by Ruth Edwards
Amiss saw her grim expression. ‘Am I right in guessing there wasn’t a happy ending to this, Sue-Ellen?’
‘No. The flyers and mascot were banned and the organisers reprimanded. They argued that women were trying to stop them talking about their dicks, but that didn’t wash. They’d been offensive. I guess they were lucky. Here the Student Court would have expelled them.’
‘Didn’t anyone at Freeman complain about being offended by the V-Day celebrations?’
‘If they did, the Provost threw their complaints out. Look, I know she’s dead and I shouldn’t say bad things about her, but she was a tyrant. The campus courts are rigged against the guys. It was like what you read about some Islamic countries where a man’s word counts for more than a woman’s, except at Freeman it’s the other way round. Gonzales was the judge and everyone was terrified of him. There was a guy called Brendan Martial who was thrown out on a charge of date rape and a lot of us think the girl who complained was lying because the Provost wanted her to or Gonzales blackmailed her into it.’
‘Why did she want Brendan out?’
‘He was a really cool guy who was editor of the campus newspaper and he’d written something really critical about standards. Then the same thing happened to Lindy Dubois, who wrote an article describing herself as an African-American because she was born in Africa. Because she was white, an African-American said she’d been offended and out Lindy went. Then the paper was closed down and everyone was too scared to protest.’
‘Was there no appeals procedure?’
‘In theory you could appeal to President Dickinson, but everyone knows he rubber-stamped all the Provost’s decisions. And some people who appealed got beaten up by people they couldn’t identify.’
‘So that was the climate around the time of V-Day, was it?’
‘Yeah. And I was really furious. That sort of anti-men propaganda does awful things to our relationships with guys because they get really resentful. We complain about being victims, we act like hookers, and yet we treat men like rapists. And the faculty approves of it. As someone put it, we’re supposed to believe that women are from Venus and men are from hell.’
‘So you didn’t make any protest to anyone?’
‘No, not even when I was given a questionnaire asking what my vagina smelled like.’
‘What?’
‘Really. They handed those out to every woman who passed. But I was scared to say anything. You don’t have to go as far as Brendan and Lindy did to get in trouble at Freeman. There’s no freedom of speech of any kind if you challenge a dogma. A student was nearly expelled just for handing out leaflets for the Network of Enlightened Women.’
‘A conservative group?’
She nodded. ‘And I was shot down out of hand when I questioned something in one of my Women’s Studies courses….’
‘I’m surprised you do Women’s Studies.’
‘When I had my first interview with the Dean she asked me if I thought gender was a social construct.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Some people think there’s no difference between males and females at birth.’
‘Oh, got you. The differences develop because of the cultural influences they’re exposed to. Is that it?’
‘Yeah. So I said I thought there were big differences and she said I didn’t know what I was talking about and I said I did, because I had a little brother and sister, and he was obsessed from the beginning with cars and trucks and ball games and she was all into pink and dolls. So the Dean said that was because they had been conditioned at home and at school and I said they hadn’t been because my mom tried treating them just the same but she couldn’t fight nature. Then the Dean stopped arguing and asked if I was a feminist, and when I said I was in favour of equal opportunities but I wouldn’t call myself a feminist, she asked me if I was a womanist and I said that didn’t mean anything and she told me I had to take Women’s Studies if I wanted to stay at Freeman; anyway, it’s compulsory if you want to get to Honours College.’
‘How extraordinary.’
‘For all I knew that happens on all campuses everywhere.’
‘And what was Women’s Studies like?’
‘Full of shit. They use history and literature like a trash can that you rummage around in looking for examples of women being badly treated. I just play the game and get the credits. You can see why I didn’t protest about V-Day. It’s been tough for my parents to find the money to send me here. They’d be devastated if I got into trouble.’
‘Have you told them anything about what it’s like?’
‘I haven’t the heart to. I went to a good high school and my parents encouraged me to study and wanted me to have a really decent education, but what’s the point of telling them the truth about Freeman? As far as I can tell most universities are as bad as each other and at least I can often get home for the weekend from here. But I complained to Ryan that this wasn’t what I came to university for and we had a long talk about what was wrong and we found we agreed. And then he brought me into the VRC.’
‘And what do you want the VRC to do?’
She laughed. ‘Ideally turn Freeman U into what it’s supposed to be. Though I can’t guess how. We’ve been yapping a lot but we don’t know how to go about things. The piece in the Sentinel was our first outing, but there’s such a witch-hunt going on we’ve been lying low. I don’t really want to be sacrificed. And certainly not if it achieves nothing.’
‘Didn’t the Sentinel pursue you for more?’
‘No. The editor’s had a lot of hassle. He’s had a threatening letter from President Dickinson’s lawyer and has been under huge pressure to identify whoever gave him the story.’
‘And who was it?’
‘Ryan. He knew someone who knew the editor. But we didn’t know what to do next until we saw Lady Troutbeck. We all thought she was great and we thought she might really get the VRC to take off. But I guess now she might not be too keen to be involved. Anyone would be scared in her shoes. Even if Gonzales was responsible for having the private eyes killed, the murderer of him and the Provost is still around.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that, Sue-Ellen. I’ve been in many sticky situations with Jack and I’ve never yet seen her scared. I think that gene’s been left out of her DNA. Along with tact and sensitivity.’
