Professor and scholar Allan Bloom writes in his book "The Closing of the American Mind," that the post-WWII campaign for desegregation of college campuses drove many colleges across America to lower their admission standards and adopt the now-controversial affirmative action program. Our society has become more tolerant of minorities and more accepting of difference since the time Bloom taught at Cornell and, concurrently, the affirmative action strategy has significantly evolved in the face of new generations. Among other changes, admissions officers no longer require applicants to provide photographs of themselves and the Supreme Court has struck down the use of diversity quotas. However, the social disconnect engendered by affirmative action has remained.
After a mere term and a half at Dartmouth, I have come to believe that our College education is separate but equal. Oh, it's quite equal, to be honest. The College touts its affirmative action, pro-minority tendencies, and understandably so. Any college steeped in an all-male legacy should do so to fit into today's society. Did you know, for instance, that, according to a 1998 figure, the acceptance rate for black students is a staggering 50 percent? I must admit I was a little angry when I found out that darker skinned man or woman is twice as likely as I to be admitted to Dartmouth. But this article is not about institutional problems; it is about societal ones. I should not be angry at the discrepancy in admission rates; underprivileged minorities should be given a helping hand in the admission process. I agree with the affirmative action arguments and I recognize the need for diversity. I argue, nevertheless, that while the College works so excruciatingly hard to make its incoming class racially diverse, it does not address the growing separation of the student body. In a drive for equality, Dartmouth fosters separation.
As I write this, I am sitting in Novack watching the flow of human traffic. A pair of Asian students walks by, a lone black student, then another group of all-black students, all swimming in a sea of white. The apparent scarcity of black students has prompted some critics to label our campus "white-washed." But they do not understand the problem. Black students compose seven percent of Dartmouth's student body, compared to five at Cornell, six at Brown, and eight at Harvard, Yale and Princeton, according to the Princeton Review. It is not the lack of diversity and equality on campus that so strikes the observant eye; it is the separation " the apparent, stifling disconnect between the different minorities on campus and the majority white student body. Take Thayer Dining Hall, for instance. The black-or-white tables momentarily become integrated as a new freshman class surges into the dining halls in the fall, open to all and eager to meet new friends. But inevitably, Thayer returns to its original state, in which one, maybe two, token minorities are sometimes sitting with the rest, but are mostly secluded, separate from the whole.
At first, I thought that maybe the racial tension was only a confused sleep deprived creation of my own imagination. But I found black upperclassmen friends shared my concerns, sometimes expressing their feeling of being out of touch with the rest of the College. Some said the dominance of the exclusive, mostly white, all-male network of the fraternity system contributed to the separation along race and gender lines. Others pointed to the existence of "racial" houses, such as the Cutter-Shabazz African American house, that, while acting as support for the incoming minorities, also alienates them from the rest of the campus. Many felt separate, but not enough to be roused to take action against the problem, which made me wonder whether their nonchalant attitude might be becoming a norm in today's society.
The observations in this article are not meant to prescribe a remedy to our reality or proscribe the affirmative action system. The necessity of diversity has become entrenched in the American psyche, both with its benefits of exposing members of our society to different ideas and concepts and with its attempt to make up for America's dark (or too-white) history. But perhaps our race towards the horizon of colorblind equality has made us more separate than we realize? Perhaps the freedom that we cherish blinds us to the barriers we so freely construct between ourselves and the others? Such questions pose answers in the scope of research, not opinion, papers. As for this opinion writer, when I'm at Thayer I'm going to try sitting with someone different from myself, for a change.
