt pieces of my insecurity fall in my face like autumn leaves. I was always the ugly friend. It wasn’t just the unibrow accompanied by two big, bushy brows — it was everything. While other girls floated through middle school hallways in Justice t-shirts and Victoria’s Secret PINK hoodies, I wobbled through in an oversized hoodie and thick glasses that slipped down my nose during PE. I was the girl in the friend group who was always “killed” in the “Kiss, Marry, Kill” games the boys played. And though I prioritized the shiny grades and accolades won in middle school, being the “ugly one” destroyed me on the inside. I loved all my friends, but during mall trips or photo sessions at hangouts, I hung back. I was acutely aware of how I didn’t quite fit into their graceful, pastelcolored world with my frizzy hair, thick braces and tan skin.
This alienation stemmed partly from being a woman of Color in a predominantly white school. Yet even among other beautiful Indian friends, I felt ugly. I would curse the hairiness and cystic acne and chubby cheeks I inherited from my father, all marks of imperfection that made me feel like less of a woman. There was a particular kind of violence in being hypermasculinized as a young girl of Color, as if having more hair and a darker skin tone negated my femininity. I was familiar with the centuries-old roots this type of violence had, where colorism and remnants of colonialism prevailed in Fair & Lovely advertisements
MiC
Hanging by a thread
and women were held to unrealistic beauty standards. My own mother was considered beautiful in America and by all the kids in my class when she walked in one time to bring me birthday cupcakes (in which I stared daggers at her as if to say, curse you, why couldn’t I look like you). Yet in India, she faced scrutiny for being too tall and tomboy-ish. No matter what a woman of Color does, her survival in this cruel world is determined by her conformity to whiteness and the other nonsense beauty standards she was held to. The threading aunties, with their sharp threads and sharper tongues, only reinforce this system as simultaneous perpetrators and victims with their unwanted advice and beauty standard teachings ingrained from their own experiences in India.
That first threading session at the salon marked the beginning of something new. After 10 minutes of squeezing my eyes tight and wiping residual tears with the cotton of my shirt, the auntie held up the mirror — and I barely recognized myself. My eyebrows were sharp, clean arches above my eyes, and for the first time, I thought, “This is what it means to be beautiful.”
The next day at school, a few friends and I were discussing each other’s best features — the kind of conversation only middle school girls have — and someone said my eyebrows were my best feature. I clung to those words like a life raft, trying not to think about what, if anything, they would have praised had I not gotten my eyebrows done.
The changes didn’t stop there. I was a caterpillar desperate to become a butterfly. Out went the big bulky glasses; in came contacts and mascara-laden eyelashes. I painted my lips with sticky sweet gloss that tasted like artificial strawberries and ran laps around my neighborhood until my legs ached. “Why does it hurt so much?” I’d ask my mother — not specifically alluding to the pain of threading your eyebrows or your contacts drying up your eyes or the
weight of your mascara on your lashes or my legs after a run, but somehow about all of it at once.
“Pain is beauty,” she’d say. “We have to work twice as hard as them to even come close to half of their beauty.” She also didn’t specify who “them” was, but I knew: the white women society placed atop their rankings and favorites, the ones who dominated silly TikTok debates about preferring blondes or brunettes while women of color and their deep black hair somehow never took up space in that conversation. I resented my mother a little for saying that, but mostly, I resented the system that created this reality. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from chasing those every now or then compliments about looking pretty.
Nevertheless, I continued to get my eyebrows done like phases of the moon. Every few weeks, I’d return to that same small salon, sinking into the chair while the auntie worked her magic. She’d attempt to upsell — an upper lip threading here or face wax there — pointing out flaws I hadn’t even noticed. “Sweetie, your face will
look so much better,” she’d say, and I’d agree because I thought beauty was something you had to earn through pain and persistence. So did she, my mother and the countless other women before them. We had been taught that femininity was a currency, and the exchange rate was especially harsh for those of us with brown skin and black hair that grew thick and fast and everywhere.
For years, I viewed my body hair as the enemy, something to conquer and eliminate. It was a mark of otherness, signaling that I didn’t belong in the world of girls who naturally embodied the beauty I saw in magazines. My hair and face became battlefields where internalized Eurocentric beauty standards fought against my South Asian genetics, and every threading session brought a small victory with a bitter aftertaste in this endless conflict. As a brown girl, society constantly tells us we are too much — too hairy, too dark, too loud — while simultaneously declaring us not enough — not fair, not delicate, not feminine enough. We walk an impossible tightrope. Nothing was inherently wrong with the act of getting your eyebrows threaded. It’s been an Indian practice for centuries and an art form that my culture cherishes and passes down through generations. But for years, I felt like less than a woman because of how my looks invited indignation, how my womanhood was stripped away and displayed for mockery, by middle school boys and the salon auntie who discovered endless imperfections on my body. Throughout high school and college, I spent days convinced no one would ever love me and that my crushes would never reciprocate simply because of all the prettier girls in existence. As the character Esther Greenwood says in The Bell Jar, “If you expect nothing from somebody you are never disappointed.” I would wash my face until it was raw and red, trying to scrub away the insecurities I hated. It was something dark and twisted that I felt I could never erase, haunting every mirror glimpse and Snapchat selfie as I stared at the girl I’d become.
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Reclaiming the American flag like a Midwesterner
If you were to ask me if I will live in Michigan after I graduate, I would say never in a million years. Yet, in the quietest moments, I find myself acknowledging an unseen thread that tugs me toward this place. The way the colors of the trees change at the slightest drop in temperature; the mini plazas in every other town. I’ve seen more than just Ann Arbor, and sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I was raised here.
I am an American, born under the sun of Miami. My father holds the title of American by law, though his roots trace back to the commonwealth soil of Puerto Rico. My mother became an American citizen in the early 2000s. They nurtured me in the embrace of their rich, intertwined cultures, and as I grew, I wore my Colombian-Borinquen-American identity with pride. I still do, but somewhere along the way, something shifted within me. People would ask me where I’m from and I’d always repeat “Miami, Florida.” Soon enough, the question then turned to, “But where are your parents from?” In school, we read stories of underdogs, of quiet heroes saving their communities by pulling themselves up by their bootstraps. I remember Mary Ludwig Hays, the woman who fired a cannon during the Battle of Monmouth, her identity as fierce and unspoken as the history she shaped. And as I read, I began to see a certain image of what it meant to be American: blue jeans, boots and a trucker hat or a cowboy hat, the small-town savior. Was I not American? I was born and raised on American soil to two American citizens. I spoke English and Spanish. I woke up every day watching Disney Jr. and every evening watching Univision. Despite my multicultural upbringing, this was my America. In a land so vast, there is no singular identity. I couldn’t understand why there had to be a line drawn, why the word American seemed to belong to someone else.
I was a city girl who donned
hand-me-downs from my sister and wore Skechers because they were on sale. Sometimes I’d wear my Sombrero Vueltiao, while my Quinceañera dresses became a tribute to Colombian festivals. When I wandered into Walmart, the Cuban cashier would smile and call my curly hair beautiful, but then, in the next breath, offer me a Keratin treatment. “You’d look like the girls on TV,” she’d say. The girls on TV, their hair sleek and straight, their skin pale with highlights of blonde. Why, I wondered, should I change? The way I look, the very skin I wear, is the story of my parents’ journey — without them meeting on this soil, I wouldn’t exist. With every backhanded comment, I felt less and less American — like I had to separate myself from the average American experience.
My questions for my parents may have been too much at the time, but I couldn’t help but wonder; the 13-year-old me didn’t understand why this was my reali-
ty. Why did they come to America?
Why did they leave their country? Why did they bring my grandparents? What happened to the generations before them? Was this the so-called American dream?
My dad said he always wanted to raise a family. My mom said she wanted to be able to get her degree. Together, they envisioned a future where their children could chase any dream, unbound by limits. Yet, in the midst of all these questions about who I was, it didn’t feel like that future was me.
I stood in awe, caught by its power. At first, my friend and I laughed, calling it over the top, yet there was a quiet reverence in our voices. The flag, unfurling proudly amidst a sea of trees, felt like a silent declaration in the wild. This public display of American pride in a forest of trees — it’s hard to find something like this back at home.
Why was I so afraid of being this prideful? What would the implication be if I was? What does it mean to love being an American
as a daughter of immigrants?
When the film photos developed, I kept going back to these images of myself and the flag. I wanted to share it with everyone — but I was fearful. I was fearful of accepting myself as an American. Everyone questioned me growing up. All my friends now would wonder if I was having an American acid trip. But in truth, these photos were not just about me — they were a silent tribute, a celebration of my parents’ journey, their search and their finding on this soil. I love this country — for its deep Native roots, the vast ecosystems nurtured by communities, the towns forged from the earth itself, and those we must continue to honor. I was born and raised in Miami, and a part of me remains tethered to the South. Just an hour from home, you’ll find Confederate flags, cowboy hats and guns. That culture is currently bleeding into my city, and it’s a frightening thing to face.
I didn’t want to run away from
home. Everyone was leaving, but this is where my parents found home. How could I leave?
The more I read and watch, the more I’ve come to realize that this is not a singular experience. We deserve to be heard. I felt heard for the first time when Chappell Roan and Ethel Cain came to their rise of fame. Two Southern and Midwestern Queer women, learning to understand and appreciate their home despite the environment they were created in. Every time the beginning chords of “Pink Pony Club” by Chappell Roan come on, all I think of is my mother and my home. Ethel Cain’s Southern Gothic album makes me think about everyone else like me — everyone questioning their identity in a space that tries to neglect them. You shouldn’t have to leave home to feel like yourself. I’ve always been the same ColombianBorinquen-American since I told my mom I wanted to be president of the United States at age six. America is the Dominican
priest doing an English mass with puns in Spanish. America is speaking in gestures when you don’t share the same language. America is trying to teach my 70-year-old Colombian grandmother English from my homework.
