It's a residence hall NOT a dormitory - 15

What I am about to say might offend you. Be prepared.

Let’s talk about diversity. It’s quite the buzz word in higher education these days. We slap it into mission statements and make sure it’s prominent in interview questions and hiring decisions. Most of us feel like we have a good grip on diversity; we get it. I mean, c’mon, I’ve done that privilege walk like a thousand times.

I’m one of those people. I was raised by open, wonderful parents who taught me to respect and celebrate all cultures and all people. I’ve always been interested in learning about what makes people unique or different. I’ve had years of formal diversity training preceded by years of informal training in the many different places I’ve lived. But lately, I’m wondering if maybe there are a lot of things I don’t get. Two specific instances have caught my attention and made me question my own -isms.

In my last year as an RA, I was on an all-female floor for the first time. I thought long and hard about my first door decs because I wanted them to really stand out. I decided on paper dolls with all kinds of fun and funky outfits. I purchased a couple paper doll books online, received them a week later in the mail, and got to work cutting outfits out of the books. It wasn’t until my residents moved in that I realized these door decs weren’t going to work. You see, I had paper dolls that looked like Stephanie and Ashley but no paper dolls that looked like Darnicia and Xueqiong. I did not notice that all of the paper dolls had white skin. I didn’t even think about it. After a loooong online search, I finally found a book with more culturally diverse dolls and made the door decs for everyone. I still felt stupid putting them up. Would people notice the dolls were different colors? Would they notice if the doll didn’t look like them? Did it matter?

More recently, I went into a public restroom with my best friend (yes, ladies do need to go together) and was complaining about how dirty public restrooms got. I told my friend that I just didn’t understand why grown women could not keep things a little cleaner. She said maybe little kids had made the mess. I said, very sarcastically, that maybe it was just a bunch of people with no arms who couldn’t flush the toilets or clean up after themselves. While washing our hands, a woman exited from the only other occupied stall in the restroom. She had only one arm. Wow, did I feel like an ass.

In Student Development, we’ve been talking about racial identity development and my professor explained that the theories are based on the assumption that racism exists and that racism is culturally, politically, and socially ingrained in many ways. She also explained that based on this definition of racism, you are automatically racist if you are White because you live in a society that benefits you simply because of the color of your skin. Ouch. The way we define racism socially is that you are racist if you are prejudiced against others because of their race. To be racist, to me, is one of the most horrendous, contemptible qualities. I have never intentionally hurt or marginalized someone because of their race. But in many ways, this definition of racism makes sense. In fact, it’s applicable to all –isms.

I have never had to think about what it’s like to not be able to walk. Or what it’s like to have only one hand. I have never had to worry about finding Barbies or paper dolls that looked like me. Most people on TV and in movies look like me, too. I had no idea that people like Mary, one of my RAs, struggle with not looking like those people. Mary is Asian and tapes her eyelids every morning so that she has the double eyelids characteristic of White cultures. She recently told me a story about how her mom took her to have the common outpatient surgery for double eyelids in Taiwan, but she became afraid and backed out at the last minute. Mary is beautiful.
It makes me sick to think that she has to live in a world that in any way tells her she isn’t. It makes me sick to think about myself in the context of racism.

Luckily, I’ve learned a few other important things about diversity this semester. First, I’ve learned to take any and all chances to become more comfortable and understanding of diversity. A couple of privilege walks just won’t cut it. I’ve learned that it’s important to understand your place in social and political systems. I may be a racist simply because I’m White, but I’ve learned that the best way to combat racism is to help break down the oppression and injustices of others. I’ve also learned that I don’t know anything about my own race. Several of my professors have suggested taking classes or seminars about what it means to be White. Finally, I’ve learned that being a White woman does not mean I’m not diverse; I might just have to think harder about what makes me different from other people.