The Graduate Employees’ Organization has concluded the fifth week of their strike, withholding their labor as they continue to demand that the University of Michigan engage in good faith bargaining and respect the union’s call for a living wage. The University also recently concluded the academic period of the winter term and the distribution of final exams has been completed. As such, there is now one outstanding matter more consequential to this fight than any other: grades.

With the semester quickly coming to a close, the main priority for the University is to ensure that students have their grades finalized and put in their gradebooks, no matter the cost. Much of this grading is usually performed by Graduate Student Instructors, many of whom are currently on strike. In response to this, the University has begun employing replacement (“scab”) labor to input grades simply to check an academic box, grades that are unrepresentative of actual performance or GSI evaluation. These “bullshit grades” are often determined by department chairs or other faculty who had no prior involvement with the classes they’re now assigning grades for. They don’t know the students and they don’t know their work. These grades do not and cannot actually reflect a student’s performance in the class. Speaking as undergraduate students that have experienced this dynamic first-hand, we are telling you: please reject these bullshit grades.

We understand the impulsive desire to see a grade on your Canvas page regardless of who put it there, but it is important to remember that a small delay in grading is worth the transformational change a GEO victory will inevitably grant our University community. Rejecting these bullshit grades does not pose any real risk to us as undergraduate students, contrary to what the University’s administration has been claiming in an attempt to undermine the strike. The grading delay is akin to a delay in finalizing your transcript, meaning it does not affect your academic standing or grade point average whatsoever.

Beyond that, accepting these bullshit grades will create harmful outcomes for students across our campus. When grades being put in are solely meant to check a box rather than to reflect overall performance and understanding of course material, a major disservice is done to students. They are given a grade that does not speak to their involvement in the course and, as such, misrepresents them entirely. In some cases, this can lead to lower overall grades for some students, while others are prevented from using a final exam to boost their final grade due to a mass cancellation of finals by professors. The rush to input percentage points and letter values leaves no room for actual written feedback, relegating students to the unknown when trying to understand why they received the grade that they did. Feedback is a vital component of academic success, as it allows students to effectively evaluate their strengths along with their points of improvement. 

Bullshit grades will only serve to further taint any remaining reputation of academic excellence at the University that hasn’t already been eroded by their egregious mishandling of the strike and other student resistance initiatives. There is little honor in flaunting academic excellence built upon a fabricated grading cycle, especially when it is one that is rather inconsistent and unrepresentative of student skills. Additionally, many classes at the University hardly afford students any opportunities to talk to professors, let alone be properly evaluated by them. GSIs are the only instructional staff who truly understand student progress within a course because they interact with them regularly. That being the case, why should we lend any credence to the assessment of a tenured professor whose student interactions rarely go beyond biweekly lectures, as opposed to the special care and expertise that GSIs provide to the grading process?

We as undergraduate students call on the University of Michigan to cease the implementation of bullshit grades and honor the demands of GSIs — and graduate student workers more broadly — who work tirelessly to promote better working and learning conditions for our University community. However, if history is any indication of the University’s moral compass (or lack thereof), we understand that it is our duty as allies and fellow change-makers to do right by our graduate student workers when our University won’t. 

Join us in solidarity and reject bullshit grades. If you’re a faculty member or lecturer, do not input bullshit grades in lieu of striking GSIs. If you’re an undergraduate student, contact your professors and ensure that they do not engage in scab labor and input bullshit grades as a result. 

Juan Gonzalez Valdivieso is a recent Music, Theatre & Dance graduate and can be reached at senauj@umich.edu. Zaynab Elkolaly is an Engineering senior and can be reached at zaynab@umich.edu.

The post Op-Ed: GEO needs you to reject #BullshitGrades appeared first on The Michigan Daily.

They rested their head on their desk. Outside, the chirping birds, the longer days and the budding trees were signs of hope and optimism for most of the University of Michigan community, but for our colleague, springtime was a recurring trigger of clinical depression. 

A full professor, they had made their way through the ranks of the academy battling bouts of a debilitating depression, which once even landed them in the hospital. Despite their struggle with mental illness, they were a respected scholar in their field with numerous teaching and service awards. 

Today, their depression had become too heavy for them to work. Only one thing prevented them from leaving campus and taking refuge in the darkness of their bedroom. They eventually managed to write the dreaded email:  

“Dear All: I apologize, but I’m feeling under the weather today. I am canceling our committee meeting scheduled for this afternoon. I’ll follow up later today by email.”

On their way home, they bumped into a co-worker, also an administrator. 

“I just saw your email. Under the weather, eh? You look great to me. Got a cold or something?”

Our colleague didn’t want to be prodded any further. They just wanted to get home. They had not disclosed their depression to their department.

“I’m just a little unwell today.”

Not breaking eye contact, the administrator said, tersely, “Well, I hope you feel better.” 

They couldn’t tell whether the hint of sarcasm in the administrator’s voice was real or imagined, another microaggression or the product of their imagination. They chalked it up to the latter, but they would never know for sure. 

The colleague in this story, like us, is one of many faculty and staff on this campus who identify as disabled or with disabilities. We experience daily microaggressions, offensive remarks, constant challenges with accessibility, a lack of guidance to navigate the disability accommodation process and a general lack of support within an ableist, individualistic campus culture. 

Our colleague’s clinical depression qualifies as a disability and is protected under the Americans with Disabilities Act. However, unlike programs for students, the University has no effective structure on campus to support faculty and staff. Worse, the University often relies on obscure procedures to deny faculty and staff the accommodations they need without possible recourse. The result is an inequitable accommodation process. Those with invisible disabilities have a greater burden of proof to show the University, and the pervasive racial and gender biases that endure in the medical establishment, and parts of U-M administration make the process all the more difficult to navigate. 

In addition to the problems with formal procedures, some facets of our cultural climate are just plain unwelcoming. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the University relaxed rules on masking while our immunocompromised colleagues risked their well-being to teach in person. Then came the rule forbidding us from requiring masking in our classrooms. We are still in a pandemic. U-M health policies threaten the health and well-being of all members of the community, especially people with disabilities.    

We chose to work and would like to continue working for the University in a climate that is inclusive and supportive. Moving forward, we expect a workplace that embraces disability: not one that grudgingly complies with the ADA, but exceeds its standards. As productive and successful members of this University, we believe disability culture has a place and a role here at the University.

