A Needle in the Haystack
Emanuel Lynwood Simmons
America: the home of the brave and the free, the "melting pot." America: a society of endless possibilities and promises. We as Americans have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Or do we? On what do these rights depend? Power? Power is the ability to influence another's mind. Though expressed in many ways, power is not always accessible. One's social, economic, ethical, and racial status determine how much power one can have—the cultural majority has the power. In American society, culture plays a pivotal role in our everyday life and experiences. What happens when one's identity or sense of self is lost in the melting pot?
Who I am and what race or culture I belonged to never seemed to be an issue until I came to Washington College—everyone around me was the same race and belongs to the same culture it never seems to be an issue. More and more, as I roam this campus, I find myself asking the same questions: do I belong here? Is this the place for me? Who am I? I always come to the same conclusions: I'm me, Emanuel Simmons, the same person who came as a freshman but with more knowledge now. I ask myself, "Who was Emanuel Simmons as a freshman?" and I realize that to figure out where I belong, I must first figure out who I am.
Washington College is a fine institution of learning with a great deal of promise. When I first arrived at Washington College I was caught off guard. I was an eighteen-year-old, young black man coming from a big-time city to a small town. I had my share of trouble, and I was a little naïve but not innocent. I was in college, away from family and friends and on my own; nothing could stop me now. I was on top of the world, floating like a free balloon. Who knew that I was about to face a reality so strong that I might not make it out?
So eager to get out and meet people and make new friends, I was quick to just go walking and roaming around this beautiful campus. As I came in contact with people I would speak: "hey, how you doing" or "what's up?"—but I'd get little or no response smile. This didn't seem to bother me at first, for I was a new face and no one knew who I was. Anyway, time would change that soon; everyone would know my name, I thought, and be happy to speak. Little did I suspect, it wasn't that they didn't know who I was; it was that they didn't care to know who I was! Time went on and it seemed as though I rarely saw a black face, but I shook it off—maybe they stayed in doing work. Unknown to me, there were only a few blacks here, and half of them didn't like each other. So here I was, Emanuel Simmons, this city boy with high hopes of coming to college and taking everyone by storm with excellent grades and great potential. They would never know what hit them. Still naïve and speaking to everyone who crossed my path, I knew this was the place for me. It was quiet, relaxed, and I had lots of time to spend on my studies, with no distractions. I was eager for everyone to find out who I was because I just knew they would like me and I would make so many friends. Who would have thought that they would look at me as "Emanuel, the black guy" not "Emanuel the person?" It didn't matter who I was as an individual, people had made up their minds before they met me; they wanted nothing to do with my ethnicity, my race, or me.
Time passed, and it became very apparent that we as blacks are underrepresented and badly stigmatized on this campus. I talked with several black students on campus about the atmosphere and tension they see among the different ethnic groups. One twenty-one-year-old black student said, "Coming from a big city to a small town isn't easy. It's a big adjustment that you must be physically and mentally ready for." So tell me about yourself. She shouted out with built up frustration, "Double minority that's who I am, a black woman in a white man's society." Racism is always an issue at white institutions of higher learning.
Here on campus, black people find themselves representing their entire race instead of who they are as a person. It is racist and ridiculous for people to think that when a black person does something, it is not on an individual basis, but rather as a representative of blacks as a whole. It is very presumptuous for people to believe that we all act the same way, when really we don't. Being in the minority is already hard, but it is made worse when people begin to stare or go out their own way to be malicious and unkind. Another girl told me, "It hurts when several white students approach you and ask why do all the black students sit together at the dining hall, knowing the only reason they asked you that is because of your skin color." Black people share a common bond, whether we choose to accept it or not. When people see us, they don't just see that man or woman, they see that black man or black woman. They see our skin color and race. They sometimes fail to realize that we as people are individuals and we come from diverse backgrounds. When all the white students sit together are they asked why? No, because it is implicitly understood that they have a common bond or interest beyond their skin color. They either play sports together or participate in some other organization together or hang out as friends. Why can't we be friends because we like each other?
In class you rarely find racial diversity—there might be one or two black students in any given class; there are never more than five at once. This becomes a problem when topics such as social inequality, race, gender, class, and racial profiling are discussed. People automatically turn their heads or attention to the black person(s). This problem can be fixed with more minority incentives to attract more minority students. Sometimes just a little extra effort can go a long way. When discussing issues of race and slavery, we as blacks sometimes don't know as much as everyone else; additional attention doesn't make us suddenly know more. We are students too, and we are here to learn like everyone else. As though racism were not a sensitive subject anyway, one girl told me a student went as far as saying he didn't see anything wrong with stopping black males on the road who looked a certain way or drove a certain car if it was stopping the drug traffic. Unfortunately it is not stopping the drug traffic, it is stopping black males. One girl replied, "It makes me so mad when people believe in things like that because if there is one who believes it, there is another."
