I’ve had many similar experiences outside of Williams. One time, I was talking with a professor at a conference I attended this summer in New York. Our conversation began with the book I was reading, The Daemon Knows, by Harold Bloom. When the professor saw me reading the book, he turned and said, “Great book.” I replied, “I agree. Have you read any of Bloom’s other works? How do you think it compares?” From there, we ended up delving into a great conversation about Bloom’s assessment of the Western canon. Midway through our conversation, I remarked that my main problem with Bloom is that he hardly acknowledges the work of black writers. I further explained that I find it problematic that aside from Zora Neale Hurston and Ralph Ellison, Bloom suggests that there are hardly any great African-American authors who are worth reading, let alone deserving of being included in the canon. The professor gave a slow nod and then, after a brief pause, said “Hmm. Well, it was good meeting you, I’ve got to run.”
Less than a minute later I saw him sitting on a bench around the corner. He sat there waiting alone for the next 10 minutes or so until the event began.
As a progressive college student who cares deeply about racial injustice and values intellectual debate, I’m eager to discuss how we as a society can prevent the next Alton Sterling. I’m interested in understanding how other people, both black and white, understand police brutality and Black Lives Matter. I do not expect every person I engage with to agree with me. And I don’t expect every person I engage with to be as interested in discussing these issues as I am. But I find it frustrating and dispiriting that more often then not race is not a topic that many of my white peers and professors, particularly those who clearly demonstrate a keen interest in political issues, feel comfortable discussing in any serious way.
As a minority on a predominantly white college campus, I deal with this refusal to talk about race on a regular basis. And it can be hard to imagine working cohesively with people of different races to improve race relations and achieve even incremental social change when that refusal arises after tragedies like the death of Philando Castile, and when the grievances of minorities are trivialized or dismissed by white people who don’t understand what it is like to face the obstacles that many minorities from disadvantaged backgrounds have to overcome to get to a place like Williams. This refusal passively reinforces the racism and bigotry that paralyze racial progress in our society.
I understand that discussing racism might not always be comfortable or easy, but race is an explosive issue that touches all spheres of American life. When white people avoid candid and unsettling discussions of the issue, they are inadvertently undermining the efforts of many who are trying to make our world a better place. If we want to make college campuses and society more inclusive, more white people need to engage with the black side of things. For white Americans who genuinely want to be a part of the solution and not the problem, listening actively to the lived experiences of minorities is a good place to start.