Aligned with ethnic, gender and racial justice, disability justice requires intentional cultural transformation on campus. We seek a path forward through building community, confronting structural barriers and creating a transparent accommodations process for staff and faculty.

We suggest expanding the LSA’s Disability Navigators Pilot Program, a successful pilot program that promotes disability justice and supports employees with disabilities across all sectors on campus through a lens of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion. We enthusiastically support converting DEI 1.0 rhetoric into DEI 2.0 actions and implementation plans that are radically equitable, inclusive and meaningful. We support building upon the recommendations of the Student Inclusion, Diversity, Equity and Accessibility Board, a committee that was organized within the Office of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion. 

One such recommendation we fervently support is the establishment of a Disability Culture Center at the University. Additionally, we would like to see an active critique to address ableist language in the Standard Practices Guides, training requirements for unit administrators and a reevaluation of profoundly ableist U-M policies. 

Working in partnership with Disability Culture at the University of Michigan, we formed the Disability Justice Network to provide support and foster a discussion forum for staff and faculty and cultivate change on campus. Initially funded by the University’s ADVANCE Program, the Disability Justice Network seeks to broaden its network of allies to include administrators, faculty and staff. Anyone wishing to be a part of the conversation can join the Disability Justice Network MCommunity listserv here: disabilityjustice@umich.edu. 

Although the Americans with Disabilities Act was passed over 30 years ago, paving the way for people with disabilities to become protected members of the workforce, the campus disability community, like other marginalized groups, has not been fully recognized and valued within our larger academic community. We extend to all U-M administrators, and especially University President Santa Ono, an open invitation to explore how we might transform U-M policies and practices that fully support people with disabilities.   

Ann Jeffers is an Associate Professor of Civil and Environmental Engineering at the College of Engineering, and can be reached at jffrs@umich.edu.

Emmanuelle Marquis is a Professor of Materials Science and Engineering at the College of Engineering, and can be reached at emarq@umich.edu.

Robert Adams is the director of the University of Michigan Initiative on Disability Studies and an Associate Professor of Architecture at the Taubman College of Architecture and Urban Planning. They can be reached at robadams@umich.edu.

Vivian Cheung is a Professor at the Medical School, and can be reached at vgcheung@umich.edu.

Remi Yergeau is an Associate Professor of English Language and Literature, and can be reached at myergeau@umich.edu.

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Noted education author and activist James Murphy argued in a recent op-ed for the Chronicle of Higher Education, “You can’t drive social mobility if you don’t enroll poor people.”

The University of Michigan’s Ann Arbor campus enrolls half of the proportion of Pell-eligible students — that is, lower-income students — compared to the regional campuses in Dearborn and Flint. In fact, U-M Dearborn, where 44% of students are Pell-eligible, is one of the most successful in the nation at promoting economic mobility. Despite representing significantly more low-income students, the University’s central administration significantly underinvests in U-M Dearborn and U-M Flint students. In fact, U-M Ann Arbor students are provided almost four times the resources as U-M Dearborn and U-M Flint students.

Austerity at U-M Flint and U-M Dearborn prevents the University from realizing a positive vision of inclusion by institutionalizing class and race inequalities. Like individuals, organizations can engage in behavior that has racist, classist or discriminatory impact. Organizations can, inadvertently or sometimes deliberately, adopt policies, budgets and rules that systematically disadvantage people of some backgrounds relative to others.  

U-M Ann Arbor campus leaders have a responsibility to monitor their policies and rules to make certain that they do not have discriminatory impacts. This work has yet to be accomplished. If the administration chooses not to do so, our democratically elected Board of Regents must step up.

Yet, the regents have taken no action to suggest they understand the profoundly discriminatory nature of the current model. U-M Dearborn and U-M Flint enroll proportionally more working-class students, first-generation students and students of Color than U-M Ann Arbor. And despite the profound efficacy of a college education for low-income students, the University’s recent review of its diversity, equity and inclusion audit, DEI 1.0, failed to mention students from regional campuses.

Leadership will say that each campus has its own plan. But like everything else, DEI at U-M Dearborn and U-M Flint is underfunded and under constant strain. It seems like the central administration thinks of us as one university when they are touting their diversity statistics in a recent affirmative action amicus brief, but excludes the highly diverse regional student bodies in DEI outreach, programming, benchmarking and reporting.

Through a budget model that under-resources low-income students, the University enables inequity and is failing at its espoused DEI mission. It is undermining its responsibility as a state-founded and funded institution, creating a culture that is hypocritical and imperiling the University’s ethos of inclusivity. 

This system of inequitable funding has also imposed a regime of permanent austerity on the Dearborn and Flint campuses. Liberal arts classes and programs that fulfill an essential part of the University’s mission are cut. University President Santa Ono has said that an education without the liberal arts is “a danger to humanity.” And yet, these cuts reduce such vitally important educational options for students, perpetuating a vicious circle of declining enrollment, falling revenues and further rounds of cuts.

The U-M Flint and U-M Dearborn have been closing their liberal arts-centered programs — notably, Africana Studies at U-M Flint — and shrinking others, preventing students from majoring in these disciplines. Closing programs, cutting classes required for majors and reducing the number of times that classes are available reduces student enrollment. Enrollment at the Flint campus has been falling for some years now, reinforcing a vicious circle of austerity. If you don’t build it, they won’t come.

Why is austerity across campuses not more equally shared if equity is a U-M value? The truth is that austerity is imposed by policy, not a lack of resources. Every year, the University generates a large enough surplus of income through operating expenses to easily provide U-M Flint and U-M Dearborn with the extra resources they need without cuts to U-M Ann Arbor programs.

An equitable budget might include $15 million per campus per year to pay for the full-fledged U-M Ann Arbor version of the Go Blue Guarantee for U-M Dearborn and U-M Flint students, and leave substantial sums on both campuses to pay for student support programs and needed improvements in faculty and staff compensation. This $30 million could come from surplus revenue and would not need to come out of the U-M Ann Arbor General Fund budget.

There are other ways in which that money might be distributed more evenly. To give some sense of orders of magnitude, $30 million would be just 1.2% of U-M Ann Arbor’s 2022-23 General Fund expenditures. Living up to its DEI principles, central administration should make such changes in its next budget and commit to these transfers of funds unless and until increases in other revenue streams make such transfers unnecessary — that is, if equity is achieved when U-M Dearborn and U-M Flint students are no longer subject to austerity.

