Apartheid Day / "heehee!! I'm protesting!!!"

My bum is killing me.

I suppose I can’t really complain since it’s killing me because I was sitting on the floor of the Union for an hour and a half while Archbishop Tutu spoke. It could be a lot worse.

You can’t really be like, “god DAMN it… I have to sit on the floor and listen to this Nobel Peace laureate speak AGH!”

Well actually, you can, now that I think about it. I mean, if you’re one of the whiny jacks I overheard in the surrounding occupied floor space, you can.

First, some good news before my three-page rant on spoiled, ignorant brats: Gloria Rudolph took time out of our class yesterday to address the concerns raised in our evaluations of her course thus far. She cited each objection and what she planned to do to improve the class experience, including reducing the amount of reading assigned, correcting people who make blatantly racist/sexist/classist/etcist remarks, and incorporating other forms of information such as documentaries and speakers. She also thanked those of us who gave positive feedback as well (me!). I am quite optimistic about this and thanked her for giving us the opportunity to give an evaluation during a class rather than afterwards when it wouldn’t change anything for us. Today’s mad respect goes to Gloria.

Some neutral news: I "got" to sit a the Captain's table yesterday for lunch. As Alex and I finished preparing our plates, Solomon asked us if we wanted to sit with the captain, and I believe we both rejected the invitation, but the next thing I knew, I was following my plate as it was being carried to the center of the dining hall. Yay, I guess. It wasn't really exciting. We sat there with other strangers and ate our food. I wasn't prepared to make conversation with the captain. I appologized to him for that. We were tired.

And I'm not going to treat it like it was any special honour to me. The guests are chosen at random just about every day, by Solomon.

While speaking to Captain Jeremy, however, I did take the opportunity to make mention of the high amount of respect I have for the crew on the ship. I told him that I can't find a complaint; they work very hard and it shows.

"Well I'm glad they do, because I certainly don't."

He then told us about how the captain does mostly deskwork and has open office hours.


Speaking of the crew, I made a new friend [UVA/ISE people, read: "non-fraternizing acquaintance"] who dislikes the fact that I use an American accent when it is not natural to me. He shakes his head at me in disappointment every time I speak and is always asking to hear what feels natural.

Let me tell you, though, how hard it is to be around people with even remotely similar accents without slipping. It's been enough years now that I shouldn't have any problem.


Oh! I got to talk to my mom the day before yesterday! Only for ten minutes, though. It was great to hear her voice. I miss her, and am pretty certain she misses me terribly (or she damn well better). I'll be calling her again from South Africa. We're 7 hours ahead of NJ time, though. It was weird to know that while I was in class this morning, people had still not gone to bed back there.
She said my cat won't leave her alone. She can't move from room to room without him following her. She can't lie down without him jumping onto her chest to nap. Awwww... kitty.

Okay, now for the grumbles:
The day before yesterday, we, the Diversity Programming Committee, put into action our plans for an Apartheid Simulation Day, a 24-hour period during which those who shaved or hawked their heads on Neptune Day became the elite and those who did not had to yield to them. At the core of the simulation were your basic segregation/“separate but equal” rules: Only people with shaved heads and hawks could eat in the 6th floor dining hall. They were the only ones allowed onto the 7th deck at all (the 7th deck holds the pool, workout equipment, bar, and preferred tanning areas) and the only ones who could use the public restrooms or elevators. Additionally, a person with a shaved head or a mohawk could make a person with hair give up his or her seat in the computer lab or any other public space. Also, my beloved Ryan made propaganda posters about "bald love" and anti-hair products and hung them up. Nair if you're aware.

Diversity Programming committee members played the law. We patrolled areas to make sure the privileged were comfortable and that the “hairies” knew their place.

Depending on who’s asked, the simulation was a raging success, a total disaster, or a complete waste of time.

I, myself, am happy about the simulation, and though I have multifold problems with the ways in which the majority of the students I encountered reacted, I was happy to see some reaction at all.

My major objections were as follows:

I believe the simulation created an environment in which the value of protesting was diminished completely. The announcement that the Apartheid simulation was taking place was made circa 10:45am. Before an hour had gone by, people were planning to protest their oppression.

Do not read that incorrectly. I completely believe in the power of protest and am behind its use against oppression. However, before anyone was even given the opportunity to feel subjugated and disrespected, they were rising up with zeal. It was as though the history books had taught us too simple a lesson: Oppression = problem. Protest = solution. Combine and let stand.

No.

So what happened when people were protesting was bizarre to me, a person who has actually taken part in real protest.

I say “bizarre” when what I mean is “disheartening.”

Disheartening aspect No.1:
People were protesting without understanding this simple truth: Resistance without fear is nothing. If you’re going to take printer paper, write a slogan on it, and hold it up as you sit with arms linked in front of the entrance to the 6th deck when absolutely nothing can be done to you in retaliation, you need to recognize that. While “guarding” the entrance, I engaged the protesters in conversation. They were unwilling, at first, as though I actually believed they were to be denied the rights granted to others.

