As an X, I Feel Y

Two weeks ago, in a course discussion on the educational policy aspects of affirmative action, a classmate of mine spoke of the subject in terms which were only too familiar. "As a Latina," she said, "I feel more comfortable seeking out a Latina faculty member as a role model."

It was not her view of the subject that made me take notice, but rather the familiar construction of her comments: As an X, I feel Y. Too often in academic discussions, I've heard students preface their comments this way. As a woman, I feel that Aristotle was sexist. As a white male, I feel that Malcolm X was a dangerous thinker. As an immigrant, I feel that U.S. immigration laws are unjust. My identity as an X dictates that I feel Y.

X, Y statements reveal much about a classmate's views of a particular problem but they do little to further academic dialogue and can be lethal to informed and penetrating scholarly inquiry. When students simply impose their favored narrow lens upon the subject instead of remarking insightfully about the shared text, they bring discussion to a halt. While lively and penetrating debates can be had about interpretation of the literature or theoretical arguments studied in class, it is nearly impossible to take issue with an X, Y statement, making them somewhat attractive to practitioners but unhelpful to anyone's intellectual growth.

A more troubling aspect of "As an X, I feel Y" comments is that they reveal a narrow understanding of selfhood. Surely, our academic viewpoints are informed by a variety of sources, including familial and cultural history, encounters with racism or sexism, or tutelage of particular professors. But to limit our analytic interpretations to those that are derived from narrow aspects of our selves poses two dangers. First, it causes us to stop short of our full academic potential. More importantly, it reinforces stereotypes which dictate that members of particular groups are characterized by uniformity of experience and viewpoint.

Such uniformity is neither possible nor desirable. The modern liberal tradition which undergirds our academic life demands that we develop ourselves first and foremost as humans, not as members of particular groups. This tradition demands that we consider the whole, not merely the particular, if we are to be complete. John Stuart Mill wrote that "human nature is not a machine to be built after a model...but a tree, which requires to grow and develop itself on all sides." Those who make an X, Y statement in an academic setting, highlight a particular branch of his being at the expense of the rest of the tree in all its richness.

If our instinct to make X, Y statements violates the liberal tradition, where did it come from? The women's movement of the 1950s aimed to make the personal political and the student movements of the 1960s sought to transform university education in the image of a diverse student body. We were left with a strong legacy of personality in the academy, sometimes clouding the classical format of scholarship. So much energy was spent making education more responsive to specific student identities that undergraduates could not refrain from infusing the personal into the academic. We all became more aware of our own cultures and histories as a result of the 1950s and 1960s, but perhaps the price was the clouding of our modern liberal individuality and scholarly judgment.

Some may argue that X, Y comments actually enrich scholarly discourse and enhance others understanding. It would seem, though, that such comments may actually perpetuate misunderstanding and assumptions that all members of a particular group share an experience or world view. To judge the true academic merit of X, Y statements, we need only look to our professors. An academic who introduced the argument of his book or article with "As an X, I feel Y" would surely be judged a lightweight by his colleagues. Instead, our professors construct their arguments using careful interpretation and close analysis of evidence.

It seems odd, though, that our instructors would tolerate X, Y statements in discussion settings given the obvious gulf between such statements and the rigorous scholarship demanded of professors and graduate students. Perhaps our instructors reason that the only way to keep undergraduates engaged in dry or challenging material is to entertain our anecdotes and X, Y statements.

Instead of challenging the intellectual legitimacy of such statements, many teachers place their fear of silence in sections, uncertainty and desire for good standing among their students ahead of their instinct to challenge and force students to attain more sophisticated levels of analysis. Desirous of positive CUE Guide ratings for friendliness, responsiveness and sensitivity, they abandon their Socratic obligation to mold student minds through challenge and query.

Instead of waiting for our instructors to challenge our X, Y proclamations, we might reshape ourselves in the liberal tradition and throw off the shackles of identity labels. We might choose to resist the urge to adopt opinions that appear to derive from our identities and instead cloak ourselves in the liberal traditions of open-minded observation, logic, and close analysis. Instead of sticking by our favored X, Y constructions, maybe we should instead subscribe only to a single shared maxim: As a student, I feel curious.