Identity

Dear White People: Part 2

By Mel Curry

Dear White Liberals,

Do you remember the plot of “Get Out” by director Jordan Peele? On the surface, this horror film focused on family and relationships seems just that: horror. But at second glance, the once hidden clues— missing Black men, auctions of Black people, and “wokeness”— slowly piece together, and you realize that this thriller was never about mundane things but rather the complexities of modern day racism and the flames fueling its fire: white liberals. with my dear white liberal people, your invisible racial biases are so deeply entrenched in yourself that you (and sometimes I) can’t even see it, which leaves the question:

how can we address racism when it is something many of you white liberals refuse to believe exists within you?

It is white liberals that are the worst group of all, I believe. The voters of Barack Obama, protestors at Black Lives Matter, and champions of antiTrump progranda are the “good” white people. The liberal white people. The dangerous white people.

I argue that “good” white people are the Amy Coopers, liberal whites who voted “blue” but use their white fragility as weapons of power whenever convenient. It is their tears, anger, resentment, dismissiveness, and more that are the weaponization of whiteness, according to Very Well Mind. And these weapons—while seemingly innocent—are the biggest perpetrators of racism itself.

The fact is you never know what you’re going to get with white liberals. With outright racists, their confederate flags, Trump propaganda, and Blue Lives Matter t-shirts make it easy to determine who and what they support. There is no need to question their racism—it’s blatant and overt. But of our country—our founding founders built it after all. We—both white and Black—are products of our environment and racism is the root of this country’s foundation, sprouting and seeding its vines into generations after the next. So, yes, my dear white people, you are racist because you are conditioned to be. You can’t help it.

I’m not upset that you’re racist, and I’m not writing to explain why you are. I am writing to my white liberals to say that your facade of progressiveness—one hidden with ignorance or cowardness— doesn’t hide your racism, but instead makes it more invisible and therefore dangerous.

Your denial is so stagnant that your blatant refusal to acknowledge your racism is a continuous lie to me, and most importantly, yourself. You use your liberalhood to hide your alter ego—the hidden, racist monster—and act like they never existed in the first place. But, that monster was always there, simmering inside you, impacting your thoughts, decisions, and actions.

That monster is you—not a part of you or half of you, but you— because you are racist. No matter how lefitist, marginalized, or anti-racist you may be, you are still white. And all white people— including liberals—are racist.

I know not all white people are bad, and truthfully, that’s not what I’m saying. Racism is more than just intentional acts of prejudice and discrimination toward people of color. And it’s too complex and nuanced to be labeled in arbitrary terms such as good or bad. But it is a harmful system that’s a part In a Medium post, author Shya Scanlon, a white liberal man, wrote that he is racist. His racism lives because he, like everyone else, exists within our racism vacuum—a continuum that socializes racial prejudices, white supremacy, and anti-Blackness into all of our minds.

“I’m not one of those brazen neoNazis or outspoken “alt-right” assholes,” he writes. “I’m the kind of racist often only dimly aware of his racial bias, the kind guilty of perpetuating stereotypes and systems of injustice by dint of doing little if anything to counter said indignities. I’m part of the fabric of racism, a small strand to be sure, but a crucial strand nonetheless, a strand that like any other would, if pulled, begin to unravel the whole.”

I know you white liberals mean well, and I graciously accept your intentions toward solving a problem you created. But, intentions cannot solve white supremacy, and neither will your apologies or pleadings.

You must begin to look inward, hold the mirror to yourself, and ask the questions Black, Indigenious, people of color have been waiting for: what does it mean to be white, and how does my whiteness impact others?

The signed petitions, posts on social media, and attendances at protests mean well—they truly do. But, they change nothing if you, my dear white liberals, are still the problem. As I said before, white liberals are the biggest problems of all.

You are a part of the fabric of racism. Your actions, no matter how big or small, contribute to it. You wish to escape it—just as I do—but it’s always there, alive and festering. So, if you’ve learned anything dear white people, learn this: your liberalism never excused your racism and never hid it either. The racist monster is always there, feeding and growing, but it’s time to take them out of their hidden closet and begin the real work. Turn on the lights, look them in the eye, and say their greatest fear: “I am a white liberal, and I am racist.”

Was that so hard?

Rising Tuitions, Deeper Debts

By Joseph Nalieth

Last March, like millions of people, my mom lost her job. Her company repeatedly told her that she’d soon be hired again and this pandemic would be over. By September, they said things would be back to normal and she would have a job again.

September came and went. They assured her that by January she’d be employed again. Yet, here we are. Ten months into a global pandemic and finally, in a brief, unceremonious Zoom call, she was told that there would be no job for her to return to.

My story (or others) are not for sympathy points, but rather to show that my family’s financial situation was very different when I first committed to attending Emerson College. It’ll be hard to find a student whose family’s financial situation hasn’t changed as a result of this pandemic.

And while it looks like I will be able to come up with the funds for this year’s bill, what about the next one? Every summer, students receive that dreaded email informing them of another tuition increase, and I’m not sure how long I can keep up. I’m frustrated because as a student, there is nothing I can do to oppose the endless slew of tuition hikes.

