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The Chronicle Opinion section has a reputation for being a sounding board for complaints—and rightly so. Every day, opinion writers (myself included) release new pieces slamming Duke, its faculty or its students.
Of the expansive list of evils at Duke, which are often exposed in The Chronicle (and another and another, and another, and another), few are more malicious and loathsome than Duke Parking & Transportation. Duke Parking & Transportation is an exploitative, money-making arm of the “non-profit” that is Duke University.
My first year at Duke was a tough one— spent navigating D1 athletics, Chem 101, new friendships, illness, injury, the total first-year experience. Everything was changing so fast and every day seemed to bring a new obstacle, yet I knew I had one constant at Duke—I would be greeted with love by Julia at Marketplace breakfast.
It was 4:14 a.m. on a Friday night—or Saturday morning—and I was up the wall with frustration. My insomnia and sensitivity to caffeine had gotten the best of me and for two hours, and I’d been summoning sleep with no success. There was nothing productive I could be doing. But still, this idle time haunted me—it was cutting into the time and energy I had carefully allotted to my productive Saturday schedule. And then I confronted a question my boyfriend asked me a few weeks earlier.
I’m white. I’ve lived in my white body for 22 years. And it took me until recently to actually realize what that means. I grew up in the North Shore of Chicago, one of the whitest spaces in one of the country’s most segregated cities.
Addressing Duke students’ community engagement in Durham, I want to start by unpacking the term “Durhamite.”
After reading two fellow columnists’ articles concerning affiliation at Duke, I was disheartened. One columnist detailed his disappointment with his social experiences as an independent, and one columnist justified the exclusive nature of Greek life with the assertion of the exclusivity of life in general. While exclusivity and hierarchy are realities, there is no reason that Duke’s social climate need look like the rest of the world. In fact, I believe we as a student body, especially independents, have the power to make Duke’s campus an inclusive and welcoming place, even building it to be a microcosm of what we want our world to look like.
“You got your freshmen, ROTC guys, preps, JV jocks, Asian nerds, cool Asians, varsity jocks, unfriendly black hotties, girls who eat their feelings, girls who don't eat anything, desperate wannabes, burnouts, sexually active band geeks, the greatest people you will ever meet and the worst. Beware of The Plastics.” We can thank Janice from Mean Girls for spelling out the social scene at North Shore High. I went to high school at New Trier on the North Shore of Chicago, the school that the movie is based upon. Leaving the North Shore, I was ready to experience the rich diversity and integration that sold me on Duke. Ironically, this cafeteria map resembles Duke’s social scene more than it does my high school cafeteria. Sad, right?