Being an American grants me the power to speak — not only for myself, but for others. I have the right to raise my voice in a room full of doubt, to be the one who dares to question. I am the daughter of immigrants who watched as the system took advantage of them.
America, to me, is a choice — a choice to fight for myself, for my family and for every forgotten voice on this land. I will keep lifting up those whose stories are silenced, for I carry the privilege of being here. And I hope, one day, you’ll see that your doubts, your skepticism of identity, will only cloud your understanding of what this country truly is. Until that day comes, I’ll remember the flag is mine just as much as it is yours.
NAOMI RODRIGUEZ
MiC Columnist
Cole Carrico/TMD
Alisha Razi/MiC
VIVIAN PARK MiC Columnist
“I hate all men.”
It’s a phrase that is so commonly thrown around in modern conversations, much to the ridicule and scoffing of young men. How could a woman, surely one with a father, or a brother, or even a boyfriend, claim that all men are inherently bad?
To preface, this phrase is not a personal attack on literally every man to exist, but more so a criticism on how men have harmed many women around the world as a whole. Granted, I’ve experienced the phrase being thrown around irresponsibly with little to no explanation on its implications. When it’s framed as a joke or a throwaway statement at the end of a rant about your best friend’s ex–boyfriend, it becomes even more difficult to take it seriously. I understand how this could be annoying, but I believe despite that, there is a necessary conversation to be had about this sentiment, joke or no joke.
I believe the message at the core of this phrase is a criticism of masculinity, or rather, toxic masculinity. Unfortunately, toxic masculinity has become a buzzword that often deters individuals from having serious and nuanced conversations about the patriarchy without being laughed at by men. “Toxic” is a subjective term in this context, and “masculinity” is arguably even more complicated. In the context of this piece, the masculinity I reference is what I am most familiar with, which is limited to a Western cultural context and a cis-heteronormative perspective. While it would be ideal to discuss these issues in broader, more inclusive contexts, so many of us operate under these restrictive frameworks, so a conversation limited by this is still necessary. If you ask women what toxic masculinity is to them, many of their experiences overlap. When masculinity starts to hurt people, whether through harming women directly or by perpetuating harm-
Why do women say they hate all men?
ful ideals that influence men to hurt themselves or those around them, it becomes toxic masculinity. Toxic masculinity looks like men tying their self-worth into how many women sleep with them, in turn ruining genuine connections with women because of this idea that fails to see women as people. I see it in day-to-day life, in the workplace and friend groups alike, when women are talked over, ignored, mansplained to and called unfunny because the roles that build up men also bring women down. The problem is that it’s hard to define where the “toxic” ends and the “masculinity” begins. A classic example is when the check comes at the end of a date between a man and woman. A man paying for the meal is a traditionally masculine chivalrous act, but it comes with implications. Should financial dynamics in relationships stay conservative to preserve masculinity? Traditionally, the man provides while the woman takes on the role of the caretaker, but if the woman starts to work and provide for herself, does this alleviate the man’s role as a “provider?” Or, if the woman is making her own money, should the bill now be split since both parties are taking on the “providing,” or should the man pay even more since the woman is shouldering some of his weight as a provider? Obviously these issues should be discussed in whatever relationship you choose to be in, but it illustrates my point that the line at which chivalry crosses over to harmful patriarchal ideals is hard to find. When looking for a “healthy” example of masculinity, one that most quickly comes to mind is sports, though it should be noted sports are not inherently masculine. Men bond with other male friends over sports, rooting for the same team, watching games together. But from the perspectives of my female friends and I, it’s hard to separate this “respectable” hobby from “locker room talk” horror stories, when women are objectified and treated as conquests. The disrespect is often less extreme
than that, though—almost all of my female friends who have even half an interest in Michigan football have an experience of a man brushing off their knowledge of the teams or how the game works. Just like that, a traditionally masculine and wholesome hobby could easily be used to put down women and rob them of their dimensionality and thus, become toxic. The same blurriness between toxic masculinity and masculinity is the gray area between “some men” and “all men.” I think this is what underlies the sentiment that causes “some men are bad” to become “all men are bad.” The uncertainty makes it hard to decipher when masculinity is good and when it is bad, and misogyny is unrelenting. Women cannot simply ignore or take a break from men or their masculinity, toxic or not, when it is present in our loved ones, our family, friends, significant others. It is tiring, exhausting. It is easier to believe that it is all men, to prevent the hurt that might come if we put ourselves in a vulnerable position in an attempt to believe otherwise.
Over the summer, I read the book “The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love” by bell hooks. Reading the experiences written in the book made me feel understood in my anger, but hooks’ analysis was also surprisingly kind toward not only men as a whole but also toward the men who had personally hurt her. This made a small part of me upset because I have always hated the idea that it is the woman’s responsibility to educate the man. I have memories of trying to explain to former guy friends why something they said was rude or misogynistic, only to be misunderstood or called sensitive. How cruel is it to ask the victims of the societal imbalance of misogyny to explain to their perpetrator what they did wrong? It seems inhumane and unrealistic that a woman is made responsible for teaching a man all these things, like a mother raising a son. Even a mother who intends to raise her son properly must face opposi-
tion from the rest of the world.
And yet, reading hooks’ personal stories quickly showed me that she was not blind to the harmful effects of the patriarchy on women.
Despite the hurt she has clearly faced from the men in her life, she emphasizes a need for change. Specifically, she states a need for men to learn to love. The overarching message is that women cannot dismantle the effects of the patriarchy alone. However, as hooks explains, “Within the early writings of radical feminism, anger, rage, and even hatred of men was voiced, yet there was no meaningful attempt to offer ways to resolve these feelings, to imagine a culture of reconciliation…Militant feminism… did not allow us to talk about what it meant to love men in patriarchal culture, to know how we could express that love without fear of exploitation and oppression.” It is important to remember that misogyny is what prevents healthy relationships between men and women, not something that means men and women cannot share a community. It creates
mistrust and anxiety within these relationships, whether it be romantic, platonic, or parental. It’s what makes women feel unheard and ignored even if the man feels he is listening. It’s what makes sex an act of power for the man and an act of submission for the woman. It’s what creates power imbalances that fester resentment, secrecy, and misunderstandings. Ultimately, it’s not men versus women, but men and women versus misogyny. Hooks writes, “Men do oppress women. People are hurt by rigid sexist role patterns. These two realities coexist. Male oppression of women cannot be excused by the recognition that there are ways men are hurt by rigid sexist roles. Feminist activists should acknowledge that hurt, and work to change it — it exists. It does not erase or lessen male responsibility for supporting and perpetuating their power under patriarchy to exploit and oppress women in a manner far more grievous than the serious psychological stress and emotional pain caused by male conformity to rigid sexist role pat-
forces
to become
and
to become so big they’ll break anything in their path. hooks begs the reader to consider that perhaps the men are not taught to be anything but big. Women say that they hate all men because the effects of misogyny are so deeply rooted they have made it difficult to differentiate the kinds of masculinity they should respect versus the kind they should hate. I empathize deeply with the sentiment, from lived and observed experiences alike. I believe it is not only kind but extremely necessary for men to understand the feelings that lie underneath the phrase, to start from a place of empathy. In turn, however, I believe any conversation that will result in change must consider how the patriarchy has failed not only women but also men. So no, I don’t actually hate all men, but the anger generated by the phrasing of it is a symptom of the real problem at hand.
Alisha Razi/MiC
Questions from a first-gen student
ISABELLE PORZONDEK Opinion Analyst
Nov. 8 was National FirstGeneration College Celebration Day, a day dedicated to the millions of firstgen students across the country, approximately 4,000 of which are students at the University of Michigan. Being a first-gen student myself, I often reflect on what it means to me. While I don’t necessarily wear it on my sleeve, being first-gen is a part of my identity I feel great pride in.. It reminds me of the sacrifices my family and I have made and the obstacles I’ve overcome to get to where I am today.
As I look back on my first semester of college, I feel like I’ve started to find my rhythm and finally settle in. However, this process hasn’t been without difficulty; I’ve found myself wrestling with doubt and second guessing everything I’ve done to make it here. I can’t help but wonder if others in my position feel the same. Is this a normal part of the first-gen experience? Am I doing enough?
This last question has been at the front of my mind since I began my college journey. In the first three weeks of classes, I felt like I was already falling behind, even when my Canvas was cleared of assign-
ments. It wasn’t just a passing feeling either, but one that persisted whether I was having a late-night study session, walking to my next class or even laying in bed trying to fall asleep. Was I making the most of this opportunity that my family worked so hard to offer me? Was I living up to my potential?
As a first-gen student, it’s easy to feel like you have something to prove to your family, yourself and those around you. There’s a pressure to not just excel in the classroom, but also to take advantage of all the available opportunities. Being first-gen, you’re placed in a brand new environment that you have to learn to navigate without help from family. It’s an opportunity to grow, but it can also manifest itself into unspoken expectations — you are the trailblazer, after all. This is far more than just academic pressure — there’s an emotional pressure. You can’t just be good, you have to be better than the rest because you’re the one who has to prove you belong here. However, working harder can lead to unhealthy patterns where you wear yourself thin. This drive to succeed has a habit of festering into something far more difficult to grapple with: guilt.
