Pride

“What does it mean to be a Stevens Duck?”

I sat there thinking about my first year experience here for this Peer Leader Application question, and even though it seemed like a routine, standard question, it stuck with me. Most of the obvious answers you’re probably thinking of are to be studious, innovative, a free food event fiend, etc. But when I tried to think of myself as a Duck, I couldn’t.

When I first set foot onto this campus, I felt like most others beginning their college career. I was nervous to be somewhere new, to make new friends, to live on my own and to be away from home-cooked meals. Take these, and layer them with the realization of what it’s like to be one of the only people who looked different in a majority of your classes. And in realizing this, having to suppress your personality and effeminate identity to not further stand out. I also learned that one way or another, though I was struggling to acclimate, I’d be used to give the illusion that underrepresented students flourish here. By November of my freshman year,  I was ready to drop out of Stevens and off of the face of the planet. And for what? For being different? Something I had once been so proud of now became something I wrestled with. And lamentably enough, it’s the story of many underrepresented students here on campus.

The story for many underrepresented students then becomes joining a cultural organization. Yes, these groups aid students to feel comfortable, safe, and surrounded, but this is the beginning of a perpetual cycle called the “singular story” (shoutout to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and her TED Talk on “The dangers of a single story”). The singular story minimizes people to one idea, one truth, one stereotype. Though a major problem with this is that they are usually untrue, they are also incomplete. At Stevens, the story is join one of these organizations, make these people your friends, host free-food events for campus, do well in school and then you’re out of here. That just seemed unfair to me. Of all the opportunities to excel on this campus, why do marginalized students here have to default to making their cultural identity (a very singular one at that) their only college story? And though I take pride in every fiber and facet of my cultural identity, it put a sour taste in my mouth to have to live this single story. To have to live a story where all I could be was black and black only. Nothing more.

Enough was enough.

Why do I have to make the choice between not only being black or queer through these organizations, but juggling that over my passions poetry and sustainability? And more importantly, why are clubs one of the few resources for underrepresented students here? Why, in order to be surrounded by black and brown students, did I have to join the academic support group, S.T.E.P.?  And even after all these experiences, why was I being put in front of a camera saying that Stevens made it “all possible”? So, I wrote some angry emails, hosted some angry meetings, and *bam* the Diversity & Inclusion Committee was formed.

But it’s not all sunshine and rainbows just yet.

In its inception, I thought, naively, that most people would be in favor of such an empowering movement. And don’t get me wrong, most were. But there’s no ignoring some of the push back that was encountered. The following are student statements that were made on the Intercultural Center survey pushed out a couple of months ago:

“There is no need to create a problem that does not exist.”

“You’re a bomb, you gotta slow down.”

“The only thing I could see this generating is resentment towards its organizers and possibly other students.”

“Why? Why would you do that? Make snowflakes who are uncomfortable with themselves be spoon fed support…”

Four months of these comments while D&I fought for their very first initiative: an inclusive space on campus. A space that would, in theory, make room for solidarity and deepen campus understanding of diversity and inclusion. A space that would hopefully let students experience the term intercultural and interconnectedness, and how these topics affect more than just “snowflakes”. I remember reading the first few negative comments and feeling my heart sink to my stomach. This is when I started to realize how difficult this work would be.

And comments came from underrepresented students, too. I understood that change was hard, but what I refused to do was remain complacent in a situation where students couldn’t have a holistic experience of their college career.  And to again, be forced to live a single story. Sure, I knew everyone’s passions didn’t lie in diversity work, but I also didn’t think it was fair having organizations turn away from the members who did want a change.

Seeing the resistance to change was a challenge, but what really disappointed me (and continues to) was having to make a case time and time again about why basic rights were worth having. To have to argue the needs and worth of your very being is exhausting and emotionally draining. But it also fuels me to keep going. To continue being vulnerable and showing campus why an inclusive environment is so integral in crafting an “innovative community” and future professionals. I’ve definitely let my passion (and mouth) get the best of me a couple of times, but these are just small sacrifices for the greater goal.

So you might be asking yourself now, what exactly is the greater goal here (of D&I and this article)? I can tell you from my viewpoint, this is not something I’m doing for fun, to build my resume, or to get “Stevens famous”. It’s something I’m doing to make the voices of students heard, to help students feel PROUD of their differences, to make each and every community member realize their responsibility in upholding an inclusive environment, and to provide a support system for students who have had historic, social, and demographic barriers placed before them before they could even *think* about stepping foot onto a college campus.

And so now when I think back to that question:

“What does it mean to be a Stevens Duck?”

It means to be dauntless in your identity and to positively challenge the status quo. To be able to exist as multiple, dynamic stories instead of one. In the end, I can only hope that one day the future black, brown, queer, low-income, undocumented, and disabled students who come to this campus will feel this same Duck pride.

As always, a shoutout to all those involved in this journey to a more inclusive campus.

P.S. keep in mind that these views are my own, and do not necessarily represent the thoughts of every member within the Diversity & Inclusion Committee.