“The Audacity to Hate” (2022-2023)

“The Audacity to Hate” was conceived out of a deep resentment and unwillingness to complete the assignment itself, similar to the deep resentment and unwillingness I felt towards being American. Similar also to the manner in which this reflection is being written (ha-ha, just kidding). Most of the things I write out of obligation fill me with dread and a desire not to live in society anymore, and honestly, this time it was no different. 

The initial ideation for the essay, in fact, came out of a late-night journal entry in which I angrily scratched out what was, in retrospect, a looser, more aggressive version of this essay, in which I complained about not wanting to write the essay and pitied myself for finding myself in such an undesirable situation. While I would not necessarily suggest this method, I suppose, the fact that its final iterations are appearing in Mercer Street might prove that it has some merit, especially for writers who feel similarly paralyzed or afraid in the midst of their drafting process. I think it would be remiss not to acknowledge that our writing for this course–or any course, for that matter–is compulsory, and as such not necessarily something we may be voluntarily or enthusiastically engaged in. It can be hard, then, not to feel incentivized by the rubrics and grades we are accordingly appraised with and rewarded by to produce writing that is grade-oriented, teacher-oriented, success-oriented and to get it done as quickly and painlessly as possible. This leaves little space to be foolish and uncouth when I think it actually is vitally important to be foolish and uncouth.

In large part, I am able to attribute my thinking in this essay to letting myself be dumb and okay with it. To write bad, embarrassingly, absurdly, over-dramatically, irrationally, tenderly, childishly–if only to see what would happen. I think it can be a gamble, but it can also pay off. Above all, I would like to express my gratitude and utmost indebtedness to Professor Ben Gassman, who graciously believed in my ideas and gave me the audacity to be audacious.

Occasionally, Ashley Kang, ‘25, manages to articulate her profound, mysterious thoughts in a coherent sequence of words. More often, she does not. She is, as her essay reveals, an American citizen residing in the Bay Area, California. As she was not born there, she cannot call it her hometown, nor does she feel particularly compelled to, but she is willing to pretend for the sake of expediency. As she writes this, she is relapsing into her lifelong crisis of belonging and national identity, which she thought she had solved through this essay. Apparently not. She is pursuing some combination of Social and Cultural Analysis, Politics, and Journalism in the College of Arts and Science, but makes no guarantees.