Category: Opinions

Donald Trump’s presidency felt real to me for the first time when, in between classes, a friend asked, “Have you heard about the refugee ban?” Having avoided newspaper headlines and successfully blocked my ears from what was going on, I answered that no, other than what had been said on the campaign trail, I had not.

I knew in that moment that I had ignored current events for a few weeks too long, and it had to stop. I spent that afternoon researching what I had missed and learned the details of the president’s proposed policy. The original executive order suspended the United States Refugee Admissions Program for 120 days and aimed to decrease the total number of refugee admissions by more than 50% during the coming fiscal year. Furthermore, it halted the resettlement of Syrian refugees and banned refugees from Iraq, Iran, Somalia, Libya, Sudan, and Yemen.

Stories of refugee families, some of whom I have had the privilege to call neighbor and friend, flashed through my mind, and I realized the sadness and disappointment I felt was not so much about President Trump as it was about these beautiful people. I was reminded of a Somali mom I once tutored, who wanted to get her GED so she could get a better job and support her children. I remembered an Eritrean man who, over a table of homemade bread and chai tea, reflected, “We love Jesus, so we love other people and are kind to them.” I remembered the hours I spent playing soccer with a yard full of fifth graders. I could tell you lots of stories that I’m sure only tap the surface. From the city streets of Buffalo to the rolling hills of Rwanda, these encounters continue to challenge me.

As I read headline after headline, though, I felt powerless. After all, even politicians have few options when looking to respond to an executive order. What could I possibly do? I knew I cared about refugees, but my hands felt tied. You might ask what the point of all this is. This news broke weeks ago. The executive order has since changed. While I would certainly argue that refugee resettlement is still important, the issue at hand goes further.

I fear that our affinity for extravagant, fix-it-all solutions has caused us to forget the value of proximate change. While macro-level responses and policies are both necessary and valuable, we cannot neglect the small responses.

In many ways, humans are limited. As a college student, I cannot force the President to rescind an executive order. People who respond to issues like climate change and global poverty are, in many ways, only chipping at the surface. We can only do so much. Still, we hope and persist. Jena Lee Nardella, the founder of the community health organization Blood:Water Mission says this about proximate change, “All our work—even if we lose, even if it is merely proximate is worth fighting for. The world is indeed a hard place to live, and it will likely break our heart if we keep engaging with it, but we choose to hope anyway.”

My challenge for you is this: ask yourself what it is that you care deeply about, look at where your feet are planted and who you can serve right around you, and then do something. Call your congressional representatives, talk about it with a friend, attend a town hall meeting, or volunteer in your city. Proximate change might not be flashy and it will not solve everything overnight. On the other hand, if we let cynicism or a desire for grandeur keep us from starting somewhere, we might not ever start. In the small, people grow, minds are changed, and commitments are made. And to the Christian: we serve a God who is completely able, yet cares about and works even in the small. What a privilege it is that we might join him.   

Emily is a senior majoring in political science and international development with a minor in Spanish.

As someone who appreciates trigger warnings: *trigger warning* this article acknowledges some realities of sexual violence that might be unsettling to read.

At the beginning of this week, our college joined the efforts of a foundation aiming to end sexual assault, domestic violence, dating violence, sexual abuse, and all other forms of sexual violence. There are millions of sponsors, speakers, members, and volunteers across North America and Europe that facilitate and participate in similar events each year. But honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if, even immediately after the several events this week, there are people here who don’t know what Take Back The Night really is.

Even if you think Houghton is a place where sexual violence does not occur, that doesn’t mean it is not an issue here. One in three women worldwide experience some form of sexual violence, with one in six men also experiencing it. A significantly low percentage of victims report these crimes.

Please take a moment to realize that this means you undeniably know someone who has experienced sexual violence.

Now take another moment to realize the way you act regarding topics of sexual violence, and events like Take Back The Night, matter a lot to approximately one third of all the people you meet. Be it family, friends, roommate, dorm-mate, or classmates, these aren’t just statistics, these are people that you know. If you still think this is an issue of elsewhere, know that just by reading this article, you now know someone who has been affected by this. I endured a season of abuse as a young child in a public daycare centre. I don’t say this to bring sympathy, but to encourage each and every individual here to do what they can to make this campaign against sexual violence matter more. I say it to raise awareness for the millions who’ve received the mark of “victim” and little else. I say it to acknowledge those who have yet to find their voice. I know what a hard journey it can be and it’s important to know you are not alone.

