Kori Strother ’15 speaks at the MLK Week opening ceremony on Monday in Memorial Chapel. (Photo by Andy Daddio)
(Note: This is the student keynote address by at the January 19, 2015, opening ceremony for .)
It was a normal Friday night. Or, rather, it was exactly how you would expect a Friday night to be the week before Christmas. Have you ever thought about how or why everyone is in such high spirits around Christmas? People spend countless hours contemplating what gifts to get for their loved ones and then rush off to every last mall and super sale to snag the perfect gifts. And then money, money is never an issue. People will spend every last penny in their accounts this time of year as if it’s the only way to show people that they care.
While I don’t know why this phenomenon occurs this is exactly what my friends and I were doing that Friday night. It was a fun and successful night at the mall, and we were headed back to my boyfriend’s apartment. Everything was normal. Everything was fine. I can remember us driving down the highway and all of us gasping as we drove past a really bad car accident. You know that cathartic feeling you get. It’s like wow, that’s crazy, but I’m so glad that’s not me. And then my friend in the car with us asks my boyfriend to turn down the music. She wanted to call her mother back because she had three missed calls from her. To her surprise, a police officer answered, and in seconds she was in tears. Her mother was in an extremely bad car accident, and according to the police officer everyone was taken away on stretchers. Long story short: Her mom died that night. At the young age of 41 she was hit by a drunk driver and killed instantly, leaving behind her only daughter, Apolonia, who had just gotten engaged to be married the day before.
In that moment I realized so many things. I realized life is too short to be silent. Life is too short to wait for one time of year, Christmas or a birthday even, to show someone how much you love them. Life is too short to wait. Wait to voice your opinion, wait to take a stand. So as I reflect on last semester my only regret is that we didn’t do more. My regret is that we waited.
As you all may know, I am a proud founding member of the Association of Critical Collegians, an organization on campus dedicated to challenging ԱƵ to be an inclusive institution. Last semester the ACC and our allies marched up College Avenue and sat in the admissions office for more than 100 hours. We fought to reclaim our education and for ԱƵ to hold itself accountable for being the inclusive institution that we—students, staff, and faculty—were promised. And to my surprise we triumphed. People were waking up and starting to see the problems ingrained in our institution and realizing that on a structural and personal level things needed to change. Yes, change was on the horizon, and a new day was dawning. Or so we thought. To my dismay, as weeks started to pass and the further we got away from the sit-in, it seemed the rumblings that were sparked started to fade and ԱƵ began to revert back to its comfortable, complicit self. The campus was silent once again.
But my mind was not silent. My mind could not, and cannot, erase the continued presence of microaggressions and hate speech that continue to plague this campus. Nor could my mind not be affected by the ills plaguing our country on a larger level. As our semester neared its end, it became more and more apparent that police brutality and the senseless killings of my black counterparts across the country was becoming a more visual problem. Beyond that, problems that many thought were buried with the civil rights movement still existed.
In his famous “I Have a Dream” speech, the very man we are here to honor today, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., said:
“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”
While many history books tell us that this dream and many others that King voiced have come to fruition in this post-racial America that we live in today there is much data that prove that while we have come a long way there are many important problems that have carried into the 21st century that need to be addressed.
For example: Between the months of January 2009 and June 2009, 311,646 people were stopped by the NYPD. Of those 52.3 percent were black, 32.1 percent were Latino, and 9 percent were white. To put that in perspective for you that means that 163,117 were black, 81,210 were Latino, and 29,782 were white. Looking past arrest statistics, “Nationwide, the rate at which black people are killed by law enforcement is 3 times higher than that of white people.” And now to bring this closer to home: On August 9, 2014, unarmed black man Michael Brown, age 18, was fatally shot by Ferguson police officer Darren Wilson. Brown’s last words were “I don’t have a gun. Stop shooting.”
On July 17, 2014, NYPD officer Daniel Pantaleo choked an unarmed black man named Eric Garner to death. Garner’s last words were, “I can’t breathe.” And who can forget Trayvon Martin, the 17-year-old black male who was fatally shot by George Zimmerman, a neighborhood watch volunteer?
These men are not anomalies.
Tyisha Miller, 19 years old
Kendra James, 21 years old
Oscar Grant, 22 years old
Aiyana Jones, 7 years old
Ervin Jefferson, 18 years old
And the list continues. This list will continue to lengthen because false are those who believe that we live in a post-racial America. False are those who produce rhetoric that suggests there is a New Jim Crow. While the face of this beast may appear different, the blood that flows from the bodies of black and brown people across our country every 28 hours is still red. Yes, you heard me right. Every 28 hours an unarmed black or brown body is killed in this very country we call home.
But you knew that because last semester, my peers and I etched these statistics into the walls of this institution in a desperate attempt to gain your attention.
