I wouldn't say the university I work at is inhospitable. It certainly is not that. Far from it. There is a certain etiquette, such that politeness informs every contour of interaction. Which is why, to take an instance, quoting sweary outbursts by the students—our customers—was met with a grimacing, lightly-stunned silence. Which is also why, subsequently, certain precepts of politeness—that etiquette again—were added to curricular materials in response. It is all quite consistent.
No, the place is cold instead. It requires a certain conformity, a certain way. But—and this is crucial—it does not ask for it; that would not be in keeping with the particular nature of the temperature of human relations in this part of the world.
It is a certain kind of aloofness, the one that makes strangers smile at each other on the street, a phatic communication made necessary by the necessity that there be no other communication.
No, it does not ask. It does not inquire after either.
There's much talk of diversity. I think it is safe to say that in the public consciousness it generally invokes thought of identity, thoughts of systemically oppressed groups; thoughts about "race," and all that this gestaltic word condenses about the history of settler-colonial democracy.
I've had proper human encounters here, experiences of disarticulated and de-homogenized engagements with identity. Which is not to forget that there is also an essential quality of the unmarked backdrop (etiquette being the social manifestation of this idea of an unmarked—and until recently largely unremarked—background and horizon) that one can experience as an outsider here. Its in the coldness.
So, this place does not ask. Neither the university, and leaving aside the places of working men and women in the city that I spend time in, nor the city at large. Like the money transfer outlet in a reputed supermarket which refuses to refund a money order it prepared two hours ago, does not see anything wrong with the strange contradiction, refuses to even acknowledge or see it from the perspective of "what if you were the customer in this situation?" and finally, abruptly sends out a manager who informs you that your time at the counter is up and you have been most impolite and unhelpful, and no we have no information on what you should do to turn your money back into currency.
It does not ask, you only catch glimpses in moments like this. They're useful moments.
A glimpse at the doctor's office, where, standing silently on the side for a while while waiting for some information you suddenly hear, "yes, you've been here [and in a mumble that is ambivalent in its clearly hushed-and-audible pitch], scaring everybody."
Or the gate-check person at the departure door of the flight. I think it is fair to assume looking around, gesturing slightly and briefly with both hands, and saying, "did you all see that?" was not routine behavior for her. This, after an exchange about flight connections that—for all the irritation it caused said gate-check person—only left you confused. And the glimpse when a serviceman in uniform who did see all that gestured towards you and said "Alright..." trailing off because the word and the implication was clear enough.
I thanked the serviceman for their service and also, "this does not concern you."
There was a concession in the silence and withdrawal from the travelers at this point (hard to pinpoint how you sense these things; some who were leaning forward reclined back, some who had paused went back to phones, or coffees, or computer keyboards, some who were looking looked away; slightly looser, withdrawn bodies).
What's the glimpse? I believe both the gratitude for service, and the self-delineation were consequential to the deescalation of the moment. It brought the situation into relief, and into terms where communication was possible (I was not a "blob" stranger now; one person had been irritated, another had seen fit to enter the exchange, and now I was speaking in their "language," of self, boundaries, personal autonomy, possession of privacy).
**{what do you call a moment where an interaction in public space draws the attention of people?}**
When "studying whiteness"—whatever convolutions need to be clarified out of this phrase can be left for later—it is clear to me that an outsider's everyday practice (ethnographic or not) will be "obtrusive," and perhaps is interesting for being so.
Etiquette, and elements of the realities it can conceive of (and accordingly, what kind of past experiences this place, specifically this university can be inclusive of) are glimpsed when this place does not ask...
...and also when it does not inquire after. More on that, and on that word 'diversity', in the next one.
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