October 1st, 2020 | Written By - Kendal Harris '21
On Thursday, September 25, Laurel students and Alumni were called to action by their community after the use of racial slurs was reported to the administration and four days later, there was still no public action. That evening, we gathered via zoom and had a discussion comprised of over a hundred people, ranging from alums from the class of 1997 to current students in their first year of high school. No two people in that space shared the same lived experiences, but those who were present that night felt an obligation to be a part of a difficult but necessary space to discuss our school and the discrimination it’s undeniably taken part in perpetuating.
In the first few minutes, I was stunned seeing how many of my peers had joined me. I soon became a cohost of the discussion and took what I knew from meetings with the administration to form the most coherent story that I could of what our school had faced in the last week. The alums had questions and my rushed retelling did not lend clarity to the weight of the situation and its consequences or how their presence could help us move forward. In the midst of trying to answer questions with the help of my peers, hate seeped its way into our meeting.
At first, anonymous users joined quietly with little disruption, but soon they were yelling into their microphones, and notably, a user with a University School logo interrupted us to tell us we were all “gay f*cks.” We persevered through these hateful people, but with a newfound agitation to pile on top of our already sensitive minds. The internet trolls were not our only obstacle. A white woman from the class of 1997 was with us that night. From the beginning, she felt an incessant need to be seen and heard over others. At first, I was soothed by her readiness to aid us current students, but what started out as a guiding eye quickly manifested into a savior complex rearing its ugly head. While trying to vent and share personal stories, students were shut down because our feelings were valued less than this woman’s need to create a plan. Another alum reminded her of their place to listen during this talk, but I let my words loose unto her as well. I told her that this was our space, that Black and Brown students were traumatized and trying to mourn. I told her that her voice and needs were not the priority. In stunned silence, a woman more than twice my age sat staring back at me with nothing left to say, and her camera went off.
At Laurel, I and countless other Black students do not feel they have the privilege to speak their minds freely. We tiptoe around our thoughts and emotions due to a very real fear of being reprimanded by our teachers and peers. The trope of the angry black woman was not Laurel’s creation, but it is something they have inadvertently upheld through their actions. The day before our zoom call, I had met with the upper school director. My points and thoughts were clear in my head and I was determined to make my voice heard for the sake of my community. The minute I saw her, things changed. My throat went tight, my palms became damp with sweat, my body had physically shut down trying to protect me from myself. The brains of Black women in these institutions tell them that their mouths are a perceived threat. I did not spend that meeting vouching for my BIPOC peers, I didn’t spend it pleading for better from the administration. The minute it ended I sat in silent tears realizing I had lost the chance every advocate at this school wanted. I was distraught.
The next night during our zoom call, that alum represented my further silencing and erasure. Though I’m not certain she deserved to be the recipient of my unadulterated rage, I can say with confidence that I don’t regret standing up to her. I feel she will remember the day she was put in place by an angry, tired, girl, and I think it will make her a better ally to future tired Black women.
Despite our unavoidable human flaws, good came out of our Thursday night zoom. With the help of other girls, Izzy DeSantis, Class of 2016, has spearheaded a petition from the alumni demanding better from Laurel. In her writing, she highlights transparency, a no-tolerance policy for hate speech, and makes it known that many alums will not continue their contributions to the Laurel fund until they feel it is a safe space for our students of color. That petition is linked below, and it can be signed by any and all members of our community.
As for the rest of us, we must continue to use our voices. Though speaking out can feel like stepping off a cliffside, our words hold unimaginable power in this righteous fight for equality. We must hold each other and ourselves accountable no matter how inconvenient and uncomfortable. And most importantly, I ask you all to take on the challenges faced by our community with astute determination, for none of us can change the future until we look towards this impenetrable wall of injustice and aren’t afraid to start climbing.
Sign the petition to demand anti-racist work at Laurel: https://forms.gle/gzAXcce4xFXdv8qJ9
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