Caroline Hecker

I had heard enough. I finally bolted my hand straight towards the florescent lights

while simultaneously piecing together the argument in my head. “Professor, from the

whispers and panicked questions I’ve overheard, I’m going to assume that almost all of

my peers attempted this assignment, but ultimately failed. Because the snow day resulted

in missed class time and cancelled office hours, I don’t believe my classmates and I had

enough resources. Instead of turning this in for a grade, could we possibly review it in

class so we can develop a better understanding of the material without facing the

consequences of simple mistakes?” There was silence, and I realized how small I was

relative to the lecture hall.

It was then that I thought of Lisa Simpson, the middle child of Fox’s whacky

cartoon family, The Simpsons. See, I have earned the moral compass of my dad, the

screwball humor of my mom, and the work ethic of my many role models, but I really

have strived to embody Lisa: a young, strong-willed, advocate for what is fair. (I

regrettably decided to leave her spikey hair and yellow skin behind; I realize now that

those characteristics would have easily set me apart from other applicants). Lisa Simpson

to me is the FCC-censored, animated version of a martyr. When I questioned the decision

of my professor, I knew I risked being perceived as pretentious, presumptuous, and even

rude. But in that moment, I wanted to prove that I had borrowed many qualities from my

favorite character and had become a real person who spoke for what is right. I didn’t

want to continue gossiping about the unclear instructions or limited time or confusing

material. I wanted to take action. “Well, I think Caroline makes some excellent points,”

my professor finally responded. “Do you all feel you need more explanation concerning
this subject matter?” When an overwhelming, thunder-like, “YES” addressed the

awkwardness, I understood I was the person always willing to take action, and I was

ready to take on that responsibility.

Being white, and coming from a white, upper middle-class, respected family, I

had not faced many adversities. I am privileged. I never felt scared to walk down the

street or to voice my opinions or to pass a cop. I knew that if I was to meet an obstacle,

my decisions would be judged off my individual response, and not off my race. I knew

the challenges I faced were typical, and would simply be tests providing an outlet to

improve myself. The challenges many of my peers have faced; however, were often

presented through a channel through which institutional racism presents itself, such as

lower chances in being selected for a job or constantly described as someone who “acts

white,” as if whiteness is the threshold a person must pass in order to be viewed as

successful. Because of my advantage in this society, I feel an obligation to fight for a

person who feels his/her voice has no weight.

When I witnessed a court case in the Circuit Court for Carroll County in 2015 of

armed robbery, the defense attorney blatantly pleaded to the jury not to cling to

stereotypes or archetypes presented in popular media as references for his client’s

character. Because the defendant was black, there was a sudden pressure to refute

generalizations about a racial group. However, when witnessing a similar trial with a

white defendant, race was never even mentioned.

I have witnessed injustices of minorities and have always refused to ignore it.

Eventually the whispers and panicked questions become too much and I feel a weight

come over me that forces my hand into the air. From what I know about NYU’s
Constitutional and Civil Rights & Democracy Program, I believe I have the skills and

enthusiasm needed to take the initiative, exercise my privilege, and plan to confront

disparities in society.