Tolerance vs. Acceptance
I remember the first time I truly felt “othered”. Entering Mrs. Murphy’s third grade class on the first day at a new school, wearing the carefully ironed outfit my mother had picked for me. When I was asked to introduce myself, I spoke clearly, proudly rolling my r’s and pronouncing my name the way it had always been said to me. The smile on my face was quickly stolen as the whispers around the class began. One comment rang out above the rest as someone shouted, “Do you have a nickname Allie-hand-ro?”. How is a kid who never had to adjust his name supposed to react? Everyone prepares you for the pressures of a new school, but no one told me I’d have to change who I was.
As years passed, it was never “could you teach us how to pronounce that”, only the slow mutilation of my name over and over until it was gentrified enough to fit safely inside white conversation. As a kid I never thought of these instances as heavy issues, or even as racist microaggressions. I simply grew accustomed to hiding the pieces of myself that didn’t fit into the white narrative. It was easier to just remember where my name fell on the attendance sheet and say “here” than to bear the awkward pause and consequential butchering of my name by the sub. Looking back on the experience I had in school and that of my BIPOC peers, now that I truly know and accept who I am the question arises. Was our presence in a Predominately White Institution (PWI) ever accepted, or was I merely tolerated?
When reflecting upon on the American schooling experience, most people can recall a time when their school was forced to formally condemn racism and promote cultural diversity. A short and sweet presentation that was written into the curriculum for peace of mind. But I ask: did they ever actually educate their students about a heritage other than a European one? Did they celebrate holidays that fell outside of Christianity or the federal calendar? Was anyone ever taught to explore other cultures and backgrounds? Or do they indoctrinate generations with the comfort of tolerance?
In a nation where racial tensions are only on the rise; how are children expected to learn acceptance and combat racism if they are never given the chance. Sure, some parents reprimand children for racist remarks and vocal bigotry, but are they held accountable for microaggressions? Every child wants to fit in with what they see around them. Children are the best mimic, mirroring everything they see as they attempt to understand the world around them. This development however shouldn’t come at the cost of BIPOC students sacrificing what makes them special. Children should be allowed to be children, embracing, and emulating the culture presented to them by their parents. Minority groups should not need white-sounding names to be included in conversation, or feel obligated to codeswitch between talking to their friends and their parents. But more importantly, children stop being taught to gentrify their peers.
Self-reflection is key in understanding the way in which BIPOC experience microaggressions throughout their lives in school. How did the conversations surrounding your friends change when they wore “normal clothes” versus something of cultural significance? Ordinarily, I was just Alejandro, but if I donned a guayabera, the “oh, it’s because he’s Mexican” comments came out of the woodwork. The attachment of ethnicity had to be bad, had to make me feel like something about embracing who I am was taboo. The comments never came in the form of acceptance or compliments. See, I was tolerated day to day, but when I wore something that spoke my heritage for me, I was never accepted. I was tolerated only when I fit the mold that a white passing Latinx kid should fit into. When my name was easy to pronounce, when I dressed like my white peers, when I spoke with a Midwest accent, I was allowed to exist peacefully.
BIPOC are constantly gaslit, being told they are being hypersensitive when they feel something racist happens. An act of self-advocacy gets tainted and twisted until it’s safer to stay quiet than to speak up. The line between tolerance and acceptance seems razor thin from the outside, but when you’re a BIPOC in a PWI, it is a mile-wide divide between you and your peers. It grows wider with the cracking of each mildly racist joke, the asking for a nickname, or asking me where I’m really from. It gets reinforced each time the whole class glances toward a BIPOC when something remotely concerning race comes up, strengthened by media stereotypes of criminal behavior and violence. It is a line that society pretends to shrink to make itself feel better, while it only continues to grow.
The world and society are in constant flux; it’s only fair to admit times have changed since I was in school. Tolerance for diverse groups has expanded over decades, some groups even claw at acceptance. There is an image of peace between peoples and exchanges of ideas. Bigotry is now closeted, hidden behind screen names and closed chatrooms. Cultural appropriation is guised as acceptance and branded as inclusion. Racism became covert and poised, resting in glass ceilings and systemic oppression. But there is still hope on the horizon.
Social media is currently having one of its biggest political awakenings. Cutesy, yet informative, graphics cover friends Instagram stories day after day. People are taking a stance on racial discrimination for the first times in their lives. Everyone should be learning more about being anti-racist, the microaggressions that plague peers, and even how to get involved with local activism. But what actually gets put into practice? No one will actually self-evaluate and label themselves as racist or prejudiced, but that doesn’t stop them from making snide comments, even here at WashU.
A few weeks ago, was Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. At an institution where students of Jewish decent make up over 20% of the population, you would expect a level of acceptance by our community that should surpass what expectation. Yet when students celebrated by blowing of the shofar near the South 40 clocktower, they were met with estranged looks and quiet murmurs. How many students asked about the holiday and its significance? Compare that number to the passing crowds of whispers and comments. Pretty upsetting, no? However, none of these action or other microaggression face repercussions. What does our T20 school, who prides themselves on Diversity and Inclusion, do about it?
Sure, WashU has student organizations and events, the DENEB Stars program and Questbridge scholars. But does this truly lead to student acceptance, or does it further other our communities? What has to be done to properly bridge the gap between tokenism and advocacy and support for FGLI and BIPOC students? Is WashU actively giving a voice to its students and their experience; how does known by name and by story translate to reality? Is the culture of minority students accepted, and moreover, celebrated? Or does that burden fall solely on student groups who work tirelessly to foster inclusive spaces for BIPOC?
Hispanic Heritage month is here, but how many students are aware of those who are of Hispanic/Latinx descent? Have you heard of a single event celebrating it? Sukkot, Navaratri, and Birth of the Báb are around the corner, along with countless other holidays and celebrations surrounding many cultures and religions, but not a word is spoken about them. So, ask yourself, how aware are you of you surroundings? How much do you know about your friends and their backgrounds? What are you doing to truly accept others? You’d never get caught bad mouthing another person’s background, but would you go out of your way to learn about it?
Society has become comfortable with tolerance as a scapegoat to avoid acceptance. It’s this same principle that makes people uncomfortable with unpacking politically and racially charged conversations. When the issues turn to the need to self-reflect, everyone is likely to become defensive, choosing pride before growth. This is a boundary that has been in place for generations as social change stirs all around. In the age of technology ignorance is a personal choice. So, ask a friend about their culture, open the conversation to past experiences that have surrounded race, work to destigmatize talks about racial issues and the heritage of peers. The only way anyone can truly accept those around them, is if they actively work to observe others as ore than the polished image they present to the world. Every individual is the summation of a lifetime of experience, so make the effort to learn about and know each person from the WashU community by name and by story.