“It was in losing the fear of death that I began to understand faith and hope.”
DeRay McKesson ’07 writes these words in the first chapter of his book, “On the Other Side of Freedom: The Case for Hope.” He describes a time when he pulled into his driveway only to find an unfamiliar car at his curb.
On Monday, President Clayton Rose hosted Governor John Kasich for a discussion of current issues. Pickard Theater was packed almost to capacity, and yet the event was largely inconsequential to campus life. I left with more questions than answers, partly because Kasich never actually answered a question but mostly because he offered little in terms of conservative thought—Kasich is a moderate.
In September of 2018, I wrote an article about why the black kids sit together in the classroom. I argued for academic reform to engage students across difference. Crucially, my conclusion was this: “when we as students present ourselves as a unified front to the administration, how can they tell us that this system works?”
Student activism was only one part of my proposed solution to self-segregation.
For a long time during my freshman year, I stayed up until 2 or 3 o’clock in the morning on a daily basis and slept for only a handful of hours at a time. If I managed to wake up for a morning class, I almost always fell asleep at my desk.
Last year, I turned 20 on the same day that the football team won its first game in three years. I stormed the field with my friends and, for once, felt proud of a sports team here.
In my time at this college, I have seen a great many students of color fail to graduate on time. I do not have enough fingers on my hands to count them all, not even for those in my class alone.
Which of the distribution requirements do you have left to complete, and which of those will you leave until senior year? We both have Inquiry in Natural Sciences and International Perspectives left, but one of us is a first-year and the other is a junior.
It has been three long years since the last instance of widescale cultural appropriation at Bowdoin. Halloween has come and gone with nothing worthy of news, and it appears as though we just might have entered a post-racial society.
Last year when I went on West Trek with Career Planning, almost every executive, most of who were white, described Silicon Valley as a “meritocracy,” where people are judged by ideas, not by privilege. But my privilege got me into those companies’ office.
Social change is often discussed in two ways, with the bottom-up and top-down approach. Think of them as the People versus the President. Who is responsible for change? Bottom-up says the People, top-down the President. But I say they are both responsible.
Imagine, for a moment, that you are in your favorite class of the semester. It is a Thursday afternoon, and the week is almost over. You settle into your seat, and then a student walks in wearing a mechanic’s uniform.
What was your transition to Bowdoin like? Be careful before you answer, because this is a political question. Your race, your class and your background likely played important roles in your adjustment. This column is a transcription of my own transition as a low-income Black man, as well as a more general reflection of racialized space on campus.