There were no African-American literature or history courses at Northern Michigan University, so when I learned that the concentration for American Literature III would include the Harlem Renaissance, I jumped into the course. Two months later and the only black person we'd talked about in the class was an uneducated slave named Jim in Mark Twain's book Huckleberry Finn, for which white students got to read the word "nigger" repeatedly aloud in class. I was the only black student in the class and after seeing the word in the book so many times; I continuously volunteered to read aloud because my ears almost bled from hearing the racial slur amongst white students. I can't stand saying the word, so I definitely didn't want to hear white people say it.
After the end of this book, I finally approached my professor and asked her when we were going to talk about black writers. Her response was: "I throw that in at the end," as if I'd asked her what happened to the instant gravy for the steak and potato meal. I was so offended by her comment that I went to the Head of the English Department.
[...] Although other members of DSS (Diversity Student Services) tried to get other black students involved in my goals with the school, these faculty members were met with indifference from the students. The same black peers that I'd partied with, studied with, and hung out with were content with their alternate discourse and their own world. They didn't care that whiteness prevailed the campus and their logic was that the Marquette, Michigan was a predominantly white town so whiteness was expected. [...]
[...] I was embarrassed and amazed that I wasn't fighting with many of my black peers for a multicultural society. I was fighting alone. So I gave up and left. Throughout history, whenever black people felt that their culture was being threatened, they found a way to lash out (usually through music.) First gospel, then Blues, then Jazz, and now Hip-Hop. My black peers were content living in their alternative discourse (of which I was a member as well) of Hip-Hop where they could lash out at the educational/political/social system. [...]
[...] Her lack of faith in the educational system of historically black colleges and total disregard for my honor roll grades in grammar school, good grades in high school, and consistently good grades at NMU even during my academic battles was surprising. Lincoln University and Northern Michigan University had the same amount of parties. I was crying and debating every single day at NMU, but my mother didn't understand why I couldn't suck it up. I love both my mother and brother to death, but they showed me a firsthand view of how numb black people are to change. [...]
[...] But I fear that just like the Harlem Renaissance came and went while many black folks still didn't want to speak up and promote their culture in the Fine Arts, Hip-Hop may fall into the same ignored movement. Just as whiteness is a privilege that is embraced in our everyday education, I'm still standing on the idea that the alternative discourse Hip-Hop should be too. This music era has crept into written advertisements, commercials, product sales, style of dress, and politics. [...]
[...] Talking about how badly black people were treated is common in African American writings of the Harlem Renaissance and to add that as regular reading would be like sitting in the living room for a family get-together talking about how Daddy raped Daughter. No one wants to point out their flaws and to talk about them continuously, whether it's about them or their close ancestors can make some ashamed. After I left, I received a letter for possible expulsion and disciplinary action for a scantron mix-up that was later taken care of. [...]
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