COLUMN: The challenge of new traditions

From Miranda Salomon's, "Notes From The Lilypad," Fall '96 From Miranda Salomon's, "Notes From The Lilypad," Fall '96 The fall semester is coming to a close; I can hardly believe my senior year is half finished. Chanukah is here and the other winter celebrations will soon be upon us. While wondering where the time has gone, I remember the beginning of the school year -- moving into the Quad, anticipating the arrival of my hall of freshmen and preparing for my final year as an undergraduate at Penn. I selected works representing a variety of artists and styles. But when I returned to my apartment to match postcards to the names I had been given, I realized all of the portraits were of white people -- and my hall is ethnically diverse. I worried about alienating these freshmen on their very first day at Penn. I didn't want to offend them, but how could I know who would be sensitive and who would automatically understand that there are simply no portraits of people of color in the National Gallery? Part of Penn's appeal is its sense of tradition. After all, what is the Ivy League but a club of schools that have had good reputations for a really long time? But if you look at the photographs inside Houston Hall, you'll find that for Penn's first 200-plus years the "tradition" was white, male and predominantly Christian. While the numbers of those of us who don't fit the mold are higher than ever, it's still a hard image to shake. In May, if you stick around for Alumni Weekend and have a look at our alums, you'll see that diversity at Penn is still a fairly new concept. While it's common for new students to feel out of place, it's often an even harder adjustment for those who don't fit the prototype -- the wealthy, white, prep-school kid from the East or West Coast. College is a big enough "new experience" for many that they seek the company of others like themselves rather than attempting to meet a variety of people. With the amount of self-separation that happens at all levels, it's easy for the majority to forget about the feelings of the minority groups. How many of the people who loudly protest the existence of W.E.B. DuBois College House have actually spent substantial time as part of an underrepresented group? Since late August, I have heard (and seen) sexism, racism, homophobia and sheer ignorance -- all on my own hallway of 29 students. One incident, which included racial name-calling, misunderstanding and threats on both sides, nearly snowballed into an unmanagable problem. While talking to my residents about appropriate language, I was amazed to discover that many members of the Class of 2000 have never heard of the infamous "water buffalo" episode. (Refresher: It occurred in January 1993, when a student was nearly expelled for allegedly leaning out his high rise window and telling a loud group of women to "Shut up, you black water buffalo" in an effort to quiet them down.) Penn may have survived the "water buffalo" incident, but the lesson has had no lasting impact on campus. People still aren't careful and clear when they speak. They forget that we don't live in a vacuum. Only sometimes does anyone bother to say, "You can't say it that way anymore." But the status quo has changed. We can't make assumptions about the "typical" Penn student. Words can do damage; symbols can do worse. I solved my personal, comparatively minor postcard problem by going beyond the National Gallery. I supplemented my collection with works from the Sackler Gallery (Asian art), the Freer Gallery (worldwide collection) and the Museum of African Art. My predominantly European assortment gained a substantial dash of color. When matching students names to paintings, I acted at random, sorting postcards by sex only. Even though few of my residents took more than peripheral notice of the name signs, I'm glad I made the effort. No one was upset by my decoration choices. I even got to explore some new museums and learn something about art that wasn't produced by members of the establishment. I consider it time well spent.