Feeling safe in an unsafe world

Say It Like It Is: Administration must take real action and stop making students do its job

The past two weeks have brought to light an issue on campus that was already present way before the “gangster party,” hosted by members of the sailing team. Here we go again. It seems like a repetitive song I want to skip, but seem to be forced to listen to over and over again. Last Saturday, I went to a meeting at Russwurm with President Rose and Dean Foster. Although President Rose’s presence surprised and pleased me, I couldn’t help but feel that all this had already been done before. They listened politely, took the list of demands from the African-American Society and said they would think about it. Thinking is nice and good, but at this point, considering the efforts that have already been made, it is a very weak answer and shows the College’s neglect and irresponsibility in dealing with race.
The administration’s response to the “gangster party” and race at Bowdoin continues to be problematic. Let’s begin with Dean Foster and President Rose’s emails, which have been the only official college responses so far. They both focus on people being offended and hurt and mention no concrete steps to address white privilege on this campus. In fact, they don’t explicitly acknowledge that racism and white privilege exist on our campus. Focusing on “feelings” makes it seem like the problem is simply people’s feelings, specifically the feelings of people of color, as mentioned in President Rose’s email. Thank you, Dean Foster and President Rose, for coming to protect people of colors’ feelings, minimizing the historical context and current ramifications of racist acts and failing to actually take any proactive steps. People’s anger, frustration and sadness about the party are very human reactions to the very real problem this college and country face, but they neglect to deal with the racism in practically every single corner of our communities and the rampant white privilege that constantly goes unchecked.
I wonder: have Dean Foster and President Rose not had time to think and talk about race since everything that was brought up last semester? Did they forget about the list of demands that was made public in an open letter to the community last February? Did President Rose not inform himself of the state our college was in before taking on his position? Meanwhile, I’ve had multiple people, both employees of the college and students, tell me to engage in dialogue. Yesterday I received an email from the McKeen Center that invited me to be part of a small group of students that will plan dialogue sessions on this campus. I love the workers in the Mckeen Center, but I’m not going to be a part of this “dialogue.” It is time for the College’s administration to act, not for the students of color to teach. I will not be the one who leads this conversation when my college as an institution refuses to do so. The presidents of the Asian Student Association have decided they will not participate in the creation of their annual fashion show, which is supposed to show the respected diversity that exists on campus and Af-Am will no longer host parties for prospective students until the College takes action and shows that this is a place for people of color. I fully support these choices.
The list of demands published last February continues to be online for anyone who wants to see it, and I don’t want to repeat what’s already been done by mentioning all of them, but I will expand on one very simple thing that the College could easily accomplish: mandating a training on race for all of its employees. Despite the fact that there have been some baby steps taken in this direction, a lack of skills on how to talk about race and general knowledge of how it functions in society is still a prevalent issue on our campus. Members of the administration urge students to engage in dialogue, but many of our professors don’t even have the skills to have a conversation about race and feel uncomfortable doing it. How then can we have dialogue? Different small trainings have come and gone in various parts of campus, but there has been no cohesion and consistency. There’s an obvious hole that needs to be filled.
What we’re missing on this campus is the willingness of the administration to deal with race, not more programing or discussions on race led by students of color. Saying we’ll have a conversation, thinking about it or sending an email, is just not enough. As a bare minimum all the employees at this college should have a training, which can be used as a foundation for more changes that need to be done. This would at least allow students of color and white allies to direct our energy on being students at Bowdoin and not doing a job that the administration is supposed to do.

Say It Like It Is: Learning to use white privilege as a tool in fighting oppression

