A long-form magazine that intertwines the genres of news, opinion and creative nonfiction.
The Graduation Edition 2024:
Do seniors dream of graduating sheep?
I used to love taking photos. I still do — but it’s different now. Take more photos, those judicious self-help writers on the internet would say. It helps with the grief, I’d add. When you look back on…
Read this article in 2124
Somewhere, up in space, floats a small time capsule. In it are more than 1,000 interviews etched on silicon wafers and encoded DNA experiments collected by a group of University of Michigan students and faculty. The group, named…
I’ll do it my way
When I lost my first tooth, I sobbed. Not because I was scared of the Tooth Fairy’s imminent arrival or of the blood leaking from my gum, but because, as I told my parents, I wasn’t ready to…
The beauty of impermanence
Fifteen years ago, I was sitting in my childhood bedroom, inconsolable. Every night, for my whole life, I had been going on evening walks with my parents, and every time we went on one of our walks, we…
The conflictions of my Midwestern departure
The first time I met New York, she dazzled me with her towering skyline, endless bustle and contagious energy. She welcomed me with open arms as I stumbled awkwardly into the tourist hub of Central Park and graciously…
April 10 Edition:
Cheese thieves and refugees: I sat on the Diag and asked people to tell me a story
What the hell is a story? It’s a loaded word. A story is in the eye, or oftentimes ear, of the beholder. I’m not going to bother trying to define it because, frankly, I’m not even sure myself. All I know is that whatever stories are, I love them. Storytelling is a uniquely human phenomenon. Humans evolved the ability to tell stories as part of…
My deep-rooted disdain for the American mall
I was a difficult child. When I was only 6 months old, my mother took me to the mall for the first time. This was one of the first real outings she had embarked on since I had…
My ancestors were once 20 year olds, too
I am turning 20 in three days and I am terrified. Turning 20 feels like a beginning and end, a hello and a goodbye. I am leaving my childhood in the past, placing my memories of adolescence in…
Genealogy and discovering my parental past
When the pandemic first hit, most people probably turned to a wholesome, enriching hobby. Knitting, perhaps, or spending time with the family dog outside — something nice, and a normal way to cope with the lockdown. I, however,…
April 3 Edition:
‘Why do you eat? Why do you breathe?’: My conversation with SAFE President Salma Hamamy
My first two years at the University of Michigan have been characterized by what I can only describe as a divided campus. Even when sharing in the communal act of football games, weekend parties or a warm fall day on the Diag, there’s been an underlying political and cultural divide. In my first year of college, the Graduate Employees’ Organization went on strike, prematurely ending…
Memories I can hold in one hand
As the frost fades away and the birds begin to emerge from their winter-long shelters, it becomes a time of year to ponder permanence. Whether we like it or not, the semester is quickly coming to a close,…
The reality of relatability
There it was. Secrets and feelings I was, at one point, certain would never leave the safety of my journal were displayed on the front page of a newspaper for all 50,000 students at my school and whoever…
Gaits from all walks of life
I took a vision test over Winter Break because I noticed myself struggling to see my friends’ faces as they approached me down the street or across the Diag. While their features would meld together, leaving me questioning…
Revisiting Minecraft
As I scrolled through my Instagram feed, I was happily surprised to come across a Minecraft post. Recognizing the familiar textures of my childhood’s voxelized sandbox game, I swiped past each snapshot of Minecraft’s latest update: wolf variants.…
The Regret Edition 2024:
The ghost light burns out
I can smell it — some kind of faint, dry smell, almost like ash. I’ve never been able to figure out exactly what causes this smell … maybe dust burning against the stage lights? I don’t know, but…
In 1973, Leon Douglas was charged with murder. Today, we got breakfast.
At Kerby’s Koney Island in Rochester Hills, Leon Douglas took his coffee with a packet of Splenda and ordered scrambled eggs with wheat toast, substituting the side of hash browns for tomato slices — a healthy choice. As…
Why I ran away to Italy
I think it took me all of five days in Italy to call my mom and effectively tell her I wasn’t coming home. I’ve been studying abroad at the University of Bologna for the past two months now,…
Driving through the void
The dog — a small, curly-haired terrier we were watching for one of our family friends — skittered across the garage floor. I packed my bags into my trunk. The poor thing, scared, probably thought it was getting…
I have no regrets
If I were you, after reading that title, I would simply shut down my device in a huff or flap the pages of my newspaper closed in emphatic distaste. No regrets? Come on, what a load of C-R-A-P.…
March 20 Edition:
Of methods and madness
For fans of “The Room,” the goofy cult classic often considered the worst film of all time, James Franco’s “The Disaster Artist” may come as a shock. Based on Greg Sestero’s memoir of the same name, “The Disaster Artist” follows the troubled production of “The Room” as well as the uneasy relationship between Sestero, a co-star of the film, and director Tommy Wiseau. In one…
I’ll paint my nails if I want to: Masculinity and being Queer in men’s sports
I’ve never been one to fall for inflammatory content — those petty little posts that you know are just there to make you mad. But it’s certainly enticing that at any given moment I can give my brain…
On shared birthdays and sisterhood
On the eve of my 21st birthday, I sat in the padded recliner chairs of the Ann Arbor Cinemark with two of my best friends, nursing our cherry Cokes as we watched “The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes”…
Irish Americans and nostalgia
I have only been outside of North America once, during this past Spring Break when I took a trip to Ireland. Over an insufficient amount of time, my family and I drove all around County Cork, taking a…
To know Ann Arbor: Mapping my new home by car
Sometimes, to indulge myself, I’ll roll the windows all the way down when I drive. It’s a small maneuver, almost mundane, but also a little act of rebellion given the time of year in Michigan. Driving with the…
March 13 Edition:
Twisted body, twisted mind
June 2021. I’m performing at Matrix Theatre’s Solo Performance Festival in Mexicantown on Detroit’s West Side. While I kneel on a dimly-lit stage with a projector screen behind me, the audience finds wadded-up papers with tiny pebbles inside scattered among the seats. Each paper has a word that has, in the past, been used to describe my lopsided back: Hunchback Quasimodo Crooked Twisted And my…
I write because if I didn’t, I’d be drunk
Editor’s note: Names have been changed to protect the anonymity of the author. The Oregonian, December 30, 2010: Jim Harrison says he writes more books because he “stopped drinking half-gallons of vodka.” Reader, my 40-year-old half-brother is in…
do you use autocaps?