I said to them, “You realize you’re protesting without threat to your person or remaining rights, right? Absolutely nothing can be done to you. You don’t have to sit here and do this. In fact, you could walk right into that dining hall, get yourself a plate, and eat for the next two hours and nothing will be done to you,” and there was no reaction. Honestly, they shrugged it off and kept chanting demands for their rights. Seriously!

Disheartening aspect No. 2:
With those same protesters, I began this conversation [which took place prior to my above statement]:
“What are you doing?” I asked
“We’re protesting.”
“Why are you blocking the doors?”
“To keep them in!”
“To keep who in?” I inquired wearily
“The people in there who are oppressing us!” and the surrounding protesters agreed.
I wasn’t so much shocked as I was disturbed, “What?!” Then I paused to try to stop contorting my face, “They’re not the ones oppressing you. They didn’t make the rules. We did! You should be protesting us!”
Nothing.

The reaction, again, was a weak moment of thought which lost its attention when concentration was again shifted to chanting.

Seriously, what were these kids learning? That resistance is disorganized mob action in which you place blame on the people who benefit rather than those who made the rules? That protesting is, in fact, pretty bloody easy because all you have to do is make a sign and stand your ground, listening to no one? Really?

I wasn't yelling or reacting in any outward way, but both Kevin and Drew had to tell me to calm down upon seeing my expressionless face as I rubbed my temples or hearing my quiet-but-on-the-brink-of-a-meltdown tone. I was angry to the point at which all I could do was widen my eyes or bite down on my lip as hard as I could not to scream something insulting in reaction.

Okay, so, another discouraging event or series of events which took place the day before yesterday involved the faculty participation or lack thereof. Twofold. First, I, me, Maria, an adult, was pretty much yelled at by a professor’s spouse after asking him to leave a Bald/Hawk Only area. He had apparently been holding within himself quite a lot of anger about the day’s’s activities (early, too—it was only 14:30) and I was the one lucky enough to receive his angry outpouring. Great, because what the responsible and mature thing to do in a situation in which you as a person of superiority in the student-staff-faculty hierarchy, is to engage in aggressive discourse with someone who can’t talk back to you in the same tone. Excellent. No, seriously. Way. To. Go.

I swear I was being pleasant with him from the very beginning, too, as I am scared to death of people and avoid confrontation like the plague. There was a witness (and apparently, word got back to someone that there was a conflict because Drew, Dr. Matt, and one of the deans had heard about the incident and that area was turned back into a free zone) and he could, I’m sure, attest to my cordial approach. I asked him for his opinions on how to improve. I wanted his feedback, but he showed little interest.

Why put yourself in an environment with 700+ young people when you cannot return the respect with which one of them approaches you simply because you disagree with her philosophy on learning, today?

I was shaken to the point at which I felt my eyes heat up while talking to Drew and Toni about it. Call me a woman or write it off as being too emotional, soft, or young, but no one deserves to have a voice actually raised against them in that way during what should be respectful disagreement… or any sort of conversation, at all.

What’s best--and this is the second part--is that the very same man, along with at least two other faculty members, went on to urge students to participate in mob mentality-driven action. What have we been learning about in Global Studies for the past month? Is it paths to positive peace? Yeah. Yeah, actually I think that’s the ENTIRE FOCUS OF THIS VOYAGE. Linking arms and physically pushing people aside to get what you want is not positive peace. Chanting slurs and grabbing at the feet of the privileged as they attempt to make it into the only dining hall into which they are allowed is not positive peace. Becoming overzealous by noon and then revolting before dinnertime because you couldn’t gorge yourself on all the food you could eat on the 6th floor and had to gorge yourself on all the food you could eat on the 5th is not positive peace! Poor baby, you couldn’t tan on your usual deck for 24 hours. Having to walk down 32 stairs to your cabin (which is still cleaned and made up for you today) instead of taking the elevator... You darlings! Ohhhh the humanity. I am surely a demon for having taken part in such a travesty.

There were also people who paid no attention to the simulation, saying that there wasn’t any way anyone could learn anything about apartheid on a cruise ship. Point taken, however, the point wasn’t to make anyone feel apartheid; it was to give 702 privileged students, many of whom have never once been told “no” in their entire lives, that they couldn’t have what they could see. That was all. It was for them to know that because of the way they looked, they were going to be denied arbitrary conveniences (which to many of these students, believe me, seemed to be comparable to denying them water).

Many people, some faculty/staff included, did not understand the point of this exercise, and to know that there are people today who believe that we actually believed these people should have been oppressed disgusts me. Oh yes, yes. Of course! The Diversity Programming Committee got together and said “what we should do make people feel bad. Why? Because they deserve it for not shaving their heads. Surely they are inferior.

Bahhhghgh.

Well, whatever. A couple dozen thanked us for the exercise and let us know that they appreciated the experience. That’s good enough for me. I trust that there were more who feel that way, but even if it was only one, that is beautiful.

People talked, and that was the point.


I could add more (and you know that I could), but I shan’t.

"Shave Or Behave!"
"Don't Picket; Bic It"