Student Claims White Privilege Is Blocking People of Color From Going Outside

Did you think everyone is born with the right to go outside, smell the roses and maybe enjoy some hiking? According to one student’s analysis of white privilege in outdoor culture, you’re wrong.

A student at Claremont Colleges in California has claimed that the schools’ outdoor programs are “predominately white spaces” that are “uncomfortable” for students of color. “The image of the ‘outdoorsy individual’ is an exclusive classification that gives white people the authority to venture into the outdoors freely, leaving people of color behind,” Malcolm McCann wrote.

Doc stood in for Glenn on today’s show and talked about this story with Kal. Both were puzzled by the idea that being “outdoorsy” is exclusively for white people.

Want the full story? Read our explainer here.

This article provided courtesy of TheBlaze.

DOC: Take part in any outdoor activities? Do you golf? How about hiking? Do you bike ride? Go for walks? Anything outdoors other than just, you know, going and getting in the car? You spend any significant time outdoors? Do you camp, any of that stuff? Well, if you're saying yes, that's because you're white.

KAL: What?

DOC: It's because you're white.

KAL: I beg to differ. I've seen many races outdoors.

DOC: Trust me, they were masquerading as some other race. Trust me they were. I think they were likely white people in disguise. That's probably what it was.

I say that because a student at Claremont College in California wrote an op-ed that says non-white people are excluded from the outdoors because of white supremacy.

And I can't tell you all the times I've gotten together at the Klan meetings. And we're there with the hoods. And burning the crosses, just to keep everybody else from outside.

You know, it's our goal, you know, to keep as many people inside as possible.

KAL: As many white -- you want white people outside.

DOC: Yeah. We want the non-white people inside. The white people outside. You know, that's the goal.

What?

KAL: This is a white-only hiking trail. Sorry.

DOC: He explains it this way in his op-ed piece, he says, due to the predominance of whiteness in the outdoors.

KAL: That sounds like -- that sounds like a bad combination.

DOC: You know what, I've seen white people outside. I have seen them outside.

KAL: I have seen one or two.

DOC: Due to the predominance of whites outdoors, people of color have been denied access to outdoors. What? With the boarding up of doors, windows, barring them.

KAL: I don't really think this person lives in another country.

DOC: You haven't seen this?

KAL: I haven't seen any of this.

DOC: That's likely because you're one of those white people.

KAL: Has he been outside? Because seems quite a few other people outside.

DOC: Hmm. Let me think. He said, due to the predominance of whiteness outdoors, we're getting into wintertime.

Is that what he means? Well, with all the snow and what not. And the whiteness.

KAL: The whiteness is causing the winter.

DOC: I don't know. He says, outdoor clubs are the most funded on campus. Yet, are saturated with white supremacy. The outdoor clubs.

So likely what they did, okay. It's our hiking club. Welcome to the hiking club.

KAL: Yes. Hi, my name is Jim.

DOC: Hey, Jim, welcome to the club. And we've all been here for a while, for a few years. Tell you all about the hiking. We go on a couple trips for year. Here's the list of things you'll need to hike.

KAL: Oh, great, great.

DOC: You'll see here it has the shoes. The white sheets. You're going to need --

KAL: Why do you need a sheet to go hiking?

DOC: For the outfit, for the outfit. You'll need that. A cross to burn.

KAL: Hold on.

DOC: A lunch. A picnic lunch.

KAL: Cross to burn, I'm not cool with that. Pointy hat.

DOC: You'll need some nooses. We go lynching people, to keep them inside. That's our goal.

KAL: Going to have to avoid this group.

DOC: He says the outdoor clubs are saturated with white supremacy. He admits the clubs are open for all people, yet saturated with white supremacy, because no matter the color of someone's skin, you can attend these clubs, but not everyone feels safe to attend.

So it's a safety issue that is having the whites rule supreme at these outdoor clubs at Claremont Colleges in California. Oh, they must be.

See, apparently, this is part of the systematic racism, where it's scaring people to keep them away. It's a scare tactic. Well, we don't want them as part of our outdoors club. You know.

He went on to write in his op-ed piece, this discomfort is unfortunately caused by existing racial boundaries. Historically, white people in imperialist conquests have appropriated land as their own. North America rightfully belongs to indigenous communities, yet it has been taken away from them by force. Consequently, a false sense of ownership of nature permeates white America.

We know we own --

KAL: Nature?

DOC: We own nature. Whitey, of course.

KAL: Do the trees and the birds and the squirrels.

DOC: White. Absolutely white.

