It’s been a tough run for the White Guys recently. In the past few months, they’ve braved the inaccurate media representations of Whites at Trump Rallies, indiscriminate and vague blame being placed on them in every politics class and the most recent leadership shake-up in one of their most cherished institutions, IFC, where one of their own was just trying to do his White Guy thing by clumsily advancing his elite group’s interests with calculated disregard for the consequences. The higher-ups at Whitman have taken notice of this troubling trend of White Guy subjugation and have vowed to remedy it by offering a new class called Affirmative Reactions 128.

The class will be comprised largely of White Guys whose egos meet a certain standard level of fragility and a hand-picked group of students who represent traditionally marginalized groups whose faces you’ve undoubtedly seen on every piece of Whitman advertising. The class will be run as a discussion based seminar analyzing many of the texts that led to discussions in which the White Guys felt victimized, including the The New Jim Crow, Beloved and The Second Sex. The women and people of color in the room will provide their insights into the given text but the class will not be allowed to move on to the next point until one of the White Guys in the room has repeated, diluted and taken credit for each said insight.

The aim of the class is to provide a platform for White Guys to reclaim their lost agency in these tumultuous political times. Repeating the intellectual contributions of others and claiming them as their own has been a longstanding tradition for the White Guys of Whitman College, and finally enough student interest has coalesced to allow for the practice to be fully ritualized as a component of a well-rounded liberal arts education. In order for every student to feel heard, some of them have to be heard more than others.

“Sure, we’ve gotten a lot of criticism for registering for this,” said one of the six Andrews in the class, “but, like, at the end of the day, no one can make you feel inferior without your consent, amirite?”

Yes Andrew, you sure are.

I walk into Reid on a Thursday afternoon to pick up my mail and my senses are immediately bombarded with the sounds of our prestigious alumni and their hoards of near-identical spawn, checking in for their weekend of nostalgia and quiet desperation. For students, alumni weekend provides a sobering realization that their future as a child-toting alumnus donned in un-ironic “Whitman Dad” gear is only a few resume lines away.

Across the room, I see a student heading to the ballroom to network with the alumni. He tells me he has been in the SEC all week preparing his resume for this momentous weekend where he will no doubt be offered his choice of minimally engaging, unpaid internships in exchange for his experience as a summer camp counselor. As he tells me this, I watch his gaze become distant while he contemplates hope, freedom and the mortal shackles of his five year plan.

As I make my way across campus, I see Whitties and their L.L. Bean catalog children frolicking around Ankeny reliving the days of yore. I hear a pair of current students observing the scene with distress. “Is that our future?” lamented one, “is that all there is? Marrying a Whitman student and exchanging my Chacos for a sensible pair of Keens?” The contemplative silence is interrupted as her phone buzzes with an email from Noah Leavitt about taking advantage of the Whitman alumni network.

On the other side of Ankeny, a former and current Whitman student stand facing one another, eyes locked, stuck in an endless game of mirroring each other’s movements as they jointly commune with the spirits of Marcus and Narcissa. Kathy Murray watches from the clocktower as the homogeneity of the upper middle class PNW donor archetype takes hold of campus. The two Whitties emerge from their seance, equally convinced of the ethical merits of a need-sensitive financial aid system.

Alumni continue to wander the halls of campus staring uncomfortably long at all of the students going about their routines. The students stare back to discern which older versions of themselves will be crashing their parties later that night. Both contemplate their fleeting youths as a lone frisbee sails through the night.

The advent of the new school year brings with it the return of Whitman’s famously liberal, politically-engaged student body. The campus becomes a treasure trove of meaningful political discussion sparked by Nalgene stickers, Dank Meme Stashes and skimmed New York Times articles. At any point you could be witness to such searing insights as “I think I’m registered to vote?” or “but like, if Trump wins, what if we actually did move to Canada?”

This rich and diverse dialogue has led to the formation of the Young Republicans club and the Socialist club, but no Young Democrats club. This, apparently, is intentional on the part of campus Democrats. The lack of traction for a more formal centralization of the Whitman hive mind is an essential part of being a Whittie.

For liberal students on campus, an invaluable aspect of their Whitman experience is the intellectual superiority they derive from being part of a left-leaning minority in the largely conservative political climate of Walla Walla. If there were to be an organization on campus centered around political engagement with like-minded people, the careful balance of martyrdom and self-satisfaction that comes with being as Enlightened as a Whitman student would be entirely disrupted. Why go out and register people to vote when you could just as easily wax eloquent to your peers about how the lack of voter registration is to blame for Bernie’s primary loss? Remember, you’re here to learn that you’re smarter than everyone around you, not to actually apply your knowledge towards positive change.

Illustration by Taylor Penner-Ash

“The key is to be vocal enough about your views for people to know that you’re like, really smart, but not so vocal that they start asking you to take initiative or show any leadership,” said one student, “if we actually took steps to make Walla Walla a more liberal area, then what would we have to complain about?”