I never thought I would feel guilty about coming to college. It’s a milestone that’s sup-
posed to foster pride and joy for myself and my family. Yet, the heavy, quiet guilt continues to creep in, especially when I think about how I made it here.
This guilt can have many different causes: financial struggles, separation from family or experiencing things your family couldn’t. The weight of family expectations often intensifies that guilt, especially when you consider that you aren’t just trying to find your own footing, but also carrying the hopes of those who got you here.
The emotional labor of being first-gen can seem invisible, but it is real. The guilt isn’t just about doing well or not — it’s the fact that no matter how hard you try, it may not ever feel like you’re doing enough. This guilt can become an obstacle, preventing you from fully embracing the joy of your accomplishments. It can mess with your work ethic, induce stress and even cause burn out.
To combat guilt and its detrimental effects on mental health and well-being, we, as first-gen students, have to reframe a narrative around what success looks like. We have to challenge the notion that those feelings of pressure have to be a bad thing, and rather use it to our advantage.
The Palestinian movement is more than just a legacy organization
AYA SHARABI,
Editor’s note: Aya Sharabi is the current co-managing editor of Michigan in Color, and Amatullah Hakim and Mariam Odeh are former Michigan in Color staffers.
Students Allied for Freedom and Equality is one of the most contentious organizations on campus. In the 22 years since its inception, numerous attempts have been made to suppress and silence this organization. In the University of Michigan’s most recent act of repression, SAFE has been threatened with suspension from operating on the University campus for two to four years. This is an unprecedented move to silence the speech and activities of an organization founded on student protest, demonstration and activism for Palestine.
On Nov. 1, SAFE received a formal complaint submitted by Title IX consultant Stephanie Jackson through the Student Organization Advancement and Recognition Accountability Process, a restorative justice procedure intended to facilitate relations between student organizations and members of the University community. The University, however, has weaponized this process, using it as a punitive tool to stifle the only organization dedicated solely to the Palestinian cause and to fostering culture and community for Palestinian students on campus. This process is further discredited by the stark power imbalance between the complainant and respondent. SAFE isn’t run like a hedge fund, whereas the University has spent millions of our tuition dollars to repress student organizations, instead of reinvesting in its students. Furthermore, SAFE had never heard of Jackson, nor did we know her connection to campus. Upon questions for clarification from the Center for Campus
Involvement, we were informed that Jackson was a third-party consultant and was not previously affiliated with the University. She was hired to bring forward this complaint on “behalf of the University” against students. We have never heard of an outside consultant being brought in to target a student organization and, to date, no information has been provided by Jackson or CCI as to what circumstances have warranted the University to have Jackson bring this complaint against SAFE on its behalf.
The tactics of protest cited in the complaint brought on by the University — die-in demonstrations, constituents visiting the homes of their elected public officials, social media campaigns and community events — are not new. They are part of the so-called history of activism that is celebrated at the University, and extend to a broad history of movements, ranging from climate justice to anti-war movements. Yet, when pro-Palestine protesters use the same tactics to call for Palestinian liberation, they are framed as violent and retaliated against with aggression, due to the clear Palestine exception on this campus and others around the globe. These anti-Palestinian, racist and Islamophobic tropes are the reason that SAFE is being targeted, despite a lack of material evidence to establish that SAFE is responsible for the alleged violations referenced in the complaint. Through our extensive research into the history of protest and student activism on the University’s campus, SAFE could not find any record of an activist student organization being suspended from campus, nor were we provided any precedent by the University after multiple requests.
This application of the SOAR process is merely an excuse for the University’s Board of Regents to target, attack and repress the fight for Palestinian liberation rather than acknowledge the demands of their constituents. If SAFE is banned from campus, the University’s outrageous manipulation of the SOAR process will
ultimately create a precedent for future retaliation against student organizations that dissent from the University’s stances; we are already seeing the harmful repercussions of this manifest in various ways. When asked about the potential defunding of DEI, Regent Sarah Hubbard (R) answered that “it comes in response to increased scrutiny concerning protests” and “other kinds of upheaval,” claiming that this process was a long time coming. These actions follow the practice of the University and the board in their attack on the movement for Palestine and divestment; they repress free speech when they disagree with its contents and avoid any opportunity for meaningful dialogue.
For more than 22 years, SAFE has operated on this campus as a legacy organization dedicated to fighting for Palestinian liberation and has held the University accountable to its supposed values of justice and equity. Beyond its role in activism, SAFE plays an important educational role by fostering discussion, educating the campus community about Palestine and creating safe spaces for Palestinian students to build community and engage with their shared history, traditions and culture. This extends beyond the walls of the classroom — from the Diag where students host teach-ins about Palestine, to the streets of Ann Arbor where they march and chant for a free Palestine, to the halls of the Alexander G. Ruthven Building where they call on University President Santa Ono and the board to divest the University’s almost $20 billion endowment from Israel. As Palestinians have entered the second year of the U.S.backed genocide in Gaza, SAFE’s work has never been more urgent. It has been 412 days since our demands were delivered to Ono. In that time, the death toll in Gaza has exceeded 44,000 Palestinians as Israel continues to make children orphans, spouses widows and parents childless.
The death of the ‘Renaissance man’: How academia has become overspecialized
TATE MOYER Opinion Analyst
Ientered college certain that I wanted to be an English major. I had struggled my way through STEM courses in high school and quickly wrote off the possibility of pursuing a degree in any related field. For the first three years of my undergraduate studies, the LSA distribution requirements daunted me. My resistance to taking any STEM-related coursework led me to delay my natural science requirement until the first semester of my senior year. I signed up for one biology course and one environmental science course and prepared myself for what I thought would be an unbearable semester. A couple of weeks into the academic term, however, I had a shocking realization: I actually enjoyed STEM courses.
Much to my surprise, I’ve found myself questioning the area of study that I had been determined to pursue for almost a decade. This feeling is not uncommon; more than half of college students report having significant doubts about their major during their undergraduate education. These doubts can persist even after graduation, with nearly 40% of college graduates reporting that they wished they had pursued a different major. Given this, many students could benefit from a more generalized education. The pressure to hastily declare a major and tackle course requirements can dissuade students from exploring alternative areas of study that they might otherwise be interested in. Requiring students to satisfy distribution requirements and general education courses in the first two years of their education could encourage a more informed choice of study later in their college career. Not only would this allow for increased certainty among students in selecting a major, but it could also
cultivate a more complete, wellrounded education. However, despite this apparent need for more generalized study, higher education is growing progressively more specialized.
This shift towards specialization can perhaps best be seen through the list of the majors offered at the University of Michigan. LSA currently offers about 200 different majors and minors, and a large number of these degrees are highly specific. For instance, whereas a straightforward degree in “biology” would have been the standard a few decades ago, this single major has now been fractured into dozens of options: cellular and molecular biomedical science, ecology, evolution and biodiversity, plant biology, human origins, biology and behavior, and more. Faced with this overwhelming list of choices, many students experience decision paralysis when selecting their course of study. As these possible paths have increased in quantity and specificity, the idea of committing to a single degree has become even more unnerving.
To understand why specialization has now become the norm in academia, it is crucial to analyze past trends. Adam Smith first theorized that the division of labor into many smaller subsets of tasks
increases the overall efficiency of the system. As the capitalist system adapted to fit this model, so did our education system. Modern supply chains, for instance, have become incredibly intricate over the last century. The production of a single iPhone relies on components from suppliers in 43 different countries across six continents and demands highly specific expertise at each stage of its creation. With this demand for more specialized knowledge at each stage of capitalist production, our education system has set out to produce a workforce full of experts, not intellectually curious individuals. The tech sector is not the only area that has been undergoing these changes. This trend has become similarly evident in the medical field, with doctors becoming focused on increasingly narrow areas of expertise. As modern medicine has advanced, opportunities for specialization have grown tenfold. In 1931, the Medical Economics journal identified roughly 17 specialties available for doctors to pursue. In 2023, that number exploded to 40 different specialties with 89 subspecialties in which physicians can certify by 2023.
Michigan’s proposed camera ticketing bill is a catastrophe
JACK BRADY 2025 Editorial Page Editor
I’ve always taken pride in Michigan’s legal history. Michigan was the first English-speaking polity in the world to abolish the death penalty, we are one of only 10 states that don’t allow sobriety checkpoints and, as of now, we have not adopted camera ticketing like our neighbors in Illinois and Ohio. All of these decisions restrain the reach of the law, based on the idea that you shouldn’t have to interact with it unless you’ve broken it. We’ve established a good precedent, but a new camera ticketing bill from the Michigan State House threatens to destroy it. As I sat down to write this column, I contemplated every encounter I’ve had with the police. One stood out to me because of how well it went. I was pulled over for speeding on my way home from work; I don’t know if it was the silliness of my uniform that made the officer feel bad for me, or maybe she was naturally kind, but she told me to slow down and let me off with a warning.
Not everyone can recall such a fond experience with law enforcement, and better practices like community policing can change that. But at their best, police are armed with more than just a gun. They have a lifetime of personal experiences guiding their decision making — a capacity for empathy only human beings possess. I like to think that the officer who stopped me thought back to her own teenage years working an awful service job before deciding my consequence. Whatever was really going through her head, she didn’t see me as just a wallet to be ticketed. She saw me as a person. Michigan is breaking from its long-held and humane legal tradition with House Bill 4132. If signed, the law would establish speed cameras in construction work zones. Drivers under their scrutinizing view will be monitored regardless of reasonable suspicion; the cameras never turn off. Caught going too fast, you would first receive a written warning in the mail, followed by increasing fines for repeat offenses. Supporters of the bill cite the success of a similar program in Maryland, where speeding by 12
mph or more in work zones fell by 80% after it went into effect. Under the Michigan bill, all revenue from the fines would go to a newly established Work Zone Safety Fund.
