From the moment I arrived at Whitman, I knew I was supposed to feel like I was part of a community. I walked through the lush and sunny campus looking like a brochure come to life and thought to myself: Is being a “Whittie” a part of my identity now? Soon after, I realized that the Whitman student medal of honor was often wielded against anyone who lived outside of the campus bubble. This dawned on me the minute I heard the word “townie.”
“Townie,” while sounding affectionate, is never used endearingly. “Townie” conjures the image of someone dangerous, someone uneducated, someone to stay away from, someone (though Whitman’s purportedly progressive students would never say this) poor. A townie is an easy punching bag. I understand that students have genuine concerns about a select few Walla Walla locals, such as those who have acted predatory at parties or those who write hateful messages on local sidewalks. But haven’t our liberal arts classes warned us against overgeneralizing about an entire group because of the actions of a select few?
Whitman students, to their credit, are not the only ones who stereotype locals of college towns. My friends at colleges spanning from Ithaca, New York to Santa Barbara, California report that their peers use the term “townie” as well. Even in Bret Easton Ellis’ famous 1980s college novel “The Rules of Attraction“ students use “townie” to describe the residents of their fictional New England town. New Whitman students pick up the term because everyone else is using it. I’m not completely cynical; I will say that many don’t think of the term as offensive when they say it.
It can be frustrating when too much emphasis is placed on terminology and not enough is placed on the material conditions that these terms refer to. However, our words matter. The word “townie” in particular points to a culture of students feeling completely disconnected from the community outside of their elite and expensive college. Have you asked for the names of the townies you’re referring to? Do you know anything about their lives? What do you think their relationship is to their home, which you are a guest in? If we step outside of the inherent sense of entitlement that can come with being a college student, we’ll gain a more empathetic understanding of the world around us.
When I attended this month’s march in solidarity with immigrants, I found myself in a crowd of Walla Walla locals for the first time since arriving here. I had been so caught up in Whitman classes and extracurriculars that I hadn’t taken the opportunity to engage with the community.
The onus should not exclusively be on students to build better relationships with locals. Colleges can also take steps to bridge the gap between town and gown. At Penn State, frats and neighborhood families partner so fraternity members can participate in acts of service for their neighbors. At Whitman, students are offered a variety of volunteer opportunities through which they can connect with the Walla Walla community, from helping out at the local food bank to reading in local schools. However, for these programs to work, students need to shift their attitudes.
There is an inherent tension, a power dynamic, which is difficult to get to the root of. Many Whitman students come from wealthy suburban communities and pay an exorbitant price for a high-class education. Walla Walla locals, on the other hand, haven’t been so lucky: the town’s tourism has boomed over the last 20 years while its residents have suffered a housing crisis.
While we have been in classes reading about systemic injustice, our neighbors have suffered its many consequences. Our privileges have blinded us to a striking disparity. As an individual, I hope to step out of the Whittie identity and begin sowing the roots of a genuine relationship with the broader community. While I can’t know for sure if other Whitman students will do the same, taking one word out of our collective vocabulary feels like a step in the right direction.
