“We are willing to risk difficulty and discomfort in working towards achieving these [diversity and inclusion] goals…”

That dear friends, is the leg I stand on as I approach this piece; that the institution is committed to risking difficulty and discomfort in working towards diversity and inclusion on campus. This piece is not intended at solving the multifaceted and complicated issue of diversity and inclusion on campus, far from it. This piece is a reaction to what has really been an uncomfortable couple of weeks on campus. Honestly, I was surprised that I decided to write this piece this early in the semester. Firstly, because it is early in the semester. The first weeks are supposed to possess a fairytale-like feeling of being reunited with friends and the young infatuation with classes before you decide to drop computer science because Data Structures is simply torturing. I am not dropping out of Computer Science. 

Secondly, because I understand that not everyone would relate to this piece. So why should you care? Well, you do not have to care, you just have to understand. In the past couple of weeks, I have been rather uncomfortable with the liberal use of the N-word by non-African American students, particularly, white students. I know, W-T-A-F? Before you paint any grotesque images in your head, no, the words were not heralded insults at me, a black student, but they were said in my presence. Again, before you dismiss it as a non-issue, it still is a grotesque occurrence.

You can already imagine the setting of these incidences, a party at a location on campus blasting all our favorite songs, and then ‘that’ song comes on. ‘That’ song is our inebriated student’s jam and they cannot help but bust the rhymes just to express how much rhythm has been infused in him by ‘that’ song. The word slips from the tongue and there I am left conflicted on the dance table, because tables are the only things worth dancing on, and I stop. I stop and stare if our rhythm-infused student feels any remorse or if any of the students around them will call them out on it. It does not happen. Such is the blueprint for the many cases I have encountered except for one case where a white student let the word slip, rhythm-infusing song alibi, lacking. 

To politely put it, I do not feel comfortable in an environment where non-black students feel comfortable using the N-word. The university’s statement on diversity and inclusion also states, “We acknowledge the need to challenge previous habits and assumptions understanding the structures of power and injustice in which they exist…” If you’re not black, there is no N-word pass, ever, full stop. Not when busting lyrics to ‘your jam’, not when inebriated, not because you have a black friend, not because you ‘did not mean it in a bad way’, and not because ‘my partner is black’. The fact that anyone thinks it is debatable is the epitome of privilege. I challenge anyone to dispute this.

Just as I believe the debate on why non-black individuals do not have a pass on the issue at hand, I also believe that it is not my responsibility to educate the masses on why it is so. It is also the responsibility of every educated and aware individual on campus, regardless of race, to call out those who disregard this standard. I cannot do it alone; black students cannot do it all the time. If we truly have allies, you fight at the same battlefront we do. You do not get to use allyship to accrue social justice points and relieve your guilt. 

So why should you care? Because this is but the tip of the iceberg of the shortcomings we face as an institution when it comes to diversity and inclusion. If we truly claim to be inclusive, we should show it, not just claim it. Holding individuals accountable for their comments is a start. Next, let us engage with each other across gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, economic stratums, and religious and political beliefs. Let us risk difficulty and discomfort in working towards true inclusion. Have great semester friends.