Flashes of Panic

The scene: a group of undergraduates, maybe around thirty of them, selected from “under-represented” populations in given fields. (So, majority female, more racial minorities than usual at this university.) We’re in a large first-floor lounge near the lobby of a dormitory.

The discussion is about social class, that subtle discrimination that we pretend doesn’t exist in this country. We’re discussing ways we’ve noticed class differences on campus, and one of the students points out in the lobby at a big stack of brightly colored cloth bags. “There’s one right there.”

“I was wondering about those,” says the facilitator. “What are they?”

Almost in unison, the students chorus, “Laundry bags.”

“Do you mean some students have their laundry done for them? Don’t all the dorms have laundry machines?”

In unison again, “Yes.”

The facilitator makes a face. I think they would have laughed, then, if it hadn’t been so sad.