ALES 50 YEARS: Cristina Gonzalez’s Letter to The Exonian

As my senior year comes to an end, I cannot, in any way, express the immense gratitude I have for the Afro-Latinx Exonian Society community. It is through these past four years that I have grown, and I owe it to the members and advisers of ALES. It is through these past four years that I have realized that my voice is one that needs to be heard, and I owe that realization to ALES. I thank them because if it weren’t for them, I would have never returned after fall term of my prep year, but most specifically after spring term of my lower year. I also thank them because if it weren’t for them, I would have never spoken up about the injustices I have faced while at Exeter. And as I briefly reflect on my four years, I hope that the admiration that I feel towards the Afro-Latinx Exonian Society only becomes clearer.

My prep year, I remember walking into my classes for the first time and immediately feeling like I didn’t belong. Almost every person who sat at the Harkness table with me in each of my classes neither looked nor shared a similar background as me. As I had attended a public school in Los Angeles with a majority of the students identifying as Latinx, I felt out of place.

Therefore, my immediate response was to refrain from speaking and to only share my thoughts with my notebook as I thought my peers would disregard any comments I made. But as I entered the ALES room, I realized that I wasn’t alone and that Club Room B was my place to speak. Though the members of ALES and La Alianza Latina didn’t solve my problem of remaining silent my prep year, they helped me by providing the comfort that nobody else in the school could give to me.

My lower year was a moment in which the Afro-Latinx Exonian Society members became the people I crawled to after each Math 310 class. It was during spring term of lower year that I found myself being in a class where the teacher made insensitive comments about people of color, specifically Mexicans, and my classmates took his comments as humorous and harmless. It was this math class that asserted the idea that I had formed my first day of classes my prep year—I did not belong and my voice did not belong anywhere at Exeter as well. Though I didn’t speak about it consistently with the people I found comfort in, when I did, they assured me that I was wrong—I deserved to feel comfortable and safe at Exeter as any other student at Exeter did.

Sometime my upper year, on a Friday night in Club Room B, I found myself sharing the

experience I had in my Math 310 class with the members in ALES. Though it wasn’t the first time I had shared it, it was the first time I shared it to the group while acknowledging that my experience was unjust and one that was too familiar for students of color at Exeter. A few minutes after I had shared, I walked out of the room and walked into a bathroom stall to cry. I sat there for 20 minutes as I sobbed before I decided to return. And it was upon my return that one of the seniors hugged me. It was that moment that I realized I needed to speak up.

Four years ago, I would have never imagined myself reading an original poem regarding my experiences on campus as someone who identifies as Xicana for UnSilenced. Four years ago, I would have never imagined participating in a Die-In or a Sit-In. Four years ago, I would have never imagined being vocal and much less, being heard.

I owe it all to the ALES community. I owe it to the smiles and hugs from the members. I owe it to the advisors. I owe it to the times when I spoke up in Club Room B and the ALES members listened. It was ALES that aided me in realizing the importance of my voice. It was ALES that helped form the following words for my poem:  Yo no me voy a caer pero tampoco voy a gritar. Lo único que sé es que tu, finalmente, me vas a escuchar.

I want to thank ALES for standing with me when the people who were entrusted to do so failed, and I want to thank the Afro-Latinx Exonian Society for becoming my family.