That is why this is an issue at Houghton. Even if it didn’t happen here, people here are trying to walk through that reality in their life. Even in a middle-of-nowhere,  Liberal Arts Christian college. Paying heed and contributing to efforts like Take Back The Night is a way to care for this specific hurt in the body of Christ. It tells your sisters and brothers in Christ they should not have to suffer alone. For many, this is not something that happens and then is left in the past, it can seem ever-present and insurmountable.  You can equip yourself to reach gently into their isolation as a safe and concerned individual who will give them non-judgemental space to speak if they need to. Even if you can’t fully understand, you can listen. Foundations like Take Back The Night give you the chance to do that.

A panel on Monday evening provided the opportunity to become more informed, especially regarding the trusted (RA, RD, Professor, Coach, Safety & Security) and confidential (counselor, Dean of Chapel, Title IX Coordinator) employees on campus you can speak to. Tuesday evening hosted a coffeehouse that provided avenues for artistic expression and a chance to listen to one another. On Wednesday, the issue was addressed from the chapel stage and in a faculty lecture. The events concluded with a service and prayer walk. These three days can be overwhelming, but it is important we give what we can toward Take Back The Night’s mission to create safe spaces, understanding relationships, and open communities that seek to end sexual violence and care for those who have experienced it.

When April 2018 comes around, I urge you to be more involved in the events organized by a small group of dedicated students here. And while this year’s events have passed, there is still much you can do. In everyday thoughts and behaviours, you can become known as a safe and accepting person, someone who will listen to another’s hurt and then be sure it is not the only thing you know them by. Do what you can to work against society’s implicit consent to sexual violence and, perhaps most importantly, care for yourself and others with grace, hope, and love.  

Colleen is a senior intercultural studies major with a minor in child well-being.

For most of my young adult life my father worked in administration as the Provost of Greenville College, a small Christian liberal arts school much like Houghton in the deep south of the Midwest. At dinnertime, Dad would occasionally relay censored snippets from his job: hints of internal college struggles, miscommunications among faculty with redacted names, and arguments between dissatisfied groups all equally convinced of their own rightness (and sometimes, righteousness).

Confrontation and concentrated frustration appeared to be what my Dad dealt with on a daily basis. He was able to tell me very little about these situations due to confidentiality, and mostly unable to answer my probing questions (which of course only served to further my curiosity), like “Wait, what did who say about what? Why do you have to meet with her parents?” He would just say, “I’m sorry, but I am legally obligated not to tell you.” And I had to be content with not knowing. It was my Dad who first taught me to consider that I might be wrong, that no issue or disagreement is ever simple, and that it’s possible to be blinded by the belief in one’s own rightness.

This background perhaps explains my persistent skepticism at any group, or person, who claims to advocate for “the moral truth” and leaves no room for nuanced dissent. Even within (or maybe I should say, especially within) Christianity, disagreements over the definition of truth arise frequently, and are the source of traumatic schisms in the church. It seems almost too obvious to write down, but as Christians we are called to love one another, not just those who agree with our perspectives. Of course, now is the time when the definition of what “love” actually looks like can be disputed.

In the case of the “Choose Morals Over Money” protest, I have been frustrated not only by the absolute moral certainty expressed by those involved, (either in person or on Facebook), but also by their vocal dismissal and blind distrust of the administration. I want to make a distinction between blind trust and blind distrust: I am not supporting either. One of the reasons this group gives for Jackson’s termination is that Houghton fired him to save money. Hence the tagline “Morals Over Money.” This reasoning simply makes no sense to me, as Houghton is most likely losing money from this decision. Replacing Jackson will be costly and time-consuming; terminating someone so integral to a new and exciting major means tremendous potential to lose revenue from prospective and current students. I can’t imagine the administration was happy to make this decision; in fact I’m sure they agonized over it, only making the decision in response to undeniable evidence.

I understand there is tremendous pain involved, and for this I am truly sorry.

I am sorry for the students who have lost a beloved professor, I can only imagine the frustration this precipitates. I admire the students who peacefully protested, and commend their persistence and passion. However, part of me is indignant that this is what students have chosen to publicly unite over, as opposed to the racially charged hate note a student recently received. I am also troubled by the apparent inability to entertain nuance when no one is in possession of all the facts. I ask that we as a community consider perspectives beyond our own, especially as Dean Connell has expressed in a compassionate and kind email, “I do want to encourage you to be cautious about assuming that you know why this decision was made.  As I have talked with many of you over the last few days, it’s clear that a lot of misinformation and speculation is making the rounds.  Events have been misinterpreted or over-simplified…. I regret that I cannot simply clear up the confusion by sharing the specifics of the situation; all I can do is ask you to be careful about accepting narratives or coming to judgments that do not reflect the full picture.” There absolutely are legal constraints on the administration right now, those who have complained that Houghton has not been honest with us should be aware that this confidentiality is in place to protect not only the students involved but also Jackson’s privacy. Additionally, the administration could be sued for any breach in confidence.

