COLUMN: Different Sides of the Button

From Jamil Smith's "Invisible Man," Fall '94 From Jamil Smith's "Invisible Man," Fall '94Damn, it's cold out here," Josh said, teeth chattering. A young black man sat on the smaller side of the large white split button. He was wearing jeans, leather boots, a large black suede coat, and a black baseball cap with some sort of red raider design on the front. "Do you have the time, buddy?" said Josh to the young man. "It's a little past five," the young man replied. "My name's Demetrius." He extended his gloved hand. "Josh." Withdrawing his hand, Demetrius shifted himself for a little while on the cold metal of the button before he finally felt comfortable. "What's your year?" "Freshman," Josh replied. "Me too. I want to do English for a major." "I'm actually planning to be an English major, too." Suddenly Josh began to forget the snow collecting in his hair and ignore Jack Frost biting at his face. "I hope to write for some publication here, hopefully The Vision," said Demetrius. "The what?" Josh mumbled, looking around. "The Vision -- it's the black student newspaper on campus." Demetrius looked at Josh and saw that he wasn't listening at all. "Are you waiting for someone?" Demetrius asked. "Yeah, this irritating girl from my study group is supposed to meet me so that we can study, and I have a pledge meeting tonight." Josh was getting really annoyed. "What are you waiting around here for?" He asked in an impudent tone. "I'm just waiting for something." "What?" "Why are you so concerned?" Demetrius snapped, taking pleasure in his retaliation. "Excuse me." The two sat silent on the button for a brief period of time as the snow subsided. Suddenly, one spoke. "Did you read about the Commission On Strengthening the Community's report in the DP a few weeks ago?" Josh asked, wanting to break the ice forged by the arctic breeze that came underneath the button and made their seats that much colder. "I don't read the DP much except to make fun of the asinine columns. I did hear about it. Why?" "Do you agree with what they said?" Recognizing this attempt at small talk, Demetrius decided to satisfy Josh. "Overall, no. Why would they want to advocate the position of the First Amendment Task Force by speaking against the Racial Harassment Policy? And this randomized housing stuff is nonsense -- I thought I was paying enough money to be able to choose where I want to live," he said. "Besides, my sister wants to come here in a couple years and I think that she ought to be able to live in DuBois House like she wants to." "What? First of all, the speech code only serves to limit the communication we need to solve this race issue that everyone talks about so incessantly. Secondly, it's not randomized housing, it's assigned housing." Demetrius rolled his eyes. "It provides the opportunity for people like me, who live in the Quad, to meet more blacks. So far, you're one of the first black freshmen I've met," continued Josh. "That's your own fault." "How so?" asked Josh. "None of the blacks seem to want to socialize with anyone but themselves. With all of them over in DuBois, it's practically impossible." "Who's stopping you from visiting DuBois? Last time I checked, I didn't see any walls blocking my home," Demetrius said, with emphasis on the word 'home.' "It's only a few blocks from your precious Quad." "No one's stopping anyone from coming to the Quad," Josh shot back. "Why don't I ever see any black people visiting us?" Demetrius shook his head. "See, your problem is that you refuse to think about how the other side feels. Do you know how many times I have come to the Quad for study groups, to visit friends, and to go to freshman functions? "How many times do you think those study groups have agreed to convene in my room? None! Many didn't even know where DuBois College House was! How many of my Quad friends visit me? Very few. "And is there even such a thing as a freshman function at DuBois, where most Black freshmen live?" "I don't see your point," said Josh. Demetrius put his head in his hands, asking God to help keep him calm. "Do you know what this situation reminds me of?" Demetrius said, lifting his head to face Josh. "Here I am sitting on the smaller part of this cold white button, you on the larger. Between us there is a great split, separating the two unequal shares almost completely, but yet the entire thing is white as the snow on your head. "No matter how much we simply sit here and talk, our two parts are so separate that no matter how much we try to bring them together, we'll always be on different sides. "And since the whole thing is dominated by white, any other color's attempt to intrude is barely noticed and thereby ignored." Josh pondered this for a second and said, "If we supposedly aren't able to bring this together, are you saying that we have no hope for ever closing the racial gap?" For the first time in the conversation, Josh spoke as if he was truly interested in the subject matter. Even as the cold wind stung his clean-shaven cheek, he felt nothing. "There is hope of us working together for a better future," Demetrius said. "However, even if we close the gap in this button --" Demetrius reached across to Josh and put his hand on his shoulder. "-- the button is still all white. In order to solve the problem we have here at Penn and in society, we have to make this button all different colors -- black, white, brown, yellow, red, green, purple. We have to truly create diversity by diversifying the power structure so no one group controls everyone else." Josh looked out at the expressionless people walking past him. They checked their watches nervously. They talked with their friends about their GPAs. They looked at flyers for Friday's fraternity parties. Josh wasn't sure he agreed completely (especially about that power structure stuff) with Demetrius, but he could see where he was coming from. And Demetrius knew this. He could see a flicker of recognition from this stranger from the Quad, this person he could've bumped past on Locust Walk without exchanging a single word. Josh suddenly realized what the time was. He would be late for class soon. His study partner had stood him up, but he was no longer resentful. He was almost sorry to go. "Look, I've gotta go," Josh said, lifting himself up. "I'm meeting my pledge brothers." "Maybe we'll run into each other again," Demetrius said, knowing that they probably would never meet again. "Take it slow." "Your name's ? Demetrius, right?" "Yeah. You're Josh." "Right. I'll see you later." "Maybe." Josh then rushed off in the direction of Locust Walk. Demetrius stayed still on the button, looking all around and growing tired of waiting. Jamil Smith is a freshman English and History major from Cleveland, Ohio. Invisible Man appears alternate Thursdays.