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OPINIONS
The Red & Black
Ltlabiuked 1993—Incorporated 1980
Aft independent itudent vuipaper not affiliated tenth the of Georgia
Robert Todd/Editor-in-chief
Jennifer Rampey/Managing Editor
David Johnston/Opinions Editor
Au revoir, choice
For eight years the Athens Feminist Women’s
Health Center provided women’s services including
pregnancy counseling and cervical cap implants.
Umversity Health Services is barred by federal reg-
ulaticr.s from making abortion information available at
T- -e are the same regulations which prevent U.S.
supported family planning programs in the Third
W rid from teaching anything other than the “rhythm
method ”
University Health Educator Nancy MacNair says
the FWHC provided better-trained health profes
sionals for women than the University is able to pro
vide.
The anti-choice terrorist group — Operation Rescue
— never staged one of its ugly assaults in Athens. The
reason? There are no clinics in Athens that perform
abortions The FWHC gave abortion information, but
could never persuade a local doctor to provide this
service.
But. months after its own demise, Operation Rescue
has caused our community irreparable harm. The ex
pense of battling these fanatics has financially crippled
the Atlanta FWHC, forcing the closure of the Athens
office.
The Athens FWHC was the best at what it did, and
it’s a shame that we’ve lost a valuable community re
source to such moral totalitarianism. The ultimate cost
of Operation Rescue is freedom of choice in Athens.
Be careful
An unknown attacker raped a 21-year-old student
Saturday afternoon, police said. Intoxicated, she’d be
come separated from her friends after leaving a frater
nity party.
Rape is never the victim’s fault. But caution can
help prevent victimization.
First and foremost, we must all realize that no
place is truly safe — even Athens on a sunny football
Saturday afternoon. Locking ourselves in our homes
isn’t necessary, but being smart is.
We must realize that traveling alone is dangerous.
And allowing a friend to travel alone while irrationally
drunk is just like letting him/her drive drunk.
It may sound like a tired old sermon, but it bears
repeating: Travel in groups, watch out for one another
and just use your head. Practicing these precautions
could save us from tragedy.
Face what happened
Our second line of defense against victimization is
law enforcement. Yet in this case, the Athens Police
Department withheld information that could help pre
vent future rapes.
The police refused to say where the rape took place,
saying the information might reveal the identity of the
victim.
Whether or not this protects her identity is debat
able. But the clear result of withholding this informa
tion is that others aren’t warned of a possibly high-risk
area.
While the victim’s privacy is extremely important
in rape cases, victims who go out of their way to hide
what has happened to them make it seem as if they
have something to be ashamed of. There are ways for
us to protect ourselves. But the only person to blame
for a rape is the rapist.
The victim’s need for privacy must be balanced
against the need to protect others from facing the same
tragedy.
STAFF
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■ QUOTABLE
' Tney're not awe to rally people to tne cause. Some people find
it exciting — put tne majority ooesn't. only trie extreme kooks."
— Lynne Randall, executive director of trie Atlanta Feminist
Women’s Healtn Center, on Operation Rescue's failure.
Olympic tcrci
'radical jokes
ONTO
mm
It’s a human thing, we should all understand
Separation.
It’s a word that is second cousin to segrega
tion, but doesn’t hit you quite as hard — unfor
tunately.
If we could label what is happening between
the races today els segregation and not separat
ion, then we might strive harder for change.
But, the separation of the races today doesn’t
occur in restrooms, bathrooms and bus termi
nals; it occurs in the heart and the mind.
The races slip further and further apart as
black and white student unions emerge, leaders
are labeled as white or black and advertisers
are blasted for targeting blacks or whites.
There’s even Bart and Derick Simpson. One’s
black and one’s white, it just depends on who’s
wearing the t-shirt.
But, there’s another t-shirt whose message
runs much deeper than what color a cartoon
character should be.
If you’re not wearing it then at least you’ve
seen it. On the front, there’s a picture of the
University arches. They’re colored red, green
and black and the colors beam to a map of Af
rica. On the back it says, “It’s a black thing, you
wouldn’t understand.”