I am not claiming to know the whole story. I am not even claiming to know half of the story. Yet I do know that the answers are not simple. It is not a case of “We are right, the administration is wrong” or even, “The administration is right, and the protesters are wrong.” This sort of simplicity grates on my conscience. When we allow rigid black and white thinking to dominate our perspective, we only serve to dehumanize each other. I ask that we treat those who disagree with us with compassion, and seek to listen and consider before demonizing the actions of others.

As a native to the island of Barbados, there are many differences between the atmospheres of my homeland and Houghton. I come from a nation which speaks up and acts on the issues and the difficulties that are built into our schools, workplaces and across the country. At Houghton, I have found the process to be a bit different. We discuss, we listen, and we move on. This passive way of dealing with situations has never satisfied me because the majority of the time, the crucial step of acting is left out. I find, as it relates to our minority students, the “action” step is never an option.

When I chose to attend Houghton, I was excited and ready to explore, engage, and learn alongside other God-loving students. Houghton has been my home for the last four years. It has been a place where I have grown in my Christian faith, a place where I have had many opportunities to broaden my work experience, a place I met many cool people that I now call friends, and this list goes on and on. However,  Houghton has failed to fulfill some crucial things for me and for the wider community of minorities on campus, and the lack of those things have been keenly felt. As a senior, I have decided to share my story as a minority international black student before I leave.

My story begins my freshman year when I lived in Roth on 4th West. It was clear to see that I was the only minority student on my floor, so I knew from the beginning if any racial slurs or incidents occurred, I would either have to go straight to my RA for help or deal with the issue myself. Sadly, the lack of my RA’s presence on my floor led to me doing the latter in all incidents. Whenever I reached out to my RA, he was always busy or was just not around.

The first incident was probably the hardest and longest I had to deal with. There was a transfer student on my floor who frequently occupied the lounge playing video games. He constantly used disgusting  language. In spite of this, I was determined to not let his words affect my dorm experience. However, one day he blurted out the N-word. I wondered who he was talking to. I jumped out of my room and went to the lounge to see who he was addressing. However, much to my surprise, there was no one there, so I went back to my room.

Over the next couple of weeks, he continuously played video games with friends in the lounge and he kept blurting out the N-word. After a while, I reported it to my RA and told him that, firstly, a white man should not be using this word, and that second, as a black male I do not use this word in my vocabulary. It is degrading and should not be the part of anyone’s vocabulary. My RA spoke to him, but nothing changed. He began using the word more and more, and it frustrated me. After a few weeks I’d had enough. I marched into the lounge and shouted at him. It was a good five minute rant about the origin of that word, and why he or anyone on my floor shouldn’t use it. By the end of this rant my RA was behind me. All he muttered was, “Yes, what Travis said.” After that I went back to my room and balled my eyes out. I couldn’t believe that I had to deal with such an issue by myself. Furthermore, my RA never came around and spoke with me to see how I was doing. After this incident I never heard the word again on my floor, for that semester, anyway. However, he continued saying it, and I had to continually get up and silence him.

I share this story to say that I do not believe any freshman, or student, should have to resolve an issue like this on their own. It should be up to the RA or the RD to do so. Whenever I think back on this incident, I always remember asking myself if I made the right decision by coming to Houghton. This incident will forever be in my memory, and I believe Houghton needs to increase RA training as it relates to diversity and conflicts management.

During the spring of my freshman year, Black Heritage Club put up a display of black students in the basement of the Campus Center during the month of February. The project was entitled “Shades of Black,” and included the story of many of the black students on campus. It was displayed for other students to read and to learn more about the black and African American students on campus. However, an alum of the college saw it differently and decided to create paper chains to hang over the display and also to put the word “light” over “black”, basically degrading our hard work. He said that he was trying to make a joke at the newly released book “50 Shades of Grey”. He later confessed he could see how the paper chains could be seen as reminiscent of slavery, but went through with it anyways. This incident on campus sparked a lot of conversations and arguments, and many promises were made by the administration to do more for minorities on campus. Sadly, most of those promises have not been kept. We have always been told to “dream big” and to “think big,” but there was never any action to go along with those dreams. At the time, I expected for the college to shut down all classes and hold an immediate chapel about the incident. However, I am from a different culture and my expectations might seem a bit far off. The administration moved too slow, and essentially made myself and most of the black students on campus feel unwelcome. This incident, as well as the others I have mentioned, truly took a toll on me as a student. I do not think the campus truly did justice to the matter. In addition, I hope that the college leaders will take my story into consideration in hope of not seeing a repeat of the incidents I was faced with during my time here.

