At the University of Michigan’s recent commencement ceremony, history professor Derek Peterson delivered a five-minute speech in which he celebrated all those who have fought for justice at the university, my alma mater. Invoking our legendary sports-focused fight song, he asked the crowd to “sing” for suffragist Sarah Burger, who battled to get women admitted as students; for Moritz Levi, Michigan’s first Jewish professor; for all the students who fought for racial justice at Michigan as part of the Black Action Movement; and for the “pro-Palestinian student activists, who have over these past two years opened our hearts to the injustice and inhumanity of Israel’s war in Gaza.”

Peterson’s address was a historian’s invitation to every student and parent in the Ann Arbor stadium to recognize that the fight for Palestinian rights shares roots with our greatest movements for justice, including the struggle against antisemitism.

The backlash, predictably, was swift. The university’s president apologized; the speech was condemned by pro-Israel Jewish organizations and outlets; and I know it upset many college parents, my Gen X peers — we who were raised to believe with all our hearts that Jewish identity and Zionist identity are inextricable.

But to me, Peterson’s speech was a reminder of one of the most important lessons I took away from my time at the University of Michigan: that questioning Zionism is a necessary part of any Jewish life that aims to center justice.

I graduated from Michigan in 1989, and spent much of my last year in Ann Arbor ensconced at Hillel, where I edited a magazine for Jewish students. I’d grown up going to Young Judaea summer camps and had spent a college semester in Israel, where I’d witnessed the beginning of the first Intifada. I returned to find a shanty in the middle of campus that had been erected, a student organizer told our magazine, “to bring the uprising to the community. It is to show the conditions of the Palestinians and the brutal oppression of the Israeli army.”

The shanty evoked those then prevalent on campuses everywhere to symbolize the struggle of Black South Africans against settler colonialism and apartheid. The new shanty on our campus asserted that these words also applied to Israel.

While I was strongly against the Israeli occupation of the West Bank and Gaza — where Israel would not remove any settlements until 2005 — I was distressed and confused by the shanty’s silent, everpresent message about Israel’s past and present. Is Israel an apartheid state, I wondered?

So I put that question on the cover of our magazine.

The Hillel director called me into his office and somberly expressed his concern. But Hillel International had not yet officially clamped down on student activities that question Israel and Zionism.

So our cover story ran and we dropped our magazine in bundles across campus. At the time, I thought of myself as a liberal Zionist, and I secretly rooted for the student who tried to disprove the devastating charge. But as young journalists, my fellow magazine staffers and I were committed to exploring the views of those who erected the shanty, no matter their hostility to Zionism. We didn’t code the hostility as danger. No one thought we should report our ideological opponents — the kids who fell asleep on their books in the library just like we did — to the dean or to the government for arrest or deportation.

Over my time as an undergraduate, I’d come to recognize in these kaffiyeh-clad Palestinian, Arab, and Muslim students the same history-minded, righteous hope that animated me.

Decades later, in the spring of 2024, we all watched as pro-Palestinian student activists — including many Jewish students — set up campus encampments around the country to protest Israel’s assault on Gaza. At Michigan, the encampment was set up on the Diag, the university’s public square, where on the day of my own graduation I’d protested the university’s military research. As the mother of a recent college grad, I was humbled by the determination of these kids, who put up tents, organized teach-ins, and then suffered as police turned off their bodycams and used pepper spray against them. They were lawfully protesting for the university to divest from Israel as it bombed the people of Gaza, the children of Gaza — which is now home to the largest number of child amputees in modern history.

What I understand, and Professor Peterson understands, is that the student activists that he lauded at the commencement are fighting not against Jewish life but for Palestinians’ right to survive daily, as people, and as a people. These activists have asked us to understand, finally, that Zionism is what it does.

“It has been hard work to examine my own mind,” Tzvia Thier, a Jewish Israeli mother, wrote in an essay in the 2021 collection A Land With A People: Palestinians and Jews Confront Zionism. As a child, Thier immigrated to Israel from Romania in the wake of the Holocaust. In 2009, Thier accompanied her daughter to “protect” her while she joined an action to fight the evictions of Palestinians from their homes in the Jerusalem neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah. Thier was 65, and realized that it was the first time in her life that she had had conversations with Palestinians. She understood then that “it was not my daughter who needed to be protected, but the Palestinians.”

