Allowing cruelty to teach us a valuable lesson

Sometimes moments of brilliance drop like bombs of pigeon poop on a sunny day: an unexpected, celestial gift plummets down, inspiring shock, awe, and (in the case of pigeon poop) mental imagery of Clorox stain-remover. I experienced such a moment this past summer. A friend and I conceptualized the “Freshman Prey Tally”: a poster, to be hung on my door, which would record those of our friends who “preyed on” (okay, more like talked to) freshmen. Using initials in lieu of names would muddle identities; checkmarks would follow in three categories: Method (Subtle/Blatant/Criminal), Success (Y/N), and Awkward (Y/N).

At the time, the concept was hilarious. Frankly, it still is. What began as a source of entirely immature entertainment has already become a poster defiled by friends via largely incoherent, drunkenly scrawled, yet fundamentally good-natured phrases. (Among others, “I hate you all, you bitter, infertile maids.”) But while it’s still funny in the context of my own own social circle, I recently realized that the creation of the poster itself speaks to a more serious, greater reality of the Yale community—an issue exemplified first by the now-infamous “Preseason Scouting Report,” and more recently by the shocking and devastating murder of Annie Le.

Yes; The “PSR” is old news. Every semi-competent writer has already shared his or her (okay, seriously—her) disgust with the creation and circulation of the list. And though the Report does merit such reactions, I believe we would do better to approach its circulation from a different light. I think we should embrace the “PSR’s” publication. Not a misprint—I’m happy the “PSR” was released. I am not happy for the girls that were on it. I am not happy for the pain it has caused them, or any other girls who might have suffered similar disrespect. But it has undeniably provided us all with an extraordinarily valuable source of instruction, a kind different but not inferior to the sort we normally receive in the classroom.

Consider this: As college students, aren’t we here not only for academia, but also to experience a sliver of the real world? If so, the creators of the “PSR” truly deserve our gratitude. With unhesitating thoughtfulness, they shoved reality down our throats. They rendered irrefutable the fact that some people are idiots. Some people are rude. Some people missed the years in which their mothers taught them about a very obscure concept termed “manners.” And thus they forced us all to acknowledge—perhaps against our most optimistic hopes—that Yale (alas!) is not an ideal place of hippogriff-populated courtyards.There is no Room of Requirement in SML’s basement, and villainy is not limited to sniveling Draco Malfoy-esque types who repeatedly fail to accomplish the Dark Lord’s objective of destroying the foundations of (Hog)Yale(warts). Just because we spent our youths being inculcated with utopian images of the Ivy League does not mean that Yale students sign a binding contract to uphold those stereotypes.

My pedestal crumbled early second semester when a friend informed me that a fellow student—a Yalie with whom I was on friendly terms, a guy I had been to parties with—had raped her friend. This year the “PSR” destroyed the pedestals for the class of 2013. Each of us can no longer assume that just because we’re all smart, Yale is devoid of cruelty. It is a microcosm of the real world, and as such promises the inevitable presence of some unnerving people and some unnerving lessons.

That was last week. Now, just as the PSR’s 15 minutes of celebrity began to be buried under 300 pages of Libyan Political History readings and mind-twisting problem sets, we find ourselves coping in numb shock with the most terrible type of tragedy a community can face. The horrifying, macabre murder of Annie Le has substantiated, in the most terrible way, the simplified lessons of the PSR. Again it has been confirmed, now far more gruesomely, that although we are college students whose lives should ideally be touched by nothing worse than bad frat parties and coffee-fueled all-nighters, the discomforts and dangers of the real world are present even at Yale.

It may seem somewhat overzealous to apply Annie’s case to our undergraduate population. We lead different lives and our college-specific discomfort has thus far been limited to the PSR, which nonetheless proved telling enough. But beneath the devastation of both events lies buried an irrefutable final message, which speaks to us all: That even at Yale, people get disrespected, hurt, and sexually assaulted.

Though hard to acknowledge, an awareness of these facts is a far more valuable defense than sweet innocence. Do not live in fear, but also do not let it be a blackout hookup or a rape that forces you to acknowledge the realities of Yale. Annie’s end should remind us every day that when we have the ability to protect ourselves it is a privilege that we absolutely must value. Annie didn’t have that license. Most of us still do. Although the academic year has only begun, these past few weeks have already taught us some of the most important lessons we will learn in our time at Yale. Please don’t forget them.

by Victoria Fanti ES’12

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