Last Thanksgiving Day, my friend and I had made entirely too much food. We were expecting 15 guests, but only about five actually showed up. It would be a shame to throw away all this food, we thought, and I had just remembered that dining halls closed early that day. So, in a move motivated by the folly of youth, my friend opened YikYak and made a single post:
“IF YOURE A PERSON OF COLOR AND COULDNT GET DINNER TONIGHT COME TO THIRD WORLD COOP IN BALDWIN!! RIGHT NOW!! WE HAVE FOOD 😀 <3”
He put the phone down, and the rest of our night was pleasant. Unbeknownst to us, however, the response was immediate and brutal. Reactionary comments accusing Third World Co-op – a safe space for people of color on campus – of racism against white people were just as common as those defending the space’s existence. Most of the negative comments were from people who have clearly never heard of TWC. Most posts involving this have long since been downvoted into oblivion or deleted, but two particular comments are seared into my retinas (and my screenshot folder): “Where is a spot on campus where a white person can go that a poc can’t??? You are incredibly dense,” and, “It’s called segregation lmao idk why you fighting for it idk why we can’t just have food for everyone who needs it.”
This is not the first time this incident has been mentioned in the Review. An article by Gabrielle Barnett discussed TWC’s place on campus (“TWC Crucial in Fostering Solidarity Among Students of Color,” The Oberlin Review, Dec. 6, 2024). It also wasn’t the only incident of campus-wide backlash involving TWC that year; many students were surprised to learn of a stairwell in Harkness House dedicated solely to residents of TWC’s housing component, Third World Social Justice. Comments on that incident weren’t much better. I don’t just want to rehash old drama; there’s a reason I’m bringing this up nearly a year later. My personal experiences, and the several snide or incredulous comments about Afrikan Heritage House I’ve witnessed, have led to an epiphany about the general response to racism on campus.
Oberlin students like to fashion themselves as progressives or leftists. How could we not? Oberlin was the first college to grant B.A.s to women in a co-ed environment, and its students have historically been strong advocates for Black education and abolition. Campus is a relative safe haven for queer students in Ohio. But, when it comes to current action, we really like to rest on our laurels. The actions of the College and students 50 years ago are not reflective of them today. I believe the discomfort that comes with defining ourselves with this legacy without actually making marginalized people, especially racial minorities, feel safe on our own campus is the reason for these explosive responses.
I am not here to chew white people (or even other POC) out for being racist. It’s hard to fight racism because you cannot simply just be “not racist.” In a system where racism is so foundationally integrated, anything but actively pushing against it is compliance at best and participation at worst. The most important part of being anti-racist is killing the racist in your head. You must be constantly questioning your world view, constantly reflecting on your mistakes and successes. Unfortunately, one of the most difficult things to do is self-reflection. I don’t blame people for not doing it, nor do I think you’re a bad person if you’ve said or done racist things. No one comes out of the womb with a copy of DuBois in their hands.
Still, the aversion to discomfort among Oberlin students often perpetuates racism within our classes and organizations. POC safe spaces, not just TWC, are under attack. In order to acknowledge the legitimacy of a safe space, you must first reckon with the fact that our general public spaces are not inherently safe for everyone. You need to sincerely internalize that you have untold privilege and cannot fathom the experiences that BIPOC go through. Ultimately, it means to decenter whiteness and white people from the conversation, and if you’ve been at the center your whole life, giving up the limelight can seem like oppression. The conversation is not about you, and the space is not for you because everywhere else is.
I have very rarely experienced overt, intentional racism within the Oberlin community, but I have experienced microagressions from people who do not realize they are being racist. I do not hold it against them, but it still brought me genuine pain. Every time a marginalized person points it out, the response is the same: “Why does this matter? Bigotry doesn’t happen at Oberlin.” But, it does, especially when it involves race or racialized identities. Most racism is not on the macro scale; it’s within everyday interactions where no harmful words are exchanged. Racism is so insidious because it is perpetuated by everyone, including well-intentioned people. If we keep denying that racism exists in Oberlin and keep believing we are bastions of progress, we will never be able to create a space that is welcoming to all.
When BIPOC call something racist, we typically do not levy that accusation lightly. We do not flippantly “pull the race card” because the “card” reminds us of our place in society. Privileged people must properly internalize that they are wrong or unaware. We must embrace being uncomfortable, and accept that we are not perfect. As a friend of mine, Asquith Clarke II, OC ’25, said while addressing the TWSJ backlash:
“I personally believe that being in this country, we’re all racist. We’re all homophobic, we’re all transphobic, we’re all sexist. At any point when you stop actively trying to fight against that … you’re being complicit … if we can’t even fight and do good to hold each other accountable with issues right now, in our everyday lives, then who are we to change [global hatred]?”