“Wait which one sounds more like me?” Isla asked. “What?” “Hold on,” she began tapping away at her phone. My phone let out two crisp “dings,” and I took it out to see two separate text messages: “hey”…
I am not a writer
I am not a writer. I am not an artist. And I am most certainly not a creative. In the ungodly hours of the morning, these were the things I whispered to myself when I was certain no…
Body dwelling: My new meditative hobby
Soothing music seeps from my headphones. Trying to concentrate, I count seconds for the length of each of my breaths. That gets boring quickly. I have much more fun watching the wall, patterned in shadow. Outside, there’s the…
The Winter 2024 Immersion Edition:
I played a concert for The Michigan Daily and my pinkie cramped
Maybe it’s the couple hundred milligrams of caffeine I had or the anxiety I was born with, but I am so goddamn scared of this. My face has been flushed most of the day because I can’t get…
An introvert’s nightmare
I prowled the aisles of my local CVS looking for my next victim, trying to feel like less of a creep. It was around 8:30 p.m. on Jan. 2, fresh into the new year of 2024, and I…
My SoulCycle challenge: Pedaling my way to the front of the pack
Sweat is dripping down the side of my face, and there is nothing I can do about it because my complimentary towel has fallen off my bike and onto the floor. With my feet locked into the pedals…
Muay Thai and on being enough of a man
Driving there — in the midst of the year’s first snowstorm, an oppressively-dangerous white that reminded you spring was oh, so far away — was like something out of a James Bond film: the battering, violent snow, howling…
I quit tech for a week and escaped the Apple panopticon
Admittedly, I’m not the most representative subject for a no-tech experiment. My screen time (to find it, I unlocked my phone, promptly forgot what I was doing, and went to messages instead, twice) averaged three hours per day…
February 21 Edition:
When should we boycott boycotts?
SPICES. A cute acronym for powerful concepts: simplicity, peace, integrity, community, equality, stewardship. I attended a Quaker high school, and to instill in us the indispensable Quaker values, we wrote SPICES on white boards and invoked it in class discussions. These ideals governed my educational experience, supposedly. Never mind that when I was in ninth grade, the school undertook a million-dollar renovation project, or that…
The ritual of getting ready
I perched on the cold lid of the toilet seat in my friend’s apartment, twisting a flimsy Peppa Pig-themed party hat in my hands as my friend, Suhani, maneuvered her Dyson through my hair. After spending the previous…
The letter
Every year following high school graduation, thousands of students receive a singular letter in the mail. Printed on the envelope is a navy and red swirl — an emblem reminiscent of the Korean flag. It’s from the Military…
My nights at the movies: Bringing normality to loneliness
For the past month, I’ve gone to the State Theatre every single weekend. As a self-proclaimed lover of film and cinema, I have made it my personal mission to watch every new movie featured on the big screen.…
Holding on to communal living
In middle school, I missed the death of Rio, my betta fish, because I was at a sleepover. My dad broke the news to me as we sat in the car outside of my friend’s house the next…
The 2024 Love Edition:
Why I love photographing Ann Arbor
Art is about love. Whether it be love of a person, a place or just the way the light glides through an open window on a cup of coffee, I’d argue that any painting, photograph, poem or piece…
I ‘bi-erased’ myself: Adventures in Queer imposter syndrome
The first time I brought a girlfriend home was on my 25th birthday. When we walked in, my uncle introduced her as “Cydney’s, uh … buddy.” My cousin’s girlfriend, knowing better, laughed and mockingly repeated, “buddy.” By then,…
Emily Henry and the merits of romance books
As a self-professed bibliophile, my life revolved around the little moments I could steal away to read. In elementary school, I figured out how fast I could appropriately finish my multiplication test to dive right back into “Anne…
At the dinner table
Arriving in Korea over Winter Break, I was greeted by warm hugs and happy tears. Traveling down vaguely familiar roads and buildings, I realized I had nearly forgotten what my neighborhood was like. And, sipping my mother’s piping…
On wanting to be loved, on loving to be wanted
It’s a stale day in late November. I’m trapped, having convinced myself that I’ve done nothing all month but wait for myself to be myself again. I’m walking with one of my close friends, someone who I just…
February 7 Edition:
Death from homesickness
As a Residential College admissions assistant, I have the pleasure of introducing starry-eyed high schoolers to the RC and the burden of the greatest ethical question known to man — do I admit how rancid the dining hall is? My new job is the fulfillment of a long-time dream. I’ve always idolized the superheroic figure of the tour guide — both the encyclopedic knowledge of…
A humanities kid in a STEM-loving culture
I wrote my first book when I was 3 years old. I couldn’t read or write yet, but I had an idea. I told my dad the story and he wrote the words and drew the pictures. Despite…
Helen of Troy and the war on femininity
I take my headphones out and feel hot tears forming in my eyes. I notice a lump in my throat that wasn’t there before. Singer-songwriter Maisie Peters’ words echo like a lyrical symphony of ideas and questions that…
Mini me: Am I epigenetically destined to be my mother?
