The club fair. You’re walking into Kresge parkouring over freshmen lining the halls. Upperclassmen lure you into a room like a man in a white van: “Want some candy?” Groups in custom varsity jackets, despite their inability to do a pushup, groove to the beat like car dealership blowups. There’s no pentagram on the floor but the cult of acapella consumes public spaces. I am trying to eat my zucchini bread in peace when all of a sudden Mariah Carey wants me for Christmas.

But life could be worse, right? You could be a white woman. This country has toiled for the rights of all citizens. But in reality, you haven’t experienced oppression until you have to break out of your New England private school bubble just to be a She-E-O. No alpha male to defend yourself. Susan B. Anthony would never free her nipples to stop the prison industrial complex. Stacey had to pay for a tampon in a public restroom for fucks sake.

Forget global warming, autocracies, and capitalism, the debate over the societal detriment caused by acapella and white feminism is an urgent conundrum. It’s not an oppression olympics, but both atrocities fiend for attention. The solution is clear: the we must finally take a stand and ban these acts of terrorism. No more painfully strained harmonies, no more voting rights for white women. Go watch Pitch Perfect. Mitch McConnell says no more.