This budget would also make up for the Ann Arbor campus’s current practice of admitting half of its students from out of state. A growing population of out-of-state students compromises the campus’s mission as a state university. However, the underfunded Dearborn and Flint campuses could pick up the slack, bolstering the University’s value to the state. They run on shoestrings in constant crisis mode even as their student bodies support the diversity that the central administration allegedly values. How is the current culture not discriminatory?

When talking about DEI 1.0, Ono said, “Institutions have to be committed to continuous, positive momentum. It’s important for me to show I’m behind DEI 1.0 to make sure when we embark on DEI 2.0 as an institution, we do so with even more vigor, determination and support.”

We agree with Ono. Diversity, equity and inclusion at the University should be vigorous, determined and supported. But moving forward, DEI initiatives should include revitalized resources for U-M Dearborn and U-M Flint students. Self-imposed austerity on the University’s regional campuses is stressful for its students, faculty and staff, making teaching and learning more difficult and degrees harder to pursue and enjoy. Without a new budget model, authentic DEI is not possible. 

Liz Rohan is a professor of composition and rhetoric at the University of Michigan-Dearborn, and can be reached at erohan@umich.edu.

Daille Held is an undergraduate at the University of Michigan-Dearborn, and can be reached at dailleh@umich.edu.  

Andrew Thompson is a lecturer at the University of Michigan-Ann Arbor, and can be reached at mcandyt@umich.edu.

The post There can be no DEI without UMich Dearborn and Flint appeared first on The Michigan Daily.

On Feb. 26, violent settlers stormed into the West Bank town of Huwara, shooting point-blank at crowds of Palestinian civilians and setting Palestinian property ablaze in response to the recent killing of two Israeli settlers in the area. In what many have since described as a “pogrom,” hundreds of Palestinians were injured and at least one was killed. 

The next day, I scrolled through painful images of the aftermath — it looked as if a massive bomb had decimated the town. It was not a bomb but the hands of people of my own faith that had done this, an event similar to those enacted against my ancestors and the Jewish people at large throughout our long history of persecution. 

If you have an inkling that things in Israel-Palestine seem like they’re more chaotic and violent than usual right now, it’s because they are. You may be outraged, confused or even jaded from hearing story after story of killings of innocent people and newsreels about religious services turning deadly in Israel-Palestine. As accustomed as we may be to chaos in this region, we cannot let the headlines pass us by this time. 

In November of 2022, Benjamin Netanyahu — the infamous Israeli prime minister who was ousted from power in 2021 — won the vote to retake control of the Israeli Parliament. This time he did it with the most right-wing coalition in Israeli history. 

Since Netanyahu and this far-right coalition have taken power, they have approved a series of dramatic steps, including legalizing nine settler outposts in the Palestinian territory of the West Bank that were previously illegal even under Israeli law and approving over 7,000 new settlement units. These actions work to deepen Israeli control over significant portions of the West Bank while further fragmenting and isolating Palestinian communities from each other. As tensions rise due to an increasing Israeli presence in these territories, a record number of Palestinians have been killed by the IDF in 2023, while attacks against Israeli citizens are also on the rise.

Meanwhile, Netanyahu and his coalition are pursuing a so-called “judicial reform” package that would strip the Supreme Court of Israel of its power to strike down any law passed by Parliament. As Netanyahu’s coalition comprises over 50% of the Israeli Parliament, they would be able to pass any law they like with no check on their authority. While Netanyahu recently temporarily paused the overhaul of the judiciary in the face of overwhelming protests, it is still high on his agenda. 

Israel and its allies proudly label the country as a democracy, but central to any democratic institution are the checks and balances within the branches of government. By targeting the independent judiciary, the current Israeli government is eroding the foundations of the very values that it claims to stand for.

As Netanyahu and his coalition continue to eat away at the central pillars of democracy and neglect international pressure and public opinion, the United States risks losing one of its closest supposedly democratic allies to authoritarian decline. As Jewish students at the University of Michigan — one of the most politically engaged campuses in the country — we need to pressure President Joe Biden and his allies to live up to their promises to preserve democracy everywhere and to take meaningful steps to ensure a peaceful resolution will still be possible in Israel-Palestine. 

With its moves toward annexation, Netanyahu’s extremist coalition is demonstrating that it will not be stopped by polite protests or vague agreements. Only by setting clear redlines and tangible consequences can the U.S. hope to deter this government. It’s clear that the efforts taken by the Biden administration and the international community have been insufficient and ineffective in stopping this government’s extreme agenda. 

As Israel’s closest ally, the United States plays an integral role in how events will unravel on the ground. The U.S. government provides Israel with $3.8 billion in security aid every year. While all other U.S. aid recipients face clear restrictions on how their aid can be used, Israel currently does not. Therefore, it is impossible to know how much of this aid is being used to shelter civilians from rocket attacks or to perpetuate harmful acts of occupation like bulldozing Palestinian homes. As an American taxpayer, your tax dollars may be used to undermine international law and commit human rights violations. Even if you don’t identify as Jewish, Israeli or Palestinian, you have every right to speak up against the use of your money in this way and to demand that Israel provide more transparency. 

As a Jewish student, this Israeli government does not speak for me. There is a place for us in this struggle. The longer we ignore the deteriorating situation in Israel-Palestine, the more we encourage those in power to perpetuate injustice and abuse. 

I’m proud to go to school on a politically active campus full of passionate and justice-driven people. We shouldn’t forfeit this dedication when it comes to Israel-Palestine. Let’s channel the same energy we used to register voters for the midterms and fight for better wages for our student workers into keeping up the fight to preserve democracy and ensure human rights for all. Don’t stand by in silence: Speak out within our community and demand accountability and justice.

Lauren Haines is a sophomore studying Public Health and member of J Street U Michigan, and can be reached at laurehe@umich.edu.

J Street U Michigan can be reached at jstreetumich@umich.edu.

The post A letter to the Jewish community: It’s time to speak up about what’s going on in Israel appeared first on The Michigan Daily.

Most readers know that the Graduate Employees’ Organization, the union representing Graduate Student Instructors at the University of Michigan, is on strike. The University moved a state court for an injunction to end the strike and order GSIs back to work. The hearing on that motion is set for April 10. An injunction to force people back to work is properly understood as an extraordinary remedy, effectively banned at the federal level and disfavored at the state level.

