1,548 words

Most everybody seemed to get along in the decade prior to the turn of this century. At least it was that way in my world. Blacks had equal rights: Some were superstars in sports, some had recording contracts, and some starred in movies. All was good and things were equal — or so I had thought.

There were not many rumblings about inequality, equity, microaggressions, or anything having to do with “diversity, equity, and inclusion” (DEI). Critical Race Theory was something mostly restricted to academia. A Karen was just a Karen. We used pancake syrup and cooked rice without any worry about who was gracing the label. 

I as in college during the mid-to-late 1990s. Occasionally our professors would give out an assignment to write a long paper, which might be picked later to be given as a speech to the whole class or in a lecture hall. One of mine was selected for such a presentation. It was about viewing the military as a welfare state. Although my experience with the military was limited, I came from a military family and had friends who were serving, primarily in the US Army and the National Guard. 

The paper, which was about 9,000 words, pointed out areas where the US military could be seen as something akin to welfare. The military not only protects and strengthens the country, it aids and supports those enlisted. I knew that some might view my opinion as controversial, but a non-biased look shows that any of the sectors of the military could potentially be construed as a welfare state.

I delivered the paper in a lecture hall that was roughly halfway filled, maybe 50 to 60 students. (Probably better for my nerves!) I felt like I had a positive response, for the most part, and I noted that there were very few questions asked at the end. The professor nodded at me when I left.

Several weeks later I was in class when I got summoned to the Dean’s office. As I was riding in the elevator on the way there, I tried to recall if I had any unfinished work, problems, or other issues that had arisen recently. But when I got to her office, she wanted to talk to me about my “military as a welfare state” speech. Stupidly, I thought I might be getting accolades for it, as this was a large project for the semester and several of the papers in it were to be published. 

It turns out there had been a complaint made against my report. I figured somebody wanted to argue about a couple of the points I had made. Maybe it was a good opportunity to address it? Although I soon learned that the complaint had nothing to do regarding the content of my work, but was about a word I had used.

As any writer does, I often use a thesaurus. I had used the word “negotiate,” and I had also referenced a renegotiation, so I had looked for a different word to convey the same meaning. I chose “renege.” This ended up being my foray into what would later become known as microaggressions. 

A student had complained that I had used a racist word. The speech had been recorded was viewed by others besides those who had been present when I delivered it, including other students, an advisory board, the Dean, and some other professors. I had very definitely pronounced “reneged” with an “egg” sound, not a “twig” or “igloo” sound. It certainly sounded correct on the tape! 

But I now suddenly had an investigation on my hands — and a most unwelcome one. I remember I had to give a statement to the Dean and two witnesses. Then things started to become even more complicated after that. I had never had trouble such as this before. I had done stupid teenage stuff and made some dumb young-adult decisions, but I had the feeling that things were about to get a lot worse over this incident. 

I was right. 

Over the next few weeks, another representative of the school called me in and spoke to me. I believe she said that she was conducting a cursory Title VII investigation, but I also remember it being referred to Title IX. It was confusing. I had no idea which person to trust, and I was starting to think anything I said was being regarded as suspect. I couldn’t afford an attorney at that point in my life, so I started to do some digging on the dial-up World Wide Web. 

There were a few aggregate search sites in the late 1990s, but I had no idea how to use them for this purpose. I also didn’t know what the implications were of this investigation. All I knew was that I had meant no harm. How could a word be misconstrued as being something it wasn’t? 

Another week or so passed, and the reporting party — a black student who, it turned out, wasn’t even really a student, as she was merely auditing a course — had said she felt discriminated against by my lecture. She said my presentation was biased and that she had felt uncomfortable. Bear in mind that this was still two decades before the sort of movements we have now. 

Around a month later, as the investigation mounted, I wrote some responses to the Dean’s office as well as to the university’s President. Yes, I had used the word “renege,” but no, it had not been intended to mean anything other than to renegotiate. This was an institution of higher learning, after all. 

Several of my teaching assistants gave me advice on how to get letters of support from some of my professors and my academic advisor, which I did. The professor who had taught the military class for which I had written the paper wrote a shining letter for me, describing what an exemplary student I had been. The Dean was conveniently unavailable when I contacted her, but her assistant wrote a complimentary letter as well. I just had to wait. 

The waiting was tough. I’m pretty sure it worked better to help me lose weight than a diet. I was worried about what would happen if the school determined that I had been discriminatory and prejudicial in my presentation. I was beyond upset that this misunderstanding had blown up into something so troubling. Worst of all, I was concerned that this would prevent my graduation. 

I had never wanted to anger anybody, and I had not intended any part of my assignment as an insult, in any context. I didn’t even know who my complainant was. I felt I had treated everybody with fairness, and considered all of my student peers to be equal to me. Now I was feeling uneasy and began questioning if I had been disrespectful. This is the type of sick mindbending that can result from accusations such as these.

The Dean’s office finally got back to me, and there were a couple choices that needed to be made — both bad ones. The first option I had was to issue an apology and redo the assignment. If I did not resubmit another research project in its place, then the first one would be counted as a zero. I couldn’t afford that, as it was a big part of the overall grade in the course. The other option was to drop the course and receive no credit — and I’m sure they wanted a letter of apology in that case as well. It was all about the optics, you know. I decided to pick the first of the two bad choices.

I carefully worded my letter of apology. Although I was indeed truly sorry for what the complainant had heard, I did not accept responsibility for how she had interpreted it. I didn’t want to ostracize or humiliate anybody. I agreed to do a new assignment — but it was all in vain, anyway. A week later I learned that I would not get any credit for that course after all; it would be considered a pass/fail course on my record. Beyond that, my graduation would now be delayed — all because of a word that had been misheard.

I continued to attend classes, but I wasn’t taking much of it in at that point. My stress level was unbelievable, and my grades were falling. Angry, I looked into the consortium of universities and colleges in the area and found a program where I could do a semester at a university in a neighboring state in order to finish. It was more expensive, but I applied and was accepted. I was finally able to graduate — a semester late, a lot more jaded, and laden with student debt. My college diploma, unfortunately, shows the name of the university where I experienced this problem. I took the vast majority of my classes at that school, after all.

I occasionally appreciate the time I had in college, and I miss my friends from that time. But when I look back now, I realize that DEI, and the indoctrination and narrative that supports it, in fact started decades ago. For anybody who thinks that this is new, it is not. We have been beaten down and brainwashed for a long time.