In the grocery store I stood, freckled and lanky beside my mother. Our cart was stopped mid aisle, parked next to that of another woman — someone I didn’t recognize. She was chatting with my mom about this…
Laptop stickers, Stanley cups and campus perceptions
My friend told me she almost got mauled over Stanley cups during Winter Break. She works at a Target in Auburn Hills. Apparently, the locals drink a lot of water on the go. Yet, Stanley cups, which are…
January 31 Edition:
Monumental pain: How an adult playground became a tragic reminder
Content warning: mentions of suicide. When you live in a city like New York, there is a tendency to proudly deny any interest in the activities that bring droves of tourists to the place you live. My parents were among these people — fast walkers who taught me to lament the slow trudging of tired tourists and regular subway-takers, even on days when rain beat…
My salon away from home
It takes about two-to-three weeks for the signs to return. I stare in the mirror, my eyes catching on wayward hairs that have suddenly sprouted, their growth pushing the boundaries of my natural brow shape. It is time…
Lessons from a lecture friend
For about two hours every Tuesday and Thursday last semester, I would sit in the back of Mason Hall 1448 and listen to my Literary Cognition professor detail the cognitive benefits of storytelling and prosody in poetry. But…
Horror and the Church at Wounded Knee
Content warning: mentions of war and violence. To most people, the various words that denote fear act as synonyms. Among these words are horror, terror, fright and alarm. The words are seen so similarly that the horror genre,…
I’m going bald
I am going to be bald by the time I graduate college. This is an utterly terrifying thought. One day, I’ll wake up and come to the realization that after all these years, my hair — a part…
January 24 Edition:
Bow down to the GSI
Editor’s note: Names have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals referenced. I think one universal University of Michigan experience is being the main character of a GSI horror story. And, of course, I’ve already created one embarrassing GSI-centered core memory during my first semester at the University. One fateful Friday morning, I groggily rolled out of bed and trudged to the Samuel…
Cunt: A powerful name for a beautiful thing
The first time I used the c-word, I leveled it at my sister. Having just finished a run together and still blocks away from home, I was tired, sore and, for reasons I can no longer remember, very…
On romance and girlhood: Why I’m glad I got broken up with
I am the same age my mother was when she got engaged to my father: 18 and some change. She once said to me, in regards to her early marriage, “I feel like I didn’t get to experience…
Bedroom furniture and fresh starts
I’ve only lived in my off-campus house for about a year and a half, but my bedroom arrangement is already in its fourth iteration. But it’s not because each rendition is better than the last — I’m simply…
Fish
Stripping the socks from my feet and stepping carefully over big rocks, I would run into Lake Michigan, taking long strides through the shallows until the water was too heavy and I finally collapsed into the waves, letting…
The 2023 Sex Edition:
The Statement 2023 Sex Survey
Well, Wolverines, we have reached that point in the semester once again: The snow sticks to the sidewalks as the crisp wind bites back on commutes to class, homework problems and readings pile up on our to-do lists…
Becoming ‘sexy’: My boudoir photography
In the summer of 2022, I sat in a hotel room in suburban Delhi. The soaring temperatures, rush-hour traffic and the general lethargy of tropical summers had discouraged me from stepping outside. Instead, I had spent the day…
Sex reeducation
The first time I used a tampon, I was over the age of 18. I had an article from Playtex open on my phone called “How to Use a Tampon”. I was approaching the time when I would…
The thirst for squirt
Content warning: Descriptions of negative body image What does it mean to “squirt”? If you asked me in middle school, I would have told you that it meant females could ejaculate in a nearly identical manner to males.…
Sexual insecurity, young men and the manosphere
Content warning: Descriptions of sexually offensive or insensitive language A few months ago, I saw a video on Instagram of a student in a nondescript high school. The student, responding to some unidentified incident, was defying his teacher,…
November 29 Edition:
‘Why is it so essential that I die in here?’
