Syllabus: Living Global 101S

Hi, fellow citizens, and welcome back to the Duke Bubble. Unless you’re first-years (a note to first-years, “freshmen” is gendered language, please refrain from using it). In that case, welcome to the haven of conspicuous consumption—no, consumerism, the bastion of conservativism, the bubble of isolation from world events that is Duke University. You’re about to spend the next four years of your life eating food most people around the world have never even heard of, wearing clothes that would cost clothing factory workers their life savings to buy and trying to shove yourselves into so-called “greek” organizations that represent everything that is wrong with our culture today. I hope you’re proud of yourselves.

Since this is my first column, I want to introduce myself. I am your Concerned Global Citizen. I’ve chosen to be anonymous because I know my views are not welcomed or appreciated by our shallow, elitist campus. But they must be heard.

You see, while the rest of you have been drinking your way through Europe, wearing sequined tops (do you know how much the craftswoman who hand-stitched those sequins got paid? Probably about the same as the sales tax on that blouse. I hope you like your blood-clothing), and taking Myspace shots with your “sistahs” whom you secretly hate, I have been in the country of Africa for two summers now, staunching the wounds of emaciated children and sometimes taking pictures with them for charity brochures. I speak no fewer than four African languages. I would tell you my African name, but the tribe that gave it to me told me that speaking it aloud would be like losing my soul.

Africa changed my life. After going to sleep at dusk and waking up at dawn, with no lights, no water and no internet, living close to the land with people who cared about their families (even though the men would marry like as many wives as they wanted and it was so icky but that’s their culture so I’m not judging or anything), I honestly never wanted to come home. But I had to, because living like that is fine for vacation, but no human being could spend her whole life that way.

But every time I come back to America—and remember, I’ve been to Africa more than once—I see the differences. Food tastes better, and there’s more of it. Poor people aren’t really poor here. I used to feel sorry for hobos. Now when I see one, I give him a speech about how blessed he is compared to the 8-year-old African boy who died in my arms. Once homeless people understand that even their problems are “first-world problems,” it seems to make them a lot more content with their situations. I also see a lot of ignorance, and a lot of misplaced anger. All of you are so wrapped up in things that don’t matter to anyone else. But I know you can learn. You just need to become Global, like me.

There are lots of ways you can reach out, even from the Gothic Wonderland. Even from those $2,500 chairs in the Link. Going Global can be as simple as something you do already, like consuming. Lots of consumer goods give money to charity! I own every earthquake and hurricane solidarity shirt that’s ever been printed. You should, too. By wearing T-shirts to show my sympathy with the victims, it’s almost like I’m there. Sometimes, I go barefoot for a day, because lots of people around the world don’t have shoes. I’m so thankful to put on my TOMS (I have 10 pairs) afterward, and reflect on what it’s like to be a real poor person.

Maybe you could try fasting in support of hungry people. Sure, there’s food everywhere in this country, and no real way to get it over to the people who really deserve it, but that doesn’t mean you personally have to eat it. Hopefully, your hunger pangs will give you a conscience. Imagine, just for a little while, feeling as noble as all those struggling people in third-world countries like in Africa and South America feel. Because the fact is, unless you live in a war-torn desert and consider a bowl of rice to be a rare feast, your problems mean nothing.

I know it’s a lot to take in right away. Thinking Global is hard, especially if you haven’t spent time in impoverished places, like I have. But don’t worry. Even if your parents gave you everything you wanted growing up, like nice clothes, riding lessons, a car when you’re 16, college tuition, trips to Africa.... Even if you’re that steeped in consumerism, I’m here to help you break free. In the coming months, I will teach you what is wrong with the way you live, and how to fix it. So welcome back, Dukies. Class is in session.