The Point of No Return

My legs were ready to buckle. Ahead lay a dirt road, and where that ended began the two-mile walk back to campus. I let out a smoky sigh – it was five degrees below zero. I must have been insane.

Earlier that morning, the sapphire sky hugged the peaks and slopes of Saint Regis. How could I refuse such a tempting offer? Immediately I packed an overnight bag, begged a friend to drive me to the start of the trail, and set off to greet the peak. My goal: set up camp before dusk and embrace all mother nature had to offer. Ridiculous. One attempt at the ludicrous, and now I was paying the price.

If it were not for the occasional street lamp, darkness would have swallowed me by now. My phone died a few hours earlier due to the blistering cold – which should have been warning enough – leaving me with zero calling capability and no flashlight.

For what seemed like hours I shuffled along the crumbling road of Keese Mill, burdened by the enormous weight of my backpack. This was my cross to bear on this humiliating and insufferably long journey, but at least I would live to tell my tale. Suddenly, two burning lights exploded from the trees ahead and blinded me. Worry coursed through my body; night was not the time to confront strangers. The roar of the car quieted to a purr as it neared, and a deep voice called out, “Need a ride?” My parents would be furious at my decision, but, in fairness, I was tired. Looking back I realize how lucky I was not to have jumped into a car with a deranged human. Instead, I met Bob (I don’t remember his name, so let’s go with Bob).

As we rode back to campus, Bob told me he had once been a student at Paul Smith’s. Bob was a graduate of Paul Smith’s College from the old days. How old? Well according to Bob, you could count the number  of women at school at the time on your hands; he recalled that as being mildly frustrating. No women?! It was difficult to fathom, for many reasons. I pondered this alternate reality. If social gatherings are currently loaded with an excess of testosterone, imagine how it was for Bob.

This awakening brought forth new questions, such as, when did women started coming to this school? And how was the transition?A shift in the gender ratio might seem like a truly unique experience for a college to go through, but as I thought about it more, it occurred to me, might we be going through a similar shift right now?

In high school I socialized with people from a variety of backgrounds. Many of the kids on the soccer team with me were either Hispanic, Latino, or African-American. Once I left high school and entered college, I found very few people with the same backgrounds as my friends back home. As anyone here might notice, there are very few Hispanics, Latinos, and African-Americans. This, however,  is starting to change. Diversity is increasing. Many people feel this as a good thing for the school, but some do not.

Certain words are used carelessly at Paul Smith’s College. Many of these words my friends from high school would find offensive; many of these words students here find offensive. 100 students filled out a survey I made online (I actually received 200 responses, but in order to see the rest of the results the website wanted me to pay 30 dollars) and when answering the question “Do you believe that racism exists here at PSC?”, an overwhelming 89 percent answered Yes, that racism exists here at school. Let that sink in.  Out of only 10 percent of the entire population, nearly everyone believed that racism exists on campus. I wonder what I would find had I continued and surveyed the remaining 90 percent of the student body.

Now one might see 10 percent as being a small portion of the student body. True, this is not a majority, but remember how things change, and what was once an almost entirely mayonnaise white school is turning into a pepper and salt combination. The tide is shifting.

I hope we become a more diverse school. It would be healthy to have a student body that was truly from all over the world, from all walks of life, and to be gathered for one thing: to succeed. But we must not ignore the obstacles in achieving that goal. The fact remains that some students have an intolerant behavior towards different races.

I interviewed other students individually and one thing I asked them was, What are some racist quotes you have heard? Here are a few:

“I would be scared to sit next to the black kids, because they might beat me up.”

“If my sister ever brought home one of them n***ers, I would break his teeth in and crack his jaw. Hers too.”

“You do not fit in with the spirit of this school!”

The words are frightening to read, and I can’t imagine what it must be like a the target of such an attack. Fortunately, the students I interviewed said that these quotes were not a daily occurrence. Many of the people I interviewed were understanding that some people grew up differently than they had, and their interaction with Hispanics, Latinos, and African-Americans was very limited. That, however, does not hide the fact that there are more passionate feelings among our students.

Earlier this year, at a freshman dorm, there was an arrest. A student was charged with committing a hate crime. Is this the warning we should be wary of, or is this an anomaly? From what I heard earlier, it appears that people have biases, but the severity of these biases covers a large range. We do have students who casually mutter or shout vile phrases at people simply because of the color of their skin. There are also people who are simply not used to interacting with people from a variety of races.

I asked those same students who I’d interviewed what they believed would help solve this issue. They all agreed on some form of education. The question now is, what kind? The only remedy to these fears might be social interaction. To face the unknown and come face- to- face with something (or in this case someone) you have been told to be cautious of, might be what alleviates some of the lighter biases.

Last year the Multicultural Group held an event at the student center designed to celebrate diversity. The response was a vicious attack on social media, including Yik Yak. Here are some of those responses:

“Who let the Hispanic kids play the music?”

“Whatever Rastafarian b**ls**t they’re playing does not reflect the ways of this school.”

Personally, I believe education is a step in the right direction, but it must be executed carefully. This is a sensitive issue, and the roots stretch deep. A person with no biases doesn’t hear racist rants one day and then suddenly transforms into a raging bigot. Racism is a slow brew taking many years, generations even, to cultivate. It’s a part of that person and it drastically forms that person. Changing how someone views the world is no simple task. It takes time to cast away the smog in front of their eyes.

Regardless of how we address this problem, we must address it.

Being a white male, it may seem ridiculous for me to lecture others on racism here at Paul Smith’s College, and so I shall let a Hispanic student at this school have the final say on the matter.

“Encountering racism at PSC makes me feel like the school has no say over anything the students do or say about us. Being here for three semesters and a half, I’d like nothing more than to transfer and find a better community where I feel wanted and comfortable. Not everyone at PSC is the same; some people love us and think we’re great. Others just want nothing to do with us. I think they’re scared to get to know us. They judge us because they have grown to hate us. Although we are different in skin tone, I think we’re pretty great people who want a social life and an education in the field we are trying to pursue. I just wish people would give us a chance.”