Coming Out Day tagging unproductive, disunifying

How hideous a morning I had to endure as I walked by the
chalk-laden buildings of Royce Hall and Powell Library.

How fiendish the sight of yellow chalk on the concrete; how
heinous the act of vandalism that left blue chalk on my
Levi’s after sitting on a formerly non-political bench.

Most who came to school last Wednesday or Thursday saw the
desperate cry for help that manifested itself in a barrage of
tacky, artless propaganda strewn on the most cherished and
beautiful buildings on campus.

With such profound and ground-breaking declarations such as
“I’m so gay that I can’t see straight,” and
the Rain-Man-esque obsessive compulsive scribbling of the words
“come out” in dozens of locations, a few individuals
decided their political and social agenda was more important than
the beloved architecture that makes UCLA one of the most attractive
schools in the West. And although everyone on this wonderful campus
has the right to express themselves and be themselves, graffiti is
graffiti, even on “Coming Out Day.”

You have to wonder if students and faculty may have reacted
differently if the graffiti was in gang-style writing?

Does art have license to impose a solitary view on us? At least
in some of the down-trodden neighborhoods where graffiti is
prevalent, there is art involved. Talented artists paint over
shabby buildings or dirty walls, and their social-political message
is clear; we are not being heard and our leaders have failed us, so
this is the only voice we have left. In the barrio, they make art
out of that which is worn and outdated; they don’t destroy
art.

If the vandals had time to graffiti some of UCLA’s most
beautiful buildings, I bet the alleged perpetrators are also
privileged enough to attend a university and have an avenue through
which they can be heard. They could go to Kinkos and print up some
poetry, start a Reggae band, or get a soapbox at Venice beach.
Elton John, Walt Whitman, Allen Ginsburg, Freddy Mercury, Langston
Hughes: those are inspiring artists with a vision.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be heard. I’m
a pro-hemp, Spanish-speaking, Anglo-Celtic immigrant who loves
Italian wine, Argentinean women, and eating Chinese food in the
backseat of American cars. But I’m no tagger.

The point I’m trying to make is that we should not
celebrate our differences so acutely that we forget our
similarities. By creating mutually exclusive groups, we create
tension and strife. I enjoy the diversity of Los Angeles. It gives
me the opportunity to absorb different cultures and learn their
ways and insights. Simply put, we are all enjoying the perks of the
American dream and we are all Bruins. That’s our group. Yes,
there is still hate in the world and much tolerance and
understanding to be desired, but America is the place where we
confront the clash of cultures.

At no time in history have more differing ideologies resided in
so small an area as right now and right here. Almost all cultures
and religions have at one time or another had a voice in the
creation of America. In a democracy, our collective voice is far
more powerful than our separate agendas, and with more solidarity,
California has the potential to be one of the loudest and wisest
voices in the world. So save the chalk for the professors.
They’re gonna need it.

Gregson is a fourth-year English student at UCLA.