Have you ever been to prison? Temujin Kensu has. In fact, he’s been in prison for nearly twice my lifetime: 37 years. Kensu is currently serving a life sentence he received after being convicted of the murder of 21-year-old Scott Macklem in 1987. This is usually how things go in the American justice system: If you murder somebody, and it’s proven in court that you…
A new pollination nation: Why pollinator gardens could help our environment
Brown, dried out branches stretched towards us, and the wind blew seed pods onto our shoulders and hands, dusting us with the offerings of the fading summer nature. There was little green left in the yard, but it…
Memories from a black hole
Content warning: Mentions of violence and war The black hole forms in the unbearable summer of 1971. West Pakistan cancels East Pakistan’s popular democratic elections. Pakistan launches a brutal military assault on the University of Dhaka, killing intellectuals…
To the grave: Recipes to die for
All names in this piece have been changed in protection of the families and identities of those mentioned. A few months ago, I stumbled across an Instagram account (@ghostly.archive), where a librarian named Rosie Grant makes the recipes she…
November 14 Edition:
Warm milk
Content Warning: This article contains graphic/violent language. My mother insists I have the milk warmed. “Cold milk is bad for your stomach,” she says. “It will make you sick.” I let her heat it in the microwave, neglecting…
I am my own Rosetta stone
I have a problem. I have finally realized, after decades of digging for something that sets my soul on fire, of searching for just the right epithet to adequately nominate my passion, that the moment has finally come.…
Growing up with my parents: The realities of being a child of teen pregnancy
In my high school introduction to criminology class, the teacher asked us if we knew where our parents were on 9/11. The question opened our terrorism unit, which coincidentally started around the terrorist attack’s anniversary. After a chorus…
Elegies to animals
If pets were a key part of my childhood, then my childhood was built on Lou’s Pet Shop in Grosse Pointe, Mich. Lou’s has supplied nearly all of the animals my family’s owned: a dozen fish at a…
The Night Out Edition 11/8
A tree grows in Detroit: Techno’s origins in Motor City
What is a night out? In my limited world-view as a white kid from western Michigan, I would think it means pregaming with some friends and then ending up in a room that’s way too small and way too hot with a bunch of sweaty people who are…
Finding friendship in wholesome places
On a cloudy November night, I stood with frozen fingers and a wind-burned face in a dreary parking lot which was softly illuminated by lamp posts. I watched a girl in gray slippers sprint away from the site of the mischievous act she had just committed — dropping…
The sisterhood of the going-out tops
I remember my mother picking me up from a half-day of school on a random Friday afternoon when I was 6 years old. She waited at the front entrance of the building with my hyperactive, 4-year-old brother buzzing around at her side. I ran to her with a…
The myth of the ‘perfect night’
I cradled my lukewarm drink in my right hand as I dabbed at the sweat beading along my brows with the back of my left. As the balding DJ blared “Hotel Room Service” by Pitbull, I took a quick inventory of my friends dotted around the dance floor.…
Let’s host a party: The disadvantages of living in a house that hosts
As I write this, I sit on my bed in my room. I’m surrounded by multiple beverages (water, tea and a grapefruit Spindrift), my backpack with all my schoolwork in it and a few chocolate chip cookies. The goal: avoid having to go back downstairs to the common…
November 1 Edition:
In search of my mother’s kitchen: To girl dinner or not to girl dinner?
One of my most tenuous memories of my late mother is of her propping me up on a stool to reach the counter of her dimly-lit, humid kitchen in my Calcutta home. It is my summer vacation, the temperatures are soaring to well over 100 degrees and my tropical city is reeling under a direct scorching sun while we, mother and daughter, fry potatoes that…
A meditation on backpacking
It was a balmy day in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula: the skies were overcast, the wind was whipping off of Lake Superior, and the air was just cold enough to elicit a shiver if you stood still for too…
Thoreau and the myth of the author
Have you ever committed a small but significant portion of your life to studying and even embodying certain ideas from a book that may have been rooted in lies? No? Not relatable? This past summer was the first…
The dangers of ‘Sharenting’: Protecting children’s digital privacy
“We are happy to announce that our little Kobe has arrived!” As I scroll through my Instagram feed while eating my morning cereal, I see a micro-influencer’s post introducing her newborn son to the world. He wears a…
A transient moment
The transition state is the highest point of energy in a reaction. It is a fleeting moment where bonds have not fully broken and bonds have not fully formed, causing a state of impermanence. For the past week,…
Immersion Edition 10/25
A culinary portal to a home I never knew
Fred and I sat hunched over his laptop in a busy Ann Arbor coffee shop — which is not a particularly uncommon scene these days. Today, however, the glow of the blue light LED screen reflected a Google Form entitled “Luther House Cooks Ingredient Request.” Fred and I…
I worked on a hog farm for a day, and now I am ready to die
A few hours before I arrived at Sabbath Farm in Ann Arbor, I was at a rave 130 miles away in a warehouse in Grand Rapids, banging my head to techno music. I wore plastic sunglasses shaped like middle fingers, baggy pants and combat boots. I was there…
I drew this article
There is a sexier version of this article. When I originally pitched the idea for the Immersion edition, I told Statement editors that I would finally dedicate time to my lifelong love of art and maybe gain acceptance from my prodigious father along the way. Sketches! Watercolors!! Inktober!!!!…