I was angry, I was scared, and this campus was silent. And when those who could muster the courage to speak out on these issues and furthermore on ԱƵ’s lack of engagement with this discourse, many gave off the impression that academics, that finals, were more important. These issues, these debates over black bodies, police brutality, racism, and so on could wait. Every 28 hours the life of an unarmed black body unjustly has he, she, or ze’s life taken. But this could wait.
So I have to ask each and every one of you: Why are you here? Why do you attend ԱƵ? Is it because you wish to gain an education that puts you in an environment where you engage in discourse with worldly issues and participate in research that challenges perspectives on various issues? Are you here because you desire to learn about the triumphs and imperfections of the Western world while simultaneously dissecting the human anatomy? Or maybe solve math problems while deconstructing the civil rights movement? Are you here because you wish to learn in a diverse environment? Do you desire to step outside of your comfort zone and dive into the depths of foreign cultures both in and outside of the classroom? Do you really want to do what it takes to develop into the leader that ԱƵ claims it is capable of crafting?
Or is ԱƵ a means to an end? Are you here simply to get a grade? Say what you need to say, write what the professor wants to hear, and walk away with a diploma and transcripts worthy of getting you a job at Google or into a grad program at Yale? Are your intentions then to just retain information long enough to pass your classes? Skate through the core curriculum without challenging its very existence? Will you take your Core Cultures and walk away saying you are diverse and inclusive? Will you take a class in the humanities department so you can add a course to your transcript that will stand out to an employer and say, “Hey, this person took a class about race, class, or gender so they clearly care about diversity?”
I have to believe that we are all here for a reason; that there is a reason that we are at a liberal arts institution as opposed to a traditional institution. We are each in a very unique position, attending an institution that encourages us in its very mission statement to “respond openly and sensitively to others who are different from themselves.” I am not here to point fingers or to tell you all as members of the ԱƵ community that we have not taken any steps to better ourselves or the institution as a whole. I am simply here to challenge us to seize the day. But we must seize the day knowing that Rome was not built in a night. In the words of Dean Suzy Nelson, “cultural change happens over time.”
So let’s take this moment, this first day of the semester at ԱƵ, to acknowledge both how far we have come and also the extensive amount of work that needs to be done in order to continue to move us forward. Yes, let’s count our victories, but let’s also buckle down and prepare ourselves for the work to come.
Last semester many students who felt marginalized, including myself, stood up to voice our opinions on issues of inclusivity on this campus. We successfully brought to the surface an issue that was plaguing this community and depriving many of a positive ԱƵ experience. The starting of those conversations in addition to the 21 action steps that accompanied that conversation was a concrete step made by this institution in an effort to, as 2014 alum Marshall Scott said on this very stage last year, “do better.”
That’s what last semester taught me, and that’s what watching my close friend lose her mother so suddenly taught me. Life is too short to wait until things are falling apart to take a stand. We must do better now. Do better today. Activism is active. We each have to actively partake in this work.
But let me nuance this word activism. Activism is defined as the doctrine or practice of vigorous action or involvement as a means of achieving political or social change. The most important thing to take away from this is that activism presents itself in many different forms. While the forms of activism of choosing are to give speeches, and participate in sit-ins, marches, writing papers, spoken word, poetry, class participation, taking the time to do research and read up on these issues, intervening and calling people out when they are participating in discriminatory behavior are all forms of activism. The key is simply to remain active in whichever avenue you choose. ԱƵ, the United States, and our world for that matter cannot afford to wait.
Where would we be if Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and the many others who fought diligently for equal rights for black people by sparking the civil rights movement did not decide to take a stand? Where would we be if they waited? Where would I, an African American woman, be if they waited? I certainly would not be attending this university, taking classes with white students, nor would I have the privilege to address you all in this setting. But an important thing that this movement teaches us is that change does not come without conflict, without debate, without each and every one of us coming face-to-face with our differences and having the courage and strength to push past these obstacles.
Last semester I studied the rhetoric of Frederick Douglass, and some of the best advice his work gave me is the following:
“If there is no struggle there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom and yet depreciate agitation are men who want crops without plowing up the ground; they want rain without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters.”
Essentially, Douglass was professing that change and progress do not come without struggle. In order for our institution to move forward we will have to be brave enough not just to engage in discourse on these issues but to challenge one another on our stances on these issues. We are all going to find ourselves very, very, very uncomfortable at times, but we must stay diligent, stay inspired, and never wait. We must accept that the things we learn in our classrooms and, furthermore, the changes that need to be made in our country in relation to injustice, discrimination, and human rights, start right here, today, at ԱƵ.
I must confess, however, that this work is tiring, especially because many of us are seniors and may not be around to see the fruits of our labor. This should not deter us from this fight, but rather make clear that it is important that each and every one of us take care of ourselves in this process. We must find a balance between this activism and turning up at Club ԱƵ at the Palace Theater on February 7, doors opening at 9 p.m.! Shameless plug. I hope to see all of you there! While the activism that is needed cannot wait, make sure you can sustain your well-being in the process.
I will end with a quote from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. that I feel best sums up my points here today:
“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”
Thank you.