On Oct. 30, I attended the ethnic studies teach-in, held to recognize student activism that preceded our enrollment at Williams, celebrate the establishment of the Africana studies major and Asian American studies (AAS) concentration last academic year, and create a sense of urgency for persisting demands to formalize Indigenous studies and better sustain our current ethnic studies programs. As an Asian American student at Williams who will be part of the first cohort of AAS concentrators, I was energized by the students around me who shared my frustration with the prioritization of whiteness in our curriculum and who, like myself, had found some relief in the progress made thus far in ethnic studies.
While I appreciate the community who did show up that evening, I couldn’t help noticing how few white students there were, despite our College being a predominantly white institution. Frankly, I am dissatisfied with how the labor of cultivating a more inclusive campus has fallen almost entirely upon marginalized students. We are already exhausted by just navigating our way through an environment that was not built with us in mind. We need as many voices as possible advocating with us for more faculty hires, for improved BIPOC faculty retention, and for more vibrant and expansive programs. To the white individuals of the Williams community, I ask for you to shoulder that weight with us. The institutionalization of ethnic and Indigenous studies programs enriches academic pursuits and campus culture broadly, and white students should be engaged with them, in both activism and course enrollment.
There must be intentionality behind developing a campus environment that is inclusive and encouraging for Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC). It is one thing to dispel instances that may make us feel uncomfortable or unsafe, though that in and of itself needs to be furthered. It is yet another thing to make us and our lived experiences feel wholeheartedly relevant and valuable. To my white peers, I implore you to make a conscious decision to increase and sustain your engagement with ethnic and Indigenous studies. The singular Difference, Power, and Equity course requirement is often inadequate to offset overtones of white superiority embedded in academia; one course cannot capture how racialized histories and oppressions emerge in varied and insidious ways. Take initiative to learn about the histories and the present central to the very lives of BIPOC students and to more rigorously reckon with your privilege.
I do not write this piece from a place of antagonization or accusation, and I can sympathize with hesitation revolving around a fear of intruding upon or taking up space that centers identities apart from your own. But if that is what is preventing you from involving yourself in ethnic studies programs and movements, I suggest that you consider how students of color are bound to classes that center whiteness; that is the norm. For us to engage in academia, we are required to be in lessons and discussions that prioritize narratives and “fact” born out of the white gaze and neglect those that resonate with our own identities. As I have experienced in political science and economics, syllabi for introductory and core courses across departments are mostly composed of white, male, Western thinkers. Those courses are typically prerequisites to complete the major or enroll in electives, consequently reinforcing the white gaze as the lens and foundation we are to carry throughout our studies. That expectation devalues BIPOC scholars’ contributions to those fields and tells us that our stories and our livelihoods belong at the margins. To feel, without doubt, that you will be seen and respected in your coursework and classroom is a privilege. To not have to search for, let alone build, somewhere for that feeling is a privilege.
For myself, the formalization of the AAS concentration has constructed a niche of the Williams community that offers a sense of affirmation and empowerment. I can learn Asian American history and grapple with theory from scholars who evoke my lived experiences in authentic and raw ways. I have gained invaluable friendships and mentorship from these classes through invigorating conversations that became core parts of navigating my positionality as an Asian American woman, on both academic and personal levels.
As much as these courses may serve a purpose of care for students who hold those identities, they are also able to shed light on how one benefits from structures of privilege. We are asking for you to enter ethnic studies courses simply with respect and an open mind for your peers. There is much to be gained from pushing yourself to sit in that discomfort of contending with what lies beyond this hegemonic perspective of academia. Such a large component of privilege is its concealment of the ease that it affords by alleviating doubts of whether or not you belong in the room. For those who are white and are already comfortable in the conventional offerings of higher education, that discomfort is what enables you to grapple with your positionality and the privileges that you hold — embrace it. That consciousness then is what equips you with the opportunity to leverage your privilege and amplify our voices, joining us in making demands to better the social and academic lives of BIPOC students.
As student activism continues for all ethnic and Indigenous studies programs at Williams, we cannot bear this struggle on our own. So here I am asking for your solidarity and inviting you into the movements and the classrooms for ethnic and Indigenous studies.
Hannah Bae ’24 is a women’s, gender, and sexuality studies and political economy major from Buffalo Grove, Ill.
