The Choice

swallowed by violent urges, he didn’t want to fall into the pledge
master’s trap of trying to rile him, he didn’t want to participate in a
public showdown. He was also afraid of being ostracized by the
fraternity and the other pledges—the very community whose
acceptance he was trying to court. e third choice—to walk away—
wasn’t any better. He would have to give up his dream, give up his
desire of belonging, and he wasn’t willing to do that.
In siing through the available options, Carlos discovered a fourth
choice. Instead of confronting the pledge master directly in what he
feared would become a violent ĕght, he could ĕle a complaint with
someone who had more authority. Carlos decided that the best person
to approach was the fraternity president. He knew he could bring the
issue higher up the ladder, to a university dean, if necessary, but he
preferred to keep the conversation more local at ĕrst. We practiced
what he was going to say, and how he would say it. It was hard for
him to remain calm while he rehearsed, but he knew from our years of
work together that when you lose your temper, you might feel strong
in the moment, but really you are handing your power over. Strength
isn’t reacting, it’s responding—feeling your feelings, thinking them
over, and planning an effective action to bring you closer to your goal.
Carlos and I also talked about the possible consequences of his
conversation. It was possible that the fraternity president would tell
Carlos that the pledge master’s behavior was acceptable, and that
Carlos could take it or leave it.
“If that’s how the president sees it, I guess I’d rather know than not
know,” Carlos said.
Carlos called me after his meeting with the fraternity president.
“I did it!” His voice rang with triumph. “I told him what was
happening, and he said it was disgusting and he wouldn’t tolerate it.
He’s forcing the pledge master to stop the racist hazing.”
Of course I was happy that Carlos was being validated and