Specks of Pepper in a Mound of Oyaron Salt: An Open Letter to Hartwick

by Daymyen Tyler Layne ‘04

3/24/2017 2:24PM

To the administration of Hartwick College, in response to the statement release from the Office of Alumni Relations regarding the incident of bias that occurred in November 2016:

I should begin by saying that, through the years, I have come to love Hartwick College.  Despite the ambiguous (and sometimes clear) racial bias and the underlying microaggressions I faced there, Hartwick College managed to weave its way into my heart, into my very existence.  It has become a part of who I am.  Those closest to me, most of whom experienced some of the same racial trauma that can occur while attending a predominantly white institution in America, and others who stormed the basketball court with me — Hawks at my back, stem from the same Oyaron Hill roots that I do.  And I like to think of myself as one of the most well-rounded graduates that Hartwick has ever produced, always trying to find the win in humanity, always searching for a vein of goodness running through the current our socio-political landscape.  However, on this day, something isn’t sitting right with me.  I sit here in my blue Hartwick hoodie, my mind grasping for words that will properly express how I feel.  Wild stabs in the dark, or so it seems. And though I know they very well could fall upon deaf ears, as English professor David Cody once taught me on my beautiful campus, I’m going to “Write it anyway”.

-The Lie-

I have been telling a lie since May of 1999.  From that time, whenever anyone asked me why I chose Hartwick College over Howard, Syracuse, Miami, or any other school to which I was accepted, I told them that it “just felt like home”.  I told the story of how I went on a recruiting visit and stayed the night at 69 West with one of the most prolific point guards in Hartwick’s history, and years later, graduation impending, ended up living in that very same house.  It was almost perfect, circular and storybook-like, and I made it seem like it was meant to be.  Truth is, though, I never felt like Hartwick was really home, and instances like the one in question remind me why.  At the same time, I did learn one of the most valuable lessons of my life thus far: home may not be without, but it can be found within.  When any of the students I currently mentor ask me what the most important tool for college survival is, I tell them it is a carving knife, one that must be used be to etch out one’s own space in whatever universe one happens to be in, academic or otherwise. I tell them it is imperative that they make room for themselves, to find points of connection and latch onto them for dear life until they drag themselves across that stage in May.  As hard as it may be at a PWI, and whether it be a professor, a department, a team, a club, a fraternity or sorority, Wick Wars, Pine Lake, or otherwise, they must grab onto something and hold it.  If not, they risk becoming a part of The Great Wash, of leaving this place having missed out on what could have been the best years of their young adult lives.  My memories of Hartwick are special, but that does not mean that they are not riddled with borderline race-wars every weekend as friends and I tried to enjoy the nightlife of Oneonta, New York.  Or attempting to emotionally process racial epithets scribbled on the walls of residence halls.  Mentally managing those episodes when I was a student was arduous, and I can only imagine what it must be like to be a student at Hartwick in today’s climate. I don’t think the administration understood it when I was a student, and from the looks of how this situation was handled, it doesn’t appear that the current administration understands it any better now: students’ experiences at and perceptions of Hartwick are being irreversibly affected by events like this and how they are addressed, and this will be with them for eternity.

-The Truth-

As I sit here in Salem, MA, rain coming down behind me, reflecting on my years at Hartwick, I am not smiling wistfully nor stricken with a sudden bout of laughter at some past campus prank.  Instead I am disheartened, disappointed.  The fact that I feel the need to write this letter at all pains me.  White-washed brochure after brochure and The Wick magazine comes to our mailboxes, asking for us to support the college, and how can we when we don’t see ourselves meaningfully reflected in them?  When other alumni write me and ask if I have noticed certain trends in the magazine over the course of the past year, I honestly cannot argue that I don’t see myself being erased from the Oyaron pantheon.  (I used to be the token guy in the promotional photos, and my friends made running jokes of this.) The fact is, though, that representation in Hartwick’s publications is a more minor manifestation of a larger problem.  For students of color to be ridiculed and attacked, while hearing chants of  “USA, USA” – screams bias incident.  Hartwick College, your alumni of color are disappointed.  I take it upon myself to speak for all of us when we say that throughout the years, our voices have not been heard, and it seems that this is yet another case.  As a university administrator in student affairs, I am aware that it can be difficult to balance students’ rights to express themselves with other students’ rights to feel safe.  However, I also know that it is essential to protect the welfare of all students, to do no harm, as our beloved CAS standards say, especially within a socio-political framework that has inspired so many of our nation’s campus climates to tap into an extremely ugly vein.  The onus is on administrators to support and serve our students, and in this instance, Hartwick College has failed miserably.  Furthermore, in the statement that was released, Hartwick seemed to be attacking the sister of a future alum.  It was baseless, and classless, and I know in my heart that Hartwick is better than that.  Throughout this ordeal, alums have reached out to me, almost as if they had believed or hoped that none of this were true.  They have asked for answers that I do not have.  Answers that I knew the college wouldn’t release under the guise of FERPA.  I have asked people to hold their judgments, to let the dust settle, and give Hartwick the chance to get this right — only to see our alma mater fall short.  In spite of its shortcomings, so many have put Hartwick on a pedestal.  To a large degree, you have effectively ruined that sentiment for students on campus today, as they will include not feeling protected by the university of their choice among their collegiate memories. And for those of us who came before, seeing this aspect of Hartwick life not improving, and quite possibly regressing, is particularly disenchanting.  

While I am sure the Drugovich administration takes all bias incidents extremely seriously, what I am asking is that what is palpable to too many Hartwick students be more directly acknowledged and addressed.  Recognize what will be sitting with them for the rest of their days, including when they throw on hoodies emblazoned with the Hartwick blue hawk, and sit down wherever they may be to write about their meander through the city of hills – Oneonta, New York.  When they ponder that capsule in time where they morphed from freshmen into holistic global citizens, what kind of Hartwick experience will they envision? Until I see a change in the way Hartwick presents itself to the world, until it is tangible for me, palpable, until there is a marked difference in the way Hartwick operates towards students of color and incidents of bias, I cannot support the alma mater that I love.

Hartwick’s goal must be to ensure the academic progress, personal growth, and safety of all students.  None of them should be treated or made to feel as though they are merely specks of pepper in a mound of Oyaron salt.  

Daymyen Tyler Layne ‘04

B.A. Psychology

Minor English Literature