On this campus there is nothing but built up tension among the "races." The blacks fight for recognition; the effort is akin to taking an extra class. We have to defend our reasons for wanting to have parties and our choice of whom to invite. Everything we earn on this campus, you better believe we fought hard for, because nothing is given to us here. The constant reminder that we are black and we are at a disadvantage is at times distracting. It's so hard to feel like you are a part of something if everything that is planned seems to exclude you in some type of way. Every week a few other black students and I go home because there is nothing to do on this campus that corresponds to our interests or tastes. We feel as though we are left out. There should be something planned every week that is inclusive of all, not just the majority. Even when the black organizations on campus sponsor events, there is little to no support from the Washington College community. This makes us feel as though we don't belong to the Washington College family. We see the enormous turnout at other events and support for other organizations and we ask ourselves, "Why? What did we do wrong?" The same answer again and again: it's not us, it's everyone else.
To solve this problem, we must first think of every student at Washington College as part of a big family. When members of your family are not happy, you try to find out why or try to find ways you can help them. If we at Washington College can begin to treat each other as members of the same famiy, maybe we will begin to treat each other with some respect. Respect breeds dedication, loyalty, and friendship.
In talking with several other black students, we determined one of the problems at Washington College is that most people seem to equate the word "black" with being bad. If your perception is negative, how can we ever work together? We must first dispel all stereotypes on both sides, then we must keep the lines of communication open. Sometimes simple lack of communication adds to the confusion.
On this campus if your ethnicity is different from the majority, they think of you, and sometimes treat you as less of a person. Your personal needs differ from the needs of those in power, so they think yours don't really matter. A girl said, "It's as though we don't really exist on this campus." I asked, "What do you mean by that?" She said, "Look at everything that goes on at this school. First, there are no black male professors, a couple black female professors, and no black person on the senior administration. How can we expect to get anything accomplished at this school if the administration won't show a commitment to minority staff workers?" Yes, at Washington we talk a good game—diversity this, diversity that—but it would seem to me that a school that prides itself in excellent international relations would at least want a few more blacks on its payroll.
Here at Washington College you lose every sense of "self." You become another person—a person who has to defend his race in every conversation. Watch what you do and say because there are constant stares or looks criticizing your behavior. You can't act like a regular student because here is someone there to remind you of all your faults and failures. It can be difficult at times, trying to identify self here, because you know no matter how you look at yourself, everyone else will look at you differently and see something else. So you go through college life miserably, trying to please everyone but yourself.
I talked with one of the black girls here, and this is what she had to say: "Washington College, I hate it I hate it I hate it!" I asked, "Why?" "We as blacks are not treated equal on this campus; we are looked at as a race of people who are just bad by nature." "Give me an example," I said. She replied "Last week in the Elm I read the Public Safety report. It read, 'Suspicious black guy walked into the wrong suite.' What makes this black guy suspicious? Is it because of what he was wearing, which they didn't say, so it must have not been that, or because he was black? Why couldn't the man just make a mistake and walk in the wrong room? Why was this man considered suspicious? Think for a minute if, the same thing was reversed, would that white guy even be in the Public Safety report? I think not. If you can truly say yes, that he would've, then there is no problem, but if this minor example bothers you, you're thinking like many of the blacks on campus."
I think this is a good example of how many Washington College students think and act. One black guy entered a room assuming it was his friend's and was reported to Public Safety. If no questions come to mind—what did he do or say to make him appear guilty?—then you are as equally to blame as everyone else. I think and think and come up with this: this black man did nothing and said nothing to indicate ulterior motives. I don't know the whole story, and probably never will, but I know as a black male, I have been mistaken for just a black male, and not a College student. This is the worst feeling ever. You work your whole life to get you where you are now and you have people who are afraid of you because of your skin color. This is ridiculous! How can you ever be comfortable with yourself if every time you walk down the Cater Walk people move to the other side in disgrace or fear? That can drive a person insane wondering why these people don't like you or why they consider you a threat, when you're the best person ever.
It comes down to this: people tend to dislike or fear what they know nothing about. So with lack of knowledge comes suspicion. I'm not saying that all Washington College students act this way, but a few mess it up for everyone else. If we as individuals take responsibility for our actions, maybe we would be held accountable for our actions and not everyone else's. In this world we all would like to think we know who we are, but it is only when we come in contact with others of different backgrounds that our sense of self is heightened. We tend to define ourselves as "us and them" rather than "us all." It is so much easier to categorize each other than to learn about each other. We must work together as a community to strengthen each other's weaknesses and let our individuality shine through. Then and only then will we be able to respect and embrace one's differences. We all belong to the same race, humankind. So let's start acting like it.