* * *
Despite the appearance of growing diversity, many problems were
no different from those in my undergraduate days. Students were
upset about financial aid; the feelings that they were being unfairly
targeted by security, rectors and R.A.s; racism on campus; and
the lack of black administrators and faculty.
When one of those few administrators -- Derek Gandy '86, my
buddy and former classmate who was working in Admissions -- decided
to move on, I applied for the admissions counselor position. Although
I had received my MBA and planned to return to Milwaukee, I believed
it was important to keep the strong recruitment effort going and
to offer another African American to whom students could go with
their concerns.
Then, during my first year as African-American recruitment coordinator,
the tension I had sensed exploded. A group called Students United
for Respect (SUFR) was staging a sit-in at the Registrar's Office
the day before my most important recruitment event of the year,
Minority Visitation Weekend (now called Spring Visitation Weekend).
While I recognized the importance of recruitment, I also knew
SUFR had a message to communicate and no one to communicate it
for them. I didn't see hate in their actions. Maybe it was more
like love/hate. In fact, some former SUFR members have become
involved as alumni in the University, out of love and a sense
of duty to those who came in after them.
SUFR served as a wake-up call to Notre Dame. It was no longer,
"This is a great place to be from"; students were flat-out telling
folks not to come here. How does one recruit under such circumstances?
Three things kept me going: First, I still believed that recruitment
was vital if Notre Dame was going to improve for African Americans.
Second, I had the support and encouragement of the black alumni.
I could see their efforts to improve the situation. Also, to them,
Notre Dame was worth attending because it was still a great place
to be from. Third, God's work. I could justify recruitment
only if I personally worked toward making Notre Dame a better
place for students of African descent.
This forced those of us in admissions to think about our recruitment
process. I felt the need to be honest to students about the difficulties
they might find here but also to let them know the opportunities
I saw. Those included the burgeoning student groups; the many
Afrocentric speakers coming to campus; activities specifically
geared toward African-American culture throughout the year; and
most importantly, all of the promise I saw developing with the
black alumni in terms of mentoring programs, professional development
seminars and growing involvement in the leadership of at Notre
Dame. Yet the students rarely utilized these resources. They didn't
have ownership of the University.
Part of the reason SUFR arose is because some at the University
were still viewing things through blue-and-gold-tinted glasses.
From their perspective, Notre Dame itself was fine; we just needed
to recruit more blacks and everybody would be happy. According
to Iris Outlaw '90M.S.A., who became director what was then called
the Office of Minority Student Affairs in 1991, many students
felt the environment was downright hostile. "We were opening our
arms, but there really wasn't a welcoming environment to nurture
those who came in the door. There wasn't the support system for
students, faculty or administrators."
Recruitment matters little if students do not feel they have
a place here when they arrive. Retention, academic success, cultural
affirmation and a sense of ownership of the University are also
important.
That's echoed by those who were students at that time. Chandra
Johnson '96, assistant to Father Malloy and assistant director
of Campus Ministry, says that when she arrived as a student in
1992, other black students were frustrated. "I don't see why anybody
would have wanted to graduate from here. I mean, why? All the
anger!"
I witnessed a lot of this myself. Amid some positive developments,
there was still tension. Racial tension tarnished traditions like
Bookstore Basketball games through the late 1990s, as crowds in
later rounds tended to cheer -- and boo -- based on the racial
composition of teams. Students were harassed by security in the
bookstore and in the dorms. I recall one black student whose friend
jokingly told the black student's white roommate that this student,
like all students from "the hood," carried a gun. Imagine studying
for midterms then returning to your room to find it being searched
by Student Affairs and yourself being interrogated, based on a
friend's joke. In addition, financial aid difficulties were causing
students to take on burdensome jobs or drop out.
It was difficult to convince students to take ownership of an
institution at which they felt unwelcome. Fortunately, alumni
would pave the way of welcoming.
* * *
The advent of Black Alumni of ND had opened the door for black
alumni to return, with reunions, directories, newsletters, mentoring
programs and local activities. Leadership roles were changing.
At age 27, Rod West '90, an attorney and member of the 1988 National
Championship football team, became president of the Alumni Association
in 1997. He was the first black and youngest person ever to hold
the position. Under his leadership, diversity became a greater
part of the language and agenda of the Alumni Clubs. This opened
doors not only for African Americans but young alumni, other ethnic
groups and women. Black alumni were becoming involved in the leadership
structure of alumni clubs around the country. Those who swore
they would never come back were coming back.
