As far as dates go, April 27 is relatively unremarkable.
For many, it remains a Friday like any other at Northwestern. Missed shuttles, bemoaned homework and a formidable Chicago wind complete the scene. Yet at 3 p.m. that afternoon, the sun emerges through curtained clouds and grants a mosaic of students sitting on Deering Meadow a brief respite from the April chill. During that golden hour, students take a detour from their day-to-day tasks.
They talk and perhaps more importantly, they listen.
For the better part of the afternoon, a group of individuals affiliated with the newly conceived Diversity Committee challenge participants to engage in an open discourse on diversity. Officiated primarily by Jasmine Johnson and Benjamin Leibowitz, the event garners nearly 300 participants. Occupying the sidewalk and spilling onto the field, students look at one another for a confirmation of camaraderie as the first question on the biggest barriers to diversity is posed.
“What do you mean by diversity?”
The question comes from a sea of expectant, wary but curious expressions. Johnson doesn’t hesitate, and raising her brow she replies, “What do you think diversity means?”
It’s a simple question, but it’s one that plagues the campus in episode after episode of systematic discrimination. Breaking off into groups, students candidly converse about the list of questions prompted. But it’s what’s not being said, the context that temporarily binds friends, peers and strangers to one another, that charges the air.
*****
Four days earlier, I receive a text message from Hayley Stevens, the chair of the Diversity Committee. With little pretense, the Weinberg junior advises I go to the Black House at 11 p.m. where students would be talking about the Ski Team’s “Race Olympics.” It’s going to be a big deal over the next few days, she writes. At the time, I had little knowledge of the event that occurred Saturday, April 21, much less a grasp of how true Stevens’ prediction would prove to be over the next week.
When I arrive, there are only 10 or so students sitting in the first floor meeting room, yet as the short hand of the clock hits 11, students trickle in until the space is full of tired but enthusiastic smiles, each pleased to see friends and acquaintances invested in the issue.
Johnson and Leibowitz move around the room, introducing others to the Diversity Committee. They’re only two of the many proponents behind this nascent group, yet they temporarily take on the role of the event’s chief mediators. Leibowitz, who’s taking the quarter off, isn’t even a student at the moment.
They talk to their peers, heads bowed in discussion when Kellyn Lewis walks into the room. The Weinberg senior launches into the dialogue, barely pausing to breathe.
“I just released the story off on Facebook, and it picked up quickly,” Lewis says. “I just want to tell you all real quick what happened, and then we can discuss as a group what we can do.”
He recounts the Ski Team’s Beer Olympics from that weekend, which had students dressed in costumes portraying different ethnic identities, from Navajo Indians to Bangladeshis. Lewis overheard the party while visiting a friend and was paralyzed by the display in the yard next door. Later, his friend informed the Ski Team executive board of Lewis’ anger. The following morning, members contacted Lewis to apologize and discuss potential action plans.
The pertinent question was, “Now what?”
As shocking as the incident sounds, it’s not unique to the Ski Team. It wasn’t the first time such an occasion prompted a number of students to congregate to discuss diversity. As the conversation developed increasing fluidity between participants, the rhythm of the discourse reflected a spirit of urgent agency in the room — the very same spirit that mobilizes a mass of individuals to rise and take action.
*****
Rewind four months. There was no gathering at Deering Meadow, much less a highly publicized discussion concerning entrenched segregation on campus. Instead, at approximately 11:40 p.m. on Thursday, Jan. 12, Tonantzin Carmona boarded the Evanston Loop shuttle, returning to her dorm after studying physics at the library. Moments later, about 20 inebriated female students hopped on the bus. Carmona thought nothing of it, instead daydreaming of the eventual moment when head meets pillow. She and the group of girls exited at Tech, heading in the same direction towards the fraternity quads. It was at that moment, exhausted and caught in the first snowfall of the quarter, when she heard it.
“Hey girl, what’s your name?”
Hyperaware of being the only other student around, the Weinberg senior chose to ignore the remark. This prompted further calls from the group of girls following behind, repeatedly yelling her name and rolling their “r’s” in a constant barrage of questions.
Then finally, “Why are you being so rude, no habla inglés?’”
