Mirror, Mirror on the Wall: Who’s Ignorant Amongst Us All?

Kashmala Khan ’29

Staff Writer

Over the past few weeks, Trinity students have rightfully filled the campus with conversations pertaining to LGBTQ+ History Month and the recent infrastructural failures; yet, somehow we have found it easiest to ignore the voices of Mather workers. Their message has been laid simply, with the demand for hours that honor their labor. But the collective response of the student body has been surface-level, consisting of fleeting sympathy, performative applause, a few posts to check the “aware student” box and then silence.  

And so I cannot help but ponder: what exactly did we think a liberal arts education meant? Did we blindly hit the “I accept” button on the offer letter whilst confusing the performance of liberalism with its practice? Because if we are being honest, the only freedom we have truly embraced is the freedom to look away. 

The Mather worker demonstrations were never meant to be a spectacle. They should have made us curious, active and accountable. Instead, they have exposed the fragility of our student spirit. They have exposed the disconnect between those who serve and those who are served. The same crowd of Trinity that preaches empathy cannot be bothered to stay past the loud noise to listen, ask and learn — from the workers themselves. 

In my short time here, I have witnessed our administration respond to student concerns when raised thoughtfully. But how many of us even tried to reach out? How many cared enough to ask about what is really happening? How many of us wanted to hear all facets of the issue, or how can we meaningfully contribute to aid the situation?

The number is painfully small.

Most of us stood there clapping, filming and  posting on YikYak. Some grabbed their food faster to avoid waiting due to the strike. And maybe, if conscience allowed, a few shared ideas about how unfair it is. But how many actually stood still long enough to look up from their phones to talk to a worker — to hear a story, a name and a reality beyond the uniform they wear?

Because the issue is not just about a labor demonstration. It is about a culture of selective awareness. We speak up about topics when they become “campus talk,” when it feels safe or when silence isn’t the trend anymore. Yet when do we pause to ponder upon our daily choices?

When you grab dinner at 7:55 p.m., do you think of the worker who has to stay late because of you? When you leave your half-dirty plate on the conveyor belt, do you think of the person who scrapes it all the way? When you toss plastic into compost, do you think about how easily one careless act undoes an entire sustainability effort?

And maybe that is where we begin. We start by asking instead of assuming, listening instead of just posting, and engaging instead of observing. True solidarity stems from conversation. It is as small as thanking a worker by name, as intentional as attending an information session, and as consistent as holding ourselves accountable to the values we so preach.

The ignorance of our privilege disgusts me. It is one cloaked in busy-ness or “I didn’t know.” But we do know. The matter is simply that we enjoy consuming activism more than we like to practice humanity.

We students take pride in our liberal arts education, presenting it as a space for critical thought and transformation. But what good is that education if it is not reflective in our public and private actions? If we can write essays on ethics yet turn a blind eye towards our own dining halls and workers, what are we really learning here?

So maybe it is time to ask again: mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the ignorant amongst us all? And maybe this time, when the mirror answers, we shouldn’t look away.