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About The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current | View Entire Issue (Feb. 3, 1994)
k \ I\R<)\\ k()\\ I I I. Exposure eases racial tension When I first arrived at the University ofNebraska-Lin coln, I was shocked. It wasn’t by the campus’ size or its beau tiful sculptures. It wasn’t the union or the fountain or the friendliness of the people. Over and over, I asked one ques tion: “Where are all the black peo ple?” I grew up in what I assume to be Nebraska’s blackest area, North Oma ha. Walking through the aisles of my junior high and high school, I saw a black face for every white one. At church, in grocery stores and in restaurants, on the streets and on the sidewalks, I was used to seeing differ ent races. Suddenly, my whole world was white. Even though I was only 50 miles from home, I felt like I was in a different country. 1 could count on my hands the number of minorities I saw in a day. After a few months this didn’t seem so strange to me anymore. I got used to it. Since then, I’ve changed. For the first time in my life, I am acutely aware of other races. When I talk to someone new who is black, I find myself thinking ever so quickly, “I’m talking to a black person. Am I being appropriate? Do they think I’m prejudiced?” When I noticed this in myself, I felt kind of sick. Race relations at my high school weren’ t perfect. There was racism and hatred and anger, but it never com pared to the tension I feel between races at UNL. Here there is a tension so heavy and tangible, you can see it in people’s faces and hanging over their conversations. My high school was integrated. Some white students were bused in from other parts of Omaha to achieve racial balance. I wasn’t one of those students, but most of my friends were. When your only exposure to black culture is Bill Cosby and a chapter in your fifth-grade social studies book about the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., you just don’t know how to act or what to say. When I went to school, I didn’t see black people. I saw Robyn and Lawrence and Clif. I saw people with names and personalities. I saw friends and acquaintances. I understand why the university is a mostly white institution. Nebraska is a mostly white state. I don’t know how tension could be avoided between races at UNL. Most white students don’t mean to be insen sitive. Most have had few relation ships with black people in their lives. There aren’t many minorities in towns like Elkhom or Beaver City. Heck, there aren’t many minorities in Millard or West Omaha. When your only exposure to black culture is Bill Cosby and a chapter in your fifth-grade social studies book about the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., you just don’t know how to act or what to say. And what about black students at UNL? If I was surprised by the gleam ing white campus, how does it feel for black students who come here? How would it feel to have everyone assume you were an athlete? How would it feel to be the only black person in the classroom, the one everyone looked at with discomfort or curiosity when the professordiscussed minority issues? Unlike most UNL students, I came from a poor family in a poor neighbor hood. But I can pretend I’m just like everyone else. I can blend in. When my political science professor discusses the struggles of the lower class, no one turns to me. My differences aren’t evident from the color of my skin. To some students, the push in re cent years to bring multiculturalism to UNL classrooms may seem excessive and reactionary. Sometimes I wonder how effective these programs will be. Will white students from small Nebraska towns understand black issues just by read ing “The Color Purple” or the poetry of Maya Angelou? If nothing else , perhaps discussing black issues, Hispanic issues and American Indian issues will make talking about these things easier. And maybe after we’ve talked about them, they won’t seem as scary or intimidat ing, and maybe they’ll seem irrele vant. And maybe the campus will be less tense. And, then again, maybe not. I don’t have any solution to racial problems here on campus or anywhere else. I just know I am grateful I grew up with different kinds of people, and I hope I never have to be in a place where everyone is just like me. Rowell it a Jualor news-editorial, adver tising aad Kngiisli major and the Daily Ne braskaa opinion page editor. K. Ill (,III S Sll WkS All historiesliaVe culture ruin Although 1 am a 35-year-old graduate student, I don’t know much about American history. This puzzles people. They ask me why I haven’t spent more time studying it. For me, it’s simple. Amer ican history is full of painful realities I’ve tried to avoid. Some of us are more likely to focus on events in our own country first. A black man, for example, is expected to be preoccupied with the plight of American blacks. But as a black, I’m not obligated to perform that ritual. As a child I found it so frustrating, I decided to forget about it. I realize now you can’t forget about it. But I tried. As early as fifth or sixth grade I remember purposely ignoring “Amer ican** history, l claimed it was too one sided for me. What I did know of history made me very angry — so angry, in fact, I thought it was best to not even think about it. I knew most textbooks contained a pretty good account of history. But true history has several sides. I didn’t want just the one side explained in my textbooks. I wanted other sides too. Perhaps I did this just to be con trary—not unusual fora 10-year-old. I used to tell my friends, “I’m not studying that. It probably isn’t true.” Thank God they didn’t listen to me. By high school, I could brag that I had only completed one book. Oh, I had good reasons, some real doozies. My favorites were, “The blacks and the Indians aren’t treated fairly.” and “The books aren’t written by blacks and Indians.” This was probably true. But what was I going to study instead? Unfortu nately, refusing to read my textbooks meant I got no side at all. Boy, was that a mistake. My negative attitude continued through college. I took “American” history only when I had to. Another mistake... maybe. Sure, I may not be as well-versed in American history as some of my peers. But by avoiding American history, I have remained objective. And I have been able to study human nature, hu But true history has several sides. I didn’t want just the one side explained in my textbooks. I wanted other sides too. man suffering and human history in other contexts. American history is personal, and if I immersed myself in it, I would be constantly angry. What began as the knee-jerk re sponse of a 10-year-old became a love for Eastern Europe, Iberia and Latin America, the places I turned to study after rejecting my own country’s his tory. In the process I learned to appre ciate life in the United States. Two of my siblings worked and studied extensively outside of the United States. Both had incredible experiences that fascinated me and encouraged me to learn more about those places. My sister studied twice in Brazil during high school and college. By age 20, she’d mastered Spanish and Portuguese and survived a military coup, which cut short her last visit. My older brother was a Russian linguist. He spied on the Soviets and was in the former Czechoslovakia in 1968 when the Russians took over. Stories about their experiences drew me farther and farther from the United States. Following in their foot steps, I studied the languages an^ cultures they did. To help me undjM stand these new languages, I deMl oped a strong understanding of En^ glish. I’ve since read scores of texts.jour nals, biographies, novels and articles. I’ve learned that things are tough all over. America isn’t so bad. I’m not forgetting the American Indians or slavery. I’m not forgetting the exploitations of the Chinese or the Mexicans either. We didn’t invent genocide or ex ploitation based on race in the United States. We have practiced them though. We are not the first country to nearly obliterate its indigenous peo ple, but we didn’t invent the hypocrisy that attempts to justify it. But hashing over past and continu ing injustices inflicted on our own people gets old. There is no doubt there is far less oppression and more opportunity here. There is more contentment, more free dom. Early on I thought I knew what I was doing. But I completed only four books by age 23. “Alive,” “Blackfoot Indian Lodge Tales,” “The Divine Comedy” and “The Invisible Man.” I met compulsory American histo ry requirements in college with a huge chip on my shoulder. Needless to say, I struggled like hell. By my college graduation I had become well-versed in 18th-century English literature, Latin American and Eastern European history and politics. I didn’t need to study American history to learn about the pain and endured by my fellow coun women. ’t have to go to an Amer reservation to see the ef fects of the destruction of a culture. Examples of human anguish and the strife brought about by oppression can be found anywhere in the world. Pain is colorless. It doesn’t matter whose pain you study. What matters is how it happens and what it does to people. Shaalu it a graduate itndeat aad i Daily Nebraakaa coluaiaiit. 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