“Many questions leave me wondering how I could have not thought about them before,” she wrote. “My solid identity was shaken and then broken. I have been an eyewitness to the systematic oppression, humiliation, racism, cruelty, and hatred by ‘my’ people toward the ‘others.’ And what you finally see, you can no longer unsee.”

When that shanty went up on Michigan’s campus in the late ’80s, I began to question all that I’d learned about Israel’s founding. I began to question the very idea of an ethnostate — in the name of any people, anywhere — that enshrines the supremacy of one group of people over another.

By the time I became a mother, I’d become anti-Zionist. I understood — with a grief that does not abate — that, as Jews, our history of oppression has become an alibi for Israel’s oppression of the Palestinian people.

We must reject the bad faith accusations of antisemitism that have emptied the word of meaning and enabled authoritarian repression. When students on campuses today charge Israel with apartheid and genocide, they are echoing reports from B’Tselem, Israel’s leading human rights organization. I ask the parents of my generation to read these reports and do as Thier did — to allow themselves to see what we have not wanted to see.

I stand with the more than 2,000 University of Michigan faculty, staff, students and alumni who have condemned the university’s response to the commencement address heard round the world.

For the sake of all of our children, I ask that we each do all we can to open our community’s heart to Palestinian history and humanity. That we each join the urgent struggle for the liberation of the Palestinian people.

This is the way that our Jewish college kids will find the deep and true safety of community: by leaving hatred, fear, and isolation behind; by honoring Jewish history by standing in solidarity with all who are oppressed; and by roaring in a stadium for freedom and justice, along with their entire generation.

You are surely a friend of the Forward if you’re reading this. And so it’s with excitement and awe — of all that the Forward is, was, and will be — that I introduce myself to you as the Forward’s newest editor-in-chief.

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Thumb Coast Electric has been named a 2026 Michigan 50 Companies to Watch Award recipient, according to a community announcement recognizing high‑growth, second‑stage businesses across the state.

The Port Huron‑based electrical contractor was honored April 22 during the 22nd annual Michigan Celebrates Small Business Gala, where company representatives were recognized onstage alongside other awardees before an audience of more than 800 business owners and supporters.

The award is presented by Michigan Celebrates Small Business, which annually recognizes companies that demonstrate strong growth potential, sustainable competitive advantages and a commitment to their communities. Thumb Coast Electric is listed among the 2026 honorees in the Michigan 50 Companies to Watch category.

Recognizing second‑stage growth

The Michigan 50 Companies to Watch Award honors second‑stage companies — defined as businesses with six to 99 full‑time‑equivalent employees and annual revenue or working capital between $750,000 and $50 million — that are privately held and headquartered in Michigan.

“These companies represent the future of Michigan’s economy,” said Brian Calley, president and CEO of the Small Business Association of Michigan, which partners in the awards program. He said the designation recognizes businesses that combine consistent growth with strong workplace culture and community impact.

Judges from economic and entrepreneurship development organizations across the state select winners based on employee or sales growth, sustainable competitive advantage and other indicators of long‑term success. Award finalists also undergo a due‑diligence review before final selections are made.

Community and company culture

Thumb Coast Electric representative Erica Chisholm said the recognition reflects both employee dedication and community support.

“Receiving the Michigan 50 Companies to Watch award is a huge honor because it reflects the hard work our team puts in every day and the support we’ve had from our community,” Chisholm said, according to the announcement. She said the company has focused on sustainable growth, investing in its workforce and maintaining quality standards as it expands.

Michigan Celebrates Small Business launched the 50 Companies to Watch program in 2004 and has honored more than 1,200 businesses statewide over the past two decades.

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This story was created by Dave DeMille, ddemille@gannett.com, with the assistance of Artificial Intelligence (AI). Journalists were involved in every step of the information gathering, review, editing and publishing process. Learn more at cm.usatoday.com/ethical-conduct.

Cities across Michigan are rethinking “No Mow May” policies amid fears that taller grass could attract ticks and growing evidence that skipping mowing for just one month does little to help pollinators.

The annual initiative encourages residents in Michigan and around the world to hold off on mowing in May in order to create more space for bees, butterflies and other pollinators at a time when food is scarce. Some ornamental flowers, like bee balm and sunflower, don’t bloom until mid-June, leaving early-season pollinators with fewer sources of nectar and pollen.

Still, experts say the impact of a one-month pause may be overstated. Research is limited on whether letting grass grow for only a few weeks meaningfully helps pollinators, according to David Lowenstein, a consumer horticulture expert for Michigan State University.