No habla inglés? You don’t speak English?
This blatant act of profiling, compounded with the belligerent and mocking manner in which the question was delivered, chilled Carmona more than the snow or wind. “I’m tough, a tomboy kind of girl. I can create some damage,” Carmona says. “But I never turned around because all I could keep thinking of was my parents and my community and why I was in the library in the first place. [Responding] was not worth it — my degree is more worth it.”
Yet by the time Carmona returned to her room, the shards of anger, sadness and disappointment began to seep into her consciousness. “I was in shock and numb for at least five minutes,” she says. “I’ve never felt so helpless until that very moment and worthless, like I didn’t have a voice.”
Carmona relayed the story to her friends on Facebook, all of whom responded in disappointment and outrage. “Just thinking about it got me so infuriated,” says Daniel Flores, a Communication sophomore and Carmona’s close friend. “It happened to my parents [when I was] growing up [in the United States], and I just remember the anger I experienced being a little kid and unable to defend my parents when other people talked down on them.”
Taken aback and encouraged by the strong reactions and similar stories that began to surface, Carmona crafted a letter describing the incident, urging students to act and not let this become commonplace at Northwestern.
Waiting until after Martin Luther King Jr. weekend, Carmona published her letter on Northwestern’s Hispanic and Latino/a Facebook page, NUestra Familia. Within hours, the story of what happened spread far beyond the virtual borders of one group’s page. To many, the response indicated a need for a forum to capture the frustrated sentiment and transform it into a constructive conversation about diversity. Students from various groups, under the umbrella of Multicultural Student Affairs, thus began to plan what eventually became the “Caucus Against Racial Prejudice.”
More than 150 eager participants flooded Harris L07 on Jan. 19. The moderators, Assistant Professor John David Márquez and alumna Mayra Plascencia, directed the orchestra of voices that echoed similar experiences of discrimination as well as support from those who hadn’t.
What eventually arose from the caucus was an attitude of unrest and a feeling of community that tentatively linked the attendees together.
Lapping waves were no longer sufficient — people wanted to rock the boat.
Attendees of the caucus planned to meet the next day in a more intimate setting at the Black House where students who wanted to become more involved in the growing initiative could gather to confer key points of action. Once again the room, albeit smaller than L07, overflowed with participants anxious to brainstorm a plan to address the issues brought forth the night before.
This time, however, a new phrase was thrown into the conversation: The Collective.
“We had a lot of different voices who were trying to engage in the conversation and people coming from all different perspectives,” Lewis explains. “People knew something had to be done and that’s really when as a group and a collective, we began to make some moves doing outreach.”
Lewis, with the help of several other members intimately invested in the movement, led the discussion and called for suggested areas of improvement to take to the student body and administration at large. The response was immediate, and students identified certain aspects of diversity on campus to tackle.
“It’s important for us to not be ignorant as well,” advises McCormick senior Sahil Mehta. “The assumption is often that the group of girls [harassing Carmona] was white; therefore, they were in a sorority and rich. It could have been African-American girls or it could have been Asian-American girls. We have to hold ourselves to the same standard as others and understand people are coming from different backgrounds.”
What eventually emerged was a list of six diversity initiatives: a cultural academic requirement, a Chief Diversity Officer, increased minority enrollment, increased Multicultural Student Affairs resources, an annual diversity report and a concrete diversity plan.
Throughout this flurry of activity, Carmona found herself unwittingly caught in the eye of the storm — even she couldn’t have predicted just how deeply her story would resonate within the community.
It wasn’t until a week after the initial diversity caucus that somebody thought to ask Carmona how she was feeling. She met with Christian Yañez, the director of Hispanic/Latino Student Affairs, who promptly asked her how she was doing. “I started crying,” Carmona recalls with a laugh. “[He was] the first person to ask me!”
“It almost became an obligation for me,” she continues. “My concern has always been with the Latino/Latina community. It’s a commitment I carry on my shoulder, and on the other one I also have a commitment to my family. I was feeling overwhelmed but at the same time I needed to do it — I made the conscious choice.”