The Michigan Supreme Court has said that it is “basically contrary to public policy in this State to issue injunctions in labor disputes absent a showing of violence, irreparable injury, or breach of the peace.” A public policy against labor injunctions — absent exceptional circumstances — is appropriate given their history, current implications and constitutional concerns. We should not seek to enlarge exceptions to this policy today. Instead, as a leading public university, we should direct our collective efforts toward recovering public support for key teaching and research functions — part of the background for the specific disputes playing out at the bargaining table. 

The labor injunction, a judicial remedy to forcibly end strikes and boycotts, has a long and repressive history in the decades before the New Deal. Enforcement of such injunctions took place through the use or threat of physical, armed force; violations of injunctions frequently landed worker leaders in jail. The injunctions in the 1894 Pullman Strike, involving federal troops and mass arrests, formed an infamous example. Legal historian William Forbath described contemporaneous letters from then Judge William H. Taft to his wife, in which he opined, “Until they have had much bloodletting, it will not be better,” and soon thereafter, “They have killed only six of the mob as yet. This is hardly enough to make an impression.” “Government by injunction” was deeply unpopular with the public at large, who perceived it as a selective and illegitimate use of state power. That is why, in the early 1930s, Congress essentially eliminated the use of injunctions in labor disputes in the private sector. 

Public-sector workers are governed by state law and therefore may still be subject to such injunctions, depending upon the state. Nevertheless, labor injunctions are disfavored in Michigan, and the state’s highest court made it clear (in a seminal case voiding an injunction aimed at K-12 teachers) that “it is insufficient merely to show that a concert of prohibited action by public employees has taken place and that ipso facto such a showing justifies injunctive relief.” To put it bluntly, a strike that is not supported by law is not necessarily subject to an injunction — nor should it be. More generally, not every violation of law (much less of labor law) results in an injunction backed by the threat of force and contempt sanctions. In such circumstances, we might invoke the wisdom of former Gov. Frank Murphy, in refusing to restrain the sit-down strikers in Flint and instead seeking a proactive solution. That historic action (of liminal legality) was a pivotal moment in a series of events that helped to usher in decades of more broadly shared prosperity in Michigan and arguably across the country.

A labor injunction also, obviously, has constitutional implications. Aside from the immediate associational dimensions of striking, the pending request to the court seeks to enjoin GEO from “encouraging, inducing, or persuading employees of the University” to strike. The Michigan Supreme Court has recognized that such restraints of speech in labor injunctions “raise a serious constitutional question.” Indeed, this constitutional question has been heightened in the decades since that statement, given the increasing weight that the U.S. Supreme Court has given to state public-sector workers’ First Amendment rights where labor association is concerned.    

As a university, we should not urge Michigan courts to expand any exceptions to the general disfavor of labor injunctions. Expanding these exceptions would have implications for public-sector workers throughout the state. Generally speaking, workers who are providing services deemed so essential as to warrant forcibly ordering them back to work might be better retained through improved compensation and advancement opportunities. But the merits of various bargaining positions aside, the University has — and is pursuing — numerous other available responses, and does not need this extreme and disfavored remedy. And consider that while the violent labor repression of the pre-New Deal era may sound remote, a judicial injunction is by definition a broad and highly discretionary tool — violation of which would put workers or students in contempt of court, potentially subjecting them to jail time. 

As a leading public university housed in the state that gave birth to the modern American labor movement, we have a unique opportunity to lead in educating and persuading elected leaders throughout this country to support public higher education and research as a broad social mission. A crucial background condition to the conflict currently playing out at the bargaining table is the collapse of entire fields in the humanities, social sciences and even the natural sciences. These market collapses mean that the basic social bargain of graduate education and work in these fields — a kind of apprenticeship period that is reasonably likely to lead to secure, long-term and reasonably-compensated employment in the field — has broken down. 

The University and all of us in it are understandably concerned about disrupting core teaching and research missions in the short term. But it’s essential we also pursue this longer-term strategy of restoring public support for public universities, in order for that mission — in some of the most critical fields of human knowledge — to continue in the long term. This course will, I feel sure, prove far superior to invoking the bad old days of the labor injunction. 

Sanjukta Paul is a professor at the Law School and can be reached at sanjukta@umich.edu.

The post Op-Ed: The GEO strike and labor injunctions appeared first on The Michigan Daily.

On March 23, the World Athletics Council, which runs the World Athletics Championships and other sporting events, decided to ban transgender women athletes from competing in any of their events if they have gone through any stages of male puberty. While this didn’t exactly come as a shock to anybody, given that the Council proposed this back in January, it was still an unpleasant reminder of just how transphobic the sports world can often be.

So, let’s talk about trans athletes — particularly trans women, as trans men were not included in the WAC’s ruling — because there are pervasive misconceptions that contribute to the mass hysteria over trans people playing sports.

First, some basic definitions. A trans person is anyone who does not identify with the sex they were assigned at birth. Trans is a broad category that encompasses trans men and women, as well as non-binary and gender non-conforming people. A trans man is someone who was assigned female at birth and transitioned to a man. A trans woman is someone who was assigned male at birth and transitioned to a woman. I’m going to use trans people to refer to primarily trans men and women throughout the piece, but nonbinary and gender non-conforming people are very much a part of that community, and they are affected by this ruling as well.

Just to be very clear: Gender is not biological. Neither is sex. There are so many gene combinations that can cause someone to present as male or female that are not XX and XY. Genitals may not match up with someone’s external appearance, especially for intersex people. The World Athletics Council’s order hurts intersex individuals just as much as it hurts trans women because it prevents anyone who has gone through male puberty at all from participating — this applies to intersex people if their parents chose the male gender for them. 

The process of transitioning varies wildly by person. Not all trans people choose to medically transition, but many do. For these two genders, this involves hormone replacement therapy — trans men take testosterone and trans women take estrogen. Trans women may undergo breast augmentation while trans men may undergo double mastectomies (commonly called top surgery), and both may undergo bottom surgery to change their genitals. Any medical solution may also require extensive mental health analysis, referrals from doctors and certainly money. It is not something that someone undergoes just because they felt like trying out another gender for the day. 