***
‘How are you getting on, Robert?’
‘OK. Just finished with Sue-Ellen. Bright girl. I learned a lot. Now I’m waiting for Mark. How did it go with the cops?’
‘At first I think they thought I might have done it.’
‘Really? Why?’
‘The Dean—who is now the Acting Provost, would you believe?—seems to have got hysterical about me as an enemy who was trying to destroy the Provost’s achievements and told the cops I might have done her and the Goon in just to be thorough. However, when I pointed out that I could prove I had landed in Vienna that afternoon, they relaxed. Their geography is better than Betsy’s. They know Europe’s a long way away.’
‘Did they tell you anything?’
‘They said there was some violence in Indiana after 9/11 that helped radicalise some Muslim youths who weren’t radical already: threats to mosques, attacks on people thought to be Muslim, that sort of thing. They described them as “hate crimes.” I asked them what that meant and they said it was worse to commit a crime because you were prejudiced against the victim because of his race, colour, sexual orientation, and all the rest of the litany.’
She snorted. ‘I don’t follow this at all. Why is it worse to kill the Provost because she’s white or the Goon because he’s black rather than because she’s a pill and he’s a thug? You’re just as dead whether your murderer is PC or not.’
‘We have this at home too, Jack, as you perfectly well know. The logic is that it’s worse to hate you because of your skin colour—which you can’t change—than because you’re a pill or a thug which you could.’
‘Rubbish. He
len was a complete pill and Gonzales a complete thug through and through. With money they could have changed their skin colour or their gender, but to alter their characters would have required a couple of head transplants.’
‘There’s a car drawing up outside. Finish the story.’
‘They’re looking for a local Islamist who fits the description of a dark bearded youth who was seen running from the admin building. And apparently a woman in full burqa was seen hanging round the Provost’s offices earlier.’
‘But why would an Islamist kill the Provost?’
‘They’ve no idea. While they’ve reluctantly decided I can’t be the murderer, they’re tempted by the Sentinel suggestion of mistaken identity. In the course of the Dean’s ravings to them she also said I was Islamophobic, so they think I might have been the target. Though why anyone should come looking for me in the Provost’s office is somewhat perplexing.’
‘I look forward to meeting the Acting Provost. Someone with such intellectual flexibility that she can accuse you simultaneously of being both murderer and intended victim gets my vote.’
***
‘It was being patronised that made me mad,’ said Mark. ‘I’m smart, and if I don’t do well it’s because I’m a lazy fucker, but because I’m black I’m treated like I’m a retard. What do these pricks think it does to our confidence when they lower standards for us? They don’t get it that affirmative action makes people look on blacks and Hispanics as inferior however good they are.’
‘I don’t really know how it works in practice, Mark. Can you give me a quick idiot’s guide?’
‘Have you heard of SATs?’
‘No.’
‘SAT used to be short for Scholastic Aptitude Test, but now apparently it’s not short for anything, but SATs are tests that qualify you for college. Obviously, the better you do, the better the university you can aim at.
‘Affirmative action means the scores are rigged. Essentially, you juggle grades. If you got a score of, say, 1,000 on your tests, if you were black you’d be put on the same level as a white who got 1,200 plus. Latinos aren’t thought to be as thick as us, so they’ll only be equal to say a white with 1,150. If you’re Asian, you’re penalised by being put on the same level as a white with 950, as a punishment for being too fucking hard-working and good at exams.’
‘In England, all things being equal, if there were two people up for a university place, the more underprivileged one would probably get it. But all things would have to be equal.’
Mark laughed. ‘This has zero to do with privilege. It’s race. Or gender. Or athletics, of course. They’re desperate to get women into science and math so they give them extra scores in those subjects. And athletes get the same treatment as blacks. But the poor don’t unless they fit the right category. Poor white guys have it rough.’
‘Sounds very complicated. And unfair.’
‘It’s certainly unfair. My parents are well-off, I had a great education and I read a lot, but I blew the SATs because at the time I was off the rails and having too good a time to study. I shouldn’t have gotten into even a mediocre school like Freeman, but affirmative action swung it for me. Which is wrong. I get given the same privileges as poor blacks. And poor whites get none at all. The whole system stinks and I’m ashamed to have benefited from it.’ He took another swig from his water bottle. ‘And it’s not even just in exams. A lot of teachers are exaggeratedly kind to blacks. They never try to stretch or criticise us. That’s why I liked Professor Godber’s classes. He treats us all the same and makes us work hard. Anyone doesn’t like it, he tells them to go off and find something more to their liking.’
‘And he’s unusual?’
‘I haven’t come across anyone else like him. Most professors have the minimum contact with students, their classes are pointless, and I only go to them to get the credits. And I’ve hit real trouble in Black Studies, which I got pressured into taking. It used to be voluntary but that bitch of a Dean made it compulsory for Blacks. I got really mad that Othello was reduced to a search for examples of racial prejudice instead of being a study of a great and flawed man. But when I said the approach was blinkered and self-pitying and had nothing to do with appreciating great literature, I was threatened with being flunked.’