*****
Meanwhile, other diversity initiatives in motion long before Winter Quarter used Carmona’s example to further galvanize the student body.
The Asian NU Project, the brainchild of professors from the Asian American Studies Department and a number of leaders from Northwestern’s Asian-American community, is an initiative to increase and build Asian-American awareness during Asian-Pacific American (APA) Heritage Month in May. In progress since Fall Quarter, the project’s aim is to bring Northwestern’s Asian-American community together while inviting others to celebrate the Asian identity.
“It’s interesting to see the intersections that exist between all these groups,” says Chris Nho, a SESP senior and one of the leaders of the Asian NU Project. “We don’t live in a post-racial world. So we have to answer the question of, ‘We’re Asian-Americans, so what?’ I think these other groups on campus are similarly not trying to downplay their ethnicity; they’re trying to celebrate their diversity and we’re joining in on that.”
Suen, another project leader, stresses the two initiatives’ different approaches. “What we’re trying to do is all the same, we’re all trying to unite the campus,” Suen says. “At the same time, the first part of our movement is a little bit different … more so community building within the Asian-American community, a lot of self-reflection [on] how can I get other people to understand my culture, how can I understand my own culture and be more prideful?”
Some members of the Northwestern community have additionally been promoting an academic requirement for cultural competency. Spearheading the initiative are SESP senior Isabella Villa and Weinberg sophomore Anthony Guerrero.
When Villa was a sophomore, then-senior Jocelyn Huang approached her about proposing an academic requirement that would help alleviate concerns about discrimination on campus after the blackface incident in 2009. Villa proposed the initiative to Alianza, the Hispanic/Latino Student Alliance on campus and sparked a conversation that will undoubtedly continue after she leaves.
“Racial and ethnic discrimination is not the only kind of discrimination that exists in this campus and in our society in general,” Villa asserts. She’s persuasive in her conviction. “The more we start incorporating marginalized groups thinking about women, thinking about homosexuality, about religion, about disability, it quickly becomes evident why it’s so important for all students to engage in an academic conversation about these issues.”
Since her initial proposal, Villa has worked ceaselessly with Guerrero in drafting more finalized pilot designs for faculty members. The current pilot, modeled closely after University of Washington’s cultural academic requirements, incorporates a two-fold provision into existing distributions. Instead of adding two more requirements on top of the 40 some-odd graduation requirements, the “cultural competency” classes would potentially be incorporated into existing structures such as freshman seminars. Subjects would also need to be cross-cultural studies.
For example, a student could theoretically take a freshman seminar on the Asian-American woman’s experience and later take another freshman seminar on the African-American woman’s experience. This would allow students to better grasp how two seemingly different cultures relate to the shared experience of being female in America.
“No one really carries diversity with them,” Guerrero says, explaining the cross-cultural requisite. “We all need to learn about the experiences of someone who has had a different life experience than we had.”
Villa and Guerrero plan to initially limit the curriculum change to Weinberg, which will act as a pilot for Northwestern’s other five academic schools. “Weinberg does span a large group of academic interests, from humanities to sciences, and we need to make sure that the requirement can be used as a basic template,” Guerrero explains.
But, Guerrero stresses that while the several schools’ curricula naturally operate on different wavelengths, Weinberg’s template can be used to assess what worked and what didn’t.
Coordinating with Associate Dean for Undergraduate Academic Affairs Mary Finn, the two students have repeatedly integrated changes into the structure of their proposal. In the coming months, they hope to move forward with the plan as they further advance conversations with various members of the Consortium on Financing Higher Education, an organization of 31 private liberal arts colleges and universities who have already established diversity plans in their respective curricula. Yet despite the strong push from Villa and Guerrero, both of whom see this curriculum change as a necessity, the response has varied from enthusiastic to tepid.
Vice President of Student Affairs Patricia Telles-Irvin is quick to point out that while cultural competency is an essential skill, the administration is not in control of curricular changes. “I think students feel that the president will mandate this, and it will happen and that’s not reality, especially when it comes to a curriculum,” Telles-Irvin says. “It’s the faculty that own the curriculum, and in a university setting one of the things we have to do is have a lot of conversation about what can we do. We’re here to educate, and hopefully with education people will rethink their behavior, but that takes time.”
