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Yale University, 2002

 For many years, Yale had a dorm called "Calhoun"; the reference was not just to a slaveholder, but to an ardent lover of the idea of slaveholding, someone who "advocated" for the idea of slaveholding.


One argument for retaining the name "Calhoun" was that we must not forget major moments in history, including shameful moments in history. The name was not an endorsement of the man's legacy--but a provocative reminder that America had embarrassed itself in the past.

In the movie "Origin," the leading scholar travels to Germany, where she learns it's a crime to display a swastika. "It's strange," she says. "In America, you can display a different symbol of genocide, a Confederate flag, and nothing happens. In fact, that flag is an official part of Mississippi iconography."

Eventually, "Calhoun College" became a new dorm--but "Yale University" held onto the name "Yale." Although Mr. Yale was a slaveholder, he was apparently not as evil as Calhoun; somewhere, a (blurry) line exists, but I haven't met anyone who can identify the location of that line.

The student Robert Peace was given a raw deal. His father--who physically abused his mother--went to jail on a murder charge, which may (or may not) have been fabricated. Robert had a brilliant mind--and his father felt entitled to that mind. Though Robert enjoyed his studies, he had to devote a portion of his time to conducting legal research, to free his father from prison. At the same time, his mother withheld information about his past, and became defensive when he unearthed major secrets. He, Robert, was justifiably outraged.

At Yale, Peace was racially profiled by classmates. Fellow polo team members could smoke pot and laugh at the idea of repercussions; no white RA would wring his hands over a white undergrad with some drugs in his pocket. Even if Yale made a stink about marijuana possession, the white kids could lean on their powerful parents (these parents were not incarcerated)--and a second, or third, or fourth "clean slate" opportunity could present itself.

After Yale, Peace tried to struggle along, though he was swimming in debt. Drugs seemed like a reasonable world to explore. But Peace made enemies in East Orange (the exact nature of the war remains unclear to me, though I have read the book and seen the movie). Around the time of his thirtieth birthday, Peace was murdered. He never started--certainly never came close to finishing--his desired molecular-biology PhD.

An acquaintance of mine who knew Robert Peace feels offended by the existence of the movie. "Imagine if this were your son, and suddenly he is a 'career advancement' opportunity for some graduate from Juilliard." I don't have the same objection; an interesting story is an interesting story. But I often wonder--if a film fudges various details in a person's life, as "Rob Peace" does--why insist on the "documentary-adjacent" vibe? Why not just change many, many other details and create a work of fiction?

I feel for Robert Peace because, on a much more pedestrian level, I know something about feeling out of place. I wish that Peace had had better mentors. I'm haunted by this guy, although I'm 99 percent certain I never met him.

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