‘Do many black students agree with you?’
‘About Black Studies, there are a few but only a few. Why should they? It’s easy, they get the credits, so they’re free to get drunk and laid. We’re told there’s a positive pass policy, which means they’ll do nearly anything to avoid failing you, so we don’t have to worry. If anyone ever gets a poor grade, the prof will raise it if they make enough fuss.’
‘You’re depressing me.’
‘It’s depressing. You see, if you’ve never been taught to think you don’t know what you’re missing. On a campus where people actually brag about buying their term papers off the net, there’s no shame about being lazy or a cheat. Plus a lot of these guys really run with the victim stuff. It’s an excuse for never getting off your fat ass.’
‘Would most be in favour of affirmative action, then?’
‘Some aren’t because they see where it leads, but they don’t say much about it publicly, because so many of the pro-affirmative action students are militants. You just get called Uncle Tom or Oreo. Or even beaten up.’
‘Oreo?’
‘It’s a black cookie that’s white on the inside.’
‘Got you. I’ve a black friend in the UK who gets called a coconut.’
‘I’ve been called that too.’ Mark stood up and began to pace up and down. ‘I’m an American. Period. Massa ain’t going to tell me what to think just because of the colour of my skin. Being black makes me no better or worse than if I was white and I’m humiliated by the fact that lots of people will think that anything I achieve, any job I get, is because of positive discrimination. What do these fucking PC crap-merchants think they’re doing? All their stupid rules and quotas and programmes do far more damage to the people they’re supposed to help than they do to the people they’re supposed to harm. I want them abolished in education and in the job market. I want people to think blacks are as good as whites so should be treated equally. And now I’m prepared to get thrown out of college if I can help that struggle. Me and Ryan and Sue-Ellen and Joshua, we’re fed up with being pushed around.’
***
‘The Axis survivors are very cross,’ said the baroness. ‘The Dean—or Acting Provost as I must learn to think of her—was almost incoherent with rage just at the sight of me. She started on about the harassment charges against me and when I said I’d fight them to the bitter end, she nearly exploded. Screamed at me that I needed gender, ethnic, and sensitivity training. She seems to have got very upset about a compliment I paid someone.’
‘Explain.’
‘That girl who said I’d put an inappropriate hand on her arm or whatever rubbish it was took exception to my saying I’d be grateful if she’d move her hottentottybotty out of the way.’
‘Her what?’
‘She had one of those attractive big African bottoms which scientists, I pointed out to Acting Provost Half-wit, had first observed on Hottentots in the early nineteenth century. She couldn’t seem to grasp it, just yelled a lot. The President then tried to be mollifying and asked if in view of the Provost and the Goon’s tragic deaths wouldn’t I be prepared to help restore calm to the campus by considering my position?’
‘Which means what?’
‘Agree to go home. They seem to have decided they’d be better off this term without the DVPs, and Constance Darlington and Rowley Cunningham are packing their bags, though Rawlings is hanging in there. I’ve been offered a big bribe just to bugger off. Something in the region of fifty thousand bucks to compensate me for the inconvenience. Naturally, if they really really want me to go that much, I’ll stay. I explained that I was an old-fashioned woman who believed in honouring contracts and that Helen’s sad death made me even more determi
ned to see it through. I could hardly be expected, I said, to feel bereaved at the death of the thug Gonzales, whom I had reason to believe was trying to have my parrot knocked off, which is when the Acting Provost opened her mouth again. “How can you speak like that of a sociologist with a doctorate?” she bellowed. I said the discovery that he was a sociologist explained everything.’ The baroness paused. ‘I don’t think she gets jokes.’
‘Cut the crap, Jack. Are you saying you have a proper contract?’
‘I’m not an idiot, Robert. And I’d never trust an academic, knowing them as I do for the spineless and treacherous crew they are. The contract Helen and I signed before I left Cambridge was extremely detailed. That’s why Freeman is stuck with paying your fares and accommodation and even giving you a salary.’
‘For what?’
‘To teach the creative writing course Helen and I had agreed on, though you won’t actually have to teach. The Acting Provost had a fit when she heard you’d arrived: for some strange reason she believes that any friend of mine is automatically an enemy of diversity. So she said there was no room on the time-table and I said that was too bad and they’d have to pay you anyway.’
‘I like the idea of the administration paying me to work full-time on trying to overthrow it.’
‘Why not? The British government paid unemployment benefit to all those IRA terrorists, even though they actually knew they were trying to murder them. Now they finance raving-mad Islamists intent on bombing the UK back into the seventh century.’
‘Calm yourself, Jack. Did you meet any resistance from the Axis, or did they cave in straightaway?’
‘Not straightaway. The Acting Provost protested loudly until shut up by the President, who made the mistake of trying to play hardball—I could be dismissed out of hand and that sort of threat. So I suggested sweetly he had a chat with Edgar Junior….’
‘Who?’
‘I told you. Edgar Brooks’ son.’