Therefore, I must say that this campus is in great need for a Diversity Coordinator. This position should probably be held by someone who is a minority, someone who has felt into or has personally lived the pain of most minority students. This person would be the facilitator and the bridge between students and the administration. This position will allow for such a person to act on the many things this campus needs if they want to keep diversity on this campus. The Diversity Coordinator would be a safe person for minority students and other students as well to go to and vent about their problems when they feel they are being treated or threatened unjustly. This coordinator will be an asset to Houghton and this position needs to be made. Over my four years here at Houghton, one curve ball that has always been thrown at us students is that our budget is tight. But I strongly believe that if we cannot make room or find money for a Diversity Coordinator, we must be spending and budgeting our money in the wrong way. Therefore, I hope that the College will hear my words and story, and take the time to listen to the minority, without waiting for the majority to act.

When I was eight I got into a heated discussion with some friends about the existence of Santa. I was thoroughly convinced. I cited evidence.

“My parents say he’s real. Last year, I found muddy footprints on the kitchen floor.”

“I bet they were your dad’s shoes. Did you check if they matched your dad’s boots?”

“There were half eaten carrots on the roof.”

“Did you ask if your parents threw them up there?”

“The milk we set out was half drunk.”

“Maybe your dad drank-”

“Ha! He hates milk.”

Despite my friends best efforts, I went on believing in Santa.

When I was asked to write an opinions piece this week, I struggled. When controversial issues arise I often find myself listening and rarely acting. The idea of taking a stance, especially a strong stance scares me. Frankly, I’m ignorant. I don’t know enough to speak with authority on issues of race or immigration, or any hot topic issue. And even when I’ve done the research and learned about the issue, I find myself reluctant to speak, thinking others know more.

My strongest and most divisive opinions involve comma and semicolon usage.

How can ignorance breed such strong opinions? And how can I have an opinion if I am ignorant?

Often I am lazy and rely on other people to sway my opinions on issues. I look to parents or friends, and knowing what kind of people they are, I trust that they’re opinions are right without bothering to learn the issues myself. This means choosing a side not based on knowledge but on friend groups, convenience, or how cool a movement’s t-shirt is (I owned an Invisible Children t-shirt for years thinking it was a band).

My challenge for myself and others is threefold. First, be wary of speaking authoritatively on matters that you don’t have the knowledge. Second, if something matters to you, pursue knowledge of it relentlessly. Learn all that there is to learn. Don’t be content with vague ideas and slogans, but educate yourself of the issues you’re passionate about. Third, do not consider neutrality a weak stance. It takes great humility and strength to say, “I don’t know.” Listen and learn, and a time will come when you’ll be able to speak.

Years later (far later than I want to admit) I stopped believing Santa was real. I felt childish and foolish that it took me so long to realize, not because I believed in flying reindeer, but because I believed something without examinations. I never pursued the truth for myself. Don’t be eight-year-old Jonan. Check to see if your dad’s boots match Santa’s footprints.

More and more frequently, we read about conservative speakers being banned from college campuses because of their views on certain hot-button issues. In late February of this year, Ben Shapiro was banned from speaking at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), which has been hailed as a respectable university. Shapiro’s event was cancelled, rescheduled, and eventually heavily protested by students who blocked entrance to those who wished to attend the event. UCLA thwarted Shapiro’s efforts to share his perspective, and this should not be so.  

Universities are supposed to be guardians of knowledge, not adversaries of it. Though I support conservative principles, I would never encourage my college to ban liberal speakers from sharing their perspective. Prohibiting the free exchange of ideas only hinders the growth of more informed opinions. Many argue that some opinions are hateful and intolerant. At times, this is indeed true. However, there is an emerging trend of placing labels like “hate speech” or “intolerant” on things we don’t like. Our universities are supposed to be safe havens for knowledge, and hindering freedom of speech destroys the purpose of education. Political diversity is needed as much as ethnic, racial, and religious diversity.