You mean do tell me any non-white people out there, somewhere -- a non-white person owns a tree.

KAL: Yeah.

DOC: Please. Yeah, yeah.

KAL: I'm pretty sure.

DOC: You're so naive, Kal. So naive. The image of the outdoorsy individual, he said, is an exclusive classification that gives white people the authority to venture into the outdoors freely, leaving people of color behind.

KAL: This is so ridiculous.

DOC: How do you even come up with this? How can you even write this?

KAL: I have no words.

DOC: I think I may understand it. They smoke a lot of dope in Claremont Colleges. That's the only thing I could come up with.

KAL: Or his head is so far up his other thing, that's -

DOC: Maybe there was a fall in his past, and he hit his head a lot, repeatedly.

He went on to say, racial barriers that prevent nonwhites from stepping outside. But also, financial barriers are a problem.

KAL: Really?

DOC: To non-white people being allowed into the great outdoors. He said, only people with economic privilege can participate in outdoor activities.

KAL: I don't know if you know this, you don't need that much to go hiking.

DOC: Oh, walking is -- you know how expensive walking is?

Every time I head out -- I mean, I can afford it because I'm white.

KAL: Okay.

DOC: Every time I head out, they're like, that's going to be $450 billion. And I just write the check. And I'm like, man, fortunately, I make 700 trillion as a week, you know, as a white person, and I can afford it.

KAL: That's right.

DOC: But crazy expensive to walk. I mean, that's -- you know, and running. You know, I run now --

KAL: You do run.

DOC: Even more expensive.

KAL: Secret white trail.

DOC: Me and my economic privilege participating in activities.

He also says understanding obscure outdoor lingo is something that -- that white people get. Nonwhites don't.

You know, we have this special -- special language like -- well, I'll give you some examples of special coded things that apparently non-white people don't understand about the great outdoors, like walk. Walk.

KAL: Walk. That's a white-only thing?

DOC: I assume. I mean, these are outdoorsy terms. Run. Picnic. Maybe they don't know that.

Golf. Maybe they don't know what that word means. Frisbee. Okay. That's pretty white. That's a bad example. Don't use that. That's actually a really bad example. I think that just may be for white people. Stupidly, but, yeah.

Not because nonwhites are excluded. It's just they're smarter than whites and they don't actually take part in fraul (phonetic) -- they're not a part of that.

So can you think of any other lingo that may be throwing them off, where they're like, I don't understand what they're talking about. The cracker is over there. What with words like --

KAL: Run and jump.

DOC: And swim. Fish. They don't -- they don't understand them apparently.

KAL: Throw the ball.

DOC: So you got the financial barriers. Economic privilege. You got the special lingo. I imagine garb is a part of that.

KAL: So it's a recipe for --

DOC: It also said friendship can act as a portal for the whiteness, for those who have historically been denied the privilege of comfort.

KAL: What?

DOC: Let me share that again. Friendship can act as a portal to the wilderness, for those who have been historically denied the privilege of comfort.

So I guess invite a non-white friend to the great outdoors. You'll have to explain to them, this is a -- sidewalk. Sidewalk. Repeat after me.

KAL: What we're going to do now, 1 foot in front of the other.

DOC: Like this. You need to get them used to it. How to do this.

KAL: It's called jogging. The J is silent.

DOC: Now, he offers some solution to the outdoors being part of white supremacy. Would you like to know his solutions?

KAL: I would be thrilled.

DOC: Number one, affirm that nature belongs to all humans, not just white ones.

KAL: Okay.

DOC: We need that affirmation.

KAL: We need to know that. Okay. I didn't know nature belonged to humans at all, but okay.

DOC: No. For all you whites out there, that are walking around like nature belongs to you exclusively, it does not. And I'm here to affirm that it does not just belong to you. It belongs to the other folk as well, not just to the crackers. Not just to the honkies. Not just to the peckerwoods, but everybody. I'm here to affirm -- how do we affirm -- how many times do I have to say this?

No, no, no. So how do I -- do I have to put it on signs, or is there a public -- I mean, I just affirmed it.

KAL: Yeah, I think you probably have --

DOC: Am I done affirming, or do I have to keep affirming? Does everybody have to affirm it all the time? I don't know -- I wish he would offer a clarification. But anyway --

KAL: Kind of like if you're white, you have to affirm it.

DOC: Affirm that nature belongs to all humans, not just white ones. Number two, the image of the outdoor enthusiast should not belong to just white people. That's one of the solutions.

KAL: The image of the outdoor enthusiast.

DOC: Yes. Should not belong to just white people.