While it may be the case that curricula are largely the property of faculty members, Márquez stresses the importance of accountability for those in power.
“A university like this costs a lot of money … that makes students want to demand more saying, ‘We are here, we are contributing a lot to making this university a great place and therefore we think this university should operate according to a higher standard than society at large rather than act as a reflection of societal problems,’” Márquez says. “[Students] want the university to reflect something that’s higher than them, and I think that’s wonderful because I think that challenges us as faculty and administrators to live up to that and become a truly rigorous and intellectual community.”
Márquez further expresses concern for the pointedly small number of underrepresented minority tenured faculty gracing Northwestern classrooms. It’s been a concern that’s mirrored in the experience of multicultural students. For these students, this means fewer potential faculty mentors and role models. Guerrero and Villa hopes that by altering the curriculum and emphasizing cultural courses, they’ll attract more minority faculty to Northwestern.
“We realize that this requirement will, by no stretch of the imagination, completely change students’ views,” Villa says. “Our hope is by having an academic conversation, this will encourage people who are afraid to have this conversation become educated in the kind of language you use or how to phrase questions without sounding disrespectful or ignorant.”
*****
In between the conclusion of Winter Quarter and the beginning of Spring Quarter, The Collective lost momentum. The group managed to push for a second forum, a month after the initial diversity forum in February. What made this discussion different from the initial forum was the inclusion of four key administrators sitting on the panel: President Morton Schapiro, Telles-Irvin, Provost Daniel Linzer and Dean of Students Burgwell Howard. A considerable feat in and of itself, the anticipated talk fell short of many students’ expectations.
Leibowitz and Márquez moderated the discussion, taking turns prompting dialogue concerning the six chief points of diversity. Administrators and students debated the corresponding initiatives.
“It was difficult to get the administrators to take the demands seriously. They were side-stepping a lot,” Leibowitz says. The turning point, according to Leibowitz, was when Weinberg junior Jeziel Jones called administrators, particularly President Schapiro, out for their posture, accusing them of conveying disinterest through their slumped figures. Many used this observation as a leeway into divulging additional critiques.
One particular point of contention during the three-hour event was the lack of up-to-date faculty diversity committee reports on the provost’s website. Provost Linzer refuted this, assuring the student body that the reports were updated annually. But moments later, the website was projected on the wall behind the administrators, disproving the provost’s assertion — the most recent report was from 2008 to 2009.
“I appreciated [Jones] for changing the dynamics of the conversation,” Carmona says. “It’s not about the politics, it’s not about the formalities, it’s about getting honest answers, and when you lose that structure you can’t hide behind the diplomacy of your answers.”
Yet there were a number of students who regarded the environment as unproductive.
“It degenerated into a shouting match, and I didn’t think that was helpful,” Suen says. “We’re all trying to do the same thing, no one is for racism. We’re trying to combat this and by attacking administrators, that puts a rift between two working bodies that could really do something more beneficial.”
A number of students were similarly apprehensive over the caucus’ seemingly narrow focus on race. “There’s a lot of experiences that happen most commonly around race, but what’s alienating and problematic is that this is not just a white versus everyone else story and that’s what happens very often,” Sarah Freeman, co-director of GES and a Weinberg senior, stresses. “It becomes very polarizing. Whether you’re a certain type of person, these stereotypes are not just limited to race.”
Both parties left that Sunday evening with more questions than they came with. During the next several weeks, certain students requested meetings with different administrators to further discuss the implementation of diversity initiatives. Simultaneously, other stakeholders within the multicultural student community gradually began to have an increased presence within The Collective. In particular, ASG and Coalition of Colors, an organization made up of the heads of several major multicultural student associations, began to claim more responsibility for the initiative.
Despite efforts to continue the conversation about diversity with administrators, The Collective lost steam. The group’s grassroots nature became increasingly centralized.
Under the guidance of the Coalition of Colors, The Collective shed its title and structurally regrouped into what’s now the Diversity Committee within ASG. The student committee is additionally escorted by the University Diversity Council, a sibling initiative within the administration that has since evolved from the Faculty Diversity Committee.