So, trans women in sports: What’s the big deal? Short answer: There isn’t one. The only people making a big deal out of this are sore losers and transphobes.

The long answer is exactly the same: There isn’t a problem, except for the ones society creates. There is a belief, for example, that trans women are beginning to dominate women’s sports and win all of the awards. There is another, even dumber idea, that men would claim to be trans women and change in the girls’ locker rooms so they could see boobs. 

Absolutely zero trans people are transitioning so that they can win sports events. However, there are trans people who happen to play sports, and the best thing we can do is allow them to compete in the categories of their identity. Unfortunately, many organizations do not allow that because of rules about testosterone and assigned gender.

One of the most famous examples of a trans person in sports is Lia Thomas, a swimmer at the University of Pennsylvania. She gained media attention in 2021 when she became one of the most successful transfeminine athletes in college sports, dominating her competitions and becoming the first trans woman to win an NCAA Division I championship. She came out during her junior year and began HRT for her gender dysphoria. NCAA rules at the time stated that trans female athletes “may not compete on a women’s team until completing one calendar year of testosterone suppression treatment.” Those rules have since been updated to be more inclusive. 

After Thomas had completed that requirement and deferred her eligibility a year due to COVID-19, she began to swim on the women’s team in 2021, dominating competitions and drawing massive amounts of hatred from right-wing news sources and many of her teammates and opponents. Many opponents cited that her ‘biology,’ such as her height and bone density,  gave her unfair advantages, and backed this up with some scientific studies that supposedly show that advantage. However, Dr. Joshua D. Safer, co-author of the Endocrine Society’s guidelines for treating trans people, stated, “A person’s genetic make-up and internal and external reproductive anatomy are not useful indicators of athletic performance,” and most medical experts agree.

Sometimes, when looking at how dominant Thomas was throughout her final season, it might be easy to believe that the transphobes are correct and that Thomas is simply too dominant to be allowed to swim with women. But, she was previously one of the best swimmers on the Penn men’s team, and she was not even ranked No. 1 in the country in collegiate women’s swimming during her final season. If she was so good on the men’s team, what advantage would she have gained by transitioning? Maybe she’s just a good swimmer. 

But transphobes don’t want to hear that. One of the girls that Thomas beat is still on Fox News whining about her loss nearly a year after the race. She and those who agree with her simply cannot accept that someone who is trans might be good at sports. And, while they are comfortable speaking their hatred, they are often empowered by the shield of anonymity, as is evident in this quote from a teammate of Thomas’ who didn’t want her to swim on the team: “I’m not about to be labeled as transphobic.”

There is also a deep misogyny that often runs as an undercurrent for these arguments. People are very rarely as concerned about trans men playing sports unless they are competing in the women’s category. Trans men are allowed to compete with men because people often feel that they are weaker than cisgender men due to their sex assigned at birth and thus not a ‘threat’ to the sport. Trans women are not allowed to compete because of their sex assigned at birth, which apparently makes them stronger than every cisgender woman alive. These arguments never account for the vast differences in female biology or for those who are intersex. I am always particularly surprised whenever women who claim to be feminists jump in to defend the sanctity of “biological women.” Are they so transphobic that they would rather define a woman by their uterus, estrogen and supposed weakness? Seems deeply anti-feminist to me. 

Furthermore, the amount of controversy generated around this non-issue is just stupid. Anti-trans legislation in the United States has skyrocketed this year. Three hundred and eighty seven bills were introduced in state legislatures, and 51 of them were about trans people — primarily trans women — playing sports. And yet, this “problem” concerns an extremely small number of people. In Utah, whose legislature overrode the governor’s veto to pass the law, the number of kids affected by the legislation was four. In South Dakota, the number was zero. These legislatures decided that a good use of their time and taxpayer money was to bully kids — kids, mind you, whom the Utah governor said were “just trying to find some friends and feel like they are a part of something.”

But, to be honest, this argument should have been settled last year during the 2023 Tokyo Olympics, when the International Olympic Committee rewrote their guidelines about trans athletes. Previously, the Committee’s policy involved setting testosterone levels for all female athletes, which excluded both trans and cis athletes. Now, the governing body of the most famous sports event in the world says that each sport should set its own rules for trans athletes and that “sporting bodies should not assume that transgender women have an inherent advantage over cisgender women, nor should transgender women have to reduce their testosterone levels to compete.” It makes no sense for the World Athletics Council to be going backwards on this issue. If the International Olympic Committee can be progressive about this, there is no reason for anyone to not follow suit. 

Madison Auchincloss is an LSA freshman and a member of The Daily’s Copy section. They can be reached at mauch@umich.edu.

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On Wednesday morning, members of the Graduate Employees’ Organization and their allies gathered on the Diag in support of GEO’s demands for a fair contract and a living wage for all. The air was brimming with energy, and I felt proud to be joined by many other impassioned undergraduate students who showed up in solidarity with GEO. Alongside current and former Graduate Student Instructors, we marched and chanted for a more livable University of Michigan — it was a powerful and historical moment. Hundreds of undergraduate students were there in support because every single one of us has a stake in this fight. Here is why you should sign up to join us on the picket lines.

Why should the GEO strike matter to undergraduate students? Simply put, graduate student working conditions are our learning conditions and their demands are in our best interest. Graduate workers are an essential part of our campus community, and without them, the University would not be able to provide such a high-quality and sought-after education. Graduate workers not only do the academic labor of grading papers, guiding class discussions and helping students with course material, but also the emotional labor of providing support when students are struggling in their personal lives. Think about the positive difference that GSIs have made in your lives. They work far more than the 20 hours stipulated in their contract, but they are treated like part-time workers for full-time work. We all deserve a campus that fosters a healthy quality of life for those who live and work on it.

GEO graduate workers are demanding a living wage of $38,500. The current wage of $24,000 is not enough to meet the rapidly increasing cost of living in Ann Arbor. In fact, 80% of graduate workers are rent-burdened, and many of them are forced to live in neighboring cities like Ypsilanti. They live paycheck to paycheck, struggling to afford groceries, child care and medical bills. They resort to rationing their medications, skipping meals and selling their plasma to keep their heads above water. These living conditions are indefensible. Yet, the University is only offering a raise of around $100 per month in the first year and even less in the next two years, which is not enough to cover the yearly 6% inflation rate. In other words, this “raise” is actually a significant pay cut. 