When I first saw this shirt, it infuriated me.
“What do you mean, it’s a black thing I wouldn’t
understand? I’ve studied South Africa, I under
stand the plight of the blacks there.”
But the other night, I learned that the truth
Craig
Hester
is, I really don’t understand. I finally got up the
nerve to ask someone wearing the shirt just
what kind of a statement he wanted to make by
wearing it.
My comment to him was, “It’s a human
thing, why can’t we all understand?”
He lifted his shirt and pointed to the colors
and said, “What do these colors mean?”
I honestly had to admit I didn’t know.
“Okay then, you don’t understand,” he said.
Yes, it is true that understanding must run
deeper than the colors on a flag. He admitted
that. But the ensuing conversation showed me
that not knowing about those symbols is a
symbol of how little we know about each other
as races.
He set me up in a scenario. He put me in a
black history class — not just American black
history, but African black history.
“How much do you think the typical white
American would know about the kings of Af
rica? But, these are our heroes.”
All his life, he has had to learn about the
white kings of Europe, whom the blacks of
South Africa see only as the rapers of their
land.
What most of white America knows about
black history could be put in a thimble. We hear
about it once a year, and that’s just when black
organizations try to make us listen. Separation
is inevitable.
He said he didn’t wear the shirt to alienate
anyone, but to make them ask themselves
whether they really do understand. Then, they
may end up asking someone wearing the shirt.
“It’s not because it’s a black issue that whites
can’t understand, it’s simply that they usually
don’t. Because I’m black, I have to understand.”
There are no easy answers. He didn’t have
any and I didn’t have any. Questions are more
important at this point.
“What do these colors mean?”
Red is for the bloodshed, black is for the
people and green is for the land. To the guy
wearing the t-shirt, thxit’s a beginning.
Craig Hester is Front Page Copy Editor for The
Red and Black.
European encounter leads to self-reflection
He will remain anonymous to protect his
safety and that of his family. I met him in a
train station this summer in Holland. He was
short with a paunch. His hair and skin were
oily with traveling. His eyes were darting and
bloodshot. His breath was strong with cheap
Balkan tobacco, and his clothes were as low in
quality as they were dirty. His brown skin and
mustache made him look like Roberto Duran.
He approached me with questions of the
trains’ departure time, destination and the like.
I made some glib reply about he should ap
proach one of the guys in hats. He shuffled off
in the direction of the information booth. About
fifteen minutes later, he returned. We ex
changed pleasantries, and I resumed reading.
I asked where he was coming from. This is
his story.
After 28 years in the city of Sibiu in Romania
he left to start a new life. We boarded the train
to Amsterdam. I originally thought that he
would be good conversation. I soon began to feel
very ill at ease while listening to the life he had
led.
In the past three days he had been on trains
from Romania. He had not slept or eaten since
beginning his travels. He said that he had no
idea where he was going to sleep that night. Or
the next. He wanted to find a job in Amsterdam
and save enough money to bring his fctmily
later. He had no idea of how to get a job. I made
some typically American statement about there
always being work for a man who wants a job.
I began to think that this m£in needed help,
and that he was asking for mine. To my shame
my first reaction was that I didn’t ‘need’ this in
my life. That his intrusion into my bought and
paid for world would bring some sort of incon
venience*. I soon felt like a pig. I was incapable
of helping another human being in need. It then
occurred to me that if I introduced the thought
of helping him, it might take root. My selfish
ness stepped aside, and I found myself taking
the first few steps toward helping him.
He was concerned that the train was going to
be stopped and searched. On his way from Ro-
Bill
Davis
mania, the trains he had been traveling on had
been stopped in Hungary, Czechoslovokia, and
both Germanies. Immigration police would
board the train and check the papers of the
travellers in order to kick the Romanians off
the train. He later told me that no matter what
a man is when he leaves his country, he arrives
a gypsy. He also told me that in order to escape
his was traveling on forged papers. No country
wants Romanian immigrants.