Perhaps, if the student body rallied around a collective action, something could be done.

While democracy and inclusion are some of the values most prominently touted by Emerson College, they are hardly evident in its decisionmaking process. As students, we have no direct influence over how decisions are made. Hiring, curriculum, policy, and budget decisions are carried out with little to no regard for student opinion.

While we trust that these decisions are made with our best interest in mind, the administration often fails to consider the impact that their actions have on the day-today lives of students. Even a 2% increase accounts for 70 additional hours of minimum wage work, assuming you’re paid a living wage of $15 an hour.

Most offensively, despite tuition funding 76% of the annual revenue, we have no seat at the table when the annual decision is made to hike tuition another 5%. The student contribution becomes 89% when you factor in tuition and housing costs. We are, quite literally, bankrolling the school through our minimum wage jobs, our parents’ life savings, and borrowed money from predatory

As Emerson’s tuition increases, students are driven deeper into debt or pushed out of college. One way to combat this trend is for there to be student representation on the Board of Trustees.

lenders, yet each year they have the audacity to ask us for more.

While I am beyond grateful for my scholarships, the aid remains stagnant while tuition rises. The specter of debt already haunts me, and I hate to think that I will only be plunged deeper into it by forces outside of my control. I feel alienated from the decision-making process. I feel less like a student and more like a customer.

The question arises: who really calls the shots at Emerson? Who is responsible for the notion that no matter how much we give, it is never enough? The answer is a little complicated.

It is easy to identify school administration: President Lee Pelton and his small army of vice presidents and Deans. They are largely responsible for the day-today functions of the College. Above them, however, is the elusive Board of Trustees. They are only required to meet three times per year, but their decisions hold more weight than anyone else on campus. They approve the annual budget, manage the endowment, and vote on the increase of our tuition.

A quick look at the members of the Board of Trustees shows that they’re not the most appropriate representatives of the student body of Emerson College. A quick LinkedIn search displays that this list of alums and nonalums consists of some of the most powerful and established people in their respective fields. They run massive entertainment conglomerates, make large contributions to Super PACs, and are disproportionately old and wealthy. I doubt they are still paying off their student debt—not to mention, tuition was a lot cheaper in their heyday.

Graphic by Christine Park As Emerson’s tuition increases, students are driven deeper into debt or pushed out of college. One way to combat this trend is for there to be student representation on the Board of Trustees.

While we are grateful for their guidance and wisdom as industry pros, they are due for a reminder that their annual decision to raise tuition has a direct impact on the hours we work, our families’ finances, and an already insurmountable debt burden. While we struggle to break into the industries that they run, we’ll be shackled to the debts they imposed on us.

I am a theater major. With the pandemic, I am studying to enter a field that currently has a 0% employment rate. Even in the pre-COVID world, the likelihood of finding any monetary success in my field was already slim. The debts that I am taking on are going to be an extra hurdle on my path to financial security. The high interest rates and monthly payments will loom over me as a young struggling actor—a constant voice whispering in my ear, encouraging me to give up on my dreams.

This is the reality for every art major coming from a middle- or lower-class background. Art should be for everyone, but with the ever-rising cost of an arts education, it increasingly becomes a luxury for the privileged few. In broader trends, this applies to our whole generation. Millennials are struggling to buy homes and secure full-time employment due to massive student debt and barren hiring markets. This will be the fate

of Gen Z, too, unless we confront the problems now—for us and for the generations to follow.

The problem of raising tuition is hardly limited to Emerson. This is nationwide. Federally-backed student loans, predatory lending practices, and debts that don’t disappear with bankruptcy have enabled colleges to increase their tuition prices at unprecedented rates. Tuition has outgrown inflation and wages, so it has become harder than ever to pay back what is owed.

I believe it is fair to say that there is a disconnect between the trustees and students. They pass tuition increases that bolster the clout of the college they run but cause the students to take on extra jobs and work longer shifts. Whether they realize it or not, they are gatekeeping the industries they run by making bachelor’s degrees more and more expensive. And they wonder why those industries are disproportionately white and upper-class.

The gatekeeping began with students not having a vote in the trustee meetings, thus making us powerless in resisting the increases. Even though 89% of the budget is our money, we are powerless to shape it. But if there is one thing I have learned from my Emerson education thus far, it is that it is the student’s responsibility to stand up to power and to challenge the status quo.

As President Lee Pelton steps down, the transitionary period poses a unique opportunity to reimagine the relationship between student and administrator. The power dynamic needs to be made more equitable, and I hope the college’s next president recognizes that. There needs to be at least one voting student trustee. Any tuition increase ought to be at the very least consented to by a student before it is imposed on the whole of the student body.

If we can lay the groundwork for institutional change at Emerson, then we can inspire our peers at neighboring institutions to follow suit. This is how grassroots movements arise. This is an opportunity for Emerson to lead by example, and prove that its commitment to progressive values goes beyond virtue signaling. I call on administrators and trustees to consider allowing us some semblance of self-governance. If you truly believe that you are preparing your students for the real world, I would hope that you consider us mature enough to play a role in the decision-making process.

