Voter indifference masks fear of responsibility

After the recent Undergraduate Students Association Council
elections, I feel it important to reflect on what I’ve
learned about myself and about the personality of our campus as a
whole.

Many people have expressed confusion, anger and sadness at the
amount of racial tension at UCLA, which certainly was highlighted
during the elections. Both as a campus and as individuals, our
masks came off. If you believe in a certain political platform or
candidate, you put on a shirt and campaign, or you vote. If you
don’t believe in any certain stance, you prepare yourself to
say, “no thanks” or “get out of my face” a
few times a day as you walk up BruinWalk.

It is this phenomenon that I wish to address.

Now before you roll your eyes at another column berating voter
apathy, hear me out. I wish to understand why is it that people can
look me in the eyes when I ask them if they know that their vote
affects junior high and high-schoolers who are the recipients of
outreach, and flatly reply, “I just don’t
care.”

Why do we bust our butts to get into this place and then not
give a damn about who else gets in and who doesn’t? Or why is
it that many students are quick to attack political groups that try
to bring about positive change on this campus? What fuels our
automatic cynicism, not only about political groups, but also about
those who are at all political?

The answers lie in the realization that we are unwilling to feel
uncomfortable. We resist analyzing our preconceived notions about
others, our racism, classism, sexism and homophobia, because
chances are, we might somehow feel bad or guilty. And that is just
intolerable. But until we are willing to be totally honest with
ourselves and feel this discomfort, the tension on our campus will
only persist and grow.

There exists a stigma at UCLA against those who are
politically-oriented. I felt it with the elections and I saw it
with those fighting Propositions 21 and 22 earlier this year. Those
who care about political issues are often labeled as angry and
hostile. But it is crucial to examine why we have this
prejudice.

Those people who feel personally affected by issues such as
affirmative action, the criminalization of our youth and the rights
of gays and lesbians do not have a choice about whether or not to
protest and campaign against unjust propositions. And as long as
the powers that be shell out racist and homophobic measures such as
187, 209, 21 and 22, those who care enough about these issues will
always come across as hostile. In the government’s eyes, as
long as we are busy yelling and hollering about propositions, we
will both turn away supporters and not have the time to do anything
proactive.

The amount of students who have no choice but to fight these
issues on our campus is numbered; they come across as frustrated
and overworked. But why is it a choice for some students and not
for others when these issues affect us all?

This is where we come in. If we all did our part to work against
unjust laws and for positive change at the university, state and
national levels, then there would be less of a stigma attached to
being politically involved. And the resulting sense of community
would be phenomenal. So why doesn’t this happen? I
don’t believe that people genuinely don’t care about
issues that affect them and other youth.

But unfortunately, at UCLA, it seems that like ignorance, apathy
is bliss. As Mitra Ebadolahi, a USAC staff member and fellow
columnist, suggests, “Once students admit to caring about
issues, they can’t help but feel some sense of responsibility
to do something about them.” People are unwilling to feel
responsible for problems such as the use of sweatshops to make
university clothing, the rising cost of tuition at UCLA and hate
crimes motivated by race, gender or sexual orientation because if
they don’t do something about it, they will feel guilty.

Guilt is an emotion that runs rampant on our campus and is
rarely addressed. For example, a few weeks ago Take Back the
Night’s Clothesline Project, which addresses the problem of
domestic violence by hanging shirts made by victims of abuse, rape
and murder, was exhibited in North Campus. A student may hurriedly
walk by such a display without taking the time to reflect on such a
huge problem for fear that he or she may feel uncomfortable or
somehow guilty. Or students may pass by a rally against hate crimes
and not even listen for fear that they might feel personally
attacked for the existence of continued racism on our campus. On a
grander scale, there are many of us, including myself, who rarely
venture beyond the comfortable setting of West L.A. We seldom come
in contact with the thousands who are suffering from poverty in our
very own city.

But there is a reason we experience guilt about such issues.
They are not merely people of color, women or gay and lesbian
issues. They are student issues and human issues, and there exists
something in all of us that understands that. Thus, it is crucial
that we stop, listen and actively face that which is uncomfortable,
whether it be engaging in a conversation with a campaigner we think
we might disagree with or taking 30 seconds to read the shirt of a
woman who has been abused. It is only through struggling with our
stereotypes and feelings of guilt that we will grow as individuals
and make progress as a generation.

What saddens me is that the alternative is so tempting. It is so
much easier to float through our four years here without giving a
damn about who has access to the education we receive or about how
some students never feel safe on our campus. This is what scares me
more than anything: that the future CEOs, doctors, lawyers,
teachers and parents of our society have a hard time leaving their
comfort zone long enough to relate to and empathize with someone
else’s experiences and struggle.

As USAC elections revealed, it is also tempting to quickly
attack a political group. But while it may automatically feel good
to be partisan or to jump on a bandwagon that is against something,
it is not constructive for the community or for ourselves. While it
may be harder, the feeling of analyzing and figuring out exactly
what we believe in and working for it is much more empowering and
positive.

By writing this column, I do not aim to make people believe in
or fight for certain political ideals. I merely want us all to
think.

Indifference plagues our generation. And while it may be less
painful, it precludes us from having relationships with others that
may be difficult; yet it will teach us more than any textbook ever
can. It is this lack of caring that prevents us from overcoming the
tension on our campus. Indifference may protect us from dealing
with the difficult, but it also prevents us from the strength and
growth that stem from working through that which is difficult.