When we arrived in Amsterdam that night,
with the aid of some fellow American student-
/travellers, we found a youth hostel that still
had vacancies. We went and bedded down. He
could not sleep. He marveled at the rampant
hashish smoking. People playing guitar in a
circle and singing rated an eyebrow. I invited
him out to a common room in order to ‘get his
story’. I now have more of an understanding of
the movie "The Killing Fields” as I was using
another human being for a story. I shared these
feelings with him. He just shrugged and began.
He told me of the revolution he took part in.
He told me what it was like to be caught in the
crossfire of the special police and the militia. He
told me me what it was like to see rows of fellow
protestors mowed down in the city square in an
eerily off-hand manner. He was so used to car
nage that he spoke of momentous scenes as if
they were everyday events.
One of the most graphic examples of this was
when he told about the massacre that hap
pened on December 24. He asked what day that
was, and I replied Christmas Eve. He said not
the day but the day of the week. The fact that it
happened on a religous holiday was secondary
to whether it was Tuesday or Thursday.
Another chilling aspect was the way he told
the story. Whenever he spoke of the govern
ment, the dictator, the militia or the secret po
lice, he assigned it the name 'he.’ It added a
tremendous air of monolithic fear, as if all of
the horrors and problems in his country could
take on a single body. The fear in his voice was
tangible whenever he did so.
1 am rife with self-importance. I always think
that my problems are the most tragic possible. I
indulge constantly in self-pity. Any complaint
or problem I have will ring hollow and mawkish
in comparison with this man’s life. It would be
easy for me to consider my life shallow and
without merit after meeting him. That every
material item in my life is taken for granted.
My only comfort is that luxuries, once tasted,
become necessities —and he will understand
this soon.
I want to think of this simple man as a
modern hero. When I told him that I intended
to write about our meeting he told me “Don’t
make me a hero. I am not a hero. Heroes are
dead. I don’t want to be a hero.”
The next morning I went and waited with
him at the immigration office. Looking around
the office waiting room for two hours, I was fur
ther reminded how easy and uncomplicated my
life is. He was given a meeting time with a re
view board. We went outside and he ran into
some of his countrymen. He decided to join up
with them. We settled up and he left right after
we exchanged addresses. Someday I will re
ceive a letter.
I would like to think of him ns a friend. In
some ways that would be arrogant. He taught
me more about the side of myself I shy away
from the most. He called me ‘friend’. I’ll take
that os a sign.
Bill Davis is a senior English major
Williams on target in culture column
I’m writing this letter in re
sponse to Gene Williams’ column
which appeared in the May 1st ed-
tion of The Red and Black. I agree
wholeheartedly with Mr. Williams’
opinion, and I think he helped shed
light on some points which need to
be addressed by the public.
Here at Georgia Southern (in my
opinion) every event held by a
black fraternity or sorority is-
viewed as “separate.”
Now whether or not the organi
zation’s want it to be that way, I
don’t know. But Mr. Williams
really brings the main point of the
issue home when he asks, “Is there
a ‘white culture*?” No, we don’t
have that common thread of sim
ilar experiences that blacks have,
and that’s why we can’t under
stand why blacks have events such
as Miss Black UGA.
I don’t believe it’s right that pro
grams and events which have
“black"in their title should imme
diately be dubbed as separatist,
but how do we change society’s at
titude?
In South Georgia it seems that
■ FORUM
□ The Red and Black welcomes letters to the editor and prints them in the Forum
column as space permits. All letters are subject to editing for length, style and li
belous material. Letters should be typed, doublespaced and must include the name,
address and daytime telephone number of the wnter. Please include student classifi
cation, major, and other appropriate identification. Names can be omitted with a valid
reason upon request. Letters can be sent by U.S. mail or brought in person to The Red
and Black's offices at 123 N. Jackon St.. Athens. Ga.
attitude is here to stay. As sad as it
seems, institutions of higher
learning such as UGA ad GSU
(where racism should be under
stood but not tolerated) are still
plagued by the scourge of racism.
Rest assured though Mr. Williams,
your opinions are well respected
here at GSU. .
Clint Rushing
Editor,
The George Anne