With an average of 14 construction workers being killed in Michigan each year, better work zone safety is essential. But the money isn’t actually going to the workers: The fund would pay primarily for the cameras. Additional revenue would go toward traffic control equipment, which the state already has, and expanding police presence in work zones, which is unnecessary if the system works even a fraction as well as it did in Maryland.
Proponents of the bill say it isn’t about revenue. If their claim is true, all of the money should go to injured construction workers and their families. Instead of increasing the number of police in work zones, the state could offset the cost of the cameras by reducing police presence there, and continue to pay for traffic control equipment the way it always has. Instead, it looks like the Michigan Legislature cares more about its coffers than its
Liberty and justice for all, including Gaza
On Wednesday, April 24, President Biden signed a foreign aid package into law. The package is worth $95 billion in total and will give aid to Ukraine, Israel and the IndoPacific. The aid going to Israel includes $15 billion in military aid and $9 billion in humanitarian aid for Gaza, with the rest going to U.S. military operations in the region. Despite his obvious commitment to the Israel-Palestine conflict, Biden’s actions continually speak louder than his words. Israel’s military campaign in Gaza has been severely bloody, and the United States needs to apply the Leahy Law in order to immediately stop sending military aid to Israel.
The Leahy Law prohibits the U.S. from sending funds to foreign security forces if they are committing gross human rights violations.
In March, Francesca Albanese, the U.N. Special Rapporteur on human rights in the occupied Palestinian territories, told the Human Rights Council that since Oct. 7, Israel’s actions against Gaza have amounted to genocide. Israel clearly meets the criteria for the law’s application, given its treatment of Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank. To add to this, in 2021 the International Criminal Court opened an investigation into crimes committed against Palestine and U.N. Special Rapporteur Michael Lynk reported back that Israel’s occupation of Palestine is a system of apartheid.
Despite this, the U.S. has not applied the Leahy Law. Currently, the State Department claims that only five Israeli military units have committed human rights violations. Nonetheless, the U.N.’s claims show that the Israeli government as a whole is committing
the abuses, meaning the U.S. needs to apply the law to all of Israel. America can no longer pretend that Israel’s long-term policies on Gaza and the West Bank are in the interest of long-term peace.
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu doesn’t seem like he will stop his genocidal policies anytime soon, either. Even when Biden said an invasion of Rafah would cross a red line, Netanyahu continued ahead. Words are no longer enough. Israel knows they can get away with the killing with only a slap on the wrist. Although Biden has withheld some arms shipments, like the sale of up to 6,500 Joint Direct Attack Munitions, his arms embargo is starting to crack. The U.S. House of Representatives recently passed H.R. 8369, which states that “no federal funds may be used to withhold, halt, reverse, or cancel the delivery of defense articles or defense services to Israel.” On May 15, three congressional aides said the Biden administration is planning to move ahead on a new $1 billion sale of arms and munitions to Israel. While the arms embargo seemed like a step in the right direction, the situation in Gaza only continues to get worse. As it currently stands, the U.S. is complicit in genocide. With the possibility of more weapons shipments, the amount of blood on our government’s hands only increases.
Taking away military aid would demonstrate to Israel that they can no longer commit a genocide unpunished. The billions of dollars of military aid only exacerbates conflict, with a report from the Naval Postgraduate School and UNC Chapel Hill indicating that it increases both the duration and intensity of war.
It’s possible that Biden is trying to limit his involvement in the name of diplomacy. U.S. interests in the Middle East have tradition-
ally been aligned with Israel’s. While diplomatic relationships are important, they should not come with an added cost of complacency in genocide. America was built on the basis of freedom and liberty; genocide goes against these principles. By not actively working to stop the harm of the Palestinian people, our country hasn’t shown true commitment to the democratic ideals it claims to care about.
America has a reputation as the world’s pivotal power, and the international community often expects American involvement in global conflicts. Although we are involved, we aren’t doing enough. More than 34,000 people have died and that number is only rising. Despite the intuitiveness of helping innocent people, the United States continues to forsake its moral imperative to aid the Palestinian people.
If the U.S. wants to help Israel and Palestine pursue peace, then the country needs to focus on ending this conflict without giving either side more reason to fight.
Applying the Leahy Law would end military aid to Israel and would guarantee a new focus on humanitarian aid. Currently, Gaza is the deadliest place in the world for civilians. Damage has displaced more than 75% of Gaza’s population, and destroyed around 62% of all the homes in the country.
In addition to issues with shelter, famine ison the horizon. 1.1 million people in Gaza are suffering from catastrophic levels of hunger. In the north, where the situation is the worst, 16% to 25% of children between the ages of six months and five years have acute malnutrition and 2% to 4% have acute severe malnutrition. To make matters worse, there’s also a lack of access to clean drinking water.
Iconstruction workers. If we allow such a bill to become law without a dime going to the injured, we’re inviting the expansion of camera ticketing across the state, like in Maryland. The cameras that began as a way to protect workers quickly spread into school and residential zones.
Lawmakers will design more deceptively-named funds to pay for things previously covered by the state budget. They will have every financial incentive to hand out more fines, while those laying in the street after a hit and run won’t be allowed to touch what has been collected.
Michigan has a proud legacy to uphold. We can continue to be the state that refuses to indulge in needless surveillance, even as the rest of the country gives in, or the state that puts up cameras on every street corner. We must demand the former, and camera ticketing must stop at work zones. The law should be human, not a network of cold eyes perched 30 feet in the air. It should have a soul and a face, and most
Democracy dies in broad daylight
On Oct. 25, William Lewis, publisher and chief executive officer of The Washington Post, released a statement that The Post would not be endorsing a candidate for the United States presidency. Just a day earlier, the Los Angeles Times’ owner, Dr. Patrick Soon-Shiong, made a similar decision to not release the paper’s presidential endorsement. In his closing paragraphs, Lewis claimed that the choice was representative of The Post’s editorial values: “character,” “courage” and “respect.” In a post on X, Soon-Shiong said the LA Times’ board “chose to remain silent” after he introduced an alternative approach to the endorsement editorial.
These decisions were met with a firestorm of discontent from reporters employed by these publications. Current and former Post opinion writers expressed their anger about the decision, including Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward, the Post reporters who broke the Watergate scandal to the public. Mariel Garza, the editorials editor of the Los Angeles Times, promptly resigned — along with two fellow editorial board members — after Soon-Shiong released his statement of silence.
Lewis and Soon-Shiong’s respective releases are not, despite their public assurances, representative of their papers’ values or principles. The leadership of national newspapers directly interfering with the editorial decisions of journalists is neither moral nor ethical: It is dangerous for democracy.
The 2024 presidential election is less than a week away, and the race could not be closer. Vice President Kamala Harris and former President Donald Trump are virtually tied in the polls in the seven major swing states, and the national poll-
ing numbers are equally as close. While there is little statistical evidence on the influence of editorial board endorsements on the American voter, their introductions surely wouldn’t hurt the electoral process. Allowing some of the most intellectual, well-read minds of the day to share their perspectives on the presidential candidates has the potential to spur a low-propensity voter to vote, or to change the mind of someone once set in their ways. That is where the strength of opinion journalism lies; civic dialogue and participation would be impossible without it.
But, amid recent developments in major papers across the country, the agency of opinion journalism — and journalism as a whole — is under grievous threat. In the summer of 2013, Jeff Bezos, former president and CEO of Amazon, bought The Washington Post company to save it from going under financially. While The Post got back on its feet for a period of t\ctively, pose a threat to the perceived independence of newspaper editorial boards. According to The New York Times — whose board did publish a presidential endorsement — an editorial board is a coalition of opinion writers and editors who join forces to engage in spirited dialogue about the issues of the day. Although devoted to the same standards as their peers, the Times’ editorial board abides by a different mission: to opine and educate.
As such, the involvement of an external interest in editorial board matters is counter to the ideals of the modern newsroom. It should not be in the authority of a newspaper owner or non-member of the board to stake claim to its opinion or squash it entirely; doing so disrespects the nature of an independent press and newspaper section.
Stopping professional journalists from doing their jobs and disallowing the American public from reading their opinion, especially during an election year, is deeply
anti-intellectual. Ultra-billionaires are buying newspapers, changing them to fit their financial liking and then leaving them out to dry. By swiftly killing these editorials, Bezos and Soon-Shiong are slowly killing democracy. A free press is essential to a functioning society. This principle is even included in the U.S. Constitution: The government ought not interfere in the freedom of the press. The behavior demonstrated by these executives is in direct violation of this freedom, both formally and informally threatening our most sacrosanct American values. While the government may not have been directly involved in these editorial decisions, it is certainly clear that federal funds and the potential toward retaliation have spoken for themselves. As a young opinion journalist, it is incredibly disheartening to see professional editorial boards be forced to behave in tandem with their distracted leadership. The decisions by Bezos and Lewis, jointly, and Soon-Shiong are guided by profit, not people or principles. As distrust in the mass media continues to grow, a refusal to be candid about editorial board proceedings and partisan alignment just adds even more fuel to the fire. The press is under attack from all sides, including the inside. Placing blame on the journalists carrying your institution is truly disrespectful and shows the lack of care that these billionaires have for the craft.