Quitting caffeine
I decided to do something I have never done before: I quit caffeine entirely. Cold turkey. Nada, none, zilch. Since my senior year of high school, I don’t think I’ve gone without caffeine in some form or another for more than a day at a time. I most…
24 hours to receive a sign from God
“Have you ever heard of a girl named Mary-Kate?” The above is an excerpt from a letter I wrote to Pope Francis when I was 11 years old. I thought, perhaps, there might have been a prophecy about me that I hadn’t yet heard of, and I wanted…
October 18 Edition:
Love & loss: A tribute to Josh
My freshman year, after completing my first few days of classes in Ann Arbor, I sat inside M-36 Coffee Roasters Cafe with an iced vanilla latte and felt quite pleased with myself. Here I was — a freshman…
The goblin manifesto: Lessons on managing anxieties from an unwelcome visitor
Days after arriving on campus for my freshman year at the University of Michigan, two new friends taught me about a prominent entity in my life, its existence thus far unbeknownst to me. They told me about the…
Spotted: Our beloved campus celebrities
You won’t believe who I just saw. I’ve sent this text way too many times throughout college. Sometimes the message pertains to an old acquaintance — someone I met during the Welcome Week of my freshman year, only to…
Political perspective: How working for an unsuccessful campaign changed my policy views for the better
During my senior year of high school, I campaigned for a Democratic candidate running for Manhattan District Attorney. The race, already important in and of itself, took on an added weight because of the lawsuit against former President…
October 11 Edition:
Don’t let the archive become a death sentence
On the third floor of the American Museum of Natural History in New York City, tucked away in the very back corner, stands the Hall of Reptiles and Amphibians. Its large wooden cases spring up in two columns down the middle of the hall, boxed in by taxidermied crocodiles. Walking through the door frame feels like stepping 40 years back in time — the lighting…
Waiting around to die: What I mean when I say I’m from the South
“Where are you from?” When I meet new people, it’s one of the most common — if not the first — question that I’m asked. It’s a question brought up in icebreakers and used by professors to remember…
The secret to Chinese cooking
I will break it down this way: odor molecules make their way high into your nose, stimulating olfactory sensory neurons and sending electrical impulses directly to your limbic system — that’s the distinction between smell and all other…
The relatability of failure
I blinked rapidly to ward off the tears forming in my eyes, my computer screen a blur. Tucked away in a 5th floor Hatcher Graduate Library study carrel, I battled an evil practice question that I just couldn’t…
When the Clock Strikes…
September 27 Edition:
Navigating a world of black and white: On the experiences of neurodiverse students
Everyday, when I wake up, I unconsciously prepare myself for a day of award-winning acting. Though I’m not an actor, I partake in the art with deft calculation at every turn of my daily routine. First, I eat my breakfast alone and anonymously, comfortably filling my time with Vertex, my favorite New York Times game. After I finish my eggs, my sole respite from the…
Why we need to stop praising ‘girl dads’ (But hush, I love mine)
It’s January of 2020 and, in typical Saturday-morning fashion, I am lying on the living room couch next to my father. He’s peering over my shoulder as I hop from social media app to social media app. We…
To pee or not to pee: My quest for the best bathroom on campus
I am currently writing to you from a toilet, while I stare at a framed image of an 18th-century gilded bronze clock. It features Cupid holding a sacrificial dove to a burning fire while a priestess’s arm stretches…
Home is where my head is: Reflections from an only child of divorced parents
One of my earliest memories consists of me sitting in the beige back seat of my mom’s Mitsubishi Sedan, waiting in the Park & Ride lot in West Michigan. From what I recall, my mom stepped out of…
In defense of poetry
As self-proclaimed president and vocal advocate for the “I Hate Poetry Club,” I wasn’t entirely sure why I was hunched over a computer in the Fishbowl, mumbling 24 lines of impassioned Shakespeare to myself in rapid succession. Nearby,…
September 20 Edition:
Arts versus crafts: Challenging notions of worthy creations
This past summer, I was frequently alone for long stretches of time in Ann Arbor. Eat, work, sleep and repeat, day after day. The bright summer felt dull, and I was desperate for something else — anything that…
When you’re handed the aux
There’s one moment every one of us has encountered: You’re sitting in the car, seatbelt on and ready to gaze out the window, when you’re suddenly presented with the holy grail of a car ride. “Take the aux,”…
Ways of walking
I lower my head, and my eyes catalog the detritus that litters the diag. Abandoned pizza slices, discarded articles of clothing and crumpled up club fliers are all common sites on a Monday morning. I focus on these…
Tuned out: A day without music
At 7:30 a.m. last Thursday, I woke up to the rumbling of construction that sounded so close, I was convinced someone was drilling on my windowsill. In my sleep-addled state, I mistook the rat-ta-tat-tat of the jackhammer for…
September 13 Edition:
My dying words
In the summer of 1971, Syed Abul Barq Alvi sits on the dirty, damp floor of a martial-law court. Next door, his friends have needles shoved into their fingers and cigarettes burned on their bodies. Soon, Alvi will endure the same. For years, the Pakistani military has suppressed the Bengali government in East Pakistan, forbidding the language from the civil service and imposing Urdu in…
A dual existence
Sometimes I feel like the eight months I spent in Ann Arbor during my freshman year didn’t actually happen. When I reflect on certain memories — studying in the Law Library, eating No Thai with friends, watching people…