GEO’s demands also directly benefit undergraduate students on campus. For example, GEO is fighting for increased disability accommodations and the creation of a Disability Cultural Center. By providing basic training on disability accommodations, GSIs can better support undergraduate students with disabilities. Another key demand includes improving access to gender-affirming health care services. In the past, GEO’s wins on gender-affirming health care have led to better coverage for everyone across our campus community. At a time when transgender people are under assault across the country, every person on campus has a stake in GEO’s fight for trans rights. For both undergraduate and graduate students who are parents, GEO also hopes to abolish the discriminatory eligibility requirements for the child care subsidy and increase the subsidy to cover 75% of the cost of U-M child care centers.

Another central aim of their platform is public safety — something that will have a big impact on the entire campus community. Many students of Color, graduates and undergraduates alike, have experienced traumatizing encounters with campus police, making them feel alienated and unsafe. GEO is asking the University to fund the Coalition for Re-Envisioning Our Safety, which is developing a community-led non-police response program in Washtenaw County. An unarmed program was voted on unanimously by Ann Arbor City Council and received 93% support in a recent city of Ann Arbor poll. GEO’s proposal to codify the University’s sanctuary campus policy, which would limit the University’s cooperation with immigration enforcement authorities except as required by law, would also protect undocumented students at all levels of study. These common-sense proposals would make the University safer for everyone and should be supported by the entire campus community.

Last Thursday, the University filed an injunction against GEO and is suing the union for damages. The University claims that GEO is causing “irreparable injury” to undergraduates by going on strike. However, the University conveniently ignores the fact that Central Student Government, the largest organization that represents undergrads, endorsed GEO’s demands last fall. Furthermore, many of us will actually be graduate workers ourselves one day, meaning that the success of GEO’s demands would directly improve our lives in the near future. In reality, it is the University’s Board of Regents and University President Santa Ono who are responsible for the disruption of GEO’s strike, as they have permitted U-M representatives to refuse to negotiate in good faith.

The punitive course of action marked by the University’s injunction is an aggressive affront to the values that the university claims to champion: diversity, equity and inclusion. The University’s commitment to DEI seems hollow when U-M administration is refusing to give graduate workers a contract that protects their most marginalized members. The University of Michigan is one of the wealthiest public institutions in the world. Ono will receive $6 million in salaries and bonuses over the next five years. U-M administration has no trouble finding the money for multi-million dollar renovations of the President’s Mansion or millions of dollars for former University President Mark Schlissel’s retirement package. Yet, when it comes to the economic well-being of its grad workers, the money seems to run dry. The University needs to get its priorities straight and spend money on its students – not just vanity projects and exorbitant salaries for bosses.

I ask all undergraduate students to show some courage and join graduate workers on the picket lines. I ask them to not be complicit in or support scab labor — that is, labor that substitutes that of striking workers. Don’t attend your GSI sections if they are being replaced by scabs and don’t cross the picket line if there is one in front of your class building. Ask your professors to commit to not using scab labor, talk to your friends and classmates about GEO’s fight, and sign up for a picketing shift. If you are financially able, donate to GEO’s strike fund and share it widely. 

All labor must be dignified with fair treatment and fair compensation. It’s time for us to show the University and Ono’s administration who we are and what we stand for. See you on the picket lines. 

Mahnoor Imran is the undergraduate media spokesperson for GEO. She can be reached at mahnoori@umich.edu.  

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Content warning: mentions of gun violence.

On the morning of April 17, 1981 — Good Friday — I awoke in my dorm room to the clanging of the fire alarm at the un-student-like hour of 6 a.m. Like most college students, I scoffed at the interruption. I wasn’t prepared to pull myself from a morning’s sleep, so I listened for footsteps or slamming doors out in the hallway, as if my fellow students’ behavior was ever any sort of barometer for emergency preparedness. I reluctantly tumbled out of the lofted bed and peered down the hallway. Not a soul heading for the exits. Everyone was asleep like I should have been. All indications of a false alarm.

I tried to get back to sleep. Finals were just weeks away and I knew rest would be in short supply. I’m sure I was still awake when I heard the sirens squealing outside.

I was a 20-year-old sophomore at the University of Michigan. I still hadn’t settled on a major. I lived in Bursley Residence Hall on North Campus, a bus ride from Central Campus. North Campus was in its infancy in 1981 as the University started relocating all the engineering, art and architecture programs from Central Campus. North Campus at that time was a bucolic environment, with tree-lined walking paths and gentle hills for winter traying (sledding on lunch trays). Removed from the more frenetic Ann Arbor campus area, North Campus was an oasis of sorts.

I had planned to stay most of the weekend in Ann Arbor even though it was Easter. I planned to be home for Sunday dinner, but I cherished whatever uninterrupted study time I could get, especially in the quietude of this near-pastoral setting.

As the sirens’ roars grew thunderous, I pulled aside the stiff residence hall room curtains. Our room’s window faced the circular drive that ran past Bursley’s main entrance. The firetrucks, police cars and ambulances were all parked along the oval strip. What a massive false alarm, I thought.

I saw police and medical responders going in and out of Bursley’s front doors. A stretcher with an unidentified person was being whisked toward an ambulance. The IV bag shook in the transport. Another identical white gurney, unknown occupant, hurried out into another ambulance.

By now, there was stirring in our dorm hallway. As I watched the scene below, someone joined me at the window. Pointing toward the departing ambulances, he said, “One of them is our Doug.”

Over that nearly completed school year, my awareness of gun violence had surged. This current swelling of interest was the result of a flurry of shootings of celebrated and famous people.

In December 1980, John Lennon was gunned down in front of his New York City home by a fan asking for an autograph. A scroll ran across the bottom of our hand-me-down TV set that night while we watched Monday Night Football: Ex-Beatle Dead. 40 years old.

On March 30, 1981, another crazed person fired several rounds at President Ronald Reagan. The president’s communications chief sustained severe and lifelong head trauma. A valiant Secret Service agent took another bullet. The last slug ricocheted and struck Reagan as he was being rushed from the mayhem into his limousine. In the emergency room, doctors found the bullet precariously close to Reagan’s heart.

I was pasted to the activity around the residence hall’s front entrance. In time, a man exited, escorted by two policemen. The handcuffed man was hastened toward an awaiting police cruiser, and then he was gone too. At some point, the emergency vehicles departed and peaceful Bursley life had the illusion of normalcy, though we all knew at that instant our college experience had been profoundly altered.