Denying the publication of presidential endorsements doesn’t embody “courage” or “respect.” It is a representation of selfishness and ignorance. Right now, more than ever, the American people need to hear from one another about the state of the nation — but billionaires are getting in the middle. The haphazard purchase of widely admired newspapers has resulted in more harm than good, and democratic involvement and media trust are on the line.
A case for the “Vomit Comet”: the beauty within struggle
ZHANE YAMIN 2024 Editorial Page Editor
t’s 2 a.m. on a Friday night.
The streets are desolate. The faint, distant roar of “Pump
It Up” in the distance slowly fades away, only to open up a lonely silence. You are alone with your thoughts. Your mind races from one topic to the next, trying to make sense of the night you just had. Your voice is gone and your legs are tired. You want to sit down and relax but you can’t: you have to take the bus back to North Campus. You walk for what seems like miles and what feels like a millennium. Suddenly, in the distance, a beckoning light calls you.
It’s the CCTC, and you’re greeted by a group of people in the same position as you. You found that at that moment you were a bit excited to see people you had never met. You find, at 2 a.m. on a Friday night at a bus stop, a community.
“Yeah, I live on North” is a phrase that is often met with dis-
dain, distaste, mockery or even just straight pity. “Oh, you have to take the bus?” “Oh man, how early do you have to wake up in the morning?” “Wow, I’m so glad I live on Central Campus.” These are all common responses students use to respond to the North Campus assignment. While most people easily find themselves being herded into this anti-North mindset, I was convinced that there must be something amazing and unique about North Campus, and something that the 20% of the students dorming on North Campus could latch onto. I became emboldened, energized and motivated to find this “something.” Little did I know that I would find it at the CCTC. The “Vomit Comet” is the slang term many students have used to denote later buses on weekend nights that go back up to North Campus. The name, noticeably, comes from the sickness, tiredness and nausea that most students bring back with them after a wild night out. Despite its retched
nickname, it is on those buses that a University of Michigan student will find something more profound than anything the Philosophy Department could teach you. As my weary legs sought rest on a Saturday night during Welcome Week, I thought about how much I wanted to go home. I’m usually not one for going out, instead opting for a night that consists of listening to music and hanging out with just a few people instead. However, I found myself overcome by the opportunistic spirit of college and I decided to go against my status quo. With everything done with and my desire to go home stronger than ever, I remembered that my Mcard and housing card were both in a friend’s dorm. On North Campus. I made the pilgrimage to the CCTC with my friend and fell onto a cold bench. All of a sudden, small groups of people piled in and I was sitting with and around at least 20 to 30 other students making their way up to North Campus. The silence turned into a light buzz of conver-
sation, which only picked up as we entered the bus. People who had never met before and who didn’t have any reason or excuse to talk to each other, were. The camaraderie spread like wildfire across the bus, and soon everyone was contributing to the conversation.
“That’s what it is,” I thought to myself, “It’s the community.”
Students taking the bus up to North Campus, students trekking through mountains of snow to get to class and students struggling through calculus all have experienced this phenomenon. As human beings and as young adults, it’s easy to focus on how we are different from one another. Diversity is very important, especially concerning growth, progress and the inclusion of unique and underrepresented groups of people. However, it is very easy to get so distracted by what divides us that we forget how similar we are. All it takes is a collective experience to show us that we are similar enough to relate to each other, an experience where
a group of people, small or large, can realize that their struggles might be more similar than they think. All of sudden, either consciously or unconsciously, if one realizes that another person also dislikes taking the bus, if they also find calculus hard or if they also dislike how some customers treat them at work, then they realize that they might not be alone in other struggles. We all face struggles in our lives. We all carry weight with us, some of it is light and some of it is heavy. Sometimes the weight we carry is unseen by other people, either because we feel like we need to keep it to and solve it by ourselves, or because we invalidate our own feelings and experiences. This weight only gets heavier. After a long time, it can feel like we are alone in our struggles and that they are something we will inevitably be crushed under. These moments though, moments of relatability, camaraderie and connection, can make a monumental change. They
can destigmatize our own views about the struggles that we face. We realize that if someone also carries the same small weight that we carry, then we are not alone in at least one of our struggles. Knowing this simple fact can give way to new bonds, connections and avenues toward realizing that we do not have to go through our lives alone.
If we as human beings can truly realize that we are not alone in our struggles, small or large, the world could change. This isn’t idealized or utopian speak. Buses, restaurants and calculus are all microcosms of this very phenomenon. Through shared small struggles, larger struggles can be heard and stronger bonds can be formed. This is something that is inherently human to realize: we are uniquely similar and that our individual identity is not invalidated by a larger, group identity but instead bolsters us as individuals.
SOPHIA PERRAULT 2025 Editorial Page Editor
Hannah Willingham/DAILY
LINDSEY SPENCER
Editorial Page Editor
America should start to say ‘I’m sorry’
FNINA ATTISHA Opinion Analyst
or more than 150 years, Native American children were forcibly removed from their homes and placed in government-run boarding schools. In a racist effort to eradicate their tribal identities, these children were separated from their families, abused, neglected and murdered. As President Joe Biden shared in a speech at Gila Crossing Community School in October, the federal government’s role in the Native American boarding schools was “a blot on American history.” The president then did something historic: He apologized.
“I formally apologize as president of the United States of America for what we did. I formally apologize,” Biden said. “It’s horribly, horribly wrong. It’s a sin on our soul.”
It was refreshing to hear Biden apologize for this historic injustice. If affected citizens are offered an apology from the leader of their country, it can help the country move forward, learn, heal, forgive and rebuild trust in their government. An apology also shows citizens that those in power are brave enough to admit and acknowledge guilt.
With a couple of months left in his term, many people are calling on President Biden to make the most of this lameduck period, especially since Democrats will soon lose the presidency and Senate majority, giving Republicans a trifecta on Capitol Hill. There are so many things that President Biden and Congress can do before their time runs out: stop funding
BANGEL AKOURI Opinion Columnist
efore the election, I asked a cute guy in my political science class where he planned to vote. He responded with a simple “nowhere,” and then explained to me how his vote, along with everyone else’s, didn’t matter. Thus, our undying love story came to an end.
The conversation, however, opened up a flood gate of selfreflection. Until recently, I never thought politics could play a significant role in my relationships.
Usually I’m more concerned with the simple things, like if they have a good relationship with their parents or shower on a daily basis.
Maybe it’s because this was my
what many people consider a genocide in Gaza, forgive student loans, expand the Supreme Court, appoint judges, finally codify the Equal Rights Amendment or propose climate protection policy. Any of these actions would mark a productive lameduck session for Biden, but there is a very real risk that the incoming administration could easily repeal or amend them.
So what can President Biden realistically accomplish for the remainder of his term?
He can continue to apologize. With his political career coming to an end, Biden should focus on strengthening his legacy and making amends to those affected by historic injustices. The apology for the Native American boarding schools was a start, but Biden shouldn’t stop there. He should continue to be vocal about apologizing for his administration and past administrations’ wrongdoings.
This has been done before, albeit centuries and decades after these injustices took place: former President Clinton formally apologized for slavery, and former President Reagan apologized for the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II.
But there are many more apologies to give.
From the Trail of Tears to Jim Crow to broken treaties to Tuskegee, the United States has created and enabled the policies that have oppressed and harmed major groups of people. The people who have suffered from the government’s wrongdoings don’t often receive the justice they deserve. An apology often does not equate to justice, but it does serve as a starting point for a greater reckoning.
President Biden should also fly to Japan and apologize for dropping two nuclear bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The horrific use of atomic weapons killed more than 214,000 people and caused lasting side effects, including cancer, for many of the survivors. While in Asia, Biden should stop in Vietnam and offer another apology. About 3 million Vietnamese people and about 58,000 Americans died in a war that many deemed not unnecessary. None of the people impacted by the war, including American citizens, ever received an apology on behalf of the American government.
Along with the Vietnam War, the president should apologize
to the people of Iraq for the Iraq War. The war left Iraq in rubble, killed approximately 200,000 civilians and caused the death and injury of thousands of American soldiers, leaving many with mental health trauma.
Additionally, President Biden should admit wrongdoing and immediately stop funding Israel’s military campaign in Gaza and cease its unconditional support to what many deem an apartheid state.
The American government has intervened in the politics of other countries, and has often done so for the benefit of the United States, and the United States alone. Even though the American government has done
this many times, there is rarely, if ever, an apology to the people, communities and cultures harmed in the process.
It’s hard to apologize; it requires courage, humility, insight and vulnerability. In a time of increasing uncertainty, unrest and anxiety about the future of our nation, our country could benefit greatly from President Biden’s apologies. Although some may say that apologies are a way to avoid real action, an apology from the president for historic and recent wrongdoings could serve as a sign that, as a country, we can heal from our past wounds and make sure that we don’t make the same mistakes again.
Mixing politics with pleasure
first time voting in a presidential election, but I’ve become acutely aware of how political values can filter the dating pool. After this most recent election, it became clear that some people, myself included, only want to be romantically involved with someone who holds similar political values to them. And that’s not a bad thing.
Society has generally considered politics too “taboo” of a topic to discuss in a conversational setting. It’s the unspoken rule of dinner parties: no sex, no religion and absolutely no politics. Most people want to avoid the kind of conflict that turns a civilized meal into a verbal tug-of-war. So we sit down, eat and choose to beat around the bush, sticking to safe topics like the weather or last night’s game.
IPHARES Opinion Columnist
love almost everything about University of Michigan football games. The atmosphere, the traditions, the halftime hotdogs and the nowoccasional wins make Michigan football the best in the nation. But the one thing I absolutely cannot stand is the way student seating is run at the Big House.