Whitman has recently undergone a number of name changes to the various campus institutions that promote a history of colonialism and a general white supremacist attitude. There’s that fun line slash thing in the title of The Pioneer, and we’ve confirmed in several ground breaking studies that, “Missionaries, missionaries, we’re on top!” just doesn’t have the same nostalgic, empowering ring that it used to. My personal opinion as one of Kathy Murray’s lowly subjects is that we become the Whitman Fighting Apologetics, but apparently not all of the autocrats in Memorial Hall share my lively sense of humor.

The Board of Trustees met this week to discuss such timely and relevant issues as raising the ASWC fee by ten dollars, making the duck pond a required Encounters text and using the budget surplus to buy the fraternities personal golf carts so they get a little more of their much needed freedom. The Trustees meeting on Friday was punctuated by several student protests to which several members of the board pretended to be sympathetic. Kathy Murray is determined to address student anger head on by changing the names of virtually everything at Whitman. Jewett Hall is now Nondenominational Hall, Anderson Hall has been changed to Anderson-and-daughter-and-any-other-pronoun-you-choose Hall and North is now North-South-East-West Hall because #AllDirectionsMatter. Recently the myWhitman portal has been changed to the myHistoryIsProblematic portal and Memorial Hall is now just We’re-Sorry-About-All-of-This Hall.

The Trustees and the administration hope these surface-level efforts at least give the impression that they care about student input and the lasting impact of colonial history, but some alumni have raised concerns about catering to the endless sensitivities of a coddled millennial generation. The disgruntled alumni were quickly appeased when they realized that all of the name changes are only relevant to current students, as the name of the college itself will remain unchanged as a steadfast tribute to Whitman’s history and world-renowned feet dragging.

In a recently leaked email to her more prominent constituents, Murray assured Trustees that the names of their beloved college institutions would revert to their old names just as soon as the angriest students graduate and find other irrelevant political battles to fight. In her email, Murray remarked that, “All we want to do is give these 20-somethings more chances to be right than they will be allowed in the real world, it’s one of the greatest rewards of higher education.”

As Whitman College begrudgingly catches up with the twenty-first century by removing such highly visible vestiges of colonialism as the mascot and the name of this newspaper, efforts have been directed towards rehabilitating the image of Prentiss Hall. For years now, the all-women’s dormitory has been stereotyped as a repressive, stuffy environment hostile to any mixed-sex mingling unless said mingling involves a spirited endorsement of abstinence-only sex education. It is speculated by many that this reputation may be amplified by the glaring difference between the policing of sorority women and fraternity men, but this rumor has yet to be confirmed. To combat the unfavorable reputation of being an uncomfortably well-lit, sexless dungeon with fancy rugs, Prentiss residence life staff have launched a 10-part study break series addressing the theme of penetration.

The aim of the study breaks is to address the evident lack of discussion surrounding penetration in all forms. “We really want to de-stigmatize the idea of penetration here in Prentiss. In this day and age, the painting of Narcissa Whitman looming in the Great Hall just isn’t as effective of a contraceptive as it used to be,” said one RA, “It’s time to address penetration openly and safely.” 

The event line-up is still in the works, but an inside source revealed that there will be penetration-themed cookie decorating, guest lectures on the etymology of penetration and plenty of uncomfortable eye contact. Res Life has also rented the school’s button maker, but has yet to develop a slogan or a logo that doesn’t compel Kathy Murray to hand in a letter of resignation. Since study breaks are consistently well-attended, especially by the sorority women, Res Life staff are optimistic about changing the culture surrounding Prentiss.

Hopefully, these efforts will help to bring Whitman to a more progressive stance on Prentiss’ reputation and the larger theme of women’s autonomy on campus. Res Life staff also said they hope the conversation extends beyond just sexual penetration and creates a dialogue about other ways to remove the Prentiss stigma. For example, all students should feel free to penetrate the doors of Prentiss and enter the building, and students can penetrate each other’s rooms and make the hall a comfortable social space. Said one RA, “we want to gain the same kind of traction that the consent movement did, sort of like how we have a consent culture, we want to have a healthy penetration culture.”

It’s no secret that Whitman students take pride in putting the capital L “Liberal” in Liberal Arts, but this week we have really outdone ourselves. Following legendary Supreme Court Justice Antonin (or Anthony, depending on your allegiances to Michelle Bachmann) Scalia’s sudden death, Whitman students approached the outpouring of sympathy in the media as an opportunity to remind their fellow social media sheeple of their staunchly liberal political views. Whether it was through witty Facebook statuses, sharing Onion articles, or weird email chains with dubiously progressive family members, Whitman students eagerly reminded us this week that, if there’s anything you can politicize the shit out of, it’s human life.

