“Wheatfields and Burritos” is a seemingly harmless tradition that involves Whitman students going out into the wheatfields surrounding Whitman and enjoying both the scenic agricultural views and the burritos they brought along the way. Harmless… right? The wheatfields are private property, and while that probably goes without saying, the tradition of “Wheatfields and Burritos” doesn’t necessarily treat them as such. By encouraging students to explore these wheatfields, Whitman culture treats them more like public property, and the absence of signs declaring them private reinforces this perception. 

On Oct. 4 last year, two of my friends and I found this out the hard way. Looking to experience something akin to “Wheatfields and Burritos”, I suggested to my two friends that we take a night drive around the wheatfields to enjoy the night sky away from the light pollution. No drugs, no alcohol, just wholesome fun. 

Unfamiliar with the area, we quickly found ourselves lost and driving on a dirt road. There were no signs demarcating private property, no gates that we had to open, no way of knowing where we were. We ended up arriving in front of a house and realized we might have been on someone’s land. 

We looked around for a possible path back to the main road. As we were leaving on the narrow dirt road that we had come on, we were slowed to a crawl by a figure approaching on a motorcycle. As they hopped off, the motorcycle’s high beam illuminated them from the back, showing only their outline. Already distressed that we were lost, this new ominous figure’s appearance seemed like something out of a thriller movie. 

As they approached the car, I could vaguely make out their hand make its way towards their belt. Assuming the worst, I told my friend who was driving that the figure was reaching for a gun. In a moment of panic, we swerved around them, driving both on and off the road. As we passed them, we heard the unmistakable crack of a gun. 

Immediately, my friend realized that he had been shot, wincing and clutching his knee, all whilst trying to drive us to safety. It didn’t feel real as I looked down at my pants, bloodstained by two new holes in my leg, or as I watched my friend hobble out of the car with the bullet still lodged in his knee. Not even as I sat in the hospital, slowly bleeding onto the neon green waiting chairs, did I absorb the impact of what had happened.

The experience of my friends and me is a quintessential example of how Whitman culture tends to project its values onto the Walla Walla community when those values often are not shared. It’s no secret that the Whitman student body is progressive with many Whitties often participating in politically charged protests, but this same liberal mindset is not shared by the larger Walla Walla community. 

In 2024, Republican candidate Michael Baumgartner was able to capture a commanding 59.43% of votes in Walla Walla County; likewise, Trump won the county over Harris by 12%. The problem is that even though Whitman is squarely located in Walla Walla, its careful cultivation of the “Whitman Bubble” keeps students secluded from this reality of the rest of the town, leading them not to realize the possible areas of conflict between the student body and the larger town.

Considering the strong conservative values underpinning Walla Walla politics, Whitman College has done a fantastic job advertising Walla Walla to prospective progressive students. For a town of just over 34,000 situated in the middle of farmland that stretches as far as the eye can see, the town is far from a cultural touchstone. Yet Whitman has carefully framed Walla Walla not as a small town like any other but instead highlights the quaint charm of the city, embracing its agricultural roots by making the Walla Walla Sweet Onion a core piece of the Whitman identity. Yet, to fully accept this rural identity, it is important to also understand the people who inhabit it and how their beliefs may differ from our own.

The purpose of this story is not to scare people away from ever going out into the wheatfields again, but is instead meant to caution them against doing so haphazardly. Some farmers care about students on their property and some don’t. If you do decide to go out into the wheatfields, though, don’t expect the Whitman Bubble to protect you. Bubbles are so often primed to pop, and when this bubble pops, it takes your security with it.