Through BA of ND, the University began to find the lost voices
of its black alumni for advisory councils, awards of recognition
and campus employment. As I witnessed and helped bring about some
of these things, I hoped they were signs that Notre Dame was becoming
a better place for black students. Every year, however, some new
incident would spark more tension on campus.
* * *
One of the biggest changes in recent years is the growth of a
support system for African Americans. Now there are employees
who have experienced the system, who can offer support and words
of wisdom. I see similarities between what brought me and other
black alumni back.
"Do I think this place is the best it can be?" asks Christy
Fleming '96, an academic advisor in First Year of Studies. "No.
. . . [But] I felt a responsibility to our students. As someone
who's been through the place, I feel like I can be a resource
and say: 'Look, I've been here. And I came back to be there for
you, and these [other] administrators are there because we understand
what it means to be a black student here.'"
African-American alumnus D'Juan Francisco '89, '99M.S.A., director
of alumni clubs, expresses similar sentiments. "Students ask,
'Why did you come back, why are you here?'" he says. "'Well, if
I wasn't here, who would you be talking to about your issues?'
We know the lay of the land, and we can have an influence, an
impact, on other students, whether it's educating the majority
students, faculty and staff, and/or helping the African-American
students embrace, I use the expression 'take ownership,' of the
University."
Indeed, several programs now offer first-year African-American
students an opportunity to take ownership of the University. Today,
for example, I am one of three African-American alumni serving
as advisers in the First Year of Studies. While we can individually
advise and mentor black students, FYS also has a retention program
called the Balfour Hesburgh Scholars program. The summer prior
to enrollment, students can interact with ND faculty and receive
training in study skills, time management, goal-setting and decision-making.
In addition, Chandra Johnson has implemented The Plunge, a retreat
during the first weekend at Notre Dame designed to orient and
embrace African-American students before they can fall through
the cracks. Throughout the year students can receive more training
through Building Bridges, a support program run through Outlaw's
office. The College of Engineering also offers support through
its Minority Engineering Program.
Many such programs exist beyond the first year. Johnson has
established the Sankofa Scholars program, designed to honor the
academic excellence of black students. According to Johnson, the
year that she started Sankofa, "the GPAs shot up almost 10 percent
because students appreciated the fact that, once a semester, they
were recognized" at the Sankofa honors assembly.
Perhaps because of such support, some black students are having
a vastly different experience than I had. Sophomore Demetrius
Hall says, "I'm very comfortable on this campus; I think of it
as my home now. . . . I'm very comfortable with expressing myself,
with putting my opinions in, with gaining knowledge, with giving
knowledge, with just the whole academic atmosphere, now that I
realize the type of place this University is and the type of people
that it's trying to produce."
Beyond our support role for students, however, we offer an important
dimension to the University. Says Johnson, "Members of [the University's]
officers' group always had a desire of wanting to know how to
enhance the experience of people of color, particularly African
Americans, but, to be quite honest, they never knew how. One of
the values of me being in the group is because I am black, I know
what I need."
Johnson identifies one particular need, based on her own experience.
Coming to Notre Dame from south-central Los Angeles "was a shock
to my psychological sensibilities, because all of a sudden I couldn't
go home to be with people who looked like me," she says. "It's
a known, basic psychological need for people to gravitate and
veer toward others who represent who they are. Sameness gives
one a sense of security. That's why mainstream environments work
so well [for those in the mainstream]."
Not all blacks have the same needs, of course. As with my roommate
and me, we come from different worlds. Some blacks have a greater
need for the kinship than others. As Johnson says, "Black folk
who are used to being around black folk need to be around black
folk." They search for ways to " be around people who are going
to affirm your existence, not that their mainstream peers don't,
but their mainstream peers for the most part don't know how because
they haven't been taught."
Outlaw, director of what is now the Office of Multicultural
Student Programs and Services, handles this problem with a twofold
approach -- providing support for African-American students while
also working at educating majority students that some changes
are needed. In other words, while black students may face some
problems, often we ourselves are not the problem.
A program initiated by David Moss, an African American and assistant
vice president of Student Affairs, takes aim at teaching mainstream
peers how to embrace racial, ethnic and cultural differences.
Each fall, the Diversity Practicum trains student facilitators
from a cross-section of backgrounds to conduct diversity sensitivity
classes for all first-year students. In this way, mainstream students
are beginning to understand the need for dialogue and appreciation
for difference.