My pal Prozac
I started seeing a therapist the summer before my freshman year of high school. After several months of cognitive behavioral therapy — a form of therapy which focuses on changing negative thoughts and behaviors while instilling healthy coping…
When August comes knocking
Ah, August: My least favorite month. The month that quietly torments me all summer. As the dog days go by, I can feel August’s distance close in, and thus, I feel the need to quicken my pace, to…
The politics of “cringe”
On my first day of high school, when I’d just freshly turned 13, my thoughts were riddled with a healthy mixture of anxiety and joy. To my surprise, upperclassmen gave me encouraging smiles as I walked down the…
August 9 Edition:
Call me by my name
Here’s something I do: In my cell phone contacts, I list people’s full names out like a government spreadsheet — an Alexander James Messersmith or Gunnar Bjarne Gunderson instead of what I’ve been informed of as more normal variations. I started doing this for my close friends a while ago because I felt inexplicably drawn to it, in a way I didn’t know how to…
Don’t look now! (even if you want to, even if you should)
Content Warning: Mentions of drug use and violence I started taking the bus in seventh grade. The anxiety of making sure my metro card was ready to swipe before a crowd could form behind me would cause…
Learn to enjoy losing
I want you to look at your hands. I need you to look up from your screen and take a scan around the room. Notice what is sitting there — what has always sat there. Most importantly, though,…
Chronicles of a nearsighted insecurity
I started wearing glasses thanks to my seventh grade math teacher. She was the first person to insist I get my vision checked before my yearly optometrist appointment. Every day, she repeatedly claimed that she noticed my squinting…
August 2 Edition:
Objectifying love
Paolo Malatesta leans over Francesca da Ramini, his secret lover and his brother’s wife. The two are caught by Malatesta’s brother before their lips even touch and are murdered on the spot, doomed to eternal torment for their infidelity. This is Auguste Rodin’s “The Kiss.” Most famous for “The Thinker,” Rodin is widely known as the “father of modern sculpture.” During his lifetime, his name…
My summer slump
During the rush of finals week, instead of studying for my impending exams, I would daydream of summer. Just mere moments away, I could practically taste the upcoming sunshine-filled interlude. While I was procrastinating all the work awaiting…
But what do people really think of me?
My biggest flaw, or the reason I believe I have so many of them, is due to a fear of what I call the “blind spot.” In essence, I can never be fully confident in myself because I…
A meditation on college boredom
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what I’m doing when it feels like I’m doing nothing at all. The dull, slow moments when it feels like everything is lagging — moments when I’m bored. I experience…
Travel Edition 2023
I love the bus
’Nuff said. Its charms include questionable aromas and funny-colored stains on felt seats, some of which are occupied by sleeping individuals with briefcases and purses, others of which are occupied by said briefcases and purses — their owners…
Traveling through the mind of little me
With summertime comes the inevitable seasonal decluttering. With the inevitable seasonal decluttering comes the unearthing of memories and artifacts that we unintentionally buried in the depths of our past — those that serve to remind us of what…
A love letter to the ocean state
For the past three Fridays in a row, I’ve shown up to my summer job at the American Museum of Natural History with a duffel bag slung over my shoulder and a bus or train ticket on my…
YOLO: Living life to the fullest
I felt the ground tremble as a red roller coaster streaked past me, quickly and noisily racing over the metal tracks. I could hear the screams of riders, first loudly and then fading into the distance, as the…
July 19 Edition:
Trips and troubles: An ode to the 2009 Chrysler Town and Country
For about a week, my hometown, Grand Haven, was swallowed entirely by the smoke from the Canadian wildfires. It was alarming and uncomfortable to live in. I wondered if it was the climate finally collapsing in front of my eyes. Once the smoke had cleared, my friend Rowan and I decided to go on a seven-hour-long road trip to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I…
Parasocial relationships and technology
In June, I went to a concert with a friend. Through the pounding music and flashing lights, a thought entered my mind: that very morning, I had seen multiple articles and Instagram posts about the performing artist. Not…
July 12 Edition:
An exploration of when to explore
The first time I assigned myself to a major was when I was in high school, writing my college application essays — specifically, the “Why Michigan” essay. Although I had never really given my college major any serious thought at the time, I figured it would be wise to be specific in this essay so that I could demonstrate to the admissions committee how I…
Behind the scenes of a life well-traveled
Note: All names have been changed to an alias for the sake of privacy I woke up to the sound of singing. Hers was a hefty, voluminous voice that edged the highest notes before tumbling down to its…
Microwave dinners and kitchen woes
I lay in my bed under a pile of blankets. “So now you have meals ready for the whole week,” a chipper voice blared at me from my phone. I was watching a TikTok influencer go through her…
Summer Crush Edition 2023:
Visual Statement: Driving towards Madison County
I have a recurring nightmare. I’d be driving somewhere: down Washtenaw Avenue, past 113th Street and Broadway, or through Rodeo Drive, and I’d make a wrong turn along the way and end up, inexplicably, on an Iowan county…
A love affair with English
A day after the end of winter classes, I drove for two days to New Hampshire, where roughly 40 other University of Michigan students and I spent the spring semester in unheated, unlit log cabins. Upon arriving, we…
