Dear Buckingham A. Badger,

I forgive you. As a multiracial student, whom the university accepted less than 18 months ago, I forgive you. When I looked at you Bucky, throughout my years, I didn’t immediately think “racist;” I didn’t immediately think “lack of diversity;” I didn’t immediately picture you in a white hood reminiscent of the KKK.

To be honest, as a Madison resident I was completely oblivious to the problem. I would drive through campus daily and witness diversity I did not have in my high school, diversity that made me want to come here. I was even gifted with a scholarship to bring my own diversity to campus, and I had big dreams of meeting more people like me. Gaining friends and knowledge from people who I could identify with.

I wanted to meet new friends and make new memories clad in that famous Badger red and white, but I soon realized white was the preferred color of choice.  

Growing up, I became accustomed to white. But I was always aware that few of my classmates looked like me. Even when I sat down in my first course this fall, I realized there were only two other minorities in the class, and one I recognized from my scholarship program.

As a minority, one tends to scan your classes, your dorms, your athletics, even your surroundings for that familiar melanin. To this day, as I walk to class I catch myself making mental notes, — tallies almost — of how many people I see that aren’t visibly white.

Don’t get me wrong, Bucky, you have great programs going for you: Chancellor’s/Powers-Knapp, Posse, People, First Wave and WISE are all programs that promote diversity. They provide ways to bring our stories and experiences to the campus, creating a better environment for growth and learning. That being said, I forgive you, Bucky, not because you yourself are black and white like me, but because I can tell you are trying.

I forgive you, Bucky, because I understand how the application process works. I, like all Badgers, wrote those two 500-word entrance essays, I took the standardized tests, I showcased my experiences made in my extracurricular activities and I sent in that application my fingers crossed.

I know the essay questions will never say, “Do you have any implicit stereotypes we should know of?” People can’t even admit that to themselves, so why would they admit it to you? Based on those 500 words I know you can’t predict future actions, and I doubt you can tell if we are xenophobic, homophobic, islamophobic, anti-Semitic, racist or misogynistic.

Bucky, you cannot read into our upbringing, where maybe our parents were very open about sexuality, race, religion, and overall equal treatment of others. Nor can you know if we lived in an environment that enforced strong beliefs to not trust someone of another color, where we were left to believe that we have some sort of entitlement because of our social class, our skin or our religion.

It’s not as if you saw into the future to predict these recent events and purposely let them happen. But you didn’t do enough to prevent them. You did not personally disrupt a Native American ceremony, you didn’t spit on a young girl’s face nor did you cowardly slip a hate note under a door.

But your past ignorance and inability to take action cannot be made up for by your present awareness. You didn’t teach us about diversity. You didn’t enforce teachings in regards to racial disparities: why they exist, why they matter and why we need a change. Sure, we have to take an ethnic studies class, but many students who have had the advantage of learning about their own roots since elementary school feel burdened by the “requirement.” It shouldn’t be a burden.

My culture and my history shouldn’t be an elective that is required to graduate. It is imperative these courses are recognized for what they truly are — an essential and vital part to a well-rounded undergraduate education. For an institution that takes pride in their diversity, the minority student body shouldn’t feel escape from isolation just in ethnic studies classes.

As I say I forgive you, I say it cautiously. Don’t take this forgiveness as a sign of approval, take it with a grain of salt. I forgive you because none of this is directly your fault, but please recognize you could be doing more. We all could be doing more. The problems didn’t start under your watch, but they sure can end there. We can end this together, as Badgers. I forgive you, Bucky, but I will never forget, and I will never settle.

Kaitlynne Roling (kroling2@wisc.edu) is a freshman at UW.