Token White Guy

A Short Story #4

My professor designated me the token white guy of my class because I was the only one who fit all 3 criteria of the woke’s unholy trinity: white, straight, and male. Unlike token black guys, they didn’t use pictures of me on the university website to give the appearance of diversity. Rather, they used me as a punching bag.

The course was called “Leadership Studies,” and I took it because I wanted to be a leader, just like my dad. I wasn’t sure how someone attained the ability to lead, so I figured taking a course on it would be the best way to learn. The longer the course went on, however, the less it seemed to have anything to do with its name.

All too often, the professor would bring in politically charged conversations and we’d just talk. “How is this person being a leader?” was a common question which received insultingly obvious responses for a thing you pay money to attend.

One day I remember in particular was the day we discussed cultural appropriation. The conversation centered around the white girl who went viral for wearing a Chinese dress to her prom.

“I don’t see a problem with it, she likes the style,” I said

The girl next to me turned red and her neck veins raged, “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK—ARE YOU KIDDING ME? THIS IS A TEXTBOOK MANIFESTATION OF WHITE PRIVILEGE AND THE COMMODIFICATION OF MARGINALIZED CULTURES. YOU DO NOT GET TO EXTRACT THE LABOR OF AN OPPRESSED PEOPLE, DETACH IT FROM ITS HISTORICAL TRAUMA, AND REPURPOSE IT FOR YOUR OWN PERFORMATIVE SELF-EXPRESSION.”

I sat there while the girl tore into me, spittle flying in my direction. I remember thinking, “Is the professor going to offer me any support here?” But no, she let it go on and on. Then she got the opinion of others in the class, all of which agreed with the girl. White girl after white girl made subtle disses at me as to how my privilege was so great that I couldn’t even see the hardship the rest of the world felt.

I was ashamed of myself. The consensus was clear, the real leaders were the people on social media “educating” the girl on why she should not wear the dress. “Obviously, if I’m the only person who thought this way, I must be wrong” I thought. I even apologized for my ignorance to the whole class. It was a real life Asch conformity experiment and it worked.

Later that year, the professor gave us a packet about Sweatt v. Painter. It was a Supreme Court case where Heman Sweatt, a Black man, was rejected from the all-white University of Texas Law school because of his race.

The professor then said she wanted to role-play the trial. She asked the girl from the dress incident to be Sweatt’s attorney (good guy) and me to be Painter’s attorney (racist piece of shit). No script, just talk as you think these people would.

I knew this was bad news bears from the start but I was too scared of authority to say anything. Again, this was leadership studies, not acting, not history, not law. She was intentionally setting me up for a spanking for being token white guy.

Girl: “Your honor, my client is qualified to attend the University of Texas Law school and was rejected because of his race. This is unjust. I demand that my client be admitted to the institution at once.”

Me: “So the uhh... University of Texas doesn’t think that uh... black people should be allowed here because they... don’t fit in.”

Her: “SO YOUR POSITION IS THAT A QUALIFIED BLACK MAN SHOULD BE EXCLUDED FROM THE SCHOOL BECAUSE WHITE PEOPLE LIKE YOU DON’T WANT HIM SITTING BESIDE THEM?”

Whoa. That seemed personal? Okay just stay in character.

Me: Well I mean, black people are uhh... better off in a separate place I think

Her: “YOU’RE LITERALLY DEFENDING SYSTEMIC RACISM! YOUR WHITE PRIVILEGE IS BLINDING YOU FROM THE FACT THAT SEPARATE ACCESS IS NOT EQUAL ACCESS TO OPPORTUNITIES. MY CLIENT WOULD BE DENIED THE SAME ACCESS AS WHITE STUDENTS. YOU CANNOT CLAIM THE RESULT IS EQUAL.”

I looked toward the professor the same way I would look at my dad when I was getting ‘the belt’, begging for it to stop.

Me: Uhh...

Her: “THIS CASE IS NOT ABOUT EDUCATIONAL POLICY. IT IS ABOUT WHITE SUPREMACISTS USING THE LAW TO KEEP BLACK PEOPLE OUT OF WHITE INSTITUTIONS. PEOPLE LIKE YOU ARE THE PROBLEM WITH THIS WORLD!!!”

I looked away from the professor and at the girl. Her eyes burned with rage, all of her social justice activism had prepared her for this moment.

Seconds pass and the room gets increasingly tense waiting for my reply. I tell the professor that I’m uncomfortable continuing and she let us stop. The girl’s fury transformed into a smug grin, proud of her victory, as though she just delivered the Emancipation Proclamation and freed the slaves.

I felt heavy for the rest of class, carrying a tremendous amount of shame. As soon as we were dismissed I left without talking to anyone, walking at a fast pace so as to not be seen, head down, defeated.

I only recognized what this was a few years later. A humiliation ritual, with me as the scapegoat, designed to insert guilt into my soul, put on for the enjoyment of those that detested the white man, professor included.

All of this being said, I don’t blame anybody but myself. I could have had an opinion on what a good Leadership Studies class looked like and once that standard had not been met, I could’ve dropped it. Instead, I outsourced my thinking, letting credentials convince me someone knew better.

So in a way, Leadership Studies taught me the most important lesson I would learn in college, the importance of thinking for myself. As with all great lessons, it came with pain. A pain that ensures I won’t forget its importance.

At least now I can laugh. Laugh at the fact that this professor had a PhD, a thing I used to think meant something. Laugh at woke culture, a thing that we used to let dominate what we could and couldn’t say. And laugh at the irony, that these people convinced me a Chinese dress was racist, but that dressing me up in a gimp suit wasn’t.