KAL: Okay.

DOC: Which means, Kal, we proceed to fix that by --

KAL: Making more nonwhite people --

DOC: The image of outdoor enthusiasts should not just belong to white people.

KAL: Are you talking about, like, magazines and ads and things?

DOC: I was hoping you could help me out with this. I have no idea what this means. I don't know.

KAL: Do they know that the guy who -- well, not this year. But the last 50 New York City marathons have been won by, like, an African guy. Like a Kenyan.

DOC: No! It's white guys.

KAL: This is the first year in I don't know how long.

DOC: I don't think they let blacks enter. They don't even let them enter, do they?

In fact, there's none in Manhattan. That's entire outdoors, been exclusively white people.

You're telling me there are blacks that enter the New York marathon? Is it like a separate, but equal marathon?

KAL: No, no, no. They all run together. They all run together.

DOC: Okay. You run in Harlem. And we'll all run around Central Park.

KAL: No, no, everyone runs together. It's kind of co-mingling.

DOC: Okay. You're embarrassing yourself here. Let me just stop you. You obviously are misinformed. I'm just going to stop you before you embarrass yourself even more.

KAL: There's this game called basketball, where they play --

DOC: And that is primarily played, where?

KAL: Indoors.

DOC: There it is. How often is the MBA played inside?

KAL: Not quite often.

DOC: Okay. How often does the NFL play outside?

KAL: Sometimes they're open domes. You know, they're not always --

DOC: Like I said, it's 50/50.

Number three, white people should exert caution as not to dominate ownership of the word outdoorsy.

KAL: You guys own that? I didn't know that. Okay.

DOC: I own the word "outdoorsy." I mean, I say it at least once every millennia. Once every maybe decade. How often do you say outdoorsy?

KAL: When describing myself, not often at all.

DOC: Does it ever -- you would say outdoors? I will go outdoors.

KAL: I don't even think I say outdoors.

DOC: That often?

KAL: No.

DOC: Outdoorsy.

KAL: Where is the car? Outside.

DOC: All right. I'm going to go ahead and give it to you. I'm happy to never say it again. I feel comfortable with that.

KAL: You're giving up your white privilege?

DOC: I am. Because I don't want to dominate ownership of the word outdoorsy. I'm going to exert caution as to not dominate it.

KAL: All right. Thank you. Thank you for --

DOC: It's the least I could do.

KAL: Okay. Thank you.

DOC: And finally, he says, outdoor clubs on college campuses should work to increase accessibility and to help people learn the skills they will need. Increase accessibility to the outdoors.

KAL: Okay. All right.

DOC: I'm thinking more doors, more windows. Is that what we need? So colleges and dorms -- you know what we need? Maybe a white door and a black or non-white door.

KAL: You might want to be careful. Because they used to do that.

DOC: Well, yeah, but see, what we would do was have more nonwhite doors, so they would have greater accessibility to the outside. Apparently, they're getting bottlenecked at the door.

Maybe their doors are more narrow or something. Maybe like garage doors or more of them.

Until we get more teleportation, that's what I'm going for. More windows. More escape hatches. I'm willing to hear it all because I don't want to dominate the great outdoors.

On Wednesday's TV show, Glenn Beck sat down with radio show host, author, political commentator, and film critic, Michael Medved.

Michael had an interesting prediction for the 2020 election outcome: a brokered convention by the DNC will usher in former First Lady Michelle Obama to run against President Donald Trump.

Watch the video below to hear why he's making this surprising forecast:

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On Thursday's "Glenn Beck Radio Program," BlazeTV's White House correspondent Jon Miller described the current situation in Virginia after Gov. Ralph Northam (D) declared a state of emergency and banned people carrying guns at Capitol Square just days before a pro-Second-Amendment rally scheduled on Martin Luther King Jr. Day.

Jon told Glenn that Gov. Northam and the Virginia Legislature are "trying to deprive the people of their Second Amendment rights" but the citizens of Virginia are "rising up" to defend their constitutional rights.

"I do think this is the flashpoint," Jon said. "They [Virginia lawmakers] are saying, 'You cannot exercise your rights ... and instead of trying to de-escalate the situation, we are putting pressure. We're trying to escalate it and we're trying to enrage the citizenry even more'."

Glenn noted how Gov. Northam initially blamed the threat of violence from Antifa for his decision to ban weapons but quickly changed his narrative to blame "white supremacists" to vilify the people who are standing up for the Second Amendment and the Constitution.

"What he's doing is, he's making all all the law-abiding citizens of Virginia into white supremacists," Glenn said.

