Many shades of Light Blue

While trying to become part of the campus community, we must hold dear our individual backgrounds, heritages and histories.

By Po Linn Chia

Published February 6, 2012

Going by the admissions statistics for the class of 2014, roughly 17 percent of our undergraduate population is either international or was schooled outside of the United States. Fifty-seven percent of undergraduates representing over 50 countries self-identify as students of color. In the language of tortured metaphor, Columbia is the umbrella under which a good number of peoples come to rest. Yet, having made it into Morningside Heights, our differences evaporate; as our experiences dovetail, we end up as Columbians who say some funny shit (“Shit Columbians Say,” Jan. 29). But what does this mean?

Part of being a Columbian—or a member of any community—involves embedding ourselves within an institution’s mythos. You have an answer to the question: Reference Room or 209? Harmony’s just too far away. Westside, too, is too far away. You can’t go with someone on a Starbucks run—too far away. You’re SEAS and unable to study abroad. You’re CC and need a higher printing quota.

The wonderful thing about the Columbia narrative is its commonality: as with the Core Curriculum, there’s a shared body of knowledge that connects you and me. We encode our belonging with acronyms, abbreviations, and slang. Wherever we may have come from, after a year or two, we end up speaking the same language. That unity in diversity is marvelous, but it operates under the assumption that even if we don’t come from the same place, we’re all moving in the same direction.

Accordingly, the nonresident alien living under Columbia’s auspices is ostensibly welcomed into a world of shared opportunity. Academic success, social assimilation, access to internships, and networks and happiness—all of Columbia’s resources are open to everyone. All Columbians are equal. This is the Columbia bubble. The dangerous extension of this bubble is this: because all Columbians are equal, all Columbians are the same.

This is not to say that diversity is dismissed on campus. Far from it: divergences—whether in opinion, creed, color, life experience or otherwise—are what make our interactions valuable. It is, however, easy for “diversity” to become just another word in the Columbian dictionary. Outside of our generally homogeneous religio-ethno-cultural club groups, we are beyond diversity now.
As an international student, I am often presented with a choice between either highlighting my alienness or concealing it. This is not an easy choice. Not being American, I don’t belong to the common cultural backdrop and am furthermore not obliged to buy into it. I keep my British English, thus driving my editors mad as they delete my u’s and revert my s’s to z’s. But to some extent, downplaying my foreignness is a necessary coping mechanism for studying here. It’s easy, however, to go too far in the opposite direction and displace myself from my own culture.

The desire to identify as “Columbian” instead of “alien” should not be underestimated. It’s easy for us to buy into stereotypes of diversity. It’s easy to go from being “Singaporean-Chinese” to being “Asian.” Then, from “Asian” to being mistaken for an “Asian-American.” Then from “Asian-American” to “Columbian” as I lose the energy and will to correct classmates’, professors’, and coworkers’ misconceptions. It’s easier to be Columbian—sans race, ethnicity, color—than to have to think, over and over again, about how different you are from the American next to you, assuming (of course) that “American” is a unitary concept.

Whether American or alien, many of us come from more than one place. After four short years, many of us will go in different directions. Having to think actively about the deep divisions within ourselves—those areas where no common understanding can prevail—is emotionally exhausting. It’s hard to communicate differences, but we should never shy away from that difficult task. We are not our universities or our majors or our class years. The diversity of Columbia’s student body, arguably its greatest asset, can persist only if we break out of the bubble.

Po Linn Chia is a Columbia College junior majoring in East Asian studies. She is chief of staff for CMUNNY and a member of the Global Recruitment Committee. Ever the Twain runs alternate Tuesdays.

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