Even though every student is technically assigned to a section and a row, seating is almost a free-for-all, as there is no standardized enforcement of these seating arrangements.
Security guards are stationed at the entrance to each section to confirm whether students are actually assigned to that section or not; beyond that, security guards only check tickets for the front few rows.
This unstandardized pro -
If politics are too touchy to bring up around family or friends — the people who know us best — there is no reason to willingly choose a partner who brings that same tension into our everyday lives. Sure, we can’t choose our relatives, but we can choose whom we share our future with.
Core political values play a huge role in shaping how we choose to handle important life decisions, like raising children or choosing a career path. Our political views inform our approach to job security, financial goals, saving and spending. When those views are conflicting, long-term planning becomes difficult, ultimately building resentment and jeopardizing the trust and intimacy of the relationship.
Our political beliefs can also
impact family matters. If a couple decides to have children, their political values will guide how they envision a child’s future. While it’s never okay for parents to force children to share their political beliefs, these values can still shape one’s childhood. For example, one parent might prefer a public school education, whereas the other might prefer an alternative l education, like a private school more aligned with their political beliefs. The way we approach political issues also shapes the dynamics of a relationship, even before things get serious.For example, abortion, a highly contentious and polarizing topic, opens up broader conversations about bodily autonomy, individual rights and government interference. Some see abortion as a moral and ethical dilemma, while
Open up the Big House
cess is inefficient and pointless, given that most people ignore their assigned sections after making it past the section guards anyways. Student seating at football games should be general admission to preserve fairness, standardize and organize the seating process, and provide the best experience for U-M students.
Currently, football student seating is assigned based on priority points given to students
for attending each game, with an additional point given for arriving 30 minutes early. These points are used to determine where a student will be assigned if they purchase season tickets the following year. The more points you have, the closer your seat will be to the front — sounds like a good system, right? Those who are more dedicated to football will have better seats. But this doesn’t work in practice. It’s too hectic and time-consuming
others view it as a question of personal freedom and access to health care. Knowing where your partner stands reveals much more than a political affiliation — it is a reflection of values that shape the way they engage with the world.
Ultimately, these aren’t surface level disagreements. If partners don’t have conversations about these values at the beginning of a relationship, it can create a divide that widens as time goes on. Repeated conflicts break down the feeling of emotional security and build up the belief that with every fight, you are fundamentally incompatible. By the end, what seemed like minor differences may turn into a constant source of strain and resentment.
Even though some argue the best way to strengthen our own
for stadium staff to check thousands of assigned seats, so the students who aren’t in the first few rows end up sitting where they want — effectively making the ticket-checking process useless for these students. General admission would also help with fairness. If you get to the stadium two hours before the game starts, you should be able to get better seats than someone who got there 20 minutes before.
While this is almost true now, general admission seating would concretely put this norm of first come, first serve seating in place for all seats including those in the front few rows. This would also allow students of all grade levels to get good seats, including those without season tickets.
Given the increasing number of freshmen entering the University and a limited number of Big House seats, this policy will give everyone the opportunity to sit close to the front if they so choose. This year, some freshmen were only given a fourgame package, rather than an entire season pass, meaning that the only way to earn more priority points is to pay for a ticket outside of the package. For big games like the game against Texas, the median prices for a resold student ticket are more than $100, so only students that can afford these tickets are able to receive the priority points that come with them. Therefore, under the current system, frontrow seats will only be available to those with the financial means to pay for them. But will an unstructured
An apology could also be the spark needed to create a tangible, policy-driven impact. We have to be able to learn from and acknowledge our nation’s history, no matter how dark it may be.
Apologizing also recognizes our common humanity; individuals and nations make mistakes and it’s often what we do next that is the most important. There are a few weeks left in President Biden’s term, but his legacy will last for generations. He doesn’t even need to get on Air Force One and travel the world to make these apologies. Sitting in the Oval Office, he can dictate one apology a day. It just starts with two words: “I’m sorry.”
beliefs is to challenge them with the opposing view, this shouldn’t apply to romance. Sure, finding someone that aligns with all of your political values is unrealistic, but they should agree with a majority. Challenging your belief system might work in a classroom, but a perpetual battle causes unnecessary tension in a personal relationship.
As the polls come to a close, I never want to “cancel out” my partner’s vote. That’s why I’m putting political values above the little things when it comes to my relationships. We should discuss politics in the beginning to strengthen the relationship further down the line.
Engage with Fox news or CNN — don’t get engaged to the opposite party.
seating system create chaos? I contend that it will not because general admission seating effectively happens already, as most students ignore their assigned sections. The unstructured seating system will simply reduce the amount of security needed to check tickets at the front and allow students to have an easier time sitting with their friends. General admission seating also happens all across the country. Penn State’s Beaver Stadium has almost the same number of seats as the Big House, but has open seating, and Michigan State follows a first-come, first-serve seating method. Both schools seem content under their current systems. One of the main advantages of open seating is that students can go to the game with whomever they want because they aren’t constrained to a set section. Although the University offers an option for students to create ticket groups with their friends, there is a limit on the number of people allowed to join your group. You cannot guarantee a spot for everyone.
Opening up the Big House officially would allow students to bypass security guards who ask to see section tickets despite the understanding that students can move sections, and place fewer limitations on students sitting with friends. General admission seating would allow for the best possible football experience for students. It is the most efficient way to structure student seating, given that it basically already happens.
Vivien Wang/DAILY
ELIZA
Michigan overcomes offensive struggles in fourth quarter in 60-54 win over Northwestern
JORDAN KLEIN Daily Sports Writer
The No. 23 Michigan women’s basketball team’s Big Ten opener was a bit of a wake-up call, at least on the offensive end.
After averaging 70 points per game and shooting 49% from the field in their seven-game win streak — all against nonconference opponents they beat by 36 points a game — the Wolverines’ offense struggled Sunday against Northwestern, scoring just 60 points and shooting a dismal 36% from the field.
But in the end, freshman guard Olivia Olson came through when it mattered most, scoring eight points in the fourth quarter to propel No. 23 Michigan (8-1 overall, 1-0 Big Ten) to a 60-54 win over the Wildcats (4-4, 0-1).
“Every single (Big Ten) game is going to be a dog fight,” senior guard Jordan Hobbs said. “Like I said in the locker room, you’re going to have games when you’re not shooting well, but the teams
that find a way to persevere … are the teams that are going to be most successful. And I think we did that tonight.” The Wolverines started off sloppily on the offensive end, forcing drives that resulted in difficult shot attempts near the rim. Despite making two of their three 3-point attempts in the quarter, they shot just 8-for-21 from the field overall, with many of their misses coming close to the basket.
In the first quarter, freshman guard Mila Holloway tried to initiate a one-player fast break, but was out of control and forced an errant layup attempt. The next possession, Holloway bolted to the rim but hit just the backboard on an underhand layup attempt.
A late first-quarter run expanded Michigan’s lead to seven, but its scoring remained sporadic and the Wolverines failed to consistently generate quality shots.
The lead remained within Northwestern’s reach in the second frame, as Michigan once again struggled to get much going offensively. It failed to con-
vert on good looks, resulting in a five-minute scoring drought that allowed the Wildcats to cut an eight-point lead to two. Olson and freshman guard Syla Swords— the Wolverines’ two leading scorers — were a combined 0-for-5 from the field during that stretch.
“Obviously we’re not pleased with the offense,” Wolverines coach Kim Barnes Arico said. “We’ll be back at practice, but we missed shots that we typically make.”
And Michigan’s scoring woes persisted in the third, as the Wolverines didn’t score a point during the first four minutes of the period and scored just eight throughout. Simply put, Michigan wasn’t converting on good looks, shooting a mere 27% from the field. Swords and Olson — the Wolverines two leading scorers — were a combined 1-for-5, unable to remedy the team’s offensive woes. And Michigan also left points on the board at the charity stripe, shooting a dismal 1-for-6 from the line.
But Olson came alive in the
Michigan men’s track and field team runs off the rust in indoor preseason meet
The collegiate cross-country season is long and challenging, and there are many factors to consider when transitioning into the indoor track season. While some athletes trained well into November in preparation for the postseason, others ended their fall season before any of the championship races.
It’s hard to know where things stand with a team going from one season to the next. For the Michigan distance track team, the Holiday Open at Grand Valley State University presented an opportunity to see where the Wolverines stood ahead of the winter season.
“It was really a little bit of a fitness check,” Michigan coach Kevin Sullivan said. “It gives us a sense of what we might need to work on in December.”
Seven distance runners made the trek out to Allendale to compete in a variety of events, ranging from the 400-meter dash to the 5,000-meter run. The Wolverines decided to utilize the low-pressure racing environment to send their runners out into unfamiliar territory by competing in races different from their typical events.
Sophomore Trent McFarland took first place in the 3,000 meter, a race much longer than his typical 800 or 1,500. The other first-place finish on the day came in the mile, ran by another 800 specialist, sophomore Camden Law. Having young runners compete in events longer than
their specialty race is a common practice early in a team’s season. It can help an athlete hone their skills in areas they wouldn’t normally, giving them an edge over their competitors down the stretch. And by focusing less on racing the clock for a qualifying time, the Wolverines could focus more on racing their competitors.
“(McFarland and Law) went out and executed really good race plans,” Sullivan said. “Sometimes we forget about the art of racecraft and we just try to run fast, so it’s good to be able to learn how to win.”