"Sadly, that's exactly right," Jon replied. "And I think he knows exactly what he's doing."

Watch the video to catch more of the conversation below:

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Ryan: Trump Louisiana Finale

Photo by Jim Dale

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

At the end of Trump rallies, I would throw on my Carhartt jacket, sneak out of the press area, then blend in with everyone as they left, filing out through swinging doors.

Often, someone held the door open for me. Just 30 minutes earlier, the same person had most likely had most likely hissed at me for being a journalist. And now they were Sunday smiles and "Oh, yes, thank you, sir" like some redneck concierge.

People flooded out of the arena with the stupidity of a fire drill mishap, desperate to survive.

The air smacked you as soon as you crossed the threshold, back into Louisiana. And the lawn was a wasteland of camping chairs and coolers and shopping bags and to-go containers and soda cans and articles of clothing and even a few tents.

In Monroe, in the dark, the Trump supporters bobbled over mounds of waste like elephants trying to tiptoe. And the trash was as neutral to them as concrete or grass. They plodded over it because it, an object, had somehow gotten in their way.

It did not matter that they were responsible for this wreckage.Out in the sharp-edged moonlight, rally-goers hooted and yapped and boogied and danced, and the bbq food truck was all smoke and paper plates.

They were even more pumped than they had been before the rally, like 6,000 eight year olds who'd been chugging Mountain Dew for hours. Which made Donald Trump the father, the trooper, God of the Underworld, Mr. Elite, Sheriff on high horse, the AR-15 sticker of the family.

Ritualistic mayhem, all at once. And, there in Louisiana, Trump's supporters had gotten a taste of it. They were all so happy. It bordered on rage.

Still, I could not imagine their view of America. Worse, after a day of strange hostilities, I did not care.

My highest priority, my job as a reporter, was to care. To understand them and the world that they inhabit. But I did not give a damn and I never wanted to come back.

Worst of all, I would be back. In less than a week.

Was this how dogs felt on the 4th of July? Hunched in a corner while everyone else gets drunk and launches wailing light into the sky? configurations of blue and red and white.

It was 10:00 p.m. and we'd been traveling since 11:00 a.m., and we still had 5 hours to go and all I wanted was a home, my home, any home, just not here, in the cold sweat of this nowhere. Grey-mangled sky. No evidence of planes or satellites or any proof of modern-day. Just century-old bridges that trains shuffled over one clack at a time.

And casinos, all spangles and neon like the 1960s in Las Vegas. Kitchy and dumb, too tacky for lighthearted gambling. And only in the nicer cities, like Shreveport, which is not nice at all.

And swamp. Black water that rarely shimmered. Inhabited by gadflies and leeches and not one single fish that was pretty.

Full of alligators, and other killing types. The storks gnawing on frogs, the vultures never hungry. The coyotes with nobody to stop them and so much land to themselves. The roaches in the wild, like tiny wildebeests.

Then, the occasional deer carcass on the side of the road, eyes splayed as if distracted, tongue out, relaxed but empty. The diseased willows like skeletons in hairnets. The owls that never quit staring. A million facets of wilderness that would outlive us all.

Because Nature has poise. It thrives and is original.

Because silence is impossible. Even in an anechoic chamber, perfectly soundproofed, you can hear your own heartbeat, steady as a drum. A never-ending war.

I put "Headache" by Grouper on repeat as we glided west. We were deadlocked to asphalt, rubber over tarface.

And I thought about lines from a Rita Dove poem titled "I have been a stranger in a strange land"

He was off cataloging the universe, probably,
pretending he could organize
what was clearly someone else's chaos.

Wasn't that exactly what I was doing? Looking for an impossible answer, examining every single accident, eager for meaning? telling myself, "If it happens and matters the next year, in America, I want to be there, or to know what it means. I owe it to whoever cares to listen."

Humans are collectors and I had gone overboard.

Because maybe this wasn't even my home. These landmarks, what did they mean? Was I obvious here? When I smiled, did I trick them into believing that I felt some vague sense of approval? Or did my expressions betray me?

Out in all that garbage-streaked emptiness — despite the occasional burst of passing halogen — I couldn't tell if everything we encountered was haunted or just old, derelict, broken, useless. One never-ending landfill.

Around those parts, they'd made everything into junk. Homes. Roads. Glass. Nature. Life itself, they made into junk.

I cringed as we passed yet another deer carcass mounded on the side of the road.

As written in Job 35:11,

Who teaches us more than the beasts of the earth and makes us wiser than the birds in the sky?

