She glances over at me and meets my eyes, because I'm already looking at her and past her at the same time, to the middle section. What I see does not surprise me, because it is what the middle section usually looks like: long tables filled with mostly African-American students, as well as a few Asian-American and Hispanic students.
I don't sit in the middle section much myself, but I am stunned, however, that a white person should say that they feel uncomfortable in situations where they are the minority. It does make sense and highlights many of the issues that have been discussed on Daily Jolt posts recently. The necessity of theme housing, particularly Drew, La Casa and ACH, seems to be a contentious topic. The argument is that having such houses allows black, Hispanic and Asian populations to self-segregate, and the benefits of having a diverse school are lost because the majority students do not feel the impact of this diversity. One counter-argument that was put forward by an African-American student, presumably living (or having lived) in Drew himself, was that black students at Amherst need a safe space. Another person replied, arguing that it was the responsibility of the school authorities to ensure that each residence on campus was a safe space. If for some reason the other residence halls are not seen to be safe, then that problem should be addressed instead of allowing black students to live together in Drew.
I wonder if it's really a safe space that minorities need, as much as a place where they are, for once, a majority, and can therefore feel the need to be themselves without necessarily trying to represent an entire race. Let me make this a tad clearer. At the beginning of this semester, I attended a class for which I had pre-registered and discovered, as did the professor, that 40 students had shown up instead of the desired 20. I also noticed something the professor may or may not have-I was the only black person. We all wrote down our names and majors and were told that we would later be contacted and informed whether we could take the class. In expectation of a rejection, since I was not a major of that department, I sat in on another class that afternoon, this one with a healthy black population and decided to take it.
Later that night, I received an email from the professor-I was one of the few she had chosen to let into the class. A myriad of thoughts raced through my head. I was happy to be in the class; I had been looking forward to it for quite some time. On the other hand, why had I been chosen? I wasn't a major, or even a potential one, and at least 10 other majors had been sent packing. However, I was black-maybe the professor had noticed that. Maybe, in the course of the class, we would read something about Africa, African-America or the African-Caribbean, and I would be expected to provide valuable insights. I never feel so uncomfortable as when my skin color makes me stand out, and when a topic is brought up which results in expectant glances coming my way. Even though I felt practically obliged to take the class, because I had been "chosen," I wrote a polite note to the professor and opted out.
There's a good feeling about being a majority somewhere, anywhere, that I won't deny. I liked my brief stay in Brooklyn last Christmas, because every time I saw a white person, I was pleasantly surprised. For similar reasons, I enjoyed my visit to Ghana this summer, even though everything else about it was rather unremarkable. Being a majority allows one to be oneself rather than a representative of his whole race and trying to conform to a stereotype or to behave a certain way in order to project a certain image of their race.
For example, I am not the most outgoing person, and I have been rather reclusive since childhood. On the other hand, Ghanaians are supposed to be known for their hospitality and friendliness. When I first arrived in Amherst and discovered I was the only Ghanaian, I tried hard not to let down my country. I wanted to be friendly and outgoing and meet everyone and share my culture with them. I hated it-I have nothing against people, but I prefer personal interactions and am overwhelmed by large groups. I hated going to parties, sitting with my squad and playing name games and having lots of people congregate in my room. After a while, I gave up, and I remember constantly reminding my roommates that I was a little odd and definitely not your typical Ghanaian teenager. If I had been in Ghana, of course, there would have been no need to do this. They, as (white) Americans in (white) America, did not feel the need to embody the essence of (white) Americans or to act towards me as they thought I might expect (white) Americans to act. I was surrounded by enough of them to know that they come in all different flavors, so to speak.
I would suppose that this is the same quandary that many minorities face here. Coming from places where they are a majority (even if it is only in their respective homes), it is hard to be oneself where one is a minority and not to feel obliged to be a "good" representative of one's race. This may be why Drew, La Casa and ACH are necessary, as are the "seating arrangements" in the middle section, so that every once in a while, individual minorities can be themselves without feeling the need to "represent."
My dinner partner's comment did throw me off guard-and it brought home to me even more strongly that the people on the Jolt, who are very likely white, are attacking what they do not understand. When the tables are turned, as they rarely are, they too will find out that no matter where one is and no matter how nice every one around you is (or purports to be), it sucks to be the only one.