Fitness only takes you so far in the running world, and racing strategy plays a massive role, particularly as runners get into postseason competition. This kind of in-race experience early on, especially in an uncomfortable race length, can pay dividends once the season starts.
Though McFarland and Law were the only first-place finishers, the rest of the Wolverines had a solid day as well. Sophomore Kepler Huntress, an 800
runner in the outdoor season, got some speed training in with a 49.35 second 400-meter dash that earned him ninth place.
Sophomore Nathan Lopez finished eighth in the 5,000-meter, and senior Henry Johnson joined McFarland in the 3,000, placing sixth.
It’s a little early in the year to see any of these runners chase down a personal best, but these promising times could be indicative of the season ahead.
“(The Holiday Invite) served the purpose we needed really well,” Sullivan said. “We’ve come out of the cross-country season with a really good fitness level, with guys still really energized and excited to race.”
With the first official meet of the season over a month away, the preseason meet at Grand Valley State gave insight into how Michigan can improve ahead of its season opener. There is nothing more valuable to a racer than a race itself, and the Wolverines believe that any experience gained now should translate into future success.
fourth, scoring the Wolverines’ first eight points of the quarter. And Michigan’s offense followed suit. Olson started off the period with a nifty drive to the hoop to cut the Wolverines’ deficit to two, and then eventually gave them a four-point lead with a 3-pointer from the right wing. And after struggling for most of the night, Hobbs scored five straight to boost Michigan’s lead back to four with two minutes remaining.
“Seeing the ball go in gave us some confidence,” Hobbs said. And Hobbs and Olson’s impact went beyond scoring the basketball. They each drew two charges in the fourth, giving the Wolverines the ball and contributing to them eventually getting in the bonus.
The Wolverines’ offense struggled for most of the night, but things finally clicked in the fourth. Hobbs and Olson came through when it mattered most, willing Michigan to a win on a day it wasn’t playing its best basketball.
Minnesota outplays
MINNEAPOLIS — Gophers are best known for digging holes and damaging the land above, causing chaos and destruction in the process.
By outplaying the No. 6 Michigan hockey team (104-1 overall, 4-1 Big Ten) and capitalizing on the Wolverines’ errors, No. 4 Minnesota (14-21, 7-0) adopted the mentality of its mascot, digging Michigan into too deep a deficit to claw out of. By dominating the Wolverines in shots and taking advantage of Michigan’s pitfalls, the Golden Gophers demolished the Wolverines, 6-0.
“They just won way more races and battles,” Michigan coach Brandon Naurato said. “ … We just weren’t hard at all. … I think a lot of guys need to look in the mirror.”
For the first half of the first period, Minnesota’s offense was explosive but unable to capitalize. Finding areas of weakness to tally 14 shots on goal in just 13 minutes, the Gophers controlled the flow, quickly wearing out the Wolverines’ defense. Despite keeping the first 14 shots away from the goal, Michigan couldn’t stave off any more, and as a result, Minnesota netted three pucks in a four-minute frame.
Driving up the right wing, Gopher forward Matthew Wood got around freshman forward Will Felicio with ease as the puck took a bounce off of Felicio’s skate toward Minnesota forward Oliver Moore. Moore then took a shot that deflected off of graduate goaltender Logan Stein’s pads and landed back on Wood’s stick in the crease, and Wood tipped the puck top shelf past Stein.
Less than a minute later, a low-effort pass from senior defenseman Ethan Edwards got cut off and turned over by the fired-up Gophers. Minnesota then drove up the ice on an odd-man rush where Gopher forward Jimmy Snuggerud finished the job.
Instead of responding with offensive prowess to the 2-0 deficit, the Wolverines got chippy and physical. Although Michigan killed the ensuing penalty, Minnesota scored with a man advantage. As junior defenseman Luca Fantilli skated from the penalty box to the Wolverine bench, another Michigan skater waiting to return to 5-on-5 play, Gopher forward Aaron Huglen shot a one-timer from the left faceoff circle that put Minnesota up three goals in the first period.
The Gophers dug a hole for the Wolverines in the first period. But gophers aren’t just known for digging tunnels — specifically, they’re known for
digging deep and extensive tunnels. And Minnesota evidently hadn’t dug a big enough tunnel for Michigan, potting three more pucks in the second frame.
Forty-eight seconds in, Wood capitalized on a chance once again with a wrister in the slot. The Wolverines were able to keep the Gophers at bay for the next nine minutes, until Minnesota forward August Falloon took a near-identical shot to Wood’s first — a deflection off Stein’s pads which led to a top-shelf shot from the crease — and once again, got the puck into the goal, extending the Gophers lead to 5-0. Then to add insult to injury, Minnesota forward Connor Kurth extended Michigan’s deficit to six.
“We didn’t play Michigan hockey,” graduate defenseman Jacob Truscott said. “We got away from the game big time, and we never had a response. Not a good game.”
By not controlling the puck and making sloppy plays in the first two periods, the Wolverines let the Gophers control the game early. Michigan took shots and kept Minnesota goalless in the third period, but it didn’t matter.
The Gophers dug an impossible tunnel for the Wolverines to escape, and as a result, handed Michigan its first Big Ten loss of the season.
ANNA MILLER Daily Sports Writer
ICE HOCKEY
DREW LENARD Daily Sports Writer
CROSS COUNTRY
Alum Kate Hua/DAILY
Early mornings and skating sessions: How Evan Werner grew to love hockey through his grandfather
In 2009 in Keller, Texas, a 6-year-old Evan Werner woke up to the sound of the 5:30 a.m. alarm he had set the night prior.
You might wonder why such a young kid might possibly want to get up so early in the morning. Why was it so important for a first grader to wake up before the sun rose? For Evan, the answer was simple.
He was up at 5:30 to go skate on the local rink with his grandfather, Fred. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, the pair took the ice for an hour-long session before Evan went to school. And as he spent more and more time at the rink with Fred, Evan’s love for hockey only grew.
***
Born and raised in the Dallas area, Evan grew up around hockey despite the warm climate. The maternal side of his family was from Canada, where his mother, Liane, figure skated as a child and where his grandfather, Fred, played hockey.
But even with all of these family ties to the rink, Evan didn’t feel an immediate calling to hockey. It took several years on the ice for him to fall in love with the sport.
“We tried to get Evan on skates at about 2, and that wasn’t very successful,” Fred told The Michigan Daily. “ … At 4, he tolerated it. (Around 6), he absolutely started to love, love skating and love, love playing hockey. And he was very, very forceful at getting on the ice whenever he could.”
And once Evan fell in love with hockey, there was no looking back. At just 6 years old, he was setting alarms on his own accord to go
skate with Fred. Evan didn’t care that the rink — one of the few in the area — was 30 minutes away. He didn’t care that he had a full day of school ahead of him. He didn’t care that he would be skating again after class. Evan just wanted to go skate with his grandfather.
On the ice, Fred taught Evan everything a good hockey player needs to know, from skating drills to puck skills, shooting and everything in between. In a short period of time, Fred’s teachings turned Evan from a kid who couldn’t stand being on the ice to one with a future at high levels of the sport. Through his grandfather’s teachings, Evan quickly pro-
gressed on the ice. His hard work and dedication were paying off, and he rose through the ranks in local hockey leagues. Even when he wasn’t on the ice, Evan just wanted to play hockey. In his free time, he’d grab his stick and pads to play on the street with his friends. It was all about hockey, all the time.
The time Evan spent on the ice only continued to grow as he got older. But hockey wasn’t Evan’s only activity, as he excelled off the ice playing shortstop for his baseball team as well. In fact, Evan once played three hockey games and three baseball games in a single day, spending hours and hours
competing.
“I don’t know if he was tired that day, but the next day he was fine,” Liane told The Daily. “He’s just always been the kind of kid that recovered well.”
This extensive schedule was adding up, though, and by the time Evan was 12 years old, he had to make a decision. After years of playing hockey and baseball, it was time to pick one. Those early mornings skating with Fred made that decision easy.
What wasn’t as easy was the decision just a few years later to move. The costs of playing hockey in Texas continued to add up and the time spent traveling was
extensive. So, once Evan received an offer to play Triple-A hockey for the Little Caesars team, he and Liane made the move to Michigan.
“The opportunity was kind of something you didn’t walk away from, especially for a kid from Texas,” Liane said. “And so we thought if he made the team — which he did — … we’ll do whatever we can to make this work.”
Evan now had the opportunity of a lifetime, but he could no longer skate with Fred on a daily basis.
Despite the distance apart, their relationship held rock solid. Fred made the long trip up from Texas to see Evan and watch him play as much as he could. Whether it
was a local game in Michigan or a tournament away from home, Fred wanted to see his grandson play. Though away from his grandfather, Evan was still able to get top-notch training. After enrolling in Brian Rolston’s academy that instructed budding hockey stars in class and on the ice once in Michigan, Evan truly shone. His grandfather was no longer his coach, but Evan received top-level training after long mornings full of class. Soon enough, Evan left the TripleA ranks to join the USHL. On his own once he made it to the USHL, Evan made his way from one juniors team to another. Though he wasn’t on the ice with Fred much anymore, the lessons he learned never departed. And while he traveled, living with billet families that hosted him at every juniors destination, he built connections off the ice as well.
“I think one of (the billet families) actually just came to the Penn State game,” Liane said. “They traveled from New Jersey to go see him. I know the ones when he played last year, for when he was playing in a different school they came and saw him. One of the billet families that he was with in TriCity are coming to this weekend’s game, so he keeps in contact with them.”
