Close

Last semester, in response to two different grand jury decisions not to indict two white police officers over the killing of two unarmed black men, students from all walks of life gathered on campus to protest the court decisions. Pipe Dream reported the protest as “one of the largest and most diverse campus demonstrations in recent memory.” I participated in the protest. I marched with friends and strangers, engaging in the very activity that keeps democracy afloat: dissent.

Peaceful assembly is indeed “what democracy looks like.” Though I felt pleased to see increased political engagement from my peers, some of the comments, attitudes and insensitivity of other students disheartened me. As a student of color, I felt at a loss. It wasn’t because of the racist remarks, but rather because in some way, I felt the protest failed to open an effective avenue of communication for all students on campus. Perhaps, in the midst of our collective outrage, though justified, we missed a teachable moment for our University.

Back in October, when I wrote my first op-ed discussing police militarization, I said, “[Michael Brown’s] death gives us the opportunity to critically assess the politics of our circumstance.” I went on to say that what the protesters demanded was equal protection under the law. My stance hasn’t changed, but much like the protest, I failed to explain the underlying tenet this entire movement is about: our criminal justice system. It isn’t broken but rather designed to incarcerate and disenfranchise poor men of color. This is called systemic and institutional racism, and America is colored with it.

Institutional racism is very different from the type of racism most of us are accustomed to. We have been taught about individual racism, which consists of overt acts by individuals that cause death, injury, destruction of property or denial of services or opportunity. But institutional and systemic racism is much more subtle — but no less harmful. These types of racism involve policies, practices and procedures ingrained in a society that support and allow discrimination. We like to look at our history as this long continuum of righteousness, but the reality is that our country was founded upon genocide and built upon slavery. When slavery ended, the mechanisms of control did not end with it. So, no, these court decisions are not remote events nor is anyone race-baiting. These incidents are neither isolated nor ahistorical; rather they permeate throughout every facet of our society.

Being of color is not like passing a class, getting a grade and moving on with your life. So, to those that felt the protests disrupted your commute or your study time, please take a moment to consider how disruptive it feels to experience racial profiling or harassment.

Make no mistake: To be colorblind is to be blind. This piece is an invitation to think, question and reflect on the burdens of history that we as a polity so desperately seek to absolve ourselves from. However, in honor of Black History Month, I’d like to leave you with a quote from the great Malcolm X, “In whatever I did or do. Even if I made mistakes, they were made in sincerity. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong in sincerity. I think that the best thing that a person can be is sincere.” May he rest in power.