Then on May 13, 1981, a Turkish assassin fired four bullets from a Browning Hi-Power semi-automatic pistol at Pope John Paul II in St. Peter’s Square. All four bullets entered the Pope as he greeted the faithful from his Popemobile. Though gravely wounded, the Pope would recover and eventually forgive his assailant in his prison cell.

It didn’t take long for word to bolt throughout the dorm that two students had been shot in another wing of Bursley. The assailant tossed Molotov cocktails from his room onto the floor’s hallway, igniting the carpet which necessitated the fire alarm. As the students hurried from their rooms, hindered by the smoke and chaos, the assailant came back out of his room with a sawed-off shotgun and fired into the cloudy hallway.

The students I saw leaving Bursley on stretchers were undergoing surgery. One victim was our hallway’s resident advisor, Doug, who left his room to locate the source of the alarm, as required by dorm protocol. He was a senior and was set to graduate in a few weeks. The other, a freshman, was acting as the assigned fire marshal for his floor, tasked with ensuring his hallmates’ safety.

It didn’t seem long before we learned that Doug and the freshman had died.

Disbelief became chaos as students dashed about trying to get assurances to frantic parents. Apparently, the local news limited their coverage to a developing story of an early morning shooting at Bursley Hall on the University of Michigan’s North Campus. I finally reached my mom. TVs and radios throughout the dorm were loudly blasting news reports.

Soon, news trucks and reporters interrupted the quiet of North Campus. The University immediately committed counseling services to us affected students. I can no longer remember the exact details of what I did for the remainder of that day. I called my mom back and pleaded with her to pick me up that afternoon — as soon as possible. The sudden attention to our tiny community was unsettling. Go home for the weekend, study for finals there and be coddled by parents in my old cocoon. 

That summer was spent back home working as a custodian at our local church. I cleaned, stripped and waxed all the classrooms in the church’s grade school — the same school I had attended not all that long ago. I took great pleasure in telling my old grade school teachers about my college experiences as they dashed in and out of the building throughout the summer.

I found solace in this little school, where so much of me had been formed and molded. It had been such a nurturing period in my life, with all the exhilarating exploration and innocent wonderment that comes with learning — virtuous in itself.

At some point that summer, I sat in my old bedroom with my new Corona electric typewriter I bought so I could type my college papers, and I banged out my thoughts on this last school year. I sent my little essay to our weekly community newspaper. My short piece recounted the various shootings — Reagan, Pope John Paul II and my two dormmates — and its impact on a 20-year-old student not yet fully launched into life. The paper published it in their editorial section and titled it something like “Mom, Apple Pie and Guns.” My new vision of the American Dream — my new understanding of myself. Seemingly.

Eventually, the gunman was prosecuted and sentenced. It was a week-long trial. The assailant was in his senior year. I didn’t know him and had never seen him before. Apparently, the night before the shooting, he was frantically finishing a key paper for one of his classes, only to miss the filing deadline by moments. The charged man raised the insanity defense, mimicking John Hinckley’s successful defense in his trial for the attempted assassination of President Reagan. The defense failed and he was sentenced to life in prison.

I wonder what the gunman thinks about in prison, what he thinks of guns now.

My fear of guns relates back to my early childhood. After playing “war” with fake guns and knives, I was often left trembling, consumed with images of death much too vivid for any 10-year-old child. In reality, my personal exposure to guns was make-believe: comic book gun violence in movies and on TV. The real warzone was in Detroit and other inner cities, not the safe and comfortable suburb where I grew up. I was irrationally agitated by guns if I gave them any real thought. I did nothing about it, though I suspected my fears exceeded those of people I knew. I avoided guns and any place where they likely prevailed. And that was the extent of it —  both my trepidation and my desire that guns be less prevalent.

Graduating after two more uneventful years, I went on with my life. I went to law school and took a job at a major company where I practiced law for more than 30 years and retired to begin the next chapter of my life. During my adult life, I wasn’t oblivious to the escalating number of mass shootings and the resulting polarization of the country on gun control. I watched the litany of shooting rampages across the nation. I saw the Parkland students stand up for sane gun laws. I witnessed the Newtown massacre. I even read the inevitable articles for or against gun control that follow every mass shooting. I was aware of the NRA’s increased political clout and media influence.

Throughout it all, I was a stoic observer.

Good Friday, 1981 acutely influenced my perception and altered my instincts on all matters involving guns and firearms. The shooting intensified those long-held irrational fears, obfuscating opinions that would lead to a balanced view of the matter. Somehow this burn of the Bursley tragedy seared off my capacity for meaningful emotional responses. I was stunted and paralyzed. I think that maybe that horrible morning so filled me up emotionally and mentally that I was now unable to generate one of the most important of human qualities: empathy. No more sincere and heartfelt moments of soul-retching sadness. Since then, it seems that I lived my life as a passive witness to all the purposeless carnage.

I sometimes think back to those early hours of Good Friday, 1981 when I gently opened my dorm room, careful not to wake my roommates and peered down the empty early-morning hallway. Had Doug already left his room in search of the alarm’s origin? What would I have done had I seen him starting down the hall toward his own demise? Would I have accompanied him, now that I was wide awake and curious?

I didn’t act then. And I haven’t acted since. That’s my lamentable legacy from Good Friday, 1981.

Until now.

The massacre at Michigan State University, from which two of my children graduated, brought back the immediacy, unearthly emotions and the suddenness with which life can be extinguished. Forty-two years later, with another Easter on the horizon — where regeneration and hope are the theme — it seems we have not only failed to learn a damn thing about gun control or to enlarge our valuation of human life, but instead the country has made a ghoulish cost-benefit analysis: Protecting the Second Amendment is worth sacrificing a few lives of the next generation, our future.

After too many decades on the sidelines, I can no longer submit to the status quo, the political cowardice or the maniacal sermonizing of those whose lust for firearms has compromised all else.

Go Green. Go White.

Go Blue.

James Swartz is a U-M alum. He can be reached at swartzjames61@gmail.com.

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Each semester, hundreds of hopeful first- and second-year students from all majors undergo a grueling recruitment process to join one of the Ross School of Business’s most prestigious — yet exclusive — student organizations. Most of these hopefuls will be denied access to these clubs.

