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Showing posts with label social class. Show all posts
Showing posts with label social class. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 9, 2025

Camp Mystic: A Century of Privilege, Exclusion, and Resilience Along the Guadalupe

Nestled along the banks of the Guadalupe River in Kerr County, Texas, Camp Mystic has been a summer rite of passage for generations of elite white girls since its founding in 1926. Created by University of Texas coach E.J. “Doc” Stewart, the camp was envisioned as a Christian retreat that mirrored its brother camp, Camp Stewart for boys. With a blend of outdoor adventure, spiritual practice, and deep-rooted tradition, Mystic became one of Texas’s most exclusive—and enduring—summer institutions.

At its core, Camp Mystic was always more than a camp. It functioned as a social filter, reinforcing class, race, and regional identity. Founded during the Jim Crow era, the camp operated within a system of de facto racial segregation. While no known documents explicitly stated that Black, Mexican American, or Indigenous girls were barred, the overwhelmingly white makeup of campers, counselors, and alumni for decades makes its exclusionary nature clear. Like many private institutions in the South, racial exclusion at Mystic was enforced through unspoken rules, legacy admissions, and the economic barriers of wealth and connection.

The legacy of that segregation lingers today. Camp Mystic remains a predominantly white, upper-class space. The cost of attendance alone is prohibitive to most. A single 30-day session now costs more than $4,300—often closer to $5,000 once flood-related infrastructure and safety fees are added. A $300 to $400 deposit is required up front, and most campers are enrolled years in advance, often the children and grandchildren of Mystic alumnae.

Over the decades, the camp has grown to encompass 725 acres of Texas Hill Country, including historic cypress cabins, a blufftop chapel, and a sprawling recreation hall. Campers are divided into two tribes—Kiowa and Tonkawa—borrowing names from Native peoples with no meaningful cultural ties. They compete in games, attend daily devotionals, and participate in long-standing rituals like Sunday fried chicken dinners and end-of-session vespers. Phones and electronic devices are banned, preserving an air of rustic purity and nostalgic Americana.

Mystic’s leadership has passed through generations of wealthy Texas families. After Stewart sold the camp in 1937, the Stacy family took over, maintaining control even during its World War II closure, when it was leased to the U.S. Army Air Corps as a convalescent facility. From 1948 to 1987, Inez and Frank Harrison—“Iney and Frank”—ran the camp with an old-school Christian ethos. The third-generation owners, Dick and Tweety Eastland, continued the tradition of preserving the camp’s conservative values and cultural uniformity.

The camp’s alumni list reads like a who’s who of Texas society. Laura Bush once served as a counselor. Children of governors, oil executives, and business magnates have long walked the same trails and sat at the same river’s edge. For many, Mystic is as much a symbol of legacy and identity as it is a summer destination.

And yet, the question lingers: what does it mean to sustain a place like Camp Mystic in the 21st century?

While many of its practices seem quaint or charming to supporters, others see a more troubling story—of a camp that has functioned as a training ground for white privilege, Christian nationalism, and cultural insulation. Its use of Native American tribal names, its refusal to modernize its traditions beyond symbolic gestures, and its high economic barrier to entry make it a time capsule of exclusion. Even now, diversity at Camp Mystic appears limited, its brochures and social media reflecting the same demographics it always has.

Today, as Texas faces widening inequality, increasing climate risks, and sharp political divides, Camp Mystic remains perched on a precarious edge—both literally and figuratively. It is a camp shaped by floods and fire, faith and legacy, and a deep belief in preserving “the way things used to be.”

For some, Camp Mystic represents a magical place of lifelong friendship, tradition, and spiritual growth. For others, it is a stark reminder of how privilege and exclusion are often disguised as nostalgia.

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Wednesday, April 16, 2025

Chris Rufo and Right Wing "Civil Rights"

Chris Rufo’s recent article in City Journal, titled "New Right-Wing Civil-Rights Regime", is a prime example of ideological revisionism that fails to engage with history in any meaningful way. At its core, Rufo presents an interpretation of the civil rights movement and its aftermath that is both profoundly ahistorical and dangerously reductionist. While attempting to frame his argument as a critique of the modern Left’s grip on civil rights law, Rufo distorts the legacy of the 1960s civil rights movement and misrepresents the real challenges of racial justice in America today.

Chris Rufo, a senior fellow at the conservative Manhattan Institute and a prominent figure in the battle against Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) policies, has gained significant influence in recent years for his aggressive campaigns to shift the national discourse on race and education. Rufo's rise to prominence coincided with his efforts to expose and denounce critical race theory (CRT) in public education, a tactic that has been instrumental in shaping conservative rhetoric around race. His latest article continues this trend, proposing that the Trump administration's attack on DEI programs in higher education represents a necessary correction to what he perceives as a Left-wing racialist agenda.