Run by Assistant Provost for Diversity and Inclusion Dona Cordero, the blueprints of the UDC have been drawn, even if the details have yet to be properly sketched in. The UDC’s five sections correspond to the initiative’s main areas for diversity improvement: academics/education, faculty recruitment and retention, campus life, pipeline and lifetime connections.
“It’s unfortunate that these incidents happen at Northwestern, as well as other places, and we’re looking to address this through the formation of the UDC and through the formation of working groups to identify how we can do a better job to get out in front of things,” Cordero says. “There are going to be things we can’t predict, but we do want to be much more proactive about creating a better environment.”
“Proactive” is one of many buzzwords frequently used in the conversation on diversity. Only one of the UDC committees has met at the time of press, with the others scheduled to meet by May 17.
On the other hand, in mid-April the ASG Diversity Committee screened and selected nine candidates who now comprise the fledgling team. The group’s a work in progress with members still learning about one another and the mission they’ve adopted.
With both the ASG Diversity Committee and the UDC formally implemented, conversations are reduced to meetings with administrators and key actors within the movement. Negotiations to publish the Diversity Report crafted by a committee of staff and students for the Northwestern Strategic Plan, continue.
It’s a surprise to everybody when, only a week after the Diversity Committee is established, the Ski Team incident occurs.
*****
After Lewis’ speech comes to a close, Johnson takes the floor and begins to create a list of action items. Students call out suggestions for slogans, flyers and potential campus marches. They finally agree that flyers, with the expression “I AM _____. ONE NU? APRIL 30th,” will cover the campus and lead up to an eventual occupation of Rebecca Crown Center, where administrators’ offices are located, on April 27 to demand the release of the Diversity Report on April 30.
“Movements die because people stop moving,” Johnson warns. “Everybody needs to commit to doing something.”
By the time the meeting ends, it’s nearly 1:30 a.m. A few students leave, but during those early hours of the morning, many stay behind and determine where to print flyers and who else they can contact.
The fire is rekindled.
Yet the days that follow bring about greater change than anyone anticipates. The events of the week rapidly blow up to immense proportions. Leibowitz describes the progression as a crisis of sorts.
Immediately, student group leaders touch base with a number of prominent student organizations on campus to discuss the incident. The majority agrees to send letters of support to members, although a number struggle with what to put in the letter or when to publish it. In the midst of juggling negotiations and mobilizing students to distribute flyers, a surprise curve ball is thrown into mix. The Diversity Report, a persistent point of dispute between the students and administration, is published.
After Telles-Irvin informs them of the Diversity Report the day after the meeting at the Black House, Johnson and Stevens are surprised by the unexpected victory.
“In a way, [Telles-Irvin] told us information within the meeting about these six items so that we could not withhold it from students,” Johnson says. “I asked her to tell this on Friday, and she refused. She wanted to do it [on Wednesday] and she said she would have found another way to get it out.”
Suddenly, the energy building to Friday’s rally no longer has an outlet. “Part of the whole nature of the crisis is the fact that things were changing at such a rapid pace,” Leibowitz says. “So many people were acting independent of each other and so many different people were keen to act at once … Every couple of hours something new would come up.”
Armed with the knowledge that the Diversity Report is now public, Johnson, Stevens and Leibowitz agree to make the announcement April 25 during the ASG Senate meeting, where the Diversity Committee would be leading a session. Telles-Irvin would also make a statement concerning the six items within the Diversity Report, a development that once again caught members of the Diversity Committee off-guard.
Stevens says Telles-Irvin had agreed to answer students’ questions after speaking to them at the meeting — although the administrator later tells Stevens, Leibowitz and Johnson there was a misunderstanding, and she had not agreed to do so. Before the meeting begins, students receive half-sheet handouts with a list of questions for Telles-Irvin. As she brings her statement to a close, hands rise in the air. To the consternation of many, she sits back down and, as Telles-Irvin is formally a guest of the Senate, questions are left hanging with only silence to greet them. Frustrated, a number of students point out the absurd nature of being unable to speak to a person sitting in the same room. The conversation escalates.