As a person who has one foot in Ecuador and another one in the United States, I have often felt guilty. Guilty that I have U.S. citizenship and can travel around the world while many of my friends in Ecuador can’t. Guilty that I go to Bowdoin College and receive many resources and financial benefits. Guilty that I live with extreme comfort while I have the knowledge that many in the Ecuador and the U.S. are constantly struggling. But guilt is a paralyzing feeling that didn’t show me how to use my privileged position in society.
When I moved to the U.S. and came to Bowdoin I started learning about a privilege I had never heard of before: white privilege. As a biracial Latina student I initially understood this concept abstractly, but didn’t connect it to my life until I took a class called “Race and Ethnicity.” I knew that race existed from a young age by observing the contrasting way in which my white “American” mother and Ecuadorian mestizo father were treated, but I didn’t understand that I had white privilege. Its implications overwhelmed me.
The house where my white mother and grandmother live is an example of the white privilege present in my life. When I go to St. Louis, MO—where most of my family lives—I am welcomed in a safe, well-kept neighborhood, in the same house that my white great-grandparents helped my grandmother buy. This house, where my family and I came when we were going through hardship in Ecuador, represents the racial inequality and injustice present in the U.S. The neighborhood is still all-white, just like it was when my great-grandparents bought it, and it’s located on the “good” side of town. My great-grandparents—who were white—were allowed to buy this house in this neighborhood; that is no coincidence. The practice of redlining continues to have very negative effects on African Americans in St. Louis, but it benefited my white family and allowed them to buy a house at a good price, while blacks were barred from the same options. Even after three generations, I am reaping the benefits of living in a racist society that prioritized my family’s whiteness at the expense of blacks in St. Louis.The fact that my mother is white and lived in a place where practically everyone was college educated, where blacks were legally not allowed to live in for a part of St. Louis’ history, had a huge effect on her chances of going to college. On top of this, as a white student she was perceived as being smarter than her black peers in her school. This type of unfair advantage that my mother was paid at the price of others, blacks, who had to prove their worthiness to teachers who gave it for free to white students. When I began to go to her same high school I realized this continued to be the case. I was immediately put into the most advanced classes when I walked into the counselor’s office with my white mother and only later learned, after talking to my black peers, that black students had very different experiences when they walked into that same office with their parents.
Over the years, I have realized that I have many privileges in my life, but what should I do with all this knowledge of my position in society and the unequal structures that privilege me? Privilege is a tool. It is power and can be used in multiples ways. President Rose’s talk last Tuesday about race is a great, specific example of using white privilege to change unequal relations that still exist in our society. Using white privilege means coming to grips with a reality that you didn’t necessarily create, but that you are benefiting from. This is hard to do, but can also feel incredibly eye opening.
We can all learn how to use privilege wisely to change the very structures that created it. Even if you’re not white, but biracial or something else (like me), by being a student at Bowdoin College, you have a lot of privilege. It’s hard to get to Bowdoin and people struggle to get into this place because of all the benefits that it gives us. It is up to us to use all these benefits to change unequal power structures. It starts by learning about the ways in which we have received unfair advantages at the expense of others.

Say It Like It Is

This piece represents the opinion of the author:

November 20, 2015

When I was 12 years old my mom gave a talk about being a woman and what this meant for my safety. She said strangers might make aggressive sexual advances on me and might even try to attack me. It was my job to be ready when these things happened, to put on a very serious face that would prevent strangers from approaching me and to be able to defend myself. This angered me. I grew up with four brothers so I wanted to be able to be a part of the world the way they were, but my mother explained to me this wasn’t possible. Why did I have to be more careful than they were? Why were strangers more likely to hurt me?

To hear that I lived in a patriarchal and unequal society, which my mom also pointed out, wasn’t particularly satisfying and still left unanswered questions. As my mom explained the situations I might encounter, many of which I have encountered at some point in my life from having strange men harassing me to get into their cars to being sexually assaulted, I wondered: will I ever feel safe? How can I have peace in my life when there is so much danger, not only for people in general, but particularly for me as a woman? This danger only increases for women of color and non-straight or low income women.

Initially, I felt helpless with all these questions and information. It wasn’t fair—it was just wrong. The situation needed to change, not me or my actions. I lived in fear for a while: fear of jogging, fear of men who I just met, fear of being attacked. It made absolute sense that I would feel like this—I needed to deal with an ugly reality—but I also realized that even though it made sense, it wasn’t the way I wanted to live. Feeling inundated with fear has a real effect on our physical and mental wellbeing. The fear was useful when it made me take precautions, like locking doors and not being by myself in dangerous places, but after that it was just draining.
Where can we find solace and become who we want to be in a world that isn’t necessarily what we want? The response to this question might be different for various people, but for me fostering the strength of my body, which had often been an enemy that victimized me, was a first step. The relationship we as women have with our bodies can often be problematic—they can cause us so much trouble! They are targets of stares, comments, threats and even physical aggression.

I realized that although I was more of a target of violence because I was a woman, I was also very strong and able. I began doing martial arts and using my body in very useful ways. I realized I could do pushups, lift people up and down, block a punch and defend myself. It was exciting to see my body as a protector, rather than a burden that made me a target.
As women it is especially important to know how to defend ourselves. It can sound scary, but it can also be incredibly empowering and even fun to learn what to do in threatening situations. Not everyone enjoys doing martial arts or engaging in physical activities, but having an able and strong body is something that has been denied to women historically and needs to be reclaimed. In a society that oppresses and often denies women their safety, it is a rebellious act to have a body that isn’t an object made for someone else to watch or attack, but a body that is able and protects and defends us.

Having a body that’s able to defend itself won’t change the power structures of society, but it can give us a little bit more peace of mind, challenge the gender norms that subjugate women and make us feel strong. After the sexual assault case on campus and the incident on Potter Street, many have decided to have self-defense classes. Some of these classes are taking place this weekend and were posted on the Facebook group “Bowdoin Safe Walk.” There are also clubs on campus—like Brazilian Jiu Jitsu which meets every Monday and Wednesday from 6 to 8 p.m. in Sargeant Dance Studio—which students are welcome to join as well. I invite everyone to explore these options.

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