Do The Right Thing

Do The Right Thing: A Director’s Dilemma
Phyllis Terry Friedman, Ph.D.

As background, Michael Brown, an unarmed 18 year old Black man, was fatally shot by Darren Wilson, 28, a white police officer, on August 9, 2014, in Ferguson, Missouri. The circumstances of the shooting were in contention, with Officer Wilson saying that Michael Brown assaulted him, walked away, then turned and charged him. Other witnesses insist Michael Brown had his hands up in surrender when Officer Wilson fired his weapon. A grand jury was convened to determine whether Office Wilson should be indicted. After much delay, the verdict was expected to come down the evening of November 24.
As a lead-up, there had been earlier rumors of the date for the Grand Jury report. People expected that Officer Wilson would not be indicted. One friend told me she had inside information that St. Louis was going to explode over the weekend when we thought the Grand Jury verdict would be reported, and that I should definitely get out of town that weekend. Weeks passed, but this sentiment remained in the air. In a group established by a graduate student, Fatima, we talked about these statements. “I’m Black,” she said. “How come no one’s worried about my safety?” The implication, she explained, was that White people believed that Black people would go on a shooting rampage targeting White people.
Student clinicians and other psychologists reported comments like: “I’m buying a gun and I’m going to shoot any Black person who crosses my property.” Or, “I’m going to teach my daughter how to shoot so she can protect herself.” These statements were made by White clients to both Black and White student clinicians and psychologists.
A word about where we are. Saint Louis University is roughly 11 miles from Ferguson, south of the Delmar divide (http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-17361995), across the street from a historic Black college where I have never set foot. We were occupied for a few weeks after the shooting of Michael Brown, although my route from the parking lot to the building meant I never even saw an occupier. Angry and worried parents called the University President. He set up web cams to assure parents we were not under siege, agreed to talk with the occupiers, set up a phone bank where selected faculty would calm distressed parents, and sent emails which underscored the Jesuit values of social justice and the right to protest.
New Yorker Magazine Cover

     I am White. I live in an upscale safe part of town walking distance from a wine bar, two trendy restaurants, and a hip coffee shop. In St. Louis, one of the most racially divided cities in the country, this also means that where I live most everyone else is White.
     Late in the afternoon of the day when the Grand Jury verdict was to be announced, my DCT called and said I needed to send out an email regarding what to do about the clinic. He recommended that the clinic be closed for the evening since protesters were expected, and he thought they would block the streets and clients wouldn’t have access to our clinic. It was my decision, but he recommended the clinic be closed. But it was my decision. Though he thought the clinic should be closed.
     Unbeknownst to me, our Administrative Assistant had sent two emails to the students informing them that the Grand Jury verdict was going to be announced that evening, and to “Be Safe.” She also wrote “Be Safe” on the white board in the lounge where students congregate informally. When I got word of this I told her to cease and desist, that that was not her job, that “Be Safe,” under these circumstances, had racial overtones. This confused her, as well as other [White] people, who thought I was over-interpreting. Not knowing what to do, not wanting to support the notion that the city was going to go up in flames or that protests meant riots, not wanting to fan unreasonable fears (e.g., that protesters would run amok and occupy campus), I consulted with another clinic director in the same building and two colleagues of color. The other clinic was remaining open – their faculty had discussed the matter and unanimously agreed to remain open – and my colleagues agreed with me, that the anticipation of danger was over-blown and race-based. Nonetheless, I wasn’t sure what to do. Within the hour, our University President emailed students, staff and faculty, an articulate statement again endorsing social justice, the right to protest, the expected safety. It was much more clear and eloquent than anything I could have written. That solved my dilemma. I thought.
     A few days later, at a student meeting I run, I brought up the issue of Ferguson. Students said they felt abandoned, without guidance, without direction as to what to do about clients. What about the letter from the President, I asked? It wasn’t from our program, they answered. It was too distant, too general. The only person who showed that she cared, said a student of color, was the Administrative Assistant. She acknowledged the event and told them to Be Safe.
     I wish so many things. I wish that I had understood the effect of Michael Brown’s killing on Black students and other students of color, that I realized that students wanted to be asked how they were doing, that they wanted guidance and leadership; I wish I understood more so that I could have responded in contradiction to what was being urged by some in our program, that I would have done all of these things much earlier. I have learned how much I don’t know when it comes to race.

The email I wish I’d sent (or some variation). It was forwarded to me by a colleague at Saint Louis University who is active in trying to address issues of race and social justice. It is used with permission of the author.

Dear Friends,
I spent much of last night wondering what it would be like to be an African American student coming to UMBC today.  I wondered if it would be anything like how I felt as an Iranian person going to work on a university campus after the events on September 11th, 2001.  I remember that time vividly, wondering how people were going to respond to me, if I would get dirty looks or snide comments.  I remember feeling unsafe.  I also remember feeling grateful that I was no longer a student, one rung up on a hierarchical ladder; no longer having to worry about the power dynamics in which college students live.
    Above all, I recall a close friend of mine who is African American and has a robust sense of humor coming to me, letting out a dramatic sigh of relief and saying, “Finally, I can catch a break today because America is too busy hating your people to worry about my being black.”  We both laughed and I felt grateful for the love and support of a friend who understood.
    With many of our students being from the Baltimore area, I think it is important for us to reach out to let them as a department to let them know that we care.  Regardless of their race, our students may or may not be identifying with recent events but the current state of Baltimore is the backdrop behind every interaction that is taking place on campus right now.  As colleagues, I would ask that we all keep in mind that students may be feeling additional pressures as they prepare for their final exams this semester.  If anyone on our campus is equipped to act with sensitivity and empathy, it is our department.  So I encourage us to continue being role models for both our coworkers across campus as well as for our students who are looking up to us for cues on socially acceptable dialogue around the events taking place.
    I have reached out to the Counseling Center and they are meeting this morning to determine what additional services they would like to offer.  I plan to hold additional office hours this week on Thursday and Friday evenings until 7pm for walk-in appointments.  I will be sending out an email to our majors later today to offer support and information on available services.

Best wishes,
Darian Schiffman
Academic Advisor
University of Maryland, Baltimore Campus