As a Dartmouth alumnus and a member of the pledge class that helped transform Kappa Kappa Kappa fraternity from an unpopular house into the thriving house of today, I would like to offer my thoughts about the perceptions of our house as well as the issue of minority self-segregation. I speak only for myself and not for the current or past brothers.
In the fall of 1995, about 15 Asian-American students rushed Tri Kap at the invitation of its brothers. It was no secret that the house's existence was in jeopardy because of a lack of membership. By joining, we immediately doubled the size of the house with half of the members being Asian-American. By June 1996, when the senior brothers -- mostly white -- graduated, the house became about 90 percent Asian-American.
At that time, Tri Kap was indeed an Asian house. And that is exactly how we wanted it. I'm not talking about an exclusive, Asians-only house; rather, we wanted an Asian-majority house where we set the rules, chose the music, created the environment and welcomed anyone who found our style of brotherhood and culture attractive.
Think about it. What we did was quite a coup. One of the oldest houses at Dartmouth -- notorious for its conservative members, with the three Greek letters that easily drew comparisons to the three Ks of another group, with the geostrategic real estate right on the last bastion of white male privilege, Frat Row -- this house was now ours. Left without a physical space like Cutter-Shabazz house or the Native American House and marginalized by an administration that catered to more "conventional" minorities like African-Americans or Native-Americans, Asian-Americans at Dartmouth finally had a home.
I romanticize our efforts now, but back then we were just a few guys who saw a good opportunity to have a place to ourselves. In no way was it some elaborate scheme mandated by the Asian-American community to subvert the paradigm (though some of us may have believed that we were doing something revolutionary).
Personally, I was initially hesitant to join Tri Kap because I didn't see myself as a frat-boy. In retrospect, I gave myself too much credit. Fraternity life was great. I loved the camaraderie, the sense of belonging, the personal growth and, quite honestly, the partying and debauchery. I was a closet meathead. It wasn't the fraternity concept I disliked, but the idea of forcing an artificial brotherhood with people I wasn't comfortable with.
Some of my best memories of Tri Kap are the spring barbecues on the front porch of the house. We would grill up "kal bi" (Korean short ribs) and blast Korean dance music, and I remember seeing lots of white students walking past our house. They would glance at us with a look of bewilderment. I'm not sure exactly what they were thinking. Anger? Interest? Curiosity? Indifference? I imagine it was something similar to what Jim Carrey's character in the "Truman Show" felt during the scene when one of the megawatt light systems that illuminated his artificial world fell out of the apparently blue sky and nearly hit him -- for a split second, a sobering flash of truth and reality. And then just as quickly, they would go back to their utopian Dartmouth paradise. But for that fleeting moment, we got them. We exposed a kink in the matrix. And I loved that power.
We tried to make the house as similar to home as possible. Because most Asian-Americans were from urban, coastal cities like L.A. or New York the music we played and the parties we hosted were also urban in theme. We didn't play "Oh! What a Night!" or "Hooked on a Feeling," no Dave Matthews Band or Led Zeppelin. Instead, we played hip-hop, Britpop, Korean dance and club tracks. We didn't have toga or Animal House parties; instead, we created our own Club Kappa to simulate city nightlife in the forest.
It was rough at first but I think our house caught on, especially with other minorities and people who associated with urban life. Not surprisingly, these people joined our house. The fact that other houses have tried to throw "ghetto" parties or house raves shows me that urban culture, if not our own house's culture in particular, is increasingly more popular. Having been back to Tri Kap several times since my graduation in 1997, I would estimate that our membership is maybe half Asian-American now and dropping each year. I have no problem with this trend or with current brothers who believe that Tri Kap should not be an Asian house. However, I hope they don't forget our dream of an alternative house. Having the "minority" in the majority is absolutely critical. Otherwise, we'll turn into any other traditional house with a slightly higher-than-usual minority membership like Zeta Psi fraternity.
So what about the stereotype that Tri Kap is an Asian house or a minority house? It's no stereotype, it's the truth. I know some of the current brothers are frustrated by the racial label but here, I have to disagree with them. If the Asian/minority house perception is a way of acknowledging that Tri Kap does not conform to the mainstream, that Asian-Americans played a large part in revitalizing a nearly defunct house, that minorities at Dartmouth can have fun without buying into the mainstream culture, then I am fine with it. On the other hand, if the Dartmouth community uses these truths to gloss over the other diverse aspects of the house or allows these truths to intimidate them from getting to know the Tri Kap brotherhood, then it is unfortunate.
This gets me to my next point about minority self-segregation. First, some people use the term "self-segregation" inappropriately to describe the behavior of many Asian-Americans. Asian-Americans may tend to associate more with other Asian-Americans, but segregation implies 100 percent exclusivity. This is almost impossible in a 99 percent white state and a 78 percent white college. The truth is that Asian-Americans choose associations according to similarity. But this behavior is no different from that of whites, blacks, athletes and everyone else. Why does a group of blacks sitting together signify segregation while a group of whites together does not?
The real debate is what is an appropriate balance of time spent with your own kind and with others. To what extent can someone limit his contact with "others" without hindering critical exposure and learning, on both an individual and group level? I believe opinions will vary here.
Second, assuming that greater integration is desirable, whose responsibility is it to take the first step in this process? The majority or the minority? Obligation aside, I can tell you that in reality, it is the minority who usually takes the initiative of conforming, integrating, and assimilating into the majority. In fact, many white Americans seem to take the attitude of "We can do fine, with or without you." Or to paraphrase the traitor character in The Matrix, "Just give me a juicy steak and an important title, and I'm okay."
But shouldn't it be the other way? Those in the majority possess power and privilege -- shouldn't they have the obligation of encouraging inclusion? If there is no obligation, wouldn't it be good for those in the majority to take the initiative in understanding the minority and empathizing with that group? Not so, of course, if the majority has no inherent interest in the minority. White people who criticize minority behavior as promoting self-segregation are basically saying, "Why don't you come here and be with us?" thereby putting the blame and responsibility on the minority. Instead, shouldn't the majority ask, "Can we go and share community with you?"
When one group does not interact with another, it's either because of indifference or fear. For the minority, it's more because of fear -- fear of being different, of being uncomfortable, of being excluded. Minorities cannot choose to be indifferent about a dominant culture that affects every facet of their lives. In the case of the majority, however, there is indifference in addition to fear. Either the majority does not care about the minority or the majority is frightened by the minority. Which one is it?
One of my dreams for Tri Kap is that the house becomes popular and welcoming enough so that the rest of the Dartmouth community has no excuse but to change.
