My buddy Brian, Tufts’ Catholic society’s equivalent to me, and I pair up as impromptu, jovial group leaders in the large rooms to which we are assigned. We lead our cohort with laughter to craft a massive tower of popsicle sticks, mini pom-poms and pipe cleaners.
I didn’t notice anything odd that de-facto two white men fell into roles of authority.
Subtle, yet in the open
> “Barbara yelling at Marcell, about rampant inequality when her group needed more tape.”
> “Yeah. And, Marcell?”
> “Stayed right on repeating the task, like, your task is to work with your cohort, within a time boundary of ten-minutes, using materials provided, to build your “best tower.”
> “If she spent more time.”
> “I know.”
The system isn’t broken, it’s doing exactly what it was set-up to do.
It was a set-up.
The whole thing.
But, no one made us gaze into our pom-pom festooned navels and and ignore the disenfranchised.
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“I’m proud of you. You are taking two whole nights away, just for yourself,” I hear Larry say. I re-tuck the microphone of my headset into my facemask to muffle the wind for when I talk. “Larry, it’s more that they sent me. Is that better? Can you hear me better now?”...