Travelling across the country and away from home, Evan built lasting relationships with his billet families. All the time he’d put in with his grandfather paid dividends, and after a few successful years in the USHL capped off by a strong year with both the Omaha Lancers and Tri-City Storm, Evan made the jump to the collegiate level, enrolling at Colorado College last season.
‘I really, really love it’: Kayla Windemuller’s love for cross country’s simplicity carries her
For most kids, the elementary school fun run is a great excuse to get out of schoolwork and spend an afternoon outside chatting with friends. But not for Kayla Windemuller.
In Holland, Mich., Windemuller spent her fourth-grade fun run as the sole student bounding around the track. Accompanied only by her principal, Windemuller couldn’t understand why her peers refused to join her and was left disappointed by their lack of enthusiasm.
Despite her commitment at the fun run, Windemuller didn’t plan to continue cross country after middle school. Frustrated by the low level of competition, Windemuller decided to try every other activity under the sun. From soccer to volleyball to basketball, Windemuller searched for an outlet to fulfill her competitive spark. Windemuller didn’t know it, but cross country wasn’t out of the picture just yet.
It just so happened that her sixth grade teacher, David DeKruyter, was also the high school cross country coach. After watching Windemuller compete in middle school and spearhead the various community running events, he knew that by the time she got to high school, he could have a stellar athlete on his team.
“As a high school athlete, there’s few kids that are as determined and motivated as Kayla was,” DeKruyter told The Michigan Daily. “There were kids, coaches and people in the community that looked forward to watching her run and they would come to meets just to watch her.”
Those around Windemuller saw her potential long before she did. Watching her conquer each course, her parents and high school coaches recognized her determination and natural talent, seeing the athlete that she could become. Soon enough, she caught the attention of people beyond those in her immediate community — people like Michigan coach Mike McGuire.
McGuire first met Windemuller in her junior year of high school right when the collegiate recruitment process began. Immediately
taken by her determination and full-package ability, McGuire knew that she would be a great addition to his program. But it took another three years before the pair actually worked together. ***
There are very few ways that someone can end up in their seventh collegiate season. For Windemuller, it was the perfect storm of a redshirt freshman season at Baylor, two medical redshirt seasons and a global pandemic that culminated in extra years of eligibility. Given these circumstances, it would have been easier for Windemuller to cut her losses and move on from collegiate cross country. But quitting simply isn’t a word in Windemuller’s vocabulary.
“I think it just came down to my love for the sport,” Windemuller told The Daily. “I love that the work you put in is often the result that comes out of it.”
So she soldiered on. Through her unique journey, Windemuller has experienced Michigan cross country like no one else. She watched freshmen enter and graduate, welcomed multiple transfer students, served a different role on
the team each season, all the while continuing to perform at the highest level. In her time as a Wolverine, participating in cross country and track seasons, Windemuller competed at nine Big Ten Championships, returned to NCAA Championships five times and set new career-best times in three back-toback seasons.
But it’s not the accolades that keep Windemuller competing. It’s the simplicity of the sport. Cross country is not a sport that’s done for attention. Frankly, it’s probably the least friendly sport to watch as a fan. In order to find success in cross country, you have to love it.
***
To spectators, cross country seems like a completely individual sport. Each athlete runs their own race, constantly trying to secure a better time and pass as many other runners as possible. In actuality, cross country is a team sport like any other with teammates working together to improve their overall score.
In regular season meets, each team sends seven runners to the start line with the first five securing points for their overall score.
The objective is to get the lowest score possible and get a majority of your unit over the finish line around the same time. The unique team aspect, contrary to common knowledge, is what Windemuller loves the most about her sport.
“Sometimes when it comes down to a team result,” Windemuller said. “The number five runner is honestly sometimes more important than that first runner.”
For most of her collegiate career, Windemuller led her team in the first or second scoring positions. She was often in charge of setting the pace for her group and served as a motivational leader just as much as a competitive runner. But in her final collegiate season, Windemuller was forced to perform a different role.
On Nov. 1, Windemuller ran in her last collegiate cross country meet at the 2024 Big Ten Championships. Windemuller, along with 11 of her teammates, traveled to Illinois to round out conference competition. At the time, it was unclear whether she could continue postseason competition. Eventually, the intensity proved too much for her body to handle
and the Big Ten Championships was her last meet.
Junior Penelopea Gordon spearheaded the race for the Wolverines. With an aggressive start, Gordon clocked in at 17th through the first three kilometers. Windemuller, on the other hand, slowed down by injuries, ran a more conservative race, patiently waiting for her moment to surge.
“When I’m in a race and I’m really hurting, I’m thinking, ‘Okay I’ve got to get one more body, one more different colored jersey,’ ” Windemuller said. “Because that’s going to bring down my team score. And then you hope number five (scorer) is thinking the same thing.”
In the final kilometer, Windemuller’s moment came.
The top two runners for Michigan, Gordon and graduate Mary Caroline Heinen, both dropped places as the race extended. For the Wolverines to secure a solid team finish, they needed someone else to put up a faster time, and Windemuller delivered. With the biggest climb of anyone for Michigan, Windemuller surged past five runners and finished 69th as the
third scorer for the Wolverines. Thanks to her intelligent race plan, Windemuller helped push Michigan to a ninth-place team finish.
*** Windemuller’s final season at Michigan may not have ended in the way she hoped. Sidelined by recurring injuries, she was unable to put on the consistent performances she had become known for. The 2024 season was Windemuller’s first season with the Wolverines that she did not compete at the NCAA championship meet. But this doesn’t diminish the impact that Windemuller has had on Michigan cross country.
“Even though her body has not allowed her to perform how she wants to right now, she has continued to be there as a teammate and leader for younger girls and helped them figure all of this out,” Sheryl Windemuller, Kayla’s mom, told The Daily.
Kayla has maximized the student-athlete experience. She seized every opportunity handed to her and ran with it. And at the end of the day, it’s those experiences that will impact her far longer than her cross country legacy. For collegiate cross country athletes, there isn’t the same professional outlook as there is for other more prominent sports. There is effectively an expiration date on runners’ competitive careers. For some, that can be discouraging, but it wasn’t an issue for Kayla. Kayla didn’t do cross country because of what it could give her or because it was an easy way for her to pass her time. She continued because cross country is a simple, pure sport. That’s all Kayla needs.
“I get it,” Kayla said. “For most people, this is not an enjoyable sport. But I really, really love it.” Cross country is not a sport that results in fame and fortune. It’s a sport that most people spend their lives avoiding. But none of that has ever mattered to Kayla. Because at the end of the day, not much has changed for Kayla between fourth grade and now. She’s still running races, they’re just a little longer. She still competes for the same community, with just a few more eyes on her.
There’s nothing special about cross country at face value — and that’s exactly what makes Kayla love it.
Lila Turner/DAILY
GRACE WRIGHT Daily Sports Writer CROSS COUNTRY Alum Grace
Dusty May’s offense leads Michigan past Iowa
JONATHAN WUCHTER Daily Sports Editor
Michigan and Iowa like to play fast. And Saturday, that meant Wolverines junior guards Tre Donaldson and Roddy Gayle Jr. were playing to their strength.
From the first possession to Gayle’s game-winning layup in the final seconds, the Wolverines’ offense ran through the backcourt duo. Led by Gayle and Donaldson, the Michigan men’s basketball team (8-1 overall, 2-0 Big Ten) was a touch more prolific in the high-scoring affair, taking down Iowa (7-2, 1-1), 85-83.
The Wolverines came into the game riding the high of their two consecutive ranked wins, and appeared to continue their upward trajectory. On their first
possession, Gayle received the ball on the left wing as the shot clock was winding down and, with a hand in his face, sunk a three.
For those first few minutes, Gayle and Donaldson flawlessly ran Michigan’s offense from the backcourt. A few plays after Gayle’s three, Donaldson made one of his own. On the next possession, Donaldson drove and made a no-look pass to give graduate center Vlad Goldin an easy layup.
“He runs (the offense) hard, he was just running down like woop-woop-woop,” Goldin said.
“I had to stay a couple times because there was no point, because he was already making a layup. But that’s something he’s capable of doing, playing with high speed and if he sees the defense fall asleep, he just takes
drives, goes to the basket.”
By the under-12 timeout, Michigan held a 20-6 lead. The Wolverines were in complete control of the game and Donaldson, who was held scoreless against Wisconsin Tuesday, was in complete control of the offense. But after eight minutes of highcaliber offense, the Wolverines reverted to their early-season form, not fully past their turnover woes. Unable to sustain the 14-point lead, the Wolverines did just enough to go into the locker
The
room up 40-37, with Donaldson hitting a floater with just two seconds left on the clock.
To start the second half, that remained the level of Michigan’s offense: It did just enough to go back-and-forth in a close game
inside, bringing his scoring total to 18 points.
Following his lead, up 61-59, Michigan’s offense began flowing again. There were still occasional turnovers, but getting out in transition and hitting their threes, the Wolverines went on a run to put themselves up 80-72 headed into the under-4 timeout.
Coming out of it, though, Gayle and Donaldson, and Michigan, went cold. With 33 seconds left, Iowa intercepted junior forward Danny Wolf’s pass — Michigan’s 17th turnover — and then hit a 3-pointer to knot the game at 83.
— until Donaldson commanded them back into form.
With 13 minutes to play and the Wolverines up 55-53, Donaldson hit a catch-and-shoot 3-pointer off a pass from graduate guard Rubin Jones. When Iowa hit one to match it, Donaldson responded with a three-point play on a layup
With 16 seconds left, the Wolverines went back to what had worked all game and drew up a final play to get the ball in Donaldson and Gayle’s