Beyond tuition and budget allocation, I believe that a student trustee would put the administration in the position to finally create truly equitable policies at Emerson College. Time and time again, we have watched the administration fail to meet the needs of Emerson’s students of color. Their response to #ESOCWeekOfAction was lackluster, but a student Trustee would be able to effectively communicate the needs of the student body that they represent, and work with the administration to create policies that actually impact the status quo at Emerson College.

While Protesting Oppression With Educational Reform acknowledges that Emerson is moving in the right direction, the slow rate of change can be attributed to the administration's lack of understanding of the perspective of its BISOC. By elevating one of our own to the highest board of oversight, we can finally trust that policy is being shaped with our interests in mind. Until then, the extent of our activism is an appeal to systems of power that fail to adequately represent us. As long as we are disenfranchised from these decision-making systems, the policies they produce will fail to represent our needs.

The push for a student Trustee can start today. The seeds are planted in conversations with our fellow students, our families, our faculty, our administration,f our trustees, and our future president. They need to understand the hardships that we are subjected to by the rising tuition. The systems of power in academia need to change. And if Emerson wants to call itself a progressive institution, if Emerson wants to prove its commitment to democratic values, if Emerson wants to be actively anti-racist, then Emerson needs to elevate its students to positions of actual leadership.

Remember, our money funds Emerson. Let’s create an Emerson that is truly ours.

A Book We All Judged by Its Cover

ByIrka Perez

Haiti is often associated with destruction, strikes, and poverty. Media representation has focused negatively on this country and has created a misleading book cover to what I like to call, the Book of Haiti. I have reclaimed this book and changed it to reveal the beauty of the enchanting country.

Before visiting Haiti in 2018, I didn’t know much about the country. I grew up in the Dominican Republic and constantly heard negative comments about Haiti and its people due to the existing rivalry among the neighboring countries. However, my perspective changed after the 2010 earthquake.

I was at home when my mother told me the earth was shaking. I didn't feel anything at first. But then our chandelier began rocking back and forth, and my mother and I quickly hid until the earth no longer shook beneath our feet. After the magnitude 7 earthquake, I remember watching the news and hearing testimonies from my teachers from Haiti who had survived the natural disaster. As a 9-year-old, I was deeply touched and haunted by the images of postearthquake Haiti. Even though I knew almost nothing about Haiti, I felt a connection with the country powered by sympathy and love for my island.

In December 2018, I visited my

Photo by Irka Perez Two young boys chase the camera with warm smiles and friendly waves while playing near Furcy, Haiti.

uncle who lived in Haiti. I had been living in the United States for six years and had not lived in or visited the Carribean since 2013. I was excited, not only to be back on the island but also to experience new people, places, and cultures on the side less familiar to me.

Before the plane landed, I didn’t know what to expect. I kept picturing the disastrous images frequently shown on the news. Little did I know that once I saw Haiti for myself, I would fall in love with it.

Every place I explored in Haiti was even more breathtaking than the previous one. My uncle took my mom and I around the island, and I was captivated by the infinite mountain landscapes and the warm smiles on the faces of everyone around us.

I quickly realized that the negative media portrayals weren’t wrong; they were just intensified and portrayed as Haiti’s single story.

Once I returned to the United States, I began looking through the photos I took in Haiti. Among them were landscapes and portraits that showcased the beauty of the island, which got me wondering: “Why didn’t I know about any of this? Why is it that Haiti is so unfairly and horribly portrayed to the world?” That moment of realization inspired me to create my first project on the beauty of Haiti. I made a portfolio that narrated Haiti’s often unexplored allure through my images. Currently, I am planning on going back to Haiti with the goal of telling more diverse stories, ones that aren't the single frame of

Photo by Irka Perez A young local stands over the tourist-empty Cascade Touyac in Port Salut, Haiti.

poverty and tragedy traditionally shown by the media.

I want to tell stories of the people that live on that side of my island. Stories that aren’t drowned with negativity and will help fill the Book of Haiti with positive chapters and personal stories, uplifting narratives

that will hopefully be featured as the representation of Haiti.

It’s best to say that I, along with many others around the world, had fallen for the single story that is often narrated of Haiti. The story that writes about ugliness, illness, poverty and has become the book cover that the media has given Haiti. The cover to what is now my favorite book.

Though often unopened, the Book of Haiti is filled with immense treasures that I have been lucky to see and others I hope to find. Maybe then, I could help reveal the Haiti book cover I see for myself so the rest of the world may see it with me.

I hope that one day Haiti stops being a country that many connect only to danger and disaster; and that its misleading book cover ceases to exist. To turn this dream into reality, I invite you to ignore that innate feeling to judge a book by its cover, because you’ll never know what words you might find inside.

Maybe then, I could help reveal the Haiti book cover I see for myself, so the rest of the world may see it with me.

Photo by Irka Perez A woman tends to her street-side market post. These markets are located all throughout Haiti, with one of the largest market areas being in the country’s capital of Port-Au-Prince.