The growing pains of an unexpected summer
Me: Hey, how are you? When do classes end for you this semester? Friend: Hi!!! I’m good! I’m done on May 11 and I fly back home on May 12. Me: OK cool, I’m flying back home tomorrow,…
Visual Statement: Through a new lens
A few weeks ago, while rifling through my laundry room for an object that has since escaped my memory, I came across an old camera bag. Lifting it gently off the shelf, I breathed in the soft smell…
You’re (not) on your own, kid: Why I’m obsessed with Taylor Swift and the Eras Tour
“Only a few more minutes left now, she’s already singing ‘Bad Blood,’ ” I say. I sit huddled around a phone with two of my close friends. The night is warm, but I’m sweating from the anticipation of…
June 28 Edition:
We’re not bulletproof: My anger and empathy for the drunk driver
Content Warning: Mentions of addiction, alcohol abuse and fatal accidents. I’m going to say something that I believe to be perfectly, wholly rational. So rational, in fact, that I would be surprised if every person reading this didn’t agree with me. The problem here is that I’m not even sure my closest friends would agree. Drunk driving is dumb and immature. Now, look, I don’t…
My local cathedral
From ages 3 to 14, I went to school down the street from a cathedral — not just any cathedral, but the biggest cathedral in the world. The Cathedral of St. John the Divine loomed over Morningside Heights,…
‘Can’t make a wife out of a ho’: The Madonna-Whore Complex
In the cult-classic Bollywood romcom “Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani,” the hero, Bunny, is chastised by the heroine, Naina, for flirting with Lara, a female character portrayed as superficial, vapid and sexual. In response, Bunny tells Naina that he…
June 21 Edition:
Bands of stripes and no resistance
In the making of “Schitt’s Creek,” Dan Levy chose to cultivate a fictional landscape in which homophobia does not exist. He executed gay character arcs unapologetically and, in doing so, absolved viewers of the idea that a person’s identity is something to question. Levy freed homosexuality of its regular oppression without feigning backlash from fictitious bigoted characters. Rarely does the media allow people to simply…
Soundscapes of home
When I close my eyes, the first thing that comes to mind is the sound of my mother’s wind chimes fluttering in the breeze. Their soft clinking in the wind is accompanied by the lull of my parents’…
A nickname to show you how much I love you
I was sitting in a white-walled hospital waiting room as I swung my toddler-sized feet back and forth and held my grandma’s hand — my mom was curiously nowhere to be found. The air in the room felt…
The fountain of youth
The coin bounced off the gray cobblestones, landing in a small groove between two that did not quite meet each other properly. It reflected the dim yellow streetlights and lay in its stony abode, shining and solitary. I…
Storm in summer
It was one of those late August days where the air was soupy, thick with heat and fairly stale. It had been a month since the last time it rained, although for the last few days, clouds had…
To run is to hide
My father told me that children who lose their mothers often try to lose themselves. I told him he was wrong, but only I fixate on the way pink blends to orange and back again when we sit…
Tick tock
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Amara’s eyes were closed as she listened to the ever-constant sound of the clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. She felt herself twiddling her fingers against the light wooden table. She breathed in as she…
The transport
A lone one-length train car speeds through the open land, piercing the blizzard with a sharp yellow light cutting through its misty winds. Inside, the train cart sways from side to side, rocking a baby gently in a…
June 7 Edition:
Swearing: The curse of a double standard
When I was in middle school, I was an anti-swearer. I made my position obnoxiously clear. When the boys in my class would swear — and it really was mostly the boys — I would immediately look to see who the offender was, glare at him and roll my eyes. This was such a defining characteristic of mine that one time I said “shoot” and…
Precisely (eye)lined expectations
“Orange, pink, blue, purple. Is that enough colors?” I asked my friend. “Yes, more than enough. We can share them,” my friend replied. We walked over to the checkout line at NYX with eyes full of expectation. The…
The whiteness of green spaces: The cyclical nature of exclusion in environmental professions
We sat huddled around a slowly dying fire, watching marshmallows turn from a bright white to a charred black. It was about 7:00 p.m., and I had just finished eating a congealed mass of rice, beans and cheese.…
I know fast fashion is wrong, but there’s another package on my doorstep
As a freshman girl living in a social dorm, it seemed like every week one of my friends would excitedly say, “I have a package to pick up!” and run to the community center. They’d come back beaming…
May 31 Edition:
If it bleeds, it leads: The uneasy relationship between children, parents and journalism
Content warning: Mentions of gun violence and school shootings. When I’m home, I go to the same coffee shop every day. Two weeks ago, I was sitting in that coffee shop alone, working silently on my virtual orientation, preparing to transfer to the University of Michigan. By all conventional measures, this was a typical coffee-getting day. A mother and her child came in and sat…
The author is still left with their hands
To the Victorians, tuberculosis was a deeply romantic ailment to be consumed by. To be rosy-cheeked, sweaty, pale and deteriorated to the point of extreme slenderness from tuberculosis was to be tragically beautiful — especially to artists, writers…
Jumping through hoops
Two days after my parents dropped me off for my freshman year, I left my Bursley dorm room and walked up the hill to the North Campus Recreational Building. I fumbled my Mcard trying to swipe in and…
In my grandma era: Trapping my worries between stitches
