Vacationing with DEI in Mind | September 2022
Essay by Taj Smith, director of Diversity Education
I approached this past summer with a need for relaxation and looking for a reprieve from having Covid damper the past two years of travel. My wife and I did a lot of local and regional exploration. In addition, I got to enjoy some family time with the in-laws in Cape Cod, Massachusetts and make a quick stop back home in New Jersey for my family’s reunion.
As I reflect on taking time to relax and process this thing called life, I can’t help but to think about all the positive and negative messages of diversity, inclusion and equity that I came across in my travels.
For some people, staying on the beach all day is relaxing. Not for me. I enjoy a vacation that is filled with exploration, trying new things and learning about the environment I’m in. After two days of beach, I began to drive around Cape Cod and took a ferry to Martha’s Vineyard for the first time. In the Cape, you’ll find vacationers like myself eating and shopping. I couldn’t help but notice where the low-income immigrants, people of color and working-class White folks were situated. In fact, I came to note just how many more Asian-identified people I saw in this brief stay in this state compared to how many I see on average in the greater Rochester area. I also had to wrestle with the contradictions of eating a lamb-shredded sandwich in a wealthy town named after the indigenous Mashpee Wampanoag tribe who were forcibly removed or murdered in this state.
When I visited Martha’s Vineyard, specifically Oak Bluffs, I learned of the African American middle-to-wealthy class history of that location. In this small part of the island, I saw more people of color of various economic backgrounds than I saw in all of Cape Cod where I was staying. I sat there eating my fancy ginger ice cream watching people of all backgrounds buy an expensive brand of clothing that has a black dog on it. I walked around and saw the colorful gingerbread cottage community established by a Christian religious group in 1835. Some of these cottages, with Black Lives Matters signs and LGBTQ flags on them, were so small I would have to bend down into to get in!
After a week of beach and island, I traveled to my place of birth, New Jersey. There I got to see cousins, aunts and uncles I hadn’t seen in a long time. When I paused to look around, I realized I was one of a handful that had attended college and certainly the only one there with a masters and doctorate degree. I realized all the time I had missed with family because of my studies. Most of them think I’m a teacher or professor, because their lack of exposure to college makes it hard for them to understand there are other jobs there. Nonetheless, I was able to remove my academic body armor and engage. As we wrapped up the gathering, we took generation photos. Looking at the oldest generation, I had a moment of realizing my generation is the next oldest and how most of us are between the ages of 40-55. It was really, an “oh sugar honey iced tea moment!” Then, I looked at the youngest generation and felt hope. All my little cousins span the skin color complexion and represent different races, ethnicities, economic backgrounds, gender identities and sexualities. They were truly more diverse and inclusive than previous generations and had no problem engaging across their differences.
Shortly after my travels to Massachusetts and NJ, I made a brief stop at the professional Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY. Upon arrival to this small town, we stopped at a NYC-themed pizzeria. As a native of northern New Jersey, I’m very particular about authentic NYC/northern NJ pizza. Too many places in Western NY make that claim but come nowhere close to the right amount of sauce, orange grease and foldability. This pizza brought back good memories of celebrating this gift from Italian Americans.
After lunch, we arrived at the museum where all the publicized and researched baseball greats are recognized. Moving through the space I couldn’t help but notice how there weren’t many African American people around. I also noticed a few attendees wearing the old Cleveland Indians logo (now Guardians). They seemed to quickly pass any exhibit item that had to deal with a person of color or racism. I noticed other people, mostly older White people, moving quickly through the Negro League plaques on the wall. They tended to gravitate toward more well-known players in the MLB who they could identify with. I totally understand their desire for personal connection to athletes that look like them or who were more often celebrated in history. I too highlight players that look like me. But the difference is I also have to know those who don’t look like me or be ridiculed for not knowing. As I concluded the exhibit, I reflected on the small dull green section in the back corner that focused on women softball and baseball players. My wife and I talked about how it didn’t make practical sense for women players to wear skirts yet clearly it was part of attracting a heterosexual men’s gaze to attend the game. Even in that minoritized and marginalized group, the story of racism excluding women of color ballplayers existed.
On another day I traveled to Utica and Clinton, NY. I wanted to explore the Hamilton College campus, which has beautiful European-inspired stone and modern buildings. It reminded me of my 10-year experience living in western Massachusetts. However, drive five minutes outside of campus and you are surrounded by rural poverty. For those not familiar, rural poverty can look like houses or old farms leaning with moss covering rusted roofs. It can look like paint chipping from the exterior of the house with toys, bikes and old farm machinery stacked in an unpaved drive way. While many call this place “home” and have fond memories, my experience left me with a feeling of isolation. Isolated from different ways of being, doing, working and learning. As a city-kid who now lives in suburbia, it felt removed from everyday resources (e.g. healthcare, grocery stores) and new opportunities.
Utica was also impoverished, but in an urban way. Instead of empty single-lane roads you have paved streets filled with trash and too many boarded up buildings with homeless people having to live outside. As I entered the fourth museum on a weekend trip, I realized just how classed, racialized and generation specific my travels the past few weeks had been. Here I am processing Norman Rockwell art, when in high school or most of college I had no idea who this man was and his significance in the world. In fact, I didn’t visit a museum until I was in college. I learned how Rockwell wasn’t allowed to illustrate Black characters in a popular magazine, because the White elite who funded the publication didn’t want them represented.
So as you can see, even on vacations there is much to process. Diversity, inclusion and equity is always around us. It’s just a matter of whether are you conscious of it or not.