Illustration by Dion Hines

“Sometimes we have to stick our noses in some sh*t. In order to make a statement, develop an understanding, and make a story worth caring about, we have to stick our noses in some sh*t.”

These are the first lines of my girlfriend’s essay entitled “How to Write Like You Have a Soul.” It was for her Memoir Writing class, and she sent it to me a couple weeks ago to edit. At the time, the introduction struck a chord with me. Not because I am thoroughly experienced with sticking my nose into sh*t, as she insists you must do. I simply loved the candidness, the wry vulgarity. But during the past couple weeks, I have gotten closer to truly understanding her words with my investigation of the “BD egging incident” and Washington University’s relationship with its Black students and Sodexo dining workers.

I was going to write an article about WashU’s relationship with its dining service workers. It had been a few days since I first heard of the egging and was enraged. Though many people at the moment saw the event as another example of harmless frat-boy rowdiness, to me, the event was yet another manifestation of the power imbalance between dining workers and WashU students. No matter what the students involved with the “egging incident” did — whether it be defacing walls or slightly rearranging tables — the expectation would have always been for the workers of the Bear’s Den to clean it up without protest. In that situation and several others, BD workers — who act as most of WashU students’ only contact to the greater St. Louis community — become a faceless, homogenous being only there to do Sodexo’s and students’ bidding. 

When I heard that there was a possibility that slurs were said, my face became hot. In my eyes, the “egging incident” transcended the allegory for classism that it once was and breached racist territory. I went to Sodexo dining facilities across campus (i.e. the DUC, BD, and the Village) to ask questions and hopefully interview workers about the “egging incident.” Most of them did not want to speak with me, even with the preface that they would remain anonymous and that any identifying information (e.g. preferred pronouns, gender identity, number of children, etc.) would remain withheld. The few that spoke with me — with only one comfortable with being audio recorded — said that they did not feel safe on or near campus nor did they feel as if they have voices as Sodexo workers. When I asked one worker, Worker A, if they felt heard by management, they gave me a simple answer: “Hell no.”

When my conversation ended with that worker, they seemed hopeful, or — at the least — indifferent. 

The interview with Worker B was not as expectant. When speaking with them about the egging and possible slur-spewing in BD, their eyes began to well up. They breathed for a moment.

“It’s [terrible], what they doing,” they exclaimed, voice shaking and fist pounding into their palm. “That’s horrible, that it’s swept under the rug. We don’t even know how safe we are. But, I guarantee you, had we [the workers in BD at the time of the egging] retaliated, it would’ve been talked about then. That we were Black motherf***ers.”

Their voice became breathy on that last sentence, as if someone unseen was choking them. And, by the conversations that I had with those workers, they indeed felt choked by both WashU, as an institution, and Sodexo.

According to the workers that I spoke with, they are completely ignored by their management and sometimes by WashU students, faculty, and staff. One worker explained that individuals ask them for larger portions and become angry when they are informed of portion-control rules. Oftentimes, students will ignore that workers have specific duties and are taking on the work of nearly three people because of Sodexo being severely understaffed. This oversight made one worker feel more like a servant than a member of the WashU community. 

The dining workers are parents. They have children that they cannot go home to at the time that they would like because, over the winter break, Sodexo assigned workers hours that fit its needs rather than the needs of its employees. They have children that they know would have a difficult time if they attended WashU because they understand how they would be received by the institution. One worker even asked what I and other Black students are experiencing at WashU.

“At this point, what else has even happened to some of the Black students or students of color and they — and we don’t even know it, to support them? We in the face of these people every day, as well. So, that could be like, ‘Damn, something happening to the Black students on campus’…and every time we talk about sh*t, it’s like, that sh*t being so long ago. No, that sh*t’s happening today, right now, in our face.”

The Association of Black Students (ABS) executive team seemed to have this in mind when they posted their statement about the “egging incident,” and — even though that worker and the ABS executive board did not speak about the “incident” together, to my knowledge — it seemed as if their statements were in direct conversation with each other. In the statement posted to their Instagram page on April 2, the executive team labels the event as a hate crime and contends that “it is time for WashU’s culture of anti-Blackness to change.”

With this statement and the conversations that I had with the dining workers, the topic of my article shifted to encompass the experience of dining service workers and Black students on campus. 

It is clear to me and so many Black students and other non-Black students of color that WashU indeed has a culture of racism that has been propagated via years of elitism and the indifference of Chancellor Martin and leaders before him. But, to no one’s surprise, Sidechat bustled with students who were enraged by the ABS exec team’s characterization of the “egging incident.” I swore off Sidechat in the first month of school after realizing that it is a cesspool of ignorance and degeneracy. I try my best not to recognize it in general, but the racism and blatant anti-Blackness that has taken place on that platform is inexcusable. 

My friends showed me comments posted to Sidechat within the first hour that ABS made their statement. Several individuals questioned how the association could make the event about race or even label it a hate crime. Several others listed the statutes of  libel and defamation, advising ABS to “lawyer up.” Others simply laughed at the statement, expressing that the association was only discrediting themselves. 

It was interesting — though not surprising — that the overwhelming response of individuals on this campus was to minimize the “egging incident” to yet another example of drunken college shenanigans. It was interesting — though not surprising — to see how ABS was the sudden scapegoat, even though they were not the first association or student organization to shed light on the “egging incident.” 

It was clear to me that ABS became the sudden focus because they had the volition to decry an egging that was reported on by Student Life and expanded on by Student Affairs Senior Staff, and WashU students and faculty. It was clear to me that if they had not called the situation a hate crime, no one would have given a damn about their statement, that students would shrug off their words like they would shrug off the words of any marginalized group on this campus. But, ABS used language that should have been employed forever ago — if not in this situation, then the myriad others that have preceded this one. It was language that challenged the current image of fraternities and sororities on this campus, language that called out the racism that is all too familiar to Black and brown students at WashU.