“The science is not there to show it’s going to have a meaningful impact on bees,” Lowenstein told Bridge Michigan. “Bees need two things: food to eat, which comes in the form of pollen and nectar, and a place to nest, which could either be underground for cavity-nesting bees or in logs.”

The concept behind No Mow May took off in 2019, when the British conservation group Plantlife began promoting it as a simple way to support pollinators. Letting clovers, dandelions and other low-growing plants flourish can provide nectar and pollen, while also reducing water use.

But rather than abandoning mowing altogether, Lowenstein suggests a more balanced approach.

“What would be a better rebranding would be something like, ‘Reduced Mow May” … because there are certain kinds of low-growing flowers in lawns like violets and white clover that are good for bees,” Lowenstein said.

“Many bumble bees and smaller bees do visit those and if you were to let your lawn grow a little bit higher, maybe mowing it … every two or three weeks, if you could, would allow for some of those weeds that are good for bees to grow.”

That shift toward longer-term solutions is reflected in East Lansing, where officials recently adopted a resolution redefining what counts as weeds and allowing for year-round pollinator-friendly landscapes.

“No Mow May raised real awareness about pollinators and got a lot of residents thinking differently about their yards,” Cliff Walls, the city’s environmental sustainability and resiliency manager, said in a statement.

“But a one-month mowing enforcement pause was never going to be the long-term answer.”

Under East Lansing’s new rules, plants taller than 6 inches can qualify as a native garden or lawn if they are intentionally planted, clearly defined, made up of native species and properly maintained.

The ordinance “gives us a durable, year-round framework that supports ecological landscaping while keeping clear, fair expectations for property maintenance,” Walls said.

Tick fears

Other Michigan cities are also rethinking how to support pollinators, with several moving away from the one-month model.

Ann Arbor’s city council approved a No Mow May ordinance in 2022, but later replaced it with a broader Pollinator-Aware Yard Care initiative after hearing mixed feedback from residents.

“When we had that ordinance in effect for 2022, we received a lot of public comment from folks, a lot of folks in support of the program and a lot of folks with concerns about the program,” said Sean Reynolds, senior analyst for the city’s Office of Sustainability and Innovations.

Among those concerns were unintended side effects, including the potential for taller grass to attract ticks.

“Back in 2022, when we had the No Mow May ordinance, there were concerns around infective species, especially ticks, which was a concern that we heard and part of the reason we wanted to transition to something that’s a little more flexible,” Reynolds said.

When the grass grows too high, it creates a more inviting environment for ticks, especially during this time of year when they are most active.

The concern is not theoretical.

According to the Michigan Department of Health and Human Services’ 2026 Lyme Disease Risk Map, 82 of the state’s 83 counties have a known or potential risk for Lyme disease, driven in part by the spread of blacklegged ticks.

Instead of pausing mowing altogether, Ann Arbor now encourages residents to plant native species, shrink traditional turf lawns, limit pesticide use and reduce light pollution.

A “critical time” for pollinators

A similar mix of approaches is playing out elsewhere.

In Jackson, officials launched a limited version of No Mow May in 2023, allowing residents to let backyard grass grow while still requiring front yards and street-facing areas to be maintained. The program was reinstated this year after a brief pause.

“There are usually a lot more prevalent flowers after May, so that’s why May is such a critical time for pollinators because there are fewer options for them,” said Christina Crouch, communications manager for the city. The initiative is making “a small impact over time,” adding more resources and options for pollinators, Crouch said.

Even so, participation comes with clear boundaries: only backyards qualify, while front yards, including strips along the road, must still be mowed.

Meanwhile, Ferndale has taken a different route. After launching its program in 2023, the city ended No Mow May in 2025, citing limited evidence of its effectiveness despite strong initial participation.

More than 700 Ferndale households participated in an initial pilot program, but the city subsequently evaluated whether No Mow May programs are effective.

The conclusion: “They are not.”

“This is mostly due to the lack of pollinator-friendly vegetation present in the typical suburban/urban turfgrass lawn, meaning that the plants that do grow when not being mowed do not contribute to pollinator habitats in any meaningful way,” the city explained on its website.

Ferndale now recommends residents maintain cut grass that is three or four inches tall to outcompete weeds, reduce air and noise pollution by mowing less often and only remove about a third of the grass each time.

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This story was originally published by Bridge Michigan and distributed through a partnership with The Associated Press.