We cannot have real civil discourse if the administration refuses to recognize the reality of the violations against people and communities it is perpetuating and the legitimate challenges to its disparate financial and ethical principles.
DuBois gives us a model for resisting Harvard’s moral failings without begging to be included in them.
In my German magnet schools, during a War on Terror, in monochrome suburbia, I grew ashamed of my culture.
Rather than locking people up in response to criminality, we can use restorative practices to heal what has been broken.
Our challenge in these moments of crisis is to process the death, anger, and hatred this world hands to us and find a way, still, to respond with deep love.
I checked privilege, I pushed back, I diversified rooms, and soon into the school year, my vocabulary started and ended on the pages of that metaphorical script of my freshman welcome packet.
There is no need to pick between countries, spaces or identities. The in-between world can be home, too.
The same structures that oppress and subjugate my people had also managed to silence me before I allowed myself to speak.
This semester the two of us decided to quit the Undergraduate Council, the primary platform of our public service.
While we seek to push for an act or movement that is explicitly designed to benefit students of color by alleviating white supremacy, we are forced to reassure white Harvard that our liberation attempts are to their benefit.
Radicalism and reformism have always been linked, have always relied on one another—both are necessary to advance the project of justice.
But what it, and this world, fails to understand is that for people of color, mental (un)health is synonymous with racial trauma.
Our free speech is as valuable as Murray’s. Attempts to obfuscate this fact only serve to perpetuate our oppression.
I am a human being, and human beings get mad. To disregard that is to dehumanize me.