The purpose of this article, however, is not to denigrate business groups for their elitist reputation. They likely have well-rehearsed justifications for their infamous selection processes: maintaining their prestigious reputation, providing one-to-one mentorship opportunities and budget constraints. Instead, the goal of this article is to highlight a more promising yet often overlooked alternative to business clubs at the University of Michigan. This alternative? A hub for innovation where students can develop leadership skills, learn about business in an entrepreneurial context and so much more. In fact, it’s only one (mildly crowded) bus ride away.

It’s called the Wilson Center.

With close to 30 entirely student-led project teams, the $10 million Wilson Student Team Project Center is one of the largest engineering team centers in the United States. Each semester, hundreds of engineers line up at Festifall and Northfest eager to learn from the best and brightest in STEM and work on innovative projects. Students quickly discover that if they show up with a sense of enthusiasm and a willingness to learn, they will be welcomed with open arms into one of these inclusive communities — a stark contrast to the cutthroat culture pervasive in the BBA clubs’ recruitment cycle.

Early in my sophomore year, I fondly remember being contacted by a couple of engineers who somehow got their hands on a boat hull from the 2016 Rio de Janeiro Summer Olympics and were in dire need of someone to manage their finances. I came to the first meeting expecting an interview (yes, I wore a suit). However, instead of being grilled on case studies and my professional qualifications, they only cared that I possessed ambition and unfettered curiosity. Within minutes, I was invited to join the team and graciously accepted their offer. Thus began the best three-year learning opportunity of my life.

The team I co-founded was the University of Michigan Electric Boat, now one of the largest project teams at the University. In less than three years, we went from a team of about five members to well over 50, took second place in our debut race at the national PEP competition and secured sponsorships from more than 30 companies (including several Fortune 500s). And yet, we are not an anomaly on this campus. The Wilson Center is filled with exceptional, world-renowned teams like Michigan Solar Car, MRacing and MASA, among many others.

Through this experience, I discovered that deeply-rooted misconceptions exist about the nature of project teams. Many believe these teams only provide experience for engineers. This could not be further from the truth.

I’ve had the chance to advise teams in the Wilson Center and at other universities on how to build their business capabilities. To grow a team like UMEB, or any other project team, you need students from all disciplines. Yes, you need world-class engineers to pursue ideas that push the boundaries of innovation; however, without non-engineers, their potential is limited. They need the perspective and skillsets of non-STEM students to elevate their impact and scale. Regardless of what you study, engineering project teams have a place for you.

Interested in writing, marketing or political science? Great! You can help shape the mission of a team, craft a team identity or brand and partner with news companies.

Interested in business, economics or computer science? Boy oh boy, can you make an impact. You can pitch executives to raise funds, manage team logistics, design a website and craft a business case for sustainability.

Often, engineering leaders recognize the need to diversify their teams, yet they struggle to do so. That is precisely why they need someone without an engineering background. They need help from students in LSA, the Business School or any of the other U-M schools. Engineers need motivated peers to manage the team’s budget, sponsor relations and marketing so they can keep playing with their toys while someone else finds the money to pay for them.

Engineering project teams have carefully crafted a culture of action-based learning, personal growth and inclusivity. For most (if not all) teams, you will not be charged membership fees and will often travel and attend events that are fully paid for by generous sponsors. So, instead of following the trend of prioritizing value extraction over creation that has gripped the U.S.’s best business schools, consider building something groundbreaking that alters the course of our future.

My advice to you: If you want to pursue a career in consulting, finance or really any profession, dare to be different. Hundreds of students are applying for jobs with business clubs or professional fraternities on their resumes. How many applicants can say they launched a rocket, rode on an electric motorcycle on the Isle of Man, raced an electric boat in Monaco or drove a solar car across the Australian Outback?

In the fleeting moments between case studies and suit alterations, take a moment to consider another way to leave a legacy at the University. Student project teams are rife with growth opportunities. Perhaps it’s time to seize the moment and work on something you can be proud of.

Mitchell Davidson is a Business Senior and can be reached at mitdavid@umich.edu.

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Content warning: mentions of gun violence

After every similarly-unconscionable act of violence, my response always includes a gnawing — and perhaps selfish — instinct: If it happened there, it can happen here. That sentiment feels especially prescient after last week.

It no longer surprises me when most Americans don’t react to this harbinger so strongly — not strongly enough to manifest some sort of defense mechanism in the form of a change of heart of a change in vote. I understand why they aren’t particularly moved when it happens in a Chicago suburb, on a subway line in Brooklyn or in a gay club in Orlando. I don’t share their apathy, but I understand it. It’s the same distance with which we witness violence in faraway countries, like Ukraine or Ethiopia: We cannot see ourselves in the victims. We rarely see them at all.

But almost every voter knows what it’s like to be in their 20s: to be young, dumb and full of rum; to be filled with optimism by the first sight of spring; to be consumed by daydreaming of commencement, summer, next year and your future. It all seems so naïve in the wake of reality. But it’s a naïveté everyone is owed in their youth — we criticize, desire, dismiss and, above all, cherish youth for its idealism. To have this taken away so suddenly, and so violently, is a devastating injustice against the country’s future. It’s a loss I hope every American can feel, for not long ago, they too only thought of what could and would be, without ever entertaining the possibility of an abrupt — and brutally unfair — demise.

The Spartan community lost students, friends, enemies, lovers, loved ones — and, along with the rest of us, they received a sobering reminder of the fragility of our spirit. With every tragedy, the victims of this loss of hope are called upon to hope even more, lest the bloodshed be in vain. At this point, it’s akin to someone struggling to choke a few more dollops out of an exhausted toothpaste tub. I’m sure the halfhearted expressions of moral support will begin any minute now, if they haven’t already. And with them will come the deluge of New York Times op-eds exclaiming the meaninglessness of such well-wishes. But these meek announcements of regret over our present were never meant to be a solution, anyway. It’s fodder for the lame duck. It’s peace of mind to those for whom change is incomprehensible. A numbing agent for a populace who’d rather give condolences every day — until it’s their child.

In addressing the Sandy Hook massacre, President Barack Obama called on us to “heal the brokenhearted, and bind up their wounds.” A decade later, and the wounds have yet to close.

Aman Khalid is an LSA Senior and can be reached at aakhalid@umich.edu. 

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