As we all know, a valiant cornerstone of our democracy is the conflation of political views with levels of intelligence and judgments of character. That’s why you never see a donkey and an elephant in the same cage at a zoo, because they both probably believe the other one to be a radical nutjob hellbent on destroying the republic with their heathen ideologies inculcated by generations of all-around terrible humans who should never have risen to power in the first place. Our reaction to Scalia’s death followed this age-old tradition by using a difference in political ideology as the basis for celebrating the loss of human life with the same zest usually reserved for Earth Party or the new round of monogrammed OP Patagonias. An on-site correspondent for The Pioneer reported hearing the founding fathers roll over in their graves from sheer glee.

The Pioneer reached out to students for their thoughts on the matter. One student claimed their peers were being “too sensitive” and “overly coddled” when expressing discomfort with the immediate celebration of Scalia’s death. When asked about the potential similarities between his choice of words and capital R Republican rhetoric surrounding pertinent issues of social justice, the student responded with silence because he was understandably busy sharing another article with a highly original and refreshing stance on Supreme Court politics to his Facebook page.

Whitman students continue to inspire the nation with their message of progressive, accepting politics, especially when they use the death of a man whose political views challenge theirs as the butt of a cheap joke. In a time of polarizing, hate-driven rhetoric in the realm of politics, it’s refreshing to see that partisan hypocrisy still has a home in the liberal circle jerk of our campus. The laws of basic human decency apparently elude us in the social media age as we race to the bottom to achieve the ever-elusive politically-aware-but-still-funny-and-super-chill social media persona.

The news cycle has already moved on to coverage of the impending Congressional gridlock over Obama’s potential appointee, which will make it even easier for all of us in the hive mind on both sides of the political spectrum to use the loss of human life as an opportunity to remind the country that differences in political views equate to differences in moral compassing. We’d like to think of ourselves as preachers and followers of a progressive political agenda that respects all human life with the decency it deserves. Instead, we are once again reminded of the proverb coined by Marcus Whitman himself, “the rules apply to everyone except for when they inconvenience me.”    

Illustration by Taylor Penner-Ash.

1. Practice mating calls. At Whitman these will sound like, “I just think Bernie is the more progressive candidate” or “I could totally pull off a man bun, right?” Practice these a few times and true love will find you, guaranteed. Lay your groundwork on social media. Liking some (but not all) of their photos and posting snap stories to make you look cooler than you are is the perfect way to say, “I’m desperate and have the social graces of a fetus when faced with actual social interaction.”
2. Dress better than you normally would. It’s important that you look at least mildly presentable when searching for a potential significant other/regrettable hook up, especially in the notoriously well-lit frat houses. Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.
3. Learn to tolerate mind-numbing small talk. Flirting involves a lot of chatter about the person you’re flirting with that has nothing to do with you, so it must not be important. Persevere and practice polite nods and vague responses to their stories about their politically radical divestment sit-in or their recent change of majors from Film Studies to Philosophy.
4. Have a few bulletproof conversation starters. These are especially helpful when you already have your eye on someone but don’t know how to start conversation. When in doubt try, “How’d you do on the Encounters essay?” or “I think I’ve seen you on a green dot poster.”
5. Enter the dating pool with a few deal breakers in mind to thin the herd. Potential red flags include a recent conversion to Buddhism or a desire to start a home microbrewery.

Illustration by Catalina Burch.

First, post your “I declared” picture to no less than two, but no more than four, forms of social media to ensure maximum likes. Part of the joy of declaring your major is letting all of your friends and followers succumb to a deep sense of academic inferiority and anxiety about their futures by reminding them that they are simply not as on top of their shit as you, a champion, are.

Second, make sure to stress the fact that your parents disapprove of your major, even if they don’t. Part of the liberal arts experience is a false sense of liberation from the capitalist shackles of your privileged upbringing. What better way to stick it to the (wo)man paying your tuition than with an art history/philosophy double major? It is essential that you try to dispel any and all stereotypes you may carry as a coddled millennial by telling all of your friends that your parents don’t totally approve of the life path you’ve chosen, but, like, it’s what you’re really passionate about, you know?

Third, never, under any circumstances, research entry-level careers and internships that would accidentally boost your resumé and give you professional experience. This would lead you down a dangerous path of actually becoming a valuable member of society, and that is certainly not why your parents are paying 60,000 dollars every year. Instead, stick to being a camp counselor for all four summers as a college student. There are plenty of ways to spin your summer of paid cliff jumping and face painting into resumé-ready tidbits that will surely dazzle future employers and grad school admissions officers.

Fourth in the true Whitman tradition of getting black-out drunk with every obscure group you identify with, make sure to begin planning your major’s legendary rager as early as possible. Exclusivity is the name of the game here, friends. Make the party entirely word-of-mouth and hold it at an ironically-named off-campus house that’s unnecessarily difficult to find, like the Birkenstoke or any of the 85 frisbee houses.

Fifth, never forget – or let any of your friends forget – that your major is the best, the most fulfilling, the most representative of a well-rounded liberal arts education. Now that you have that “I declared” sticker firmly affixed to your water bottle, there is nothing stopping you from making snide remarks about other majors, spouting one-liners from the readings you don’t do to impress your peers and maybe even designing some tasteful tanks for your major.