Crimson opinion writer
Eleanor V. Wikstrom
While I am undeniably elated by the news of Tagalog’s offering, I refuse to celebrate Harvard for a legacy it has yet to remake. Instead, I celebrate those who made this current moment possible — those who have been gradually drowning out Harvard’s systematic white noise by speaking alternate tongues of resistance all along.
We have reason to be skeptical of Zuckerberg as a good steward of ethical AI research, and of the funding system that empowers him to pose as one under the legitimizing Harvard brand.
Harvard’s legacy of empire and education is one haunted by loss; the instrument used to create this wound lies directly in the University’s hands. But without Harvard, I wouldn't be able to begin putting some of these pieces together.
Our campus is at its most inclusive, most alive, and most beautiful when Harvard Yard and Harvard Square seem to bleed into one. After Oct. 11, unlike the rest of The Crimson’s Editorial Board, we look forward to seeing the gate restrictions disappear: Harvard University should never close its gates.
The question of course offerings on Tagalog and the Philippines — or, more accurately, the lack thereof — is not whether Harvard has a duty to help its minority “ethnic” students learn about their own culture. It’s about what institutional silences signal about our reckoning with national history and complicity in the narratives that maintain oppression, a conversation that implicates us all.
What we need is to find a way to see the tension of difference not as a threat to be eliminated or avoided, but as a tool for revision and a source of creation. To do so, we must turn to those who have spent their entire lives learning to navigate and grow in the often-shunned space beyond rigid dichotomy. We must turn to the mixed community.
We are attempting to take flight in a time that is defined by staying in place. We are attempting to enter the world while it practices isolation. In a year of crisis and profound societal loss, we need the milestones promised to us in childhood more than ever before — but it is a consequence of the very same crisis that we can never experience them entirely, that we may only ever watch as they recede beyond our reach.