I have spent this term away from campus on the government foreign study program in Washington, D.C. I needed to get away; I wanted to create space between myself and the institution that had so often frustrated, infuriated and even, on occasion, hurt me. I do not like branding myself as a minority at Dartmouth. I am not encapsulated by any of the boxes my socioeconomic group, gender, ethnicity, orientation, affiliation (or lack thereof) that the world within and without Dartmouth creates for us. I do not purport to present this opinion as the "true voice" of a minority at Dartmouth, nor do I seek to marginalize or dismiss the feelings and experiences of my classmates. What I want is to lend my voice to the real talk that the demonstrations and videos during Dimensions managed to foster.
During my freshman winter, I came very close to leaving the school altogether. In my mind, I did not fit in. It was not because I felt that I did not belong as a product of race or privilege. I almost transferred because I did not know what it was like to have a real conversation at Dartmouth. I complained tirelessly at the lack of real dialogue about things that mattered, like sexual assault, homophobia and classism.
And then, at some point, I realized that the reason behind the absence of those conversations lay in my refusal to begin them. I kept waiting for someone else to approach me and say, "Let's talk about this." And in a perfect world, that would happen every day. But for as much of a bubble that Dartmouth is, it cannot escape the harsh reality that plagues life outside the College. Sometimes, people don't talk. Sometimes, people stay silent. And sometimes, people yell.
I didn't leave. Part of it was cowardice, part laziness and another very large part was stubbornness. I refused to be wrong about the school that I had chosen to attend. So I remained at Dartmouth and began to actively seek out the conversations that I had been missing my first year. Not only did I find the dialogue that I wanted to have about why it seems cool not to care, why I had three friends sexually assaulted over the course of two terms and why my homosexual friends were called faggots, but I also found the best people that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. These people, I discovered, had been made strong not necessarily by Dartmouth, but in spite of it. This was always a distinction I drew. They had waded into the flood and fought the current without being swept under.
Dartmouth, for all its faults, made us care about something. It made us own our voices to speak out against its injustices. The institution as a whole hears us in varying degrees, but I know that I am speaking about something that I care enough about to want to change. So while I delineate between being made strong by Dartmouth and in spite of Dartmouth, I don't know that there's a difference.
And that is why I want the '17s, '18s and other future classes to come to Dartmouth. I want them to have a voice, and to help me fix a place that I, like it or hate it, will call home for four years.
I am Dartmouth, but Dartmouth is not me. We all have a part in shaping the school that we attend. Perhaps that is why the weekend's events were so upsetting. I do not support racism, classism, homophobia or sexual assault, but I felt that my voice was taken away from me. Five hundred miles away, I could not defend myself.
My Dartmouth experience is one that I know to be completely my own. I cannot speak for anyone else when I say that I appreciate what the College has done to and for me. There are as many dimensions of Dartmouth as there are students, and to make it a better place requires something different for every single one of us. While no one has an absolute answer as to how go about doing this, I am positive that the best way forward is by bringing in new ideas, new faces and new energy into our school.
So to the '17s and all other prospective Dartmouth students: my name is Dartmouth, and I would love your help.
