Chalk Marking as a Display of Solidarity and Defiance

Written by Ashten Vassar-Cain with support from the DAC team

In a course on Disability in American Literature and Culture in fall of 2022, we learned about the detention of disabled immigrants at Ellis Island. If deemed “unfit,” their clothing would be marked with chalk–a tangible reminder that they were considered “less than” by the country they risked everything to arrive at. Honoring Disabled History is extremely important. Unfortunately,  honoring them isn’t something that I have the opportunity to do in other classes, which is why I am extremely thankful for the few courses that examine Disability and Culture. 

From Ellis Island, you can see the Statue of Liberty call out  the lines from Emma Lazarus’ 1883 “New Colossus” poem – “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, /  The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.” Apparently, there is a limit to how poor and how tired one could be. 

After reading about Ellis Island and the detention of those suspected of “disease” or “defect,” the class engaged in an activity where we wrote down some of the labels we wore, or had been assigned, in our day-to-day lives on sticky notes in a Google Jamboard. These labels served as a reminder of the factors that influence our everyday reality. The exercise then also reminded me of a recent memorable experience on campus with chalk and policing. 

[From Left to Right: “dumb Polak” – anxious – too nice – unladylike – “lazy” due to uncontrollable frequent absences – careless – Foul-mouthed queer – too emotional – persistent – needs to relax – don’t know how to whisper – Kansas redneck – Kraut. Foreigner Nazi – serious, not funny – cares too much – jockette – Nerd – Boring, no fun, – resilience and courage – always trying, hard-working – four eyes – never thinks about herself – never talks in class (as a student) – too worried – Book girl (geek girl) – Loser, Loner – Anti-social or looks mean – sick kid – crybaby – loud – nervous Nelly – caretaker – feel too much – bold, brash, speaks out – problem kid – Weak, Stickman – “that deaf girl” – “it’s just a joke” — “peg leg” – too young – cripple, crutch girl – unathletic – Empath, Sees through – queer (both derogatory and as a term of community) – clown – careless – “Gifted” – Shy – sinner/disappointment – Too quiet – controlling – instigator, antagonist – too autistic “weird” – cares too much – too emotional – too energetic – too sarcastic – Paranoid – Troublemaker – needy – cripple] 

In October 2021, a year before I had the opportunity to take this class in fall 2022, President Biden came to UConn. He gave a speech about rededicating the Dodd Center for Human Rights. It seemed ironic to me, he was here to talk about human rights while many citizens of this country live with our rights threatened every day. I did not meet the president that day… but I did meet the cops. A group of students held a sit-in in front of the recreation center, a central location for passersby and those on their way to attend President Biden’s speech. We held signs addressing the plethora of injustices that went inadequately addressed. The police had barricaded the surrounding area. They stood on our chalked messages, smearing dust underfoot. While they cast glances at our display of protest, they never met our eyes. Their metal barricades scraped against the sidewalk with a biting screech. 

The President’s visit displayed a clear division between who was included and who was excluded. As onlookers, we saw a divestment of accessibility resources for the student body and faculty. The campus was shut down and barricaded, causing the accessible vans to take detours, existing events were canceled, and interpreters scheduled for other classes and events that day were all redirected in lieu of the visit.

We sat on the damp steps all day – since our messages in chalk had been hosed down. I crouched down to write my message alongside the others, my haphazard scrawl begging to be seen just as I was. I could not help but remind myself that this chalk will be washed away in the morning. But that didn’t matter. We had plenty more chalk. And the labels that we painted on the ground would be far easier to erase than those pinned on us as people.

Those in power use the chalk marking to reinforce their ideas of who “belongs” and who does not. These same figures of authority get uncomfortable when we are the ones who hold the chalk. If just for a moment, I would be sure to leave UConn covered in the same chalk I had been coated in. 

Like other academic institutions, UConn is not exempt from a culture of ableism and exclusion. In fact, it thrives on it and profits from it. It offers not an open door, but the ability to sneak in after the rest if you are fast enough– or risk getting caught underfoot. Any institution of this magnitude relies on chalk marking. To even get accommodations, we must build a chalky paper trail. We must loudly declare our needs and we must prove them. We must continuously document ourselves and be our own advocates. The ways that institutions of higher education record our lives with little tally marks of chalk may not always be blatantly exclusionary. However, the colorful coating of dust, and the way it never really erases easily once inscribed, serve as a constant reminder.

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Published by bjbrueggemann

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