Nobody. Look at nature and you feel something powerful. Look at an animal, in all of its untamable majesty, and you capture a deep love, all swept up in the power of creation. But, here, all I saw were poor creatures who people had slammed into and kept driving. Driving to where? For what reason? What exactly was so important that they left a trail of dead animals behind them?

So I crossed myself dolorously and said an "Our Father" and recited a stanza from Charles Bukowski's "The Laughing Heart"

you can't beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.

Out here, nothing but darkness. Needing some light, by God. Give me something better than a Moon that hides like an underfed coward.

Jade told me about some of the more traumatic things she'd seen while working at the State Fair.

"Bro, they pull roaches out of the iced lemonade jugs and act like nothing happened."

"All right but what about the corn dogs?"

"You do not want to know, little bro."

She looked around in the quiet. "Back in the day, the Louisiana Congress refused to raise the drinking age from 18 to 21," she said. "They didn't want to lose all that drunk gambler money. So the federal government cut off funding to highways."

We glided through moon-pale landscape for an hour before I realized what she had meant. That there weren't any light poles or billboards along the road. Nothing to guide us or distract us. Just us, alone. And it felt like outer space had collapsed, swallowed us like jellybeans.

Like two teenagers playing a prank on the universe.

In the cozy Subaru Crosstrek, in the old wild night, brimming with the uncertainty of life and the nonchalance of failure, we paraded ourselves back to Dallas. Alive in the river silence that follows us everywhere.

New installments come Mondays and Thursdays. Next, the Iowa caucuses. Check out my Twitter. Email me at kryan@blazemedia.com

The Iowa primary is just around the corner, and concerns of election interference from the last presidential election still loom. Back in 2016, The Associated Press found that a majority of U.S. elections systems still use Windows 7 as an operating system, making them highly susceptible to bugs and errors. And last year, a Mississippi voter tried multiple times to vote for the candidate of his choice, but the system continuously switched his vote to the other candidate. It's pretty clear: America's voting systems desperately need an update.

That's where blockchain voting comes in.

Blockchain voting is a record-keeping system that's 100% verifiable and nearly impossible to hack. Blockchain, the newest innovation in cybersecurity, is set to grow into a $20 billion industry by 2025. Its genius is in its decentralized nature, distributing information throughout a network of computers, requiring would-be hackers to infiltrate a much larger system. Infiltrating multiple access points spread across many computers requires a significant amount of computing power, which often costs more than hackers expect to get in return.

Blockchain voting wouldn't allow for many weak spots. For instance, Voatz, arguably the leading mobile voting platform, requires a person to take a picture of their government-issued ID and a picture of themselves before voting (a feature, of course, not present in vote-by-mail, where the only form of identity verification is a handwritten signature, which is easily forgeable). Voters select their choices and hit submit. They then receive an immediate receipt of their choices via email, another security feature not present in vote-by-mail, or even in-person voting. And because the system operates on blockchain technology, it's nearly impossible to tamper with.

Votes are then tabulated, and the election results are published, providing a paper trail, which is a top priority for elections security experts.

The benefits of blockchain voting can't be dismissed. Folks can cast their vote from the comfort of their homes, offices, etc., vastly increasing the number of people who can participate in the electoral process. Two to three-hour lines at polling places, which often deter voters, would become significantly diminished.

Even outside of the voting increase, the upsides are manifold. Thanks to the photo identification requirements, voter fraud—whether real or merely suspected—would be eliminated. The environment would win, too, since we'd no longer be wasting paper on mail-in ballots. Moreover, the financial burden on election offices would be alleviated, because there's decreased staff time spent on the election, saving the taxpayer money.

From Oregon to West Virginia, elections offices have already implemented blockchain voting, and the results have been highly positive. For example, the city of Denver utilized mobile voting for overseas voters in their 2019 municipal elections. The system was secure and free of technical errors, and participants reported that it was very user-friendly. Utah County used the same system for their 2019 primary and general elections. An independent audit revealed that every vote that was cast on the app was counted and counted correctly. These successful test cases are laying the groundwork for even larger expansions of the program in 2020.

With this vital switch, our elections become significantly more secure, accurate, and efficient. But right now, our election infrastructure is a sitting duck for manipulation. Our current lack of election integrity undermines the results of both local and national elections, fans the flames of partisanship, and zaps voter confidence in the democratic system. While there's never a silver bullet or quick fix to those kinds of things, blockchain voting would push us much closer to a solution than anything else.

Chris Harelson is the Executive Director at Prosperity Council and a Young Voices contributor.