However, Rufo’s understanding of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and its legacy is highly problematic. The article begins by referencing Christopher Caldwell’s The Age of Entitlement, a book that has been influential in certain conservative circles. Caldwell’s thesis, which Rufo echoes, argues that the Civil Rights Act marked a "fundamental departure" from America’s constitutional tradition. According to Caldwell (and by extension, Rufo), the Act, initially a noble effort to combat racial discrimination, eventually "consumed core American freedoms" and has been weaponized to entrench "left-wing racialist ideology" in American institutions. This narrative, however, overlooks the essential purpose of the Civil Rights Act—to eliminate legally sanctioned racial discrimination and provide equal protection to marginalized groups.

Rufo’s invocation of Caldwell’s book is troubling because it oversimplifies the historical context of civil rights legislation. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 was not the beginning of a long, slow descent into tyranny, as Rufo suggests, but rather the long-overdue correction of centuries of systemic racism. The idea that it was somehow a “departure” from constitutional principles is a misguided reading of both the Act’s intent and the broader history of American law. To frame the Act’s enforcement mechanisms and subsequent civil rights policies as a threat to "core American freedoms" is a distortion that erases the basic reality of racial oppression in the U.S. before and after its passage.

The Legacy of White Supremacy and Structural Racism

What Rufo and those who echo his arguments fail to acknowledge is the enduring legacy of white supremacy and structural racism that has pervaded American society for centuries. The very system of racial discrimination that the Civil Rights Act sought to dismantle is far from a relic of the past; it is woven into the fabric of American institutions, policies, and practices in ways that continue to disadvantage Black people and other people of color.

One glaring example is the practice of redlining, where federal policies explicitly denied mortgage loans and insurance to Black families and other communities of color in favor of white neighborhoods. The result was the creation of segregated, impoverished urban spaces that continue to suffer from disinvestment and lack of opportunity to this day. In many cities, predominantly Black neighborhoods were intentionally situated near polluting industries, highways, and other environmentally harmful sites—leading to environmental racism. For example, toxic waste was often dumped in or near Black communities, subjecting these populations to higher rates of asthma, cancer, and other health problems. These practices are a direct manifestation of a racist infrastructure that systematically devalued the lives and health of Black and Brown Americans.

Similarly, housing policies throughout the 20th century—especially during the post-WWII era—were designed to exclude Black families from the expanding suburban dream. The GI Bill, which offered housing subsidies to veterans returning from World War II, was administered in ways that largely excluded Black servicemen from accessing these benefits. As a result, millions of white families were able to buy homes and build wealth, while Black families were largely left out, forcing many into substandard housing or limited to racially segregated neighborhoods with fewer opportunities for economic mobility.

The effects of segregation are not limited to housing, however. In education, the legacy of white supremacy has created an unequal system that continues to affect Black and Latinx students today. While Brown v. Board of Education (1954) officially declared school segregation unconstitutional, de facto segregation still exists in many schools due to housing patterns, local funding disparities, and state and federal neglect. Predominantly Black schools often face chronic underfunding, inadequate facilities, and higher teacher turnover rates, all of which contribute to a less equitable education for students of color. The persistent racial achievement gap in standardized testing, college admissions, and career prospects is not an accident, but the direct result of this long-standing inequality in education.

In the workplace, systemic discrimination continues to be a major problem. Job discrimination against Black and Brown workers has been documented for decades, whether in hiring practices, wage disparities, or promotions. Studies show that applicants with “ethnic-sounding” names are less likely to be called back for job interviews, even when their resumes are identical to those of their white counterparts. Even in fields like law, medicine, and finance—where education and credentials are paramount—racial minorities face significant barriers to advancement.

The criminal justice system is perhaps the most visible example of how structural racism is still a significant issue in the United States. The over-policing of Black neighborhoods, mass incarceration, and the disproportionate sentencing of Black Americans for similar offenses compared to their white counterparts are stark reminders of how racial inequality remains embedded in American institutions. Rufo’s argument that we have moved past the systemic racism embedded in our society ignores this reality, while conveniently minimizing or disregarding the lived experiences of Black and Brown communities.

"Colorblindness" as a Historical Evasion

Rufo goes on to argue that the Right, for years ambivalent about civil rights law, has now discovered its “winning argument”—one grounded in “colorblind equality.” This is where the article takes a dangerous turn, suggesting that policies such as affirmative action and Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives are the result of a Left-wing plot to institutionalize racial discrimination. The article not only misrepresents the goals of such programs but also fundamentally misunderstands the role they play in a society that has never fully reckoned with its history of racial inequities.