My hands rest on my hips as the harsh fluorescent lights flicker above my head. My gaze is fixed on the sight in front of me, taking in all of its beauty: An entire row of embroidery kits…
Coming full circle: Reflections and expectations for the class of 2024
It was June 2020, and the air was filled with anticipation. Both literally and figuratively. My family, which consisted of my mother and my younger siblings, huddled around me on our living room sofa. We all sat in…
May 24 Edition:
The unattainability of moderation
Content warning: Mentions of disordered eating and dieting. “Hi Jen, I’m sorry I haven’t responded for a few months, I thought I didn’t need therapy anymore but it turns out I do. I can do Wednesdays if you’re still available. Let me know!” I hit send, aware of how unstable that message made me seem. But isn’t that how it always goes? You think you’re…
A legacy as large as the sun
I opened the heavy, white door to my grandparents’ apartment last summer, as I had done so many times before, to find my grandfather sitting at the far right corner of the long, white couch in their living…
My experience with the reading culture at U of M
It had begun with Festifall, as I suppose many awkward or inspiring freshman experiences do. I wandered through the chaos of tables and sweaty bodies and came across one of the University of Michigan’s book clubs. The people…
May 17 Edition:
Hey hey, ho ho, humans of GEO
It wasn’t until March 15 that the news of the then-impending strike truly hit me — just five days before the successful vote to start the strike authorization process. My favorite Graduate Student Instructor suspiciously ended our discussion 10 minutes early to make an “announcement.” As I recall, the first thing she did in her spiel was apologize. Now, this is dawning on me —…
An elephant on Marine Drive
College decisions week — the shared traumatic experience that binds most graduating high schoolers. Staring at your laptop, refreshing the page every 10 seconds, with your heart pounding and throat dry; your body heavy with the expectations of…
Subway dreaming
I am 20 years old, and up until last week, had only driven a car twice in my life. When I walked into the Michigan Secretary of State at the beginning of April to take the permit test,…
Reflections on my first year
It is a crisp 50 degrees in Ann Arbor today and life feels like a time warp. Campus is in a haze as the last few days of the semester stretch out, with only moments separating us from…
The Graduation Edition
Merit scholarships sent me to college. Now, I think we need to abolish them
There’s something strange other students will do that I’ve begun to notice. Occasionally, I’ll mention my merit scholarship. This isn’t a frequent occurrence — while I believe financial transparency is important, I generally think it’s in poor taste to go out of my way to mention my scholarship to other students. Still, it will come up from time to time in conversation. I can’t, I have…
Embracing the sound of change
Snip, snip, snip. I’ve always hated the sound of scissors snipping. The metallic snip, snip, snip reminds me of imminent change, and it terrifies me. Ironically, though, as I sat on a spinning beauty salon chair last June…
The art of farewell
Author’s note: This piece is adapted from and inspired by Lydia Davis’ seminal short story, “Break It Down.” The story appears in, “The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis.” A senior in college is reclining on his front porch…
We put a little desk on the Diag. Here’s what we found inside
Canopy Magazine, a U-M student organization, will be publishing a book-length anthology of the tiny desk and its contents. There are hundreds and hundreds of anonymous entries. This piece was written in collaboration with other members of the…
A beginner’s guide to coping with change
I have a confession to make: Despite my seemingly positive travel posts and a frenzied roulette of indulgent Instagram stories, I can find no other words to describe the last five months of my life beyond “utterly taxing.”…
April 5 Edition:
Streaming, strategy and the sudden resurgence of chess
Recently, I’ve been doing a lot of smiling at my phone. My affair with the game of chess started about six days before this past Christmas when I got a text from my uncle telling me that it was time to continue our annual tradition of me telling him what I wanted for Christmas — and that invariably being the newest version of FIFA. But…
What ‘sonder’ most beautifully reveals
Sonder is a term that describes the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own; in essence, the word strikes a sense of not only sorrow due to meaning itself,…
The weight of a piano performance
Writer’s Note: I’m not sure it makes sense to write on music without hearing it: it’s like raving on the compositional merits of a photograph without physically seeing the thing. Sometimes we don’t have a choice — due…
March 29 Edition:
Overconsumption is coming for real life, too
I spent this year’s Spring Break in Utah with a group of 11 other University of Michigan students, most of whom I hadn’t met before. We embarked on a trip with the Michigan Backpacking Club, and had been paired together based on our preferred spring break destination and daily hiking distance. The plan was to spend a week driving through the southern part of the…
Words from a failed advice columnist
My first time writing an advice column was without submitted questions — just me, alone with my computer, spitballing at the screen. It was my senior year of high school, my final column, a last-ditch effort to leave…
To be a 16-year-old girl at summer camp
At the age of 16, from 4 to 5 p.m. for the better part of two weeks, I sat on a damp towel in Franklin, Mass. reading aloud to some of my cabin mates at an Armenian summer…
School’s out! Your stress isn’t
“Breaks always come right when you need them”– a wise person once told me this. Over the course of my college career, I’ve heard this phrase time and time again, whether it be courtesy of similarly stressed university…
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