By: Nick Matthews (U Mass Amherst)
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Let me start off by saying that I am an upper-middle-class white college kid. I’m in a fraternity with one black kid, one Asian, and two whole Jews! I’ve found that, at most colleges I’ve been to, there has been an almost self-imposed segregation between the white kids and the various ethnocentric minorities. This totally isn’t what that guy with the weird hat and sick beard had in mind when he talked about scoring four times in a row seven years ago, or what not. No way! That guy wanted equality. Back then it was us white people that were the butts, but now it goes both ways. That just seems silly to me. This is why I propose that every group of white kids at college needs to start making black friends. Consider it my emancipation proclamation or whatever.
Now I’m not saying we just jump right on into it. This kind of radical change takes time. Still, we have to start somewhere and we have to start soon. Enter Myles, my black friend. He isn’t my only black friend, but he most certainly is my closest. I met Myles when I pledged my fraternity about two years ago. His nickname was big black, derivative of two key facts. (He was big and he happened to be black) Before Myles, I knew a few black guys, perhaps even had a few black acquaintances, but none that I would have had the authority to call my friend. Myles, however, was different. He came up to me, shook my hand, and then proceeded to down an entire bottle of UV Blue vodka in the course of about a half an hour. Furthermore, Myles could dance. I personally suck at dancing. This kid was like the second coming of Michael Jackson. If there were a lull at one of our parties, he’d just move all two hundred and seventy five pounds of funk out to the dance floor and get it going again. There wasn’t much the kid couldn’t do.
Over the course of the next two years, Myles made his way out of college and into the real world. When he finally left, however, I noticed something amazing. Over the course of my friendship with Big Black, I had made friends with three or four other black guys who I now hang out with pretty regularly. The point being, my friendship with this awesome ball of fudge-yeah has led to me becoming more diverse, more understanding, and all of that other stuff that they sort of hint at in grade school and sitcoms.
Yes, you in the back? How do you get your own token black friend you ask? Let me tell you, sir, it is easier than you think. Check out your classes. Get to them a few minutes early, and sit down next to the most fly motherfudgeer you see. Ask him or her for help with the lesson at hand. When the weekend comes, ask what they’re up to. Invite your friend-to-be to a party or out to the bars. Get completely housed and make bad decisions. Think republicans making Sarah Palin their Vice Presidential candidate meets “It’s dark, she won’t notice if I just crinkle this chewing gum wrapper in lieu of wrapping it up.” Now, tell me if your new buddy doesn’t sit next to you when Monday rolls around.
Wait! What’s that you say? You aren’t sold. Well, sir or madam, I have found that the best way to bullstuff your way through proving a point is with graphical representations of the issue at hand. So suck on these.