The notion of “colorblindness” as the ideal model of equality, promoted by Rufo and others, is deeply problematic. While it may sound appealing in theory, in practice, colorblindness ignores the structural realities of race in America. It’s an abstraction that overlooks the lived experiences of racial minorities and fails to address the historical and ongoing disadvantages they face. In higher education, for example, DEI policies are designed not to perpetuate discrimination but to provide opportunities for those who have been historically excluded from academic spaces. Rufo’s argument that these policies are a form of “racialist discrimination” is not only misleading but actively harmful, suggesting that efforts to correct inequality are themselves a form of bigotry.

Chris Rufo’s Avoidance of Class in His Analysis

One of the most glaring omissions in Rufo’s analysis is his near-total avoidance of class as a factor in understanding systemic inequality. Rufo's focus is almost exclusively on race, specifically on how he perceives racial policies to be privileging one group over another, but he does not consider the ways in which class and economic status intersect with race to perpetuate inequality. This avoidance of class, particularly in the context of economic mobility and working-class struggles, weakens his entire argument and distorts the reality of how racism operates in modern American society.

Rufo’s critique of the modern civil rights regime seems to entirely ignore the vast disparities in wealth, income, and opportunity that are not simply a product of racial identity but of class-based systems of power. For example, his focus on “colorblind” equality in education does not account for the fact that the richest Americans, regardless of their racial background, have access to a far superior education and resources than the poor, who are disproportionately Black, Latinx, or Indigenous. The education gap that Rufo claims is a result of racial policies is also a direct consequence of economic inequality, where low-income communities—largely communities of color—are unable to access the same quality of education as wealthier, predominantly white communities. Acknowledging this would complicate Rufo’s narrative, as it would challenge the simplistic framing of a racial conflict between different ethnic groups, rather than a structural critique of the class divide in America.

Moreover, Rufo’s call for a “colorblind” society effectively erases the fact that poverty and economic disempowerment are racialized in ways that cannot be understood without examining the intersection of race and class. By focusing solely on racial hierarchy without addressing the role that economic disparity plays in sustaining social divisions, Rufo contributes to a larger ideological erasure of class struggle from the national conversation. His avoidance of class is a deliberate one, as it allows him to cast the issue of racial justice solely in terms of “identity politics” and to dismiss efforts aimed at addressing material inequality as divisive or unnecessary.

Who Will Be Receptive to This Propaganda?

While Rufo's article represents a highly selective interpretation of civil rights history, it will likely resonate with certain groups whose political and cultural leanings align with his critique of left-wing ideologies. These are individuals who believe that the modern civil rights agenda, particularly in the form of DEI and affirmative action programs, has gone too far and is now harmful to the interests of "oppressor" groups like white people, men, and even some Asian Americans. This demographic includes:

  1. Conservative and Libertarian Thinkers: Many who align with conservative or libertarian ideologies are drawn to the narrative that civil rights policies have become a tool of social engineering, seeking to dismantle traditional values in the name of racial and gender equality. Rufo’s emphasis on "colorblind" policies will appeal to those who see government intervention as an overreach and prefer individual merit over group-based policies.

  2. Populist Right-Wing Activists: The article will likely resonate with populist voters who view institutions like the Ivy League universities as bastions of elitism and left-wing ideologies. These individuals are often distrustful of academic institutions, the media, and governmental institutions, and Rufo’s framing of DEI as racialist discrimination plays into their fears of being "marginalized" in favor of minority groups.

  3. Cultural War Foot Soldiers: Many of Rufo’s ideas are packaged as part of the broader culture wars. His framing of CRT, DEI, and "wokeness" as threats to American values is designed to rally those who feel alienated by changes in cultural norms, especially regarding race, gender, and identity. This group tends to be more reactive to what they perceive as a breakdown in social order, and Rufo provides a coherent narrative that positions them as defenders of a traditional, meritocratic society.

  4. Right-Wing Media Consumers: The article is likely to appeal to consumers of right-wing media who are already attuned to the language of cultural decline and political correctness. These readers will be receptive to Rufo’s framing because it aligns with familiar themes promoted by conservative pundits.

In the end, Rufo’s narrative is one that is carefully designed for a particular audience—a segment of the American populace that feels threatened by the cultural shifts around race, identity, and equality. By presenting a revisionist history of civil rights and ignoring the deeply embedded structural inequalities of class, race, and economics, Rufo continues to peddle an ideological framework that is more about cultural warfare than actual justice.