I received numerous hateful e-mails the day my response in the Pio was printed.   To those of you selecting that medium: I 1) ask you to carefully read my Senate speech or letter that was published, for while the majority of you accused me of missing “the point” in some way, I acknowledge “the point” multiple times; 2) am disappointed that you would not engage in discourse publicly; 3) hope you someday demonstrate the ability to argue without insulting your opponent; and 4) believe you were so wrapped up in a dislike for me that you were unable to see any of “the points” I was trying to make.   As I said once over the listserv, I will not participate in mudslinging or respond to personal attacks, but for the sake of the overall inaccurately negative perception others have developed due to rumors, I would like to clarify some things.

I never wanted the Pioneer to be censored (or any of the other vicious rumors like cancelling it or demanding Miss Johnson be expelled: come on), for example: I say this explicitly in my first Senate speech.   What was achieved in my negotiations with their staff is exactly what I wanted out of them: more advantage of the resource they have in Professor Charlip taken, and more consciousness of the potential repercussions of their actions.   Oh, and while it was never explicitly stated, the apologies being shifted to being less about them and more about how people were hurt in the publication of that article and acceptance of that culpability.

I do enjoy satire, and I do “get it.”   But all of the arguments in the defense of satire have been using the word “offense” and its various forms.   None (except Stephen Carter’s: I’ll come to this later) use the word “hurt.”   There is a fundamental difference, and when satire moves from offensive to hurtful, it fails.   That is why the article was so bad: it was offensive, yes, but it was also hurtful.   I reiterate: I knew what was being attempted the entire time I was reading it.   But every stereotype was like being hit with a golf club; and the line about scalping was a semi truck to the face. When satire does this, it is not acceptable.   And the staff of the Pio came to this realization, albeit a few days late; so if others still think the article was “good” satire, they miss this point and probably will never understand it.

The article being written for the April Fools edition doesn’t give it a free pass, either, and I’m not a “fool” for thinking this.   Again, I was hurt.   If I punched you in the face on April Fools Day and winked, you wouldn’t laugh: you’d want to beat me to a pulp.   So why should I or any of the other Native Americans at Whitman have said, “Silly Pio,” and giggled?   No.   Just no.   And if you want to pick that apart and try to differentiate between physical and psychological assault, go ahead, but keep in mind that you are likely not Native American and thus would never be able to read that article in the exact same way a Native American would.   Let’s face it: the only true comprehension comes from experience.   We can relate, but we can’t ever quite reach a 100 percent equal understanding of something like this.   It is part of the human experience, though, so I do not see it as something to try and “fix,” but rather to work around.

I am not too sensitive.   OK, well, I’ll take that back.   I sometimes am: I cried watching “Finding Nemo” the first…five times…I saw it.   But that’s a different kind of cry.   I had every right to be hurt in this instance, though.   I cried when I read that article because it reminded me of the oppression my family’s history is filled with.   And I pursued it so publicly because 1) I am an activist at heart, and 2) it would have been a disservice to my ancestors to remain silent, my deceased great uncle, Gerald Clifford, in particular.   He died of cancer in 2000, but was a Native American lobbyist and activist in South Dakota for ages, schmoozing with every president and key members of Congress dating back to Carter and up to the beginning of this Administration (Tom Daschle even gave a speech about him when he died).   He and I may not have shared the same last name, but we are still of the same stock.   I thought of how he would have handled it, and I tried to emulate what I came up with.

Uncle Gerald was a devout Catholic, and when I was still practicing, we said this prayer together: “Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.”   In other words, fight the good fight, but don’t be so blinded by your cause as to let it fail.   “You learn when to give in and when not to,” he said to me.   “If you hang on to too much, you may lose everything.”   I’ll never forget that.   It has guided me in a lot of different aspects of my life, and it guided me in this process here.     So I was diplomatic, like him: I met with as many people I thought necessary, ignored the insults and didn’t hold so tenaciously that I became sheer opposition.   You can accuse me of whatever you want, but you cannot legitimately say I handled myself inappropriately or offensively, nor that I had no right to express myself.   That’s why I conceded sometimes but still achieved something good for the campus; and why I’m still working at it.

Yes, it was personal.   But so what?   Being hurt is personal.   And I knew that if I tried hard enough, I could accomplish something, something that could decrease the possibility of others being hurt the way I had.   Just like Uncle Gerald: the violence our tribe has experienced is deeply personal for him, but it fueled the fire of his efforts for all tribes, not just ours.   So I went after it.   If you think this is wrong, then I ask you to reflect.   You may not be as much of an advocate as I am, but if you have ever believed in anything, even if it was that you thought “Transformers” was terrible but your brother thought it was the best movie of the year and you had a heated argument: that’s still something.   Take that passion and personal investment, and multiply it by about 109,025: point three, repeating.   That probably still doesn’t reach the level at which this meant to me.

And if that passion can be put to a good use, why is it bad?   I took that passion and used it to fight for everyone else that could ever be in my situation.   It wasn’t just for Native Americans that I took initiative; that I stood firm sometimes but had the ability to back down others.   It was for every person that has ever been hurt on this campus by something someone else said or did without realizing they were being hurtful.   It was for every GLBTQ student that has or could ever feel a sting because they hear people making gay jokes a table over; it was for every Latino student that has or could ever feel marginalized because another student said they should go mow the lawn (but added, “Just kidding!” at the last moment); it was for every conservative that has or ever would listen in class as someone else said, “Well, since everyone at Whitman is pretty liberal and will vote Democrat….”   Race, gender, ethnicity, religion, political alignment: you get it, right?

So this is where Stephen and I disagree: I agree with him that people will probably get hurt in the future, but by responding: and this is key: properly, intelligently and carefully to this incident, I think it can help decrease the number of future ones, because it can make people more conscious of their actions in light of this.   So I had the serenity and courage and wisdom needed to make something happen.   Hang me by my toes in the dungeon of your opinion, if you want, but see how good you feel afterwards.   Feeling squeamish at all? Because I sure feel pretty serene, myself.