Outlaw says it's important to educate mainstream students about
the changing world. With the changing demographics in the population,
she notes, graduates may find themselves reporting to a boss "who
may not look like them." She believes students benefit tremendously
by learning about cultural differences now, rather than later.
Perhaps those demographics are the reason that this year several
white students have told me how disappointed they are with the
lack of diversity at Notre Dame. They wonder when they will ever
get exposure to a diversity of people and ideas. Students' mind-sets
are changing along with their environment.
* * *
My MBA courses taught me that the only way to change the culture
of an organization is with support from the top down. Some take
heart by the degree to which diversity is being promoted in the
upper-levels of the administration. For years, D'Juan Francisco
has encouraged clubs to utilize the resources of the Minority
Alumni Network to implement more inclusive, diverse programming.
"We're starting to hear [it] from Father Malloy, so it's the University
talking about diversity."
Chandra Johnson points to demographic trends which show that,
during the 21st century the majority population (whites) will
become less than half the U.S. population. For America to continue
to compete globally, it must utilize education to develop a workforce
from nontraditional demographic sources. Father Malloy, she says,
understands that the University needs to change with the changing
landscape. "[Embracing diversity] was one of the first things
that Monk told the faculty in his annual address."
In that address, Malloy asked deans and department heads to
support a Provost Office strategic plan to increase the number
of African-American faculty. Outlaw, who sits on the University
Committee for Cultural Diversity, says such a plan may help eliminate
institutional racism in the classroom by "diversifying how [faculty]
teach, their perception of students and their various learning
styles."
Another sign of progress, Johnson says, is the number of African-Americans
being appointed to prominent positions on campus. Don Pope-Davis
has been named assistant vice president and associate dean in
the Graduate School. Hugh Page Jr. was recently appointed associate
dean and director of undergraduate studies. And Leo McWilliams
'81, '82, '83M.S., '93Ph.D., became course coordinator for the
First Year Engineering program. As a Notre Dame product, he also
stands as a living testimony to every African-American engineering
student that they, too, can thrive, not just survive, in one of
Notre Dame's toughest programs.
Other major appointments include Joy Vann-Hamilton '98MBA, as
assistant provost, and Rhonda Brown, director of the new Office
of Institutional Equity, whose focus is to further diversity initiatives
at Notre Dame, particularly with regard to faculty hiring, and
handling discrimination and gender equity matters.
* * *
From what I've observed, the African Americans here do not, and
should not, aim to create a separate place at Notre Dame. That
is antithetical to the vision of community that attracted many
of us here. Nor should we meekly assimilate into the sea of whiteness
here, for that is cultural suicide, an assault on the gifts of
our ancestors. I do have hopes that, in time, more of my people
will find at Notre Dame a comfortable peace in a place that would
embrace us for what we are, rather than reject us for what we
cannot ever be -- a place where we might yearn to be,
rather than merely be from.
Every day we take another step toward that vision. The reception
for Ty Willingham gave me an opportunity to reflect on just how
many steps we've taken. That the hiring of a football coach who
happens to be African American should warrant such excitement
reminds us of how far we have to go, not just at Notre Dame, but
in this country. Nevertheless, the reception clearly showed the
many hands that have tended the rich soil before us. Now that
soil has been prepared for a new wave of students. The time is
right to sow the seeds for a a new generation.
With Willingham's entry here, a magnifying glass has come upon
diversity within the Notre Dame family. Is Notre Dame ready for
the change? I don't know. I do know that with Willingham, change
has arrived. And guess what? We Are (Still) ND.
* * *
During football weekends, especially after a game, little white
kids catch me in the corner of their eye and become temporarily
mesmerized. They think I might be a football player. Until they're
satisfied that I'm not, they stare and stare.
Even as a student I was only 5-8 and barely 130 pounds. People
still would ask for my autograph. "I don't play football," was
my response. "So, do you play basketball or run track?" "Neither,"
I'd say. Completely perplexed, they'd ask "Well, what do you play?"
"I play the trumpet! Still want the autograph?"
Things are changing for the better, though. Just last spring,
I was in the Morris Inn, finishing up a lunch meeting regarding
the Frazier Thompson Scholarship Fund. As I prepared to leave
the dining area, an elderly, nicely dressed white woman stopped
me in my tracks from where she sat with some friends. With the
proudest of smiles, she looked me deep in the eyes and exclaimed:
"Welcome! Welcome, Coach Willingham!"
Ahhh, progress. At least she said welcome.
* * *
Mel Tardy is an assistant professional
specialist in the First Year of Studies office and a concurrent
instructor in the University Writing Program.
