Well, I've got a new operating system. Isn't that nifty?

     Ok, so...I'm going to stop trying to be witty. Wait a minute...am I claiming that I was witty at one time? I guess I am. Well, I'm still holding firm. You'll hear no more pithy comments from me. I'm not going to try to be intelligent. I'm in Oklahoma, after all, and I'm sure you'll agree that the environment isn't quite condusive to the acquisition of knowledge.
     "But you're at the University of Oklahoma," you say. "Isn't that where you're supposed to 'acquire knowledge?'"
     In theory, yes. After spending an entire semester in ENGL 2713 like I just did, you'd probably feel inclined to agree with me. You see, ENGL 2713 is "Black American Literature," and, as such, falls under the umbrella designation of a "Black Studies" course. Now, don't get me wrong, I've got nothing agaist Black Studies. You can study Black all you want. After all, our American education system forces persons of African descent to study White for most, if not all, of their lives.
     Now, back to the class itself. When I enrolled, I was led to believe that the class would be about literature. Here's the course description:

Examines masterworks in Afro-American literature. Particular attention given to individual quality and style, as well as to the larger question of tradition of Afro-American letters.

Actually, we didn't examine any "masterworks," unless you consider Assata by Assata Shakur to be the work of a master. It's a good but, but give me a break - it's no Huckleberry Finn.
     "But Ben," you say, "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn was written by a white man. How can you compare that book to an autobiography of a black woman who was at war with a nation, who chose fleeing to Cuba over staying here and being treated as less than human?"
     Good point, but...that's not my point. My point is that we didn't read any "masterworks," nor did we discuss the quality or style of anything we read in class. What we did read was about the horrors of slavery and the injustice of lynching and the struggles of the civil rights movement and the general state of Blacks in America today. While I had no problem reading any of this, we didn't read it for it's literary value. We read it for it's poltical value. Every single class discussion was a polical one, and like most political discussion, there was always two sides: the Blacks and crazy let's-save-the-world liberals on one side and me and a few like-minded sorority girls on the other. I didn't mind this either.
     What I did mind was that this class claimed to be about literature - African-American literature - but we spent the whole class trying to prove that African-Americans don't exist. Now does that make any fucking sense? I went into this class thinking I'd get to read some good books, or at least a few short stories. What I got instead was a class that tried to turn me into something I'm not.
     It's true that I'll never understand what it's like to be a young African person living in America. My classmates made sure I knew that much.
     But it's also true that all I really wanted to do was sit down and read a good book, like The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. Maybe I'll read it anyway.