Telling Secrets at RAZA

HARVARD-RADCLIFFE RAZA sometimes becomes fearful of dissent within its ranks and intolerant of those who voice unpopular or controversial views. Members of the Mexican-American student group sometimes stop talking to dissenters and instead talk about them in widespread innuendo. As surely as if it were coming from a group of children on a playground, this sort of collective tantrum is intended to show that the organization will "play no more" with those who rock the communal boat. It also aims to make campus life uncomfortable for others who are content with the racial status quo.

Last August, I wrote a 1000 word editorial in the Los Angeles Times in which I explored the bizarre tragedy of former classmate Jose "Joe" Razo '89, who last year was convicted of armed robbery in California. The article was blunt in its criticism of RAZA members for shunning Razo because of the embarrassment that his confrontational homeboy attire--khaki pants and bandanna around his head--caused them.

Since the article first appeared, the calls and letters have come in. Words of praise and of criticism. Among some, there is resentment.

A friend defends the article in a heated classroom argument last semester. At Yale, my girlfriend runs into one of my former classmates, now a law student there; in the ensuing argument, he claims that his own experiences with Harvard Chicanos were positive ones and that he was "deeply offended" by my assertions. A group of friends and I walk into a weekly RAZA dinner gathering, and a tableful of members quietly walk out in unison. I pass by an old friend in the Square; she spots me and turns away.

After the piece is reprinted in a national magazine, a former RAZA member submits an angry letter to the editor charging that I "misrepresented" Razo's experience with other Chicano students on campus. I am told, by the few brave enough to confront me with their anger, that much of RAZA feels "violated," even betrayed, by the revealing of how they treat one another.

INHERENT in my coming forward in print was a kind of familial betrayal--what Richard Rodriguez might call a "sin against intimacy." Later, when I asked the controversial author about the power of writers to stir thought, he responded under his breath that "writers have only the power to offend..." I have obviously done that.

I wrote about an episode that remains, in the history of Mexican-American student life at Harvard, one of failure. And if there is one thing that Harvard students, of any color, don't handle well, it's failure. The story of Joe Razo is first and foremost an embarrassment that the most liberal advocates of affirmative action--as well as the students that have benefitted from the program--would like to forget. Or just let it go...

Others could have written the story. But they didn't. They won't. Seeing themselves as annointed representatives of their family, their culture and their people, minority students at elite schools are often overprotective of their experience. For fear of saying the wrong thing, they say nothing at all. These are private matters, I am told, not to be discussed with strangers. To the meek who hold their image so dear, the story of Joe Razo--though compelling--is a messy tar-baby that is best left untouched. Still, I touch it.

A few weeks ago, a letter slipped under my door brought news that there is at least one Harvard Chicano who is glad that I examined a case that so many others would rather ignore. The author thanks me kindly for writing the editorial in the Times. The letter reads with sincerity. In it, I hear the voice of a friend for the first time since his arrest, conviction and imprisonment.

He is grateful that some are concerned with his fate even in the midst of the embarrassment he has caused. He is respectful. The letter seems, like the article that prompted it, the result of many weeks of reflection. It is signed--Con Mucho Respecto, Jose.

THE Razo case highlights the schizophernic nature of ethnic student groups. Promising warmth and acceptance for its members, such a group simultaneously represents the best and the worst that a people have to offer. At its best, it is a compassionate group of people that facilitates a gentle transition from one world to another. At its worst, it is an array of competitive and frightened individuals consumed with their own perceived self-importance and paralyzed by petty personal differences.

A small group of Mexican-American students created Harvard-Radcliffe RAZA 20 years ago to serve first and foremost as a support group for students like them. Now, as long as its members refuse to recognize the organization for what it has become, they miss the opportunity to improve it and improve along with it the college experience of the students the group is intended to serve.

Ruben Navarrette, Jr. '89-90 is a member of RAZA, and served on its Steering Committee in 1986 and 1987.