I must say, this semester was tense. In the classroom and throughout the campus,
the feeling was palpable. News outlets
throughout the country continue to report on incidents of police violence
against young black men and women, yet our campus administrators remained silent. At least two incidents in Ohio made the
national news. In August 2014, John
Crawford lost his life at the hands of police at a Walmart practically across
the street from our campus.
Administration said nothing. Three
months later, twelve-year-old Tamir Rice was gunned down by police in Cleveland. Again, nobody mentioned it. Actually that’s not true. The students did. They were talking about it all the time. In class, in the dining halls, the dorms, and
on social media, the students were trying to make sense of all the
violence.
Why were these cops killing young black men? Why weren’t they being held accountable? Could the same thing happen to me?
A group of professors tried to hold a forum for the students
to come and discuss their feelings about the atrocities being committed against African Americans. Administrators swiftly
stepped in to take over the forum, controlling the topic and tone of the conversation
and always staying on script. Once again
the students’ voices were silenced.
Tensions continued to rise. . . .
A couple months ago, a group of my students presented me
with a racist letter that they received from a fellow student. What began as a legitimate noise complaint,
quickly turned into a racial diatribe about black people, including an
explanation as to why “they can’t get anywhere in life.” The administration moved quickly to soothe
the students’ hurt feelings, but they still failed to address the larger issues
at hand: Nationally, African American men
are under attack; locally, John Crawford’s murder reflects existing racial
tensions in Dayton and growing hostilities about public transportation moving
black and brown people into all-white neighborhoods and shopping districts; and
finally on campus, African American students regularly feel marginalized,
diminished, and excluded by university faculty and administrators.
The aforementioned issues ultimately led to a clash at the
end of the semester between Black Lives Matter advocates and the group I will
call The Patriots. At a campus-wide celebration,
the Black Lives Matter group asserted that the American flag was a symbol of racism,
hypocrisy, and violence and, in a gesture of opposition to that hypocrisy, at
least one student stomped on top of the flag.
In response, the Patriots did what patriots do. They defended flag, God, and country. Unfortunately, some students who disagreed
with the flag-stomper quickly turned the conflict into a racial one. At least a few Patriots shouted racial
epithets to the BLM group and according to several students, told them to “go
back where you came from.” Considering
nearly all the students at the university are from central Ohio, I assume this
was a suggestion to go back to where their ancestors came from-- Africa. Several days later, the Black Lives Matter
advocates rallied on campus to, again, assert their belief that the American
flag is a symbol of hypocrisy. The
Patriots also rallied to oppose the BLM group.
Things got extremely tense—especially when non-student groups began to
show up: Military veterans, bikers,
nationalists, and others arrived to confront the Black Lives Matter group. The two groups yelled and screamed at each
other, which was difficult to watch. The
most tragic part of the whole incident is that both sides felt passionately
about their cause, but neither side truly heard the other. Meanwhile, our students continue to feel
anger and frustration. And racial
tensions are simmering. If nothing
changes, I will be writing the sequel to this entry in the next academic year.
. . .
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
like a heavy load.
-- Langston Hughes
