COLUMN: The Great Wall

From O.J. Lima's "Blues for Mr. Charlie," Fall '93 From O.J. Lima's "Blues for Mr. Charlie," Fall '93Imagine if we all loved each other. Sounds ludicrously utopian doesn't it? O.K. try this: imagine if we all liked each other. Well, that's still a little far fetched. When adventurous individuals try to climb over the wall to check out the other side, they get jacked by gnomes sitting on top, dropping bricks on folks' heads. This causes people to fall and cuss: "God damn it, that guy on the other side threw a fuckin'' brick at me." It never fails. You almost always end up blaming the wrong person. Because when you're concentrating on climbing, you can't see exactly what's above you. Sooner or later, even the lion-hearted become depressed and disgusted. Climbing straight up the Wall gets tiring and painful after awhile. But who was ever admitted to this University because they were a quitter? There are no quitters here, because the office of admissions doesn't let them in. When I became tired, I decided to write little messages on pieces of paper. I handed them out to the folks on my side, and made the rest into paper airplanes and launched them towards the Wall. Though all my people did not always agree with my papers, they generally understood my opinion. And the ones I threw into the air? Well, some of the airplanes were caught by the gnomes on top of the wall. They looked at them without trying to understand what I had written, crumpled them up, and threw them back in my face. But, some did make it over the wall, and every couple weeks I would hear clapping and booing. And now and then I'd even catch a paper airplane en route from the other side. That made my day. I didn't care if others didn't agree with me. As one of my academic advisors, once told me: "People must learn to agree to disagree; that's the basis of scholarship." What mattered was the thinking. If people thought about the underlying issues on my scraps of paper – when they normally would not – than the gnomes, who were trying so hard to prevent intelligent discourse, were being bypassed. So who are these gnomes who seem to be breaking the backs of the ambitious? Some of them work for Penn, like the ones who've restricted student life over the past three years. When I was a freshmen, I could go almost anywhere on campus and enjoy myself. Some of the most memorable nights at Penn were collaborative events sponsored by white and black fraternities. All sorts of folks showed up and interacted on a non-political, non-intellectual level. The aim was purely social – dance, shoot the giff, maybe see a fight, sometimes have a drink. But the outcome was always the same. Folks talked for days about how hot, sweaty, and fun it was. But when I returned last January from Spain, the Gestapo-esque University administration had established itself, and led by the now toppled Vice Provost for University Life Kim Morrisson, its crusade to outlaw student interaction was well under way. Now please don't mistake me for this page's resident frat king. I'm not the guy who wants beer flowing out of every sink and water fountain. Nor do I want to hear "Frat Rock: Volumes I, II and III" blaring from every window. But when the only interaction students ever have with folks who aren't like them is in class, hate speech comes echoing over the Wall, and out of High Rise windows. People learn academics in class, not social values. So when the administration tries to pack both into a measly three hours a week, students don't discuss issues adequately, they just get defensive. But these administration gnomes have friends who sit atop the wall with them. They're the folks who pay tuition, yet aren't really students. Inherent in the meaning of the word student is the desire to learn (about anything or anyone). These gnomes don't display this quality. For them, there is no value in learning anything which is not similar to their upbringing. However, please don't get these indifferents confused with those folks who are afraid. As some folks have discovered, the Wall is intimidating and there are very few places to begin climbing. The indifferents I'm referring to hate, and no amount of discourse will ever change their mind. They don't see why this microcosm of American society should be any better than the real world. After all, to them Penn isn't an institution of higher education where people should behave and debate intelligently. Rather it's nothing more than a four year detour en route to somewhere else. So what do we do about these gnomes? Nothing. They have their own unbending agenda. You can't force or even expect everyone to participate. Ignore them and focus your energy on folks who are interested. My freshman and sophomore years, the Black Student League and Hillel had two collaborative dinners. I ate some kosher grub and met some bright Hillel folks. The important thing wasn't that we disagreed a lot, but that I made a couple acquaintances. Acquaintances who in later years broadened my understanding of cultural/religious areas which I was not too familiar with previously. Quite simply, if it's important enough to you to experience another's way of life, than take the initiative. Get involved in the West Philly community, a sport you've never played, a living and learning program, or anything you don't know but would enjoy learning. If you like to see your name in print and have good intentions, get a column in the Vision or the DP. Just be ready to handle the infamy and criticism (someone will always have a beef with something you write). But don't write anything about Elvis. White icons are off limits, especially if they're considered royalty. Better yet, if you want to take the fastest, least formal route to the other side, bypass all the bullshit and dig a hole under the wall. The gnomes aren't trying to knock the wall down, but don't let them plug up your hole either. Classes don't cut it, nor do Claire Fagin's Town meetings. Talk is cheap. Heck, some of my best friends are white, and I'm an alleged prejudiced, separatist, black Greg Pavlik, rat-bastard. We'll never all love each other. That is ludicrously utopian. But denying yourself the option only makes the gnomes' job easier. O.J. Lima is a senior English major from Providence, Rhode Island. Blues for Mr. Charlie appeared alternate Mondays.