Sometimes as I work long into the early morning in the Sciences Library, I find myself wondering why I've been typing all day instead of giving up hours earlier.
On days like these, I remind myself that my matriculation at Brown was not merely my own doing.
I am the grandson of a housemaid and a gravedigger. When my father left the rural Georgia town of Eatonton (Alice Walker's hometown) to go to college, he had to borrow his classmates' books, since he couldn't afford to buy them. As a student, he was always trying to figure out where he was going to get money for dinner.
Before I left my hometown of Atlanta, my great-aunt reminded me of something that I would like to share with the entire campus, and that is this: Remember where you come from. I am not trying to paint a sympathetic picture in which I ask my readership to have pity for me. This is only one instance of my personal ancestral struggle - many others can relate to and tell similar stories.
Yes, I worked hard in high school to get just the right grades. And I certainly invested hours of my valuable teenage life into community service projects and other activities so that I could meet extracurricular requirements. However, despite my numerous accolades and the tuition check that my father grudgingly paid to the University, I am here as the result of the struggles of my ancestors and family.
Regardless of race, many students at Brown like myself are descended from ancestors who were not well-off when they arrived in the United States. Despite the array of Range Rovers and BMWs that dot the campus, there are students at Brown who come from single-parent households, and students who have parents that lack high school or college diplomas.
Nevertheless, we all made it to Brown. After speaking with my great aunt, I am beginning to feel as though I - and all Brown students - have a mission.
Each generation should expand upon and further the accomplishments of past generations. We are all the embodiment of the civil rights movement. As we attend classes in an interracial environment and are privileged to study under an "open curriculum," we should feel obligated to work hard not only so that we can get high paying jobs, but so that we can also honor the sacrifices of the generations before us by becoming successful.
Thinking of this, I feel even more motivated than before to put in an extra hour of studying or to complain less about my workload. If students like myself opt to not work hard, we are all forgetting the selfless sacrifices of the men and women who came before us.
Like my great-aunt, my mother always told me never to forget where I came from and how far I've come in life. Likewise, I ask my fellow classmates to remember the sacrifices of the thousands of poor immigrants who arrived at Ellis Island from Eastern and Western Europe. I ask that we all, regardless of color, remember and perpetuate the legacy established by the thousands of ordinary men and women killed, maimed and/or incarcerated throughout the civil rights movement.
By no means should we feel inadequate or burdened by a need to live up to the legacy of our ancestors. However, when it's 4:47 a.m. and you're doing a problem set instead of sleeping, don't feel overwhelmed. Keep working hard, and be comforted by the fact that you are toiling in remembrance of those who likewise toiled. After all, if we don't continue the progress made by our parents, then who will pave the way for those who come after us?
Curtis Harris Jr. '09: speaking for those who have long been silent.
