Herein lie buried immeasurable burdens which, if read with the utmost patience, may illustrate the strange meaning of being black on DePauw’s campus in the Twenty-First Century. While I am not a spokesperson for all underrepresented students, I would like to speak on a common sentiment that sits in the subconscious of matriculating minds. The problem of the Twenty-First Century is the problem of the color line, and students on DePauw’s campus must face daily the question, “How does it feel to be a problem?”
Because of the sensitivity of our campus and the political correctness that makes it difficult for some to delicately frame this politely, no one ever openly asks, “How does it feel to be a problem?” No, instead they ask how does it feel seeing yet another incident of police brutality on black bodies, or they make comments such as, “What can you teach me to help your people?” While these gestures stem from a place of wanting to understand and are laced with compassion, the real question at hand is, “How does it feel to be a problem?”
The problem is an idiosyncratic consciousness, principally when one has known that they have been a problem for generations on predominantly white college campuses. I remember vividly the moment in which I departed from the realm of untroubled racial ambiguity and placed neatly into a box marked “student of color.” The summer entering my freshman year, I avidly checked my new college email in the hopes of finding some important meaning to life, until one day I found not the meaning of life, but the meaning of undeniable difference. On July 22, 2013 I was asked if I wanted to have an upperclassman mentor that was also a domestic student of color to ensure that I was going to make it out of DePauw safely and successfully. It was with a sudden realization that I was different. It was a moment of astounding clarity stating that my body on DePauw’s campus was going to be problem for four years, so much so that my body would need reinforced protection before I ever moved into my dorm.
DePauw never asked me how it felt to be a problem during the application process. DePauw never asked how it felt to be a burden in the acceptance letter. DePauw waited until I paid my deposit. Waited until I informed the world of my life-changing journey. Waited until I had less than a month to pack. DePauw asked me how it felt to be a problem by informing me that I was an outsider coming into a community that may not be ready for me whether it be culturally, spiritually, or personally. Although I was made aware I was a problem, I attempted to see myself positively, albeit difficult. Difficult because I did not understand why DePauw would paint me an interloper in my second home. Difficult because one is made so keenly aware of the two-ness in which is bestowed upon them. This is the two-ness of being a DePauw student and a black individual. These two identities are never quite at peace with one another, and these dueling identities will gradually devour the being of a student. It is impossible to divorce the two, but it is just as impossible to completely reconcile them. It cannot be reconciled when institutionally black bodies are ignored. It cannot be reconciled when culturally those on campus become defensive, and search for ways to invalidate the black experience, when racist or discriminatory actions occur.
The black student coming to DePauw does not come in with the intentions of turning the institution into a radicalized black ideal, for DePauw has much to contribute to a variety of cultural enlightenment which would benefit the student. The black student will not idly endure implicit and explicit forms of discrimination, for they, too, are a student worth respect, have much to teach DePauw, and is key to delivering a message to the world that their presence is necessary and should be welcomed. The black student at DePauw desires to make it possible be both black and a DePauw student, without being asked if they were selected to fill a diversity quota, without having the doors of experiential learning slammed so abruptly that the need to transfer is at the forefront of their mind.
A people hence handicapped with reconciling the two-ness ought not to be asked how they can educate the masses on how to change the world in which they contribute to labeling black bodies as problems. While I commend the actions of the current administration in aiding with reconciling the burdens on DePauw’s campus, it is not enough to appease those who have been tormented with the two-ness and being a problem for so long. It is taxing to know, despite how wonderful, that changes are implemented on campus because your body was the original problem. The hindrance of the two-ness coupled with the encumbrance of being a student-teacher on the plight of a people becomes devastatingly imperious on one’s mental stability and continues the feelings of being ostracized in an institution that quietly whispers, “How does it feel to be problem?”
Fears is a junior political science and Africana studies major from Terra Haute, Indiana.