However, one thing was not so clear to me: where our current image of Greek organizations, specifically fraternities, came from. The summer before my first semester here, I stalked any WashU organization related to Blackness, queerness, and advocacy — all important aspects of my identity. Along with ABS, Black Anthology, and Spectrum, I found an Instagram page dedicated to advocating for the abolition of Greek Life at WashU. The owner of the page, an organization known as Abolish Greek Life at WashU (AGL WashU), posted videos of their protests across campus and plans to boycott fraternity rushes and abolish fraternity housing. No post that I saw got any less than 150 likes, most posts having anywhere from 300 to 600 likes. I supported, and still do, what this organization stands for. But it seems as if they dissipated the summer before my first year at WashU.

With that dissipation, presumably, came the reintroduction of a glimmering, spotless image of Greek organizations at WashU. It is mind-boggling that it was, at one point, common knowledge that Greek organizations, specifically fraternities, uphold systemic prejudices of racism, homophobia, sexism, and classism. But we have somehow forgotten that, and their history should not be forgotten. If anything, it should be spoken of consistently, unapologetically.

It should be frequently discussed that two Kappa Sigma pledges were suspended for sexual assault in 2020; WUPD found an AR-15 semiautomatic rifle and a handgun in the Phi Delta Theta house in 2018;  Sigma Alpha Epsilon was suspended after using the n-word in a pledging activity in 2013; Sigma Alpha Mu was busted for drug abuse and hazing in 2012 and had similar offenses years prior; and StudLife headlines about the nefarious acts of WashU fraternities go back to 1993. 

Because we have been led so far astray in regard to our view of Greek Life organizations, we have attacked anyone who speaks up about their egregious acts. At the moment, it seems to be social suicide to express disdain for Greek life. We are only supposed to think of them as organizations that mold neurotic children into upstanding adults, spaces that cultivate a network of support. And even though Greek organizations are meant to be helpful, they have spun into havens of perversion and moral decay. But, I think we all know this. Even though there are numerous students at WashU that are friends or associates with people in Greek organizations, it seems as if there is an underlying understanding that Greek life upholds (excuse my French) f*cked up values. Most people that I have spoken to are either apathetic toward or outright hate fraternities. It was not too deep into my drafting of this article when I realized that most people were not upset with the ABS executive team and other organizations for painting fraternities in a negative light. Rather, they were infuriated that ABS called out racism. 

They were enraged that ABS and other students spoke of the bigotry that WashU is built upon, thus associating its students with such bigotry. They felt attacked by ABS’s statement because they see themselves as an extension of WashU, so if WashU or fraternities associated with the institution are racist, they might be also. This fallacious thinking has caused many students to spew racist rhetoric that solidifies the very accusations that they attribute to themselves and try to avoid. It leads to the heavy scrutiny and eventual invalidation of Black voices on campus.

During the conversations with Worker B, they offered questions that stuck with me: “All the money that [WashU] earns and [they are] giving back to this [referring to alleged faulty cameras]? No, I’ve got to reconsider. What the hell am I doing? What the hell do y’all stand for? ‘Just feed these kids, do this, do that, and get the hell up off our campus?’” Though the worker was speaking in regard to their personal experience, it felt as if they were speaking for me. Realistically, I am in a much more privileged position than they are. I don’t have children that I have to work to feed for a corporation that prioritizes its needs over my own I don’t have to stand on my feet all day and carry the workload of multiple individuals. But I have felt an ounce of what they feel in respect to how this institution treats marginalized students. 

Most times, I feel as if my comfort on campus is dependent upon my agreeability. As long as I thank WashU for the opportunities and services that it has awarded me and ignore exploitation and the use of literal bones of individuals that look just like me, then I’m all good. But as soon as I or anyone else speaks about the injustices that marginalized students experience at WashU, of Andrew Martin’s silence on any and every social issue on this campus and his prioritization of WashU’s pockets over students’ comfort, we become enemies. We are guilty of some sort of treason. If anyone tries to make a statement, develop an understanding, or make a story that we all should care about — a story about the true face of WashU — they get their nose and entire face shoved into some sh*t.

I don’t have a call-to-action that would break new ground, one that would go beyond “stop being racist,” or “respect essential workers,” or any other mantra that has been coined, wrung out, and thrown away. I understand that there is meaning in those statements, but the conversations that they introduce never go anywhere because of the defensiveness of individuals accused of perpetuating racism, sexism, classism, or literally any other form of bigotry. I do not mean to sound hopeless. I’m not. But, I know that people will move on from the acts of Kappa Sigma and Alpha Phi within the next month and people will have learned nothing. Then, once something like the “egging incident” happens in the future, we will have to have this entire conversation over again, and this outrage will be relived.

If I had any call-to-action, it would be for Black students to stick together and uplift the service workers at WashU. It is easy to see the worst in the faceless individuals on Sidechat and even some students around campus. It is easy to avoid all non-Black spaces at WashU, but, please, continue to take up space. Continue to laugh with each other in the face of the spite that swells within each of us. Continue to support each other and build connections. Break out of the cliques that we have created among ourselves and learn names and new faces. Learn each other’s passions and fears. Communicate with workers outside of the struggles they endure. We have to organize with one another when events like the “egging incident” happen. We have to support Black spaces on campus. I am not just preaching to y’all. I am preaching to myself. Stay strong. Stay gifted. Stay Black.