Some may argue political diversity isn’t important. However, these assertions are far from the truth. Take for instance the controversy over the Affordable Care Act (ACA). The dilemma is whether congress should keep the  ACA, or a similar legislation, or eradicate the legislation. If congress continues the ACA, those insured by  the program will be keep their health care, but deductible prices will continue to climb for those previously insured. Republicans and Democrats differ hugely in their opinions on how to go about the ACA. The right hopes to alleviate prices, while the left wants to insure the most people. Political diversity cannot be ignored in regards to our health care predicament because both the economy and millions of lives are at risk.

By ignoring diversity of thought, America risks losing its footing as a world power. Banning speakers like Ben Shapiro from our universities only encourages students to close their minds to differing opinions and instead fosters an increase of ignorance. Recently, businessman Peter Schiff interviewed individuals protesting Wall Street. When he raised questions about the legitimacy of the majority opinion of the crowd, he was criticized for challenging their ideas and beliefs. Schiff was stunned at their unwillingness to show respect for his views. Needless to say, an intolerant group of protesters demonstrates the scary reality that our political and academic leaders are encouraging this developing trend.

        The two parties in congress show that their conflicting views do not always align with reality. What happens when our beliefs don’t match up with reality? Do we continue to live in a bubble of lies that washes away at political diversity? Will we continue to allow our public schools to embrace one ideology? Will we continue to allow secularism to dominate the public sphere and religious dogma to hinder healthy discussion of political issues? As intellectuals, we cannot let this one-view dominance define academia and the political realm. The liberal coast needs to listen to the conservative heartland, and vice versa.  

I’m afraid if we continue to retreat from challenging ideas, America will no longer be able to hold onto its intellectual leadership in the world. Scripture teaches us the importance of fellowship. 1 Peter 3:15 commands us, “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.” When someone asks you why you believe in what you do, be prepared to defend your position logically and respectfully. Political diversity should and must continue, if we want to remain a country of freedom and intellectual influence. Bill Clinton was right when he said, “great rewards will come to those who can live together, work together, and forge new ties that

bind together.” As pioneers of knowledge we cannot “forge new ties,” without appreciating other points of view.

Scroll through any American news website, and you will find a myriad of articles. Their subjects span from Donald Trump to the continued war against ISIL, occasionally even touching on such internationally significant subjects as Brexit or Justin Trudeau’s latest hairdo. You will not, most likely, read about the Philippines’ President Rodrigo Duterte’s war on drugs, in which hundreds of drug suspects have been rounded up and “routinely killed” by the police (Al Jazeera). Nor will you hear about the recent, possibly monumental elections in Somalia, in which the incumbent Hassan Sheikh Mohamud was ousted, and replaced by a hopeful new president, Abdullahi Mohamed Farmajo.

        None of these stories will cross your computer screen if you peruse the classic American news outlets, yet Americans must pursue these stories nonetheless. By restricting our input of news to national news, and sparse international news from our English-speaking, majority white allies, we restrict our worldview and our understanding of international politics, so as to be under-informed on many issues that affect the American people and the global community.

Our often limited understanding of global issues also reflects certain values which many Americans hold, values which represent the colonial spirit of our forefathers. These values suggest American news is the most important news for the sole reason that we are, in fact, the most important nation. To learn about the Phillipines or about Somalia would be an inconvenience at most, and certainly not a necessity for the average American citizen. Leave that to the politicians!

However, the problem with leaving these issues to politicians is that the policies we think pertain only to national issues are likely closely connected to international actors and stakeholders. Take climate change, for example. It would be easy to focus on a purely American perspective on climate change because we perceive our policies as only affecting the local community rather than the global community. However, by excluding international viewpoints, the climate enthusiast (or, I suppose, even the climate denier) will be missing an essential piece of the picture.

American policy (especially on global issues like climate change) takes into account the policies and political decisions of other nations. For instance, if many major American allies are committed to green energy, it may be beneficial for the American government to do the same. However, certain moral obligations must also be taken into consideration, such as America’s carbon footprint which has a direct impact on rising sea levels. These, in turn, affect smaller nations which have contributed minimally to the issue. Thus issues which we view as only affecting national interests are often, in reality, impacting the global community.

If the average American is not informed about these issues from a global perspective, it may be difficult for them to engage in a reasonable discourse on them. To discuss a major global issue such as climate change, all perspectives must be taken into account, not just the American perspective. By committing to following international news, Americans are committing to a global worldview. They are committing to a worldview which recognizes each country as important and all international news as noteworthy: not just that which pertains to white, English-speaking countries.