It isn’t until Guerrero, one of the leaders behind the cultural academic requirement, suggests students turn to their neighbors and spend five minutes talking that the tone of the meeting takes on a true semblance of student discussion.
It’s this pivotal moment that inspires Johnson and Leibowitz, along with the Diversity Committee, to create an event on Friday, April 27 to capture that sentiment of intimacy in an hour without the constraints of a structured meeting. It would eventually be dubbed “How Many White People Do You Know?” inviting students to increase dialogue and break down the tension that alienated many during the ASG discussion.
To many within the close circle of proponents and supporters of the movement, that night’s ASG Senate meeting embodies the culmination of emergencies. It has become clear that their approach needs to change.
Johnson and Leibowitz confer with Stevens that night until five in the morning. The three establish a temporary crisis committee composed of 11 students who’ve been crucial voices in the conversation, with Johnson and Leibowitz acting as temporary mediators between all the major stakeholders. This further centralization streamlines the dissemination of information to quicken responses to emergency situations, according to Johnson.
While the Diversity Committee still exists and is a huge proponent for sustained efforts, “the centralization of [Leibowitz and me] still has to exist as far as avoiding the chaos of fractions within our own movements and the chaos miscommunication,” Johnson says.
This is only further cemented the next day following the Daily Northwestern’s publication of an article stating that Lewis, Wright and Jackson had engaged in overtly hostile techniques to pressure the Ski Team into issuing a public statement of apology. A subsequent editorial and letter to the editor, both published Friday, criticized Lewis’ immediate response to the Ski Team incident. The Daily was decried by a slew of students and faculty alike as singling out students and enforcing problematic cultural associations. Many people thought the articles were harmful for the progress that had been achieved earlier during the week.
“Certainly things were taken out of context and there also is a lot that has been left out,” says Matthew Dolph, Ski Team president. “I think the main thing is after the first 12 hours of pretty serious struggle between the two parties, we realized if anything good was going to come out of this we had to work together and by a day into this … the partnership we had made was much more important than the struggles between us. It set us back; it loses credibility to everything going on up until now.”
*****
Despite the obstacles and the challenge of operating on little more than three hours of sleep over the course of 42 hours, Johnson and Leibowitz guide students, faculty members and administrators in the questions posted on six large notebooks on easels set up on the sidewalk by Deering Meadow. The questions are deliberately broad, and participants break up into groups of four to six based on the question they’re most interested in discussing.
I maneuver my way through clusters of crossed legs and earnest hand gestures and direct my camera toward Leibowitz and Johnson. Both sit on the steps of the library looking exhausted but satisfied. They spot me taking a picture and playfully wave at me.
By the end of the hour, the clouds encroach on the sun once again, and a few students begin wandering off to return to their Friday schedules. However, a good number remain, exchanging numbers and going up to members on the Diversity Committee to either congratulate them or continue the discussion.
I am inadvertently pulled into a group of some of the Diversity Committee members, everybody huddling and celebrating a feeling of warmth and accomplishment. Everyone seems somewhat in awe of the event’s success and excitedly recounts their and others’ epiphanies during the conversations. Looking at their beaming faces, I am reminded of a simple fact: They are students. Although they’ve been waging ceaselessly against all levels of discrimination, these people are the same people I see eating in Norris, studying in the library and lounging on the Lakefill.
As these students savor their achievement, one member, aware of what’s ahead, voices in jest, “But we’re not done yet!”
There’s laughter, but there’s also more than a grain of truth to these words. Little time remains before the quarter ends and summer approaches. There’s still progress to be made in creating a viable timeline for the initiatives listed in the Diversity Report. Structurally, there is still the question of the crisis committee.
When I last interview Johnson, it’s the day after the event and her voice is hoarse. We recap the developments of the past week and what trials still lay ahead for the organization. As soon as I ask her how she’s doing, though, she struggles to find an answer.
“I don’t even know how to answer you right now,” Johnson admits. “I feel like I’m in this awkward, surreal portal right now of not knowing what’s going on in my life. I’ve already accepted my grades won’t be good this quarter [but] this is what I care about, and I’m always going to fight. I’m going to go down swinging at Northwestern.”