I started this column last fall, and then, upon a second reading, deleted what I had written and chose another topic. I decided that for me to try and write about what it would be like to be a white male on the basis of empathy alone was more than a little presumptuous -- what kind of credibility would a column like that have?
But I am continually reminded, in various ways, that this is a topic which needs to be discussed -- so here I am again.
On Monday, I attended the community forum which addressed the anti-gay flyer received by the Dartmouth Area Gay, Lesbian and Bisexual Organization, and I heard two straight, white males insist that gay students choose their sexual orientation, imagine their oppressionand do not deserve or need administrative support.
Essentially, what I heard was, "We don't get special attention, so why should they?" They don't lookany different, after all.
One of these men voiced the irrational concern that the special interests of gay, lesbian and bisexual students would essentially end up taking over the College. No one I know would consider this a likely turn of events. But surrounded as we are in college by support systems for students of various racial and ethnic backgrounds, homo- and bisexual students and women, it is no wonder that straight, white men would feel undervalued. Unimportant. Even endangered.
A recent article in The Chronicle of Higher Education entitled "Coping with the Alienation of White Male Students" (Jan. 13, 1995) by Billie Wright Dziech questions whether this imbalance of support is ultimately going to result in mutual respect for cultural differences, as is the goal of multiculturalism, or whether we are strengthening factions of people without bringing them together in any way -- alienating white, male students especially. She notes a marked increase in the number of white men in their 20s voting for Republicans and against affirmative action, and she calls upon academic institutions to examine their complicity in this trend.
I think she hits the problem on the nose.
The implication is that these support systems in colleges and universities -- be they departments like Women's Studies, Afro-American Studies, etc., different admissions standards or support services for women and minorities -- send a message to white male students that they are not as worthy of support, they have to work harder, do more on their own, and feel guilty for their "blankness." This is, after all, what the term "white" has come to mean, culturally speaking. And what's special about that?
I hope I amnot misunderstood: I value tremendously the opportunities to learn about and develop a sense of heritage, identification, and pride in self which these programs offer. But they are not offering the same thing to everyone -- in fact, they seem to offer heterosexual white men only one role -- that of oppressor.
In light of what many white men see as preferential treatment given to others, it is not so surprising to me that a vast majority of them continue to retreat into their social organizations where they can pretend the "others" do not really exist, or are not mainstream, which, for too many students, means about the same thing.
Meanwhile, affinity organizations are given the onus of trying to educate, because the dialogues which take place within these groups are not community-wide. Sometimes it seems like one hand is clapping.
To most people, it is unthinkable that oppression could be seen as something desirable -- but special attention and support, and a group with which to identify are certainly benefits to which not everyone is entitled. Why? Because white men are the ruling class, the privileged among us. As a group, they don't need any extra help.
As individuals, however, they still do.
How can we expect white men to join celebrations of diversity when all it means to many of them is accepting responsibility for past oppressions and feeling guilty for wrongs they personally did not commit?
Part of what I have learned from the various groups which I have joined is what it means to have white-skin privilege: When I assume a norm, an "everybody-does/thinks/loves-this", I am probably ignoring a group of people who are not part of the "dominant" culture because they are not white -- every time I assume a white norm, which according to television and most forms of mass media is the only norm there is, I am playing right into the dominant, racist culture of this country.
But I might never have realized that on my own.
I also had to learn that being privileged is not the same as being inherently evil -- that I do not have to feel guilty for what I have or who I am. I do, however, need to recognize my positionality when I attempt to speak for myself or others, and realize that there are very different -- and equally credible -- perspectives from my own.
The frustration expressed toward "white male patriarchy" is essentially toward white men who do not realize that they are in a privileged position and that their "norms" do not apply to everyone; who have the luxury of simply not noticing (or ignoring) their omission of others; and whose refusal of access to others to the defining of what is acceptable or normal or "mainstream" constitutes an act of racism, sexism or homophobia.
This is what it looks like from outside. I have a feeling that on the inside it is far simpler -- just "not dealing," just wanting to be happy. How do we bridge this gap in perception? How do we communicate, without accusing, the frustration of students who are not part of that norm? How do we involve white men in the vision of multiculturalism and diversity not as blanks, and not as oppressors, but as partners?
If only our classes and dialogue could offer a roundness of perspective which shows us, as Dziech requests, "a collective history, distinguished by both its failures and its successes ... to get on with the task of building a more equitable and moral society."
We must not forget: we are all in this together.
